Themes: Muscle growth, steroids, tattoos, cock growth, silicone implants, hair loss, age progression, curse, humiliation, straight-to-gay, cock shrinking, hairless, strippers, butt growth
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Quick Links
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Chapter 1
Trey Camacho looked away from his computer to the wad of bills his roommate, Reece Romano, slapped down on the desk. “What’s that from?” he asked, noting that the majority were one-dollar bills. “Were you at the casino?”
Reece shook his head. “Nah, man, even better! The strip club!” He pushed out his chest proudly, grinning from ear to ear. “I got up on stage and stripped, dude! These’re my tips!”
Trey’s eyebrows went up at this news. (Reece? Stripping? WTF?) It only took him a moment to understand where these bills had just been stowed. In fact, the pile of cash did look like it was soaked in sweat. “Ew, gross!” he complained. “Don’t tell me those were stuffed inside your–?” When Reece merely grinned back at him, he grabbed a book and pushed the money onto the floor.
Reece huffed in annoyance as he bent over and scooped the bills up. Stuffing them into his pockets, he bragged, “I was a total hit, man! The guys couldn’t get enough of me. The club manager hired me on the spot! Said he’d never seen such talent!” He jabbed his fingers into his chest, “I’m young and hung and full of cum! I put all other strippers to shame.”
Just thinking about Reece stripping made Trey feel ill. When he remained mute, Reece finally realized something was wrong and demanded, “What, bro? Why’re ya looking at me like that?”
Trey shook himself. “Dude, isn’t your internship at the law firm paying enough? Why did you feel compelled to strip for money? And for gay guys, no less!” He made a face. “I mean, come on! What will your parents think? And Susannah? Does she know?”
Reece gave him an incredulous look. “Bro, I did it ‘cuz I’m hot, not ‘cuz I need the money. It was fun! Do I need another reason? You shoulda seen the guys goin’ crazy over me in there! They couldn’t get enough of me!”
“So, it was narcissism, huh?” Trey turned back to his computer. “You couldn’t pay me enough to get up on stage in front of a bunch of guys! Ugh. It’s not only disgusting, it’s demeaning.” When Reece opened his mouth to protest, he held up his hand, “Dude, yer a good student who’s on the way to becoming a lawyer. Don’t fuck it up! What if you run for office someday? Do you really want pics of you shaking yer big ass on stage to go public?”
“My ass is not big!” Reece retorted, stung. Trey noticed that he couldn’t resist turning around to look at it. “And it was my cock they were focused on anyways.” He patted his crotch suggestively, making Trey flush. “‘Sides, nobody cares about what you do when yer young these days. It’s the Digital Age, bro! Everything’s out there, even the dick pics you sent to Rachel that one time.”
This time it was Trey’s turn to be stung. “I did NOT send Rachel any dick pics!” His cheeks, however, betrayed this for the lie it was and Reece smirked, savoring the victory of landing a verbal punch. Trey glowered up at him, waving him away, “Get outta here! I’m studying! I intend to make money from my mind, not by selling my body like a common whore!”
He stood up and pushed Reece out of the room, closing the door behind him.
***
The next night, Reece sauntered into his bedroom and plopped down an even larger wad of soggy cash. In addition to a lot of ones, there were a few fives, tens and even a twenty dollar bill. Trey looked up at him, unimpressed. “Another night stripping, huh? Don’t quit your day job, dude.” He sighed, “I hope you’re wearing a mask when you’re on stage. Do you really want videos of you prancing around naked in a gay club to get out? You’ll lose your internship.”
Reece made a dismissive gesture. “That again? Dude, why’re you so worried about my image anyways? It’s my life, not yers.” He pulled out his phone, opening Instagram. “And, just so you know, I got a hundred new followers overnight. How ‘bout that? I’m up to over fifteen hundred!”
“Great.” Trey rolled his eyes. “Just what I’d want, a bunch of gay followers who wanna ogle my dick.”
“I don’t take it all off, bro,” Reece insisted. “That’d be illegal. I wear this.” With that, he pulled down his pants and Trey was greeted by the sight of his best friend buck-naked, save for a miniscule thong. Reece’s male equipment was almost bursting out of the tiny pouch and it was pulled so far down he could tell he’d shaved off his pubes.
Trey pushed away from his desk, moving as far away from Reece as possible. He closed his eyes and turned his head, shouting, “Get out! Get yer dick outta my face! GET OUT!” He pointed towards the door.
Reece laughed, approaching him and gyrating his hips. Despite his best efforts, Trey still got an eyeful. His cheeks flamed crimson and he dashed out of the room. He couldn’t get the image of Reece’s smooth, ripped, lean body–or his big package–out of his mind, though.
***
The following night, Reece knocked on Trey’s door, poking his head inside and calling out, “Bro? Hey, Bro?”
Trey looked up at him warily. He was studying again like he did every night. He was due to take the MCAT in the summer and wanted to ace it. “Yeah?” Reece took this as an invitation to enter and he crept up to his desk. His body language and demeanor were like that of a shy, young boy. Despite himself, Trey’s curiosity was piqued. Why was Reece acting like this? When Reece remained mute, he prompted, “Well? Why’re you acting like that?”
“Like what?” Reece’s lower lip was thrust out.
“Like a kid, you idiot.” Trey rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Reece was silent for a moment, struggling to work up the nerve to speak. Finally, he took a deep breath and pleaded, “I need my big bro tonight. Will you come with me?”
“Your ‘big bro’?” Trey repeated. “Since when am I your big bro? We’re the same age and you outweigh me by thirty pounds.”
“Yer smarter than me,” Reece conceded, startling Trey. “And tougher, too.” He leaned against the desk, folding his arms. “And I need you tonight, bro. I want you there for me. What I’m tryna say is I need yer support.”
Trey smiled, “So, I’m the brains and the brawn, huh?” He couldn’t help but feel flattered. Reece was such a narcissist that he rarely complimented anyone…unless he wanted something from them. Speaking of which…Trey’s eyes narrowed, “What do you really want?”
Reece hung his head. “Nuthin’. I mean, just a little bit of yer time.” He cleared his throat, cheeks going rosy, “I want you to come watch me dance tonight. I go on stage at ten.”
“You mean you want me to watch you strip, don’t you?” The very thought was enough to make Trey uncomfortable. He’d never seen guys strip before and had no desire to do so. He didn’t even like it when women stripped. It was a form of entertainment he considered extremely low brow and tacky.
Reece’s big, soft, brown eyes flicked over to his face and then back down to the floor, “Yeah.”
“Why don’t you ask Susannah? I’m sure she’d enjoy watching you a lot more than I would.” He suppressed a shudder. The other night when Reece had pulled down his pants to show off his thong had been more than he ever wished to see of his best friend.
“She’d hate it. I know that for a fact. She’s real uptight, bro.” Reece wrung his hands, “And, ‘sides, I haven’ tole her I’m a stripper yet.”
Trey noted that Reece had changed the way he referred to his new ‘career’. Up until now, he’d just been stripping but now he said he was a stripper. A verb to a noun. It was a subtle shift but a significant one. Or was it? He lifted his head and probed Reece’s face, trying to determine what was really going on inside that thick skull. Something was up, he was certain of it.
“Well, bro? Will ya? Will ya come watch me dance?” Reece was really pouring it on, giving him full-on puppy dog eyes and pursing his lips into a pout.
Trey regarded him skeptically. Finally, he said, “Tell ya what, I’ll give Rachel a call and if–and only if-she and her friends agree to come with me, I’ll go see you str–I mean, dance.”
Reece was so happy he pulled him up into a full-body hug, rubbing himself affectionately all over Trey’s body. When his antics started to cross the ‘hetero line,’ though, Trey pushed him away and pulled out his phone to call his girlfriend.
***
Women really got into strippers.
Rachel and her friends might be the only women in the bar but they made up for it with their exuberance. Yelling and whistling and catcalling, they showed no restraint when it came to demonstrating their appreciation of the male form. Trey looked around, embarrassed. He’d thought going to the club with women would offer him some protection but he felt even more self conscious than if he’d come by himself. At least that way, he could have hidden in a corner. Instead, Rachel picked out a table right in front of the stage.
The bar was beyond seedy. Trey wondered what on earth had drawn Reece here in the first place. It was far from campus, being located in a sketchy part of downtown where the rent was cheap and most suburbanites feared to tread. It smelled like piss and beer and everything–the floor, the walls, even the tables–were covered with a grimy film. The chairs were covered in cracked plastic and the lighting so low you could barely see a thing…except when the spotlights came on and the strippers came parading out on stage.
The clientele was old, verging on elderly. He didn’t see anyone besides them under the age of thirty. Shit, there wasn’t even anybody under the age of forty here! What a dive! The atmosphere felt just as stale as the beer. Judging from the dated decor, the place hadn’t changed when it opened over forty years ago when strip clubs were in vogue…which was probably when most of the patrons had started coming there. In short, it was boring and gross.
And the dancers!
He and the girls had arrived in the middle of the first act–the one before Reece’s big entrance–and Trey was already appalled. The strippers weren’t much younger than the patrons. Their overly-muscled bodies were greased up with oil and fake tan and their faces were pulled tight from too much facial surgery. Worse, he judged they’d either stuffed their thongs or had their penises surgically augmented. The sight of those bloated, geriatric bodies wobbling around on stage, out of step with the beat, sloshing around their luridly overstuffed pouches was just gross. He’d sat down and covered his eyes while Rachel and her buddies yodeled at the tops of their lungs.
He vowed he’d never set foot in another strip club again!
“Aw, c’mon, babe!” Rachel coaxed, pulling his hand away from his face. “Loosen up and have some fun! Here, try my drink. It’s a Mimosa.”
“Of course it is,” Trey grumbled, taking a tentative sip and nearly choking on the cloyingly sweet beverage. “Ugh. Can this place get any worse? Even the drinks are awful!”
“You’re such a prude!” Rachel turned to her friends, “Isn’t he being a prude?” When this was met with a chorus of assent, she looked back to him. “Relax and enjoy it, Trey. Reece’ll be out next. He’s dying for you to see him!”
“I’m sure he is. I can’t wait,” Trey said dully. At Rachel’s frown, though, he forced a smile and tried to sound eager, “I’m here to support him. No matter what.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Rachel squeezed his knee, “Have you ever been in a gay club before?”
“Nope. Never.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you even the teeniest bit into it? I mean, Reece is objectively hot by any measure. Have you and Reece ever…?”
Trey sat up straight. “Nope. Never. Why are you asking me this? Do you want me to be bisexual or something? And if I were bi, wouldn’t you feel insecure? Why are you encouraging me to–”
“I’m not encouraging you to do anything,” Rachel interrupted, pursing her lips. “I’m trying to find out why my fiance has a stick up his ass. Speaking of which, maybe if you got fucked up the butt by a big, stiff dick, it’d loosen you up.” Trey opened his mouth, outraged by her crudity but she talked over him, “You’re all business, all the time. It’s tedious.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my finding you attractive was tedious,” Trey shot back. “If that’s the case, then–”
Their little tiff was prevented from turning into a big fight when the emcee, a fleabitten old queen wearing a red wig, announced the next act. Loud music started thudding through the speakers and the audience leaned forward in their chairs, eager with anticipation. Or at least as eager as people their age could get. Rachel and her friends squealed loudly, eyes on fire with excitement. Reece was up!
The song was Toni Basil’s Hey Mickey. Trey rolled his eyes. That song predated his arrival on the planet by more than twenty years! It had probably been in the top ten the year the club opened and they’d been playing it ever since. Predictably, a bunch of geriatric dancers dressed in too-tight football uniforms came gyrating out onto the stage, doing an impersonation of cheer leaders, complete with pom-poms. So far, so bad. He leaned back in his chair, wondering when Reece would appear.
He didn’t need to wait long. The song had only come to its first chorus when the spotlight zoomed down on a young man near the back of the stage. And then Reece burst onto the scene, resplendent in his football tights, a cropped jersey that displayed his rock-hard, striated abs, and shoulder pads. He tossed his helmet off as soon as he reached the front of the dancers, aiming it directly at Trey. Trey was forced to scramble to catch it or get beaned. Reece winked at him as he fumbled it out of the air and sat back down at the table. The girls went crazy, swooning theatrically. Even the other patrons managed to show some spunk.
It was easy to see why.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Reece was sublime. Trey almost didn’t recognize him, he was so transcendent. He glowed from within with youth and vigor, eating up the crowd’s adoration. Here was a young jock in his prime, flush with the lusty juices of manhood. He radiated sex appeal; it wafted off of his steaming body like a salacious perfume. The other dancers faded into the background as Reece took center stage and captivated everyone present…including Trey.
At some point, Trey realized his friend was looking only at him. Reece’s eyes were riveted to his own. When he smiled, he smiled for Trey. When he danced, he danced for Trey. And when he stripped…he stripped for Trey.
With a wry wink and sly smile, he thrust his slim hips forward and then reached back and–Woosh!–his tights came off and he was prancing around on stage in just a jockstrap. His package really filled up the pouch, too; the outline of his long, thick penis and hefty pair of balls were clearly visible through the stretched-out mesh. Unlike the other dancers, though, he was not enhanced down there. He didn’t need to be! He was plenty hung enough by any standard.
Pumping and thrusting in time with the beat, he turned around and treated his adoring fans to the sight of his bare buttocks, tanned and lustrous and plump. Square and soft at the same time, Reece’s bottom was incredibly shapely. And hugged by the thick, white straps of his jock, it was framed in all its glory. He bent over and twerked, spreading his meaty legs and squatting dangerously low. Trey flushed when Reece looked over his shoulder and grinned back at him.
Rachel and her friends just about fainted.
The jersey came off.
Then the shoulder pads.
Reece kicked off the cleats and he was left wearing just a sweat-soaked jockstrap.
As the girls hollered their approval, he danced off the stage. Not until he was only steps away from their table did Trey realize what he had in mind. He braced himself, trying to flee but Rachel and her friends held him in place. Reece thrust and gyrated his way ever closer until he was looming right over Trey. Rachel pushed the table aside and Reece grinned, settling his big, beefy butt down onto Trey’s lap.
He was giving him a lap dance!
Trey was completely mortified. His whole face flamed hot and red and he wanted to die. Reece writhed on his lap, arching his back and inviting him to run his hands over his hard, oiled-up body. He raised his arms over his head and slithered back and forth, oozing seduction.
“Well, go ahead and touch him, you big ass!” Rachel hissed in his ear. “He wants you to touch him!”
Trey jumped and would have stuffed his hands underneath him if Reece hadn’t grabbed them and placed them firmly on his firm but juicy buttocks. His skin was smooth as silk and slick with oil. He was sweaty. And hot. He arched his back and shimmied his butt, spreading his cheeks on Trey’s lap. The pouch of his jockstrap was rubbing rhythmically against Trey’s belly, growing firmer and fuller by the second. Reece moved closer, arching his back even further. Trey’s fingers inadvertently moved inward and he jerked in disgusted surprise when he touched–
“It’s yours, bro. I want you to have it. Please!”
Reece’s voice was low, so low Trey barely heard it over the music. It was low enough that Rachel didn’t even hear. Still, it was loud enough. He stared up at his friend, meeting his eyes. The longing and desire written there were unmistakable. Reece was telling him what he wanted most, what he’d wanted for a long time. He was ready to give himself–and his most tender, intimate part–to Trey.
The song ended and they were left staring into each other’s eyes. Trey swallowed, both wanting and not wanting to let go of Reece. In the end, the spell was broken by the drag queen emcee who chastised Reece for not sharing himself with the rest of his fans. He’d spent all his time on one man, one man who didn’t reciprocate, didn’t even stuff a measly dollar bill inside his jockstrap.
Reece got up and, lowering his head, stalked off backstage.
***
They didn’t talk about it afterwards.
Trey drove Rachel and her friends home because he was the only one of the group still sober. They laughed and carried on, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. If Rachel or anyone else noticed the interaction between him and Reece, they didn’t comment on it.
After his opening number, Reece didn’t approach Trey’s table again and seemed to throw himself into his routine with wild abandon. By the time Trey left, Reece’s pouch was bursting full of dollar bills. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d bragged about being the club’s top dancer. None of the other strippers came anywhere close to matching his popularity. Reece Romano was already a legend.
Trey lay in bed that night, wondering whether he had imagined the whole thing. The experience felt like a dream…or maybe a nightmare? It was so alien to his normal life that he had trouble believing it happened. He’d known Reece since they were kids. They’d been on the same softball team in fourth grade, becoming fast friends. Maybe it was because they were the only two brown kids on the team, Reece with his dark Italian skin and Trey with his mestizo blood? Or maybe it was because people mistook them for brothers, Reece–who was so much bigger–was always taken for the older one even though they were the same age? In any case, they’d been inseparable until they started dating girls in high school. Even then, they were more likely than not to double date.
Did he find Trey attractive?
For some reason, the question made him feel tired and he rolled over and fell asleep.
***
Chapter 2
A week went by and Reece stopped attending classes. Trey barely saw him but did hear him when he came back to the apartment late at night, drunk off his ass. He knew it was bad when Reece’s mom called him on the phone.
“What’s going on with him?” Mrs. Romano demanded as if he were to blame for her son’s wayward behavior. “His professors emailed me, saying he hasn’t been to class in days.”
Trey cleared his throat. “Uh, well, I don’t know.”
A pause, then, “You’re hiding something, Charles,” Mrs. Romano pressed. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”
Trey flushed. Being called by his proper name made him feel like he was back in elementary school. “I, well, I don’t really know for sure. I mean, I haven’t seen him at all. He’s been coming home after I’m in bed.” He stopped as Mrs. Romano exhaled in annoyance, adding, “But he did, um, tell me a week ago that he’s, uh, taken up stripping.”
“STRIPPING?!” she shrieked, appalled. “What is this? The 1980’s?!” Curiously, her tone was the same that Reece’s girlfriend Susannah used when she showed up only minutes later. “Nobody strips anymore!”
“I know, right? I’m mystified, too.”
He had to hold his iPhone away from his ear to protect his hearing from her angry, expletive-laden tirade.
***
Reece’s girlfriend, Susannah, pounded on the door five minutes later. She looked up hopefully when he cracked open the door but her face fell when she realized it was only him. Pushing inside, she looked around as if she expected to see Reece hiding behind the couch. Not seeing him, she turned to confront Trey, demanding, “Where is he?”
Trey pointed to Reece’s bedroom. “In there. He’s still asleep.”
Susannah’s brown eyes widened. She was dressed very primly, he noticed, in a gray pantsuit with a matching duster jacket whose tails flapped behind her when she walked. “It’s past noon! On a Monday!” she exclaimed. “He has class right now!”
“Tell me about it.” Trey moved into the kitchenette, holding up the coffee pot. “Want some?”
“No.” Susannah eyed him coldly, accusation written across her face as if she believed he was somehow responsible for Reece’s delinquent behavior; Mrs. Romano had acted much the same way, something Trey couldn’t figure out. Did they think he had some sort of control over Reece that they lacked? It didn’t make sense. Reece was a grown man, even if he was behaving more like a teenage boy at the moment.
Trey yawned and poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a sip before continuing, “Don’t look at me like that. If you wanna see him, go in there and wake him up. I’m not gonna stop you.” He pointed toward Reece’s closed door.
Susannah did just that but, if she hoped she’d somehow convince him to shape up, she was disappointed. Trey grimaced as the sounds of their argument echoed through the apartment. He winced when Susannah flew out a minute later, slamming the door shut behind her. Wiping tears from her eyes, she wouldn’t look at him as she fled the apartment. That was the last time he saw her before her wedding a year later to Tony Collier, Trey’s arch rival. A lot would happen, though, between now and then. It’d make his head spin when he’d think back on it. Who would have ever thought that Reece would change so much?
***
Reece emerged from his bedroom after Susannah stormed out. He looked like shit. His chestnut brown hair was a mess, his face was drawn and his beard was unkempt. His complexion was even worse; his face was lined and there were distinct crow’s feet around his eyes. Even though he was only twenty two, he looked like he was pushing thirty really hard. Trey tried and failed to see the fresh-faced jock he remembered from last week. That’s what you get for burning the candle at both ends, he thought smugly.
Scratching an armpit, Reece staggered into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, sighing loudly after he swallowed.
“Rough night?” Trey asked. “Or was it the fight with Susannah that’s got you looking like something the cat dragged in?”
“Fuck you.” Even Reece’s voice sounded duller, heavier.
“Now there’s the Reece I know and love.”
Reece set down the coffee cup. “It’s Rocco, asshole.”
Trey blinked. “Rocco?”
“Yeah, asswipe,” Reece grumbled. “My name. I changed it. Sounds more like a stripper name than Reece.”
Trey couldn’t believe his ears. “You changed your name to Rocco Romano? Really?”
“Fuck, yeah.” Reece–No, Trey corrected himself, Rocco–grinned. “Ain’t it great?”
“If you say so.” Trey studied his friend, feeling uneasy. When he spotted the garish tattoo sleeves covering his arms, he grew concerned. “Ree–I mean, ahem, Rocco, doesn’t the law office have a ‘no tattoo’ policy? What did they say when you showed up with those new tats?”
Rocco looked down at his beefy arms covered in heavy, black ink, “I tole ‘em to fuck off.”
“YOU WHAT?!”
“You heard me, bro. I’m done with that internship. Fuck, I’m even done with school.” He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, looking proud of himself. “That was never me anyways. I’ve found my calling. I’m gonna strip for a livin’.”
Trey opened his mouth to give his friend a piece of his mind but Rocco’s phone dinged right then. He looked down at it and scowled. “Fuck. That’s low.”
“What’s low?”
Rocco glanced up at him, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. He really looked awful. “The boss. Says I gotta mix it up if I’m gonna keep my position as lead stripper.” He wrinkled his lip. “There’s a new guy. Everybody loves him. I gotta up my game if I’m gonna stay on top.”
“You could always quit and go back to school,” Trey offered helpfully. “It’s not too late.”
“Fuck, bro, would ya knock it off with the naggin’? You sound like my mother.” Rocco took another sip of coffee, looking down at himself critically. Trey noticed that he sucked in his gut as he did so. Was it his imagination or was there a little roll of flab around his formerly pristine middle? What happened to those rock-hard abs? How could they disappear so quickly?
Classes ended that week and Trey didn’t see Rocco again until a month later. He was so immersed in studying that he barely registered his friend’s comings and goings but that wasn’t unusual now that they had opposite schedules. In a way, he kind of enjoyed the break. Drama had started following Rocco wherever he went since he’d started stripping.
***
“Dude, check me out!”
Trey did a double take when his friend lumbered out of the bedroom. “Holy crap! Yer jacked!”
“Ikr?” Rocco grinned, flexing his big guns. He was wearing a string tank top that set off his shiny, tanned skin and hugely-pumped muscles. He looked like he’d almost doubled in size since last month and all of it was muscle. How was that possible?
Trey narrowed his eyes. “So, bro, how’d you do it? I mean, get so big so fast?”
“‘Roids,” Rocco revealed, grinning sheepishly at Trey’s bark of surprise. “It’s no biggie, dude. I’m not gonna take ‘em for very long.” He glanced down at his mounded chest, bouncing his pecs provocatively. He laughed at Trey’s reaction, making them jiggle even more. Then he pulled up his shirt and revealed the rolling ridges of his abs, making sure Trey took note of the complete absence of any flab.
Those ‘roids had really worked wonders, Trey had to admit, but there were also telltale side effects. His nipples were puffy and huge, sagging down like a pair of teats over his chest. Even though his abs were striated, his belly bulged out noticeably with subvisceral fat, erasing his formerly slim hips. And his features, already somewhat blocky to begin with, were even heavier and thicker. His ears were bigger, as was his nose. Even his lips looked deformed. The soon-to-be medical doctor in Trey wondered if he’d been taking human growth hormone in addition to steroids.
“Rocco…,” he began but before he could say anything more, his buddy cut him off.
“I know what yer gonna say,” he rumbled, “and you can juss shove it. I ain’t no kid. I know what I’m doin’.” He paused, face red and chest heaving as his anger quickly built. (Is this ‘roid rage, Trey wondered, drawing back in alarm.) “Yer smart and talented and gonna be a rich fuckin’ doctor someday,” Rocco continued, clenching his fists, “An’ I’m juss a dumbass stripper. You don’t know what it’s like, bro! You don’t know how hard it is for me!” He turned and, frustration getting the better of him, slammed his fist through the wall, leaving a huge hole.
Trey stood up and moved toward him, holding up his hands placatingly. “Reece, I mean, Rocco. Easy! Don’t be mad! Hey, relax.” He put his hands on Rocco’s mounded shoulders, looking up at him. “It’s Ok. Here.” He hugged him, not recognizing the incredibly overbuilt body. Had it only been a month ago when Reece had been a lithe, young jock? This simian behemoth didn’t look–or act–anything like him anymore. It was disorienting and alarming.
At first, Rocco grew rigid in his embrace but then gradually relaxed until he was sagging against him. Trey grunted, trying to prop him up–he weighed a ton!–and was startled when he felt wet tears splashing down on his shoulders. He propped Rocco back up on his feet, searching his face.
“Are you gonna be Ok?” he asked, concerned.
Rocco sniffled, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. “Yeah, sorry. I get carried away sometimes. It’s…been a problem at the club lately. My boss keeps tellin’ me to back off the ‘roids.” He shrugged his enormous, boulder-like shoulders, “But I got no choice, bro! Not if I’m gonna make ends meet.” He lowered his head, “Thanks for covering my portion of the rent last month, by the way.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Trey gave him one last squeeze before releasing him. “Maybe you can, um, taper your use of steroids?”
Rocco looked at him blankly, repeating, “Tay-per?”
Trey nodded, “You know, use less of them?”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe.”
His voice, like the rest of him, was heavy and dull. Do ‘roids make you dumb, too? Trey wondered before he noticed something that startled him: Rocco’s hairline was receding. He blinked, convinced he was imagining it but it was true. His friend’s formerly thick and lustrous mop of curls was thinning and his forehead was higher and shinier from where the hair follicles had retreated.
Rocco had male pattern baldness!
It made him look even older. With his greater size, bovine features and receding hairline, Rocco looked like he was at least in his mid-thirties. Trey shook his head, trying to clear it. He almost didn’t recognize his friend any longer.
“…I got Botox injections and a little filler added to my face,” Rocco was saying. “I had no choice! That new young buck is really nippin’ at my heels!” He hung his head. “Gotta do whatever I can to stay in demand! I was even startin’ to lose followers.” Making a face, he revealed, “The haters were gettin’ to me. Callin’ me washed up and old! Ha! Me? Old!” He ran a hand through his hair nervously, barely managing to conceal a look of surprise when he felt his balding pate. Casting a furtive glance at Trey to make sure he hadn’t seen, he stalked into the bathroom where Trey could see him lowering his head under the mirror, his jaw clenching when he realized he hadn’t imagined it. His forehead really was bald and shiny!
***
Trey’s hard work paid off and he aced the MCAT. Rachel and he celebrated with an impromptu trip to Paris. They were only gone a week but it felt good to relax after so many long months spent studying his ass off. They sat in a little cafe in the Montmartre, sipping espresso and munching pastries, savoring the summer breeze. It was a truly lovely day and Trey felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. When he got back to the States, he was already scheduled to travel around the country for interviews with potential medical schools. Right now, though, he just wanted to empty his mind of all thoughts of the future.
“You really are the son of immigrants, you know.”
He looked over at Rachel questioningly, “Huh? Where’d that come from?”
She smiled innocently but he knew her and wasn’t fooled; she had something on her mind. “You never take a break, Trey,” she continued. “All you ever do is work.”
He was puzzled. “I’m taking a break right now, aren’t I?”
She waved this off. “This doesn’t count. If I hadn’t bought the tickets and forced you to come with me, you would still be holed up in your room, studying. You need to live more, Trey. You’re too young to be this serious all the time.”
“You work hard, too,” he pointed out. “You–”
“This isn’t about me. I’m talking about you right now. The man I used to love more than anyone else in the world.”
“…used to…?” His voice was plaintive, almost like a child’s. It felt like Rachel had just yanked the ground out from under his feet with one little sentence.
“Reece,” she stated. “Or Rocco as he’s now called.”
He blinked at this non sequitur. “Huh? What about him?”
“He loves you, Trey.” Rachel’s eyes were distant and yet full of compassion at the same time. Trey had never seen that look on a woman’s face before and it chilled him to the bone. “And you love him.” She sighed, “Did you think I didn’t notice? The way he looked at you that night at the strip club? The way you looked at him?” She laughed coldly. “And the way he was turned on? And the way you were turned on?” She paused to give him a sardonic smile, “Guys can’t hide it when they’re aroused, Trey. I could see your erection when he was on your lap. You’re never that hard when we have sex. If we have sex. Which is almost never.”
His mouth was hanging open and tears filled his eyes, “I-I-I don’t know wh-wh-what–”
She slapped her hand down on the table, spilling his coffee and startling him, “Go to him, Trey. Before it’s too late.”
***
Chapter 3
He flew back alone but didn’t go to Rocco immediately. He told himself that it was because he didn’t have time. He was scheduled to fly to Boston only a day after returning from Paris and then he was heading to Minnesota and Ann Arbor. He had too much to do, too much to prepare for. This was his big chance and he didn’t want to blow it.
Which was why he avoided Rocco.
He knew if he saw his friend right after breaking up with Rachel, he’d be a wreck. He needed time. Time to distract himself. Time to ease his broken heart–he really had loved Rachel dearly–and time to be alone. He had to get his head on straight and give himself time to figure out his feelings. Up until that damned lap dance a couple months ago, he’d never even thought about the possibility of dating a man, much less Rocco. This was all too sudden and too soon.
On impulse, he stopped by REI and bought a bunch of hiking gear. After his last interview was over in Ann Arbor, he rented a car and drove into Canada, stopping for a week in Algonquin Provincial Park. He hadn’t been there since he was a kid with his father and remembered it as being a truly magical place. His memories weren’t wrong; he enjoyed seven magical days by himself, hiking in the woods and swimming in remote lakes. In the evening, he’d lay on his back in the water, listening to loons calling and trying to forget about Rocco.
And then he went back home.
***
The morning he returned, he found Rocco slumped in a chair in the kitchen. He was shirtless and his enormous back was turned to him. He stopped, not recognizing his friend any longer. What the fuck? How could he change so rapidly? Rocco’s slab-like lats flared out like a pair of meaty wings. Heavy, black tattoos covered most of his body, crawling up his back and over his neck. The top of his head was covered in little plugs of hair, the skin of his scalp still red and angry with scars from hair transplant surgery. As Trey approached, he shifted on his chair, rubbing his butt and letting out a little moan.
“Something wrong?”
Rocco jerked in surprise at his voice, moving his hand away from his butt. His bull neck, Trey realized, was so thick that he could no longer turn his head and he had to get up and turn around before he could look at him. His eyes–at first eager when he saw Trey–quickly turned sad, “Nah, I’m Ok.” He couldn’t stop rubbing his butt, though.
It was then that Trey noticed something wrong with his friend’s ass: It was not only huge but bizarrely shaped. Wearing just a tiny pair of mesh shorts, his enormous globes stuck out behind him like a pair of basketballs. Too round and firm to be muscle, they looked utterly ridiculous. The shorts couldn’t even contain them and the tops of those mutant globes thrust out of the back, on full display. There was no way that Rocco could hide them; they were beyond huge.
Rocco had gotten ass implants!
“When did you get those?” he demanded, suddenly angry.
“Shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Trey shouted, getting up in Rocco’s ugly face. “You’ve gone too far! You can’t even sit properly anymore!” He took Rocco’s wide, bloated face in his hands and squeezed, “Stop this, Rocco! This is insane!”
“SHUT UP!” Rocco roared, pulling away from him. “AND FUCK OFF! I GOTTA MAKE A LIVIN’!”
Trey folded his arms, glaring up at him, “Not this way, you don’t. Rocco, please, listen to me!”
Rocco opened his mouth to yell back at him but stopped, clutching his buttocks and moaning piteously. Trey stared in concern as he sank to the floor, desperately lifting his oversized butt cheeks and rolling them around in his hands. His face was a mask of pain.
“We have to get you to a doctor,” Trey stated, pulling on Rocco’s massive arm. “C’mon!”
Rocco wouldn’t budge and merely stared balefully up at him, “Yer a doctor. I don’t need nobody else.”
“I’m not a real doctor yet,” Trey sighed, exasperated. “Come on, Rocco. I’m taking you to urgent care.”
***
They got plenty of funny looks sitting in the waiting area of the clinic. Rocco’s size and implants made it impossible for him to blend in. Anyone who looked at him knew immediately what he was: A big gay muscle whore. He was so roided-up that Trey had to hold open both swinging doors at the entrance of the clinic for him and he took up a whole couch in the waiting room, being too big to sit in a chair. Not that he could sit for very long! He kept getting up and rubbing at his giant butt, something that did nothing to endear him to the other patients. They cast sidelong glances at him, nudging each other and murmuring softly. A couple guys sneered as they regarded him. Trey knew exactly what they were thinking because he was thinking the same thing.
Trey followed him into the exam room after Rocco begged him to go in with him. He told the young doctor that he was a family member, which was only a small lie. She nodded and tried to school her features as she surveyed Rocco’s massive body.
“You take steroids?” she asked unnecessarily.
Rocco nodded, hanging his melon head. He’d crammed himself into a skintight tank top and a miniscule pair of shorts. To Trey’s complete astonishment, he’d insisted on donning a black thong under the shorts. The whaletail of that obscene garment rode high and mighty over the crest of those bodacious implants, drawing even more attention to them; it was beyond embarrassing. Trey thought he may as well have been naked; the clothes he had on made him look more obscene than if he hadn’t been wearing any at all.
The doctor craned her neck, taking in his swollen buttocks. “And you have silicone implants?” Another nod. She made a note on her tablet, “When did you have the surgery?”
“A month ago.”
“I see.” She looked over at Trey as if seeking confirmation and he shrugged. “And they are causing you pain?”
“Yeah.”
“I need to examine them.” She looked at Trey again, pointing at the door, “You’ll need to step outside.”
“WHAT?!” Rocco exclaimed, looking panicked. “No! He stays with me!”
The doctor looked from him to Trey and sighed in resignation. Clearly, she would do whatever it took to get this exam over with quickly. “Ok,” she said, “Please take off your, uh, shorts and lie down on your stomach on the table.” She gestured to the exam table before looking back down at her tablet.
Rocco somehow managed to extract himself from his clothing. When he was standing there in only a thong, though, he became suddenly shy. Trey didn’t understand until he glanced down at his friend’s crotch. His eyebrows went up when he saw the overstuffed pouch of that awful thong. What had Rocco done to himself down there? Was that an implant, too? Cheeks coloring, he turned away and gave Rocco privacy as he bent over and pulled down the thong. In a moment, he was lying ass up on the exam table, a ridiculously tiny hospital gown stretched across his upper body. The gown was too small to cover his giant ass, though, and his twin globes stuck upward like a couple of skin-colored beachballs.
Those implants!
Seeing them revealed in their full glory left Trey speechless. What possessed Rocco to select such a giant size? They wobbled side to side, clapping softly together as he lay there, shivering. He was so ashamed of himself that he wouldn’t look at Trey.
The doctor did a good job of maintaining her professionalism and, donning a pair of latex gloves, poked and prodded at those ridiculous buttocks. At one point, she even pried them apart and gazed down into the deep cleft of his ass.
He was hairless all over his body, Trey noticed. Did he have his body hair permanently removed or had he shaved everything? The steroids had turned his skin papery and his constant tanning sessions had made it leathery and lined. It was old skin, Trey realized. The kind of skin you’d find on a man who had worked outside for years or who lay in a tanning bed for hours at a time. The bizarre thing was that Rocco was just two months shy of his twenty-third birthday. Now, though, he could have easily passed for fifty.
Rocco jerked on the exam table then and Trey realized the doctor must have touched his anus. Her eyebrows lifted as she turned to him, “I see what the problem is.” She paused, “It’s not the silicone implants, Mr. Romano. You have a serious case of anal warts.”
***
“So, anal warts?” Trey began awkwardly in the car after leaving the clinic with a prescription for topical ointment. “Dare I ask how you got them?” Why hadn’t Rocco gotten the HPV vaccine as a child? It had been a standard shot for both boys and girls since it was licensed back in 2006.
Rocco didn’t answer right away because he was having a hard time getting into the car. The big oaf barely fit in the passenger seat! Sucking in his gut, he crammed himself inside, one shoulder smashed against the glass of the passenger window and the other pushing against Trey. Trey had to tilt to the side to make room for him.
“Well?” Trey prompted. “How’d you get ‘em?”
Rocco shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Turnin’ tricks,” he mumbled. He hung his head before growing defiant when Trey sucked his teeth judgmentally. “Hey!” he yelled. “I gotta pay da bills somehow! I ain’t rich like you. Not since my mom cut me off. An’ that fuckin’ cunt Susannah left me.”
Trey had to take a deep breath before he replied, “You should use protection, bro.” He thanked God that the results of Rocco’s HIV test had come back negative before they left the clinic. “HPV’s incurable. Yer gonna have flare-ups for the rest of yer life.”
“I know dat.”
“Well?”
Rocco looked over at him, “Well, what?”
Trey’s eyes hardened. “You need to quit stripping. And hustling. And doing ‘roids. Reece, you need to get your old life back! Being Rocco is killing you!”
***
They rode the rest of the way home in stony silence. Trey was fuming and so was Rocco. When they arrived back at the apartment, Rocco flung himself inside and stomped into his room, slamming the door behind him. Trey trailed along behind, feeling numb. Not until he closed the door of his own bedroom did he realize he was crying. He crumpled down onto his bed and, holding his face in his hands, sobbed openly. He hadn’t cried this hard since…
He stiffened at the unbidden memory.
Ten years earlier…
“Me an’ Emily’re together now, bro,” the thirteen-year-old Reece was saying but Trey had stopped listening. It was as if he was frozen. He hadn’t seen this coming. It felt like the end of the world.
When he remained silent, Reece pressed, “You know what that means, dontcha, bro?”
Trey looked over at him. “Yeah, that she’s yer girlfriend?”
Reece nodded. “And?” Trey had no idea what else he meant and said so. Rolling his eyes, Reece twisted the knife in the wound, “And yer not. We ain’t goin’ out, bro. I ain’t yer boyfriend.” He made a sound of disgust, shivering theatrically. “That’ll never happen. I ain’t no fag.”
Trey blinked, feeling his heart pounding against his ribcage. He suddenly realized how close he was sitting to Reece on the bed. Their hands were almost touching. He looked down and watched Reece curl his fingers away from his own.
When he didn’t move, Reece pointed to his bedroom door, ordering, “You gotta leave, bro. No more sleepovers. No more makin’ eyes at me during class. No more watching me undress in the locker room. And no more showering together.” A pitiful wail escaped Trey’s lips and Reece softened slightly. Reaching out to muss his hair, he pointed toward the door, saying, “Emily’ll be here soon. You gotta leave, bro. You gotta go now.”
Trey stumbled out of the bedroom and out of the house, rubbing his wet eyes and trying to stifle the sobs. It didn’t work and he finally gave up, surrendering to the cascade of pent-up emotions that threatened to drown him. Finding his way into the woods behind Reece’s house, he lay down on the ground and balled his eyes out. He’d thought that he and Reece would always be together. It had never occurred to him that they wouldn’t. Raw jealousy rose in his chest and he pounded his fists into the leaf-strewn earth, furious with Emily for taking Reece away from him.
Only after an hour of sobbing did he pull himself together again. Standing up and turning his back on Reece, he vowed he’d get even.
A week later he started dating Yasmin.
***
Rocco got roaring drunk.
Trey could hear him rampaging through the apartment as he groped blindly for his car keys. Trey emerged from his bedroom, his eyes still red-rimmed from crying, to find his friend staggering out the door with the keys swinging from his fingers. He was so drunk he could barely stand upright.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, trying to block his way. “Not driving anywhere, I hope.”
“Geth tha fuckth outta my wayth,” Rocco slurred. “I gotta geth to worth!”
“You are in no shape to drive or work,” Trey stated, trying to push him back into the apartment. “Call in sick. Don’t show up. I don’t give a fuck what you do but you’re not driving like this.”
Rocco pulled up short, weaving on his feet as he stared down at him. His lip curled, “Fineth. Then you drive meeth.” He dangled the keys in front of Trey’s face.
“To the strip club?”
Rocco nodded, grinning stupidly.
Trey pursed his lips. “Seriously? Yer gonna go to work like this?” He gestured at his friend’s inebriated condition. “You can barely stand! How the fuck do you think you’re going to dance?”
“I can do ith!” Rocco insisted. “An’ sides, even if I canth dance, I can stilth bend over.” He stuck out his giant, inflated buttocks, shaking them until they looked like they’d bounce off.
Trey held up his hand. “That’s enough. You promised me you’d stop whoring, remember?” When Rocco continued twerking drunkenly, he got angry, shouting, “Fuck you, Rocco! Just fuck you!”
He had started to storm off when a big mitt on his shoulder stopped him. And then Rocco was folding the keys into his hands. Releasing him, the big brute turned and lurched out the door. Trey stood there, holding the sticky car keys in his palm. After a while, he followed his friend out of the apartment and drove him to the club.
***
Chapter 4
Rocco was marginally more sober by the time they arrived. He led Trey through the darkened establishment, waving to the grinning bartender and scowling manager. “C’mon, bro,” he called over his shoulder. “Help me get ready for my act.”
Trey didn’t know why he followed him into the dressing room behind the stage. He had no desire to see Rocco or his fellow dancers get ready, whatever that meant. Why bother getting ready when they were just going to strip everything off in a few minutes?
There were a bunch of other bloated behemoths crowded into the dank dressing room when they entered. The walls were covered with racks of cheap costumes. Trey took note of the usual tropes: Various sports uniforms, police and firefighter outfits, soldier fatigues. And, of course, men’s suits. All were designed for quick removal with either rows of Velcro or buttons sewn along the seams. He regarded them with distaste, wondering if they had even been laundered. If he had his druthers, he’d soak them in bleach before he even thought about putting them on. Not that he would ever stoop so low as to strip!
One of the old strippers, a bovine lump of a man with garish tattoos and a missing front tooth, took one look at Trey and chortled, “Hey, Romano! Ya know da rules! No tricks in here!” He pointed to the back hallway. “Take yer lil’ pretty boy out in the alley before ya fuck him!” Laughing coarsely, he added, “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Ya can’t fuck no more with all dat silicone! Haha!”
Rocco leered at him, “Oh, yeah? I can, too, Bruno!” He grabbed his swollen groin, squeezing. “Juss watch me!” He chuckled with amusement, adding, “And this here’s my buddy, Trey! He’s gonna help me out tonight.” He turned to the rest of the guys, “Say hey to Trey now! An’ keep yer ugly paws off of him! He’s straight!”
“Yeah, right,” Bruno drawled. “They’s all sez dat.” He turned his back to them and continued slathering oil on his overblown torso.
Rocco immediately started stripping out of his street clothes. Trey watched him with horrified fascination, looking from him to the rest of the strippers. He soon recognized a pattern: Rocco had obviously taken inspiration from the other guys’ body modifications and doubled them.
The other strippers had tramp stamps over their asses so Rocco got one twice as big and twice as lurid. They had butt implants so Rocco got even bigger ones. They had all done steroids so Rocco did twice as much, growing his muscles so big they were effectively worthless. It was the same with his tan, Botox and facial surgeries. He overdid everything, turning himself into a caricature.
And then there was his crotch.
Trey flinched and wanted badly to look away when Rocco pulled off his boxers and his cock and balls flopped out. He did it so matter of factly. Like it was nothing. Trey cast about nervously and saw the other guys were doing the same thing, stripping naked and letting their augmented male appendages hang out. None of them were normal down there. Trey wasn’t an expert but he judged most of them had penile implants, the kind they could pump up before the show so they were sporting an erection. The implants also made their dicks bigger even when flaccid, like they were sporting erections that pointed at the ground. He shuddered.
As weird as it was for him to be in a room filled with naked male strippers, the other guys acted like it was no big deal, which, Trey supposed, probably wasn’t for them. Judging from their advanced age, they’d been stripping for years and maybe even decades; the novelty of it had long since worn off. Stripping was just a job, kind of like working at McDonalds or Starbucks…only without clothing. They laughed and joked casually as they got ready, sometimes slapping each other playfully on the buttocks or even batting at their buddy’s cocks.
Rocco was different from the other men. He stood apart, somewhat aloof, almost as if he considered himself to be above them. In truth, he was literally above them; he was a big man who was well over six feet tall. There was more to his standoffishness, though. A kind of pride. Trey remembered then that Rocco had complained about a young upstart…which meant that Rocco himself had been the top dog until then. Did he still consider himself superior to these guys? If so, it was sort of pathetic and endearing at the same time. Rocco wasn’t anything like these guys but that wasn’t because he was better than them. No, he was different for other reasons and not for the ones that Rocco probably imagined.
The male ego, Trey thought sadly as he watched his bloated friend strut around like he was a prize stallion, can be remarkably impervious to reality.
Rocco made a gesture and Trey turned to look at him, realizing that this was exactly what his friend wanted: He wanted Trey to see him. More than that, he wanted Trey to admire him. Trey sighed, trying not to shake his head. It was just so sad!
He remembered from his first trip to the strip club that Rocco had been plenty hung. (When the dude sat on his lap, he’d see the outline of his huge member, thrusting out from the pouch of his jockstrap.) Now, though, the monster between Rocco’s legs was inhumanly big…and deformed. It was a long, thick, blotchy mess of a penis, crooked and misshapen. And his ball sac looked more like a cow’s udder. It was perhaps the ugliest thing he’d ever seen and he felt like he would be sick if he stared at it for too long.
“You like?” Rocco taunted, wagging the bloated beast in his face. “Watch me. It’s gets even bigger.” He pulled a syringe out of a nearby drawer and, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, hefted his cock in one hand and searched for a place to insert the needle.
“What is that?” Trey queried, feeling nauseous. “Edex?”
“Huh?” Rocco paused in his attempt to find an appropriate injection site.
“An erectile dysfunction drug,” Trey clarified. “Guys inject it into their penises to get hard. It’s called Edex.”
Rocco’s face scrunched up and Trey could tell he had no idea what he was talking about. Instead, Rocco turned back to his cock, grunting, “Need to find a place where there ain’t no silicone.” Finally, he made a satisfied sound and jammed the needle deep into his mottled shaft. Trey looked away, cringing. The thought of stabbing a needle into his penis made him want to cry. And yet Rocco did it like it was nothing!
“See? Hard!”
Trey glanced over and saw Rocco wasn’t lying. That drug must have been pretty potent because it was already having an effect. He stared in fascinated horror as the limp monstrosity slowly filled with blood and lifted ponderously upward, getting bigger and firmer as it did so. The drug could only work so many wonders, though; Rocco’s penis–if you could still call it that–only got half-hard. Already at its hardest, the heavy club swung to and fro, a thick tube of inert flesh. Trey turned away, choking on stomach acid.
Rocco swung his member proudly back and forth like a sick elephant’s trunk, obviously equating his tool’s immense size with his immense prowess. Trey watched him in disbelief. Can he really be that clueless? he wondered, appalled. He’s a total freak! Even the other strippers are laughing at him! He’s turned himself into a joke!
Just then the door swung open and a young guy sauntered in. Tall and beefy like a rugby or a football jock, he wore a college letterman’s jacket that was loaded down with medals. His jaw was square and lightly bearded and his face was chiseled. He had curly brown hair and beautiful eyes the color of rich cinnamon. With incredibly wide shoulders and a tapering waist, he possessed the classic masculine form…and he knew it. His macho attitude dripped off of him like a potent musk.
His light eyes swept across the room dismissively and he grumbled, “Huh? What’re you old fuckers doin’ in here? This here’s my private dressing room. Get out. I ain’t undressin’ in front of no faggots.” He pointed at the door.
The other strippers laughed uproariously at this and the young jock’s face colored. “Hey, Princess!” Bruno called out as the others clutched their sides. “Yer one of us now and don’t ya forget it!” He pointed at Rocco who was staring daggers at the interloper, “Guys like you don’t last long ‘round here. Yer gonna look juss like him before ya know it!”
The young guy shuddered with revulsion, spitting, “Yeah, right. I’m never gonna be like that big freak!” He gestured to his hard, muscular body, “I’m perfect the way I am! I don’t need no implants to show the girls what I got.” His hand dropped down the crotch of his jeans and he squeezed, grinning proudly.
“That’s what they all say,” Bruno scoffed. “If you was smart, Princess, you’d run while ya still can.” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound and the other joined in.
“I’m only here for a couple more nights,” ‘Princess’ replied, sneering. “The boss is payin’ me a big bonus if I stick around through the weekend.”
“Uh huh.” Bruno’s guttural grunt was filled with skepticism. “We’ll see what ya look like by then.”
Princess curled his hands into fists, demanding, “What’s that ‘sposed to mean? I’m tellin’ ya for the last time, I ain’t gonna get no mods and I ain’t fucking no faggots. I ain’t like the rest of you scumbags!” He jabbed his thumbs into his chest, “I’m straight. Hundred percent–”
It was then that his eyes met Trey’s. It was the weirdest thing, a frisson of something–Recognition?–shot through his body as they stared at each other. Trey blinked, realizing he was staring and looked away.
He wasn’t fast enough, though. Princess thrust back his shoulders and stuck his finger out at him, shouting, “You, Pedro! Stop starin’ at me! Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Don’t they got no strippers down in Mexico?” He jerked his chin at the door. “Get the fuck outta this here country or I’ll make ya.”
Before Trey could react, Rocco stepped between them. Pushing Princess backwards so hard he had to windmill his arms to steady himself, he roared, “Shut THE FUCK up and stay away from him! You ain’t the border police! He’s my Mexican!”
Both Trey and Princess were caught off guard. Trey seethed at Princess’ racist slurs and from being called Rocco’s Mexican. Princess, for his part, was also furious, albeit for a different reason, “I’ll fuckin’ look at whoever I fuckin’ want, asshole!” He pushed around Rocco and stood facing Trey. His eyes were fiery and his face was twisted with outrage. “You,” he stuck his finger in Trey’s chest. “What’s yer name?”
“It’s not Pedro,” Trey replied, wrinkling his lip. “I’m Trey.”
For some reason, Princess was taken aback. “Trey?” he repeated, incredulous. “Yer Trey?”
“Yeah. You know me?” It was then he realized why he’d felt that jolt of recognition when he and Princess’s eyes first met: Princess looked almost exactly like Reece before his transformation into Rocco. The resemblance was downright eerie. No wonder this jock pushed all of his gay buttons so hard!
Princess’s demeanor shifted then and he smiled broadly, stepping closer as he shrugged off his jacket. Underneath, he was bare-chested. Unlike the other dancers, he had body hair and a lot of it, although he kept it neatly trimmed. His furry pecs stuck out, hanging like heavy boulders off of him. But his belly was flat as can be, ridged with abs. Trey realized then that, despite being a repugnant racist, he was also incredibly attractive…and became more so when he unfastened his belt and tugged his skintight jeans down his waist. He was wearing a pair of black boxers underneath that accentuated his sizable bulge. That bulge was nice but it was those big, firm, blocky buttocks jutting out behind him that really drew Trey’s attention.
What an ass! And those thighs! Ungh! Trey flushed when he felt himself get aroused. He shook his head at himself for getting turned on by an ignorant racist. What was wrong with him?
Princess took note of his scrutiny and puffed out his magnificent chest. “Name’s Carlo. Nice to meet ya, Trey.” He winked, “Sorry ‘bout dis asshole,” he jerked his chin at Rocco who colored at this slight.
Seeing Rocco standing next to Carlo really made it obvious how much Rocco had changed. Trey mopped his sweaty brow, feeling faint, when he remembered that only a couple months ago Reece and Carlo could have passed for twins. Now Rocco was a big, bloated, silicone-filled freak who looked decades older than Carlo. How could he have changed so quickly?
“You wanna see me dance?” Carlo teased, wiggling his crotch. “I’ll give ya yer own private strip show. On the house or on my lap, whichever ya want!” He laughed, the giant sausage hiding inside his boxers flopping around languidly. Trey looked down, swallowing. Carlo was really hung!
Trey’s tongue was thick in his mouth, he barely had the mental wherewithal to wonder why Carlo was being so solicitous all of a sudden. The big jock had entered the dressing room with both barrels blazing, acting like a total homophobe, not to mention a racist. Why this sudden change, especially when he was offering his, um, services for free? It didn’t add up.
And then there was Rocco. Trey’s heart clenched when he looked over and saw the hurt and jealousy warring across his ugly face. Seeing Carlo flirt so openly with him was putting him through hell. Trey felt bad. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Rocco.
“Well?” Carlo prompted, annoyed at being kept waiting. He was no doubt accustomed to men falling all over him.
With effort, Trey turned away, saying, “Uh, thanks but I’ll pass.”
“What?!” Carlo sputtered, unable to believe his ears. “But what about–?”
Trey ignored him and turned back to Rocco. “Listen, bro,” he said, feeling guilty even though he and Carlo hadn’t done anything. “I’m gonna go out and find a seat before, um, the place fills up.” He squeezed Rocco’s huge arm reassuringly. “I’m looking forward to the show.”
Rocco’s face brightened. “Yer gonna stay an’ watch me dance?” His gaping mouth split into a ragged smile, “Oh, good!”
Trey squeezed his arm again, “Yeah, bro. Wouldn’t miss it.” He turned to go, mindful of Carlo’s burning gaze upon him, “I’ll see ya in a bit, Ok?”
He closed the door behind him, painfully aware of the erection throbbing in his jeans. Jesus, that Carlo was hot!
***
Chapter 5
Erection rubbing against his underwear, he staggered over to the bar where he slumped down on a stool. His hardon, though, stubbornly refused to subside and he chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to distract himself from his arousal. Carlo. Ungh! What a fucking stud! And that ass! He sat there, breathing deeply, trying to control the mounting urge to…fuck…something…like Carlo’s ass.
If only he wasn’t straight, he thought, the image of the jock’s perfect ass popping back into his brain. But he was strangely flirty…maybe he’s bi? He shook himself, remembering Rocco. He loved Rocco. No matter how much Carlo reminded him of Reece, he wasn’t Reece and he wasn’t in love with him. Nonetheless, the memory of Carlo continued to torment him.
Poor Trey! He’d been such a good boy, suppressing his gay impulses for so long that he thought he’d mastered himself. He was so efficient at it that it became second nature. Over time, he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Whenever he felt a gay desire, he’d immediately channel it into something productive. That was why he was such an exemplary student: He turned his desire into perfect grades.
Everyone thought he was so disciplined but the truth was he’d reached the limit of his ability to deny himself gratification. The sight of Carlo’s beefy, ripped body tipped him over the edge and he needed release. Really bad. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to fuck something!
Oblivious to his inner turmoil, the bartender–the same one who had grinned at them when they came in–sidled over and asked for his order. When Trey asked for a beer, he carefully examined his driver’s license. His eyes lifted suspiciously from the card to Trey’s face and back again.
“C’mon. I don’t look that young,” Trey snapped, his boiling libido making him peevish. “I’m old enough to drink.”
The man seemed to find this funny. “Relax, kiddo. I’m juss doin’ my job.” He smiled, handing the card back and standing before him with folded arms.
Angry at being called, ‘kiddo,’ Trey replied, “Then do it and get me my beer.” He realized he was clenching his fists and had to force himself to relax. He felt almost like he was experiencing ‘roid rage…without the ‘roids. God, he needed to get laid and fast!
“Not yet,” the man said, leaning forward. “First, I wanna know if yer a betting man. Will you make a wager?”
“What sort of wager?” Trey asked, suddenly wary.
It was then he took a better look at the guy. He did a double take when he noticed the dude was wearing a harness and nothing else. Big and burly, his bare chest pushed out against the black leather belts, covered in black fur. The pouch of his leather jockstrap was very full and his black, curly bush poured out the sides and the top of the jock, further evidence of his prowess.
As alluring as all of this was, though, it was something else that really got Trey going: The man’s ass. As he gazed back at him, he realized he could see the guy’s bare butt in the mirror behind the bar. His buttocks were covered in dense, black fur and were very large, almost succulent. Trey salivated, wondering helplessly, Why are big, hot man-asses wherever I go these days? It’s killing me!
The bartender was older and heavier than Carlo so gravity had taken a toll on his body, making him look like he could be the jock’s father. Trey wasn’t complaining, though! The older dude’s buttocks might not be as preternaturally perky as Carlo’s but he enjoyed the way they swayed ponderously back and forth, jiggling with even the slightest movement. Thanks to gravity–and fat–those massive ass cheeks were thicker and heavier at the base than at the top. Really thick and heavy…
Ungh!
Trey grimaced as his penis stiffened yet again. This was getting ridiculous! He was so overwrought that his hands were shaking.
“Well?” Trey prompted when the bartender didn’t answer his question. “What am I supposed to wager?” His cock was pushing up toward his belt buckle by this point.
“Depends on which you choose: Heads or tails.”
“Huh?”
In answer, the bartender pulled out a coin, holding it out. “Heads or tails?”
“What do I win if I guess correctly?” Trey asked guardedly. Something about this interaction felt off. And also on. As in turned on. He realized he was devouring the man with his hungry gaze just as the man was doing the same thing to him.
The bartender shrugged his wide shoulders, “Depends on what you prefer: Heads or tails.” He smiled disarmingly. He really was a handsome man!
Trey looked at the coin, reaching down to massage his groin. “I don’t get it.”
The man’s eyes were dancing by this point, “I’m only trying to find out what you like.” When Trey continued to look at him with raised eyebrows, he sighed, “Cock or hole, dude. Heads or tails. Get it? Now which is it?”
Trey blinked, understanding finally dawning on him. This was part of the bartender’s schtick, the one he used to get attractive patrons on the end of his stick. In other words, the guy was trying to take advantage of him.
Trey glanced up at his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar and realized how young and innocent he appeared. He’d always been babyfaced due to his complete inability to grow facial hair and people always thought he was younger than his years.
I must look like an easy mark, he thought. He’s trying to pull one over on me but I’m not as innocent or clueless as he thinks. His eyes narrowed and he smiled to himself. Alright, motherfucker, you asked for it. Let’s see who takes advantage of whom!
He purposely adopted a nervous mien, bashfully lowering his gaze and glancing up at the man through his eyelashes. His cheeks colored and he swallowed hard, “Head or tails, huh? Can I choose both? I mean, I like both. Or at least I think I do.” He looked away hurriedly as he said this, wondering if his acting skills were good enough.
They were. The man bought his act. Grinning like a wolf, he pressed, “Do you want to fuck or get fucked?” He flexed his biceps. The tip of his tongue rested on his upper lip. He licked.
Trey looked away, flustered. “Er, well, I don’t know.” He lowered his voice, murmuring, “I’m still a virgin.” He lowered his eyes shyly, feigning coyness. “This is my first time at a place like this.”
The man leaned closer, smile deepening. “A virgin, huh? I knew it! I can smell ‘em a mile away.” He thrust his crotch forward, showing Trey the goods. “Tell me: When you do it for the first time, don’t you want a big man inside you? A cute little twink like you needs to be broken in, taught what he really likes.” He dropped a hand and massaged the cup of his jock. Trey’s eyes followed, widening when they saw how much bigger the pouch was now than just a moment ago. The bartender smirked, removing his hand and picking up the coin. Holding it out to Trey with the head side showing, he rumbled, “You should pick heads.”
Trey pretended to be embarrassed. His cheeks colored but the man had no idea that he was flushed from arousal and not embarrassment. Keeping his eyes lowered, he stammered, “I-I-I don’t know. I mean, what if it’s tails? Does that mean I get to–?” He lifted his gaze meaningfully. At first, the guy didn’t understand but then he followed Trey’s gaze and, looking behind himself, realized with a start that Trey was eying his bare ass.
This time, it was the bartender’s turn to blush. He dropped the coin on the bar as he stammered, “Uh, no. Trust me, that ain’t gonna happen.” He shuddered. “I never bottom.” He gestured to his bare ass hanging out the back of his jock, “This is just for tips.”
“Too bad.” While the man was distracted, Trey picked up the coin and pocketed it, replacing it with another. He didn’t need to look to know the coin was a fake; both sides were heads. The man was so flustered he didn’t notice. Pleased that his ruse had worked, Trey said, “Alright. You’ve convinced me. I choose heads.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Good choice!” He picked up the coin and flipped it in the air, catching it again on the back of his hand. “If it’s heads, we’ll do it right here behind the bar.”
Trey’s eyes got big, “What?!”
The bartender shrugged, cajoling, “Relax, kiddo. It’ll be fun. I do it all the time!”
Trey pretended to be shocked as he backpedaled, “I don’t know if I–”
But the man was already removing his hand, uncovering the coin. His eyebrows shot upward in shock, though, when he saw the coin had landed on tails. Trey grinned. He knew he had a fifty-fifty chance of losing but those odds were far better than if he’d used the bartender’s fake coin!
Grinning with victory, he lightly hopped behind the bar and took up position behind that big, fat butt, pretending he was getting ready to fuck it. In truth, he had no intention of fucking the man. He might be really turned on but he wasn’t a slut; he just enjoyed turning the tables on the guy.
The bartender’s reaction was not what he expected. Before he could take those alluringly heavy orbs in his hands, the man whirled on him, shouting, “You tricked me! That’s not fair.” Trey started to smile but then noticed something odd: The atmosphere in the bar had suddenly darkened and grown ominous. As he stared at the man, shadows seemed to leap from behind him and he grew menacingly large. On the wall behind them, Trey blinked when he realized he could see the shadow of leathery wings hovering over the big man’s shoulders. He took a step backwards, realizing he’d inadvertently stepped into a very dangerous–and surreal–predicament. What the fuck was going on here anyways?
Even when presented with such a nightmare scenario, though, Trey wasn’t cowed. This was largely because he knew that truth was on his side. Regaining his composure, he protested, “I didn’t trick you. You tried to trick me. I just replaced your fake coin with a real one.” He pulled the offending coin out of his pocket and held it up, turning it over in his palm. “See?” Sure enough, both sides were heads.
Trey folded his arms as he leaned back on his heel, reasoning, “But let’s set aside the question of cheating. You weren’t being honest with me in another way, right?” He narrowed his eyes, “I know the stories. I’m familiar with your kind. Even if I had somehow managed to win, I still would’ve lost because there’s no winning against you.” His gaze traveled to the back wall where the shadows of the bartender’s giant wings were still visible. “Let’s call it a draw, Ok? I agree to surrender my claim on your ass and you agree to leave me alone. Deal?”
The lights suddenly brightened, albeit only marginally. This was a strip club, after all! Slowly, the atmosphere became less sinister. As the winged shadows disappeared from the back wall, Trey was left staring at a very unhappy bartender. The man crossed his arms, leaning against the bar. Trey wondered what the health department thought about bare asses on the bar but decided this was the least of his concerns at the moment.
“It’s been years,” the man mused. “I can’t believe you tricked me!”
“You were overconfident.”
“And you’re unnaturally attractive.” The man shook his head. “I’ve always had a weakness for the innocent ones. But you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?”
Trey laughed, feeling more at ease, “I’m still pretty innocent. I didn’t lie about being a virgin, for instance. A gay virgin, at least.”
“I know that,” the man grumbled and Trey wondered how he knew. When he thought more about it, though, he decided he didn’t want to ask. The bartender made a dismissive motion, indicating he was through with the discussion. “Unfortunately,” he began, “I can’t accept your terms.” When Trey barked in protest, he added, “Listen, rules are rules and I don’t make ‘em. You still owe me a wager.”
“But I didn’t–!” Trey forced himself to stop, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “Ok, I’ll play but,” he held his finger in the man’s face, “if I win, you will set Rocco free and make him Reece again.” He didn’t know how he knew it but he was certain this man was behind Reece’s downfall. There could be no other explanation.
Narrowing his eyes at Trey’s cleverness, the bartender was silent for a moment, assessing. Finally, he sighed, “I’ll see. Some things can’t be undone, you know. Rocco has wagered–and lost–too much already.” When Trey opened his mouth to complain, he soothed, “Wait! Listen to me. If you win, I promise I’ll do what I can for Reece. Deal?” He stuck out his hand.
Trey thought for a moment before clasping it. The man’s hand was really warm and strong and covered in callouses. “Deal,” he said, meeting his disconcertingly direct gaze.
The bartender grinned, “Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind. It’s time for the show to start.” Before Trey could turn away, though, he clapped a hand to his forehead, “Oops! Almost forgot something. Before you go, I gotta wipe your memory.” He laughed, “Gotta stack the odds in my favor, right?”
“Why, you–!” Trey started to yell but it was too late. The man snapped his fingers and Trey blinked, giving a start when he realized he was standing behind the bar. He didn’t remember stepping back here! He looked up sheepishly at the studly bartender, apologizing, “Oh, gosh! I’m sorry!”
The man grinned, “Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head, kiddo!” He reached down and patted Trey on the butt, urging him back out on the floor. “You just go out there and enjoy yourself! I promise it’ll be worth it!” He stuck a beer in Trey’s hand and waved him off. Trey wandered away, wondering why he felt so spacey.
***
Chapter 6
The first act–Rocco’s act–was a disaster. His big friend must have had more to drink before going on stage because he was barely able to stand when he finally stumbled out from behind the curtain. He was out of sync with the beat and missed his cue, tripping and running into the other dancers. Trey rolled his eyes at the song, I’m Too Sexy by Right Said Fred, another one that predated his birth by more than a decade. He sighed and sank down in his chair, embarrassed for Rocco.
The audience was sparse because it was still early in the evening. People didn’t even stop talking to watch him as Rocco awkwardly removed article after article of clothing from his oversized frame. His timing didn’t improve as the song progressed and finally the other dancers got fed up and walked off, leaving Rocco to gyrate and thrust all by himself. The harsh lights glared off of his bald forehead, sparsely covered with plugs of transplanted hair. Sweat poured down his face and chest, smearing the orange fake tan he’d slathered over himself. He left dribbles of it like a broken chiaroscuro across the stage, testament to his haphazard footwork.
His huge butt implants sagged off of his behind, thudding together like a pair of sandbags. And then his swollen package got stuck between his thighs, nearly tripping him. By the time he’d stripped down to a G-string and started weaving his way toward Trey’s table, Trey wanted to melt into the floor. Rocco was coming for him, though, intent on giving him another lap dance. What could he do? He glanced down at his jeans, already imagining them stained orangutan orange and speckled with the outlines of Rocco’s anal warts.
The drag queen emcee saved him–and Rocco–from embarrassing themselves.
Cutting the music, she hopped up on stage and launched into an impromptu standup routine. The lights came up and Rocco stood there blinking like a startled ox. A couple of the other dancers emerged from backstage and hauled him away. Trey watched him, heart twisting, as Rocco reached out to him, his mouth gaping wide in a pathetic howl of despair as the strippers herded him backstage.
He must have really wanted to give Trey that lap dance!
Trey took a deep breath to steady himself, thinking, This is worse than I thought. What am I going to do with him? Clearly, his stripping career is at its end. What now? What career path does a steroidal muscle bull with anal warts have ahead of him?
He was saved from further consternation by the next act. While the emcee was busy with her routine, the club had really filled up with a younger and more diverse crowd than Trey remembered from his last time at the club. Every chair was full by the time she delivered her last joke to roaring laughter and thunderous applause. The joke wasn’t really all that funny but it didn’t matter. The audience was here for one thing and one thing only: The hot, young jock, Carlo. He was so hot that word had spread far and wide of his prowess. People were hungry for fresh meat! Trey couldn’t blame them. What he’d already seen of Carlo made him want more.
“Everyone,” the emcee was saying, “wet your pussies for our next act, the fabulously hung stud, Carlo!”
God, even his name is sexy, Trey thought, remembering he’d felt the same way about Reece’s name before he changed it to Rocco. He sat forward in his chair, waiting expectantly as the music started. This time it was a song he knew, I Luv Dem Strippers by 2 Chainz, a transgressive and sexy number that turned out to be perfectly suited to Carlo’s, er, talents.
Carlo didn’t even bother with a costume. The dark stage was suddenly illuminated by a lone spotlight that zoomed in on the stocky jock’s completely naked body. He was standing with his back to the audience, giving them a perfect view of his perky butt. It was square and full and gravity-defying, accentuated by his slim hips and broad shoulders. Even his thighs were perfectly proportioned, just hulking enough to draw everyone’s attention to those beautiful, ripe globes. When he shook his hips, the ripple that shivered across his jutting buttocks was epic.
And his tan lines! When Trey was in the dressing room, Carlo’s ass cheeks had been obstructed by his boxer shorts. Now that his butt was naked, he realized the jock had stark, white tan lines in the distinctive shape of a thong.
Trey’s cock throbbed at the sight.
The outline of a thong was even hotter than a thong itself. He found himself imagining the jock stepping into the skimpy garment and drawing it up his thick thighs, squatting down slightly to ease it over the significant rise of his buttocks and then nestling the string into his deep cleft.
Ungh!
It was so hot! The audience thought so, too, clapping and hooting loudly. Carlo lapped it up, grinning from ear to ear and giving his adoring fans plenty to cheer about. The contrast to the previous act was stark when the audience had barely paid any attention at all to Rocco.
Trey couldn’t remember being this turned on since he’d watched Reece’s first performance. Even better, this time he wasn’t encumbered by his misguided belief in his ironclad heterosexuality. It was so much more fun now that he allowed himself to admire Carlo’s manly beauty!
Carlo spread his legs and teased the audience by slightly relaxing his clamped butt cheeks, giving them a tantalizing glimpse of his buried hole. Trey whistled and then remembered Rocco saying that he couldn’t get completely naked on stage because it was against the law. If that was the case, then how…?
Then he understood.
Carlo whirled around to face the crowd and Trey saw he was holding an athlete’s support cup over his package. Apparently, he was good with the law as long as he had something that could reasonably be construed as an article of clothing. It worked for Trey…and the audience, too. Unable to stick money in his underwear, they showered the stage with bills. Soon, it was littered with twenties, fifties and even a few hundred dollar bills. Carlo shimmied his hips, eyes on fire with pride as he soaked in the crowd’s adoration.
He made them wait.
He tempted them.
He teased them.
He’d start to bend over and then straighten.
He’d pretend like he was going to lift away the cup and then stop, getting lost in a languid movement as beautiful as it was frustrating. Trey had never thought of stripping as the art of delayed gratification but Carlo made it so. Before long, everyone was salivating, eyes gobbling up the jock’s luscious body.
He’d twist and twerk and gyrate sinuously, arching his back and flexing his magnificently toned muscles. Kicking up his legs, he’d just about show his hole but then he’d clench at the last second, burying his treasure. His skin was nubile and tender, unblemished. Not one tattoo marred his perfect flesh. And his face was fresh, his eyes alive with allure and seduction. His lips were full and wet, his teeth shiny and perfect.
When he finally leaped off the stage and made his way through the audience, hands groped him everywhere. He laughed, arching his back and shaking his booty, inviting people to adore his sensuously oiled body.
Trey was so captivated by the seductive dance that he didn’t realize until Carlo was right in front of him that he was the target of his desire. Trey was far at the back of the club, shrouded in darkness and yet Carlo slowly danced toward him, backing up the entire way, so Trey had a perfect view of that amazing ass.
And then he did it.
Trey’s eyes popped.
Carlo bent forward and spread his legs. The crowd gasped as those behind him finally got their first, full glimpse of his tight, perfect pucker. Even his anus was beautiful, Trey realized, a mocha-colored areola of dewy-moist, folded flesh. It was obvious even to Trey’s unschooled eye that this was a virgin hole. Carlo was an unplucked–and unfucked–fruit at the peak of his ripeness.
And apparently he wanted Trey to have the first taste.
Shimmying and shaking that divine booty, he backed up until his ass was right in Trey’s face. And then he was on his lap, his hot, sweaty buttocks soaking his jeans with dripping boy juices. He took Trey’s hands and placed them over his nipples. Trey tweaked them, almost by accident, and Carlo moaned. And then he moved his hands down, down, down as he pushed his butt outward. This time Trey moaned.
Carlo lifted the cup away, brazenly flouting all the laws of decency.
And, just like that, Trey was holding Carlo’s long, thick penis.
The jock was exquisitely hard, his circumcised member pulsing in time with the music. Trey’s own erection thrust upward, tenting his jeans and ramming into the tantalizing cleft of Carlo’s ass. Carlo sat down hard, grinding into that erection and Trey jacked him. Carlo arched his back, writhing on his lap, and Trey moved his other hand up to pinch his little nipple.
The crowd was enraptured by their private show. And it did feel private somehow even though they were in full view of dozens of patrons. Trey felt like he and Carlo were all alone in the world and nothing could stop them from gratifying their urges.
At that moment, though, a bright flash caught Trey’s attention and he looked over to see the bartender flipping a quarter into the air. The silver coin glimmered as it arced upward, tumbling over and over before finally descending…
The sight of that coin sent a jolt through Trey’s body and he abruptly stood up, shoving Carlo off his lap. Carlo squawked in protest, immediately covering his butt and hardon behind his hands. The music cut off and the emcee immediately hopped on stage and started berating Trey vociferously. Her words were so scathing–and obscene–that he turned and fled the club.
As he ran past the bartender, the man grinned, holding the coin under his hand. “Heads or tails?” he asked. “What’s it gonna be?” Trey tried to get by him but the guy blocked his exit, saying, “Heads I win, tails you lose.”
Trey exhaled in annoyance, “Dude, ‘heads you win, tails I lose,’ really? Do you think I’m stupid? That means I lose either way.”
The bartender’s eyes lit up with mischief, “How about double or nothing? Or, better yet, double and nothing? Who can refuse that?”
Trey didn’t have time for this. Shoving past the guy, he called over his shoulder, “It doesn’t matter. You choose.”
***
He made it out of the club and was heading to his car when he heard a voice call out behind him, “Wait!” Trey sighed, just wanting to get out of there. He was so over strippers and strip clubs and disliked this neighborhood intensely. Bad even at the best of times, the downtown district was even worse now and the sidewalks were crowded with hordes of unsavory men who leered at him as they walked past.
“Wait!” the voice came again, more desperate this time.
He didn’t need to turn to know who it was; he recognized Carlo’s voice. What? he wondered. Did he run out here naked?
Sure enough, hoots and catcalls broke out behind him, growing louder as the sound of bare feet padding toward him drew nearer. Trey turned, eyebrows lifting. The young stud was still all but naked, holding the rubber cup over his groin.
“Yeah?” Trey asked, breathless even though he wasn’t the one who had been running. (Carlo was so fucking hot!)
“Why’d you go?” Carlo panted. “I was ready for you. We coulda done it. The club manager said it’s Ok. Said it’s good for business.” He looked off to the side before looking back at him. He was tall, Trey realized at that moment. At least as tall as Rocco. And, because he was so tall, that meant Trey was staring directly at his big, hairy tits. Carlo lowered his eyes, smiling shyly. “I’ll let you do it, you know.” He jerked his chin toward the back alley. “We could do it here if you want.”
“Do what?” Trey managed to stammer. His pulse was pounding in his ears.
Carlo rolled his eyes. “Fuck my virgin hole, bro! Jesus, do I gotta spell it out for ya? I’ve been saving it just for you!” He turned then and waggled his big buttocks at him, bending over and pulling them apart. As Trey stared in shock, the jock opened and closed his butthole, all but imploring him to fuck him right then and there. A few guys walking past turned and ogled, jabbing each other in the ribs. One yelled, “Stop it, ya dirty faggot! We don’t wanna look at dat!”
From between his legs, Carlo yelled back at the guy, “I ain’t no faggot!” Looking back to Trey, he said, “Well? Do it! Fuck my hole!”
Somehow Trey pulled himself back from the brink of desire. Part of him really did want to fuck that tight jock-hole. He didn’t care if they were in public and without condoms! He’d risk getting arrested and an STD…
…but he couldn’t do it.
Something didn’t add up. If Carlo really was straight, why was he so desperate to get fucked…and for free, too? It didn’t make sense. Plus, the longer he stared at the jock, seeing that brown hole winking at him between his meaty thighs, the less appealing he became.
“You know what?” he said, turning to leave. “I’ll pass. But thanks for showing me yer hole, bro.”
Carlo straightened in disbelief, “WHAT?! What do you mean ‘thanks‘? Yer not gonna fuck me?! But why?! I’m offering you my ass, bro, and yer turnin’ me down??? What’s wrong with you?!”
Trey smiled. “I do like tail, I’m not gonna deny it, but I don’t like you. That’s the problem.” When Carlo bridled, he softened, “Look, nothing personal, bro. Yer hot as fuck and that hole is seriously tempting but I’m in love with another guy.” He smiled, eyes drifting off into space, “And I’m saving myself for him. I know it sounds corny but that’s how I feel.”
Carlo’s mouth fell open before he recovered, “It’s Rocco, ain’t it? The guy you love?” He clenched his fists, long cock swinging back and forth between his pumped thighs. In his shock and outrage, he’d given up trying to cover himself, the rubber cup lay discarded on the filthy sidewalk. “What’s that big goon got that I don’t?” He held out his arms, exposing his big, hairy, beautiful body. “I’m worth a dozen Roccos at least! C’mon, bro! All I’m askin’ is for you to fuck me!”
Trey smiled sadly, “And all I’m sayin’ is I’m not gonna do it.” He turned and waved goodbye, stalking back to his car.
Carlo stood there speechless for a moment before recovering enough to shout, “Well, fuck you! FUCK YOU, BRO! YER NOT EVEN ATTRACTIVE! YEAH, YER UGLIER THAN SHIT! I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO FUCK ME ANYWAYS!”
When Trey merely raised his hand and waved him off, he huffed loudly and stomped back to the club.
***
Chapter 7
Trey ended up walking home because he’d given Rocco the car keys when they arrived and he had no desire to go back to the club after everything that had happened. It wasn’t so bad, actually. The long walk through darkened neighbors and silent streets was calming. He felt tired but refreshed by the time he got back to their apartment.
Rocco had beaten him home and was sitting in the dark on the sofa in the living room, his mounded shoulders hunched, the cushions bowed beneath his vast bulk. He looked up balefully as Trey entered. Tears were streaming down his ugly mug.
“I fucked up, bro!” he moaned, rubbing his eyes. He sucked in a breath, trying to stop the tears but it had the opposite effect and soon he was bawling like an injured cow. It was the most pathetic sound that Trey had ever heard. His heart twisted at the sight of his best friend crying–Rocco never cried, not even when he’d been Reece!
Trey squeezed in next to him on the couch, putting an arm over his swollen shoulder muscles. “Why do you say that? What happened?”
Rocco sucked in his lower lip, making him look incongruously like a small child, “I couldn’t make you say you love me! I lost da bet!”
“What bet?” Trey asked. When Rocco merely blinked blearily at him, he exclaimed, “Wait. A bet? You really made a bet with somebody that you could get me to say I love you?”
Rocco stared balefully at him. He really looked awful. And dumb. Let’s not forget the dumb part. “Yeah,” he wailed, “but you didn’t do it!” He gestured to his big, bloated, silicone-filled body, “And now I’m stuck like dis!”
Giving up trying to follow his big, dull friend’s crazy logic, Trey shook his head, “You’ve lost me. Yer not making any sense, bro. You feelin’ alright?”
Rocco shrugged off his arm. “Yeah, I’m fine. And I’m not lyin’! I bet everything to get you to say you loved me!”
Trey stared at him for a moment before saying delicately, “Ok, just for argument’s sake, let’s say it is possible to make a bet like that. Why, Rocco? Why would you bet something like that?”
Completely serious, Rocco replied, “‘Cuz yer the fag an’ I’m not.” He pointed a big finger at him, “Fag’s’re da ones who fall in love, not straight guys like me.”
Trey’s mouth fell open; he was completely dumbfounded. Finally, he managed to say, “Oh, golly. Just wow.” He rubbed his temples furiously, “Where to even begin?”
“I’ll tell ya where to start: With ya tellin’ me ya love me!” Rocco implored. “It’s easy. I already know ya do, bro. Shit, I’ve known yer a fag forever. Why won’t ya just tell me?”
“Alright,” Trey began evenly, “I admit that I’m gay. All of my relationships with women have been emotionally–and even physically for the most part–one-sided.” He paused, fixing Rocco with his steady gaze, “But you’re gay, too, bro. Or at least bi. I mean, you got HPV by getting fucked up the ass for God’s sake!”
Rocco thrust out his lower lip, “That don’t prove nuthin’. I didn’t even like it.”
“Ok, but you are bi. Will you at least admit that?”
“Huh? Why would I admit that? It ain’t true!” Rocco seemed legitimately mystified by the question.
Trey tried again, “Remember the first time I watched you strip? When I was at the club with Rachel and her friends?”
“Yeah.” A slow smile crept across Rocco’s face.
Trey waved his hands, exasperated. “You gave me a lap dance, bro! And you told me you wanted me to fuck you! Yer cock was hard as a rock and you made me touch yer hole!”
Rocco blinked slowly, “Yeah? What’s yer point, bro?”
“Oh, Jesus, Rocco! Straight guys don’t do that! Why can’t you see that?”
Rocco thought about this. The wheels in his thick skull turned so slowly that Trey was sure he could see them grinding away in there. Finally, he said, “I ain’t no fag.”
Trey crossed his arms. “Then that’s it. We’re done, bro. I’m moving out tomorrow. I can’t take any more of this!”
These words had an instantaneous and devastating impact on Rocco. He cried and moaned and got down on his knees, pleading with him to stay, “No, bro! Pah-leez, bro! Don’t leave me, bro! I need ya, bro!”
Trey was unmoved, “The only way I’ll stay is if you confess your feelings for me.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rocco! Tell me you love me!”
Rocco’s heavy brow furrowed, “Why would I do that?”
Throwing his hands up in the air, Trey stood up and stormed into his bedroom, shouting, “I give up! This is impossible! I can’t do this! There’s no getting through to you!”
He slammed the door shut and sat down on his bed, chest heaving. Not a minute passed, though, before Rocco was at his door. Cracking it open, he stared at Trey with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling, “Don’t leave me, bro!”
Trey glared at him. “You don’t want me to leave? Fine, then you know what to say.”
Rocco wrestled mightily with himself for a long time but, just when Trey was convinced he wouldn’t say it, he muttered, “I love you.”
“I’m sorry,” Trey stated coldly. “I didn’t hear you.”
Rocco lumbered into the room. His hands were clenched and his beady eyes were desperate, “I said I love you, bro. I’ve always loved you an’ I always will.” These words alone would have been enough for Trey but he added, “An’ I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya sooner. I’m sorry I made ya think I didn’t like ya. I’m sorry I sent ya away when we was thirteen. I was scared, bro. Real scared. I didn’t know what to do with all these gay feelin’s inside me. I juss knew they got worse when you was around. I freaked out.” He sucked in one last gust of air and declared, “I’m gay, bro. I’m juss like you. Gay as fuck.”
Now Trey’s eyes were full of tears. He held out his arms and Rocco fell into them, nearly crushing him beneath his great weight. Wriggling out from underneath, he wrapped his arms around his big bro’s bull neck and kissed his ear. “And I love you, Rocco.”
Rocco was blubbering by this point but this time they were tears of happiness. He searched Trey’s face, asking, “You really mean dat? Yer not juss sayin’ it to make me feel better?” He looked away, “I’m so ugly, bro! I traded everything to get ya to love me an’ now I don’t got nuthin’ left. I’m juss a big freak!”
Trey reached down and held his buddy’s massively inflated ass cheeks, saying solemnly, “I have no idea how what you just said is possible but it’s true you’ve changed a lot in a short period of time.” Rocco looked up hopefully at the beginning of his sentence but grew worried towards the end. Before he could abjectly fold in on himself, though, Trey declared, “But I don’t care what you look like, Rocco. I love you!”
Unfortunately, they soon discovered there was no way to mutually consummate their newly declared love. Rocco could sort of get hard with the help of an injection into his penis but his siliconed monster was far too large to ever fit into Trey’s ass. For his part, Trey wasn’t in any better shape. He was hung but even his eight inches weren’t enough to reach Rocco’s buried hole. Even if he pried those giant implants apart, he still came up a couple inches short. Rocco’s had effectively made his body fuck-proof.
They tried a blowjob next but Trey couldn’t get his mouth around Rocco’s bloated cockhead. A handjob likewise failed. No matter how hard he stroked Rocco’s python and how hard Rocco grunted and strained, he couldn’t cum. The final straw was when Rocco burst into tears while sucking Trey’s cock. He was feeling so miserable from his inability to perform that he just lost it.
It was heartbreaking and frustrating. They’d both waited so long and gone through so much only to end up with an impossible case of blue balls from which there was no release.
Giving up, they finally lay on their backs on Trey’s bed, chests heaving. Trey’s hardon was aching furiously. He felt like he’d had a continuous erection for most of the day but he wouldn’t give in and pleasure himself. It didn’t seem fair to Rocco. So he lay there, cock pulsing, chewing his cheeks.
“It’s all my fault!” Rocco wailed. “I’m not even a man no more! I can’t even give ya what ya want!”
Trey turned over on his side. “Don’t say that. Please.” He kissed Rocco’s bulging bicep. “You’re everything I could ever want in a man and more. I love you and will always love you.”
“But we can’t have sex!” Rocco persisted. “I’ve waited soooo long!”
“Shhh, we’ll figure it out.” Trey got up on his hands and knees and kissed Rocco on the lips. “It’ll be Ok. We have each other, don’t we? Now let’s get a shower.”
***
Their shower was tender and loving. Rocco washed him all over, taking his time caressing his body. The sensation of his big hands on him was enough to get Trey excited and he arched his back and moaned loudly when Rocco finally reached down and jacked him to a climax. His balls convulsed, filled to overflowing with pent-up cum, and he splattered everywhere. Lifting his lips and kissing Rocco, he took both his hands and stroked his buddy’s monster cock. Rocco bent down to give him better access and soon he hunched down on his knees and lifted his head as Trey finally managed to make him cum. Nothing came out of his ugly fuckstick but Trey could tell from the way he was clenching his balloon-like ass cheeks that he was cumming. Afterwards, they cuddled in the bathtub, Trey nestled between Rocco’s huge tits, sighing with contentment as the warm spray from the shower rained down on them.
“See?” he said afterwards when they were drying off. “I told you we could do it. You just had to stop trying so hard.” Rocco lowered his melon head and Trey toweled it off, kissing him in between the folds of the terrycloth.
He led his big friend by the hand back into the bedroom. They were lying down together when his phone buzzed with a new text. He glanced over at it, not recognizing the number. The message was strange, reading, >>Congrats! You won the jackpot!<<
“Who’s dat from?” Rocco asked, wrinkling his heavy brow.
Trey put the phone away, climbing into his lover’s arms. “Nobody. Just a spam message. Let’s go to sleep. It’s almost dawn!”
***
He awoke staring into a young guy’s wondering eyes. Sitting up on his elbows, at first he thought he was in bed with Carlo but then realized it was Reece, Reece before he became Rocco. Overnight, Rocco had disappeared, taking with him the steroidal muscles, the tattoos, the fake tan, the decades of age and the male pattern baldness. The cute jock staring back at him was in the flush of youth, oozing virility out of his pores.
Head muzzy with sleep, Trey murmured, “Reece? What’s going on?”
Reece grinned back at him, his soft, brown eyes full of love and incredulity. “I’m back, bro! The curse is broken! It’s me again!”
Trey stared at him, remembering this was how his friend used to look. It seemed like a lifetime ago but Reece had really only been Rocco for a couple of months. “Is this a dream?” He searched Reece’s face. “Are we dreaming?”
“Does this feel like a dream?” Reece took his hand and moved it down beneath the covers. Trey’s fingers twitched when they closed around his buddy’s achingly hard erection. It was long and thick but completely natural, not a trace of silicone.
And then Reece had pinned him beneath him and was smothering him with kisses. They kissed passionately for a long time, Trey writhing under his big bro’s onslaught. Reece’s erection dueled his own, eventually coming out on top. Reece always came out on top, Trey thought, realizing how much he loved his friend’s competitive nature.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Reece panted; he was drenched in sweat. “Yer ass is never gonna be the same.”
Trey started to smile but was distracted by a faint clapping noise beneath the sheets. It sounded oddly familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. “What’s that?” he asked.
Reece’s eyebrows lifted innocently, “I dunno.”
Trey turned his mouth away when Reece tried to kiss him again. “I’m being serious. What’s that noise?” Reece flushed and looked off to the side. Trey’s eyes narrowed, “Well? Tell me!”
“It’ll be easier if I show you.” Reece took Trey’s hands and moved them behind him. Trey let out a startled yelp when he felt them: Twin, enormous ass implants. Those swollen bubbles of silicone-filled flesh were strangely hard. Trey had never felt butt implants before and had assumed they’d be soft. These, however, were like granite. “I guess I’m not completely back to normal,” Reece admitted bashfully, unable to look at him. “I still got these things stuck onto me.” He added hurriedly, “But I don’t got anal warts no more. I checked and they’re gone. That’s good, right? It means you can bareback me!”
“Bareback you?” Trey repeated. “You mean you want me to…?”
Reece lowered his head, cheeks pink. He was too adorable. “Yeah, bro. I want you inside me almost as bad as I wanna be inside you, maybe even more!”
Trey grinned, feeling his cock stiffen at the thought of penetrating Reece. He still couldn’t quite convince himself this was really happening but he wasn’t about to question it. He wanted to fuck his first hole! Even better if it was Reece’s! But, as quickly as his excitement built, it dissipated again. He frowned, lowering his eyes in bitter disappointment.
Reece’s face clouded. “What, bro? What’s wrong? I’m not jokin’! I really want yer cock in my ass! I’m happy I’m a fag!” He laughed, “A big, happy fag! That’s me! Haha!” He smiled mischievously, “A big, happy fag with a tight hole. Ha! Even my butthole’s been made virginal again! I checked an’ I can’t even finger myself I’m so tight! Can ya believe it! I can give ya my ass viriginity, bro! Ain’t ya happy?”
“That’s great,” Trey admitted, still rueful. “But, Reece, there’s one big problem. Well, two of them, actually.”
“What, bro? What’s the problem? I’m tellin’ ya my hole’s all ready for ya!” He squeezed Trey’s erection. “And yer ready for my hole!”
“Am I?” Trey sighed, “We tried last night and I couldn’t reach it. Remember? Yer ass implants are too big. We’re back to where we started.”
Reece gave him a sly grin, “Not ‘xactly, bro.”
“What do you mean?”
With effort, Reece rolled off of him, teetering like a seesaw on his giant ass cheeks until he managed to flip over onto his side. Looking like the Cheshire cat, he slowly pulled down the sheet, revealing Trey’s naked body.
The tattoo was revealed first.
Trey stared at it in disbelief. How had he gotten a tattoo without knowing it? It was big and ugly, too. Harsh Old German script spelled out the words, “DOUBLE HUNG,” in an arc over his navel.
He looked back to Reece, not understanding. Reece merely grinned back at him and continued pulling down the sheet, announcing proudly, “As you can see, bro. Reachin’ my hot hole ain’t gonna be a problem no more!”
Trey could only gape at the giant tuber lying like a beached whale over his belly. His cock–already big by any standards–was now the size of a horny bull’s. As he stared at it, a tremor ran through that ungainly beast and it grew even larger. Dark black in color and accompanied by an even blacker pair of bull balls, it felt like it weighed almost as much as Reece’s implants.
Laughing merrily, Reece labored to push himself onto his knees and somehow managed to perch himself over Trey’s midsection. His giant globes hung down, sagging nearly onto Trey’s lap. Reece was undeterred, though, and reached back to pry open his silicone cheeks.
“C’mon, bro!” he panted. “Aim for my hole! It’ll reach!”
With shaking hands, Trey reached down and touched his mammoth organ for the first time, realizing as he did so that Reece was right. It was too heavy to stand up on its own but, if he held it up with both hands, it was rigid and hard as a pole. In a daze, he pulled down on his voluminous foreskin and stared at the glistening cockhead that was revealed. A spurt of precum jetted out at that moment, coating Reece’s buttocks.
“See? We almost don’t even need lube, bro!”
Trey felt numb and turned on at the same time. He could only watch in stunned disbelief as Reece squirted lube onto him, greasing up his cock before slathering it around his hole. And then he was prying open his ass cheeks again. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he squatted deeper and deeper until…
“UNGH!”
Reece giggled at his reaction, urging, “Bear with me, bro” (He was so into this!) “Gimme a sec, Ok? I’m relaxin’. Almost there…closer…closer…Ahhhh, here I come!”
Somehow, the impossible happened. Not only was Trey’s cock long enough to reach Reece’s buried hole, Reece was able to take all of him inside. They stared at each other in wonder and ecstasy as the thing they both wanted more than anything in the world happened: Reece was riding Trey’s cock.
His big bro rocked back and forth and up and down, his butt cheeks clapping loudly behind him, as he gave Trey the best present in the world: His virginity. It was like they had been made for each other, which, in a way, they had been.
At a certain point, Trey made Reece slow down and finally stop. With utmost care, he rolled his bro onto his yoga-ball-sized ass cheeks and urged his feet up over his shoulders. And then they stayed like that, fused together in carnal union, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Reece’s eyes were so vulnerable and innocent and filled with wonder! Trey felt his heart expand with love for his friend.
“I love you, bro,” he murmured, settling his cock in deeper. Reese welcomed him into his hot, tight embrace. “This is perfect. You’re perfect. I’m so happy!”
There were tears in Reece’s eyes as he replied, “And I love you. I was gonna say I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it but, if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have changed into what we are now. Haha! Look at us! I can’t wait until everyone sees me and my big ol’ slut butt and you with yer overstuffed trousers. We might as well get the word, ‘FAGGOT,’ tattooed on our foreheads ‘cuz everyone’s gonna know that’s what we are!” He paused, growing serious. “Now fuck me until I can’t walk no more! Then I’m gonna do the same to you!”
And that, dear reader, is exactly what they did.
***
Epilogue
Trey was standing naked in the kitchen, making breakfast for Reece, his newly inflated cock sagging ponderously between his thighs. It was so wide and thick that it looked particularly freakish on his otherwise normally-sized body. He stared down at the sluggish behemoth–it was so heavy it ached!–aware that Reece was correct and there was no way he would ever be able to hide it beneath his clothes. How would he ever show his face in medical school? And what would his patients say when they saw the tumor jutting out from his crotch? His cheeks colored and he shoved the worry away. He would have to worry about that later; right now, he and Reece were hungry.
“It’s like a giant breakfast burrito,” Reece quipped, staring at his cock with obvious delight while teetering back and forth on his bouncy-ball ass cheeks. “A super-sized, steroidal breakfast burrito that I can’t wait to stuff into my mouth!”
“You tried that already,” Trey replied, giving him the hairy eyeball. “Guess I’ll never get another blowjob.”
Reece laughed, “Don’t worry. We have lots of other ways to have fun. Don’t tell me yer havin’ regrets!”
“Sort of.” Trey tore his eyes away from his mutant appendage, “But you’re not one of them. I’d gladly pay any price just to be with you.”
“Yer such a dork,” Reece teased. “But yer my dork and I love you.”
Trey was about to reply when there was a knock at the door. Without thinking, he waddled over to answer it before he remembered he was naked and needed to cover his monstrosity. Reece tossed him a hand towel at the last second and he held it somewhat ineffectually in front of him as he pulled open the door.
He blinked, mouth falling open.
Outside the door was a tall, muscular, stud of a man…who looked like he could be Reece’s twin brother. Tanned and ruggedly handsome, the guy had tight, curly brown hair and eyes the color of light cinnamon. His jaw was square and lightly coated with a dark beard. He was, of course, Carlo from the strip club the night before.
“Well?” Carlo demanded, pushing past him. “Don’t make me stand out here in public lookin’ like dis.” He put his hands on his slim hips, aggrieved. “Thanks, bro. Thanks for turnin’ me into a total freak!”
All Trey could do was gape at Carlo’s ignominious transformation. It was like someone turned him into his worst nightmare…overnight. “H-H-How–?” he stammered, “I-I-I mean what–?”
“The bet!” Carlo spat by way of explanation. “I made a bet and lost. Thanks to you!” He shook his preternaturally-sized booty, causing his giant implants to clap noisily behind him. “All ya had to do is fuck me an’ I’d be free, all my gamblin’ debts paid off. But, no! Ya juss couldn’t do it an’ now I’m fuckin’ stuck like dis!” He gestured down at himself in disgust. “They fired me from the club. I don’t even got no job no more!” He stuck his finger in Trey’s chest. “An’ it’s all yer fault!”
Reece got up from the table and wobbled over, his own giant implants clapping loudly behind him. Folding his arms, he surveyed the ruined jock’s body, pronouncing, “You deserve it, you cocky son-of-a-bitch. It serves ya right!”
“Why, you!” Carlo puffed out his chest, getting in Reece’s face and trying to act menacing.
It’s hard to be menacing, though, when you look like a pink bunny rabbit.
A pair of pink, fluffy bunny ears were perched on Carlo’s head and a little pink bunnytail was fastened over his giant behind. Fuzzy pink pom-poms adorned his bare feet and a pink pearl choker was tied around his throat. His body had been completely shaved of hair, making his muscles standout even more. Unfortunately, the lack of body hair also made his big tits that much more obvious. His pink areolas were the size of small tea saucers and his nipples jutted out like a pair of miniature bombshells. Rounding out his outrageous ensemble in back were a pair of gravity-defying beachballs, the result of far, far too much silicone inserted into his ass cheeks.
Besides the bunny ears, cotton tail, pom-poms and choker, the only article of clothing he wore was the tiniest, sheerest pink thong that Trey had ever seen. It rode up over his slim hips, its color matching the pink of a bold, belly tattoo that read, “NOTHING.” This tattoo was, Trey realized, the inverse of his own belly tattoo and it didn’t take him long to figure out what it meant.
Carlo took note of his scrutiny of the tattoo and huffed, “Yeah, yer to blame for that, too. Look at me! They took away my manhood! I don’t got nuthin’ down there no more!” As if he thought Trey didn’t believe him, he shimmied the thong downward, revealing the tiniest little boy-dick. Little more than a limp tag of useless flesh, it drooped down like a slender mushroom stalk from his bald crotch.
Trey gaped and Reece smirked at Carlo’s humiliating transformation. He was still Carlo in many ways. Still unbearably handsome and studly. But it was also like his body had been unsuccessfully merged with a woman’s in some very strange and titillating ways. Those giant, round, salacious buttocks! Those big, succulent tits! Those shapely hips tapering to a completely flat crotch. It was headspinning and hot at the same time.
But there was something else that caught Trey’s attention and convinced him to take an active role in determining Carlo’s future. Staring at the stud’s full and ample lips, he turned to Reece and asked, “He has a really big mouth, don’t you agree?”
Reece put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes, “Well, yeah! ‘Course, he does! That’s what I’ve always said! Nuthin’ but a big loud-mouth!”
“No, I mean literally,” Trey clarified. He leaned closer and Carlo pursed his lips. Even when his lips were pursed, though, his mouth was extraordinarily wide. Trey grinned, nudging Reece, “If I’m right, his mouth is big enough to fit a super-sized, overstuffed breakfast burrito. And his throat looks big enough to cram it down, too.” He glanced meaningfully down at his crotch as he let the hand towel slip to the floor. Carlo’s eyes followed and he swallowed hard when he saw what Trey meant by a ‘breakfast burrito.’
Putting up his hands and backing away, he tried to backpedal, “Hey, now! Don’t get any ideas, guys! I ain’t no fag!” His ass cheeks clapped nervously behind him, betraying his agitation.
Trey’s eyes narrowed, “But you are out of a job.”
“Yeah?” Carlo’s eyes were really round.
Reece grinned and stepped forward, “And you need a place to stay, dontcha?”
Carlo’s eyes darted around the apartment nervously, “Yeah.”
Trey smiled. “Then we might be able to work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He looked over to Reece, “What do you think, bro? He is pretty hot.”
“I ‘spose,” Reece agreed. “I mean, dude’s a total asshole but he is a good performer. Prolly a total slut in bed.”
They exchanged knowing glances and Trey asked, “You thinking what I’m thinking, bro?” When this was met with a grin from Reece, he turned back to Carlo. “Alright, Carlo, here’s the deal: We’ll take you in but you gotta earn your keep. What do you think?”
Carlo swallowed hard, agitated ass applause breaking out behind him. “I dunno, guys. I mean, I ain’t never done nuthin’ like dat before. Yer talkin’ ‘bout usin’ my body for yer pleasure, right? I mean, at the club I didn’t let nobody touch me, ‘cept for you dat one time.” He swallowed again, hesitating. And he shrugged his muscly shoulders and, lowering himself with difficulty to his knees, opened his big, brawny arms and declared, “Alright, it’s a deal. I’ll try my best to make ya happy even if I ain’t no fag.”
“Yet,” Trey added, winking slyly. “I have a feeling that’s about to change.”
***
WIP Topping's Blog: Male Transformation stories 
5 responses to “Double or Nothing (Complete)”
Worth the wait. Chef’s kiss.
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Thank you! I’m never sure whether my stuff will appeal to more than just me so it’s good to know you enjoyed it, too!
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This was a really fun read! My favorites of your stories have a bit more of a happy ending for the MCs like this one.
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Glad you enjoyed it! I, too, like it when a story has a more or less happy ending. I usually shoot for that but sometimes the arc of the story just can’t quite get there. Thank you for reading!
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[…] above images inspired the character, Carlo, in my story, Double or Nothing. The artist is Robokeh and you can find his Patreon here. […]
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