idesofrevolution:

Todd was a simple guy. He had no real interest in a career, or in anything requiring too much effort. Todd had low self-esteem and was a lethargic lump on his parent’s couch: 50 lbs overweight, acne-ridden, and no social skills whatsoever. Yet, he longed terribly for a life of leisure and lust. Living in Laguna Beach, the models and surfers dominated the streets, flashing their perfect chill lives to everyone around them. Even if it was only to observe them at a closer distance, he accepted a boring job at the Royal Coast Surf Company in the cargo room. All his coworkers were sexy surfers and part time Abercrombie models. And then there was Todd, sitting on the crate with his phone, stinking of patchouli. Dillon, his manager, had had enough of his laziness and terrible work ethic. “Alright boys, take the rest of the day off! You’ve been working your asses off! Except you, Toddy boy. You’ll be working the next shipment by yourself. Maybe it’ll get you off your lazy ass!” Todd didn’t once look up from his phone, deciding instead to continue reading his Reddit threads. Eventually, it became dark outside. Todd’s shift ended at 10 PM, only a few hours away. He had to get a move on. As he opened the long abandoned truck, filled with big wooden crates, he noticed a strange van parked to the right of the building. The lights were off, but the back door to the van was ajar. Upon closer inspection, the interior of the raggedy van was tricked out! A bed with black satin sheets, blacklight christmas lights, beanbag chair, and shiny black trunk filled with heavily used, though expensive clothes. Todd wondered who owned this awesome van! As he crawled out the back, ready to continue his job, he noticed a sick pair of patent leather boots. They were really broken in: the soles had clear footprints embedded on them, and they had a salty-sweet sweaty smell to them. Whether it was him fantasising about being the mysterious owner of the van, or just the fact that they looked awesome, Todd felt the insatiable need to put on the boots. “Go on, dude. there’s a reason I left the door open…” A strange wispy voice filled the relaxing van. The scent of the boots grew stronger and enveloped the room. “Just slide ‘em on bro. They’re nice and warm. Already broken in for ya.” Todd felt safe in the friendly voice, encouraged, as if his insecurities melted away with every word the chill voice said. He peeled off his bland sandals, and slowly slid his feet into the slick boots. “Ahh, good. it’s been so long since I’ve felt skin & bones.” Todd fell tired, and sat down on the edge of the silky mattress. A red manifestation began to creep up and sit down next to him. It threw a muscly, musky ghost arm around his shoulder, as if they’d been friends for years. “Aight, bro, this is how this’ll go down. I’ve been watching you for a while now. You look like a really sad lump. All the time. When I was around, I was the chillest and coolest motherfucker around. Just sayin’. So, what do you say we help eachother out?” It slapped Todd’s back, comforting him. In a trance, Todd nodded, brainless. “Siiiiick, dude. Let’s do it, bro!” The ghost pulled his muscle packed arm off Todd’s shoulder, and calmly pushed his hand into his arm. Todd felt his fingers sliding into his own, like putting on a long rubber glove. As his hand began to clutch into a fist on it’s own, he felt the ghost’s bulging muscles push out underneath his skin. Looking down, he watched as his formerly flabby arm flexed, now packing on lean muscle. The ghost giggled. “Like that, bruh?” His hand flipped a thumbs up. Todd heard more quiet laughter, as he felt the ghost’s second arm push into his own; the transformation’s pace quickened this time, his muscles bulged and veins protruded. A banded tattoo rippled onto his wrist. “Awesome. Aight, bro, this next part is pretty crazy feeling. Just get ready.” The ghost flung both rubbery legs into Todd’s, immediately bursting his cheap skinny jeans with lean, long legs and filling out the boots with size 14 feet. “My favourite part, bro.” His arms pulled his foot to his face, inhaling the amazing musk from his boots. “Get used to that smell, dude. We don’t get many showers until after the competitions.” His stomach bubbled and gurgled with the incredible feeling of abs and pecs stretching his Panic at the Disco shirt to the max. His body forced his head into his newly pungent pits, which forced his newly gigantic cock to spring to attention. “I see you like this as much as I do. We’re gonna kill it, bro. We’re gonna be so fuckin awesome.” He felt the head of the ghost slide into his ear canal, the phrase ‘so fucking awesome’ repeating in the cavernous ear canal. His mind floated in bliss, while his hair cropped into a buzz, and a handsome, manly face began to protrude from his skull. His moans evolved into a cavalcade of “Oh yeahhhh” and “Fuuuuuuck yeaah.” Eventually, Todd could only watch as his sweaty palms began furiously stroking his beautiful 11 inch cock. He threw his face into his pits again, and a continuous stream of stick cum burst from his member. “Fuck dude. We’re gonna do just fine with this. Name’s Tod, with one ‘D’.” Quickly slipping on some of his typical musky attire from the trunk: a sweat-stained white tank, well worn black jeans, and his everyday grey beanie; he unloaded the boxes quicker than any of his coworkers, motivated by talk of unreal midnight waves at Zuma that night. He pulled out his new phone, texting some old friends out in Malibu. “Let’s go, Tod, waves are waiting!” He jumped into the driver’s seat, and rolled down Sunset Boulevard toward the beach. Maybe some sexy beach bums and bettys would light up with him… Or pop his now silky virgin cherry. Tod was gonna be the best slacker there was, with a happily captive audience.