Obsessive Idolatry

 

Jake Rathbone. My God, Jake Rathbone. How do I describe him? The perfect human being? A God among men? The envy of the universe? That’s inadequate. He is flawless. And he will be all mine. He made me pick up skateboarding. He made me shop at Pac Sun & Zumiez. I saw him drink a Rockstar Xdurance once, so I started drinking Rockstar Xdurance. 

Now I know what you’re thinking: you’re going a bit overboard, Tim. But you don’t understand, Jake Rathbone is my idol. It’s like the universe put us on the same planet just to bring us together. Here’s the problem, though: Jake is a superstar. That presents it’s own obstacles to making him my perfect husband. He’s surrounded 24/7 by his freeloading entourage, and it makes it nearly impossible to get close. 

So, what’s a poor kid of 41 from Newark, New Jersey to do? Well, thanks to a mysterious package, a plan hatched in my head. 

It started when this tiny little envelope was dropped off by UPS. It was addressed to me, from some Doctor from New Orleans. Snow? Frost? Something like that. Anyway, I didn’t recognize it, but curiosity got the best of me, so I opened it. When I first looked at it, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It looked almost like a decal. One of those plastic stickers you put on car windows and laptop covers. It looked like a viking symbol of some sort, with strange runes around it. Also in the envelope was a cardstock letter from the mysterious sender.

“Dear Sir or Madame,

Congratulations on being the first to test our new product, the TømmeRegalia. Imported straight from the mystic fjords of Norway, this unique item allows you to truly step into someone’s shoes. Wondering what we mean? Place the decal on a friend (or foe) and watch the magic and wonder. This is a controlled product release, so please, keep this to yourself.

Enjoy,

Dr. W.A. Frost

Crescent City Trading Company”

Now, to the unimaginative eye, this seems like quite the scam. However, I could see through the doubt. This was the real deal. I looked at the black decal, and immediately tossed it into my messenger bag. I packed my bags and took the first redeye flight to L.A. It was time for me and my beloved to finally unite.

Stepping off the plane, and into the Uber, I meticulously planned my strategy. The ride from LAX to Laguna Beach was a long one, so I had plenty of time. I knew that Jake would be at the Laguna Beach Skatepark for a competition. I also knew he’d be surrounded once again by his damn lackeys. However, there was one opportunity of respite. At exactly 2:25 PM, Paramount Studios would reveal the first trailer for their Star Wars/Star Trek/Stargate/Firefly crossover movie, and ALL eyes would be on that. At that time, all the skaters would head to the trainer to get their muscles worked on. I’d have an extremely small pocket of time between Jake entering the tent, and the trainer entering. That was the plan. 

An hour and a half passed, and the notorious LA traffic proved to be much worse than I anticipated. As 2:25 creeped closer and closer, I needed to think about plan B. Well, I didn’t realize that until I arrived at the park. Thus, Plan B was improvising. 

I paid the ABSURD $180 ticket price, and walked into the park just as the current contender was finishing. To my delight, shredding the half pipe was Jake Rathbone in the flesh. And I mean it when I say “the flesh.” His sparkling, sweaty pecs and abs were on full display, just as I knew that cocky little Adonis would. I watched him fly through the air, spinning and landing the most amazing aerials I’ve ever seen. He had to be mine.

The loud screaming of the foghorn signaled the end of his event, and Jake effortlessly landed on solid ground; immediately flanked by his entourage. I realized immediately that I would never get Jake alone. Yet, the universe struck again, as I noticed one of his little cronies break off from the group, running toward the concession stands. He was no Jake Rathbone, but he was cute enough. Shirtless, he was impressive, with one adorable smile. I thought, yeah, he’ll do.

Seizing the opportunity, I slithered through the crowd toward the kid, pushing past edgy teens and millennial burnouts alike. Decal prepped and ready on the palm of my hand, by the time the cutie realized it, I had already slapped the black symbol on his sweaty bare shoulder. He let out a loud gasp, and stumbled backward, spilling some girl’s lemonade all over him.

“Oh God, you okay, bud?” His eyes fluttered, becoming distant. “Hey, I’ll take you to a bench. You oughta sit down.” I tossed his arm around my shoulder, taking in that youthful pit musk brewing in the California sun, and nearly dragged him to a small patch of shrubbery behind the port-o-potties. With each step, his body became lighter, easier to carry. By the time I dropped him on the ground, he was completely hollow.

I’m telling you I never stripped so quick in my life. I stood there, my chalky white beer gut and grey chest hair seeing the light of day for the first time in decades. I was twice the size of this little stud. It would be a tight squeeze.

I lifted his skin, still slick and warm with musky sweat, and looked for the port of entry. Smirking, I pulled down his damp cotton shorts and stared eagerly at his firm ass. A guilty sniff and some probing later, I took my time stretching his hole open. One arm, two arms… As I slipped more of my fat body into his, I could feel his skin stretching, distorting. The sound of his slick, empty body giving way to mine was almost orgasmic; slurping, creaking, squeaking, and bubbling. 

My arms finally found their way into his, and after that, it was easy-peasy. All I had to do was tug and pull. All said and done, it took 15 minutes to slip inside this bro. Adjusting my face like a mask, I began to take his memories. Quinn. My new name was Quinn. I’d known Jake since childhood. We are best friends. 

I opened my new brown eyes to immediate sensory overload. I could see 20/20. My hearing was better than it had been for years. I smelled the delicious sweaty musk pouring out of my sweaty pits & groin. Fuck, being Quinn was gonna be fun. To make a good situation even better, who should show up but Jake Rathbone, looking for his missing friend.

“Yo! You good? A bunch of people saw you pass out.” I flashed a million dollar smile, and grabbed my idol’s extended hand. 

“Fuck yeah, dude. Just needed a little snooze.” Jake raised an eyebrow, but eventually led me back to the competition. Completely unaware of what’s beneath Quinn’s sweaty, glistening skin; and I was going to take full advantage. I had forever to be with Jake. I’d be at his side day in and day out. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll put my new sexy body to good use. Jake gets so exhausted after skating. He might need a foot massage. Or a back massage. Or a little… cock massage.