The First Round of Time Travels Ends: 1960's and Back to Emos by kooldoggie
The two hippie and anti-war protestor lovers Keegan and Ian got back to their off-campus apartment very much horny and determined to rut like animals in their stoned haze. Keegan, his long, straight dark hair tossed about his rather emaciated but still cute face, saw the date of 1967 on a kitchen calendar, but he had some confused idea that he didn't belong to this era. He remembered something about being another more modern hippie type, what to Keegan would be futuristic, but none of it made any sense, especially with the kid so stoned. He really just wanted to make love to the well-muscled shirtless stud he was pushing back down onto their beat-up couch. Ian attacked Keegan's mouth hungrily, his cock pushing hard against his bellbottom jeans, which he was trying to unzip. Both boys rubbed their bare feet together, Keegan groaning as he loved the feel of being barefoot. He had been missing that since ancient Greece, having glided through so many eras that required some sort of boots. Huh? Why was he thinking of time traveling? It was coming to the surface now, that he wasn't really Keegan, though he couldn't get a good idea just who he was, and they probably weren't going to be able to get off properly until the boys managed to find their home era.
Now Keegan groaned in disappointment, though he allowed hungry Ian, the shaggy-haired shirtless boy with the word LOVE and a few colorful flowers painted on his tight, smooth bare chest, to keep kissing his boyfriend's smooth face. "Oooohh, man, that feels so good!" Keegan admitted, following up with, "But babe, we still got a little ways to go. We can't stay here, we got to, got toÉ.ooohhh!" Yes, Ian was driving the longhaired brunette boy so wild, as Ian pushed off Keegan's fringe vest to leave him shirtless as well, kissing down his flatter but still tight pecs. The feeling of lust and sheer horniness made Keegan giddy, but he also used that feeling to latch onto another era, just as much if not more hedonistic, and draw them into it, a little closer to homeÉ
The light suddenly dimmed, and now there were a lot of flashing strobe lights and disco balls, and loud music most unlike the peaceful, hippie folk music Keegan and Ian knew. But as those personas melted away, the two horny boys felt themselves transform yet again, the music becoming just the type of rhythmic cacophony the disco kids liked to bop their head to as they were flying now, a different type of high, not the gentle stoned haze of pot but the kicking, exciting energy of cocaine flowing through them, perfect to allow them to dance all night long. This might be Studio 54, thought Chad, once the longhaired brunette hippie Keegan. Chad was taller at 6'2", with feathered blonde hair reaching almost to his shoulders, nowhere as long as Keegan's had been. He had glitter and bright eyeliner on his cute, carefree face, but he was still as shirtless as the hippie he had just been, about ten years earlier, he now knew. He wore short shorts and silver boots, a bit disappointing to once again not be barefoot, but Chad really didn't care when he flowed into the blaring disco music, his sweaty chest glued to that of Wayne, continuing to kiss him all over, sucking onto his glitter-clad neck as confetti rained around them. Everything was just a whirl of people in all sorts of crazy outfits, the lights and energy just becoming something very amorphous and very, very groovy to Chad's altered perceptions. He felt his erection tenting the short athletic shorts; he wore no underwear, and so his growing erection was becoming very visible, starting to leak through the thin shorts as it rubbed against the hard-on in Wayne's shorts. Chad's fluttering blue eyes looked up at the many pinpoints of bright light flaring off the giant disco ball, thinking it was just like being in outer space in that recent Star Wars movieÉ but then he remembered he was not Chad, and they still weren't home yet. He glanced down at Wayne, just as blonde as he was, his hair only a little shorter but the bangs still flowing down into his glittered-up brown eyes, the tall boy nearly his twin in height and buffness as he continued to lick Chad's pecs, and he knew this boy wasn't the way he was supposed to be either. He remembered something about being a skateboarder kid, though nothing like those longhaired, tan Valley kids of his era; this was something moreÉvampiric was the only word he could think ofÉ
And with that thought the rippling caused the whole chaotic scene of the disco to blur together once again, Chad feeling his long bones cracking as he went down in height once again, becoming just a bit lighter and smaller at just under six feet, maybe 150 lbs. The darkness lightened, sky again above them, the fresh air invigorating Chad as he reveled in athletic activity, his mind clearing of the cocaine buzz. No, he couldn't be Chad, he was Jason, yeah, just a young Valley skateboard kid in the 80's, and he hated drugs, staying clean as the First Lady urged all young people to "just say no." He got his high off being on his skateboard, listening to jams on his Walkman. He looked down at himself, seeing he was a pretty rockin' sexy kid, maybe just out of high school, in tight, rolled-up acid-wash jeans and bright multi-colored hightop shoes. He wore a tight neon orange tanktop over his well-muscled if somewhat small chest, a puffy vest over that, but it was getting a little warm this spring day, so he took off the vest as he skated toward his boyfriend Chaz. Chaz, now free of disco glitter, was still barechested, also a little slimmer, with a blonde undercut and a green ballcap worn backwards. He also had on wraparound Oakley sunglasses and some boardshorts with some righteous brightly colored abstract pattern, his long feet in skate shoes and ankle socks. Jason salivated seeing the sexy way the sweat glimmered on his tight pecs and chiseled abs, and Chaz smiled wickedly at him, lowering his glasses a bit to show off his mischievous green eyes.
Chaz also appreciated how Jason's dark blonde mullet really flowed on him, sweeping down his scalp toward his neck. He had a really cute, tan face with bright blue eyes and a white smile, his chunky headphones around his slender neck with the silver chain. "Hey, babe, you got some pretty sweet moves out there today!" said Jason. "No, yours are the raddest!" laughed Chaz. They went to hug, Chaz pressing his lean, tanktop-clad torso against the sweaty chest. But then Jason saw himself in those Oakleys and knew that face wasn't his. Yeah, it was nice being a skaterboy again, but this was too old-fashioned, close to home, true, but still a couple of decades offÉ
And with that, the two boys felt themselves going through a final transformation, growing more morose, acquiring angst, a sullen haze overtaking their formerly sunny personas. And yet this still wasn't emo yet, Kyle knew. Yeah, he wasn't Jason anymore, but Kyle, and his somewhat unwashed, longer hair hugged his angular face down to his shoulders. The flashy neon clothes had been replaced by a plaid shirt, worn mostly open to reveal his lean, tight, but significantly less athletic chest. His hands were long and slim for playing guitar, and he saw his guitar right by the barstool in the smoky coffeehouse they now occupied. Wait a minute, this was the same coffeehouse in Seattle he used to work in! He knew he really wasn't Kyle, his mind now connecting to where he needed to be. But the coffeehouse looked a little different, just a bit more old-fashioned, the grunge style of the early 1990's dominating here, from about the time Ryder was born. Yeah, he was Ryder, dude!
But he looked in a nearby mirror and didn't see Ryder, just a sullen-looking but ruddy faced, still handsome blonde guy, the weight of the world on him, his wailing voice ready to take on expressing his woes on his guitar. Ty sat across from him, and he knew that was his boyfriend, although he still looked so different, his long, reedy body in a black T-shirt, baggy corduroys and Doc Martens, a beanie worn loosely on his shaggy, dark hair, which did sort of resemble the emo cut Justin once had. The black bangs fell into his cute, dark eyes, full of worldly sorrow, his skull-ring clad fingers strumming on his own guitar, his slender wrists adorned with friendship bracelets. He gazed up through the smoke at Kyle, admiring his matted, long blonde hair, but he did see Ryder in there, saying, "Dude, we in Seattle?"
"Yeah, dude, I think we've about made it!" exulted Kyle, as the barista put down an oversized cup of java for him. But Kyle wouldn't even have a chance to take a sip. The feeling of being so close to home took over the happy boy, though he still appeared so sullen, and the final ripple wended through the smoky coffeehouse, transforming the boys, but not by too much, as they were pushed forward the final couple of decades. Kyle felt himself being stretched out again, from a 5'10" back to six feet, as a paler complexion took over, the black star tattoos and other abstract figures ran down arms and torso, the clothes shifting back to tight emo band shirts and black skinny jeans.
The coffeehouse was whisked away in a blur, but they had only been transported a few blocks in space, for as Ryder opened his electric green eyes, he saw they were now back in their downtown loft. The emo skateboarder bolted up, looking himself over in the mirror and smiling. Yeah, he was totally back, slender and tall, the perfect jet-black emo haircut with the purple streaks in the bangs, the eyeliner, the snakebite piercings on his sexy lips. Yeah, his tan had to go as they weren't emo surfers anymore, but that was ok, as Seattle was so murky anyway, just the way they liked it. Ryder glanced out the window to see a light rain coming from the gray clouds, a beautiful day to him. They just might go skate through the rain, too, in their striped hoodies. He glanced back to their bed to see Justin as lean and perfect as ever, his similar hair with the ultra-white streaks through it, his blue eyes heavy with eyeliner, the many rings in his ears. His Panic At the Disco! shirt was a little rumpled but otherwise fine, and his own skinny jeans led to narrow, pale bare feet. Ryder saw that their skate shoes had been kicked off into the corner, as if they had been napping. It couldn't have been all a dream, could it?
Ryder looked down at his own size 12 bare feet, admiring the black star tattoos near the ankle and the black nail polish. He wiggled his long toes, thinking it felt pretty good to be barefoot again after a while. Justin fluttered open his blue eyes, gazing dreamily at Ryder. "Dude, did all that just happen? Trippy!"
"Yeah, babe, but I think it's all gonna be cool now. Hey, wanna go skate in the rain?" That sounded pretty killer to Justin, and they put on their shoes and hoodies and grabbed their boards, glad to be back in the neighborhood as well as the time they knew and loved best.