Hooters Conversion Therapy

by Joe Six-Pack

Grant Buchanan sat in his favorite recliner, remote firmly gripped in his hand, brow furrowed deeply. A vein on his forehead throbbed. On the television, his trusted news channel blared a heated discussion.

"Folks, let me tell you," the guest thundered passionately, "if you see your sons acting soft, uninterested in women, isolated, you have got to take action. The liberal agenda wants you to think this is acceptable, but it’s not! You must act boldly to protect your family and preserve traditional values!"

Grant felt his chest tighten, anxiety churning in his stomach. His son, Luke, was already twenty years old, yet showed no interest in girls at all. Luke never went out, preferring to spend his evenings alone in his room doing God knows what. Was his son — could his son possibly be — gay?

The guest on the television leaned forward, slightly sweating, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Here’s my proven method. Take your boy to Hooters. Yes, that's right, America — Hooters! Expose him to real, feminine beauty, and I guarantee you’ll scare that nonsense right out of him. He'll finally know what it feels like to have the heart of a man beating inside his chest! He’ll straighten up real quick, believe you me!"

Grant sat up straight, the tension easing slightly from his chest. Hooters. Of course! He had to take bold action to save his son. He’d show Luke exactly what he was missing, and set him straight once and for all.

The next evening, Grant approached Luke’s bedroom door, knocking sharply. "Luke, get dressed. I’m taking you out."

Luke opened the door, looking confused. His face looked like he has just been sitting in his room, sad all day. "Dad, I really don’t feel like going anywhere tonight. I’d rather just stay home."

Grant shook his head firmly. "No, son. Enough moping around. You’re coming with me. Trust me, this'll get you right."

Luke sighed heavily. "Dad, seriously, I just want to be alone."

But Grant was determined, unwavering. "Son, sometimes a father knows what’s best. This’ll be good for you. No arguments!"

Reluctantly, Luke gave in, knowing once his father got an idea in his head, he wasn't going to change his mind. As they drove toward the glowing neon lights of the city, Grant felt a surge of confidence. This would finally fix his son. Luke would see what he’d been missing, would finally become the rugged, independent young man Grant had always hoped of raising. He smiled as he parked the car, convinced that tonight was the turning point for his son — the night Luke would finally discover himself as the strong, manly man Grant envisioned.

"This is a Hooters," Luke said, stating the obvious. The reason he felt the need to state the obvious was that he couldn't believe his father was doing this. "Why are we here?"

"To show you what life is all about," Grant said, boldly. "Now get your ass in gear, boy!"

Grant proudly led Luke into the lively atmosphere of Hooters. The place buzzed with excitement, televisions displaying sports games, and rock music playing in the background. Most importantly, there were the waitresses, moving gracefully around the room, smiling brightly at customers. Grant watched Luke carefully, noting how his son’s eyes widened in amazement as a stunning waitress walked by their table.

"So, son," Grant chuckled heartily, "What do you think? Pretty amazing, isn’t it?"

Luke’s eyes sparkled with fascination as he glanced around. "It’s incredible, Dad! Everyone here looks so... happy."

Grant chuckled again, feeling triumphant. "That’s exactly right, Luke! You see now what you’ve been missing all these years?"

Luke nodded enthusiastically, completely captivated. "Absolutely! This is amazing. It's like paradise!"

Grant paused momentarily, slightly surprised by Luke’s immediate response, but quickly regained his composure, beaming with pride. "Now that’s what I like to hear!"

As Grant and Luke sat at their table, a bubbly, smiling Hooters waitress approached, holding a notepad.

"Hey there, guys!" she said brightly, flipping her long, golden curls over one shoulder. "Can I get some starters for you?"

Luke’s eyes widened, completely captivated as he stared openly at her, unable to tear his gaze away. She was a dazzlingly gorgeous woman with a bright smile. When she took the order, she practically bounced her way back to the kitchen.

"Oh to be..." Luke said, longingly

Grant chuckled softly, leaning toward his son. "Hey Luke, you like what you see, huh?"

Luke nodded enthusiastically, his eyes never leaving the waitress. "Yeah, Dad. I mean, she’s incredible. I love her hair — it’s gorgeous!"

Grant smiled proudly. "Attaboy! Good taste runs in the family."

Seeing his son’s newfound enthusiasm, Grant waved down the manager, who approached their table warmly. "Hello, gentlemen! Is everything alright?"

"Absolutely!" Grant announced proudly. "My son and I are having a great time."

"Yeah," Luke replied, in a daze.

It was going so well that Grant decided to take the initiative and see if he couldn't kill two birds with one stone. Not only was his son a pathetic loser with women, but he was unemployed and lazy, a drain on society. He didn't raise a layabout. "Luke here is interested in working for a living. Got any positions open?"

The manager smiled broadly. "As a matter of fact, we have some openings in the kitchen. Would you be interested in starting there, Luke?"

Luke’s eyes lit up. "Work here? Yes! That sounds great!"

That was perfect. Constant exposure to sexy Hooters girls would get Luke's head screwed on straight. A hard working kitchen job would teach him the value of a dollar. Grant reached out and punched his son affectionately on the shoulder. "Good man! Hard work builds character, independence, and respect. Proud of you, son!"

Luke smiled brightly, thrilled by the opportunity, as Grant settled back in his seat, certain that this was exactly the turning point his son needed to start embracing manhood. His boy was a man now, and no one could tell him any different. No one.

As the weeks passed, Luke threw himself into his new job. He spent practically his entire day at Hooters. He worked diligently, and Grant was delighted to see his son’s physique become leaner and more toned, working off the flab he had accumulated laying about his room in isolation, moping. Luke’s enthusiasm for his job was remarkable.

"You’re looking strong, Luke! Hard work builds a rugged frame," Grant said approvingly. "The girls will be all over you!"

"Uh, sure, dad," Luke replied, blushing.

As weeks turned into months, Grant eagerly watched Luke immerse himself in his job at Hooters. Luke appeared genuinely excited every time he left the house, and Grant took pride in seeing his son finally embrace his manhood.

One morning, Grant opened the door to find a stunning, cheerful Hooters waitress waiting on the doorstep. She greeted him with a warm, bright smile. "Good morning, Mr. Buchanan! I’m here to pick up Lulu — oops, I mean Luke," she quickly corrected, giggling softly and covering her mouth delicately with her manicured fingers.

Grant raised an eyebrow, amused. "Lulu?"

Luke hurried down the stairs at the sound of his friend’s voice. "Oh, Dad," he said quickly, offering an easy laugh and a casual wave. "It’s just a silly nickname they gave me at work."

Grant chuckled heartily, nudging Luke playfully. "Looks like my boy’s becoming quite the ladies’ man. Where you headed? It's a little early for work. I thought you had the day off?"

Luke smiled while glancing at his coworker. "Yeah! We’re all going out tonight. Should be fun!"

"Atta boy!" Grant said. "But why so early?" It was only noon.

The girl in the doorway spoke up in her bubbly, chipper voice. "Because it takes time to make Lulu look like a girl and..." She then stopped talking and looked embarrassed. "I mean me. I’m talking about me, not your son. It takes time for ME to look like a girl to go out clubbing n' stuff."

"Peaches," Grant said to the girl, "I don't know where you go out to have a good time, but if they can't tell that you are a woman, they need to have their heads examined."

They all shared a good laugh. "Anyway, I'll be out late," Luke said as he left.

"I bet you will!" Grant called back as Luke headed out. "Don't do anything your old man wouldn't do!"

A few weeks later, Grant began noticing more changes in his son. One morning as Grant polished his replica statue of President Trump wrestling an alligator, Luke came downstairs humming softly, dressed in a stylish outfit accented with delicate gold jewelry: a thin shimmering necklace, bracelets on his slender wrists, and glittering, dangling earrings gently swaying with each step.

Grant smiled proudly. "Looks like you’re really flashing that success of yours, Luke," he praised warmly. "A successful man should never be ashamed to show off what he’s earned."

Luke blushed prettily and brushed his fingers over the jewelry. "Thanks, Dad! Honestly, I love the attention it gets me from the guys at work."

Grant laughed, slapping his son on the back. "That’s my boy — earning respect and admiration from the fellas. Keep it up!"

Over the next several months, Grant observed Luke’s development with pride. He seemed to have a new level of happiness, at his job. Lately, Luke had been constantly giggling and acting bubbly. Curious but pleased, the father said, "Boy, you’ve been smiling like you won the lottery. Work must be going well!"

Luke flashed a bright smile. "Ohmygod, Dad! Work is, like, sooo amazing! Everyone is totally the sweetest, and it’s like, the best job ever!"

Grant nodded, deeply satisfied. "That’s it, son! A happy man is a successful man!"

As weeks passed, Grant noticed Luke gradually developing a healthy tan and growing his hair longer, little by little.

"Looking sharp, Luke!" Grant complimented enthusiastically one afternoon as he grilled some buffalo meat on his 5,000 dollar tactical grill. Luke was returning home carrying shopping bags filled with clothing. "You’ve got a great outdoorsy look coming along. Girls must be impressed!"

Luke giggled sweetly. "Awww, thanks, Daddy! Like, I’m totally thinking of taking a beach vacay. It would be, like, sooo much fun! I got myself the cutest swimsuit. I just hope I can fit into it!"

Grant proudly puffed out his chest. "Excellent! You've got that whole surfer look already going. Independent, adventurous, financially responsible — exactly what every father should want for their son!"

As the months went on, Luke’s body changed further, becoming distinctly curvier in the hips and chest. "Son," Grant remarked one day, genuinely impressed with his son's physique, "you’re really filling out in some areas. How about I get you some steroids to help bulk up all over?" He placed a Winchester rifle painted red, white and blue that he had been handling on the wall.

"Steroids?" Luke relied, alarmed. "I don't..."

"Look, don't listen to those sissies who say steroids are dangerous. They're just hormones. Your body is already full of hormones. It's perfectly safe."

"Hormones?" Luke eagerly clapped his hands, eyes sparkling. "Ohmygod, Daddy! You’re, like, the absolute best! Yes, please!"

"I'll give you the guy's number, then you can get all the hormones you want."

"Thank you, Daddy," Luke said, sincerely. "You're the best Daddy ever."

Months passed, and finally one evening, Luke stood in the doorway, dressed in the unmistakable orange shorts and white tank top of a Hooters girl. His slender frame, full hips, and pronounced feminine curves were pushing his outfit to the limit of it's tensile strength. His long, blond hair gleamed under the light, and his radiant tan skin practically glowed. His long, limber legs sparkled in pantyhose. He put on a long coat to cover himself, just his head and bright white tennis shoes left exposed.

Grant entered the doorway having just wiped down his Cybertruck and stared at his son, overcome with pride. "Luke, you’ve truly become the rugged, independent man I always hoped you’d be. Confidence, charisma, and leadership — you’ve got it all together."

Luke joyfully kissed his father on the cheek, giggling softly. "You’re totally my hero, Daddy! Taking me to Hooters showed me exactly who I’m, like, totally meant to be. Oh — and guess what? I’m moving in with some of the girls from work!"

Grant beamed with pride. Getting his son to live on his own was the final achievement in his plan to make Luke a man. "That’s my boy! A swinging bachelor living with some foxy ladies. I couldn’t be prouder of you."

Luke’s excitement bubbled over, and he clapped his hands again. "Oh! And one more thing — I don't want you to be alarmed, but I'm going to have an operation. Nothing to worry about, though."

"Oh?" Grant said, concerned. This was the first he had heard about this. "Well, I need to know more, son. This is serous business."

"It's totally okay! I've been seeing this doctor, and he, like, said my... um... uh..." Luke was suddenly tongue-tied. "Uh... That is to say... Oh! He said I can have my... Tonsils out."

"Tonsils?" Grant asked, skeptically.

Luke nodded enthusiastically. "So I finally saved enough money to get my... tonsils... removed! The doctor says it’s totally time to snip it off... I mean them. Snip them off. Or out. I’ve never been this excited — it’s gonna be sooo liberating! Snip snip!"

Grant scratched his head, slightly puzzled by Luke’s enthusiasm for something as simple as tonsil removal, but he smiled supportively. "Well, son, I don’t quite understand why that’s exciting, but if it makes you happy, I’m happy."

"You have no idea, Daddy. Anyway, I'll be in bed for a while as the girls look after me during my recovery."

"You little devil!" Grant said, with a conspiratorial elbow nudge in his son's ribs and a wink. "Waited on by your own little harem. That's my boy! You are truly a Buchanan man!"

As Luke jumped into a waiting car filled with laughing, beautiful Hooters girls, Grant stood watching from the doorway, stoically wiping away a tear. He couldn't be prouder of the confident, resilient, and independent man he had always dreamed Luke would become. He placed his hand over his heart as he prayed to the powers above in gratitude for such blessings. Thank God for Hooters.