A Boyfriend Like Jeremy

It barely phased me when I walked into the bedroom to see a complete stranger laying on the bed. He was a big black guy, real thug-looking with tattoos all over his dark skin. You think I'd be pretty freaked out, but I'd gotten used to this by now.

"Jeremy," I said, "Come on, now. Switch back to your own body. You shouldn't be doing this while you're drunk."

"Shit, dawg. You ain't no fun," he said.

I had to give it to him, he did a good job with the voice. Deep and gravelly with a slight Southern twang, it matched perfectly with the way he looked.

"Back to your own body, please," I said, starting to get a bit aggravated, "I'd like to go to bed with my actual boyfriend tonight, not some thug."

"Well, shit," he said, "If that's the way a brotha' wants it..."

I saw his body start to shift and transform in front of my eyes. His skin lightened up, but the muscles and tattoos didn't go away. Instead, he started growing dark black hair all over his body as he replaced his face with something of an eastern European look, etched with harsh, jagged edges.

"You like I be Vlad?" he said, his voice even deeper than it had been with the thug, and affected with a distinct sense of broken English. His accent was damn-near perfect.

"No," I said flatly, "Come on, Jeremy. I'm getting tired."

"Oh, Vlad very sad. Vlad vanted be sexy vith Timothy. OK. Vlad try one last body."

"Jeremy!" I said, "Please -- no more! I just want you to --"

I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw who he was turning into. The hair on his body receded as the muscles of Vlad the Russian bodybuilder melted slowly away, revealing a smooth but still fit body. The tattoos that he already had started to shift and change too, turning into some that I instantly recognized. His face lost much of its harshness, becoming much "cuter" in the process -- almost in a boy-next-door kind of a way, but it still had a bit of an edge to it. His hair grew out dark and spiky, and the final touch was a small silver ring through each nipple.

"How about me, bro?" he asked. This was a voice I knew he had practiced using, "You wanna go to bed with me?"

"Jeremy..." I said, stumbling for a response.

"Nuh-uh-uh," he said with an adorable smirk, "It's Dominic. But you can call me Dom if you want to, bro. That's what all my boys call me."

Dominic was one of the bartenders at a bar that me and Jeremy went to all of the time. Jeremy knew that I had a huge crush him. It was something about the tattoos, and the nipple piercings. And he was just so... cute! He was also hopelessly straight.

"So what'll it be?" he said, "How about I go mix us a few drinks and then we can just hang out tonight, bro. I'll even put a little bit of grenadine in your gin and tonic, just like you always get."

"Jeremy --" I started to say.

"Nope. Call me Dom," he said, "I know you want to."

He got off the bed and stumbled off into the kitchen where I could hear him mixing drinks. God damn it, he'd hit my weak spot. I knew that I shouldn't encourage him. He needed to learn how to just be himself. But damn! How could I pass up a night with Dominic the bartender? He even had his whole straight-boy personality down. It was too fucking much.

He came back in the room, a drink in each hand. He had indeed mixed my gin and tonic just like Dominic always did. A little bit too strong.

"Thanks, Dom," I said, realizing that I had no choice but to give in, "It's perfect as always."

He gave me that irresistible smirk again, and I knew that it really was going to be Dominic that I was spending the night with that night. Of course, in the morning, it would all be back to normal -- or at least as normal as things could be with a boyfriend like Jeremy.