NOTE: This story brings back a few characters from my previous stories, although you don’t need to have read them to it. Notably, Alexei from Livestock makes an appearance as do Nikki and Tyson from The Ring. Even though this story stands on its own, it also serves to explain why Alexei and Tyson are able to remain so youthful. Enjoy!

***

Chapter 1

A chubby guy in a tight, rainbow-colored tank top ran up to him and tried to grab his hand when Max approached the photography studio. Max wrinkled his nose in distaste and moved away but not before he noticed that the dude had painted his nails in bright rainbow colors and likewise wore rainbow eyeliner. The guy–if he could be called that–was ridiculous and Max was repulsed by everything about him. The makeup, revealing attire and effeminacy were all bad enough but Max was especially grossed out by the dude’s big, hairless belly hanging out like a pale, bloated whale over the waistband of his obscenely short shorts.

Or at least that’s what he thought until the man turned, revealing the giant ass stretching those same shorts to the breaking point. The tops of his huge, jiggly butt cheeks poured over the waistband revealing the disgusting tramp stamp tattoo etched in screaming pink ink across the small of his back: BOTTOM BITCH. Max almost threw up when he saw it.

“Runth,” the man cried out in a high, lispy voice. “Donth go in there!”

“Get the fuck away from me, you fat faggot!” Max shouted. “Yer a freak!”

The man froze, face falling and eyes betraying the hurt inflicted by Max’s cruel words. He opened his mouth to reply but then thought better of it. His giant, sloping shoulders fell and he turned and lumbered off down the street, pausing only once to look back over his shoulder.

Max sneered at him and continued into the studio, looking down at his phone and then up at the sign to be sure he was in the right place. A big, glowing sign read, 15 minutes,  and he nodded to himself. Cool, he thought, just like the dude said.

The night before, he and his best bro, Lucas, had been chilling on the benches of the neighborhood basketball court when a guy dressed in a button-down suit, patent leather shoes and a funny 1950’s style hat approached them. He looked so out of place that Max laughed when he’d stopped in front of them, handing each a business card.

“One thousand dollars,” he’d stated in an accent that sounded vaguely Russian. “I will pay you each one thousand dollars in cash if you model for me tomorrow morning.” Max had opened his mouth to tell him to piss off but then he saw the hundred dollar bill folded crisply next to the business card and his eyes lit up. “This is your advance payment,” the man said, following his gaze. “Come to the address on the business card tomorrow at nine o’clock for the remainder of the sum.”

Normally, Max would have been more suspicious but he was feeling particularly full of himself at that moment. He and Lucas had just played against three of the toughest bros in the neighborhood–and won handily. Even better, several hot chicks had been there to witness his victory, something he was sure to capitalize on later. He could practically smell the hot pussy coming his way! 

Oh, yeah, he was a macho jock alright! With a firm jaw and a pugnacious attitude, guys made way for him when he walked by. Everyone noticed him for his athletic build and simmering good looks. And having Lucas as his best bro was a definite asset. He would never have admitted it but he knew that they made a killer pair of bros. He was dark-haired, stocky and muscular and Lucas was blond, tall and lean. Further, he was a tough, natural leader while Lucas was a somewhat goofy sidekick who tempered Max’s more aggressive tendencies.

Sneering at the strange man, Max accepted the card and the cash, sticking the money in his pocket and examining the card. “15 Minutes,” it read. “Male models by Alexei Bortnikov.”

He exchanged an incredulous glance with Lucas before looking back up at the man. “You wanna take pictures of us?” The man nodded and Max’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch,” the man replied in his strangely clipped accent. “I search out only the most handsome young men and take some photos that I send to various advertisers. If they like what they see, they reach out to me and negotiate a contract.”

“A contract?” Max repeated, the gears inside his head slowly turning. “What kind of contract?”

The man opened his mouth to reply but then glanced down at his watch, saying, “I am sorry but I have to go. My receptionist will explain everything to you tomorrow morning. Just come to the address on my card at 9am.” With that he had walked off, leaving Max and Lucas to contemplate his words.

Max had thought it was suspicious but Lucas was all in. “C’mon, dude! It’s easy money!” he urged, elbowing Max in the ribs.

Max flinched and rubbed his side. “Aw, I dunno. What if he asks us to take off our clothes? I’m not gonna show off my cock and balls to a faggot.”

Lucas shook his head, causing his shaggy, blond hair to flop against his neck. He was a lanky kid with broad shoulders but few muscles yet, despite his best efforts at the gym. Max could tell from the looks of Lucas’ dad, though, that his friend would grow into his big frame.

“Who cares, bro?” Lucas said, blue eyes glittering with greed. “It’s a thousand bucks! Fuck, I’d bend over and show my hole for that kinda money!”

Max shuddered, completely grossed out. “Yer a sick fuck! I’d never do that. NEVER.”

“Suit yerself, bro,” Lucas muttered, shrugging. “But I’ll be there at 9 fer sure!”

***

Lucas was true to his word. Max arrived about a half hour late and his friend was already inside. Max spotted him through the clear glass wall of the receptionist’s office overlooking the photo studio. Lucas was standing awkwardly clad in his usual baggy shorts, ripped t-shirt and slightly askew baseball cap. He beamed when he saw Max, giving him the thumbs up and grinning goofily. 

Max jerked his chin in a nonchalant hello and was turning back to the front desk when he heard, “Hi! I’m Nikki!”

He looked down to see a tiny sprite of a guy sitting at the desk before him. The dude was so small he had to sit on several cushions to reach the keyboard of his computer. He had rosy cheeks and black hair trimmed in a very stylish but somewhat girly haircut. Max had to stop himself from wrinkling his nose. Yep, he thought sourly, just as I suspected. This is a den of faggotry!

He started to turn on his heel and stalk out but Nikki stopped him. “Lucas said to ask you not to go. If you don’t want to participate, you can wait here until he’s done.” When Max hesitated, he handed him a pen and clipboard, adding, “This is our waiver. You can read through it while you’re waiting. As you will see, we don’t ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Max reluctantly accepted the proffered items and glanced down at the clipboard, commenting, “There’re an awful lot of pages here. Don’t you guys have a EULA on your website I can click on or sumthin’?” To underscore his point, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone.

Nikki pursed his full lips and shook his dainty head. “Oh, no! The owner is very old-fashioned. Alexei likes to do everything on paper. Besides, if we had a EULA, you might just sign off without reading through it first. Trust me, baby, you don’t wanna do that!”

“Huh, alright.” 

Max still felt creeped out by the place but he nonetheless took a seat in the waiting area just to the side of Nikki’s desk. The chair gave him a full view of the photo studio below and he couldn’t help feeling a little curious, glancing up occasionally from the impenetrable legalese of the waiver to track Lucas’ progress in his photo shoot.

Lucas disappeared briefly, emerging again from the dressing room off to the side of the studio wearing a loose football jersey and a pair of mesh shorts. He grinned when he saw Max and then completely scandalized him by yanking down the waistband of his shorts and flashing him his dangling cock and balls.

Holy shit! He’s fuckin’ hung!

Max couldn’t help goggling at his friend’s massive equipment. His mind was spinning even as he felt slightly grossed out…and uncharacteristically cowed. He’d always assumed that he was more hung than his goofy sidekick. Max was Brazilian, after all, and gifted with a particularly long, fat schlong. But, as he stared, he realized he was out-classed by Lucas’ huge tool. Even flaccid, Lucas’ giant was at least ten inches long and fat as a can of Monster energy drink!

Lucas smirked proudly at Max’s reaction, thrusting his crotch forward while the photographer happily snapped photo after photo. Max tried to make himself look away but was mesmerized. He couldn’t believe that Lucas would display himself so openly like that! It wasn’t right. Guys shouldn’t do–

The phone at Nikki’s desk rang just then, distracting him from these thoughts. The little dude chirped a hello and then glanced over at Max, saying, “Yeah, he’s here waiting for his friend. Says he doesn’t want to participate, though.” There was a pause and then Nikki nodded, giggling at something the person on the other end of the phone call said. “Sure thing, boss!” he replied, “I’ll tell him!” With that, he hung up the phone and turned to Max, saying, “Alexei says that he’ll pay you two thousand dollars for your shoot. And he wanted me to tell you that you don’t have to take off your clothes. He thinks you’re a natural and he wants to capture your beauty before it fades.” 

This Alexei guy is a freak, Max thought but couldn’t deny he was tempted. Two thousand dollars was a lot of money. He had no job and was still living with his parents. Two grand would go a long way toward a down payment on an apartment. He could finally be free…

The flash of a camera caught his eye then and he looked up, noticing the photographer for the first time. He expected to see the older man (Alexei?) from the night before but was surprised to discover it was a young guy with long, sun-touched brown hair and a stunning physique. The dude looked like he could be a model himself. 

Despite his best efforts to remain cool and uninterested, Max was captivated by the man’s casual manner and the ease with which he worked. He couldn’t hear what he was saying but he could tell from the way the dude smiled and laughed–and from Lucas’ reactions–that he was having fun and that Lucas was having fun, too. The guy’s clothes weren’t anything special, just a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt but the fabric clung to his body, displaying every ripple and curve. Seeing him, Max felt an inexplicable stab of jealousy directed toward Lucas. It wasn’t fair that his buddy was in there having such a blast while he was stuck here with a femmy receptionist!

“I see you’ve noticed Tyson,” Nikki commented drily, taking in Max’s worshipful gaze. “He has that effect on people.” He giggled, revealing, “I should know. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your what?” The icy tone of his voice was obvious even to Max and he checked himself. Why did he give a fuck if Nikki and Tyson were together? He wasn’t a fag!

Nikki sighed, casting an adoring look at his boyfriend. “He’s divine, isn’t he?”

Max opened his mouth and then closed it. He was struggling to come up with a suitable response when he noticed that Lucas had disappeared and in his place was a different man. This guy appeared to be in his mid-twenties and was stacked with muscle. Wearing only a skintight pair of football pants and holding football in one hand, he had left the crotch of his pants unlaced, exposing the top of his very full cup and his bushy brown pubes. His impressive chest was dusted with sandy brown hair and his skin was tanned golden brown. Brown stubble coated his strong jaw and his thick, blond hair was shaggy and unkempt just like Lucas’. Rather than making him look disheveled, though, it made him seem even more masculine. 

Thick, black tribal tattoos snaked up his arms, accentuating his bulging biceps. Everything about him was confident from his towering height to his chiseled features. Max found himself comparing Lucas with this blond god and quickly decided that his friend came up short. The golden icon of manhood posing on the other side of the glass rivaled even Tyson’s ethereal beauty.

“He looks like he could be Lucas’ older brother,” he murmured before realizing he’d spoken aloud.

As he watched, the man looked upward and gave Max such a proud smirk that it made him blush. He flexed his impressive guns and then dropped a hand salaciously downward to cup his huge bulge. Tyson snapped photo after photo, gradually encouraging the dude to pull his Lycra tights lower and lower. Max willed himself to look away but he couldn’t. His mouth went dry as the man slowly worked the tights down his slim hips, exposing a forest of brown pubes. He gasped when the incredibly girthy base of his fat cock peeked into view. Max shifted uncomfortably in his chair, realizing his heart was pounding.

He forced himself to turn back to the waiver. When he looked back up, though, he dropped his pen. The man was now completely naked and his huge cock was fully erect. It stuck out in front of him like a fucking ramrod, more than a foot long and fatter than Max’s arm. His giant balls swung low and heavy between his furry, beefy thighs. Max’s cheeks went scarlet and he looked away.

“When is Lucas gonna be out?” he asked breathlessly, tongue thick in the back of his throat.

“Oh, soon, I imagine,” Nikki replied airily. “Don’t worry!”

Max went back to scanning the waiver, signing his name here and there where it was highlighted and initialing in others. He’d long ago stopped even trying to understand the complicated language. He didn’t know precisely when he’d made up his mind but he had decided he definitely was going to model.

When he looked up again, the young stud had gone and an older dude was in his place. This guy appeared to be in his mid- to late thirties and was wearing only an old, stained jockstrap. For some reason, the sight of a guy in a jockstrap didn’t phase Max. In some far-off corner of his mind, he realized he was getting used to the nudity. It’s Ok, he thought before turning his attention back to the man, this is a photo studio after all! Guys’re ‘sposed to show off what they got.

This man was even more heavily muscled than the last guy. Almost too muscular, Max decided, shaking his head. Probably on steroids, he thought with distaste. And he’s nearly past his prime. Indeed, there was something almost prurient about the man’s overly muscled and supremely hairy body. His hulking thighs verged on too massive and his belly–which had probably been flat a few years ago–was starting to bulge out noticeably. His arms and shoulders were overworked and swollen. He thinks his huge muscles will distract from his gut, Max thought smugly, but he’s wrong. Why is he even modeling?

When he was younger, the guy had probably been handsome but his features were now heavy and dull. His nose was bulbous and his ears were too big. His neck was thick, almost bull-like and threatened to consume his head. He was visibly balding and what was left of his blond hair was stringy and thin. His thick, brown beard was in desperate need of a trim. Max couldn’t smell him through the glass but he knew the dude must stink of body odor and other unmentionable smells judging from the yellowed state of his jockstrap.

Max was put off by something else about the man: The myriad of bold, ugly tattoos covering his back, neck and arms. The tribal tats on his arms were similar to the previous model’s but the dude hadn’t been content to stop with inking his arms and seemed intent on covering more and more of his body with tats. The designs, however, were sloppy and poorly rendered. Almost like the tattooist had been drunk, Max thought, smirking. The man’s skin was stretched and papery and his body was covered in a dense forest of dirty brown hair…both things that the tattoos couldn’t hide.

When the dude pulled down the thick waistband of his soiled jockstrap and his bloated manhood flopped out, he looked up and caught Max’s eye, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and grinning.

Max wanted to barf.

Sure, the dude’s cock was big but its giant size made it seem almost obscene. His long, tattered foreskin was lumpy and misshapen and his glans was too round. The cock flopped out listlessly, swaying back and forth like a sick anaconda. As Max stared with horrified fascination, the dude started jacking himself. It was nearly a wasted effort, though. The poor guy was forced to wrap both hands around his mammoth junk and stroke like a frantic EMT trying to resuscitate a dying patient. After prolonged fapping, he finally succeeded in becoming erect. Sort of. Gravity and age had taken a toll, though, and the best the dude could muster was a pathetic half-chub. Max swallowed and looked away, embarrassed for the poor dude. Back in his day, he thought acerbically, he was prolly impressive but not anymore…

He looked over at Nikki, demanding, “When is Lucas gonna be done? And when do I go in there?”

Nikki raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Oh? So you’ve decided you’re gonna do it then?” When Max nodded, he smiled, saying, “I’m sure Lucas will be out soon and Tyson is almost ready for you. Are you finished filling out the waiver?”

“Not yet.”

“Then get to it! Tyson will be finished by the time you’re done.”

Max frowned and looked back down at the clipboard on his lap. He sighed, realizing he probably had another twenty five pages to go.

He worked diligently for a few minutes before glancing back into the studio, nearly falling off his chair when he did so. The new model was repulsive! An old man of perhaps fifty years (to the eighteen-year-old Max, anyone over thirty was ancient) was displaying his hideously bloated, naked body to Tyson. Weighing in at more than three hundred pounds, the guy was loaded down with so many muscles he could barely even waddle. His aging skin bore numerous stretch marks and scars from the vain effort of trying to contain those overly inflated muscles. 

If Max suspected that the previous model had been using steroids, this guy was definitely abusing them. His huge belly was distended, jutting out like a beachball. His nipples were enormous, hanging down like a pair of cow udders. His head had been swallowed by his thick, ugly neck and the rampant hormones had caused the cartilage of his nose and ears to grow unchecked until he appeared almost clownlike. Further, the drugs had made his skin age prematurely and his face was wrinkled and pockmarked. 

He squinted at the man, realizing the dude looked vaguely familiar. It took him a moment but then he had it: The old guy looked like he could be Lucas’ father…if his friend’s father had pumped himself full of ‘roids for years and lived a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. Just like Lucas’ dad, the dude’s scraggly, brown beard was streaked with grey and his head was shaved bare. His bald pate shone like a cue ball in the light of Tyson’s flash. When he turned, Max saw the old guy sported a ring of bulging fat on the back of his head. He shuddered, thinking, Go on and retire, Grandpa! Ain’t nobody wanna see that! Yer just embarrassing yerself!

Almost as notable as his obscenely huge muscles were the numerous and faded tattoos covering his saggy body. They were scrawled and cartoonish and so cluttered they ran into each other, making for a chaotic and disorienting canvas. The man had even tattooed the top of his bald head, his cheeks and forehead! Max shook his head, unable to understand why anyone would do such a thing to themselves.

He thought he’d been discreet examining the dude but the man looked over just then and caught his eye. Max held his breath as the man’s face split into a ghastly leer (exposing several missing teeth) and he reached down to grab his bloated cock in a giant paw, shaking it suggestively through the glass.

Max hurriedly looked away, revolted, but couldn’t quite resist the urge to take a quick peek to confirm what he’d thought he’d seen. Yep, he hadn’t been mistaken. That was the most repulsive cock known to man! It hung down nearly to the guy’s knees like a corpse on the end of a noose, so replete with tattoos that its skin was just a smear of black ink. The dude’s ungainly testicles dangled past the kneecaps of his bowed and swollen legs but, while certainly saggy, they seemed curiously shrunken. Probably from all the ‘roids, Max thought, swallowing bile.

Ok, this is just gross, Max thought, forcing his attention away from the hideous caricature of a man mugging before Tyson’s camera. He couldn’t comprehend why Tyson would ever want to take pictures of someone that disgusting.

“I’m done.” He stood, handing the clipboard and pen back to Nikki. “It’s time,” he bragged, “to give Tyson some real artwork to photograph: Me.”

Nikki regarded him with wry amusement for a moment before chirping, “Well, ok, then! It looks like Tyson is ready for you.” He glanced over the waiver, checking the pages for Max’s signature and nodding happily. When he was satisfied, he stood up and filed it in a nearby cabinet. Max nearly choked at the sight of Nikki’s incredibly huge buttocks. The little dude’s ass was so swollen it was ridiculous! 

Oblivious to Max’s horror, Nikki motioned to a side door, urging, “Go on in. Tyson will show you what he has in mind for the shoot.”

***

Chapter 2

Max strode into the studio with a distinct swagger. He was intent on showing Tyson how superior he was in every respect to the disgusting old man who had just exited the room. He knew he was the epitome of male beauty, being young, tall, athletic and ripped with muscles. He pushed his ball cap back on this head and smirked with pride, showing off his bulging pecs and thick arms..

“I’m ready to make ya famous,” he boasted, giving Tyson a cocky grin.

Tyson looked up from his camera and smiled, exposing perfect, white teeth. “Ah, you must be Max,” he said in a deep, pleasant voice. “My name is Tyson. I will be your photographer. I can’t wait to work on you!”

Max hated to admit it but Tyson was even more stunning up close than from a distance. Lean and well-muscled, he appeared to be nearly as tall and ripped as Max. His face and body possessed perfect symmetry and his features were rugged and supple at the same time, a combination that Max reluctantly admitted was appealing. Normally, Max thought long hair was unattractive on guys but Tyson was an exception. Graced with subtle curls, his thick, brown hair cascaded down his back. Just the right amount of stubble covered his cheeks, making him seem both casual and rakish. A small dimple cleft his square chin.

Max tried and failed to be unimpressed. He felt his own confidence falter just a tiny bit as as he thought, He is such a fucking god! For some reason, his heart was pounding in his chest. He had no idea what had come over him; he never acted like this around other guys! But there was something inexplicably alluring about Tyson. When he turned those hypnotic, blue eyes on you, you just knew that you were the only thing he cared about in the entire world. And, for reasons he couldn’t explain, Max really wanted Tyson to care about him.

It disconcerted him to realize this and he tried to banish the desire but it kept coming back with greater intensity the longer he was with Tyson. Max was accustomed to acting aloof and uncaring around other guys; it was part of his macho mystique and he used it to great advantage. Rare was the dude who didn’t immediately give in and play beta to his alpha. Around Tyson, though, he was in danger of losing his vaunted top dog status.

Determined not to concede dominance, he thrust out his jaw and squared his shoulders, standing up to his full height. The effect evaporated the moment he opened his mouth, though, voice cracking like an adolescent. “W-W-What d-d-do you want me to do?” he stammered, cursing his confidence for abandoning him at such a critical moment. He absolutely hated being tongue-tied in the presence of such potent male beauty.

Tyson laughed, a rich, melodic sound that was infectious. “Do? You don’t have to do anything. Just be yourself.” He lifted his camera and pointed it at Max, urging, “Let’s start out with some candid shots. Stand there and allow your arms to fall to your side. Let me do all the work.”

You can do this, Max! he thought, giving himself a much-needed pep talk. Show him who’s boss! You’re a total stud! You don’t give a fuck ‘bout nobody!

It worked, sort of. He forced himself to stop comparing himself to Tyson and focused on wowing the young photographer. He was concentrating so intently that he didn’t notice when Tyson pressed the button on a little remote control, causing the glass walls to fog and blocking out the view from Nikki’s office. Soon, Max was standing in a brightly lit but completely private space with nothing between him and Tyson but the lens of the camera.

“Lift your chin and turn to the left,” Tyson instructed, growling with satisfaction when Max did as he was told. The shutter snapped repeatedly as the tall stud leaned in and let his camera all but make love to Max’s body. Even though he was still completely clothed, Max felt laid bare before Tyson. He coughed and looked around, aghast at himself when he realized he’d been flirtatious, all but inviting Tyson to take increasingly intimate photos.

“What’s the matter, Max?” Tyson asked, a coy smile curving his lips. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Max shook his head, cheeks reddening. “No, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” He meant to sound gruff but his voice sounded decidedly breathless to his ears.

“Good. Then would you mind taking off your shirt?”

Max blinked. “Uh, sure, no problem. It’s just–”

“Just what?” Tyson’s beautiful eyes were focused on him like lasers and his elegant eyebrows were drawn upward in puzzlement. As he stared at Max, understanding dawned and he smiled, offering, “Would it make you feel more comfortable if I took off my shirt, too?” Before Max could utter a word, he had set aside his camera and pulled his t-shirt over his head. In seconds, he was standing bare-chested before Max in all his radiant glory.

Max stared, torn between feeling threatened and intrigued. Tyson was just as lean and ripped as he was. Every muscle was clearly delineated beneath his flawless skin. In some ways, it was like looking in a mirror, only Tyson’s skin was pale and his body hair was light brown whereas Max had brown skin and his body hair was black. He wasn’t used to being around another guy who nearly equaled him in every respect. For someone accustomed to standing out from the crowd, he felt suddenly plain.

He shook himself when he realized that he was staring and woodenly removed his own shirt. Soon, he was bare-chested, too; but, unlike when he ripped off his shirt on the basketball court and showed off his physique to the other guys, this time he felt exposed and shy. Tyson resumed snapping photos.

“Excellent! So muscular and handsome!” Tyson praised, squatting down and panning his camera up the length of Max’s bare chest. “You don’t shave, do you?”

“Nope,” Max replied, puffing out his chest and throwing back his shoulders proudly. “I’ve had a hairy chest since I turned sixteen and a full beard since I was fifteen.”

“It’s manly, I guess,” Tyson murmured, snapping more pics. Was it Max’s imagination or did he sound slightly disappointed? Max had always looked down on guys who manscaped as being fruits but maybe…He shook his head, snapping out of it. There was no way he would ever shave his chest! He was a real man and real men didn’t shave! 

When he stiffened, Tyson frowned, urging, “How ‘bout if you cup the back of your head with your hands? Ah, that’s it! Show off those guns!”

These small words of encouragement got Max glowing again. He stopped worrying about his body hair and threw himself back into impressing Tyson. He was a young god and needed to act like it! He followed Tyson’s instructions eagerly, trying to intuit what the guy wanted him to do before he even said anything. 

For his part, Tyson responded by heaping praise on him; Max’s pride bloomed and his confidence returned. He’d never felt so proud of his body before! It was like Tyson was the first person who actually saw him and he loved it. He wanted to show Tyson everything about himself. When Tyson asked him to unbutton his shorts, he surprised himself by immediately strippiing down to his ratty, old pair of boxers.

“Such a stud!” Tyson admired, setting his camera aside and striding up to him. Soon he was standing so close that Max could feel the heat emanating from his athletic body. Max swallowed, caught between the urge to act cool and the desire to check out Tyson’s muscular chest. He quickly gave up acting aloof and openly stared. Tyson had the tiniest nipples and a generous coating of dark brown fur. In a far corner of his mind, Max wondered why Tyson would find his hairy chest undesirable when his own was nearly as hairy.

“You’re trembling,” Tyson observed, leaning in closer.

“No, I’m not.”

Tyson’s blue eyes danced as he reached out to lift Max’s hand, holding it in front of his face. Max flinched when he realized that his fingers were noticeably shaking. He clenched his fist and turned away, grumbling, “I’m just cold, that’s all.”

“Perhaps I can warm you up,” came Tyson’s solicitous reply.

Max stiffened with these words and willed himself not to turn back around. Alarm bells were going off in his head and he knew he was in serious jeopardy of doing something he would never forgive himself for. There was something wrong here! Something was seriously wrong! He wasn’t into guys! He didn’t–

Unable to stop himself, he looked over his shoulder and lost himself in the dreamy depths of Tyson’s blue eyes. As he stared, a heartwarming smile touched Tyson’s lips and he moved closer to Max, breathing, “Have you ever kissed a man?”

“I’ve never even kissed a girl.”

Max clapped a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that! What the fuck was he thinking?! Seriously freaked out both by Tyson’s question and his own reply, he frantically tried to walk it back but Tyson cut him off, smiling. “A virgin, then. I thought so. It’d be an honor to be your first. May I?”

His words sifted through the chaotic fog of Max’s mind like golden sunshine and he completely forgot that he wasn’t even attracted to guys. It was like Tyson had rewritten all of the rules and made himself a law unto himself. Max was powerless to resist him. In fact, the very concept of resistance had lost all meaning.

Tyson lowered his head and those soft, seductive lips were mere inches from his own. His blue eyes spoke the question again and Max nodded, blushing furiously. “Yes,” he breathed, “please kiss me.”

 And then Tyson’s lips were on his and they were kissing!

Max’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp, forcing Tyson to catch him in his big, strong arms. He surrendered to the more experienced man’s onslaught, opening his mouth and inviting Tyson in. Tyson was gentle but firm, teasing his lips with his own and only gradually entering him with a hot, confident tongue.

At first Max allowed Tyson to take control but soon he found himself responding, returning the kiss with an eagerness that verged on desperation. Part of him couldn’t believe what he was doing but another part hadn’t realized until that moment how thirsty he was for this kind of contact with another man. His conflicted feelings both frightened and emboldened him. When he jumped up and wrapped his legs around Tyson’s slim waist, pressing his face against the other man’s until it hurt, Tyson pulled back, laughing.

“Easy, baby!” he teased, gently pushing Max down and stepping away. “Let’s take this slow. I still have a lot of photos I wanna take!”

Max wiped his face, trying to catch his breath. Embarrassed by his loss of control, he muttered, “I’m not gay or anything. You just surprised me.”

Tyson answered this by casting a wry look down at Max’s crotch where his cock was straining against the fabric of his boxers. Max flushed and dropped his hands, covering the evidence of his arousal.

“You’re very handsome, Max,” Tyson observed, stalking around him like a predator. “So young and beautiful. Are you Latino?”

“Brazilian. My parents moved here from Rio,” Max admitted, feeling shy despite his best efforts to regain his traditional dispassionate air. The way Tyson was looking at him made him self-conscious.

“I see,” Tyson murmured, pausing as he surveyed Max’s body critically. “You’re thin now but that won’t last long.”

Max braced, stung by this unkind assessment. “The hell it won’t!” he complained. “I’ll never let myself get fat!” He hated to admit it but Tyson had put his finger on his biggest fear: Getting fat. He hated fat people and was determined to do whatever it took to stay lean.

Tyson looked up and smiled. “Oh, c’mon, Max! You would be even sexier with some padding. Young, ripped guys are so ubiquitous these days. They’re all over Instagram, each one trying to outdo the others. It gets tedious. I actually prefer to shoot guys who are softer, heavier…less traditionally beautiful. You know, men who aren’t afraid to be themselves, not some fake image of male perfection.”

“If you say so,” Max grumbled, remembering vividly the fat, fruity guy who had accosted him outside the studio. Who the fuck wants to look at fat, girly guys? he wondered, suppressing a shudder. Good thing I’m such a fuckin’ stacked stud!

Tyson’s mouth quirked. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something else but decided against it. Instead, he announced, “I think I’ve got enough shots of you like this.” He turned and motioned for Max to follow him, explaining, “Let’s head into the dressing room, shall we? I’ll pick out some stuff and you can take a break. You must be thirsty! These lights will dehydrate you if you don’t watch out!”

Max swallowed, realizing his throat was a little dry, and padded behind Tyson into a side room, unwillingly mesmerized by the young man’s big, muscular buttocks and the way they filled up his tight jeans. Tyson was indeed a god on earth!

***

The dressing room was spartan yet well-appointed. Max took in the surroundings, feeling more nervous now that he was alone with Tyson in this private space. He distracted himself by pacing over to a fancy computer with two, huge monitors and studying the photos displayed on the screens.

“Who’s that?” he asked, realizing the dark-haired guy in the pics looked vaguely familiar. He was young, thin, and muscular and oozed a self-confidence that verged on cocky. Max instinctively disliked him for this very reason. Given the guy’s macho attitude, he was surprised when he glanced over at the second screen and saw the dude was now wearing rainbow eyeliner and his fingernails were painted. In the photos, the guy gazed back at the camera with a haunted expression. It was probably a trick of the light but he looked heavier than he had in the first series of photos.

Tyson casually reached over and turned off the monitors, explaining, “Oh, that’s just one of the models from this morning. I don’t think he’ll be coming back, though.”

Max had more questions but Tyson was already steering him away from the computer and toward a small desk with a makeup mirror and stool. Max allowed himself to be guided–Who could say no to Tyson?–and stood there, hearing his pulse pound in his ears.

He looked around, momentarily losing himself in his reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. He smiled, taking in his lean yet beefy body. He really was a fuckin’ stud! He grinned, striking a pose when Tyson wasn’t looking, sticking his tongue at himself and pushing his cap askew on his head. His thick, black hair peeked out from under the brim of the hat and his brown eyes shown devilishly. He loved his manly beard and strong jaw. And, despite what Tyson might think, he really loved his hairy chest. His pecs and pert nipples pressed outward, set off by his dense body hair. The hair gradually tapered into a black treasure trail leading down toward the crotch of his boxers. His legs were muscular and lithe at the same time, two of his best assets when it came to basketball. And that significant bulge in his underwear showed off his pride and glory, a thick rod of a cock and a hefty pair of low-hangers.

Realizing that Tyson was watching him, he shook himself and looked away from his reflection, feigning interest in the surroundings. Against the far wall stood a wardrobe containing an assortment of clothes. Next to it there was a strange contraption that looked like a miniature version of the cow milking machine Max had once seen at his uncle’s ranch. He opened his mouth to ask Tyson about it but the question died on his lips as he spotted an open cooler nearby; it was filled with cans of sparkling water lying invitingly on a bed of ice.

Tyson chuckled when he noticed Max’s thirsty expression and reached down to toss him a can. “Best stuff ever, man! You won’t believe how good it tastes!”

Max caught the can and opened it, taking a tentative sip (he wasn’t normally a sparkling water kind of guy) before smacking his lips with relish and guzzling the whole thing. Tyson hadn’t lied; this really was the best shit ever! It was light and fruity but left a real zing on the tongue. He couldn’t get enough! He’d gulped down four more cans before Tyson stopped him, saying, “Whoa, babe! That’s enough for now.” He relented, though, at Max’s pout and tossed him one more can, “Alright, alright! One more but that’s all. You can have as much as you like after your next shoot, though.”

“Ahhhhhh,” Max sighed after swallowing down the contents of the can. “So fuckin’ good!”

“Indeed,” Tyson agreed before adding cryptically, “you won’t believe the results.” But before Max could ask him what he meant, he continued, “You can take those off,” indicating Max’s ball cap and underwear. Max looked down at himself, panicked. He was still half-hard! Sensing his hesitation, Tyson reassured, “Max, you’re beautiful in every way! You don’t need to be shy around me.” When Max still hesitated, he laughed, “You want me to strip naked, too, don’t you?”

Max looked down at the floor, feeling the back of his neck grow hot. Was that what he wanted? He didn’t know. Maybe it was the head rush from being photographed or the confusion of kissing a guy for the first time but his mind was spinning and he was having trouble containing himself. He felt his normal inhibitions fading away. If he didn’t get himself under control soon, he was going to be in trouble. Who knew what he might do?

“You could have just asked,” Tyson teased, sauntering over and placing his fingers temptingly on the button of his jeans. “I could never say no to a pretty boy like you, Max.”

Max wanted to object to being called pretty but instead flushed a vivid red as Tyson unsnapped the buttons of his Levis, revealing a stylish and sheer pair of pink bikini underwear. His mouth went dry and his heart pounded as Tyson shimmied those skintight jeans down his narrow hips, over his full buttocks and down his burgeoning thighs, revealing the largest bulge Max had ever seen. The cock encased in the itty bitty bikini briefs was truly enormous, eclipsing even Lucas’ massive endowment. The flimsy fabric clung to it, revealing every thick vein and the prominent ridge of his glans. There was no doubt that Tyson was circumcised.

“You want to do the honors?”

Face burning an incandescent shade of red, Max nodded. Don’t do it! Don’t do it! a voice screamed in the back of his mind but he ignored it. He shuddered with the effort of suppressing his fraying heterosexuality and locked his gaze on Tyson’s huge cock. His pulse was racing. He’d never wanted anything so badly in his life!

Tyson’s mouth quirked and he thrust his enormous bulge enticingly outward, urging, “Well, go on! It’s all yours, pretty baby!”

And then it happened. The once proud and dominant and heterosexual Max was on his knees, bowing down before that beautiful cock. He lifted his head to meet Tyson’s eyes, making sure he hadn’t been mistaken, that the giant, pulsing organ raging in the tight confines of those tiny briefs really was for him. Tyson nodded, eyes dancing with amusement.

Max lifted his hands and grasped the delicate waistband. Time seemed to stop as the briefs slowly slid downward. First, Tyson’s generous carpet of brown pubes spilled out and then Max held his breath as the thick, veiny base of his cock came into view. When that huge piece sprang out, flinging a spray of pre over Max’s face and hair, he had to lean back to avoid being slapped by it. He gazed in stupefaction at that massive, dripping organ, unconsciously licking his lips.

Tyson’s cock was a work of art.

Perfectly symmetrical and pulsing with life, it thrust proudly outward while also bending slightly up toward the ceiling. It was a proud piece of manhood and Max instantly both desired it and was filled with envy. How come Tyson (and, to a lesser extent, Lucas) got to have such huge dicks and his was only nine inches? It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t–

“Stand up, Max.”

He forgot all about his envy as Tyson placed his big hands on his shoulders and lifted him. Soon, they were standing face to face with only Tyson’s pulsing organ between them.

“You are so pretty,” Tyson breathed, “but you would be even prettier if you lightened up a bit.”

Max flushed, stuttering, “P-P-Pretty? Wh-Why would I–” He stopped mid-sentence realizing how weak he sounded. Exercising great will, he puffed up and made his voice deeper and more commanding, stating, “I’m a total fuckin’ stud, man! I don’t wanna be pretty!” 

When Tyson merely laughed at this, Max took a breath to protest but then stopped, frozen, as his tattered boxers fell down around his ankles. Tyson had taken advantage of his distraction to remove his last article of clothing. Max looked down at himself in embarrassment when he saw his erection side by side Tyson’s giant one. Until that day, he’d been so confident that he was a member of the ‘big dick club’ but now he winced when he realized his thick, nine incher looked small compared to Tyson’s.

“Uh, uh,” Tyson tsked, catching Max’s hands when he tried to cover himself. “A ‘total fucking stud’ doesn’t hide, Max. If I can teach you anything today, it will be to see and appreciate your beauty the way I do.” Smiling down at him, he stepped behind him and turned him slowly around until he was facing himself in the full-length mirror across the room.

Max’s mouth fell open. “I look…different.”

“How so, pretty baby?” Tyson’s tone was light and deep at the same time.

Brows furrowing, Max studied his reflection. In many ways, he looked just like he had a moment ago. He was still tall and dark-skinned and muscly. Freed from the ballcap, his black, curly hair shone lustrously in the soft light of the dressing room. He blinked, though, when he took note of his nose and eyes. Why did he look so wide-eyed and innocent? And his nose…it was almost button-like. He grimaced, trying to recapture his usual ‘bad ass’ expression’ but it didn’t work. Even with a thick beard, he still just looked like a boy pretending to be more grown up than he was. 

He shook his head, trying to convince himself he was imagining things and lowered his eyes to take in the rest of his body.

When he saw his thighs, his brow furrowed in consternation. They looked bigger. Was it a trick of the mirror? He squinted, evaluating his body critically. He was still tall and lean but there was no mistaking those thighs. Rather than simply toned and muscular, they were also thick…distinctly heftier than minutes ago. He shook his head, deciding it was probably just the mirror. He knew some mirrors distorted– 

SPLAT!

Something warm and gloppy landed on his foot and he looked down in surprise. A big glob of precum had leaked out of the drooping folds of foreskin hanging over the head of his cock and was now coating his toes. He flushed as he felt his cock convulse, letting out another spurt.

“Here, pretty boy,” Tyson soothed, guiding him over to the stool in front of the desk and positioning the makeup mirror so Max could see himself. “Just sit here while I pick out your clothes for the next shoot.” 

Max sat down absently and, despite his best efforts, got lost in his reflection again. His brown eyes looked even bigger, almost doe-like. And his eyelashes were so long! He appeared to more of a dewy boy than a total stud. Thank god he had such a thick beard!

He barely noticed when Tyson hooked a hose ending in a suction sleeve onto his cock and then reached over to switch on the strange machine sitting nearby. Soon he was sighing at the delightful way the sleeve sucked away at his manhood, draining every last drop of his leaking pre into a receptacle jar at the end of the hose. I’m being milked! he thought absently. Like a fuckin’ cow!

Tyson rummaged around in the closet while the milking machine hummed and gradually sucked Max’s cock dry. Just as the suction began to hurt, Tyson reappeared at his shoulder and disconnected the tube from his shaft. “Here,” he said, holding out a set of clothes. “Put these on.”

Max arched his back as the suction released his member. His cock had softened and sagged between his legs, completely spent. He felt as if he’d cum multiple times even though he knew he hadn’t even had one good orgasm. 

Much later, he would wonder why the sheer unreality of his situation didn’t hit him sooner. Why didn’t he flee Tyson’s clutches as soon as the dude asked to kiss him. In the years that followed, Max had many opportunities to rue his stupidity but right then even having his cock milked by that strange machine didn’t seem out of the ordinary. It was almost as if he’d been drugged…

Tyson waved the clothes in front of Max’s face, bringing him back to the present moment. “I said put these on. Now.”

Max jumped at Tyson’s stern tone but it didn’t prevent him from objecting when he saw the outfit he was holding.  “I’m not wearing that,” he said flatly, pushing Tyson’s hand away. “Get me sumthin’ else. Sumthin’ manly.”

Tyson looked down at the silken pair of pink shorts, pink jockstrap, pink gym socks and pink tank top. “No, you will wear these.” 

This time, his tone was even more commanding and for some reason it had an instant effect on Max. He stood up and was already stepping into the jockstrap before he realized what he was doing. Freezing with the jock midway up his thighs, he complained, “I can’t wear these! They’re way too girly!”

Tyson glanced down at his own crotch. While Max was being milked, he’d donned his tiny pair of pink briefs again and his magnificent cock was filling the pouch to bursting. “Do you think these make me look girly, Max?”

Max looked away, reluctantly admitting, “No, but–”

“Then put ‘em on,” Tyson ordered, cutting him off. “I don’t have all day. My next appointment is in an hour.” He jammed the embarrassing clothes in Max’s hands and stalked off, waiting meaningfully at the door.

Max sat defiantly back down in the chair, hurt by Tyson’s sharp tone. It stung being ordered around like he was a little kid especially because, until that moment, Tyson had been so kind. Had he done something wrong? The last thing he wanted was to offend Tyson. He cast a wounded look over to him, eyes filled with pleading but Tyson merely jerked his head toward the door. 

He had no choice but to stand up and step into the hideous outfit. The pouch of the jock was so tiny that he had trouble stuffing his man-sized equipment inside and the silky shorts were too loose, the elastic waistband barely tight enough to keep them from slipping down his butt. The shirt was the opposite, being too tight. It clung to his body like a second skin…a second, very pink and girly skin. By the time he had pulled on the knee-length tube socks and stepped through the doorway back into the studio, he was burning with humiliation. The capstone to his embarrassment came when Tyson placed a bright pink, sequined ball cap on his head that read ‘BABY GRRL’ in bold letters.

He stood there, sulking, as Tyson closed the door behind him. The tables had definitely flipped while they were in the dressing room and Max’s dominance had disappeared; he was completely at Tyson’s whim. He kicked himself for allowing himself to be seduced by the man. In doing so, he relinquished all of his power and was now vulnerable in a way that was unfamiliar to him. He looked around and spotted the exit but, as tantalizingly close as his freedom was, he lacked the inner wherewithal to make his legs move toward it. He was trapped!

“I’m going to make a video of this next part,” Tyson announced, startling him out of his whirling thoughts.

Max looked up at him. “A video? Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Tyson replied before stalking off to retrieve a sophisticated and expensive-looking video camera.

Max was opening his mouth to question him when he felt it.

An inexplicable tightening of his shorts.

The sensation started at the top of his buttocks but quickly spread downward. Soon, his skin felt like it was stretching outward in order to accommodate…

“Fuck!” he moaned, reaching back to grasp at his butt. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

Tyson had set up the camera on a tripod and started recording him. “Just relax, pretty baby,” he soothed. “Relax and let it happen. You’re finally becoming who you were always meant to be.”

His words barely registered. Max was too busy frantically pulling at his shorts as he felt his butt cheeks swell and expand. Soon, they were pressing insistently against the back of the shiny, pink shorts that had been loose only moments ago. He wailed in confusion as he felt his ass plump up and out, the top two or three inches of his crack pushing over the top of the waistband. The silky material stretched thinner and thinner, growing more transparent.

Max had always been proud of his tight, little butt.

No longer.

He turned to look behind himself to find the impossible had happened: His formerly small, muscular butt was now full and ripe and fat. His giant, hairy cheeks jiggled noticeably with the slightest movement. And his thighs…

“HOLY FUCK!”

The expansion wasn’t restricted only to his butt; his thighs were likewise growing thicker and meatier. Soon, the pink shorts looked ridiculously tiny as they struggled to contain his growing lower body. He watched in horror as his formerly slim, shapely legs became husky and hulking. His monster quads weighed him down, hanging off of him like swollen saddlebags.

He gaped down at himself as Tyson continued filming, zooming in to capture every shift and change of his body. When the swelling finally ceased, he was left with a gravity-defying ass that wouldn’t quit, sticking full and proud behind him like a giant caboose. And his thighs were nearly as big, standing out from his sides and making his legs look short and stocky.

He lifted his head and fixed Tyson with a baleful look, whining, “Wh-Wh-What did you do to meeee?”

Tyson shook his head, refusing to answer. Instead, he ordered, “Show us what’s inside your shorts, pretty baby.”

“I’m not a pretty baby,” Max whined, lower lip trembling, but nonetheless did as he was told. With shaking hands, he lowered his fingers to the waistband of his tiny, tight shorts and stared helplessly back at Tyson.

“Go on. Bend over and show us your new bubble butt, baby.”

Max winced but nonetheless turned and bent over obediently, presenting his greatly swollen backside to the camera. He chewed his lower lip as he peeled the shorts down his mountainous bubbles, feeling the cool air caress more of him than he’d ever had back there. He whimpered silently as he realized his ass was so big now that everyone would stare at it when he was out in public. How could he ever show his face at the basketball court again looking like this? Fuck, how would he even play basketball with an ass and thighs this big? He blinked back hot tears when he realized his days as a hot jock were over unless he figured out some way to reverse the horrible curse Tyson had placed on him.

“Stand up and turn around, pretty baby. Show us your dickie.”

Max sobbed and straightened, unable to resist Tyson. Hanging his head, he turned toward the camera and pushed the shorts down his hulking thighs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his huge cock and balls were still there, filling the pouch of the pink jockstrap to capacity. For a moment, he’d been afraid that something was wrong with them because they were throbbing with a strange sort of heat.

“The jockstrap,” Tyson commanded. “Take it off.”

He raised his head and stared beseechingly at Tyson, feeling humiliated and exposed in front of the camera, the camera that was capturing everything about this horrible experience. Tyson nodded coldly and Max sighed, tugging down the elastic of the jockstrap until his big, hard cock and floppy balls sprang out. He had no idea why he was so turned on. There was nothing erotic or fun about anything that was happening to him!

“What’s going on with your pubic hair, baby?”

“Nuthin’, it’s–JESUS CHRIST!!!”

Max stared in horror as his dense thicket of jet-black pubes trembled and then turned to dust before his eyes, sifting down to the floor at his feet and billowing away in the slight breeze of the room’s ventilation fan. One second, he had a thick, manly bush and the next his cock and balls were completely devoid of any trace of hair. Even worse, when he reached down in a desperate attempt to hold onto the last vestiges of his pubes, the rest of the hair on his body drifted away as well. The hair on his arms and legs and–a terrified check beneath his shirt confirmed it–his chest wafted down, leaving his soft, mocha-colored skin completely smooth.

“WHAT–???”

He couldn’t believe it. Where had his manly body hair gone? And what about–?

“NOOOOO!!!!”

Panicked, he threw his hands up to his face…just in time to feel his beard disintegrate. It trickled through his fingers like black dust. When it was gone, his cheeks were bare for the first time in years. He was smooth-faced as a prepubescent boy!

Tyson nodded with satisfaction. “Much better, pretty baby. And so sexy!”

Max held his face in his hands, feeling anything but sexy. He sobbed openly, hating his body now that his ass was so huge and he was completely hairless except for the curls on his head. He stood there, shaking and blinking back tears until a sudden, stabbing pain in his crotch brought him back to himself.

“FUCK!!” he yelled, grabbing his erection and doubling over in pain. “HELP ME!!!”

“It’ll be over in a second,” Tyson murmured, still recording. “All over.”

Max shuddered as his hands clasped his denuded cock and balls. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the feeling of bare skin that had been covered in hair as long as he could remember. He’d had woolly pubes since age eleven, nearly half of his life! He grimaced with distaste as his fingers touched his completely smooth ball sac.

The next spasm came and he forgot all about being hairless. He cried out, knees buckling as he fell to the floor, whimpering in pain.

And then the impossible happened.

He felt his hard cock pulse and contract in his grip. Eyes rolling back in his head, he screamed in both pain and confusion. When the spasm subsided, he was left gasping for air.

No!

No!

NO!!!

His cock was smaller!

How was that possible?!

He forced himself to uncurl from the tight ball he’d contorted himself into and lifted his hands away from his crotch. The pink shorts and jock were around his knees and, now that his crotch was free of pubic hair, there was no doubt he nine-incher was now closer to six. He furrowed his brow, reaching down to grab his shaft. It was hard as ever. But how–?

Chewing his lower lip, he looked up from the floor at Tyson. The young guy had the camera still trained on him, capturing everything. The crotch of his bikini briefs was tented obscenely and there was a spreading wet spot where the giant head of his cock was pressed against the sheer fabric. He smirked down at Max, licking his lips and giving him a salacious wink.

“Ungh! So fuckable,” he murmured in that deep voice that still sent shivers down Max’s spine even in his current state. “You’re such a pretty baby, Maxey!”

“No, I’m not–AAAARGH!” Max convulsed as another contraction passed over his crotch. He howled in pain and rage as his erection shrank yet again, reducing to the length and width of his pinkie finger.

Three inches.

His once man-sized cock was now only three, slim inches.

He sobbed loudly, frantically pulling on his member in the ineffectual attempt to make it longer. It didn’t work. If anything, it felt even shorter than before. He moaned in defeat, unable to stop from checking himself out.

His cock was barely boy-sized, maybe two and half inches if he was lucky.

He winced as he felt an unfamiliar tug and looked down in disbelief as his foreskin retracted, exposing the much tinier knob of his glans.

“My ‘skin is gone! I’m circumcised!” he exclaimed. “What–?”

“Your little dickie is much cuter this way,” Tyson reassured. “But it’s still too big. You need to have a properly useless cocklet if you’re going to be my pretty baby.”

Max glared up at Tyson, hating him with a vengeance. All illusions he’d harbored of the young guy’s benevolence evaporated, leaving him adrift in a sea of rage, self-loathing and despair. He looked down at himself, stomach churning with revulsion. He was ridiculous! His mountainous thighs were splayed out, making his shrunken cock appear even smaller. He could feel his huge butt cheeks sagging behind him, dragging his whole body downward and forcing him to arch his back like a pin-up boy. And with no body hair anywhere…

He was a freak.

A short-dicked freak.

As unwelcome as the thought was, he couldn’t deny that Tyson was right about one thing: He was becoming an obscene caricature of a femmy boy. His smooth, soft lower body, thick thighs and tiny nublet were distinctly girly. He stared down at himself, wanting to die of humiliation. He’d been a jacked stud with a huge cock! A jock who looked down on every other guy as a lesser being. He was a god! He was…

He was nothing.

Somehow, Tyson had managed to rip everything he held dear about himself away. Leaving him a laughable freak. He was finished!

Well, maybe not quite.

A movement caught his attention and looked up to see his reflection in the mirror across the room. He stared at himself, mind coldly ticking through the embarrassing changes that his body had gone through. It was bad, he concluded. But it could be worse.

He tugged the obscenely tight t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, examining his upper body critically. Above the waist, he was still basically the same, apart from his lack of chest and facial hair and his boyish features.

He was still ripped, his big pecs standing out proudly from his broad chest.

If anything, his upper body looked even more impressive without hair. He squinted, feeling a bit of his masculine pride return. There wasn’t a trace of fat anywhere above his navel.

He still had a strong jaw and definite chin.

His beefy arms still bulged with muscles.

If he could somehow manage to free himself and walk out of there, he might be able to salvage something of his former life as a top stud. He could start an exercise regimen to shrink his thighs and butt, resorting to surgery if necessary. Liposuction? And there must be hormones he could take to make his body hair grow back. He sighed when he looked at his tiny erection, barely two inches now and no bigger around than a pencil.

At least he still had his big balls.

They hung down heavy and full in his hairless sac. Like his chest, he had to admit that they looked pretty impressive now that they weren’t covered by hair. He rationalized that, while having a sizable pair of low-hangers didn’t exactly make up for losing his cock size, once he stuffed them into the pouch of his underwear, he’d still have a big bulge. None of the guys on the basketball court would know he had a tiny boy dick lurking inside his shorts. Big balls were good. Not as good as a big dick but good nonetheless.

Surely, there was some medical procedure for enlarging his cock? He thought he’d read about something once. It was the age of medical breakthroughs, after all. The doctors could work miracles these days. If Tyson had been able to shrink his dick, there must be a way to make it grow back, right?

Gathering his resolve, he pushed aside his humiliation. He would worry about what to do about his shrunken dick later. Right now, he had to focus on getting out of there. Squaring his shoulders, he looked up at Tyson and stated, “I am leaving.”

Tyson stood back and motioned toward the exit. “Go right ahead. You are free to go anytime. Nikki will pay you on the way out.”

Heart clenching as he felt his giant ass jiggle and sway behind him, Max pushed himself up off the floor and tugged the pink jock back over his denuded and shrunken package. Wrapping the last tatters of his dignity around him, he pulled the ridiculous shorts over his mountainous buttocks and started toward the door. His cheeks burned bright red as he realized his big butt and thighs forced him to walk with a distinct swish. No matter how much he tried to stride forth like a real man, his hips betrayed him. He couldn’t help it; he was sashaying!

Tyson watched him swish away silently, waiting until he got to the door before saying, “Of course, if you leave now, you’ll never get to ride this.”

Max froze. His heart started racing as he willed himself not to turn and look back. His hand was already on the door handle. All he had to do was pull it, step through the doorway and he would be free…

He turned back.

Tyson’s had pulled his enormously swollen erection out of his bikini briefs and was waving it seductively at him. As he stared, Tyson lowered his chin and spit. Max watched with rapt attention as a thick wad of saliva dripped out of those magnificent lips, descending slowly on an ever-attenuating thread until…SPLAT! It landed squarely on that huge, pulsing member. Tyson winked at him before reaching down and massaging the spit onto his shaft, not stopping until it was glistening in the bright lights of the studio.

Max’s resolve faltered.

He swallowed, realizing he was salivating.

Alarms were going off in his head but he ignored them. He didn’t know or care why he wanted that cock so badly. All he knew was that he desired it–and Tyson–more than anything else.

“Surrender to me, pretty baby,” Tyson called out, motioning with one hand as his other stroked his raging stallion. “Give me everything and I’ll give you everything. Let me remake you. Let me take you. All of you.”

His deep voice was a siren song to Max’s ears. His palms grew sweaty and his knees went weak. How could he resist? How could he turn away from the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be with such a beautiful specimen of manhood? He began quivering with excitement when he realized any price was worth it. He would sacrifice everything about himself just to be with Tyson.

His hand fell away from the door handle and he turned, swishing across the room toward Tyson. This time, he didn’t try to keep his hips from swaying and his buttocks from jiggling. This time, he luxuriated in the heft and immensity of his big, beautiful buttocks. He exaggerated the motion, rolling his hips and making his thighs and butt dance for Tyson. Dance for the Tyson and his stupendously huge, dripping cock.

Tyson’s grin deepened into a hungry leer as Max neared and he stepped away from the camera, holding out his big hand. Max lifted his smaller hand and took it. And then Tyson had him. Tyson’s strong arms were wrapped protectively around him and his big fingers were kneading Max’s swollen booty even and his enormous schlong was jutting into his belly. Tyson’s body smelled strongly of musk; it was a glorious aroma that went straight to Max’s head and made him drunk with desire. He didn’t even notice that Tyson now towered over him, that more than just his dick had shrunk and now he stood barely five and half feet tall. No, all he cared about was that he was the sole possession of the sexiest man in the world and he would do whatever Tyson asked of him.

He belonged to Tyson.

***

Chapter 3

“Lick it, pretty baby. Lick my cock.”

Max was on his knees, gazing up at Tyson’s giant, leaking member worshipfully. Even though sucking dick was anathema to everything he stood for and he knew that he would lose all pretense of heterosexuality once he obeyed, that long, fat cock was his entire world and his mouth watered with eagerness to taste it. He ignored the voice screaming inside his head and sat up on his haunches, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Then he leaned forward, sitting up until…

“Yummy!”

His tongue caressed the enormous cock, so hot and rigid and slick with spit. The taste of Tyson’s man spunk was an elixir. A balm. A delicious ambrosia. He giggled, repeating, “Yummy!” and then stopped in surprise at the sound of his voice. He sounded so shrill!

“That’s it, Maxie,” Tyson praised. “Lick my big man-cock.”

Something of the old Max reared up at these words. He objected strenuously to Tyson’s paternalistic tone and opened his mouth to shout back with fury. He refused to allow Tyson to treat him like this. He wasn’t a cocksucker! He wasn’t an effeminate girly boy! He had his pride! He would make Tyson regret ever treating him like this! The problem was that his words changed before he uttered them. Rather than roaring, ‘Go fuck yourself!’ like he so badly wanted, he giggled, cooing, “Wuvs it! I wuvs daddy’s big cock!”

He closed his mouth with a snap, wanting to vomit. What the fuck was wrong with his tongue? Why couldn’t he say what he wanted to? He opened his mouth again, putting all of his will into telling Tyson just what he could do with himself but only succeeded in tittering like a little bird.

Tyson looked down at him, aiming his huge tool into Max’s mouth until he choked on it. Max tried to resist but in the end had no choice but to open wide and swallow that giant, dripping cock. He wanted to bite down on it, spit it out, gag but instead found himself sucking it with abandon, eyes rolling back in his head as he swallowed more and more of the man’s pungent spunk. Tyson produced a prodigious amount of precum and soon Max’s throat was coated with it.

The more he sucked and the more he swallowed that potent pre, the less he was able to resist. He felt his old identity as a macho stud draw away, fading in the background of his psyche as a new identity took its place. Instead of being tough and independent and cocky, he became soft, subservient and man-pleasing. All he could think about was making Tyson happy. He lived to hear the man praise him. Without Tyson’s big man cock, he was useless. His only value came from being used and abused by the muscular stud.

“That’s it. Let go. Let yourself go. You’re nothing without me,” Tyson breathed, throwing his head back and moaning as Max sucked harder. He finally erupted in a violent climax, clutching Max’s head in his hands and forcing the full length of his pulsing shaft down his throat. Max’s stomach filled with his gushing seed and he felt his body contort and shift. It was almost as if the mere taste of that salty cum was enough to remake him from the inside out. By the time he pulled back and swallowed the last of the pungent spew, he could tell his throat, mouth and belly had been altered. He was form-fitted to that giant cock.

He had been remade into Tyson’s personal fucktoy.

***

Back in the dressing room, he eagerly accepted when Tyson offered him more of the delicious, effervescent water. He plopped down onto the chair in front of the makeup mirror and took a delicate sip before tipping the can back and swallowing the contents. His head was spinning and his body felt off balance. His new, wide and plump bottom spread out beneath him like an immense cushion. Nothing felt real any longer. He closed his eyes and reopened them, bracing slightly when Tyson fitted a little sleeve around his cock and turned the milking machine back on.

“I had to use the smallest suction,” he commented, looking down at what was left of Max’s insignificant manhood. “It’s barely more than a button now.”

Max followed his gaze and flinched. It was true; his proud, man-sized cock had disappeared and only a tiny nub was left in its place, all but enveloped by the suction cup of the milker. Even his balls looked smaller. He reached down and cupped them, wincing as he felt them contract and shrink in his fingers, going from a hefty pair of golf balls down to the size of marbles. Another contraction and they were barely the size of cherry pits. His ball sac deflated, drawing up smooth and tight against his dicklet. Bye bye, balls!

So much for having a swinging pair.

The ghost of his old self manifested then, fighting its way valiantly forward in his mind. It couldn’t stand what it was forced to witness and tried one last time to assert itself and break free of Tyson’s grip. He looked up at the man with what he hoped was fire in his eyes but in reality was nothing more than a vacant pleading.

He opened his mouth to yell but all that came out was, “More, daddy! I needs more of the fizzy-wizzy water!”

Tyson smirked and handed him another can. “Drink all you want, pretty baby. I need you full of it for the next shoot.”

The old Max fought a losing battle to throw the can of water away and instead ended up downing it quickly and asking for another. He didn’t stop until he’d drunk eight more. When he was finished, he sagged back in the chair defeated. He had a sinking feeling about what was coming next and now there was nothing he could do to stop it. Tyson had won. He had him completely under his power.

“That’s right, Maxie,” Tyson murmured, intuiting his thoughts. “You’ve lost. You should never have come here but you couldn’t resist, could you? There are hundreds of guys like you. Maybe thousands. They always come. Not one has been able to say no to me.”

The hum of the milking machine was a soporific whir in the background, lulling the vestiges of his old self to sleep. Soon, it was just the new, compliant Maxie sitting contentedly beside the towering hunk of a photographer. He sighed, batting his eyelashes adoringly up at Tyson and giggling when he received an affectionate pat on the cheek in return.

“The best part is that part of you will always know what you’ve lost, always struggle to resist, but always fail miserably,” Tyson goaded, stroking Max’s curly hair before bending down to replace the full canister on the milking machine with an empty one. “Here, have another can before we go back out. We still have a few minutes before it kicks in.”

Max accepted the beverage and drank it down without reservation. His mind had turned off and he was just Tyson’s obedient little baby.

***

“Owie! That hurt!”

Behind him, Tyson laughed, slapping his ass and making Maxie jump. “Perfect tattoo for a perfect little slut,” he growled. Maxie watched their reflection in the makeup mirror as Tyson crossed his arms and read aloud, “‘Daddy’s Piggy Slut.’ I like it. The new tattoo is your new identity, pretty baby!”

Outwardly, Maxie beamed with pride but inwardly he was seething with rage. Tyson had permanently etched the small of his back with the biggest, boldest and pinkest tramp stamp tattoo. He could feel his skin burning back there, unable to believe it had happened so quickly. What had Tyson used? A decal with acidic ink?

He didn’t have time to worry about it because Tyson was already leaning over him and piercing his ear lobes with pink diamond-studded earrings. The pain was sharp but it dissipated quickly. Soon Maxie was turning his head to gape at the long, dangly rings bumping against his neck. While he gawked at himself, Tyson applied pink eye shadow and glossed his mysteriously fuller and more sensuous lips with pink lipstick. He finished by placing the sequined ‘BABY GRRL’ cap askew on his head, stepping back and nodding with satisfaction.

“You’re almost complete, Maxie,” he rumbled, grinning broadly. “We need to get you back out there so I can record your final transformation.” He took him by the arm and lifted him from the chair, detaching the milking sleeve and handing him a flimsy piece of pink fabric. When Maxie stared askance at the lacey thong, Tyson ordered, “Put on your panties, Maxie. Better get used to wearing them because you can’t wear real men’s underwear anymore. You don’t have anything to fill up the pouch!” He laughed harshly and Maxie giggled even though he was privately screaming inside.

He bent over and stepped into the thong, pulling it up his huge, smooth thighs and guiding it over the massive globes of his ass. The string pulled up his ass crack and he shivered as it caressed his tight little hole. When he turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror, Tyson was brandishing the piercing gun again. Before Maxie would react, the big man had grabbed one of his nipples and pierced it with a glittery hoop. He cried out but Tyson was already piercing his other nipple. Maxie cupped his aching pecs and stared up reproachfully. Tyson merely laughed when he tried to back away, swooping down and deftly piercing his navel with a long strand of pink rhinestones. It pointed like an arrow down at his nonexistent bulge, advertising to the world what he lacked down there. Maxie thrust out his lower lip in a pout.

“Oh, stop,” Tyson admonished when he saw Maxie’s expression. “They’ll heal in a few minutes,” He replaced the piercing gun on a nearby shelf, adding, “You should be happy. I just gave you titty rings to match your earrings!”

Tyson was right on both counts, the nipple rings did match his earrings and the pain was already abating. Maxey dropped his hands and gaped at his reflection in the mirror. There was almost no trace of the former towering, jacked stud from an hour ago. In his place was a little, meek girly boy with wide eyes and full, pink lips. His thighs bulged out from his sides, accentuating the absence of a bulge in his sheer, lacey thong. The earrings, nipple rings and rhinestones adorning his belly button flashed in the light of the dressing room, casting pink rainbows over his neck, chest and crotch. 

Maxie squinted, struggling to come to terms with how he had changed. The only traces of his former, godlike physique were his muscular chest and arms and his flat, striated belly. A strange queasiness in his stomach, however, made him reach down and rub his tummy. He quailed when he remembered how many cans of the sparkling water he’d swallowed. He should have known not to touch the stuff after the last time! What was going to happen to him now? His stomach grumbled ominously as if presaging the answer.

“Ah, I see it’s time to get you out there again,” Tyson said, steering him by the elbow toward the door. “Don’t worry! You’re almost finished. Here, put this on.” 

He held out a frilly pink tank top that looked like it was three sizes too small. Worse, there was a grinning pink piggy emoji emblazoned on the front. Maxie wanted to throw it back at Tyson but instead accepted it and obediently tried it on. The tiny shirt was so tight and short it exposed his midriff and the dangling strand of fake gems. He couldn’t believe what he was wearing! The old Max was exploding with impotent fury in the far off recesses of his mind; outwardly, though, the new, girly Maxie giggled and followed Tyson out of the room.

***

This time, Tyson stripped naked before him, displaying his gigantic member openly. He was incredibly turned on and seeing that huge, dripping cock made Maxie forget about his tummy ache…for a moment. A sudden twinge brought him back to himself, though, and he wrapped his arms about his belly, crying out in pain.

“Just let it happen,” Tyson soothed, setting up the camera on a tripod and aiming it at Maxie. After pressing record, he padded over to him, his long tool bobbing up and down before him. He came to halt behind him and placed his big hands on his shoulders, breathing, “You’re almost ready for me, pretty baby!”

Tyson’s magnificently fat cock brushed against his bare ass and Maxie whimpered both with fear and desire. He opened his mouth to speak but then felt the most curious and ominous sensation in his belly: It moved. His stomach pressed against his fingers. He clutched at it and then let out a querulous wail when he felt the ridges of his striated abs fill in and soften. Another gurgle and his stomach bloated, pushing outward as his abs were subsumed by more padding. In a few seconds, he could barely feel the ridges and valleys of his washboard abs. And in a few more, his fingers sank into a distinct layer of doughy paunch. His face drained of color leaving only the pink highlights of his makeup as he understood too late that Tyson was taking away the last vestiges of his jock identity: He was growing a big belly!

“Soft, fat and sexy!” Tyson said, reaching down to take Maxie’s growing tummy in his big hands. “And the best part is you’ll never be thin again. This ‘fat’ is really a synthetic adipose tissue that your cells are absorbing. It will become an indelible part of you for the rest of your life.”

Inside his head, the old, macho Max rose up once again, shouting imprecations at Tyson and willing himself to pummel the shit out of the asshole. But it was too late and this old identity was too weak. The only hint of his inner fury was a single tear sliding down Maxie’s soft, round cheek.

Maxie cradled his belly, unwillingly entranced by his reflection in the full-length mirror before him. He could see Tyson, naked and godlike behind him, a triumphant smile on his beautiful, masculine face. His own face was barely recognizable now that he lacked a beard and especially now that his eyes, nose, and mouth were so delicate. (The pink makeup didn’t help, either.) His curly, black hair peeked out from under the brim of his sequined cap and his dangly earrings glittered against his neck. His lips formed a sad and seductive moue as his belly bloated more and more, pushing ever outward in a greatly expanding spare tire. 

Soon, it was too big for the tight, pink tank top and the shirt peeled upward, revealing a perfectly smooth, round balloon of fat. There was a loud ‘POP!’ when his bellybutton let loose, thrusting out like a cork from a jug of lard. Maxie looked down at his navel piercing, realizing the strand of rhinestones no longer pointed down at his nonexistent bulge but dangled over the hemisphere of his beachball-sized belly.

He couldn’t see his crotch anymore.

His growing belly had eclipsed it.

Sadly (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), Maxie would never see his crotch again except when he stood before a mirror, which wasn’t very often. No, his days of staring admiringly at his studly reflection were over. Any pride he’d taken in his body was being rapidly obliterated.

His expanding belly had taken over his attention so completely that he didn’t notice his arms shrinking, the muscles pulling in on themselves and evaporating, leaving only soft skin in their place. His shoulders narrowed and grew birdlike, matching his decidedly delicate upper arms. His hands and fingers became dainty, small and untouched by callouses. Even his huge feet narrowed and shortened. His toes turned into little stubs, tiny and fragile and pretty.

“You can paint your nails when we’re done,” Tyson offered, mouth quirking into a hint of a sneer as he took in Maxie’s diminished and decidedly feminine toes and fingers. “Pink, of course. From now on, you will only wear pink.”

Maxie sighed, forcing his attention away from his giant belly and lifting a tiny hand in front of his face. He wiggled his little fingers, mind unable to conceive how this had happened to him. He dropped his hand and gaped at the mirror. He was both tiny and enormous. Tiny in stature but enormous in front and in back. His belly jutted out before him, defying gravity in the much the same way his giant buttocks did. He could feel his knees buckling under the weight of his butt and belly and realized it was a good thing his thighs were so hefty or he’d never be able to walk. His legs narrowed quickly down to incongruously delicate feet, complemented by the way his shoulders and arms narrowed above his protruding stomach. His head sat perched on his slender neck, wide, brown eyes blinking with vapid innocence. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he pursed his big, pink lips and shrilled with laughter.

“I know, pretty baby,” Tyson murmured, reaching down to knead his swollen, smooth butt cheeks. “You are funny to look at. A caricature, really.” He paused to lower his lips down to Maxie’s neck, whispering, “And a very sexy one at that.”

Maxie inhaled with surprise when Tyson pushed him forward, forcing him to bend over and display his giant, spreading buttocks. He tittered with nervousness when he felt the man grab his massive cheeks and force them apart. Tyson made him wait like that, bent over and feeling the cool air caress his butthole while the camera recorded the whole event. Maxie’s cheeks grew rosy and he had to put out his hands to catch himself on the floor. His breathing grew labored.

Tyson lowered himself down to his knees behind him and traced a finger down the length of the pink thong, pulling the string aside. “Are you ready, pretty baby? Your hole is that last part of you to go. Once I’m done with you, your boy pussy will be permanently wrecked.”

“Yes!” Maxie squeaked even as the old Max hollered in humiliation and defeat. “Oh, yes! Take me, Daddy! Fuck my witty-bitty pussy!”

Tyson laughed. “Oh, I will but first I want to taste it.”

With that, he lowered his face into the cavernous cleft of Maxie’s cheeks. Maxie held his breath with excitement, letting out a joyful shriek when the big stud’s tongue finally scored his delicate pucker.

Tyson was a master at anal play and quickly overwhelmed him with ever-increasing cascade of pleasure. His tongue danced around, over and inside Maxie’s tiny hole. Only after Maxie had collapsed onto his elbows, writhing in ecstasy beneath him, did Tyson pull back and tease a fingertip inside him.

“We’re going to need lots of lube,” he pronounced and soon Maxie was bracing as a cool trickle of lotion smothered his eagerly waiting hole. He cooed as Tyson’s big, strong hand smoothed the lube liberally over his backside, coating his hole, cleft and both buttocks until they glistened. Then Tyson emptied the rest of the bottle onto his massive schlong, cozying up behind Maxie until just the blunt tip of his man-sized masterpiece was resting against his little boy bud.

“You ready, pretty baby?” he asked, slapping his flabby buttocks to accent the question. Maxie squealed and Tyson snorted, “That’s right. Squeal like a piggy! You’re my fat, little piggy!”

Maxie lowered his face to the ground, sagging with defeat even as he felt his hole clenching and unclenching, pleading with Tyson to fuck him. His new, huge belly squished out beneath him like a partially-deflated beach ball, absorbing Tyson’s weight as he bore down upon him. Behind him, his overly-full butt cheeks gave away, squashing outward beneath Tyson hard, tight body.

And Tyson’s cock…

Tyson’s cockhead was poised on the prize of Maxie’s virginity. Once again, the old Max exerted herculean will to force his body to flee. The outrage and indignity of having his butthole taken by another guy was untenable to him. And for a time it seemed like he might succeed in salvaging the last vestige of his heterosexuality. But then Tyson pulled back and rammed forward, thrusting his giant cock deep inside Maxie’s tender, virgin hole. He put all of his weight into the savage thrust, driving his sword up to the hilt.

Maxie screamed in agony and bliss, feeling like he was being split down the middle by that huge, blunt instrument. His insides parted and did the seemingly impossible: Took Tyson’s battering ram all the way in. He could have sworn that he could feel that cock bury itself so deeply inside him that it was pressing against the wall of his newly expanded gut. In a way, he realized, it was a good thing that his belly was so big; if Tyson had fucked him like this when he was thin, he would have been skewered.

Tyson was not kind or gentle. He pounded away against Maxie’s hole, oblivious to anything but extracting his selfish pleasure from Maxie’s ridiculously enhanced body. He didn’t stimulate his little cock-button or concern himself in the least with his arousal. Maxie’s body was only an object to use and abuse. A piggy slut. A fuck toy. A fuck hole. That was all.

The worst part wasn’t that the old Max was forced to bear witness to this ultimate degradation. No, the worst part was that he was forced to act it out. Over and over and over and over. Unable to resist or stop himself.

Further, he was forced to live with the knowledge that the new Maxie reveled in being debased. He wanted Tyson to destroy him. Ruin him. Brutalize him and leave him gasping for air, covered in the slime of sweat and sex and other less pleasant secretions. Used and disposed of like a heap of trash never to be touched again.

This was his new life.

This was who he was now.

***

Tyson watched Maxie go, mincing away with his giant buttocks swaying salaciously behind him. The bright pink thong clung to the rounded contours of his mutantly huge ass cheeks, accentuating them like a prurient whale tale. The slutty tramp stamp glowed like a neon sign, advertising Maxie’s sluttiness. To heighten his humiliation, Tyson had forced Maxie to don a pair of pink, semi-transparent chiffon shorts, ensuring that he would be exposed to the ridicule and amusement of everyone who passed by him on the street.

Maxie exited the photography studio to find Nikki waiting for him with a mixture of contempt and pity. 

“He really did it to you, didn’t he?” the little receptionist commented as he handed over an envelope with the promised payment. 

Two thousand dollars had seemed like a lot of money an hour ago but now it could scarcely be considered adequate remuneration for what had been stolen from him. But a deal was a deal and the contract he’d signed was inviolable. 

Maxie’s narrow shoulders fell as he reached out to take the proffered envelope. He opened his little mouth to curse but all that came out was a high-pitched titter.

Nikki smiled coldly before folding his arms and jerking his head toward the door. “Your buddy, Lucas, is waiting for you outside. I suspect yer gonna need him more than ever now.”

Maxie pursed his succulent lips and nodded, sashaying toward the exit even as he felt like his knees were going to buckle beneath him. Inside, he was screaming out in horror and revulsion but he was completely unable to express anything other than a vapid nonchalance. 

When he opened the door and saw the aged, bald and bloated Lucas staring at him with a gap-toothed grin, he wanted to run and hide. Instead, he threw his slender arms open and squealed, “Come to me, daddy! Yer wittle piggy slut needs you!”

***

Epilogue

Tyson was standing in the spray of the shower, staring at his shaking hands, when Alexei Bortnikove entered the dressing room. He didn’t look up when the refined yet studly Russian stripped out of his fine, old-fashioned grey suit and set aside his porkpie hat, joining him in the shower a few moments later. Only when Alexei pressed his magnificent, hard body against him and thrust his equally magnificent hard cock into the cleft of his buttocks did Tyson move. He leaned back into the older man’s embrace and allowed Alexei to enter him with the wide, blunt head of his uncircumcised cock.

“Ah, Rachid,” Alexei breathed in Russian, gently working his pulsing cock deeper inside him. “You did well. Very well.”

Tyson smiled faintly at the use of his old Chechen name. It seemed like it belonged to someone else from several lifetimes ago. In a way, he thought, it did. He bore no resemblance to the grizzled freedom fighter from twenty years ago. No, no resemblance whatsoever, thanks to Alexei Bortnikov. The Russian agent had rescued him from certain torture and death when Chechnya fell to forces loyal to the Kremlin. 

For reasons Tyson had still never figured out, Alexei had intervened and saved his life, shipping him secretly off to a new life, new identity and new body in the United States. When Rachid had awakened after his long voyage, he didn’t recognize himself. Rather than a paunchy, fifty-five-year-old man with greying black hair, he was a sun-touched god of youth and virility, the essence of a California surfer dude with the looks of a top model. He thought it was a joke.

But nothing that Alexei did was a joking matter.

Tyson had soon learned that the Russian played a long game, never revealing more than the barest details of his plans and activities. One thing, however, had been clear from the start: Tyson was now working for the Russian government, the same government he’d struggled for years to fend off from his homeland. At first he’d rebelled but Alexei…well, let’s just say that the powerful Russian had ways of bending you to his will. No one held out for long against the man.

Alexei kissed the back of his neck and Tyson shivered. The Russian’s huge cock throbbed inside him, pushing deeper. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved this man–an agent of the hated FSB!–with a passion that only grew stronger with time. He realized he would do anything for him. Anything without question. In fact, he already had. His shaking hands were evidence of that. He still couldn’t believe what he’d done to Max.

“You…you picked him out on purpose, didn’t you? You knew he would remind me of…him.”

He expected Alexei to deny it but instead he admitted, “Yes. I chose Max because he looked like the man who killed your Emin.”

Tyson stiffened and not just because Alexei’s cock was now firmly lodged against his prostate. “I…I couldn’t stop myself. I…destroyed him. I wanted to…do even worse things to him but I kept seeing Emin’s face. I knew he would not approve.”

“Not destroyed. You mean you remade him,” Alexei corrected, teasing him with playful thrusts. “You gave him a new life.” When Tyson didn’t reply, he added, “You know me, Rachid. I wouldn’t have sent you someone who looked like the man who tortured and murdered your lover without good reason. I needed you to be brutal with him. I needed you to strip him of everything because I needed his essence for someone else.”

Tyson hung his head even as he moved his generous, full buttocks against Alexei, inviting him to fuck him deeper. Alexei obliged and for a time the two men were lost in a dance of pleasure and pain that they never grew tired of. Only when Alexei had forced him down onto his knees and taken his throat in his hands, driving his massively fat and long member further inside than ever before and erupting in a messy and intense orgasm, did they relent. Tyson sagged back against Alexei, careful to keep the older man’s erection buried inside his hole. Alexei nibbled his ear affectionately. The warm spray of the shower caressed them like a lover’s tongue.

He stirred finally, asking, “Who are you going to feed Max’s essence to? Another one of your damned FSB agents? Someone to infiltrate and destabilize the American democracy?”

Alexei laughed. “What? No! The Americans are doing a good enough job of that themselves! No, I have someone even more important. Someone who needs to start over much like you did all those years ago.”

“Who?” Tyson turned to look at the man who had just fucked him to within an inch of his life. Alexei was watching him with those deceptively soft, amber eyes. Amber eyes that concealed the mind of a ruthless predator. Somehow, this lurking menace only made him more attractive. He really was a handsome man!

The amber eyes lit up as Alexei smiled, inviting, “Let me show you.”

***

Two glass caskets filled with bluish liquid sat in the middle of the dressing room floor when they emerged from the shower. Tyson gave Alexei a questioning look before stepping up to examine them. He backed away, though, when he saw what was contained within.

“They’re…alive?” he gasped. Guts churning with bile, he sank to the floor. He would have thrown up if there had been any food in his stomach.

“Barely,” Alexei answered sadly. “I was nearly too late.”

“Who are they?” Tyson closed his eyes, unable to get the horrific image of those mutilated bodies out of his head.

“Friends. They are friends,” came the Russian’s cryptic reply. Unphased by the grisly scene, he paced over to the caskets and looked fondly down at the remains of the two men floating inside. “This one,” he said, indicating the casket on the left, “is Zelim Bakaev, one of your countrymen.”

Tyson sat up straight on the floor, searching Alexei’s face. “The Chechen singer? But he disappeared years ago!” It took everything he had but he forced himself to his feet and made himself look down at the hideously disfigured young man lying in repose. Zelim’s formerly handsome face was scarcely recognizable. Tyson brushed tears out of his eyes. He couldn’t help but see Emin’s similarly disfigured face flash before his eyes. “How could they do this to him?”

Alexei shrugged. “How do we do what we do, my friend? We’re all just animals when you come down to it.”

“I am NOT like them! I am NOT an animal!”

“Yes, you are, Rachid,” Alexei murmured, stepping closer and cupping his cheek in his hand. “It is why I love you so much.”

Tyson clenched his jaw. Changing the subject because he knew there was no winning an argument with Alexei, he jerked his chin toward the casket on the right. “And this one. Who is he?”

“Kasymberdy Garayev, a gay activist from Turkmenistan. He disappeared after coming out in an interview with Radio Free Europe.” Alexei placed his hand on Kasym’s casket, staring down at the young man’s tortured body. “He was very brave.”

“They castrated him,” Tyson gasped before turning away from the casket. “They tore his balls off!”

Alexei nodded. “Yes, sloppy work, really. Things have really gone downhill in the old Soviet republics since the 1990’s. Personally, I prefer to use my victim’s bodies against them, rather than ripping them apart.”

Tyson ignored this comment. If he allowed himself to contemplate everything that Alexei said, he would never sleep well at night again. “How did you get them? I can’t believe you managed to rescue them!”

Alexei clasped his hands together and looked down at the floor with false modesty. “Vladimir was very pleased that I finally succeeded in eliminating Justice Ginsburg before the election. He was willing to…Well, let’s just say he was feeling magnanimous.”

Tyson blinked. “Putin? But he hates gays!”

“Now, now, Rachid,” Alexei tsked. “Vladimir doesn’t hate gays any more than you or I do. You have to separate the man from the leader.” He paused to pat his tumescent crotch suggestively, adding, “I happen to know for a fact that the man enjoys a good, fat cock up his ass on occasion.”

Tyson flushed, looking aside uncomfortably. He didn’t want to dwell on the image of the Russian president dancing on the end of Alexei’s… “Uh, yes, well,” he murmured, clearing his throat, “that’s, uh, good to know. But now that you’ve got them here, what are you going to do with them? Can they be saved?”

The Russian gave him an incredulous look. “Would I have lugged their bodies halfway across the globe if they couldn’t? Of course, we will save them! They are the reason I had you steal Lucas and Max’s essence. These two young men are going to take on their old identities.”

***

“There. Now we wait.”

The Russian had taken the canister from the milking machine that contained the essence of everything that had once belonged to Max: His height, facial features, muscles, cock size, body hair, everything. This surprisingly small vial was now attached to a mysterious computerized device of Alexei’s invention. A long tube ran down from the device and into the casket, finally ending in a needle inserted into Zelim Bakaev’s mutilated arm. A similar canister containing Lucas’ essence was attached to Kasym Garayev.

No matter how hard he tried, Tyson never ceased to be amazed by Alexei’s macabre work. This time was no exception. He stood over Zelim’s casket, watching the young man’s destroyed chest rise and fall almost imperceptibly in the bluish liquid. Despite his horrific wounds, Zelim looked at peace, almost angelic. If a man with half his face ripped off could be considered angelic.

As he stared, Zelim’s body began to heal. His torn sinews knitted together as his skin regrew fresh and tender and soft. A tingle ran up Tyson’s spine at the sight; it was like something out of a science fiction movie. For a brief moment, the youth was once again the beautiful, dark-haired singer with those soulful eyes and sensuous lips that Tyson remembered so well.

And then he began to change.

Tyson inhaled sharply as the old, familiar Zelim began to disappear, his limbs and torso contorting and growing in length and heft. Pounds of muscle appeared out of nowhere, causing his arms to swell and his legs to become powerful and athletic. His chest developed chiseled abdominal muscles and his pecs pushed out, displaying a sizable pair of nipples. Thick, black hair covered his pubes, arms, legs and chest. Lastly, his face melted and then reformed, taking on the fine yet masculine features that Tyson remembered on Max that morning. Perhaps as a token of mercy from Alexei, though, Zelim’s face did not fully take on Max’s appearance–the appearance that so closely matched that of Emin’s killer–but rather became a pleasing amalgam of both men. Anyone who knew Max wouldn’t notice the difference but Tyson did and he was secretly relieved. A little of Zelim Bakaev remained.

The young man’s transformation neared completion as his adam’s apple widened and grew bigger, jutting out from his throat noticeably. (Tyson had always found this feature on men to be irresistible. Emin had had the largest adam’s apple he’d ever seen.) He felt his cock stiffen as a full beard sprouted on Zelim’s new face, drawing attention to his big, full lips. A jerking movement caught his attention then and he looked down at the young man’s crotch. Zelim’s rather modest member was fattening and lengthening, gradually swelling to prodigious size. (That is a lot bigger than Max’s, Tyson thought. Alexei must have modified the program!) Finally, the skin changed all over his body deepening in color to a rich mahogany, darkening almost to black on his newly-grown, long, and tapering foreskin.

It was done.

Zelim had become Max.

Tyson’s cock was rigid by then and he longed to lean down and move the lid of the casket aside to kiss those luscious lips. Kiss those lips and then…He squirmed, wondering at his urge to bottom for that huge cock. Alexei was the only man he’d ever let fuck him.

“Easy, Rachid. You’ll have to fight me for him.”

He looked up and met Alexei’s dancing gaze sheepishly. “He’s…God, Alexei, he’s–”

“Yes, I know. He is my gift to Kasym.” The Russian placed a warm hand on Tyson’s shoulder and nudged him toward the Turkman’s casket. “He is almost done becoming Lucas.”

It was true. Tyson’s breath caught in his chest as he saw what had become of the young man’s battered and abused body. Kasym was now whole and intact; a truly giant cock and man-sized balls had regrown between his long, shapely legs. Unlike Zelim, he was blond and a bit more slender, although still quite muscular. His nubile body sported only a dusting of sandy-colored hair and his cheeks were almost bare, save for a few whiskers on his chin. He looked soft and innocent, yet masculine. You could tell he would grow into a very studly man. A funny droop to his eyelids and a quirk to his mouth hinted at the old Lucas’s somewhat goofy nature. This lightness of spirit would be a good balance to Max’s intensity.

“They look like a couple of basketball jocks,” he observed. “They would be at home on the court in any inner city neighborhood.”

“Which is why I chose them,” Alexei said, smiling. “I wanted them to be just a couple of dumb jocks. They’ve endured enough difficulty and trauma; they deserve to be carefree and untroubled by intelligence. Besides,” he added in his characteristic, offhand manner, “if I left them too smart, they might remember who they were. I can’t risk that.”

Tyson frowned. “And yet you left me all of my memories and my intelligence. I envy them.”

Alexei fixed him with those mild, amber eyes. “If I took away your memories, my friend, you wouldn’t be you. It’s the darkness of your past shining through that makes you so potent and powerful. Those naive Americans don’t stand a chance against you!”

“We’re all just tools for you, aren’t we?” Tyson muttered, scowling.

Alexei nodded solemnly. “Yes, above all else, I am loyal to the fatherland.” He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my fun.”

***

It was time to drain the caskets and wake the newly formed Max and Lucas. Alexei and Tyson each took one of the young men and lifted him out. Tyson, of course, chose ‘Max,’ cradling him in his arms as he turned his head to the side and drained the blue fluid from his lungs. There was a long, desperate silence during which he feared the young man was dead but then Max took a shuddering breath and coughed. His beautiful brown eyes fluttered open and fixed him with a confused stare.

“The trance, Tyson!” Alexei called out. “Put him in the trance!”

Tyson jumped, putting his lips to Max’s ear and whispering the trigger phrase that Alexei had taught him. Instantly, the jock’s eyes went blank. His mouth fell open and he stared vacantly ahead. Beside them, Alexei was sending Lucas into a similar trance and soon both of the jocks were lying spreadeagle on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. They looked fucking hot, spead out naked before them. Their restored bodies were bursting with youth and vigor, pulsing with life and potency. Their cocks were half-hard, rising up on their own volition; they were hung like a couple of stallions.

“Ah, youth!” Alexei sighed. “They’re going to be fucking all the time now. Good thing they now live in a country where they can be openly gay without fearing for their lives.” He reached over and slung an arm over Tyson’s shoulders, tugging him close. “And speaking of youth, my friend, we still have Lucas’ to partake of.”

Tyson shook himself out of lurid fantasies involving the two nubile jocks and those magnificent schlongs. He’d completely forgotten that he’d stolen Lucas’ youth! And yet, looking around, he saw the little canister containing the former stud’s virility was still sitting where he’d left it.

“You know I am turning 100 years old this year,” Alexei murmured, taking the canister and dividing the contents between two small goblets. “And yet I barely feel a year over thirty five.” He smiled and offered one goblet to Tyson.

“That’s because you aren’t!” Tyson muttered, clinking his glass against Alexei’s. “And I’m stuck here forever at age twenty one.”

“There are worse places to be stuck,” the Russian commented wryly. “You could still be holed up in that bunker in Grozny, for instance.”

Tyson arched an elegant eyebrow at this and changed the subject. “And now what?” he asked, swallowing his share of Lucas’ sweet and salty youth. As always, it zinged right down to his cock, making it twitch with vigor. “What about these two boys? Don’t you still have to erase their memories?”

“Yes, it will only take a moment.”

***

“Get up, Max and Lucas. Basketball practice is over. Time to take a shower and get dressed.”

The two jocks sat up on their elbows, looking around the room with dull expressions on their faces. Tyson had watched with rapt attention as Alexei deprogrammed them, draining them of their memories and intelligence. He left them with just enough wits to get by in life with nothing extra to get them in trouble. 

“Yo, bro!” the new Max drawled, holding out a finger and pointing at Lucas’ naked body, “Yer sportin’ wood!”

The new Lucas looked down at his big, dripping erection and shrugged. “So’re you. And mine’s bigger!”

“Fuggin’ liar!” Max rejoined, standing up and thrusting his enormous cock in his friend’s face. “I’m the big man here!”

“Prove it!”

What followed was a glorious fuckfest during which the two, ripped studs took turns drilling each other’s holes while Alexei and Tyson looked on in delirious appreciation. Perhaps not surprisingly, Lucas proved to be the more dominant of the two but Max was no shrinking violet. By the time they had finished their fourth round, the changing room smelled like a rank barn. The boys stumbled into the shower and took turns massaging each other’s back, butts, chests, and crotches with soap…which inevitably led to another raucous bout of fucking.

Alexei had left a set of used basketball uniforms laying outside the shower for them. Tyson watched them get dressed, helping each other into their sweat-stained jockstraps, with a tinge of sadness. The two boys were laughing and joking, carrying on like a pair of old friends who had just become new lovers. It was beautiful and sexy and he felt a little envious. 

He needn’t have worried, though. The jocks had barely started to step into their tight, nylon shorts when they looked up and noticed him and Alexei for the first time. It was almost humorous watching their mouths fall open and their hands drop unselfconsciously to their crotches.

“Yo, bro!” Lucas called out, nudging Max in the ribs. “You see what I see?”

Max guffawed, nodding vigorously. “Uh, yeah, dude! Two hot daddies at twelve o’clock!”

And the rest is history. New history, that is.