Size 13 and Gay as Hell

Inspired by an Instagram caption that came through my feed.

The answer Peter was given was nowhere near what he had been looking for.

It was just another plain, boring day for him in the beginning. Wake up, take a shower, eat some food, get dressed. He had done it a billion times; the exact same routine everyday before work. He had done it so much in fact that it only took him a short amount of time, allowing him to catch more sleep. Practice does make perfect.

After Peter had finished all of his usual, he had got dressed in a rather bland gray suit to go to his accounting job deep in the city. Luckily, his apartment was only blocks away, so he had plenty of time to walk the streets of the bustling metropolis. As he walked down one such lane, he noticed a man sitting smugly on a step to another building. The man was fairly handsome, and by what Peter could tell, fairly athletic as well. The man gave off a kind of aura that screamed confidence, and Peter could see why. He looked to have the perfect male body. Peter definitely wasn’t gay, he had had many girlfriends throughout the year, but Peter could tell that this man was a fine specimen.

As Peter walked closer, he began to notice the man a little more. His clothes were rather simple, a tight, gray tee and a darker pair of cargo shorts - but what really intrigued him was the man’s shoes. On the bottom of his expensive tennis shoes where bright ombre rainbows, each color fading into one another. The shoes were alluring, and for some reason Peter was strangely attracted to them like a magnet.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked, trying to get the man’s attention as he stood in front of the stairs.

“Yeah?” The man smirked. Even though the man’s eyes were behind a pair of aviators, Peter could still feel them looking into his soul.

“I was curious about your shoes, they’re… fascinating.”

“Oh, thanks,” The man replied, sticking his feet out proudly. Peter then noticed the coffee in the man’s hand - it to adorned a rainbow pattern on the cup.

“What are they?” Peter asked, for some reason excited for the answer.

“Size 13 and gay as hell.”

Peter blinked, not believing what he had just heard, He was expecting something like Nike or Reebok, maybe even Adidas, but not that.

“I’m sorry, I meant th-”

“I know what you meant,” he replied before getting up, “Let me show you.” The strange man motioned his and for Peter to follow. Peter knew he should never trust strangers, but he was honestly curious about these shoes. Plus, he had some time to kill anyway, so why not. If he felt like he was in any danger, he’d just leave. The man opened the door to the building, letting Peter in before following. The man led Peter to his apartment, introducing himself as Matthew along the way after Peter introduced himself. When they finally got to Matthew’s apartment, Peter thought he might vomit. It was 15 floors, but his tubby body hadn’t seen much exercise since his highschool years.

“Follow me, bro,” Matthew’s voice echoed throughout the large apartment as the door opened to his abode. By the clothes he was wearing, Peter hadn’t expected the size, or luxurious amenities of the apartment. It was styled and built in such a way that it almost looked as if to be a penthouse.

“Gay men do know how to decorate,” Peter mumbled under his breath, adressing the stereotype. Matthew quickly led Peter throughout the lavish apartment until they made it to a large sitting room with a television adorning the back wall. Matthew invited Peter to sit down, and as he did, Matthew pushed a hidden button alongside one of the numerous chairs. As Peter got comfortable in his chair, the wall began to turn. It flipped over quite swiftly, revealing a wall filled with different variants of shoes.

Peter could barely fathom all the different shoes. Each one of them was different from the next. There were boots, loafers, sneakers. Every once and a while he’d see something he’d recognize, like a flip flops or dress shoes, while other times he saw something he didn’t recognize at all, like a pair of leather boots that looked like a kinkier version of something a cop would wear. The wall had to have at least 100 different kinds of shoes. Peter also noticed a few shelves had empty spots, maybe Peter wasn’t Matthew’s first customer. If it was true, that would make Matthew a little more trustworthy.

“You see, this wall is the epitome of homosexuality,” Matthew expained, knowing that Peter was to focused on the shoes to actually register what he was saying. “Each of these different pairs represents one of the many different breeds of gay men. For example, the boots over there in the far left corner could represent some kind of closeted cowboy otter.”

Peter, not really thinking about what Matthew was saying, looked over towards the boots. They were a darker brown leather, with shiny spurs in the back. They looked as if they had been used. Matthew tossed his empty cup in the trash before continuing.

“This place is a sanctuary, no one actually lives here, and most people don’t know it exists. You see, this place - these shoes - are only able to be seen by the inner fag inside of you, and if that inner fag is strong enough, it can guide you here. The only reason I know about this place is because I’ve picked one of the pairs from up there. My inner fag lead me to these tennis shoes, which helped me adopt my breed, the ‘gay gym bunny’ as I like to call it.” After saying this, Mattthew sat down next to Peter, placing his arm around the other man.

“Before, I was some weak college student who had a degree in astronomy, but after I was lead here and found my inner fag, I became this stud. I don’t remember much of my past life, if any of it, but this new one is so much better. I have way more friends, make a lot of money, and get laid nearly twice a day everyday. I used to bow down to others, but now they all bow before me. I used to like women, but now this monster only wants men. This behemoth never seems to want to sleep either,” Matthew chuckled, yanking at the thick piece of meat between his legs. Peter still hadn’t really processed any of this, but he didn’t really care. He was too focused on the shelves of shoes.

“Now, it looks like it’s your turn to become the real you. By the look on your face you seem to be really invested in this wall. You’ll know when you’ve found your inner fag, because whatever pair you chose will adorn the rainbow pattern on the bottom. All you have to do is look for a pair that really calls out to you. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Peter gazed along the wall, looking at each pair of shoes. Right after his eyes passed a pair of slippers, he noticed a plain, white pair of canvas shoes sitting quietly near the middle. As his eyes centered in, he began to notice their simplicity. They were bright, kept clean, and yet they looked so regular and minimalistic. Matthew smiled, knowing that the pair that Peter had centered in on was his chosen pair. Matthew pushed himself out of his tight spot in the chair and walked to the shelf, grabbing the casual shoes before bringing them back to Peter.

Peter glared at the shoes, his eyes slowly investigating what Matthew had in his hand. The other man held out the pair, and Peter eagerly grabbed them. He carefully felt down the canvas, caressed the strings, and adored the shockingly white color. He took a timid sniff of one of the shoes. It didn’t have that new smell he was expecting, instead, it reeked of man. A strong musk perpetrated from the shoes, as if they had been lovingly worn. Peter should have been disgusted, but for some reason, he was infatuated.

“Try them on, bro,” Matthew said, pulling up a chair in front of Peter. Peter looked at the shoes, noting the size was 13. That was almost four sizes larger than his own feet, but he didn’t care. He carefully took off his own dress shoes before placing the canvas shoes on. They were way to big, but Peter still enjoyed it anyway. There was a soft, worn felling to the inside. It felt a little moist too, as if somehow had just recently sweat in them.

“And now, for the magic to begin,” Matthew chuckled, relaxing himself in the chair.

The first thing that changed were Peter’s legs. They weren’t anything special before, but now they were changing into something delectable. All the fat began to suck in, creating tighter calves and quads. His thighs and lower legs began to quickly fill up with muscle, but not too much. They looked to be somewhere between athletic and toned, skinnier yet powerful, light brown hair began to overcome the black that previously existed, before giving him a softer, more innocent coat covering.

Next was his chest, which quickly sank in once the legs were finished. Years of little exercise became year of precision. Hard routines that made sure everything was perfect destroyed the body fat on Peter’s body, sending it to oblivion. A light coat of brown hairs adorned his new torso, which previously had nothing it all. Solid abs and hard pecs appeared, but not anything drastic. Peter immediately remembered that his chest was all for looks, not for something like bodybuilding. He wanted to look impressive, but not like he was in charge.

Following were his arms. Peter didn’t have much definition before, if any, but now he became the definition of “toned.” Although the rest of his body was meant to look a little past that muscular level, his arms perfectly fit the title. They became slender, showing definition in both biceps and triceps, but nothing to powerful. He wanted to be handsome, appealing, lustable, but now alpha. His pits filled in with coatings of soft brown hair. They emitted a rather unpleasant scent before being masked with some kind of cologne. Peter instantly remembered that it was a local brand, vegan too. He always went local, he hated big corporations.

As Peter sat there quietly, he began to feel his butt tense up. Years of squats and proper lifting began to fill his two globes, muscles beginning to form in his butt as it became bubbly, soft, sensitive. Memories of specific workouts began to fill his head, he had to make sure his rear would reel in the right sort of people. As instantly as the thought came, it was corrected. Not any people, just men. He wanted to make sure men would be interested.

Matthew watched in silent glee as Peter’s upper body began to evolve. As his shoulders widened out slightly, Peter felt as if he was being pushed down. If there was any part of his body he was proud of, it was his height. 6’3 was a pretty promising height for women, but as he was lowering down to a soild 5’10, he began to like being shorter. It made him seem smaller, more inferior. He didn’t want to be in charge - in fact, he wasn’t meant to be in charge. He liked to be the bottom, it was more fulfilling, and literally more filling.

Peter’s neck straightened out as his Adam’s apple began to recede a little, making his voice settle for a lower tenor. Peter’s jaw lengthened out as his face rearranged itself. His nose became straighter as his eyes became a simpler brown. A light brown stubble appeared as his hair styled itself, a lush swoosh giving his thickening hair extra definition. His teeth became pearly white as his face began to soften, giving him a sexier aura.

Next were Peter’s feet, which had become quite tense throughout the whole process. They quickly spread out, pushing themselves to the very edges of the shoes. Light hairs began to tickled the tops of his feet as they began to produce the same musk the shoes already adorned. They began to sweat too, adding to the already previously moist texture of the canvas. As his feet began to settle in, Peter began to develop a foot fetish. He remembered how much he loved mens’ feet, so that’s why he worked on his own so much. His feet became strong from years of training, working out, and running. His nails became polished from plenty of pedicures. He had to make sure he loved his feet as much as he did to others.

As the new memories of his gayer life began to set in, his clothes began to adjust themselves. His entire suit disappeared, being replaced with a pastel plaid shirt - something every homosexual man should have. Next, a sleeveless vest popped on top of the button up, followed by a pair of gray cargo shorts that barely made it down his thighs. An expensive watch and wrist band appeared over his wrists while his dress socks shortened down to the ankles. Matthew leaned over and buttoned the top of the shirt, confirming the legend that only gay men have the top button fastened without a tie.

Once his new outfit was finished, different brand logos began to appear inside of the items of clothes, each from different local businesses within the city. Peter never shopped from large companies, he despised capitalism. Peter was never really into politics before, but now he recalled being a stone-hard leftist. He was completely democratic, so much some accused he was too far left. He fought for everyone’s rights, attended every rally, and even lead a few protests. He wasn’t only democratic because he was a proud homosexual, but because of his other views too. Peter was pro-choice, wanted no guns, and he expected the government to take care of everything. He was extremely liberal and proud of it.

The last of his memories began to flood his head as his pouch began to shift. Before, Peter had a length of almost 7 inches when hard, and his balls were quite impressive as well, but as memories of his many boyfriends and hookups began to appear, it all changed. As he thought of all the times he got pounded, his dick began to shrink. His obsession with social media began to escalate while his penis descended. Posts supporting local brands, politics, and pride flooded his head, pushing his cock even smaller. It finally ended at a pathetic 3 ½ inches hard, but Peter would claim it was 4. He didn’t care too much about his dick however, or his lesser balls, he was more focused on being a bottom. Why give it when you can recieve it? He loved having a dick in his mouth or butt much more than his own dick in some other hole. He had always been complete fag, and he was proud of it.

As Peter began to accept his new reality, the soles of his shoes began to change. A bright light flashed from the bottom of his shoes as the rainbow pattern appeared, sealing his new fate. Matthew smiled, excited to meet the inner fag that had now been released. Peter’s eyes blinked slowly as he forgot the majority of his past, his new life becoming complete - the only thing left being the knowledge of the apartment and magical powers of the shoes. As his sight focused, his little pecker got immediately hard at the sexy alpha in front of him.

“Hey,” Peter said, getting up placing himself on the man’s lap, “did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“Oh, you’re a sly one,” Matthew remarked coyly, his massive dong beginning to perk up underneath the other man.

“How about I show you a good time before I go back to blogging?” Peter said, grinding his thick bubble butt into the anaconda beneath him.

“Sure thing, but first, what do you go by?” Matthew asked.

“Paul, but once we get going, you can call me ‘boy.’” Paul got up and slowly walked out into the hallway towards the bedroom. Matthew smiled, knowing that Paul was a classic queer name. As he got up, adjusting his crotch, he noticed Paul’s phone going off. He grabbed it, seeing the background was a heavily filtered picture of Paul on the beach in a speedo. Tons of notifications from numerous social media sites flooded the screen, mostly likes, but some comments.

“Let’s call you a ‘social influencer slut,’” Matthew muttered to himself, referring to the breed that was attached to Paul’s shoes. Matthew threw the phone back on the chair before ripping off his tight shirt, ecstatic to showed this new bottom where he belonged.

— —

Paul sat there calmly in the park, texting his boyfriend while making another post about being queer for his many social media accounts. Matthew had just fed him a healthy amount of cum an hour ago in the apartment, but he was already hungry for another load. As he texted back and forth, a young man slowly approached him, completely enthralled in something.

“Hey, um…” The young man blushed, embarrassed. Paul looked up to meet the eyes of somehow who looked barely over 18. The young man looked away, terribly shy.

“I really like your shoes,” he began, “I was just going to ask you what kind of shoes they were.”

Paul quickly texted Matthew and cancelled his plans, smirking at his phone before looking up. He placed his soles on the ground, ready to get up after his reply. Paul knew what was happening, so he turned on his most innocent smile before giving the teen the unexpected answer.

“Size 13,” he replied, “and gay as hell.”