Chapter 2

In his car, Jake sat for a moment, staring at the Ridges hardware sign. What had just happened? He’d gone in for screws and come out ... what? A different person? His phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number. Next Saturday, same time. -C. Jake laughed, a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. His life had changed in the span of an hour, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to change back.

He drove home, the memory of hands, cocks, and heat lingering. Ridges hardware wasn’t just a store anymore. It was a portal, a place where the ordinary became extraordinary. And Jake? He was no longer just a guy with a cat and a Netflix queue. He was a man with a secret, a story, and a hunger for more. He’d be back next Saturday, jeans low, ready for whatever Ridges hardware had in store.

Jake’s legs trembled as he pushed through the glass doors of Ridges, the plastic bag of screws and potting soil swinging in his hand like a guilty verdict. His jeans, soaked front and back, clung to his thighs, the evidence of Aisle 12’s fever dream dripping with every step. The parking lot was a maze of pickup trucks and minivans, the late afternoon sun on May 17, 2025, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper the names of Cole, Mike, and the crowd—flannel guy, landscaper, lawnmower dude—whose hands and cocks had rewritten Jake’s identity in an hour. His cock twitched at the memory, a traitor to his attempt at regaining composure, his hole still aching from the stretch of Tyler’s thick, pierced cock.

Tyler’s words echoed in his mind: Restroom, two hours. Don’t be late, cumdump. The term should’ve stung, but it sent a jolt of heat through him, his hole clenching with a hunger he couldn’t ignore. Jake glanced at his phone—6:45 PM. Fifteen minutes until the two-hour mark. His rational brain screamed to get in his Honda Civic, drive home, and bury this day under a pile of Netflix and beer. But the part of him that had let a crowd of strangers fuck him in Aisle 12 was already walking back toward the store, drawn like a moth to a flickering fluorescent.

The Ridges hardware sign loomed, its blocky letters a promise of chaos. The store was quieter now, the Saturday rush fading as families headed home. Jake’s damp jeans chafed, his cock half-hard, the anticipation making his skin prickle. He bypassed Aisle 12, avoiding the ghost of Cole’s hands and that judgmental cactus, and headed for the restrooms at the back. The heavy industrial door felt like a portal, and as he pushed it open, the stark white tiles and faint bleach smell hit him like a slap. The restroom was empty except for one figure leaning against the sink, his skinny frame unmistakable.

Tyler, the skater-dude cashier, looked up from his phone, his lip piercing glinting under the fluorescent lights. His Ridges hardware vest was gone, leaving him in a faded Black Flag tee and jeans that hung low, hinting at the thick, pierced cock Jake had felt in Aisle 12. His dark hair was mussed, his eyes gleaming with a predatory smirk. “You showed,” Tyler said, his voice a lazy drawl laced with hunger. “Didn’t think you’d have the balls, cumdump.”

Jake’s face flushed, but his cock twitched, the term igniting a spark. “Yeah, well,” he said, trying to sound casual, “I’m full of surprises.” His voice cracked, betraying his nerves, and Tyler’s smirk widened.

“Fuck yeah, you are,” Tyler said, pushing off the sink and closing the distance. He was shorter than Jake, lean but wiry, with a restless energy that made the small restroom feel smaller. His eyes roamed over Jake, lingering on the soaked jeans, the visible bulge, the tremor in his hands. “Look at you, all fucked out and still begging for more.”

Jake swallowed, his throat dry. “What’s the plan?” he asked, his voice hoarse. His hole clenched at the memory of Tyler’s cock—thick, veined, larger than Cole’s, with a silver piercing that had grazed his insides with sharp intensity.

Tyler’s grin was wicked. “Plan’s to fuck you senseless here, then take you to my place for the real fun.” His hand brushed Jake’s hip, tugging at the waistband of his jeans, exposing the curve of his ass to the cool air. Jake’s breath hitched, his cock hardening fully, the wet spot spreading. Tyler’s fingers slipped under Jake’s shirt, grazing his abs, tweaking his nipples with a sharpness that made him gasp. “You’re still dripping from Cole,” Tyler murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Let’s add to the mess.”

The restroom door clicked—Tyler had flipped the lock, sealing them in this private, surreal space. He pushed Jake against the sink, the cold porcelain biting into his hips. Jake gripped the edge, his reflection in the mirror showing a man he barely recognized—flushed, wild-eyed, jeans around his thighs, cock leaking through the denim. Tyler’s hands were on him, spreading his cheeks, his fingers teasing Jake’s hole, still slick with cum and sweat. “Fuck, you’re ready,” Tyler said, his voice a growl.

Tyler unzipped his jeans, and Jake’s breath caught at the sight—Tyler’s cock was massive, thick and veined, the silver piercing glinting at the tip, a promise of raw intensity. He stroked himself, the piercing catching the light, and Jake’s hole twitched, his body anticipating the stretch. Tyler pressed against him, the piercing cold and hard against Jake’s slick entrance, and pushed in, slow but relentless. The stretch was intense, thicker than Cole, the piercing grazing Jake’s insides with a sharp jolt that made his eyes water. Jake moaned, loud and raw, his body trembling as Tyler filled him, inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Tyler growled, his hands gripping Jake’s hips, pulling him back to meet each thrust. The rhythm was fast, rough, driven by a desperate need. The piercing hit that spot inside Jake, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through him, and his cock pulsed, leaking onto the sink. Jake’s moans echoed off the tiles, the bleach smell mixing with the musk of their bodies. He came without warning, his release splattering the porcelain, his hole clenching around Tyler’s cock.

Tyler didn’t stop. He pulled out, only to spin Jake around, pushing him to his knees on the cold tile. “Not done yet,” Tyler said, his voice rough. He guided his cock back to Jake’s hole, entering him from a new angle, the piercing grazing deeper. Jake’s moan was guttural, his body arching as Tyler fucked him, the sink behind him a grounding force. The second round was slower, more deliberate, Tyler’s hands roaming Jake’s chest, tweaking his nipples, stroking his cock until Jake came again, his release soaking the floor. Tyler followed, his cock pulsing inside Jake, the piercing amplifying the sensation as he filled him with warmth.

Tyler pulled out, panting, but his smirk was back. “One more,” he said, pulling Jake to his feet and bending him over the sink again. This time, Tyler’s thrusts were relentless, the piercing hitting that spot with every stroke, and Jake’s body was a live wire, his third orgasm ripping through him as Tyler came again, their combined release dripping down Jake’s thighs. Jake slumped against the sink, his jeans a soaked mess, his body humming.

“Fuck,” Jake gasped, his voice shaky. “That was...”

“Just the warm-up,” Tyler said, zipping up. “Grab your shit. You’re coming with me.”

Jake followed Tyler out of the restroom, his legs unsteady, his jeans a wreck. The Ridges hardware aisles felt alien now, the flickering fluorescents casting long shadows that seemed to whisper secrets. Shoppers moved past, oblivious to the cum dripping down Jake’s thighs, the evidence of his transformation. Tyler led him to the parking lot, where a beat-up skateboard was propped against a black pickup truck. “Hop in,” Tyler said, tossing the board in the back and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Jake hesitated, his rational brain screaming that this was insane—going home with a stranger who’d just fucked him three times in a Ridges hardware restroom. But his body was buzzing, his hole aching with a need he couldn’t ignore. He slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against his damp jeans, and Tyler shot him a grin. “You’re gonna love my place,” he said, starting the engine. “Got some toys you’ll go wild for.”

The drive was a blur of neon signs, suburban sprawl, and Tyler’s music—a chaotic mix of punk and metal that matched his restless energy. Jake’s mind raced, replaying the restroom, Aisle 12, the crowd. He was no longer just Jake, the graphic designer with a cat named Muffin. He was something wild, something Tyler was unlocking with every smirk, every touch. The thought of “toys” sent a shiver through him, his cock twitching despite the exhaustion.