Crowdwork

Hey all – this one took a little longer than I planned, so Encore: Chapter 3 will be up in the first couple days of September. As we say in Canada, sorry.

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“Thank you for calling Northline Communications. My name’s Parker. How can I help?”

I wore a headset and read lines from a screen. My manager was walking the floor with a tablet and a disapproving scowl. Please don’t ask me to do overtime…

I wasn’t going home after work.  There’s this Open Mic at the Skylark, and I wanted to be there early to flyer.  That’s a thing comedians do – we promo the show, and in exchange we get a few minutes on stage.  Some guys act like they’re too good for it, but every guy with a Netflix special started by standing on a street corner and yelling “BIG SHOW TONIGHT!”

I got there by six o’clock.  The East Village smelled like fryer oil and wet stone. The Skylark’s sign was a neon bird. It was a comedy bar – one brick wall, and a ‘two drink minimum’ sign. Milo – the guy who runs the room – he’s okay.

He’s forty and he dresses like TikTok, but he puts me on the list.

“What’s your name again?” he asked.

“Uh... Parker,” I said.  He knows me, but not like... by name.

“Three minutes at 10:45,” Milo said, adjusting his gold chain.  “Unless you get bumped.”

“Thanks,” I said.  Three minutes is bullshit – I’ve been doing this for five years – but it’s better than nothing.  I took a stack of fifty flyers and headed for my usual corner.

“Hey, big show tonight!” I shouted at a passing couple.  “Live comedy in the East Village!”

----------

I got back to the club at 10:30, completely out of flyers.  Two people actually said they’d try to come – not like I’d know.  Comics wait in the bar upstairs, the show is in the downstairs room, and once you get on stage the lights are so bright you’ll never see the audience.

“Parker?  We got a Parker here?” Milo called out.  We was standing three feet from my barstool.

“Yeah,” I said, raising my notebook to show I was ready.  “Three minutes, right?”

“Two,” he said.  “But keep it tight. We’re running over.  Hey Jesse!  Get your ass downstairs too – this kid might bolt off the stage.”

Jesse and I started at the same time.  He does ten minute sets now.  It’s bullshit – just cause he’s black, he gets stage time?  It’s hard being a straight white guy, y’know?

“You got it boss,” Jesse said, following us down.  We waited at the stairs for about thirty seconds while the host pumped up the crowd.  They were hot.  And thank god... four hours handing out flyers, I needed the dopamine.

“Our next guy is new to the scene, but who knows, maybe he’s the next Jerry Seinfeld,” the host said.  “Everyone give it up for…” he checked a scrap of paper.  "Give it up for PARKER!”

“Hey, how we all doing tonight?” I said, grabbing the mic and slipping it out of the stand.  The audience gave polite applause.  I hate when they intro me as ‘new to the scene’.  That shit’s supposed to get people on my side, but it just makes me them pity me.

“So what’s the deal with Canada,” I joked, trying to give off funny energy.  “They think they’re a country, but they’ve got a moose on their nickel?”

I held for laughs, but none came.  Fuckin’ New York.  Everyone's a Liberal.

“That’s the quarter,” one guy shouted from the back.  “And it’s a caribou.”

“Yeah, while, that’s... uh... I mean, I guess they got healthcare, but I was up there last year.  Got in a bar fight, spent six hours waiting for the emergency room.  After two hours, I was like ‘I’ll give you a hundred if I can jump the line’”

Crickets.  The crowd was just staring at me.  One guy in the back might have chuckled, or maybe he choked on his drink.

“A hundred bucks... AMERICAN!” I shouted.

“Boooooo...” I heard from the darkness to the left.  Whatever, I’d get them with my next joke.

But i never got the chance.

“Alright, that’s it for Parker!” the host said, grabbing the mic straight out of my hand.  “Maybe don’t announce you’re American when you travel,” he joked.  “Makes the rest of us look bad.  Next up, we’ve got an incredible rising talent.  You’ve seen him at the Cellar.  You’ve seen him on TikTok.  But the Skylark is his HOME TURF!  Give it up for JESSE!”

It took him four seconds to get his first laugh.  They gave him an applause break before I got up the stairs.

“Tough break kid,” Milo said, giving me a pat on the back.  “It’s okay, everybody bombs their first few sets.”

I wanted him to say my name without looking at the list. I wanted him to tell me to come back Friday. I wanted the room to want more. Instead I got a cold walk home.

The things we do for art.  Back at the apartment, I wrote jokes and got drunk alone.

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Here’s my life story.  I was born in Queens.  My Mom got out – moved to LA and took me with her.  Dad’s out of the picture.  When I turned 21, I hopped a Greyhound and moved back to New York.  Grandpa let me crash at his apartment for the first couple months, and I still go see him every week.

Grandpa was watching yesterdays game on mute when I got there.  The Met’s lost, but he was watching anyway.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, lighting up when he saw me.  “You famous yet, or is Netflix still stupid?”

“Hey pops,” I said, giving him a grin and a handshake.  “Nope... still working at the call centre.”

“How’s the comedy stuff going anyway?” he asked.  “You still writing?”

“Yeah,” I grinned.  “I am.  But... I’m not really getting anywhere, y’know?  Too many queers and black guys who eat up the attention.  Whole damn world’s gone woke, it’s guys like us who get left behind.”

Grandpa took off his glasses and gave them a polish.

“Who told you that?” he asked.

“It’s true,” I insisted.  “Saw it on YouTube!”

“But not with your eyes,” Grandpa pointed out.  “You know… back in my day, we did the same thing.  Something wasn’t going my way, all I could think was who to blame.  I made a lot of enemies back then, and not a one of them deserved it except for Charlie down the street.”

“What’d he do?” I asked.

“Tried to romance your grandma,” Pops chuckled.  “She came right home and told me.  Good woman.  I miss her plenty.”

We sat quietly for a moment.

“Back when I started in sales,” Grandpa said, “I wasn’t having much luck.  I used to drive town to town, selling for the air conditioning company, you remember that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well... nobody wanted an air conditioner in upstate New York.  Texas, Arizona, Georgia... sure, it was hot enough there, but around here people figured they’d tough out the heat.”

I’d heard this story a dozen times.

“I know pops,” I said.  “Perseverance and hard work.”

“Well…” he sighed. “I mighta left out a detail or two.  See, ol’ Buck Hitchcock used to own that company.  A real millionaire, back when millionaire meant something.  Well... he pissed me off proper one day, gave the only part of my territory with sales to his oldest boy, so... I pinched his watch.  He left it on his desk, and I took it.”

“Seriously pops!”

“I’m not proud of it, but... you can’t exactly give it back.  He probably figured he lost it somewhere, and I only wore it out on the road, so... this was before there were pictures of everything.”

“So what’s the story here?  You think I should steal something?”

“No, no… dammit just listen for a minute.  Always yapping your mouth… so, I wore it on the road.  Figured I’d look a little more successful, and people like buying from success.  All of a sudden a funny things started happening…”

He glanced at me mischievously, like he was waiting for a prompt.

“Alright pops, what started happening?”

“I started making sales.  Not just a lot of them… all of them.  I’d say ‘You’re going to buy this air conditioner,’ and just like that… suddenly I’m the number one salesman in the North-East.  You see that box on the bookshelf… go get it.”

He pointed at a wooden box, so I grabbed it and carried it over.

“Open it,” he told me.

It was a dusty old wristwatch on a faded velvet pillow.  The face was scratched and I swear there were cobwebs.

“That watch…”, he said very seriously.  “It’s magic. I wore it for a decade, and I closed every sale.  It makes you more convincing, it makes you more charismatic, and… when you wear the watch, your words bend reality.”

“Grandpa…”

“Be very, very careful when you wear it,” he said harshly.  “I don’t have much to give you, but… this is your inheritance.  Take it, and go make something out of your life.”

I stared at the old man.  He had to be playing with me.  There’s no such thing…

“Hey pops,” I asked.  “Just curious… if it's so magic, why’d you stop using it?”

He picked up a mug and took a sip of cold coffee.  The Mets gave up another run.  I heard a bus brake too hard in the street.

“I told your mother…” he said.  “If she hated me so much, she should just move to LA.”

I was sorry I asked.

“Now get outta here kid.  I gotta watch the Mets lose.”

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I don’t believe in magic.  I believe in stage time and rewrites.  I believe in fixing things the slow way, cause that's the right way.  I believe in perseverance and hard work, because that’s what worked for my Grandpa.

Now… I had a shortcut.  Or my Grandpa had dementia.

I ran over to the Skylark after work and picked up a stack of flyers.  It was Friday night, which was usually a good crowd.

“Three minutes at 11:12,” Milo said.  “Unless you get bumped.  What’s your name again?”

“I’m Parker.”

“Alright Parker, welcome to show biz.  You know how to hand out flyers?”

“Yeah, I’ve done it before.  Big show tonight.”

“You got it kid.  Be back by eleven.”

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Around ten thirty I was drinking a beer with my buddy Todd and waiting for my set.

“You got on tonight?” Todd whined.  “Lucky bastard.  I’m here every night and he won’t give me another chance.  Too many bad sets kid,” he said, mocking Milo’s nasally voice.  “You’re outta here.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged.  “He doesn’t even remember my name.”

“You bomb five nights a week bud,” Todd laughed.  “Maybe he thinks you’re cute?”

“Seriously,” I laughed, making like I was gonna vomit.  “He’s one of them?  Fuck man, the goddamn queers are everywhere.”

“The perm is a hint,” Todd shrugged.  “And the way he checks out dudes.”

“Whatever,” I said.  “Hey, I’ve got a weird question… uh, don’t call the psych ward or anything.”

“Sure.  What’s up?”

“Okay, so my grandpa gave me this family heirloom, this… uh… lucky watch.  But the thing is, I think a comic should make it on his material.  I write well, I get the bookings, y’know?”

“No,” Todd chuckled.  “I don’t.  And neither do you, unless you got a secret identity.”

“Okay,” I admitted. “But… using the lucky watch.  That’s cheating, right?”

“Dude, if I had a rabbits foot, I’d tape it to my forehead. Make rent, then do that trolley problem bullshit.”

I put on the watch just in time for Milo to call for me.

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“Our next guy is new to the scene, but who knows, maybe he’s the next Bill Burr,” the host grinned.  “Everyone give it up for… uh… give it up for PARKER!”

“How’s everyone doin’ tonight!” I started.  No applause… they’d probably gotten that question a dozen times by now.

“So, uh… I’ve always liked comedy,” I said.  “I’ve always been good at laughing.  One time, a guy told a joke, and I laughed, and he goes ‘good laugh dude, but that was an in-joke’.”

One laugh in the far back corner.

“So, uh… now you’re in on it,” I told the audience.

Crickets.  I had three minutes and I’d lost them in the first thirty seconds.  And sure, maybe it wasn’t Sam Morril, but it was funny.  Someone had to call these losers out…

And I had a mic…

“C’mon guys,” I said, with as much charm as I could muster.  “That shit was funny.”

I felt a twitch on my wrist.  I swear I heard the watch go ‘tick tock’.

And suddenly, the crowd was laughing.  The first rule of comedy is if it’s working... keep going.

“Oh yeah?” I said aggressively.  “Now you think I’m funny!”

Another tick-tock.  The watch was waking up, and so was the audience.  They were howling with laughter now.

I shaded my eyes and glanced over at Milo.  He was laughing along with the rest of them.

“Okay, okay… let’s do some crowd work,” I said, pointing to a pair of guys in the front row.  “Hey dude, what’s your name.”

“I’m Brad,” the guy said in a deep midwestern accent, gasping for breath as he spoke.

“Cool, cool, cooooool… Brad,” I said.  Then I pointed at the other guy.  “This your boyfriend?”

TICK TOCK.

“Yeah,” Brad said, grabbing for the guys thigh and giving it a squeeze.  “Uh, I mean… yeah.”

“Uh, I mean… yeah,” I repeated in a gay voice.

The crowd laughed.  We were in the zone.  Everything was funny.

“For real though,” I said, shading my eyes and taking another look at the couple.  “You two look like a couple of football players!”

TICK TOCK.

It was hard to see details with the stage lighting, but the audience was losing their shit, so I had to be onto something.  I glanced around and a red light blinking in the audience.  I only had thirty second to go.

“We got us a couple-a butt boys!” I shouted into the mic.

TICK TOCK.

The audience couldn’t help but laugh harder.

“I bet they’re both aching to suck my dick!”

TICK TOCK.

One girl in the front row was laughing so hard she was crying.

“That’s my time everyone,” I waved, sticking the mic back into the stand.  I walked off the stage like a winning quarterback walking off the field.

“PARKER! PARKER! PARKER!” the crowd was chanting as I ran back up the stairs.  Toni was waiting to go up, and she looked amazed.  How was she gonna follow that!?

“Parker!” Milo called, chasing me into the bar.  “Parker, dude… that was the funniest shit I ever saw,” he gasped.  “You’re a fucking natural!  Are you free tomorrow?  I want you to open the 7 o’clock show.  Ten minutes, three hundred bucks, and your bar tab’s on me.”

“I’d love to,” I said, grabbing his hand and pumping it.  “DAMN that felt good.”

“Try to keep Saturday nights clear,” Milo begged.  “I mean… if you can.  So long as tomorrow goes good, let’s get you on the rotation!”

I made my way back to Todd at the bar, but it took forever.  I kept getting stopped by other comics, asking if I'd do their show.  Zach wanted me on his late show tomorrow.  Ryan wanted me to headline a showcase next week.  And Krista… she just wanted me.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Todd stared when I finally sat down.

“On the house,” the bartender said, sliding a fresh beer down for me.

“And now Milo’s sucking up?” Todd said, his mouth hanging open.  “What’d you do down there, resurrect Jesus?”

“Did a little crowd work,” I shrugged.  “They ate it up.”

Todd left about an hour later.  For the first while he was loving it, watching all the cool kids come up and try to make nice, but they barely noticed him.  That had to feel terrible.

When the show downstairs finally ended, a few people from the audience tried to buy me a drink.  I let them – no reason Milo should be on the hook for my entire night.  I bet he’d appreciate it.  I thought I’d finally been congratulated for the last time when I got one more surprise.

“Hey,” a midwestern twang said from behind me.  “You probably don’t remember me.  I’m Brad, this is my boyfriend Carter.”

“Hey,” Carter said in a matching midwest rumble.  “You talked to us during the show.”

“Called us a couple of butt boys,” Brad grinned.  “Said we were dying to suck your cock, and you know what man…”

I braced for the punch.

“Can we buy you a drink?”

Brad signalled the bartender for a round of tequila shots while I figured out what was going on.

“That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen,” Carter said, stepping around me and pulling out a stool.  “You totally got us!”

“We’re just in town for a few days,” Brad said, settling down on my other side and sliding a shot in front of me.  “Our hotel’s real close to here… if you wanna see the room.”

“We’d love to suck that cock,” Carter purred.

I took the shot of tequila and chuckled.  I’d probably had too much to drink already, but I couldn’t resist a punchline.

“But me another and I’ll think about it,” I joked.

TICK-TOCK.  I heard it clearly, even over the roar of the bar.

“Another round,” Brad called out to the bartender.

“You guys actually play football?” I asked, staring at Brad’s powerful physique.  He was compact but muscular, with broad shoulders and a wide chest.  I don’t remember seeing that when I picked him out from the crowd, but now it was undeniable – these guys were built for sports, but they’d dressed to pickup.

“I’m a linebacker,” Carter said.  “And Brad there’s a running back.”

I swear to god, I’m straight as an arrow… but I was actually thinking about it.

“You just wanna suck my cock?” I asked.  “I’m not into that butt stuff.”

“We’re into… whatever you’re into,” Brad grinned.  “Want another shot?”

Four drinks later we walked back to their hotel.

----------

I didn’t realize how beefy they were until the three of us squeezed into their hotel elevator.  Carter was on one side, Brad was on the other, and my average frame was sandwiched between.  We rode up six stories and I almost suffocated.

“This is us,” Brad said, fumbling with a plastic key card.  He swiped three times before he got the timing right and the door opened.  “Sorry… I’m a little drunk.”

I laughed.  He was twice my size and bought me twice as many drinks, not to mention what I’d been having all night.  If Brad was drunk, I was plastered.

Probably why I was doing this.  I stumbled inside and surveyed the room.  A king sized bed, a coffee table, and a couch.

“Get on the bed?” Carter said suggestively.  “But take off your clothes first!”

“Uh… let’s use the couch,” I said.  “I mean… I really am straight.  I’m just getting my dick sucked.”

“Sure,” Carter said, rolling his eyes.  “I was straight once too.”

Brad slapped Carters ass and grinned.  Carter flexed his cheeks and gave Brad a deep kiss.

“All cool dude,” Brad said as they broke apart.  “Show us that cock and we’re happy.”

I fumbled with my jeans and got the button open, then the zipper.  I shoved them roughly down to my knees – kicking them off felt a bridge too far.  Like if I got naked with these guys, I’d have to post a coming out video.  I fell backwards on the couch, then had to lift my ass so I could slide my boxers down too.

My cock flopped out, soft and useless.

“Shit…” I moaned.  “I drank a lot tonight boys, but… I can rally.”

TICK TOCK.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Hear what?” Carter said.  He glanced at Brad and Brad shrugged.

“Never mind,” I shook my head.  My cock was starting to rise up, and I was eager.

“That’s what we’re looking for,” Brad grinned as he dove onto my cock.  “Oh my god…” he moaned.  “You’re so big…”

Carter leaned down and started working my shaft with his tongue.

“Mmm...” Carter moaned, letting the vibrations play against my pole.  “I’ve been craving your cock all night.”

Brad pushed Carter out of the way and started deepthroating me.  I’ve been with my share of chicks, but none of them loved dick the way Brad did.  Probably Carter too – he looked seriously jealous.

“That’s right,” I moaned, grabbing at Brad’s crewcut and guiding his head up and down my shaft.  “That’s right… that’s… oh fuck…”

I went from whiskey dick to hair-trigger like that.  I guess I really can rally.  My balls drained down Brad’s throat while Carter watched hungrily.

“Aw man!” Carter pointed.  “I wanted to swallow his load!”

“You can swallow mine,” Brad teased, kissing Carter deeply.  Their hands started to roam over each other, and I heard fabric ripping as Carter pulled off Brad’s t-shirt.

“That’s my cue to go,” I chuckled, standing up and stepping around the muscular duo.

“You sure you won’t stay?” Brad asked.  “We could use a top…”

“Some other time,” I said, buckling up my belt.

TICK TOCK.

My phone buzzed twice on the way home.  Spot offers from comics who’d never texted before.

----------

I showed up at 6:30, ready to have another killer set.

“The host’ll do five,” Milo said.  “Then there’s a guest spot for five, another five from the host, and then you’re up.  Have a beer but don’t get sloshed.  And Parker… if they’re laughing like last night, go ahead and run the light.”

I gave him a thumbs up and grabbed a drink at the bar.  Like most comedians, I like to look through my notebook before my set and make a plan.  Maybe I’d start with the Canada joke again – that one was a crowd pleaser.

“Hey Parker, time to go,” Milo said, snapping me out of the zone.  “The host is talking you up.  Do some more crowd work tonight, okay?  There’s a group of business guys up from who look like a real estate convention.”

I nodded.  Let him give advice, I knew what I was doing.

“This next guy is an absolute killer,” the host was saying.  “He hasn’t hit the talk show circuit yet, so you’re getting a real treat.  Give it up for PARKER PAULSON!”

I strode out onto the stage to thunderous applause.  The host raised the bar pretty high there, but I knew I could clear it.

“So what’s the deal with Canada,” I joked, feeding off their energy.  “They think they’re a country, but they’ve got a moose on their nickel?”

A couple people chuckled in the back.

“And everyone’s like FREE HEALTHCARE, but I was up there last year!  Got in a bar fight, spent six hours waiting for the emergency room.  After two hours, I was like ‘I’ll give you a hundred if I can jump the line’”

Crickets.  The chucklers in the back had changed their mind about me.

“A hundred bucks... AMERICAN!” I shouted.

Shit, this wasn’t working.  What did I do to turn it around last time?  I got mad at the audience, right?  That’d work for sure.

“C’mon guys,” I smirked.  “That was funny.”

TICK TOCK.

I heard a few laughs in the back.

“I’m the funniest guy you ever seen!” I tagged on.

TICK TOCK.

Now they were laughing, but… these weren’t even jokes.  I was just telling them to laugh and…

Oh my god.  The watch.

“Uh… fuck it,” I said, trying to figure out how to test my idea.  “Let’s do some crowd work.”

I pointed to the group of business guys in the front row.  Milo was right – it looked like a table full of real estate agents… but if I was right…

“You guys are totally in a frat,” I joked, shading my eyes so I could see them.

TICK TOCK.

They all laughed, and two of them gave “Got us!” shrugs.  It was subtle.  Maybe I just got a lucky guess.

“For sure, half of you play lacrosse,” I said, roasting them.

TICK TOCK.

They were still laughing, and now one of them was in shorts and a t-shirt, a lacrosse logo faded across his chest.  Shit… it was working!  I just had to say it… and the crowd was eating it up.

“What?” I joked.  “They had a sale on backwards caps?”

TICK TOCK.

Every guy at the table was wearing a backwards cap now.  Three of them were in casual clothes, but two of them still had suits on under the caps.  They looked like a bunch of forty year olds trying to stay cool… I had to help them out.

“This has real we’re all twenty-one energy,” I said, and the crowd lost it again.

TICK TOCK.

Thank god, that worked.  The former realtors were now a group of twenty-one year old frat rats.  They were all college tees and gym shorts.

"Lotta muscle at this table, but I’m still their gym crush,” I joked.

TICK TOCK.

I felt a shiver run through me and almost dropped the mic.  I felt… bigger.  Awkward.  Clumsy.  It faded fast, but a quick glance down confirmed – I looked like a total gymbro.  They were all jocks now, but I was bigger.

Holy shit.  I could actually control reality  And I was being funny too!

“These guys are totally fucking each other,” I laughed.  You can’t go wrong with a gay joke.

TICK TOCK.

“I hope you live together, cause you’re takin’ home blondie,” I said, pointing at a guy from the next table.

TICK TOCK.

The frat guys started whooping and whistling at the young blond guy, even as he blushed.

“This twink can take it,” I said, winking at the blond guy.

TICK TOCK.

The laughs keep rolling in.  After my set, Milo stopped me backstage.

“Hey, Parker… I wanna be your manager,” he said.  “We can do big things.”

“Sure thing buddy,” I grinned, knowing what I was about to do.”After all, you're the best manager in the city.”

TICK TOCK.

----------

When the show let out, I watched five frat guys leave with a blond twink sandwiched between them.  The leader of the group – I assume, they all looked the same – had his arm wrapped around the twink’s shoulders.

“Hey,” Milo said, sliding an envelope down the bar.  “That was some show.  First thing’s first, here’s your cash.”

I didn’t insult him by counting it.

“So,” I said.  “I guess you’re my manager now.”

“We’re gonna do big things together,” he told me again.  “I know you’ve probably got lots of bookings already, so let’s start with your availability.”

“Well… I’ve got a few things,” I said, rattling off the small shows I’d booked in the last day.  “Other than that, pack the schedule.”

“Okay, good,” Milo grinned.  I can get you on Laugh Loft for the 18th, have you middle here on the 19th, both shows, and get you on at Giggles for the 20th.  Give me a day or two, we’ll book the next month.”

“Awesome,” I said, trying to write those all down in my notebook before I forgot.

“I’ll text you,” he said.  “Are you okay with me making a Google Calendar for you?  Just so we’re in sync?”

Two days ago he couldn’t remember my name.

“Uh, yeah,” I said.  “Go ahead.”

“That’s my guy,” Milo grinned.  “Now… can we talk about your look?  You’re killing with crowd work, so I think you’d do better with a ‘bro’ style.  Basically what those frat guys were wearing.  I can take you shopping.”

“Hey Milo,” I interrupted.  “You’ll never betray me.”

TICK TOCK.

“Absolutely not,” he agreed.  “What is it?”

“I’ve got this superpower,” I admitted quietly, turning my risk to show Milo the watch.  “I wear this, and I can reshape reality.  Those frat guys didn’t start as frat guys… remember the real estate convention?”

Milo shook his head.

“You will from now on,” I said.  “Milo can see the changes I make, and he can remember changes I’ve already made.”

TICK TOCK.

Milo’s eyes went wide.

“Holy fuck,” he said.  “That’s how you’re doing it… that’s even better than I thought.”

“Yeah, so… no need to take me shopping,” I said.  “I’ll just say this – I’ve got a bro look.  Backwards caps and casual clothes.”

TICK TOCK.

“Boom,” I said, tapping the cap on my head.  It looked like I’d been wearing it since high school.  Truth be told, I’ve never been a hat guy, but I was now.

“Okay, okay… we need to use this,” Milo said.  “Do you mind if I make a few suggestions.  For, uh… sex appeal?”

“I’m not gay Milo,” I said.  “No problem, I know you are, but…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Milo insisted.  “Straight guys want you to be their bro, and you already did that part.  But gay guys and women?  They want you hot!  We can please everybody… do you know how rare that it?”

I thought for a second.  More fans meant more ticket sales.  More ticket sales meant money in the bank.

“Okay,” I said.  “Inspire me.”

“Fitted clothes,” Milo pitched.  “Not too tight, but fitted so they show off that muscle that… uh… it’s kinda mind-blowing you did that on stage.  Looks amazing by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said.  “Okay.  I wear fitted clothes, but not so tight it looks gay.”

TICK TOCK.

I glanced in the mirror behind the bar.  My t-shirt had shifted just slightly.

“Not bad,” I admitted.

“Can you do soccer shorts?” Milo said.  “Athletic enough for a bro, but a little bit gaybait.”

“Sure,” I rolled by eyes.  “Sometimes I wear gaybait shorts.”

TICK TOCK.

There was a cool breeze on my legs.  I glanced down and saw how they highlighted my package.

“Obviously we’ll have to test this out,” I said.  “Make sure we’re not killing my vibe.”

“Can you stick around?” Milo asked.  “The nine o’clock show starts in a few, I’ll give you ten after the opener?”

Stage time.  Handed to me on a silver platter.

“Yeah,” I grinned.  “I guess I can stick around.”

----------

I shaded my eyes from the stage lights and picked out a straight couple in the front row.

“So, what’s going on bro,” I asked.  “Dating, or is she your beard?”

The crowd laughed.  I already told them I was funny.

“She’s my girlfriend,” the guy chuckled, wrapping a protective arm around her.

“Yeah, you say she’s your ‘girlfriend’,” I said, thrusting my hips like I was having sex.  “But really, she’s like… your ‘girlfriend’,” joked with the gay voice, flopping my wrist in front of me.

TICK TOCK.

“Oh my god,” the newly gay guy said, laughing his ass off.  “How’d you know?!”

“I just watch the crowd,” I smirked.  “Those guys can’t take their eyes off your ass,” I said, pointing at a table of finance bros behind them.

The crowd was loving it.

“Watch out – they’ll wine and dine you at the Four Seasons,” I joked.  “But they’ll never take you home to their girlfriend!”

TICK TOCK.

It was a long laugh, so I waded out into the crowd and yelled “POUND IT”, collecting a fist bump from each of the finance bros.  They were totally into it, and yeah… they were definitely hungry for him.

“That’s what he’ll scream,” I said, pointing back at the first guy.

TICK TOCK.

“Better watch out bro,” I joked.  “Dude’s got a big fist.”

The crowd could barely breathe they were laughing so hard.  By the time I came off stage, I was on a high.

“You killed out there,” Milo hissed at me.  “The new look works!”

I gave him a fist bump and grinned.

“Just one note,” Milo said.  “Remember, when you’re doing crowd work, repeat back what they said.  Helps everyone hear it.”

“I know,” I groaned.  God, that was such open mic advice.  “I’ll get it next time.”

TICK TOCK.

----------

Milo got the Skylark rigged for video.  He was so convinced I’m the next TikTok phenomenon he went and spent like ten grand on a system.

“Remember,” he told me while I was reviewing notes.  “We’re filming tonight.”

I looked up from my notebook and gave him a look.

“I got it bro,” I said, readjusting my cap.  “We’ve been working together for like… a month, so don’t think I got stupid overnight, okay?”

“Sorry,” Milo said.  “I’m just nervous.  Sean’s got your social media setup and ready to go.  You’re gonna have a viral clip tonight!”

“We should have just filmed on a phone,” I complained.  “This is too much.”

“You’re funny,” Milo shot back.  “But it’s my job to make you famous.  Trust me.”

“Fine.  Whatever dude.”

“There’s a group of Dad’s in the front row, so do the fratboy bit with them.  And then there’s a pair of guys in the second row for the boyfriends bit.”

“Maybe I should do something else…” I sighed.  “If all I do is gay stuff, people are gonna think I’m gay too, y’know?”

“C’mon,” Milo urged.  “Those bits work.  You’re doing twenty, so let’s get them on film, and then you can riff.  Deal?”

“Sure,” I said.  “Whatever.”

----------

“Give it up for PARKER PAULSON!” the host practically screamed into the mic.  The room was going wild.  Word on the street was I’m the guy to see.

“Hey, so I’m the funniest guy ever,” I said first thing.  Get ‘em laughing with that first line.  “You’re gonna laugh so hard, right bro?” I said, pointing at a guy in the front.

TICK TOCK.

They were all laughing, but he was laughing the loudest, and now he was dressed the same way as me.  Giving off serious bro vibes.

“You guys are totally in a frat,” I joked, pointing out the group of Dad’s in the front row.

TICK TOCK.

They all laughed, and one of them shouted some greek letters.

“For sure, half of you play lacrosse,” I said, running my script.

TICK TOCK.

Two of them were wearing lacrosse jerseys now.  Not a good look on middle aged men.

“What?” I joked.  “They had a sale on backwards caps?”

TICK TOCK.

Four identical backwards hats.  They looked like a cult, and a badly aging one at that.

“This has real we’re all twenty-one energy,” I said, and the crowd lost it again.

TICK TOCK.

The Dad’s all look like college kids now.  The two in lacrosse jerseys look like real athletes.  Half the time I do this bit, Milo takes home a lacrosse jock.

"Lotta muscle at this table, but I’m still their gym crush,” I joked.

TICK TOCK.

I don’t workout, but I do that joke at least three times a week.  Keeps me in great shape.

“These guys are totally fucking each other,” I laughed.  You can’t go wrong with a gay joke.

TICK TOCK.

“Oh yeah,” one of the fratrats calls out.  “I’m gay as fuck!”

“I’m gay as fuck,” I repeated in my fake gay voice.

TICK TOCK.

“Wait, I mean…” I said.  The crowd couldn’t stop laughing, even as I stuttered.  “I mean…”

I stared out at the crowd.  The frat rats weren’t just a punchline anymore… they were a seriously hot punchline.  And the goth guy at the next table…

“I hope you live together, cause you’re takin’ home blondie,” I said, pointing at the goth.

TICK TOCK.

One of the frat guys leaned over to the next table and started talking up the now-blond guy.

“This twink can take it,” I said, winking at the former goth.  “And this frat doesn’t take no for an answer.”

TICK TOCK.

“You’re gonna split that ass open and DP him, right bro,” I moaned at the fratboys.  “Make him your bitch.”

TICK TOCK.

“Cause those guys do lacrosse,” I said pointing, “But the other two are bodybuilders!”

TICK TOCK.

“I can’t believe they let y’all in here,” I laughed at the frat table.  “You’re half naked!”

TICK TOCK.

The lacrosse players were in practice shorts now, and cutoff mesh jerseys.  The bodybuilders were in stringer tanks and cutoff jean shorts.  The pair of them stood up and flexed at the audience.  I could see their cheeks peeking out under the shorts.

The crowd was loving it, but I’d gone too far down the rabbit hole.  He shifted my focus and saw the two guys in the second row.  A couple of bona-fide nerds.

“And what’s going on here,” I pointed at them.  “You tryin’ to look smart with those glasses?  We all know you’re a couple of dumb muscle sluts!”

I was on a roll!

----------

“I can’t believe you turned yourself gay up there,” Milo hissed at me, a big grin plastered over his face.  “I mean… I get that nobody else knows, but that was extreme!”

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my cap and running a hand through my hair.  I went slow, making sure Milo got a good look at my bicep.  “But, like… whatever.  I’ll just turn back.”

“You sure?” Milo said.  “You could give it a try.”

“Nah,” I laughed.  “I’m straight.”

I expected to feel the same shift I felt earlier, but looking at Milo… the guy was still cute – black tee, permed hair, even if he was way too old for the look.  Yeah… I thought.  I’d fuck him.

“Wait…” I said.  “There was no Tick Tock.”

“Huh?” Milo raised an eyebrow.  “We’ve got the footage, we’ll edit it up and then…”

“No, I mean… let me try again,” I said.  I adjusted the watch on my wrist and cleared my throat.

“I’M STRAIGHT.”

Still nothing.  I glanced over at the bartender and felt my cock twitch.

“It’s not working,” I said.  “I’m still, uh…”

“Okay…” Milo said, his attention locked on me.  “Have you ever tried to reverse a change before?  Maybe it doesn’t work that way?”

“No way,” I said.  “Uh… I don’t wear backwards caps.”

I reached up and checked.  The cap was still perched on my head.

“Fuck.  Uh… I don’t dress like gaybait,” I tried.

I looked down – a fitted tee, short shorts, and a jockstrap that was pushing my cock forward.

“Shit bro,” I said, burying my head in my hands.  “I’m so fucking gay dude.”

“Okay, just… calm down,” Milo tried to calm me down.  “It’s not like this is a catastrophe.  Straight guys always act like it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“Former straight guys,” I corrected him him, moaning into my hands.  “C’mon bro… this is a big deal.”

“Being gay is actually pretty damn good,” Milo said.  “Tell you what, let’s go out tonight.  You and me.  We’ll hit the club, you can hook up with some random, blow off some steam.”

“I dunno man,” I argued.  “I just wanna sit here and get wasted.”

“Okay,” Milo shrugged.  “But in about twenty minutes, there’s a frat that won’t take no for an answer coming up those stairs, and you told them you’re gay.”

“They’ll be busy with the twink,” I shot back.

“Maybe,” Milo shrugged.  “But that pair of himbos you made wants to spitroast you.  You just spent twenty minutes turning half the dudes in that room into oversexed homos… I’d leave now.”

“Fine,” I snapped.  “Okay.  Let’s get out of here, but first… Milo doesn’t just dress like a 25 year old, he is one.”

TICK TOCK.

Milo’s eyes went wide and he looked down at his hands.  They were young and soft.  He reached up and felt his face.

“Sorry dude,” I said.  “I can’t go clubbing with some old guy.”

----------

The club was a basement full of pounding bass and grinding dudes.

“I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” I shouted in Milo’s ear as he took us toward the bar.

“They are!” he shouted back.  “Or me.  Thanks for that!”

He ordered us shots and drinks, then leaned up against the bar while we waited.

“That’s Ronnie over there,” he said as quietly as he could, pointing at a bodybuilder who danced in a jockstrap and sneakers.  “He’s always down to party.  And then that’s guy’s totally checking you out,” Milo said, pointing at a handsome guy across the room.  “But Pedro here’s go the biggest cock in the room.”  He took a pair of shots from the Latino bartender and handed me one.

“Yeah,” I said.  “Or, uh… I’ll be right back.”

I saw my target.  A skinny little guy at the other end of the room, clutching a drink and trying to fade into the corner.  I navigated through the crowd, brushing past hot guys and keeping my eyes fixed on him.

“Hey,” I shouted, raising my glass towards him.  “I’m Parker.”

“Uh… hi?” the guy said, barely audible above the music.  He looked around, like I was filming him for a prank.

“First time here?” I shouted over the noise.

“Uh… yeah,” the skinny guy said.  “I’m Hank.”

“It’s my first time too,” I said, leaning in close like I was confiding a secret.  “Is it everything you dreamed of?”

Hank’s face split into a wide grin.

“Yeah,” he admitted, finally raising his voice enough to be heard.  “I just… I’d give anything to look like those guys.”

He pointed with his chin.  Two shirtless jocks, grinding on the dance floor.  They looked like they lived at the gym and the hair salon.

“What’s stopping you?” I laughed.

“Are you kidding?” Hank said, eyes wide.  “Genetics.  Confidence.  A complete disregard for shirts?”

“Sorry,” I said honestly.  “I’m a comedian, sometimes I get stuck making jokes.  For real Hank… you have the genetics!”

TICK TOCK.

I glanced back at Hank.  He was two inches taller now, and about eighty pounds heavier.  He had that natural heft made me think he could look however he wanted.

“And you practically live at the gym,” I added.

TICK TOCK.

Hanks muscles were heavier now, and more defined.  He didn’t have much fat left on his body, but I didn’t think he cared.  He looked like a cross between an underwear model and a college athlete.

“Besides bro,” I shouted.  “They’re coasting on muscle.  You got the face card too!”

TICK TOCK.

Hank’s jawline was sculpted.  His teeth were straight and white.  His features were perfectly symmetrical.  I almost wished I couldn’t remember – he was easily one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen, and apparently I’m a connoisseur.

“Think about it Hank,” I said with a devilish grin.  “You’ve got so much confidence, you don’t even own a shirt.”

TICK TOCK.

Hank stood there listening to me, his hair wild, his body shining with sweat.  He’d obviously been dancing, the little blue pair of shorts he wore almost soaked through.

“Heh, yeah,” Hank said, his voice deeper than before.  “You’re right man.”

“And you want me to fuck you,” I said right into his ear.  “Don’tcha?”

TICK TOCK.

Hank took my drink from my hand and downed it in one gulp.

“My place is close,” Hank shouted in my ear.  “And yeah… I want you to fuck me.  Let’s go.”

“I’m in,” I grinned.  “Just gotta let my buddy know I’m going.”

Hank grabbed my hand and placed it firmly on his ass.

“Let’s go,” he said again, leading me toward the door.  We passed close enough to Milo on the way for me to give a quick wave.

“I’m out!” I shouted at him.

“You sure are,” he joked.

----------

Hanks apartment was a walkup studio a couple blocks from the bar.  It was small, with a futon jammed in one corner and a beat up computer in the other.  He should have skipped the couch.

“Can I get you anything,” Hank asked.  “I think here’s some beer in the fridge.”

“How about a shot of Jack,” I suggested.  “You keep it in the cupboard above the stove.”

TICK TOCK.

“Good idea,” Hank said, pulling a couple shot glasses out.  He pulled the bottle of Jack Daniels from above the stove and poured us generous shots.  “To new friends.”

“Cheers to that,” I said, clinking my glass against his.  “Love the apartment.  It’s gotta be rent controlled.”

TICK TOCK.

“Yeah,” Hank said casually.  “I got a good deal.  Eight hundred a month.”

“For two bedrooms and a deck?” I asked, trying to help the guy out.  “That’s an amazing deal!”

TICK TOCK.

Hank shrugged.

“I don’t really wanna talk about the apartment.”

He slipped his hands under my shirt and started playing with my nipples.  I bent down and kissed the now-gorgeous man.  My hands roamed over high tight body and landed on his ass.

“Mmmm…” Hank moaned.

“Someone knows what he wants,” I teased.

“Well… uh… I’ve never done this before,” Hank admitted.  “But I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“Of course you’ve done this,” I told him.  “You’ve been in a lot of porn.”

TICK TOCK.

“Yeah,” Hank said, shaking his head.  “I dunno why I said that.  Some guys think the virgin routine is hot.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” I said carefully.  “And so do I.”

TICK TOCK.

“Enough talking stud,” Hank growled suddenly.  He dropped his shorts, leaving his lean body entirely on display.  “Let’s see what you’re packing… the bigger the better.”

“Is ten inches enough for you?” I teased.

He nodded eagerly.

“Cuz that’s what I’ve got.”

TICK TOCK.

“Ten?” Hank took a deep breath.  “Damn… I mean, I’m in porn, but… that’s still a lot.”

Too bad.  There’s no going back now.

“You can take it easily,” I promised.

TICK TOCK.

Hank slid my shorts down, then my jockstrap.  He grinned when my massive cock sprung out and bobbed in front of him.

“Most guys lie about the size,” Hank said, sinking to his knees.

“If I say it, it’s the truth,” I chuckled.

Hank licked up and down my cock, tonguing the head and working the shaft with one hand.  He ran his tongue over my balls, and flicked his tongue across my slit, swallowing the bead of pre-cum that was forming.

“Let’s get to the bedroom,” Hank said, giving my balls a little tug.

Cocky bastard.  He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked off.  But watching his ass bounce with every step… he was a piece of art, and after all, he knew exactly what he was doing.

I pulled off my t-shirt and followed.  I expected to find him ass up, but he was still standing when I got there.

“Get on the bed,” he told me, grabbing my cock and stepping close.  “I wanna ride this beast.”

Hank kept a pump of lube on the bedside table.  Two pumps, and he slicked up my cock.  I love the feeling of another guy lubing me up… don’t ask how I knew, but… I knew.  He made me wait a minute while he pulled out hit plug and added a little more lube himself.

“Gotta stay ready,” he grinned, tossing the toy aside.  “But it’s nothing like the real thing.”

He got up on his knees, then lowered himself down onto my cock.  His ass swallowed it, inch by inch.  That was enough to make me tremble.

Damn, I thought.  A day ago I was straight.  An hour ago he was a nerd.

Be bottomed out and started bouncing on my cock.  Over and over, his ass gripping my cock as he went.  I whimpered under him and my mind went blank.

I watched the stud fuck himself on me.  I could do this as many times as I wanted… as many guys as I wanted…

I grabbed Hank’s rounded pecs and squeezed.

Milo was right… being gay was fuckin’ awesome.

“I’m gonna cum,” I gasped.  “And… and… you’re gonna cum with me…”

TICK TOCK.

----------

“That was pretty cool what you did last night,” Milo said.  “For that guy.”

“Fucked him ’til he exploded?” I joked.  “Yeah, he liked that.”

“No,” Milo laughed.  “You know what I mean.”

“Thanks.  I figured… if I’ve got the magic, I should spread it around,” I shrugged.  “Speaking of which… you posted a reel of me yet?”

Milo sighed.

“We tried,” he said.  “Posted it to all the major platforms and... your reels aren’t hitting.”

“You updated the bios, right?” I asked.  “Told ‘em I’m gay now?  People eat that shit up.”

“I’m sorry Parker,” he said.  “It’s getting next to no traction.  However your superpower works… it doesn’t work on Instagram.  You’re the funniest guy in the room, but it doesn’t translate.”

“Well fuck,” I slumped in my chair.  “I can’t go door to door telling America I’m the funniest guy ever.”

“Don’t give up,” Milo encouraged me.  “There’s still a good living to be made.  You could do a show in New York every night, and it’d never get old.”

“Sure,” I shrugged.  “And I’ll never get famous.  You can’t even tour without good socials.  Not unless you wanna do red states.”

Milo thought for a long minute before he spoke again.

“You know… good socials doesn’t mean… it just means followers.  And maybe you’re not TikTok funny, but… you’re hot.”

“People won’t come to my shows cause I post thirst traps,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” Milo laughed.  “That’s the funniest thing you’ve said all day.  The gays are gonna go crazy for you.  The girls are gonna go crazy for you.  The straight guys too.”

“Milo… I was straight yesterday,” I pointed out.  “No way I’d go to some dudes show because he posts gym pics.”

“No, you’d go because some girl you liked wanted to go,” Milo laughed.  “I’m not even counting closet cases… there’ll be thousands of fifty-year old guys coming to your show and telling everyone ‘I’ve never heard of him, but…’, just to get a look at those pecs.”

“You think these pecs are worth a twenty dollar ticket?” I joked, grabbing my left pecs and squeezing.

“Girl, I made a list,” Milo said, tapping his notebook.  “After we’re done with you, they’ll pay a hundred.”

-----------

I stepped into the single user bathroom and locked the door behind me.  Milo’s writing was scratchy, but easy enough to read.

“Parker has massive pecs,” I read out.  “At least the size of dinner plates, and thick enough to play with.”

TICK TOCK.

My pecs looked ridiculous against my body now.  Huge and unwieldy, like something an influencer would aspire to.  They made my shirt bunch up underneath them, and the hem rode up a little.

No going back now.

“Parker has tree trunk legs, and a big beefy ass,” I read.  “When someone grab’s Parker’s ass, it…” I chuckled, then finished the sentence.  “It makes him moan with pleasure.”

TICK TOCK.

My shorts were basically painted on now.  I’d have to buy bigger sizes… or maybe just used to showing off.  You could see the outline of my ten inches easily.  God help us if I got hard on stage.

Okay, what’s next.

“Parker has wide boulder shoulders and cut arms that are proportional to his pecs.”

TICK TOCK.

I was definitely going to have to rip off this shirt.  It was already starting to strain, and we hadn’t even done by back yet.

“Parker has a ‘Dorito Back’, a wide V with well defined muscles.”

TICK TOCK.

I had to admit, I looked pretty fuckin’ hot.  Like a superhero or a movie star.  I was starting to get the idea that Milo had a kink for muscle guys, but… maybe I do too?  Some girls say they hate when a guy gets too buff, but I’m not going for girls anymore.

“Parker is hot like a porn star, but with the face of a pop star.”

TICK TOCK.

This is probably vain to say, but everything shifted the tiniest bit and suddenly I was the hottest guy I knew.  I made Hank from last night look like a seven.  I was gonna turn some straight guys gay… not just with my superpower.

I tried to peel off my shirt and ended up getting stuck halfway through.  I fuckin’ hate sleeves.

Fuck it.  I tore it to shreds.  Left myself standing in just those painted on shorts and a backwards cap.

I’d look better in a tank anyhow.

“So what do you think?” I asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

Milo’s eyes went wide when he saw me.  I gave him a flex.

“I think we’re gonna sell a million tickets.”

“Good.”

“Okay,” Milo said, readjusting himself as he stared.  “I’ve got a photo session booked for this afternoon.  A buddy of mine who mostly shoots for OnlyFans.”

“Milo,” I groaned.  “We’re not…”

“No,” Milo grinned.  “We’re not.  Just thirst traps.  A new reel every day or two, and soon you’ll be swimming in followers.”

“And in the meantime?” I asked, stepping deep into his personal space.

“Let’s tour some red states.”