From Thugs to Twinks to Skaters By kooldoggie
What ensued after surfers Skyler and Max transformed into ghetto thugs Spike and Killer was a pretty raucous night of gangbanging, as the now dangerous Tazer kids encountered threat after threat as they roamed the dark, treacherous alleyways and streets, not sure just what they were looking for, but something in their murky minds told them they needed to move past mere survival, perhaps even get out of the ghetto, though their new personas told them this hood was home. Rangy, Mohawk-sporting Killer wound up stabbing two members of rival gangs, his nerves all wound up from addictions to both heroin and crack, while the hulkier Spike beat another to a pulp, leaving him unconscious in a trash-filled alley, before they ran into some Latino homies chasing them across a factory yard. Luckily, one of them happened to be Dylan's old boyfriend Naldo, and the smaller, slimmer gangbanger found himself cornered by the two white thugs, his eyes glancing up and down the two muscled studs before him, recognizing them as brothers in preference. Spike grabbed the kid's neck, ready to crack his skull, but Naldo whimpered, "Please, no! I remember now, I was with your homie Dylan. We were...together...you know?"
Spike's eyes suddenly went soft, and he let go of his rival, stepping back to size him up, while Killer, sneering, kept his switchblade at his side just in case. But they both heard out Naldo, and somehow they made the connection to some dreadlocked surfer dude they were supposed to find. "Yo, man, where'd he go?" asked Spike. Naldo shrugged, the whole episode so hazy, the world having been rewritten for him up until the presence of the rival thugs triggered the memories. "We were on the other side of town, at one of the clubs, and there were these twinkie boys there..."
Spike and Killer understood and nodded at each other. Now they knew they needed to leave the ghetto, which gave them some anxiety, but a stronger will led them on. They grunted a thanks to the Latino and ran off, back into the darkness... A few hours later, it was daylight again, and the two thugs, walking for hours, finally found themselves in a more upscale part of town, with fashionable stores around, as well as a few rainbow flags hanging out of those establishments, and they knew they were in that gay district where Dylan had disappeared. Spike and Killer were feeling nervous again, out of their element, and they were scared some cops might pick up the suspicious looking characters at any moment. The fear and anxiety triggered a new change...
Spike, in the warmth of the morning sun, already had shrugged off his leather jacket, tying it around his narrow waist and showing off his jacked muscled torso. He groaned, feeling up his strong pecs again, his rough hands moving across the name tattooed across them, the name seeming to look more faded than last night. Both boys had noticed the many young, teenage-looking, extremely cute boys roaming around this area, chattering in high voices, not a care in the world, as they shopped for cool, expensive clothes, and the yearning to join them soon seized the hard-edged thugs. "Aww, fuck...." groaned Spike, leaning against a wall, sweat beading on his chest as it seemed to deflate a little. Killer, too, was feeling jittery, but he chalked it up to withdrawal symptoms. He needed a fix, like, real bad. He also sweated as he pulled up his fishnet top, letting the bare skin breathe. His cool, gray eyes blinked within the white face, which seemed to be returning to a healthier glow, and the shocked eyes glanced toward Spike. "What the fuck, man?" whined Killer.
"Huh?" groaned Spike, not understanding what Killer was getting at. He continued to moan in pain as he felt his muscles tightening, growing thinner, his bones seeming to compress and grow thinner and smaller to accommodate a much more elfin, cuter body. That once jacked chest was now looking less bodybuilder and more swimmer, as the brown hair, now filling with golden highlights, grew longer in front, hanging off the side of his face sexily. He slipped off the headband, throwing it to the ground.
Killer, trembling, felt himself growing shorter as well, becoming even smaller than little Max had been. Killer's gray eyes, their hue returning to blue, looked down at the switchblade in his hand, now finding it vulgar and dangerous. He threw it down and kicked it away from himself with his motorcycle boots. He sneered at those boots, finding them way too butch and ghetto all of a sudden. He needed to find a place to sit so he could get them off.
Keelan sauntered over to a bench, running a more delicate hand with pink polish on it through his growing hair. The Mohawk already had collapsed, the red tips turning pink to match the tone of his nails, the shaved areas growing in again. The eyes, growing increasingly more azure and bright, now had long, light lashes under blonde brows, but the longer bangs of his blonde hair, dyed mostly pink, fell into those sultry eyes. The angular face was filling in, becoming softer, more toned, the scars vanished. This was total pretty boy now, safe from a world of danger. Keelan knew nothing but constant skin regimens, spa days and tanning beds, his pink lips pouty under a pert nose with a small stud on the side, the flash tunnels now gone and replaced by tiny gold hoops, the only marks on his untouched ears.
Meanwhile, Spike continued to groan, the sound coming from him much higher and younger sounding. He was just a kid, after all, thought Drew, standing here topless against a wall, his height now down to the 5'9" that Killer had been, and still shrinking. There were only a few tiny, cute tattoos left on his otherwise unblemished skin, hairless and evenly tanned, his jeans now of a fashionable brand that hugged his slim hips and were rolled up to show off his toned calves. His boots had been kicked off and were replaced by sandals with tiny bright jewels on them. Drew sighed contentedly and turned his face to the sun, the face no longer smoldering and menacing, but narrow, inviting and boyish. The nose ring had stayed, but the rough stubble was nowhere in sight, his young skin unmarred, his eyes now a bright green, the blonde highlighted bangs falling across them, his shoulder-length brown hair freshly washed and styled. Drew finally slipped on his sleeveless top with the word BITCH on it, admiring how it fitted his slim build perfectly.
He glanced sweetly at Keelan, his best friend and frequent lover, also finalizing his transformation, the pink hairdo looking fantastic as it glowed in the sun, the light flashing off his gold earrings. Keelan had rid himself of the boots as well, peeling off the ratty jeans to reveal bright neon orange cream shorts. He had ditched the denim vest and fishnet top, revealing a skinny but toned torso for a bit before he found his white tanktop, slipping that on, followed by white thongs on his cute, size 8 feet. He had ended up only 5'4", 110 lbs. of sugary boyishness, smaller than Max, who himself had been a twink of the surfer variety, and much of Max was in this new twink, but Keelan was pure city gay boy, addicted to fashion and roaming the well-kept streets of his beautiful neighborhood. He swept back his pink hair once more as the sweet blue eyes looked up at Drew, blowing him a kiss. Drew, now at 5"6' and 115 lbs., sauntered over and took Keelan by his small hand, kissing it and pulling him off the bench to join him in strutting down the sidewalk of a district they always had thought of as home.
But their newfound twink happiness wasn't to last long again, as they would find another link in the chain to bring them back to Keoni, or so they hoped. The new cute boys were having a fun time in this part of the city, enjoying the fashionable stores and cafes, laughing and acting snarky and bitchy as they always thought they had been, when an encounter with the same twinks that had known Tommy and Riley triggered the same memories in them of having lost some of their best friends. Pink-haired Keelan blinked his bright blue eyes, staring at longhaired Drew as they remembered looking for that hot hunky surfer, and they knew he had been Tommy at some point. "Where'd he go, hun?" Drew asked a pompadoured pretty boy. The blonde boy batted his eyelashes as he bit his lip, thinking that Tommy and Riley both had disappeared at the beach. Maybe they were still there somehow? A beautiful twink didn't have to think about much anyway, so his deduction wasn't going to go very deep.
Drew and Keelan decided they should head out there, so again they trekked away from their neighborhood, convincing one of the group who had a car to take them back to Venice for a quick search. And by the end of that afternoon they were on the boardwalk, crossing the paths of the same skaters Ryder and Justin had shared a Valley house with. Immediately, the surge of weird feelings attacked the two urban twinks. A jolt of masculine energy shot through them, tamping down the preening, feminine nature that had absorbed them that morning. No, these weren't going to be vain pretty boys; sure, they would remain pretty, but in a total athletic boy, masculine way that the boardwalk skaters exuded.
Drew groaned again as he watched the skaters rolling across the concrete. He staggered toward a wall, feeling the surge pump up his slender muscles slightly. His delicate hands roamed across the tight shirt, finding the word BITCH way too cheesy and uncool now. He slipped off the shirt, prepared to throw it away, but it instantly transformed into a black tanktop. He left it off, allowing his growing muscle to breathe, the torso again becoming hunkier, but stopping just short of a pumped-up young swimmer, the perfect body for an active skaterboy. He tucked the shirt into the back of his jeans, only to find them shortening and growing looser and baggier, becoming camo shorts. His feet were growing too, less cute and slender and growing broad and masculine. The jeweled sandals didn't fit at all. He kicked them off, letting the now size 12 feet enjoy the heat radiating off the concrete. He remembered now he always skated barefoot down at the beach on warm days. Dolan's board was back in his hands, larger hands to accompany his larger feet, friendship bracelets on his wrists, the arms a bit thicker but not too pumped, a nice, glowing dark tan on his chest and exposed lower legs, which were ripped to the bone and had several cuts from frequent falls. He swept one of his large hands through the long, brown hair, which hadn't changed very much, only the blonde highlights vanishing, and the face was only slightly more rugged, a few thin hairs on his lip and chin, the stunning green eyes returned to a cool sea blue. A beaded necklace now embraced his muscled neck.
Meanwhile, Keelan had been undergoing his own change. He watched, fascinated and turned on as cute, fem Drew grew ever sexier the more masculine he got, the new skaterboy now putting a backwards Hurley cap on his flowing chestnut locks. So Keelan was mostly unaware as the changes ravaged his own little body, the 5'4" shooting up to 5'10", 30 pounds of athletic skater muscle added on to bring him to 148 lbs. He looked healthy and tanned and exuded boyish jock, the blonde hair now a little longer and shaggier, falling over eyes suddenly grown brown and deer-like. For he was thinking of himself more as Damon, a bit of a stoner, his eyes always soft, gentle and friendly but a bit vacant. His jaw hung slightly open, revealing teeth still in braces. He also took off his white shirt, which had become a striped, sportier type of cotton shirt, and left it on a low wall as he turned his tightly muscled, ripped torso to the sun. He wore a hemp choker now, and there was one gold ring in a small brown nipple. His neon orange shorts turned a deep blood red and grew a bit baggier as well as they slipped down his narrow 28" waist, showing off much of his Calvin Klein boxers. His sandals morphed into a pair of Vans, without socks, and his legs just had a light coating of blonde fuzz on the browner shins, the calves slightly more pumped up than the twink's. Damon shook his shaggy locks, his brown eyes blinking under darker, thick brows as if he were coming out of a trance. He breathed in the fresh beach air, the brown, thicker pecs expanding, as he exclaimed, "Dude, fuckin' killer day! Ya wanna take this back to the pool at home?"
"Cha, totally!" said Dolan as he high-fived his friend and frequent fuck-buddy. Damon smiled at him and winked, then got his own cap and pulled it on the bright blonde locks at a sideways angle as he grabbed the board beneath his feet and strutted down the boardwalk, his arm around Dolan's tight, slender bare waist, the other kid padding barefoot as he liked. They would meet up with the others of their skater posse and head back to the Valley, where they would find another link in the trail leading them back to Keoni/Ryder.