Sunday, January 16, 2011

5.) LET'S GET PHYSICAL

CHAPTER 1



Edward, Mark, Tony and Jarod had been lunchtime workout buddies for almost three years. They had been old college buddies who had stayed in touch and now used their lunch hours to keep in shape and talk shop. All the guys were Frat boy veterans who hadn't really left the frat house mentality far behind them. Because as the old saying goes "you can take the Boy out of the frat but...
Edward was a corporate shark and even though it had been a long time since he was the president of the Frat, he still took the lead around his old buddies. After graduation he became an investment banker his dark hair and boy next door good looks made it easy for him to charm his way into the hearts of his female clients. Edward had blue eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face, with the strongest jaw line you had ever seen. He was arrogant and commanding and had he believed his intelligence, good looks and connections gave him every right to behave that way.
Tony was most of the time a Latin lover straight from central casting spending as much time in numerous women's beds as he did at the uptown law firm he worked for. During college he had held the reputation for being able to bed any woman on campus and entire sorority houses used to line up to watch him play volleyball in the back yard. He could easily trade in his legal briefs for the Calvin Klien jockey variety and climb up on a billboard. His black hair and coffee and cream skin made him irresistible to woman and he was never in short supply of them.
Mark who was the most aggressive of them all had spent the majority of college as a wall of muscle line man on the football team and still seemed to have trouble leaving behind the bully mentality of his early twenties, he was brutally masculine and often didn't act his age. He was working in an advertising agency as a consultant on sports campaigns. He had kept his hair in a shoulder length mane since freshman year and it gave him a look that seemed to be Connan the executive. He still looked imposing with his 6'4 frame and massive shoulders and continued his big bad ass attitude even though he put on a suit and tie like the rest of them.
Finally Jarod was making a good living outside the city as a high paid contractor it was good old fashioned blood and sweat work and it showed in his tightly packed muscular frame. He was a nice unassuming salt of the earth kind of guy with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He really didn't need to invest in these workout sessions but he did so he could see his buddies.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday they met at the 64th street gym to catch up and work out. They all worked out mainly so they could make sure to be the primmest catch at the clubs and bars they went to together. All of them were pushing thirty and they were all painfully aware that they were soon going to have to settle down and leave the one nightstands to a younger crowd. None of them were very happy about that prospect.
They had maintained this routine without event until one Monday when they noticed that the 64th street gym had been sold to a new owner. They had thought nothing about it at first but began to be disturbed by the new element the new owners were welcoming in.
They were all sitting in the locker room changing out of their suits and into their sweats. When some strange guy walked passed in a pair of skintight yellow and blue striped biker shorts and nothing else. He was in great shape, he looked like one of the models out of a fitness magazine with a sculpted torso and box cut pecs however he had brightly died red hair and a two big hoops in his ears. He was very out of place in the locker room of the upward mobile 64th St gym. He was a sore thumb amongst its Abbercrombie and Finch clientele.
The four men sat staring at each other in their sweat pants and college sweatshirts, "who was that?" Tony asked confusedly.
"Some fruit." Mark grunted dismissively.
"What's he doing here don't they all stay downtown?" Edward tone was elitist with a definitive distaste.
Mark looked darkly and then stood up "Someone should tell him this is NOT that kind of gym."
Jarod put a hand on Mark's big arm "Let it go man. He ain't botherin' nobody."
"Yeah he better not." Mark said darkly.
"Forget the fairy man, how are things with you and Rachel?" Tony said changing the subject as he slid out of his Dockers and into a pair of blue sweat shorts.
"Things would be great, If she would quit hassling me all the time. She's always callin me and shit." Mark answered in a grumbling rumble. He always seemed to be in a perpetual state of pissed off. He always had something to be violently angry about. "And she's always talkin about how I should make a damn commitment to her. Like I want to cut off my sex life at 30. That bitch's getting her walking papers."
"Sorry I asked, you should do what I do find a new girlfriend every night. Variety is the spice of life man." Tony laughed.
"But haven't you been seeing Rachel for 4 months." Edward pointed out as he undid his tie.
"What's? Your point?" mark said blankly.
All four of them broke into a chorus of barking laughter.
"What's so funny guys?"
The four friends turned in unison to the new voice. Standing in front of them in nothing but a towel and a smile was the guy in the biker pants.
Tony cleared his throat and focused intently on putting on his sneakers. "Nothing man."
The new guy looked around questioningly and just smiled again. "Well, anyway, My Name's Kenny. I'm new here.'
"We noticed." Edward said as he slid his Duke sweatshirt over his head. The ice in his voice sent a chill through the locker room.
They all turned to leave as a group without even looking at Kenny.
Mark however turned around and loomed menacingly over the new member; "Since you're new here I think I should point out that the ladies locker room is across the hall. That's where you Queens should change." And then he pushed the towel clad other man like they were in 6th grade and on the recess yard.
"Screw you man." Kenny retorted as he prepared to swing.
Things might have gotten ugly, but Jarod was in between them and pushing Mark's big frame away, "Mark hod old are you man?"
Mark turned around but shot one last insult back, "You can't screw me bitch you ain't my type."
Edward was practically laughing his ass of by the time they got to the main weight room. His face was red with mirth, "Did you see that guys face I think you were gonna make him cry."
"You guys should just leave him alone, " Jarod said quietly
Edward shot him an irritated glance "Come on Jarod the minute you let one of them in the rest of them won't be able to wait to hang their purses right next to our gym bags."
"I guess you right," he relented good naturedly, giving into Edwards superior personality.
The 64th St Gym was a very utilitarian no fuss, no frills gym. It wasn't much more then a college weight room. It was bare walls, tiled floors and work out equipment. It was what Mark called a real mans gym. There wasn't a juice bar, there weren't personal trainers and there wasn't blaring music pumping out at you. It was perfect for the guys. This was their refuge the one place they could escape from all the hassles of their high pressure jobs and the outside world.
They were on the floor for about two minutes before a beautiful lithe woman in spandex hopped off her stare master and stormed passed Tony in a swirl of auburn hair. "Asshole."
Tony turned around "Puta." He called after her.
"What was that about" Edward asked from behind a butterfly curl.
"Just some stupid bitch." Tony spat.
Edward laughed again, "Tony is there ANYONE in this Gym you haven't slept with?"
"No, he's gone through all the chicks with memberships. He's gonna have to switch gyms." Jarod added laughing.
"She can't handle the fact that we had a one time thing."
"Man she was hot, you didn't keep going out with her?" Mark questioned as he followed the woman's escape with a leer of interest.
"Why would I take her out again, I got want I wanted the first time?" He answered matter of factly making Edward and Jarod laughed again.
The woman who must have been listening to their conversation turned around and gracefully through them the bird with a delicate gesture of her hand. "Maybe people wouldn't treat her like a WHORE if she didn't dress like one!" Tony yelled after her.
The guys continued the rest of their workout discussing business, how this boss was trying to get one over on them or how this client was trying to back out of a deal. Eventually the conversation switched to sex. Mark who was the only one in what could conceivably called a relationship just talked about how he was dumping his girlfriend. Tony regaled them with dirty tales of his sexual escapades with woman all over the East Side. Jarod admitted to being on a few dates but not really getting anywhere and of course Edward was far to busy with work to even pick some girl up at a bar and take her home for a quick lay. It was painfully apparent that the only things that filled their days were work and the occasional woman. But mostly work. They were power hungry mosagonists left over from Gloria Stienem's Cultural Revolution.
"I'm going to be late for a meeting," Tony complained as he toweled of his sweat-drenched forehead and pushed back his black hair out of his eyes.
"Damn do you think it's hot in here?" Jarod asked as he peeled his sweat-darkened sweatshirt off his head revealing his fur-covered torso. His well-proportioned chest was coated in a thick carpet of dark brown hair.
Edward chortled, "That's our gorilla boy."
They all laughed, except Jarod, at the old nickname.
"I didn't think that was funny when we were in school and I don't think it is now man." He complained as he wiped away the seat from his neck with the shirt.
"Why Jarod, It wasn't that bad." Mark said with a punctuated punch in his arm.
Tony laughed even harder, "He's still pissed from the time he got pass out drunk and we put all that electrical tape on his chest."
"I still have scars dickhead," Jarod mumbled under his breath.
The other three men were well into a second brawl of laughter when music began to blast at them from all sides of the room.
They stopped lifting and Edward looked around dumbfounded "What the hell?"
The music was a loud rap, filled with deep bass and pounding rhythms.
"Someone turn that shift off!" Tony yelled angrily.
A maintenance man at the other side of the room turned around quickly and apologized, "Sorry sir," he dropped a panel of circuitry in his hand and the loud vibrations stopped.
"Thanks." Tony sneered back. "When did this gym start blaring bad music?"
"Hey man aren't you homme boyz supposed to love that stuff?" Mark joked.
"Shut-up Mark you know I hate that thug bullshit. Everyone thinks just because I'm Puerto-Rican I must be in to all that Tommy Hillfiger, Rapper wanna be, ghetto bullshit. It's embarrassing." Tony complained with his nose upturned.
"Come on you must have at least own one Big Poppa CD." Mark teased.
"Tony's right," Edward interjected taking over the conversation, "what is going on around here, the fruit in the locker Room and now stereo's being installed. I wonder what else these new owners have planned." Edward could see big changes coming. Big changes he hadn't given permission for. He Excused himself from the work out and went looking or some answers.
Edward made a b-line for the manager's office but found it vacant except for a couple for boxes. "Can I help you?"
Edward turned around and came face to face with a hulking platinum blonde Italian who wore a suit with no tie. "I'm looking for the manager, Joel." Edward answered flatly, eyeing the obviously radically muscled pretending to be professional kid skeptically.
"Oh I'm sorry with the new owners of the gym and the renovation Joel's been replaced." The kid explained congenially.
"What? So who are you?"
The guy extended one ring-adorned hand and said, "I'm Gino, the replacement."
This man who was taking over his sanctuary was not only a trendy little muscle boy, he couldn't have been more then 22. "They got rid of Joel and hired you? And what did you say about renovations?"
Gino gave him a steady look that spoke volumes "why don't we discuss this in my office uh...?" he trailed of searching for the name of the impolite customer.
"My name is Edward Barnes" Came the answer through gritted teeth, "And isn't this your office?'
"Hell no," Gino laughed "this closet? I'm moving over into one of the store rooms, they're so much bigger."
As he followed the man who was barely more then a child to his new office, which was just another change that was rubbing Edward the wrong way, he noticed how drastically the clientele was changing. That fruit Kenny from the locker room wasn't the only new face walking around. There were all these gym rats running around who he had never met before, not to mention contractors and other workman. Just what was going around here?
When Gino was safely behind his desk He looked up at Edward looming over him irritably. "Now what exactly seems to be the problem Eddie?"
"My name is Edward and the problem is you are turning our gym into a gay bar with weights." He spat.
Gino's jaw set, and his fists began to itch to make contact with Edward's face, "Excuse me?"
"No I don't think I will, just what do the people you work for think they're doing kid?"
"The new owners have a lot of experience in running successful health club chains Edward, they have three downtown that..."
`"Downtown? I should have known. You're going to bring those people in here?" Edward raged.
"And what element would that be?" Again Gino was barely maintaining his hot Mediterranean temper.
"Fags."
Gino was now on his feet, "Listen here you..."
"No you listen, this is a nice respectable place where regular guys go to hang out and work out stress from their real jobs. Not watch themselves bench press in a ceiling mirror and then blow someone in the showers." Edward ran on "Me and my buddies have real jobs kid. We have to deal with all kinds of bullshit stress and pressure all week and our only way to let it off is to come here and take it out on the weights."
"I'm sure you'll find that after you get to some more of the clientele you'll find that you have a lot more in common then you know." Gino grated as he mentally took the 30 something by the neck and jacked him against a wall.
"You know what, I wish I could be like these fruits running around the city with nothing to worry them except their amount of body fat and their hair. Just another demoralized imbecile bouncing from bed to bed then to the gym. I wish that my friends and I could live the carefree life of these idiot queer bitches but you see kid, we're real men with actual jobs. It would be so much easier to forget the problems of the corporate world and let my libido and my dick do all my thinking for me" Edward said continuing his tirade. "But if you think your going to take away the only place we can relax you've got another think coming."
The blonde settled his bulging olive skinned body back into his chair with a calm expression, "I'm sorry you feel that way Edward but the contracts have been signed ownership has been transferred just what do you plan to do."
"I plan," he said in a mocking tone, "To tie this place up in litigation so long that no ones going to be lifting 5lbs in here for years. We all signed membership contracts with certain stipulations a hundred of which have been broken."
Gino remained calm, "I certainly hope it doesn't come to that."
"Then get you and all your pink wearin' buddies out of my gym." And with that he was out the slamming door.
Then he went and grabbed the other guys from their sets, "Come on guys we're getting the hell out of here."
"All right" Mark said.
And Tony nodded.
"Why" asked Jake confusedly.
"Because I said so that's why. Now move." Edward commanded.
Mark and Tony went and got their stuff and as they were leaving Tony asked Eddie what was going on, "I'm gonna call my lawyer and after that I'm pretty sure we won't have any more problems with this new owner."
They all high fived.

Gino watched the four quickly approaching middle age men slap each other five through the windows of his new office. And tapped his finger against the desktop. As they went on their separate ways he finally came to a difficult decision. He leaned over and dialed a familiar number from his office speakerphone. After numerous rings a tired impatient voice picked up, "It is ten o'clock in the morning on and I don't have a class until one...If someone isn't on fire I'm going to be real pissed."
"It's me Gino," he said out loud to the air.
"What's your point." The voice on the phone snapped.
"Stop being a cranky bitch...I need your help."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone and then "All right what seems to be the problem..."
""I need you to do me a favor."


CHAPTER  2
Edward didn't exactly have time to call his lawyer. The minute he got back to his office he was told he was going to have to fly out to LA and close a major deal. So he just let the threat lay there and assumed that would be enough to scare the Italian punk.
Two weeks later he returned from his trip to California with little more then a tan to show for his trouble. The deal had fallen through and he was now looking forward to getting out his frustration by working out with his buddies. It was almost twelve so he had just enough time to drop his luggage off at his apartment and get a gym bag,
He was however startled when he walked to his good old gym to find it completely renovated. The walls were florescent colors and the front facade had been made into a huge window so that people could look into the gym as they passed by. The sign at the top of the building read, "Fitness on 64th." As Eddie gazed stunned into the gym he could see large groups of well muscled hardly dressed men working out inside. He stood there staring angrily until two guys walked passed him through the door laughing, "see something you like man?" one joked.
Edward was enraged. He had discussed this with that Gino person; this was not to happen. And that little jerk actually went ahead and turned his gym into some kind of sideshow.
He picked up his gym bag and stalked into the gym, as he walked passed the clientele he made a repulsed mental note that there weren't any woman in the gym, only hard bodied guys in spandex. This Gino guy was gonna get it. He assumed the other guys had seen the changes and were just waiting for him to get back and fix it. They probably were skipping their workouts instead of suffering through this circus.
Edward barged into the manager's office with out even knocking. "What the hell did you do?"
Gino's darkly completed face looked up at him in shock, "Mr. Barnes? What are you doing?"
"I'll tell you what I'm doing, I'm pulling out my membership from this gay bar with barbells." Edward spat. His slicked back dark hair that fell into his eyes as he raged.
Gino didn't seem too worried but he did seem slightly confused, "Mr. Barnes didn't you receive a complimentary care package?"
"What?"
"I sent you and your friends a gift, so that you wouldn't feel out of place as the gym changed management." Gino added with a smile.
"A fruit basket isn't going to change my mind." Eddie send with a condescending tone that would have been better suited for a five year old not man Gino's age.
"Really Eddie? Your friends had a big change of heart after they got theirs." Gino smiled.
"Don't call me Eddie you...What did you say about my friends?"
The peroxide blonde man stood up with a broad smirk, his muscles rippled underneath the constricting red tank top and shorts he wore, "Your buddies don't seem to have anymore complaints, as a matter of fact they're quite happy."
"Yeah right!" Edward shot back, "I'm sure when I call them they'll be just as pissed as I am,"
"Don't worry, you don't have to call them. You can talk to them right now. They're all here I think..."
"What?" Edward asked.
"They're all out on the floor maybe you should talk about this with them." The big Italian ushered him out of his office while Edward was still in a state of confusion.
He stood outside Gino's door trying to take in the changes made to the gym, he could here Gino dial his phone from behind the door and say, "Hey buddy it's me. Let me just say...man you rule!"
The Gym was larger now with different sections, one for rowing machines, steppers and treadmills another for weight machines and another for free weights. In the middle there was a large round bar. And all around there were gorgeous men sweating and straining their large muscles. Where were his friends in this? He scanned the crowd for mark's long hair and height, but couldn't find him anywhere.
He was walking by the juice bar he heard someone call out "Hey B? Waz up?"
Edward turned instinctively and saw that the call had come from the young man attending the Juice bar. The bar advertised a wide variety of protein shakes and beverages and the young guy who was serving them looked like he was drinking his share of the merchandise. He wore all black jogging pants and a blank tank top that strained against his well-formed pecs. His muscles were lithe and taunt what some people would call "cut". To show off how well sculpted his body was he had tanned it an obscenely dark color making him look more like someone at Miami Beach then in a Manhattan Gym. His dark hair was cropped in a close cut fade leaving just a light fuzz on his head that connected to his thin side burns which climbed across his jaw line and into his thin goatee'. He smiled an inviting little smirk out from under too long eyelashes. The tanned kid looked at him again "Hey man where you been hanging? We haven't heard from you in mad long."
Edward stared at him. He almost fell over when he realized the muscled kid working behind the bar was Tony. With his hair shaved, the juvenile facial hair and the tan he looked like a 20-year-old. Tony had always been in good shape but now he looked like while Ed was away he had lived and slept at a bench press. He was pure cut muscle. The progress was nothing short of impossible.
"Tony what are you doing behind that bar." Ed asked exasperatedly.
"Servin' drinks." Came the simple answer, without a hint of sarcasm.
"I can see that. Why aren't you at work?"
Tony smiled and out down the clothe he was washing the surface of the bar with, "Yo Man I got some large news for you, but this...This be work, Yo." His dark skin was split with a big white toothy grin.
"What?!" he almost yelled.
"That thing you said about our lives being to stressful got to me man. That wack law gig kept pullin me down. I needed to cut that triflin' shit." Tony explained, and punctuated his statement with a couple sharp hand motions right out of a rap video.
"I don't understand you, why are you talking like that?" Edward asked impatiently.
"Ah it ain't nothin', just tryin' to get back some of the fun that job took from me. I quit the firm and Gino was down enough to give me a job at the gym. And it's sweet too, I ain't gotta worry about shit. No more hassles with clients and briefs. It's the ill job. And I still have time to pick up a couple shifts at this other place at night." Tony said happily.
Ed was beyond speech, "You quit your law firm... to work here?"
"Yeah"
His friend had gone from an upward mobile office Don Juan to a muscled hood rat in a matter of days. And after hearing him talk in this knew halting speech and looking into his eyes vacant of all complex thought, Edward got the distinct impression that his IQ had dropped a couple points.
He was staring at his friend in silence when one of the anonymous gym rats leaned over the bar and smacked Tony on the ass. "Hey, get to work." The guy said with a laugh.
Edward was on his way to confront the queer and excepted Tony to already be in mid-swing, but he stopped suddenly when he heard Tony giggling vapidly in his dark baritone. He turned to see his friend's eyebrow arched invitingly and his new goatee' s split by an inviting smirk. "What kind of work are you talkin' bout Boo?" Then to Edward's horror he put his hand on the thin jogging material that covered his too firm ass and began to rub flirtatiously.
The guy laughed, "Geez T, your such a slut."
"You know it, that's how I roll baby," they both laughed.
Edward was gone before they turned around to see him make a quick escape. Something was really wrong. What the hell was going on with Tony? It was to weird, he was in such a rush that he walked right into a brick wall.
A brick wall of muscle.
He walked headfirst into a big body builder in a red and white striped singlet. He turned around and gave Ed a big smile and said, "Careful where you're walking there buddy."
"Mark?"
"Eddie! I haven't seen you in a while!" The mountain of ridiculous muscle said to him.
For the second time that Day Edward stared speechless at the transformation of one of his friends. Mark had always been a big guy, good Nordic stock that made him tall and broad shouldered with a barrel chest but the gorilla who stood in front of him was a far cry from good genes. Slabs of grotesquely exaggerated rippled underneath a thin layer of too tan skin dissected by a hundred pulsing veins. Mark looked exactly like Connan the barbarian now. Only Connan wouldn't be caught dead in the candy cane striped singlet that mark was sporting proudly.
"Mark you must have gained 50 pounds!" Edward stammered.
The hulk actually blushed, "Oh no I've just been taking supplements and really concentrating on my training, Kenny says I should be ready for competition in a couple weeks."
The shock of Mark's massively altered form had let Edward gloss over a few other obvious changes, the most jarring Mark's pony tail, his long hair that had been his blonde pride since college was shaved in a close crew cut that would have made a drill sergeant proud.
"What'd you do to your hair man?"
He used one big-gunned arm to touch the short spiky hair effeminently, "Well Kenny said it looked kinda faggy and that it would take away from my body during competition." The big voice wasn't near as commanding as it once had been, now there was a definite shy tone, as if he was unsure of everything he said," So we went and got it cut...I'm still getting used to it."
"What the fuck is going?" Edward's head was starting to pound, the bizarreness of the gym was giving him a massive headache. He just kept staring at Mark. He had to be at least 275 pounds of solid thick muscle. He looked like one of those trashy body builders who paraded around in posing trucks. There was no way he could have gotten this big in two weeks naturally. He was just too big. His size was disturbing. Huge pecs, thighs like granite pillars and biceps so wide he probably had trouble clapping his damn hands. "Are you on steroids man?"
"NO, Marky here is an all natural competitor." A self-satisfied voice behind him said. A red haired man handed Mark a towel to dry the sweat on his brow. After a couple seconds of intense memory searching he recognized the fit red head as the guy Mark had almost beat the shit out of.
"What's all this about competing? What the hell are you talking about." Edward lost his footing and stumbled back into the seat of a butterfly press.
Mark seemed like he was about to answer but instead docilely deferred to Kenny who took the upper hand almost immediately, "Hasn't mark told you? He's decided to become a professional body builder, as a matter of fact we're flying out to California next week for a competition."
Mark shook his head happily from behind the other man. Like a dog. A big dumb muscle bound dog.
"A what? A body Builder? You gotta be kidding me." He yelled.
"No," Kenny answered dripping with attitude. "As a matter of fact I'm his trainer."
"Mark how are you managing to spend all this time at the gym, The agency must be doing back flips that they're so pissed." Edward tried to reason.
"He doesn't work their anymore do you mark?" Kenny pushed on before mark had a chance to answer.
Mark shook his head simply. Staying quiet, letting Kenny be in charge. As long as Edward had known mark he had never known him to let anyone speak for him much less order him around the way this little gym rat seemed to do.
"Kenny thought it would be better if I just focused on getting into top shape, so I told the agency that instead of just consulting for the sports magazines I was going to be in them instead!" His huge shoulders swelled and his bulky body shook with a dopey conceit as Mark gushed on inanely. His eyes were full of a shy pride. It was like his personality took a complete 180.
Edward gained his bearings and judged the situation. He gave Kenny a dark look, "You sure are letting Kenny hear convince you into all kinds of things aren't you?"
Kenny returned his look with a saucy roll of his eyes, "OH I've convinced Mark of all kinds of things, right baby." And then unbelievably Mark leaned into Kenny appreciatively and gave him the deepest kiss He had ever seen mark give anyone. The Gym rat and the bodybuilder groped each other hungrily running their hands tentatively over the hardly concealing lycra of their bodies. Mark seemed just happy to be in the other man's embrace and only too glad to let him roam his hands all over the wide planes of his absurdly muscled body. Kenny was grabbing his ass flagrantly not caring how it looked. And mark just let him. They parted their intense kiss and Kenny gave mark's exposed quarter shaped nipple a parting tweak. Mark just acted like a piece of meat that was happy someone wanted to use him.
After Kenny let go of the once proud Lineman's lip with a parting playful bite, Mark looked at Edward and excitedly said, "Kenny and I are lovers. I'm moving in with him, isn't that great!"
Ed's mouth felt hot, he felt like he was going to throw-up, so he grabbed his bag and headed for the door with a hand over his mouth.
He had fallen down a really fucked up rabbit hole.
He brushed past some tall guy on his way out the sliding glass doors. "Hey partner what's the rush?" Edward turned toward the familiar voice.
"Jarod, thank God it's you have you seen Tony and mark they've lost their minds." Edward said recognizing the good-natured easygoing face of his most reliable friend. And then he noticed Jarod's clothes and realized that he to had probably been a victim of the pod people. Easy going casual corner Jake was covered head to toe in black leather and he was carrying a motorcycle helmet on top of his gym bag. In all the years Edward had known Jarod the raciest thing had ever seen him wear was a pair of jeans with a frayed hole in the side. Now he stood before him in the parking lot of the gym in a pair of black leather chaps, blue jeans, and brand new shiny leather jacket.
"I saw them yesterday they seemed fine." Came the gruff response. "You're the one that's been missing in action." Jarod had three days worth of five o'clock shadow on his face and his hair was greased back tightly against his scalp, making it shine almost as black as the leather jacket.
"Look I don't understand what's going on here man, I feel like I'm going crazy or something.
Jarod regarded him with a wolfish smile. He dipped into the top of his knee high steel tipped leather boots and retrieved a beat up cigarette lighter and then pulled a cigar out of his top pocket. Jarod used to cough like a baby when some one else lit up...he didn't smoke. "Tell you what," he said as he lit the stogie, "My shift at the gym is going to start in about ten minutes but I'm done at ten why don't you stop by my place later, and let Daddy make you feel all better." He gave him a sultry smile and unzipped his jacket to reveal a shirtless barrel chest covered in thick hair as if to entice him.
"What the hell is going on?" Edward roared not so much shocked at this newest development and made a move to his car.
"Not so fast sweet cheeks," Jarod barked and grabbed Edward by his arm. He tried to break away but was stunned at the strength in Jarod's grip. "Next time you bring that skinny ass around here I bet things are going to be pretty different, and when that happens I want you to know that I'm the first one on your dance card bitch." Jarod's unshaven face was right in front of his nose. The stench of smoke, sweat and the musk of masculine leather were so overpowering it was making him light headed. "You pushed me around for to long Eddie and your going to start making up for it, first by licking my boots good and clean and then if your lucky I'll let you lick this good and clean." HE grabbed his rigid leather outlined dick.
"Get off me asshole." Edward yelled and broke free.
Edward was fuming all the way to the curb to hail a cab, "as he was getting in however he could hear Jarod yelling from behind him "When it happens Eddie just let it, it feels so fucking good," he glanced back and saw Jarod still clutching his hard leather clad cock.

CHAPTER 3
Edward got home from the gym and wanted to just get right into the shower and wash the badness of the day right off of him. However that was not to be because he had a pile of mail that he had to sort through. While he was in California the doorman had let the entire weeks work of mail pile up; there were about a hundred letters and one mysterious package...
He sorted through the mail and then looked questioningly at the package, instead of looking at the return address he opened it right away. Which in retrospect was a big mistake.
On the top of the box was a bunch of bath supplies. Shaving stuff, bath oil, shampoo and other grooming products greeted him. He tossed them aside and planned to take it immediately to the dumpster.
Edward's plans for a relaxing shower were interrupted when he realized that because he was away for two weeks that his apartment was completely out of stock of everything including shampoo. He looked into the empty shower and began cursing. If he had only thought ahead and stolen some of those little bottles from the hotel he had stayed in. But that would have been pathetic. And he really wanted that shower...
Then he remembered the bath stuff sitting on top of the care package that fag from the gym sent over. He cringed at the thought of putting whatever fruity botanical bullshit they enclosed in his hair, but he did feel dirty and it wasn't like anyone would ever know...he could just run to the store tomorrow. Quickly wrapping a towel around his lean naked form he ducked out of the bathroom and grabbed the bag of bath supplies at the top of the box.
The steam from the running shower left a fog around the bathroom just big enough for him to see his handsome boy next door face and trim every man body. The one good thing about the trip to California is that he had gotten a chance to catch up on a lot of the casual sex he had been missing since he had started working all these long hours at work. Sure the chicks in California were used to those vain movie star wannabe guys, with their muscles and vacant stares but they could still fall for his charms and not-too-long out of college body.
He stepped tentatively into the shower taking the assorted bath stuff out of its container and laying it on the shower shelf. He let the shower water rinse over him washing away the weirdness of his day. It was like it had all been a bad dream, Mark wasn't a pansy bodybuilder, Tony wasn't a ghetto boyslut, and Jake hadn't become a bad ass biker with a yen to have him suck his dick.
The hot water washed the day away.
He reached out and instinctively grabbed the long shampoo bottle. H emptied a splash of green goo on to his hands and lathered it into his hair. The minute it touched his scalp he felt a strange tingle. It wasn't abrasive...just a tickling sensation like the shampoo was seeping into his skin. The sensation ran through his body making him feel tingly all over until it solidified and centered in his groin, sending his dick throbbing to attention. Edward shivered from the feeling...and thought that the alien itch wasn't entirely unpleasant. He continued massaging the product into his dark hair maintaining his self-control and avoiding touching himself.
After reluctantly rinsing the silky foam from his hair, he grabbed curiously for the soap that was also enclosed. The violet bar of aroma giving soap slid across his skin like a caressing hand. He scrubbed across his tight chest and down the small ridges of his Abs. The same tingling that affected his head now traveled across his body in the localized from of the soap. The slow motions he took with too gentle hands was very sensual causing even more stimulation in his already aching cock. The purple of the soap tantalizingly along the inside of his thighs and across the slopes of his ass until he couldn't take it any longer and began washing off his rigid pole and heavy balls. Clouds of suds covered his dark bush of pubic hair. The urge in his dick became unbearable and he dropped the soap hastily in his rush to jerkoff.
His big hands grabbed his impossibly pulsing member sending both hands sliding across its length. The slippery soap caused his hands to slide up and down furiously without any grip. Edward's legs twitched and hips bucked with abandon at the erotic tingling. He was so aroused it was actually painful. He lunged back and forth in the shower like a caged animal pulling deliriously on his rock hard dick. Shoulders rolled, calves flexed, and toes curled as Edward came with the force of a fire hose and let a moan of complete sexual release.
Spent and pleased Edward slumped back against the shower door letting the hot water wash away the purple lather obliviously. After basking in pleasure for about twenty more minutes Edward stepped out of the shower in satisfaction.
The entire room was filled with a thick fog of steam, making it almost impossible to see anything. Edward flicked on the overhead fan so as to clear away the heavy humid air and then grabbed the towel and began to dry off. He ran it across his smooth legs and chest and then dried his hair quickly. The steam had cleared enough so that when he turned toward the mirror. He could see his reflection clearly.
The towel dropped.
"That fucking bitch!" Edward snarled as he saw the results of his "Complimentary" gift.
"Real fucking funny you stupid Guido." He growled at the unpresent Gym owner. This most have been some kind of practical joke. Edward stared angrily at his denuded form. The dark hair on his legs was gone leaving only the shapely muscle tone and deep rich brown tan skin. His chest, which only had light fuzz now, stuck out without even a hint of fur. The trail that once lead from his Abs to his dark bush was nonexistent as was the once proud forest of pubic hair it had lead to. His thick spent dick and heavy sac lay against the smooth surface of his inner thigh looking bigger then life.
Hair remover.
The queers must have put hair removal formula in the soap.
Bastards.
A thought occurred to him and he flicked on a second series of lights so he could see better. And his fears were proved to be well founded. His dark brown almost black hair had been changed by the shampoo as well. Golden honey highlights streaked through light auburn hair.
And the shampoo had hair dye. Shit.
How was he supposed to go to the office like this? The ridiculous hairless arms and legs he could hide but this color treated hair was too obvious. He had gone from a dark natural color to an obvious bottle job that left him three shades away from blonde. And to make matters worse with all his body hair gone it made his modest California tan look somehow ten shades darker. Instead of a healthy brown he looked the deep meticulously bronze of an expert sunbather. For some reason he seemed more tan then before he left California.
Dammit.
He cursed the entire way out of the bathroom but for some reason he forgot to wrap the towel around his naked body. Preferring instead to wander around his empty apartment completely nude.
What a horrible day.
All he wanted to do now was get ready for bed and go to sleep. With his balls swinging in front of him he padded toward the bedroom. He scoured through his drawers trying to find a pair of boxers to wear to bed but all his clothes were either dirty or packed away from the trip. He recoiled at the thought of sleeping in the buff, not from any humility but from the thought of being uncomfortable. He resigned himself to staying up another couple of hours and unpacking his clothes just do he could find a clean pair of underwear.
His nude form reentered the living room and he headed to the front hall where he had left his luggage but as he passed by the unwelcome care package he noticed that it contained more then just the Bath stuff.
What other little pranks did the queers send over?
Out of curiosity...just curiosity Edward opened the flaps of the box to gaze into it. A couple of magazines and CD's. And a couple other box's were enclosed, but what caught his eye was a long tube that sat near the top of the box.
This was one stupid ass joke.
The gym hand set him a tube of underwear.
Not just any underwear a pack of faggy bikini briefs. From the label the designs were all in bright ultra violet colors with prints from anything from a fuchsia leopard to a turquoise zebra. The Tube contained five pairs and the guy on the label looked uncomfortably exposed in the tight hugging briefs.
He cursed again. If these guys thought he'd be too embarrassed to sue they were seriously wrong.
As he squeezed the tube angrily the top popped off from the pressure sending a pair of hot pink Zebra print briefs plunging to the floor. Edward irritably bent over to pick them up, disgusted at how small they were but when he grabbed a hold of the silky fabric of the textured brief's he felt the same strange tingling in his cock, which he had experienced in the shower. As he felt the cloth his dick leapt to attention again. He squeezed his smooth thighs together in surprise and pleasure suppressing the surge of erotic tension in his shaft.. He dropped them back to the floor and recoiled from them.
That was weird.
Unnerved Edward backed away from the skimpy briefs and turned back toward the hall for his suitcases. His heavy erect penis wobbled back and forth in front of him the entire way as he tried to evade the thoughts of the sexual bolt of electricity that the clothe had sent to his groin. It was so intense so erotic...and so weird.
He clumsily sorted through the mess of his stored clothes. His numerous bags of luggage lay gutted around him in disarray as he desperately searched for a clean pair of shorts to wear. His desperation stemmed from the fact that he kept glancing back at the pink zebra bikini briefs lying on his living room floor. If they had felt like that with just a touch...imagine what they would feel like held tight against his dick, the fabric stretching to cup his ass... he shook his head and continued to search through the clothes.
It took him ten minutes crouching naked in his front hall like some kind of primitive before he realized that he was either going to have to do some laundry in the buff or sleep naked.
He resolved to sleep buck ass naked.
Edward had every intention of walking right past the tasteless pair of revealing underwear, except for the fact that his sub conscious mind was already justifying slipping them on, just for bed of course. No one was going to see him prancing around in them. And it would be uncomfortable to just be hanging out all over while he slept. But the real reason he was justifying putting on the ridiculous things was because of the sexual jolt he had felt before. His whole body was hungry for another taste.
When he finally got to where they had dropped on the floor the decision was already made. Even though he looked down at them like a coiled snake his fingers itched to grab them. Edward delicately bent down and flinching ever so slightly took a hold of the briefs.
An echo of the previous burst resonated in his cock making it leap against the dry air of the apartment. A dopey pleasured crossed his lips and he absently ran tentative fingers along the shaft in anticipation.
He pulled the band of the comical underwear apart and began slowly to slide one hairless leg into the small leg opening when the fabric brushed against his unprotected tan skin the same sensations of erotic excitement rushed to his cock and brain. Which made him take the dressing process at a painstakingly slow pace. With passionate ease he slid the cuff of the brief up his second calf relishing the strange tingle the garment was some how sending to the pleasure sensors in his brain.
He stood there naked hairless balls hanging tight against his thighs cock straining toward the sky and a pair of silly bikini briefs wrapped around his knees, for as long as his self-control would allow him. Just savoring the anticipation of the moment. With both hands and his tongue licking his upper lip he bent down and hiked them up across his thighs. The cuffs glided snugly across the skin bare thigh muscles like a thousand soft kisses. The bottom of the briefs caught on his crotch and he released his hands in a moan as the band snapped against his waist.
Intense waves of ecstasy rolled over him. Up his back down his spine to his shaking legs. The feel of the tight fabric gripping along the frame of his dick and balls and clutching his ass firmly sent him into rapture for some strange reason. He moaned and uncontrollably held his pink encased bulge in the folds of his tense hands. His rock hard cock began to spurt uncontrollably beneath the brand new fabric. Lurching against the confining briefs like an uncoiled fire hose. Edward just fell into the nearest chair and enjoyed the wild erotic ride with a stupefied smile on his face.
After the supernatural rush he got from putting on the queerbait underwear wore off Edward discovered that he wasn't as tired as he had been before in fact he felt revitalized from the erupting release of his angry cock, instead of the spent lethargy that usually followed when he came. He got up from the chair revived and full of energy. As he walked in the foreign garment he got little shots of unaccustomed pleasure from the different way they felt. The way they rubbed his balls when he strode across the floor or the way they gripped onto the folds of his ass cheeks making his butt seem tighter and bigger. Strange that that would be a good feeling... He walked around the apartment and the thought of changing the cum stained drawers never even crossed his mind.
Out of curiosity he picked up the discarded tube with the other briefs tucked inside. He hadn't noticed it before but the man on the label was a well built specimen with cheese grater Abs and rock hard muscles that were accentuated by the little briefs, so instead of looking stupid the guy actually looked sexy, the kind of confident sexuality that made woman crazy.
Edward looked to the stud in the picture to his own reflection in the living room mirror. Where the clothes had made the Adonis on the label seem like a lusty sexual predator, on him they gave quite a different impression.
The man in the mirror was reasonably in shape yuppie; still barely hanging on to the body he had had in college. The man was good looking for sure but the erotic clothing on him made him seem like he was desperately trying to attain a look he was to old and not in enough shape to maintain. Edward looked like some sleazy lothario or a clueless gigolo. He was actually upset that he didn't look good in the silly bikinis.
Edward had never thought of his body derogatorily he was handsome and his rounded undefined muscles and average man masculinity had always seemed to attract every woman he wanted. But now that he looked at the cut and hard body on the label and compared it to his own he wished that he had more muscular definition. Bigger cuts, harder muscles...
He lost interest in the depressing assessment of his once proud body and tried to find something to do. He wasn't tired anymore...but he did have a veracious hunger. A raid on his fridge proved fruitless literally After being two weeks gone all his food was either gone or covered in two inches of what seemed to be moss.
As he walked back from the kitchen he noticed that the different cut of the briefs was making him walk slightly modified. Instead of his purposeful stride. His hips were rolling a little more making his saunter a little more suggestive
Edward's stomach growled furiously and he absently slid his fingers across the broad expanse of the bulge in his briefs. He unintentionally continued to grope himself through the pink fabric frequently cupping his sac or just holding his package. His mind centered fixedly on finding something anything to eat. After quietly considering putting on some actual clothes and running to the Korean market down the street his eyes once again returned to the strange box filled with greeting gifts from the new owners of the gym.
Again it proved to be a helpful cornucopia. Inside the lid there was a box of what looked to be "Power bars" nutritional supplement bars in varying flavors and colors. Two strongly conflicting emotions struck him like fists. One was the thrill of using another product from the gym and receiving the same erotic jolt he had gotten from the others, the second was the intense fear of receiving that selfsame erotic jolt. Again the debate raged on but with less intensity, eventually his stomach and his cock one out.
He was elbow deep in the box reaching around for a "Vanilla shocker bar" when the first bite crossed his lips and slid on to his dry tongue the sensation ran down though his throat across his Abs to lay angrily on his dick. He swallowed hard and squeezed his knees tight. A yelp of pleasure escaped his lips and he through his head back from the exciting feeling of the strange sexual spell the gym products placed on his eager body.
Before he realized it he had eaten about five of the power bars, choking down "Strawberry fuel", "Chocolate octane" and "orange blasts" he was happily munching and stroking his impressively hard member. It didn't even occur to him that never in his life had his cock been this expectant and unignorable.
In his fog of sexual euphoria he meandered back to the box and carelessly picked up a stack of magazines. It was a thick pile consisting of about ten different magazines. Edward began to thumb through the first couple out of boredom. They were the typical Mags a gym would send, fitness ones. Every time his wetted fingers grazed across the pages to push forward to the next page the ghost sensation of that same erotic tension would strike in his groin.
As Edward flipped through the magazine he found himself gazing at the muscular paragons of fitness that graced it's pages in ever increasing envy. The guys were so ripped, he thought. So cut, so hard, they were so in shape. He wished he could be that in shape, as in shape as the guy on the underwear label. Have Abs you could eat breakfast off of. Have pecs that split the seams of any shirt. Maybe calves so defined that the tendons wrapped his legs like rope. Yeah... that was it. He was moaning deeply as he flipped further. A back that looked straight out of a Greek painting. Every inch toned tanned perfection. An object to be looked one and admired. Biceps that flexed when relaxed. Glutes as tight as bowstrings and every plane of his naked, sweaty body a cut hard testament of sexual energy and masculine...
"SHIT!" His back arched against the couch and he roared in a crescendo that shook his shoulders and made his thighs twitch. He came again in the tight briefs his dick snaking along the waistband. He panted and shook and looked down at the damp blotch on the pink stripes. He put a tentative hand through his light hair and wondered what the fuck was going on with him. It was hard to concentrate...like he was stoned or something. Something was wrong...but he couldn't put his finger on it. The magazine dropped at his side and he stumbled to the bathroom to put some cold water on his face.
The reflection in the floor length bathroom mirror was the hardest splash of water he could have asked for. Edward looked at himself and slumped against the bathroom door in disbelief. "What the fuck is going on?" He whispered in an almost frightened voice.
What the fuck indeed. Ten minutes ago he had been lamenting about his athletic but bulky frame and in the ten minutes since then the reality of his body had reshaped itself. The men in the magazines held nothing on him. The guy on the underwear magazine would now admire him instead of the other way around. Hours of relentless gym work adorned his solid body. Sever muscle definition reflected back at him. Cut's so deep they looked almost impossible or at least painful. For some bizarre reason he had come at the thought of this body now he had it. Every movement was study in male anatomy. Every flinch sent a thousand movements against the muscles that glistened in the florescent light. Fat had dripped away muscle had been gained. He looked at a totally different body. He must be hallucinating. He had to be. It was a dream...it had to be.
He looked like the GNC ultimate nutrition version of Michalangelo's David. He kept moving his arms gazing amazed at the veins that roped around his forearms or shaking the big thighs trying to get the flesh on his legs to move but it stayed as hard as granite. He was a model of fitness, not an ounce of fat, not one unexercised muscle. And it had all happened in the space of ten minutes... It was only ten minutes ago that he was looking at himself critically in the mirror. It was right after he had put on the bikini briefs that had made him horny, and after the soap that made him loose his body hair and the shampoo that lightened his...
The stuff from the gym.
The health bars and magazines...could they have...?
No. That was impossible. There was no fucking way. This was a dream. A weird ass dream. He was asleep from his trip...or all the stress from the office was making him loose it. He had the momentary thought that he was loosing his mind. Was all the stress and aggravation from the office giving him a breakdown?
Maybe the health bars were laced with something? Was that fag Gino crazy enough to pull off something like that?
No he wasn't crazy...In a burst of fear that he was going insane he ran to the package from the gym to check the remaining contents, for some note or sign of tampering. Normal things like more magazines, CD's, a video, and a long box at the bottom greeted him. As he rummaged through the box his hand brushed against fabric and he quickly reached in and grabbed out a small striped white and black garment.
Edward's hands caressed tight lycra and his whole body untensed. The fear seeped out of him as the now familiar erotic rush sped up from his fingertips to its destination between his rock hard thighs. "Ooooouuuuhhhh." He cooed.
Without even a moments hesitation he unspread the tight lycra to see what it was. He had first thought it was a shirt but now realized it was a singlet, like the kind a wrestler in high school would wear. It was gym wear. Workout gear for fags. It looked ten sizes too small. But poor Edward was so enthralled by the return of the sexual fog that he coyly stroked the fabric teasing himself unconsciously. And then with a satisfied smile he grabbed the material and put one harsh hairless leg through the tight leg whole and then the other, as he pulled the straps up around the severe arcs of his shoulders and the neckline settled clingingly under the deep ridge of his pecs boxing off his chest like a showcase, the intense throbbing in his cock had returned full force. His dick was so alive that it was hard for Edward to walk. But he did, With pride. The workout outfit gave him a sense of pleasure and confidence in his body. And he strutted his shit like a prize bull as he walked around the mirror admiring every crevice that the tight revealing fabric accentuated. He lovingly rubbed the curve of his perky ass. Gripping each firm buttock through the glove of the lycra fabric.
He sauntered invitingly back to the box and plucked pout the video in what seemed like habit. He popped it into the VCR. The video yet again sending the addictive erection inducing rushes straight home. The outline of his hard ready cock was plain in the front of the jumper.
The video started and Edward instinctively began following along with the exercise tape that began playing. It was his...a Tae Bo workout. The lead man was a black guy whose body seemed to be as diesel and cut as his own now was. Edward kicked his legs, threw punches and danced along with the video without thought. It was what he was supposed to do wasn't it? Yeah...this was his workout....
"1...2...and...3 kick!" he yelled along. ""Up...and up....and down..."
He was very intent on exacting every move perfectly. He had trouble following along however because every so often he looked down to watch his glorious body perform each exercise in vanity. He was halfway through the video when he decided it would be a great idea to put on some music. Some good motivational music. The thought to grab his own CD's never crossed his mind.
He went straight for the box from the gym. He reached in and grabbed three CD's, quickly unwrapped them and put them in his CD Changer.
Edward went back to the routine on the video and waited for the music to gear up.
The first song came on and he groaned. Damn, it was one of those damn pansy ass boy bands. One of their upbeat fruity pop songs began to blare across the space of his apartment, "Bye, Bye Bye, ..." the band sang and without warning he found himself caught up in the beat. He began moving to the video with more force and more fluid movement as if he was almost dancing. All right! This was much better then the heavy metal 80's rock he used to listen to. How could he not like this? It was so upbeat and relaxing. He listened through all three CD's ending his workout on a high note. Brittany Spears sang the last verses of "Hit me baby one more time," as the credits began to roll on the exercise video. "She is so cool" Edward found himself saying out loud.
HE slipped out of the sweat soaked unitard and returned to wandering around his apartment in only the striped bikinis. The workout had only served to further stimulate his too hard penis. Thoughts of going and quickly jerking himself off crossed his mind, but he quickly put them aside. He had cum three times already that night...he could just wait until his hard on wore off and go to sleep.
In boredom Edward picked up the rest of the discarded magazines and began thumbing through them. He was happy to find that they had sent him some fascinating magazines that had huge articles on all the boy bands he loved so much. It was so cool. He paged through magazine after magazine with nothing but hotties. He was engrossed in reading a great cover story from TEEN about the totally ripped Guy's from 98 degrees. Those guys were so yummy. They looked like football players but sang so good. They were in better shape then the other boy bands but the Backstreet boy's could sing better and Nsynch could dance better and Nsynch did have the cutest guys overall...
Eddie let out an abrupt gasp as he caught his reflection in his bedroom mirror. There he was built more solid then a marine, his muscles pumped beyond a gymnast, wearing nothing but a queer little bikini, lying flat on his stomach with his legs kicked up and waving behind him like some dopey teenage girl while he read some teen pop magazine.
"Oh my Gawd!" He yelped, "like what the hell is wrong with me? This is totally freaking me out now!" Eddie was panicked. HE was acting so weird and it was so hard for him to concentrate on anything except wanting to get back to reading about Drew from 98 degree's pet peeves. "Those guys from the gym are like completely screwing with my life."
"What's happening to me?" the blonde Adonis in the reflection yelped.
His thoughts were running a mile a minute but they weren't the complex thoughts Edward usually had they were simple and basic, frantic in their incomprehension. This must be what happened to the other guys... I'm changing the way they did get all faggy and dumb...shit what's wrong with me.
He stumbled off the bed his dick still hard from looking at the pictures of the teen heartthrobs. What could he do? There was no where to run. No one to call. The box! If he just got rid of the box everything would be better. That damn box had started this freaky Ass mess if he just got rid of it and threw it away everything would go back to normal. As Edward raced into his living room he skidded on a fallen TEEN magazine and slid across the floor. He quickly got back on his feet and was totally unaware of how his heightened reflexives were now such a part of his body that he practically flipped himself backwards like a gymnast in his haste to get back up.
Edward stood staring down at the simple brown paper package in terror. He gathered his thoughts for a second. He had to maintain complete control or the sex jolts would distract him. All he had to do was keep a little self-control and ignore the urge in his cock. It wasn't that hard. He wasn't that addicted to sex. Just maintain control. But even as he thought that his eyes wandered to an open magazine with a picture of Freddie Prinz Jr. On it. Wow, he's lickable Edward thought and rubbed his hungry crotch to thoughts of the dark haired man's naked body. Running his hand over that sweet smile...licking that...
Focus...have to focus.
With a burst of energy he grabbed the box purposefully and headed to the door at full speed. Got to get rid of this shit gotta...get rid of this shit... He had to keep his thoughts simple so that he wouldn't get distracted by...that cute boys dimples....GOTTA GET THIS SHIT OUTTA HERE!
In front of the door just before he was about to dispose of the cursed gifts he fucked up major. Unconsciously giving into the part of him that anxiously waited for the next taste of the sexual buzz. The Edward of 2 hours ago would have mocked anyone so manipulated by his dick but after only a few blasts of pure unadulterated lust he was as much a slave to it as an addict was to his drug. For the first time in a long time Edward got really hard and admit it or not he really liked it and wanted more. His impulses and his dick were now in control no matter what the executive thought.
Curiosity lead him to glance furtively, completely out of intellectual curiosity as to what else those sick gay bastards at the gym had sent to entrap him. Just more magazines and a box... a long box...wonder what's in it? No, have to get rid of this shit. Just more magazines, nothing important.
He got a little sad at the thought of missing out on an article about the Backstreet boys or Jordan knight or any of the other hotties that were in the magazines he had already read. Just to see what he was missing he picked up one to see the cover. He had expected to be greeted by the smiling handsome face of Kevin Richardson or Scott wolf. Instead he was face to face with a well built guy with is hand gripping his balls under the title "Blue Boy".
Fuck gay porn? Fag ass Sickos! Was his very vehement reaction even though only minutes before he had been pinning away in puppy love over any number of good-looking male celebrity. Looking at queers getting it on or some other guy's naked ass...gorgeous round naked ass cheeks.... That was just disgusting...he didn't want to see some fag sucking on some other man's tool like a bitch in heat.... Taking the entire length of the hard sweaty rod down into the soft patch of his gullet deep throating the cock lovingly...No Gotta get rid of this shit. But the smile on the man grabbing himself was so inviting. So seductive, enticing him to look further. The sexual humming in his dick had returned louder and more gratifying then ever before.
As he held the magazine tentatively his hips rocked back and forth forcing his ass out and his tightly covered bulge forward, grinding himself against the open air obliviously. The rush just felt so good.
This trash was repulsive Edward thought. So repulsive he began thumbing through the pages with revulsion etched on his face and his thighs jutting rapidly into the air in front of him. So disgusting, just look at these revolting Homo's laying on top of each other like girls...kissing each other's salty skin tasting the hard muscle over every inch of their eager heavy bodies, caressing each other passionately. Then he flipped to a page with two muscled studs fucking; the bigger one plowing his partner like a dog. These freaks were fucking animals...fucking hot animals having savage hot sex...he imagined what it would be like to have himself bent over and rammed full of a hot dick until he was so filled he couldn't even scream just moan and shift in pleasure. Oh do it to me doggy style, use me baby use me.
"What's happening to meeeeeeee...ahhhh." Edward moaned in sultry sex saturated voice as he continued wildly bucking his hips and staring intently at the hard bodies and hard dicks of the men in the gay porn in his hand. He turned another page and a dark haired muscleman was intently licking the ass of a white bread college boy. He lost all control. He dropped the magazine as the sexual haze that had descended on him deepened. He never felt so good in his entire life. "Shit...ohhh....what's going on..." He began fiercely manhandling his aching crotch pushing his hard dick and heavy balls with a savage massage. Running his hands all over his body. Feeling every taunt muscle, every pulsing vein. He was licking his lips absorbed completely in the resurgence of the sex drug the stuff from the gym was pumping into his cock. His big rigid cock.
Edward was completely enthralled by the sexual spell and was now only to glad to give himself over to the hot sweaty sexual lust that coursed through his veins. Thoughts of men and their firm bodies, strong shoulders, broad jaws, thick shafts and tight meats asses filled his mind to overflowing. Thoughts of big pecs six pack Abs with bunny trails and the musky sent of man sex overran his old thoughts and he gladly succumbed to them. They just made his cock feel good and that was all that mattered.
Information about aerobics, strength resistance, nutrition, weight training and all other forms of fitness flooded into his mind as knowledge about investment portfolios, stock options and market values rushed out. Edwards mind seemed to slow down become a little simpler, all the while and he was happily groaning and grabbing at his balls.
He had given in, freely and eagerly to the carnal euphoria that the gifts form the 64th gym had brought him. And now he was hungry for more. While rubbing the rock hard surface of his inner thighs with the palms of his sweaty hands he bent over box searching for another object that would give him an infusion to his dick. There was only one thing left the long box. Edward fumbled with clumsily with the package in his need. He ripped the binding open spilling its contents onto his hard wood floors. The object that fell to the floor once would have made Edward recoil in disgust but now he just looked down at it thoughtfully. It wasn't the first time he had seen one of these. He had seen them in pornos and in seedy gift shops. This one was a little bigger then average and obsidian black color. He liked them big, he thought archly.
As he bent over and erotically felt the tense muscles of his glutes stretch and contract Edward mused at how much he was changing. What a stupid little straight boy he had been. He had been so naĆÆve, so close-minded. He grabbed the fallen package and watched excitedly as the broadened planes of his forearm contract with just the twitch of a finger. A stupid repressed straight boy who didn't know what his cock should feel like or how fucking hot he could look. Oh yeah he was fucking hot.
But as he looked down at the 8-inch shaft in his vein painted fist he had a moment of doubt. This wasn't him this was ridiculous disgusting...
Who was he foolin' real, fake whatever Eddie was a slave to cock. He loved dick and so what if it wasn't attached to some hard body cutie. He was too tired to go out and get some dick and he didn't feel like ordering up. So the artificial dick that he was now lewdly running over the voluptuous curve of his bubble but and caressing the crack of his ass with tip. At least it was a good replica with balls and all. Eddie was glad about that he loved the feeling of some big humpy guy's sac pounding against his backside and he'd hate to miss out on the sensation.
He sauntered over to his bedroom like the little vixen he was, swaying his hips, shaking his ass and rolling his shoulders. Still almost absently running the head of the phallus across the ridge of his dense Abs.
He applied some lotion to the head and shaft of the black rod and gave himself a pleased glance in the floor length mirror at the foot of the bed. He flashed his prince charming come hither smile and looked himself up and down. The blonde hunk in the mirror returned his gaze and sported a two level tent in the cup of his hot pink zebra bikinis. Eddie kind of giggled at how much of a vain little slut he was.
Sure he was spending a night fucking himself but he didn't know anyone who was a better looker or a better fuck. He laid down onto the bed gently, never once loosing eye contact with his enticing image in the mirror. He arched his back and then in a slow erotic motion he brought both his legs up into mid air exposing the small length of fabric that ran from his balls to his ass and covered his hot waiting hole. If there would have been another guy in the room he would have been ten seconds away from getting plowed harder then the spring planting but as it was he alone and had time to appreciate the sight of his fuck ready body in all it's glory. He lovingly gazed at his stretched and laid out temple of a body. Fuck yeah he was a narcissist but he had very damn reason to be.
His fingers began to tentatively run along the sensitive stretch of skin, giving him ticklish vibrations along his spine. Fingertips caressed the tight fabric of his constricting briefs, tugging at the elastic. He watched himself in the mirror voyeuristically cataloging every movement like a devoted lover.
The fingers of his free hand came slowly to his pursed lips and he slipped them into the warm confines of his waiting mouth suggestively as if to seduce the man in the mirror. He gave himself a wicked lecherous grin and yanked the briefs aside and slyly slid his forefinger into his clean-shaven asshole. The grin split wider and he began to trust in and out easily adding his middle finger and ring finger distending the flesh of his puckered hole to fit the girth of his knuckles.
After a good five minutes of lazy finger fucking Eddie got bored, as he usually did and was tired of the foreplay. He quickly grabbed the lubed length of the dildo and giddily ran his hands over it.
In preparation he leaned back farther shoving his ass out farther and sending his legs farther over his head and then with both limber hands he positioned the replacement cock at the opening of his ass. Eddie took the time to insert it's girth gently but after he had slid it to it's hilt and got comfortable with having his body invaded by it's size he let loose and started fucking himself in earnest.
As he pushed his muscled body back and forth against the span of the hard plastic pole, ghost thoughts crossed his mind. He knew somewhere that he used be a straight man who loved woman and pussy and tits and that this was not the way he used to behave at all. He knew it and somewhere acknowledged that this scene would have incensed him. But Eddie didn't care he was a fag and he was proud to be a dickhound. He didn't want to be bothered with all the hectic bullshit that he used to. All the stress and games; now all he had to do worry about was getting enough protein in his diet and finding just the right pair of jeans to accentuate his ass.
As he fucked himself raunchily, he fucked away the last vestiges of resistance. He used to think woman who used these were disgusting now here he was shoving on up his ass... no his boy pussy. That's what his asshole was. And it was his chest, his pecs they were his tits...he didn't have an ass he had a luscious bubble butt. He fucked himself and gripped his own swollen cock like the boyslut he was. The hot horny gorgeous tramp he was. He moaned in a sigh that was half groan half scream spraying hot cum all over the washboard of his stomach.
He slid the dildo out of his ass with a pop and rubbed the pearls of cum into his skin like lotion as he drifted off to a contented sleep.


CHAPTER  4
The next morning Eddie woke up and slid into a pair of vibrant orange bikinis with a vertical stripe pattern on them.
It was weird yesterday Eddie was totally worried about his stock portfolio and keeping his clients happy and today all he could think of was when he was going to be able to get to the gym.
He had been so focused on his workout that he had put on the unitard that came in the mail, on under his suit. The confining striped hot pink and black lycra molding to his body was making him hard and giving his every movement a exaggeratedly sensual feeling. The tight spandex against his naked skin even made him feel sexier.
On his way to the subway he felt himself rolling his hips and shaking his ass languidly. Brining attention to his hot bubble butt. He smirked at the boys giving his plump little ass the once over letting one or two of the really choice picks even have a flirty little wink.
After strutting his high prized body across half of the east side, he sauntered onto the subway and took a seat delicately eyeing up the other passengers. He sighed in a huff, No other Hotties Eddie thought. Too bad. All the other guys in on the train riding into the financial district were nose deep into their Posts or Wall street journals not Eddie, not today. He flipped through the latest issue of YM looking for the cover article on The Backstreet boys.
When he got to his office there was so much stupid boring stuff to do. First he had all kinds of paper work and then he had a meeting about that deal thingy that went bad or something, like it was old fruit or something?
When he got to the stuffy conference room he had already taken off his stupid tie cause it was choking him and was trying to figure out a way to leave early and go to the gym.
"Edward is that you?" Exclaimed one of the other Brokers, JakeTimmons. "Jesus Christ! Man that sun did you wonders. You look ten years younger. It's amazing."
"Really" Eddie asked uninterestedly as he fussed with his blonde bangs.
"Jesus man, It's unbelievable."
Eddie smiled "Thanks I know I am."
Everyone else in the meeting couldn't get over the change in Eddie they all agreed it was nothing short of a miracle even his hard nose boss, Mr. Carlson, seemed to take notice. "Did you have plastic surgery while you were out there?" he asked
"Oh my Gawd no!" Eddie laughed.
Not only was his drastic change in appearance garnering comments so was the strange new attitude. Halfway through a report on the rising stock of an internet company called "Creek.com" he launched into a five minute speech on how great the show Dawson's Creek was, "THAT Show Rocks so hard!" he exclaimed I totally want Dawson and Joey to get back together and that Gay kid on the show is so cute, and even though on the show he's like only like 18 in real life he was in like his 20's so it' not illegal to think he's cute or anything."
Everyone stared at him for a good ten minutes
After that he was really quiet.
Then he found he was having trouble concentrating in his meeting. He kept looking over at Mr. Carlson and thinking about what broad shoulders he had and how great he would look if he worked out. He'd catch him stealing glances at Jack Timmons' crotch trying to decide if he wore boxer's or briefs and he always found himself looking back to the mirror opposite him to make sure his hair was okay or just to reassure himself how good he looked.
"Uhm...I don't wanna work here anymore." Eddie said out loud and everyone in the meeting looked at him abruptly. After the shock of his appearance and what seemed like years shaved off his age nothing was going to surprise them. He picked up the briefcase in front of him and collected his jacket. "This place is so dull and you guys just aren't any fun." He huffed. "This place sucks...and not in the good way." He laughed immaturely at his joke.
"Edward what is going on with you...Son are you on drugs?" his boss asked him.
Eddie looked at him sassily, "Why are you offering?" The man began to sputter, "And don't call me son, you aren't my daddy and believe me I'm not into that scene baby." He made his way toward the large doors of the conference room. On his way he strutted passed Jack Timmons and grabbed the flesh of his ass catching the entire cheek, giving the other man a playful squeeze. "But I am into your scene, call me..." and then he was out the door and out of that office forever.
There was only one place for him to go and on the subway up to 64th St. he removed his suit jacket and button down white shirt, leaving only the lycra tank top like top of the unitard and his baggy suit pants on. Sure he didn't match but at least he was giving everyone a good look at his upper body.
He swaggered into the refurbished gym like he owned the place and more then one well built gym rat gave him the once over, but he was playing it cool so he didn't return their appraising glances. He headed right for the juice bar to talk to Tony.
He was glad to see that when he got there not only was Tony tending bar but Jack and Mark were having protein shakes. "Hey boy, Damn baby you lookin phat. Greased up and bein all fine like that." Tony exclaimed with his heavy thug lingo. Tony used to hate little urban street boys, how could he? He made such a hot little ghetto boy. With his tight tanks and jogging pats with accessorized gold jewelry he either belonged in Vibe or Inches. He was the envy of every horny man in the 64th street gym... and to think the other guys had thought he was going to have to change membership so he could keep variety in his sex life.
"So glad you could join us, man." Mark said as he coyly sipped on his protein shake holding it upright with a ridiculously bulging arm. Mark was so fucking big simple movement like raising those mountainous arms over his head must be awkward. That body was so big it must be hard to manage packed with all that muscle. Mark would be one hot lay...to bad he was totally devoted to Kenny. They were inseparable. Kenny sat across from him with one hand on Marks huge thigh rubbing it affectionately. He was fanatically in love with everything about Kenny. It was Kenny this or Kenny that. Good for him, but it was going to be awhile before some man came and curtailed Eddie's alley cat ways.
Jarod didn't even notice him. He was too busy leering at another man at the bar who was comfortably in the arc of his out stretched arm. Jarod leered down at the other man who looked insecure and timid in the gaze of the dominating presence of the hirsute man dressed only in a revealing box cut tank top, sweats and a weight belt. The little gym bunny looked like a mouse in the clutches of a hawk. Since he had been at the gym and working out Jarod had a lot more confidence and was now emerging as the most dominant of the group, a position that had always belonged to Eddie, but Eddie was happy to give it up. He was versatile he could top or bottom he thought with a mental smile.
"You look good man all healthy and cut. With that tan and your Bod in such great shape you look ten years younger." Mark said in the same uncharacteristic pleasant attitude.
"Yeah like Zach from saved by the bell on steroids." Kenny shot out with an arched eyebrow.
"Looks like somebody got his gift basket..." Tony said in a little sing songy voice.
Tony reached across the counter and ran two honey colored fingers up the ridge of Eddie's newly cut bicep flirtatiously. "If you're really good boo you might get another ...gift...basket, soon."
And the to Tony's surprise and even to Eddie's, Eddie leaned forward and whispered into the Latin homeboy's ear "And you're only getting a gift basket if you're real bad." And then he nipped at his ear and ran the tip of his tongue across his goateed Jawbone.
"All right ya cock tease, Gino wanted to see you if you came in. He's in his office..." Kenny said as he pulled the two youthful hard bodies apart.
Tony gave him a wink and Eddie allowed himself to be lead away. Kenny lead him toward the back of the gym with one hand firmly on the sever curve of his pants suit covered ass and another on the firm muscle of his shoulder. Eddie got hard at the tense way Kenny was handling his ass. "Kenny...what would Mark think?" he asked, with no tone in his voice indicating that Kenny should stop. "I don't know...maybe we should ask him. Get a little threesome going, a whore like you would probably be all for that huh?"
Eddie considered it, for as long as he could possibly consider things now. He didn't like to spend too much time on thinking things out anymore. It was simpler just to let things be simple. "I wouldn't be opposed." He smirked thinking of being underneath mark's gigantic chest in the middle of a mark Kenny sandwich.
Kenny gave him a long steady flat look, "Yeah," he said almost to himself; "Gino got you guys just the way you deserved."
"What?" Eddie asked in genuine confusion. He didn't understand what Kenny was trying to say but that seemed to be a usual occurrence lately. A lot of stuff was confusing to him now.
"Nothing loverboy, nothin'." The other man grinned.
"Oh okay," Eddie said with a dumb smile, taking his words at face value.
The door to Gino's office was open so he just pranced in. The office was better organized then the last time when he had stormed in...why ever had he been so angry? But now there wasn't only Gino in the airy room but another man. The unfamiliar guy was dressed in a pair of baggy blue jeans and a Chinese Dragon print shirt. His face was hidden by a length of long black bangs that hung over his eyes adding a shadow over his already dark eyes. The guy was cute in a kind of alterna-boy way. But he gave off a really unfriendly vibe.
He and Gino who was wearing a loose fitting t shirt and a pair of tight shorts that left nothing to the imagination, seemed to be in the middle of an argument.
"I don't care how much you like it, I absolutely put my foot down. I am not going to a bar called the "Meat Market."" The man said in tones laced with irritation.
"Why not?" Gino asked dejectedly.
"Because it's degrading."
"To who?" The Italian asked his friend.
"Meat...now pick some where else."
Eddie let out a polite cough to announce to the bickering pair of his arrival. They both turned to glance at him in unison. Gino got up from behind his desk and stood to greet his visitor. The man in black just gave him an uninterested glance. "Can I help you with something buddy?" Gino asked not recognizing the man who only weeks before threatened to have his job.
"You told the guys you wanted to see me the next time I came in." Eddie told him.
"I what?" Gino furrowed his dark eyebrows in thought. And then the dim light of recognition dawned on him, "OH! Edward how are you doing? Come in sit down." he said gesturing toward the couch in front of his desk.
"Call me Eddie," He said smiling a wide goofy grin.
"I thought you might say that." Answered the manager as he sat back in his own desk and his companion moved to a position behind his shoulder.
"You look very good Eddie I see your vacation and of course our custom made complimentary products have worked wonders for you."
"Oh yeah I feel like a new man! I feel so good I'd swear I'd have the body of a 19 year old kid." Eddie agreed.
"For all intents and purposes I'd assume that you do." The dark haired gentleman noted noncommentily as he shifted his gaze indifferently around the room.
"What?"
Gino looked up at his noire partner worriedly, "Gino here told me what you said to him that day, and I worded the hex I put on the items he sent you just the way."
Eddie looked at him perplexed "I don't understand what you're saying,"
The piercing blue behind the black bangs fixed on him, "No I suppose you wouldn't. That's another part of it, of course."
Gino interrupted the strange exchange nervously, "Anyway Eddie, I just..."
The man put his hand on Gino's big shoulder "Don't worry Gino, He doesn't really understand. You see "Eddie". You should be careful about what you wish for, even insincerely...you never know who might be listening."
"Huh?"
The black eyes flashed, "You told my friend Gino here I quote "I wish that my friends and I could live the carefree life of these idiot queer bitches," And in my Zeal to spread a little happiness in the world I Granted it."
Eddie was shocked "Oh my Gawd did I say that?"
A smile crossed the stone face, "Yeah ya did, but you were a different person back then, an over stressed, over worked, 30 year old, incapable of having a real relationship. But now you've got what you wanted a chance for more fun, less worry and no more pressure. You're exactly what you wished to be; a young gay man, about 19 or so with 0-body fat, who is so shallow and simple that he's on a par with a male bimbo and your only real goal is to keep your dick happy. It's a shame your little wish included your cohorts, the three of them got taken along for the ride." He looked at Gino who was looking decidedly guilty, "Don't you love a happy ending?"
"But...But..." Eddie stammered as he rubbed the cleft under his right pec in thought, "how ...I mean why..."
"How? Well, the how was fairly simple, I put some bad juju on a couple of objects and then sent them out to your apartments. Your workout buddies have been living with their current bodies and personalities since you've been gone. It's actually funny. Gino said you made such a big deal about how us gay men are so controlled by our dicks I decided to give you a little test," He flashed a wicked grin of pearly white, "You could have stopped my innocent spell at any time, all you had to do was control yourself. If you could have just ignored that sexual charge you'd be sitting in your office right now thinking about which lucky secretary you were going to marry and move to the burbs with. But it turns out you were just as cock crazy as we are." Then He moved almost protectively in front of Gino, "and the why is just as simple, Ain't nobody mess with my friends, nobody."
"All right D, Enough with the doctor evil routine you're going to give Eddie a headache" The gym manager moved our from behind his desk trying to change the subject. "I wanted to see you because I wanted to offer you a job."
Eddie smiled, this was much better then the weird guy yelling at him. "Really. I kind of need one, that place I used to work for was so dull. So I like quit."
"Yeah your friends are all working here now too. It's been very convenient, when I started here I was understaffed and now I only have one more position to fulfill."
Eddie got excited, "Oh! Sweet!"
"We need a full time fitness instructor to teach aerobics and some light Tae Bo are you interested?"
"Am I, That would be so hot. I know just the music to design the work out around. I mean I saw that Brittany Spears "hit me baby one more time video" and I think I can like do the entire routine now, Oh and did you hear the new LFO song they are such hotties but they can sing too and they have this..."
"Wait a minute!" The guy in black said urgently drawing both their attention back to him, "do you hear that?"
Gino looked worried, "what?"
The guy cocked his head as if he was listening to something intently, "that sound...It sounds like ...it sounds like...Like my patience slowly draining away. Can we go now?"
Gino sighed, "I have to discuss this with Eddie.
"Fine," his friend muttered and grabbed a long black coat off of a nearby chair, "I'll be waiting for you back at the house don't be all day."
After he left, Eddie turned to his new boss, who was shaking his head haggardly, "So is that like your boyfriend?"
He looked startled, "Damien? My lover?" He considered and then looked off distantly, "well no..." he trailed of in what sounded almost like disappointment.
"OH," Eddie said his hopes and his dick rising. He made his move on the Italian hunk. He slipped out of the suit pants while Gino was lost in thought leaving him in only the unitard and his tanned skin. He walked right over to the manager of the 64th street Gym and put his hand on the bulge in the other mans spandex brazenly. Gino looked up with a sexual smile and began in turn to rub Eddie's excitedly bulging spandex covered cock. "So tell me, what are the employee benefits." Eddie giggled and was quickly silenced by the big Italian lips engulfing his mouth and tasting every inch of his kiss. He melted into the older man's forceful embrace and elated as their glorious bodies rubbed against each other.
Later as Gino's gorgeous body was hulking over him as he was bent over the desk doggy style bare ass naked, on all fours and moaning he thought about how great he felt. As Gino's thick Italian pole reamed him out with a sweaty urgency that no plastic dildo could mimic he thought about just how happy he was and then went back to jerking himself off as the other man plowed his enthusiastically presented ass raw.
Things just kept getting better for Eddie, it turned out that the extra job Tony had told him about early was at a club downtown and Tony hooked him up with a job their too. So during the day he taught aerobics to sweaty lycra covered boys and then went to the club and danced. He had the best act. He dressed up in a boy's parochial School uniform and stripped to a Brittany Spears song, every time he took off the tie and showed his glistening marble cut chest the club went wild. Tony's bit was that he got dressed up in a prison uniform and stripped to a remix of a Big Poppa Rap. And Eddie was never pressed for company at night; He always had someone who was happy to keep his ass full of dick. And when he wasn't spending the night with some random guy he was being Jarod's personal love toy. He wasn't really into the whole Leather S&M thing the way Jarod was but he was glad to pretend so he could sit on Jarod's cock and feel his stubble against his smooth jaw. The two of them would most likely hook up permanently someday...along way off.
Could his life get anymore perfect?

 CHAPTER 5 : ABSMAN

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a supplement to ONIX'S "Let's Get Physical." Although this segment takes place linearly between Chapters One & Two -- a Chapter 1-A, as it were -- it should be read as Chapter Five, so as not to disrupt the flow of the author's original narrative.)
Mark got home from the gym -- and he was still angry about THAT -- only to discover that his girlfriend had moved out while he was gone. The apartment -- HIS apartment -- was more than half-empty, space where there had been furniture, nails protruding from bare walls, cavernous echoes in the tiled bath. Even while the red film developed across his vision, his anger growing, he was mildly impressed that she did it so quickly. She'd had to have had quite a crew of helpers. Strong men who'd lent her a hand. Probably more...
"Fucking CUNT!" he screamed, punching the wall, easily breaking through it. In the heat of his anger, he didn't even feel the pain in his hand -- he'd taken a lot worse as a lineman in college -- but then his rage wanted fresh motivation, so he began looking for things to piss him off: stolen money, broken property -- "Just let that bitch have taken anything of MINE," he thought ominously, "And she'll see some fuckin' anger."
She hadn't touched any of his weightlifting equipment -- lucky for her -- or his heavybag, which he beat on for a bit, the heavy thuds of his punches echoing off the wall where her gym mats and Step-stuff had been stored. She'd also left the big, ugly mirror -- as she had called it -- hating it from the moment he'd bought it. "It makes me look FAT," she'd always complained, even though that was precisely why he'd bought it, because it made HIM look even wider than he was. Made him look thick. Made her look fat. "Not the mirror," he said under his breath now, remembering.
She'd left the desk, but taken the computer. The entertainment center was hers, but the components had been his, and his equipment had been stacked carefully in the empty space and dusty corner. Taken the lamps, but left the candles -- that only pissed him off a little. But she'd emptied out the bathroom, and that infuriated him.
His one concession had always been his hair. The one thing he took pride in. The one --perhaps feminine -- pleasure in which he indulged. Raised in the images of Fabio, Lorenzo Lamas -- hell, even Tarzan -- Mark grew his hair to shoulder length. Thick and wavy, it could rightly be called a mane -- and the chicks loved it! Flirting with him always started with the girl playing with his hair, and ended with it smothering her face while he fucked her. Not that was he a kind, or tender lay; sex was about dominance with him, proving to her that HE was in control. And his hair was his bait. He kept it in a ponytail at work -- in the corporate ad world, though his boss was too afraid of him to ever say it might be inappropriate -- and also when he played ball. Though again, his size kept any comments at bay.
And now, that bitch he'd been dating -- even stupidly allowed to move in ("That's what I get for thinkin' with my dick," he thought.) -- had taken all of the hair care products. All the shampoos, the conditioners, the hot oil treatments. All that money down the drain; he couldn't admit to the guys how much money he spent on hair products, of all things! He could never let them see that weakness. If he hadn't been angry already, that alone would've started his rage. As it was, it just stoked the fire. Fucking cunt.
But she'd left him a note. He found it when he inspected the desk. In place of the missing computer was a short note in her hand. "Mark," it read. "I've taken my things and gone. I'm sorry I have to do it like this..." (something was written here then scribbled out) "...please do not try to contact me. It's over. Please." Then she'd signed it. Then a PS -- "A PS of all things," he thought. "In a breakup letter. What a stupid bitch." "This package came special delivery as I was moving out. I signed for it. Goodbye."
Off the side of the desk he found the package, plain brown wrapper type. Closer inspection found it from the 64th Street Gym. Mark grunted. "What does THAT fuckin' faggot want?" he asked himself, thinking of that new manager, that bleach blonde muscle-bound fag who was turning HIS gym -- MARK'S gym! -- into some queer boy spandex club. Man, it had been GREAT standing outside that guy's office as Edward tore him a new hole! Mark hoped that his old frat president would join him in a little fag-bashing when he got back from his trip. First that blonde muscle-queen, then that little skinny priss from the locker room. That red-haired freak in the spandex. Spandex. Gym wear for faggots. "I shoulda just beaten the shit out of him then," he thought. "Spared him the wait."
This was good. Finding a focal point for his anger was good. He couldn't do anything about Rachel, but he COULD kick the shit out of that little queen from the gym. Mark was smiling as he ripped the package top off. A note, in square, block letters by someone who pressed hard as he wrote: "Mark -- I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot, and I hope you'll accept this package along with my apologies. Of course, I'll be all too happy to hear your opinions of the changes over the next few days, and happy to accept your input. Enjoy! --Gino."
Mark smirked and dug through the package. On top was a gym brochure, which he largely ignored -- only glancing briefly at the cover, an architect's rendition of the new gym front -- and underneath that he found the box divided in half. On one side a toiletries bag, and loose items on the other. "What the fuck?" he said, as he pulled out the bag. A protein bar fell into the empty box space, catching Mark's attention. "Okay, cool," he said, opening it and casually eating it as he examined the toiletry bag. Fag or not, free food was free food.
Unzipping it, Mark found the bag contained several bottles: shampoo, conditioner, hot oil treatments, everything he'd been missing a moment ago, and not just drug-store items, top of the line brands. "All right," he said. "Score two for Gino." Without realizing it, he released a little of his anger. It was gonna be hard to hate this guy if he kept doing the right things. Well, he reasoned, chuckling, he could still hate the little red-haired queer.
The protein bar was gone like that, and Mark reached for another. This one was a different flavor, but he hardly noticed. He was looking around the room as he ate, at all the missing furniture and empty space. He couldn't look anymore. He was suddenly restless. Finishing the second bar, he took a third and wandered to the back bedroom, the weightroom. He felt like he did when he'd had too much caffeine.
No, not caffeine. He was horny. That was it. He was feeling horny. Mixed there with his aggression, his dick started to rise, and he unconciously held it with his free hand, feeling it grow beneath his trousers. He may not have had the biggest dick in the world, but he dared anybody to say that to him. A big fucker like him. He watched himself finish the protein bar and gently fiddle with his cock in the big, ugly mirror. The one that always made him look a little wider.
He was okay with the way he looked, big and bulky. Pushing thirty or not, he was still a contender. Maybe he wasn't as big as he'd been in his prime -- his senior season of ball, THEN he'd been big, tipping the scale at a bulky 260, as opposed to the 230 he was now. And maybe his belly swelled a little more, but he challenged anybody to take him on. Suddenly, Mark flexed into the big, ugly mirror, a crab shot, showing his traps and his shoulders. He could clearly see his cock pushing against his dress pants, casting a shadow down his thigh. It called to him. Swallowing the last of the protein bar, he ripped his pants open and grabbed his aching dick, yanking at it with a demanding hunger. He was barely able to glance at himself in the mirror before he shot.
HIs orgasm was monstrous. Unstoppable. Flagrant. He came like he never had before, with a force and erotic power that was almost blinding in its intensity. If not for the sheer power of his legs, he would've fallen to his knees. "Fuck," he heaved, still pumping a bit more jizz out. He saw himself in the mirror and almost felt embarrassed. Fortunately, there was no girlfriend to catch him, no one to know but his reflection, so Mark avoided guilt, wiped his hands on a sweat towel, and tucked his sensitive cock back into his pants, catching a look and flexing a little before leaving the room, strangely energized.
Walking back to the living room, he realized he wasn't angry anymore -- "Trust a good jerk to relieve stress," he thought. "SHE never gave me a climax that good." -- and he FELT good. Really good. Big. Pumped. He laughed. He felt pumped. Instead of exhausting him, like cumming usually did, he felt primed. He found himself back at the desk, looking again in the package from the gym.
He pulled out a magazine: Monsters of Muscle, a morphed-out picture of Nasser el Sonbaty on the cover, his arms impossibly large. Mark's cock twitched, but instead of putting the magazine down, he fanned through the first couple of pages. These guys were massive, pic after pic of 250 plus-pound, bloated muscle. Mark leaned back in his desk chair, and studied. He felt himself getting harder, but ignored it, instead of rationalizing it.
He read the article -- which is to say, he looked at the pictoral -- of the recent Olympia contest, those massive men in skimpy posing trunks. Even at his size, Mark secretly envied them their builds. His muscle was bulky, undefined. A lineman's. Their bodies were big -- bigger than him -- and still ripped to shreds. His body was built for power, for hitting, theirs to pose, to perfect. He could never stand in front of an audience and pose, much less in the barely concealing trunks these paragons wore.
He found himself touching his cock while he flipped the pages, trying to imagine how it would feel to go head to head with those guys. To be on that level. To hear the audience scream as he flexed...
He shot his load then, in his pants, his orgasm as intense as before, causing him to flex his entire body. The magazine fell to the floor as he twitched in the chair. Flexing, flexing, the seams of his shirt suddenly straining against the bulge of his biceps, popping the top button of his shirt, then the next down, and then the next as he expanded his rib cage. The feeling of his sleeves bursting as he flexed his guns, like a fantasy come true. The sound of his pants tearing down the ass.
When the orgasm subsided, he collapsed back in the chair, panting. "What the fuck?" he said. And he knew something had happened the second he lifted his arm to touch his head. Even with his eyes closed, he knew.
His arm was heavier.
He actually gasped when his saw it. When he opened his eyes, and looked at the arm lifted before him -- HIS arm! -- and saw how the sleeve had torn at the seam, and the muscle that bulged out, he gasped. He was bigger. He could FEEL it. "What the fuck?"
He nearly lost his balance when he stood to run to the weightroom, the distribution of weight so different on his body. And when he got a good look at himself in the big, ugly mirror, he froze. It wasn't that he was that much larger, but the shape was different. Where he'd been blocky, and gorilla built, he saw now through his torn shirt that he had a "v." A fucking "V!" Never, NEVER had that before.
He loved how he felt when he tore out of the shirt, ripping it open like Superman in a phone booth, exposing his thickly muscled chest and his blocky abs. He could see the outline of his abs! His mother fucking, where have then been all his life abs! He'd been a well-gutted lineman since high school -- "Abs are for fags!" had always been his adopted motto -- but now that he was seeing them, he wished they were better. He was gonna have to work on them harder. Maybe it was time for a new motto.
He had to tear the dress pants off, too, his thighs too large to pass through. His legs had always been thickly muscled -- to hold the bulk of his upper body -- but the shape there too had changed. The big, ugly mirror didn't lie. His calves jutted out, sloping down to his thin ankle, the sweep of his quad curving back to his narrow, newly defined waist. His tight boxer shorts -- perviously baggy -- straining to hold his growing package.
Mark jumped on the scale. When it settled on "253," he said, "Holy fuck." That morning, at the gym, he'd weighed only 234. It took him a few seconds to do the math, but he ended up with a nineteen pound difference. How could he have gained nineteen pounds? They hadn't even worked out that hard today.
That stuff from the gym! Maybe there was something.... "That's ridiculous," he said, but what else could it be? And why was it suddenly so hard to think?
He went back to the box, as if the box would have the answer -- certainly his dick hoped so -- and reached in, digging around amongst the contents. His fingers felt material, and the second he touched it, his cock jumped, and that tease alone caused him to pull whatever it was out.
Posers. Skimpy blue trunks like the men in the magazine wore. Mark held them in his thick fingers, thinking, "These would barely cover me." Instinctively, he found them gay, a football player -- a man -- would never wear something this small, this revealing. But the men in the magazine, those super-juiced paragons of masculanity, THEY wore trunks like this. All the time. And none of them were gay.
But as he held the suit in his hands, he became erect. THAT was gay. Why was he so turned on by these stupid posers? He'd never been aroused by anything like this before. Of course, he'd never had a body like this before. He'd never had the shape and musculature he had now. Never had the definition.
He wanted to see his hot, new body in these trunks. He wanted to pose like the bodybuilders did. He wanted... no, he NEEDED the attention.
Mark tore off his boxer shorts, taking a second to admire his plumping cock -- Was that getting bigger, too? -- before he slid the trunks on. When the material settled on his waist, clung to his balls, gripped his growing dick, Mark sighed, finding it too hard to breathe, he was so turned on. Walking to the back bedroom, Mark imagined himself walking onstage at the Olympia, along with his massive brothers, his fellow supermen, so he held himself a little bigger, walked a little taller, swayed a little with his muscular ass. He felt incredible.
He just stared at himself in the big, ugly mirror, the cut of his abs, the sweep of his thigh, the slope of his traps. He raised his thick arms into a front double bicep. "Holy fuck," he said, as he fell in love with his body. "Holy fuck." He went from pose to pose, smoothly and fluidly, as if he'd always done so. He felt an incredible connection with his muscles, able to sense and flex each minute fiber. And his cock, sensitive but demanding, rose straight up out of the top of the trunks.
He loved how he looked, loved how the suit matched the color of his eyes. He was beautiful. He raised his hand to the elastic of his ponytail and released his hair, shaking his head to make it spill out around his shoulders. He was so taken with himself, he lowered his head and gave his reflection "the eye," flirting with it, tracing his big hand down the mound of his furry pec, fingering his nipple, over the definition in his belly, following the line of his happy trail, and finally settling on his package, feeling his balls through the material.
If it were possible, his orgasms were getting better. He screamed as he came this time, losing his balance and collapsing. On his hands and knees, his head bowed, his hair hanging in his face, his dick still pulsing, Mark struggled to catch his breath. This time, when he stood, he knew what had happened to him before he even looked. He could feel the tightness in the posing trunks, too, like they'd suddenly become too small for him.
He knew. Before he'd looked, he knew. He'd become big. No, not just big. He'd become massive. When he saw his size, his mind-blowing size, he couldn't help but flex, but stare at the monster he'd become.
He loved it. He loved how the muscle looked too large for his frame, how the slabs of his chest forced his nipples to point straight down, how his arms looked bigger than most men's legs. He loved that his traps rose from his shoulders to the bottom of his ears, how his delts rounded like bowling balls, the jut of his back, taking his "v" to a "u." His glorious, chiseled abs, leading the eye to his tiny waist -- his TINY waist! So tight, so defined, he recognized how sexy he was. He LIKED how sexy he was.
When he turned to do a side-chest pose, to show his triceps, he was instead distracted by his ass. Round and hugely muscled, he saw himself as a horse, a beast of burden, strong. His legs, his hamstrings flared out below that perfect ass, each leg easily as thick as his waist. If not thicker.
The tiny posing trunks barely held him. Plumped in the swollen pouch, his cock -- yeah, his cock WAS bigger; his balls hung lower, too -- begged for attention. He cupped his package with his big hand. "I'll get back to you," he said to it, and went back to posing in the big, beautiful mirror. He ran to the living room and retrieved the magazine -- Monsters of Muscle, like HE was now -- and imitated the poses he saw within its pages, practicing each and perfecting them.
He could easily compete with these guys. He was just as big. Bigger. And a trip to the bathroom confirmed his weight: 286. Six-three and two eighty-six. He was fucking awesome! He should compete, he thought, as he looked at himself in the big, beautiful mirror, but for two things: he was still hairy -- he'd always been hairy, though not as much a gorilla as his friend Jarod. What the fuck was that word? Hirsute? Or something like that. He was HAIRY. And Mark was, too. His blonde chest hair, his pubes, the hair on his arms and legs -- and his shoulders! -- it was too much. He'd never shaved before, always thought it was kind of faggy -- Men have hair! -- yet these big monsters shaved, or waxed, or something. And they weren't gay. Or maybe they were. Who the fuck cares? They're big.
And he didn't know the first thing about getting cut, or ripped, or whatever. He'd always been bulky, never worried about what he ate, didn't know for diet. How was he supposed to learn about nutrition and supplements and shit? He could barely pronounce the NAMES of supplements, much less know what they did.
But as he flexed for himself, he knew he wanted to compete, wanted people -- guys -- to see his big body, hear their admiration, accept their worship...
That thought actually started to get him hard again, and he loved the way his big cock filled his posing trunks. He could easily win a competition, if he had someone tell him how.
He needed a trainer. That was it. The ease with which he accepted that thought surprised him, like he was pleased he was able to think of the right answer; Mark was never much on thinking. But a trainer would think about that stuff for him. Like a reward for a correct answer, his cock sprang to life. Smiling, Mark grabbed his package appreciatively.
His dick led him back to the box from the gym, and Mark started to put it together, although his cock had obviously figured it out already. Mark rooted through it with one hand, jolts of electricity passing right through him to his dick, and he deliberately started to stroke. Sitting in the chair, beating now with enthusiasm, the gym brochure caught his eye, cast aside on the desktop. Mark thumbed through it, pausing on the page with the staff pictures.
There was Gino, the manager, with his bleach-blonde hair and his massive -- smooth! -- body packed into a black muscle shirt, bearing the corporate logo. His smile was open, sincere, and Mark thought that maybe he'd misjudged Gino. After all, Gino had just been doing his job -- he didn't OWN the place, after all -- and Edward had come down on him pretty hard. Sometimes Edward could be pretty mean, Mark thought. Besides, Gino had sent this apology package. And Mark liked the package so far. More importantly, his cock liked the package so far. Mark smiled. No, Gino wasn't so bad.
And Gino had a GREAT body! Not as big as Mark -- shit, almost nobody was as big as Mark -- but cut. And smooth. If nothing else, maybe Gino would tell him the best way to shave. (And this was the moment when Mark realized he was about to talk to another guy about shaving his body! Wasn't that for girls? Wasn't that gay? But for some reason, he couldn't keep the thought going long enough to give it weight. Besides, his cock wanted him to turn the page.)
So, he turned the page. Still stroking, he felt like he did when he was looking at porn, or Playboy, or Maxim, pictures of hot naked chicks, all that nasty stuff. Now here he was, looking at pics of Gino, thinking about shaving, and almost ready to cum again. He shrugged it off. Right now, horny as he was, he could be looking at pictures of dead animals and he'd still get off. Besides, he wasn't beating off TO the pics of Gino, he was just looking at them WHILE he was beating off. A big difference.
And when he turned the page, when he saw the image of the personal trainer, of the red-headed fag he'd almost beaten up in the locker room. That guy -- Kenny! -- staring at him from the photo and smiling, flexing his outrageously cut abs for the camera, Mark came with a scream. He actually heard his jizz splat against the brochure cover, the intensity of his orgasms continuing to improve.
And he couldn't take his eye from the page. Even while the last bits of jism dripped from his softening dick, he absently wiped his hand on his gargantuan thigh and traced the words in Kenny's bio with his fingers as he read them, leaving a little trail of moisture behind. Kenny was a personal trainer, degreed in nutrition and bio-chemistry. "Looking for a man who's ready to go ALL THE WAY," his ad copy read. "(...to the Olympia, I mean!)"
Mark couldn't help but smile at the bad joke. So, the little queer was a nutritionist and personal trainer! And by the looks of his abs, he followed his own advice. And by the look of his pits, he knew a little something about shaving, too. Mark had never been much of a thinker, even less so now, but it made sense to him that if he was gonna get advice about posing and shaving, he should get it from a fag. Who else would know better? Although Mark found it funny that he would be more comfortable talking to a gay guy about that stuff than his straight friends, he dismissed it easily enough. Those guys would just laugh at him if he even brought the subject up. At least the little fag would take him seriously.
He dialed Kenny's service number before he realized what he was doing. While the line was connecting, he studied his finger, still damp from his cum. Absently, Mark stuck it in his mouth and sucked it, interested in the taste of himself -- salty, but not bad. Thank god the guys couldn't see THIS! He chuckled to himself, then one-by-one licked the rest of his fingers. Protein. The phone rang. Mark waited for the machine to pick up.
"Hellooo?" sing-songed the voice that answered. Mark hadn't expected to get a person. What time was it? Only a couple of hours ago, he'd gotten home from work, and something had happened... someone... left. "I said, Helooo!?"
"I'm sorry," Mark said, his voice deep and soft, different somehow. (But of course different -- his jaw had completely changed shape.) "I was expecting a machine."
He heard laughter as the voice said, "Believe me, buddy. I'm a machine!"
Mark laughed politely. His corporate, shmooz-the-client chuckle. "Say," he said, "how much would it cost for a consultation?"
"What are you looking for?"
"Well," Mark began, surprised at how easily this was coming out, "I'm thinkin' about competing, but I got some questions and stuff."
"That's cool," Kenny said. "That's what I do. Tell me your stats, buddy."
Mark didn't know his stats; he knew he was big as fuck, tho. "Just a minute ago, I weighed 286," he said.
He heard Kenny gasp. "286? That's pretty big. You a powerlifter? What's your bodyfat?"
"I don't know," Mark said, feeling the ridges of his abs. "Maybe ten percent."
"Ten percent?" came Kenny's disbelieving voice. "At two-eighty six? That's impossible!"
Mark felt like he should get angry at this, but he found it difficult to do anything but plead. "No, " he said. "It's true. It might even be less. I don't know. You can clearly see my abs."
"At two-eighty six? At ten-percent bodyfat?" Kenny said, "I definitely WANT to see your abs! When can we get together?"
It had been that simple. A few directions, some polite chit-chat, and that had been that. Mark was surprised at how easy it all had been. What did he have against this guy? It was so hard to remember. As he studied Kenny's picture, as he looked at Kenny's abs, he flashed on something that had happened that morning in the locker room. He had threatened Kenny. Why? 'Cuz the dude was ripped? 'Cuz the guy'd been wearing spandex? And looked GOOD in it? "Had I gotten angry because I could never wear spandex?" he thought. "Was I jealous?"
(Another moment: had he just thought another guy looked good in spandex? No, he rationalized. No, it wasn't like that. What's wrong with appreciating a great body? Wasn't he in the body business? Did he lift for health or vanity? Does ANYONE lift for health? Nothing wrong then with looking at another guy and adjudicating him. Not looking at his body sexually, but like a competitor. Right? And this guy Kenny had a great body, and showed it off great in spandex. What was wrong with that?)
Mark wished HE had some spandex; he bet he'd look better than Kenny -- he was easily a hundred pounds heavier, after all. Of course, he'd never been open to spandex before, when he'd been a flabby lineman who just liked being bulky. But on the body he had now...
At that thought, his cock twitched again, and Mark realized he was still on the phone. He heard Kenny's voice. "I said, when can we get together?" The voice had a patronizing edge to it, like it was speaking to a child. Mark thought of being angry about that, but he realized that he was being slow on the answers. Maybe he deserved it.
"Uh, anytime," Mark said. "I got no obligations." It felt good to say that, like he was already over -- what was her name? -- that stupid bitch. No, Mark was free. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to. No ball and chain demanding his time.
"Excellent," Kenny said -- and Mark almost heard the unspoken "Good boy!" that followed. "My shift here is just finishing up. I can be there in a half-an-hour. Is that cool?"
"Um, yeah," Mark said, not quite up to speed with the conversation. Kenny was making decisions so quickly, Mark couldn't keep up. But he gave directions easily enough, and found himself brushing his hair and sprucing up while he waited, unmindful of wearing just the posing trunks. He was anxious to see what Kenny thought; he'd forgotten all about their first meeting that morning.
Twenty minutes later, Kenny knocked on the door. Mark had been waiting on the small stool in the alcove next to the door, patiently sitting and thinking of nothing but the anticipation of Kenny's arrival. He was anxious to show off, to get Kenny's approval. And when Kenny knocked on the door, Mark leapt to answer it, fairly ripping the door from its hinges to get it open.
And there was Kenny, handsome, red-headed Kenny. He wore a v-neck athletic shirt which showed the cuts of his upper chest, the veins in his arms, and a pair of khaki shorts. He gasped when he saw Mark, not just from the 285 pounds of hairy muscle barely wearing a pair of blue posing trunks, but connecting the blond mass before him with the guy that nearly beat the crap out of him that morning. "You're that guy," he said, backing up a step.
"No, no," Mark said, reaching out. "That wasn't me. I reacted bad. Please, I'm different now. Grown a little."
Kenny smirked, but still kept his distance. "You've grown a lot," he said.
"Please help me," Mark said suddenly, almost pleading. "I don't know what to do. I need to shave, and I don't know. I never. And I gotta tan, I mean, if I wanna compete. And can I compete? Do I got the stuff? So I called you and I figured... you know... that you'd know. Your thing said you were a trainer, and a nutrition guy."
Kenny realized it then. The big lug in front of him WAS different than he had been that morning. He'd become stupid. How he'd lucked out on that body was anybody's guess -- obviously, the big guy wasn't gonna be able to tell him -- (Maybe whatever made him this freaky big also robbed him of his brain.) -- whatever. For whatever reason, he'd turned to Kenny. And Kenny -- who'd had this fantasy before -- had always known what he'd do if presented with this situation. Kenny'd give the orders.
"Well," said Kenny, "let's get you shaved first, see what we have to work with."
Mark was sad, like a puppy. "That's why I called. I don't know how, man. I never...."
"That's cool," said Kenny, leading Mark inside by the arm. "I'll show you. I'll show you all kinds of things."
Mark was so grateful, he insisted on being helpful. "I got some new shaving gel and razors in the living room," Mark said. "Lemme go get 'em." He ran to the box while Kenny started to run the water in the bathtub. He was so excited about shaving that he barely gave it any thought. But when Kenny took the shaving supplies from him and said, "Strip," Mark had a moment. He didn't know if he could be naked in front of a gay guy. Kenny read his hesitation.
"If I'm gonna shave you, I'm gonna see you naked," Kenny said. "Now, strip."
He may have been uncomfortable, but he did. He was actually surprised by how easy it was to obey. Easier than thinking for himself, anyway. Besides, if he was gonna show off for the little queer, he might as well show him everything, and his cock was lookin' good...
That thought shocked him. He'd never given his cock much thought before -- or any cock, for that matter. But as it dangled there before his big balls, he realized that he'd never even measured it, and it had obviously seen the benefits of his growth. Hell, it had been the cause of his growth, hadn't it? It felt so good. He really needed to treat his cock better. And he'd start by showing it off.
Being naked in front of this gay guy was kind of fun. Mark knew he was being a tease, but none of the other guys would appreciate his new body in quite the same way. And it felt good to be appreciated, no matter who was doing it. (God knows Edward and his old frat buddies didn't appreciate him this way. Edward could never appreciate another man.) Mark looked to Kenny for signs of approval. Who would know if his body was decent better than a gay guy?
And Kenny obviously approved. He let out a little gasp of air. "Nice," he said. "Um... don't take that the wrong way. I mean, I know you're straight."
"I don't mind," said Mark, flexing his abs, secretly happy to please.
Kenny ran the bathwater, warm and comfortable, and Mark happily lay back in the tub, where he barely fit, and let Kenny go to work. The lather on his chest, the sharp-edged zip of the razor, Kenny's strong hands as he massaged Mark's skin, or maybe just the shaving supplies from the mystery box caused his erection. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but how good it felt. "Oh my," said Kenny, as Mark's cock continued to grow.
Mark lazilly opened his eyes and looked at Kenny looking at his dick. "Can't help it," Mark said. "This feels really good. Hope you don't mind."
Kenny smiled. "I don't mind," he said. "And as far as feeling good is concerned, lemme show you what feels good."
Mark half-expected Kenny to blow him then, to take his bigger-than-before cock and start sucking. Instead, Kenny smeared his dick in lather and ran the razor over it, shaving it clean to the root. The lather was warm on his cock and balls, tingling, pleasurable, then the stroke of the razor removing his hair -- and the chemicals in the lather making sure that it would never grow back -- and Kenny's firm, but gentle massage on the clean skin. Mark was in ecstasy, inches from cumming.
He looked down his smooth, glistening torso, over his massive, balloon-like pecs, over the ridges of his eight-pack, down the hip-line to his beautifully clean cock, bits of lather here and there, painfully erect in Kenny's hand. He met Kenny's gaze, and the two of them had understanding; Mark was almost in tears.
When Kenny finally took Mark's cock in his mouth, Mark gave up any pretention he ever had of his old life. Nothing -- nothing! -- was better than what he was feeling right now. Any girl he'd ever been with, any sex he'd ever thought about, any fantasy he'd ever dreamed, none of that compared to the swollen pleasure he now experienced with Kenny.
Mark rolled his eyes back in his head and shot. And shot. And shot.
And changed.

3 comments:

  1. Hands down, my all time favorite story. Also, my own inspiration to start writing. Eddie and his transformation get me every time. Great imagination and transformation! Specifically, muscled blonde sluts in spandex.

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  2. It's one of my personal favorites, currently working on BMOC #7, which pretty much reads the same only horribley more realistic... thanks for the comment I'm a big fan of your stories too... it's always good to know that i'm the favorite author of my favorite authors... ;)
    ONIX

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  3. Oh hurrah! Very excited for the next segment. Yes, you are one of my favorite authors, and you liking my stories makes me very happy as well!
    CMC

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