The line fucks him up

The line behind you is definitely antsy at your unauthorized line-cutting, and while you're not sure you could phrase it with such grace, you figure saying something might ease their tension. You can only take what they're demanding of you so seriously.

"Hey everybody!" you shout back at the line, "fuck this guy, amirite?"

The crowd is unusually silent at your sudden outburst; you half-expected some mild jeering. You turn back towards the bouncer, who's stoic face has transformed into one pissed off. You expect he's gonna throw a punch at you when his gaze focuses to something behind you, as you hear one of the metal fence posts fall against the concrete ground.

You don't have time to turn around, as you're shoved to the side, nearly knocked off your feet next to a pile of garbage bags. You look to find a majority of the line has butted ahead to confront the bouncer, giving looks you can't quite describe. The remaining few left behind simply relax in their position. The bouncer takes a frightful stance at the sudden barrage of dudes lining up around him, but does little more in ways to stop it.

You watch in awe from the trash pile as the crowd of dude-bros begins tearing the bouncer's clothes to shreds, feeling up the firm looking chest of the man. Your mind is chaste in thinking this is just some random event that was bound to happen from the crowd's rowdiness, before you watch a skinny man rip through the bouncer's formal pants to chow down on his ass, soon realizing your powers must've set everything into motion.

The crowd is like a flurry of ants against the poor man seemingly made of sugar. By the time you get close enough to see the scene's entirety, the bouncer is wearing little more than seam-ripped boxers, trying to cover the last of his dignity. As you approach, the crowd around you seems to make room for you to confront the bouncer, laying off their **** for you to make a more calculated move.

The bouncer looks up at you with confused, yet fearful eyes. You turn to your side to look at the rest of the group, casually wanking themselves—or each other—off. You figure if you wanted this to be a solo event you could've said so in the beginning; and you don't want to leave the rest of the crowd disappointed, do you?

"Stop covering yourself," you tell the bouncer, who instantly complies, letting the base of his cock show between the ripped seams of his boxers.