Be Like Me

 You didn’t really know him. Back in the day, perhaps you knew Nick Kessler, but as far as the “Nicky” Kessler he is today… He might as well have been a total stranger. You lived in the same town, you grew up together, you were in the same classes, you even were known to have hung out on occasion. But as things do, life has it’s own plan. You sort of faded into the background, and he to the forefront. He Nick was quiet, reserved, even awkward at times- a stark contrast to the boisterous, playful, rambunctious little degenerate he became.

He started to come out of his shell, hang with different people, started skateboarding and discovered he was quite good. His new friends were all popular, so he became popular. Thus, you watched from afar the blossoming of Nicky Kessler, your former friend, as you stayed the same. That isn’t to say that he was rude, mean spirited, a bully like some of his pals. When you passed him in the halls, he always wanted a high five, or a noogie, or to mime punch like all stupid skater dudes do. But you always felt abandoned and left alone while he skyrocketed.

After high school he seemed to make his own way, posting a lot on Tik Tok and YouTube, eventually graduating to a very successful and you imagined fairly lucrative OnlyFans. It would be fair to say you admired him, living life on his terms, dressing the way he wanted, acting the way he did… being happy the way he was. Thus on that tepid day in town, as you walked down the street, the familiar chilled out (likely stoned) young twenty-something skater immediately gave you pause.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to avoid him. You didn’t want him to see you like this, the way you ended up. Some square, vanilla normie that no one would pay notice to or even think of. Admiring from afar was safe, it was anonymous. Though in your heart of hearts, you desperately wanted to be Nicky. It was never meant to be, you thought, as you quickly turned to jettison back into the safety of the sidewalk crowd. Yet, as it does, life has it’s own plan.

“Ayyyy no way!” The toked out tenor timbre of his voice soared over the chatter of the city, smacking the back of your head like a lead pipe. “Is it my boy over there? Can’t be!” You sighed, knowing full well your cover was blown. Turning around, your eyes met. He grinned his dopey grin and jumped to his feet, running over to wrap you in his tight hug. Nicky was a pretty lean, almost lanky guy, but years of skating and partying had him surprisingly fit and able to nearly knock the wind out of you when his slender body slammed into you.

“Heh… Hey Nick. How’s it going?” Your words fell out of your mouth with the heavy weight of anxiety. He released you from his bear hug, rustling your hair through his sweaty hands.

“Ahhh, you know me man! It’s Nicky to you, my dude.” You looked down at your feet, chuckling to yourself. Did you know him? “I just finished up at the skate park, got a sick Airwalk on film and was gonna head home to edit it. Gotta keep up for my boys, am I right?” He slapped your shoulder with a jovial snicker. You nodded silently and smiled, unsure of what to even say. For a moment there, the silence was deafening, uncomfortably so. You could tell he was waiting for how you were doing, but your mouth had completely clamped shut. Thankfully, the silence was broken. “Ay, you got my number, right? We gonna hang sometime soon, I gotta hear all the crazy shit you been up to!” He pulled his phone out, air dropping his contact info before you even had a chance to respond. “Hit me up in a couple hours or so, yeah? Might film a little somethin’ somethin’ for OnlyFans, you know what I’m sayin? See you later, bro!” He slapped your back yet again, sauntering back over to the bench to pick his board up and roll away down the sidewalk.

The lingering scent of his cologne and unmistakable waft of sweat hung on you like draperies. He was known in high school for that musk, blowing off any anal retentive teacher which bothered to comment on it after he rolled into class. “I mean, teach you like it too am I right?” He’d always say, getting a chuckle out of the classmates as he plopped down in his seat up front. Everything always seemed to be so unserious. Any criticism, hate, or insult that was thrown his way just rolled off his baggy sweatshirt as if it were nothing. Each time you saw it, you were in awe. How nothing could get to him, how life was a party. Even today.

You made your way back home, taking the short route to avoid any more unexpected run ins. You shut the door and look around your apartment. It’s clean, it’s tidy, it’s indescribably boring. That smile and smell still hanging heavy on your mind, you look down at your phone. His number sat waiting for you. For the first time in forever, you throw your caution to the wind, and send him a text. Just one with your name, nothing more. You hit send and put your phone down, getting ready to go make your dinner. Less than one second passes, and you hear the ding.

Were you surprised? Yeah a bit. A guy like Nick was always up to something, you didn’t expect him to be quite so vigilant with his phone. Though as you inched closer to your phone, another ding. And then another, and another. Quickly you pick it up and unlock it.

Nicky: FUCK YEAHH DUDE! So glad to have you on the phone, man.

Nicky: Bruh, check these sunglasses out dude. A guy I collabed with left em here, hot as fuck.

Nicky: I’ll let you try em on when you get here dude. The boys are gonna think you’re me haha

It was as if your best friend was chatting you up, as if you’d been hanging out your whole lives. Nick was social alright, but you could really feel the excitement through the text. He was happy to hang out with you, not just happy; he wanted to hang out with you. You wiped the look of confusion off your face and replied asking the basic when and where.

You: Sure, what time? And where am I going?

Nicky: Just come on over, I’ll send you the address!

The ping of an address pin on your map showed him not too far away. A five minute walk at most. You wasted no time, grabbing only your keys before you walked out the door. The walk was indeed merely five minutes; before you knew it, you were standing outside the apartment building. Reading the text once more for brevity, you confirmed that Nick lived in apartment 3G. Meandering through the halls and up elevators, you did your best to quell any anxiety or preconceptions regarding your former best friend. Fighting the impostor syndrome which plagued you far beyond the social conundrum you found yourself in that day, you took a deep breath before stepping in front of the door marked 3G. Mustering your strength, you gently knocked on the door three times.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, and before you grinning from ear to ear, eyes covered by the stupid sunglasses he reappropriated and stifling his chuckles under his breath was Nick. He waved you in, and you were met with the sight of an adequate one bedroom apartment. It’d certainly been given the landlord special on more than one occasion, with a thick application of white latex paint covering switchplates, hinges, and miscellaneous fixings on the walls. The place had a certain musty smell to it. You could only compare it to cigarette smoke, freshly ground marijuana, and dirty laundry. Looking around the place, you could see where the scent emitted from all around the room. A still-smoking bong on the cluttered 1990’s side table, an ashtray filled with cigarette butts on the kitchen countertop, a pile of dirty laundry shoved up against the wall next to either nine or ten pairs of beat up AirJordans.

The place was a mess, for certain. But as Nick sluggishly plopped down onto the old corduroy sofa, kicking his massive feet up onto the coffee table, it definitely fit the vibe which Nick radiated. Laid back, messy, but comfortable. You wandered over toward the sofa.

“My dude, did I not say these were fuckin’ dope?” He flashed his face from side to side, showing off the stupid sunglasses.

“Yeah, man. They look great. Lucky you found them in here.” He lounged back, grabbing the bong in his hand.

“Sorry bout the mess. I been goin’ and goin’ every day makin content, I haven’t had time to pick up, you know what I mean?” He ignited the bowl, puffing out a large cloud in your face. Patting the seat next to him, you blushed ever so slightly as you sat down next to him. He smiles as he tosses his arm around your neck as he prepares to pass the bong to you. “So, my dude. What have you been u…”

Suddenly, the bong slipped from his hand, landing on your left thigh and spilling the brown bongwater all over your pants, shirt, and shoes. There was a moment of complete silence which fell over you two, before Nick began to burst into laughter. You, on the other hand were less than amused.

“Shit man, my bad. I’ve been hitting this for too long huh?” He laughed and slapped your shoulder. “I’ll borrow you some clothes. Better than lookin’ like you wet yourself, hah!” He jumped up and trudged over to the pile of laundry, ruffling through it. From over his shoulder, Nick tossed an old tee shirt, a grey sweatshirt, a pair of old blue Jordans. You look down at them with a quiet grimace, the dampness of the fabric betraying just how ‘dirty’ his laundry was.

“Looks like I’ll be wet anyway…” You mutter under your breath, the wet scent of summer sweat and masculine musk wafting from the threads into your nose. Nick laughs jovially, shoving you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom. His smile was sincere as the door shut behind you; despite his wild success and weirdly stunted mental age locked at 21 forever, he still maintained that genuine charm that you couldn’t help but crave more of. In a way, he was the exact same Nick that he was in high school: endlessly lucky and effortlessly fun. Looking down at your stained clothes, you decided it would be rude to deny this gracious gesture and began to shuck your shirt and pants. Alas, even your underwear had to go- the stench of hash and fermenting bongwater had permeated even through your jeans. Looking around, you see Nick’s used zebra print thong on the sink, huffing as you try to stifle the stiffy which had slowly been growing harder and harder as you breathed in the radiating musk.

Sighing, you snatch the thong off it’s perch and slide it up your thighs. Nick was a slender guy and luckily for you, outside the wet G-string, he wore baggy clothes. You hope they’ll fit better as you struggle to shove your hardening member into the small pouch. You look down at your hands, shiny with your best bro’s sweat. As if moving altogether on their own, your sticky fingers approach your nose, as you take a big whiff of damp skater funk and tangy leftover spunk which coated the inside. You shudder, every huff releasing endorphin after endorphin. Not only was the smell growing on you… you were starting to feel as if you needed it.

You smile as you pull up his stained, baggy Carhartt workpants, laughing as they hang off your waist like two stovepipes, held up only by your plump but tight peach in the rear. You paw at your sizeable bulge, a sticky spot of pre slowly manifesting through the tightly woven denim. Maybe Nicky had the right idea with this whole street-casual thing, as you slipped on his dank old tee shirt the slightly cool moisture which slid across your skin like melted butter felt as if this was the way it was always meant to be: au naturale. Your long, slender arms found their way into the grey sweatshirt which draped across your skinny frame quite nicely. You couldn’t help but smile- you looked fucking fantastic. That tanned, smooth skin you pride yourself on just felt at home in your bro’s threads.

You sit down on the tile floor, shoving your feet into the massive Jordans, savoring that slimy, sticky sensation as your sole presses against the broken-in, comfy insole. Feeling Nicky’s foot funk penetrate into every crevice and pore on your size 13 feet. You vaguely recall a memory from back in the day, where after skating, the two of you were roughhousing at his place and being the dopey lil punk he is, he would relish in his inevitable victory of shoving his smelly, beat up Chucks onto your face. Even more vague and dim was the memory of you tossing the fight to get just one more huff. You two had always been close, the best of friends really.

Though you didn’t intend to, you couldn’t help but accessorize, slipping on various pieces of Nicky’s jewelry to tie it all together. Sharing is caring, and the look required it anyway. Smiling, you pull out your phone taking a snapshot of your new fit, as if you hadn’t borrowed his clothes on the reg.

You whip around after one final grope of your throbbing and leaking bulge and saunter out of the bathroom. In the back of your hazy mind, you feel as if you haven’t felt this good and authentic for a long time. Confusing, as you and Nicky hang constantly- you’re basically attached at the sweaty hip. It’s not as if you haven’t raided his closet before, haven’t felt his sour-saccharine sweat enveloping your lithe body. Walking into the living room once more, he sat stretched out on the couch, smiling from ear to ear.

“Ayyyyyyy look at my boy! All comfy and lookin’ fine as fuck.” You two fist bump as you collapse onto the sofa next to him, feeling his arm around the back of your neck. You snag the bong from the table, taking another rip from the 'chill machine’ as you two know it. Mid exhale, you feel a pair of warm lips press against the nape of your neck and hear Nicky’s soft whisper in your ear. “I got a present for ya. A lil’ treat.” A thump rings out in the room, his worn, beat up Jordans had hit the floor, and now resting on the tabletop among the various clutter were his sticky, sopping wet feet. The tsunami of moist heat bellowing from the shining sweat on his wrinkled soles thrust into your nostrils, a fervent reminder of your favorite 'friendly’ pastime with Nicky. He chuckled under his breath as he swung his huge feet onto your lap, prodding your chin and the tip of your nose with his big toe.

You parted your lips, taking in one of those hot-as-hell toes into your mouth, sucking it until you felt him smile again. You were a foot fetishist’s dream come true, and once Nicky had found out about that, he was always more than happy to oblige your filthy desires that he shared. His sweaty, stinking toes would go straight into your mouth, and when you finished…you’d get another. And another. Oh yes, and another!

“Mmmm,” Nicky moaned as you sucked his toe clean. “Brooooo. You always looked so cute with your face smothered in my feet.” You lapped up every drop of slimy footjuice, as he pressed his feet firmly against your head, teasingly massaging and pinching your skin between his toes. With his other hand, he reached down towards the bulge in his crotch, jerking his cock off as he watched you lick his feet. He pulled away, your skin seemingly stuck against the skin of his sole with glue. Nicky smirked with a cocky rise of the corner of his supple lips, watching as your face stretched and warped between his toes. It snapped back to place, ever so slightly sharper in definition. Whenever Nicky started playing with your body, sculpting it to his whim, you were thrilled to see the result.

You two were always finding new ways to explore the kinky needs each of you desperately desired. A new face whenever he willed it. A new body whenever he willed it. Waiting for the right match to finalize his perfect partner. Until then, you’d be forever changing. Forever being molded. Forever being broken apart. Forever being put back together. His cock twitched inside his pants, making a soft squelching sound as he wanked himself.

“I gotta say bro, I’m likin’ what I’m makin’ tonight. Might have to keep this one around for a while.” He ran his fingers through your lengthening hair, feeling your sweaty locks fall gently against your strong shoulders. Your tattoos glistened and shimmered under the beadlets of sweat which had all but covered your entire body within his ripe threads. Nicky laughed, licking his lips as he stood up. He planted a kiss on your thin lips, his tongue exploring your mouth, happily chirping as the flavors of his own footsweat and your sweet saliva mingled on his tongue. He gripped his large, heavy balls, squeezing them together as he shot his load, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your face.

It dripped down your cheeks and your lips, dripping from your chin as it oozed over your sharp jawline. This was your life. An airheaded stoner skater who would do anything to keep his fantasy alive. You’d never let anyone else have such control over your body or mind apart from him. You loved it. You lived for it. And now, with Nicky’s cum still dribbling down your chin, you smiled at him, showing him just how much you loved him. The two of you stood up in a huff, smirking in lust as you entered the bedroom and shut the door.

—

The next few weeks were full of huge changes for you. You moved into your boyfriend’s grody apartment and quit your dead end job to join him on his OnlyFans and livestreams. The money was more than enough to sustain you and Nicky, even if you had to take on odd jobs to make ends meet. You were always horny as hell, and Nicky would never turn you down. Whether you were bent over a table, lying on your stomach on the bed, or sprawled out on the floor, he was there to give you the dicking down you desperately needed. He was there to dress you up in his musky street clothes, or to make you wear his skimpy little thong before he took you out to the beach. You’d never been happier, and you were sure Nicky was too.