The Photobooth: Eric

An anonymous commission. Story by Aardvark (https://aardvarkia.tumblr.com/post/158326116272/the-photo-booth-eric)

The young man in the corner of the bookstore café looked a bit like a ghost. The sunlight streaming in through the nearby window gave his milky skin and sandy hair a translucent quality, further blending him with the white wall his chair leaned against. Were it not for his maroon t-shirt and light blue jeans, Eric might’ve been hard to see at all.

It suited the boy. His placement in the corner of the café was no fluke; he had selected the quietest place in the quietest store in the mall, where he could read and kill time without being bothered.

Or so he thought.

“Hey, Eric?”

Eric batted his floppy hair out of his eyes as he looked up. There was his English teacher, standing next to his table and holding a cup of coffee. Mr. Hershiser had a habit of getting about an inch closer to people than they expected him to. “Oh, hey, Mr. Hershiser.”

“Doing your summer reading?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eric closed his book halfway to show Mr. Hershiser the cover.

“Ah, Peace Like A River. Do you like it?”

“Well, ah, I only just started…” Eric looked down at the book, and his hair flopped back down over his eyes.

“Of course, of course. I won’t bother you-”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Eric interrupted, though his voice was barely audible. “I’m just waiting before SAT prep.” He’d gotten his times mixed up and arrived an hour early by mistake, though Eric didn’t volunteer that information because he didn’t want Mr. Hershiser to think he was unorganized or something.

“That’s good, that’s good. Planning to go to State?”

“No,” Eric shook his head. “I think I’d like to go somewhere else…farther.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Hershiser agreed. “Do you have any schools in mind?”

“Well…no,” Eric said. There was a long pause before he realized Mr. Hershiser seemed to be expecting him to say more. “I just want to go somewhere where I can meet new people.”

“Sure, sure,” his teacher nodded. “What do you want to study?”

Eric’s anxiety rose visibly. His leg began bobbing underneath the table. “I haven’t really decided. I don’t know…I know I should know,” he mumbled. “But I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Mr. Hershiser reassured, sensing the angst. “You’ve got time to decide. If you need any help, just ask. I’d be happy to recommend you. I enjoyed having you in my class and I’m glad I have you next semester.” A thought came to the teacher and he snapped his fingers, which caused Eric to look back up and make eye contact once more. “I just remembered – did you bring a picture for your ID at the Learning Center? They just started a new ID policy and you’re supposed to provide your own picture. Seems like a waste of time if you ask me, but…”

“Oh no,” Eric said, turning pink. “I didn’t do that.” He shut his book and hurriedly began packing up his things. “Good thing I’m early,” he muttered.

“Might seem silly, but I bet that photo booth out there in the atrium would work. I assume it’s a solid background and you get a print. That might be worth a try.”

“Yeah,” Eric agreed, pushing his chair in. “Yeah, I can try that.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and nearly pulled himself down with the weight of it.

“Careful, that thing looks about as heavy as you are!”

Eric nodded awkwardly and tried to think of a clever response but couldn’t. Instead, he just wound up giving a little wave to his teacher and shuffling away. The straps of his backpack bit into his bony shoulders as he walked, head down, toward the photo booth. He felt self-conscious about being alone in the mall already – he worried someone from school would see him and think that he didn’t have any friends to hang out with – but the idea of getting into the photo booth alone, when it was something that you were supposed to be doing with friends, got his anxiety really spiking. But Mr. Hershiser had suggested it, and it was a good suggestion…it just made Eric feel really awkward.

He nearly conked his head on it as he crawled in and pulled the curtains shut as quickly as he could. Except for its new monitor and handprint scanner, the booth looked old, and Eric wondered if it had been built at a time when people were shorter on average. Eric was a lanky guy, 6’3 and probably still growing according to the doctor, and constantly hitting his head on things. He had to shift his butt further forward on the seat to get his head all in the camera’s shot. It was how he sat for a few moments, bobbing his head back and forth trying to get the attention of some sensor, before he realized he hadn’t put in any money.

After his quarter was deposited, the machine became more welcoming. The handprint scanner glowed, and Eric put his hands on it obediently as he twitched his neck to the side to get all his hair out of his eyes.

After the first flash and the reveal of his picture, Eric slouched in disappointment. “Oh, it’s a joke thing,” he mumbled. It was his picture all right: soft, delicate features – almost girly – with his small button nose acting as the centerpiece. His wide green eyes were even bigger than usual because of the surprise of the flash. And over them was the joke part: the booth had stamped two giant black eyebrows below Eric’s forehead. They were dangerously close to being a unibrow, separated by only a centimeter of visible skin between them, like a couple of monstrous caterpillars about to kiss. The beetle-browed look might have been funny at another point in time, especially since it contrasted so ridiculously with Eric’s babyface. But he was in a hurry and had an actual need for a real, unaltered picture of himself, so he boiled with frustration instead of amusement.

Eric gave the booth one more chance, with the thought that maybe the first one was the only “gag” slot and the rest were normal. A tiny light blinked twice in the right upper corner of the screen, meant to indicate preparation for the next photo, but Eric was distracted by it and turned his head slightly before the flash went off.

He felt hopeful, so hopeful as the picture processed – and then those hopes were dashed immediately. Not only had the booth continued to insist to give him those bushy black eyebrows, but it had decided that it would be funny to replace Eric’s petite nose with a massive beak that protruded into the open air in front of him. The angle of his head when the flash had gone off had captured him slightly in profile, showing off a nose that had completely reversed course. Instead of a ski-jump ending in an upturned tip, the Eric in the picture sported a convex nose shaped like the number 6, with a tip that rotated down almost past his nostrils. The nose’s bridge was wide and extra prominent, with a big bump bulging out between Eric’s eyes. Combined with the eyebrows, it had the effect of making him look like he was wearing a pair of gag glasses - just without the glasses.

And then, the booth exhibited another very odd feature. As Eric looked at his face reflected back at him to help him pose for the next picture, the screen animated another stupid joke, this time over his body instead of his face. The upper part of his t-shirt, visible at the bottom of the screen, split down from the center from the crewneck, and up through the opening emerged two comically large pectorals that rounded up over his collarbone in an ‘M’ shape. As if it didn’t look dumb enough, the massive tits suddenly disappeared underneath a black sweater – which it took Eric a moment to realize was actually supposed to be chest hair. Chest hair so dense and dark it looked more like fur.

Eric couldn’t help but laugh, though he kept it under his breath so that no one nearby would hear him. What was the point of THAT? Animating two hairy pecs the size of basketballs onto a person? They were drawn to look wider than his shoulders. It looked ridiculous. What if a couple of thirteen-year-old girls had been in there? Did this thing simulate chest hair for them, too?

He wanted to be angry, but he just felt embarrassed and ashamed over wasting money and time on a stupid joke photo booth. It reminded him of when he played Sims and messed with the toggles in Create-A-Sim to make their features look weird and extreme. He wondered if Mr. Hershiser had been playing a trick on him…but no, that was stupid, a teacher wouldn’t do that.

Eric stuck one eye out from behind the curtain to make sure the coast was clear, then he grabbed his backpack and slid out of the booth in one fluid motion, moving as quickly as he could so as not to be seen exiting. He moved faster than he had intended, leaning too far forward and being yanked toward the ground like he was top-heavy, but putting his backpack on helped him balance. The straps of it were painfully tight under his arms, but he had owned his backpack for so long that he didn’t even need to look down to adjust them anymore. He loosened them all the way, though they felt a little snug even after that.

Time was ticking by, and Eric knew he needed to figure out how to get an ID photo for the learning center. Pharmacies and photo studios did ones for passports – maybe copy centers, too. He looked around as he walked, keeping his eyes out for a mall directory or any business that would fit, but a tap on the shoulder pulled his attention to a plump woman in a hoodie. She had somehow managed to approach him despite having to hold her squirming daughter with one hand.

Her face registered clear surprise when Eric turned around, but she leaned up toward him and whispered, “Honey…I don’t know how to say this, but your jeans are totally ripped.”

“…ripped?” Eric’s already-pink face was now skewing toward pure crimson.

“They’re torn all the way, sweetie,” she said sympathetically. “My daughter pointed out that she can see your underwear, and I was watching you walk and you didn’t seem to have any idea…I thought you’d want to know.” She put her hand on her chest dramatically. “I certainly hope someone would tell me!”

Eric looked over his shoulder and down his back. A section of white fabric was visible through a diamond-shaped tear over his butt, which arced out into the air like a shelf. He could hear the woman saying something - “…is having a sale, their jeans are ALWAYS on sale, but I don’t know if they have a size that will fit you…” -trying to be helpful, but all Eric could think about was where he was going to run and hide.

He turned back around to face his Good Samaritan and nearly kissed her by mistake. She had been leaning up to talk to him, her forehead level with his mouth – but somehow, now her mouth was at the same height as his, maybe even a bit above. Aric took a step back in surprise, almost falling again as his sneakers got caught up in folds of fabric around his heels. “I am SO sorry-” he stammered, fighting gravity. His tongue collided with the roof of his mouth in an odd way, and made the words come out funny. “Sorry,” he tried again. “Sorry, sorry…” Each time, he rolled the r on the roof of his mouth. Sounded more like ‘solly.’ When he said it a fifth time, the woman interrupted him.

“It’s really not a big deal,” she said with a kind smile. “But I do hope you can find some jeans-” At that point, the daughter who had been writhing in her grip the whole time broke free and ran for a nearby gumball machine, and the woman took off after her, leaving Aric alone with his ripped pants and swollen tongue.

He immediately slid his backpack off and held it behind him to cover his rear end as he walked. Awkward, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He wished he had worn a sweater today that he could have taken off and knotted around his waist. That made him think of the fake picture in the photo booth, the one where he’d had all that black wool on his chest. A guy with chest hair like that wore a sweater wherever he went! He imagined what it would be like to shave it – was it even possible to shave a chest that hairy? The razor would get so clogged. Not to mention the possibility of cuts from the blade, since it wasn’t like his chest - well, his chest in that fake picture – was flat. Navigating the peaks and valleys of those tits would be tricky. How did you get to the hair between the muscles? Maybe it would be better to just not shave it and let the pelt spill out like it wanted, over a deep scoop of a tank top or through some open buttons-

Aric’s throat spasmed and he realized he had gulped down a moan without thinking. An erection stood out proudly in the front of his jeans. He could feel beads of sweat lingering on his forehead. All he’d been thinking about was the beautiful things that made men, men. The hair, the strength, the deep voices. His cock throbbed as he went through an itemized list, but he grew worried too. College was going to be a great chance to reinvent himself, but he hadn’t considered that it would be as a homosexual. He already felt so shy and awkward. He didn’t want to be gay too.

But he couldn’t deny that he had never gotten a boner like this over a girl. Actually, he’d never gotten a boner for a girl at all…why would he? Girls didn’t have beards, and big bulging biceps, and balls that shot gallons of cum. Those things made Aric’s mouth water, and his underwear moisten. Men were so fucking gorgeous.

“You need to control yourself,” he said under his breath, the ‘r’s continuing to flip on his tongue. He dropped his backpack to the ground and wiped the sweat off his face with both hands, pushing it up into his long hair. Running his fingers through his thick tresses brought his arms up over his head, exposing giant thatches of black pit hair that fluffed out from the openings of his short sleeves. Aric only noticed peripherally, mostly due to the dark color against his pale skin. He tried to wriggle his arms back through his backpack, but the straps didn’t fit at all, even when they were loosened all the way. This would have worried him until he remembered he needed to carry it behind him anyway, so that his ripped pants would be concealed.

Ripped pants…

He thought of the animation in the booth of his t-shirt ripping, and the way “his” hulking cleavage had heaved itself up and all that hair had appeared on it. Good thing that hadn’t happened on his backside, he chuckled. He imagined the crack of a massive ass visible through the tear in his jeans, with tufts of black hair curling out. Big furry muscle ass constantly threatening to blow out the seats of his pants. His boner strained harder against the denim as he thought of himself with a lifter’s butt. It was ridiculous to think about – he was a lanky, skinny rail – but maybe in an alternate universe, if he’d grown up doing sports then gotten into bodybuilding as a teenager, snapping shirt buttons and ripping his pants and splitting his sleeves. He’d cause his mom so much annoyance with the constant outgrowing of clothes. And of course, Aric thought with a twinge of sadness, even if he had built his body into a muscled mass, he’d never be hairy like he wanted to be. That wasn’t something you could develop over time. He’d need entirely new genetics, new DNA. The men in his family were smooth and slim, not swarthy and virile.

He spiraled deeper into fantasy and imagined himself strutting across some far away college campus, sporting a huge beard and a 50-inch chest and 40-inch waist, getting envious looks from guys. Though actually, in that fantasy, he could just learn a trade that would support his bodybuilding. He didn’t need a degree. By the time he’d move to America to compete more seriously, he’d be past college age anyway. Plus his English was fine.

Of course his English was fine, Aric corrected himself, he was a native speaker! What did he mean, MOVE to America? He was BORN in America! He didn’t need English classes…

Classes!

Aric spun around and looked wildly for a clock. What time was it?! Didn’t he have a class…somewhere he needed to be?

There was a digital clock on one of the mall directories. It read 2:06 PM. Something had started at 2, he just knew it. It was one of his least favorite feelings: the knowledge of having some commitment, but not quite being able to remember what it was. He was going to get in trouble – his mom was going to be mad at him for forgetting…

The digital clock glowed white – very white – for a brief moment, making Aric wince and cover his eyes. He felt the front of his jeans go slack and heard the brass button skitter across the mall’s floor, which reminded him that his pants were split. His crotch was throbbing, not just from horniness but also pain. His nuts were digging into the zipper and his shaft was doubling over itself like a coiled snake. He needed to adjust his boys, but he was in public-

“Boss man!” A pleasant tenor voice said. Its source was approaching Alic now: a tall, clean-shaven young man with long blond hair tied behind his head. The guy was wearing an extremely close-fitting polo shirt that wedged up under his pecs and hugged his big arms. The name “Cody” was embroidered on the front, much to Alic’s relief since Cody clearly thought he knew Alic.

Alic’s face was level with the unbuttoned collar of Cody’s polo shirt, giving him a view of the smooth, tanned muscles. Alic was well over six feet, he knew, so for a guy to be that much taller than him…Cody must be REALLY tall.

“Wall’s all finished up,” Cody said with a big, proud grin. “Wanna come inspect it?”

“Huh?” Alic was entranced by Cody. So big yet so cute.

“Sorry it took me a little while,” Cody said as he started walking with Alic next to him. “I really wanted to do a good job.” The eagerness in his voice warmed Alic’s heart. The kid was clearly a really hard worker.

Kid?

“I have, erm…” Alic started to say, but the depth of his voice surprised him. Instead of a reedy, timid voice, he was speaking in a deep and robust baritone. “I have a class I need to go to.”

“A class? You getting a certification?”

“No, it’s for…for…” Alic couldn’t remember. “Shit. I can’t keep things straight.” The more he spoke, the deeper his voice got. He could feel it echoing through his chest cavity. “Let’s check out that wall.” He didn’t care about Cody’s wall, but he did care about getting out of the open. He started turning right, toward the line of stores, but he felt Cody’s strong hand on his shoulder guiding him left, toward a couple of empty storefronts.

“You forget which way it is?” Cody smiled, as he walked into an open, but empty, store space full of construction equipment. In the center of it was a freshly constructed stone wall. Alic could smell the mortar.

“Are we allowed to be in here?” Alic asked nervously.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know…”

“How’s it look?” Cody beamed, motioning to the wall going up to the ceiling. “My first wall,” he said proudly, as Alic walked up to the wall and peered in between the stones at the mortar. “It’ll be the first thing everyone sees when they come into the store! Anyway, while you check it out, I’m gonna run and pee…be right back.”

Alic nodded as he continued inspecting Cody’s work. He looked at the corners to make sure they were sharp and even, then he walked around to the other side-

Having thought he was alone in an empty construction site, Alic jumped in fright at the presence of a man on the other side of the wall. “Oh!” he said, leaping back. “I’m solly, I…”

His backpack dropped to the ground and burst open, spilling books at his feet, but Alic didn’t notice. He was staring, thunderstruck, at the man – who was not another person at all, he was starting to realize, but instead his own reflection. A high-pitched wheeze emanated from Alic’s windpipe, like a tea kettle. It felt like someone had opened his head on a hinge and punched him in the brain. He couldn’t explain what he was seeing. What he had thought was just a joke in the photo booth was again displayed back at him. The same bushy eyebrows and big nose were there. So was the chest: enormous and rounding out a foot in front of his chin, with a forest of chest hair fluffing out like an ascot through the rip. And that was just the beginning…instead of a long, lanky beanpole, he saw a stout, sturdily built guy several inches below six feet. His squat frame gave him the look of being as wide as he was tall. The shorter length of his arms and legs allowed their muscles to look impossibly thick, splayed out at angles like an X: his arms couldn’t fall naturally to his side because his lats were so broad, while his knees never touched because of the gnarled mass of his thighs. Out from the bottom of his ruined t-shirt jutted a muscled belly with abs like the bricks in Cody’s wall. Alic looked down at it, but all he saw was chest blocking his view.

It had to be a trick of some kind – there was no other explanation. The mirror was a TV screen connected to the booth somehow, that had to be it…and it was entrancing Alic, making him see things, like how the maroon color of his t-shirt was growing splotchy and redder in certain places, and some embroidery had appeared over one of his tits- not his tits, his chest, he was only seeing the muscle, it wasn’t really there-

The whole empty construction site lit up with white, and Alic groaned loudly. His reflection had changed further. The lower half of his round face was black now, while the sandy hair on his scalp vanished altogether. He reached up and rubbed the beard shadow, then ran his hand over his bald head…he didn’t want to be bald…buttons had sprouted around the tear of his t-shirt, and a collar had folded out around his neck, but just as soon as he looked at it, his neck grew so thick that it vanished altogether, merging into the mountainous mass of his shoulders and making him look even stouter. The collar of his new polo shirt now folded around his jaw, and the open neckline plunged below his pecs, displaying his hairy cleavage. But Alic was looking at the changing design, as the color pushed away from his chest and left a broad white stripe running across the center, while the rest of the polo turned cherry red. The material wasn’t cotton anymore, but silkier and shinier, with elastane that clung to every muscle and wicked away sweat. The embroidery was growing visible now: a small green tree, with the words ‘Cedar Masonry’ next to it. Below the design, the outline of his big nipple was visible the fabric. He suddenly realized the polo was the same one Cody was wearing, and he moved to take it off, even pulling up the bottom, revealing his big stomach now covered in downy black hair. His arms had grown pelts too, which in turn seemed to have made his forearms double in size. He was a hairy man now, except in the one place where had had hair before. Something about his bald head was so masculine and appealing to him, but Alic couldn’t explain what was going on. He took a step backward and his black work boots kicked a metal tool at his feet – it was supposed to be a book, Alic knew that…

“Cody!” he roared in his new bass voice. Maybe Cody could explain what was going on. Nice kid – maybe not the brightest bulb, but such a hard worker and so eager to learn and grow…

There was another flash, and Alic’s body changed further. What he lost in definition he gained back double in mass. Huge and thick, like someone who could lift a car over his head. His bald head gleamed in the lights, and the reflection ran down to his glossy black beard, which sprouting down almost to his shoulders as he watched. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. Where was that tall blond American boy? He had thought HE was a tall blond American boy…it seemed so ridiculous now – was he confusing himself with Cody? But that was ridiculous too. He was stout, swarthy, and Lebanese. Thus the name of his business, and the way his work polo looked almost like the flag of his homeland. “No, I am American,” he insisted to his reflection, that exotic accent bursting off his tongue. And he did feel quite American – now, since he’d moved here at 23 for bodybuilding, and that was more than 20 years ago now. He had done quite well for himself. Learned a trade, started his own business, never lost his size.

“How’s it look, boss?” Cody’s beautiful face poked around the corner. “Oh, we flexin’ now?!” He bounded up next to Alic and curled his arms up, his polo shirt straining over his chiseled body.

Alic watched the polos rumple up under their owners’ chests. He had chosen the design and fit very specifically, and hired only the best physical specimens to fill them. He smiled at Cody, gleaming white teeth shining through his beard. “How I envy your youth,” he said, reaching up and taking off Cody’s hair tie, allowing the young man’s blond tresses to fall around his face like a mane.

“Yeah, well, I envy your size,” Cody grinned, pulling up the front of his polo to show his abs.

“All in good time,” Alic smiled, running his hand up the back of Cody’s shirt. He felt his employee tense up, and he grinned. “You have done good work today.”

“Th-thanks boss,” Cody said. “I…worked really hard, I-I wanted to make you happy.”

Alic’s beard was growing fuller. His shirt was like cellophane over his bulk. “You always make me happy, Cody,” he smiled. “You’re a great employee and are learning so fast.” In one smooth, clearly practiced move, he whipped Cody’s polo over the young man’s head, exposing the marvelously chiseled torso beneath. “And you’re going to make a great bodybuilder too.”

Alic didn’t know why he was doing what he was doing. He kept telling himself he wasn’t gay. He was a nervous American kid, not a big Lebanese daddy, but his urges were growing too great. He watched Cody drop to his knees in front of him, and ran his fingers through Cody’s gorgeous hair as the young man undid his belt buckle. He grunted with pleasure when those full lips wrapped around his dick. He’d been freaked out by his reflection, but what he saw in the mirror now – a confident and virile man stuffed to the brim with physical power, the head of a beautiful young stud buried between his thighs – was more than enough to get him shooting a load of cum down Cody’s throat.

Alif smiled at the kid, and chuckled, “Good job with EVERYTHING today,” which made Cody smile too as he pulled his polo shirt back on and began gathering up his tools.

“Can I lift with you today, boss?”

“I’d say you’ve earned it,” Alif chuckled. “You sure you got the energy?”

“I’m kinda tired, but if I get some pre workout I should be good.”

“Ah, to be young again,” Alif joked with an exaggerated sigh.

“You’re not old!”

“Not old,” Alif agreed, giving one of his pecs a goose. He hiked up the waist of his tight jeans, making his muscle gut heave, then smoothed down the front of his uniform polo. “But also not 17 anymore.”

“Eh, who wants to be 17,” Cody said. “Not my best age.”

“You’re right,” Alif nodded. He checked out himself out in the mirror, ran a hand through his beard, then lumbered back over the wall to finish checking it out. “We men get better with age.”