Nick was nervous. He’d been able to keep it hidden for most of the meeting, but now his foot was tapping and he was sure the agent knew that he was scared.
The man looked up from his resume and stared at Nick. “Any commercial experience?” The agent said.
“Unfortunately no,” Nick replied, trying to sound as confident and composed as possible. He’d been so optimistic when he moved to LA right after graduating last year. Against the wishes of all his friends and family back home, against all their constant saying that “he’d never make it,” or “it’s a one in a million chance,” dismissing his goals as lofty dreams, delusions.
But he was going to prove them wrong. He was going to make it in LA, become a major movie star, and win an Academy Award. But as the months progressed, each one of those goals started to feel more and more like a dream, until he couldn’t even afford his rent.
And now, here he was, in his first meeting with an actual agent. Blowing it.
“Student films?” The agent asked.
Nick shook his head. God, he thought. I can’t even get on a student film! He’d thought it would be easy to at least get some modeling work. Nick was a built guy, handsome and insanely charming. But so was every struggling actor in the city. Nick had nothing to offer but his body, and even that wasn’t enough.
The agent put the resume down and reached into his coat pocket. “Do you smoke?”
“Sorry?”
The man pulled out a cuban cigar case and offered one to Nick. He’d never smoked one before, but he pretended like he had. The man lit his, lit Nick’s, and leaned back. “I must say, Nick, you’ve got some real potential.”
Nick coughed viciously as the smoke filled his lungs. “R—really?” he managed to get out.
The agent nodded. “You sound surprised, I know. Trust me, the less experience you have, the better. It makes you more exotic.”
Nick was in shock. He couldn’t tell if it was the smoke still swimming around his head or the thought that this might be the one moment he’d been waiting for all year. Either way, he was ecstatic.
“That’s great!” Nick said, “does that mean…?”
“Oh not quite yet,” the agent laughed. His heart sunk. “First, we’ve got to find a good fit for you.”
“Like you mean… another agent?”
The man laughed again, drawing the attention of some of the other people in the coffee shop. “You’re so cute,” he said, “no, what I’m talking about is a little hard to explain. Perhaps we should head back to my office?”
Nick knew he should feel nervous, but now, he was anything but. He had a real Hollywood agent, and was on his way to sign his first contract. The feeling of joy was intoxicating as he climbed the stairs to the agent’s office on the third floor. It was a sleek modern building, and the name on the glass outside read: “HANK MAROW.”
“Step inside,” Hank said. Nick looked around the office. His vision was still a bit blurry from the cigar, but he didn’t care. “How are you feeling?”
“Great!” Nick said. He wasn’t lying either. Though he could still taste the smoke in his lungs, though he was convinced there was more than tobacco in that cigar, all of those facts came second to the immense satisfaction and eager anticipation.
“Sit,” Hank said, pointing to a leather couch by the wall. Nick obeyed dutifully as the agent took at seat at his desk. “We are a very special kind of casting agency,” he said, fiddling with the cigar box in his hand, “instead of providing people who are right for a certain part or roll we… well how shall we say, ‘make’ them right for said part or roll.”
“I don’t understand,” Nick said, still smiling.
Hank smiled back. “Let me explain. That cigar I gave you back at the coffee shop? Tasted kind of weird didn’t it?”
Nick shifted in his seat. Why was he suddenly uncomfortable? “Well,” he said, “I don’t usually smoke cigars—“
“Of course not. But you are feeling it, aren’t you? A little dizzy, a little hazy.” And he did. Very hazy actually, to the point where Nick was finding it hard to move. “Don’t worry,” the agent said as if he’d read his thoughts, “I didn’t drug you.”
“What… did you… give me?”
“Call it an experiment,” Hank continued, “a big car commercial shooting in town is looking for a specific high profile actor to do some stand in driving, but because he’s out of town at the moment, we thought we might give them someone with his likeness.”
Nick was finding it harder and harder to think straight. “What… actor?”
“Well,” the agent smirked, “that would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?”
He was beginning to sweat. What is this? Nick thought to himself. He didn’t feel like he was changing, but he couldn’t feel anything at all. He tried to look down at his body, but all he could see were his muscles undulating under his shirt.
“Don’t be shy,” the agent said. Nick knew he was rubbing his dick under the desk. Creep. And yet Nick could not stop touching himself. Feeling his muscles under his button up shirt. He was never this vain. But he was also starting to feel less and less like himself.
He popped open the first button. He was hit with a wave of musk that was clearly not his own. This was someone else’s sweat, someone else’s cologne. But more noticeable than the smell was the sight: his pecs were solid as rocks!
“What the… fuck?” Nick’s voice was deeper. Either that or something was in his ear. He’s gained a significantly more mature, raspy quality to his voice. He looked up at the agent. “Who’s voice is this?”
“You don’t recognize it?” the man said with a smug smile. “I wouldn’t expect you too. It’s not the most popular voice, but I’m sure you’ll recognize the body.”
The body. Not his body. This was insane. Nick was transforming into someone else. He was loosing his features, his smooth, youthful skin becoming rough and hard, a beard grizzling around his jaw, which seemed to harden like freezing ice. It was both terrifying and exciting, not to mention arousing.
The whole time, Nick had felt a warmth grow from the top of his head, down his expanding chest, out his arms (which were becoming thicker by the second), and down to his crotch, which was feeling sensitive and raw. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing he could feel, period.
Warmth soon turned to scorching heat, and Nick could no longer stand to have his shirt on. He tore it off, veins on his biceps flaring as buttons flung about the room in every direction. He growled. He felt primal. Horny.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Nick said. He was never an exhibitionist, but now that he had movie star blood pulsing through his veins, he couldn’t help showing off his body, running soft fingers over the hard lines of his abs, wet thumbs flicking his nips.
He was so enamored with his own transformation, Nick didn’t even notice the agent’s hand violently moving under the desk, sweat gathering on his forehead. “Yeah,” the man whispered, “just like that…”
But Nick wasn’t listening. He was watching as the final stages of his transformation took effect. His bones cracked and re-arranged themselves, his shoulders flaring out, back broadening as he grew about an inch and a half in height.
He stumbled over to the bathroom on the other end of the office. It was hard to move with all this new muscle. He was just beginning to acclimate to the feeling of operating someone else’s body when he flicked on the light switch and saw his reflection.
“Woah.” Nick mumbled in that same, dark voice. It wasn’t just his voice that was dark: his hair had taken on a jet black color, and his skin was just a shade or two browner. He looked Italian, classically handsome, save for the jacked-out body.
Looking at it in a mirror was different than looking at himself. He looked even bigger, not huge, but imposing and scary. He was oozing raw testosterone, like the hot masculine smell that was coming off of him in droves.
“How do you like it?” he heard Hank’s voice calling from the office. “I knew he’d be a good fit for you.”
It was then that Nick realized that he didn’t recognize the body he was in. He knew he’d seen him before, but he couldn’t remember his name.
He walked out and looked at Hank, who was not-so-discreetly stuffing his boner back into his pants. From the way the man looked at him, he knew he was intimidated.
“Who is this? Who am I?” Nick growled, using his imposing presence to his advantage.
The agent gave a nervous laugh. “You’re Frank Grillo, of course.”
Right! Inside, Nick was kicking himself for not recognizing the seasoned actor. But outside, he knew he had to take control of the situation. He marched up to Hank’s desk and slammed his hands down. The man jumped, marveling at the sight of the sweaty, muscular man towering above him.
“You said ‘high profile,’” Nick said in Frank’s voice, “I ain’t seen this guy in a movie since the last Captain America.”
The agent smiled. “I told you,” he said, “this was just an experiment. See how well your body adjusted. And clearly it worked! Even his Italian accent is starting to slip through.” Nick covered his mouth. It was completely unconscious. How much of Frank had he become?
“Then who’s the actor I’m s’posed to play! For the commercial!”
Hank grinned, slowly pulling out his cigar case. “Wanna find out?”
PART 2
Hank blew out a thick puff of smoke in the young man’s direction. Only he wasn’t much of a “young” man anymore. Nick had aged well over a decade in a mere matter of seconds. His transformation into Frank Grillo had been practically seamless. Hank was right: he did have potential.
Of course, Hank was usually right about these kinds of things. That’s what made him such a great agent. He knew Nick would make the perfect vessel for whatever Hollywood star they needed on whatever project, just like he knew Nick wouldn’t refuse the chance to do it.
But he was sure making it difficult. He’d been staring at the cigar case for several minutes, enough time for Hank to pull his own out and light up.
Nick (or Frank) looked at the fat cigar in his mouth with suspicion. “What’s that going to do to you?” he said.
Hank grinned. “As Freud said: ‘sometimes a cigar, is just a cigar.’”
He was lying of course. But the kid didn’t need to know that. It would be a pleasant surprise for him later on.
“So,” Hank continued, “what’ll it be?”
Nick looked down at the case. “How long is it going to last?”
The agent shook his head. “It’s not permeate, if that’s what you’re asking. The effects naturally wear off in a few weeks—“
“Few weeks??”
“BUT, I’ve got a special formula that you can take to set you back in minutes. Don’t sweat it.”
But Nick was sweating it. Clearly he was scared to go through another transformation so soon, but he was also curious to find out what that transformation would be.
“Fine,” he finally said, grabbing the cigar out of the case and putting it into his mouth. Fast, like ripping a band aid off.
Hank chuckled. “Missing something?” Nick patted down his pants for a lighter he knew wasn’t there. “I got you,” the agent said giving him a light.
Nick took a quick, small drag. Then a longer one. A deeper one. And within a few minutes, the entire room was filled with smoke.
Through the haze, Hank could start to make out subtle changes on Nick’s face. His hair growing lighter, his features growing softer. By the time the smoke had cleared, he looked at least a decade younger.
“How are you feeling?” Hank asked.
“Kind of…” Nick sounded dazed.
“Kind of… what?”
“Kind of horny.” He let out a laugh, cocky and sexy. His voice sounded youthful and arrogant.
Hank laughed. “Well then, don’t be shy. We’re all men here.”
Nick giggled. He was intoxicated with the feeling of his body changing and adapting to its new form. Tiny brown hairs sprouted over his chest, his chest broadening out as his muscles became leaner and more pronounced. With numb, fumbling fingers, he undid his belt and dropped his pants.
“My my,” Hank said with a grin, “that’s a celebrity package if I’ve ever seen one.” Nick looked down. A sizable piece of meat was throbbing under his briefs, threatening to undo the button on his fly if he got any harder.
“Are all celebrity dicks this huge?” Nick said, toying with his penis.
“Most,” Hank said, “but I must say, Evans’ is exceptional.”
Evans. It took Nick a second to put two and two together, but once he did, he was suddenly very in-tune with his body’s subtle changes. He noticed the perk of his nipples, the way the hair perfectly dusted his chest, the impeccable shape of his jaw. THIS was a body he had seen many times before.
“You mean… I get to be Chris Evans?”
Hank smiled. “Welcome to Hollywood kid.”
Nick rushed into the bathroom once more to see the final stages of his transformation. He watched as every wrinkle and imperfection vanished, as his face curled into an award winning smile, and as his body gained the perfect amount of muscle. He reached back and felt his ass round out and solidify, he ran a single finger down his perfect abs, and slipped a hand down his underwear to feel the raw heat coming from bellow.
He ruched back out. Eyes wild and smile tearing at the seams.
“This is insane!” he said, “I mean… good insane, but… how is this possible! How do you guys make these cigars that can… Hank? Are you okay?”
But Hank didn’t respond. He had his eyes closed, his head back, and both hands pawing at his crotch.
“Hank?”
Hank moaned. Something seemed different in his voice. It was softer, higher pitched. On top of that, Nick could see that the beard on his face was turning into stubble.
“I’ll call an ambulance—“
“NO!” Hank cried, leaning forward on his desk. “I’m fine… just stay here.”
Nick moved in closer. “What’s going on? Did you take the wrong cigar?”
“Ooooh no,” Hank said, with a voice noticeably higher, “I need to know just how effective your cigar really was.”
“And how are you going to know that?”
By now, Hank’s face was bare as could be, and his hair was coming back in droves. “Well, only a true movie star can fuck like a movie star.” He laughed, a high pitched, girly laugh.
And that’s when Nick realized what was going on.
Hank undid the buttons on his shirt to reveal two large breasts that looked positively alien on the rest of his body. But he was becoming less and less masculine by the second. His new form was slender, years vanishing off of his face, his skin smoothing and his hips widening. All the while, his hair grew longer and thinner, until he looked far more like a 25-year-old woman than a 45-year-old agent.
Nick hated to admit it, but he was seriously turned on.
Hank—although he didn’t look at all like a “Hank” anymore—continued to paw at his crotch, where Nick could only assume the man’s dick was vanishing into a wet, throbbing pussy. Just the thought of it was driving him wild.
“Fuck me Chris,” the new woman in front of him moaned, undoing her pants and sticking a hand down bellow. There was a POP as the button on Nick’s boxers flew off and his cock sprung out of the fly. It was hard as marble.
Only a true movie star can fuck like a movie star. Hank’s final words rang in his mind. But now he WAS a true movie star. This was Chris Evans’ body. Chris Evans’ dick. He WAS Chris Evans.
Chris grinned. With abrupt force, he pushed the desk across the room and tore off the woman’s pants. Sure enough, one slender hand was violently flicking at a fleshy slit. Chris to drooled with envy.
He hoisted the girl up and brought her over to the couch, crawling under her and going to town on her pussy. She gasped, as Chris’ experienced tongue navigated the walls of her feminine sex, causing her to moan louder and louder.
This wasn’t the first time Hank had done something like this. Most of the guys he represented were straight, and he couldn’t stand looking at all those hot bodies all day without being able to touch them, to experience all that raw sexual power.
So he had a handful of these special cigars made just for himself. Being a woman wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought, especially when you’ve got a guy like Chris Evans eating you out.
Hank felt his mind grow cloudy with pleasure as the A-list movie star dug deeper into his newly formed vagina, and shuddered as his first female orgasm rocked his tiny, slender body.
It wouldn’t be the last.
When he’d been properly loosened up, Chris threw him backwards and crawled forward, being sure to kiss every inch of his chest, cleavage, and neck before reaching his puffy pink lips.
Hank tasted deep of Chris as they shared a long, passionate kiss, before he felt the tip of his cock find the entrance of his swollen pussy.
“FUUUCK,” Hank screamed. He’d underestimated just how big Chris’ dick really was, and it took a couple of seconds to acclimate to the sheer amount of “man” pressing slowly inside him.
But Chris was gentle… at first, adapting to the unique rhythms of Hank’s female body and vice versa.
Within a few minutes, the two were fucking like animals. Hank was on the verge of his third orgasm. Chris was about to have his first.
“I’m cumming!” Chris announced, just seconds before emptying his load into Hank’s gaping hole. Hank let out a final cry as the endorphins flooded his bloodstream, his hands gripping tight to Chris’ body as he rode out the orgasm of a lifetime.
Though the panting, the sweat, and the last remaining cigar haze, Chris looked down at his new agent and said: “so, is that how movie stars fuck?”
Hank laughed. “THAT is what we in the industry call ‘starpower.’” They both laughed. “And yes, kid,” Hank contained, “I’d say you’ve got it.”
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