The Poor Unfortunate Soul: Back from Hell

 [Content Warning: Sexual Violence]

It was hard for Joe to understand how why he was being drawn to the bar in front of him. The last thing he remembered wasn’t being here. Or knowing how he could be standing here. But the neon lights of the Poor Unfortunate Soul seemed to have been calling him inside. He could feel the warmth off them and felt like he needed to go in.

As he pushed through the double doors, there was almost no one in there. The old wooden style saloon of a bar seemed to not draw many people there. Looking behind the bar, he couldn’t see why. Each shelf was stacked full of liquor. Each one had a label he didn’t quite recognize, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to try at least a couple of them.

Joe approached the bar and sat down on the stool. His large burly frame filled the space as he spun back and forth on his seat. “‘Ey, barkeep! Where you at?” he called down the bar. “You got a customer gettin real thirsty over ‘ere.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” called the bartender. He came from the bathroom pushing a mop bucket to the back room. “Don’t have another heart attack. For fucks sake. I get one who can’t handle his fucking alcohol and another who can’t wait to go to Hell.” The bartender complained under his breath as he washed his hands in the sink. He forced a smile. “Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Joe felt an uncomfortable smirk cross his face. He didn’t know what was up with this guy. After being in the marines for a good 15 years, he felt like he had a pretty good read on people but even behind the forced smile, he couldn’t quite tell what the bartender seemed to be thinking. 

A bit of a silence passed between them as Joe continued to try to figure out what was going on. The only thing he felt like he could see was this guy was hiding something. But what that something was was impossible to tell. His eyes glanced over at the bathroom a few more times before focusing solely on Joe. “So, what’ll you be havin?” 

“Whatcha got?” Joe asked back. He’d looked at the line of alcohol behind the bartender but none of the bottles looked familiar. There was a distinct shape to each of them that made them look incredibly special. It didn’t help that all the labels seemed to be in a foreign language as well.

“Just about anything you could possibly want,” the Bartender smiled back. He leaned his weight against the bar and lowered his head below Joe’s eyeline. His hips swayed back and forth like there was a cat's tail, moving before it’s ready to strike. “Some to make you stronger, younger, faster, good at sports...”

Joe let out a laugh. “What kind of joke is this?” 

“Just the one where you walk into a bar,” the Bartender smiled.

“Ouch,” Joe returned with a bit wearier of a smile. He wanted to play off the joke but the way the bartender was he couldn't tell if he thought it was funny. His eyes turned back to the bottles behind the bartender. He didn’t know what to get. Then he was distracted by the bathroom door opening. A sickly looking man started to walk out of the bathroom. “Can’t hold your liquor bud?” he called out to him.

The guy groaned and trudged back over to the bar. His feet barely lifted off the ground with each step he took. Even as he crossed the bar, he could barely make a sound other than minor groans. He sat down on the barstool and put his head down into his arms. 

“You alright there?” Joe asked.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He took something a bit more powerful than he should have. Honestly, I warned him that he couldn’t handle it, but he insisted,” the bartender chided.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Joe joked. “Don’t think I’ve been put under the table like this in a long ass time.” 

“Sorry, no can do. His drink is already in the process of working. Now it’s up to you to finish it off,” the bartender said.

“The fuck does that mean?” Joe turned to the guy who looked passed out. “You know what this fucker’s talking about?” he lifted him up then dropped him. “The fuck!? Nathan!?” Joe jumped back in surprise. “The fuck's your faggot ass is doing here?!” he shouted.

Nathan gave an unenthusiastic groan and buried his head back into his arms. “Trying… to…” then cut off.

“Well,” the bartender had his same sleek smile. The sass in his voice was only emphasized by his posture as he leaned against his bar with his head cradled by his hands. “I guess I need to explain. “See, this 'faggot ass', just brought you out of, for all intents and purposes, Hell.” Joe shot the bartender an angry glare. “Don’t be mad at me! It was his idea. I don’t know why he would want someone like you!”

Joe’s mouth curled into a furious frown. He never liked Nathan. He’d been anything but good to him. Every chance he’d gotten, he’d try to make the openly gay guy feel out of place. But now he was somehow supposed to be thankful to him. He let out a huff and kept his distance.

“Don’t be so glum. Just try to enjoy yourself. See we’ve already started the game, now we just need you to participate,” the Bartender pulled out a couple of shot glasses and stared. “Are you ready to play?”

“Play?” Joe’s frown turned to disgust. He tried to keep an even head. “Play what?”

“Just a game. See I made a bet with your little friend--”

“He’s not my friend,” Joe corrected.

“Well,” the Bartender only paused for a second. “I guess not. But I made a little bet with Nathan over here, say ‘Hi,’ Nathan.” Nathan gave a weak wave with his head still cradled in his arms. “See, he’s been awfully lonely. Says he just doesn’t know what to do. So I made this bet. If he’s able to get someone to love him, well you two will be together. However, if you don’t? I send you back to hell and he’s not able to find love. So,” the bartender smiled a wicked smile, “what do you say?”

“I’d rather be in Hell,” Joe growled.

“Oh nooooo…” The bartender rolled his eyes. “The game’s over before it even began…”

Joe let out a huff. He still had no idea what the fuck was going on. But then he felt a hand grab the tail of his plaid shirt. “Please,” Nathan spoke softly. “At least try…”

Joe pulled back at his shirt. Then pushed back at Nathan. He felt his anger brewing even more but calmed down. Seeing the guy in such a pathetic state while this cocky bartender somehow loomed over the two of them, made him at the very least trust Nathan a bit more. “Fine,” he growled. “What do I have to do?”

“Three shots. Each one you get to choose what happens afterwards. See they’re ‘magic’,” the bartender played with the word and went back to speaking normally, “each one will be able to change a part of your life dramatically. So choose wisely.”

“Hmmm…” Joe grunted. “Anything?”

“AnYtHiNg,” the bartender added some jazz hands to word, then pushed a shot forward.

Joe stared it down. He clutched it in his fingertips but still felt a skeptical part of his brain pulling him back. This had to be a dream. Something he’d wake up from anytime now. But if he was still asleep he might as well enjoy it. He downed the shot, thinking about what the first thing about himself he’d change.

When Joe had joined the marines he’d always focused so hard on his body. He always made sure to keep his waist trim and shoulders broad. Every part of his body was fine tuned for fighting. But once he’d gotten back, it just seemed so much harder to maintain. Stress had given into an unhealthy eating and drinking problem, and the pounds just kept piling on. But what if he’d kept at it. Kept working out?

The more he thought about it the truer it became. He didn’t give up on going to the gym. At least 5 times a week he could be seen in there for over an hour each session, working out as hard as he possibly could to keep up his strong physique. He could see his fat fading away and pulling into strong tight muscles that gripped his body perfectly. Girls and guys would always stare at his perfectly trim waist and when he’d pick up his shirt, a perfect six pack could be seen. 

Even into his 30’s it stayed there. People would always question how he could keep this up. They’d joke about drugs, he’d joke back with them. But sometimes it wasn’t as wrong as they might have thought. It didn’t bother him. As long as he kept the attention flowing towards his body. 

When he’d reached his forties, people just couldn’t get enough of him. They kept asking him all his secrets. And he’d give them the bare basic of info, for a price of course. And people would buy it like crazy. Seeing someone at his age with a physique that could almost compete on stage with guys ten years his junior made them all clamor for that kind of body.

And then there was that one guy who always seemed to be in the gym the same time Joe was, Nathan. In the corner of his eye, Joe could always see Nathan watching him work out. It pissed him off. He couldn’t stand seeing it. Nor how much he enjoyed it. Even if Joe had taken home a number of girls, his mind still seemed to lock onto Nathan.

He finally confronted the guy. Pushed his small body against the lockers. “You can’t keep your fucking eyes off me can you?” he pushed harder. No one else was there so no one could say anything. “I see you watching me every fucking day. You like it?”

“I’m sorry,” Nathan apologized as he tried to get away.

Joe pushed him harder against the locker. “That wasn’t my fucking question asshole. I asked you if you like it.”

“I do,” Nathan choked out. “I do.”

“That’s what I fucking wanted to hear.” Joe spun Nathan around and pushed his shorts and underwear to the ground exposing his ass.

“What are you--”

Nathan was cut off as he felt the hard dick shoved deep into his ass. No warm up. No nothing. Nathan let out a pitiful squeak but Joe didn’t stop.

“Having pleasant thoughts?” the bartender mocked. The way his body swayed was so weak, yet intimidating. Like a cat ready to pounce. When he pulled Joe out of the fantasy; he somehow took control again.

“I… I…” Joe stammered as he looked around the near empty bar again. The thought of being in the gym was still fresh in his mind. He could still smell the musk filled lockers, hear the weights in the other room and feel Nathan’s soft supple body under his grasp. His face filled with disgust as each muscle in it seemed to contract as much as they possibly could. “The fuck was that?” he growled, even angrier that his dick was still hard from thinking about it. 

Joe stomped to the bar and gripped the Bartender by the collar. His thick hand easily grabbed a lot of the shirt and pulled the other person closer to him. With the amount of strength he had in that one arm, he could completely fuck up anyone’s day. But his other fist was clenched tightly to make it even worse. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t ask me,” the bartender threw up his hands defensively. “It’s what you wanted.”

“I wanted to buff not gay,” he growled.

“Again, that’s what you wanted,” the Bartender pulled away. His clothes evaporated into smoke around Joe’s hand as he pulled back into an upright position. “Guess the jig is up. There’s a part two to the game. Sorry, I didn’t quite tell you it. But whatever you change will force you to be connected a bit more to Nathan.”

“The fuck…” Joe took a step back. “No way…” but everything about his body was also different. He now had those muscles he’d been dreaming of. His thin waist was put perfectly in his jeans and his sculpted muscles pressed hard against the fabric. All the way up and down his legs, he could see the power in them. The same was true for his upper body. The shirt that had clung tightly around his belly was now squeezing against his chest. The top button couldn’t stay closed as his neck was far too thick. His sleeves were rolled up over the perfectly sculpted forearms and each time he moved his arms he could feel them flex and push against the fabric holding them back.

The fantasy was true. It was all true. He put his hands to his head and pushed hard. “I don’t fucking want to be gay!” he shouted at nothing in particular. Stomping his foot did nothing and it wasn’t until he punched the wall and felt the pain in his hand that he came back down to a more reasonable level. He looked over at Nathan again. An image of his naked ass flashed into his mind and his dick hardened. He wanted to press his small body against the wall and fuck him all over again.

“FUCK!” Joe roared. He punched the wall a few more times trying to get the anger out. “I’m not a faggot! I’m not a faggot!” each shout was in defiance of the thoughts that kept compounding in his mind. He couldn’t make them go away.

The bartender just watched. “Are you finished yet?” he could see Joe was finally tiring out. With his new body he could go a lot longer than he had been able to previously. “You still have two drink left.”

“I’m not gay,” Joe stated. 

“Ok,” the bartender pushed the drink closer to the edge. “Then drink up.”

Joe eyed the drink. It didn’t make any sense but he could see what had happened to him. He could feel all the strength that was currently in his body. And he knew what Nathan’s bare ass looked like. He let out another growl. “So I can change anything? What if it makes it so I can’t be with…” he stuck his nose up at Nathan.

The bartender seemed to still have his nonchalant way of just standing there. His weight was put onto the bar, yet he still seemed to tower over Joe. It didn’t matter that Joe stood a good head taller than him. Instinctively, he somehow felt smaller. “You can try,” he shrugged.

“Right…” Joe grabbed the second drink. It didn’t feel like a dream any more. But he didn’t know what else he could do. He threw it back thinking about his job. He loved being a marine but he’d always wanted to do something with sports. It just wasn’t in the cards. He never had the natural talent that went along with the pros. But even that would have been annoying. ‘What if I was in one of the second divisions…’ 

The thought went through his mind as the drink fell into his stomach. It’s not like people didn’t make at least some money off of playing for that. There was also the chance that he could be in the pros. And he could still do the marines for a short while before being drafted. The more he thought about it the more the memories started to solidify in his mind.

He could remember seeing the other guys in the locker rooms. They liked to walk around with nothing more than a towel on and sometimes that was a bit much. They’d often play grab ass. Though not with Joe. He’d taught a couple of them a lesson for doing it, so they didn’t mess with him the same way. 

But Joe couldn’t stay there forever. Even if he was still doing really well, it was impossible for him to be able to keep up with the guys younger than him. And the pros weren’t looking his direction. He’d taken the hint and found a coaching job on the side. It’d given him the perfect access to a gym and ability to still be part of the sport. He’d help make sure the guys learned how to be real men. 

“What do you mean you’re failing English?” Joe asked his student. “You speak it don’t you?”

The student squirmed a little in his seat. He knew he was in trouble. “Yeah? But Mr. Walters grades really hard. I can’t do anything about it.”

“Mr. Walters…” Joe’s face scrunched up as he thought about the English teacher. “And you tried talking to him?” The student nodded. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do… Go get ready for practice,” he grumbled. 

“Yes sir. Thank you sir,” the student stiffened into an almost salute.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he brushed it off but loved the feeling of authority. Joe stood up from his desk and walked out of his office. “Yer in charge til I get back,” he told the assistant coaches. “I gotta take care of sumthin.”

Joe walked down the halls of the school. Even in the nearly empty halls, the students would hug the walls as he passed them. Each student knew not to get in his way. He made his way to Nathan’s class and went inside. The dorky guy was behind his desk looking over some papers. “Can I talk to you?”

“Uhh.. Yeah…” Nathan responded.

“Good,” Joe closed the door and locked it. He pulled down the blinds that he had on the door window.

“Is that… Is that necessary?” Nathan asked. Joe didn't respond. He only stepped further into the classroom. His thick arms crossed over his even thicker chest. There seemed to be something caught in Nathan's throat as he spoke. “What can I do for you?”

“You know Jerome Williams?” Nathan nodded at the question. “I hear he’s not passing your class.” 

“He’s… He’s not,” Nathan felt the overwhelming presence of the coach looming over him. The large meaty muscles on the other man seemed to be tensed. His thick fingers were flexed, ready to make a fist at any moment.

“Is Jerome passing your class?”

“No, because--”

Joe cut him off.  That wasn't the right answer. He gripped the back of Nathan’s neck and pushed him against the desk. The other man’s face slid against the papers on his desk. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m making myself clear.” He pushed harder against Nathan’s neck, then pulled himself right up next to the nerd’s ear. “Is Jerome passing your class?” 

Nathan whimpered at the motion. He could feel the power in Joe’s hand. With just that one, he could easily do whatever he wanted to him. “He’s--”

“He’s what?” Joe tightened his grip. Another whimper came out of Nathan’s body. Both knew the overwhelming physical prowess the coach had. He squeezed a little harder. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I know you can’t get enough of me. You stare and stare all the fucking time. So, if you are just willing to overlook some of Jerome’s mistakes I’ll let you suck me off. Or would you rather the hard way?”

The grip around Nathan’s neck loosened. He looked up at the man and then got down on his knees. “Good choice,” Joe sneered. He fumbled with his belt and then slipped open his khaki pants. His cock popped out towards Nathan’s face. The other teacher opened his mouth and slid it in. “Oh fuck yeah,” he gripped the back of Nathan’s head.

“Did it work?” the bartender brought him back again. Joe looked around the bar just as confused as the first time. He felt so lost in the dream again that it felt like reality. But based off the clothes he was wearing it most likely was. His plaid long sleeved shirt had changed to a school’s polo and his jeans into the khaki pants. What made matters worse was his dick was hard and hanging out of the front of his pants and Nathan was on the ground right in front of him. “It doesn’t look like it.”

Joe stepped over Nathan. “Listen…”

“No need to explain anything to me,” the bartender said. “I’m just here to monitor the game. And it looks like Nathan’s not done playing. Are you?” The third shot was pushed towards him.

Every part of Joe was screaming at him that he shouldn’t take it. Whatever it was was changing him. He knew it. But it felt so good. He felt his hand getting closer to it. Knowing what he wanted to change next. Was it too much? Was it even possible? None of the other changes had been. He clutched the drink in his hands. If he could be 18 again, he could just pretend that he was straight. Just get whatever girl he wanted. It’s not like they’d ever have to know.

“Fuck it,” Joe downed the third one. Instantly he could feel his body starting to change again. The years upon years of life started turning back on him. The wrinkles around his face and sagging skin tightened against his body. There was a youthful look in him. Everywhere but his eyes. They remained cold.

“Joe,” Mr. Walters scolded. “You can’t expect everything just to be solved by being stronger than the other guy. You have to try harder.”

“I am trying,” Joe grumbled. He crossed his thick arms and sunk lower into the desk.

“Are you?” Mr. Walters’ eyes lowered on him. “I still have a couple of homework assignments from Mrs. Danvers and Mrs. Brandt that need to be done.” Joe squirmed in his seat and mocked his teacher under his breath. “I’m trying to help you,” Mr. Walters slammed the homework on the desk. 

“Maybe I didn’t ask for your help,” Joe grumbled again.

“What was that?” Mr. Walters shot back.

“Maybe I didn’t ask for your help!” Joe stood up from his desk and approached his teacher. Each angry stomp forward, sent Mr. Walters back. He stood a good head taller than the older man and weighed nearly twice as much. And all of it was powerful muscle. Even through his long sleeves, the density packed into those biceps could be seen. “Huh? Maybe I didn’t ask to be you’re little fucking project?”

Mr. Walters was back against the board. There wasn’t anywhere else for him to go. Joe slammed his fist against the board, right over his shoulder. “Huh?” Joe threatened. “Why do you even care? Why do you keep bothering me with all this stupid shit! I’m just going to the military. They don’t fucking care! Why do you?”

“I just want you to succeed… You can do more than that,” Mr. Walters responded. “If you wanted to.”

“Oh fuck off,” Joe felt a sense of calm wash over him. “You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

A strange sound came out of Joe as he saw the honesty in his teacher’s eyes. There was no way someone like him would ever believe in him. The air around the two of them seemed to change. He felt a little awkward but didn’t know why. Maybe it was his hardening dick. Or maybe it was feeling Mr. Walters’ heavy breathing against his face. But something was taking him over. He felt the distance between the two closing with his lips starting to pucker.

Then they connected. The teacher seemed to have gotten the idea and followed through as Joe’s massive body held him against the wall. The two played off each other. Mr. Walters followed his lead. But then pushed away as the realization of what he was doing came to him.

“Joe I can’t,” he tried to push further, but Joe’s body wouldn’t.

“Can’t what?” Joe ignored the dismissal and continued to let his hands feel up the other man’s body. He was slowly working his way down to the teacher’s pants. 

“You’re… You’re my student,” Mr. Walters tried pushing again but still nothing. His body jerked as he felt his pants and underwear drop to his ankles. 

“That’s not going to work anymore. I’m an adult. I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he spun the adult around and pushed him against the board. Joe realized he’d been fighting these feelings for God knows how long. Ever since the first time Mr. Walters had scolded him for skipping class or missing an assignment, he’d always had to say something. But Joe felt like he had to listen. He didn’t know why. There was something about that teacher that just made him want to please him.

Mr. Walters let out a grunt as his fingers curled against the board. He tried to grip onto something as he felt the thick dick press up against his hole. “Joe…” he moaned.

“Scolding me’s not going to work any more,” Joe taunted. He pushed a little harder and watched the teacher squirm under the pressure. Mr. Walters was trying to find anything to grab onto. Anything to hold him up. Joe thrust into him.

A deep moan fell out of his mouth as his body went limp. Joe picked him back up and tried to ease whatever discomfort his teacher was having. “Don’t… Stop…” he heard.

A grin crossed Joe’s face as he started thrusting a little bit more. His hard dick slid in and out, feeling the tension placed upon it. Each one sent him a little closer to going over. But it was the out of breath panting and begging for more from his teacher that really made him feel right. It didn’t matter how many girls he had fucked. How many of them screamed out in ecstasy and dug their claws into his arms, it didn’t feel anything as close to as good as this.

His body gave into the carnal pleasure and released into Mr. Walter’s body. The more primal thrusts seemed to have sent the teacher over as well. Though there seemed to have already been a stain on the wall. 

“I knew you’d be a good guy…” Mr. Walters smiled as he lowered to the ground.

“Welcome back,” the bartender smiled.

“Back?” Joe questioned. He threw a nasty look at the bartender. “I’m just here to pick him up…” Mr. Walters' head still laid flat against bar. “C’mon,” he lowered himself under the other man’s arm and hefted him up. “Let’s get you home.”

“Oh? Are you his son?” the bartender asked. There was a strange grin on his face that pissed Joe off. It was like he knew something but didn’t want to be honest.

“Something like that,” Joe growled back as he led his teacher and lover towards the front door. 

“That’s so nice. Just be safe when you join the forces,” the bartender waved.

Joe paused for a second but ignored it. Knowing Mr. Walters that was probably what he was so upset about to drink into such a stupor. “I will,” Joe called back. “I will… At least for you…” he said in a hushed voice to Mr. Walters. The grip around his shoulder tightened as he carried the other man out of the bar.