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  1. A year long wait for Part Six, sorry, school got ahead of me and when I was finally free I wasn't in any mood to write. This part is mostly filler and some plot, more transformations to come in the next part though. Thanks for reading. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Read Part Three HERE Read Part Four HERE Read Part Five HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Six Chris lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling deep in thought. The room was still dark, but dim light shone through the gaps in the curtains. The light illuminated the cause of Chris’ thinking, a large tent in Melvin’s bed sheet, and two massive feet that hung out the end of that bed. A couple of months ago Melvin had been a small runty nerd who Chris could twist around his little finger, but then Melvin took some of the magical elixir home. Now Melvin was more confident, he was questioning Chris’ decisions more and he was keeping Chris awake with hour-long fuck sessions every single day. The only benefit to being kept up so late is that Chris had the time to think over the events of the past few days. That first day when he found out what had happened to Melvin had been the hardest. Hearing that deep voice over the phone made his heart drop, but he nearly died when he found Melvin. Melvin had directed Chris to come talk to him at some apartment, his nerdy roommate opened the door in just his underwear. He was now tall, built and from the look of the bulge in his briefs, hung like a donkey. Seeing Melvin had only added fuel to the theory that the elixir had a plan of its own, that the changes it caused weren't random. That in fact it mattered on what sort of person you were, an undeserving person would end up as unappealing, but a deserving person, as Melvin appeared to be, would end up owning mouthwatering pecs with big silver dollar sized nipples, abs you could wash clothes on and a bulge that looked like it could feed a small village. The conversation between the two roommates was awkward mainly because Chris could see the four girls who lived in the apartment had been fucked senseless for what must of been several days. From where Chris sat he could see the girls in a sleeping cum stained heap on a bed in a bedroom, the doors having been pulled off its hinges, they all had smiles on their faces. A smile which matched Melvin’s smug smirk, he knew the situation between them had changed. Melvin though didn’t rub it in that he was now a towering stallion compared to Chris, which Chris had expected. Instead he talked about what had happened to him and what he’d thought was going on with the elixir. In the days following Melvin’s marathon fuck session both boys shared their theories on how the elixir affected the user. Chris’ theory that who you were mattered held more water then anything Melvin offered. It was nearly confirmed when Chris and, the now meathead, Melvin found out what happened to the people dosed by the water bottles from the school gym that Chris had tainted. The equipment manager Thaddeus Stern had ballooned into some ebony black beast of muscle and manhood, he was instantly recruited by football team to his own delight. Yuri was also dosed too, and to Chris’ delight he didn't end up huge. Instead the slim swimmer had swelled into some hairy bear. A gut of muscle and fat replacing his toned abs. Melvin didn't think the change was that bad, Yuri looked pretty intimidating, an opinion which seemed to be shared by others. Yuri had been recruited to the football team too. The third person to be dosed had surprised Chris. Coach Peters had changed and it seemed to have knocked him out of the funk that losing his football team had caused. His flabby gut had been sucked in and tightened, his hair darkened and his face lost a good 20 years of wear and tear. The man who now stomped around campus in a sweat suit with a big cigar in his mouth was nothing like the old Coach Peters. Scary was the word that Melvin had used after he'd been cornered and almost forced to join the football team by the new Peters. He was rebuilding the team and taking anyone who even looked like they lifted weights. Chris though was half attracted to the new barrel chested daddy like-coach. He would have expected that Peters to get the bad side of the elixir, but instead Peters’ love and loyalty to the boys on his team had instead made the elixir turn Peters into a better man than he already was. Chris’ reminiscing was ruined by the loud wet slapping coming from Melvin’s bed. The big lug had thrown back his blankets and was fisting his Pringles can cock with both of his meaty fists. Chris just rolled over and buried his face into his pillow hoping Melvin would only jerk off once this morning. ——————————————————————————————————————————— “Good workout today man” Thaddeus’ Barry White-like voice said Both he and Sean were standing in the locker room of the school gym, they had it to themselves as the other patrons seemed to flee the room when they both came in sweaty from their workout and stuffed into gym shorts that looked close to bursting. They'd both showered on the far side of the showers from each other, both trying to sneak in a quick wank, though it was hard to keep two massive muscle men jerking wrist fat monster cocks secret. Neither of them brought it up, even thought they’d both cum at the same time. “Yea, good lift” Sean agreed, pulling on his shirt The two muscle men were both buttoning up their shirts, both having the same issue of pulling the shirt together over their pecs. Thaddeus with his glistening ebony pec pillows and Sean with is fire-red furry slab like chest. Sean and Thaddeus had met soon after Coach Peters had recruited them both for football team and they’d become fast friends. Mainly it was due to them being forced together as they were both of similar size, but they shared an intense interest in video games, so a friendship had blossomed. A tv bolted up to the wall loudly played some sporting news show, the announcer worriedly talking about the removal of some big name athlete from the Dallas Cowboys because of some sort of disease. Sean had seen the guys face all over the internet and he’d even jerked off a fair bit to the guys modeling pics. Sean gave up on closing his shirt, his entire hairy pec cleavage on show. The button just below his pecs barely holding the shirt closed. “You coming round mine tonight to game” Sean asked pulling up the zipper of his jeans again Since his last growth spurt Sean had found a guy on Craigslist who was selling a tonne of clothes in sizes that could actually contain him, but now after a couple of months of actually working out, playing football and slowly growing he was beginning to outgrow them. Thaddeus, was himself just stuffing his overpacked undies into some jeans. He pulled the zipper up and gave his hefty bulge a good grope with a big black hand. “Nah man” Thaddeus chuckled deeply “Got a date tonight” Sean laughed “What again… did last nights go so well” Thaddeus left their gaming session last night with some cheerleader under this arm. The big black stud had been grinning ear to ear earlier when they started their workout, so it must of gone well. “Yea, yea, it did, nearly broke her bed” Thaddeus laughed, doing a little thrusting movement with his hips “But its not the same girl… her friend" “Slut” Sean laughed lightly punching Thaddeus’ shoulder Thaddeus packed up his gym bag and seemed ready to leave, obviously eager to get to this date. “Yea pretty much, I used to be some pathetic virgin” the black stud laughed “But since my growth spurt I've been getting pussy every day… even multiple pussies sometimes” Sean felt his eyes roll, Thaddeus just laughed at his reaction. The two friends said goodbye and the black beast thudded out of the locker room, leaving Sean to struggle to get his clown feet into sneakers that were falling apart because they were at least a size too small. The walk back to his dorm room was quick, but it was a constant barrage of stares as he stomped across campus. He knew his heavy bulge was bouncing from thigh to thigh with each step and his pecs were dangerously close to launching the remaining buttons of his shirt across the path ahead of him. Sean was struggling with his keys at his door, his big meaty fingers fumbling over the tiny, little pieces of metal. “Sean” a quiet voice asked Sean turned to look and just saw an empty corridor. Then he looked downwards. A nervous yet smiling brown haired boy stared up at him. It was the guy he’d brought all the old clothes from. A guy of barely 5ft2 who for some reason owned clothes ranging from XXL to XXXXL, Sean didn’t ask why. “Hey... Ben right” he asked, hoping he’d got the name right Ben nodded as Sean turned away from his door to look down at Ben. The smaller guys eyes widening as he stared at the thick overhang of Sean’s pecs. Thankfully his eyes weren’t looking down to the overstuffed bulge of his pants which was shockingly close to Ben’s eye level. They were silent for a few moments, Ben just watching as Sean’s pecs slowly heaved with each breath. Sean broke the silence “So, why are you here” He knew that Ben didn’t live in the dorm. He loved in one of big frat houses on the other side of campus. Ben muttered something, sounded like he was nervously gathering his words. “Just… just... wanted to see if you wanted to hang out” Ben asked, smiling slightly Sean wondered if Ben had actually wanted to ask something else, but the sight of Sean’s hulking hairy form had knocked all the confidence out of the little guy. Sean chuckled slightly “Sure, I was going play some games, but we can hang out” Sean opened his door, the gust of warm musky air washed over them both. Ben actually squeaked in surprise. “It's only a single-player game, but I’m sure we could find you something to do” Sean said, letting Ben pass into the room Sean followed him in, giving his big bulge a quick rearrange before closing the door and trapping the little guy. ——————————————————————————————————————————— “Do you have any books on witchcraft” Barrett asked up to the librarian Without even looking pass their glasses and down to the runty Barrett, they muttered a floor number. Barrett had gotten used to being ignored since his fall from grace. He quickly headed up the stairs, taking two at a time, which was a stretch for his short skinny legs. Luckily no one would recognize him, he wasn't the Barrett anyone on campus would recognize. A few months ago Barrett had received an email about his campuses links to magic and witchcraft, since then he’d been researching the subject. He’d read more books and written more down in these months then he’d ever done in his life. It had started as a simple way of passing the time and maybe distracting him from his diminished body and from the housekeeper's son cleaning the swimming pool shirtless, but it had become a desperate passion once AJ returned home. The doctors had said that AJ had a muscle wasting disease, the same thing that the doctors has said to Barrett. AJ had lost his position in the NFL and returned him a broken man. AJ was nearly as small and runty as Barrett was and was getting smaller all the time. His personality shift was more dramatic than Barrett’s had been, Barrett regularly could hear AJ crying himself to sleep. When AJ was a towering beast Barrett had never even heard a single word spoken in a unsure tone, let alone seen him shed a tear. The CDC had even visited the house to check it out for any environmental causes, they found nothing. Just like they’d found nothing at the athletic department on campus. Barrett had actually stopped off to see how things had changed. It was just the same as Barrett had left it, without any reminder that Barrett had ever existed. The CDC had even kept an office on campus, but they didn’t seem to be doing anything. Just some guy sitting alone in an office bouncing a tennis ball off the far wall. The suddenly collapse of his brothers obscenely manly physique and the CDC’s continued inability to find a medical cause had only pushed Barrett closer towards witchcraft and magic. It had knocked Barrett out of his depression, he’d become more active, more set on finding an answer. He’d be researching anything and everything that could link to his and AJ’s situation. Quickly moving away from any sort of scientific explanation and focusing almost entirely on the thin hope that something beyond explanation had caused his and AJ’s predicament. He came to the correct floor, wheezing, he was so unfit now. He moved through the cases and desks looking for some sort of sign directing him to his answer. The floor was pretty much empty of students. Just one guy with long black hair sitting at a desk with headphones on. Barrett stopped to stare at his guy, he was well built. Large pecs straining at his shirt and thick arms gripping the table. Barrett bit his lip, muscle really got to him, his little cock hardening in his pants. The guy let out a moan and Barrett could see a hand was beneath his shirt feeling up his pecs. Barrett knelt down to check under the table, having to look between the legs of chairs and desks between him and the big guy. A blond haired head was moving back and forth between the guys massive jean clad legs. Barrett let out a gasp and scurried between some bookcases. He heard a sloppy sounding slap and a guy, probably the blond, taking in deep breaths. “Zach, did you hear something… I think someone is here” one voice said between deep breaths “No one is here” another deeper voice said “Get back to sucking bitch” There was slapping sound and a return to wet sucking noises. Barrett was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against a bookcase. His cock rock hard at the sound of the blond struggling to deepthroat whatever this Zach had between his legs. Down the line of books, Barrett saw a massive ornate bookcase. Leather bound books of various sizes filled its shelves and a sign above in posh looking gold lettering read. “Tiberius J.J. Haber Occult Library” Barrett jumped to his feet, for the first time thankful that he was small, his feet making no sound as he moved. He ran down the aisle towards the bookcase. As he approached he saw how run down the bookcase was. The golden sign was faded, the wood chipped and in placed moldy. The books were covered in thick dust, but Barrett saw a few finger marks. A couple of books on the middle shelf had been touched recently, but only those books. He strained to reach up to them, again hating how small he was now. “Did you see that guy… getting a blowjob in the library” an insanely rich and deep voice boomed from down the aisle “From a guy…” another voice stated sounding annoyed “Damn” the deep voice muttered “I mean, nothing against gays, Chris, you know that…” The other guy, Chris, just sighed loudly. Barrett fell back to another set of shelves and hid behind them as the two men approached. One was tall with strong features, almost model like in his movements. The other was a brute, towering nearly as tall as the bookcases and nearly as wide as the aisle. The massive dude had a hand down his shorts and was obviously scratching at his balls. Chris though was inspecting the occult bookcase. Chris gently lifted the middle books away from shelf and tapped at the wood behind them. “Good, it’s still jammed” Chris said returning the books to their place “Huh” the big guy said, he’d been busy sniffing his hand after scratching his nuts “The compartment where we found the magic book… we jammed it so we’d know if someone else found it” Chris said, trying not to raise his voice at the giant guy The big guy's viking like face made an expression of understanding. His heavy lantern jaw moving to make an ‘oh’ sound. “It’s still jammed so whoever was asking about witchcraft never found it” Chris mused “Wait… how’d you know someone asked about that” the big guy asked “I paid the librarian to call me if someone did, why do you think we even rushed over here” Chris said smirking arrogantly “We don’t want anyone finding out what we did… well not till I’m your size” Chris gave a playful backhanded tap to the big guy’s abs which were showing through his shirt. The two turned and left, Barrett’s head spinning, could magic actually be real, what where they are hiding. He waited for the big guys wide back to vanish around a corner before slowly he started to follow them. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Sean was laying on his front on his bed. It was too small for him. His pecs were hanging off the end and he was awkwardly propping his meaty arms on the edge so he could play his game properly. His big mits pressing buttons and his TV loudly sounding out the gun shots of his character. “You ok back there little dude” Sean asked peeking over his shoulder to Ben Ben was laying between Sean’s legs, the big guys legs bent and pressing down on Ben’s back. Ben’s face was pressed between Sean’s rounded muscle ass and his tongue deep between the cheeks. “Just slap my ass once if yes, twice for no” Sean said, trying not to chuckle Ben’s little hand flew up and slapped the rock solid left cheek of Sean’s ass and then fell back to gripping at Sean’s thigh. “Good boy” Sean said returning to his game “In a bit I’m move across to my gaming chair, you can suck or sit on my dick if you like” Sean’s cock was rock hard and laying between his legs and throbbing against Ben’s tummy. “Well you going suck or ride it either way, I’ll let you choose which happens first” Sean’s let out a deep moan and almost crushed his controller as Ben excitedly assaulted his asshole with his talented and surprisingly large tongue. ——————————————————————————————————————————— On opposite sides of campus, two groups of friends were meeting. One a group of young men who were busy planning the next phase of their Homes for Humanity project. The other a group of young men planning which news agency’s website they were going to bring down with a denial of service attack. They were in similar number and a similar makeup of guys, just different in personalities. But one thing that these groups shared was that the refreshments at their meetings tasted weird.
  2. CrisKane

    Acting Out

    Damon was up against a hard deadline at work when he felt the vibration in his pocket. The brochure design was due by the end of the day, so he really didn't have a spare moment to chat on the phone. Still, he should at least check to see who was calling. Slipping the iPhone from his pocket, he saw the name "Quinn Brooks" and Quinn's excruciatingly handsome face. Damon didn't often get calls from Quinn -- Damon was usually the one reaching out to "bother" Quinn -- so he figured it must be urgent. He raised the phone to his ear while continuing to work one-handed. "What's up, Quinn?" "I need your help. I've got an audition for a soap tomorrow and I'm really freaking out about it. You're the only person I could think of to call." Quinn did indeed sound stressed, which was unusual. Quinn tended to be the most easygoing person that Damon knew. "Calm down. I'm in the middle of a project here, but I should be done by six. Where can I meet you?" "Just come to my apartment. Really appreciate it, man." Quinn hung up. Damon went back to work, but his work on the brochure was decidedly half-assed as he wondered what could be bothering Quinn so much. At 5:59, Damon saved his file, emailed it to his boss and headed out the door. As the sluggish rush-hour traffic betwen Brentwood and Hollywood redefined the word "rush", Damon couldn't stop thinking about Quinn. They had met in college working on a production of "A Streetcar Named Desire". Damon, a senior studying graphic design, worked behind the scenes, helping with the sets and costumes and also creating the poster for the show, while Quinn, a junior theater major, played the Brando role of Stanley Kowalski. Quinn definitely had the magnetism and physicality for the role, gifted as he was with a hard-edged masculine face and a naturally muscular body that required little upkeep at the gym. But as Damon observed the early rehearsals, he wasn't sure Quinn would cut it. Quinn was so good-natured, friendly and low-key, it seemed impossible that he could find within himself the anger and menace it took to bring Stanley to life. Only when Quinn started trying on costumes did he start to find his performance. When he was just Quinn Brooks, big man on campus, standing on that stage in a polo shirt, chinos and Nikes, he was just a lackluster guy reading lines. But once he put on vintage tweed slacks with suspenders and a too-snug tank top, things began to click. Some Oxford shoes that his grandfather had worn which he found in the attic back home made him feel more grounded. Switching from wearing his usual briefs to period-appropriate boxer shorts made him feel more authentically like Stanley. Whoever said "clothes make the man" was dead right in this case, while lack of clothes brought out the animal. The director was aiming for a look close to Brando's in the film version, with Quinn wearing a soiled and torn tank top during the famous "Stella!!!" scene, but Quinn discovered in rehearsal that he could better tap into the character if he tore the shirt off completely. It was a wardrobe choice which was thoroughly appreciated by most of the women and many of the men involved in the production, including Damon who was still deeply closeted at the time. The fact that Quinn wasn't a gym rat meant he didn't have the deeply cut abs that were commonplace on campus, but even that made him look more authentic to the period setting. Damon was impressed: even Quinn's body was part of the costume. For the final touch, he dyed his blond hair black and trimmed it short, until Quinn essentially disappeared. He had become Stanley Kowalski. Audiences were floored by Quinn's performance, in which he tapped into a side of himself he hadn't previously known he had. At the party after opening night, Quinn was back to his usual amiable self, surrounded with well-wishers gushing praise over his performance. With the help of several glasses of red wine, Damon worked up the courage to speak to Quinn and tell him how impressed he was. Quinn could not have been more gracious or more generous with his time, complimenting Damon on the great work he'd done on the sets and costumes and poster. Damon couldn't fathom that Quinn actually knew who he was. Damon felt that his shyness served like personality camouflage, preventing others from noticing he was even in the room with them. Damon mentioned that he was planning to move to Los Angeles after his graduation in the spring. Quinn said he was debating whether it would be better to move to New York or Hollywood to pursue a career when he graduated. "Well, if you move to L.A., be sure to look me up!", Damon said. "You can count on it," replied Quinn with a wide grin. Damon backed away awkwardly, straight into a table with bottles of booze and a streetcar-shaped sheet cake. Catching himself, his right hand landed directly in the thick frosting of the cake. He offered his goop-covered hand in friendship, which Quinn good-naturedly shook, and they both had a good laugh as they went into the kitchen to wash their hands clean. They saw each other from time to time around campus after that, although they didn't run in the same social circles, mainly because Quinn had social circles and Damon didn't. Only after Damon moved to Los Angeles and knew that he absolutely wouldn't be encountering anyone he already knew did he begin to explore his sexuality anywhere but online. But when he went out to clubs, he still seemed to be wearing that camouflage of anonymity that had cloaked him in college. He was thin and youthful, but not thin and youthful enough to attract the twink aficionados. He joined a gym and began to work out for the first time in his life, putting on a thin layer of muscle, but not enough to draw much attention amid a crowd of West Hollywood beefcake. He got an entry-level position designing pamphlets and web pages for a non-profit, found a studio apartment in WeHo that ate up the bulk of his salary, and spent most of his weekend afternoons browsing through obscure shops around town, looking for cheap eclectic items to furnish his tiny room. After a year in L.A., Damon was absolutely shocked to get a call from Quinn, saying he was moving to Hollywood to pursue his craft. Damon could not believe that Quinn was following up on a half-drunken pledge he'd made at a party well over a year earlier. It made him admire Quinn even more. Damon asked where Quinn was planning to live, and Quinn replied that he was hoping to get some advice on that from Damon, since he didn't know anyone else who lived in Los Angeles. Damon felt a little less special after hearing that, convinced that if Quinn knew even one other person in town, they would have received this call and Damon would have been forgotten. But screw that, Quinn did call him, so he boldly suggested that Quinn camp out in his apartment while he looked for a place of his own. "I couldn't impose on you like that, man." "Not a problem at all," Damon insisted as he looked around the cramped apartment that already made him claustrophobic as its sole resident. Quinn arrived in town several days later, his possessions narrowed down to a pile of clothes on hangers laid across the back seat of his convertible, his shaggy blond hair tossed by the breeze en route. When Quinn saw the size of Damon's place, he knew he would get in Damon's way and offered to go find himself a motel, but Damon refused to hear it. "When you start getting on my nerves, I'll let you know." Moving Quinn's belongings into the tiny apartment took a grand total of three minutes, after which they went to grab a bite at Hamburger Mary's on Santa Monica Boulevard. Damon noticed some stiffness in Quinn's body language as he realized how many of the pedestrians and the patrons of the restaurant were pretty clearly gay. Damon had never sensed a whiff of homophobia on Quinn's part at college, but it was a fairly small college in a relatively conservative state. Quinn wasn't so much unnerved as overwhelmed, as if he had cracked open the door of his black-and-white house and was taking his first step into a Technicolor Oz. "So, is this like the gay part of town, or is all of L.A. like this?", Quinn asked with genuine curiosity as he wolfed down his Barbra-Q Bacon Burger (which he had attempted to order by just pointing to the menu, until the waiter forced him to say it out loud). "We're pretty close to Gay Central Station here." "And you like living right in the thick of it?" Damon's stomach quivered and his pulse went into arrythmia for a second as he mulled what to say. He had yet to come out to his family or to anyone he knew prior to moving to L.A., but if this was who he really was, he had to live it. He thought of saying something earnest or defiant, but he figured a lighter approach would work better. "The thicker the better," he smirked and raised his eyebrows, watching Quinn closely for a reaction. Quinn took a long swig of beer and fixed his sparkling blue eyes on Damon. He lowered the bottle with a nod. "Yeah, I kinda had you figured for that." "You don't have a problem with that, do you?" Quinn laughed. "I just got a theater degree and I want to be an actor. If gays freaked me out, I picked the wrong fuckin' job." That night, Damon pushed his luck and dragged Quinn to Rage, a gay nightclub. If Damon thought he was wearing camouflage before, entering a gay club with Quinn Brooks by your side was like wearing an invisibility cloak. Quinn definitely got an ego boost from all the guys coming over to ask him to dance (or more), but he bet he set the world record for saying the words "straight" and "girlfriend" in twenty minutes. Meanwhile, Damon nursed a Seven and Seven and contented himself with hovering anonymously near so many horny, sweaty hunks and vicariously wishing all their come-ons were coming his way. Eventually Quinn turned to Damon and shouted "Let's get outta here" over the pounding disco music. On the sidewalk, it felt twenty degrees cooler. Quinn's eyes were wide, like he'd just narrowly escaped being gored at the Running of the Bulls. "Is that what it's like all the time?", he asked Damon. "Yeah, that's pretty much a normal night for me." Damon offered his house guest the futon, but Quinn wouldn't hear of it, using his sleeping bag instead. Quinn went to pains to make sure he wasn't interfering with Damon's routine, although seeing a shirtless Quinn shaving every morning was a disruption Damon didn't complain about. Within a week, Quinn had landed a job as a waiter. Within ten days, he had found an apartment which was bigger and cost less than Damon's. They saw each other occasionally, usually when Damon thought there was a play or movie or band that Quinn might appreciate, but Quinn was usually waiting tables in the evening and had to pass. The last time Damon had received a call from Quinn was two months ago, inviting Damon and a guest to come to opening night of a play Quinn was doing in North Hollywood. Damon couldn't find a date -- or even a beard -- and ended up giving the spare ticket to a young woman in the standby line. She was pleasant but monosyllabic waiting for the opening curtain, but when Damon mentioned at intermission that he was friends with the guy playing the lead role, the woman became chatty as all get-out, peppering him with questions about Quinn which only ended when the curtain opened for act two. The woman, whose name was Renee, came along with Damon to the after-party and was hanging on Quinn's arm by the end of the night. Two weeks later, Quinn had dumped his girlfriend back home and Renee was spending her nights at Quinn's place. As far as Damon knew, they were still dating, but perhaps they had broken up. Maybe that's why Quinn had called today, reaching out to an old friend -- okay, marginal acquaintance -- for counsel as he nursed a broken heart. But even if Quinn hadn't managed to make other friends in his short time in L.A., surely any stranger he grabbed randomly off the street could offer more wisdom on romantic matters than Damon could. Damon pulled onto Quinn's shady street and checked the myriad of parking regulation signs, trying to figure out if it was legal for him to park in this neighborhood. Convinced that he could, he ran to Quinn's apartment and knocked on the door. "Co-ome i-in," sang an off-key attempt at a soprano voice from within. Damon swung open the unlocked door and was surprised to discover Quinn pacing in the living room, covered in flop-sweat and wearing a bizarre mixture of clothing. His hair was haphazardly bobby-pinned into something that in no way resembled an actual hairdo. He wore a linen sportscoat with a Chicago Bulls jersey underneath, checkerboard-pattern bicycle shorts and a pair of muddy workboots. Quinn was flushed with relief at seeing Damon. "Thank god you're here. I gotta be gay! You gotta help me!" He clomped over and hugged Damon, transferring a substantial amount of his sweat onto Damon's gray silk shirt. "What to you mean you've gotta be gay?", asked Damon. Quinn picked up a script from his futon and handed it to Damon. "This audition tomorrow. It's for a recurring role in a soap, which'd be huge for me, but the character they want me to play is gay and I don't know how to play it." "Play it like a normal person." Quinn shook his head. "You don't understand. I gotta feel like I'm seeing through this guy's eyes. I don't know how to look at another guy from a gay guy's perspective." "Sure you do," said Damon calmly. "Just look at the guy the same way you look at Renee." Quinn wasn't being persuaded. He looked distraught as he checked out his reflection in the mirror. "I was thinking if I could just find the right look, the character would come to me, but..." Damon shook his head as he looked at what Quinn was wearing. "You have met gay people before, right? You know we don't dress like we escaped from a mental ward." "I know, I know. I was just trying anything. I woulda tried on some of Renee's dresses, but I'm way too big for 'em." Damon stopped cold and leveled a glare at Quinn. "You also know we don't all wear dresses, right?" "YES!", Quinn insisted. "What you're seeing is the result of two extra hours of desperation because you couldn't get here right away!" "Sue me, I work for a living! Why couldn't Renee help you?" "She's shooting a commercial in Baja. She'll be gone for four days." "Okay, just calm down. We'll get through this." Damon began to remove the bobby-pins from Quinn's hair and asked, "So, describe this character to me so I can get a sense of what he should wear." Quinn grabbed the script and scanned the highlighted stage directions. "His name's Alexander and he's the black sheep of the family who was ostrich-ized..." Damon corrected, "Ostracized." "Ostracized...when his father discovered he was gay. Actually, he was apparently...ostracized...from the show 'cause he thought he deserved a raise. But now they want to bring his character back." "And there are no actual gay actors in Hollywood they could hire?" "My agent says I look a lot like the guy who played him the first time, so he thinks I got a real good chance at it." "So? There's your answer. Dress like the other guy did." "I tried that, but that guy used to just wear regular business suits, and putting on my own suits just felt like...like me wearing a suit. Plus, apparently they're writing him a lot more flamboyant now and I don't have a clue how to be flamboyant. That's why I called you." Damon glanced down at his gray shirt and charcoal pants. "Oh, yeah, you're talking to the male Lady Gaga right here. Go put on some normal clothes and we'll go shopping." Quinn nodded eagerly and walked into the bathroom to change. He leaned out, asking, "Sir Gaga?" "What?" "Wouldn't the male Lady Gaga be Sir Gaga?" Damon waved a get-a-move-on gesture and tried not to stare too blatantly at Quinn as he stripped down. * * * As Quinn drove frantically toward Melrose Boulevard, Damon sat in the passenger seat, scanning through Quinn's script. "This writing is terrible. None of it rings true. This guy Alexander is swishy one minute and butch the next. No wonder you were dressed like you just grabbed random items from the clothes dryer." "I just need to get a fix on who I think Alexander is. If I can nail the audition, then I'll worry about getting them to write the character better." Damon pointed to a parking spot in front of a quirky clothing store he liked to browse. Quinn screeched into the spot, pissing off another driver who was getting ready to back into the same space. Quinn shouted at the other driver, "Sorry! Sorry! Acting crisis!" Quinn looked berserk, the wind having buffeted his hair into a crazed mess as the convertible sped here. Damon led Quinn into the musty smelling shop. They were the only customers, and the older woman managing the register looked surprised to have any visitors at all. Quinn searched frantically through the racks of clothes in his size, trying on one vintage jacket after another, displeased with them all. "Not gay enough." Damon shook his head, amused but increasingly irritated. He was generally so fond of Quinn but couldn't believe how narrow his views were, as if there were only one kind of gay personality or fashion. He watched as Quinn pulled off his t-shirt, revealing pumped pecs and shallow but distinct ab muscles. Clearly Quinn's carefree attitude toward exercise had changed, and Damon couldn't say he disapproved. Trying not to seem TOO interested, Damon casually asked, "You been working out?" "Yeah, agent said I looked too doughy. Apparently, if they can't count your ab muscles on two hands these days, nobody's gonna cast you." Quinn pulled a multicolored vest over his bare torso and evaluated the look. He cringed. "Too gay." Damon felt like he was watching Quinn perform a one-man show of "Goldilocks", where everything was "too gay" or "too straight", but nothing was "just right". (They'd have to go back to cruising Rage later to find three bears.) After Quinn rejected a few of Damon's suggestions, Damon turned in light-hearted frustration to the old woman at the back of the shop. "Do you have a 'gay' section for my friend here? Maybe something in a size Gay?" Quinn swatted Damon's shoulder. "This probably seems silly to you, but it's my process, okay?" The woman behind the counter gestured for the men to approach. The old woman's eyes were drawn to Quinn, but Damon had finally quit fretting about his non-entity status in Quinn's presence. That Quinn was now shirtless and more built than ever only made Damon fade further into the background. "This might sound stupid, but I need something that'll make me feel...gay," Quinn told the old woman. She smiled wistfully. "When I was a girl, a nice new hat used to make me feel gay." Oh god, Damon thought, this was a terrible idea. Now we're about to be treated to this woman's history of how word meanings changed throughout the twentieth century. But instead, she reached under the counter and pulled out a wooden jewelry box. She opened it to display a collection of various rings. She studied them, then selected one with a silver band and a single black stone. She handed it to Quinn, saying "I think this will help you get what you desire." Damon seemed unsure that this simple ring screamed "gay", but Quinn shrugged his recently renovated shoulders and said, "You never know what'll give you the key to your character." He studied it and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes. "This isn't one of those mood rings, is it? My dad told me he had one back in the Seventies. The color of the stone changed to show what your mood was." "Very similar principle," the old woman nodded. "Go ahead, put it on." Quinn slid it onto his left ring finger. He liked how it felt. The metal weight in an unfamiliar place gave him an immediate sense of otherness, like he wasn't just wearing a piece of jewelry but was wearing part of a different person, a new character. He looked closely at the stone and could detect a slight swirling in the darkness which settled into a deep, dark blue. "Huh, what do you know? It turned blue a little. What does that mean?" He placed his hand on the counter so the shopkeeper could examine the stone. She peered through squinted eyes, then glanced over her bifocals at Quinn and said, "That means you're a little gay." Quinn laughed uneasily, which made Damon cackle hysterically. He kidded Quinn, "Don't worry, sweetie, everyone's a little gay." But truthfully, as long as you set aside the fact that Quinn was an actor, Damon had never met anyone as comfortable in his heterosexuality as Quinn, and the straight women in the theater department always appreciated that Quinn was the one exception to the "all the good ones are gay" rule. Hearing Damon speak, the woman turned to him, almost as if she had just realized he was there. "Are you two a couple?" Quinn shook his head and waved his hands, saying, "No, no, no, no, no." Damon felt a little insulted. "Five no's? Could you be a little more emphatic there, buddy?" Quinn started to apologize when the woman pulled an identical ring from the jewelry box and handed it to Damon. "You try." Curious but a little scared, Damon slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. If Quinn's ring said he was "a little gay", Damon's ring would probably start shooting out rainbows and sparkles and unicorns while blasting "It's Raining Men". But after letting the mysterious liquid inside the stone swirl and settle, Damon's ring turned only a slightly brighter shade of blue than Quinn's. He held it out for the woman to evaluate. "This can't be right." "Oh, no, it's right," she assured him. "It's always right." Damon stared at the blue gem curiously, while Quinn flexed his hand repeatedly, getting a feel for the ring's weight. He told the woman, "It kind of grows on you." She nodded sagely. "I'll take it," Quinn said, pulling out his wallet. Damon was starting to pull off his ring, but Quinn stopped him. "Keep it, man. It looks good on you." Damon felt funny about it. "Won't it be kinda weird, you and me wearing matching rings?" "I'm only wearing mine for the audition. I'm serious, let me buy that for you. It matches your eyes." Damon was surprised and even a little turned on that Quinn had noticed the color of his eyes. Then again, actors were good at studying other people. Damon shook it off. Quinn got his change and thanked the woman behind the counter for her help. "Do you need anything else?", she asked. Pulling his t-shirt back on, Quinn glanced around the store and said, "No, I think I'm good." He stepped outside, with a puzzled Damon at his heels. "That's it? You buy one ring and you've got the character?" "No, but I don't think I need more clothes to do it." Quinn leapt energetically into the driver's seat and noticed the flyaway mess that his hair had become. "But I gotta fix this hair. Alexander wouldn't have this haircut. Where's there a good hair stylist?" Damon had never gone anywhere more stylish than Fantastic Sams, but he had a feeling Quinn needed something a bit more specialized. Damon searched on his iPhone for nearby salons while Quinn drove. Damon found one place on Santa Monica Boulevard that was still open, so he gave Quinn driving directions. Quinn was driving with his left arm propped in his open window, showing off the definition of his biceps and triceps as they emerged from his t-shirt sleeve. Quinn could swear he was noticing a lot more guys staring at him, and Quinn was someone who was used to being stared at. He even waved at a few as he passed. Seemed like what Alexander would do. When they arrived at the salon, the guy behind the counter with a shaved head, a septum ring and gauged earlobes looked too exhausted to deal with another customer, but when he looked up to see Quinn's smiling, hopeful face, he began to change his mind. Quinn explained that he desperately needed his hair styled for an audition in the morning. He even put his hand atop the counterman's pale slender hand which was splayed on the counter. Wow, thought Damon, he's really laying on the charm. And it worked. Soon Quinn was seated in a chair and getting his hair shampooed. The stylist glanced across the room at Damon, who was slumped in a chair, flipping idly through Frontiers magazine. "You gonna want a cut too?", asked the stylist. "No, I'm fine," said Damon. The stylist disagreed with that assessment of Damon's pedestrian haircut, with an indistinct part and uneven strands of lackluster brown hair straggling over his ears, but he said nothing and turned back to scrubbing Quinn's lush mane. Once it was washed, Quinn moved back to a barber's chair and stared at his reflection, his long hair wet and stringy, falling past his eyes. The stylist asked what Quinn was looking for. "I need something bold. Something that'll grab your attention, but won't look too radical for a guy in a business suit. What's that one where it's all kinda scrunched up in the middle?" "A fauxhawk?", replied the stylist. "Yeah, I want one of those." Damon looked up from his magazine, surprised. Quinn had been so casual, so lacking in vanity about his appearance in college. Quinn was plenty hot without bothering with fancy technology like, ya know, a comb. Still, Damon could imagine how sexy Quinn would look with a fauxhawk. It was even giving him a chubby. He had a bad habit of being attracted to straight boys, and Quinn had always been his kryptonite. He knew that it was futile and self-sabotaging to allow himself to muse about relationships that could never happen. Yet he found himself lost in Quinn's reflection in the mirror as the stylist set to work. Quinn was also getting aroused as chunks of his long hair were snipped away. It was like the stylist was sculpting the disorganized wad of yarn glued his head into something sleek and beautiful. Yes, yes, he was feeling the character more and more, getting a better fix on who he should be playing. He could practically see himself becoming the character in his reflection. With a flourish, the stylist removed the apron from Quinn, who was staring lustily at his newly gelled and peaked hairdo. Quinn spun in his chair to get Damon's opinion, but Damon was already standing, pointing to a photo in a book of sample hairdos and showing it to the stylist. "I want a fade." The stylist's shoulders sank, as he thought he was done for the day, but Quinn gave him a quick wink and he agreed. As the stylist buzzed the sides over Damon's ears down to bare skin, Damon started to wonder how he'd look with a different hair color, but he knew he'd be pushing his luck to ask the stylist to start a major project like that at this late hour. But as his new style took shape, Damon began to grin. It wasn't a radical change, but it also wasn't the same old boring haircut that had stared back at him since high school. He glanced behind him, where Quinn seemed to be studying an issue of Playgirl. Damon blinked his eyes, thinking there must be hair in them. "What you reading there, Q?" "Interesting article," Quinn said deadpan. Damon figured Quinn must be doing research into what he thought a gay guy would read. When the two men stepped back into the cool evening air, they both felt pounds heavier as their scalps felt the breeze. Quinn looked down at his shorter friend and smiled. "Da-amn, boy, you do look cute." Damon looked at Quinn skeptically, thinking back to Quinn's gradual metamorphosis into Stanley Kowalski back in college. Maybe this was just his process. "Just so I'm clear, you're just trying to get into character, right?" Quinn wrapped a strong arm around Damon's slender shoulders. "Aw, my little Damie, never could take a compliment." Quinn leaned down o kiss Damon lightly on the forehead. If this was Quinn's process, he was certainly disappearing into the role already. Damon checked his phone for the time. "Maybe we should head back to your place and I can help you memorize your script." "Fuck the lines," said Quinn, with a ferocity strange for someone who could usually beat Jack Johnson in a mellow-off. Quinn spotted the Rage nightclub up the street and started to drag Damon in that direction. "Let's go dancing!" "I thought you hated Rage." "I did. But I don't think Alexander does." Inside the packed club, Quinn was much chattier than he had been on his first night in town. In fact, he seemed downright comfortable, chatting and laughing with everyone who approached him. Damon hovered close enough to hear Quinn introducing himself to people as Alexander. Quinn pulled Damon over and started introducing him as "my boy Damon". Damon had done some role-playing games online and always felt too self-conscious about it, but he was getting off on playing this role. Even pretending to be Quinn's -- or Alexander's -- boy was a thrill, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Quinn had already shed his t-shirt and was flexing in time with the music. Damon unbuttoned his silk shirt down to the base of his sternum. Any further exposure of his pale pasty skin would risk causing blindness to anyone who looked at it, and he'd never found his clumps of unsightly body hair to be aesthetically pleasing. Basically, Damon believed that the more of his body someone saw, the less likely they were to desire him. Ideally, to avoid turning off potential lovers, he would need to walk the streets in an Iron Man uniform. Quinn was getting sucked further away into the swirl of bodies, but Damon noticed that Quinn was constantly looking back to check on him. Eventually, Quinn squeezed his way back and they spent the remainder of the night dancing as a couple. When the pace slowed slightly, Quinn wrapped his arms around Damon's butt and hoisted him until Damon was looking down at Quinn. Quinn planted his lips on Damon's and kissed him hard. Damon closed his eyes, ecstatic, letting himself believe for a moment that what he was feeling from Quinn was real and not research. Fueled by Red Bulls and vodka, Quinn and Damon stayed until closing time. Damon was sure he would have a hangover at work tomorrow, but at the moment he was carefree and full of energy, literally skipping along the boulevard. Quinn strolled behind him, swinging his meaty arms loosely. "Okay, now we'll go home and do lines." Damon looked hopefully. "Cocaine?" Quinn rubbed his knuckles through Damon's new hairdo. "No, you knucklehead. Lines in the script." Damon giggled as they climbed into the convertible and headed back to Quinn's place. As Damon picked up the script from the floor of the car, he noticed the glow of his ring. The color had lightened since he first put it on. It now sparkled like a sapphire. He glanced over at Quinn, but couldn't see his ring, as Quinn was hanging his left forearm down along the outside of the car and pounding on the door in time with the music cranked on the car stereo. When they got back to the apartment, Quinn grabbed a couple of bottles of beer from the refrigerator and told Damon to make himself comfortable on the futon in the living room. Damon took a seat, sipped his beer and opened the script to the proper page, only to gasp as Damon returned to the living room wearing nothing but a pair of amply stuffed black briefs. "Aw, Damie, I told you to get comfortable. You're my expert on all this. I need you to tell me what I should be doing." Damon quickly flipped through the script. "Isn't it just a dialogue scene? I didn't see any sex scenes in the script." Quinn grabbed the script and flung it across the room. It slammed into the wall, snapping the fasteners and sending the pages fluttering to the floor. "Fuck the script. I need to know what it feels like to be inside you." Quinn pulled down his briefs and his rigid cock began to rise and grow. He worked the scrap of black cloth down both of his bulging thighs, then down the shins. He reached one big toe up to pull the briefs the rest of the way off. Then, holding the shorts between his toes, he tossed them directly into Damon's face. Damon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, amazed to have this chance to inhale Quinn's musky scent. He pulled the briefs above his eyes and left them resting atop his new haircut. He giggled playfully and stared lustily at the golden-haired tower of muscle looming over him, standing with legs spread and a nine-inch cock pointing straight up, slapping flat against his abs and seemingly as wide as Damon's wrist. Jesus, Damon thought, he's staring at me. Right at my pathetic little body. And he's got a hard-on that could shatter glass. Fuck, thought Damon, this guy is a good actor. Damon tore open his gray shirt, losing a few buttons in the process. He unbuckled his pants but struggled to get them down before Quinn leapt upon him. Quinn shredded Damon's trousers and ripped off his boxers to discover Damon's slim, six-incher, fully erect. Quinn grunted and smiled, then eased his own cock gently into Quinn's asshole. "How's that?" Damon whimpered, never having had something that large inside him before. Quinn brushed Damon's cheek and kissed him. "You tell me if I'm hurting you, Damie. I just want to make you happy." Quinn took it slowly, gradually inserting more and more of his engorged cock into Damon. Damon was getting short of breath. He glanced down and saw Quinn's massive left hand wrapped around Damon's cock, stroking it in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. Damon noticed the glint of Quinn's ring on the hand. The jewel was now sapphire blue, just like Damon's had been in the car. Curious, he glanced at his own ring and it had now lightened to a dazzling cyan. He felt all his inhibitions slipping away and surrendered to the power of Quinn. Or Alexander. Or whoever. Who cares? Damon screamed out, "Just fuckin' fuck me!" * * * Quinn slept deeply through the night, but his dreams were vivid. Amazingly, he had already reached a state that usually only came after weeks of rehearsal: he was dreaming in character. He knew he was ready to play a part when he had so deeply inhabited them that he no longer dreamt as himself, but as Stanley Kowalski, or George in "Virginia Woolf", or Estragon in "Waiting for Godot". (Man, if you think your dreams are hard to follow, try having some "Godot" dreams.) Somehow, with this Alexander character, he had gone from panic to serenity in a single night. He felt the power of Alexander's suddenly unleashed sexuality, the newfound sense of freedom that gave him, the strength he sought to exert over others, yet the tenderness he could exhibit to those he loved, like his boy Damie. That last part caused a slight glitch in the dream, as Quinn suddenly realized he was in a dream and tried to remember whether Damie was a character in the script or... No, Damie was his friend from college. Little Damon. How had he never noticed what a cutie Damie was all these years? Damie was always so shy. He must have been waiting for years for Alexander to make the first move. Fuck, no, that's not right. Alexander is the character. I'm Quinn. That's right, right? It was all intermingled, and suffused with a sense of well-being that seemed to have calmed his spirit. Yeah, now he remembered. He was in a panic all day about...something or other...and his little Damie came and made it all better. And they fucked until they collapsed. A familiar xylophone melody began to repeat and repeat in Quinn's brain, gradually rousing him from his slumber. He snuggled against the bare skin of Damon's back as they spooned on the futon. Damon remained blissfully asleep in Quinn's arms while the fog lifted from Quinn's brain. That music...it was the alarm on Damon's iPhone. What time was it? Quinn squinted until he finally spotted something with a clock: his microwave. 7:45. Fuck! The audition! When was the audition again? Quinn gently slid his arm out from underneath Damon, stood up and switched off the alarm. Morning wood slapping against his thigh, he wandered the living room naked in search of the title page of the script on which he had scribbled the time and place of his audition. Finally locating it, he discovered that he had a couple of hours of breathing room, although he still needed to memorize the lines. He wasn't worried though, because he already had the character. Quinn leaned down and kissed Damon on the cheek. "Morning, sexy. Time to get up." Damon grumpily opened his eyes and was rewarded with a view of Quinn's hard cock. He giggled sleepily and said in a lilting voice, "Mmm, is that for me?" "Not right now. Gotta get ready for my audition." "Can I help you?" "Not right now. I need to take a shower." Damon crawled across the futon with a smile, waggling his bouncy ass. "Can I help you?" Quinn felt tempted, but knew he had to get in and out fast so he could study his lines. He kissed Damon's forehead, then walked to the bathroom. Damon got hard just watching Quinn's broad back and dimpled butt cheeks as he left the room. That vision carried him to a speedy orgasm, spurting across the thatches of hair on his meagerly developed torso. He fell back into a giddy slumber, rubbing his fingers lazily through his own cum. Damon woke again when a shadow fell over his face. He looked up to see Quinn fully dressed in a gray business suit, the sunlight hitting the peaks of his freshly gelled fauxhawk. Quinn's cock rubbed softly against the material of his pants, as he'd decided that Alexander would go commando. Better to demonstrate his dominance over his rivals. Quinn nervously fiddled with a ring on his left hand, its jewel an entrancing bright shade of blue. "Gotta go, Damie. See you when I get back?" Smiling coyly, Damon sat up, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his hairy legs. "I'll be here. Kiss for luck?" Quinn leaned down and planted his succulent lips on Damon's. They both closed their eyes to fully enjoy the sensation. Neither noticed the blue glow of their rings brightening further. After Quinn left for his audition, Damon made his way to the bathroom where he took a long hot shower. The gushing water kept him from hearing his phone ringing, as his office called to find out why he wasn't at work yet. Damon stepped from the shower and wiped the fog from the mirror. He had to admit, he really did look cute with his new haircut, but he grimaced the further he looked down. Those clumps of hair on his chest and the wet, clingy hair on his legs did not look cute at all. He grabbed Quinn's can of Barbasol and lathered up his chest and legs. It took him two of Quinn's razorblades to shave his chest and legs clean and, after he saw how that looked, another blade plus the rest of the Barbasol to take care of his pubes. As he lay his sleek new body back down upon the futon, Damie wondered how Q's audition was going. * * * Quinn's confidence that he would be cast in the soap opera peaked in the millisecond before he opened the door to the casting office. Once inside, he discovered several other strapping young men much like himself. VERY much like himself. Clearly the call had gone out for any actor who looked sufficiently similar to the one who had originated the role of Alexander, and the results of that quest were seated in this room. Blond, handsome, tall but not too tall. Their minor physical differences were outweighed by their striking similarities. Quinn had gotten used to being the go-to lead actor back in college, but he was now facing the reality of being a tiny fish trying to navigate the biggest sea in the acting world. Quinn checked in at the front desk and took his seat among the other prospective Alexanders, who were checking him out, both to evaluate him as their acting competition and, for many of them, just to check him out. At least his fears about playing a gay character had been erased by last night's events. As soon he had found that ring in the shop where Damon took him, something clicked in his mind. Never before had a single item of wardrobe given him such a strong sense of a character. He had been immersed in characters before, but last night, he felt positively possessed, seeing the world through Alexander's eyes, doing things he had never done before -- things he would never have considered doing before. But as the night went on, he realized he wasn't simply acting out of curiosity as research for a role; he was responding to irresistible physical urges...and he had to admit to himself that it felt tremendous. He only hoped that Damon didn't feel used and exploited, although from Quinn's semi-drunken memories of the night, it seemed like Damon had a gay old time. He had never seen Damon so loose, so happy, so free. * * * Back at Quinn's apartment, Damon was restless. He had checked his voicemail and discovered several messages from his workplace, asking where he was. He finally called back, explaining that he had misread some parking signs and his car had been towed. He promised to get to work as soon as possible, but he had no such intention. He wanted to be waiting here when Quinn returned triumphantly from his audition, so he could leap into Quinn's arms, smother him in kisses...and then fuck, fuck, fuck the night away. Although Damon had known he was gay since before he even knew it was a thing to be, he'd never felt as obsessed with sex as he did this morning. Sure, he had thought about the subject plenty, more in abstract terms than in genuine practice, but his mind had never before been whipped into such an orgy of nonstop salacious thoughts. It still seemed like some impossible dream that he had actually had sex with Quinn Brooks...and multiple times at that. But uncharacteristically, Damon wasn't dwelling on why Quinn suddenly found him attractive (or at least fuckworthy) and wasn't making mental wagers about how soon Quinn would inevitably turn his attentions elsewhere and leave Damon in misery. All that percolated through Damon's mind this bright morning was looking his best for his man ("his MAN"!!!) when he got back home. The drab clothes Damon had worn last night were no longer an option, as Quinn had shredded Damon's slacks and underwear when he tore them off Damon's body. Damon's gray shirt was slightly salvageable, since it had only lost a few buttons. Damon slipped it on, rolling up the sleeves and knotting the tails of the shirt in the front to expose his smooth, hairless tummy. Not terrible, Damon thought, but pretty blah. Surely he could find something with more pizzazz. He peeked through Quinn's drawers for some shorts, but anything big enough to accomodate Quinn was ridiculously huge on Damon's slim firame. None of Quinn's clothes hanging in his closet were appropriate either, but Damon did notice that Quinn's girlfriend Renee had left a few changes of clothes hanging there as well. Not only was her body closer to Quinn's size, but he admired her fashion sense. He felt a forbidden thrill as he slipped a spangly blue-and-white-striped top off its hanger, held it in front of himself and studied his reflection in the mirror. He pulled his gray button down over his head and slipped on Renee's top, its neck so wide that it exposed the slope of Damon's shoulder. A smile slowly grew on his lips. Yesterday, he would have felt embarrassed to wear anything so shiny or so feminine, but today it gave him a kick. He squeezed his way into a pair of her black leggings and was glad that the bottom of the shirt concealed the growing boner trapped within them. He would have to wash the leggings before Renee returned to town, so she wouldn't wonder why there was a stain of dried pre-cum in them. At least his own shoes still fit, although they were a ludicrous contrast to the outfit above them. Clearly he would need to run out and buy some new clothes if he was going to look good for Quinn, and this mismatched outfit would allow him to go into public. With his paltry savings, he couldn't suddenly become an au courant fashionista...but, hey, he thought with a giggle, that's why God invented credit cards! Damon stepped out of the apartment, realizing too late that the door was locking behind him. A day ago, Damon would have been frantic about getting locked out and mortified to be seen in public the way he was currently dressed. But instead, he shrugged it off and sashayed (there was really no better word for it) his little kiester down the sidewalk to where he thought he had parked his beat-up piece-of-shit Mazda. He looked up and down the street with a sinking feeling. Well, what do you know? That lie about his car having been towed because he didn't read the parking signs? It wasn't a lie after all. But again, instead of freaking out, Damon calmly pulled out his iPhone. * * * Quinn leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed as he went over Alexander's lines in his head for the millionth time in twenty minutes. He felt a vibration in his pants. He didn't want to be disturbed while he was so immersed in character. Still, what if it was important? What if it was a message from his agent? Or from Damon? He had to look. He slid the phone from his pocket and noticed that it was a text from Renee. He pushed the phone back in his pocket without reading the message. He couldn't lose his focus now. Besides, he had no clue what to tell her about last night. He probably shouldn't say anything. What if it was just a one-night fling, a dalliance fueled by an actor's need for new experiences to inform his performance? He still loved Renee, didn't he? Well, he liked her at least. After all, she was pretty and smart and understanding and... "Quinn Brooks?" Huh? What? Quinn heard someone calling his name. "Quinn Brooks?" The woman said it again, more impatiently. Quinn shook off his stupor and raised his hand. "Present!", he called, as if the woman were taking roll call. She gestured for him to proceed to the inner office. Quinn offered a hasty "Good luck" to his fellow actors in the waiting room and stepped inside. Three people seated behind a table stared at Quinn, impressed on first sight by his close resemblance to his predecessor in the role. They each informed Quinn who they were, but Quinn's mind was so scattered that all he heard was "words words name name words". Dammit, why had he looked at that text message? He was totally losing his focus. He brushed his left hand nervously through his fauxhawk, disheveling his carefully groomed look. The stone in his ring was darkening back toward a deep blue, verging on black. He gazed across the room at the three people evaluating him, as well as the bored guy manning a video camera behind them. Quinn found himself making friendly chit-chat. Dammit, that wasn't his plan! All morning, he had been in the zone. He had planned that, from the moment he walked into the audition room, he was going to take command of the situation and BE sly, conniving Alexander. But here he was, in front of the people who were going to decide his fate, and he heard his mouth on autopilot, lapsing back into friendly old Quinn, blathering about traffic and asking politely about getting his parking validated. Focus, man, focus! From somewhere, a voice asked Quinn to begin. He took a big breath and opened his mouth, but the words he had down stone cold just minutes ago were eluding him. It was the classic actor's nightmare of going dry. At least he wasn't naked too, although that would have given them something to focus on besides the lack of words coming from his mouth. Cringing, he put a shaky hand into the breast pocket of his suit coat and pulled out his script pages, hoping they would kick him back into gear. But he discovered they were in the wrong order and facing different directions. As he searched desperately for the first page, he could sense interest plummeting across the room. At last, he found the first line, which seemed dimly familiar. He cleared his throat and realized how parched he was. His tongue was practically cemented to the roof of his mouth. He grabbed a bottle of water that had been placed nearby for him. The cap was surprisingly tight and, when he finally loosened it, he was squeezing the plastic bottle so tight that a gusher of water shot out, dousing the crotch of his pants. Quinn stared at the dark wet blotch and wondered, where is cyanide when you need it? Quinn drained half of what remained in the bottle, then set it aside, glanced at the pages and began to recite his lines. Once he got rolling, the words were mostly there, so he only needed to consult the pages twice more for cues, but the character's voice, the one he had such a grip on all morning, was gone. It wasn't devious Alexander speaking his mind, it was just charming Quinn Brady lifelessly reciting some shit he had memorized. He may as well have been in a third-grade Earth Day pageant dressed as an oak tree for all the emotion he was investing in his performance. Once he finished, he was out the door in shame somewhere between when the casting director said "thank" and when she said "you". Quinn stormed through the outer office and into the parking lot, royally pissed at himself. He yanked off his necktie, wadded it up and hurled it into the backseat of his convertible. A voice in his head asked, "Is that really the best you can do?" Quinn told himself "no" as he struggled out of his coat. "I thought you were serious about this," said the voice. I am, Quinn insisted to himself. I love acting. "Well, then, show it, goddamn it!", urged the voice. I can't, I blew my shot, it's over, Quinn lamented as he stripped off his dress shirt. But the voice was screaming at him now, "Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think that I would just walk away?" Finally, Quinn realized the pep talk wasn't really from himself. It was the voice of Alexander, roaring back to life and asserting itself. The energy and intensity which had fueled Quinn last night were back, maybe even stronger than before. He marched back toward the casting office, still shirtless and with something to prove, flinging open the front door, crossing the lobby and barging into the inner room. An assistant chased after him, yelling that he couldn't go in there, but Alexander would not be stopped. Quinn pushed aside the startled blond guy who was in the middle of his audition and ignored the shouts from the folks behind the desk that this was unacceptable. "No, what's unacceptable is what I did before," said Quinn with fury. "I wasn't showing you who I truly was, what I had the potential to be. I had to get out of here and clear my head before I could see myself for who I am and realize I had unfinished business back here. I deserve to be here. Nothing is ever over unless you let it be over. You don't give up on what you need, you fight for it! Do you seriously think I would just walk away?" The words ran out. He had nothing more to say. His broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath, Quinn stared down the people behind the table, who looked like they had just witnessed a car bomb exploding. The bored camera guy was now alert and zooming in for a close-up of Quinn's face. The auditioner whom Quinn had interrupted felt compelled to applaud Quinn softly, realizing he could never have delivered a performance like that. Only as his adrenaline subsided did Quinn realize that everything he had said was actually from Alexander's lines in the script. But not only did they ring true for Alexander, they said what Quinn had needed to say. The folks behind the table consulted with each other in murmurs before the soap opera's director, a distinguished man with graying hair, a British accent and an approving smile, leaned forward and told Quinn, "Well, this is the part of the audition where we would usually ask you to take off your shirt, but you seem to have jumped the gun on that, dear boy." Quinn's piercing blue eyes gazed right back at the man. He radiated immense confidence, knowing that he had nailed it. He brushed his left hand slowly down his sweat-soaked chest and abs, unaware that the gemstone on his new ring had shifted back from a deep onyx to a blue lapis lazuli. * * * At first, the stylist did not recognize the waifish man getting out of the cab in front of the salon in the striped shirt, leggings and black Oxford shoes. But the stylist tended to have a good memory for his own work and, once the customer entered, he realized from the conservative brown fade that this was the meek pal of the gorgeous blond who had entered with such urgency the night before. The man walked gracefully to the counter and grinned conspiratorially at the stylist. "Remember me?" "Yeah, sure," said the stylist. "You were in here with that other dude last night." Damon liked being remembered for once, even if only as an afterthought to "that other dude". Actually, being remembered as having been "WITH that other dude" gave Damon quite a thrill. "I want to go further. Try something really radical." Damon described the look he was thinking of, then asked, "Do you do piercings here too?" Damon was surprised how long the process took to achieve what he wanted, but he knew it would be worth it, if only to see Quinn's reaction. As he waited for the process to complete, he decided he might as well get a mani/pedi while he was waiting. The cute boy tending to Damon's nails suggested a facial to clean out Damon's pores, so that was added to the credit card too. When Damon finally stepped outside, it was after noon. He checked his phone but hadn't received a call or text from Quinn. He hoped that was a good sign, but didn't want to jinx it by calling Q and asking. Catching his reflection in the salon window, Damon could hardly believe he was looking at himself, but these hand-me-down rags from Renee were not cutting it. He knew just where to go, so he phoned for another cab. The white-haired old woman was behind the counter at his favorite funky clothes shop again. In fact, he never remembered seeing anyone else working the register in all the times he'd shopped here. Well, browsed. He loved looking at the clothing, and had enjoyed trying on some of the milder outfits in the dressing room, but he never dreamt of wearing any of it out of here. Today, though, he wanted to buy everything he tried on, no matter how outlandish. All that held him back was a nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that his credit card did have a limit. He brought a pile of items to the counter. As he pulled out his wallet, the woman behind the register noticed a familiar ring on his left hand, silver with a shiny turquoise stone. She studied Damon's face and was amazed. She knew the effects her jewelry could have, but had never seen such a radical change in a customer in such a short time. "Oh, it's you! I take it you are pleased with the ring." Damon held up the back of his hand and looked at the stone, mesmerized by its color. "I absolutely love it." "And your friend?" "Oh, yeah, it was exactly what he needed!" The woman was relieved. Although she had known immediately that the man before her was gay, albeit very introverted, she was a bit worried when the friend's ring had turned only slightly blue. She bought all of her jewelry from an old hippie living in an abandoned filling station near Ojai who had hyped his products by saying they had magical powers which would help the wearer become "self-actualized" and "live their life to its greatest potential". He ascribed different miraculous abilities to his various rings and necklaces and bracelets. The shopkeeper had been in the business long enough to have lived through the fads of crystals and pyramid-power, to have gone to EST seminars and had herself tested with an e-meter, so she figured this guy was just trafficking in another new line of bullshit, but she liked his designs, so she bought a few samples. The rings she had sold to the men last night were part of what he called his XY line. The jewelry maker claimed that they could detect the wearer's position on the sexuality spectrum. If the stone was pitch black, the wearer was uncontrovertibly heterosexual. The bluer the stone became, the more the wearer embraced their homosexuality. The storekeeper initially assumed the jeweler was just trying to unload crates of unsold mood rings from the Seventies with a modern angle that might make them appealing to gay couples getting married. (He also offered an XX line for lesbians, which accounted for the hot pink stone on the saleswoman's ring finger.) But the jewelry maker assured her that what made the rings mystical was their power to nudge the wearer along that sliding scale until they reached the point where they felt most comfortable in their own skin. At first, that seemed like an extravagant claim, but the saleslady had seen the jeweler's promises borne out hundreds of times now and, from the evidence before her, Damon had become far more comfortable with his gayness since last night. After she finished ringing up Damon's items on the antique cash register, the saleslady asked if Damon needed anything else. "Or perhaps a gift for you friend?" Damon would love to surprise Q with a gift, but he hesitated, informing the saleslady, "I don't want to buy him any clothes, because they might be too small for him. If he gets this new job today, they're probably going to want him to pack on a lot more muscle." She heard the magic word and brought out her jewelry box, selecting a pair of wide bracelets made from leather and silver. They had a very rough-hewn macho look, like something a gladiator or Thor would wear, and Damon thought Quinn would look fierce in them. "I'll take them!", he shouted without even asking the price. The saleslady rang it up and noticed that Damon was still studying the jewelry box in search of something else. "I don't suppose you sell...another kind of ring." "What kind of ring?" Damon blushed, his freshly-cleansed pale skin serving as a flesh-and-blood mood ring, turning practically scarlet. Although no one else was in the store, Damon still felt embarrassed to ask, so he whispered his request in the saleslady's ear. She nodded and gestured for him to follow her into the back of the shop. * * * Quinn was pumped! After Quinn's cloudburst of an audition, the director asked him to remain in the area for a while until they finished seeing the other actors. So, for a couple of hours, Quinn wandered the parking lot, picked up a protein shake from the Jamba Juice at the mall across the street, then returned to his car to wait until the director needed him again. God, he loved it here. Back home, the leaves would be falling soon and the air would be turning crisp already, while he could sit in his convertible with the seat leaned back and his shirt off, working on his tan. An assistant finally came out to tell Quinn they were ready for him. When he started to put his shirt back on, the assistant told him, "That won't be necessary." Quinn returned to the audition room, expecting to do a full audition, since he'd only said about ten sentences during his earlier tirade, but the director informed him they had heard enough. Quinn felt dejected, like he was being held after school to get a scolding on the way real professionals behave. Instead, the director informed Quinn that he had the role. Inside his head, Quinn felt like leaping ten feet high, but he retained his reserved Alexander-ish demeanor and simply stated, "You won't be sorry." Once he was on the studio lot, Quinn would have a personal trainer in the show's private fitness center, but since Quinn's first episode wouldn't shoot for a couple of weeks, they wanted him to hit the gym heavily in the meantime. His body was well on its way to perfection, but for maximum tittilation value, the soap writers set a high proportion of the show's scenes in bedrooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, saunas, massage parlors, laundry rooms -- anyplace that the male actors could conceivably display a lot of skin. For a story arc about an academic cheating scandal, the writers had even bandied about the notion of a clothing-optional library. Wags in the press had long ago dubbed the show "Topless Hospital" and "The Hung and the Shirtless". "As a gay character," the director said to Quinn, "it would seem unlikely that your physique would be less spectacular than the straight characters, wouldn't you say? You do feel comfortable playing a gay character, don't you?" "Absolutely," said Quinn as his ring became a touch more brilliant. Quinn wanted to share the good news with Damon immediately, but he didn't want to do it over the phone. He wanted to see Damon's face. He leapt into the convertible without even opening the door and sped back to his apartment. Climbing out, he slipped on a ribbed purple tank top from his gym bag, slung his dress shirt, suit coat and tie over his arm and walked toward his front door. A veritable bunker of shopping bags was piled by his front door, and extending from behind them were two alluringly slim, smooth legs, feet in blue flip-flops with blue painted toenails. Had Renee already returned from her commercial shoot in Baja? Shit, she did send him that damn text message this morning and he never even looked at it. But why was she sitting outside, when she had Quinn's spare key? "I'm sorry, baby. You been waiting long?", said Quinn as he rounded the corner. "I don't mind," said the soft-voiced man seated on Quinn's welcome mat. Quinn leapt back, startled by the stranger, then became even more startled when he realized this was no a stranger. It was Damon, but he was virtually unrecognizable from the sexual dynamo he'd left on his futon this morning, let alone the shy and awkward man he had he known since college. "I didn't see your car out front," said Quinn, as if that was the reason for the look of shock on his face. "Fascist cops towed it away. I must have parked where I shouldn't have. Far as I'm concerned, they can keep it. I can't be seen in a monstrosity like that." Damon struggled to his feet and pointed to some of the shopping bags surrounding him. "Can you help me with these, babe?" Quinn grabbed two bags and unlocked the door. Damon preceded him into the living room, and Quinn was hypnotized by the waggle of Damon's ass in white short-shorts that ran out of fabric before his glutes ran out of curves. A baby-blue fishnet tank top covered Damon's now hairless torso, and silver studs now adorned both of his earlobes. His fingernails were coated with the same navy-blue nail polish as his toenails, and his face had a refreshed appearance that made him appear even more boyish than usual. But it was Damon's hair that commanded the most attention. Although it had been buzzed to the scalp on the sides last night, the top had been left fairly thick and messy. Now, the hair on top was dyed a rich shade of blue that matched his eyes and stood in dozens of gelled spikes. Damon couldn't help admiring himself in the reflection on the microwave door. "Maybe I read too much anime as a kid and had too many crushes on cartoon Asian boys with blue hair, but I fuckin' love it. Don't you fuckin' love it?" He could never have imagined it, but Quinn had to admit that it did work with the rest of Damon's new look. "I do, but it's so...different." "Different is what I want. I've had 23 years to be the same." Damon sat his little butt on the edge of the futon and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees as he looked up expectantly at Quinn. "So...how did the audition go?" Quinn wanted to draw out the suspense, but he was so eager to share the news, he was about to burst. He spoke softly with as blank an expression as he could manage. "I got it." Damon's high-pitched squeal triggered a frenzy of barking from the dogs next door. Just as he had envisioned, Damon leapt into the air, wrapping his slender arms around Quinn's neck and his bare legs around Quinn's waist. Quinn gave Damon a soulful French kiss and inhaled deeply. "What have you been drinking? You taste like Kool-Aid", he asked when he pulled his mouth away from Damon's. "Oh, I'm wearing fruit-punch-flavored lipstick," Damon explained. "Just a little. Also a little eyeliner. And some mascara. You like?" "As the actor in this relationship, I thought I'd be the one wearing the makeup." He smiled, then noticed Damon's expression suddenly turning serious. "What's the matter?" Damon seemed ready to sob. "You just called this a relationship." He grinned as a tear formed in the corner of his eye and, for the first time in his life, Damon had to worry about runny mascara. Quinn hugged Damon's thin ribcage tightly, fearing he could snap the poor little guy if he squeezed any harder. "Oh, I got you a gift," Damon declared, motioning for Quinn to lower him to the floor. "To congratulate you for getting the part." "But you didn't know I'd gotten the part." "Positive thinking!", Damon shouted as he rummaged through his shopping bags. Quinn thought Damon was nearly broke, but he had clearly gone on a massive shopping spree. Damon flung bright pastel shirts and gold lame vests and sequined socks onto the floor. Quinn even thought he spotted Renee's striped shirt and black leggings among the pile, but he was sure he was mistaken. Finally, Damon found what he was looking for and handed the two leather and silver cuffs to Quinn. "For my macho macho man," Damon said. Quinn looked at them, impressed with the craftsmanship but unsure if they were exactly him. "Thank you so much, Damie, but you really shouldn't have." "I should have and I did. Try them on!" Quinn unbuckled them and strapped them onto each wrist. Just like when he tried on the ring last night, he felt a comforting warmth in his body as soon as the cuffs were in place. Maybe they weren't Quinn's type of accessory, but he could certainly see Alexander wearing them. They felt like battle armor, like something Alexander the Great might have worn leading his troops. Maybe Alexander in the soap sees himself as a modern-day Alexander the Great, Quinn thought. Not that Quinn knew much about Alexander the Great, aside from that stupid movie his girlfriend at the time made him watch where Colin Farrell and Jared Leto had the hots for each other. "Mmmm, Colin and Jared," thought Quinn. "Maybe that movie was better than I gave it credit for." A slight buzz and heaviness spread through his muscles, as if he had just finished a heavy workout -- which reminded him... "I gotta go work out. They said I'm gonna have a lot of shirtless scenes, so the show wants me to get more ripped." Damon grinned. "My heavens, I am gonna watch this show on a constant loop." "You wanna come work out with me? Then afterwards, we can have a celebratory dinner." Damon, for whom working out had always been a slog, clapped excitedly, then searched his bags for his new workout clothes. When they arrived at the gym, for once it was Damon drawing the curious eyes. Not that Quinn was completely ignored, but here he was but one of hundreds of muscleheads. As far as Quinn could tell, Damon was the only blue-haired pixie in a Madonna "True Blue" t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, old-fashioned scrotum-length running shorts and electric-blue Chuck Taylors. As Quinn headed toward the free weights, Damon hung back by the treadmills. "Aren't you coming over to lift with me?", Quinn asked. "I'm gonna work on my calves. You go play with the lummoxes. But I'll have my eye on you, Q, so don't get too friendly with any of them." "Promise," Quinn said, rushing back for a kiss and another dose of Damon's fruity lipstick, which he would continue to taste throughout his workout. Quinn was practically delirious. He was prone to falling into relationships quickly, with his swift courtship of Renee being the most recent example, but he'd never felt quite so smitten with anyone as he was with Damon. Then again, it's not like they rushed into this. They had been acquainted for several years already, but until yesterday Quinn hadn't even acknowledged certain tendencies in himself. He always was a little slow to catch on. Quinn worked his way in with the muscle beasts whose inflated bodies made him feel puny. He never wanted to look that absurd, and would draw the line if the show suggested that he take steroids or any other drugs. He wanted any muscle growth to be natural -- unaware that, as soon as he began to lift wearing the new cuffs that Damon had given him, they would start to work their own mysterious magic on his muscle tone. It started slowly, as he noticed that the usual weights he could curl and bench felt surprisingly easy today. He attributed that to his great mood and the adrenaline rush of landing the part on the soap. But when he moved up to the next heaviest weight, that too was a breeze. He had to go up a full fifty pounds before he started feeling any strain at all. With each set of curls, his arms were swelling massively, his biceps veins snaking in sharp relief on top of them. By the end of his workout, he was handling as much weight as the WWE wannabes surrounding him, and his bulging muscles were testing the limits of the seams on his tank top. Sprinting on the treadmill, Damon watched with fascination, turned on by the sight of Quinn's expanding lats within his purple tank. When the two men hit the showers together, Damon didn't even attempt to hide the erection he was getting. Quinn had never been one to check out other guys' dicks in the locker room, but he figured Damon was fair game now. He was amazed to see that Damon's cock was several inches longer than it had been last night -- bigger than Quinn's now! -- and was that...a cock ring? Yup, the silver beauty that Damon had been afraid to ask for out loud was now working its own form of magic on Damon. Back in the locker room, Quinn attempted to pull on his plaid flannel shirt, but it was tight on his arms in a way it never had been before. When he tried to pull the buttons toward the buttonholes, he heard loud ripping sounds as the sleeves separated at the shoulder and his lats tore a slit straight down the back. He was maintaining an incredible post-workout pump, with a deep crevice between his pecs and sharper definition in his abs. His briefs were a tighter squeeze than usual. He had to lie down on a bench and pull like hell to get his pants over his quads, and there was no way his zipper was going all the way to the top. His sneakers were the only things that fit remotely well. He lay on the bench, defeated and barely clothed. "I'd say our Q needs to go shopping again," said Damon, hovering over him, amused. Quinn looked up and witnessed the latest incarnation of Damon. He had washed out the gel, so his blue hair now hung across his forehead in choppy bangs that grazed his eyebrows. He wore a silver button-down shirt with the short sleeves rolled up to display his modest biceps, a vintage hand-painted necktie, tight tweed slacks turned up at the cuffs, baby-blue socks and black-and-white wingtips. Quinn suddenly felt like a schlub. "I'll only go shopping if you pick out what I buy." Quinn entered Damon's favorite shop wearing sweatpants and no shirt. The same saleslady was at her usual post, and she noticed the cuffs on Quinn's wrists and the dramatic renovations they had already performed on his body. Quinn wasn't nearly as fussy as he had been last night. With the ring and now the leather cuffs, he felt he'd truly found his center as Alexander...and he felt pretty secure as Quinn too. The selection of clothes that fit Quinn's new size was limited, but when he tried on a blue sharkskin suit, Damon swooned. Quinn didn't want to invest in more clothes right now, not knowing if today's growth spurt was a one-time event, but this ought to do for tonight. They found a romantic French restaurant where they only had to wait two hours for a table, giving time for the men to have their longest sustained conversation ever. Damon's memories of his own past seemed to be receding like a bad dream, with only the past 24 hours feeling real to him, so they mostly talked about their hopes for the future. After an extraordinary candlelit dinner fueled by much wine, Damon asked if he could drive the convertible home. Quinn asked, "Can you drive a stick?" Damon cupped a hand under the newly hefty bulge in his pants and assured Quinn that he could. Damon tooled down Wilshire Boulevard, frequently glancing over at the sharp-dressed hunk in the passenger seat and smiling. When he passed the usual turn-off, Quinn asked, "Wasn't that my street?" Damon just smirked and kept driving toward the setting sun. When they arrived at the coast, a jazz band was playing a free concert on the Santa Monica Pier. Damon parked the car and led Quinn toward the music. They hung on the edge of the crowd, Quinn with his arms around Damon, taking in the sights and sounds of the band and the sky and the ocean and the carnival rides, while remaining in their own little world. As a slow song began to play, Quinn asked if Damon would like to dance. "I thought you would never ask," said Damon. "Literally." Having been performing in musicals since he was in seventh grade, Quinn was by far the superior dancer, but he took it easy on his partner, just swaying back and forth as Damon rested his blue hair against Quinn's chest. Quinn stared at the darkening sky and wondered how it was possible for his life to have changed so radically in a single day. He had no idea that Damon was thinking the same thing. When the concert ended, they returned to the convertible. This time Quinn drove, with Damon reclining so his head rested in Quinn's lap. He offered to blow Quinn as he drove, but Quinn did not want to end this perfect day by plowing into a freeway overpass while cumming on his windshield. Damon agreed to wait until they got home, contenting himself with nuzzling the hardening bulge under Quinn's shiny pants. Once they reached Quinn's place, they had almost completely undressed each other in the short distance between the car and the front door. They stumbled inside and fell immediately onto the futon. Damon's cock grew stiff and rigid as he kneaded Quinn's impressive new muscles. He pushed Quinn down and straddled him, guiding the head of his cock toward Quinn's ass. Quinn flinched. "What're you doing down there, young man?" "I'm taking my new pink Cadillac for a test drive," Damon grinned. "First you drive my convertible, now this? When did you get so aggressive?" "Since I realized what I wanted." Damon eased the head of his cock into the virgin territory of Quinn's tight hole. Quinn shouted, his arms spread wide to grip the sides of the futon, his ring now a bright turquoise, just like Damon's. Damon bent down and kissed Quinn's chest, whispering, "It's okay, baby, it's okay." As Damon's cock pressed deeper inside of him, the agony shifted to pleasure for Quinn, as he experienced a feeling he never knew he could crave. He spread his powerful hands over Damon's ass cheeks and helped provide thrust for Damon. When Damon came inside Quinn, they both moaned with satisfaction. After cuddling for a while, Damon offered to let Quinn fuck him, but Quinn took a rain check, already having had more excitement today than he could have possibly expected. "In that case," said Damon, "I need to take a leak." He leapt from the futon and scurried naked into the bathroom. Quinn lay spread-eagled, toying with his semi-hard cock and suddenly feeling envious of Damon's endowment. Moonlight filtered through the venetian blinds, illuminating the floor which was scattered with their discarded clothes and Damon's purchases from earlier in the day. Quinn noticed a shadow moving past the blinds, but thought nothing of it until he heard a key sliding into the lock. He scrambled to find something to wear as the door swung open and Renee switched on the lights. She was lugging two suitcases and looked haggard, her usually stylish hair now a straggly mess. Quinn had only managed to get one leg of his sharkskin pants up to his knee. "Renee! You're here!", shouted Quinn, trying to make up in volume what he lacked in enthusiasm. She rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. "The shoot was canceled because a hurricane was heading for Baja. Didn't you get my text?" Oh fuck, Quinn thought, I never did read that fucking text. "Yeah, of course I did. I just didn't expect you back so soon." Renee glanced at the shambles of the room and said, "No, apparently not. What the hell happened here?" "I, uh, just went on a shopping spree to celebrate. I wanted to wait to tell you when you got back. I got the part on that soap!" "You did? That's great, honey." She walked over to hug Quinn, who gave her a friendly hug back. Renee was amazed by Quinn's size. "My god, how did you get so huge?" "What do you mean? Just good diet and exercise." Renee cast a skeptical eye. "I've only been away for two days. Nobody balloons like this in two days." She looked at the slim-fitting clothes strewn about the floor. "I'll tell you one thing, you're never going to fit into any of these baby clothes you bought. Didn't you try any of them on before you bought them?" Just then, Renee noticed her own striped shirt and leggings among the other clothes. She picked them up and showed them to Quinn. "What are these doing out?" "I don't know. Honestly." And he WAS being honest. About that. Renee heard a flush in the bathroom and her eyes turned accusingly toward Quinn. "Do you have another woman here?" "What? No. NO. Absolutely not. Listen, why don't you go back to your place and get a good night's sleep and we can talk about all this in the morning when we've got clearer heads?" He tried maneuvering her toward the front door, but she outflanked him and dashed toward the bathroom door. She was about to knock when some naked twink with blue hair and a silver cock ring swung the door open. He smiled with surprise upon seeing Renee. "Oh, hi!", he said, grinning. But as Renee reeled, looking back and forth from Quinn to Damon and trying to piece together what was going on, Damon put a hand to his lips and said, with concern, "Oh." Renee felt like she had stepped into an alternate universe. The last thing she expected when she returned to L.A. was to discover her boyfriend Quinn's body had suddenly become so jacked. No, that's not true. The last thing she expected was to discover a blue-haired boytoy hiding naked in Quinn's bathroom. Scratch that. The last thing she expected was to discover that the blue boy in question was that sweet mild-mannered guy Damon who had first introduced Renee to Quinn. She was now seated at Quinn's kitchen table across from Quinn and Damon. As soon as Damon emerged from the bathroom, Renee demanded an explanation. Quinn said she was owed that, but asked if they could at least get dressed first. Quinn pulled on the pants of the sharkskin suit he had bought earlier in the evening but he remained distractingly shirtless. Damon poked through the piles of his new clothes that were scattered around the living room floor, his pale white butt pointing up as he bent down. Renee turned away, embarrassed...after first taking an astonished look at Damon's surprisingly hefty penis. She would never have suspected he was so gifted down there, proving that you can't judge a cock by its cover. Damon finally slipped into a bowling shirt and a pair of fashionably pre-torn blue jeans and walked over to the table, handing Renee a blue-and-white striped shirt and some black leggings. "These are actually yours." "Yes, I know." Renee tossed them aside. "Do you have anything else that's actually mine?" Damon shook his head silently. Damon took a seat beside Quinn at the table. He wanted so much to lean against Quinn's powerful shoulder for support, but that wouldn't be helpful in this situation. Instead, he brought his left foot onto his chair, placed both hands upon his hairless knee where it poked through a hole in his jeans, then rested his chin upon his hands. Quinn sat upright with his hands folded on the tabletop. Arms crossed, Renee took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as possible. "So, can you tell me what exactly I walked into here?" Quinn and Damon looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Neither was quite positive how to describe what had happened in the past day and a half. Damon deferred to Quinn, who took his best shot. "Well, you know I was having trouble getting a fix on this character I auditioned for." "The gay guy," said Renee. "Right, the gay guy. I just wasn't feeling like I had a grasp of who he was, what he would look like, how his mind worked, what his needs were. So I asked Damie...Damon to come over and give me his advice." "I see. And where did he give his advice first? In your mouth or in your ass?" Both Damon and Quinn were outraged by this remark and shouted loudly. Renee immediately regretted it, and she motioned for the guys to quiet down. "I'm sorry. That was rude. But I think you can understand that this all has me a little...shaken up." Quinn reached over and held her right hand in his left. "I do understand. These past couple of days have been a whirlwind for us too." Renee looked down at Quinn's comforting hand and noticed the unfamiliar turquoise ring on his finger. Confused, she glanced over at Damon and saw an identical piece of jewelry on his hand. She let go of Quinn's hand. "Are you guys wearing matching rings?" Quinn pulled his hand back, and Damon covered his ring with his chin. Quinn insisted, "It's not what you think. It's not like we're a couple or anything." Damon glanced at Quinn, miffed. It may have been a whirlwind, but Damon had indeed begun thinking of them as a couple. "Oh, so you're not a couple," said Renee. "You just happen to have bought each other identical rings." "We didn't buy them for each other. I bought them both," said Quinn, not exactly helping. Renee looked at the clock on the microwave. It was 2:17am and she felt ready to collapse. "Can you just tell me if you two have been...doing this since we started dating?" Before Quinn could reply, Damon reached across the table and took Renee's hand. "No, Renee. I would never in a million years try to break up a couple." Renee stared at Damon's painted nails, then looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that precisely what you've done?" She then turned to Quinn and said, "I guess I can't be totally surprised. I've dated enough actors to know...that I should stop dating actors. But you're such a regular dude. I have a hard time picturing you being happy with..." She tried to come up with an apt description of the blue-haired waif across the table. "With some refugee from a rave." She stood, taking her shirt and leggings in her arms. She crossed the room, opened the front door, grabbed her suitcases and said, "I'll come back tomorrow and pick up the rest of my things. Let me know when you two won't be here. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything." She walked outside and the door closed behind her. Quinn stared at the door, feeling sad for Renee without feeling any remorse for what he and Damon had done. Damon also felt bad for Renee but had no regrets. He and Quinn had merely been carried away by irresistible, repressed longing for each other, right? Right? Quinn had run out of words for the day. He walked over to the futon and fell onto it face-first. Within a minute, he was snoring. Damon walked over, sat beside Quinn on the bed and slid his hand gently across Quinn's broad, well-muscled back. Damon glanced at his clothes scattered about the floor and began to put them back in his shopping bags. He slipped on his flip-flops, quietly carried his bags outside and gently shut the door behind him. On his iPhone, he looked up the address for the city impound lot, then called a taxi to take him there to get his car. * * * In the morning, Damon woke up alone and naked on his own futon, back in his own crummy apartment. He looked at the pile of shopping bags heaped by the front door and knew he had to go back to work today to start building up the money to pay off his credit cards. He walked into the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. He had looked so different the last time he was at work, a mere two days ago. He was bound to be the talk of the office today, walking in with blue hair and pierced ears. He could minimize the impact by removing the blue nail polish and wearing some of his lackluster old clothes, but he'd be slipping right back into the old camouflage that had kept people from noticing him for so long. He didn't plan to hide himself any more. Let them talk. Damon could handle it. The arrival of the new version of Damon in the office was almost a non-event. Partly it was because Damon had chickened out a bit and worn the least showy of the various outfits he had bought yesterday, even if a coral polo, white cargos and leather sandals were nothing like the nondescript clothes he typically wore. Partly it was because they were in L.A., where it seemed that most of the population lived their lives in a constant quest to be noticed, discovered and given their own reality show. But mostly it was because no one was really surprised that Damon was gay, no matter how meek and restrained his behavior had been. The blue hair was a surprising choice, but perhaps he had needed to make a bold, definitive statement. Most of his co-workers just felt relieved that they could stop using neutral pronouns when asking Damon if he had a "significant other" of if he had any plans to do anything with "anyone" on a holiday weekend. * * * Quinn's dreams were stressful all night. When he woke up, he felt like he'd just spent six hours watching Renee, Damon and Alexander have one non-stop argument. That's odd, thought Quinn. Why was Alexander in the fight and not me? But Alexander had been more forceful in defending his position than Quinn had been when he was trying to explain things to Renee. Alexander was unapologetic. If he wanted something -- or someone -- he found a way to get it, and felt no regrets for anyone who got hurt in the process. Much better than wishy-washy Quinn who might put on a tough act but, as soon as the performance ended, went right back to trying to be everyone's friend. Right now, Alexander's viewpoint had greater clarity, and seemed to be more defensible. Quinn noticed the time and would have to hustle to get to the studio for his first meeting with the cast and crew. No time for a shower, and as he reached for his deodorant, he realized he felt no need to cover up his natural scent. Checking himself in the mirror, he could swear he looked even more pumped this morning. His serratus anterior were much more clearly defined over his ribs, and the V leading into his shorts was more prominent. The stay-at-home moms of America -- as well as the gay guys with DVRs -- were going to enjoy seeing Alexander back on their favorite soap. He pulled on the white Oxford shirt he had worn last night, rolling up the cuffs to expose the bracelets that Damon had given him. His chest must have expanded overnight too, as the top three buttons of the shirt couldn't reach their buttonholes. He tucked the shirt tails into his sharkskin pants, the only pants he owned that would fit him any more. Quinn felt his ego swell as he gave his name at the gate and was waved onto the lot. Sure, it was only a soap opera, but he could tell you a dozen great actors who served their time in soaps on their way to the Oscars. All he needed was a platform where people could notice him and he would be on his way. A staffer from the show met him and guided him to the soundstage, where he spotted Lionel, the British director he had met yesterday at the audition. He was reintroduced to the show's producer and head writer, Betsy, who had also been there. She complimented him on his performance. "I've never seen anyone rebound from catastrophe to triumph quite so spectacularly. That's just what we want to see in Alexander." Lionel breezed over and asked Betsy a quick question before the next take. He was delighted to see Quinn. "Why if it isn't our Alexander! Good to see you again, my boy. And aren't you fliing out that shirt nicely today. Don't get too used to that. You know our motto here: It's either 'no shirts' or 'no show'." Betsy led Quinn on a quick tour of the set and introduced him to more people than he could ever hope to remember, including the cameramen, makeup people, even the other writers. When they got to wardrobe, two costumers sized up the new arrival. "It'll be a pleasure to dress you," said a slender young man, while his older female counterpart remarked, "Before the writers figure out how to undress you." "Yeah, I've heard that clothing isn't a big chunk of the budget here," said Quinn. Betsy asked Quinn to take off his shirt. "Maybe it'll give our designers here some ideas." Quinn did as he was asked, although he figured the male costumer was already getting ideas before Quinn disrobed. Betsy was surprised to see how pumped Quinn looked today. "That's funny. We were a little worried that you weren't buff enough yesterday, but I can't imagine why we thought that." "Ooh," said the young designer, "I really like those leather cuffs. You'll have to tell me where you got them. And what an interesting ring. Is that sapphire?" "Honestly, I don't know what it is. But I was hoping I could actually wear these things on the show. They seem like the sort of stuff that Alexander would wear, and they really helped me find the character." Betsy nodded and said they would consider it. As the designers took initial measurements for Alexander's wardrobe. Quinn idly fiddled with his ring. His fingers had grown beefier, like the rest of his body. They might be forced to let him wear the ring as part of his costume, because it didn't seem like it was going to budge. He heard a knock on the door and saw three very fit and handsome young men hanging in the doorway. "We heard there was new meat," said the swarthy one in the front. "Welcome to Topless Hospital, Alexander." * * * At the end of the workday, several of Damon's co-workers asked if he wanted to join them at happy hour to celebrate the end of the week. Damon was surprised and attributed their friendliness to his new look and attitude. If he thought back, he would have recalled that they were all very friendly to him when he started on the job, frequently inviting him to go drinking or to come to someone's party, but after Damon consistently turned them down out of shyness and insecurity, they stopped asking. Damon still turned them down tonight, but at least he had a genuine excuse to offer for once. "I think I'll be doing something with my fr...my BOYfriend," he smiled, shutting down his computer. He felt light on his feet as he strolled to the parking garage and called Quinn. Damn. Voicemail. "Hi, babe, it's Damon. Damie. Hope everything was extra special on your first day! I was thinking we could go out for sushi and then I saw online there's a big dance at Arena which we might want to do after." Maybe he was being too bossy. Didn't want to spoil things by pushing too hard. "Unless you've got other ideas. Whatever. Anyway, give me a call and let me know, okay? Okay, byeeee." He hung up and considered texting too, but he didn't want to seem too needy. Quinn was probably still busy at the studio. Damon was sure he would call back when he got the chance. * * * "More tequila!", shouted Enrico, who played a brooding but sexy doctor on the soap. He was seated at the innermost side of the round booth at the Mexican restaurant, with each arm hanging over the shoulders of a large-breasted young woman. "And more chips!", shouted Terry, who played a streetwise but sexy doctor on the soap and whose entire left hand was currently inserted below the waistline of the tight jeans worn by the buxom young woman who was currently nibbling his ear in the booth. "And more salsa!", shouted Chad, who played a naive but sexy doctor on the soap and was currently "Lady and the Tramp"-ing a nacho chip clenched in his teeth, crunching his way toward the giggly young woman attempting to keep the other end of the chip between her front teeth. "And more tequila!", shouted Quinn, who had just spent his first day getting to know his future co-stars and was now getting a first-hand glimpse of the kind of raucousness one could drum up on a Friday night with the benefit of minor televised fame and a secure paying gig. Not that outgoing, handsome guys like these would have had trouble making friends at any bar they entered, but they became even more popular when they told these girls that they were footing the bill. Terry leaned over to Quinn and whispered, "We know you're not on salary yet. We'll cover you too. Just have fun!" At the moment, Quinn was having fun with the petite young woman sitting on his knee who was rubbing her hand across the smooth skin of Quinn's chest through the gap in his open shirt. She couldn't stop telling him how much she loved men with big muscles. Someone else at the table must have felt the same way, as Quinn felt bare toes sliding their way under the cuff of his pants and along his shin. At first, he suspected "Lady", but she was sitting fully on the bench of the booth with her feet tucked underneath her butt. No, the mystery footsie player was "the Tramp". Chad may be playfully eating chips for the rest of the world to see, but his tootsies were privately making moves on Quinn. The woman on Quinn's knee took Quinn's sudden erection as a compliment and gave him a big kiss, but Quinn kept his eyes fixed on Chad. When the four actors finally staggered out of the cantina, Quinn had ditched the petite woman and was having trouble finding where to insert the key into the lock of his car -- even thought it was an unlocked convertible with the top and windows down. Chad wandered over, asking if Quinn needed any help. Quinn informed him, "I'm fine." "You sure are," Chad whispered in Quinn's ear, discreetly sliding his palm across Quinn's crotch. Quinn turned instinctively to kiss him, but Chad pulled back. "Not here. Come with me, I've got a beach house." Chad yelled to Enrico and Terry, "Looks like the newbie's a lightweight. I'm gonna make sure he gets home. See you guys on Monday!" Quinn followed Chad to his car, which turned out to be a red Corvette. It took all of Quinn's remaining self-control not to ejaculate then and there. He climbed into the passenger seat and placed his hand lovingly on the stick shift. Chad shut his door, put his hand on top of Quinn's and planted a kiss on Quinn's lips. Quinn felt like his body was liquefying. As the Corvette roared away toward the coast, a faint buzz was emerging from the trunk of Quinn's convertible back in the parking lot. When Quinn had gone to pump some iron with the other guys at the show's full-service exercise room, Quinn had tossed his cell phone into his gym bag. Where it still sat. In Quinn's trunk. * * * Damon hung up, frustrated that Quinn wasn't calling him back. Maybe he'd "come to his senses" and gone back to Renee. Damon started to beat himself up for becoming so attached so quickly to Quinn, when Quinn obviously could have pretty much anyone he wanted...of any gender. But before he could sink into depression, Damon rallied his spirits. While draining the last of a bottle of white wine he had bought on the way home, a bottle he had hoped he would be sharing with Quinn, Damon was modeling for himself in the bathroom mirror, trying on various items of his new wardrobe. He wrapped his arms around his smooth body, pursed his lips and waggled his semi-hard cock which hung loose through his fly. "Suck my dick, Quinn Brooks," he shouted defiantly. He stuffed his phone and wallet into a kicky little man-purse, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door and into the night. Damon found a parking spot on the street a mere six blocks away from the club. He had gelled his blue hair so it jutted straight forward, hanging off his head like an extended cliff in a Road Runner cartoon. He wore a sheer short-sleeved shirt, Levi cut-offs so short that the bottom of the pockets were hanging out, and a pair of navy-blue Keds. If he was at all hesitant about his first solo excursion into gay bars since his big transformation, it wasn't evident in his purposeful stride and steel-eyed glare. Tonight, he was definitely on the prowl. After 45 minutes waiting in line, Damon was reconsidering the wisdom of a sheer shirt and shorts on a chilly September night. By the time he got in, he was sure his skin was now color-coordinated with his hair, but it felt good to finally be indoors and surrounded by hundreds of male bodies which were both hot and warm. His energy level was high, he was making flirty eye contact, he was taking the initiative to start unintelligible shouted conversations as the beat pounded relentlessly and the floor periodically filled with fog. On the surface, he was having a good time, but it wasn't the same without Quinn nearby. Damon headed to the bar for another glass of wine and pulled his phone from his bag. Still no messages. Even when Quinn used to blow off all of Damon's invitations to go out and do something, he had been unfailingly polite in promptly getting back to Damon. This wasn't like him. At least it wasn't like the old him. Damon shoved his phone back into his bag and pulled out a wallet to pay for his drink. He heard a husky voice behind him say, "I got this one, cutie." Damon turned around and discovered an enormous bear of a man looming behind him. His long dark hair in a ponytail, the man wore a leather vest, pants and boots, and heavy silver chains around his neck. His chunky arms and chest were heavily tattooed, but it was hard to make out any of them due to his heavy body hair. Damon was pretty sure that was a mermaid on the guy's forearm, but the hair made her look more like a werewolf. "You look cold, little buddy," the man said as he paid for Damon's drink and ordered a Miller Lite for himself. "Maybe you could warm me up," said Damon, leaning against the bar and sticking out his ass provocatively. Damon didn't think this guy was really his type. Then again, he was barely out of the closet. How could he be so sure what his type was? He clinked his wine glass with the man's beer can and smiled, wishing Quinn would return his calls. * * * The Corvette reached Chad's oceanside home astonishingly quickly, or maybe Quinn just hadn't been paying attention to the time or the traffic. Through the entire drive, his eyes had been fixed on Chad, his collar-length strawberry-blond curls, his slightly pug nose, his plump lips, the whisps of facial hair, the freckles on his suntanned skin, his toned biceps and triceps which flexed every time he turned the steering wheel, his strong hands wrapped in leather driving gloves. Quinn had never felt free to ogle another man blatantly like this and he was enjoying the sensation. Sure, he had been checking out Damon's body over the past couple of days, and he appreciated Damon's loyalty and friendship. Maybe he even loved the little guy. But Alexander would never let a prime cut of meat like Chad go undevoured. And could Quinn really give an authentic performance as the sexually omnivorous Alexander if the only gay sex he'd ever had was with one twink? Chad kept the lights low as they entered his cozy beach house. The sound of the waves, crashing then receding, provided a constant pulse that echoed through the building. As he followed Chad, he couldn't help but notice how many framed photos of Chad lined the walls and were propped on the furniture. No photos of Chad with anyone, just solo shots of him fishing or surfing, plus plenty of publicity headshots. Most of the living room had been made into a home gym, with windows offering an amazing view of the ocean to the west and floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the south wall. "Want anything?", Chad asked from the kitchen. The refrigerator door was open, stocked with healthy foods and protein shakes on the lower shelves but an entire shelf of various beers at the top. Quinn also noticed that Chad had casually shed all of his clothes on the way to the kitchen, and the refrigerator light was now illuminating Chad's impressive musculature and outlining the shape of his substantial cock. Quinn stripped off his shirt and strode confidently into the kitchen, tilting Chad's head back and wrapping his lips around Chad's. Chad loosened Quinn's belt and tried to nudge Quinn's pants down, but Quinn's muscles had grown again today and the pants would not slip easily around Quinn's now massive glutes. Quinn grabbed one side of his open fly in each hand, pulling apart and shredding the fabric enough that he could step out of his pants. Chad tried to say something, but Quinn's tongue in his mouth made him unintelligible. He pulled back and breathlessly instructed Quinn, "The bench, the bench," pointing across the room to the home gym. The two impressive physical specimens made their way across the living room without ever letting each other go. Quinn sat down on an exercise bench and lowered Chad's ass onto his now erect penis. Quinn was rock-hard and was really getting off on Chad's body. Chad was also getting off on Chad's body. Chad moaned with pleasure as he gazed at his ecstatic expression in the mirror. He reached up and grabbed the lat pulldown bar on the exercise machine, both to steady himself and to study how beautifully the refrigerator light outlined his exquisite deltoids and biceps. He pulled down the bar to give himself a little extra pump to admire. After Quinn came the first time, they switched over to the inclined press bench. After that, the sofa. Then, the carpet. Eventually, the beach. Occasionally, Quinn would try to ask a question, but Chad shushed him quickly each time, not wanting to be distracted from his own sensations. By the time the sun rose, Quinn felt he knew every inch of Chad's body and barely anything about Chad's brain. Inside his own brain, Quinn could hear Alexander asking, "Isn't that enough?" * * * Before he even opened his eyes, Damon knew something was wrong. The sounds around him were unfamiliar, for one thing. The din of freeway traffic was so deafening that he felt like he must be lying on an exit ramp. The mattress beneath him was so lumpy and uncomfortable, he thought it must be stuffed with bowling balls, and he could feel an errant spring poking through the fitted sheet and scratching against his stomach. His asshole felt raw, his stomach queasy, his mouth parched. As his tongue explored his mouth, it detected notes of alcohol, tobacco and rubber. His whole head felt funny, beyond a typical hangover. He felt drained of energy and lacking in confidence. In that respect, Damon felt just like...old Damon. He finally risked opening his eyes, which weren't ready for the blast of sunlight shining freely through the room's nearly transparent curtains. Damon was in a shabby motel room, with unexplainable splotches staining the stucco ceiling, decades of cigarette residue coating the wallpaper and god knows what mixture of bodily fluids clinging to the matted strands of green shag carpeting. He was lying naked on a double bed with grimy sheets and several used condoms. Careful where he stepped, Damon stood up and peeked through the drapes. No wonder the traffic sounded so loud -- the freeway couldn't have been more than forty feet away. Damon walked gingerly to the bathroom, where soggy towels covered the floor. He leaned against the sink and checked himself in the mirror for any damage, but his face and body were still smooth and pale, except for the thin pink scratch mark across his tummy from the bedspring. He had major blue bedhead and had lost the stud from his left ear somewhere, but his cock ring was still in place. He couldn't put a finger on what was missing until he noticed his finger. His left ring finger. His ring was gone! He tried to remember who he might have been here with. He knew it wasn't Quinn, although he wished it had been. The last thing he could remember was drinking far too much wine at the club with...some big hairy guy. A big hairy guy who was paying a lot of attention to Damon, pawing his skinny arms and his perky butt. Could he possibly have come here with that guy? He sucked on something caught in his front teeth and pulled out a short, curly, black hair. Not exactly DNA proof, but that pretty well confirmed his suspicions. He wondered how long ago the guy had left, and whether he would be returning. As Damon looked around the room, he couldn't find his clothes. He checked under the bed. No clothes, but he saw a few other items there which were currently in the midst of decaying. Nothing in any of the dresser drawers except for a bible, from which someone at some point had torn out the entire Old Testament. The people who used this room probably didn't consult the Ten Commandments all that often anyway. No clothes in the bathroom, no clothes behind the TV, no clothes hanging on the lampshade. Damon even poked his head out the door, but saw no clothes outside. Shit, did the big guy ditch him here and take all of his clothes as well as his ring? Why would anyone do that? Unless... Damon suddenly got a sinking feeling. He hadn't noticed his man-purse anywhere in the room either. Where he kept his iPhone. And his keys. And his wallet. With his credit cards. And his driver's license. That showed his home address. Which the big guy could be ransacking at this very moment. Wrapping a soggy bath towel around his skinny waist. Damon ran to the motel office and spoke to the woman working behind two sheets of bulletproof glass. He shouted through the slot at the bottom of the window, "Were you working last night when I checked in?" The woman droned, "Yes, sir." She couldn't say she spent much time studying the faces of the motel's guests, but she was fairly confident that only one scrawny blue-haired white boy had registered last night. "Do you remember who was with me? Maybe a big hairy guy? Leather vest?" She shook her head. "I don't recall anyone with you, sir." Damon banged his head against the window, rattling the bulletproof glass. He leaned down again and called weakly through the gap, "Thank you for your help." The woman said, mechanically, "You have a nice day, sir." Damon's bare feet slapped against the cement as he made his way back to the room. When he tried the knob, he realized that the door had locked behind him. But there hadn't been a key inside the room anyway. Besides, he had no belongings left in there to retrieve. Tying a tighter knot in the towel around his waist, Damon took a seat at the side of the motel's drained pool, dangling his feet into the air at the deep end. Sure, he felt ripped off and dejected, but there was something more bothering him. Those feelings of pride, confidence and self-worth which had elevated his mood in the past few days were totally gone and he had reverted back to the same old meek, self-doubting Damon. He had felt so great dancing with Quinn on the pier. No, the good feeling came earlier, when they were at the French restaurant. No, it was definitely earlier than that. When they were fucking, Damon thought, starting to wonder if he could really have been that lucky to go to bed with Quinn Brooks. But, no, he was feeling positive about himself even before the fucking. Way back in the old lady's shop when Quinn bought him... ...the ring! * * * Quinn woke to something hard beneath him and something sticky on his face. As he felt around, he realized he was flat on his chest on Chad's redwood balcony, his naked buns baking in the mid-morning sun. He reached up to his forehead, where a Post-It note had been attached. Quinn peeled it off and tried to read Chad's nearly illegible printing. "OUT 4 A GUN BRITE BUCK"? With a little more study, Quinn deciphered it as "OUT 4 A RUN. B RITE BACK." Quinn stood up, giving the neighbors brunching on their deck next door a clear view of Quinn Junior. Quinn just smiled and waved. "Morning!" Quinn slid open the balcony door and stepped into Chad's living room. He couldn't resist checking out his reflection in the wall of mirrors. Damn, you just keep getting better, he thought with a wicked smile, grabbing his cock in one hand while he reached for a banana with the other. He peeled the banana and devoured it quickly, then scoured the kitchen for more food. His metabolism must be going nuts with his body's sudden growth, as he was famished. He whipped up a protein smoothie, and then another, before he felt even slightly satisfied. The idea of a run along the beach sounded nice. Maybe he would catch up to Chad. He searched the house for running gear that would fit him. He located some Speedo Jammer shorts that he could just barely squeeze into and hit the beach barefoot. He was still getting used to carrying so much extra muscle, but his endurance seemed to have increased along with it, and he found himself racing along faster than he had ever run in his life. He spotted another runner sprinting ahead of him, his lean muscles clearly visible. If it were possible, this guy might have negative body fat. Quinn shifted into overdrive to catch up with the guy, then eased back to stay even. The runner clearly felt challenged, so he kicked it up and pulled away, but Quinn wasn't going to let him get away. For the next mile, the lead seesawed until Quinn finally hit the wall and collapsed on the sand. The other runner laughed, victorious, then jogged back toward Quinn, still moving to avoid cramping up. "You move pretty fast for such a big guy," the runner told him. Quinn would have responded, but he was still panting too heavily. "You got that much endurance at everything?" Quinn stared at the runner's shock of red hair, his gaunt but handsome face, his fit body and the bulge under his fluorescent yellow running shorts. Five minutes later, Quinn was underneath a pier, leaning against a support column with his hands clutching the runner's shoulder muscles. The runner's red hair bobbed back and forth as he worked his tongue along Quinn's arching shaft. Quinn brushed a thumb gently along the runner's cheek. When did I become such a slut?, Quinn wondered, but at that moment, he shot his load, dislodging any deeper thoughts for the time being. * * * It's amazing what people throw away, if you just go looking for it. Damon knew he wasn't going to make it all the way back to West Hollywood barefoot and wearing nothing but a towel. His car hadn't been in the motel's parking lot, meaning either the hairy guy had stolen it or they had driven here in the hairy guy's vehicle, reducing Damon's current options to walking or hitchhiking. He checked in dumpsters and trash cans as he walked along and, one by one, found discarded bits of clothing which more or less fit him. He ignored the stains and the stench that coated the sparkly stretch pants and the One Direction t-shirt. He spotted several pairs of sneakers hanging from their laces across telephone lines, but couldn't figure out a way to retrieve them. Eventually, he located a bamboo sandal for his right foot and a zebra-striped Vans slip-on for the left. Frankly, he had worn sillier outfits in the past few days. By the time he reached Melrose Avenue, he must have walked ten miles. He desperately needed water, he was developing blisters on his right foot, and his pale skin was guaranteed to be lobster-colored and painful by tomorrow morning. But it was worth it. He had finally made it to the old lady's store. He could get an answer to why both he and Quinn had experienced such radical changes, and why Damon had suddenly lost his mojo this morning. He reached the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He noticed a little sign on the inside of the door bearing the face of a clock, declaring "WE'LL BE BACK" with the hands set to 2pm. Damon slumped to the sidewalk, exhausted. Enough pedestrians took pity on this pathetic-looking guy and tossed him spare change that he was able to buy himself a bottle of water at a convenience store across the street. Walking out of the store, he saw the old lady unlocking the door. Seeing a disheveled crazy man bolting through traffic mid-block and heading straight toward her, the shopkeeper hurriedly got inside and slammed the door in his face. Damon screamed through the front window, "You gotta tell me what's going on! Look, remember me?" He pointed to his blue hair. She finally realized who it was. "Someone stole my ring. I need your help!" The storekeeper unlocked the door and let him inside, reeling from his pungent aroma. When he moved toward a rack of delicate vintage clothes, she said, "Please don't stand by those. I'd never get the stench out." He looked too weak to stand, so she led him to her stool behind the counter. Damon finished off his bottle of water and took a minute to catch his breath before speaking softly. "I need you to tell me about those rings you sold us. What do they actually do?" She composed her thoughts. "Well, to put it simply, they help you become the person you want to be. They free you of your inhibitions and let you explore your options." "So the ring didn't make me dye my hair and everything else? It just gave me the balls to do it?" "The ring may have given your balls a little...nudge. The color of the ring showed where you were on the scale from black being totally straight to bright blue being totally gay. Only you can say where on that scale you feel the most genuinely yourself." Damon thought back. Before he put on the ring, he was barely acknowledging his sexuality, let alone embracing it. After the ring, he felt like he could be wild and try anything, no matter how outrageous. Maybe he had gone a little overboard, probably overcompensating for years of self-repression, but somewhere in the turquoise range, Damon felt like he was in a comfort zone, living his life the way he had always wished he could. "So if I want to feel that way again, I guess I need to buy another ring?" The woman took Damon's hand and assured him, "If the ring taught you who the real you is, then just be the real you. You don't need a ring for that." Damon considered that. Maybe the ring had helped him realize that he did have the strength to be himself. "But what about the ring you sold my friend?" "He asked for something that would make him feel gay. Didn't it work?" "It worked great. But he wanted to ACT gay! For a role! On TV! He didn't want to BE gay in real life!" "Are you sure about that?" Damon still wasn't, entirely. Quinn definitely embraced his changes once they started happening, but Damon was never sure if that was just research for his character. "So once he takes off the ring, I guess he'll go back to acting the way he did before?" "Maybe. Unless he decides he likes his new self better." Damon shook his head. If he hadn't seen and experienced these changes personally, he would never have thought them possible. "You really should've explained all this up front." "Ah, but life is all about unexpected discoveries. Think of all the fun you would have missed." Damon looked down at the hodgepodge of stinky clothing he was wearing and didn't feel very fun right now. "How about the other stuff you sold us? Like that cock ring? Did that read my mind too and adjust my cock to the length I liked best?" "No, that just made your penis bigger," she said, matter-of-fact. Damon shoulders sagged. "Could I borrow your phone, please?" She pointed Damon to a rotary phone on the wall in the back room, then had to talk him through how to use it. He wanted to call Quinn and check up on him, but he had no clue what Quinn's number was or really what anyone's number was. They were all stored in memory on Damon's stolen iPhone. Instead, he got the number for a cab company that could take him the rest of the way home. He borrowed money from the shopkeeper to pay for the taxi. When he reached his apartment, all he wanted to do was walk inside and collapse on his futon. But he got a bad feeling when he saw the key stuck in the front door. Damon turned the knob, swung the door open and discovered that the big hairy guy had indeed come by and stolen most of his belongings, including the futon. All of Damon's new clothes were gone, leaving behind only the dullest or most unsightly relics from his past. He really would be starting from scratch, but at least he now had a sense of where he wanted to end up. He wasn't likely to be as flamboyant as he had gotten in the past few days, but he would never go back to being Mr. Camouflage. * * * After his blowjob under the pier, Quinn kept strolling toward Venice Beach. When he reached the outdoor weightlifting area known as Muscle Beach, he stopped to watch the bodybuilders working out for the enjoyment of the spectators passing by. Quinn's own muscles had grown huge enough that he could fit right in, and he found himself itching to get in there and lift. He felt a gigantic palm on his chest as he tried to enter and a towering muscleman asked Quinn if he was a member. Quinn explained that he was just passing by and didn't have any money on him. A short but powerfully built man nearby shouted, "Tramon, let him in. I'll pay his fee for the day." Tramon let Quinn onto the hallowed ground, and Quinn approached his benefactor. "Thanks, man. You didn't have to do that." "Call me curious. I wanted to see if all those muscles were just for show." He extended his hand, told Quinn his name was Dwayne, and offered to spot Quinn on the clean-and-jerk. Half an hour later, Quinn and Dwayne were back at Dwayne's condo, smoking pot and jerking each other off. After a while, Quinn asked to borrow some clothes from Dwayne, then continued on his walking tour of the coast. He found himself locking eyes with every cute guy he walked past. Most of them looked away in disgust and embraced their girlfriends as proof of their lack of interest, but he did end up making out with three of them (two as a couple) before the sun went down. His needs were growing insatiable. He fell asleep on a bench and spent most of Sunday wandering up and down the beach, trying to remember where Chad lived. Eventually it occurred to him to call the office of the soap opera and ask if they could give him the address. When he finally convinced the operator that he was really a cast member on the show who had just started on Friday, he was patched through to a frantic production assistant, who immediately connected him to Betsy. "Where have you been? We've been trying to track you down all weekend!" "I dunno," said Quinn, "just kickin' back." "Everyone was so excited after meeting you that we've decided to introduce your character sooner, in the episode we shoot tomorrow. I've already emailed you the script pages." "Actually, I'm not at home and don't have access to a computer right now. Is there any way I can get a hard copy?" "Of course. Where are you?" Quinn looked around for a landmark. "I'm by the ocean." "Could you narrow that down a bit? At least tell me it's the Pacific." Quinn walked to the nearest streetcorner and gave her an address. A production assistant arrived within half an hour, and he asked the PA to drive him to the Mexican restaurant where his car was still parked. He went inside and ate a few burritos while he studied his script, then sat in the convertible for a few more hours, reading and rereading his lines. By the time he arrived at the studio in the morning, Quinn was locked in the zone, thinking like Alexander, being Alexander. Betsy was relieved to see Quinn and led him toward his dressing room, where she proudly pointed out the star bearing the name "Quinn Brooks". "What do you think?", she asked. Quinn seemed ambivalent, which surprised her. "You look unhappy. It's usually a pretty big moment when an actor gets his own dressing room for the first time." "No, it's great," Quinn said in a tone that conveyed it wasn't great. "Is there any way you could put Alexander's name on the door instead? It might help me to stay in character." "Maybe you won't want to stay in character. Alexander is kind of a dick." Betsy laughed lightheartedly, but Quinn took it personally. "I don't know. I think he's got a lot of admirable qualities. He's a bit all over the place in the script, but I have some notes on how we can make him more consistent." Betsy smiled stiffly. Was Quinn unaware that she was not only his boss but also the person who had written that "all over the place" script? "I look forward to that," she lied, and led him to wardrobe. Quinn took off his shirt and the male costumer gasped as he saw how much bigger Quinn had become over the weekend. As Quinn tried on his first outfit, he couldn't even get his arms through the sleeves. The female costumer sighed and informed Betsy it was going to take them a while to alter Quinn's wardrobe. Betsy nodded, then placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I know I said we wanted you buff, but maybe you should lay off the exercise for a bit. We wanted a hunk, not the Hulk." Betsy was called away, but the male costumer whispered to Quinn, "Can you tell me what you're taking? I've never seen results like this." Quinn looked indifferent, so the costumer returned his attention to measuring Quinn's inseam. Lionel, the director, walked past wardrobe and noticed Quinn. "Oh, there's our dear boy. Big first day, eh, Quinn?" Quinn glanced away from the mirror where he was admiring his physique to address Lionel. "I'd prefer if you would call me Alexander." Lionel chuckled until Quinn's expression convinced him the request was serious. "Oh, by all means, Alexander. We shall await you on the set. Verily." "I'll be there whenever these two are done," pointing toward the costumers. Lionel nodded and left. When he encountered Betsy on the soundstage, he informed her, "Mr. Daniel Day-Lewis would prefer that we call him Alexander for the duration." Betsy rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to cut the kid a break. Maybe it's just first day jitters." The production was running an hour late by the time Quinn reached the floor, the costumers still making some last-minute alterations. Chad approached Quinn and asked quietly, "Where did you take off to the other day? I was worried sick about you all weekend." Quinn waved a hand at him dismissively. "Please, I'm trying to focus." Chad fumed, thinking several words which he would not be allowed to say on the show. Lionel began to block the first scene, but as soon as they reached the first line, Quinn -- ahem, ALEXANDER -- loudly voiced his concerns about some of the dialogue. "Does any of this seem far-fetched to the rest of you? I realize it is only a soap opera, but come on. Can we get the writers in here to punch this up a bit?" Lionel pulled Quinn aside and whispered, "I don't disagree that you might have some valid points. Unfortunately, we're already behind schedule, Quinn." "Alexander", said Quinn. "Yes. Quite." Betsy walked over, asking what the problem was. "The problem," said Quinn, "is the words and the fact that I have to say them." Betsy bristled, trying desperately to control her temper. "I'm afraid there's no time for rewrites right now, so if you can just deliver the lines as written, maybe we can talk about future scripts when we have a bit more time to think." "Yeah, but this is the first time that people are going to see me and they'll think that I'm the one who's bad because I'll be the one saying these shitty fucking lines." Betsy was seething. Although she was a foot shorter than Quinn, she brought all of her anger and passion to bear and told him in a low but firm whisper. "I am going to let you go home and rest, because you are clearly not in the right frame of mind to work today. And while you are there, I would like you to think long and hard about whether you want to stay there, or whether you would prefer to come back here and do your job. You can call my assistant when you've decided." She spun on her heel and exited the silent soundstage. Lionel nervously called for an early lunch. * * * Quinn drove home in a fury. If he encountered any red lights along the way, he certainly didn't notice or obey them. He screeched his convertible into its parking space and stormed into his apartment. He had blown it. He'd submerged so deeply into his character that sensible, fun-loving Quinn wasn't even on that soundstage today. Just Alexander the arrogant prick. Quinn looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and was sickened by what he saw. Everything about him seemed phony, like he was looking at someone he no longer recognized. He ripped off Alexander's shirt and pants and stuffed them in the garbage. He yanked the leather and silver cuffs off his wrists and flung them across the room. Immediately, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Exhausted, he flopped face first onto his futon, his arms hanging limply over the side. He sobbed into a pillow and breathed heavily as he found himself relaxing, unaware that his body was deflating like a popped Macy's parade balloon. The giant muscles that had exploded on his frame since last week gradually receded, their sculpted definition softening, his former leanness returning to his frame. When he reached the size he had been when this all began, the ring on his left hand was pulled downward by gravity and fell onto the floor. Quinn let out a deep exhale and fell asleep. Hours later, after the sun had set, he was awakened by a tapping on his door. He stretched his arms and shouted, "Who is it?" "Damon." Quinn smiled. He needed a friend right now. He walked to the door and opened it. Damon stood on the welcome mat with a look of concern. His hair was still blue, but without any gel and combed straight back, looking about as conservative as blue hair can look. His skin, by contrast, was sunburnt red. He still had a stud in his right earlobe, but wore no eye makeup. His skinny unadorned arms hung slack from the sleeves of a white v-neck t-shirt, tucked into tight black jeans. His nails still had blue polish, with his toes wriggling in flip-flops from the discount bin at CVS. The first thing Damon noticed about Quinn was that his old body was back and that the cuffs were off his wrists. He was happy to see that, since he never had any complaints with the way Quinn looked to begin with. He also saw that Quinn was no longer wearing the ring. "Hey," said Damon, optimistically. "Hey," said Quinn, exhaustedly. "Just hadn't seen you in a few days. Wanted to make sure you were okay." "That's nice. You're probably the only person in L.A. who gives a shit." "Oh, come on, there's..." Damon thought. "I'm sure there's lots of people. How are things going on the soap?" "I was a complete jackass today, so they sent me home." Quinn fell heavily onto his futon. "Sent you home? Did they fire you?" "Not exactly. They told me to think about if I wanted to come back." "And you're gonna tell them yes, right? You can't just blow off an opportunity like this." Damon risked sitting on the futon beside Quinn, but didn't make any physical contact. He had no idea how much of the past few days Quinn even remembered, or if he'd be embarrassed or ashamed about how intimate the two of them had gotten. "I don't know. I'm not sure I want to be that Alexander guy." "I know this isn't my specialty, but do you really have to BE him? Can't you just, like, ACT?" Quinn laughed for the first time all day. He reached up and slapped Damon on the shoulder, giving his body a friendly shake. "I can always count on you to put me in my place, Damie." Damie? Quinn had never called Damon that until he started wearing the ring. Quinn repositioned himself so he was kneeling on the futon. He put his arms around Damon's shoulders and kissed his neck. Damon got goosebumps, but knew that he had to tell Quinn everything he had heard from the shopkeeper about the magic ring. After hearing Damon's explanation, Quinn leaned back on his elbows and stared at the ceiling to process this new information. "So everything I did while I was wearing the ring was just me exploring my sexuality so I could learn what felt the most honest and real?" "Yeah, basically." "Kind of the way I figure out how to play a character. I keep doing the wrong things until I finally stumble into what feels right." "If that's how it works. You're the actor here." "Oh, I am? Does that mean I can be the one who wears the makeup again?" Damon turned with a smile. "I'm still wearing the fruit-punch lipstick." "Really?", Quinn asked. He leaned in and gave Damon a quick kiss on the lips. "Mmm. Still as good as I remembered." Damon didn't want to set himself up for getting hurt. He looked Quinn in the eyes and said, "All those feelings you've had over the last few days, you know they might just have been you trying to figure out how to be Alexander. They might have nothing to do with what the real you wants." "Yeah, but the real me is here right now, and he finally knows what he wants." "Seriously?" Quinn grinned. "That woman at the store was right. I've always been a little gay. I just refused to acknowledge it. But for the right guy, I think I can be a lot gay." He pushed Damon back onto the futon and kissed him. Damon yelped a bit as he pulled the v-neck over his head, as the fabric brushed against his sunburn. Quinn helped him wriggle out of his jeans, but they had only been making out for a couple of minutes when Quinn stopped. "Second thoughts?", Damon asked, his worst fears confirmed. "No, I just realized I've really got to act tomorrow. I need you to help me memorize my lines. But first, I'm taking you out to dinner. Just give me a minute to shower up." Quinn hopped to his feet, kissed the top of Damon's head and went into the bathroom. Damon's heart was skipping. He looked down from the edge of the futon and saw Quinn's ring lying on the floor. Damon picked up the little troublemaker and examined it. Hard to believe something so small could cause such huge changes. Damon clutched it in his hand, stood up and walked to the front door. Standing naked in the doorway, he hurled the ring as hard as he could, with no clue where it landed. He was just glad to get rid of it. As he walked back in, he noticed the leather-and-silver cuffs on the floor and pondered what to do with them. Quinn jumped out of the shower, wiped off the mirror and smiled, happy to see himself looking back again. He felt tremendously calm and, for the first time in his life, certain about himself. "Q?", Damon called from the living room, a hint of worry in his voice. "What, D?", asked Quinn as he swung open the door. Damon stood in the middle of the living room, wearing the cuffs on his wrists. In the brief time since he had tried them on, the cuffs had already enlarged the skinny young man's muscles so he resembled a competitive diver. His arms actually had distinct bulges, his pecs and abs had the beginnings of true definition, and his legs, already his best feature, gained significant size and tone. Damon smiled at Quinn and asked, "Can you help me pick out some clothes?"
  3. I haven't posted a story for a 3 years if my memory is correct. "Synergy" was the last, and before that "The Impossible Discovery." But, I've started writing again and I hope you enjoy the new adventure. I have set the type color to White (I use the dark background option for the site) but if you have trouble reading it due to type color, sent me a PM. I've had trouble with this before and will work on fixing it if needed. Feedback makes me hard - as long as it's somewhat positive. ? Enjoy My grandpa died recently. He was the most brilliant man I had ever heard of. He won the Nobel Prize in Physics twice and the Nobel Prize in Chemistry once. How does a person do that? I guess that was 6 months ago now. I’m starting to lose track of time as I think back of what my life was before. Sometimes it feels like 2 years, sometimes like 2 weeks. Things are getting fuzzy. When it comes down to it, the first 23 years of my life have been pretty good. I have smarts – I’m no brain trust, but I’m sharp and witty enough. I’m shorter than I’d like to be at 5’ 7’ but it could be worse. People have told me my entire life that I am cute, adorable, etc. I guess I’m OK. I have sharp elf-like features I’ve been told – maybe a bit of Scandinavian mixed with Eastern European – like some Lord of the Rings citizen of Lothlorian, but shorter and more tan. I should get one of those ancestry kits and see what I’m made of. Anyway, ya, I guess I’m cute’ish. Nothing of global significance, but if I were found in a small pond, I’d be attractive. And I’ve been able to stay thin and lean after high school and college. I can’t put on a pound of muscle to save my life, and I have tried. But, I do have a nice high tight round ass, a decent 7” cock when I get really excited, and low enough body fat to have 6 noticeable abs and squared off – if mostly flat – pecs. I wear fitted clothes easily. But enough about me for now. So back to my grandpa and looking back on how this all began for me – he was, no joke, the smartest man on this planet. I idolized him. I still do. Grandma is still alive, barely, and I love her as much as I loved him. She supported him always and never waivered from his side. A few hours after grandpa’s funeral, my grandma delivered a box to me at my small apartment, smaller than a shoebox. I was so sad to loose him. I was devastated. But she grabbed my hand and said, “Trevor, he really wanted you to have this. I don’t know what’s inside, but I think I know. He said it was his most valued possession, other than me.” She pushed the box into my chest, surprising me with her sharp shove. “I need to go take a nap, Trevor. It’s been such a long day.” The funeral had been just a few hours ago after all. “He told me to tell you to read the note first and wait a while to open the rest of the gift.” I watched her waddle away, my nan. What a tough woman to have balanced a force like my granddad. She could hang with the best of ‘em. I looked at the box and decided that I would open it after a well-deserved nap. I was exhausted. ********************************************************* Trevor woke up from his nap wondering whether it was after sunset or if it was the next day. His body stretched like a wakening feline. He could feel his lean body lengthening as he reached behind his head and grabbed the top of the headboard. Again the thought came to him – Is it morning or just a couple hours after going to sleep? He looked over at the clock. 7:59PM. Good. He hadn’t overslept into an entirely new day. There was the box. The box his grandfather left him just to the side of his clock. His curiosity got the best of him. “What would grandpa want to give me?” was the only thing he could think to himself. “Grandma seemed a bit – annoyed – about the whole thing,” he muttered under his breath. He unwound the tape that was holding the box closed and opened up the leaflets to what lay inside. “What the fuck is this then?” Trevor peered into the box and saw a small bottle made of clay. It was so nondescript he thought it looked like a kindergartener may have made it on Arts-and-Crafts Day. There were a few folded pieces of paper on the bottom of the box too. He grabbed the paper with his thick fingers (he did have big hands for his size which he always liked about himself) and started to read the words written on the page in an elegant fountain pen handwriting style. “Trevor, I miss you already. I miss your nan. I miss your brother and sisters. I miss your mother and your cousins. All of them. I need to give you something of great importance. When you read this letter, I want you to resist doing anything else afterward except to take a few hours and contemplate what I have written. That is all I can ask of you. My eldest grandchild, I wish you well. I wish you happiness. I wish your desires granted beyond your wildest dreams. Grandpa Wallace” There was a second sheet underneath, written in the same pen strokes. 1. Ask questions. Ask as many and as often as you need. 2. There are many rules. You will learn them as time goes on. 3. Attempt to anticipate consequences far beyond your normal understanding. 4. Maintain control of your emotions, wishes, desires. It will be difficult beyond any explanation I can give you. 5. Embrace who you are but do not lose sight of reality. 6. Help him go further than he could ever hope. It’s up to you now. That was the entire second page. Trevor sat on the bed wondering what the note meant. It was more than cryptic. It was confusing and frustrating. He remembered his grandmother just before she scurried out of the room telling him to “wait a while” before opening the rest of the gift and the note stating that he should “take a few hours and contemplate.” All Trevor saw was a small clay jar, misshapen, old, and ugly really. What did the words in the note mean? Ugh. He didn’t have much patience for this. But he trusted his grandpa and grandma more than just about anyone so he sat there quietly and alone with his thoughts. ****************************************************************************************** Dantalion waited patiently in his vessel. His consciousness swirled in a tight mist. This would be his 12thand final cycle. He knew that he was surely to be destroyed by one of his elder brothers during this binding. He thought back to the beginning when the djinn were created. They were governed by an immensely complex system of laws, regulations, and norms. Twelve of them had been created and now there were only three left. All of them had started on a quest to fill the Well of their power. Each of the twelve had their own Well. The first of the 12 to fill his Well would ascend to Godhood and then would have the power to crush the vessels of the remaining brothers, destroying them and snuffing them out of existence. The humans always considered the djinn to have godlike powers, but with their restrictions, they were more servants to their Bound and trapped in a labyrinth of regulation. He remembered with apathy his previous Bound. According to his personal opinion, the prior 11 were relatively weak men with little imagination. They all wanted power, control, money, or sex. There was nothing horribly creative about that and Dantalion was often bored. Unfortunately for the Bound, one of the laws was that a djinn could not change his physical self to be that of a woman. He was sure he would have spent his previous cycles in various female forms satisfying sexual urges otherwise. Not that sex with a woman was inherently unpleasant, but he knew that it would be one more thing to be bored by – acting out another fantasy without being able to enjoy it. After thousands of years, he was still a virgin, mostly because none of his previous Bound had granted him the ability to feel sex, feel what it was like, what the big deal was all about. He didn’t really care. Humans were so simple, really. Motivated by four or five base instincts. His 11thand most recent Bound wanted knowledge. He was a very measured, unique man, and never lost control. That was unfortunate for Dantalion. He was unable to extract much mana from him to fill his Well. He was attentive to the man but Wallace was so tight wound and controlled. He never let Dantalion really show the range of his power, not even the smallest iota. But Wallace had from the beginning stated he had mostly what he wanted in life. His desire was for knowledge. Apparently, the acquisition of three Nobel Prizes was good enough for the man. Dantalion would have rather ruled the world with him, but that was not his luck. Dantalion had no moral compass with regard to human interactions. He had always been there to fulfill the desires of his Bound – that was his purpose of existence – at least that is what they believed. He knew that it was far more than that. Three wishes would be offered a selected Bound. Those wishes would allow the potential companion to experience the galactic power of the djinn soon to be at his service. Then if the binding was accepted, and it always was, the ritual would begin and the two life-forces would be joined together. Once a Binding was complete, the djinn would wick a steady flow of mana from the desires and emotions of the Bound. As more wishes, desires, dreams were fulfilled – and with increased power used to fulfill them – the more mana would be wicked into the Well. The more intense the satisfaction of the Bound, the more desire an action of the djinn satisfied, the more mana would be drawn away. Dantalion had been woefully unlucky in his chance pairings with humans. But this was the first selected pairing. His 11thsuggested his grandson, Trevor, to be Dantalion’s 12thand last binding. All those before had been so selfish of their power over this djinn, they had hidden the vessel rather than pass it along to anyone else. This would be his last cycle. None of the brothers had filled the Well yet, but Bael and Asteroth were close, he could sense it. He knew that he was so far behind them in the fucked up game that they were a part of, he would never be able to catch up. He didn’t know how they had found such powerful Bound to link with in prior cycles, but Dantalion was resigned to being destroyed at some point in the next few years, if not sooner. He had been in existence for thousands of years, but now he was on borrowed time. All of these thoughts swirled in his mind as he realized that in a moment, he would meet his 12thand last Bound. It was a bittersweet feeling that he felt in his mind. He would do his duty, obey the law, fill his Well as best he could, and then await destruction. He knew that if he had not filled his Well by the end of the 12th cycle, he would just simply cease to exist. In 11 cycles, his Well was only half full. He would do his best, as always, but there was a sinking feeling deep inside of him. No time for that now. He needed to make a good impression to assure the new Bound would accept his offer. He quieted his mind and continued to swirl in his vessel. ****************************************************************************************** Trevor held the small clay blob in his hand. It was hollow from the lightness of it. There was a small hole in the top, which had been plugged with a stone and sealed with wax. He was confused. What was in there that was so special? Maybe the jar was some ancient relic of museum quality. Maybe there was nothing in there at all. He was curious though. Curious about why his grandfather would think of giving him this and why his grandma was so brusque about it. He got a knife from the kitchen and started whittling away at the wax. He needed to get that stone out. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a green gem set in the hole – a bit cloudy in its clarity, but still lustrous. He kept chipping away at the wax. Maybe he could sell the gem to a jeweler if anything. Finally, he was able to remove the stone. He shook the jar. Nothing inside. He was more confused now than ever. Sitting the jar down, he just shook his head. Weird. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Dantalion emerged slowly from the jar in a wisp of whitish blue mist. He was tentative. He had met the man who would become his 12thBound before and knew that a brash show would just serve to frighten. He was calculated in his approach. The mist became more condensed. Dantalion began to speak softly, gently, and soothingly. “Trevor. Trevor. We need to talk.” Trevor heard his name and sat up with a start. He saw a man, thin, tall…familiar, forming I front of him. The mist increased in density. It almost appeared solid now. Before him stood his grandfather’s diligent and devoted assistant impeccably dressed in a dark suit, mid-twenties, thin, wearing stylish glasses in an attractive boy-next door way. What the fuck? “Trevor, we need to talk.” He soothingly spoke again as he became solid. Real. “What the fuck is this?” Trevor’s voice was shaking and had a terrified look in his eyes. “Trevor, I am here to bind with you like I did with your grandfather. I will satisfy every desire you have, within the confines of djinn law.” Trevor looked at Dantalion with caution, like he was in the room with a hungry lion he did not want to offend. Trevor found shook his head and pinched his arm. He wasn’t dreaming apparently. “I know you. You’re my grandfather’s assistant, Dante. Wait, what do you mean ‘bind’ with me?” He had always thought of Dante as cute, maybe not as cute as him, but pleasant to look at. He’d look better with more muscle. “Have you heard of the djinn? Genies?” “The fuck you are!” Trevor spat out at the man he knew as Dante. “I was able to grant your grandfather’s greatest desires of knowledge. But he did not take full advantage of my capabilities. My power is without measure or your ability to comprehend. I can fulfill your wildest dreams, within confines of djinn law.” Trevor looked at him apprehensively. “You keep saying ‘within the confines of djinn law’. What does that mean?” Dantalion/Dante approached the bed slowly as not to scare the human before him. He had this discussion with 11 men before, and was able to eventually get through their disbelief and explain himself. “I have immeasurable power to give what you desire, but there are regulations and laws that I must abide by…too many to discuss tonight. But I can answer any question that you have as they arise. For now, you can ask three wishes of me before you decide if you would like to bind to me.” The man stood there looking down on Trevor. His eyes, Trevor suddenly noticed, were red-orange like a fire, flickering as a small flame and deep as an endless pit. He felt as if the deep pools of dark flames were hypnotizing him as he stared at the djinn’s countenance. Of course he remembered that the djinn were fire spirits. At least that is what he knew from his college course on Mythology. “So I get three wishes to decide if I want to “bind” with you? We’ll talk about what that means soon I hope.” Trevor paused, “I admit I’m a bit confused.” “Make a wish. I need you to know what I can do for you.” Dantalion used his most soothing calm voice. But there was a pleading quality to it. Trevor couldn’t look away from Dantalion’s eyes. “I wish I had some coffee, black, 180 degrees, 16 ounces in a thermal cup.” A cup of coffee appeared on the bed stand, which Trevor picked up and sipped. It was amazingly perfect. “You can do better than that, Trevor.” Dantalion was a bit annoyed that his new master’s first wish was to make him an errand boy. He would definitely not put any mana into his Well with this sort of imagination. Trevor looked at the coffee. His mind started to run wild. He had imagined this type of power from 6 years old. Reading stories of Aladdin, or the short stories of Middle East philosophy, The Arabian Nights and others, he had been enamored of the idea. But to actually have it manifest in his bedroom was overwhelming. Trevor, for some reason, began to feel a bit aroused. What if this was real? Geez, he’d jacked off to the thought of having an all-powerful genie grant him three wishes. He thought he knew exactly what he would do back then, but most of them involved muscle and sex. His brow began to sweat. He started to feel his cock push against his dark slacks. He was still in his funeral attire. “God, I can’t believe this is happening to me. Today. Now.” But his mind continued to flit across the many dreams, wishes, hopes that he had banked in all 23 years of his life, most of those created with his right hand around his hard cock. He gulped and remembered the words written on the paper his grandfather left him ‘Ask questions.’ “Can you change your body? Can you change my body?” He could barely believe that is how the conversation started. There were certainly many more pressing things to ask. Dantalion took a step toward Trevor and said, “Yes” in a low grumbling tone. “But I cannot assume the form of a woman. It is against djinn law.” “Well, who said I wanted you to be a woman? That’s an odd assumption.” Trevor sat up straight and grabbed the warm coffee on the nightstand. “And you can change my body?” “Only in any way imaginable that you see fit…Master.” Dantalion knew he had to be careful here. Other djinn law forbade him to make himself or his Bound too conspicuous. That is how they had stayed hidden for centuries. “I can change your physical being into anything you can imagine, within the con…” “Ya, ‘within the confines of djinn law.’ I get it. But what does that mean?” Dantalion took one more step toward him. He looked his soon-to-be Bound in the eyes. He could feel the flames licking his eyelids. His weak, thin, form that he had been possessing in his previous cycle was so inadequate for what he needed to show the 12th. But he needed to be patient. “It means, ultimately, that as long as you do not draw too much attention to yourself, you don’t have limits. I don’t have limits. One of the primary laws states that undue attention should not be drawn to the djinn or his Bound. “ Trevor licked his lips and his mind switched gears instantly. “Ok. I wish that you would, without drawing too much attention, as this seems very problematic for you, put 5 million dollars into my bank account. It can be over as long as 6 months – as not to alarm anyone.” Dantalion turned away and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can do that.” He realized that Trevor, his last Bound would be like all the others. Selfish, yes, he expected that…but also foolish, myopic, and infantile in the ability to understand what power they truly possessed when enlisting his services. He would be blotted out now, he was sure – his Well only half-full and that would be the end of his existence. “You can do that, Dante?” “I have started the process already. I have invested the sum of your meager savings account into stock that I will deftly control over the next 6 months, should I survive that long. You will have 5 million dollars in your investment account before the end of those 6 months.” Dantalion stood tall, still in the dark business suit he wore as Wallace’s assistant. Trevor looked a bit perplexed. He heard every word that Dante had said, but he also picked up on the “should I survive that long” part. He would ask about that later too. He started looking carefully at the djinn. He was so poised, confident but almost shy and thin in a healthy way. Maybe the word was ‘deferential.’ “Is this your true form?” Trevor looked into the eyes of his djinn. He knew that he would accept the binding. He could feel it inside of himself. His grandfather had bequeathed this gift to him. But he wanted to know a bit more – curiosity and all. “No, this is not my true form. I have two actually. The form of the mist and the form of physicality. The form of the mist is how I am able to reside in my vessel for thousands of years on end without outside interactions. It is a distillation of my consciousness. The form of physicality is my true form when I am extended out of my vessel. It is against djinn law to show you my physical form until we are bound.” “Do you have a sense of right and wrong? Standard philosophy or ethics? Things like that?” Dantalion took one more step toward the bed. He was nearly shin-to-shin with Trevor who had remained seated. “I do not have the ethics of a human. Because of that, I can serve every desire you may have. If you wish for me to pull the very continent of Atlantis from the bottom of the sea, I can do that, regardless of ethics, and in such a way that it would be explainable scientifically. I can crush all of the armies of the world in a matter of minutes and make it appear to be self-inflicted or one army pitted against another that could be explained.” Dantalion appeared to be getting excited just thinking about accomplishing these feats of wonder. He wantedto use his limitless power. “I do not have your morals. It allows me to fulfill your human desires whatever they may be. There are no judgments.” Dantalion spoke in a low rumbling purr. Trevor gulped as he stared into the eyes of the man he knew as Dante. His mouth was suddenly dry. The embers of Dantalion’s eyes licked his pupils and bore into the young man sitting before him. In his current form, he appeared to be near the same age. Trevor appeared maybe a bit more muscular. With Dante’s tailored well-fitted suit, he just looked very thin. His mind was racing, darting around to late night jack off sessions on the internet, a thousand morphed photos of different dream men he would love to fuck and be fucked by, stories of strength and muscle growth, and cock growth and …. Beads of sweat continued to form on his upper lip and forehead. His breath became shallow and ragged as his mind spun fantasy upon fantasy. His respectable 7” cock began to push against his well-fitted square cut briefs even more than before. He had imagined this moment in so many of his fantasies. For his third and final wish before accepting the binding, he wanted to know if it were true. Dantalion could not read the man’s mind but he felt that something was coming. Some powerful urge was rising. A heavy-weighted door was unlocking and creaking open in the deepest recesses of Trevor’s mind and Dantalion could see it on his face and see it in his cock. He felt that the next words that were spoken would determine that trajectory of his 12thand final binding. Somehow he just intuitively knew – this one would be different. Trevor hastily formed a wish and he knew it wasn’t going to be perfectly formed and he didn’t care. If Dante could make this come true, he would be able to bind with him and have endless wishes. “I wish that your body grew to 8 feet tall and that your arms became so large with dense, hard, striated muscle that they reached from floor to ceiling. Your skin so thin that a single sheet of paper would think it was too thick in comparison. These are 12-foot ceilings. You think you can do that, Dante?” He could feel his hard dick getting bigger and bigger, pulsing with unabashed curiosity and desire to see his third wish come true. Dante looked at Trevor with perplexity. None of his other Bound had asked him to demonstrate control over his own presentation unless it had been to terrify an enemy. Those before had wanted money, military defeats, the building of great structures…and more recently, knowledge. But this man was different. Something was very very unique as he looked in the man’s eyes and saw the man’s penis growing, throbbing, fighting with his trousers. “Curious,” he thought to himself. He nodded. “Yes, I can do that for you.” ****************************************************************************************** There was a pregnant pause between the two. Dantalion was attempting to read Trevor’s body language. He didn’t know the human well enough yet. “Would you like to instruct me on how to fulfill your wish, or would you like me to take…liberties?” Trevor’s breath caught in his throat. This was actually going to happen. “Can I instruct you for the beginning? Then maybe you can take ‘liberties.’” “You can do whatever you desire. I exist to serve you,” the genie rumbled. Dantalion and his deep flaming eyes looked down at Trevor on the bed. He sensed something close to supplication from the human, near worship. A pleading flicked across his face - A desire that Dantalion probed and where he found great depth. He, of course could not read the mind of the 12thunless granted access, but he could feel the edges of it with his expanded mind. Dantalion had been around humans for thousands of years and knew how to pick up on behaviors. The 12thwas seeping into the wildest recesses of his desires. Fuck, he could feel the energy building as Trevor contemplated how to begin. This one was so incredibly different, he repeated silently to himself. “I want to see you naked, first” Dantalion’s clothes vanished just as the last word left Trevor’s mouth. The djinn’s body was tight, thin, lean, and beautiful in a marathon runner sort of way. His skin the color of a summertime tan and his hair shortly cropped and a light sandy brown. “Over the course of 30 seconds, pleasegrow to 8 foot tall, same dimensions you have now.” Dantalion paused. He had rarely, maybe never, hear the word “please” when directed at him. Another something new. His naked thin body kept the same dimensions as before as he slowly expanded. He stopped thinking about what might be going on in Trevor’s head. He was in the middle of wish-granting and a djinn took that very seriously. He waited for his next command as he reached the 8-foot mark. Trevor, for all of his attempts to remain calm, looked at the tower of man in front of him and realized that this was all real and that his most depraved and wild fantasies could become flesh. His cock began to expel pre-cum into his trousers wicked away by his tight square cut briefs. Dantalion could smell something sweet. The beginnings of sex in the air. He had experienced that with previous Bound as they celebrated victories, defeats, destruction of enemies – but they had all been with harems of women, not directed toward him or when he was alone with his master. He was curious again. After thousands of years, he didn’t know curiosity would be so exhilarating. Trevor’s voice was again becoming ragged, shallow, pressured. He loved arms, he loved forearms, he love pecs, he loved lats and traps, he loved glutes (shit, he loved glutes), he loved quads and hamstrings, he loved delts, and he loved calves. He loved all muscle. He picked one of the many. “Please, increase your biceps and triceps to 30 inches around over the course of 30 seconds. The skin should remain thin and nothing thicker than single ply plastic cling film. And I want veins. Lots of veins on the surface to feed your growing muscles.” Trevor could barely breath. Did he just say that out loud to a stranger – even worse, his grandfather’s assistant now standing in front of him naked. Dantalion and his flame-licked eyes focused on Trevor’s face, on his erection pushing pre-spunk out in a slow stream, on the smell of need and desire in the air around them. He looked at his right arm then left and started growing them. He had never been asked for this expression of his own physicality. It was new and somehow excited him on a profound level. His biceps began to grow quickly and the skin covering his arms became somehow even thinner. Dantalion’s triceps quickly formed multiple bellies with striations so detailed, it appears that they were constructed of thousands of threads of fishing line, all writhing underneath the skin. Dante’s arms were stunning and perfectly symmetrical with a 30” exact diameter. They were the vision of pure raging power. But Trevor’s wish was just beginning. Ok, now to 80 inches in diameter,” he looked with a ravenous hunger at Dante’s arms. The djinn’s biceps grew and blossomed. Trevor, now standing up, reached to feel Dantalion’s growing arms and the djinn humbly leaned forward to allow him access to the change that was occurring. Trevor could feel the muscle fibers dividing quickly. It felt as if he had his hand over a steel morning-bloomed flower who’s petals keep unfurling over and over and over, cycle after cycle. Trevor peered at Dante’s right arm and saw skin so thin, he could actually see the beefy red muscle cells underneath. Veins as delicate as spider’s webs covered the blossoming biceps and triceps. Several thick radiator hose sized veins surfaced slowly, running along the top of the arms and the inside from the elbows to Dante’s armpits. Somehow, veins 3 inches in diameter seemed right…and HOT. “Now, I want to see those fucking arms to go from floor to ceiling,” he spoke softly and with a moan afterward. 10 seconds later and the arms of the god in front of him had grown to a size that Trevor had to back up and sit on his bed again. Dantalion’s arms had grown so much; his monstrous triceps were contacting the floor and causing his still thin, yet very tall, body to rise off of the ground. The twin biceps continued to escalate toward the ceiling, the fibers dividing endlessly without pause, all visible thanks to the paper’s width skin Trevor had requested. The veins of Dante’s arms continued to grow thicker and more plentiful. Trevor could now see them pulsing and writhing pumping growth juice into every individual cell. Dante was taking “liberties” with how he presented himself in this way. He eyed Trevor and saw the smaller man studying the webbing of the vessels, the constant replication of muscle cells, and also saw him rubbing his cock that continued to crawl down the leg of his tight trousers. His new-to-be Bound had said he was 7” when hard. He was clearly 8” now. What did that mean? Dante knew he was doing something right. For Trevor, this was the culmination of so many wet dreams. This was better because it was real. Finally, as the growth slowed, Trevor looked up at Dantalion’s face suspended in mid-air, body elevated several feet off the ground thanks to the titanic triceps bellies writhing underneath and pressing into the floor. The arms that he requested took up more than half of the bedroom. But something was off. “Dante, will you grant me another wish, just so that I can see how glorious you are?” Pulse, pulse, pulse went Trevor’s dick. He wanted to take it out and start beating in right there. “I will grant you one final wish before you decide on your binding to me,” he rumbled while looking down on the man below. “Dante, I wish that your forearms, hands, and deltoids were proportional to your arms. You may take liberties.” Without warning, an eruption of muscle so powerful and swift occurred that Trevor was blown towards the far wall. Just before he collided, he felt the newly enormous right hand of Dantalion catch him more softly and gently than he would have believed. He felt the giant 3 foot wide mitt draw back toward the wall-sized pulsating muscle that had just exploded with mass. “Trevor, have I pleased you?” Dante’s voice was powerful and deep like one million earthquakes but also curious, cautious, submissive. Trevor was beginning to lose his grip on reality. His breath was becoming more shallow. Trevor looked down on the 40” forearms riveted with throbbing arterials pulsating in rhythm with Dante’s heartbeat. WAIT, they were pulsating with Trevor’s own heartbeat, mimicking his pulse rate. Fucking crazy. Dante’s deltoids rose to near ceiling height, just shorter than the unbelievable mountain range of the biceps peaks - jagged, gnarled, but somehow perfectly balanced. “Can I touch you?” Trevor asked in a whisper. “You can do what ever you would like with me, Trevor,” Dantalion breathed into his hand where Trevor was seated struggling to maintain control. “You own this body and everything that it can do.” It was obvious from Dantalion’s innocence that he did not understand the weight of his comments on Trevor’s mind. In and other place that comment would be a proposition. In matters of sex and attraction, Dante was a child. Trevor reached out to touch the throbbing, hard, indestructible wall of muscle in front of him. He made contact and then pulled down his pants. Dante’s skin felt like warm buttery silk. The fibers beneath like steel cables an engineer would use to suspend a bridge. A groan so loud that it actually surprised both himself AND the djinn burst forth from Trevor’s mouth. “FUCKIN YES! Make my dreams come true, you fucking beast!!!” Shot after shot of Trevor’s cum hit Dantalion. His enormous hands and forearms were covered with cum and rivulets of seed collected in the crevices of the djinn’s enlarged hands. A certain quite fell onto the room. Dantalion felt so alive, so energized, so different than he had felt with any other Bound – and they had not made the binding yet. This was all so new and unexpected. Trevor leaned back into the giant paw that held him off of the ground. He was still recovering from the longest, most intense, most reality based orgasm of his life. “Trevor, do you bind yourself to me? I can fulfill this and infinitely more wishes based on your need and desires.” All that Trevor could see was walls of throbbing angry hard dense muscle. “Fuck ya, I want to bind with you. I won’t let your power be wasted.” Thoughts of just a few minutes earlier pummeled his mind. So much power, so much muscle, so much of everything he had beat off to for years. Laws, regulations, and more complicated stuff he couldn’t consider at the moment. “How do we do this ritual?” Trevor’s voice was sure and steady. Dantalion smiled and the flames dancing in his eyes flared and began to burn blue. “You must start by calling me by my true name: Dantalion, not Dante. I will do the rest.”
  4. The incredible DAC took the time and the energy to make parts 1-22 all be in one place. A big thank you goes out for all that effort. An American Muscleman in London - Part 1 April 4th, 2007 I’m going to tell you a story that you will say is hard to believe. Don’t worry. I understand. I still find it hard to believe – and I lived it. First Full Moon I could not believe I was traveling in business class. For that matter, I could not believe I was going to London. I was going to Europe for the first time in my life. I had the passport to prove it. It just still seemed like a dream. Here I was a twenty-five year old computer programmer being transferred to London for three years. And I had only been working with this company for seven months. How lucky is that? Granted, I was good at my job and I had saved the company a lot of money – but it was still unbelievable. The best part is that I got three weeks to explore the city and beyond before I started my job. My boss had negotiated that for me. The only reason she did – I figured – was that she had a crush on me. She knew almost nothing about computers and was head of my department only because she slept with someone. Everyone knew it. That’s the way it was in our office – everyone knew everything. I was still amazed I had kept it secret for so long that I’m gay. It was getting harder, though, and that’s why this transition came at the perfect time. I promised myself that I’d be out at work in London – from day one. It must be easier there than it is in Houston, Texas. Life in general had to be easier in London. “Excuse me,” a voice was saying behind me as I was pulling items for the long flight from my new Tumi carry-on (a gift from my parents). I turned and was blessed by the sight of a big man. Just the way I like them. He wasn’t the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but he did have the body of a huge football player. He looked like a fullback . . . or was it a halfback. Crap, why did I even use sports analogies – I knew nothing about sports. Let’s just say he looked like what Gaston from the Broadway show “Beauty and the Beast” should look like. There – that was an analogy I understood. “Sure – sorry about that,” I said as I stepped into the space between my seat and the seat in front of me. “No problem,” Gaston said smiling at me. He walked by me and I got a closer look at the arm that was bent over his shoulder carrying a duffel bag. The huge bicep wasn’t defined – but it was nice and big – and looked like it was full of power. I forced myself not to let my eyes follow him as he walked on – I didn’t want to be too obvious. I did glance up as I put my bag into the overhead bin. He was three rows ahead of me – and sitting in the same seat. Darn, I wouldn’t be able to look at that arm across the aisle. He didn’t seem like the type that would be sitting in business class – but, then again, neither did I. I began to sulk a little because I never got to sit beside someone like that on a plane. The seat beside me as still empty and I knew it would be filled by some talkative middle-aged woman who found that I reminded her of her son. At that moment a bag was dropped in the seat beside me. I glanced up and saw that I was wrong – it was a heavy-set middle-aged man chewing on an unlit cigar. I decided this was worse. I swear he looked like a cheesy used-car salesman and reeked of cheap after-shave. It definitely was worse. He turned to the woman behind him – obviously his recent mid-life crisis acquisition to make himself feel better. She looked like Disney had exploded on her face. There was enough make up for twenty people and I am sure nothing about her face or her body was even remotely real. The man was obviously mad about something. He was whispering to the woman with him and I heard her say something about calming down and she’d take care of everything. She slipped by him and went up the aisle. The used car salesman blatantly watched her ass as she walked away and chuckled to himself. He then turned and saw me looking at him. A scowl came across his face. I looked down immediately. The excitement about the flight left me at that moment. I could not believe I had to sit beside this all the way to London. I quickly put on my IPOD headphones and turned up the music to drown out all noise – and hopefully all memory of the man beside me. I shut my eyes in hopes of calming down. Ahhh, the playlist I had named “A Little Pick Me Up Music” was playing. These were songs I had strategically chosen for when I might be sad or homesick. This would certainly cheer me up. The guy finally sat down beside me and I was shocked because his after-shave wasn’t that powerful. Maybe I had gotten used to it. The smell was actually quite pleasant. It was a mixture of a faint smell of sweat and that scent that usually goes along with guys who really don’t get into colognes or fragrant soaps. It was the kind of aroma that the guy three rows ahead would give off. I could only name it as a masculine smell. I began to think about what it would be like to be close enough to Gaston to smell him. I even began to fantasize about burying my face into his chest – or better yet, his armpits. I know, I know – some people find that so gross – but I think it is really nice to get a real whiff of someone. See what they really smell like. To know everything about someone. I began to dream about how salty his sweat would taste. I started getting hard so I quickly stopped fantasizing. I didn’t want the used car salesman to see my hard-on. The tone telling us to buckle our seatbelts went off and I opened my eyes. I turned to the left toward the aisle to grab that side of the buckle. When I turned to the right looking down to find the other half a beefy muscular hand was holding it for me. I glanced up and it was Gaston, the football player. He was smiling and saying something to me. I was too shocked to do anything. I am sure he noticed my reaction. He reached up with his other hand and pulled my headphones off. “Were you looking for this?” he asked looking at the buckle again. “Uh . . . yeah. . . thanks,” was all I could say. I took the buckle from his hand but my eyes stayed focused on his face. I had to finally look down to snap the buckle together. I looked back up and he was still smiling and staring at me. “The little lady wanted to sit with her boyfriend and when I looked back to where he was sitting I told her I had no problem switching,” he said in explanation and gave me a quick wink. I did nothing but swallow hard. It was the true definition of a gulp. This made him laugh out loud. “I think it will be a much better flight back here,” he said as he snapped his own seatbelt into place. “I could not agree more,” boldly came from my mouth. An American Muscleman in London - Part 2 April 6th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continued So I’d like to tell you that Gaston, the football player, and I had super muscle sex and fell madly in love. But that is not what happened. And that is not what this story is about. Don’t worry, I promise you there will be lots of muscle in this story. Well to be honest – a lot of muscle growth. But that comes later. Gaston’s real name was Luke. And he wasn’t a football player – he was a construction worker in Houston. He was a good old southern boy who was very easy to talk to. He told me that when he looked back and saw that the option was sitting beside the woman with too much make up and a dog (I hadn’t noticed the dog) or a guy his own age he knew which seat to take. I was even able to steer the conversation to Luke’s work-out routine and that got him going. He wasn’t shy when it came to talking about how he developed different parts of his body and was quick to raise his shirt for a little show-and-tell. I was definitely thankful for the blanket that was covering my hard-on. At one point in the conversation I did the most amazing thing. Luke was asking me if I was married or had a girlfriend and I just blurted out that I was gay. I couldn’t believe I did it. I was so proud of myself and hoped this was par for the course in London. Luke didn’t seem to care a bit. He told me he was straight but I got the feeling that Luke had definitely taken a “walk on the wild side” with some guy in his past. It was just great to have someone so easy to chat with sitting beside me. I found out that Luke was traveling on to Israel from London. He had gotten some great construction gig in Jerusalem. How cool was that. After dinner and about two hours of chatting Luke said he was going to get some shuteye. I was disappointed – but knew a little sleep would be the best for both of us. I downed an Ambien with the last of my champagne and lay back to get some sleep. I turned one last time to get a good look at the sleeping giant beside me. Somehow I knew I was beginning the trip of a lifetime. The flight attendant asking me to begin preparing for our landing awakened me. I was pretty groggy but not so out of it that I forgot about Luke. I turned and found his seat empty. I asked for some coffee and began to get myself organized for landing. I glanced up as Luke came down the aisle with his duffle bag. He had changed clothes, shaved, and obviously washed up. He looked great. I found myself wishing that I woke up to Luke each morning. “Hey there sleepy head,” he said smiling. “You might want to at least tame that hair before we land.” I’m sure my face flushed red as I quickly said thanks, grabbed some supplies and went to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror told me Luke was right. I look liked I had just ended a two week drunk. When I finally came back to my seat I was fully awake and feeling a lot better. Luke glanced up and said, “Yeah, I think you’ll do a lot better with the boys in London looking that way.” I blushed again. “I have a gay friend who comes to London all the time and he once told me about a grgay pub he liked a lot. I’ve written down the name for you.” I glanced at the sheet of paper. The name of the pub was ‘Halfway to Heaven.’ “It’s just off Trafalgar Square,” he added. “That’s near where my apartment will be. Thanks, Luke.” I smiled and put the paper in my pocket. Luke shook my hand just inside the gate. We were going separate ways in the terminal. He told me to have a great time in London and then said goodbye. After I had gotten about five steps away Luke called my name. I turned around and he said, “You’re going to be fine – you’ve got people looking out for you.” And then he was gone in the crowd. I turned back around baffled by what he had said. I didn’t have much time to think about it because I had to maneuver through customs for the first time in my life. I had been instructed by my company to look for a driver with a sign bearing my name. Once I came into the meeting area I began looking for such a sign. I walked around and looked at all the signs but couldn’t find one with my name on it. After about twenty minutes I decided to call the number of the point person in London that my company had given me. I pushed my cart, containing four large bags and my carry on, into an open space. I took off my backpack and crouched down to retrieve my new company cell phone (which had made my mother very happy – I could call home on the company’s money) and the number. While I was searching for the phone two huge back shoes appeared in front of me. I’m not kidding. These two shoes looked like cars from a ride in the children’s area at a theme park. I know two small children could have ridden in them. At the same time a voice, which boomed a little like a foghorn, asked, “Are you Anthony?” I lifted my head and all I could see was a man’s mid-section. I had tilted my head high enough to meet the face of a regular sized man, but here I only saw a buttoned dark jacket. I leaned back to look higher and fell back on my ass. I was staring up at the tallest man I had ever seen. He reminded me of the actor that played the character named “Jaws” in those old James Bond movies starring Roger Moore. Wasn’t his name something like Richard Kiel or something – I couldn’t remember at the moment because the real thing in front of me was so mind-boggling. Anyway, I was staring up at a guy that was over seven feet tall. He could have been over eight feet tall – I couldn’t tell from on the floor. The giant held out his hand and asked, “May I help you?” I instinctively grabbed his hand. It was gigantic. I had a flashback to age four or five when I would walk beside my dad holding his hand. His huge mitt covered my entire hand and part of my arm. He pulled and easily lifted me from the floor. My feet actually came off the floor a little before he stopped lifting. Again I had a feeling that could only be described as something like being a small stuffed animal carried by a child. I glanced again at the hand holding mine and realized it could actually cover my entire head. If this guy wanted to palm my head like a basketball his thumb would reach below one ear and his smallest finger would go lower than my other ear. I am sure he could pick me up that way easily – just like an athlete with a ball. The giant finally let go of my hand and I dropped a few inches to the ground. My cock stirred a little. “My name is Atol,” the giant said, “and I am here to pick you up.” I jokingly said, “You mean literally or in a car?” Atol looked confused and said, “Pardon me?” “Never mind,” I said laughing to myself. “I’m sorry that I missed you, Atol. I was looking or a sign with my name on it.” I saw a look quickly flash across Atol’s face as if I had reminded him of something he had forgotten. “No problem. Are these your bags?” he asked pointing to my cart. “Yeah, that’s my life in just four bags,” I said reaching down to grab my backpack. When I stood up Atol had already begun to walk away pushing the cart. Wow, a man of few words, I thought. I guess when you’re that big you really don’t have to speak. I watched in awe as the crowd instinctively parted for this giant. I noticed that most people lost all manners and just stared wide-eyed at Atol. He had gotten ahead of me so I moved quickly – I had to take three steps for every one of his. Just as we were about to break free from the crowd gathered to greet people coming through customs I noticed a man holding a sign that said “Anthony Lance.” That must have been my driver. “Hey Atol,” I cried out, “I think there’s been a mistake. I see my name on a sign over there. Let’s go get that guy and we can figure this out. Maybe the company sent two drivers . . .” My voice trailed away because when I turned from looking at the guy with the sign I could see no Atol. My cart was there, but the giant was gone. I looked around in the crowd and couldn’t see him. How in the hell could a guy like that disappear? And he didn’t say anything. This was truly strange. I quickly grabbed my cart and walked to the guy with the sign. I didn’t want him to disappear, too. The guy holding the sign was wearing a black suit, but I could still tell he had a mighty fine chest underneath those clothes. He was definitely hot. He looked like someone I knew but I didn’t have time to figure it out. I hoped to myself that he was what the common Londoner looked like. “Hi, I’m Anthony Lance,” I said as I reached the driver. I held out my hand and felt a strong grip in return. “Cheers, Anthony. My name is Matt. Welcome to London. Let me take that from you,” he said taking the cart. We started walking out of the airport. “Did you have a nice flight, Anthony?” “Yes, thank you. Matt, the weirdest thing just happened, though. A guy came up to me and acted like he was my driver. When I saw you with the sign he just seemed to disappear,” I said as we walked. “Well – you have to be careful at Heathrow. There are a lot of people that are trying to get your stuff. I’m sure it was some petty thief trying to lure you away from the airport.” “But he knew my name,” I explained. “Well it is on your bag, there.” Matt said pointing to my backpack. Of course, I had my name stitched across the bag to help me distinguish it from other peoples. Something inside of me still found it all strange, though. Something about that Atol made me uneasy. Matt said in a cheery voice, “Everything’s fine now – you’ve got people looking out for you.” I stopped walking. “What’s the matter, forget something?” he asked. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that you’re the second person to say that to me in the last hour. What a coincidence,” I explained. Matt just smiled and we started walking again. There was something so friendly and familiar about that smile. I decided I was just edgy from the jetlag. All I really needed was a hot shower. An American Muscleman in London - Part 3 April 7th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continued I couldn’t take everything in fast enough as we drove into London from Heathrow. It would take too long to even list all the things I was seeing live and in person that I had only dreamed of from pictures, movies, or television shows. My head was already in London overload. As we got closer to the main part of town Matt asked if I wanted him to point out anything special. I suddenly remembered the pub Luke had written down for me. “Yes, Matt,” I said digging out the note. “Do you know the pub ‘Halfway to Heaven’ and can you drive by it.” “Sure, I know where it is. We go right past it on the way to your flat. Your place is just a two minute walk to that pub.” How lucky, I thought. “Thanks. That will be great.” “Sure, mate,” Matt answered smiling at me in the rearview mirror. He pointed out Trafalgar Square as we circled it, made sure I saw the front windows of ‘Halfway to Heaven,’ and then pulled up in front of my building. He handed me my keys and said, “You go ahead and open doors. I’ll grab the bags.” “Matt, let me help you. There are four big bags and they’re very heavy.” “Don’t worry about me Anthony,” Matt called out as he got out of the car, “I’ve got it under control. The big key unlocks the front door and the middle key unlocks the door to your flat. It’s on the first floor – which means the second floor to someone from the states.” I got out of the car, walked to the front door, unlocked it and looked for something to prop it open so I could help Matt. I quickly noticed that the front lobby was quite nice. I smiled when I saw the plaque with the name of the place – Camelot Towers. I loved the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. My parents raised me on those stories. I loved the whole idea of chivalry and all that. I couldn’t see anything to hold the door open so I turned back to see if Matt was okay. To my surprise he was right behind me smiling. He had two of my bags under his big arms and carried the other two by their handles. There was no sign of strain on his face. I stepped back and let him enter the lobby. I then moved quickly to the elevator and pressed the button. “Don’t worry about me Anthony – I’m going to take the stairs,” Matt called as he started up the big staircase to the left of the elevator. I didn’t want to be outdone by the guy carrying everything so I followed him up the flight of stairs. On the first floor there was a hallway leading to only one door. This confused me. Matt stepped beyond the door and then turned back towards me. It was a little hard since he had all the luggage. “Is there only one flat on this floor?” I asked.” “That’s right, mate,” he answered. At that moment I opened the door and stepped into a huge living space with floor to ceiling windows along the wall overlooking the street. There was a dining area and a kitchen to the right. I noticed a great fireplace along one wall in the living room. Matt disappeared down a short hall to the left. I followed him to what led to two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master bedroom was very big and had its own bathroom. The second bedroom had a small bed and a study-like area with a desk. This place was great. Matt showed me where everything was and specifically reviewed a notebook that had directions on how to work everything in the flat. Once Matt left I began to unpack. It’s the first thing I like to do when I take a trip. It gives some sort of order to everything. Once that was done I knew I had to go out. If I stayed in I would fall asleep and that would ruin my inner clock for a few days. I wasn’t that tired, anyway. As I saw it I had two options. I could go grocery shopping or I could go to the pub. I, of course, chose ‘Halfway to Heaven” – like any good Londoner, right? I walked down St. Martin’s Lane and passed the National Portrait Gallery and St. Martin in the Fields to get to the pub, which stood on a small street just off the square. As I passed the church I was a little disappointed because they were doing some construction and it was covered in scaffolding. If you didn’t know the pub was there you might miss it. And if you didn’t know it was a gay pub there was little to tell you that, too. I bet many straight tourists came in for a drink and ended up being surprised. There was a rainbow flag hanging outside but I knew a lot of people just thought it was a nice decoration. I walked in and the music playing definitely gave away the fact that this was a gay pub. I didn’t know the song but it had that driving beat that still ruled in gay dance clubs. The pub was really small – or so I thought until I realized it had a downstairs. The main room was upstairs, though. A few tall round tables and stools in the center, a counter that ran along three walls, and a small bar that stuck halfway out into the room in the back right area. I noticed that there was also a small alcove to the left of the bar that went back a little ways. It had some more tables and chairs. The place wasn’t very crowded – but it was only 3:30pm on a Saturday and it was a beautiful day outside. I moved to the bar and immediately noticed the boyish cuteness of the bartender. “Hiya,” he said, “What may I get you?” I noticed his great smile and the numerous piercings in his ears – not to mention the one in his tongue. I was very excited because I already knew what I wanted, “A pint of Stella, please.” He said, “Sure,” grabbed a glass and started to fill it from the tap. I had been told by a friend that Stella Artois, although not an English beer (it was Belgian), was very good. He also told me it had a nickname – “the wife beater” – but today I ignored that. The bartender placed the pint in front of me and said, “Two pounds, eighty, please.” I pulled out coins from my pocket and began to sort through them slowly. I looked up a little embarrassed and said, “Sorry, it’s my first time.” The bartender laughed and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Here let me help you.” I held out my palm and he picked the coins out quickly and explained each of them one-by-one as he placed them in the drawer. “You’ll get the hang of it, not to worry. My name is Dominic. Where are you from?” That one question led to a conversation that lasted for about forty-five minutes. I told Dominic about my new job and my new place. He said he was sure he’d be seeing a lot of me in the pub. I told him he was right. It was getting crowded by that time and he was pretty busy. I ordered my third pint, got the coins right this time, grabbed one of the local gay magazines by the door, and sat down on a stool at the counter that looked out the large front window. This was a great place to sit - I thought to myself. You could see so much. So many people walking down the street. The thumping music made a funny soundtrack to their steps. Many walked to the exact beat of the song. I was marveling at this fact when a cheerful voice said, “You must be from the States.” I turned and was greeted by the face of a very handsome elderly gentleman. I would have guessed he was probably seventy years old or more. It was hard to tell. He had vibrant silver hair and beautiful deep-blue eyes. He was maybe five foot ten and had a great smile. “Yes, I am. How can you tell?” I asked. “Sorry friend, it is the shorts and the sandals. Hello, my name is Martin.” And he held out his perfectly manicured hand. There was something definitely youthful about Martin. “And I am Anthony,” I said shaking his hand. “What’s wrong with my shorts and sandals?” “Oh my dear Anthony, there is nothing wrong with either of them. The shorts are just a little shorter than we wear here and not many people in London wear sandals. You also have an American air about you. I might have guessed Canada, as well. I hope I haven’t offended you. I just thought it would be a great conversation starter.” I decided Martin was definitely a very good-looking man and his clothes also said that he probably did well financially. As with Dominic before; Martin’s opening line turned into a very easy conversation that lasted for a long time. During our talk I shared everything about my upcoming three years in London. When I told him that my flat was at Camelot Towers he seemed impressed. He told me that building was a prime piece of real estate and then he stressed that I would one day be very happy I was there since it had air conditioning. Martin told me he was retired and lived in Hampstead. I told him I wasn’t familiar with that area but had read a little about it. He said that I would have to come let him show it off very soon. Then there was a lull in our conversation. “Ah, Camelot Towers, named for a wonderful place and a marvelous time in England’s long history. And besides that, it is a mighty fine musical.” We both laughed. I told him, “My parents played the Broadway recording of that show all through my childhood. And I devoured every book on King Arthur or similar stories that I could get my hands on.” “That was very good of them,” Martin said in a voice that seemed to be thanking my parents. I must have had a confused look on my face because he quickly added, “I mean it is very good for parents to introduce their children to culture.” “I agree. And it was an awesome fantasy world for me as a child,” I added. “But Anthony – Camelot was indeed real. Oh, not the Camelot of the musical or even the books. But there was a King Arthur, a Guinevere, and of course that blasted round table. It was a time of great acceptance and inclusivity in England. A mighty fine time, indeed.” Martin was staring outside the window. “And don’t forget Lancelot! I hope he was real too,” I said pulling Martin back into the conversation. “Since my last name is Lance I always connected with Lancelot in a special way. In fact, growing up I collected all the memorabilia that referred to Lancelot. I even had a mock knight’s helmet – if that’s what you call it. It had the name Lancelot written across the forehead. I know it sounds crazy but I even brought some of the expensive stuff with me. To put around my apartment – I mean my flat.” Martin had turned back to me and was smiling. He started getting very excited as I spoke. “Oh, Anthony, it was certainly fortuitous that we met. I have a friend who has an antique shop and it has tons of items from Camelot theatrical events, the movie, and some very rare items from the real court of the real King Arthur. You must go there. “Well, I will. That would be great,” I said – excited about possibly getting some more cool things. “I could get more stuff for my flat – especially because of the name of my building. Also, there isn’t much of any kind of decoration in the place. It doesn’t look lived in, you know.” “You must go tomorrow Anthony,” exclaimed Martin. “If I did not already have plans I would take you there myself. Let me give you directions right this very moment.” And with that Martin pulled a little pad of paper and pen from the pocket of his jacket. “Martin, I’m here for three years. There’s plenty of time,” I said laughing. It was as if Martin wasn’t listening. He said, “Nonsense, Anthony. You’ll go tomorrow. The shop is only open on Sundays and you need to get things for your new place. He grabbed my arm and his grip was quite strong. I was surprised. “Promise me, Anthony, that you will go tomorrow. Promise me.” His face was very serious. “Sure, Martin, sure. I’ll go tomorrow. I promise. I have no other plans.” He let go of my hand and I was relieved. That had been a tad scary. Martin quickly drew me a map and gave me the address. “It is quite close to here. Just over in Covent Garden. It is on Maiden Lane. Now that lane is very small and it is easy to miss. My friend opens at eleven and closes at four. You are going to love it. As a matter of fact I will call him in the morning and tell him to bill me for anything you take.” He was very excited again. “Martin, I can’t let you do that. You hardly know me. Really. I can’t. I will still go, though. I promise.” I was blown away by his generosity. “Once again, Anthony, nonsense,” Martin said emphatically. “I have a feeling we are going to be great friends and consider this a housewarming gift.” As weird as the earlier moment had made me feel, I did have the same sense about our friendship. I knew we’d be good friends and that Martin would make my transition to London easier. It was great to have a new friend. I said, “Well thank you, Martin. That is very kind. I am flattered. I promise not to go wild and spend all of your money.” Martin laughed and said, “Anthony, there is no chance of that. I could buy that shop a few times over. I am not bragging. I am just old and have saved wisely. My money is old money – very old. I have found that money is nothing without friends to share it with. It gives me great pleasure to do this for you. Now I must go. It is late for an old man like me and I have a long ride home. Say, good friend, can we meet here Monday afternoon? The best time is four o’clock. It is before the work crowd gets here and just in time to watch them as they come in. Martin smiled a wicked smile and we both laughed. “I will see you here at four on Monday,” I said. Martin patted me on the shoulder, paused for a few seconds after doing it – as if he was remembering something – and then walked away. When he got a few feet away he turned and said something to me. I couldn’t quite hear it because of the music and people’s voices. He could tell I hadn’t heard it, so he repeated it a little louder and then turned and left the pub. I’m sure my mouth was wide open in shock. Martin had said, “You are going to be fine, Anthony, you have people looking out for you.” I didn’t have time to think about the statement too much. Dominic was beside me with another Stella. He smiled and said, “This one’s on me. Welcome to London.” An American Muscleman in London - Part 4 April 8th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continues I woke up Sunday with a slight hangover. Dominic told me that the alcohol count is higher in Stella. No wonder I liked it. No wonder it had its nickname. I didn’t have much trouble sleeping during the night – probably because of the beer. I finally got out of bed around 11:30am. When I glanced at the clock I immediately remembered the antique shop I was supposed to visit. I contemplated not going – I didn’t want to spend my first full day in London inside. But I didn’t want to disappoint Martin – after all, I was going to see him tomorrow and I’m sure he would ask. I could also use some other items around the flat. I was still so honored by Martin’s offer. I would definitely get him a thank you gift. I showered and went to get something to eat. I decided to head towards Covent Garden – where the shop was located. I had my pocket map and the directions Martin had given me. I finally stopped at a patisserie called Boswells. It was right off Covent Garden’s Piazza and Central Market. Once seated, I spread the map out to plan my path to the shop. I realized that I had, indeed, passed Maiden Lane walking to get food. Martin was right – it was easy to miss. After finishing my lunch (or was it breakfast?), I followed my plan and found myself standing in front of “Arthur’s Antiques” on Maiden Lane. I opened the door and stepped in. It was a good thing that I do not have allergies to dust or mold. This shop, which was not that big, was covered from floor to ceiling with stuff and the stuff was pretty old. The room even smelled old. As the door shut I had to let my eyes adjust because there wasn’t a lot of light in the place. It was also very quiet – Maiden Lane was not that busy. I heard only the ticking of a large grandfather clock in the middle of the wall to the left. There were two long counters on either side of the room and large objects were strategically placed to make three aisles running up and down the middle of the room. I noticed a large table right in the middle of everything. In the back right corner of the room was a doorway that had strings of beads hanging in the frame. A voice yelled from the back, “It is about time you arrived.” “Pardon me,” I yelled. An older gentleman came through the beads just as the clock struck two o’clock. The old man repeated, “I said – it is about time you arrived.” “Do you know who I am,” I asked. “Sure, sure. You are Anthony from the states. Martin sent you. Who else do you think is going to drop by today? No one – that’s who.” By this time the man had walked the length of the counter on the right and was standing across the glass top from me. He seemed a mess. The sweater he was wearing was buttoned wrong, his hair went in every direction, and his glasses were covered in dust. He reminded me of an absent-minded professor. “So I’ve pulled out a few items for you,” he said as he took his glasses off to clean them with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked up at me as he spoke and when I saw his eyes I was instantly reminded of someone – but I couldn’t remember who. My face must have showed I was puzzled. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment, “It’s just that I know someone who has dark blue eyes like you and I can’t remember who it is.” Suddenly the clock started chiming again. I jumped at the sound and turned to look at it. “That blasted clock,” the old man said loudly, “It does that all the time. Just goes off when it wants to.” I turned back to the man and he had returned to cleaning his glasses. I looked into his eyes again to see if I could remember who they reminded me of – but his eyes were a bright green.” “Hey, weren’t your eyes blue a second ago?” I asked. “What? No, Anthony. My eyes have been green since the day I was brought into this world. Martin told me that you might be a little jet-lagged. He said to go easy on you. Why don’t we take a look at the stuff I pulled out for you? It is right over here,” he said as he led me to the table in the middle of the room. Of course the old man was right. I was still a little foggy from the time change. It seemed that my jet lag was getting worse, though. I glanced at the table in front of me and immediately saw something that interested me. There was a wooden stand in the middle of the table and resting on it was what looked like a knight’s glove for battle. I could tell it was pretty old but it seemed to shine brighter than anything else being displayed. I bent down to look at it. “Oh, you are interested in Lancelot’s armor glove are you?” he asked. I smiled and said, “It is nice – and different. It would be fun to think it really did belong to Lancelot. But then Lancelot would have had to belong to the real world to wear it, wouldn’t he?” I said chuckling. There was silence as I continued to look at the glove. The silence finally got to me and I turned to the man. He was staring right at me. I suddenly felt like I was in trouble. “Anthony, son. Lancelot was real. He was a great knight and a good friend of King Arthur. His looks, his strength, and his courage were known the world over.” The shopkeeper sounded like a Harry Potter fan who believes the young wizard lives down the street. I turned back to the table as I said mockingly, “Yeah, he was a friend of Arthur’s until he stole his girl.” The room suddenly became darker – probably clouds blowing across the sun. The room also seemed colder than before. “Anthony, there are many things about Camelot and the legends surrounding it that no one knows. I will tell you something that very few have heard. Lancelot was not banned from Camelot because of his love for Guinevere. It was because of his love for Arthur.” The clock chimed once loudly at that moment and I jumped again. The old man seemed not to notice and continued, “And Arthur returned Lancelot affections. But this information had to be kept from most people in the kingdom. It was a different time then – much worse than the even when England was in an uproar over the ‘love that dare not speak its name.’ All the Knights of the Round Table shared in a fraternity far greater than anything we know today. They loved each other with an intensity that seemed almost beyond logic. They would have given their lives for each other – and sometimes did. But Arthur and Lancelot had a love that was the strongest – and the purest. The kingdom needed an heir, though. And there were evil forces across the lands that were jealous of the bond between Lancelot and Arthur. In order to save the baby of Arthur and Guinevere from this evil, a fake story was created about the queen and Lancelot. They were banned so Lancelot could protect her and the child. Arthur knew there was no greater knight for the job. Later, Guinevere and Lancelot had a son of their own. Both boys grew and carried on the line of Lancelot and Arthur. That lineage still exists today. And that, Anthony, is the true story of Camelot. The old man finished and the room brightened again. I suddenly felt warmer, as well. What a bizarre man, I thought. I did, however, enjoy the thought of Lancelot and Arthur having wild sex. The old man’s intensity made me want to get out of the store as quickly as possible. I blurted out, “I’ll take the glove, okay? Nothing else.” The man’s mood all of the sudden became very cheery. “Of course, of course. A fine choice. It would have been what I picked for you. But first you must try it on for size,” he said lifting it off the stand. “What?” I asked incredulously. “No, that’s okay. I won’t be wearing it. I’m just going to put it on my mantle.” My mind was spinning. Was this guy insane? I was waving my hands in front of me trying to get him to stop when he slipped the glove on my right hand in what was a flash. It was obviously too big for me, but as soon as it was on it seemed to shrink and tightened around my hand and lower arm. Immediately the tips of my fingers felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing them. I screamed out in pain. My entire body flushed intensely hot for a couple of seconds and then everything stopped. For a moment I forgot everything. I was confused and felt out of place. Did I dream all that just happened? I looked down and the glove was on my hand but it was way too big. “Well, that is not a good fit,” the old man said laughing. “I think I would keep it on your mantle if I were you.” He had taken the glove off my hand and placed both it and the stand in a wooden box. He placed the box in a bag and put it in my hand. I was still in too much shock to say anything. I just turned and walked to the door. Before I stepped out onto the street I remembered about paying for the glove. I turned to speak to the man but he was gone. I assumed he had gone to the back room. “Hey, what about the cost? How much is this?” I said - still in a daze. His voice bellowed back, “Martin has paid for it already. Cheers, Anthony. Enjoy London.” I turned to leave but stopped when he yelled, “Oh – one more thing…” Even in my semi-conscious state I knew what he was going to say before he said it. I could have said it with him. “You are going to be fine. You have people looking out for you.” I pushed open the door and walked into the bright sunlight. I knew the area well enough to know that turning left would take me in the direction of my flat. I just started walking. When I hit Trafalgar Square I was able to find my building. I opened the door to my place, put the bag on the dining room table, walked to my bedroom, fell face down on the bed, and was out cold for the night. An American Muscleman in London - Part 5 April 9th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continues I woke up the next morning at 9:00am. I had slept for almost eighteen hours. I guess I needed it. I must have really been suffering from jetlag – and hadn’t known how much. There was, however, no feeling of being tired when I woke up. I jumped out of bed and felt fantastic. It was like I was high on vitamins or something. My entire body was on fire for action. It was as if every molecule in my body was in overdrive. I decided to go for a run. Never in my life had I run further than the length of a gymnasium – and that was in junior high. But today I felt an incredible urge to go for a run. And I knew it would be a long run. I got dressed, went outside, and began. I ran south to the river and then turned east, running along the Thames on the south bank. Two hours later I found myself coming back up the north side of the river and felt so good that I decided to go back to “Arthur’s Antiques” to see if there was anything else I wanted for my flat. I kept thinking to myself, “Damn, I feel good!” I wasn’t even breathing hard and I had run constantly for two hours. I retraced my path from the day before and started up Maiden Lane to the site of the store. I must have gotten it wrong because the spot where I stopped was actually a passageway to the next street. These kinds of arched outdoor hallways seemed to be all over the city – a quick way to go from one block to the next. I looked around and came to the realization that this should have been the place where the shop stood. But that is not what I found. I walked up and down the lane again – checking the name of the street twice. It wasn’t that hard since it was a short street. This was completely baffling. I stepped into the passageway and the look of the walls told me they had been this way for a long time. Was I going crazy? It couldn’t be that. My mind and my body seemed to be alive for the first time in my life. I had never known such energy. I walked back to the street and started for home. The only explanation was I had gotten the name of the street wrong, but I was pretty sure Maiden Lane had been what Martin wrote down. I would check to make sure when I got home. While I was passing Trafalgar Square it looked like a riot was taking place. There were people everywhere and even a crowd in the fountain at the center of the square. Upon closer observation I realized it wasn’t a riot – people looked happy, as if they were celebrating. I asked a guy standing beside me what was going on. He said, “Where’ve you been, mate? England won their football match today!” And with that he started yelling and ran into the crowd. I laughed at his enthusiasm. I marveled at how wonderful this day was going and headed home. That afternoon I went shopping at a market called “Marks and Spencer.” After getting groceries I spent some time in the National Portrait Gallery. I could tell that museum was going to be one of my favorite places to visit. There were some great paintings and photographs of people in England’s history and present day. I moved back outside onto the square where people were still celebrating. I still felt great! There were people sitting on the square – outside of the gallery - soaking up the sun. I decided to join the crowd – okay, specifically so I could scope out the cute guys who had taken off their shirts. Sitting there, the sun felt great and I felt a surge of energy. I suddenly decided to take my shirt off and do some push-ups. I never did push-ups – especially in public. And I never took my shirt off in public. I stood up, took my shirt off, hung it from my back pocket, and proceeded to execute 100 push-ups – knowing my form was perfect. I didn’t even break much of a sweat. Getting over my jetlag was great! I didn’t know I could feel so alive. At ten until four I decided to head towards ‘Halfway’ to meet Martin. Boy did I have a lot of questions for him. I already had my Stella and was sitting in the corner of the front part of the pub – near the window – when Martin walked in. I could tell immediately he was either agitated or very excited. He scanned the room quickly, found me, and came directly to the corner. He didn’t even order a pint first. A big smile came across his face and he said, “Anthony, dear, it is fantastic to see you – how are you feeling today?” The way he asked the question seemed much more intense than a casual “how are you?” It seemed like he wanted additional information for some reason. I answered, “It’s great to see you, too, Martin. And actually, since you asked, I feel great. I don’t think I ever remember feeling this good. My jetlag seems to have disappeared and I even went running today – and, Martin, I never go running. I can’t explain it. I feel like a million bucks – wait, no, I feel like a million pounds.” Martin laughed and said, “Splendid! I was hoping you would feel that way today. It must be the Stella Artois you are drinking and the great London atmosphere that has invigorated you. I am so happy you feel so powerful.” “Well, I don’t know about powerful, Martin, but I do feel healthy for some reason.” But it did cross my mind that his word was more accurate in describing the way I felt. Martin smiled and exclaimed, “By powerful I meant healthy. Sorry, my dear boy, I am often very dramatic. So, do you like Lancelot’s glove.” “Yes! Oh, Martin, I completely forgot. That should have been the first thing I said. Thank you, thank you. I placed it on my mantle today. I really appreciate your gift! It looks cool.” “Well, I know nothing about cool, Anthony,” Martin said, “But I am very glad it fit – I mean that it fit in your flat. Oh, I am just glad you like it.” “Speaking of the glove, I wanted to tell you something very bizarre…” Martin interrupted me, “Yes, of course, Anthony, but first let me get a pint of Carling. Do you want another Stella?” “Sure that would be great,” I said and Martin began to walk away. I stood up to get coins out of my pocket. Martin stopped when he saw what I was doing and made a face. “Oh, Anthony, for heaven’s sake – do not be rude. I am offering to buy you a Stella. After all, we are celebrating!” And with that he turned and walked to the bar. I’m sure my face turned red. I wasn’t meaning to be rude. I just didn’t know that was his intention. How stupid of me. Then it hit me what Martin had said before he walked away – I wondered what we were celebrating? I watched Martin as he got the drinks and then took his time coming back. He stopped to talk to many people. I assumed they were all locals. I was beginning to think Martin wanted to avoid me when he finally looked up from a conversation, said goodbye, and walked back to our corner. “So sorry, Anthony. I had to work the room, you know. It is like holding court – and I miss that so much.” It seemed Martin drifted off with an old memory. “No problem Martin. As long as you’re not getting bored of me – trying to avoid me,” I said half joking. “On the contrary! Our adventures together have just begun. It is like rekindling an old friendship,” he said smiling. Somehow, I felt the same way. It was then I remembered. “Listen, Martin. I had a very weird experience at Arthur’s Antiques yesterday. I can’t remember much of it – because I guess I was still foggy from jetlag – but it involved the glove and that guy Arthur.” “Oh, his name is not Arthur – it is Frank,” Martin said. “I guess I just assumed, you know, from the name of the shop.” “Oh, I see. No. The store is named after King Arthur,” explained Martin. “Right,” I said and continued, “Well, you see, that’s just it Martin. Besides the weirdness of yesterday, I went back today and Arthur’s Antiques isn’t there. I thought I was getting the street wrong but I looked at your directions and they confirmed it was Maiden Lane. I walked up and down that street and there was no shop.” “Do not be ridiculous, Anthony. Of course it is still there. Frank would have told me he was closing down. I know he does not get much business, but he still would have told me,” Martin said scanning the crowd – probably to see if anyone new had come in. “No, Martin. I mean the building wasn’t there. It was a passageway.” And as I said this I knew it suddenly sounded a little crazy. Martin patted my hand. “Anthony, I am sure you just went to the wrong place.” I started to protest, but Martin continued, “Listen, this Sunday I am free. I will meet you for lunch and then the two of us will go to the store together. All right then?” This sounded very reasonable to me – especially after I sounded so crazy before. I had even begun to doubt my sense of direction and knew that I probably just missed the correct street somehow. After all, how does an entire shop disappear overnight? Especially a store like Arthur’s Antiques -that was completely filled. “That would be great, Martin.” “We can get some more stuff for your flat,” Martin said looking at his watch. “Oh my, look at the time. Anthony, I’m afraid I have just enough time for a half pint. I am on my way to dinner with friends before going to see the musical “Wicked.” It will be my fifth time to see the show. It is wonderful. I just love shows that have witches and wizards – especially wizards! Have you seen it?” “No, not yet. I don’t even know if it has come to Houston, yet. Maybe I’ll get to see it while I’m here,” I said. “That is a definite, my good man. I will get us tickets for a night in the near future. I just cannot see it enough. Another pint?” he asked starting to walk away. “Oh, no, thank you, though.” My mind was spinning. It was as if I was beginning to feel the beer, but I knew couldn’t- be buzzed. I was having trouble staying focused long enough to ask Martin all the questions in my head. I was so confused and most of the questions flew from my mind. I believe it was partly from Martin’s ability to change the subject. He was such a funny man, that way. So warm and open, but somehow so secretive. He could divert the conversation so well. And at that moment Martin returned. “So what are we celebrating?” I asked. I was so excited to remember a question. “Anthony, my friend, we are celebrating the full moon that comes on Thursday,” is what he answered, but I got the distinct feeling there was something else, as well. “What’s so great about the full moon, Martin? Is that a custom in England that I’m not familiar with?” I asked. “Not a custom, per se, but you never know what will happen during a full moon, Anthony, you never know. Exciting things happen,” Martin said looking intently in my eyes. “You mean like werewolves,” I said jokingly. “Anthony, remember that the moon has a strong connection with everything. There is much power that comes from the moon. Just take the tide for example. The ocean current is very strong and, yet, the moon is able to make the waves bend to its power.” “Of course you’re right, Martin,” I said, “I just didn’t know that was cause to celebrate.” “Well, it will be your first full moon in London, Anthony. That is definite cause for celebration.” Martin almost sounded a little creepy – similar to a conversation we had the first day I met him. But then he added quickly, “Oh Anthony, it is just fun to make up a reason to celebrate, is it not?” And with that Martin threw his head back in laughter. His laugh was infectious so I laughed, also. He had obviously just been mysterious to get me going. “So I am afraid I must run, Anthony. Dinner with a few friends is waiting. But you, my good fellow, are to come to my place for dinner on this Thursday night. Promptly at 7:30. I’ll send my driver for you. His name is John. He will buzz your flat around seven. Right, then?” He was staring at me. It was so incredibly generous of him. I was very flattered. I also got the feeling he wasn’t really giving me a choice. “I’ll have to check my calendar, first,” I said and pretended to flip pages in an imaginary book. “Well, guess what, I’m free. As a matter of fact, I have no plans that entire day! I would love to come Martin.” “Splendid! It will just be some close friends – you will love them. Maybe one will become a special friend for you - one never knows, does one.” Before I could say anything he leaned over, kissed my cheek, said loudly, “To the full moon, Anthony, to the full moon,” turned and disappeared in the crowd that had gathered in the pub. An American Muscleman in London - Part 6 April 10th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continues I didn’t stay at the pub long after Martin left me to join his friends for dinner. I was feeling a little abandoned – and maybe lonely. Dominic was busy bartending and couldn’t speak to me that often. I needed to go and find a place to eat dinner, myself. I walked to the area of London known as Soho – the densely populated gay area. I was looking for a restaurant called Balans. It was “the” gay place to eat according to many of the travel guides. When I finally found the place and walked in, I knew my whole look screamed “tourist.” I kept forgetting that London is the cultural capital of the world. The men that were casually hanging out in the place looked like they had taken two weeks to prepare their hair, their clothes, and their attitude. Most of them looked like they worked out seven days a week – twenty-four hours a day. I had not felt this self-conscious in a very long time. The crowd was definitely different than that of “Halfway” (I had picked up that most of the locals called the pub by this name). Everyone at the pub seemed content with himself or herself, not trying to prove anything. They all seemed eager to meet new people. The people at Balans were here to notice other beautiful people, but mostly to be noticed by all the other beautiful people. After putting my name in for a table I walked to the bar and decided to order a martini – certainly that would make me look a little more dashing. I really just wanted a Stella, though. Deep down I knew the martini did nothing for my image, but I needed to find something to help battle this darkness that seemed to be taking over me. I knew, logically, that I was just having the first pangs of homesickness. My first few days in London had been a whirlwind and now the reality of this drastic change was finally sinking in. I had to admit it – I was very lonely. I looked around and saw what looked like a lot of “first date” couples – and some couples that surely had been together for years. At that moment it felt like all I saw in the whole room was couples. I wanted to be a couple. I found myself wishing that Martin’s dinner party had been that night – not three days away! What was I going to do to make it until then? Three good-sized sips of the martini had not made me feel better. I decided eating at Balans – especially alone – was not a good idea. I contemplated going back to “Halfway” without having dinner – but decided against it. I didn’t want people to think I had become a fixture there. I asked the host to strike my name from the list, left the restaurant, and started walking home. On the way to my flat I passed a Chinese restaurant that publicized take-a-way (the British version of take out). I grabbed some food and walked the rest of the way to my place. Back at the flat I started feeling a little better. I decided to make a list of some things I would do in the coming days – to help me lessen my homesickness. The first thing I wrote on the list was “run each day.” I stared at the words on the paper. It was still astonishing to me that I had this urge to run. I contemplated that thought for a while and came to the conclusion that it was a desire for much more than running that burned within me. Upon reflection, I guessed I wanted to be very healthy – my body was responding to something about London and it made me want to get in better shape. The crazy thing, though, was that I wasn’t in bad shape. But I wanted much more for myself for some reason. I tried hard to figure it out and then it hit me – I wanted to train. I was in training. For what I had no idea, but my body was telling me to prepare for something. This resonated so much in me that I underlined “run every day” three times. I decided I would continue what had started today – these long distance runs. I would run to build up my stamina – and when I had that thought a light went off in my mind telling me that I would also need to build up my speed – and my ability to make it through some tests. What tests would these be, I wondered. It must be that my body wanted to be prepared for those times that I would be depressed or lonely. Of course that was it. And I knew there would be many more moments of loneliness. I had known that when I agree to the move. I smiled to myself since I had figured all of this out. I sat there in silence for a while and then a deeper feeling started to bubble up inside of me – a feeling that said my training was really about something else – something larger than getting myself through lonely times. I just couldn’t figure out what that “bigger something” was – maybe it would be revealed to me later. I decided to return to my list. I ended up writing nine things that I could do in the next few days to help me adjust to my new life in London. Some of the items were just names of places I wanted to visit. One item was that I wanted to make new friends. And the other items were ideas of things to keep me busy. But no item on the list resonated with me as much as running each day. I laughed to myself – maybe I was becoming a jock! If London could accomplish that task, then this city must have some dark powers that no one knew about. I saw that I had a Big Ben magnet on my refrigerator – left there by the previous tenant, I guess. I took my list and put it there. I would be reminded each day of my commitment to myself – to my quest! I was filled with awareness that this list would be a piece of cake and that other tasks would come my way. My entire body tingled with excitement and anticipation of things to come. I knew I would be fine since I was so energized about the future. I cleaned up my dinner mess, watched a little British television, and then went to bed. That night I had the most vivid dream I ever remember having. I don’t think I had ever experienced anything like it before. The dream unfolded slowly. I don’t remember how it began – but I know that it began in darkness. It was obviously night and as my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I realized there was a full moon that was providing the only light around me. I became aware that I was standing in the middle of a large field. There was a dense forest surrounding the field on all sides. I was standing there ready – for what, I had no idea. I just knew I was prepared for what was coming. In the distance I could hear thunder – no, it wasn’t thunder. I listened closely and could tell that it was the hooves of horses hitting the ground as they ran. I tried hard - but I could not tell from what direction the sound was coming. The sound was growing louder and louder. I knew these horses were coming closer and closer – but from where? My body instinctively went into a crouching position. I was preparing myself for something – I believe I was preparing myself for battle. Then, all of the sudden, horses burst through the trees from every direction. They were running full speed into the center of the field where I stood. As they drew nearer I realized there were riders on the horses – and I knew they were knights. There were about fifty of them – or maybe as many as a hundred. I could not tell exactly. The armor of these knights glimmered in the moonlight. The speed of the horses and their motion caused the light to dance all around me. It was breathtaking. It was when the horses got even closer that I realized the knights were not wearing armor. They were not wearing anything at all. What I thought was shining armor was the moon reflected in sweat covered muscles. The moonlight glistened perfectly on the body of each rider - highlightning the bulging mass of every part of their body. The horses began to move faster towards me. I crouched lower and realized that I was nude, as well. My body was on fire with anticipation – but for what I did not know. My instincts told me it was not danger. No, the excitement building in me was not from fear of battle – it was something else. My blood was forcing every part of my body to be fully alert and tense. I was watching, as the beautiful muscled body of each knight got closer. I started turning in a slow circle to let each knight see that I was ready. I was making sure they saw that my body was prepared. Suddenly the men started yelling – it was not words – it was some type of battle cry. But I knew it was not about war. It was about getting ready to conquer something - in a different way. I observed myself in the dream and could not figure out what would be conquered or in what way. By this time the horses were very near. I could see steam coming from the body of each man. I heard the excitement and power in their voices. I could see something that looked like lust in their faces. I noticed that none of them were armed and for a second this confused me. Right before they were directly upon me I let out an inhuman cry - that drowned out all other noise - and leapt into the air. It was at that moment that I woke from the dream. Bright sunlight streamed into my bedroom. My mouth was wide open and I could hear my yell still echoing in the room. Lying there I could tell my body was on fire with energy again – as it was yesterday. But today the power and the excitement in my body were definitely greater. I sleep in the nude so when I went to push the sheet from my body I found that it was stuck to my stomach and my chest. It dawned on me that I had had a wet dream. The last time I remembered having a wet dream was when I was eleven, or was it twelve. Pulling the sheet from my body was like taking the wrapper off of a piece of candy that had been in your pocket for a long summer’s day. I could not believe the amount of cum that had shot across my stomach - up to the top of my chest. What a powerful dream, I thought – but at that moment I could not remember much about it. All I could recall was the sight of muscled bodies in the moonlight. I really needed to get a boyfriend, I decided. It was also dawning on me that today would have to be a laundry day! An American Muscleman in London - Part 7 April 14th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Continues After stripping the bed of its sheets and putting them, and some other items, in the washer that was in a small room off of the kitchen, I got ready for my run. I was kneeling down to tie my shoes when it hit me that I wasn’t sore. My legs didn’t ache – they felt somewhat powerful. It was the damndest thing! Maybe the soreness would come tomorrow. I had feared what my legs would feel like after running so much – but there was a growing awareness in me that told me they wouldn’t hurt – even tomorrow. I was struggling to figure out what made my legs adjust to the running so well when a flashback moment from my dream of the night before hit me. I remembered being crouched down – with legs powerfully bent – and then leaping into the air. Somehow I knew it had been a powerful leap. But that was all I could remember. Just thinking of that jump into the air filled my body with more energy about my run. My legs were screaming that I should hurry and get out there run that would last as long as the day before. I grabbed my wallet, my keys, and my IPOD and took off. Once outside, I found the playlist that I had entitled “Get Up and Dance.” It was going to be a run fueled by loud party music. As the first song began, I ran south, again, towards the river. Today, though, I turned right at the Thames and pushed off for what I knew would be an easy – but fulfilling – two hour run. This day’s journey took me by great London sights. I passed the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben. Each time my foot hit the pavement and pushed off, I felt a surge of energy in my legs that I had trouble describing. All I knew was that every now and then, when I felt no one was watching, I stopped, crouched down, and leapt into the air. It was a great feeling – as if I could jump much higher than the few feet or so that I actually did. I had another dream flashback during one of my leaps. As I landed I felt disappointed that there were no horses charging at me – to test me – to challenge me – to push me harder toward something. I didn’t know what that something was, but I ran as if I might get there. As I got back to the area of town near my building, two hours later, I decided to try a new street – just so I could learn more of what was around my flat. As I turned onto the street I passed a building with a sign outside that said “Mark’s Body Shop – Personal Training Just for Men.” I slowed to a stop to look in the window of the place. I could see that the fitness studio (as it was called) took up half of the bottom floor of this building. It wasn’t a huge gym, but it looked clean and inviting. It also seemed not too crowded. A sign stood outside that advertised a “half off the regular membership fee” special. This caught my eye. My mind immediately started to question whether spending money on a gym that I’d probably visit twice and then stop was a good idea. But my body was saying something different, and I knew deep inside myself I wouldn’t quit if I joined. I also knew that running was not going to be enough to please the “need to train” that overpowered my body. This thought made me stop. “Who are you Anthony?” I pondered. Who is this person you are becoming and what has caused it? Those thoughts disappeared quickly and were replaced with “Who the hell cares” and “Let’s take full advantage of this incredible desire!” My body said,” go for it, Anthony, push yourself more, prepare yourself more (for what, though), and enjoy this powerful energy pulsing through your body.” That was all the encouragement I needed. I stepped through the front door into a small, “doctor’s waiting room like”, lobby. There was a woman standing behind a long counter at the back of the small room. She greeted me with a smile and said, “May I help you, sir?” “Yes, please,” I said tentatively. “I’d like to become a member.” “Sure,” said Melody (I read her nametag). “Please just fill out these forms and we’ll get you started. You can have a seat right over there,” she said pointing to a sitting area. “It’s going to take about an hour – this first visit – is that okay?” “That’s fine,” I said taking the clipboard holding the forms. “I’m sorry, but are you from the states?” I asked and then added, “It’s the accent.” I suddenly felt more adjusted to London than ever – I was noticing accents, first thing. “Yes, I am,” she said with a face that looked a little disappointed. “But I’m trying hard to develop a British accent – so I’m bummed you noticed.” “Hey, I know what you mean,” I said. “The British accent is so sexy and sophisticated sounding – isn’t it? I have always been a little turned on by it. My name is Anthony and I am from Houston, Texas.” “I’m Melody and I’m from Boise, Idaho. I know what you mean about the accents here. A guy could get me to do anything if he asks for it in a classic British voice,” she agreed laughing. “Yeah, me too!” I said smiling broadly. I could not believe how bold I was getting. A quick flash of comprehension crossed Melody’s face. She didn’t look shocked or anything – she just made a slight adjustment in her thinking. I just loved how England - well London, I guess – was so accepting! “I guess you were able to tell I was from the south by my “twang.” “No, not really. You don’t sound southern,” Melody answered. “Thanks,” I replied. “I take that as a compliment. I’ve worked hard to get rid of my southern accent – but I sure keep it handy because sometimes I know guys find it very sexy.” Melody laughed. Her phone began ringing at that moment. “Just fill out the form and I’m going to assign you to Mark, the owner, himself. I think you’ll be pleased with him,” she said as she picked up the phone. I walked over, sat down, and began to fill out the forms. Everything was pretty standard – when was your last check-up, what is your present exercise routine, do you smoke or drink – the basic stuff. I finished the forms and brought them back to Melody. She was on another call, took the form, and signaled for me to have a seat. After she hung up, I could tell she was reviewing my paperwork. She finally said, “Okay, Anthony, can I get a copy of your U.S. license or passport and the credit card you’ve listed here?” “Sure,” I said handing her my license and credit card. When she handed them back to me she picked up the phone. After dialing an extension she said, “Mark, I have a new client for you – Anthony Lance. All right, I’ll let him know.” She hung up the phone and said, “He’ll be right out.” “Thanks, Melody,” I said. A door to my right opened shortly after that and out stepped one of the most perfectly built men I had ever seen. This guy was not huge – but he was classically packaged. I would say he was about six feet tall – he had sandy brown hair that was cut almost in a buzz style and just oozed manliness. He wore some cotton shorts that did little to hide the muscle grooves along his quads – they were just as pronounced under the cloth as the bare skin. I swear those legs were one of the most beautiful things in the world. He had on a green polo shirt that highlighted his eyes. To say that the shirt hugged his body was an understatement. You could see every chiseled muscle that moved under the stretched material. I know if I had looked close I could have seen pimples on his chest (if they existed) because the shirt was so tight. He looked incredible. Wide shoulders, large biceps, a huge chest, a stomach that was “to die for,” and legs that made me weak at the knees. Well, I thought, Melody was right – I was pleased! I thought about what a friend had once told me – always make sure your trainer looks like he works out. I think this situation went beyond that advice. Mark not only looked like he worked out – he also looked like the one who trained all the other trainers. I knew his body was beyond my most dramatic dreams for myself – but he would certainly make working toward that goal a lot of fun. The only word that could come close to describing him was “yummy.” I knew right then and there that I would commit to, and stick to, a workout routine that would need one-on-one training many times a week. Mark held out his hand and said, “Hello, Anthony.” There it was – the accent that could get me to do anything – just like Melody said. I forced my eyes to move from his extended bicep to his face. I meekly grabbed his hand and said, “Hi.” “Let me lead you to the studio,” he said pointing to the door he had just come through. He had grabbed my paperwork from Melody. He turned from me and walked back to the door. I began to move but immediately stopped when I saw the guy’s ass. Yes, I am an ass man – and Mark’s gorgeous butt matched the rest of him. As Jack McFarland was fond of saying, “You could have bounced a quarter on those cheeks.” Even though I wanted to just stand there and soak in the view I forced my legs to move. By this time Mark had opened the door, turned, and was holding it for me. I made a mental note to force him to show me that one nautilus machine where you lay on your stomach and raise weights with your calves. I had a feeling that when I saw Mark’s ass moving up in the air slightly, as he pulled the weight up with his legs, I would be using my best southern accent to say, “I’m not quite sure I have gotten how this machine works – could you show me that about 100 more times, please, Mark?” Halfway through this initial interview I started drifting off – not listening to what Mark was asking. Instead I was thinking, “Damn, on top of everything he has to be a really nice guy!” If he had been an asshole – or, at least, a guy hung up on himself – it would have made it easy for me to write him off or view him only as a trainer. But, no, he had to be truly interested in helping me and incredibly charming, as well. “Emm, Anthony, are you with me?” Mark was saying. “I was asking if we could get some beginning measurements and other information.” I immediately stopped thinking about my hand sliding down his backside and re-focused. “Why thank you, that would be fine with me if we took your measurements now,” I blurted out – forgetting to filter my thoughts. Sometimes what we think should definitely not make it to our mouth and this was definitely one of those moments. “I’m sorry – I mean it’s fine for you to do me now. Crap, I mean it’s fine for you to measure me now.” It was no use – I had turned every shade of red by this time and was a complete babbling idiot. I simply stood up straight and shut my mouth. It was much safer that way. Mark laughed and pulled a rolled-up measuring tape from his pocket. I immediately started fantasizing about him saying, “Hey, why don’t you pull that tape from my pocket and measure these arms, this chest, these legs. Yeah, just reach in that pocket and pull it out.” I forced my mind to stop and pay attention to Mark as he led me through the measuring process, and then took down my weight and height. He wrote everything on my chart. I’m going to give you a copy of this,” Mark said, “plus some notes on eating and tips for doing some cardio. It says here that you run two hours a day. Wow. That’s pretty impressive.” I was not going to tell this beautiful stud it was a routine that was only two days old. He continued, “Since your goal is to be healthy and only bulk up a little – its fine for you to do that much running.” “That’s good,” I said smiling, “because I really like it.” I was trying to come up with –in my mind - some way to make him take his shirt off. Oh, if only I had a cup of coffee right now. My kingdom for a smoothie that I could “accidentally” spill on him. Then I would be able to say, “Here, let’s get that wet shirt off of you.” Mainly so I could see that perfectly carved upper-body really close. “So you understand what I just said, right Anthony,” Mark was asking. And again I had drifted completely into my own little world. No, I didn’t hear a single word you said because I was imagining my tongue licking every inch of you, is what I wanted to say. Filter your thoughts, Anthony. What we think does not always have to be voiced. I forced myself to say, “I’m sorry, Mark, I went away for a second. I was busy thinking of something else. Please forgive me.” “No problem, mate,” Mark answered. He was just too damn nice! “I said I would like you to take these sheets home with you – and read them over. Place your chart somewhere you’ll see it each day – for encouragement. We can begin on Friday if that’s a good day. I have a ten o’clock available. Does that work for you?” “Yes, that works perfectly. Not too early for you, is it, though,” I asked trying to prolong our time together. “No,” Mark said, lightly laughing. “I start my first client at five.” By the look on my face I knew he got that I would never be coming that early. “Ten is perfect for me. Anthony, feel free to stay and take advantage of any part of the studio you want to. I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Right now, I have another client. Cheers, Anthony.” And with that we shook hands. “Thank you, Mark. This will be great,” I said – not moving. I stood there waiting for him to walk away. I wanted one last view of that incredible ass to keep me going for the rest of the day. Mark didn’t move. He just stared at me. We both became a little uncomfortable. I had become obsessed with seeing his butt – why wasn’t he leaving. “Sorry, Anthony, was there anything more?” he asked. “No, thank you Mark,” I said and then added in my head – not unless you’re going to turn around and drop your pants. “Right, then, well Mr. Adams, behind you, is my next appointment.” I turned and saw the middle-aged man that Mark referred to. I simply smiled at him and nodded my head. I then turned back to Mark, smiled at him, nodded my head again, and turned away. I quickly walked toward the door to the lobby. All I thought was, “Don’t turn around. No matter what you do – don’t turn around. Just keep walking out the door and they’ll forget the idiot that had been standing there. Really, they will.” Once outside I glance down at my copy of the paperwork Mark had given me. I reviewed the measurements first: Chest: 42 inches Waist: 30 inches Calves: 15 inches Arms: 15 inches Thighs: 21 inches Height: 5’ 8’ Weight: 153 pounds Mark had put everything in U.S. terms so I would understand them. The measurements didn’t look impressive, even a novice like me knew that. But I knew I was in good shape. I wasn’t a massive bodybuilder, but I was healthy and, deep down, I knew I was cute in a certain way. I stopped abruptly on the sidewalk as I glanced down at the bottom of the sheet with my measurements. Mark had written across the bottom: “You’re going to be fine. You have people looking out for you.” I almost went back inside to ask him about it – but remembered how I had embarrassed myself. I decided to ask him on Friday. I was already looking forward to seeing him then. I was also starting to get very hungry, so I walked in the direction of my flat – satisfied with m morning. ***** Later that day I went to take a ride on the London Eye. It is a huge Ferris wheel that was built for the new millennium. There are pod-like, plexi-glass compartments that hold about 20 people in each. The wheel turns so slowly that people board by walking into these compartments as each one pass through the station. The full ride around takes about 30-45 minutes and you get an incredible view of the city. It is known as a great way to get your bearings – to see how the city is laid out from an aerial view. It is also a wild feeling to be able to look straight down - as well as straight out - over the city. I could see so much from those heights. I shared the car with a few other people – there were a bunch of college-aged rugby players from somewhere north of the city. They made the ride even more enjoyable. I had to constantly remind myself that I was supposed to be looking at the view outside. I promised that I would someday come back and ride the Eye at night – knowing that the view at that time must be spectacular. Around 3:30pm I found myself back at “Halfway” – so much for trying not to become a permanent fixture in the place. Dominic wasn’t working. There was a guy tending bar who obviously didn’t like striking up conversations with new customers. It was clear that he had a group of local favorites who were hanging out at the end of the bar. It was not often that he would break away from them to help a guy wanting a beer or other drink. I ordered a Stella, of course, and went to sit along the counter under the window. I began watching people hurrying by to get to the tube station right down the block. Charing Cross Station was a big site that was busy all the time, I had been told. Martin said that I could start a trip to practically anywhere in England from there. That was good to know since it was so close. I promised myself to get an annual tube pass tomorrow so I’d start using that mode of transportation more. I had picked up another local gay magazine and was flipping through it when I heard a voice clearly say, “He is the one. He is the one.” I turned around quickly and no one was there. The closest person to me was about six feet away and no one was even looking in my direction. I looked around the place and could not figure out where the voice had come from – but it had been so loud and clear. The music stopped at that moment – transitioning to a new song. I laughed to myself – it had been the song. I was so edgy for some reason. My body felt uncomfortable in some way. I was contemplating this fact when I glanced out the window. There was a crowd passing by right outside at that moment. When they had passed I looked across the street and saw a man’s chest, shoulders, and head high above the crowd on the sidewalk on the other side. My heart seemed to stop. It was Atol - the man who had approached me at the airport on the first day and tried to lure me outside. He was staring right at me from across the street. I immediately felt my body tense and I was thrown back to my dream from the night before – I was not tensed from fear – I was tensed in readiness. My instincts told me not to register recognition or even let him know I had seen him. I looked straight ahead – as if lost in thought – then let my eyes follow a man walking by. After watching the person disappear down the street I casually looked back down at my magazine – but lifted my eyes while my head stayed facing down. There was, again, a big crowd in front of the window and as soon as they passed I could see that Atol was no longer across the street. My heart started beating faster. Had he seen me? Did he know that I came here a lot? Was he following me? I glanced around the pub to see if he had come in – it would have been impossible for him to hide his giant presence. He was not there. There were only 15 to 20 people in the entire place. My body started to relax a little. I glanced back outside and looked across the street. All I saw were people walking down the sidewalk and the construction scaffolding around St. Martin in the Fields. My mind started searching for a reason Atol might have been there. I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence – but it seemed like he had been looking right at me. I was still a little spooked when a hand rested on my shoulder. An American Muscleman in London - Part 8 April 18th, 2007 The First Full Moon – Concludes At the same time as I jumped, I heard Martin’s voice say, “Fancy meeting you here stranger.” I even let out a little scream and when I turned around I could tell that Martin was quite shocked. He said, “I am so sorry, Anthony. I did not mean to frighten you. Please forgive me.” “No, that’s fine, Martin. I’m sorry I jumped. It’s just that I had seen something that put me on edge and I didn’t see you coming,” I explained quickly. “What has put you on edge, my dear boy?” Martin asked. I explained to him the entire episode at the airport with Atol and the fact that I had seen the man again, just now, outside the pub. Martin had a serious look on his face and asked, “And what did this Atol look like, Anthony?” “Like the giant Jack met climbing up the beanstalk,” I said laughing, but noticed that Martin didn’t even smile. “I’m serious, Martin. He was the tallest guy I’ve ever seen. His hands were this big.” And I held up my two hands with a large space in between them - emphasizing the size of Atol’s hands. Martins’ face turned more serious and I could have sworn he said something under his breath that sounded like, “So, they know you are here.” As he whispered this he glanced out the window. “What did you say?” I asked. “Oh, Anthony,” Martin said returning his gaze to me, “I said I could use a beer.” And a smile returned to his face. At that moment a hot guy walked up to us with two beers. Mr. hotness said, “Here you go, Martin,” and handed one beer to my friend. Wow, if just by saying something Martin could get an answer that fast and delivered by someone so cute, I must remember to get him to request a boyfriend for me. “Oh, thank you, my dear,” Martin said. “Anthony, this is my driver and my friend, John. Remember, I told you about him? He’s the one who will be picking you up Thursday evening for my dinner party. John, this is Anthony.” “Cheers, Anthony,” John said extending a hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.” He had a very hearty grip, I noticed, as I shook hands. “Cheers, John,” I said in return. I smiled as I took in John’s appealing looks. He looked to be a couple of years older than me – maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven. He had a jock’s face – the bone structure was very masculine and it was obvious that he had little body fat. He had a high forehead, cheeks slightly sunken and dimpled, and a broad handsome nose. His eyes were dark brown and he had long wavy brown hair. He reminded me of what you might call an “all Englishman Guy” – kind of like the British version of an “All American Guy.” I wonder if such a term existed here? He was taller than me; broad shouldered, and wore a white button-down shirt and khakis. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top and I could see that his chest was covered in a soft dark hair that seemed to automatically invite hands to roam through it. John was the definition of a young furry-bear stud. I was beginning to think that every man I was going to meet in London came from the same muscle stud factory. Everyone I had met, except for Martin, and, I guess you could say, Atol, were so similar. It was like they could all be brothers or something. Martin’s voice caused me to turn from taking in John’s hairy beauty and re-focus. “Anthony was just telling me about a man that approached him at the airport – and seemed dangerous. The same guy appeared across the street this afternoon and it felt like he was looking straight at Anthony through the window. Anthony thinks the guy may be stalking him.” As Martin said this I noticed that he looked at John with a very specific – concerned - look. It was as if they were sending each other a special message. “Right, then,” John said glancing out the window. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Anthony. I’m sure it is just a coincidence. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. The guy probably just happened to be on this side of town and you saw him.” “You are not worried, are you Anthony?” Martin asked. “If you are then maybe we should do something. We might report it to the police or something like that. Shall we?” “No, Martin. I don’t think that is necessary,” I said beginning to see how stupid the whole situation seemed. “It is probably, as John said, just a coincidence. Anyway, if it is more than that, I believe we would need more evidence to take it to the police. I’m not worried – it just freaked me out. Maybe because I am here in London by myself.” “But you are not alone, my boy, you have us!” Martin exclaimed laying his hand on mine. And I did feel more secure knowing I had Martin (and John, I guess) as friends. “Well, then. Here’s to our health.” Martin raised his glass. John and I brought our glasses to his and said, “Cheers,” at the same time. Everyone laughed. Martin continued, “Anthony, I do hope you are planning to stay here this evening for Trivia Quiz Night. John and I would love to have you on our team. You can help us if there are questions about America.” “I don’t know anything about quiz night, Martin,” I said. John replied, “You see, there are teams and they compete against each other in a trivia quiz. The quiz appears up on the screens around the room and teams use remote boxes to answer.” John pointed to screens around the room. “It really is quite fun and people really get into it. People have been coming here forever on Tuesday nights to play.” “It sounds like a blast. I’d love to join you guys,” I said. “Splendid,” Martin said beaming happily. And then he turned to John, “See, did I not tell you Anthony, here, was a lot of fun? And did I not tell you that he is a perfect match for Manfred.” My curiosity was hard to hide. “Now, Martin,” John said, “Stop being a matchmaker. Leave the poor boy alone.” “John, that does not answer my question,” Martin persisted. “Do you not think he would be perfect for our good friend Manfred?” “Yes, I do, but that does not mean we have the right to interfere, Martin,” John said, turning to me and making a face that signified hopelessness. “I am not interfering. I am just assisting. Anthony, we have a dear friend that we think you will adore and vice-versa. As a matter of fact, he will be at my house for dinner on Thursday night – when you come.” And Martin had a look on his face that showed he was quite happy with himself. I didn’t want to seem as desperate as I really was to meet someone that I could potentially date, so I said casually. “Is that right? It would be great to make a new friend. What’s Manfred like?” Martin hardly let me finish before he quickly said, “Anthony, he is wonderful. Just like you. He is handsome, funny, a little on the wild side (I noted that for future questions), and a king of a man!” “Well, that sounds a little too good to be true. I think I’ll get John’s opinion. I believe it might be a little more realistic,” I smiled and turned to John. “Okay, I will share – but let it be known that I was not part of this idea. Seriously, Manfred is a great guy. He grew up in Germany, but his family is from England. They go back here for many years – too many to count. He is more English than me. Apparently, his family is quite wealthy and he is in line to inherit everything. They have a huge estate somewhere in the Cotswold’s. He is an only child – and probably a little spoiled, but he is so cute and fun that you do not notice. He definitely likes guys from the States. I have never met anyone he has dated, so I do not know his exact type. Have you, Martin? Met anyone he has dated?” “Right. Now I get to speak,” Martin said mockingly. “I am only kidding gentleman. No, I have not met anyone Manfred has dated. He is very secretive about his gentleman friends. I do know, however, that he is not seeing anyone at the moment. He told me that a few days ago when we spoke. He is usually quite busy – maybe dating – so I was extremely happy he had Thursday night free. I took the liberty to tell him all about you, Anthony.” That made me a little nervous for some reason. “Well, I look forward to meeting him. It will be great to meet some more people. I’ve already met great friends, though.” I made sure they both knew I meant them. “I look forward to Thursday night.” “Here, here,” Martin said finishing his drink. “Shall we step down the block to get something quick to eat and return in time for Quiz Night?” John and I agreed. The three of us went to a small Thai restaurant near the pub and had a quick dinner. We returned to the pub and I was amazed at how crowded it was. We were able to secure a small table for the three of us and went on to lose every game of trivia we played that night. I was no help at all because I knew nothing about British trivia. I helped on a few questions that involved the United States, but it was not enough to help us win. I had a few too many beers and stumbled back to my flat around 11:30pm. It had been a great night. ***** On Wednesday morning I woke up around eight. I felt slightly hung over, but my body was, again, on fire with energy and power. I went for another long run along the Thames. When I returned to the flat I called my future place of employment to check in. They asked if I might come in for a few hours to take care of paperwork for Human Resources in advance. Since I had no plans for the day (except to get a Tube pass), I agreed. That afternoon, around one, I went to my future office. It was a large building near the British Museum. It was in a beautiful neighborhood that made you believe all the buildings were homes – and not offices. I even walked by the place that Virginia Woolf lived for a while. There was a plaque commemorating the place. At the office, I only met one of the consultants for our Human Resources department. I took care of a lot of paperwork and then left. I looked forward to starting work, but I was also having a lot of fun getting to know the city. Work could wait, I thought. I walked over to the British Museum and spent a few hours skimming through the place. I knew right away that a person could spend every day for a year in the exhibits and not see everything. I would be returning here many times. I was drawn to some areas that spoke of England in the time of knights and crusades. I guess it was my love of Camelot that drew me to these areas. After a while, everything started running together in my mind and I took that as the time for me to leave. I stopped by a little place near my flat for tea and scones. I knew that I was going to fall in love with the habit of “afternoon tea.” It sounded sophisticated and was a great way to take a break in the middle of your day. As I was having tea, storm clouds began to gather and, for the first time since I had arrived, it rained in London. I took my time – waiting to see if the rain would stop. When I could tell there was no let-up in sight, I started for home – trying to run from overhang to overhang or canopy to canopy on the outside of buildings. My best efforts did not prevent me from getting pretty soaked. I dashed into the Charing Cross Tube Station and bought my annual rail pass. This was going to be great. I would be able to take the Tube any time I wanted and save a lot of money. The rain was coming down pretty hard when I arrived at my building. I knew this would be a night at home. I wanted to get some dry clothes on, eat a little dinner, and curl up reading a book or watching television. I also wanted the dinner party at Martin’s place to arrive quickly. I was so excited about two things – seeing a new part of London (as well as Martin’s flat) and meeting Manfred. In spite of my best efforts at not getting my hopes up, I had started daydreaming of what a relationship with him would be like. And I hadn’t even met the man. How crazy was that! Sitting on my sofa watching television proved to be just what I needed that night. I was relaxed and beginning to feel as if the place were truly my home. My attention left the television at one point and landed on Lancelot’s glove above my fireplace. I got up and went to bring it back to where I was sitting. I began to look at it closer and noticed that there were many scratches and dents in the armor. It was easy to fantasize that they had come from battles and doing great deeds. I was moving different parts of the glove when something I did made a little compartment in the back of the glove to open up. It was a small secret hiding place. How neat, I thought immediately – then I noticed a small piece of paper stuffed into the compartment. I pulled it out slowly. The paper was obviously pretty old and a little delicate. I unfolded the sheet and saw, hand written, the following: “dehs aelnus rewopthgin dimno omllufer aweb” It seemed to be just gibberish. Or maybe it was some ancient English script. Who knew? I thought I might take it to the British Museum with me one day to see if I could find out what it meant. I was actually amazed to see that the paper was not as fragile as I had thought at first and maybe not as old. I put the glove back and took the paper with me as I began to prepare for sleep. I kept glancing at the sheet thinking I would be able to figure out what it said. I decided to put it at the corner of my mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink in my bathroom. I could slide it down into the metal rim around the mirror and keep it secure. This way, I could look at it each day and see if I could crack the code – my mind had already made this into a game or some sort of intrigue that I was going to solve. I glanced at it one last time, thought to myself it might only be letters that mean nothing, turned out the light and went to sleep. ***** I woke up early on Thursday morning. Light was just starting to appear outside. I was, again, fully alert and full of energy. The drive and power in me seemed to be more today than ever. I am sure it was because I had gotten a great night’s sleep and didn’t fill myself up with Stella Artois. I decided to go for my run even though it was very early. I contemplated going to Mark’s Body Shop and using the treadmill – and, of course, hoping to get a glimpse of him (and his cute ass) – but decided that I really loved running outside. It was such a great way to get to know the city. I decided to go and run through Hyde Park. By the time I made it to the park the sun would be fully up and I would feel safe – even with it being so early. When I made it to the park I was amazed at the number of runners who chose the same place. There were many people exercising in the park. I should have guessed that would be the case. I chose carefully which route I would run so I would be able to retrace my steps easily. I did not want to get lost in the middle of the park. I think it would be quite simple to find your way out, but my ignorance of the city might make it hard for me to determine where I was when I stepped back into a neighborhood. I was near the stream that runs through the park when I heard a voice, again, say, “He is the one. He is the one.” It was loud and clear – just as it had been in the pub. I stopped and looked around. There was no one near me. I saw a couple running along the path but they were about fifty feet behind me. Suddenly, my body began to get uneasy as it had in the pub on Tuesday. It was the same feeling I had right before I saw Atol. I instinctively went into a crouching, “ready-for-action,” stance. I immediately recognized the move from my dream a few nights back. I listened closely and heard footsteps coming towards me around a large group of bushes along the path. Someone was about to step onto the path. I was prepared. Right then a man stepped onto the path from a gap in the bushes with a rolled up blanket, a battered bag over his shoulder and a boom box under his arms. My body immediately relaxed and I stood up – not wanting the man to be alarmed by my stance. Music began to play from the box under his arms. It was a song with a driving dance beat. There was a voice rapping over the beat. The guy would not look at me and just walked by. He was obviously embarrassed that he had been seen coming from the place where he slept. I laughed to myself because a song had again, fooled me. The voice I had heard was obviously the singer (if you could call it singing) in the song. I made a note to ask John and Martin if they knew a song called “He is the one.” As I began to run again I got an intense feeling that someone was still watching me. I forced myself to push the thought from my mind and at that moment the couple had caught up with me - so I let them pass. I was, somehow, more comfortable running near them. At the mid-point of my run I finally turned around and headed for home. I spent most of the rest of that day shopping. I had not forgotten what Martin had said about my clothes the first time we had met in the pub. I had vowed that day that I would buy some clothes in London – especially some clothes for work. I noticed men clothing in the pub who were stopping by on their way home from work. Most businessmen wore shirts with cufflinks. It seemed to be the fad in London – or maybe it had always been that way. I also noticed that dress shirts tended to be a little more colorful than they were in Houston and stripes were certainly the “in thing” this year. I went to the area of town that was known for buying men’s shirts – Jermyn Street. I could see why – the clothes were fantastic, but the prices were too. I bought a couple of shirts and ties. I then went to a store on the way home for some shorts. I wanted to have the appropriate length – so I might look like I was from London. I decided to wear one of my new shirts to Martin’s place that night. When I returned home it was around three. I decided to have a quick pint or two at “Halfway” and then come back to my flat to get ready for the dinner party. I found Dominic at work behind the bar when I arrived at the pub. We chatted a little, I had a beer, and then I left to prepare for the evening. John arrived at my flat promptly at seven. I grabbed my backpack after he buzzed and met him downstairs. As we drove towards Hampstead he pointed out different parts of the city that might interest me. It reminded me of the first day I arrived and I rode with Mark from the airport. Mark did the same thing. I marveled at how much Mark and John reminded me a lot of each other. Upon entering the area called Hampstead I could immediately tell that it was a beautiful part of London – and an area where there were people with a lot of money. There were some great houses and some fantastic apartment buildings in this area. We turned up a beautiful street that had trees reaching across the road to make a canopy. Halfway up the street John turned into the driveway of a huge building sitting far off the road. It was a great building that seemed to have a lot of room for many flats. I tried to guess which set of windows were Martin’s flat. “How many flats are in Martin’s building, John?” I asked turning to him. “Oh, this is a house, Anthony. It is Martin’s house,” he replied stopping the car in the driveway. “What?” I asked. “This huge place is one house?” “I am afraid so. You see, Anthony, Martin is quite wealthy.” And with that John opened his door and stepped out of the car. As I stepped out of the car I was overwhelmed at the beautiful gothic architecture of the place. No, it wasn’t exactly gothic – it was more like a medieval castle – yes, I landed on the word – it was like a castle. There were many towers and what looked like a beautiful courtyard in the back - that was surrounded on three sides by the house. I’m sure we didn’t drive around to the back because Martin wanted me to experience entering his home through the front door. And at that moment the huge front doors opened and out stepped the host, himself. “Anthony, dear,” he said loudly, “Welcome to mi casa!” “And what a casa it is, Martin,” I said smiling at him. “It is beautiful.” When I was a few feet in front of Martin he stepped forward and threw his arms around me in a big hug. I was caught off guard by this unusual display of affection – I knew it wasn’t exactly the British way. “I am so glad you are finally here, Anthony,” Martin said squeezing me tightly. “I never thought this day would come.” It seemed that Martin might burst into tears. I was taken aback, a little. “Well, Martin, it’s only been since Monday that you invited me. Not that long, really. There’s no need to make it a bigger deal than it is,” I added jokingly. And Martin continued to hold me in a tight hug. It was almost long enough to make me uncomfortable, but then he let go, stepped back, and said, “Do come inside Anthony, do come inside.” I stepped into the house and was immediately in awe of the foyer. It was simply astounding. There was a huge staircase straight ahead from the door that went half way up to a large landing. From that landing two staircases went to the second floor – one to the right and one to the left. There was a balcony that wrapped around the room on either side from the second floor and I could tell the house went on forever in both directions. There was obviously a east and west wing to the house. In the middle of the landing was a picture that stood at least fifteen feet high and ten feet wide. It was an incredible portrait of two knights – each sitting on horseback beside each other. It was a full-length view of both men, both horses, and a beautiful castle in the background. The knights were not in armor, but appeared in what looked like royal garments. I was quickly drawn to the faces of the two young men. They were simply beautiful. One looked very familiar. I was thinking I really knew the face and then it hit like a ton of bricks – It looked a little like me. I could see some of the same facial features in the face of the knight that I saw every time I looked in a mirror. My features were not as striking as the knight’s and I realized that was mainly because of the bigger build on the guy. Since the guy was obviously more muscular than me - it impacted what the face looked like. I would have described it as a “muscled-up Anthony.” It was unbelievable. And the other face was stunning. There was no other way to describe the second rider. He seemed almost two beautiful to be a man. Although the second rider was smaller than the first you could still see that he was also well built. Even in the royal outfit he was wearing you could tell. A crown sat on top of the second rider’s head. “Ah, I see you are admiring Arthur and Lancelot.” Martin said looking from me to the painting. “It is an incredible painting Martin. I hope you two don’t think this strange or stupid,” I said looking first at Martin and then at John, “but the guy on the right reminds me of myself a little. I’m not that handsome or built but it seems we have some of the same facial features.” Martin and John looked at each other quickly and then looked at the picture. “Yes, I can see that – a little,” Martin said. “That is very odd.” “Now that you mention it, Anthony, I see it, too,” John added in agreement. “Well come meet the gang and get yourself a drink. Red or white wine, Anthony?” Martin asked as he led me into a large room to the left. The room must have been what people call a sitting room or parlor. It was huge, full of books, decorated with large tapestries, had very little - but large furniture, and many elaborate decorations. This was obviously a room that was used for entertaining. There was a large fireplace in the center of the far wall. Around the burning fire sat a small group of people. I saw a guy standing next to the fireplace, two people sitting on a large sofa directly across from the fire, and an arm and legs sticking out from a large wing back chair facing the fire. There was another wing back chair on the other side of the sofa. This must have been where Martin was sitting. I quickly glanced at the tapestries as we walked toward the group. They all had artwork depicting knights in battles. They were amazing. The room was a little dark so I could not see all the details in the artwork. “Gentleman, let me introduce you to my new best “old” friend, Anthony,” Martin said as he grabbed me by the arm and let me to the area where they were sitting. The three men sitting immediately stood up and the guy leaning against the mantle above the fireplace straightened up. I wanted to acknowledge each person, but as soon as I saw the guy that had been sitting in the chair, with his back towards me, I became lost in his beauty. Nothing else in the room mattered. Nothing else in the room moved. I could only hear my heart pumping blood through my body at a quickened pace. I, at once, knew he was Manfred – Martin’s friend. I was as sure of this as I was sure of recognizing my own face in a mirror. He had piercing sky-blue eyes that sparkled even through his delicate wire-rimmed glasses. He had light brown hair that seemed both perfectly styled and casually tossed at the same time. It was a little longer than what I thought the style was – but then this was a man that probably set styles. He was a few inches taller than me – of a slight, athletic build – and when he smiled I felt something akin to a tidal wave hitting me. There was a moment when our eyes met and I knew the same wave hit him. I saw the sparkle in his eyes turn into a deep recognition that neither of us would ever be able to name or describe. At this point Martin was introducing me to the couple that had been sitting on the sofa, “This is Todd and Robert.” “Hello Anthony,” said Robert. “It is nice to meet you Anthony,” added Todd. They were a nice looking couple about the same age as Martin. As with Martin, it was hard to gauge just how old they were. “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine,” I replied. “And this is Roger – our favorite bad boy,” Martin said, referring to the gentleman beside the fire. There was obviously an inside joke being brought up. “Ignore the old man, Anthony,” Roger said holding out his hand, “He only says that because he’s too ancient to get into trouble himself, poor chap. Welcome to London.” Roger shook my hand and seemed to hold it a little too long – as if trying to sense something from me. I was too busy anticipating the next introduction to think about it. “And before Martin goes on and on about me – let me introduce myself,” spoke the beauty of a man on my left. I turned and he was smiling that intoxicating smile I had already memorized. “I’m Manfred. It is great to finally meet you, Anthony. Martin has told me a lot about you. He practically has set it up that we are to be best friends no matter what.” When I took Manfred’s hand there was electricity that passed from each of us to the other. It wasn’t painful, but it was very noticeable. Our handshake ended quickly because the feeling surprised both of us. How could there be static electricity in this room, I wondered. “And he has told me a lot about you, Manfred. It’s great to meet you.” I smiled and then forced myself to turn back to everyone else – even though every fiber of my body wanted to stare at this man. I saw that Martin was looking at us – and he had that far away look in his eyes I sometimes noticed. It was the first time it crossed my mind that Martin might be getting senile. That sad thought made me stop for a moment. Martin obviously noted the change in my face and said, “You must have a drink Anthony. How about a glass of red wine?” “That would be great,” I said and noticed John pouring two glasses at a table behind the sofa. “Sit here, Anthony,” Todd suggested scooting closer to Robert on the sofa and pointing to the space nearest the chair that Manfred had returned to. You did not have to ask me twice – hell, I probably would have shoved them over if they hadn’t offered. John handed me a glass of wine. “Thanks, John,” I said as he went over and stood beside Martin, who had returned to the other chair. Martin lifted his glass saying, “Well, gentleman, let us drink to old and new friends. Let us also drink to rekindling friendships of long ago.” I believe everyone was as confused by the toast as I was, but we all raised our glasses and said things like, “Here, here.” I turned and saw that Manfred was looking right at me. He brought his glass towards me and I brought mine to meet his. The ringing of our glasses as they touched seemed to linger in the room for a long time. The sound reminded me of how I was glued to his eyes as we toasted. I could not explain anything. All I could tell you was that this man stirred something at the bottom of my soul. He obviously had a hold on me that was greater than anything I had ever felt before. It was much deeper than the love I had for any friend – and any family member. I know it made no sense at all – especially because I had just met him, but something was very different in me because I knew him. What was causing this? Maybe it was just an intensified lust since Martin had suggested we might get together (and it had been a while since I was with anyone). I didn’t think so, though. It was stronger than lust. I finally just let go. I stopped trying to analyze it. I stopped worrying about being someone that had to impress Manfred – and decided to just be myself. Somehow that decision brought me much peace. I fell into the evening – and let myself be open to possibility. It seemed like the best decision I have ever made in my life. When we moved to the huge dining room that was back through the foyer and down a hallway to the left of the staircase, I was ecstatic to find out Martin had placed me beside Manfred. John sat on the other side of me and I picked up immediately that it was planned this way so I wouldn’t feel bad about spending most of the time talking to Manfred. It was obvious that John did not mind. During the meal no one else existed on the planet – except Manfred. And I got the distinct notion that he felt the same way. It was almost as if everyone at the table left us to ourselves – like there was some secret agreement that we should have our time together. Every now and then I’d look to the head of the table and catch Martin smiling at us – as if he knew this magic between us would happen. That Martin, he is such a character! If he did know that we’d connect this way then he must be some kind of wizard. Manfred was amazing. He had traveled the world. He was so cultured and educated. I did, however, make fun of the fact that he had never been to Texas – even though he had been to the states many times. He asked me if it was true that all things were bigger in Texas and I teasingly told him I would have to take him there so he could find out. The evening was magical. He laughed at my jokes – and I laughed at his. We had so much in common. He even shared my infatuation with the legend of Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. He admitted to collecting memorabilia, as well. He was very fond of King Arthur mostly – and seemed curious about my special connection to Lancelot. It was the easiest conversation I have ever been involved in – in my entire life. It seemed that there was an arc of energy between us that surrounded our bodies completely and molded us into one. I knew half way through the meal that I had fallen head-over-heels in love with him. Even with so little time together. It was insane. Through the rest of the meal this bond I felt moved beyond love – to a connection I had never felt before. It was something that involved every fiber of my body. Manfred seemed to make me whole – he seemed to finish the life I had begun. I saw myself with him – in a way that went beyond mere relationships. I was scared I was beginning to sound like a stalker. I knew it sounded like I had lost all sense of reality. But I was more grounded than ever in my life. I longed to make sure he was happy - even above my own happiness. I knew I would have given my life for him if the need had arisen. The group moved back to the large living room after dinner. There was port served for everyone and I began to feel the effects of all the alcohol consumed. I was also intoxicated by the presence of Manfred. We sat on the couch together when after moving back in front of the fireplace. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, as well. Everyone was laughing and soaking up the wonderful feelings caused by the evening. It was simply a perfect night – unforgettable. At around 11:00pm people started to leave. Todd and Robert were first and as they began to exit, Roger asked for a ride home. The look on everyone’s face told me this was a common experience. Manfred and I stood to say goodnight to the three men. It was obvious that both he and I were going to stay a little longer. After we said goodnight, we sat back down. John excused himself to go help the caterers in the kitchen and Martin said he was going to walk the other three to their car. My heart jumped at the thought that Manfred and I would finally be alone. After people left the room, Manfred and I sat in silence – watching the fire. It was not an awkward moment – it was just a chance for us to let the evening catch up with our momentum – the lightning pace we had been going. I finally said, “This evening has been incredible, Manfred.” I did not dare turn to him. I was too nervous about my feelings. I kept looking at the fire. “Yes, it certainly has been,” Manfred said staring at the fire, as well. “I hope you don’t think I’m too forward, but I’d really like to see you again, Manfred. To spend more time getting to know you,” I said hesitantly, but boldly. “I was hoping we could date.” There was a long pause that made me very uncomfortable. When Manfred finally spoke I knew it would not be good news. My head was beginning to become very cloudy. “Anthony, I think you are an incredible guy. Really. This evening has been so much fun – so wonderful. And I know I have met a life-long friend.” There it was. That word. A word that could bring so much joy into most people’s lives – but at this particular moment the word “friend” made my whole world crumble away. I am sure the sound of my heart breaking filled the entire room. Manfred continued, “You see, Anthony, I think you are great, but I am drawn to a certain kind of man. I have very specific tastes. I have always had a certain “type” and I know I always will. The good thing is that knowing myself so well helps me to be very honest with people – but the bad part is that usually my honesty hurts some people. You are stellar, Anthony, and any man would be very lucky to be with you. Really. It is just that I am drawn to guys bigger than me – and guys who have huge muscles. I guess you could say I am really into bodybuilders. I am into guys who have massive bodies. I am not sure what all of this means – I mean I have never discussed it with a therapist, but I know that I cannot be happy unless the guy I am dating is huge. It says nothing about you, Anthony, because I believe you are a great guy. I just know that it would be unfair for me to even pursue a relationship with you. It would not be honest of me.” I could not think straight. I was trying not to let tears begin to fall. I was also trying not to be angry. I was trying desperately not to lash out and say mean things in response – because I was thinking of many evil things I wanted to say. I just stared at the flames of the fire and searched my whole being for the strength to respond. I could sense that Manfred was looking at me. I turned to face him after a few seconds. I tried my best to smile. I am not sure it was very convincing. I finally spoke, “Thank you for being so honest, Manfred. You are right to tell me. It is better this way. I now know where you stand. And, yes, it would be great to be friends.” As soon as I said the word I heard my voice crack. I refused to cry. I will not cry, I said to myself. I continued, “We have so much in common. It would seem useless to not build on those common interests.” I could tell by looking at his face that he was deeply sorry this was so hard for me. That did not make it easier for me to take. I knew I needed to leave soon or I would break down. I had hoped for too much during this evening. I had painted myself into a corner – and now I was trapped. “Well, I really should be going,” I said trying to sound nonchalant. I stood up. “This has been a lovely evening.” “No, Anthony, please stay. Let’s talk some more. I am very sorry to have hurt you,” Manfred said and I knew he meant it. It just did not help me to feel better. “No, that’s fine. I mean - I’m fine. Not to worry, Manfred. You were right to be so honest and straightforward. I just have an early session with my trainer tomorrow, that’s all.” I wanted to move to the doorway. “I look forward to the next time I get to see you, Manfred,” I said holding out my hand. Manfred took it and there was a jolt of energy again. Manfred held on tightly this time. I finally pulled my hand free and said, “You have a great rest of the week, Manfred, and a great weekend. It was super meeting you.” I turned and left the room quickly. “I’ll get your number from Martin and call you,” Manfred said as I left the room. I didn’t respond. I knew I needed to leave as soon as possible. I was so afraid of crying. I bumped into Martin in the foyer. It felt as if he had been standing there for a while. He saw the backpack in my hand and the distressed look on my face. “Anthony, what is wrong? You are not leaving are you?” he asked. “I’m afraid so Martin. I need to meet my trainer tomorrow morning – so I need a good night’s sleep. I need to be ready for a good work out.” I answered. “Yes, but Anthony it’s not even midnight. We still have about twenty-five minutes,” he said looking at his watch. In my head I screamed, “Who the hell cares about midnight.” But all I said to Martin was, “Thank you for a lovely evening, Martin. I really must go – right now.” “Well, let me get John to drive you home,” replied Martin moving toward the kitchen. “No, thanks Martin. I saw the Tube station at the end of your street. The walk will do me good. I’ll talk to you this weekend. Tell John I said goodnight. Thanks, again, for a great evening.” And with that I was out the door and five minutes later I was using my Tube pass for the first time. As I had left the house I heard Martin ask Manfred, “What did you do?” I did not wait around to hear Manfred’s answer. ***** Once I was sitting on the Tube heading towards home I pulled my IPOD from my backpack. I was so distressed I was looking for anything to do that would keep my mind from thinking about Manfred. I put the headphones on and found the playlist entitled “Time to Be Sad.” I started this list of songs. The first one to come on was from the musical Les Miserables. It was the song “I Dreamed a Dream.” This is the one that Fantine sings near the beginning of the show. The song begins: “There was a time when men were kind, When their voices were soft, And their words inviting. There was a time when love was blind, And the world was a song, And the song was exciting. There was a time… When it all went wrong.” As the last line of this part was sung a tear hit the screen of the IPOD. I could no longer hold it back. I knew there was no logic in my crying – but I also somehow knew that wrapped up in this sadness was so much more than just what had happened in the evening. Not only the painful rejection of Manfred, but I was crying because of the struggle caused from being so far from home, the hardship created by not having any close friends or family, but mostly the disappointment of not being more of the person I wanted to be – that I dreamed of being. More specifically, the pain of not being the person that Manfred wanted. I was so incredibly sad that I wasn’t more muscular – that I wasn’t, what word did he use, oh, yes, massive. Why couldn’t I be massive? If I had been bigger I would have been at Manfred’s place at that moment – kissing those lips that made me so crazy, holding that body which excited me so, and being with the man that seemed to be my soul mate. How could I be so stupid? How could I act so childish? This was just an infatuation. Let it go, Anthony, let it go. He is not the one for you. You deserve someone who wants you – just the way you are. Your desires have taken over you logic. I told myself that I wanted a boyfriend so much that I put all of my eggs in this one basket. Let it go, I said to myself again. There are others – many others out there waiting to meet you, Anthony. I began to notice that the Tube was getting unbearably hot. I glanced at the people right beside me to see if they were uncomfortable, but they seemed fine. It was probably because I was a tourist and they were used to it. It was really stifling, though. I unbuttoned my shirt a little. I closed my eyes and my thoughts returned to Manfred. Even with knowing this feeling was illogical, I know I had connected with Manfred in a way I had never experienced before. He had everything I dreamed of in a partner – humor, kindness, beauty (of the heart and body), and interests similar to mine. I knew our connection was deep. I also knew he had felt it, too. Well, he didn’t know what he was missing, I told myself. That’s right. His desire for some “massive” bodybuilder caused him to miss out on the catch of a lifetime – and that person was me. So be it, Manfred. So be it. You made the decision to pass up on this great guy. I was starting to feel better, but the car I was riding in was unbearably hot. I looked up and the windows were wide open. I was even starting to sweat profusely, but no one around me seemed bothered in the same way. I looked around the rest of the car to see if anyone else was as disturbed as I was. We were at a station that was a few stops before where I would get off. I had the map lying in my lap. As the car began again I looked forward in the car and my earlier sadness evaporated in a heartbeat and was replaced by a quickened pulse. Sitting at the other end of the car – staring right at me – was Atol. There were maybe twenty-five other people sitting in the car around him – but his size made him stick out unbelievably. This time he knew I noticed him. His glare did not change. He just sat there watching me. I was finding it harder to sit there because of the heat I was experiencing, but my fear of this man made me forget everything else. I started quickly thinking of something to do. My instincts told me he would do nothing to me with so many people in the car. I hoped my instincts were right. I kept staring at him and it seemed that neither of us even blinked. I started formulating a plan. I didn’t know the Tube system very well, but I thought my plan was my only hope. The car was moving quickly into the next stop at that moment. I was sitting near the back door – the door that led to the next car. When the car came to a complete stop my luck got better because a large group of rowdy teenagers entered into our car. When the car stopped I paid special attention to how everything worked. The doors closed and we started traveling to the next station. My entire body was ready for this challenge – the experience that lay ahead of me. Even with so much alcohol in me I was able to think clearly and let my “energy rush” guide me. At the next stop I waited until a few seconds before I thought the doors would begin to close. My body somehow knew the exact moment to move. I jumped up and went through the door to the next car. I glanced back and saw that Atol stood and was trying to follow me – but the group of teenagers was in the way. He started shoving them to the side. At the last second I jumped to the platform. I moved so quickly that the doors did not register my body and closed. Atol did not have time to exit his car. I glanced at him and could tell that he was very angry. At that moment the heat that had been bothering me in the car became intensified. I was having trouble breathing. I watched the train pull away and I knew Atol would exit at the next station; which was not far away. I needed to get home. I quickly exited the station and immediately knew I was in trouble. I had no idea where I was. My body was on fire and I began to think I was either having an allergic reaction to the fish I had eaten for dinner or a severe case of food poisoning was hitting me. My instinct told me it was something more than either of those. I was in such a daze that I started just going down streets randomly. I figured that if I were lost then it would certainly be harder for Atol to find me. I had to stop twice because I was having such a hard time breathing. It seemed as if I could not get any air to my lungs. I began to fear that I was having a heart attack. I was on a street that was deserted. I had to stop at one moment because I was in so much pain. I had to bend over on the side of the road propping myself up against the wall with my hands. My stomach was in so much pain – no, not my stomach, it was my entire body. I suddenly heard footsteps down the street. They seemed to be coming my way in a hurry. I looked up and could barely see a figure coming in my direction. The pain in my body was clouding my vision and my thinking. My senses told me it might be danger. I forced my body to move forward in spite of the pain. There was an alley further down the road. I turned right and moved down the alley – noticing that the only light came from the full moon. The overhand of the building I was next to prevented the moonlight from filling the entire space of the alley. If I stood up against the wall I was completely hidden. I finally had to just stop. The pain that as coursing through my body was too much. I was hoping I could just vomit and be over whatever sickness this was – but I noticed my stomach didn’t feel upset in that way. The footsteps passed the alley way and kept going. In the distance I heard a clock tower striking midnight. As the clock struck the twelfth time my body began to rock with violent convulsions. It was again hard for me to stay standing so I placed both hands on the wall for balance. It felt as if something inside of me was trying to get out. Something was trying to escape my body at every part of my skin. I slowly began to notice that the pain inside of me was actually like a force. There was a force taking over me and it was causing me to change in some way. I watched my hands on the wall as they started to freakishly pulse. It was like some virus was causing my skin to bubble or become deformed. I could feel my fingers being spread further apart from each other on the wall. My whole body felt like it was expanding to welcome some foreign being into me. It was this incredible feeling of stretching. Suddenly a bright light surrounded me. It was streaming down from the sky. It seemed as if a moonbeam had singled me out and was causing this change in me. Once the light hit me the force inside me intensified tenfold. I could feel this incredible power, even in the midst of the pain, flooding into my body. Suddenly a jolt beyond explanation forced me away from the wall and caused my back to bend unbearably. My chest was forced forward and upward. It seemed as if my chest was trying to reach for the moon. I was pulled to the tips of my toes by the power. My body seemed to be getting a surge of energy from the moon – becoming part of the incredible force that the moon had on the earth. I was completely under its control. I was unable to move and the pain was incredible. It felt as if my back might break. Suddenly another bolt of energy hit me and I was forced over onto my knees. And then it was all over. The inhuman cry that had come from my mouth was still echoing in the alley. I was drained of all energy. I could not get my thoughts to focus on anything. I was trying hard not to lose consciousness. At that moment I heard the footsteps returning. The person was in the alley. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. I felt as if I had no life remaining in my body. Suddenly two arms grabbed me and lifted me off the ground. A car came up the alley slowly at the same time. It stopped beside me, but I couldn’t focus long enough to register anything about the car. I heard voices. The first one seemed so familiar but I couldn’t place it. The second voice was definitely Martin. I suddenly gave completely into the arms holding me. I felt safer. It was Martin, my friend. I heard the other voice again and it hit me that it was Luke – the football player from the plane – Gaston. The big guy from the plane was helping me into Martin’s car. What was Luke doing in London – why I was able to even formulate this question was unfathomable. As I was placed into the seat beside Martin I heard Luke say, “Then it is true. He is the one.” Then I heard Martin say, “Yes, he is the one. Let’s go now. We need to get him home quickly. The change has already begun. We also need to make sure he remembers nothing after the party.” And then the darkness of sleep overcame me. [End of Chapter One] An American Muscleman in London - Part 9 April 22nd, 2007 The Second Full Moon First I noticed my cell phone was ringing. Then I noticed that I ached all over. But it wasn’t a hangover – my head didn’t hurt. My body hurt – everywhere. I didn’t think it was the flu, though – it didn’t feel as if I had a fever. The soreness of the running finally catching up with me, I guessed. The phone was still ringing. I turned my head and found my cell phone resting on the table beside my bed. “Hello,” I said sounding very sleepy and a little sick. “Anthony, dear. How are you this morning?” came Martin’s chipper voice. “I’m okay. I guess. I feel very sore all over. I might have exercised a little too much the last few days. Since I don’t do it very often, I really don’t know,” I said more to myself than to Martin. Then a thought hit me and I said, “Martin, how did I get home? I don’t remember coming home. I guess I was a lot more drunk than I thought. I blame the port we had at the end of the night.” “Not to worry, Anthony, John drove you home and made sure you were tucked into bed safely. So you’re a little sore, are you? Anything else new?” he asked – and I was too confused to see what an odd question it was. “No, nothing more to report, Martin. Thanks for checking on me. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself. Tell John I said thank you.” It was then that the memory of my last exchange with Manfred came rushing back into my thoughts. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I added softly. “What was that, Anthony? What did you say?” Martin asked quickly. “Oh nothing, Martin. A memory of the evening came flooding back. I did kind of make a fool of myself!” I said before I could filter my thoughts. “If you are referring to your conversation with Manfred in the living room – do not think twice about it. Manfred was dreadful to you, Anthony. Do not worry your pretty little head about that right now. We will straighten all that out at a later date. Manfred will certainly wise up in the near future – trust me. Well, I am very glad that you are doing well. I will check in with you again this afternoon – just to make sure that you are feeling supported in all the changes,” Martin said and sounded more cryptic than before. I was too distracted to question or argue. Why did my body ache so much? “Okay, Martin. I’ll talk to you later. Bye,” I said hanging up the phone. “Well make sure you get up and do some exercising today. Remember your trainer…” Martin was saying as I pushed my cell phone shut and hung up. I realized that my body did not ache as much as it did at first. I moved my legs around and my arms. I realized that movement helped. I started to get up, but my stomach is where the pain was the greatest. It felt like someone had twisted my guts like a wet towel and was trying to wring them out – and not giving up at all. As I swung my legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed I realized there was another feeling hidden deep below the pain. I felt something new. I couldn’t describe it. I wondered if it was what someone felt like after an intense work out. Yes, that was it. I felt satisfied – I felt like I could enjoy the soreness because it was caused heavy exercise. It was a deep feeling of being… oh what word would be best to describe it? I struggled and then the word jumped into my head. I felt pumped. I had read enough bodybuilding magazines – yes, read them and looked at all the pictures – to know that a pumped feeling was good. It was great, even. It is what you wanted after a great workout. I began to acknowledge the soreness in a different way. It was like a trophy. It was something that most guys sought – well those who worked out! I started moving parts of my body to highlight the soreness – to show that this part of my body had been affected by . . . By what? I had not worked out, but I knew that this is what it would feel like if I had. I rolled my shoulders. I lifted my arms up and down. I moved my torso to the right and then to the left. I tensed my leg muscles and then released them. Yes, I was sore from some kind of exercise. It couldn’t be the running – could it? How does that work out the upper body so much? I stood up and the pain in my legs was great, but it also felt good in some way. Once again I began to contemplate the idea that I was somehow becoming a jock. What was that all about? I was sore in muscles I didn’t even know I had. I’m sure I was feeling muscles that I couldn’t even name! But it all felt great in some strange way. I looked at the clock and noticed it was 9:30am. I was supposed to be at the gym in thirty minutes to meet with Mark. The vision of Mark’s body and his incredible ass crossed my mind. That was enough to move me to action. I decided to not shower – why? I was going to the gym. I moved stiffly to the bathroom and began to brush my teeth. Staring at me from the corner of my mirror was that blasted piece of paper from Lancelot’s glove with its mysterious language. As I brushed my teeth and combed my hair I stared at the piece of paper trying to make sense of each group of letters. No matter what I did you could not make sense of the groupings. I forgot about the soreness for a while, though. I moved back into the bedroom and pulled my favorite running t-shirt from the chair in the corner. I had washed it with the sheets the other day – after my unexpected wet dream. It was a gray t-shirt with a picture of Spongebob on it. My nephew had given it to me for my birthday so it had a special place in my heart. I pulled it over my head. “Shit!” I said out loud. It had shrunk in the wash. That damn London washing machine. Or was it the detergent I had bought? Whatever it was the shirt was too small now. It didn’t even cover my entire stomach. It felt like it was one size too small. It had always been a little small but now it was extremely tight – around the neck, at the arms and especially in the chest area. “Dammit,” I said out loud as I took off the shirt. I really liked that shirt. I opened a drawer and pulled out a large tank top. I almost never wore this shirt – but something told me to grab it today. I pulled it on and it felt good. I liked how it allowed my sore arms to be free. Or was it something more? I suddenly reminded myself that I needed to get going. I pulled on some underwear (noticed that they were a little tight around the legs – were these the ones I washed?) and some cotton shorts. I pulled on some white athletic socks and then sat down to pull on my tennis shoes. I was still noticing my soreness, but it was getting much better – the more I moved. I knew, instinctively this is what bodybuilders felt like the day after heavy lifting. I felt so happy with myself. It was stupid, since I hadn’t worked out – ever, but I still felt good about myself and I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. I was focused on all things good - except for the thought that was crawling into my head as I crammed my right foot into my tennis shoe. I say crammed – because my toes were jammed into the front part of my shoe. I tried to adjust my foot and then even checked inside the shoe to make sure there was nothing crammed into the shoe – and old sock maybe? Nope – it was empty. “How did my shoes shrink?” I thought. I didn’t wash them. I had to go. I jammed my feet into the shoes – painfully – grabbed my keys and my backpack and left the flat. I made it to Mark’s Body Shop a few minutes before ten. My feet were hurting a little from the tightness of my shoes, but the rest of my body had begun to move from soreness to a feeling like something I had never known before. It was just this incredible sense of accomplishment – but what had been accomplished was unknown. When I walked into the place there was a different woman at the front counter. I was sad that Melody wasn’t working. The woman looked up as I came in and she said in a heavy British accent, “May I help you?” “Yes, thank you,” I said smiling. “I have a ten o’clock with Mark.” “So sorry, with Mark?” she asked and I nodded yes. “We don’t have a person named Mark that works here.” I smiled at her mistake, maybe she was new, and said, “You know, Mark, the owner of the place.” “The owner’s name is Terrence, sir. He’s the only person who has ever owned this fitness studio,” she said looking at me as if I had two heads. “But I met with Mark here on Tuesday. Really, a big guy – very muscular, light brown hair,” I said, trying not to sound too crazy. “I am so sorry, sir,” she said again. “We do not have a trainer named Mark. We do not have any employee named Mark.” “Okay,” I said trying to get my mind around what was happening. “How about Melody – the woman from the States – is she working today?” The woman’s reaction to this question immediately alarmed me more. “I am sorry, sir. There is not a Melody that works here, either. Could it be that you are at a different place than on Tuesday?” “No, I was here on Tuesday. I am sure of that. Can you see if you have an Anthony Lance in your system?” I asked. The woman turned to her computer, pushed a few buttons, and smiled, “Yes, Mr. Lance. You are right here and we do have a joining date of this past Tuesday. Perhaps, you forgot the names of the workers. I cannot remember who was at the desk on Tuesday – it was my day off. There is one thing that is strange here, though. Usually we input the name of the trainer you are assigned to – and there is no name in the system. That was our mistake. May I choose a person to help you today?” I was still too confused to really argue, so I said, “Yes, please. That would be fine.” The woman picked up the phone and dialed an extension – just as Melody had done on Tuesday. “Hiya, Quan. I have a new client here for you. His name is Anthony Lance,” she said looking at the computer screen in front of her. “Yes, I’ll let him know.” She hung up the phone. “Quan will be right out.” And like earlier in the week about a minute later the door to my left opened and a guy that was my height stepped into the waiting area. He was of Asian descent and had a small, but fit body. It certainly wasn’t a body like Mark’s, but it was still a body that passed the “make sure your trainer looks like he works out” test. “Hiya, I’m Quan, “he said holding out his hand. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Anthony.” I said shaking his hand. “Follow me, Anthony, and we’ll get you started,” Quan said grabbing a file from the woman at the counter. As we walked into the next room I was slightly disappointed – Quan’s ass did not hold a candle to Mark’s. This thought distracted me for the moment from thinking about what had happened to Mark. Inside the gym part of the studio Quan led me to the same side counter as on Tuesday. “I like to take measurements when I get a new client. I know you did that on Tuesday, but I just want to make sure things were correct – especially since we show no record of who you met with. Sorry about that.” “No, that’s fine, Quan. I met with a guy named Mark,” I said and saw that the look on his face meant we would have the same discussion I had with the lady in the waiting room. And Quan went on to tell me that no Mark worked at the place and, later on, said the same about Melody when I mentioned her name. This was so frustrating. I didn’t know what to make of any part of this. “Do you mind stepping onto the scale, Anthony?” Quan asked and I stepped onto the machine in front of me. “Well, this Mark guy must not have been very good – you’ve either been eating well since Tuesday or packed on more muscle. You weigh about twelve more pounds than what is written here. If I put it in pounds like is written you are at 165. On Tuesday the guy wrote 153. Sorry about that mistake.” And with that Quan marked the correction on my form. “That’s impossible, Quan,” I said staring at what the scale said, “I saw 153 on Tuesday. Really. Do you think the scale is wrong?” “No, we check it every day and I weighed myself earlier – it was correct,” Quan said almost ignoring my protest. “You weigh 165. Maybe it was wrong on Tuesday or the trainer that helped you just got the conversion wrong – when he went to pounds.” Quan was lifting the bar that was attached to the back of the scale to measure my height. When he brought the bar to my head he said, “And he got the height wrong, as well - by three inches. His conversion must have been off here, as well. It’s impossible for someone to grow three inches in a few days.” Quan was laughing to himself as I stepped off the scale. “May I measure your chest, Anthony,” Quan asked, but I was barely paying attention. Right before I left Houston I had a physical. At that time I weighed 159lbs. I had also been 5 feet 8 inches since I was in high school. How could I be five eleven? It just wasn’t possible, but I saw the equipment. It showed everything in inches and in pounds – obviously for Americans. You didn’t even need to convert it if you were used to reading in those terms. Could Mark have been wrong? This didn’t seem possible. I had looked at the scale and the marks for my height. I had raised my arms at Quan’s request. After measuring my chest and looking at the chart Anthony had a puzzled look on his face. “It seems your trainer from Tuesday got everything wrong. He marked your chest at 42 inches. It is really 46 inches. Let’s do your arms and legs, too.” At this point I simply shut down. I stopped thinking about anything. I was so lost – trying to figure out what was happening to me. I felt amazing – that was a given – powerful and energized. But I also felt so confused – baffled. It was too much to handle. I barely registered anything more – even when Quan told me that my arms were now 17 inches – two inches more than Tuesday or that my thighs were now four inches more. My calves seemed to be the only thing that didn’t go crazy – measuring only one inch more than Tuesday. I also went through the workout routine Quan introduced me to in a daze. I didn’t pay much attention when he complimented me at each machine. He kept asking me if I had told the truth when I told him I was not used to using any free weights or nautilus machines. It was pretty obvious when he had to explain to me how the machine worked or how I should perform a set with a weight, but he was so impressed at how easy the task came to me once it was explained. He was equally impressed with the amount of weight I was able to lift in each exercise. At the end of the work out session he told me that I was a natural. I smiled – still half present to the moment and half trying to sort through all that was happening to me. By the time everything was over my body was pulsing with energy and a craving for more exercise. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I felt as if I could have worked out all day. I wanted to try heavier weights and increase the amount of repetitions that Quan asked for. I also felt something else in my body. I still couldn’t make sense out of this new feeling – it seemed to be a need for someone to challenge me. Yes, that was it; I wanted to have another man test my abilities – but not using a machine. I wanted it to be man on man action. This thought aroused me a little so I continued with it. It wasn’t just man on man action that I wanted – it was also skin on skin action. I wanted to subdue someone, yes, and conquer him. I wanted to show someone the power of the energy that was surging through my body. At this point my cotton shorts were not hiding my hard-on at all. Quan noticed and immediately said, “Anthony, I should probably tell you, since you are new to all of this, that working out often makes a man feel really good. I mean it can sometimes get a man – well, pretty excited. I just wanted you to know that this is a natural reaction.” I immediately turned red and placed my hands in front of my crotch. I was back in the present moment immediately. “Not to worry, Anthony. That won’t be the last time it happens. I could tell by the way you worked out that you are really going to take to bulking up, really well. I also believe you are going to continue to enjoy the after-effects, as well. No need to be embarrassed. A cold shower or a good cardio work out will take care of that.” Quan was smiling a genuine smile and I appreciated his honesty. I made an appointment for the next week, shook his hand, and left the gym – still with a hard-on that seemed like it was not going away. I was incredibly hungry, but decided that a long run was more important at the moment. I had even begun to ignore the tightness of my tennis shoes. I wanted to take Quan’s advice and see if some cardio might help with the big problem at my crotch. At the end of my two-hour run I still had the same issue. I realized that when I got back to my flat I would have to take the situation “into my own hands” – and I meant the pun in every way implied. ***** My hard-on problem would have to wait, though. As I walked up to the entrance of my flat I was surprised by the fact that Manfred stood there – obviously waiting for me. The pain in my heart from last evening came rushing back, but it was mixed with an excitement about seeing him again. I thought he was beautiful last night, but he was more gorgeous in the sunlight. My body reacted to him in the opposite way than expected – my hard-on lessened immediately. I guess I was still sad and angry over what he shared last night. I suddenly returned to feeling a little inadequate. I also forgot about the strangeness of the events at the gym. My world focused, yet again, on this stunning man who stood there in a striped light blue button-down shirt, tan slacks, a dark blue blazer, and sunglasses that hid his eyes, but nothing hid the powerful smile. I was lost in his presence, again. “Hello, Anthony. Have you just returned from that meeting with your trainer?” he asked and I could tell he was testing the waters to see how I was feeling. “Hi, Manfred,” I replied remembering I had told him about my appointment, “Yes, I worked out and then took a long run. Come in.” “Thank you,” he said taking off his sunglasses and following me to my flat. “Martin shared your address with me. I hope you don’t mind.” “No, that’s fine. I was just a little surprised. That’s all.” I said as I was opening the door to my flat and we walked in. My first thought was how happy I was that I am not a messy person – the flat looked presentable. “Might you join me for a late lunch or have you eaten,” Manfred asked. “No, I haven’t eaten and I’m actually very hungry. I guess I could go for some lunch,” I said caught up in the moment. As soon as the words came out I wished I had not agreed so quickly. I was still angry. I was still hurt. And I wanted him to know how I felt. “Let me take a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go.” “That would be great, Anthony. Thanks for joining me,” Manfred said and I paused slightly as I peered into those eyes that looked like they contained an entire cloudless blue sky. I knew instantly that he had a closet full of shirts that color – just to highlight those eyes. I immediately stuffed that thought away and went to take a shower. As I showered I thought of all the reasons I should not be going to lunch with Manfred. The number one problem was the fact that it was going to play havoc on my heart. Could I, in all honesty, just be a friend with Manfred? Most of me wanted to say yes – because he really was a great guy, but a small part of me knew we were destined for something more – even if that thought was utterly irrational. Manfred obviously was serious about being friends – for here he was asking me to join him for lunch, but the problem still remained – could I stop thinking of him sexually. At least long enough to become his friend. I knew I had to try – and I felt up to the task. Manfred could help my three years in London be more enjoyable – that was for sure. That meant I would have to struggle through the problem of how to get rid of the other emotions. At that moment another problem took precedent over this one. I had finished showering and had pulled a shirt and some jeans out to wear. I went to put on the gray polo and it didn’t fit. Like the t-shirt I had tried on earlier it didn’t come down completely over my stomach. It was also very tight in the arms and in the chest area. The scary part was I knew this shirt had not been washed since I was in London. I had unpacked it into the drawer on my first day here. I could not understand what was happening to me – it was as if I had been through some adolescent growth spurt. I had bought this shirt pretty tight to begin with, but this was ridiculous. I took the shirt off and went to the closet. I had an extra large button-down that I had gotten as a gift and never returned. I slipped it on and it fit – but was still a little tight in the chest. It would have to do. I struggled to get my jeans up over my thighs – or as Quan had referred to them earlier – my quads. These jeans were not that tight when I bought them. I looked at myself in the mirror and for the first time noticed that I did, in fact, look bigger – just as the clothes had revealed. I was looking at my legs in the mirror and how they fit into these jeans and actually liking what I saw when I heard a voice from the living room. “I’m getting famished, Anthony. Are you almost ready?” Manfred said laughing. I called back, “Yes, I’ll be right out.” I went to put on shoes and decided that I didn’t want to cram my toes into the tennis shoes again. I slipped on what Martin had called the unfashionable sandals and was surprised to find out they felt okay. I believe there was a little more room in these shoes. My focus went from the changes in my body back to the upcoming lunch with Manfred. I began to psyche myself up. I knew I could do this. I knew I could handle being just a friend. I knew there were other men out there for me. I decided to try my hardest to let go of thoughts of being with Manfred – he had made it clear the kind of guy he wanted – the king of guy I would never be. I looked in the mirror one last time – really liked what I saw – and left the bedroom knowing it would be a good lunch. An American Muscleman in London - Part 10 April 23rd, 2007 The Second Full Moon – Continued I could not help but be happy as Manfred and I walked to lunch. He wanted to take me to one of his favorite restaurants. He had told me that it would make me especially happy. I was feeling good because I was with this great guy (and could not help but notice the people that stared as he walked by) and I was feeling awesome. I felt like a million bucks. I still felt like I should go work out some more. My muscles wanted more attention. They wanted more weight to challenge them. I kept thinking about going back to Mark’s Body Shop tomorrow and repeating the same exercises that Quan had shown me today. That seemed to make my body crave more action – as if waiting until tomorrow would not be possible. This was all a new feeling for me. I gave some credit to how I was feeling to the stunning man walking beside me. “You seem to be in a great mood,” Manfred said turning to me as we walked. “I am,” I said, “My work out and my run has made me feel great.” I suddenly did not care how I sounded to Manfred. I was just being myself and being completely honest. I think it was partially what he brought out in me and partially how my body made me feel. “Well something is working. You seem taller to me today. Are you wearing higher shoes?” he asked. “No, actually they are smaller. Maybe you didn’t notice because we were sitting down a lot.” I said - not remembering that I had mysteriously gained three inches recently. I was too happy that he was noticing something about me. It made me feel good and empowered. “You also seem bigger, somehow,” Manfred added. “It must be your good mood.” “I think that’s it,” I said looking at him – trying to figure out what he was thinking. We came to a restaurant near the edge of Covent Garden called Christopher’s. I noticed that they specialized in American Cuisine. That was why Manfred thought I would like it. And he was right. The restaurant part of the place was on the second floor. A large bar and lounge area made up the first floor. The host knew Manfred, of course, and directed us to a pre-arranged table. It was obvious that Manfred had called ahead for this table. He had planned this earlier today. I was flattered and a little bothered at the same time. It made me happy that he wanted to take me to lunch at a great place, but it bothered me that he knew I would come – since the reservation had already been made. I let it go - because the white linens, the impeccable staff, the exquisite wine list and the atmosphere of the place made me happy to be there. We just sat down when a huge body-builder looking guy walked up to our table. He was huge. I am sure he was 6’4’” and his muscled body made him look even taller. He looked Italian or Spanish – dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. “Manfred! It has been too long, my friend,” the behemoth said looking straight at Manfred and extending his gigantic muscled hand. “Paulo,” Manfred said smiling and I noticed a change in Manfred’s personality immediately. He became less sure of himself. He lost the control that he exuded at other times. I was amazed at how he became different – more hesitant around this big guy. It was my first glimpse of Manfred’s timid side. Manfred felt inadequate next to this guy named Paulo. Could that be one of the reasons he was attracted to big guys – they were able to make him feel like he could be out of control. I filed this thought away for further contemplation at a later date. At this moment Manfred was introducing Paulo to me. “This is my friend, Anthony. He has just moved here from the states. Anthony, this is a good friend, Paulo.” Paulo turned to me and I saw what the attraction was for Manfred. Paulo was a beautiful specimen of a man. He had wide shoulders, a huge chest, arms that showed their size even through a rust-colored linen shirt, and the kind of Italian face that filled famous paintings of beautiful men in museums. He smiled and the whiteness of his teeth contrasted his olive skin perfectly. “Anthony,” he said in a light, but distinguishable accent, “It is lovely to meet you. Any friend of Manfred is a friend of mine.” We grabbed hands to shake and something took over me. I felt like a dog wanting to mark its territory. I squeezed with all my might in hopes that I would hurt Paulo’s hand – I wanted him to know that his presence was a threat to my friendship (or something more) with Manfred. How silly it was of me to think my grip would do anything to Paulo’s muscled hand. The pressure I did exert had a completely different effect on Paulo than intended. It was obvious that he took it as a subtle pass. He squeezed back and winked at me. “It is nice to meet you Paulo,” I said trying to pull my hand back but he would not let go. “That is a fine grip you have there, my American friend,” Paulo said and he was obviously flirting. “You must work out. I am a trainer – maybe I could help you sometime.” I know I turned red and said, “I just joined a gym and have a trainer, thank you.” “My loss,” Paulo said and finally let go of my hand. I could still feel the pressure of his grip on my hand for a few minutes. “Paulo is a great trainer, Anthony. I would take him up on his offer. He is so popular that some people wait for years to get him as their trainer. He trains me, in fact.” Manfred said gaining some of his previous attitude back. He still seemed to be in awe of Paulo, though. “If only Manfred would come to sessions,” Paulo said. “He is constantly a - how do you say, - “no-show” for appointments. But it looks like our friend, Anthony, would not miss a session. Right, Anthony?” “I, uh, I do like to work out,” I stammered. “I find it very rewarding.” Who was this person inside of me answering this way? Paulo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather holder. He slid out a card and handed it to me, “Well, if you ever want some work out tips or just need someone to help you get adjusted to London, give me a call. I remember what it was like to move here.” I took the card and said, “Thank you Paulo, I will.” I noticed that this short exchange had gotten a reaction from Manfred. He immediately got Paulo’s attention by saying, “Paulo, we’re on for Tuesday afternoon, right?” I could tell that Manfred did not want me to move in on what he thought was his territory. “Yes, Manfred,” Paulo said, “as long as you show up.” Paulo was smiling and he turned from Manfred back to me. “I will bet he does not show.” He then laid a big hand on my shoulder, squeezed gently, and added, “It was great to meet you Anthony. I hope I get to see you again. Bye Manfred.” And with that Paulo left our table. Manfred immediately looked down at his menu – avoiding my look completely. I was beginning to see Manfred in a totally different light. I now understood that Manfred was, in fact, a muscle whore. He had told me the truth last night – he felt great joy from being with a guy bigger than him. It was the only situation that he didn’t have to be his confident – slightly cocky – self. I bet myself that Manfred’s place in society and his need to be a certain type of person for his family (and his family’s business) must cause him to be “on” all the time. I had a sneaky feeling that when Manfred was with a big muscle guy he was happy because he didn’t have to be in control – he could let someone else be boss for a while. This explained so much about his interaction with Paulo and his obvious jealousy of Paulo’s attention towards me. This made a question pop into my head and I did not filter it before I spoke. “Manfred, does your family know you are gay?” I asked looking straight at him. He looked up from his menu and said, “What an odd question, Anthony. What has made you ask that?” “I don’t know, I just got an overwhelming sensation that you lead a double life. Am I right?” I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I didn’t care. Was I trying to hurt him since he had caused me pain last night? I didn’t think so. I believe I just wanted to know him more. Yes, that was it. I was trying to scratch the confident surface he had and learn more about his life - his true self. I did not want to hurt him – somehow I knew I was unable to hurt him. I didn’t have it in me to cause him pain. I loved him too much. “Well, if you must know, Anthony, no, my parents do not know I am gay,” he said returning to his menu. It was then that I remembered John had told me he was an only child. “I assume from your question that your family knows about you.” “Yes, Manfred. They do. My friends and my family know. I didn’t tell anyone at my job in Houston, but I do intend to be totally open at work here in London,” I felt so proud as I said this. I could tell Manfred took my obvious pride as a slam against him. “Well, Anthony, bully for you,” he said lowering his menu, “I, however, have the incredible obligation to continue my family line. I also have the task of making sure all our wealth and property stays in the family. Things are much different here in England. We are not all able, as you, to pick up and live care free for three years or so.” I had obviously struck a raw nerve, but I also thought our chance meeting with Paulo and his attention to me was causing part of this response. “I’m sorry Manfred. I did not mean to upset you. Really. If you want to know the truth I was trying to get to know you better. I had a hunch about you from our meeting with Paulo.” His face softened immediately and he said, “A hunch about me, you say. Please Anthony, do share.” I was amazed at how blunt I was being, but Manfred brought it out of me. He made me feel incredibly comfortable with myself and with him. I said, “Manfred, I believe that one of the reasons you are attracted to huge muscled men is that they allow you to let go of control. You are asked to be many things in your life and to represent many things – an heir, a leader of a business, an only son, and much more. I think you like being with big guys because they seem to protect you from that part of your life. You probably like letting them be in charge when you are with them – letting them make decisions and tell you what to do.” His face flushed bright red immediately. I knew that I had hit the nail right on the head. We sat in silence for a few seconds – just staring at each other. I could see he was trying hard to gain control of his emotions before speaking. I was amazed at how this knowledge of his vulnerability had made my cock hard. I was turned on by the thought of this man – a man of incredible beauty and confidence – wanting to be taken care of, as well. Manfred finally smiled his killer smile, having re-gained his confidence and said, “I knew last night that you and I would be great friends, Anthony (the word friend did not hurt as much as it had last night). I knew you understood me in ways that no one else could comprehend. It will be very good to have someone that I can share so much with. I am very glad that we have found each other.” I noticed he had not confirmed or denied anything. It didn’t matter – I knew I was right. Our bond had just gotten tighter. I knew – at that moment - our friendship would always be very strong. I knew that we would be able to share anything with each other. I began to be at peace with what we were becoming - friends. And the depth of our friendship had not even begun to be explored – it was apparent that both of us knew this. I smiled back at him and nodded. “Yes, Manfred. We are both very lucky.” “Shall we have some champagne to celebrate?” Manfred asked and he knew my increased smile and slight laughter was my answer. He called the waiter over and ordered what I knew must be a very expensive bottle of champagne – because of the surprised look on the guy’s face. And when I had my first sip I also knew it was expensive – because it was so smooth and tasted fantastic. Manfred and I went on to talk of many things. He asked about my family and I asked about his parents. He insisted that he take me to his family’s house in the Cotswolds at some point and I told him I would love to visit his home. A second bottle of champagne was ordered and we both enjoyed great food for lunch. During our coffee Manfred asked if I minded that he needed to step across the room and speak to a friend of his father who was also a business associate. He said it would be terribly rude of him to ignore the fellow. I told him that I didn’t mind. After he stepped away from the table, as I was basking in the joy caused by the champagne and our conversation, the host of the restaurant walked up to our table. “Are you Anthony?” he asked. “Yes. Yes, I am,” I replied looking at him. “I have a note for you, sir” he said handing me a folded slip of paper. “Who is it from?” I asked. “The gentleman did not give me a name, sir. He just stepped in downstairs and said please give this to Anthony in the restaurant and then gave an accurate description of you. He left without saying another word,” the host explained. “What did he look like?” I pressed further. “He was tall, short blonde hair, and nice looking, sir,” the guy answered and we both knew he was describing half of the men in this area of town. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said opening the note as the host walked away. Two sentences appeared in the middle of the paper in non-descript handwriting. It said: Anthony, do not be afraid of the growth of your body. It is part of your journey. I was immediately taken back to the strangeness of my visit to the gym this morning. It was true - I had indeed grown. It was not just a figment of my overactive imagination or a mistake of the trainer from Tuesday. This did not explain the missing Mark and Melody, though. Come to think of it – it didn’t explain the growth, either! I was just so happy to know I wasn’t going crazy that I had forgotten about how no one grows that much in such a short time – for no apparent reason. And, yet, the note did seem to make me feel less scared about the actual growth. But who knew about this? Who was watching me close enough to know I had grown. Or, more importantly, who or what was causing me to grow? My body did not turn to fear as I went through these thoughts. My body actually began to feel more energized or more powerful – like the note had opened Pandora’s Box or something. I somehow sensed the note was from a friend and the growth was part of some plan – some destiny. I didn’t feel fear – I felt satisfaction and peace. I had earlier thought I might need to go see a doctor to make sure I was not ill, but the note somehow assured me that no doctor was needed. I found myself ready for what this growth brought with it. I was taken back, yet again, to my dream from a few nights ago. This growth was part of my preparation – preparation for what was the only question. I was lost in thought when Manfred sat back down at the table. “Well, something has made you all aglow!” he said smiling at me. “Are you drunk or just happy that I returned?” There was the confident cocky Manfred I knew. He wasn’t flirting, not exactly, he just liked to make sure people adored him. In less than twenty-four hours I had already learned this about him. He had obviously not noticed the note being delivered to me. I quickly closed my hand around the note and slipped it into my pocket. “Trust me – it’s the champagne,” I said smiling at him – once again lost in his presence. I had forgotten the note immediately. “Shall we go? I have paid the bill – and no arguments. I know you – you will want to argue about paying your half, but there are no options. I am in charge here,” he said smiling and then standing. The old Manfred had totally returned. I didn’t even begin to argue. I was having too great an afternoon to argue over what was probably a bill that equaled half of my weekly pay. I felt very happy and very energized. I wanted to go and work out all over again. I also knew that I needed sex and in a bad way. My new body and my new energy were screaming for some kind of contact – what kind I didn’t exactly know. ***** It had turned out to be a great day. The sun was shining and a light breeze prevented it from being too hot in the sunlight. Manfred said he would walk with me back to my place because his car was parked near there. We decided to walk through the Convent Garden Piazza. It was a great area – a huge open square that prevented cars from being able to drive through. It had huge cobblestones that looked like they had been there for centuries. In the center of the square was a big building that housed restaurants, shops and an open market. This place was known for its street performers, as well as its pickpockets. It reminded me instantly of the place where Henry Higgins would have noticed Eliza Doolittle selling flowers. We entered the piazza from the southeast corner. Manfred was saying something about making dinner plans for Monday night when the hairs on the back of my neck bristled in anticipation of some kind of trouble. I somehow knew a lady was in distress a few seconds before we heard her scream. My body instantly jumped into action when I heard the scream. I suddenly took off along the southern side of the piazza even though the scream had come from the northeast side. I was able to run through the crowd with no problem – dodging people and gaining speed. My instincts told me where the guy was running to before I actually saw the man who had grabbed the lady’s purse. The crowd was moving out of the guy’s way quickly as he traveled to the northwest side of the piazza. My body was controlling everything. There was no intentional thought causing me to move like I was – it was all by instinct. Even though the guy had been running a few seconds before me and was at the other end of the piazza I easily passed him along the sidewalk beside the road he was on. I got directly in front of him and lowered my shoulder before he even knew what was happening. As he connected with me I noticed some pain but my body knew what to do. I gave slightly with my shoulder during the impact and then stood up causing the guy to go flipping over my back and come down hard on the cobblestones. The impact stunned him greatly and I quickly turned, bent down, and pressed a knee into his chest. I realized quickly that he was not going anywhere – the impact had hurt too much. I reached out and grabbed the purse from his hands and used my legs to pin his arms. By this time two other gentlemen had decided to be part of the rescue. They came over and knelt down to help hold the guy. Two officers, I came to find out they are known as constables, arrived at that time and I stood up. I was breathing hard and the reality of what I had just done was dawning on me. I couldn’t explain a thing. My body had just taken over all control when it happened. I just followed my instincts. The police constables were thanking me and calling me a hero as Manfred walked up. His face showed how stunned he was at my moment of glory. “Are you alright?” he asked when he got to me. “That was amazing, Anthony.” “I think I need to sit down for a second,” was all I could say and I immediately sat down on the curb. People were patting me on the back and saying that I had been amazing. I was still breathing hard and my body was pumping with excitement, adrenaline, and an unexplainable need for more . . . more what . . . more adventure. That was it – I wanted more of this “rush” that was consuming my body at the moment. The constables thanked me again, took my name and address, and then took the guy away. The woman who owned the purse was there. She bent down gave me a hug and thanked me over and over again. I looked at her - almost not registering anything she was saying. All I could say was, “You’re welcome.” The crowd finally dispersed and Manfred sat beside me on the curb. “Anthony, what came over you? I didn’t know you could move that fast,” he said obviously impressed. “Neither did I,” I replied. “He could have had a weapon, Anthony. You could have been hurt. You need to be more careful,” Manfred said in a truly concerned voice. I didn’t tell Manfred that I instinctively knew the guy was unarmed. That would have been too much for him or me to handle at the moment. But I had known that fact – somehow. All I said was, “Manfred, I had to help the lady in need. I had to. I didn’t have a choice.” Manfred had a confused look on his face. I’m sure it matched the confused face I made as I said what I said. Even though it made perfect sense to me, I knew how it must sound to him. “Well, you certainly did, my friend, you certainly did. Are you able to walk now?” “Yes, I’m sorry. Let’s go,” I said standing up. “I’m sorry to have delayed you, Manfred.” “Nonsense, Anthony, nonsense. The excitement got my heart beating faster,” Manfred said helping me to stand. “Yeah, you and me both,” I said laughing. We walked in silence for a few minutes. I think both of us were re-living in our minds what had just happened. Somehow I knew I had impressed Manfred, in a special way. I also knew that part of why I had done it was to accomplish that goal – to impress him. Yes, I wanted to help the woman and stop the thief, but I also wanted Manfred to see me in a different way. I wanted him to know my goodness. Yes. And to know my abilities. But what abilities did I mean. It was all so confusing. At this point we reached the front of my building. I sensed Manfred wanted to say something important, but he chose not to. “Well, Anthony, you certainly made this a very exciting day. Thank you for a great lunch and a heroic display. I am very impressed. Now, as for Monday night – you can join me for dinner, yes?” He asked smiling at me. “Sure, Manfred. That would be great. What time and where?” I replied. “I am going to my parent’s home up north for the weekend. I will return Monday afternoon. Let’s say come to my place around seven,” he said as he took a card from his wallet and handed it to me. “My place is just south of St. James’ Park. It is an easy walk from here or you can take a taxi. It will be the two of us and a few other friends – nothing too formal. No need to dress up.” “That will be great Manfred. Have a great weekend,” I said holding out my hand. Manfred shook it tightly. I knew our friendship had moved to new heights today. I knew he felt the same way. “You have a great weekend too, Anthony. And please leave the capture of thieves to the proper authorities. I do not want anything happening to you. You have barely been in London for a week.” He said smiling and beginning to walk away. He then turned and said, “It is as if you thought you had some guardian angels looking out for you or something.” Manfred smiled at this thought, then turned, and walked away. “I’m sure I do, Manfred. I’m sure I do,” I thought to myself, but I did not dare say it out loud. An American Muscleman in London - Part 11 May 7th, 2007 The Second Full Moon – Continued As soon as Manfred walked away I felt lonely. It had been a great afternoon. I did not want my time with him to end – even though I knew he needed to start the journey to his parents’ house up north. I also knew we’d only ever be friends - but that didn’t matter - I still wanted to be with him. I was also still a little pumped from the excitement of capturing the purse-snatcher. The adrenaline rush did not seem like it would be leaving my body any time soon. I could tell that the feeling was much more than blood pumping through my body from the excitement of the day or the thrill of being with Manfred – there was something much more mysterious and powerful flowing through every part of my body. The closest thing I could compare this feeling to was the sensation your body feels when it rests in zero gravity as you come down the hill on a rollercoaster or those few seconds of indescribable pleasure right before ejaculation - when jerking off. Yes, that was it. My body did feel very sexual – more so than ever in my life. I was on fire with desires – to be pleased, but more importantly – to please. My mind was trying to grasp all of this when my cell phone rang. I looked to see the number and it said “restricted”. “Hello,” I answered. “Anthony,” a voice responded, “this is Roger… from the party last night – at Martin’s house. I asked Martin for your number. I do hope that was okay?” “Yes, Roger. Of course. How are you?” I answered – marveling at the fact that a second person from last night’s party was contacting me. “I am fine, thank you. Listen, I am leaving work now and was wondering if you would like to join me for a drink. I belong to a club near you. We could meet there – if you do not mind,” Roger said in a very pleasant voice. “That sounds great, Roger,” I answered, “I didn’t have any plans. What kind of club is it? “You will love it, Anthony. It is one of London’s oldest gentleman’s clubs. It is a place where men gather to socialize, eat, drink, and work out. It will be a great experience for you,” Roger explained. “It sounds nice – but it also sounds like something I need to dress up for – right?” I asked. “I am so glad you asked, Anthony. Yes, there is a dress code. You must wear a jacket and tie.” Roger explained. “That’s no problem,” I assured Roger. “Can you give me directions? And what time should I meet you? Roger gave me directions and I realized it was only about a ten-minute walk from my flat. He told me to meet him there in about thirty minutes. After hanging up my phone I suddenly remembered the growth of my body. I hurried up to my flat to make sure I had something to wear to the club. I didn’t panic immediately because I remembered I had an oversized sports coat that was a hand-me-down. I never had it tailored – but always thought I would. I tried the jacket on, and realized just how much I had grown since the once too-big-to-wear jacket was now a pretty snug fit. I tried on many pairs of pants and found one that didn’t look too much like high waters. I was also able to fit my feet into a pair of stretched out loafers. I didn’t look pretty, but I looked presentable. As I was walking to the club I was thankful that the tie I was wearing hid the fact that my expanded chest stretched the buttons of my shirt a little. I also began to think of my body differently than in the morning. I wasn’t freaked out by the growth anymore – as a matter of fact, something in my body told me that the growth was a good thing. A new thought was dawning in my mind – a feeling that said the growth was meant to happen – that it was a positive change happening to me. That sense of power I had felt when running, when working out, and when chasing the purse-snatcher was only going to get better. I somehow knew all of this – but how? What did it all mean? Just when I thought I was going to somehow have a breakthrough in understanding what was going on with me, I arrived in front of a huge non-descript building with huge double front doors and a small plaque that merely said Carlton Club. I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I was instantly transported to a time that has all but disappeared in London. The noise of the street dissolved and the smell of cigars, leather, and liquor rushed over me. The lobby of the club was very impressive. The ceiling was four stories high and it seemed that stairwells went in every direction. There was a huge table in front of me with the most beautiful arrangement of flowers I had ever seen. A person could spend hours looking around that front room – the pictures, the furniture, the statues – everything spoke of old money and tradition. I knew instantly that it was a privilege to be able to visit this place. After the initial impact of the space left I became conscious of another feeling within me. It resembled the feeling that overcame my body whenever Atol was near. I immediately reacted by becoming on edge and prepared for action. It was only after a few seconds of standing there that I realized the feeling was different, though. When Atol was near I was defensive and tense – but this new feeling didn’t seem necessarily negative. It felt good and, yet, somewhat bad at the same time. It gave me pleasure, somehow – yes; it filled me with a sense of power that was different from other times in the past few days. This feeling seemed to give me some kind of a buzz – like a wave of unknown and untested abilities. The main difference from this feeling and all the other feelings I had was that this one consumed me and I wanted it to continue and even grow more. At that moment an elderly gentleman stepped in front of me. He was wearing a tuxedo-like uniform and obviously worked at the club. “May I help you sir,” he asked. His question made me immediately self-conscious and feel out of place. I stammered, “Yes, uh, I am here to, umm, meet Roger Wexford.” “Are you Mr. Lance?” the gentleman asked and this put me more at ease. “Yes, I am Anthony Lance.” I said a little more confidently. “Right this way, sir. Mr. Wexford is in the study,” he said and walked to a stairwell to the right. We went through an archway at the top of the short staircase and entered into a large room with multiple sitting areas. There were many men sitting in groups of two or three scattered throughout the room. Because of the size of the room the conversations throughout the space seemed like whispers. I followed my guide to a back corner that seemed a little secluded and there Roger sat in a large leather chair with a newspaper in his lap and a drink on the table beside him. When he saw me he immediately stood up and extended his hand. “Anthony. Welcome to the Carlton Club. Thank you, very much, for joining me. Can I offer you a drink?” Roger’s welcome and his handshake were energetic and inviting. I immediately noticed what striking features he had. Jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, dark eye lashes that went on for days and a chiseled face. He was a little taller than me and seemed to have what people would call a swimmer’s body – I couldn’t really tell because of the immaculate suit he was wearing. I had been too focused on Manfred last night to get this good a view of Roger. “Yes, Roger, that would be very nice. What are you drinking?” I asked knowing that was a safe way to order - I did not know the proper protocol at a London men’s club. I was trying hard to not mess up. “I am having some good Irish whiskey – the one made by the Protestants, of course. Would you like some Bushmills?” Roger didn’t wait for an answer, “Of course, you would. Stanford, please bring Anthony a double, like mine. That will be all for right now. Sit down, sit down.” He said pointing to the chair across from his – another oversized leather chair. Roger sat down, as well, and looked straight at me. “Again, thank you for joining me, Anthony. It is a pleasure to welcome you here.” “No, Roger. The pleasure is all mine. I know what an honor it is to come to such a restricted club,” I said - trying to flatter him. There was something about our short interaction that had made me want to “win” Roger over. I couldn’t describe it – but I wanted Roger to like me. “Nonsense, Anthony, this place is overrated. But it does afford me a quiet place to meet friends, a great place to have dinner, and many other convenient ways to spend the time,” Roger said, smiling a somewhat naughty grin – but I didn’t understand the comment completely. “Well, it is a very impressive place, nonetheless,” I replied. “So what did our American friend do on his first Friday in London?” Roger asked as Stanford brought me my drink. I could not remember drinking a lot of whiskey before – if ever. As soon as I had my drink I took a pretty good-sized sip and immediately regretted it. I tried hard not to acknowledge the burning sensation in my throat, but when I went to speak it was hard to disguise. I saw just a hint of awareness of the situation in Roger’s eyes and was happy that he did not comment on it. “Well,” I said trying to act like I was clearing my throat, “I worked out this morning, went for a long run, and then went to a late lunch with Manfred.” There was an immediate change in Roger’s face. It looked like disappointment and that notion was confirmed as he said, “So the old boy got his claws into you first, I see.” “I’m sorry,” I said - not sure I understood. “Oh, it is just that Manfred tends to toy with anyone new on the scene. It makes it hard for the rest of us. I am sure he made it known that he is only into bodybuilders.” Roger said allowing the smile to return to his face. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did,” I replied. “Well, then the old guy is getting better – he usually strings a guy along for a while before telling him,” Roger said looking at his drink and it became clear to me that this must have happened to him. I could see Roger being attracted to Manfred (who on earth wouldn’t be) and I could see Manfred initially being attracted to Roger. I felt sadness for Roger because I could see that it was something that still hurt him. I decided to change the subject quickly – mainly because I did not want to remember the sadness Manfred had already caused me. “Now you must tell me, Roger, so I know up front, why do your friends call you their favorite bad boy,” referring to the comment Martin had made last night when I was introduced to Roger – it had been an inside joke that made everyone at the party laugh. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Martin.” Roger said re-gaining his earlier commanding presence. “There are so many reasons, Anthony. For one, I get into trouble a lot – I tend not to care what I say and that sometimes causes problems. I guess some people also get jealous of me and say mean things since I do not work.” I interrupted him, “But you said you were getting off of work when you called me and invited me to meet you here.” Roger smiled. “I did indeed. Yes. And in fact I was working right upstairs here – I was busy working away at the poker table. That is another reason that I am known as a bad boy – I do like to gamble. It is the closest thing to work for me.” “And you can live off of your gambling?” I asked and immediately realized it was a rude question. “I am so sorry, Roger. That was very rude. Please ignore that question. It was just that I was surprised by the fact that you can make enough money to live in London from gambling.” Roger was laughing and said, “No, Anthony, do not be ridiculous. There was nothing rude about the question. Truth be told, I like your frankness. The fact is that I do not have to work. I come from old money in London and my parents are both dead. I will be able to live off of my inheritance for the rest of my life. That kind of lifestyle does allow a few pleasures in life – like gambling. And, if you must know, yes – yes, I do very well and earn quite a bit of money from my gambling habit.” Roger looked straight at me smiling, and we sat in silence for a few seconds. In those moments of silence something happened to me – there was a subtle shift in how I viewed Roger. Last night and even earlier in this conversation he had been just a friend I had made at a party – but I started seeing him as something else. Was he boyfriend material? I wasn’t sure. Was he “let’s sleep together as long as we can and enjoy the ride while it lasts” material? I wasn’t sure about that, either. The main thing I knew was that I wanted to find out exactly what he could be for me – friend, sex partner, lover – who knew? There was a slight pining in my heart that reminded me of my desire for Manfred – but he had made it clear that I wasn’t his type. And if my instincts were correct - I was getting the vibes from Roger that said he’d like to explore our attraction as well. I dug a little deeper at what this feeling was that rushed over me at that moment and I realized I really liked the “bad boy” side of Roger. More specifically, I liked how he brought out the bad boy side of me. That was it – I saw myself in a different light in the few minutes that I had been sitting here with Roger. It was mixed in with the feeling that I had experienced in the lobby of the Carlton Club. I was beginning to feel desirable – and a lot of power and pleasure came with that feeling. I could see how Roger viewed me – in a primitive, almost animalistic way. His desires for me made me want to do things to make his feelings increase. It suddenly hit me that all of this newfound knowledge was tied into my body growth. That was it! I liked the changes in my body – and more importantly – I liked how the changes in my body might affect other people. I realized that I was beginning to be hungry for more growth. Was that possible? I knew it was. God, this new awareness felt great. I desired to be bigger, stronger, and able to influence other men – but in what way? This wasn’t clear, yet - but I knew that most of these new insights had come from my meeting with Roger – and that made me want him in a special way. And I knew that Roger had similar feelings – I knew all of this somewhere inside of me. I could also feel that something in all of this was not good for me – something told me to go slower. But my need for sex, the continued rush from overpowering the purse-snatcher earlier today, the flashbacks from my intense dream of a few nights ago, and my desire to be – what was the word – powerful, prevented me from heeding any warning signs in my head. I turned my attention back to the handsome Roger. An American Muscleman in London - Part 12 May 8th, 2007 The Second Full Moon – Continued Roger was asking me a question, “And so, Anthony, is there a bad boy in you?” I could see all the intended nuances contained in that question and that made me want to answer in a way that conveyed everything I was feeling. “I have a funny feeling, Roger, that you are just the person to release the bad boy within me.” I smiled and looked right in Roger’s eyes. My dick started to get hard and my heart was pumping faster. There was a line that was about to be crossed and I was ready to sail to the other side. “Yes I am, Anthony, yes I am.” Roger answered smiling. “So, when it comes to sex – what do you like?” I choked a little on the sip of whiskey I had just taken and lost my composure for a second. I also glanced away from Roger - and I know he noted my immediate discomfort from the question. I think it actually pleased him that he had gotten to me in that way – he had surprised me. I tried to get some of the cocky attitude I was exuding earlier and said, “Well, sex is very important, Roger, but foreplay is just as important. I like a lot of foreplay. The dance leading up to the sex can be very exciting – and very telling about a person. If someone is not good at foreplay they don’t get my attention.” I was being so bold and it was turning me on so much – or was Roger turning me on – I couldn’t tell and decided that it might be a mixture of the two. “And the most important thing about any relationship I have is the kissing. I love a kiss that makes my toes curl up.” I had regained some of my cool composure from a few seconds ago and I could tell that Roger liked it. He was silently staring at me; letting my last statement hang in the air between us. Roger’s smile turned a little devious and he sucked his lips inward to wet them. This moment of silence and staring at each other caused my dick to reach full mast. I had to break the silence – just to calm my excited body down. “And you, Roger, what do you like when it comes to sex?” “Oh you know – everything,” he said laughing slightly, and then added, “but mostly I like it when I find someone who likes to trade-off being the aggressive one. I like it when I can be the hunter and the hunted.” He knew this last comment would please me – he was such a player. It was obvious that he had made up his mind to let our conversation be the first part of our foreplay. He also knew that I wanted him - very much. “Either way it’s really the hunt, itself, that matters – isn’t it?” I asked – prodding him along. Roger leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. The contact sent pleasant shivers through my body. “We are going to get along very well, my American friend. Very well, indeed. Will you join me for dinner, Anthony? We can step upstairs to the dining room. They have excellent food here – and even better wine. I am not quite done bringing out the bad boy inside of you – I think it will be a very long process.” Roger squeezed my knee tightly and I noticed his powerful grip. “Wild horses couldn’t pull me away right now, Roger – so I would be honored to join you.” I said as I placed my hand on his and squeezed back. I released his hand quickly, though. The image of wild horses took me back to my dream of a few nights ago. Why was I thinking of that right now? I wondered if the pleasure I was feeling standing in the middle of the field of my dream was a sign of the pleasure I would be feeling right now with Roger. He noticed I was thinking about something else. “You didn’t change your mind that quickly, did you Anthony?” Roger asked. “No, sir. I am all yours for the evening.” I said teasingly. “I hope so Anthony, I hope so,” Roger said standing up and putting his arm around me after I stood up. “The dining room is just this way,” he said guiding me out of the large room. I could feel that his body was tight –even through his expensive suit. His subtle cologne mixed with the smell of him – a mixture of sweat and something – I couldn’t tell what it was – was definitely manly. I was lost in thoughts about the upcoming evening. The dinner was fabulous and the company was perfect. Roger was a brilliant man and it became clear to me that he was extremely wealthy – not just kind of rich. He had graduated from Oxford – with two areas of emphasis – philosophy and business. He told me that the philosophy part was just to bug his dad. He explained that his family’s money came from buying and selling lots of real estate – mostly in London. He also now owned a lot of property around the world. At one point in the evening I just stopped the conversation and said, “Roger, forgive me for asking this – but why are you having dinner with me? You could probably have anyone in London – or the world – why would you choose to have dinner with a young guy from Texas that just works with computers?” Roger looked at me and turned quite serious. He said, “Anthony – you are so much more than that. You have no idea of your potential. You are going to do great things in England. I am sure of it. I just want to be there – so I can experience it with you. Why would I not be with you tonight? How did you put it earlier – oh yes – wild horses wouldn’t pull me away.” And the smile had returned to his face. Underneath the table I felt his leg move against mine and stay there. I responded by rubbing my leg a few times up and down against his. The candlelight lit his face in a way that emphasized his dark features. He looked somewhat ominous – but his smile was infectious. I only saw the smile. He poured more wine in my glass and his. The evening was moving to the dreaded moment when “so-called” logic won out or pure lust took over. I wondered who would be brave enough to bring up our next step. I felt very brave and empowered. “So, Mr. Roger,” I began and this title made him smile. “I don’t feel that I have been sufficiently converted to the bad boy side. I was wondering if there was a second part to releasing the badness within me.” “Well, as a matter of fact, Anthony, I do not feel that you have been doing a very good job. I was thinking a more private tutorial might be needed to help you get better marks. Do not get me wrong – I think you have made splendid progress, but some more intense work is needed.” Roger leaned back from the table and his face was half hidden in darkness. It was an extremely sexy look for him. “Well, I guess I deserve the best tutor around – don’t you? You came so highly recommended by Martin – he called you his favorite bad boy. Where do you suggest this private tutoring should take place?” I was now ready to start making out with him on the table in front of me – this was how excited this conversation made me. I knew he felt the same. “I was thinking we might hold a master class this very evening at my home. I am a very short walk from here – but I was thinking we might have someone call a cab to make it quicker. How does that sound?” He asked – waving to one of the men working in the dining room - obviously not waiting for me to respond. He knew what my answer would be. “I think that will be great. I am just going to step into the bathroom. Can you point me in that direction?” I said standing up. Roger gave me directions and when I walked in I noticed the men’s room was bigger than most London flats. There was a gentleman sitting in a chair by the counter ready to offer you mints, a comb, cigarettes – you name it. I wondered if he handed out condoms. The older guy smiled at me as I entered and wished me a good evening. I smiled back and walked around the corner. I was at the urinal when I heard the door open again. “Good evening Mr. Wexford,” the attendant said as Roger walked in. “Hello Hugh, how are you this evening?” came Roger’s strong voice. “Fine sire, I am fine,” Hugh answered. “That is great. Might I ask you to step outside for just a few seconds?” Roger asked as I came around the corner to the sinks. I saw Roger handing Hugh a handful of what looked like pounds. I caught Roger’s face reflected in the mirror in front of me and then noticed that Hugh looked from Roger to me and smiled. “Yes sir, Mr. Wexford.” And with that Hugh stood up and walked out of the restroom. I could see that he stood just outside - in front of the frosted glass door. As I dried my hands Roger stepped behind me and put his arms around my waist. We stared at each other in the mirror. He bent slightly since he was a little taller than me. He slipped his hands into my pockets and a finger brushed up against my rigid cock. I let my body lean backwards into him. My ass clearly felt his own hard prick. He brought his lips to my neck and kissed me gently – starting at the back of my right ear and going around my neck to the left ear. At the same time he started gently pushing his hard cock and crotch into my ass cheeks. He took his lips and went to the center of the back of my neck – and began to suck on that spot – letting his teeth scrape my neck softly. I pressed my body into his with a little more force. Roger moaned lightly and took two fingers of both hands and pressed into the sides of my quads – just across from my balls. This made my legs give a little - but Roger held me with his strong arms wrapped around my body. I began to turn my body around and he took his hands out of my pockets and then stepped slightly back to give me room. Once I was facing him he brought his body back into mine with a pretty hard push. I was up against the counter and our hard cocks connected in a collision of pleasure. I reached up and grabbed the sides of Roger’s beautiful head and brought his face to mine. This had been the moment both of us were waiting for. Yes, the upcoming sex would be great, but we both knew that the first kiss needed to be magical – powerful. It disappointed neither of us. My mouth opened wide to accept his tongue – and his did the same for mine. I could still taste wine in his mouth and he sucked air from my mouth gently - causing my head to follow his as he pulled back. He pulled his mouth from mine and I moaned in displeasure – but he immediately began to kiss my cheeks, neck and chin. He let his teeth slide gently on my chin and this made me throw my head slightly back. Roger then brought his mouth to the side of my head and took my right earlobe in his mouth – teasing it with his teeth, lips and tongue. I turned and did the same to his ear. His body shook and I realized I had found something that pleased him. I filed this knowledge away for future use. Roger took his right hand and placed it at the back of my head – pulling my mouth back to his. This time he kissed me hard – hard enough for me to feel the stubble of his day-old beard around my mouth. This was something that turned me on and he noted it for future use, as well – I was sure. Roger took his left hand and cupped my right ass cheek. Using slight suction from his mouth on mine and his strong hand on my ass, Roger pulled me to my toes for this kiss. He remembered that I wanted a kiss to “curl my toes” – and that was what he was giving me. We were also busy rubbing our hard cocks together and I was running both hands through his thick black hair. Just when I thought we would take it to a place where we would not be able to return, there was a light knock on the door. Roger pulled me closer to him in a very strong embrace and then let me go. He stepped to the sink next to me and turned on the water. The door opened and Hugh invited two middle-aged gentlemen into the restroom. There was conversation immediately. The first guy to walk in noticed my cock pushing my pants out as soon as he walked in. He smiled at me and then walked around the corner. I quickly turned to my sink and glanced up to see Roger’s face in his mirror. He was smiling straight at me. Before reaching to get a towel he raised his hands, flicked his fingers and water went flying into my face. He then laughed and stepped away from the sink as he dried his hands. “Wexford, old boy. How the hell are you?” said the second man who had stopped at the counter to get some mints. “Hello Rochester. I am fine. And how is your family?” Roger asked shaking hands with the gentleman. “Everyone is fine. I just had some dinner – and you?” Rochester asked. “Yes – I had a lovely dinner with my friend Anthony, here. He is from the States and has just moved to London to take it by storm.” Roger said placing a hand on my back and pulling me – literally – into the conversation. Rochester stuck out his hand to me. “Very nice to meet you Anthony. If you are a friend of this young man – beware! He has ways of making you do things you never would. He sold me some property in the States that I have never seen. Do not let that happen to you.” Rochester said pumping my hand. “I won’t, sir. I promise. I will not let Roger do anything to me that I don’t want him to,” I said glancing at Roger and noting the twinkle in his eye. “Well that’s just the problem, Anthony, he can make you want to do a lot!” Rochester exclaimed laughing. “You two young men have a wonderful evening,” He said walking around the corner. “It was nice meeting you,” I said as he walked away. Roger grabbed me behind my neck and pulled me to the door. As he passed Hugh he handed him some more money and they nodded to each other. It was apparent that this happened quite frequently. Roger squeezed my neck – pretty hard - so I winced a little. “Let’s go get our cab,” he said ushering me out the door. I don’t remember a lot about the cab ride to Roger’s place. Of course the cab driver knew him (didn’t everyone) and this made it possible for us to act like high school students making out in the back seat of a car at some lookout point. As soon as we were in the cab Roger reached over and pulled me on top of him. Because the black cabs in London have so much room he was able to lean back and have me on top of his whole body. He reached down and grabbed my ass with both hands. He pushed my crotch into his own and this caused us both to moan. Our lips were glued to each other the entire trip. We did not stop the kiss for the entire seven-minute ride. I knew my lips were going to be chapped the next day - but I didn’t care. I undid a couple of buttons and slipped one hand into Roger’s shirt. I was instantly rewarded with the feeling of a hard muscled chest – but I was also very happy because it was covered in hair. His body was as I thought it would be – a tight swimmer’s body – or maybe more like a gymnast. All I knew was that it turned me on very much. I don’t remember taking a good look at Roger’s building as he paid the cab driver. I had lost all inhibitions and I had my arms wrapped around his body from behind as he leaned into the window. We walked to his front door with me holding on to him this same way. Once inside the front room I could tell the place was magnificent. I glanced around the front hall and noticed that it was decorated perfectly. I didn’t want to look around right at the moment. Roger was busy putting his keys and wallet into the drawer of a table beside the door so I walked up to him, spun him around to face me and pushed him back into the door. I pushed hard and I could tell he liked it. I bent my knees slightly and then brought my hard cock up his quads and crotch pressing into him the entire time. He let out a loud moan this time and I pressed into him harder. I moved my right hand down between us and grabbed hold of his cock. It was a nice size and fully hard. As soon as my fingers gripped it tightly he let out a loud yell – not from pain, but from pleasure. I placed my mouth on his to stop the noise. His mouth responded by sucking my tongue into his throat. I began to fantasize about the job his talented mouth was going to do on other parts of my body. At that moment the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up in warning. I knew this feeling was completely separate from the pleasure that was happening all over my body. It was the exact feeling I had every time... every time... I pushed away from Roger and turned to see Atol standing on the other side of the front room. He was staring right at Roger and me. My body reacted immediately by going into a stance of defense. My body was shaking from excitement – not fear. I was ready for a challenge. An American Muscleman in London - Part 13 May 14th, 2007 The Second Full Moon - Continued “Atol, my friend,” Roger said. “I am sorry if our noise alarmed you. There is no problem here. On the contrary – everything is just fine. Thank you for checking on me. I promise that we will be quieter. Really, I am fine – go back to bed” Atol looked at me - and then back to Roger. He was assessed the situation and then turned around walked back down a hallway off the front room. I was still standing like I was ready for a fight. My mind was spinning. I could not figure out what was happening for a few minutes and then it dawned on me. “Atol works for you,” I said harshly – turning to Roger. “Yes. He is my most trusted employee. I guess you could call him my bodyguard – but he does so much more,” Roger said moving behind me and sliding his hands around my waist. He let his fingers glide over my skin just at the top of my pants. I had lost any feeling of arousal that had been there earlier. I broke free from Roger’s arms and turned around. “But he has been stalking me – since the first day I arrived here. What is that all about?” I asked looking straight at Roger. I was still slightly shaking. “Anthony, he has not been stalking you. I asked him to follow you.” Roger said smiling. “What? Why? Roger, I don’t understand. He really scared me!” I was close to tears. I was still in shock that this giant that had frightened me so much was connected to this man that turned me on. I was so confused. “Anthony,” Roger said reaching out and grabbing my hand, “please let me explain. Come, sit down and I’ll pour us a drink.” And Roger pulled me into a den just to the right of the front hall. I followed partially because I was so stunned to do anything else and also because his hand on mine calmed me a little. “I don’t want a drink, Roger. I just want answers,” I said letting go of his hand when we got to the middle of the room. Roger continued to walk toward a side table with glasses and bottles of alcohol. “Well I’m going to have a drink – if you don’t mind. Please sit down Anthony. I can explain everything.” Roger looked at me pleadingly and I sat in a chair. He poured himself a drink and one for me. “Here – you may want it later.” I took the drink and Roger sat in the chair across from me. “Anthony. Do you know who owns the company you work for?” I was frustrated by his question and answered quickly, “No. I mean yes. I don’t know the person, but the company was sold a few months ago to a rich guy from Lon . . . don.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. Roger said he owned property all over the world. “You own my company. Don’t you?” “Yes, I am that rich guy from London, I’m afraid.” Roger said looking straight at me. I could tell he was waiting for my reaction. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked trying to stay calm. “I know it does not seem honest, Anthony. But please let me explain one thing before you judge me. We are about to expand our company’s operation in Europe. I need people here I can trust and people I know can help get the job done. When reviewing the work of several employees at the Texas location your knowledge and accomplishments stood out above all others. I requested that you be transferred here to help with our expansion. But, as you know, you are a mystery to most people in your office in Texas. No one could tell me a lot about you on personal level. I assume that has something to do with being gay, but I was not sure. The expansion of our company is very secret and could easily be thwarted by someone from the inside. I had Atol follow you to make sure you were not connected to any of our rival companies. I also sent him to the airport to pick you up when you arrived – not realizing the company had already made arrangements. I was new to the company and had not learned how they did things. Also, Atol is not the smartest employee – but he is the most dedicated. He told me he did not know what to do when he saw that another driver was there to pick you up – so he just left. I am sorry that all of this has been so secretive – but that is the way business is run sometimes. This is especially true when someone is about to be named vice-president of our European operations.” Roger paused to let this information sink it. For a few seconds I did not understand all of what he had just said and then it sank in. “Do you mean me?” I asked. “You are saying that I am going to be vice-president of our European operations?” “If you want the job, that is,” Roger said smiling. “So, you see, I could not take any chances with someone in such a high profile position. I needed to be sure that you were on board with only our company. And one more thing, Anthony – I had no idea that you would become friends with Martin. When he told me you would be at his house that night I was very excited. I knew I would get to meet you on a personal level before a professional one.” Roger paused and then added, “I also did not know I would be attracted to you.” He, again, let the information shared sink in as I tried to get my mind around all that he was saying. I was trying to find something in all of this to ground me. My mind kept racing over many different things – Atol was not an enemy, I was to be vice-president of European operations, Roger owns my company, my intense attraction to him has somehow increased, and so much more. It really was too much to handle. I knew I needed time and space to sort through everything. Roger finally spoke again. “Anthony, I know this is a lot of information for one night. I must also tell you that I am quite relieved you know everything. Tonight has been very difficult for me because I have enjoyed your company very much. I want to be very honest now – I want to sleep with you, Anthony. Our foreplay has excited me about all the possibilities of a more intimate connection. I also know, deep down, that we have made the right decision about bringing you to London. I am able to separate work from my personal feelings. I think you are going to be very big, Anthony, and do great things here in London. You are a great addition to our team. But I also want you to know that I intend to continue to pursue you romantically. To quote you from earlier this evening – our kisses have made my toes curl. I am ready to see where those kisses can lead us. I am desperately hoping that you intend to stay the night.” By the time he finished speaking my hard-on had returned. There was no denying the passion that had built up between us during the evening. There was also no way to ignore my feelings for him. I wanted to have sex with Roger – that was for sure. I wanted to feel our naked bodies entwined with each other – and release this intense desire that had built up inside of me. But I knew I needed time to digest all that I had learned tonight. I needed some space from Roger to begin to understand what all of this meant. Sleeping with Roger also meant I was sleeping with the person who owned my company. There was so much in that one action. My body said yes, go ahead – but my head said wait, slow down. I spoke deliberately and slowly, “Roger, I want you to know that I have felt the same way about tonight as you have. You are very aware of my desire for you – I have not even tried to hide it. I do want to explore this passion between us on a deeper level, yes – but I also want to process some of the new information you have shared tonight. It does change everything – whether we want it to or not. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to stay the night. But please do not hear that as me not wanting to pursue what has begun. I am very attracted to you, as well, and I want to see where that attraction can take us. I just need time to work through everything you have shared. I mean, come on, sleeping with you now has so much more attached to it than just a lovely evening – you are ultimately my boss.” Roger interrupted, “No, Anthony, I am not. Let me make that very clear. I am only involved in the setting up of the company’s expansion in Europe and then I will not be involved in the day-to-day operations. It is impossible for me to do that with all the companies I own. I stay out of the business side of things once we have established the foundation.” It was obvious that this was Roger’s way of pleading with me to stay. It was written all over his face and I could hear it in his voice. “Roger, please. You own the company. You had the power to get me transferred. I have a strange feeling that you know almost every detail of what is going on in all of your dealings - at any moment. I’m just asking for a little time, that’s all. I’m not saying no to whatever the future brings. I want to slow down a little, that’s all.” I could tell that these last few sentences reassured him. They also helped me to gain a little control over my desire to tear his clothes off at that moment. I stood up from the chair and he stood up quickly, as well. “I can have Atol take you home,” he said starting to walk into the front hallway. I grabbed his arm as he passed me. I turned his body toward me and wrapped my arms around his waist. I looked into his eyes. “I think I’d rather walk home, Roger. But thank you.” I did want to walk home, that was true – but I also cringed at the thought of being in a car with Atol. Nothing Roger shared with me had helped to alleviate my distrust of the man. I knew that would take time. I had built such a fantasy around the guy – of how he was pursuing me for evil reasons. I needed time to re-think how I viewed Atol – and I knew it would take a while. Roger locked his arms around my lower back and pulled me close to him. He brought his face down to mine and our lips met in another “toe-curling” kiss. Roger bent his legs slightly as we kissed and then squeezed me closer – lifting me slightly off the ground as he straightened back up. It was what I called a “bear-hug kiss” and it was one of my favorite things in the world. Roger held me a little in the air as our tongues explored each other’s mouths. Our hard-on’s were pushed together and this took me immediately back to the passion from earlier in the evening. I pulled my head back – taking my mouth from his. He squeezed tighter and this caused my dick to jump a little – an action that did not go unnoticed by Roger. “Don’t think you can change my mind with your bad boy ways, Roger. I am definitely going home.” I brought my lips back to his for a quick peck. “You can be evil, can’t you young man?” Roger smiled and said, “It looks like I have you just where I want you, Anthony. I think it would be hard for you to go anywhere if I did not want you to. Something pressing into my crotch tells me you like it this way, too. Am I right?” The cocky Roger had returned. I pressed my arms out in a quick thrust to try and break his strong grip holding me. My movements had no impact on his hold. Roger was a lot stronger than I thought. He just smiled at me – and it was that devilish smile I had come to like so much. I tried to push his arms out again and he just squeezed tighter – pushing our rock hard dicks together more. “Anthony, my man, I definitely think we will have fun exchanging roles when we finally get together in bed. Something tells me that you like so many of the things I like.” Roger released me and let my body slide down his the few inches to the floor. The movements made my crotch move closer to a place of losing control. I immediately pushed away from Roger – before my body’s desires took over my head’s intention of leaving. I believe Roger knew he could easily win me over – but instead he began to walk to the front hallway. “May I call you tomorrow, Anthony? I know proper manners say I should wait a few days, but I was never one for manners.” I could hear the humor in his voice. I followed him to the hallway. He opened the front door as I said, “That would be very nice, Roger.” I stood in front of him in the doorway. Roger grabbed the back of my head with his left hand and pulled my face to his. My mouth welcomed his and he kissed me hard – again letting the stubble of his face press into the skin around my mouth. I moaned slightly and he let go of the doorknob with his right hand and reached out to grab my hard cock. He squeezed it slightly and the impossible happened – it got even harder. I put my hands on Roger’s chest and pushed my body and mouth from his. He let go of my cock and just stood there - smiling at me. He looked more handsome than he had at any point in the evening. “I think you are going to be the downfall of me, Mr. Wexford,” I said stepping outside onto the steps that led to his door. I turned to look at him one last time. “I’m going to do my best, Mr. Lance,” he said laughing slightly, “I’m going to do my best.” I smiled at him, gave a little wave, and turned to head home. At the street I turned back to the house and saw that Roger was still standing in the doorway – making my heart beat faster and my blood pump stronger – especially in one area of my body. An American Muscleman in London - Part 14 July 8th, 2007 The Second Full Moon - Continued I don’t remember much about walking home from Roger’s house. I was walking in a slight stupor – not from the alcohol, but from the memory of my kisses with Roger. I was still hard by the time I reached my flat. I was very tired, but I also wanted to avoid sleep so I could remain in the euphoria of the moment. I began to regret not sleeping with Roger. All memory of Atol in the house had left my body. I was in what I would describe as a “lust trance.” I wanted to be naked in bed with this very sensual man – with this man that made me weak at the knees! I felt as if I were on the edge of a cliff wanting to jump off and fall into a waiting ocean – full of the unknown, but so inviting. Something was definitely pulling me towards this sexy man and I was allowing it to envelope all of me. I lay down on my bed fully clothed and was asleep in less than five minutes. Sometime near morning I fell into another deep dream – similar to the one before. Again the dream began in darkness. I knew I was, once again, in the middle of a giant field. This time there was no full moon to light the area – it was complete darkness. My body was fully aware that someone or something was coming nearer to me. I felt on fire again with anticipation – but this time the feeling was different. It was not a feeling of arousal or pleasure. This time it was a distinct feeling of preparing for something unknown – but it was also mixed with fear. I crouched low to the ground and listened closely - to ready myself for some kind of battle. I knew something evil was drawing near to me – but I could not see it. I could not get fully prepared because I did not know what to expect. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the sky. It was too quick for me to get a full view of what surrounded me – but I could tell that I was, indeed, in the field that was surrounded by a thick forest. Thundered rolled through the area loudly and made the earth beneath me vibrate. My heart was racing and every molecule of my body was tense from anticipation. A second lightning bolt lit the sky and this one lasted longer – the storm that was coming was obviously close by. In that instance of light I was able to see what was causing me fear. This time there were no nude muscled men on horses coming towards me in the field. I could see that I was surrounded by figures in hooded dark cloaks. I could see no faces – or no skin at all, for that matter. There were about one hundred dark figures moving towards me. I could sense that I was completely surrounded. The approaching army was about fifty feet away. A third lightning bolt lit the sky as the deafening thunder of the second bolt pierced the silence in the field. A strong wind had begun to sweep across the space. During the brief moment of the third flash I saw that the figures had moved quickly and were almost in striking distance. My body instinctively readied for the battle that was coming. Rain began to shower the entire scene. I felt a battle cry building within me. Many things happened at the same moment – I suddenly stood and bellowed a yell that was filled with a promise of destruction, lightning raced across the sky showing me that the enemy was close enough to feel the heat of my body, hands as cold as ice grabbed me from all directions, and in that same instant, I awoke - sitting straight up in bed. My breathing was hard, my body was completely tense, and I, again, could hear my scream echoing in the room. It took me a full thirty seconds to realize where I was. Light was streaming into the bedroom and I could tell it was late morning. I was able to calm myself and finally my heart stopped racing. Even after becoming calm I could sense a deep fear somewhere within myself. I could not understand where the fear came from or what it was about. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was ten in the morning. I knew I needed coffee. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen – noting that I still had on the clothes from last night. This fact made me think of Roger immediately. I lowered my head and pulled my shirt to my nose to see if Roger’s scent was still there – and it was. I was suddenly thrust back to the magic of last night and lost in the memory of the hold this man had on my body. I still craved to be surrounded by his strong arms and locked in a passionate kiss. The vivid dream of earlier had caused me to wake up without a morning hard-on, but that changed completely after my thoughts about Roger. I knew there would have to be some release to this little problem during my morning shower. I forced myself to focus on the task of making coffee as my cell phone began to ring. I walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the phone. I smiled to myself when I saw that it was the number from yesterday afternoon – it was Roger. “Well good morning, Mr. Wexford,” I said trying to sound as sexy as possible. My morning voice made it somewhat difficult. “And a good morning to you, Mr. Lance. How are we this morning?” Roger asked and I was immediately thrown deeper into the euphoria of last night. “We are doing fantastic – and all the better because of this call!” I replied and I am sure he could tell I was smiling broadly. “I had a wonderful time last night. Thank you for gracing me with your presence. It would have, however, been much better if I had awakened with you in my arms this morning.” The charming and seductive Roger struck again. “That does sound nice, Mr. Wexford, but I do not regret my decision to come home,” I said trying to sound convincing. “I might not let you leave so easily next time, Anthony. I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be. And if that doesn’t work I could always use force,” Roger said laughing softly. Even though somewhere in the back of my mind I noticed a strange feeling about his comment, I still answered, “You might not need to persuade me at all next time. I might turn the tables and force myself on you. How about that, Mr. Wexford?” “Sounds like a challenge. And I think you know how much I like challenges, Anthony. As a matter of fact – I believe you like the challenge almost as much as I do,” Roger said obviously toying with me. I matched his intensity by saying, “If you feel that you are up to the challenge, Mr. Wexford, I might just have to show you how determined to win I can be when competing. I’m wondering if are truly prepared to test my abilities.” “Touché, Mr. Lance, touché. I believe we should end this part of the conversation before I come over there and conquer you right now,” Roger said laughing out loud. “It would not be hard to conquer the willing,” I said causing him to laugh again. “Well before this call spirals into a conversation that would make my grandmother blush, I will tell you that I called to see if you would be available for a little excursion tomorrow? I was thinking it would be a wonderful day to take you to visit the beautiful city of Oxford. You know – college students, bicycles, old buildings, and some wonderful old pubs.” Roger knew my answer before I even responded. “I can think of nothing that would excite me more. Well, that’s not entirely true. I can think of one thing that excites me more – but we wouldn’t be leaving your place if we did that,” I said and I marveled at how bold I was becoming. Something in Roger continued to bring out the bad boy in me. “Now, now, Anthony. I am going to honor your desire to take things slow. I know there was a lot of information shared last night and I would not want to jeopardize the budding connection we have. As a matter of fact I see this as part of the incredible foreplay you desire so much. I do not need immediate gratification, but only the promise that gratification is guaranteed at some point.” I could tell Roger knew this kind of talk excited me greatly. “They say there are no guarantees in life, Roger, but I believe you could bet your entire fortune on the potential of the so-called gratification you seek. I have a feeling a field of wild horses could not drag either of us away from what the future promises.” And as soon as that statement had come out of my mouth I was drawn back to my dream of a few nights ago and the dream that was still fresh from this morning. I believe Roger could tell that my mind drifted away so he quickly said, “Well then, I think we are both on the same page, Anthony, and that makes me very happy. I will be at your place around eight thirty tomorrow morning – that way we can catch the nine o’clock train. Will that work for you?” “I can hardly wait. Thank you for this kind invitation,” I said. “It is entirely my pleasure, Anthony. I hope this is the first of many excursions we take – both locally and beyond. I also hope there are many excursions into two beds planned for our future,” Roger said trying to get me to return to talk that would excite us both. “No, no, Mr. Wexford. I refuse to go there with you again. I am already going to have to take a cold shower this morning – and it is your fault entirely. I will see you tomorrow morning. Have a great day,” I said emphatically. “What did I say? I was just talking about the future and how much I looked forward to feeling your naked body up against mine…” Roger said, but I interrupted him. “I am hanging up now. Goodbye.” And I hung up the phone. I stood there for a while thinking back on the conversation and smiling. I finally returned to fixing coffee. I really needed some caffeine – even though my body was wide-awake from the excitement caused by the conversation with Roger. I also still had a raging hard-on. My phone began to ring again and I grabbed it without looking at the number. I knew it was Roger and quickly said, “You are going to have to give my body some time to recover from our conversations before you call again!” “Emmm, Anthony? It is Martin. What was that you were saying?” Martin asked and I could feel my face turn red immediately. “Oh, Martin. I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.” I stammered into the phone. “How are you my dear boy?” Martin asked quickly to make me feel more comfortable. “I’m great, Martin. Just great,” I said getting back some composure. “Did you have a nice lunch with Manfred yesterday?” Martin asked. “Yes, I did. It was great. And guess what, Martin. I also had a nice dinner last night with someone else from your party.” I needed to share with someone about my time with Roger and I knew my friend Martin loved to hear stories. There was a slight pause on the other end of the line – just long enough for me to notice Martin’s hesitation. “Anthony, did you have dinner with Roger last night?” I could hear the concern in Martin’s voice. “Yes, Martin,” I said, ignoring that he sounded weird, “and it was fantastic. How did you guess? Did you also know he owns my company?” “I did not know that Anthony. How interesting. I am glad you had a good time. Do you think you will see him again?” Martin was slowly coming back to the friend I knew. He sounded more at ease. “Well, we’re going to Oxford tomorrow. I can’t wait. I have always wanted to visit Oxford.” I could feel the excitement building in me with each sentence. “That is great, Anthony. Does this mean that we won’t be going to the antique store over in Covent Garden?” Martin asked. I had completely forgotten about our planned visit to the shop that had mysteriously disappeared – or that I couldn’t find. “Oh, Martin, I am so sorry. Do you mind if we do that some other Sunday? I really do want to see Oxford. We can go to the shop another day. Is that alright?” I asked feeling a rush of embarrassment that came from forgetting about our plans and the fact that I was making Martin prove to me that an entire building had not vanished into thin air. “Of course we can go there on a different day, Anthony. You should go to Oxford. It will be a great time for you. It is a lovely place. Just make sure you are… oh, never mind. I just want you to have a great time.” Martin quickly added – covering up some thought. “Just make sure I am what, Martin?” I asked. “Oh, it is quite silly of me, Anthony,” Martin explained. “I was going to tell you to make sure you are careful with Roger. He is known to break hearts. I am just being an overprotective old man. I care for you, Anthony, and I want you to be happy. Just be careful with yourself.” I was touched by Martin’s concern. This confirmed he was a good friend. I also knew I would have to ask a lot more about Roger’s past at some point. I did not, however, want to know right now. I was too excited about the potential relationship – and a day in Oxford. I assured Martin, “Thank you very much, Martin. You are a good friend. Trust me. I had my heart hurt once this week and I don’t want it to happen a second time. I will be careful.” I was referring to Manfred, of course – and Martin knew it. Martin turned philosophical when he added, “My dear Anthony, just remember that things are not always as they seem. There are many mysteries in the world and people do grow – in different ways. I think time will reveal a lot of things, so just make sure you go slowly.” It was a typical bizarre Martin statement. Again I began to think that Martin might be losing his mind – and this made me very sad. I assured again him by saying, “Martin, I promise to take care of myself. Oh, I almost forgot. Remember that guy that I told you was stalking me? That really tall guy – his name is Atol. Guess what? He works for Roger and he was following me to make sure I was going to be good for the company. That is a big relief. I can’t believe how paranoid I was.” “Was it paranoia or awareness?” Martin asked and I became lost in the craziness of the question. Then he quickly added, “Oh, do not worry, Anthony. I am so into drama – see how I create it wherever I go? I am certainly glad you are not being stalked. I am also glad that you will take care of yourself. By the way, will you be at Manfred’s on Monday night?” “Yes. Will you be there, too?” I asked hopefully. “I most certainly will. I look forward to seeing you there. Have a great time in Oxford. I will want a detailed report on Monday. Remember – keep a mental log of everything so you can share, share, share. I live vicariously through you, you know.” Martin said laughing. “I will certainly fill you in on all the sordid details, Martin. You can be sure of that. Have a great rest of the weekend. See you Monday,” I said hanging up the phone. I quickly forgot about the phone call because I re-focused on making coffee. I also decided that I would go for a run before eating anything. It was another beautiful day and I was feeling fantastic. It was hard to believe that I had only been in London for one week. So much had happened. I was feeling a lot better about my stay in this city – and who knew, maybe it would turn into something permanent. I pushed those thoughts from my head. I just wanted to enjoy the present moment and not rush anything. I started thinking about my job – almost wishing I were beginning that week. I forced myself to return to the excitement of playing and exploring for two more weeks. Work would be here soon enough. I planned out the rest of my day. I would go for a run, I would do a little shopping – maybe going to one of the open-air markets that were so popular in London, and then I would return to the National Portrait Gallery – I wanted to spend some more time there. The late afternoon would have to include a stop at Halfway to Heaven. I was missing my afternoon pint of Stella Artois. An American Muscleman in London - Part 15 August 9th, 2007 The Second Full Moon - Continued My Saturday was exactly as I planned it. I went to the open-air market and bought some fresh food, took a long run, spent some time at the National Portrait Gallery, and ended the evening at Halfway to Heaven. No one I knew was at the pub. I was hoping that Martin would drop by, but he didn’t. I had a few pints of Stella and then went home. I was getting very excited about my excursion to Oxford with Roger. At home I watched some television, ate a late dinner, and went to bed early. I wanted to be wide-awake in the morning when Roger arrived at 8:30. As I drifted between the last moments of awareness and sleep I found myself fantasizing about Roger. When we had been together the night before a strange force shot through my body each time he touched me. It was hard to explain. It was something more than lust. It was almost like an addiction. There was something like an animal magnetism exploding from every part of his being – and it had a strange effect on me. It was like my body was being drawn to his by some unknown connection. This strong bond definitely included a need for sex, but it also involved something deeper – and even in my drowsy state, my mind tried desperately to figure out what special power this man had over me. My body recalled the strength of his arms as they held me. I knew there was a fantastic body underneath those tailor-made clothes. I also knew that my body longed to match the intensity of his. The closest I could come to naming the feeling that surrounded me was comparing it to the intense awareness two wrestlers must feel as they engage in the sport. I had never wrestled, but I was sure that you became very aware of your opponent’s every move as your body entwines with his. I am sure that many wrestlers found it difficult to not get an erection from the close masculine contact – especially when strong arms wrapped around each other and tried to out-power the opponent. There must be a thin line between wrestling and sex. This was my last thought before I drifted into sleep. That night there were no dreams. My subconscious was aware of the void in my mind. When I woke I had the strange feeling that something had wanted to drift into my mind as I slept – but a stronger force blocked it. It was as if an outside force was controlling everything I thought. I did, however, awake refreshed and energized. I could feel the excitement and anticipation building in my body - as the time of Roger’s arrival got closer. I chose a tight fitting shirt that showed off my eyes and a pair of slacks that hopefully emphasized my butt. I looked in the mirror and actually liked what I saw – no, I really liked what I saw. I could tell that my body reacted strongly to the running and the exercising – or was Roger’s interest in me fueling this upward surge in self-esteem? Either way – I didn’t care. I liked what I saw and I knew Roger would too. At eight thirty my doorbell rang – not the buzzer at the front of the building, but the bell right outside my door. It surprised me. I immediately wondered how Roger had gotten into the building. I opened the door - trying hard to contain the excitement welling up inside of me. Roger stood there – looking more handsome than ever. He held a bouquet of roses and had that devilish smile that made crazy with desire. “Good morning, handsome,” he said handing me the flowers and then leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. The same electricity as from Friday night shot through my entire body – and I knew he felt the same thing. “Are you ready to go explore the wonderful city of Oxford?” “Yes, Mr. Wexford, I am. Thank you for the roses. I’ll put them in some water and then we should be on our way – or we might never leave this flat,” I said walking to the kitchen and reaching down to adjust my hard cock. “That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, Mr. Lance – would it?” Roger’s voice was light and full of mirth. He was walking around the place looking at the decor. “No, it wouldn’t, but I really want to see Oxford. I hope you are ready to play tour guide. Please know that I will ask a million questions. You’ll probably get bored of me in the first hour.” I had joined him in the dining area by this time and placed the flowers on the table between us. “I see you have a replica of Lancelot’s glove,” he said glancing at my mantel. “Yes, I got it last week. But the guy said it wasn’t a replica. Wait a minute – how did you know it is Lancelot’s glove? And while I’m asking questions – how did you get into the building?” I turned from the mantel and looked at him. “Anthony – you don’t grow up in England without knowing the Camelot story intimately. You should also know that my family has an ancient connection with the King Arthur legacy. If you were from England you would know that the emblem on the side of the glove represents ‘Lancelot du Lac.’ It’s quite an impressive looking glove. And, in answer to your second question, there was a nice elderly woman leaving as I walked up and she politely held the door open for me. That is how tight the security is in your building.” Roger laughed slightly and I noticed, again, how handsome he was. His black hair was not slicked back with gel today – it was full and fell into his face as he moved. I had not realized how long his hair was the other night. And his eyes sparkled more today than ever – like some dark jewel that was brown and, yet, appeared almost pitch black. I found myself being drawn into an uncontrollable lust – which would only lead to trouble this morning – so I grabbed the glove and walked toward Roger, “Here, do you want to see it closer or, better yet, try it on?” Roger immediately said, “No,” and almost tripped over a chair as he moved quickly backwards. It was a glimpse of Roger that I was seeing for the first time – it was almost like he was scared of the glove. He seemed to let his guard down for just a moment and then regained his usual cockiness. “Thank you, Anthony. But I think we should get going so we don’t miss our train.” “Sure – let me just get my jacket. I thought it might get cool later on tonight,” I said placing the glove back in its place and walking to the bedroom. I forgot about Roger’s reaction because of my excitement about going to Oxford. That giddy mood also made me miss the fact that Roger followed me into the bedroom. When I grabbed the jacket off the bed and turned around I was surprised that Roger was right there. I jumped slightly and began to lose my balance. Roger reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. His strong grip steadied me immediately. I could see in his eyes he had something more on his mind than catching me. He pushed me gently onto the bed – coming slowly down on top of me. I let go of the jacket and it fall to the floor. Roger let the full weight of his body rest on top of me. He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me hard. I noticed for the first time that Roger had, what felt like, a two-day beard – God, it was sexy. The kiss was deep and passionate. As much as I enjoyed the kiss – it was the feeling of his body pressed against mine that got my attention. Everywhere his body touched mine I felt only hardness. His chest pressed into mine and I could tell it was well muscled – in that lean, not beefy, sort of way. His legs even felt hard as rock as they wrapped around mine. I could tell he possessed great power in those two pillars of muscle. He was able to slide his arms under my upper body and I could feel super tight biceps and forearms squeezing me hard. And speaking of hard – I felt his rigid cock twitching with excitement between us. I could tell he was controlling the movements of his cock – just to make me notice. I am sure he could feel the hard response coming from my crotch, as well. When he started slowly and intentionally moving his own crotch up and down – forcing shivers to shoot from my toes to the tip of my head – I knew we needed to stop now or we’d be cleaning up my “response” in a few seconds. I turned my mouth from his and whispered in his ear, “Oxford is calling Mr. Wexford!” “Couldn’t we just stay like this the rest of the day?” he asked – as he, thankfully, stopped pressing his hard dick into mine. “We could – but I’m not sure I would be learning any cultural facts about this great country,” I said teasingly. “While that is true, Mr. Lance, I do believe we could learn many things right here in this bed – many, of which, might be considered somewhat cultural. Don’t you agree? Maybe we do some things differently here – differently than how you do them in the States,” Roger whispered as he lightly bit my left earlobe. “I believe there are some things that are universal, sir,” I said carrying on the banter. “No matter where a person lives – there are some things that are just instinctive and already known - because our body reacts automatically. I think every human on earth would know what to do with a beautiful man with long sexy black hair, dark eyes, a wicked smile, and a body that could melt icebergs. But right now I think that beautiful man should stand up or his nice linen pants could become wet and stained - because of the man beneath him.” Roger laughed, kissed me hard one more time, and then stood up. I immediately glanced to his crotch to see the perfect outline of his lovely piece of manhood. He saw where I was looking and teasingly ran his hand up and down the outline of his shaft. I shut my eyes to prevent myself from going over the edge. I felt his strong hands, again, grab me by the shoulders and pull me from the bed. When I opened my eyes I saw him walking from the room with my jacket in hand. “Come along Mr. Lance – it is time for your lessons to begin.” I had to stand still for a second. I knew, at that moment, any movement would cause my cock to shoot with pleasure. I made my mind think about things that I didn’t like – turnips, eating dinner at Hooters, the way my mother nagged about my manners – anything to take me away from the feeling, the smell, and the memory of that incredibly sexy man. I worried about how I would make it through the day. I began to walk only after I knew my body was safe – safe from exploding. Oxford is almost like a secret city tucked away in the countryside of Middle England. It lies about fifty miles west-northwest of London. It seems to have been established in Saxon times – around the 8th century. Oxford University is really what the city is known for now – and it is made up of 36 colleges. The city is a quiet place - full of tradition, education, and a vitality that comes from so many young people. The train ride was wonderful – Roger told me we could have driven, but he wanted me to experience the train – since most people traveled to Oxford that way. It was also great to be able to look at the countryside together. Once we got there, we walked the streets of the city and Roger showed me a lot of the well-known colleges. We stopped at a pub called the “Eagle and Child” – nicknamed the Bird and the Baby – for lunch and a couple of pints. This place was well known because of a literary group that met in the back room many years ago – including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. The pub even had napkins and papers framed around the place that were handwritten notes from these writers and more. It was a place of much history. We visited the Ashmoleon Museum and caught an afternoon matinee of a play downtown. The day was capped off with a wonderful dinner at the Old Parsonage Hotel – a beautifully renovated building. This completed a fantastic day. Sitting in the small dining room – that was pretty vacant - Roger became a little quiet. He finally said, “I am afraid I must go out of town on business, Anthony.” I had not picked up on his apparent sadness and said, “Well that’s the life of a big businessman – when do you leave?” “Tonight, I am afraid,” he said looking directly at me. I am sure he saw the disappointment in my face. “I know it is terrible timing, my good friend – but the trip cannot be avoided. I am leaving for the States at midnight. Atol will be here soon to take me to the airport. I am sorry that I waited to tell you now – but I did not want to ruin our day together. I have found all of it truly wonderful – I hope you know that.” I quickly decided to not let my disappointment ruin the evening – or to let Roger know how sad I was that we would not be sleeping together. I said, “Well, Roger, my boy, you certainly remember how much I like foreplay – so we will just chalk this up to building the excitement even more between us.” I smiled too broadly, I’m sure – I bet Roger saw through my facade of casualness. I added, “How long will you be gone?” “It is hard to say – I am acquiring a new company based in New York and might need to be there for three to four weeks – it really depends on how smooth the acquisition goes,” he answered searching my face for a reaction. This time I hid nothing – I became quite selfish and said, “So, you won’t even be here as I begin work at your company?” “No, I am afraid not,” was all he said. There was a moment of silence and I regained some of my composure. He finally continued, “I do not know if this helps or not – but I do believe the bond between us is becoming stronger and stronger. I hope you feel the same way, Anthony.” The word “bond” stung in a strange way – or did I just find it odd. My emotions were on overload so I couldn’t sort anything out at the moment. I looked Roger straight in the eye and said, “I am deeply attracted to you, Roger. You know that. I’m disappointed you’re leaving – I can’t deny that – but I am positive that we will be able to pick up from this moment when you return. What is that famous saying? Absence makes the dick grow harder. Do I have it correct?” Roger laughed out loud and said, “I am not sure that is the way it was originally said. You know, of course, that the real phrase was used as the title of an anonymously written English poem back in the early 1600s. You might have to write a new poem using your version as its title.” I was happy that I made Roger laugh. A silence surrounded us as he insisted on paying the bill and we walked outside. I could see a black limo parked down the lane. We walked slowly in its direction and I could make out a huge figure in the driver’s seat – Atol. Roger motioned to Atol to stay in the car as we moved down the length of the giant limo. Roger maneuvered my body between him and the back end of the car – he bent his legs slightly and pressed his crotch into my mine. We were both hard instantly – it was becoming a familiar feeling. Roger reached down and grabbed my ass with both of his large hands. He easily lifted my body slowly – and my crotch pressed hard against his giant cock. He moaned lightly. He moved my ass onto the back of the car – and slid his hands up my back – resting them on my shoulder blades. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his body tightly into mine. I could tell he was impressed by the strength in my thighs and calves. He smiled at me and said, “I meant to tell you that this shirt highlights your upper body very well. You seem different – almost bigger in some way.” He knew the compliment turned me on. “Let’s just say that I’ve been working out,” I said smiling back and running my hands up and down his sides beneath his arms. “Oh, a growing boy, I see,” he said trying to tickle my stomach. I could see the disappointment when he realized I wasn’t ticklish – well not in that spot, at least. I grabbed his right hand and slid it down to my hardened cock saying, “Boy? I think you better check again Mr. Wexford. I believe you will see that what you are holding is all man.” He squeezed softly - but firmly – and it was my turn to moan. People were walking by on the sidewalk but neither of us cared. I reached up and pulled Roger’s face into mine and kissed him. I let my tongue explore every part of his mouth and a lot of his throat. He easily accepted my probing and it made me look forward to the moment something else would be in his throat. Even though he tried to hide it, I could tell he glanced at his watch as we kissed. The mood that had been set by our wonderful foreplay was immediately destroyed. I pulled my body back, but he grabbed me and embraced me one last time. The intensity of his hug caused all the air to rush out of my body. His display of strength turned me on – and he knew it. Right before we almost released what had been building inside of us all day, Roger let go and stepped back. He was such a tease – he knew exactly how much our bodies could take – and he danced us both up to the edge and then backed away. He was surely the master of foreplay. “Shall I drop you off at the train station?” He asked opening the door. I slid off the car and said, “No, I don’t think so. I plan on going back into the hotel here and taking my sexual frustration out on our cute little waiter. What do you think of that?” Roger smiled and said, “I don’t think you will, Mr. Lance.” I hated and loved his cockiness - at the same time. “Oh, and why is that Mr. Wexford?” I asked as he slid into the back seat of the car. “Because we were waited on by a fifty year old woman with bad teeth,” he said looking up at me and laughing. “Are you sure you are okay to get back to London?” He was right, of course. Throughout the meal I had focused only on him – but now I did remember our waitress. “I’ll be fine,” I said, “I might even end up staying in Oxford for the night.” “Well, when you do decide to leave there will be a ticket waiting for you at the station. All you have to do is show them your identification. Good night sweet prince – I will call from New York and we will see each other very soon. I promise. I ask only one thing while I am away,” he said as he rolled down the window, tapped on the glass barrier between him and Atol, and shut his door. “What’s that,” I asked. “That you promise me you will not sleep with Manfred,” he said loudly as the car drove away. He watched me with that huge devilish smile and kept his gaze on me until the car disappeared into the traffic. I said out loud – and to no one, “Manfred! What makes you think I would ever sleep with him?” I then noticed a couple on the street staring at me. I quickly walked away – and went back to the station catching the 9:00pm train to London. My body was so wasted from the sexual tension of the day that I slept most of the trip. When I arrived home I went straight to bed – even though I still had the same raging hard on. An American Muscleman in London - Part 16 September 1st, 2007 The Second Full Moon - Continued I woke up very early Monday morning in a cloud of sadness. I was depressed because Roger would be gone for almost four weeks! My depression was caused mostly by the fact that we didn’t get a chance to move beyond our incredible foreplay into some wild and – hopefully – mutually pleasing sex. As I drank my first cup of coffee and ate some breakfast I began to feel better. I actually started to see Roger’s absence as a good thing. Maybe I would finally be able to explore more of this great city while he was away. I believe we would have spent most of our time in the bedroom if he had not gone out of the country. I would be able to wait for his return and, in the meantime, would search for other ways to occupy my time. At around 6:30am I began to crave going for a long run. I got dressed and stepped out into another perfect summer day. The city was actually quiet – and this caught me off guard. I wondered where all the business people - usually trekking to the office – were at this moment. I decided to take my favorite route on today’s run. I would end up along the Thames and knew of a stretch of road going west that had very few stoplights for a few miles. This made running easier – because there wasn’t a lot of stop and go motion. I felt like pushing myself hard today – seeing what these legs could do. Sometimes they felt unstoppable and I wanted to test them and see what that meant. I, again, marveled at the fact that there were almost no cars on the road. As I came upon the final stoplight before the stretch of road where I would test my abilities, I noticed a biker waiting for the light to turn green. I could tell right away by the muscled legs, the broad back, and the slightly hairy arms it was a man – and what a man! He had the kind of legs that make other people cry – huge muscled thighs and calves that looked bigger than some small children. He was out in the middle of the road – so he was pretty far from me when I got to the light. He turned to look at me and caught me staring at him. He gave me a big smile – flashing perfect white teeth – and nodded his head. I boldly smiled back – something that was unusual for me. “How about we see what you got, stud,” he yelled from the street. It was hard to hear him, so at first I didn’t understand what he had said. At that moment the light turned green and he loudly yelled, “Let’s race!” and he immediately took off. I had been jogging in place and when I finally heard what he said I stopped all movement and stood there. The dark sunglasses he was wearing – along with the helmet on his head - made it impossible to read his face. Was he actually serious? In the seconds since the light had turned green and he shouted his remarks something powerful happened within me – a force took over my body. The guy’s challenge had stirred a reaction in me that came from some “never tapped” part of my psyche. My body immediately became a machine and acted without any direction or thought-process from my brain. My legs instinctively began running. I am sure if there had been a camera recording my initial start to this race it would have shown me looking like a cartoon character whose legs run in place as the body revs up for a blast of energy that sends it screeching forward. The biker was already a few yards ahead of me. I saw him glance back and smile with a “see you sucker” look. I cannot begin to describe what happened next. My legs were pounding the pavement like a wild mustang in an open field. I could feel the wind whipping past my body and I somehow knew that this would really be no contest – the biker was going to lose. There was a drive within me that took over every part of my body – it was not going to let me down. When the biker turned around a second time his mouth fell open as he found me running even with him. I heard him cry out “what the fuck!” And then the unimaginable happened - I passed him. To give him a little credit, though, we were beginning a pretty sharp incline up a hill. My powerful legs were pushing me forward without any strained effort. As I came to a pretty sharp curve in the road I knew the biker was now far behind me. I knew there was a stoplight just beyond the corner. As I got to the light I stopped and turned around. The biker had not even made it to the curve yet. I saw a bench just by the road and quickly jumped up on it – sitting on the back with my feet on the seat – looking like I had been waiting there for a while. The guy came around the corner and, seeing me, slammed on his brakes. The bike skidded sideways as it stopped and he ended up looking straight at me – completely dumbfounded. “That was incredible, mate! Who are you – superman?” he asked haltingly between heavy breaths. It was at that moment I realized I wasn’t breathing hard at all. I was, however, on fire with desire – but for what? My body wanted something in return for winning the challenge. It knew I was the victor and it wanted to make sure this guy accepted his defeat. I jumped down from the bench and walked toward the bike – standing in front of him hovering over the handlebars. “Not superman – just a guy that likes a little challenge. I also like to win,” I responded and I knew my smile and cocky attitude made him weak at the knees. I instinctively got that I had control over him at this moment and could have asked him to do anything. I longed for some type of prize – and began to visualize a plan to get one. It was at that moment I heard a soft voice within - warning me to not give in to this desire. It was pretty soft, but I heard it clearly. My body responded by surging the need for this man to succumb to my power so great that it drowned out the warning. I reached up and grabbed the man by the hair at the back of his head. I pulled his face into mine and our lips met in an intense kiss – his mouth opening in submission to my probing tongue. I could feel his body responding to my power as he tightened his grip on the handlebars and let out a moan of desire. I sucked in strongly and forced his tongue to slide into my mouth – letting it scrape firmly across my teeth. My tongue then overpowered his – another show of dominance – pushed back into his mouth and continued to explore the back of his throat. A car honked loudly as it passed - because we were slightly in the road. I let go of his head unlocking our lips and pulling my head back - smiling at him. He was in sexual-desire overload – I could tell. He quickly looked around. “Can we please go over there?” he asked pointing to a clearing in some bushes across the road. I simply walked away – towards where he had indicated – knowing he would follow like a well-behaved eager puppy. Again I heard a small voice crying out for me to stop before I went too far. I ignored it and stepped into a slight open space within the high shrubs. I turned to see him lay his bike on the grass as then he stepped into the area, as well. I reached out and grabbed him – pulling his body into mine. Again, our lips met in a vacuum-like kiss. I thanked God for thin biker shorts as I felt his hard cock pressed against mine. I reached down - grabbing his ass cheeks and squeezing – and pulled his body roughly into mine. He was my height but I could tell he had a bigger build. This didn’t matter a bit, though – I knew I was in control. My body had won the right to dominate his – and he wanted it that way. I pressed my crotch into his and aggressively rubbed them together. I could tell that this motion would quickly cause him to explode – so I stopped. I had other needs that had to be met first. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his knees. He cried out as our lips parted – like when a child has his favorite toy taken away. Once on his knees I grabbed the back of his head with both hands and forced his face into the front of my jogging shorts. He immediately forgot about our kiss as his mouth opened to run along my hard cock through the fabric. It was my turn to moan – and I sounded like some animal in heat. I kept one hand on his head and moved the other one to the elastic band around my shorts. In one movement I had my rigid dick out and the swollen head pressed up against his lips. I shoved my rod into his unprepared mouth – causing him to gag slightly. He quickly recovered and opened his throat wide to accept me completely. I immediately started pushing my cock back and forth in his warm wet mouth. This guy was an excellent cocksucker. I felt very proud when after a few minutes of sucking on my piece of meat the guy’s body began to shake from an orgasm. The guy had cum just from my display of power – both during our race and in our sex. Even as he came he continued to suck on my cock – as if the action intensified his pleasure. It was certainly increasing mine! I finally let out a thunderous yell and unloaded my juice into his waiting mouth. I continued to shove my piece into his throat a few times after I was done – just because I knew he wanted to feel my power a few more times. I pulled his head off of my cock and he glanced up at me with a look of immense satisfaction. I swung my hips a few times causing my still-hard cock to slap up against his face. This made him purr with delight. I reached down and helped him stand – bringing our mouths and bodies together again for one last kiss. He wrapped his arms around me and held on in a way that told me he was smitten. At any moment I knew he was going to ask for my number – or, worse, ask when he could move in. I knew that I had dominated him in a way he was not used too – and it had opened something new inside of him. Hell, he had probably been straight before me. I pulled myself from his body and looked into his eyes. I could tell it was dawning on him that this was a one-time exchange. I saw sadness engulf his face, but the pleasure of my conquest left me with no sympathy. He had challenged me and lost. My reward had been to receive pleasure from him – his own pleasure had simply been a by-product of my needs being met. He somehow knew all of this after just those few seconds. “I must run,” I said looking at him. And then, without even thinking, I added, “There are many other conquests out there waiting for me.” I stepped away from him – back into the street and took off running back towards my place. I had a giant smile on my face – knowing that I had crossed an important line today. I thought of Roger, of Manfred, and even of the two recent dreams that had seemed so real. Something was being unleashed in me and I really liked it. I wanted more of this feeling. I wanted more of this power that flowed through my body. I wanted to dominate other men. This was definitely going to be a great day. An American Muscleman In London - Part 17 August 26th, 2008 The Second Full Moon - Continued By the time I neared my flat at the end of my morning run, and my morning sexual encounter with the man on the bike, I was feeling very guilty about how I had treated him. I had a distant memory of my desire to conquer the man – to beat him in our little race, but I also began to feel like something had taken over my entire being. It was totally out of character. I struggled to figure out what had made me want to dominate him. I also wanted to understand why I wanted to get off so badly that I would step into the bushes with the guy. It wasn’t that I was opposed to something like a one-night-stand, those had happened a lot when I first came out, but what I had desired from this exchange was so different and was also beginning to scare me a little. It was something primeval, something I could not easily control. I stopped about a block from my place and sat down on a bench. I wanted to spend a few minutes focused on my memories of the situation before it left my mind forever. My desire to show the guy that I could outrun his bicycle came from some unknown place deep inside me. No, it was more than that. I had known I could outrun the bike before we even began. I knew I was going to win before the race started. And the blowjob was simply a just reward for my victory. Even as these thoughts passed through my head it seemed like I was contemplating another person. I wasn’t very competitive. Hell, I wasn’t very athletic. But there had been something inside of me that wanted to show off, wanted to make the guy see how powerful I was. This last thought made me look around – I guess to see if anyone was noticing the beast that somehow was taking over my body. For that is what it felt like when I allowed myself to re-live the experience from this morning. I felt like I was stepping into some type of dark void that mysteriously fed a side of me that had never been nourished before. And to top it off, the feeling was incredible. My cock was hard again, just as it had been after I had outrun the bicycle. It was as if I was perched on some unseen fence and knew I could easily fall in one direction that would cause me to search out the next good looking man that passed and force him to succumb to my power or I could just as easily fall in the direction that simply chalked the earlier experience as a need arising from Roger’s unplanned trip. Something forced me to shake off my need for immediate pleasure and I accepted that this morning had happened because I was so horny after the incredible no-release foreplay with Roger. It seemed like a logical and an acceptable explanation. The hardness of my cock finally subsided so I stood up and began walking the short distance to my flat. My entire body still felt like an unprotected nerve, ready to react to any outside stimulus, but I set my sights on home and did not let my mind wander. Suddenly, a vision of Manfred entered my thoughts. This pissed me off. I didn’t want to focus on someone who had hurt me – I wanted to focus on Roger. I wanted to allow my memory of Roger’s hard body and his incredible kisses to flow through my entire being, but Manfred’s face kept shoving any thought of Roger out of my head. It was as if the two men were somehow battling for my attention. I decided to shut everything out of my consciousness and focus on the city around me. I chalked Manfred’s prominence in my thoughts to the fact that I was going to his house that night. My cock suddenly sprang to life again. Damn, I thought, I’m still not over that beautiful man – no matter how hot I found Roger. The thought of not going to Manfred’s party crossed my mind, but deep down I knew I wanted to go more than anything in the world. I let the joy that this thought gave to my body fuel the rest of my steps home. At that moment there was a feeling of peace surrounding me that had not existed all morning. I chose to not analyze that fact, because I was tired of second-guessing everything. During a lazy afternoon nap I entered into another vivid dream. Again, everything seemed so real to me. My dream focused on a god-like being that had a face half in light and half in darkness. This being was obviously somehow torn between good and evil. In the dream I found myself inexplicably drawn to the part of the being’s face that was in darkness. I felt a need to behold what was hidden – and to embrace it. The part of the face that was in light seemed weak in some way – or less powerful than the side of the face that was hidden. Even during the dream I sensed that this scenario somehow connected to my earlier dreams. In my sleep I could tell that all of the scenes I encountered while dreaming were related on some powerful level. As had happened that afternoon while walking, my dream was overpowered by a vision Manfred. The half of the face that was in the light seemed somehow similar to his – but there was also a presence of someone else. I could not distinguish who the mysterious person was, and any attempt to uncover the part of the face blocked by darkness ended in confusion and a feeling of helplessness. I awoke rested, but uneasy. It reminded me of times when jerking off did not quench my desire for release – but only intensified the need for more satisfaction. I was somehow lost in an abyss that existed between the face of light and the face of darkness. I wanted to fall back asleep and see if I could return to the dream, but my body wouldn’t let me. I finally got out of bed and decided to head towards Halfway to Heaven for a pint or two. I thought some beer might help dissipate the uneasiness left over by the strange dream. I also wanted to ease the nervousness that was growing inside of me because of Manfred’s party. I worried that I might not be able to have a casual friendship with Manfred. I forced these thoughts out of my head and jumped in the shower to get ready for the evening. Why is there no rhyme or reason as to when a gay bar is busy or not. It was just a late Monday afternoon and Halfway to Heaven was packed. I know I had not been in London long enough to know the rhythm of this bar’s crowd, but I could tell that other people were shocked at how full it was because of the look on their face when they came through the front door. How could the quaint neighborhood pub I had fallen in love with seemingly turn into such a hot spot over night? I was worried that I would have to find a new place to hang out. After making my way through the crowd to the bar and ordering my much-desired Stella Artois, I miraculously found an empty stool by the front window. It was actually a stool I had sat on numerous times. I thought, jokingly, that people were going to start associating the stool as my throne or my perch. I would have to make sure I sat somewhere else the next time I came in. The trouble was, though, that this stool was at the center of everything in the pub. You could survey the entire front room, the entranceway, and look out the big windows at the same time. It really was my favorite place to sit. Turning to survey the crowd brought me out of my inner monologue about my favorite stool. I had not noticed many other people before that moment, but my first thought, after glancing around, was that there must be a convention for male models in town. The stud-factor of the room was unbelievable. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to notice that each face seemed to be just as handsome as the other. I saw some of the “regulars” that I now knew because I had been there so often, but they even looked more handsome, as well. I wondered if the beer had gone to my head quickly because I hadn’t eaten much that day. It really didn’t matter if it was the beer or not, I liked the view. Another glance around the room revealed another odd thing. There seemed to be two distinct types of men in the pub that day. I can’t believe that I was so blatantly stereotyping the men around me, but there was clearly a division to be made. The first thing that made me notice the difference was leather jackets and suit coats. I couldn’t believe it, but there was, what I would call, a group of gentlemen and a group of rough guys. It was kind of freaky that this distinction was so obvious and the thought of it made me chuckle on the inside. There were groups of businessmen here and there talking together and then there were guys with three-day beards, t-shirts, and leather jackets standing in similar clusters. Two different feelings went through my body as I studied the room. The first feeling was a certain kind of comfortableness. Somehow I felt united, in some bizarre way, with the two groups assembled and it didn’t seem odd in any way. And, secondly, I stood out from the crowd in a big way. I was dressed in khakis and a newly tight polo shirt. I somehow fit right in between the two groups, which might explain why no one seemed to acknowledge my presence. It was very peculiar that no one was talking to me and I could never seem to catch anyone’s eye. This usually would have bothered me a great deal and I probably would have left the pub, but there was that deep feeling of comfortableness that existed and that empowered me to stay. In my head I tried to figure out what made me so relaxed in this situation, because I wanted to be able to draw on the source on other days, as well. But the only answer that passed through my head was that this is how it should be. I somehow lived beyond the division of the two groups and felt accepted by both. No, it was more than that. I instinctively knew that I could choose either group. Yes, that was it. I could easily get off my stool and go to any small crowd gathered in the room and be included. Okay, the beer was definitely giving me delusions of grandeur. My last thought seemed so incredibly cocky – that any group in the room would be honored to have me join them. Who did I think I was? But the more I sat with that feeling, the more I understood it to be true. It did have something to do with sensing that the groups of men would be happy to accept my company, but it, more importantly, was supported by an awareness of my own worth. I felt as if I could choose to . . . to what . . . to bestow my favor on someone. As crazy as it sounded, this thought resonated deep inside me. I was at peace with my self-importance and simply sat back to savor my newfound knowledge. It was at that moment I detected that many people in the room were, indeed, stealing quick glances at me. My self-esteem soared even higher than it already was, because I felt many men hoping for me to stand up and come to talk to them. But I was waiting for something, no, someone else, even though I didn’t know whom it might be. I knew, instinctively, that no one in the room could meet my expectations. And that was all my mind could take. I had crossed some line that proved my insanity. I was immediately self-conscious and needed to leave the room. The fantasy I had been living as I drank my beer was over. I could not believe that I allowed my mind to take me to such a cocky place. I looked at no one as I stood up from the stool and walked toward the door. I didn’t know where I was going, because Manfred’s party didn’t start for another hour, but I knew I couldn’t stay at the pub. The cool air that hit me once I stepped outside and instantly cleared my head. I was, once again, my semi-insecure self and that brought me a strange sense of joy. As I walked by the pub’s window I glanced in. I could swear the entire crowd was watching me walk away. I decided to get some food in me right away so I would be sober for Manfred’s party. I was shocked that one beer had made me so loopy. I stepped into a little market called Tesco around the corner and bought a pre-packaged sandwich and a bag of chips. No, not chips, they were called crisps here in London. I needed to start calling things by their correct names. I walked over to Trafalgar Square and sat by the fountain to eat my food. It was a nice evening and many people were out walking. The fresh air started to affect me in a strange way, I guess, for I started to get a hard-on. There was no other explanation for my sudden arousal. That is also the moment that my cell phone rang. I looked down, but didn’t recognize the number. I thought about not answering it, especially because of the hardness at my crotch, but decided to see who it was. “Hello.” I had been quiet so long that my own voice sounded strange to me. “What are you wearing?” asked a familiar voice. My heart jumped a little, but I was calm enough to match the sexy question with an equally shameful response. “I’m sitting in Trafalgar Square totally nude with a raging hard-on.” I replied and was surprised by my boldness, not to mention my almost truthfulness. “Were you thinking of me to attain this rigid state?” asked the voice and it was then I noticed the familiar delay that comes with overseas calls. “No, I was thinking about some guy I met at Halfway to Heaven,” I said teasingly. I wanted to make the man suffer, a little. I don’t think it worked, though. “Well, be careful. I know about half the men that come into Halfway and I could easily get a full report of any actions that might be unfitting for a gentleman.” And with that comment Roger broke into a soft, but familiar, laugh. “Good evening, Anthony.” I was not ready to give up on the teasing and replied, “Who is this, anyway?” “Oh no one important,” Roger said, immediately regaining his playfulness. “Just someone that can make all of your deepest desires come true.” That last comment caused my cock to finish its journey to complete stiffness. It actually hurt and I had to stand up and readjust. “I’m not so sure about that, sir. I have some really intense fantasies,” was my reply and my mind wandered back to my recent feelings of power at the pub. “It might take a lot of men to satisfy all of my desires.” “Unless there was one man who was super-human and knew exactly what you liked,” shot back across the airwaves. Roger certainly could choose the right things to say. His comment caused me to desperately want him back in London. I would even have gotten naked in Trafalgar Square for him at that moment. This is the kind of control he had over me. I wanted the telephone foreplay to last forever. “And tell me, Mr. Roger, what makes you super-human?” I asked trying not to sound like I was intentionally leading us to phone sex. “Oh, you know. The usual. I am as strong as a hundred men, I bend steel like it is licorice, and I can last continually in bed for over seventy-two hours. But I am sure that none of that would impress someone as magnificent as you, Anthony.” His words caused me to catch my breath. It was like he knew my deepest desires. I knew if I didn’t change the subject fast I would have to go home and change my pants before going to Manfred’s party. “When are you coming home?” I asked. It wasn’t really a question someone could ask this soon in a relationship, but I, presently, was not in a place to filter my thoughts. “My dear man, I just left yesterday,” Roger said laughing. This gave me a little time to regain composure and realize how stupid the question was. He continued, “I know my departure was not convenient to our budding relationship, but, look at it this way, it will definitely prolong the foreplay and I know how you like the foreplay, Anthony.” “Yes, Roger, but I like foreplay that involves our bodies touching each other!” I cried into the phone, a little too loudly. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring, but no one was. Roger laughed again and then said, “I understand, but I also believe we were headed toward cutting the foreplay short, if I remember correctly.” He was right, of course. His comment calmed me down abruptly. In a feeble attempt to defend where we had been headed before he left, I asked, “Would that have been such a bad thing, Roger?” “Of course not, Anthony,” he answered. “And we are certainly destined to come together in a way that makes our foreplay look like child’s play. I guarantee it. We simply must be patient. The powers-that-be have definite plans for us, Anthony, definite plans.” “I know, I know, Roger. You’re right. I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely,” I said truthfully. I think my honesty caught him off guard, because he paused for a few seconds. Either that or he was doing work as we chatted. He finally spoke, “Anthony, maybe you need to go out. Maybe you need to be with people.” “I am going out. I’m on my way to a party at Manfred’s home. I’m not really looking forward to it, though.” Again I was sharing openly with this man I barely knew. I believe it was because he was so far away. There was a longer pause and I started to think we had lost our connection. “Are you still there?” I finally asked. “Yes, Anthony. I am still here. I had not meant to infer that you should spend time with Manfred,” Roger replied and I could tell his mood had changed. I marveled at the thought that Roger was jealous of Manfred. I thought I had made it very clear the other night how much I wanted the man now talking to me on the phone. Still, here was part of me that liked making Roger a little nervous. I decided to take him back to an earlier part of our conversation. “Well, maybe someone’s not as super-human as he thought. It looks like I have found a chink in his armor.” I said returning to my teasing attitude. My statement caused Roger to pause again. This time I got nervous that I had gone too far. “It is quite obvious that you have feelings for Manfred, Anthony. I hope my absence does not increase your fondness for him.” Roger said with all seriousness. “Roger, come on. You know I am not Manfred’s type. We acknowledged that when we had drinks at your club the other day. I don’t fit the bill when it comes to being a bodybuilder and that is what Manfred likes.” I said laughing at my own words. “For now, you do not,” Roger said softly. I was not sure I heard him correctly. “What was that, Mr. super-human?” I quickly asked wanting to return to our playfulness of earlier. “Nothing, my dear, Anthony, nothing.” Roger said, seemingly perking up again. “I just do not like competition when it comes to something I desire so desperately.” The smooth talker had returned, as well as my boner. “Do you desire it desperately enough to catch the next plane to Heathrow?” I asked coyly. “Yes, I do, but that will not be happening for a while, I do believe. I have run into a lot of legal struggles with my latest acquisition here and I must remain in the States for a while. Your country certainly likes a lot of red tape, does it not?” He asked and I could hear the strain his work was causing. “Yes they do, Roger, yes they do. I think you should use that incredible charm of yours to seal the deal. I can’t think of anyone who might be able to resist that,” I said to encourage him. “Thank you, Anthony,” came the reply and I could tell he was smiling. “That is very kind. I do believe you would be amazed at how un-charming I can be when it comes to business, though. I choose to save my sexual attraction for chasing men that turn me on. Like you turn me on, Mr. Lance.” I could sense the conversation could return to dialogue that would get me near a point of ejaculation quickly, but I saw that it was almost time for Manfred’s dinner to begin. I pushed away my desire to move back towards phone sex. Roger could sense the decision I made – even from so many miles away. I began to end our conversation by saying, “I’m afraid I need to start heading towards Manfred’s place. Thank you for calling, Roger. It means a lot to me. I hope you will do it often. I also promise that you have nothing to worry about with Manfred. That ship has sailed.” “Your superman is happy to hear that, Anthony. And do not worry; I will continue to call frequently. I do not want you to forget me,” Roger answered. I immediately thought the man was crazy. How could I possibly forget someone so sexy and beautiful? I quickly shot back, “That could never happen, Mr. Wexford. There won’t be a day that goes by that isn’t filled with a longing for your return. I promise. Have a great day and figure out a way to close the deal over there. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” “Au revoir, Anthony,” he answered and then hung up. I sat there for a few seconds letting the sound of his voice and the feeling the call had created in me permeate every part of my body. I was smitten and in a big way. I ached to make love to that sexy man. I would certainly hold off having any kind of sex until his return. Suddenly, my little tryst in the bushes that morning popped into my head. I rationalized that encounter by blaming Roger. He had created the need in me by turning me on so much and then leaving. I would start my new commitment to him right now. From this point on I was saving myself for Roger’s first night back. And it would have to be his first night back or I would explode from sexual overdrive. That is how bad I wanted the man. I stood up and began walking in the direction of Manfred’s home, knowing that the conversation with Roger was going to make me late. ********** It wasn’t hard to find the street where Manfred lived because I had scoped out this area of the city before. This part of London did not have a lot of full sized homes and the ones that did exist overlooked St. James’ Park. It was quite obvious by the front of Manfred’s house that it had been here for many years. I was pretty sure it had been in his family for a long time. The outside was not as impressive as Roger’s place, but I could tell, by looking in the floor-to-ceiling bay windows at the front of the house that it was furnished impeccably with, what were surely, family heirlooms. Manfred did not answer the door. The butler, who introduced himself as Charles, welcomed me and ushered me through the large foyer and long hallway saying everyone was in the kitchen at the back. It struck me as strange that Manfred and his guests were in the kitchen, but I simply followed Charles. I stole glances into other rooms as we walked down the hallway and was impressed with the incredible furniture and other décor of each room. Manfred, or possibly someone in his family, had great taste. I was not prepared for the incredible modernized kitchen of Manfred’s home. There was too much to take in at one time. It was not just a kitchen; it also included a huge family room area with a large fireplace, full bar, sofas, desk area, and more. There was a huge island that separated the great room from the kitchen area that had multiple cooking tops; lots of counter space, and areas for eating that included beautiful wrought-iron stools. I also saw a long table, just beyond a wall containing two unbelievable large ovens, which served as an informal place to eat. All of this was very impressive, but nothing compared to the giant open space between the kitchen and the fantastic balcony that looked out over the park. I could tell that there were large glass doors with wood frames that slid into wall pockets to make the kitchen area and large porch one huge space. I believe my entire flat would have fit into this area of his house. I also bet that the majority of Manfred’s time was spent right here. He probably could have closed up all the other rooms, except his bedroom and bathroom, and lived very comfortably. There was a long tale on the porch set for dinner and it looked magical. I didn’t see Manfred at first, but I did notice that his so-called informal get-together was not that small. I counted at least ten people over in the bar and sofa area of the kitchen and some others out on the balcony. I suddenly became very self-conscious and that’s when Charles called out in a loud voice, “Mr. Anthony Lance.” I couldn’t believe it. I was being announced! It was like some movie I had seen growing up where people coming to the King’s ball were introduced loudly as they came down the ballroom steps. All eyes turned to look at me and that made me want to immediately turn and leave. I froze and did not know what to do. That’s when Manfred seemed to come out of nowhere and pressed his hand against my back leading me into the room as he welcomed me. “Anthony!” Manfred said warmly. “I am so glad you are finally here. I was worried that we would have to hold dinner for you. Welcome to my home. What would you like to drink?” We had stopped between the large kitchen island and the back of the large sofa and chairs facing the enormous fireplace. I turned to face Manfred, but was not prepared for how seeing him again would affect me. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. Manfred’s masculine beauty caught me off guard, as it had when I first met him. I must have looked like a complete idiot. Manfred quickly noticed my predicament and said, “A vodka tonic, you say. What a wonderful choice that is.” He then turned toward the bar and called out, “Paulo, look who’s here. Of course you remember Anthony, right? He will have a vodka tonic, if you please.” I looked in the same direction as Manfred and saw the muscular Paulo behind the bar. He was smiling in our direction and nodding his head. “Welcome, Anthony. How could I forget such a handsome man? I will personally deliver your vodka tonic to you on the patio, my American friend. And I will drag you away from that evil Manfred, and keep you to myself this evening,” Paulo said beginning to mix my drink. I heard Manfred laugh beside me and then felt the pressure of his hand leading me out onto the balcony. Most of my earlier nervousness disappeared when I saw the view of the park from Manfred’s home. It was like a fantasy come true. It was still pretty light outside, but lamps were on all along the paths in the park and that made it look incredible. You could actually see most of the park from Manfred’s balcony. “That view is unbelievable, Manfred,” I said following him around the table set for dinner to the railing on the other side of the patio. “He speaks,” Manfred said teasingly as he turned to look at me. My face flushed red as I realized he was acknowledging how tongue-tied I had become when I saw him. It struck me that Manfred must be used to causing that reaction in people, because he did not let the conversation dwell on it any longer. “Yes, it is a wonderful view. I never take it for granted. That’s why I re-did the kitchen, so I could enjoy the park as much as I could.” “You have a beautiful home.” I said bracing myself mentally and then turning to look at him. This time I was prepared for how his face would move me. I was not, however, prepared for the sudden stiffness in my pants. “Thank you so much for inviting me. Although, I thought you said it was going to be informal and small.” Manfred smiled at me, causing the stiffness below my waist to increase, and said, “This is small, Anthony. You will have to come to my Christmas Party. There are three hundred people here. Having twenty close friends over is nothing compared to that evening.” I didn’t have time to react to Manfred because a large hand came from above my head and lowered a drink in front of my face. Manfred’s gaze turned upward and I knew he was looking at the tall Paulo behind me. “I hope you like your drinks strong, Anthony. I made it the Italian way,” Paulo said as I took the glass from his large hand and he stepped to the side so the three of us made a triangle – conducive for talking. “What is the Italian way?” I asked Paulo innocently. I did not register that he was pulling my leg. “That means it is strong enough to get a man to do anything once he has finished it,” Paulo said loudly and then broke into laughter. “I know many straight men who have, how do you say, changed gay – no, turned gay after one of my drinks.” This made him laugh harder. This time Manfred and I joined him. I took a sip and immediately knew what he meant. I think he might have just waved the tonic bottle over the glass. That one sip did, however, calm my tensed body quickly. “Anthony, I am going to leave you in the frighteningly huge, but capable hands of Paulo,” Manfred said placing one hand on the big guy’s shoulder and one on mine. “I must go put the final touches on our dinner.” “Manfred,” Paulo quickly said, “When are you going to hire a chef to do your cooking?” “Now, Paulo, we have been through this,” Manfred answered and I could tell it was a conversation the two had engaged in before, “I love to cook and I am pretty good at it…” Paulo interrupted, “We will be the judge of that.” He looked at me and winked. “That is fine. The bottom line is I like to cook and it soothes me. Now, please excuse me as I must go and open the wine.” Manfred looked directly at me before he walked away, as if he was trying to figure something out. There was a slightly confused look, no, it was a surprised look on his face. I could not figure out what it meant. And then he was gone. Paulo moved into his place, turning to lean against the railing, which caused his tall body to lower a little and helped our faces to be somewhat even. Paulo stared at me, his gaze going down my torso, before speaking. The awkward silence caused me to take another big sip of my drink. “You are bigger Anthony, no?” Paulo said looking at me in a way that made me nervous and excited at the same time. “I don’t think so, Paulo. I haven’t made much time to work out the last couple of days.” I looked down at the ground because I didn’t like to talk about myself in this way. “No, you are bigger Anthony. I can tell. It is my job to notice such things.” He said, turning to place his drink on the railing and then standing to face me. He laid his big hands on my delts and squeezed hard. His grip didn’t hurt, but it did feel strong and manly. “You fill out your shirt differently than before. You have the perfect body for building up muscles. I am very jealous, my friend.” I don’t know what caused my head to spin. Was it the fact that this big muscular guy was jealous of me, was it his sexy accent, was it the two sips of his famously strong drink, or was it the feel of his powerful hands on my body? I was lost in some kind of momentary stupor. As Paulo’s hands continued to check out different parts of my upper body – my arms, my chest, and my shoulders – I started to feel something familiar beginning to well up in my body. It wasn’t lust, because that was already happening since he began to touch me, but something more. I tried to remember other recent moments when I had felt the same way and it suddenly hit me. It happened this morning when I had been challenged by the guy on the bicycle, and the other night when I made out with Roger. Yes, that was it. I was having a similar reaction right now. At this point I no longer looked at the sensation that was overcoming my body from the outside. I simply let the spell I was under take over my body. I tensed my muscles wherever Paulo grabbed me. He noticed my change in attitude and strengthened his groping. I looked down at his crotch and noticed his pants becoming tight because of his swelling member. This sight made my body rage with some unknown power. Paulo started breathing harder and I could tell the confidence that seemed to now shoot out of my body was really turning him on. I brought my hands up to his broad chest, made fists, and then punched him right on his erect nipples. I hit him pretty hard. The impact made him step back a little, but he continued to hold onto my shoulders. I could tell he loved the feeling of his pecs being punched. Charles, the butler, calling out “Dinner is served”, interrupted our muscle groping session. I was, somehow, able to snap back to reality as soon as I heard Charles’ voice. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching us and then stepped back from Paulo. He moaned slightly as I broke away and tried to grab my body. There was something inside of me that took over and I merely turned and walked away from him. I didn’t look back, because there was no need. I instinctively knew he was watching me walk away and trying hard to prevent himself from ejaculating. It was a feeling of power and control that was becoming familiar to me. I felt great because I sensed that I had conquered the big man in some small way. When I got to the table the trance-like fog in my head gradually cleared. I had a memory of the feelings that overcame my body when I was with Paulo, but it seemed like it had been someone else. I felt sort of lost and confused. Manfred appeared beside me, again, out of the blue and ushered me toward a chair. “Here, Anthony, please sit beside me. Where is Paulo? I have a place across from you for him.” Manfred said all of this as he lit candles on the table. I glanced to the edge of the balcony and could see that Paulo had his back to us and was adjusting the hard-on I had caused. When he turned toward us I could see the outline of an enormous cock. I guess it was true what they said about a man with large hands. He stared at me as he came to the table. He did not attempt to hide his stiff tool. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I was aware of how passionately he wanted me, but I could also sense that he wanted to do something else. I wasn’t sure what it was and then it hit me. The look on his face was a mixture of challenge and submission. I could tell that I had won the first part of some unknown battle between us and knew there would be a second round later. Paulo could not let me leave without engaging in our little contact sport again. When he got to the table almost every set of eyes was focused on his tenting pants, but Paulo just stood there proud and erect. He continued to stare at me as he sat down. I glanced at Manfred and saw that he had noticed none of this because he was still lightning candles. He finished and then came to sit down at the head of the table with Paulo on his left and me on his right. I knew dinner was going to be quite interesting. *********** Manfred said a few words of welcome and then invited everyone to begin. The table was decorated impeccably and the food was incredible. As bowls and platters were being passed around for people to serve themselves, I suddenly felt a foot against my leg. I glanced at Manfred first – ever the optimist – but immediately noticed the size of the foot making its way up my leg and turned from Manfred to the waiting stare of Paulo. He had a wicked smile across his face and I was caught off guard when I realized his long leg was reaching all the way up to my crotch. His toes rubbed against my cock and it started to stir. Manfred was talking to someone to the left of Paulo and was oblivious to all that was going on underneath the table. I tried hard to not let on that a large foot was stroking my cock under the table. I also tried hard to not catch Paulo’s eye and acknowledge how great his toes were making me feel – as if the stiffness of my dick hid anything. Paulo showed no mercy. He was quite capable of seeming to be involved in conversations and completely engaged in everything around him while he masterfully worked my crotch. There is no way I could return the favor because my leg would not reach him. As I began to near a point where I would not have been able to stop my building orgasm I pushed my chair slightly away from the table. Paulo’s foot could not reach my crotch anymore. I glanced at his face and could tell he was disappointed, but we both knew I was too close to release for him to continue. He pulled his foot back and acted like he was sulking. I turned to talk to Manfred to get my mind off of our “under the table” connection. “Manfred, I thought Martin was coming,” I said finally getting the chance to ask about our friend. “Oh, Anthony. I guess you did not hear,” Manfred said with a very serious look on his face. “I should have told you right away. Martin is very ill. John called and said that it looked pretty bad. I plan on going over to see him tomorrow.” The look on Manfred’s face showed his great concern for his friend. This news stunned me and my hard-on disappeared quickly. I could not believe Martin was so sick. I quickly rattled off a lot of questions, “Manfred, how sick is he? Is it serious? Has he been to the doctor? What did John mean by it looks pretty bad?” “I do not know much more than what I told you, Anthony. I am very sorry. Would you like to come with me tomorrow?” Manfred asked with that same serious look. “Yes, please.” I said without hesitation. “Thank you, Manfred. Thank you very much. I am so fond of Martin. You’ve got me worried now.” Manfred smiled, “Now, Anthony, tonight is an evening for fun. Martin would want you to enjoy the party. We will go over tomorrow and we’ll both see how great he is – and it will be a pleasant surprise. For now, let us enjoy the evening as much as we can.” Manfred leaned into me and had a devilish look on his face. “Tell me, has anyone here caught your eye? I glanced around the table as I returned Manfred’s smile. I then said, “Oh, I don’t know Manfred. There are so many cute guys to choose from.” “But none to match the beauty of you, Anthony,” chimed in Paulo, who had been listening intently to our conversation. This comment made Manfred glance quickly in the big guy’s direction. I detected a look of confusion mixed with immediate jealousy. Seeing Manfred react this way made something deep inside of me shift a little. I felt a surge of power at the thought of making Manfred jealous. It wasn’t even about making him notice me or focus more on me. No, it was more about now knowing a weakness in him. I was drawn to that slight chink in his armor. I could feel that an unexplored part of me wanted to make sure Manfred knew I could see his exposed weakness. I desired to use this knowledge to somehow dominate him or win some battle – but I could not, for the life of me, tell you what battle. I simply had a desire to win. And it took over, just as it had when I was racing the guy on the bicycle that morning. I turned to face Paulo. “And no one here can match the size of you Paulo,” I echoed back. Manfred looked back at me and I saw a flicker of something indescribable in his eyes. For a second I thought it was desire, but I knew better. Manfred simply did not want me to flirt with Paulo, which only encouraged me more. “I’m sure there is no other man here that is as big as you.” I smiled and Paulo’s face lit up. He glanced around the table and then turned back to me. He spoke to me as if Manfred didn’t even exist. “No one even comes close, my American friend,” he said in a voice dripping with sex. All three of us knew what was happening. And we each knew the next few moments would change our friendships forever, but there was no turning back. I wanted Paulo. I didn’t want him as a lover or boyfriend. I wanted him so Manfred would lose. I wanted to claim the prize and end up proving my power over both men at the same time. I was completely out of control. Something beast-like was causing my heart to pound, my cock to ache from stiffness, and my entire body to come alive with a desire to make both men surrender to my superiority. “But remember, Paulo, even things as big as you can be overpowered. You may be huge, but that just means there will be a louder crash when you come toppling down,” I replied with challenge in my voice. Paulo laughed slightly and then said, “And tell me, Anthony, are you the man to overpower Paulo?” “I am. And it will be easy,” I said softly, but firmly. I did not blink. I stared directly at Paulo and I could sense lust, mixed with something else, emanating from his body. It took me a few seconds to realize what was mixed in with his desire for me, but when I figured it out it made me smile. Paulo wanted me desperately, but he also feared me. I suddenly relaxed as if some struggle had ended. It was as if I knew I already controlled the huge man and there was no need to continue to be aggressive. He was already mine to do as I please. Goliath was about to fall before David. Manfred interrupted my celebratory moment when he suddenly stood and loudly said, “Gentleman, shall we move to the library for drinks.” I heard some distress in Manfred’s words that were not noticed by anyone else. He glanced at me and tried to smile graciously, but I could see he was hurt. I also detected that he was not admitting defeat. “Anthony, come walk with me. I have some aged scotch that you will love.” He held out his arm and I rose. I locked arms with him and we walked away from the table, neither of us even acknowledging Paulo. I had a feeling that the big guy would need a few seconds to allow his cock to calm down. Paulo was not used to having someone impact him the way I did. He was so turned on by my aggressiveness that I knew he was, again, close to orgasm. As the party continued in Manfred’s spacious library, I slowly became aware that Paulo was not in the room. It was not because I looked around and didn’t see his face; it was more of a feeling in my gut. It was as if I had a sixth sense that, when focused, could tell me things my other senses could not. This same feeling told me that Paulo was waiting for me somewhere in the house. I could feel his heart beating fast as he waited for me to come. Again, I became aware that his quickened heartbeat was because of his lust for me, but also it was caused by something akin to fear. Paulo wanted me to come and search for him, but he was also frightened by what might happen when I did finally find him. My own body began to pulse with anticipation and power as I thought about Paulo’s nervousness. I knew immediately that I could find the giant man easily – his quickened heartbeat pounded in my head and I knew it would grow stronger as I got closer to him. It was like some childhood game where someone told me I was getting hotter as I stepped closer to where the prize was hidden. Paulo’s body was calling out to me, as if it were begging to be found so it could be dominated. There was no way I could ignore the desire that had taken over my entire body. I moved toward the doorway to the library and slid out unnoticed. I let my “sixth sense” lead me. I moved across the large entranceway and down a small hall on the other side. My cock had become hard and was like a divining rod leading me to waiting pleasure. I could feel Paulo’s pulse begin to quicken as I walked down the hallway. Somehow, he was aware that I was coming. I held up my hand to each doorway I neared and could instantly determine if it blocked me from my desired prey. I finally came to a room at the back of the house. When I placed my hand on the door the pounding of Paulo’s pulse in my ears became so loud it was almost unbearable. A smile crept across my face as I felt the heat of Paulo’s waiting body passing through the wooden door to my palm. It was quite clear to me that the big man knew I was standing in the hallway, just a few steps away from him. The trance-like feeling that had overcome me earlier on the balcony returned and some animalistic force took over all of my actions. I remained aware of what I was doing, but I could not control my desires or any of my movements. I reached down and turned the doorknob, allowing the thick piece of wood to swing open slowly. My mind instantly registered everything about the room and the big man standing in its center. I was immediately aware that there were four floor-to-ceiling windows in the room and one other door that went to a bathroom. It was obviously a guest bedroom that was used as some kind of study. There was a large leather sofa, two big chairs and a desk in the room. I paused in awe for a brief moment because I realized that I could have drawn a floor plan of this room after only five seconds. My ability to take in everything around me was heightened beyond belief. This same ability told me that Paulo’s big fat dick was rock hard and oozing copious drops of cum just because I had entered the room. The giant lion had somehow been reduced to a frightened kitten. I knew he would not move until I somehow gave him permission. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. I could sense that Paulo’s heart was beating so fast that, for a second, I worried he might have a heart attack. I looked straight into his pleading eyes. “Come,” was the only word I said. Paulo immediately stepped in front of me. I tilted my head upward to look at the big man and he quickly brought his lips down to mine. Paulo’s kiss was so forceful and full of desire that it momentarily brought me out of my semi-trance. There were just a few quick seconds where I was blown away by the fact that this huge stud-like man wanted me – little Anthony. This consciousness of what was happening disappeared quickly and I returned to only desire, a need to make this big man succumb to my power. Paulo was kissing me like I somehow held the key to life inside me and he wanted to suck it out of throat. The guy was like some sex-starved beast that was ready to offer his body for the taking. Our torsos came together and I could feel his two-by-four sized cock pressing into my stomach. Paulo had his hands on my ass pulling my body into his. I reached around and grabbed his hands with mine. I lifted them to our sides and I heard the big guy moan in displeasure. He was obviously disappointed that I ended his ass worshipping session. I maneuvered my palms against his and guided Paulo to interlock fingers with me. He was so into our kiss that he followed my lead completely. Immediately, Paulo squeezed his fingers together around mine. Again, just for a second, I left the moment and was able to observe what was going on as if I stood across the room watching. I knew Paulo was putting a lot of strength into his hands as he clamped down on mine, but I felt nothing. As Paulo moved his lips to my neck I looked to the side and saw veins popping up on his forearm, showing how much pressure he was giving, but it felt only like a small child attempting to apply resistance to me. As soon as I registered the fact that Paulo’s huge crushing hands felt like nothing against mine, a strange all-consuming electricity shot through my body. I was still slightly aware of who I was and that there was this large man in front of me, but a stronger desire took over and I was unable to control it. It felt similar to the feeling I had experienced earlier as I raced the guy on the bicycle, but it was even stronger now. I was ready to make sure Paulo knew who was master and who was slave. I could feel my heart turn cold and I was filled only with a desire to overcome the enemy – and right now that was Paulo. I tensed my hands slightly and Paulo pulled his lips from mine and I could tell by the look on his face that my grasp had caused him a little pain. He smiled at me with gritting teeth. “Such strength for a little man,” Paulo said jokingly and increased his grip. I knew the smile that appeared on my face was full of some kind of darkness. I saw a sliver of doubt, or was it fear, in Paulo’s eyes. At this point I had no control over my body. It was being fueled by an energy that I never knew existed within me. I gave myself totally to this force and seemed to be on a high from the feeling it created. I only wanted more of the power that seemed to be growing in my body. A somewhat evil-sounding chuckle escaped my mouth. “You have no idea,” is all I said and then I squeezed my fingers tighter. Paulo cried out loudly and his knees buckled a little. His entire upper torso bent backwards and he faced the ceiling. The sound of his pain-filled voice only made me chuckle again. I tightened my hands even more, aware that I was not using my full strength. Paulo brought his face back toward mine and, although it was obvious that he was in pain, I could sense that he was getting off on being dominated by me. Somehow, I was aware that his cock was even harder than it had been before. Paulo wanted me to control him completely. Realizing this fact caused me to cross some imaginary line of self-awareness. I registered that I moved to a place where my body and mind acted on its own. There was enough of the old Anthony still intact for me to understand that I had moved to a dark place within me, as if I had been sucked into a black hole, but I was unable to stop myself from going there. I had been taken over by an almost all-consuming desire. The smile on my face grew wider. Paulo stared at me with a look full of lust, fear, pain, and awe. I squeezed my hands even tighter and the big man fell to his knees, crying out again, but never taking his eyes off of me. “You are mine, Paulo,” I said softly, but the voice seemed to come from someone else. “I could crush your hands with no effort at all and you know it. That seems to make little Paulo very excited, doesn’t it? I’m going to make you shoot your load just by dominating you. From this moment on you’ll only think of me and my strength.” I put more pressure on his hands and he stopped breathing. His palms were level with his head and bent backwards. I knew, instinctively, that I could snap them in two if I wanted to. Paulo knew this as well. “It’s time I get my prize for dominating you, little Paulo. It’s time for you to reward me with your offering of man juice. Shoot for your master, slave, shoot!” I squeezed his hands tighter and suddenly he opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out. His entire body began to shake uncontrollably at the same time. I held on to his hands because I knew his body would have fallen to the ground if I didn’t. Paulo continued to spray cum into his underwear for what seemed like ten minutes. His face turned bright red from the strain his body was going through and veins popped up all over his pretty forehead and neck. After what seemed like eternity, he drew in a huge breath and I released his hands. Paulo’s body fell to the ground and he immediately stuck all of his fingers into his mouth. He was trying to suck them hard enough to make the pain go away. He still had his eyes closed and I knew he would be on the floor in a fetal position for a while. I looked at his groin area and was flattered immediately. His pants were wet from his crotch to below his right knee. I knew his fingers wouldn’t be the only things sore for a few days. “That’s a good slave. Make sure you rest before our next meeting,” were the only words I spoke as I turned to leave the room. I left the door open so others might walk by and get a glance at my work. I returned to the library and sought out Manfred. It was time for me to leave the party. I was determined to find other men that needed dominating and the night was still young. Manfred turned to me as I walked towards him. I could tell by the look in his face that he registered something different about me, but could not name what it was. “Have you seen, Paulo?” he asked with an accusing tone. “No, Manfred, I haven’t.” I responded coolly. “Maybe something came up.” “Yes. Maybe something did, but it is not like Paulo to leave without saying goodbye.” Manfred said looking at me closely. “Well, you know Manfred, sometimes we get so caught up in something else, that we forget our manners,” I answered, not moving my eyes from Manfred’s. I knew I was being cruel, but I didn’t care. This beautiful man in front of me had broken my heart and I wanted him to pay. “That is true, Anthony, that is true. I just hope he is all right,” Manfred said with a face full of real concern. “Something tells me he is better than all right, Manfred. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. But I came to say thank you and good night. It was a lovely party.” I spoke with the same distant voice that I had used when dominating Paulo. “Are you leaving so soon, Anthony?” asked Manfred. “I’m afraid so, there are many more conquests for me out there in the city,” I said laughing. “What an odd choice of words,” Manfred said staring directly at me with eyes full of suspicion. “I’m only kidding, Manfred. I really just want to get home and turn in for the night. I hope to get a lot more sightseeing in before I start my job and tomorrow is a full day,” I said quickly, covering up my mistake. “Do not forget about our visit to Martin, Anthony. Shall we meet at his place around eleven?” Manfred asked and as soon as he spoke Martin’s name something inside of me snapped open. A tension in my body melted away. I was suddenly fully aware of my body and my surroundings. I felt slightly confused by this transition and realized that whatever had controlled my physical self earlier was instantly gone. “Yes. That would be… I mean eleven is… What I meant to say Manfred is that eleven will be fine.” I stumbled around for words as I desperately tried to sort through all that had happened in the last thirty minutes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned quickly to leave. Manfred reached out and grabbed my arm as I started to walk away. “Anthony, are you all right?” Manfred asked sincerely. As soon as his hand touched my arm a feeling of something similar to intense calmness flowed through my veins. The feeling scared me a little and I pulled my arm away from Manfred. I saw a look of confusion in his eyes. “Yes, Manfred. I’m fine. I guess I had too much to drink. I think the walk home will be just the thing to clear my head. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for a great evening.” And with that I turned around and left. As soon as I was outside I could feel my body attaining some sort of equilibrium that had been missing for the last few hours. I took a few deep breaths and let the night air fill my lungs. It seemed as if I were forcing something from my body with each inhale and exhale. I started walking away from Manfred’s home. I had a vague memory of wanting to go back to the pub and find some man to…to…to what? To conquer, that’s what I had felt, but now all I wanted to do was go home. I suddenly wanted my bed desperately and knew that a good night’s sleep would help clear my head. My mind drifted to Paulo and the experience of bringing him to his knees. There was a flicker of something in my crotch area, as if a flame were attempting to ignite, but my need for rest took over. I also felt like my clothes were constricting me in some way – I wanted to get out of my shirt and pants as soon as possible. I walked to my flat in a daze and, once inside my place, I stumbled to the bedroom, discarding tight clothes as I went, and fell fast asleep as soon as I my head hit the pillow. An American Muscleman in London - Part 18 August 31st, 2008 The Second Full Moon – Continued I woke up Tuesday morning and looked at the clock beside my bed. I was shocked to see that it said nine o’clock. I had not slept so late since getting over my jet lag. I was also quite used to waking up early – and usually with a raging hard on. I was also shocked that I could not remember any dreams from the previous night. My most recent nights had been so filled with vivid images that I was surprised to find one so empty. I didn’t wake up tired, as a matter of fact I felt great and was very rested. Still, I could tell that my deep sleep had been caused by some internal fatigue that could not be explained. When I fell on the bed the night before, it was as if I had been through some huge storm – battling for my life in some way. At least that’s how my body had felt when I got into bed last night. This morning, however, things were definitely different. Even if I had been forced to explain the difference I would have been unable to. I just knew my body felt differently than it ever had before. Don’t get me wrong - it was a good feeling. No, it was a great feeling. I felt more alive in some way. It was much more than being rested. It was more like I had received some kind of energy transfusion or I had taken an entire bottle of vitamins. Even with this newfound energy, I didn’t get out of bed quickly. I found myself trying to replay the evening at Manfred’s house and the moments leading up to it, but realized that large chunks of memory were very hazy. I remembered talking to Roger on the phone while sitting at Trafalgar Square and I could vividly re-live arriving at Manfred’s home. My mind wandered a short while on the furnishings and the beauty of his place, but then all focus turned to Manfred’s gorgeous face. I immediately remembered making a fool of myself by not being able to speak when I looked at him. I covered my face with my hands and moaned out loud. The moment made me self-conscious even now. The feeling of my bent arms moving into place suddenly cut my groan from embarrassment short. Every part of my upper body felt tight. It was such a strange feeling that I just lay there with my hands over my eyes and explored the sensation with just my mind. My bent arms felt padded in some way. I knew I was completely nude, but it seemed like I was wearing a few layers of skin-tight lycra or something. It is difficult to explain how slight changes in something so familiar as your own body can be easily noticed. I would compare it to feeling a slightly scratchy throat as a warning that you are coming down with a cold. But this was, in no way, a feeling of discomfort or a precursor to sickness. No, the tension in my biceps, my shoulders, and my chest was definitely connected to the energetic pulse that was running through my body. Even before I removed my hands from my face I knew that my body was transformed in some way and I was sure the change was for the good. I kept my arms in the air as I opened my eyes. I gasped out loud when my sight landed on my biceps in front of me. Don’t get the idea that I had become some massive green hulkster or anything, my reaction was mainly because my arms were definitely more defined than they had ever been in my entire life. I sat up quickly and marveled at the fact that my abs and back were able to lift my body from the mattress with great ease. This sudden realization made me forget about my arms for a brief moment and I looked down at my stomach. “Oh my god,” I said out loud. I saw definite ridges across what used to be my narrow, but fleshy, lower torso. I instinctively tensed my stomach and my abdominals were immediately more pronounced. It was barely noticeable, but remember I have lived with this body for many years and even the slightest change caught my eye. “I have abs! I’ve got fucking abs. How is that possible?” I spoke to no one in particular and to the entire world at the same time. “Damn. If someone had told me working out could affect me this way so quickly, I would have started a long time ago.” A thought ran across my mind, but I pushed it away immediately. For a split second I contemplated the notion that my few work out sessions could not have caused such quick results, but then I let the joy of how my body looked overcome my doubt. It is amazing how we will sometimes ignore common sense just to celebrate a long-desired outcome. It would be weeks before I allowed myself to re-evaluate the physical progress I now achieved. For now, all I cared about was the fact that I could see the benefits of my daily runs through London and my few times at the gym. I glanced back at my raised arms and tensed my hands, which affected all that was connected. My biceps – once cute, but slightly loose because of not exercising regularly – were now tight and bunched into small mounds. I also noticed some semi-pronounced veins in my forearms. I released my tensed fists and was astounded that my arms continued to look muscular. Even relaxed, my arms seemed to be more built than before. I suddenly had an urge to go to the gym and do a bunch of curls like Quan had shown me. I wanted to see these arms in action. My dream of working my arms was only interrupted because I glanced down at my chest and what I saw actually made me scream. I couldn’t believe it – the once sunken flesh-covered pectorals that I was used to seeing were now replaced by molded, hard, faintly protruding muscle. For the first time in my life I actually had a crevice between my pecs. I brought my arms inward and squeezed the newly formed small slabs of meat together. I watched in amazement, as my dark erect nipples shot out further because of the flex. I released the tension and smiled because my chest actually stayed a chest! It dawned on me that shirts would now hang differently on my body. Instead of falling straight down and looking like some kind of poncho just held up by my shoulders, I realized that the slight shelf created by this mass of muscle would cause loose shirts to hang a little distance from my tight abs - and this would be a completely new feeling for me. For the first time in my life I wanted to own a tight white tank top that would show off the tapered look my body now possessed. Its crazy how even small gains, when trying to build up your body, can fuel you on to incredible dreams of future possibilities. I lay back down on the bed and closed my eyes again. I ran my right hand over my left arm, amazed at how it felt so different and even larger than it really was. I began to imagine my muscles growing to the level of competitive bodybuilders. I flexed my left bicep and grabbed the hard skin-covered ball underneath, which in my fantasy-like-state was now the size of a mountain. I stopped flexing and moved both of my hands to my chest, squeezing what I imagined were boulder-sized piles of muscle. I was completely lost in visions of a super-sized Anthony. At some point I slipped away from reality and moved from a simple dream of what I could become to a lust-filled, totally irrational knowledge that I was slowly becoming the muscled behemoth that filled my mind. In some distant corner of my mind I fully understood that I had lost control of my senses and was letting some kind of fantasy rule my thoughts, but on another level I saw that the body I envisioned was my future. The mixture of feeling hard bumps of muscle on my body for the first time and seeing vividly that a muscle monster lived somewhere deep inside of me, caused me to ignore all rational thought and enter into the bliss of my dream completely. My right hand moved instinctively down to my stomach. I felt the ripples of my new abdominals and, to me; they seemed to be deep valleys cut in stone. I let my fingers move slowly down the hills and crevices until they met the tip of my cock that was already emitting drops of pre-cum. The interruption of my muscle worship jarred me a little, because I had been so focused on my new body that I had not even realized I was fully, and painfully, hard. I let the tips of my fingers slide back and forth across the strained, pulsing slit of my cock head. Shivers of delight and anticipation of release shot through my body. My thumb was still caressing my newly discovered abs as my fingers caused more of my warm, sticky juice to leak out. I lifted my palm, laid it across my hard rod and then moved both back and forth across my stomach. Even my rigid cock could feel the slight ridges newly formed where there used to only be smooth, somewhat flabby flesh. This simple movement caused my aching balls to pull inward and my lower back came off of the mattress in a small arc because of the eruption building within me. I abruptly stopped all motion. It was obvious that moving to orgasm would bring an end to my sudden awareness of what my body could become – no, that wasn’t right – it was what my body would become. Yes, that slight change in thought resonated deeply in my soul. It was totally irrational, I know, but I was getting a glimpse of what I would develop into. Even if the present changes in my body merely took me from a non-athletic ectomorph to one that seemed to be on the path of being able to bulk up slightly, I somehow knew that I was headed for a different greatness. My body was going to change in ways that no one could imagine. My physique was headed to something that was god-like. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. I was going to get huge and that made me very excited. This last thought seemed to take over my body and caused me to wrap my hand fully around my throbbing cock. I moved to the tip of the hard pole and squeezed tight. I registered, for a second, that the top of my hand met my tensed chest. I knew this wasn’t possible because my cock, really my best friend since puberty, was not that big. I chalked the experience up to the way I must be laying on the bed and ignored the sudden surprise. I released my grip a little and began sliding down my member slowly and deliberately. At the same time that my hand gave my cock its much-needed pump, I was able to register the feeling of my thumb running down my abs. I brought my left hand up to my chest, guiding it directly to my right nipple. My forefinger and thumb clamped tightly on the protruding nub of flesh; while my other hand came back up the long pole, now getting ready to explode. I started pumping my dick quickly as I mercilessly pinched my nipple, knowing there were going to be bruises appearing later in the day. I was too “juiced up” inside to avoid shooting my load quickly. My visions of my future body, combined with the awareness of the changes that had already happened, were enough to bring me to climax alone. The stroking of my cock and the vice-like grip on my chest were used merely to intensify the impending eruption. And what a blissful moment my volcano-like orgasm was! I opened my eyes as my entire body froze like a pornographic statue set in hard marble. Every inch of my body seemed to be strained as my breathing stopped, my heartbeat paused, and my sight focused solely on the gaping hole at the end of my dick. The first discharge of my cum shot out like a roman candle on the fourth of July. I was so tense that I could not even shut my eyes as milky substance shot into the air and came down hard on my face and beyond my head. My vision blurred and my eyeballs stung as semen fell in and around them. My mouth, open because of a silent scream caused by the release of pressure built up in my body, received huge globs of cum which landed on my tongue and slid down my throat. After the first ejaculation, my limbs and muscles had no time to recover. My back arched up even higher as the second wave of hurricane Anthony-juice sprayed across my body and the bed. It was hard to believe, but the force of my orgasm seemed to increase with each blast instead of decreasing. On the third splattering of cum I somehow found my vocal cords and emitted a cry that sounded like a large wounded animal. A rapid succession of jolts through my body culminated in more shots of jism onto my chest, abs, and then dripping down my still, rock-hard prick. During the last few thrusts of my cock nothing came out of its now purple colored tip. I was completely spent and there wasn’t anything remaining in my tensed body. My back fell to the mattress, my hand slid from my rod, I released my aching nipple, and I closed my eyes, falling back asleep immediately. I only dozed for about fifteen minutes. I fell into a very deep sleep, though, and my mind was full of huge body parts. Every picture in my dream during that time was of pumped up, sweaty, rippling, massive muscles. It was like watching a DVD that highlighted the best parts of bodybuilders from around the world. There didn’t seem to be a point to the dream, but when I woke up I realized right away it signified that my own body was recovering from my tsunami-sized orgasm. I opened my eyes after waking and felt completely refreshed. No, I felt better than refreshed, I felt energized and ready to work out my new body. I glanced at the clock and saw that I just had enough time to get showered and dressed before I left to meet Manfred at Martin’s house. I jumped out of bed quickly and, as I walked to the bathroom, I noticed, because of my improved body, that even walking felt different. I seemed to be more poised, somehow, as if I were standing more erect. I also detected a feeling that couldn’t be named. If I had been forced to put a word to what I sensed in myself it might have been ‘attitude.’ I seemed to have an awareness of myself that had not existed before. I glanced in the mirror after leaning over to start the water for my shower and I was caught off guard at how my own reflection surprised me. My first thought, after I saw myself, was how hot I looked. This was something totally new for me – an acknowledgement right-off-the-bat of how I was turning into a sexy stud. A surge of energy, caused by the glance in the mirror, rocketed to my crotch and caused my resting cock to arch slightly upward. I looked down and smiled. My cock arched! It suddenly dawned on me that in order for my trusted friend to bend in this fashion it had to be longer. I realized this was impossible, but a man had the right to imagine, didn’t he! It was weird how looking at my own cock turned me on a little and then caused the arc of the tool to disappear, as it grew straighter and harder. It was like some kind of weird lust cycle where seeing my dick turned me on, which made it grow harder, which turned me on more, and then continued to send me down a path that could easily make me late for meeting Manfred. I shook my head to clear the thoughts about my cock and reached over to turn off the hot water. I knew the only way I would make my appointment to visit Martin was to force myself into the proverbial tool-shriveling cold shower. I stepped into the shower, cussed out loud as cold water streamed over my new body, tried hard not to grope myself too much as I lathered up with soap, and stepped back out into the bathroom after rinsing off. I finished getting ready without looking at myself in the mirror and even chose not to shave – there was too much of a risk that I’d give in to the temptations caused by my reflection. I stepped into the bedroom and chose a polo shirt from the dresser. I yanked it over my head and then tried to pull it down over my shoulders and arms. I was stunned to find that the shirt was skin tight. I pulled down hard and, when I finally managed to get the shirt over my chest, I found that it only came down to just above my belly button. I stopped to acknowledge that exercising really was helping my body, but that it was also going to cause a little pain on my bank account. I couldn’t keep buying new clothes all the time. I knew I looked like some trashy gay boy going to a rave, so I turned to the dresser to grab another shirt. The movement of my upper body was too much for the stretched shirt. I heard a ripping sound and immediately looked in the mirror above the dresser to see that the fabric had torn behind my arm where the sleeve was connected to the shoulder. I turned my body to the other side and this time I was able to watch the shirt tear as I moved. I also saw that the sleeves were very tight around my hard biceps. Both the ripping sounds and the sight of my biceps made all the blood in my body rush to my crotch area. I actually got a little light headed. “Oh no you don’t, Anthony, you need to be focused,” I said out loud to make myself stay on task. I instinctively knew the shirt was ruined so I reached up to the v-neck opening, grabbed both sides, and simply ripped it off my body. Even while I was doing it, I couldn’t believe I would do such a thing. I had watched enough muscle worship videos to know that this action turned me on greatly, but I never dreamed there would come a day when I would be destroying a shirt on my own body. The fabric easily ripped from my body and I let the remnants of the shirt fall to the floor. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for my engorged member to calm down and hoping my heavy breathing would subside. Eventually, I felt like I could move without causing a wave of excitement to rush to my crotch area. I reached down and found an extra large sweatshirt that I knew would cover my upper body. I slipped it on over my head. The shirt was tight, but it wasn’t constricting. I didn’t want to ruin any of my slacks, so I just grabbed some cargo pants that fit snuggly over my quads. I was amazed to find that I had some extra room at the waist, though. This was also something new. I forced myself not to think about my body as I finished dressing. I kept my mind on Martin, who might be near death. This made me want to get to his house more quickly. I slipped on some sandals, noticing that even these were tight, grabbed my wallet and keys, left the flat, and caught the Tube to the stop near Martin’s home. All the way over to Martin’s side of town my mind was only on him. I had forgotten the improved parts of my body, the wild night with Paulo, and, even, all of my strange dreams and focused only on the health of my first friend in London. I kept thinking about Martin’s zest for life and his great laugh. I could not believe someone that had been so important to my first few days in this new city was now very ill. As I walked up to Martin’s beautiful home I saw Manfred getting out of his car in the driveway. “Hello Manfred,” I said to catch his attention. “Hi Anthony. It is so good that you came. How are you feeling today? You left the party so abruptly last night. Oh, by the way, Paulo was fine. He called me this morning to say that he had to leave because he was clumsy and got something all over his pants. He said he was too embarrassed to come in and say goodnight.” Manfred said all of this as he pulled a bunch of “get well” balloons from his car. I immediately regretted not bringing something for Martin. I also suddenly had a vivid memory of Paulo creaming in his pants because I easily overpowered him. It seemed like a far away dream, but I knew it had actually happened. All of this came to a halt as soon as Manfred stood and turned toward me. He was dressed in a dark suit with a light blue shirt and a floral tie. The sun caught his hair and his piercing eyes. I felt my stomach turn when he looked directly at me and smiled. I did not, however, become speechless. I was able to maintain some composure. “I am glad Paulo is okay and, yes, I’m doing fine. I’m sorry I left so quickly; I think it was all of the alcohol. It just went to my head so fast and caused me to act in very strange ways. I’m fine today. As a matter of fact, I feel fantastic. I am worried about Martin, though.” I said as we moved towards the front door. “I’m worried about him, as well,” Manfred replied and then added, “And you do look rather robust today, Anthony.” This comment made me blush a little. We stopped at the front door and Manfred continued to stare at me. It made me very self-conscious. He had a puzzled look on his face. “Something is different about you, Anthony. I cannot tell what it is, but something is definitely different.” He continued to look at me and I quickly turned and rang the doorbell, so I did not have to look directly at him. “It must have something to do with all that exercise you are getting,” Manfred was interrupted when John opened the front door. I was standing face to face with Martin’s employee and he still reminded me of someone else, in a very strong way. I just couldn’t think of whom. “Hello, gentleman. It is so kind of you both to come,” John said stepping back to allow us to enter the large foyer. I again glanced up at the pictures that hauntingly resembled both Manfred and me. The sight of the paintings somehow lessened my anxiety about Martin. I could not understand why, but I knew, deep down, that our friend was going to be okay. I also knew there was some intense connection between Martin and myself that could not be explained. It was much more than a good friendship and, to add more to the mystery, I somehow knew it involved Manfred, as well. I stood in the large front room of Martin’s place and felt more at peace than I had in a very long time. It reminded me of one of Romeo’s speeches towards the end of Shakespeare’s play: “How oft when men are at the point of death, have they been merry – which their keepers call a lightning before death.” Was this feeling some kind of calmness before the passing of my good friend or was it some kind of sign that Martin was going to be fine. I could not tell and I wasn’t sure if seeing Martin was going to help to sort through my confusion. John’s demeanor made it clear that Martin was not doing well, at all. I glanced at Manfred and saw great distress in his face. My heart was full of sympathy for this gorgeous man. Because of my own sadness about Martin, I had been selfish and forgot that these two men had been friends for a very long time. The slight pain I was feeling must be nothing compared to how Manfred’s heart was breaking. I had a strong desire to put my hand on his shoulder, but couldn’t for some reason. “How is he John?” Manfred asked. “I am afraid even worse today. He has not been able to eat for a while and he is so very weak. The doctors have no idea what is wrong and they have just tried to make him as comfortable as they can. He is awake and waiting for you both. Let us go up quickly because he will need to rest soon.” John’s somber mood was obvious as he spoke. He turned and led us up the stairs, down a hallway, and we slowly entered the master bedroom of Manfred’s home. I was quickly amazed at how modern the room was and how Martin had every technological up-to-date gadget available. My mind was quickly taken away from all the stuff in the room when I saw Martin propped up on pillows in his bed. He looked very fragile and pale. He smiled as we entered the room, but I could tell he was in pain. He raised his hand slightly from the bed, gesturing for us to come closer. Manfred walked around to the side of the large bed where Martin lay. He grabbed the older man’s hand with both of his. “So good of both of you to come. Thank you,” Martin whispered to us. I moved beside Manfred and smiled at our sick friend. “Of course, Martin. Do you need anything? Is there something we can do to make you more comfortable?” Manfred asked quickly, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. “No, Manfred. Thank you very much. John is taking very good care of me. I will be fine. It’s just a little virus or something.” Martin answered, but the sound of his voice made it obvious that he didn’t have just a simple virus. “Anthony, my dear friend, you look so good. Working out agrees with you. You are much bigger than before. You must continue to make yourself very strong.” Martin stared at me as he spoke and it seemed like he was warning me so I would not someday become fragile like him, but I also thought there was something more to his comments. I turned red at the compliment about my body and looked down at the floor. “I will Martin,” I said looking back up to the man, “but right now we need to focus on you getting stronger, okay? You have so much more to show me in London and someone has to have pints with me at Halfway to Heaven.” This made Martin smile and, for a second, the well-known twinkle returned to his eyes. “Do not worry, gentlemen, my days of drinking pints are not over,” Martin said, squeezing Manfred’s hand, and then adding, “Now promise me that no matter what happens there will be no sadness and that both of you will remain close to each other.” It was clear that Martin’s words caught Manfred by surprise as much as they did me. His statement also caused tears to form in my eyes. I did not dare reach up to wipe them away, for I wanted to appear fearless for Martin. I had not been prepared to hear him even contemplate that he would not get better. Manfred took a deep breath and I knew he was also trying hard not to show he was getting emotional. This time, without even thinking about it, I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezed it tightly, and left it there. As soon as I touched the beautiful man beside me two things happened. First, there was a jolt of energy that shot through my body. No, it wasn’t energy exactly, it was something more soothing and, yet, powerful at the same time. The feeling was so incredible that I left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder just to see if it would continue, and it did. The second thing that happened, and it was almost unnoticeable, was that some color came into Martin’s face. I could not believe it. If I had not been staring at the man I would have missed it, but his cheeks actually looked healthier. I was immediately sure that Manfred missed the slight change, but our sick friend, as if to confirm it, looked directly into my eyes with a glance of shared awareness. I smiled at Martin, because I could see the elder man still hoped for a spark to ignite between Manfred and me. It made my heart full of love for him. I also left my hand on Manfred’s shoulder to help give the impression that Martin’s desired connection between the two men in front of him was still possible. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I would never be Manfred’s type. John, standing behind us, cleared his throat as a sign that he was about to speak. “Gentleman, I am sorry, but I believe Martin now needs to rest.” John’s devotion to the sick man was obvious and helped Manfred and I to begin our exit. Manfred brought Martin’s hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. “I will come again, tomorrow, Martin. Get some rest. Have John call me if you need anything.” Manfred’s voice was still shaky, but he covered his fear as best he could. “I’ll come back, as well, Martin,” I said placing my hand on the frail man’s leg covered by the bed’s blanket. “Perhaps I will be strong enough for us to have some tea together,” Martin said in a clearer voice. “Perhaps,” replied Manfred smiling and laying Martin’s hand back down on the bed. “That would be nice. See you tomorrow Martin,” I said removing my hand from Manfred’s shoulder, nodding my head, and then turning to leave the room. I could feel Manfred following me. “Take care of each other,” Martin said as we reached the door. “We will,” Manfred answered. As I stepped into the hallway, tears finally found their way down my cheeks. I walked a few steps down the hall, not wanting to turn around and show Manfred I was crying. I wiped my face, took a deep breath and then turned toward him. There are moments in a man’s life where something so profound happens that the earth seems to suddenly stop spinning on its axis and all of creation is focused on one thing. As I looked back at Manfred and found him standing there silently shaking as he cried uncontrollably, my world came to such a standstill. No one and nothing mattered at this moment more than this beautiful man. I did not hesitate at all. I quickly moved the three steps between us and wrapped my arms around him. Manfred pushed his face into my shoulder and started crying harder, his voice muffled by my sweatshirt. I held him tightly as he stood there, his arms dangling and his body heaving with each sob. I started running my right hand up and down his back. I wanted to comfort this man as best I could, and I wanted him to know he was safe in my embrace. I was so concerned for Manfred that I barely noticed the intensified feeling of calmness and strength that shot through my body as we came together. It was similar to the sensation that had pulsed through me when I laid my hand on his shoulder earlier, but this time it was magnified greatly. I forced my mind not to analyze the feeling and take me away from being present for Manfred. I did, however, store the memory in order to dissect it later. We stood there for a while as Manfred continued to allow his intense sadness to flow from his body. I became aware that this moment was pivotal in our friendship. It was obvious that some kind of transference of power was taking place. This beautiful man I held in my arms was allowing himself to be weak in my presence. The realization that I was supporting this man that always seemed so cool, collected, and strong made my heart swell with a feeling close to pride, but it was also something more profound. I believe the word to describe what I felt would be chivalry. I desired to not only comfort Manfred, but to also protect him. Protect him from what, I did not know, but I understood, instinctively, that holding him in my arms and taking care of his every need would give me the greatest pleasure of my life. As soon as this thought entered my mind my cock shot fully hard and my entire being opened to some sort of sixth sense. A distant memory of having this same sensation before came over me, but I also realized it was very different this time. This new awareness allowed me to be present to things that went unnoticed to other mortals. I was instantly aware of the heartbeat of three people in the surrounding area. I could distinguish Martin’s heart beating stronger with each moment in the other room. John’s heartbeat was already healthy and I sensed joy from this man as he watched Martin recuperate quickly. I somehow knew that Martin was going to be fine. I knew it as well as I knew my own thoughts and desires. This connection to the people around me helped me to see them in new ways. This was most obvious in my awareness of Manfred’s heart. I could sense that the man in my arms was beginning to control his sadness and that my tight hold on him was offering a deep feeling of security. Manfred allowed his entire being to surrender to my strength and my unspoken promise of protection. I knew that, for the first time in his life, Manfred was letting his guard down and revealing some unknown vulnerability. I could also clearly feel that our embrace was turning the gorgeous Manfred on, as well. This awareness didn’t come from a sixth sense, though. It came from the hardness pressing against my equally stiff cock. All other heartbeats in my head disappeared as my own heart started pumping overtime due to the joy caused by this other man’s reaction to my arms around him. I wanted Manfred at that moment in the same way a person craves air after being underwater for a long time. Every cell of my body was so focused on the man in my arms and that it almost caused me to miss the two lips now pressing against my neck. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but then I felt the warm, moist lips leave my skin and then make contact again, just below my ear. I had stopped breathing, mainly because I could not believe Manfred was kissing me, and, secondly, because I was afraid a simple intake of air would make my cock spew. His lips left my neck again and then I felt them close around my earlobe. Manfred pulled slightly with his lips as his mouth sucked firmly. I had never known a sensation even close to what this simple movement caused within me. Manfred could have asked me to do anything in the world and I would have done it immediately. Only the door to Martin’s bedroom opening suddenly could break the magic that was taking place in the hallway. As soon we heard the double doors swing open, Manfred and I pushed away from each other unwillingly, but also full of embarrassment. When my body no longer touched his, my mind was completely clear and I was brought back to the reality of the moment. I knew the same thing happened to Manfred. Our raging hard-on’s would be the only evidence of our hallway embrace. My boner, however, disappeared almost immediately when I saw Martin standing in the hallway, fully dressed and looking very healthy. For a brief moment I thought I was seeing a ghost. I heard a gasp escape Manfred’s mouth. “Gentlemen, I have had a miraculous recovery. I am very hungry and request both of you to join me downstairs for lunch. No questions, please, just a time for rejoicing, for good food, and maybe a little wine. Come along Anthony. You too, Manfred. I have not eaten for days and I am famished.” With that, Martin stepped between us and started down the hallway. As he passed me, he reached up and pushed my gaping mouth closed. He also winked at me in a way that insinuated a shared knowledge of some kind. I was too shocked to focus on anything except how fantastic Martin looked. “But Martin, how did…” Manfred began to protest. “Never mind about that, Manfred,” Martin said without turning around, “we should just be thankful for my full recovery. Should we not? I must tell you, though, I actually feel better than I have for many, many years. Come along, lunch is waiting.” Manfred and I turned to stare at each other in disbelief. John stepped through the doorway and had a face that seemed to say, “Isn’t this wonderful.” We all three started down the hallway barely catching up with the energetic Martin, who was already halfway down the staircase. An American Muscleman in London - Part 19 September 8th, 2008 The Second Full Moon - Continued Halfway through the lunch at Martin’s house something mysterious happened. Suddenly, both Manfred and I began to relax into the meal and forget about all that had happened that morning. Memories of Martin being in bed near death and of the erotically charged connection between Manfred and me in the hallway faded away as we were entertained by our newly energized friend. Martin was telling great stories of old London. He knew so much about the history of the city, including little unknown facts that it almost seemed like he had lived here for hundreds of years. Manfred and I found ourselves entranced, as if under some kind of spell, by Martin’s tales and we both kept saying we had not laughed that hard in a very long time. Martin was his old self, no he seemed even better than his old self, and that definitely made it hard for Manfred or me to dwell on what had happened earlier. I found my heart so full of joy and pleasure at how the three of us, along with John, could have such a good time that when I glanced at my watch I was shocked to find out it was almost four o’clock. It was not as if I had any agenda for the day or needed to be anywhere. I also found myself thinking I could have easily moved to dinner with this same group of people. Manfred finally interrupted the stories to tell Martin that he had to leave in order to make a dinner date with his family. We all pushed ourselves from the table and began to move to the foyer. John stayed behind and began to clear the lunch dishes that still remained. “I wish I could drop you at home Anthony, but I am not going in that direction,” Manfred said looking at me as we said goodbye. I noticed that he truly meant it and something in him did not want to separate from me so soon. I was touched and realized that our friendship had not suffered from his momentary loss of control in the hallway earlier. Before I could answer, Martin piped in quickly. “Do not worry, Manfred, we will be glad to take Anthony home. I forgot that I have some things to give you,” Martin said turning to me and then added, “Maybe we’ll even stop off at Halfway to Heaven for that pint you promised me.” Martin was smiling like some giddy schoolchild and I knew right away that I had no choice in the matter. “Well I guess you will be taken care of, Anthony, so there is nothing for me to worry about.” Manfred said winking at me. “I will give you a call tomorrow, Martin, just to check in. And may I call you later Anthony to make plans to get together again soon?” “That will be lovely,” Martin said, not giving me the chance to answer. All three of us laughed at Martin’s enthusiasm. I marveled at the fact that he would so blatantly push Manfred and me together. I’m sure he was aware of Manfred’s taste in men, but something inside of me wondered if he also somehow knew of our embrace in the hallway. The flicker of a thought about Martin faking his sickness ran through my head, but I ignored it. He had really been sick, that much had been obvious. Had it just been a twenty four hour bug of some kind? I didn’t think we’d ever know. Like earlier, I just said a small thank you for his healthy body now. I caught Manfred rolling his eyes dramatically and smiling. “I will call you both later,” he said giving Martin a hug and then turning to me and wrapping his arms around my body to hug me, as well. This unexpected action caught me off guard and all I could do was stand there. I did not move quick enough to hug him back. I glanced at Martin and saw him smiling at me broadly, as if he had won something. I was also aware of that same rush of energetic calmness I had felt earlier and it caused all parts of my body to come alive instantly. As Manfred broke his grasp of me and stood back I could tell, from the look on his face, that the same rush overtook his body as we hugged. I became embarrassed and quiet, as if some dark secret had been revealed. “I will call tonight,” he whispered softly, requesting me to make sure I was home. My knees were a little wobbly and all I could do was shake my head. Manfred stepped down the stairs of the front landing and walked to his car. I watched him until he disappeared down the road and Martin watched me the entire time. “Are you curious as to what I have gotten you, Anthony?” Martin said, finally breaking the trance caused by Manfred’s handsome presence. Martin knew I was smitten, there was no hiding it, but, in the fashion of a true gentleman, he was not going to point out even the obvious. I forced my mind to erase Manfred’s face, for the present moment, and I turned to respond to Martin. “You did not have to get me anything Martin, but, yes, I am very curious,” I said looking at my friend. “Well, come, I am sure John has brought them all to the study,” Martin said leading me back into the house and into the front room I remembered so well, because it was the place I had first met Manfred. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the surprise that awaited me in that room today. There was a large collection of new clothes draped across the large sofa, the chairs and some of the end tables. I didn’t know where to look first, since there were so many to choose from. I saw jeans, slacks, a couple of suits, work-out gear, many shirts and much more. I’m sure my face did not hide my astonishment. “What is this Martin?” I asked. “A small gift, as you start your new job,” he replied, obviously very pleased at my reaction. “Martin, thank you very much, but I can’t accept all of these. You are too kind, but…” I tried desperately to find words that would make him understand how touched I was, but also let him down gently. I looked at John, hoping he would help me, but he seemed to be as happy as Martin. “Listen, Anthony, I am an old man with a lot of money,” Martin said turning serious. “I do not have a lot of time left on this earth. I am not saying that for sympathy, I am simply stating a fact. It gives me great satisfaction to make my friends happy and you are my friend, Anthony. I am also quite aware that one of the by-products of your exercising has to be that many of your clothes no longer fit. Am I right?” “Well, yes, Martin, but…” I tried again to find a way to avoid accepting the gifts. “Then that settles everything, Anthony. These clothes will help you as you begin your new job and will also make it easier to have fun during your last days of not working. Now, listen, I have bought all of these in varying larger sizes. I have a feeling you are going to continue to grow in the future, since you are so into working out now. You can always have the largest ones taken in, but I would not do that until after a few more weeks. You know, you want to make sure your growth has peaked before you change anything. I think you and I both know that your body is destined to be huge. Am I right, Anthony?” Martin was still talking, but I had stopped listening. This prevented me from hearing his last few statements. I was busy staring at the clothes and admiring many of them – no, all of them. It was obvious that Martin had impeccable taste and also knew what I liked. “Are you going to help me at all with this,” I said turning to John with a pleading look. “One thing I’ve learned, Anthony, is that Martin almost always gets his way,” John replied laughing. “What do you mean almost always,” exclaimed Martin, “I always get my way.” This made John and me laugh out loud. This was all the sign that Martin needed. He knew he had won. I looked at him, raised my hands in a gesture of surrender, and then turned back to look at the clothes. “Thank you, Martin. But you have to promise me one thing if I take these clothes,” I said as I picked up a Ted Baker shirt. “What is that, Anthony?” asked Martin. “That I get to pay for the pints at Halfway to Heaven for a year!” I answered forcibly. “If I did that, Anthony dear, you would be a broke man. You have no idea how much I can drink. We will say that you can buy the drinks tonight,” Martin said, equaling the force of my statement. “And that, young man, will be the end of this conversation. Please choose a fabulous outfit to change into for the pub and we will be on our way. John will gather the rest of these items together and load them in the car. Hurry up, Anthony; there are pints of Stella calling your name.” Martin came over to me and started pushing me toward the clothes. I chose a shirt that would certainly bring out the color of my eyes and a pair of black jeans. “Choose another shirt, Anthony, you have not grown enough yet to fit into that one.” Martin’s statement confused me until I held up the shirt against my upper torso. I immediately saw that you could have easily fit two of me into the tent-like garment. I laughed out loud and looked at the smiling elder man behind me. “I don’t think I could ever work out enough to make my body fit into this thing, Martin,” I said continuing to chuckle and added, “Even if I had started lifting weights at two years old.” “Do not be too sure, my good man, do not be too sure,” Martin replied looking directly at me. “I think you will be pretty close to that size after this next full moon.” “What was that Martin?” I asked as I chose a smaller shirt that looked like it would fit my new body perfectly. “Nothing, Anthony, nothing,” Martin said quickly, “You can change in the bathroom right off the front foyer. I just said that I bet you will grow a lot over the coming month.” “I hope so, Martin,” I said stepping toward the hallway to find the bathroom he mentioned. I then added, “But I don’t think it will ever be enough for that shirt.” As I moved beyond the door I heard Martin say something that sounded like ‘wait and see, Anthony,’ but I couldn’t be sure. I was too excited about trying on my new outfit. No matter how much I tried to deny it to Martin, I was floored by his generosity and very grateful that I now didn’t have to buy a bunch of new clothes for work. I also knew the quality of the clothes Martin gave me was well beyond my bank account and that just added to the excitement. I glanced in the mirror as soon as I had my new shirt on. I was astounded at how sexy I thought I looked. The shirt was beautiful and the fit was perfect, showing off my newly tapered body. When I stepped back into the study both Martin and John stared at me for a few seconds and then turned to look at each other. Some hidden message seemed to pass between them, as if they had been talking about me before I appeared and seeing me confirmed all that had been said. I did, however, like the fact that both of their faces acknowledged that I looked great. Feeling so good about the way I looked only made me want to get to Halfway to Heaven sooner so I could show off my new clothes and my improved body. Martin somehow sensed this, as he always seemed to, and hurried us along. On the drive, first to my place to drop of the clothes and then to the pub, Martin was kind enough to point out many things about the city that he thought I would find fascinating and he was right. He truly was extremely knowledgeable about London. Halfway to Heaven was not as packed as it had been the evening before. This didn’t disappoint me because it made it easier to see people and be seen. Martin started to buy the first round of pints, but I quickly reminded him of our deal and he allowed me to buy what turned out to be the first of three rounds. Martin, John, and I had a great time chatting and drinking. Around eight o’clock Martin said that he must call it an evening because he was a little tired. I had completely forgotten that just that morning he had been very ill in bed. It all seemed like some unforgotten nightmare. I said goodnight to the two of them, but chose to stay on at the pub for another pint or two. As soon as I got my first pint, after being solo for the evening, my mobile rang. I was busy paying for the beer so I didn’t even look to see who was calling as I answered. “Hello,” I answered as I walked back to my usual perch in the pub. “Tell me you did nothing to embarrass yourself at the party last night and that you are still saving yourself for me,” said the sultry voice of Roger Wexford. I immediately smiled, feeling something very familiar in my stomach and my crotch. “Hold on a minute, Roger,” I responded and then turned to the guy standing beside me - asking if he could watch my drink for a second while I stepped outside. As soon as the man looked at me I was aware of how incredibly sexy he was and I made a mental note to hurry back. He agreed and I stepped outside to take my call, glancing back as I exited, and seeing that the man’s gaze followed me out the door. I turned my attention to the other sexy man waiting on the phone. “No, Mr. Wexford, I did nothing embarrassing. Sorry to disappoint you. But I should also tell you that I am beginning to wonder if you are worth the wait.” “Horny, are we, Anthony?” asked Roger laughing. “Extremely, and a little lonely,” was my very honest reply. “Well you must go out and have some fun, Anthony,” Roger shot back, acting like my mother or something. “I am out. I’m at Halfway to Heaven right now and earlier, today, I had lunch at Martin’s place,” I said defending myself. “Well that is very good. I hope you had fun at lunch,” Roger quickly answered. “I had a great time, but the reason I went over there was really strange. I found out at Manfred’s party last night that Martin was very sick,” I said re-living the tension, “We went over there because we thought he even wouldn’t make it through the day.” I quickly added and noticed there was silence on the other end. “You and Manfred went to Martin’s house together?” Roger asked after a brief, uncomfortable pause. It was quite clear that Roger was still very nervous about my feelings for Manfred. I knew I needed to tread lightly in this conversation. “Yes. You see, as I was saying, Martin was very seriously ill, so we met there to check on him. When we first saw him he was extremely pale and very weak. But the weirdest thing happened while we were there; Martin miraculously recovered and invited us to stay for lunch. He’s doing fantastic. As a matter of fact, he and John just left the pub to go home. He looks and feels incredible.” As I replayed the day’s events in my mind and shared them with Roger, I realized how crazy it all sounded. There was another brief pause and I really began to get uncomfortable. “Tell me, Anthony,” Roger finally said slowly, “what happened right before Martin miraculously was cured?” “What?” I asked, not sure I understood the question. “It is a simple question, Anthony,” Roger said a little abruptly and then added, “What were you doing right before Martin suddenly felt better?” “Well, umm, Manfred and I were out in the hall talking,” I responded, not sure how it was important to the story. “Were you two just talking?” Roger asked and I began to get irritated at his jealousy. I decided since he was the one that went out of town just when we started to get hot and heavy, I would make him suffer a little bit, too. I paused for a few seconds. “Well, no,” I said slowly, “Manfred was quite upset so I just held him as he cried.” “Damn,” said Roger a little too harshly. “What’s that, Roger?” I asked because I couldn’t believe he was getting so upset. “Oh, I’m frustrated because I’m about to go into a parking garage and I know I’m going to lose the connection. I’ll call you later when…” Roger’s voice ended abruptly. I stood there for a while, slightly confused. Had Roger been upset by the fact that I was with Manfred or had it really been frustration at the lost connection. I wasn’t sure. This had really been a weird day. I stepped back inside and walked over to my pint and the cute guy watching it. He was pretending to stare at the glass when I walked up and acted surprised when I stepped into his view. “It did nothing while you were away. It was a very good pint,” reported cute man and he ended with a drop-dead, wholesome, but sexy smile. The protector of my drink was very handsome, in a rugged sort of way. He was probably in his mid forties, had thick salt and pepper hair, and looked amazing in a white shirt, khakis, and a nice blazer. It wasn’t the typical outfit for a pub, but the brochure for the opening of an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery, laying on the table beside him, made it okay. It was also great, because that was my favorite place in London, well, besides Halfway to Heaven. “I’m very glad to hear that. I was extremely worried that my pint would try to escape.” I said back to Mr. Cuteness. “Thank you very much for guarding it Mr. uhh…” I added and made a look as if I were asking for his name. He stood up from his stool and extended his hand. “My name is Jim. Jim Revere,” He said gripping my hand firmly. “And you are…” “Anthony Lance,” I answered holding his hand a little longer than I should have. I finally let go when I saw him look down at our hands. “Sorry. Sometimes I get a little over zealous.” “Would that be a typical American trait?” Jim asked. “No. No, that’s just a typical Anthony Lance trait,” I said quickly, looking away to hide my embarrassment. I then turned back to face the ever-so-handsome Jim. “Is it that obvious that I’m American?” “Not until you talk, Anthony. Your clothes are very London,” Jim said quickly to help get rid of my embarrassment. His comment made me proud. I really did like my new clothes. “And I hope it is okay for me to add that you fill them out quite nicely.” My face shot red, again, and I was immediately glad that the pub was so dark. “Oh, it is definitely fine for you to add that. As a matter of fact, today is the perfect day for you to add that. Thank you, sir.” I smiled again as I spoke and Jim seemed to appreciate my honesty, either that or he liked the fact that I said sir. “Ah, a man with manners, you do not seem to find that too often these days,” Jim said as he took a sip of his beer. I raised my glass to take a drink, as well. Jim nodded to my pint and said, “So, you are a Stella man, I see. You know that it is a very strong beer, right?” “So I’ve been told,” I answered and then let a little of my cockiness come through by adding, “I guess a strong guy needs a strong beer.” It didn’t sound convincing as I said it, but I think Jim appreciated my attempt to be macho, anyway. “Well, I do not know about the strength, but the package looks extremely sturdy,” Jim quipped back at me as he glanced up and down my body dramatically. “Are all English men so sexy and forward?” I asked loudly, because I was so caught off guard by his aggressive flirtation. “Only the good ones,” Jim answered laughing. “I take it I have been beaten by someone else to the pleasure of seducing you.” “Well, yes, I’ve been seduced already,” I said showing some frustration, “but the guy has yet to seal the deal.” This made Jim smile even more broadly than before. “Lucky for me,” he said softly and his tone caused goose bumps all over my body. I was getting a little hot and I was afraid my crotch would begin showing how much I craved this sexy stud. I decided to change the subject. “So, what does Mr. Jim do for a living?” I asked, taking a sip of beer to cool me down. Jim’s face acknowledged that the topic had been changed, but I could see in his eyes that we would return to this conversation later. He turned and grabbed the program from the table beside him and held it up. “I work here,” he said tapping the words that read The National Portrait Gallery with his finger. I felt my attraction to the man increase just because of his job. “That’s my favorite place in London,” I said proudly. “Mine too,” he responded. “See, we already have a lot in common. You must allow me to give you a private tour sometime. “I hope not just of the Portrait Gallery.” My comment was bold, but I had already decided I liked this man. I liked him a lot. And not just because of where he worked. Jim laughed sexily at my comment and then looked at me intently. “Anthony, how could there possibly be a man in London that could flirt with you and then be able to not have passionate sex with you? It seems that he would either be very stupid or completely frigid.” This comment might have sounded trite to other people, but to me it was like a symphony in my ears. “I know. I was asking myself the same question just today,” I responded and we both laughed. “No, the aforementioned man was called out of the country – inconveniently, I might add.” “And yet, I find you out and not sitting at home alone, pining for the guy,” Jim said with that killer smile of his. “And may I then infer from your actions that you are available to be properly wooed and that time in a bed could be the just reward for the man that wins your heart?” There comes a time in almost every man’s life when a decision is made solely on the basis of his hard cock. It is not necessarily a bad thing and can actually be a very powerful way to figure out the truth behind how we feel about something. This was definitely true for me at this moment. My frustration at Roger being out of the country and at Manfred for playing mind games with me had caused me to desperately want a companion with no baggage or, at least, very little baggage. It was not that I was settling for the first thing that came along, for Jim was articulate, obviously educated, funny, very handsome and extremely sexy. I also knew, however, that most of my common sense had left the building – but this in no way felt wrong. Yes, I wanted a night of passionate sex, but I also envisioned that Jim could be the ticket to something beyond just one night. I had really made up my mind to try and sleep with him as soon as he looked at me the first time, but getting to know him had just been icing on the cake. I was definitely ready to taste the icing, if you know what I mean. When I thought about being with Jim there were no weird feelings in my stomach or strange sensations pulsing through my body. I was fully aware of what I was doing. This was not true when I was around Manfred or Roger. I made a decision, which I believe was evident on my face. “I’m not quite sure what you meant by all of that, Jim, but if you are asking if I want to go home with you, the answer is definitely yes.” My remark obviously pleased him very much. He leaned in closer to me. “I live up by the British Museum,” he said, after taking a big gulp to finish his pint. “We could walk, but I think a taxi would get us there faster.” “I live mere yards away, Jim,” I said to get him excited. “We could be at my place by the time our shirts are fully unbuttoned.” Jim reached over and undid the top button of my shirt. “That is one,” he said teasingly. We both immediately stood up and I noticed that he was a few inches taller than me. I fell in lust with him all over again. He grabbed my hand and led me out of the pub. My heart was on fire with anticipation. London became my favorite place in the entire world all over again. As we walked by the Portrait Gallery I nodded to the building with my head. “It really is my favorite place in London,” I said in a way that emphasized how much I meant it. “I am very glad,” Jim said reaching over with his right hand to undo the next button on my shirt. “Right now, I believe your apartment is my favorite place in London.” This made me smile and glance away in feigned shyness. “By the way, Mr. Revere, I’ve noticed that none of your buttons have been touched yet.” I was teasing him, but really I wanted to get a glimpse of what I thought would be a very masculine chest. Jim knew exactly what I wanted. He reached up and quickly pulled three buttons from their holes and pushed his shirt apart. I got my first partial view of two hard pecs and they were dusted with dark hair. My childhood dreams of the rugged cowboy or the manly physical education teacher flooded my mind and my cock pressed harder against the zipper of my jeans. Jim noticed the reaction in my face and I am sure he knew there was a reaction below my waist, as well. “I hope, dear Anthony that you are pleased with what you see. I would hate to have worked this hard to get you and then disappoint you just by undressing,” Jim said as he reached up and grabbed the back of my neck with his hand and squeezed hard. His touch made my body shake in delight and my crotch ache even more. “Even if I were blind, Jim, I would somehow know how gorgeous you are. I cannot wait to massage that fur-covered chest. Here’s my place,” I said turning on the sidewalk and feeling Jim follow me. As I was putting the key in the door Jim pressed his body into mine and pushed me up against the heavy wood. I immediately noticed that, even through our clothes, Jim’s body felt hard against my back. And something specific on his body definitely felt very hard against my ass. Jim moved his lower body back and forth causing his hard prick to move against one of my cheeks, fall into my ass crack, and then slide up and over the other cheek. He finally wedged his hard piece of meat in my inviting crevice and started sliding it up and down. I moaned out loud, left the keys in the door, and raised my hands even with my head against the wood so I could get leverage in order to press my ass into his body even harder. “Yeah, Anthony, that feels nice. There is nothing like a little pressure to get a man worked up,” Jim purred into my ear. He leaned his head close to mine and was now kissing the back of my neck. I was overcome for a second by memories of a similar moment with Roger in the bathroom of his club, but I forced myself to concentrate on the feeling of the present hard cock against my ass. This night would end very differently than my evening with Roger. Tonight, by God, there would be sex! I lowered my right hand, reached behind me, and grabbed Jim’s hard right ass cheek. I pulled his body into mine and at the same time turned my head so Jim could bring his lips to mine. Both of our mouths opened invitingly and we each began to explore fiercely with our tongue. I had a feeling that we were not going to make it up to my flat before we started having sex. “I beg your pardon.” A woman’s voice behind us interrupted our make out session. My body froze immediately, but Jim merely pulled his face from mine and turned in the direction of the woman. He continued to thrust his cock up and down my ass crack. I was shocked at his bravado and turned on at the same time. He spoke with a deep, sexy voice. “May we help you, Madame?” he asked. “You certainly may. I need to get into this building.” The reply sounded impatient and I could tell by her voice the woman was slightly older. “Allow us, then,” Jim said and he reached down to turn the key. Without ever losing his connection with my body, he opened the door by pushing it, and me, with just his crotch. He stayed pressed up against me as the woman walked by, mumbling something under her breath about indecency and rude people. I did not turn to watch her. I looked straight at the door hoping she would not recognize me later. Once she was gone, Jim stepped back and then turned my body around to face his. He wasted no time and brought his mouth back to mine, sucking in hard when I parted my lips. It felt as if he was trying to make my toes come up out of my throat, but it was a feeling that made me very happy. I finally reached up to push his body away. I knew it would only be a while before someone else came to enter the building. I wanted to tell him we should go upstairs. I was not, however, prepared for how the feeling of his muscled, hairy pecs would feel in my hands. As soon as my hands met his chest, I instinctively squeezed the hard meat. It was Jim’s turn to moan out loud. “You have found one of my weak spots, Mr. Lance,” he said staring at me intently. This made me squeeze even harder, which, in turn, made Jim press his body into mine like some kind of mad man. Our two throbbing stone-like cocks met each other with a force that seemed like two bulldozers. There was a little pain, but it also felt good. I quickly found his nips and pinched them like there was no tomorrow. I could tell this sent Jim over some pleasure wall and I felt his knees buckle a little as he moaned even louder than before. I twisted the hard nubs of skin between my fingers back and forth and at the same time pulled out towards me. “Oh my fucking goodness,” Jim said loudly and this only made me pull harder. Jim’s knees bent even more as he brought his forehead down against my chest. I could tell he was definitely feeling pain, but he did not want me to stop. He brought his own hands up to mine and guided them – making my hands twist his nipples even more. I could not believe how much this guy was enduring and I worried that he might black out from the pleasure - or was it pain. I jerked my fingers strongly up and down a few times and then released my intense hold on his chest. Jim remained motionless with his head propped against my upper body. I could tell he was letting the feeling of my grip on his quickly bruising nipples last as long as he could. I placed my entire hands on his meaty pecs, grabbed hard, and pulled his body back straight up. Jim had a look of joy and utter contentment on his face. I brought my lips forward and kissed him hard and deep. I then pulled my face back and looked at him. “Ready to go upstairs? I can promise to spend a lot more time giving much more attention to that chest if you want me to.” I said all of this to excite him even more. “Lead on, gorgeous man, lead on. I must find something to do for you to equal the pleasure you are giving me.” Jim spoke softly, but pushed my body toward the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem, Mr. Jim,” I replied as I led him up the staircase in the direction of my flat. Once we stepped inside my place Jim let his blazer fall to the floor and he quickly shut the door. He was definitely a man on a mission and I somehow sensed that exploring my body was the most important thing on his agenda. He let out a sound that was mixture of a growl and a call to arms. At the same time he turned me around and pushed my back up against the wall. He brought his leg between both of mine and pressed the front of his quad against my tight balls and hard cock. He started raising his leg a little and this forced me to go up on my toes. The strength of his leg was obvious as it easily held most of my full weight. I could also feel that his upper leg was hard and very muscular. It actually seemed even more built than the rest of his body. I let my ass and balls rest completely on his thigh. It was an incredible feeling that made my cock stick straight up and push against the top of my pants and my belt with tremendous force. Jim began to unbutton the rest of my shirt. When he had it completely open he pushed it over my shoulders, pulled me slightly away from the wall, and let it fall so it draped across his knee behind me. Jim stopped all movement for a second and just stared at my body. “Damn, boy, you must like to work out,” he said, obviously pleased with what he saw. To emphasize this point he then let out a loud whistle. It was the first time I had ever received this kind of compliment on my body and it affected me in multiple ways. I was immediately embarrassed, but that quickly gave way to a kind of pride that created a strong desire within me to get even bigger. I wanted to make this man continue to be surprised and excited by what he saw each time I took off my clothes. It was Jim’s turn to reach up and grab my pecs. The feeling this caused throughout my body was incredible. My chest felt huge and hard as he massaged it. Jim quickly clamped down on my nipples and I cried out. This made him smile and he started twisting his fingers as I had done to him earlier. I let my head fall back against the wall and I closed my eyes. After a few minutes of torture from his hands, I felt his warm mouth and wet lips come down on my right pec. Jim continued to press his leg against my balls and cock as he alternated abusing my chest with his mouth and hands. When I began to have no more feeling in my nipples, Jim brought his mouth to mine and pried my lips apart with his tongue. He inhaled deeply and my tongue was sucked into his mouth. Jim let his teeth scrape the top and bottom of it teasingly and then caught the tip right before it escaped his mouth. Jim released my tongue and then his own shot between my teeth and snaked quickly down my throat. It felt as if Jim was trying to press his lips completely through my head, but I didn’t want him to stop. Suddenly, he pulled his head back from mine and dropped his leg. I slid down the wall back onto the soles of my feet. He reached up and ran a hand through his perfect hair in a sign of sexual anticipation. “Shall we move to the bedroom?” he asked looking deep into my eyes. I simply pushed him back, grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him behind me as I walked toward the bedroom. I thought about my new shirt now lying on the floor, but I didn’t care. I was completely focused on undressing Jim and allowing him to undress me. When we stood in front of the bed, I let go of his belt and turned to face him. Jim caught me off guard by suddenly reaching up and shoving me backwards onto the mattress below. Before I even fully realized what had happened, Jim was down on his knees and taking off my shoes. He then pulled my socks off at the same time. I raised my head to try and see what he was going to do next and that is when I felt his nose pressed against my balls and his teeth biting through my jeans. I felt his warm face pressed between my legs. I watched as Jim brought his mouth up the outline of my cock all the way from the base to the top. I could feel the heat from his mouth through the denim. Jim reached up to undo my belt, and then he did the same with the button at the top of my pants. With his teeth he lifted the tab of my zipper and pulled it down slowly. The release of pressure on my cock was immediately noticeable and I was very grateful that my hardness was no longer constricted by the jeans. My entire body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Again, with just his lips and teeth, Jim pulled the elastic band of my underwear over the tip of my cock. He kissed the pulsing head and then pressed the end of his tongue against the piss slit. The sensation that flooded my body caused me to dig my fingers into the mattress and grab the bedspread tightly. I watched as Jim rounded his lips into a small circle and then pushed them against my cock. The wetness of his lips caused the head to slide quickly into his warm mouth. Jim stopped the movement then and just sucked for a while as he bought his teeth lightly down to the skin. At the same time his tongue continued to massage around and in the opening at the tip. My body was completely confused because it was receiving intense feelings of pleasure, while my head continued to order it to refrain from any type of release. A man’s body is not made to prevent orgasm for a very long period, but I didn’t care. I wanted to enjoy the expert attention given by Jim’s mouth. Jim was somehow able to keep his mouth firmly around just the tip of my cock as he pulled down my underwear and pants quickly and smoothly. I could feel the coolness of the room being deflected by the heat of my overworked body. Without warning, Jim opened his throat and forced his mouth fully down my hard shaft. The unexpected movement and the intense pleasure it caused in my body made me cry out as if someone had punched me in the stomach. My hands left the bedspread and grabbed the sides of his head in an automatic reflex. I wanted to hold his head still with my entire piece of hard meat forced into the tightness of his throat. I also realized that I wanted to prevent him from sliding back up my cock and then slamming back down to the base of it, because that would have certainly caused me to send a fire-hydrant-force of cum into this man. I was desperately trying to hold off from releasing the wonderful pressure that his mouth had created within me. Somehow, this incredible man was able to continue to suck on my cock even with it crammed down the back of his mouth. I thought it would have been impossible, but Jim was able to continue to make the floodwaters of my semen mount behind some imaginary, weakening wall. I could feel the walls of his throat tighten and then expand to give even more intensity to the feeling surrounding my aching pole. It was obvious that Jim knew he was a “Grade A” cocksucker. I could hear him grunting in laughter at my attempts to prevent his expert performance from sending me into the inevitable orgasmic explosion. I continued to hold his head in place and not allow him to bring me to a quick finish. I was trying desperately to make my body not lose control and fall into the sexual abyss that overcomes any man as he stops just churning cum and begins to shoot like a machine gun with a stuck trigger. To help me in my desire to prolong my ejaculation, Jim opened his mouth and throat, relieving the powerful influence his mouth had on my straining piece of meat. I lessened my hold on his head and he pulled it backwards, allowing my cock to slide out of his mouth. He looked up at me and smiled. His lips looked so fucking red and full, as if he could have blown an entire army of men. He kept his eyes on me while he let his tongue return to the long shaft of my dick. He ran its tip up and down the tight skin of the pole beneath his face and my entire body shook from the excitement it caused. Jim kept his eyes on me and I could tell he loved how his oral talents pleased me. He paused when he got to the head and kissed it gently. My legs and back tightened as stiff as a board when he reached up to pull my cock off of my abs and point it straight into the air. The feelings of his fingers caused my head to fall back onto the mattress and I closed my eyes tightly. I made it clear to Jim that I was ready for him to take control. As soon as his mouth closed around the head of my cock again, I let go of trying to prevent my juice from flowing and just focused on enjoying the expert job he was doing. I felt one of his hands wrap around my balls and squeeze lightly. At the same time a wet probing forefinger pushed against my tight asshole. My mind could not choose where to direct its attention. My cock felt warm and suspended in time, as if it were a rollercoaster just cresting a giant hill. My balls felt tighter than I have ever remembered and were preparing to pump hard when release came. Jim’s cupped hand was warm as it massaged my tensed pouch perfectly. I also realized that Jim had easily slipped two fingers into my ass chute – and he was turning them slowly, allowing them to rub along the walls of my anal cavity in a way that made me curl my toes in joyous anticipation. Jim suddenly stopped all motion and I mistakenly thought he was giving me another break to recover from the category five hurricane building within me. As soon as my body let its defenses down for a few seconds and all of my muscles relaxed a little, Jim pounced. He pushed his head down my upright cock and forced it all the way down his tight throat. He squeezed my ball sac hard and twisted it slightly. But the real show-stopping sensation came when he separated his fingers in my ass slightly and shoved them deeper into unsuspecting sphincter. This is all it took to release the waiting storm inside me. I screamed louder than I ever remember and then my cock shot what seemed like gallons of my love juice into the inviting throat of this beautiful man. Jim expertly swallowed all of the cum that I was spewing into his throat. I was not so overwhelmed by my orgasm that missed the incredible talent of the man sucking me off. Jim continued to work my cock as he swallowed my load. As a matter of fact, his mouth was able to continue to make me hard even as he worked diligently to not miss a drop of my precious semen. I continued to marvel at his abilities - even in the midst of my body’s explosion. I also continued to scream while it lasted and then fell into loud moans as my cock tried to return to normal - post ejaculation. It seems that sometimes you are most sensitive right after you shoot your load, as if your body was a nerve exposed after a tooth is pulled. Jim continued to move his fingers in my ass, squeeze my balls, and move his mouth up and down my cock just to make sure every ounce of cum was sucked from my body. He finally pulled his mouth from my dick and looked up at me. “Mmmm. I really like Anthony juice. I might have to go back for seconds really soon.” As he said this, he pulled his fingers from my ass and let go of my balls. He moved a hand to my stomach and started running his fingers up and down my abs. “You have a light sheen all over your body, Anthony. It makes your muscles stand out more. I bet even your sweat tastes good.” With that, Jim bought his face down to my torso and ran his tongue up the center line of my abdominal muscles. Every part of my body tensed up again and my worn out cock shot semi hard. “Yeah, just like I thought, salty and sweet at the same time.” My head was beginning to clear from the massive ejaculation that Jim had caused. It felt as if my soul was returning to its mortal shell after an out-of-body experience. I noticed my breathing was slowing down and I was no longer gasping for air. Jim continued to run his hand across my stomach and, occasionally, he reached up to massage my hard chest. I looked down at his hand and for a few seconds was, again, overwhelmed by the fact that my pecs actually bulged out slightly, even though I was lying down. Jim teasingly flicked my nipples with his fingers to make them perk up even more than they already were due to the intense orgasm. He crawled up between my legs, lay on top of me, rested his chin on my chest, and looked at me with a sexy grin. He licked his lips and I could tell that something slightly wicked was on his mind. He just stared at me for a short while and let the anticipation of what he was about to say - or do - build up feverishly in my mind. “What?” I said, not able to take it anymore. “Feel like having your ass plowed?” Jim asked in a way that made it obvious that no matter what I said he was going to do it anyway. He had nothing to worry about in the slightest; we both knew I was going to say yes. I decided to toy with him anyway. “Why Mr. Jim, I’m not sure if you are the one for me and I’ve promised myself to only bend over for the man I’m going to be with for the rest of my life,” I said coyly and batted my eyes. “Well then,” he said softly, playing the role of a gentleman, “how about we do not make you bend over anything. It’s fine if you just roll over onto your stomach and I mount you from behind. Or, better yet, what if you throw those strong muscled legs in the air and I’ll guide my hard locomotive into your waiting tunnel? How does that sound?” “Well,” I began with a big smile, “I think I need to see the locomotive and the rest of the goods before I turn over or put my legs in the air.” Jim did not wait even a second. He slid off my body and stood up at the end of the bed. I, again, propped up my head and watched as he undid the final buttons of his shirt and took it off slowly. Seeing his upper body fully exposed only added more excitement to my already fully charged body. The man had well defined muscles that were even obvious through the perfect fur that surrounded his chest, abs, and arms. This sight was enough to make me raise my legs quickly, but I forced myself to wait for the presents that waited beneath his pants. Jim started humming the well-known striptease tune as he took off his belt and began to push his unbuttoned pants down his hips. To my surprise, as well as my delight, Mr. Jim did not wear underwear. I couldn’t believe this man would go to the opening of an art exhibit with his cock and balls dangling so freely. I was turned on even more by his obvious bravery. The first thing I noticed about his piece of meat was its thickness. As the zipper went down slowly and the sides of his pants spread apart I was amazed at how I continued to only see the skin of his hard-on. The thick meat was forced by the pants to point downward. When he finally got the pants low enough to free the broad python-like dick, I actually gasped softly when the massive fist-sized head shot straight up and slapped against his lower abs. The man had a cock that reminded me more of a solid tree trunk than anything else. For a second I questioned my decision to allow him to plow me with something that seemed as wide as medium sized watermelon. The only thing that could have possibly made my fears about the substantial head and base of his cock disappear came into view when he let his pants finally drop to the floor. I’ve always thought the most beautiful part of any man was big arms or a massive chest. I can’t lie, I’ve rarely looked anywhere else when I have drooled over bodybuilders in magazines or online. But the man in front of me, at this moment, caused a shift in my muscle-worshipping paradigm that would be changed forever. I instantly knew why Jim had been able to lift my body earlier just by placing one of his legs underneath my ass and balls. I also knew that my concept of muscular quads would never be the same. I was staring at two bulging thighs that, even though un-flexed, still looked like they were mounds of hardened rock that had been slammed together so hard they stayed connected. I don’t know proper words for describing a man’s muscles. I’ve heard terms like striations, valleys, crevices, and the like thrown around for years. Here’s all I really knew about what I was staring at – Jim’s legs were fucking huge. Nothing about his upper body could have prepared me for what I encountered below his belt. It made sense that such a full, broad cock would need two mammoth pillars to support it, but it looked as if these legs could support the tower that held Big Ben. No, these legs looked like that tower! Just when I thought I would be able to recover from the shock of this sight and return my gaze upward, Jim decided to tease me by flexing his quads. “Fuck,” was all I could say as I stared at his pumped-up legs. When Jim placed his hands on his hips and tensed his legs, the bulky meat inside, just below his large balls, flared out and forced his legs to move apart. It was a sight that made my cock shoot straight up my stomach again. Bulging muscle flared out in every direction from his thighs and I could tell that his knees, even though blocked by the bed, were pushed farther away from each other. Most men would have been extremely happy if their legs had looked like just one of the massive bulges sticking out from Jim’s quads, but this guy seemed to have absorbed the leg muscles of five big bodybuilders and molded them into his own. And to add to the shock of his unveiled muscled girders, Jim continued to tense and relax his legs to make them bulge even more. The heartless guy knew I was totally mesmerized and blown away by his surprise. He also knew how to show them off in a way that easily brought me close to a second orgasm. If I had not forced my mind to move away from his quads, I could have easily shot another load just from watching his upper legs balloon into inconceivable mounds of muscle. I ordered my eyes to leave his legs and look upward to his smiling face. “It appears that you like what you see, Anthony,” Jim said relaxing his legs, but they still bulged beyond belief. “I run and bike a lot. I also do a lot of Triathlons, so I need to have some good power in my legs.” “It seems that those legs have nuclear power,” I whispered, mainly because my mouth was totally dry with lust. Jim laughed and then, just to tease me more, he raised one leg and placed it on the edge of the bed revealing a calf that seemed wider than my thigh. It also was sculpted in a way that made it look almost inhuman or morphed by a computer. Jim went up on his toes and tensed, causing the calf to explode into not just some tear-shaped mound, no, this was like someone had bunched numerous slabs of hard beef together to make something that barely resembled a human leg. I had to immediately turn my face back up to his so I could remain in control of my cock. Jim registered the trouble I was having, smiled knowingly, and placed his foot back on the floor. I felt a strong relief in my body because another release of cum had been averted. I wanted to wait as long as I could. “So, I’ve made an independent decision, my dear Anthony,” Jim said reaching down to grab my legs. “I want to feel your entire muscled body as I fuck you, so it’s time for you to turn over on your stomach.” He then took my right leg and twisted it over my left, intending to force me to roll over. He also pushed my so body moved fully on the bed. I knew, automatically, that I could have easily out strengthened Jim and prevented myself from budging even an inch, but why delay the pleasure we both were seeking. I pretended to struggle a little and then flipped over on my stomach. Jim whistled again as he took in my shoulders, back, ass, and legs. I got the same feeling of pride in my stomach knowing he was pleased with my body. In a quick flash Jim was lying on top of me. I noticed, for a brief moment, how light his body seemed to me. It was, again, apparent that my workouts were also benefiting my strength. I made a quick mental note of this fact. This awareness was interrupted by the immediate feeling of something similar to a fire hydrant pressed up against my ass crack. My heart started racing a little as I thought about trying to take all of Jim’s thick cock in my tight hole, but I knew I was ready for the challenge. He began to raise his crotch up and down, causing his thick piece of hard meat to move up and down my ass. This helped his cock to wedge itself between my cheeks. Jim was going slow, allowing me to get used to the feeling of his wide dick. For a second my mind left what was happening at my ass and I focused on the feeling of his muscled legs up against mine. I could actually make out the massive bulges that had easily caused me to get hard. I got lost in the sensation of those warm, hard-as-metal quads rubbing up against mine. I was only forced back to the present moment when I felt his fat, firm mushroom head press against my tight hole. He moved the thick tip of his cock up and down inside my ass cheeks and I could feel globs of pre-cum oiling up the opening of my chute. Jim began to press the hard tip into my tensed opening just to help loosen me up a little. I could tell that each time he pushed a little more of his dickhead pressed into my hole. I was extremely thankful that this guy seemed to leak a lot of juice when getting ready for sex – it was certainly going to help lessen the initial pain caused by such a big rod. After what seemed to be about ten minutes of teasing, Jim’s mushroom head popped beyond the walls of my hole. He stopped all movement and let my ass get used to the sudden invasion. I was shocked at how little it hurt to accept such a wide tip. Jim was obviously as good at fucking as he was sucking. He began to kiss the back of my neck and my shoulders as soon as he started pressing his cock further into my body. The gentle rocking of his hips made it easy for me to accept more of him without tensing up uncontrollably. The feeling of his hard broad meat in my ass caused my cock to stay extremely hard. Before I fully realized what was happening, Jim’s pubic hair and skin was pushing up against my cheeks. It suddenly dawned on me that the guy’s huge cock was fully inside. I had a feeling of accomplishment and was overjoyed by the sounds of approval coming from the hot man on top of me. Jim began to pump his cock a little harder and a little faster. Because of his expert work leading up to this moment, my ass had already moved to the pleasure point of a good fuck. I even began to raise my own crotch pushing my ass into him as he pressed down - so it would force his meat deeper into me and increase the thrill for both of us. As Jim increased his motion, I increased mine. We easily fell into a rhythm that seemed to say we were made for each other. I could feel drops of sweat falling from Jim’s body onto mine as we doubled our efforts. It felt like someone was cramming a small car into my ass, but it also felt good. When Jim began thrusting with all of his might, he also started uttering beast-like sounds that turned me on even more. I could tell the strength of his muscled legs helped him tremendously as he plunged his thick tool completely into my ass. Jim did not rush anything. I could tell he sometimes slowed the motion of his body to help prolong the much anticipated, and much needed, sexual release. Jim seemed to like the build up to orgasm as much as I did, but I knew, he also liked getting to actually shoot off as much as I did. In the midst of our sex, I again registered how light his body felt on top of mine and I was delighted to feel how easily I could raise my crotch off the mattress and lift his body at the same time. I think Jim was too focused on the pleasure my ass to notice. My body became aware that Jim’s cock was hardening even more and I could feel all of his muscles begin to tense. I knew he was about to release his load and I could sense that it was going to be a huge explosion. I lifted my ass off the bed and held it in the air easily. As Jim slammed his thick cock into me, my body didn’t budge at all and this gave Jim even more intense pleasure. “Fucking . . . hell . . . Anthony,” he said in between thrusts, “My cock feels like a huge cannon! I’m going to fucking cum…” And with one last intense slam into my ass, Jim held his crotch firmly against me – reaching one of his arms around my raised mid section and holding on to my stomach with one hand as he propped himself up with the other. I continued to push my ass strongly into his crotch as I felt copious amounts of jism shooting into my chute from his thick cock. Jim shouted loudly and incoherently as his body buckled against mine from the severe orgasm that rocked him. Even the force of his ejaculation did not make my sturdy frame move at all. I knew this only added to his enjoyment. When I finally sensed his body had emptied itself completely, I let my crotch drop completely back down on the bed. I realized then that Jim’s hand was under my stomach and gripped my hard cock. His breathing was very heavy and I could feel his entire body heaving against mine as he remained on top, and inside, of me. I waited because I knew he needed time to calm down. My body was not tired in the least; as a matter of fact it was energized. I knew it would be a few minutes before Jim would be able to speak. I decided to try something as I waited for his body to return to some kind of normalcy. Because his body felt so light on top of mine, I took my hands and placed them, palm down against the mattress, underneath my chest. I then straightened my feet and pressed my toes into the mattress, as well. With little effort I pressed my body, and Jim’s, into the air in a perfect example of a push-up. I was thrilled at how easy it was and how powerful it made me feel. While I performed this feat of strength, I was fully aware of what was going on. I was not consumed by some hidden force or desire, as I had been when I forced Paulo to the ground with just my hands. My head was clear and I could fully feel, and acknowledge, the strength in my body. It dawned on me that I had been holding both Jim and myself up in the air for a few minutes. I could feel that Jim was still breathing hard and his entire being was still in that post-ejaculation high that came with an intense orgasm. I lowered our bodies back down, just a few inches from the mattress, and then pressed back up. I continued to do this a few more times. I could not believe how easy it was to lift Jim’s and my weight with my improved body. I actually started trying to think of a way to add more weight to see how much I could press into the air. Throughout all of these thoughts I had absent-mindedly continued to press our bodies up and down with great ease. I wasn’t even beginning to breathe hard and I was probably on my twentieth repetition. “Yeah, the boy is so fucking strong,” whispered Jim into my ear and I realized he had gained control of his body enough to note what I was easily doing. “And I can tell the boy gets off on his own strength, too.” Jim’s last comment made me realize that his hand remained on my cock and it was achingly hard at this moment. I was getting off, in a big way, on my own strength and the fact that I got to show it off for Jim. Jim, meanwhile, had begun to slide his fist up and down my hard shaft. This was all a new feeling for me. I moved from one sensation to the other quickly. I marveled at the fact that I was still lowering and raising our combined weight and I wasn’t even straining. At the same time I could feel in my back Jim’s heart pounding quickly again – this time because of the strength he was observing first-hand in my body. I then let my mind focus a few seconds on the pressure that was building in my cock – caused from my own lust for my strength and the wonderful hand job Jim was giving me. I glanced at my arms as I lowered us down the next time and as I pushed us up. The thrill of seeing my arms burst with bulging muscles made my cock twitch noticeably. Jim was observing me closely and saw what watching my own arms did to me. “Yeah, big Anthony loves his big muscles, doesn’t he?” he asked softly. I couldn’t help myself and I nodded my head up and down giving him a yes to his question. This made Jim laugh and I felt his body shake slightly on mine. I was still pressing up and down. I had begun to feel it a little in my arms, but knew I could continue on for a long time. “Yeah, so strong. Push me up into the air like I am a feather pillow on your back. This arm, Anthony, is hard as rock. It’s fucking hot and hard as rock.” Jim had taken his hand that was not sliding up and down my dick and moved it to my left triceps. He was worshipping its bulging hard mass. Jim also started to pump my cock harder. I then felt his lips and tongue start working some magic on my muscled shoulder. His admiration of my strength and my body only made me crank out more push-ups faster, but still in perfect form. I wanted this man to be pleased with me, but I also wanted to show him how my body could easily protect him. I wanted him, for some reason, to feel safe and secure when he was with me. I wanted him to know that I was going to be everything he wanted in a man. I don’t know how, but Jim sensed all of this and knew how to feed my desires. “I like your strength, Anthony. I like it a lot. I like it as much as you do. It makes me feel safe.” Jim continued to kiss my shoulder intermittently between sentences. “Yeah, press us up and down like we weigh nothing. Do you want to keep this up all night, Anthony? Feel my cock getting hard again inside of you just because of your strength?” My attention immediately went to my ass and I paused at the peak of my present push-up. Jim thick cock was fully hard in my tight chute again. There was not pain, though. Somehow, the strength of my body extended even to my ass hole and I was able to squeeze those muscles to also show off for Jim. He made a sound that was similar to a cat purring as I tightened the inside of my ass around his thickness. I returned to my push-ups and was stunned, anew, by how easy I could do them. Jim began to pump his cock slightly in my ass, as he continued to pump my own cock with his hand. “We are both going to cum just because of your strength, Anthony.” Jim began to excite both of us even more by expressing his thoughts out loud. “This is nothing for a big guy like you. I could place a fucking London double-decker bus on top of you, Anthony, and you would be able to blast out push-ups continuously for a couple of days. Yeah, you like that thought, do you not, Anthony? I can feel it in your tight ass and your hard prick. You love being fucking strong. I cannot wait to see you show off more, sir. Feel how easy it is for you to push both of us into the air. You are probably on your hundredth rep and it seems like you are on number one. Yeah, my big strongman, impress me with these arms of yours. These same arms are going to hold me tight and make sure I am taken care of – right, Anthony? These guns that can lift a fucking bus are going to hold me and make me feel safe. There is nothing these arms cannot do. Yeah, big man, push me up in the air like I was nothing. These fucking arms are going to make me cum!” I’m not really sure what made us both explode at that same moment. It could have been the fact that both of our cocks were being stroked – his by my ass and mine by his hand. It could have been what Jim was saying and how he was saying it. We both were turned on by his play-by-play commentary about what was happening. It also could have been the fact that both of us were very horny and the mere feeling of our bodies touching each other sent us over the top. I have a feeling, though; we both shot our second load during this sexual encounter merely because of the strength being shown off. I somehow knew, as soon as I felt Jim’s cock forcing large globs of cum into my ass for the second time and my own dick started spraying my chest, the bottom of my chin, and the bedspread with warm juice, that we both loved the same thing in different ways. I loved my still-surprising strength because of how I could impress and protect someone, Jim loved it because it made him feel safe and because I was able to do things that most other men could not. We both saw that what started out as a potential one-night-stand was turning into something deeper and, hopefully, long lasting. My arms easily held both of our shaking bodies in the air as we spewed forth in our powerful, simultaneous orgasms. I believe that by continuing to press our bodies in the air while we came, I made our ejaculations even last longer. This in turn, wore both of us out. As soon as my cock had sent its final few spurts of cum onto the bed, I lowered our bodies back onto the mattress. Jim’s body was still shaking from the exertion of his second blast within such a short amount of time and he simply pulled his cock from my ass and slid onto the mattress beside me. His face was turned towards me and he was smiling. I lifted my head and noticed that his beautiful face and body was covered in drops of sweat. He had his left arm draped across my back and was squeezing me tightly to show his appreciation. I brought my face over to his and he brought his lips to meet mine. We kissed deeply, without closing our eyes. We kept our lips locked as we lowered our heads back to rest on the bed. We fell asleep with our bodies entwined and our lips pressed together. The sound of the buzzer at the front door of my flat woke me with a start. At first I did not know where I was. Two things immediately grounded me. One was the fact that bright sunlight was streaming into my bedroom and it helped me quickly realize I was in my flat in London. Secondly, my arms were wrapped around the body of Jim Revere, as he spooned tightly with me in my bed. We had somehow ended up in this position during our sound sleep and it felt completely right. I held his warm body firmly against mine as if I were guarding him from something. I could tell that he was in a deep sleep. I pulled my hand from his body and slid backwards from the bed. He stirred a little, but did not wake up. I grabbed some shorts from my dresser as the buzzer continued to fill the flat. I pulled the cotton workout shorts up my firm legs and realized they were stretched to the max by my quads and ass. I didn’t care how I looked; I just wanted to get to the door so the noise would stop. When I opened the door to the hallway I was greeted by a younger guy with a large arrangement of flowers. The delivery man’s mouth fell wide open when he saw me. He didn’t even attempt to hide his quick glance up and down my body, or his long pause as he stared at my tight shorts and the outline of my rigid cock. I hadn’t paid any attention to my morning hard-on as I pulled the shorts up around my crotch. The guy didn’t say a word; he just continued to look at my body. “Yes?” I finally said, a little annoyed. It took a few seconds for the guy to register than I had spoken. He also continued to look at my crotch as he spoke. “I . . . um . . . I’ve got . . . um . . . some,” the guy fumbled around to try and make a complete sentence. He was utterly lost in a fantasy world involving my body. He continued, “I mean . . . I’ve got . . . oh hell, your body’s bloody fantastic.” Even though I was slightly annoyed, I did not miss the chance to appreciate the compliment. Since these kinds of remarks were still so new, I wanted to enjoy them completely. “Thanks, man. I think what you’ve brought are some flowers, right?” I asked. “Yes . . . I mean, yes sir. I’ve got some flowers for,” and with this he looked at the card, “Mr. Anthony Lance.” “I’m Anthony,” I replied. “Hell, yes, you are,” he said quickly, before he could even think about filtering his thoughts. We just stood there for a few more minutes as his gaze went right back to my crotch. “Do I need to sign something or anything like that?” I asked. “Umm, no sir,” he said coming out of his trance. “Here you go. These are for you.” He held out the flowers for me to take. I took them from him and he continued to stand there staring. “I’m sorry,” I said looking at him, “is there anything else?” The guy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yes, sir,” he said eagerly, “I umm . . . I could . . . I could take care of that for you.” He pointed to my hard-on and then looked at me with a pleading smile. I was overcome with a mixture of pride for being able to cause this kind of reaction in the kid and something akin to sympathy because he revealed his desire so blatantly. “Hey, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ve got someone in the bedroom that might get a little jealous.” I was trying to let him down gently and I also jumped up and down on the inside because I really did have someone in the bedroom. I watched as his face shot to deep disappointment. “Maybe another time,” I added. This seemed to cheer him up somewhat. “Any time, sir. Just call the number on the card and ask for Seth. I’ll make sure to order something nice to be delivered to you. Remember, ask for Seth.” He could see I was shutting the door and he wanted to make sure I knew what to do when I decided to call upon him. “I will, Seth, I will,” I said and then closed the door. I walked to the kitchen area and placed the flowers on the counter of the island in the middle of the room. I reached up and pulled out the card. It read: “Sorry we got disconnected. I miss you and will be home soon. R.” Reading the note from Roger caused a wave of mixed emotions to crash over my body. I suddenly felt guilty for sleeping with Jim. I tried to immediately push that from my head and rationalize my actions by acknowledging that Roger and I had not decided to only date each other and he had also left town after revving up my engines without even a promised date for a good race. It also made me a little angry with him for not being there to take our foreplay to new levels of intimacy and great sex. But the worst feeling of all was one of lust for the man. Something unexplainable took over my body as I read the card and looked at the flowers. I wanted Roger, still, even after having an incredible night with Jim. Roger’s body, his voice, and his incredible sexiness made it hard for me to forget him. He held me in some kind of lust prison. I knew, on some level, that no matter what happened with Jim, when Roger returned he and I would definitely see what kind of fire we could ignite in the bedroom. I also knew that it would be much more intense than my night with Jim. These thoughts caused my dick to grow harder. Its head pushed through the top of my shorts and continued to creep up my abs. I jumped a little when I felt hands wrap around my waist and find my hard tool. I had been so focused on my thoughts about Roger that I had not heard Jim walk up behind me. Without even acknowledging that he had scared me a little, he slid his hands into my shorts and grabbed my hard cock. For a second I noted that both of his big hands could grab my long shaft and I still found that so surprising. The feeling of his thick piece of meat pressing against my ass made me forget all other thoughts immediately. Even thoughts about Roger disappeared and all I concentrated on was how natural his body felt against mine. “Who is my competition?” he asked as he began to squeeze my cock and move his dick up and down my ass crack. “What?” I asked, half hearing his question. I was too focused on what how his movements affected my body. “Who sent you flowers?” Jim asked a little more directly. “Oh. Roger… the guy who left the country just as we started to see each other.” I said truthfully. “Lucky for me, no?” Jim asked. I forced my body to turn around, causing him to remove his hands from my cock. I was a little shocked to find him totally nude. We both wrapped our arms around each other and grabbed each other’s ass. Our hard cocks pressed against one another teasingly. Each of us started to move our hips side to side to increase the feeling in our stiff poles. “No,” I said softly and his face went somewhat sad, “lucky for both of us.” I brought my lips to his and kissed him. My tongue parted his teeth and explored his mouth roughly. He moaned slightly and pulled his face from mine. “Last night was great,” he said. I nodded my head and smiled. “All of it was great, but I think you know I loved the pushups the most.” He looked at me intently and his smile seemed to turn slightly devilish. “I think you liked it the most too.” I said nothing. I simply turned our bodies around slowly, so his back was now up against the counter of the kitchen island. I pulled our bodies slightly away from the marble top and then placed my hands at his hips. I grabbed him tightly and then slowly lifted. Jim’s body came off the floor easily. His eyes shot big as saucers and his mouth fell open. I didn’t bend at the waist, I didn’t strain at all, and I didn’t move quickly. I simply lifted his entire body as if he were a child’s stuffed animal. I kept my eyes on his and had to tilt my head backwards as he rose in the air. When I had his ass slightly higher than the countertop I stopped lifting and held him in steady the air. Jim took his eyes from mine, briefly, so he could look down at my bent arms holding him in the air as if it were nothing. He quickly placed his palms on my hard biceps and this made his cock twitch between us. It thumped against my chest twice. He returned his gaze to mine and we both smiled. After a minute or two of just holding him there - so he could get a good sense of just how easy I found this task - I lifted his body higher into the air. This forced him to move his hands to my hard shoulders. I lifted until his balls were even with my face. I licked them teasingly and Jim dug his fingers into my shoulders. After I had given his balls a thorough tongue bath, I pulled my head back and looked up at his face. He was watching me closely, but his eyes were barely open because of the feeling of pleasure I was giving. I pushed his legs back against the countertop and lowered his ass onto the marble. I figured it was cold, but the heat I was causing in his body probably prevented him from noticing. I forced my body between his muscular legs. I moved my hands from his hips and rested them on his massive quads. It was my turn to be impressed. Jim obviously hoped that his bulging thigh muscles would somehow repay me for the pleasure my strength had given him. He didn’t know, however, how right he was. My hands began to explore every bulge in Jim’s monstrous quads. He flexed them just to emphasize their hardness. I bent over and let my tongue run over and around the mounds of muscle that seemed to stick out in every direction. My cock seemed to get even more rigid as Jim would relax his legs and then catch my tongue in some groove by tensing them again. His legs were beautiful. I let my tongue leave his quad and move over to the base of his thick cock. I dragged my warm, wet tongue up his shaft and then opened wide to take the head into my mouth. I sucked with all my might and even clenched my teeth down lightly on his cock. I then tried to open my throat as much as I could and pushed my head down on his hardness. I knew there was no way my throat could take all of him, but I did a pretty good job trying. I started sliding my mouth up and down on his hard cock and, by the grunts of pleasure he was making, I knew I was doing a good job. Without warning my mouth was filled with his warm cum. Jim’s body didn’t give any indication that he was about to shoot. I realized, that by easily lifting him into the air, I had taken him so close to the edge of release that my just-okay skills at sucking such a large piece of meat could easily finish him off. I knew this information would come in handy many more times. I tried to swallow all of the juice his cock was sending down my throat, but there was just too much. Many drops landed in the dark hair around the base of his dick and on t he counter. I made a mental note to lick it up after I lifted him back down to the ground. When he was done shooting, I lifted my head to look at him. Jim was resting on his outstretched arms behind him and had his head was pushed back in ecstasy. He finally recovered and looked at me. We both smiled. “Well,” I said, “I’ve had breakfast. Can I fix you something?” “I think I need caffeine first,” he said, revealing how dazed his orgasm had left him. “Your little strength shows are going to be the death of me.” “Coffee coming right up,” I said laughing. I handed him a roll of paper towels to clean himself off. “Leave the drops on the counter. I’ll clean them up myself.” Jim laughed because he understood I wouldn’t be using the paper towels. I started preparing the coffee, but kept a close eye on Jim. When he started to slide off the island I quickly moved in front of him. “No, no, no sir. Here, let me help you.” I grabbed him at the waist, again, and lifted him straight up, into the air. I held him higher than before and ran my tongue across his quads. Jim’s cock shot hard again as soon as I lifted him. “You got to give me time to recover, Anthony,” he cried. “Put me down so I can rest.” “How do we ask?” I said teasingly. “Please?” he replied. “Please what?” I said. “Please, sir,” Jim responded, happy when he found that he had answered correctly and I lowered him so his feet touched the ground. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him hard on the lips. Jim responded by grabbing my ass with both hands, pulling my cheeks apart, and sliding a finger quickly into my tight hole. I jumped slightly, forcing him to withdraw his finger, but we never stopped our kiss. I finally pushed him away and returned to the coffee. Jim turned to look at Roger’s flowers. I tried to figure out a way to ask a burning question I had as delicately as I could. “Jim, do you think you could do me a favor?” I asked. “What’s that,” he replied looking at me. “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially since we just met, but . . . do you think you could,” I could feel myself chickening out. “Oh never mind.” “Anthony, please. We are not teenagers. Just ask.” Jim looked at me with a face clearly open to whatever the favor was. “Do you think you could . . . um . . . call your boss and tell him you’re sick.” I could not believe I had actually asked. It was just that I really wanted to spend more time with him. I didn’t want the magic to end. Jim burst into laughter and, for a second, I felt like I had asked too much. “Well, no, I cannot do that Anthony,” he said and then closely watched as my face went sad. He then added, “For you see, I do not have a boss to call. I am the Executive Director of the National Portrait Gallery. I would be calling myself. And, for the record, I have already given myself the day off. For, you see there is a guy that I have met and he is really cute. I want to show him some of my favorite places in London. I also plan on having sex with him a few more times. I hope that is fine with you, Anthony.” Jim had moved closer to me and reached down to grab my cock through my shorts. He had noticed it grew as he was speaking. Jim squeezed hard and then leaned over to kiss me on the forehead. “Yes,” I said softly, because it felt as if I were in a dream, “yes that would be fine with me.” At that exact moment the buzzer of the door to my flat rang again. I jumped at the sound and then said, “How are all these people getting through the front door of the building?” “Maybe we broke it last night,” Jim answered quickly. “We were pushing on it pretty hard.” For a few seconds I panicked that he might be right. “I think I will step into the bedroom.” I watched Jim’s beautiful ass and legs as he walked away. I moved to the door, making sure to try and adjust my hard cock so it wasn’t as obscene as earlier. I opened the door and there stood Manfred. In a similar fashion as the deliveryman, earlier, Manfred’s face completely changed as he took in my undressed body. His mouth fell slightly open as he glanced up and down my torso, stopping for a few seconds at my crotch. I was immediately embarrassed that I had greeted him this way, but I was also somewhat pleased that he was getting such a close-up look at my improved body. I was suddenly overcome with a desire, a desire I couldn’t name, but I knew it had to do with Manfred. I didn’t have time to sort it all out, but I wanted to win him over in some way. Just as with the flowers from Roger, for a few seconds I totally forgot about Jim and how last night had made me feel. At this precise moment all I thought about was tensing my body slightly to make Manfred hard. That was it! I wanted Manfred to desire me. I knew there was more, but I didn’t have time to finish analyzing the situation. “Is this the way you always open the door?” Manfred asked. I turned red and I know he noticed. “There are some workmen trying to fix the door down stairs, so I just decided to come on up. Sorry that I didn’t call.” “No, that’s fine Manfred. Don’t worry. I’m sorry I’m not dressed. It’s been a busy morning,” I said, focusing for a few seconds only on the front door situation and trying to figure out if Jim and I broke it. “I can see that,” Manfred said smiling. He also looked my body up and down, again. This time I saw a hint of something similar to desire in his eyes and it affected me in a huge way. I immediately stood straighter. I forgot about my hard cock and actually thrust my chest out a little. Yes, me, little Anthony Lance, actually puffed up my chest like some macho stud. It didn’t feel completely natural, but I could see that it caused some kind of change in Manfred. I didn’t know what exactly, but there was a change. “You also obviously did not have time to wipe away all of your toothpaste.” He pointed to the corner of his mouth to show me where I had missed. I turned a darker shade of red because I knew it wasn’t toothpaste. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I saw that Manfred’s gaze went immediately to my bicep. I thought I also noticed some movement at his crotch with my peripheral vision. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude, Manfred, but what can I do for you,” I said a little too quickly, for I could tell that he immediately knew I was trying to end our conversation as soon as possible. He surely knew that someone else was there. “I was hoping we might have a late breakfast, but, if you are busy Anthony, perhaps another time.” He was being the perfect gentleman and allowing me to get out of an awkward situation. “Yes, Manfred. Another day would be great. I have a few things planned for today. How about tomorrow or the next day?” I asked. “Do either of those work for you?” “Yes,” Manfred said, “I think I could make one of those work. I will call you later, Anthony, after you have had time to see which will work best for you. Please ignore the two messages I left on your mobile.” I started to ask when he had called, but now I remembered hearing the phone ring a few times last night while Jim and I were having fun. I also think it rang a few times this morning, but that could have been a dream. “Am I free to come out now?” asked Jim as he walked into the living room. He had, thank goodness, put on a pair of my shorts and a t-shirt. He stopped in his tracks when he saw us. “I am so sorry. I thought I heard the door shut. Excuse me.” He turned to leave the room. I was suddenly filled with a bravery that I had never known before. “No, it’s fine Jim. Come, come meet my friend Manfred.” I motioned him back into the room. “We actually know each other, Anthony,” said Manfred. “Hello, Jim.” “Hiya Manfred,” said Jim extending his hand as he walked over to us. I watched them shake hands and I know I had a shocked look on my face. Jim noticed my surprise. “Manfred and his family are major donors to the Portrait Gallery.” It was a brief explanation, but it was all that was needed. “Well, gentleman, I must go,” Manfred said breaking an awkward pause. “Jim, it was great to see you. Anthony, please call me later. You two have a great day.” And with that, he turned and walked down the hall. “Bye Manfred,” Jim called. I stepped into the hallway. “I’ll call you later, Manfred.” I said and he raised his hand in the air as he walked away to say that that would be fine. I could tell that he was hurt in some way, but I did not, for the life of me, know why. I stepped back inside and shut the door. “I’m so sorry, Anthony.” Jim said. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what Jim was saying because I was still trying to figure out Manfred. “What? Oh, don’t be silly, Jim. Manfred and I are just friends,” I said and then realized that I had been too hasty. Jim had not meant he was sorry about stepping out in front of Manfred, he was sorry he had stepped out period. I saw in his eyes a flash of awareness. “Oh no,” he said, “I see that there are two competitors now. I must rally the troops and strengthen my offense!” I didn’t respond. I just looked at him and smiled. I knew to deny that I felt anything for Manfred would be useless now. It had been written all over my face. I was beginning to realize I was confused beyond belief! An American Muscleman in London - Part 20 May 15th, 2011 Jim could sense he had hit a sore spot when he mentioned that Manfred seemed to be a competitor for my affections. I don’t think, however, he knew how deep my confusion about and my desire for Manfred ran. It had been obvious that Manfred left upset, but what did he have to be upset about? He had made it quite clear to me the first night we met that he was attracted to, and only dated, huge bodybuilders. Yes, I had grown a little, but I was not huge by his or anyone’s standards. He definitely noticed my improved body when I answered the door in just my cotton shorts, but I was not even close to having the build he confessed to liking. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why he had seemed hurt when he left my flat. Was it because I was dating someone he knew? Did he have a thing for Jim Revere? That was hard to believe, since Jim’s body was not gigantic either – well, except for his legs. Jim definitely had the legs of a natural bodybuilder, but the rest of him was simply well-built. I think Jim was keenly aware that I was confounded by Manfred’s quick departure. “We used to date,” he said as a way of explaining Manfred’s behavior. “It did not end well. I broke up with him and I do not think he has ever forgiven me.” Jim’s statement brought me out of my reflective mood quickly. I turned to face him and I know my face showed my surprise. “You broke up with him? Why?” I asked and it was obvious that I found it hard to believe someone would not stick with Manfred for life. “Oh, Anthony, I do not really know. We were younger then and neither of us was sure about what we wanted. I believe Manfred wanted me to be some kind of father-figure for him, but only years later did I find out that was really the last thing he desired. Manfred is not a man of many words and he does not find it easy to share his feelings. I became impatient and started looking elsewhere for strong emotional relationships. I met a guy that not only liked me very much, but he was open about his feelings and had no problem communicating. I did what every healthy man in his sexual prime would do – I left Manfred for the other guy. Looking back, I realize my actions were not very honorable, but I really just wanted a partner that I could connect with.” Jim paused and looked at me with a face that pleaded for understanding. I walked over to him and put my hands around his waist. “I cannot hold that against you, Jim. And, trust me, the more I get know Manfred the more I understand what you’re saying. The man can be very confusing. It would be a lie to say that I don’t have feelings for him. I mean, come on, the man is very handsome. But, please know, I have first-hand knowledge about what the guy likes and I do not fit the bill.” I brought my lips forward and kissed Jim as I finished. “I, too, know his type, Anthony,” Jim said pulling his mouth from mine. “I have a strange feeling that Manfred is re-thinking his requirements for a boyfriend because of you. I also believe that you might actually end up being exactly his type some day - and maybe soon. I know this will sound strange, but you actually appear bigger today. I am sure it is just my imagination, but holding you this morning feels very different than it did last night. You seem taller.” Something in what Jim was saying registered within me as correct - on some deep level. I could not tell what the feeling meant or why it existed, I just knew that it was not Jim’s imagination. I actually felt bigger. My pecs felt heavier, as if there was more meat making them push out further. My arms seemed to have more bulk, as well. I knew it would be wrong, in some way, to acknowledge what Jim had noticed, so I simply smiled at him and decided to change the subject. “How about some coffee?” I asked. “I’m sure it is ready by now.” “You are certainly a man that likes to change the subject, Mr. Lance,” he said smiling and I knew, from the look on his face, he would not return to the subject of my gained size. This made me very happy. “Well, what should we do today? I only have one thing on my agenda and that involves us having more mind-blowing sex at some point. Do you find that on your schedule, as well?” “As a matter of fact, I do,” I said smiling while I poured a cup of coffee for Jim. “Isn’t that a great coincidence?” As soon as I handed Jim the cup of coffee he took a sip and then placed it on the counter beside him. He reached over and placed his hand behind my head, pulling my face close to his. He then pressed his warm moist lips against mine and pushed hard. At the same time he slid his other hand beyond the elastic band of my shorts and grabbed my growing cock. He moaned as soon as his fingers wrapped around my hardening meat. His tongue slid in between my lips and teeth and began moving in the same rhythm as his hand did while it stroked my rod. I reached up and placed my hands on his chest, pushing his body away from mine. He held on to my cock, pulling it from my shorts and causing my crotch to jerk forward in his direction. “You, my friend,” I said smiling at him, “are the devil in disguise. I think it is time we took a shower and got some breakfast. I would say we should stay in and I’d cook for us, but I don’t think I’d be able to make it through scrambling some eggs before you threw me down on this counter and had your way with me. Shall we move to the shower with our coffee?” Jim said nothing. He reached down, undid the button on the pair of shorts he was wearing and let them drop to the floor. At the same time he pulled his shirt over his head. He stood there, before me, with a semi-hard prick and his body all aglow with anticipation. He stepped away from his shorts, grabbed his coffee cup and started toward the shower. “Last one in has to bend over to get the soap,” he yelled back at me. I purposely took my time. I didn’t mind being the one to bend over. I grabbed a cup of coffee and joined him in the bathroom. Jim and I were actually able to make it through the shower without jumping each other’s bones. I don’t know how we did it, but I believe it had something to do with our awareness that we had all day for sex. We were both horny as hell, but we also wanted to get to know the other person on a more intimate level. Once we were clean and dressed, Jim easily fitting into some of my old clothes and me fitting into some of the larger sizes that Martin gave me as a gift, we decided on a plan for our day. It had not even been fifteen hours since I had met Jim, but it already felt like we were a couple. If I was asked to name all the things we did that day, in detail, I would not be able to do so. The main thing I remembered was Jim, Jim, Jim. I know he took me to many of his favorite places in London – restaurants, little-known museums, and a visit to the top of some tower (I can’t remember the name) that gave us a great view of the city. It was a perfect day. The weather was fantastic and the company was magical. We were only interrupted by a few work-related phone calls for Jim, but that didn’t bother either of us. We were lost in the thrill of getting to know one another. We stopped late afternoon at his flat, so he could show it off. Jim had re-done the top floor of a three-story warehouse near the British Museum and it was a great place. The space was mainly one large open room with a few different leveled platforms that housed a bedroom, an office, and a den. During the entire tour of his place I tried to entice Jim into some afternoon delight, either on the kitchen counter or in the bed, but he stayed focused on showing me his place and then insisted we grab some pints at Halfway to Heaven. Jim needed to go into work for a short time that evening to check on some final details for the exhibit that had just opened. I immediately asked if he could come by my place after he finished work, and he said he had hoped I would ask. He grabbed a few items that would enable him to spend the night with me, we took a taxi so we could drop the stuff off at my place, and we entered the pub for our pints not even twenty-four hours since we had met. It seemed, however, that we had known each other for years. During our day together I had quickly noticed that Jim has an incredible ability to make another person feel like nothing else in the world mattered. He seemed focused only on me. A few times, throughout our short time together, I saw men and women glance at him with a longing in their eyes – I’m sure it was the same look that appeared on my face. This caused no jealousy, but actually made me proud to be with the man. By the time we had settled on our stools at the pub I had almost erased all thoughts of any other man in London, that’s how “attached” I had become to Jim. I got the sense he felt the same way. “So, here we are,” he said, taking a sip of his pint, “right back where we started.” “It’s all so very cyclical, don’t you think?” I asked, smiling. “Yes, but it is not, I dare say, repetitive. I have a feeling it will be a very long time, or even never, before anything between us seems boring or like it has already been done.” Jim was smiling back as he flirted. “I know what you mean,” I replied, “I don’t think anything we do will ever be boring.” “I will remind you of that, Mr. Lance, when you grow tired of me,” Jim shot back. “That could never happen,” I quickly answered. I reached over and squeezed his thigh. The tips of my fingers brushed up against the growing piece of meat between his legs. Suddenly, my body was overcome with a now familiar feeling of danger. The sensation was still hard to describe, but my skin began to tingle and all of my senses seemed to go into overload. The closest thing I had to describe my reaction was the way a cat becomes defensive when it senses a predator. If it had been possible, I believe my hair would have stood up and I would have hunched up my back and bared my teeth. That’s what my body felt like. I glanced around the bar, trying hard to not show Jim what I was feeling. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were some of the regulars I had come to know hanging out and a few tourists standing here and there. I could tell the feeling was growing stronger and my muscles even began to tense up to the point of hurting. I had a strong urge to put my arm around Jim, as if to protect him from something – so I did. I reached up and wrapped my arm around his shoulders pulling him into my body. I tilted my head in and kissed his lips to make the move as nonchalant as possible. I glanced over his shoulder as we pulled away from our kiss. And as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation that had consumed my body came to a screeching halt. It was as if some immediate threat had disappeared – the tornado had by-passed this house or the out-of-control car had stopped a few inches before hitting its victim. Jim simply smiled at me – his generous response to my kiss. It was clear he had not experienced any of the heightened awareness that had overcome my body. I smiled back and we sat there for a few seconds – in silence. “It’s been a great day,” Jim finally said and then sipped his beer. “A great day,” I replied, glancing over his shoulder and casually surveying the street beyond the window of the pub. The sight of an extremely tall figure across the street, next to the gate of St. Martin in the Fields, immediately brought the tenseness back to my entire body. I knew who it was without even seeing his face. My heightened state of awareness was clearly attached to the appearance of Atol. Without even thinking about it too much I decided it was time to confront the man. I was filled with a defensiveness that gave me courage beyond anything I had ever felt before – I actually felt stronger than before, like I could defeat the giant easily. This inner knowledge moved me into action quickly. “Excuse me for one second, Jim. I’ll be right back. There’s someone outside that I need to deal with,” I said as I slid off my stool. I did not wait for a response. I moved toward the door. By the time I reached the sidewalk outside the pub, the tall man had disappeared. I glanced up and down the street, looking for the broad shoulders that would surely stick out way above other people’s heads. Atol was nowhere to be found. I could feel the disappointment in my body – specifically my muscles – as if I was somehow denied the pleasure of pounding the big guy. This thought made me laugh, because of the stupidity in my bravery. Atol was twice the size of me and probably ten times as strong. And yet, there was something within my gut that told me I could have easily won in hand-to-hand combat. I pushed those thoughts away, realizing how stupid they really were. I had simply been caught up in my anger. I pulled the mobile from my pocket and hit redial on a recent call. “Hiya,” answered an obvious groggy voice on the other end. “Don’t you dare ‘hiya’ me, Roger,” I spat into the phone. “I want you to call off your henchman. Why in the hell is he following me?” “Do you know that it is two o’clock in the morning here, Anthony?” Roger asked. “I don’t care,” I quickly replied. “Why is Atol following me?” “I just asked him to keep tabs on you,” Roger answered. “To take care of you.” “I can take care of myself.” I said angrily. “I know,” answered Roger, “Jim Revere is a nice guy.” This statement caused my body to tense up even more and I didn’t say a word for a few seconds. My anger was intensified and I knew I should not speak before counting to ten and thinking clearly about what I wanted to say. “Yes, he is . . . and you’re stalking me,” I said calmly. “You don’t control me, Roger.” “No, no I do not,” he answered and then added, “I doubt anyone could.” “What does that mean?” I shot back. “Nothing . . . nothing,” he responded. “I hope you enjoy being with Jim. He really is a nice guy. And so much better for you than Manfred.” “Will you forget about Manfred!” I exclaimed. “He’s not even in the picture.” “I hope not,” Roger replied. “I can handle the competition from Jim – he will be pretty easy to defeat – but trying to win your affections from Manfred would be a different story.” “What are you talking about, Roger?” I asked in a voice full of confusion and exasperation. “Nothing, Anthony, nothing,” he said with a sigh. “I will tell Atol to back off. I promise.” “Not just back off,” I added, “tell him to disappear.” “Yes, yes, I will,” answered Roger. “Thank you,” I said, trying to salvage the conversation a little. I still had feelings for the man. “And now, I must get back to my date.” “Just one quick thing, Anthony, if you do not mind. It is work related.” Roger said, trying to prevent me from hanging up. “Can we push your start date back a few weeks? I’ll be home by then and will be able to help you get situated in your new position. I also need to finish some things here in the States before we finalize new operations. We will certainly start paying you before then, but I believe it will be better for you and the company if I am in town when you begin. We can work out a beginning date soon.” “That’s fine, Roger. Just let me know my new start date when you have it,” I answered. “Great. That is splendid. Thank you,” he said with a voice full of manly charm. “Have a good night, Anthony. I hope you dream of me.” “Good night Roger,” I replied, trying to ignore how sexy he sounded. “You mean, good morning,” he responded with a slight chuckle. “Whatever,” I added and then hung up. Suddenly, I realized I had a raging hard-on and I was dumbfounded by my body’s reaction to Roger’s voice. Or was I hard because of the intense adrenaline that was still pumping through my body. Either way, I was confused and angry at my inability to control some basic sexual desire within me – it was like my need for physical gratification was slowly taking over my entire psyche. This thought made all noise in my head come to a complete stop. I realized that my earlier drive to confront Atol in some kind of battle was intricately connected to my strong sexual desires. They were almost the same – and seemed to cause the same reaction below my waist and throughout the rest of my frame. This awareness confused me and soothed me at the same time. I also admitted to myself that I was still deeply attracted to Roger, even after a blissful day with Jim. The draw towards both men was similar, but also vastly different. Roger somehow unleashed a beast within me, while the nearness of Jim caused me to become protective and domineering. When I was with Roger I found myself wanting to wrestle or have the kind of sex that knocked over lamps and caused all the bed sheets to come undone from the mattress. With Jim, however, I felt the need to hold him lovingly and to keep his body near mine – as if I was shielding him from the evil in the world. All of these revelations consumed me to the point that I didn’t notice Jim was now standing beside me. I turned to face him. “That call seemed intense,” he said, wrapping his hand around mine. We instinctively started walking toward the National Portrait Gallery. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I replied and offered no other explanation. “It did not cause me to lose any of my standing to a competitor, did it?” he asked. “Not at all,” I lied. “You are definitely still ahead the rest of the pack.” “Oh, now there is a pack, I see,” he replied, laughing. “You know what I meant,” I answered. It was a strange choice of words, but somehow it seemed to fit. I would have never admitted that to Jim, but something rang true when I contemplated the idea of a ‘pack of men.’ I had no idea what it meant, but it was instantly familiar. “I have to get to work, but I’ll be at your place in a couple of hours. Shall I pick up some dinner on my way?” Jim asked as he squeezed my hand. We were standing outside the gallery. “That sounds nice.” I answered. The beautiful man leaned in and kissed my cheek. He then released his grip and turned to go inside. He glanced back at me and smiled when he noticed I was adjusting the hardness at my crotch. He teasingly licked his lips and then disappeared through the door. I turned in the direction of my flat. I knew I should go home, but I had an overwhelming craving to either fuck someone senseless or start a fistfight with a bigger man. Both desires were completely new to me and I had no idea where they came from. I forced myself to walk home. I needed a cold shower and a stiff drink – to prevent me from doing things I would regret immediately and to calm myself down before Jim arrived. The thought of being alone with the man in my present condition scared the hell out of me. I worried I might not be able to control myself. I found myself wishing it were Roger coming to my house in a couple of hours. I somehow knew he would be able to match the beast that was being set free within me. With Roger, I would not have to hold back. I shook my head and tried to focus on Jim, but my throbbing cock made it very difficult. An American Muscleman in London - Part 21 Oct 1st, 2012 The fresh air from my walk home, a nice long cold shower, and a couple shots of good Irish whiskey helped to cool my super-charged engines, which had gone into overdrive during my intense conversation with Roger and my conveniently missed battle with Atol, the giant. I was also still stoked from my time with the handsome James. I had finally settled down – even below my waist – and waited for Jim to arrive at my flat with dinner. He had said he’d only be at work for a couple of hours, so I was eagerly awaiting his arrival with promised take-away. I was sitting on my sofa flipping through a guidebook for London, hoping to find some other fun things that my new friend and I could do in the coming weeks. I was very happy that Roger had postponed my start date at work, enabling me to have some more one-on-one time with Jim. I found myself nodding off as I waited – obviously tired from the day of sightseeing with Jim and from the adrenaline rush that had enveloped my body earlier when I saw Atol. My thoughts of the moment I gazed upon the lurking giant began to make my body tense-up, so I quickly focused on thinking about Jim and the sexual fun we would have later that night. This seemed to soothe my edginess and I became, once again, dozing. Suddenly, I became aware that the air around me had become freezing. I could actually see my breath when I exhaled. I looked up and realized I was no longer in my living room – I had returned to the place of my previous dreams, only this time I was not in the middle of the field. Instead, I was somewhere above the large open space looking down. I tried to move my arms and feet and that’s when I realized I was actually attached to something unmovable. I looked down and saw that I was completely nude, my body glistening in the moonlight and rippling with muscles beyond my wildest dreams. I looked huge and it felt as if I weighed a ton. I glanced at my wrists and leaned forward to peer at my ankles. Thick chains were tightly wrapped around these parts of my body and then embedded deeply into a huge stone slab that was part of a cliff next to the field. Just then, a long bright flash of lightning filled the sky and I looked out on the open space below. There, facing each other, were what seemed to be two giant armies. On one side were the huge muscled studs of my first dream – sitting on horses. And on the other side were the dark hooded figures from one of my later dreams. It was clear that both groups were preparing for a massive battle. I could sense that I was somehow connected to the fight, but it wasn’t clear my involvement. I could sense that I was not fully a member of one side, per se, but I did have a deep investment in the conflict. In a second flash of lightning I saw two lone horsemen ride to the center of the field and engage in conversation. The feeling this sight evoked was extremely ominous. Suddenly the bright moonlight streamed onto the field, the full orb having moved beyond clouds. I watched helplessly as both riders returned to their armies. Without any warning and with little preparation the silence of the night was interrupted by the collective battle cries of both sets of warriors. The two masses immediately started heading towards each other at full speed and when they met in the center a huge battle began. A dark cloud of dust or smoke rose from the field and caught my attention, as it slowly turned into a gigantic cloaked figure – clearly dangerous and powerful. I strained even harder to try and free my naked body from the stone, but to no avail. I watched in terror as the giant figured, formed by the dust, turned its focus on me and started moving slowly in my direction. It was no longer just a cloud of smoke – it was a huge creature intent on doing me damage; that was for sure. I started to yell, but no sound came out of my mouth. Instead I heard the melodic sounds of a cell phone. In an instant, I was fully awake and back in my living room, sitting on the sofa. I realized my phone was ringing from its place on the coffee table. It was the tone I had chosen for Jim and immediately I smiled and forgot about the disturbing dream. I grabbed the phone and said hello. “Hiya, Anthony. What are you doing? More importantly, what are you wearing?” came the now familiar sexy voice. “I was dozing and dreaming of you, so I’m totally nude.” I lied. “When will you get here? I have a big hard present waiting.” “I am afraid I have a bit of bad news, sweetie,” he replied and my heart sank. “I must stay here for a lot longer than anticipated. There are some problems with the new installment and I will probably have to work through the night. It is like someone hijacked the security system or something.” “Well, can I come there and keep you company?” I asked teasingly. “I am afraid not, good sir,” he answered, laughing. “You, my friend, would be a huge distraction – and I emphasize the word huge. I know I ruined our plans for the evening. I am very sorry. There is a fun party down at a club called Compton’s tonight. You should go check it out. It will be another part of your introduction to our great city.” “Are you trying to push me off on another man already?” I quickly asked, trying to sound dejected. “Not if my life depended on it, sir,” Jim answered quickly. “I just do not want your evening to be a complete and utter loss – since we had such a great day.” “Maybe I’ll just stay in and dream about you some more,” I replied, trying to turn the conversation back to flirtation. “If that is what you wish, Anthony, I will not try to stop you,” Jim answered and I could tell he was smiling. “But, if you choose to go out please know that I do not mind. You only have a few more weeks of non-work time and I would like for you to have a lot of fun. Of course, I would definitely like it to be with me, but that is not in the cards for tonight, I am afraid. You do forgive me, do you not?” “Well, I can think of a few ways you can make up for it, Mr. Jim,” I shot back quickly, “if you know what I mean.” “I think I know exactly what you mean, my dear man,” he answered, “and I will not at all mind being reprimanded fully. I will call you tomorrow, sweetie. Go out and have a fun night.” “It’s not possible without you,” I whispered. “Have a good night, yourself. Don’t work too hard.” As soon as we hung up, the silence in the room depressed me. I had so looked forward to cuddling with the fun guy that evening. I had already gotten very used to having Jim around. I didn’t hold any grudge about the cancellation; I was just very disappointed at how the evening turned out. I also realized I was kind of horny. I got up and moved to the kitchen, scouring my fridge and cupboards for something to eat. I put together a makeshift meal and then made the decision to go to Compton’s. I quickly looked up the address for the place, changed clothes, and left for a runner-up evening to the one I had expected. Compton’s was crowded and filled-to-the-brim with good-looking men. I walked in and immediately my spirits mysteriously went from depressed to excited and then to over-stimulated. There was so much eye-candy at the place I didn’t know where to let my gaze land for longer than a few seconds. After a bit of walking around with my pint of beer I had already forgotten about Jim not being able to be with me for the evening and I parked myself at the end of the long hand-carved bar. I didn’t realize it, at first, but I had started to act like I was on the prowl. My cock was starting to harden – mainly because some really hot guys were actually checking me out, but there was some unknown force influencing me below the waist, as well. I started to sense being overwhelmed by the same power that had consumed me when I had raced the bicyclist a few days earlier and when I had easily overpowered Paulo at the dinner party. I felt inches taller than my real height and somehow bigger – like I was more muscular or somehow more powerful. It was an intoxicating feeling – even though, by this point, I had only taken a few sips of my beer. It seemed like I was high on adrenaline or something similar. I also felt like I was among men that recognized me as. . . I don’t know . . . their comrade, their leader, or was it their competitor. The true feeling wasn’t clear, but something was taking control of my psyche – and it felt really good. A flash of my dream from the brief nap earlier that evening crossed my mind and I looked out into the crowd half-expecting to see a large hooded figure coming at me. Instead, I saw many beautiful men blatantly staring at me, trying to catch my gaze and all the others were sneaking glances when their partners weren’t looking. The realization that handsome guys were staring at me, with faces clearly full of lust, made something in my mind snap. I changed so quickly that I didn’t even realize how much I viewed things differently. A big smile crept across my face and I instantly spread my legs a little wider and reached up to undo a couple of buttons on my shirt. I was still conscious of everything I did, but I was no longer in control – mainly because I loved how all that was happening made me feel. I leaned against the bar behind me and allowed my crotch to thrust forward a little, clearly showing off my raging hard-on. “Come to papa, boys,” I whispered to no one in particular. If anyone had been analyzing my actions at this point they would have surely said, ‘the man has gone into hunt mode.’ My entire body suddenly wanted one thing and one thing only – to show off and to dominate. I could tell I was acting differently, but the pleasure this new attitude caused in my body made me forget any semblance of modesty or self-reflection. It was like my libido had taken over every fiber of my being and I had suddenly realized, for the first time, that I could have any man in the place. And I meant ‘have’ in every sense of the word. I was on fire with confidence and actually felt the need to crush or punch something with my hands. I started clenching my fists tightly, holding it for a few beats, and then releasing the tension. I could tell this caused my body to pump up slightly and that awareness made my cock twitch wildly in my pants. I watched a few guys sitting at a table across from me as they stared, transfixed by the action at my crotch – clearly pleased and a little frightened. I knew I was sending off some kind of vibe or pheromone that both excited and intimidated other men. I could intuit that the smile on my face had turned to something a little sinister, and I loved it. “Anthony needs to fuck,” I again whispered, as I looked around the room. My gaze fell on two healthy young lads that were standing against the wall to my left – whispering to each other as they watched my every move. The thought of having two guys to play with suddenly pleased me very much. Why did I have to settle for just one, especially when I had two aching nipples – one for each of them! I also had two cum-filled balls that were begging to be kissed and licked. And then there was the exciting thought of me getting off when I took turns slamming my cock into each man’s hard ass. I came off the bar with a swagger that seemed so natural and intensely cocky at the same time. As I neared the two twenty-something old men they became like giddy schoolgirls being approached by the campus stud. I stood in front of them and just let them stare at my magnificence. I could see intense desire in their eyes. They were both slightly bigger than me – even though I had grown recently. Their body language, though, made them appear smaller. They were waiting for me to speak, as if there was an instinctive sense that I was automatically the alpha in the situation. The two men stood beside each other in a way that made it clear they were a couple, which only intensified my need to have them. I was obviously so desirable that they were willing to put aside their feelings for each other and focus on pleasing me. This showed me what good boys they were and I was surely ready to reward. By this point my blood was boiling and my cock was achingly fully hard. “You boys clearly like what you see,” I said loudly and noticed that other guys in the bar were instantly disappointed since I had obviously made my choice. “Yes . . . yes, we do,” replied the slightly thinner guy of the two, a young lad with sandy blonde hair and a gorgeous tan. “You’re American?” asked the larger one, a dark haired beauty with a scruffy three-day growth. “I’m from Texas, where everything is bigger,” I answered boastfully. “We’re . . . um . . . from New York. We’re here for a vacation,” the blonde one stammered. “How about I accompany you two back to your hotel and both of you let me fuck you silly,” I growled, as I leaned in toward both men. “Um . . . yes, yes, that would be nice,” the dark haired one said and then added, “I mean, we’d like that very much . . . sir.” I’d never seen two guys move so quickly. They almost stumbled over each other trying to get to the door. I laughed out loud and followed them slowly, knowing that I now controlled everything. They would wait for me outside as long as it took me to exit, but I was ready for some action. I stepped out into the cool evening air, which immediately made my excitement and cockiness dip a little – as if the bar had created the persona that was now leading my actions. I quickly moved in between the two guys and threw my arms around their shoulders. When my body made contact with theirs, I became like a powerful battery that had been recharged in mere seconds. I noted, again, that I was slightly smaller than both men, but my attitude and my dominance made me seem bigger – especially to them. I squeezed my arms and pulled their heads toward me as we walked. “I’m Anthony, fellas, and what lucky hotel gets to be filled with your screams when I plow your ass?” I asked, with a slight chuckle that made both men shake with delight. “We’re staying at the Savoy, Anthony,” replied the one with the three-day growth. “My name is Robert and this is Trent.” “That’s some high class living Trent and Robert,” I responded, “I’m duly impressed.” “Robert got us a suite for our two year anniversary,” Trent added proudly. “Aw, happy anniversary, guys. Either of you ever have a three way?” I teased as we walked down the street, many people were staring at us – but I quickly noted it wasn’t in disgust, guys were still staring at me with lust in their eyes. “Um, no, and we really weren’t planning on it tonight,” Robert said quickly. “But then you got one look at me and couldn’t help yourselves, could you?” I said as I got even more excited about their uncontrollable devotion to me. “Yes. We feel so honored that you chose us and we don’t even know why,” Trent added innocently. “Gentlemen, in about an hour I guarantee you’ll know why. I promise to make this an anniversary you’ll never forget.” I spoke with such authority that Trent cooed loudly and Robert brushed his cheek against my forearm in appreciation. Minutes later we were in their huge four-room suite and none of us had on a stitch of clothing. Both men were down on their knees and each had their faces shoved up underneath my hard cock, sucking on one of my big balls. I was purring out loud like some wild animal in heat and had my hands intertwined in both men’s hair and was holding them tightly in place. As soon as I had grabbed both of them in the room and easily forced them to their knees I felt a surge of power overcome me that seemed to emanate from the very place they now worshipped. With each slight tug on one of my melon-like balls I felt cum bubble up further in my huge shaft. I finally pulled their heads away from my gonads and used their hair to yank them to their feet. As soon as they were standing I placed one of my hands on each nicely developed chest and shoved them both against the wall behind. It was such a powerful looking move and I did it with such ease, that they gasped in appreciation. The two men didn’t know what had hit them and it took a few minutes for them both to get their breath back. “My nipples demand a little attention, fellas.” I ordered, wrapping my hands around their heads and pulling them into my chest as I also stepped forward. They both started sucking immediately, like twins that were going to town at their mother’s breasts. The suction at my nipples caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot through my already charged body and it sent me over the top. I moaned loud enough to wake the entire floor and clamped my hands around the back of their necks hard, but they did not notice. They had one, and only one desire – to please me completely. This caused them to ignore the pain I brought to their necks and to not even notice when I moved my hands around to the front and squeezed them teasingly. I loved how fragile this part of their body felt in the crook of my hands. I toyed with them, closing my hands slightly and then adding more pressure. They merely continued to suck on my reddened tender nipples. My hand squeezed their necks a little more tightly and there was a surge of power that rippled through my body. I knew I could easily crush their windpipes if I chose to. There was a great urge welling in me to do damage to these two men – because it would show off my strength and my dominance, and they’d love it for a while. I wanted to manhandle them not for mere destruction, but to learn more about this incredible energy that was building within me. I suddenly squeezed in a grip of iron and shoved both men against the wall with great ease. The look on their faces was priceless – there was surprise, but there was also intense lust. I loved how they thought I was just playing. I heard them both begin to gasp for air, but the sound only fueled me on. I lifted my hands slowly and growled loudly in delight when I could feel their feet leave the ground. I was easily sliding their squirming bodies upward as they desperately tried to inhale. Each man grabbed my hand at their neck and struggled to break my grip – but it was useless. By this time my power was fueled by my need to see them fight. The more panicked they became the more pleasure it gave. I could not wait to see their bodies become lifeless. I had entered into the darkness of my dreams that now completely surrounded me. “Please . . . no,” one of the guys spat out softly, with what little breath that remained. An American Muscleman in London - Part 22 December 27th, 2019 [Please don’t expect a quick finish to this story. I have a long way to go. I’m trying to get back to it.] The Second Full Moon – Continued Instantly, a picture of Manfred flashed through my mind. It was the guy’s beautiful smiling face. I have no idea where it came from and why it impacted me in the way it did, but suddenly the darkness that surrounded me evaporated. I was brought back to the room with such an intense clarity that it frightened me. I comprehended immediately what I had intended to do to the two men and I released my grip and let their bodies fall to the ground before me. My shock at what I had been doing was so great that I panicked. After noticing that both men were moving slowly and loudly sucking in needed air, I gathered my clothes quickly and dressed as I ran from the hotel room. I was fully dressed by the time I exited the hotel. I started running down the street, wanting to be home more than anything in the world. I didn’t allow any other thoughts to enter into my mind. It was too difficult to think about what I had just done. I wanted to stay focused on getting to my flat. I took a few wrong turns and ended up on some unfamiliar quiet street. I finally stopped because I knew, in my present state I’d never find my way home. I needed to calm myself down. I leaned against the wall and noticed I was breathing deeply. I forced my thoughts to return to Manfred, having realized that his face helped me to focus. My body started to fully recover from its trip into dominance-ville as soon as I thought of Manfred. My breathing slowly became normal and my heartbeat slowed. I no longer felt the urge to cause intense pain or destroy something. I stood back up and looked around, hoping to see something familiar. It was only then that I heard the footsteps – slow heavy thuds from somewhere quite close. At first I simply thought someone was coming down the dark street, but then I sensed something sinister and harmful. That now familiar uncontrollable reaction where my body moved into defense mode based on some unconscious awareness returned and my muscles tensed up as if readying for a fight. The fear of what had just happened in the hotel room was still too fresh in my mind for me to clearly distinguish safe feelings from desires for showing off some new intense inner power. I decided quickly that I did not want to meet whoever or whatever was moving methodically towards me. I promptly began to run in what I hoped was the opposite direction. My mind was now a lot clearer and I let my instincts guide me – listening for sounds, looking for lights, and following cars. Soon I was on a busy familiar street and knew the way home. I continued to look behind me to see if I could catch a glimpse of the person that had been pursuing me, but I saw no one that seemed to be watching me. As soon as I reached my building I quickly entered my flat, doubled locked my door, undressed as I moved to the bedroom and fell into bed – somehow re-energized and drained at the same time. I looked at the clock and saw that it was beyond three in the morning. I soon fell asleep and for the first time in a while my night was not filled with dreams. It was clear that my body needed time to fully recover from the trauma of the evening. At first I thought the buzzing noise was the soundtrack to a developing dream. It took me a few minutes to realize someone was at the front door of my building trying to come up to see me. I instinctively jumped out of bed and ran to the intercom system by the front door. It took me a few seconds to fully realize what I was doing. I pressed the appropriate buttons to release the door, not even caring to find out who was visiting. I then waited for the knock on the door of my flat. When I opened it, Jim was standing there with a bouquet of beautiful flowers. “Hiya, sexy. Do you always greet people at the door totally nude,” he asked with a teasing smile. It was only at that moment that I realized I had nothing on. I was still a little dazed from being awakened so early. I merely moaned out loud and quickly made my way back to the bedroom and slid back into bed. I heard Jim close the front door and follow me. I lay on my stomach and closed my eyes as soon as I had the covers back over my legs and butt. I felt Jim’s warm, clothed body sit on the bed beside me. He started running one of his hands up and down my back. “I think someone must have had a fun night. Is Mr. Anthony a little hung over?” he asked in a jovial spirit. “A little,” I mumbled back, “and it’s too early to get up!” “Too early?” Jim questioned and then added, “It is two in the afternoon, my dear friend.” I glanced at the clock on the side of the bed to confirm what Jim had said. I then turned to look at him, instantly reminded of his manly beauty and gorgeous smile. An inner warmth spread through my body to match the nice feeling his big hand was causing as he gently caressed my back. I stared at him for a few minutes and watched his eyes follow his hand as it roamed slowly over my body. He pushed the sheets and blanket down and allowed his hand to grab my firm ass cheeks. My cock was slowly coming awake and responded to his fondling by beginning to harden. “I do not see how it is possible Anthony, but your back seems to be more muscled than just two days ago,” Jim purred appreciatively. “I think it’s just tightened a little harder since you arrived – like other things that are getting hard between my legs,” I replied softly. “Maybe,” Jim responded, “but I do believe you are actually bigger than before.” “I . . . um, did something last night . . . that . . . uh . . . I’m not too proud of,” I changed the subject – without even really knowing why. I think I just needed to tell someone about my scary evening. “No need,” Jim said as he placed a finger against my lips. “There are no rings on our fingers, Anthony. I told you to go out and have a good time. Let us not muddy what we have with confessions or regrets. I know a growing boy like you needs to go out and sow some wild oats every now and then. It is fine for you to let off a little steam or exert a little youthful power – for now.” I smiled at Jim’s choice of words. If only he realized how much power I had actually exerted less than twelve hours before. The memory of how good it felt to tighten my grip around the necks of those two men and lift them off the ground shot through my body for a split second, but then it turned to fear as I thought about their faces beginning to turn blue as they gasped for air. I slid my hand across the bed and let it move to Jim’s crotch. Feeling his hard-on through the fabric of his pants made my need for confession and my fears disappear. I squeezed his stiffness and loved how it made the man emit a low masculine moan that made my toes curl. For a surprising brief moment the image of Manfred’s face materialized in my mind. This confused me terribly and I desperately wanted to force myself to focus only on Jim. I immediately came up with a plan. I lifted my upper body off the mattress with my other hand and unzipped his pants at the same time. With the quickness of what could have been a well-seasoned hustler I had his large hard cock freed and sticking straight up in the air. “Ummm, a little meat before my coffee,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off of his pulsing dick. As soon as my warm mouth and tongue welcomed the head of Jim’s fullness, the man’s body tightened everywhere. I could sense that his ass cheeks tensed with an intensity that gave the man wonderful pleasure. His left hand quickly came up to my head and he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling slightly in response to the stimulation. I immediately tasted his sweetness as a gob of pre-cum spurted from the slit of his dick head. I opened my throat fully and welcomed his shaft completely, allowing my nose to be buried in the fur beyond the fabric of his pants. “Bloody hell, Anthony,” Jim groaned, “Slow down or I am going to explode.” I suddenly had a burning desire to please the man – to submit myself to him. I knew it was somehow tied to an opposite feeling from the night before. I had wanted to dominate the two men at the hotel completely – to even cause them pain. It had stemmed from my insatiable need to how off an awakening power within me. At this moment I felt a strong urge to suppress that power by letting Jim lead me. I wanted to somehow fight against the part of me that almost crushed windpipes and easily lifted two grown men off the ground. I wanted to do something to make up for the sins of the night before – to cleanse my conscious of all guilt, even though I knew that was impossible. I thought if I served this man by giving him pleasure it would balance out the horrible need to dominate from earlier. This also caused me to not care about Jim’s plea for me to slow down. I quickly pulled my head back up and then slammed it down, causing his rod to be buried deep in my throat a second time. The man was again filled with pleasure and he moaned uncontrollably in response. This only fueled me on even more. Soon I was sucking like a trained expert and burying my face deeper into his crotch each time. With only about eight head bobs back and forth on his hard meat I sent him into orgasmic ecstasy. I had no warning about the gusher he would produce, except for the loud joyful cry that escaped his mouth just before he unloaded a ton of his juice down my throat. I quickly swallowed like my life depended on it and didn’t miss a drop. I think I knew instinctively not to get his suit pants stained. I kept his cock deep in my throat even after his body stopped convulsing. I loved how he felt inside of me and I knew the warm wetness of my mouth pleased him, too. After a few minutes his hand released my hair and returned to stroking my back lovingly. I pulled my mouth from his cock and blew on it as it deflated – to help dry it off before I stuffed it back into his pants and zipped him back up. I looked up at his smiling face. “This is turning into the best lunch break I have ever experienced,” Jim cooed. “I certainly got filled up,” I replied. “Being around you, my good sir just seems to cause my body to produce an abundance of thick semen,” Jim added, with a definite twinkle in his eye. “I’m flattered,” I answered, smiling in return. “Can you come back later?” “Wild horses could not keep me away, dear Anthony,” he quickly responded and that image made my body tingle because of my reoccurring dreams. “It seems I owe you some take-away from last night and then for dessert I think I will repay you for your gracious afternoon delight. How does that sound?” “It sounds so good that when you return I think I’ll take the dessert before the meal,” I teasingly replied. “Well, you have been a good boy, Anthony,” Jim said. ”Except for whatever it was from last night that caused you to stay in bed until two. But, as I said before, I will overlook that and gladly offer my services as dessert upon my arrival in a few hours. For now, though, I must be going.” Jim leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, checked to make sure his zipper was completely closed, and then slid from the bed. He reached out and gave my ass a heavy whack, which caused me to arch up in joyous response, and then he left the room. I heard the front door shut behind him and the memory of his presence lingered along with his manly muskiness. I felt a joy and security that had not existed in my body for almost over twenty-four hours. I ran my hand over the space where Jim had lay and loved how it was still warm from his hot body. I stared at my hand as I moved it along the sheet and slowly the memory of what it had done the night before crept back into my mind. I looked at the V between my thumb and forefinger and remembered how the man’s neck had felt so fragile as I squeezed. I balled up my fist and marveled at how big and beautiful my hand was becoming. My flaccid cock became fully engorged quickly and a familiar feeling of power started to take over my thoughts. I looked at my forearm and loved how it seemed so muscular. I began move my crotch up and down, causing my hard pole to rub against the bed – sending shivers of pleasure up my spine and deep into my ass. My breathing became heavy and I started to wish I had someone in bed to force into submission. The only thing that saved me from spiraling down into the darkness of the night before was hearing the front door open again. Thoughts of Jim immediately brought me out of my masturbatory revelry. “Are you back for seconds?” I yelled out, hoping that Jim might come and relieve the pressure of my raging hard-on. There was no answer and I quickly became alarmed. Memories of the footsteps in the dark street the night before came streaming into my head, causing my cock to deflate instantly. I heard noise in the living room and still there was no answer. I jumped out of bed and didn’t even stop to grab clothes. Before I stepped into the other room I heard the front door slam loudly. I moved with more speed now and after glancing around to find no one in the flat I opened the front door and looked down the hallway in both directions, carefully hiding my naked body. There was no sight of anyone. I shut the door and double locked it. I took a second look around the open space of my flat to make sure no one was hiding. It was then I noticed that the Lancelot glove was gone from my mantelpiece. At first I found this incredibly odd and looked around to see if it were just misplaced, but quickly saw that it was, indeed, gone. The person that had entered my apartment after Jim left had come for one thing – the glove. It crossed my mind that it had been some common thief that had grabbed the first thing he saw as soon as he heard my voice, but then I realized so many other things had been available – my laptop, my wallet on the dining room table, and many other items – that it became clear they had taken what they had come for. I was baffled beyond belief and that suppressed even my anger or fear at what had just happened. I thought about calling the police, but realized the glove had been a gift and I had no receipt or anything else to show them. The sudden ringing of my phone caused me to jump and I had to retrieve the thing from my pants in the middle of the floor. “Hello,” I answered, without even glancing to see who it was. “Anthony, my dear,” came Martin’s joyful voice, “How are you?” “Um . . . fine Martin,” I replied, forcing myself to focus on the caller. “How are you doing?” “Splendid, my boy, splendid,” he answered joyfully. “Listen, I only have a few seconds, but I wanted to make sure you could come to my place for dinner on the twentieth. I am going to have a little gathering of friends and, of course, you must be there.” “Of course Martin,” I responded without even thinking since my mind was still elsewhere. “I’d love to come. Is it for a special occasion?” “Nothing momentous, my dear fellow, only this month’s full moon,” came the reply, and as before, I was baffled by this infatuation with this specific celebration. “Well I know how happy that seems to make you, Martin, so I’ll look forward to it. Can I bring anything?” I asked. “No, no, no – that is very kind of you, my boy, but there is no need,” Martin quickly responded. “Oh, do you mind if I bring someone?” I added, hopefully. “Yes, feel free to bring that dear sweet Jim. It will be good to see him,” Martin said and I was instantly excited about bringing a date to his party. “Thank you, Martin,” I replied and then added, “Hey you won’t believe what just happened. Someone came into my place and took the glove I got at that antique store you sent me to. Isn’t that bizarre? They didn’t take anything else. And to think I was just in the other room!” “You mean they took Lancelot’s glove, Anthony?” Martin asked. “Yes. Is that not the craziest thing?” I answered. “It is indeed,” He said. “But not to worry, my good man, the glove has already served its purpose,” he answered. “Well, I must go. I will see you on the twentieth, Anthony, if our paths do not cross at Halfway to Heaven before then.” “Thank you, again, Martin,” I responded. “I hope I see you before the party.” As soon as I hung up my mind became crowded with puzzling thoughts. Had I told Martin that I was dating Jim? Did Martin already know Jim? It was possible he met Jim through Manfred. And what in the hell had Martin meant when he said the glove had already served its purpose? I was about to drive myself crazy with all these thoughts when the phone rang again. This time I looked down and saw that it was Manfred – my heart leapt with joy and I answered quickly. “Hello, Manfred.” I sounded a little too eager. “Hello Anthony. How are you,” he asked, in that voice that mysteriously made me giddy with pleasure. “I’m great,” I replied, trying to calm myself. “What’s up?” “I just wanted to call and say I am sorry for leaving so abruptly the other morning,” he answered, and it surprised me he was being so honest. “I was caught off guard by, um, you and Jim being together and I did not know how to react. It was rude of me and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” “That’s very nice of you, Manfred,” I said, trying to hide my excitement at his words. “I didn’t think about it a second time. I’m glad to hear from you. I hope nothing prevents us from being friends – me dating Jim or anything else.” “I feel . . . um . . . the same way, Anthony,” he added quickly. There was something about the tone in Manfred’s voice and the call itself that made my heart beat faster than it did before he called. I felt a certain amount of frustration that the man could still cause this kind of feeling in me and, yet, there was some mysterious connection that made me desire him. I tried to make myself focus all thoughts on Jim, but Manfred’s face dominated my mind. His voice also caused an unfamiliar energy to well up inside me, but extremely positive and pleasurable. I found it impossible to block the man out of my mind completely. “I was also calling to see if you might be available for lunch one day,” he asked cheerfully. “I know we’ll probably see each other at Martin’s party in a couple of weeks, but it would be fun to connect before then.” “Um, of course. That sounds great,” I replied hesitantly. “I’ll just need to . . . you know . . .” “Check with Jim first?” Manfred questioned. “Well . . . yes . . . yes, I think I should.” I answered and suddenly everything felt very awkward. “That’s fine,” Manfred said and I could hear slight disappointment in his voice. “You check with him and then just get back to me, okay? I’ll look forward to it, Anthony. I hope you have a great evening.” “You too, Manfred,” I replied and then he quickly hung up. The different emotions running through my head caused everything of the last twenty-four hours to temporarily be pushed to the side – my brazen dominance of the two guys the night before, the mystery thief that took the glove, Martin’s comments about the glove, and so much more. I found myself constantly returning to Manfred for some unknown reason. I showered and fixed something to eat – and then tried to focus on my upcoming evening with Jim, but the discomforting conversation with Manfred and the feeling he caused within me kept nagging at me all afternoon. Jim arrived around six with Chinese food. I gave him a long kiss when he arrived that turned into an hour-long snogging session on the couch, which culminated with him returning the favor of the earlier blowjob I had given him. We were lying there with our bodies entangled in post-coital bliss when I broached the subject that I really wanted to avoid. “Manfred called this afternoon,” I said softly, as stroked the back of Jim’s head resting on my chest. “Did he?” he asked and I heard all sorts of hidden emotions in those two words. “He wanted to know if I’d go to lunch,” I added hesitantly. “And what did you say?” Jim pushed further. “That I would have to check with you first . . . well, actually he figured it out and said it before I could,” I replied. Jim turned to look up into my face. He was smiling. My cock began to come to life again as I gazed into his eyes and re-connected with his masculine beauty. My answer pleased him and that energized me. I knew there was still a slight panging in my heart for Manfred, but I was working hard to make my desire for Jim to overcome it completely. Here was a man that wanted me and Manfred had rejected me . . . saying I wasn’t his type. I knew I was slowly turning into what Manfred liked, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing part of me still pined for him. I lifted my head off the sofa cushion and kissed Jim’s forehead. “Jim, one. Manfred, zero. I like the score so far,” he said softly. “I told you, it’s not a competition. I am not Manfred’s type,” I emphasized back. “And I told you I have a feeling you are becoming his type,” Jim answered. “I think we should eat now,” I responded – changing the subject on purpose. “Good idea,” Jim said, getting up from the couch after he quickly licked the nipple near his face. “And for the record, its fine for you to have lunch with anyone you want. As I said to you yesterday, there are no rings on our fingers. Let’s just take this one day at a time and enjoy the journey. We’re in no rush.” “Such a wise man,” I answered and took a swipe at his ass, loving how the loud smack echoed in the large room. We ate our dinner at the dining room table totally nude. It was very erotic and I loved how the big windows of the room probably put us on display for many neighbors. The enhancements brought on by my workouts were helping me to be comfortable with my body. Jim fondled my cock throughout the entire meal and said his goal was to keep me hard for hours. It was definitely working. Later, as I cleaned off the table, Jim went to floss and brush his teeth like a good little boy. He came into the kitchen later holing a small piece of paper. “What does this mean, Anthony? ‘Beware full moon midnight powers unleashed.’ I found it in the medicine cabinet,” Jim said looking at the paper. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well I was brushing my teeth and I pulled out this paper. When I leaned down to spit I saw the reflection in the mirror and noticed what the letters say when read backwards,” Jim added as he took a pen and some paper from the counter and reworked the letters and phrasing in reverse order. I looked at the words and marveled that I hadn’t noticed something so simple before. It still didn’t make much sense, but I loved how Jim had figured out the mystery so easily. I then explained to Jim how I had found the note inside the glove I had purchased at an antique shop on Maiden Lane. I then told Jim about how the glove had been taken from the apartment just that afternoon. “That is an incredible story, Anthony. I cannot believe someone was in the flat after I left today. I think maybe I need a key so I can lock the door behind me,” Jim added with a devilish smile on his face. “The shop, though, must be somewhere else. I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand and there is not an antique store on Maiden Lane.” His words brought back my conversation with Martin and my frustration at not being able to find the shop a second time. I brushed it off by saying I probably got the name wrong and we went back to discussing the piece of paper – deciding it was some fun note that had been placed in there one night when someone wore the entire armor outfit for a costume party. We then continued to make up other fun scenarios – involving espionage and secret codes, secret love letters between two people, and other fun stories. None of these ideas, however, eased a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that had appeared as soon as Jim pointed out what the note actually said. I returned it to the medicine cabinet later that night and forgot about it as soon as Jim and I began an intense lovemaking session before bed. The next two weeks seemed to fly by – mainly because of my time with Jim, my workouts at the gym, continued sightseeing, and occasional phone conversations with Roger, still in the states. Manfred and I never found a day to meet for lunch – mysteriously, Jim seemed to be able to take a longer lunch break each day and we usually met at my place for some mid-day delights, both in bed and in the kitchen. The sex seemed to improve every time we met and I started to believe it had a little to do with the improvements happening to my body in response to my workouts. I was starting to fill out many of the clothes that Martin had bought me as a gift, but most of what was called the ‘second phase’ wardrobe were still too big. I looked forward to the day when I was able to say those outfits were starting to feel tight. I, however, was still very excited about my changes. Jim loved my new size almost as much as I did. He often found ways for me to show off my budding strength – repeating the feat of push-ups with him on my back, doing pull-ups with him hanging on to my waist, and one night allowing me to press his body into the air a couple of times when I was lying on the bed. The morning of Martin’s party Jim had to leave for work early. He had started staying at my place most nights, since I lived so near his office. We were able to get in some quality crotch rubbing before he jumped out of bed to shower. I loved watching him walk towards the bathroom – mainly because of his gorgeous ass, but also because of his tree trunk quads. I was slowly beginning to think this was the man that I might spend the rest of my life, even though every time I had that thought there was a certain pull on my heart in an opposite direction. It was unclear to me as to wear that tugging came from, but I knew it was there. Jim stepped into the bedroom immaculately dressed in a Ted Baker suit – and it was one of my favorites. “You’re wearing that suit to work so you’ll have it on for the party, aren’t you?” I asked teasingly. “Well, my competition will be there, remember,” he said, straightening his tie as he looked in the mirror and then glanced at my reflection to see my how I reacted. “You have no competitors,” I screamed after placing one of the pillows over my head. “You say his name sometimes in your sleep, Anthony,” Jim replied with a very serious voice. I took the pillow away and looked at him with a face that I was sure showed my surprise. Jim had never mentioned this before. So many thoughts ran through my head – why on earth would I say Manfred’s name in my sleep, did I dream of the man and not remember, why wasn’t I calling out Jim’s name, and so much more. I was embarrassed, confused, and ashamed. I sat up and held out my arms to the man. “I don’t know why I do that,” I said with a voice that equaled his seriousness. “I really like this, Jim. I really want this. I did have a thing for Manfred but it seems like such a long time ago, now. As a matter of fact, it seems like eons ago. Please don’t view him as competition. How can I convince you that he and I are not going to happen? I promise you.” “It does not bother me, Anthony,” Jim said as he chuckled. “I just like to watch you squirm.” I tossed the pillow at him and immediately acted like I was sulking. He came around to my side of the bed and bent down to kiss my forehead. I reached out and grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants and squeezed hard. He tried to back away but I held on. “Ow, Anthony, that really hurts,” he yelled. “Good,” I replied. “You deserve it.” I let go of him and he reached down to straighten his pants and to hopefully ease the pain I had caused. He walked to the dresser and began to gather his keys, his name badge, and other items. “I am sorry, Anthony, that we have to meet up at, but I am afraid I will be cutting it close on getting there on time,” he said as he stuffed his phone in his coat pocket. “I have a meeting near Martin’s place late this afternoon, so I think I’ll be there by the time you all finish cocktails. I do hope I will not arrive and find you and Manfred snogging in one of the bedrooms.” “Out, out, damn spot,” I yelled and pointed to the doorway. “Oh, I see we are channeling Lady Macbeth, now, are we?” he quickly added as he laughed. “I always knew there was a drag queen inside you just screaming to be released.” I struggled briefly to throw off the sheet and covers as I got out of bed. This gave Jim enough of a head start to run out of the room and get the front door opened as I entered the living room. He turned towards me at once in the hallway and blew me a kiss before he moved away quickly. “Do not forget to lock the door behind me, good sir. See you tonight!” he yelled as he disappeared. I didn’t follow him into the hallway – mainly because I wasn’t wearing anything. I heard the coffee maker giving off noises that said it was finishing brewing. I smiled to myself when I realized that Jim had once again thought of me and prepared the machine before we went to bed. He was always so thoughtful that way. I opened my laptop and sat at the dining room table sipping a cup of coffee as I read the morning news. My mind kept drifting to Jim and then it landed on the fact that I called Manfred’s name out in my sleep. I spent a few minutes wondering what my actions meant, but then I realized it was almost time for my session with Quan at the gym. I quickly changed clothes, tamed my hair, and jogged to the place. “What the hell are you eating, Anthony?” Quan asked as we took measurements. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean you keeping adding pounds, mate, and none of it seems to be fat,” he replied. “I want to know your secret.” “Well, I do tend to eat a lot of fish and chips,” I answered truthfully. “I do not think that is it,” he responded, “since that usually gives a guy a spare tire around the waist. You have actually added some muscle to every part of your body. I swear, looking at the chart and where you began you would think I was either incorrect when I first inputted your information or you are officially the first genetic miracle man that responds to lifting weights with the kind of gains most men dream of. I just do not understand what is going on. And your strength is off the charts abnormal for a man your size, and especially for a guy that just started working with weights.” “I think it might just be because I have the most awesome trainer, ever,” I shot back with a smile. “I may be good, but I am definitely not this good,” Quan said, scratching his head and then writing something on the chart. “It’s funny you would bring all of this up today, Quan,” I added with a slight whisper. “I’ve felt weird all day – like there’s some kind of power surge racing through my body every now and then. While we were lifting I started to actually feel like a new batch of incredible gains are going to happen soon. And the feeling was . . . um . . . it was kind of…” “Trust me, I understand, Anthony,” he replied. “A certain part of you hasn’t softened since you came in.” “Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, turning red. “There’s just something about working out that gets me all excited. It’s really embarrassing.” “As I have told you before, mate, it happens to the best of us,” Quan added and returned to his chart, shaking his head back and forth as he looked at the numbers. “I am actually scared to see what you are going to look like when you come next week.” “Only time will tell, sir,” I said as we shook hands. “Only time will tell. Have a great day and I’ll see you then.” “You, too, Anthony,” he called out as I walked away. I ate a late lunch, did a few errands, texted some obscene comments to Jim – just to get him riled up at work, cleaned my flat, and then readied myself for the party at Martin’s. I was bummed that Jim had to come to the party late – I had hoped we could go together. I hopped on the Tube and was at Martin’s place right on time. It had been a while since I visited his place and I was instantly reminded of what a great house it was – old, majestic, and almost magically castle-looking. It was exactly what I thought a big London place should look like. There were actually quite a few men at the house when I arrived. I knew some of them from the last party at Martin’s house and some had been at Manfred’s dinner party, as well. I was ushered into the den, where everyone had gathered for drinks. Suddenly Manfred was standing in front of me.
  5. This was a one hour writing prompt that just scream to me after the hour was finished. Hope you enjoy everyone. Watching the male cheerleaders workout and do the flamboyant routine of the cheer squad, Lyon whispered to himself, "Homos, they don't even get that they have prime chance to feel up some of the hottest women on the school ground but they never take those chances." What the watcher did not see was the head cheerleader that just came out of the locker room when he said that. She dabbled in witch-craft and smiled as she cast a small spell on Lyon. She tapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Excused me," she said as she let the magic flow into Lyon, "Can you leave so we can practice without perverts looking at us." Lyon gulped as he could feel the magic but mistook it as female alpha power. He nodded and left the gymnasium. Kicking a rock once he was out of the building, Lyon walked and found himself at the open air lifting zone of the school. There were a few bodybuilders and meatheads working out there. Most of them were shirtless and wore compression shorts. Lyon found himself staring at them when one started to workout. The way the body moved and flex as they worked out showed that they know what they were doing. Then he heard a chuckle from them as they pointed at him between sets. He blushed and said out loud, "No homo." The young man did not notice that after he said that, his body changed a bit. Muscles became more defined but still not noticeable under his clothes.The gymrats laughed and continued their workout. Lyon kept watching as they worked out and sometimes even when they showed off a bit. They knew they had an audience and loved to show off their strength and bodies. Again as Lyon watched, he said to himself, "No homo." A bit more muscle added itself to his frame and even some hair appeared on his chest. The youth scratched his chest when this happened but still did not notice the way his pecs were a bit larger than they were that morning. The bodybuilders started a bit of a pose off and Lyon said those words again as he watched in awe. "No homo." His shirt started to get a bit snug but he thought it was just because he was standing in the sun for while and it was a day where there was a bit of heat. That is when he decided to go get a drink from the fountain. The closest one was in the locker room of the weight room. Lyon got to the water fountain and took a long drink. Finishing the drink, he enjoyed the cool feeling that was spreading into his body as the water went into his stomach. He turned and was greeted by a perfect view of the open showers. There was a swimmer, naked and shaving his body, but that is not what Lyon noticed. The swimmer was very endowed which was heightened by him being clean shaved. "No homo, No homo, No homo," Lyon said quickly. This time his muscles burst in mass, body hair became even more pronounced, and his shirt ripped at the seams where the arms met the torso. “Fuck,” he said as he heard the rip and notice how his body has been changing. “How the fuck this been happening,” he asked to no one and just noticed how tight his pants were getting. He looked down and noticed his thighs were thicker. He grinned when he noticed how large his groin looked. Stripping down, Lyon walked toward an open stall and turned on the water before starting to jerk his cock. Not only did it feel good to stroke his cock, it was large then it was this morning when he jerked off. He bit lightly on his lip to stifle a moan and closed his eyes. Lyon focused on the pleasure of his engorged cock was giving him. Lost in the pleasure, he did not feel the passing of time until he heard the water hit something. Opening his eyes, Lyon saw a member of the wrestling team looking at him and stroking his own cock. “No homo,” Lyon said and this time felt his body grow. The pleasure increases as all his muscles stack on more size. His hand was forced open as his dick widened as well lengthened a bit. Using his free hand, Lyon reached up to his chest and rubbed his pecs feeling the growth of hair. Lyon groaned as he felt the weight of his pec and his thumb rubbed over his nipple. He heard the wrestler take a step and grope his chest. “No homo,” he moaned as the wrestler massaged the pec as he felt the growth kick in. The wrestler took the chance and pushed Lyon to the wall and took Lyon’s cock in his hand. “No homo,” said the growing youth before the wrestler shut him up with a kiss. It was rough but it did its job along with making Lyon realize that he was growing facial hair too. The wrestler’s hand was calloused but felt good on the sensitive skin of the shaft along with his own hand. Both felt the growth stop but continue to kiss. The wrestler broke the kiss and got on his knees and engulfed the cock head. “No homo,” whined Lyon as the wrestler started to suck on the head. The growth added to the pleasure Lyon was feeling as the wrestler sucked his cock. Both were moaning but the moans of the wrestler sent vibrations right to Lyon’s balls. Within minutes, he felt his balls draw up and moaned. He was about to shoot his load when the wrestler removed himself from the enlarging cock. The next thing Lyon knew was that cock was now resting between the wrestler's ass cheeks as the wrestler aligned the head with the asshole. “No homo,” he whimpered as he felt the wrestler push back onto his cock. “Fuck yeah,” moaned deeply the wrestler as he began to feel the growth in his chute as he fuck himself on the cock of the growing muscle bear, “Your dick feels soo good in my ass.” Lyon could not believe how good a tight but yielding ass felt. Tighter than any pussy he fucked before and that was including virgins. The muscles of the ass worked on his cock as the wrestler worked back and forth, milking the cock for ever drop even before the orgasm. It was slow at the start and getting used to the feeling, Lyon grabbed the wrestler’s waist and began pounding the ass. This change of power made the wrestler moan and say, “Break in that new cock of yours bro.” Fucking the wrestler only lasted fifteen minutes as Lyon was already close to cumming before the ass was introduced to his cock. The two of them were grunting and growling with pleasure when Lyon said right before organism hit, “No homo.” the wrestler moaned loudly as he felt his ass fill with both cock and cum. The now muscle bear was panting as he felt the pleasure of his orgasm and growth intertwine. Both allowed the post orgasm high clear way before removing each other. The wrestler chuckled as he felt the overflow of semen flow out of his used ass. “That was great bro,” he said as he stood up and smiled at Lyon. “So what about homo now bro,” he said with a bit of mirth in his voice. All Lyon could do was smile back and say, “Yeah homo.”
  6. Hialmar

    The cult of Crom

    The cult of Crom Look here, Agent: I have done nothing wrong. I thought, that "innocent until proven guilty" was a fundamental principle in our country. Isn't it? Freedom of religion is protected in Law. I agree. No one's religion ought to be an excuse for illegal activities, but what sort of illegal activities ... They took a blood sample and a urine sample, when I was brought in, but I am sure, that both will come back negative. Me and my brothers don't do steroids. No need for it. Like what you see, uh? No, I'm not disrespecting you. My pecs twitched involuntarily. Fraud? With all respect, Agent: You don't know what you are talking about. We settled in the same village, because the surrounding society harassed us. We just wanted to be left alone. All brothers assist in the maintenance of the temple building, but we don't have any tithing like some of the mainline denominations. Why don't you go after them instead? Real religion? REAL religion? Who do you think have the right to decide which religion is real? If you ask the Pentecostals, they will tell you, that Catholicism and Islam aren't real religions. If you ask the Hindoos, they will tell you, that something is weird with Abrahamic faiths. If you ask the Moslems, they will give Jews and Christians cred for being "Peoples of the Book", but take a negative view on Buddhists and Pagans. The entire idea of freedom of religion, is that each individual is free to chose his own spiritual path together with others OR in solitude. It is not a matter for the state to decide, and it is damn not for the Security Branch to decide. I was under the impression, that the separation of Church and State is modern policy? But if it is, what am I and my brothers doing here? I see. As I said before: I expect our urine samples to come back negative, and, as far as I know, our licenses for hunting rifles are in order. We hunt for elk and bear during the season when that is legal. Why I joined? Actually, I have followed the movement from the beginning, and, initially, I was just as skeptic as you are now, if that may bring you some relief. It was my friend Mike who began. We were at college together. He was a big, sporty, jockish type of student, but considerably more clever than the average jock. I was short, tiny and brainy, and surprised when he wanted to help me take up weight-training. I was embarrassed in the beginning, but the presence of Mike at my side -- smiling, cheering me, instructing me, protecting me from two of the bullies -- helped me to feel safe, and it didn't take long until I began to notice some modest results, and I liked the feeling of exercise. Not modest any longer? Thank you, Agent. That's nice of you. Yes, I like my gains. You work out yourself? Uh, well, yes, more toned than the average Joe, but no offence, but you probably need to EAT more, especially protein. Keep up the good work, Agent. I didn't mean to discourage you: On the contrary. We brothers of the temple encourage ALL men to work out regularly. It's good for us. Healthy. You connect better to your inner core of masculinity. REAL masculinity. Not the one some people call "toxic". We believe, that men ought to behave honourably. Warm in here? Yes, now when you mention it, Agent, I would appreciate a glass of water. No. Thank you, but no coffee and no fizzy drink. I don't want to ruin my gains. A glass of water would be fine. Ah. You are back. Thank you for the water. Are you supposed to be the "good cop"? When does the "bad cop" arrive? Don't work like that? A TV cliché? I see. Where were we, before you fetched the water? Oh, yes, okey, Mike. As I said: For a jock, Mike was unusually clever. His Dad was brought up within Reform Judaism, but had switched to Buddhism in adulthood. His Mom was Episcopalian, but not frequently practicing, and his parents didn't bother with telling him which religion to chose. My Dad is Catholic and my Mom is Methodist, and they respected my choice, when I turned Agnostic. Actually, they took my conversion to Agnosticism better, than when I told them I'm gay. Don't choke on your coffee, Agent. Are you all right? Surprise? Don't look? Listen, Agent, I don't know from where you get your ideas, but gay men look in many different ways. Don't believe any stereotypes. What did you expect, Sir? Limp wrists, squeaky voice and a mandatory feather boa? Don't be ridiculous. You can't observe it on the outside of people. True, some gay men form cliques and sub-cultures, but don't expect them to be typical for the general bunch of us. Apology accepted. No. No offence taken. Better now? Okey. Shall I continue? I wanted to stay away from any religion: The nastiest ones turn violent, and even the nicer ones seemed so illogical or superstitious to me -- though some of them are good at helping poor people. Mike took a more positive view: He held all religions to have a kernel of truth, and he read mystics from several religious backgrounds. He listened to music from several religions, when he wanted to relax after a workout. I never really understood Mike in that regard. Then, one day, when I visited him, he had arranged a little household shrine with a candle, a matchbox, an incense holder, a bowl of water and a bronze plate on which stood a glass of gainer -- a chocolate flavoured gainer, if I remember correctly. I found it a little odd, so I asked him, and I thought that he pulled my leg. It wasn't like that I was entirely unaware of Neo-Paganism. Some of the liberal hipsters were into Mother Goddesses and stuff, and I had heard about Nazis resurrecting the old viking religion, but I had the impression, that both of these two wings dressed up politics as religion, and I hadn't expected a centrist guy like Mike to bother with the concept. And another thing: The usual Neo-Pagans usually tried to revive worship of gods and goddesses attested in sources from Antiquity: Old Egyptian gods, old Babylonian gods, old Greek and Roman gods, old Celtic gods, old Norse gods ... Actually, when Mike told me about what he was doing, I thought that it was a joke: You know, like the Pastafarians who worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or like the Jediists who mess with the Census in several English-speaking countries. Though I have heard that, eventually, some of the Jediists began reading Joseph Campbell and tried to connect with The Force. Oh, sorry. I digress. I wanted to say, that Mike had taken up worship of a god from novels and short stories. He wasn't supposed to have been worshipped by real persons in real history. Mike had begun to worship Crom -- the god in Robert E. Howard's stories about Conan the Barbarian. Have you read them? Watched the movie? Yep. Many men and women have. Ridiculous? Actually, that was my reaction, too. Initially. Then, after a few weeks, I began to notice, that Mike increased his gains much faster than before. I had a serious conversation with him one night, since I was afraid he had began using some drugs with dangerous side-effects, but he swore that he was entirely natty, and then he invited me to share his evening meditation before his shrine to Crom. I thought it was stupid, of course. Who wouldn't? He washed his hands in the bowl of water, and let me do it too. I obliged as a matter of politeness. Then he lit the candle and the incense. He replaced the former glass of gainer on the bronze plate with a new one, and we both shared the old gainer. Later, he told me it was called a "community offering". Then he improvised a prayer to Crom, and I felt silly. It was about bringing strength to Crom's devotees, increasing our dedication at the gym, and gaining better gains. Dedication to the gym and lust for better gains was always on my mind anyhow, but I didn't see any reason to bring it into religion, and definitely not into a religion based on fantasy novels. What happened? You wouldn't believe me, Agent. You wouldn't believe me. When you interrogate Mike and our other brothers, you will hear a similar story, but since you wouldn't believe me, let me show you. We use this mantra, you know: CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Oh, fuck, yes! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Look at you, Agent! It is affecting you, too! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM How I got out of these handcuffs? Strength. The muscular strength my god gives to me and my brothers. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM So good? Yeah, I agree. Feel the power of Crom, Agent! Join me and your new brothers. We will show the world how primordial masculinity look like when it becomes flesh. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Listen! We are not the only ones to sing the Crom-mantra in the building. It resounds through the walls, the ceiling and the floor. We are becoming ... Uhnnn. Look at me! CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM Sexy? Unbelievably manly? Why, thank you, Agent. I wasn't sure if you ... OH YES! Out of your dreams? Thank you, Agent. Look what you are becoming, yourself. WHAT YOU ARE BECOMING. Good? Fuck, hell, yeah. Good is just the beginning. All that brawn. Firm like steel. Tanned. The striations. And bulging inside ... Don't fight it! Let it out! Give in! You are becoming ... Yes! Agent. Unbutton my fly like that. FUCK! Your hands on my leather-clad glutes! Growing more! My mass! And your! YES! UHNNNN. Agent, I love the feeling of you ripping out of your shirt, while you kneel between my legs ... FUCK ... AGENT! So ... Will make you grow more. And me. More brawn. While you ... UHNNNN. CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM CROM CROMM CROMMMM
  7. [Please don't expect a quick finish to this story. I have a long way to go. I'm trying to get back to it.] The Second Full Moon (continued) Instantly, a picture of Manfred flashed through my mind. It was the guy’s beautiful smiling face. I have no idea where it came from and why it impacted me in the way it did, but suddenly the darkness that surrounded me evaporated. I was brought back to the room with such an intense clarity that it frightened me. I comprehended immediately what I had intended to do to the two men and I released my grip and let their bodies fall to the ground before me. My shock at what I had been doing was so great that I panicked. After noticing that both men were moving slowly and loudly sucking in needed air, I gathered my clothes quickly and dressed as I ran from the hotel room. I was fully dressed by the time I exited the hotel. I started running down the street, wanting to be home more than anything in the world. I didn’t allow any other thoughts to enter into my mind. It was too difficult to think about what I had just done. I wanted to stay focused on getting to my flat. I took a few wrong turns and ended up on some unfamiliar quiet street. I finally stopped because I knew, in my present state, I’d never find my way home. I needed to calm myself down. I leaned against the wall and noticed I was breathing deeply. I forced my thoughts to return to Manfred, having realized that his face helped me to focus. My body started to fully recover from its trip into dominance-ville as soon as I thought of Manfred. My breathing slowly became normal and my heartbeat slowed. I no longer felt the urge to cause intense pain or destroy something. I stood back up and looked around, hoping to see something familiar. It was only then that I heard the footsteps – slow heavy thuds from somewhere quite close. At first I simply thought someone was coming down the dark street, but then I sensed something sinister and harmful. That now familiar uncontrollable reaction where my body moved into defense mode based on some unconscious awareness returned and my muscles tensed up as if readying for a fight. The fear of what had just happened in the hotel room was still too fresh in my mind for me to clearly distinguish safe feelings from desires for showing off some new intense inner power. I decided quickly that I did not want to meet whoever or whatever was moving methodically towards me. I promptly began to run in what I hoped was the opposite direction. My mind was now a lot clearer and I let my instincts guide me – listening for sounds, looking for lights, and following cars. Soon I was on a busy familiar street and knew the way home. I continued to look behind me to see if I could catch a glimpse of the person that had been pursuing me, but I saw no one that seemed to be watching me. As soon as I reached my building I quickly entered my flat, doubled locked my door, undressed as I moved to the bedroom and fell into bed – somehow re-energized and drained at the same time. I looked at the clock and saw that it was beyond three in the morning. I soon fell asleep and for the first time in a while my night was not filled with dreams. It was clear that my body needed time to fully recover from the trauma of the evening. At first I thought the buzzing noise was the soundtrack to a developing dream. It took me a few minutes to realize someone was at the front door of my building trying to come up to see me. I instinctively jumped out of bed and ran to the intercom system by the front door. It took me a few seconds to fully realize what I was doing. I pressed the appropriate buttons to release the door, not even caring to find out who was visiting. I then waited for the knock on the door of my flat. When I opened it, Jim was standing there with a bouquet of beautiful flowers. “Hiya, sexy. Do you always greet people at the door totally nude,” he asked with a teasing smile. It was only at that moment that I realized I had nothing on. I was still a little dazed from being awakened so early. I merely moaned out loud and quickly made my way back to the bedroom and slid back into bed. I heard Jim close the front door and follow me. I lay on my stomach and closed my eyes as soon as I had the covers back over my legs and butt. I felt Jim’s warm, clothed body sit on the bed beside me. He started running one of his hands up and down my back. “I think someone must have had a fun night. Is Mr. Anthony a little hung over?” he asked in a jovial spirit. “A little,” I mumbled back, “and it’s too early to get up!” “Too early?” Jim questioned and then added, “It is two in the afternoon, my dear friend.” I glanced at the clock on the side of the bed to confirm what Jim had said. I then turned to look at him, instantly reminded of his manly beauty and gorgeous smile. An inner warmth spread through my body to match the nice feeling his big hand was causing as he gently caressed my back. I stared at him for a few minutes and watched his eyes follow his hand as it roamed slowly over my body. He pushed the sheets and blanket down and allowed his hand to grab my firm ass cheeks. My cock was slowly coming awake and responded to his fondling by beginning to harden. “I do not see how it is possible Anthony, but your back seems to be more muscled than just two days ago,” Jim purred appreciatively. “I think it’s just tightened a little harder since you arrived – like other things that are getting hard between my legs,” I replied softly. “Maybe,” Jim responded, “but I do believe you are actually bigger than before.” “I . . . um, did something last night . . . that . . . uh . . . I’m not too proud of,” I changed the subject – without even really knowing why. I think I just needed to tell someone about my scary evening. “No need,” Jim said as he placed a finger against my lips. “There are no rings on our fingers, Anthony. I told you to go out and have a good time. Let us not muddy what we have with confessions or regrets. I know a growing boy like you needs to go out and sow some wild oats every now and then. It is fine for you to let off a little steam or exert a little youthful power – for now.” I smiled at Jim’s choice of words. If only he realized how much power I had actually exerted less than twelve hours before. The memory of how good it felt to tighten my grip around the necks of those two men and lift them off the ground shot through my body for a split second, but then it turned to fear as I thought about their faces beginning to turn blue as they gasped for air. I slid my hand across the bed and let it move to Jim’s crotch. Feeling his hard-on through the fabric of his pants made my need for confession and my fears disappear. I squeezed his stiffness and loved how it made the man emit a low masculine moan that made my toes curl. For a surprising brief moment the image of Manfred’s face materialized in my mind. This confused me terribly and I desperately wanted to force myself to focus only on Jim. I immediately came up with a plan. I lifted my upper body off the mattress with my other hand and unzipped his pants at the same time. With the quickness of what could have been a well-seasoned hustler I had his large hard cock freed and sticking straight up in the air. “Ummm, a little meat before my coffee,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off of his pulsing dick. As soon as my warm mouth and tongue welcomed the head of Jim’s fullness, the man’s body tightened everywhere. I could sense that his ass cheeks tensed with an intensity that gave the man wonderful pleasure. His left hand quickly came up to my head and he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling slightly in response to the stimulation. I immediately tasted his sweetness as a gob of pre-cum spurted from the slit of his dick head. I opened my throat fully and welcomed his shaft completely, allowing my nose to be buried in the fur beyond the fabric of his pants. “Bloody hell, Anthony,” Jim groaned, “Slow down or I am going to explode.” I suddenly had a burning desire to please the man – to submit myself to him. I knew it was somehow tied to an opposite feeling from the night before. I had wanted to dominate the two men at the hotel completely – to even cause them pain. It had stemmed from my insatiable need to how off an awakening power within me. At this moment I felt a strong urge to suppress that power by letting Jim lead me. I wanted to somehow fight against the part of me that almost crushed windpipes and easily lifted two grown men off the ground. I wanted to do something to make up for the sins of the night before – to cleanse my conscious of all guilt, even though I knew that was impossible. I thought if I served this man by giving him pleasure it would balance out the horrible need to dominate from earlier. This also caused me to not care about Jim’s plea for me to slow down. I quickly pulled my head back up and then slammed it down, causing his rod to be buried deep in my throat a second time. The man was again filled with pleasure and he moaned uncontrollably in response. This only fueled me on even more. Soon I was sucking like a trained expert and burying my face deeper into his crotch each time. With only about eight head bobs back and forth on his hard meat I sent him into orgasmic ecstasy. I had no warning about the gusher he would produce, except for the loud joyful cry that escaped his mouth just before he unloaded a ton of his juice down my throat. I quickly swallowed like my life depended on it and didn’t miss a drop. I think I knew instinctively not to get his suit pants stained. I kept his cock deep in my throat even after his body stopped convulsing. I loved how he felt inside of me and I knew the warm wetness of my mouth pleased him, too. After a few minutes his hand released my hair and returned to stroking my back lovingly. I pulled my mouth from his cock and blew on it as it deflated – to help dry it off before I stuffed it back into this pants and zipped him back up. I looked up at his smiling face. “This is turning into the best lunch break I have ever experienced,” Jim cooed. “I certainly got filled up,” I replied. “Being around you, my good sir, just seems to cause my body to produce an abundance of thick semen,” Jim added, with a definite twinkle in his eye. “I’m flattered,” I answered, smiling in return. “Can you come back later?” “Wild horses could not keep me away, dear Anthony,” he quickly responded and that image made my body tingle because of my reoccurring dreams. “It seems I owe you some take-away from last night and then for dessert I think I will repay you for your gracious afternoon delight. How does that sound?” “It sounds so good that when you return I think I’ll take the dessert before the meal,” I teasingly replied. “Well, you have been a good boy, Anthony,” Jim said. “Except for whatever it was from last night that caused you to stay in bed until two. But, as I said before, I will overlook that and gladly offer my services as dessert upon my arrival in a few hours. For now, though, I must be going.” Jim leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, checked to make sure his zipper was completely closed, and then slid from the bed. He reached out and gave my ass a heavy whack, which caused me to arch up in joyous response, and then he left the room. I heard the front door shut behind him and the memory of his presence lingered along with his manly muskiness. I felt a joy and security that had not existed in my body for almost over twenty-four hours. I ran my hand over the space where Jim had lay and loved how it was still warm from his hot body. I stared at my hand as I moved it along the sheet and slowly the memory of what it had done the night before crept back into my mind. I looked at the v between my thumb and forefinger and remembered how the man’s neck had felt so fragile as I squeezed. I balled up my fist and marveled at how big and beautiful my hand was becoming. My flaccid cock became fully engorged quickly and a familiar feeling of power started to take over my thoughts. I looked at my forearm and loved how it seemed so muscular. I began move my crotch up and down, causing my hard pole to rub against the bed – sending shivers of pleasure up my spine and deep into my ass. My breathing became heavy and I started to wish I had someone in bed to force into submission. The only thing that saved me from spiraling down into the darkness of the night before was hearing the front door open again. Thoughts of Jim immediately brought me out of my masturbatory revelry. “Are you back for seconds?” I yelled out, hoping that Jim might come and relieve the pressure of my raging hard-on. There was no answer and I quickly became alarmed. Memories of the footsteps in the dark street the night before came streaming into my head, causing my cock to deflate instantly. I heard noise in the living room and still there was no answer. I jumped out of bed and didn’t even stop to grab clothes. Before I stepped into the other room I heard the front door slam loudly. I moved with more speed now and after glancing around to find no one in the flat I opened the front door and looked down the hallway in both directions, carefully hiding my naked body. There was no sight of anyone. I shut the door and double locked it. I took a second look around the open space of my flat to make sure no one was hiding. It was then I noticed that the Lancelot glove was gone from my mantelpiece. At first I found this incredibly odd and looked around to see if it were just misplaced, but quickly saw that it was, indeed, gone. The person that had entered my apartment after Jim left had come for one thing – the glove. It crossed my mind that it had been some common thief that had grabbed the first thing he saw as soon as he heard my voice, but then I realized so many other things had been available – my laptop, my wallet on the dining room table, and many other items – that it became clear they had taken what they had come for. I was baffled beyond belief and that suppressed even my anger or fear at what had just happened. I thought about calling the police, but realized the glove had been a gift and I had no receipt or anything else to show them. The sudden ringing of my phone caused me to jump and I had to retrieve the thing from my pants in the middle of the floor. “Hello,” I answered, without even glancing to see who it was. “Anthony, my dear,” came Martin’s joyful voice, “How are you?” “Um . . . fine Martin,” I replied, forcing myself to focus on the caller. “How are you doing?” “Splendid, my boy, splendid,” he answered joyfully. “Listen, I only have a few seconds, but I wanted to make sure you could come to my place for dinner on the twentieth. I am going to have a little gathering of friends and, of course, you must be there.” “Of course Martin,” I responded without even thinking since my mind was still elsewhere. “I’d love to come. Is it for a special occasion?” “Nothing momentous, my dear fellow, only this month’s full moon,” came the reply, and as before, I was baffled by this infatuation with this specific celebration. “Well I know how happy that seems to make you, Martin, so I’ll look forward to it. Can I bring anything?” I asked. “No, no, no – that is very kind of you, my boy, but there is no need,” Martin quickly responded. “Oh, do you mind if I bring someone?” I added, hopefully. “Yes, feel free to bring that dear sweet Jim. It will be good to see him,” Martin said and I was instantly excited about bringing a date to his party. “Thank you, Martin,” I replied and then added, “Hey, you won’t believe what just happened. Someone came into my place and took the glove I got at that antique store you sent me to. Isn’t that bizarre? They didn’t take anything else. And to think I was just in the other room!” “You mean they took Lancelot’s glove, Anthony?” Martin asked. “Yes. Is that not the craziest thing?” I answered. “It is indeed,” He said. “But not to worry, my good man, the glove has already served its purpose,” he answered. “Well, I must go. I will see you on the twentieth, Anthony, if our paths do not cross at Halfway to Heaven before then.” “Thank you, again, Martin,” I responded. “I hope I see you before the party.” As soon as I hung up my mind became crowded with puzzling thoughts. Had I told Martin that I was dating Jim? Did Martin already know Jim? It was possible he met Jim through Manfred. And what in the hell had Martin meant when he said the glove had already served its purpose? I was about to drive myself crazy with all these thoughts when the phone rang again. This time I looked down and saw that it was Manfred – my heart leapt with joy and I answered quickly. “Hello, Manfred.” I sounded a little too eager. “Hello Anthony. How are you,” he asked, in that voice that mysteriously made me giddy with pleasure. “I’m great,” I replied, trying to calm myself. “What’s up?” “I just wanted to call and say I am sorry for leaving so abruptly the other morning,” he answered, and it surprised me he was being so honest. “I was caught off guard by, um, you and Jim being together and I did not know how to react. It was rude of me and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” “That’s very nice of you, Manfred,” I said, trying to hide my excitement at his words. “I didn’t think about it a second time. I’m glad to hear from you. I hope nothing prevents us from being friends – me dating Jim or anything else.” “I feel . . . um . . . the same way, Anthony,” he added quickly. There was something about the tone in Manfred’s voice and the call itself that made my heart beat faster than it did before he called. I felt a certain amount of frustration that the man could still cause this kind of feeling in me and, yet, there was some mysterious connection that made me desire him. I tried to make myself focus all thoughts on Jim, but Manfred’s face dominated my mind. His voice also caused an unfamiliar energy to well up inside me, but extremely positive and pleasurable. I found it impossible to block the man out of my mind completely. “I was also calling to see if you might be available for lunch one day,” he asked cheerfully. “I know we’ll probably see each other at Martin’s party in a couple of weeks, but it would be fun to connect before then.” “Um, of course. That sounds great,” I replied hesitantly. “I’ll just need to . . . you know . . .” “Check with Jim first?” Manfred questioned. “Well . . . yes . . . yes, I think I should.” I answered and suddenly everything felt very awkward. “That’s fine,” Manfred said and I could hear slight disappointment in his voice. “You check with him and then just get back to me, okay? I’ll look forward to it, Anthony. I hope you have a great evening.” “You too, Manfred,” I replied and then he quickly hung up. The different emotions running through my head caused everything of the last twenty-four hours to temporarily be pushed to the side – my brazen dominance of the two guys the night before, the mystery thief that took the glove, Martin’s comments about the glove, and so much more. I found myself constantly returning to Manfred for some unknown reason. I showered and fixed something to eat – and then tried to focus on my upcoming evening with Jim, but the discomforting conversation with Manfred and the feeling he caused within me kept nagging at me all afternoon. Jim arrived around six with Chinese food. I gave him a long kiss when he arrived that turned into an hour-long snogging session on the couch, which culminated with him returning the favor of the earlier blowjob I had given him. We were lying there with our bodies entangled in post-coital bliss when I broached the subject that I really wanted to avoid. “Manfred called this afternoon,” I said softly, as stroked the back of Jim’s head resting on my chest. “Did he?” he asked and I heard all sorts of hidden emotions in those two words. “He wanted to know if I’d go to lunch,” I added hesitantly. “And what did you say?” Jim pushed further. “That I would have to check with you first . . . well, actually he figured it out and said it before I could,” I replied. Jim turned to look up into my face. He was smiling. My cock began to come to life again as I gazed into his eyes and re-connected with his masculine beauty. My answer pleased him and that energized me. I knew there was still a slight panging in my heart for Manfred, but I was working hard to make my desire for Jim to overcome it completely. Here was a man that wanted me and Manfred had rejected me . . . saying I wasn’t his type. I knew I was slowly turning into what Manfred liked, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing part of me still pined for him. I lifted my head off the sofa cushion and kissed Jim’s forehead. “Jim, one. Manfred, zero. I like the score so far,” he said softly. “I told you, it’s not a competition. I am not Manfred’s type,” I emphasized back. “And I told you I have a feeling you are becoming his type,” Jim answered. “I think we should eat now,” I responded – changing the subject on purpose. “Good idea,” Jim said, getting up from the couch after he quickly licked the nipple near his face. “And for the record, it’s fine for you to have lunch with anyone you want. As I said to you yesterday, there are no rings on our fingers. Let’s just take this one day at a time and enjoy the journey. We’re in no rush.” “Such a wise man,” I answered and took a swipe at his ass, loving how the loud smack echoed in the large room. We ate our dinner at the dining room table totally nude. It was very erotic and I loved how the big windows of the room probably put us on display for many neighbors. The enhancements brought on by my workouts were helping me to be comfortable with my body. Jim fondled my cock throughout the entire meal and said his goal was to keep me hard for hours. It was definitely working. Later, as I cleaned off the table, Jim went to floss and brush his teeth like a good little boy. He came into the kitchen later holing a small piece of paper. “What does this mean, Anthony? ‘Beware full moon midnight powers unleashed.’ I found it in the medicine cabinet,” Jim said looking at the paper. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well I was brushing my teeth and I pulled out this paper. When I leaned down to spit I saw the reflection in the mirror and noticed what the letters say when read backwards,” Jim added as he took a pen and some paper from the counter and reworked the letters and phrasing in reverse order. I looked at the words and marveled that I hadn’t noticed something so simple before. It still didn’t make much sense, but I loved how Jim had figured out the mystery so easily. I then explained to Jim how I had found the note inside the glove I had purchased at an antique shop on Maiden Lane. I then told Jim about how the glove had been taken from the apartment just that afternoon. “That is an incredible story, Anthony. I cannot believe someone was in the flat after I left today. I think maybe I need a key so I can lock the door behind me,” Jim added with a devilish smile on his face. “The shop, though, must be somewhere else. I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand and there is not an antique store on Maiden Lane.” His words brought back my conversation with Martin and my frustration at not being able to find the shop a second time. I brushed it off by saying I probably got the name wrong and we went back to discussing the piece of paper – deciding it was some fun note that had been placed in there one night when someone wore the entire armor outfit for a costume party. We then continued to make up other fun scenarios – involving espionage and secret codes, secret love letters between two people, and other fun stories. None of these ideas, however, eased a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that had appeared as soon as Jim pointed out what the note actually said. I returned it to the medicine cabinet later that night and forgot about it as soon as Jim and I began an intense lovemaking session before bed. The next two weeks seemed to fly by – mainly because of my time with Jim, my workouts at the gym, continued sightseeing, and occasional phone conversations with Roger, still in the states. Manfred and I never found a day to meet for lunch – mysteriously, Jim seemed to be able to take a longer lunch break each day and we usually met at my place for some mid-day delights, both in bed and in the kitchen. The sex seemed to improve every time we met and I started to believe it had a little to do with the improvements happening to my body in response to my workouts. I was starting to fill out many of the clothes that Martin had bought me as a gift, but most of what was called the ‘second phase’ wardrobe were still too big. I looked forward to the day when I was able to say those outfits were starting to feel tight. I, however, was still very excited about my changes. Jim loved my new size almost as much as I did. He often found ways for me to show off my budding strength – repeating the feat of push-ups with him on my back, doing pull-ups with him hanging on to my waist, and one night allowing me to press his body into the air a couple of times when I was lying on the bed. The morning of Martin’s party Jim had to leave for work early. He had started staying at my place most nights, since I lived so near his office. We were able to get in some quality crotch rubbing before he jumped out of bed to shower. I loved watching him walk towards the bathroom – mainly because of his gorgeous ass, but also because of his tree trunk quads. I was slowly beginning to think this was the man that I might spend the rest of my life, even though every time I had that thought there was a certain pull on my heart in an opposite direction. It was unclear to me as to wear that tugging came from, but I knew it was there. Jim stepped into the bedroom immaculately dressed in a Ted Baker suit – and it was one of my favorites. “You’re wearing that suit to work so you’ll have it on for the party, aren’t you?” I asked teasingly. “Well, my competition will be there, remember,” he said, straightening his tie as he looked in the mirror and then glanced at my reflection to see my how I reacted. “You have no competitors,” I screamed after placing one of the pillows over my head. “You say his name sometimes in your sleep, Anthony,” Jim replied with a very serious voice. I took the pillow away and looked at him with a face that I was sure showed my surprise. Jim had never mentioned this before. So many thoughts ran through my head – why on earth would I say Manfred’s name in my sleep, did I dream of the man and not remember, why wasn’t I calling Jim’s name out, and so much more. I was embarrassed, confused, and ashamed. I sat up and held out my arms to the man. “I don’t know why I do that,” I said with a voice that equaled his seriousness. “I really like this, Jim. I really want this. I did have a thing for Manfred but it seems like such a long time ago, now. As a matter of fact, it seems like eons ago. Please don’t view him as competition. How can I convince you that he and I are not going to happen? I promise you.” “It does not bother me, Anthony,” Jim said as he chuckled. “I just like to watch you squirm.” I tossed the pillow at him and immediately acted like I was sulking. He came around to my side of the bed and bent down to kiss my forehead. I reached out and grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants and squeezed hard. He tried to back away but I held on. “Ow, Anthony,” he yelled, “that really hurts.” “Good,” I replied. “You deserve it.” I let go of him and he reached down to straighten his pants and to hopefully ease the pain I had caused. He walked to the dresser and began to gather his keys, his name badge, and other items. “I am sorry, Anthony, that we have to meet up at Martin’s place, but I am afraid I will be cutting it close on getting there on time,” he said as he stuffed his phone in his coat pocket. I have a meeting near there late this afternoon, so I think I’ll be there by the time you all finish cocktails. I do hope I will not arrive and find you and Manfred snogging in one of the bedrooms.” “Out, out, damn spot,” I yelled and pointed to the doorway. “Oh, I see we are channeling Lady MacBeth, now, are we?” he quickly added as he laughed. “I always knew there was a drag queen inside you just screaming to be released.” I struggled briefly to throw off the sheet and covers as I got out of bed. This gave Jim enough of a head start to run out of the room and get the front door opened as I entered the living room. He turned towards me at once in the hallway and blew me a kiss before he moved away quickly. “Do not forget to lock the door behind me, good sir. See you tonight!” he yelled as he disappeared. I didn’t follow him into the hallway – mainly because I wasn’t wearing anything. I heard the coffee maker giving off noises that said it was finishing brewing. I smiled to myself when I realized that Jim had once again thought of me and prepared the machine before we went to bed. He was always so thoughtful that way. I opened my laptop and sat at the dining room table sipping a cup of coffee as I read the morning news. My mind kept drifting to Jim and then it landed on the fact that I called Manfred’s name out in my sleep. I spent a few minutes wondering what my actions meant, but then I realized it was almost time for my session with Quan at the gym. I quickly changed clothes, tamed my hair, and jogged to the place. “What the hell are you eating, Anthony?” Quan asked as we took measurements. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean you keeping adding pounds, mate, and none of it seems to be fat,” he replied. “I want to know your secret.” “Well, I do tend to eat a lot of fish and chips,” I answered truthfully. “I do not think that is it,” he responded, “since that usually gives a guy a spare tire around the waist. You have actually added some to every part of your body. I swear, looking at the chart and where you began you would think I was either incorrect when I first inputted your information or you are officially the first genetic miracle man that responds to lifting weights with the kind of gains most men dream of. I just do not understand what is going on. And your strength is off the charts abnormal for a man your size, and especially for a guy that just started working with weights.” “I think it might just be because I have the most awesome trainer, ever,” I shot back with a smile. “I may be good, but I am definitely not this good,” Quan said, scratching his head and then writing something on the chart. “It’s funny you would bring all of this up today, Quan,” I added with a slight whisper. “I’ve felt weird all day – like there’s some kind of power surge racing through my body every now and then. While we were lifting I started to actually feel like a new batch of incredible gains are going to happen soon. And the feeling was . . . um . . . it was kind of…” “Trust me, I understand, Anthony,” he replied. “A certain part of you hasn’t softened since you came in.” “Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, turning red. “There’s just something about working out that gets me all excited. It’s really embarrassing.” “As I have told you before, mate, it happens to the best of us,” Quan added and returned to his chart, shaking his head back and forth as he looked at the numbers. “I am actually scared to see what you are going to look like when you come next week.” “Only time will tell, sir,” I said as we shook hands. “Only time will tell. Have a great day and I’ll see you then.” “You, too, Anthony,” he called out as I walked away. I ate a late lunch, did a few errands, texted some obscene comments to Jim – just to get him riled up at work, cleaned my flat, and then readied myself for the party at Martin’s. I was bummed that Jim had to come to the party late – I had hoped we could go together. I hopped on the Tube and was at Martin’s place right on time. It had been a while since I visited his place and I was instantly reminded of what a great house it was – old, majestic, and almost magically castle-looking. It was exactly what I thought a big London place should look like. There were actually quite a few men at the house when I arrived. I knew some of them from the last party at Martin’s house and some had been at Manfred’s dinner party, as well. I was ushered into the den, where everyone had gathered for drinks. Suddenly Manfred was standing in front of me.
  8. Legends told, in a public rest room not too far away. A mysterious stranger occupying a stall. He's muscular and strong, broad shoulders and thick arms. Shapely pecs, stocky core. Thunder thighs and bubble butts. His face, what can be seen under his concealing hood, has rugged strong jaw and manly hair. Sometimes, it's a handsome scruff. Sometimes, it's a full thick beard. But the most notable features of his, people whispers, are his thick cock and bull balls. Don't be mistaken, their size are impressive, but not exceptional. What make these so special is the properties they hold. Legends told, of a beefy bull stud, offering his service in a public restroom not too far away. If you accept his offers, of blowjobs and barebacks, you may find his generous offers even more wondrous. With his overflowing loads in your mouth and hole, you may find your body grow. Muscle strengthen and bulging, frame enlarged and looming, hair spread and covering, and manhood virile and empowering. His gifts given, his lust satisfied, you find he disappeared. Without a word, without a sound, nothing left behind except your new body. Vanished, dimmed and faded without a trace. Legends told, of a mysterious sexy stranger, in a public restroom not too far away. If you except his offers, fulfil lust his and yours, you may find he leaves you a gift, studly body like his assured. --------------------------------------------- This one's format is a little bit weird. Just an experimental style I want to try out. I was hoping it would give the snippet a bit of a mysterious atmosphere. Posted here in the story section because I feel like it has potential for development later on. May expand this into an actual full length piece later.
  9. Hey, I know I haven't been around much, this is a little something... very little something, just an idea I had rolling around in my head. The last few years had been pretty difficult for Santa up in the cold dark North Pole, his real-estate was melting away and mega corporations with their super fast delivery were cutting into his profit margins. He needed something to give him an edge, he’d been selectively breeding flying reindeer for centuries and he wasn’t gonna get any new mileage out of that. His sleigh had also been rocket powered since the 60s, so no faster deliveries from that. The workshop was top of the line, cutting edge technology everywhere. Santa has always been an innovator, the second robotic assembly lines were a thing he’s got a few set up in his shop, when warehouse drones started to pop up Santa went and got himself a fleet to speed up the ferrying of toys around the workshop. Then Santa had his eureka moment. It was his workforce that needed a change, that needed innovation. The elves needed an update. He first thought about longer working days and shorter lunch breaks, but the elves had surprisingly iron clad contracts and vicious union. Santa couldn’t touch the contracts. Magic!! Maybe it was magic that was the answer. Santa always used magic to speed himself up, maybe he could do the same to elves, get a stronger, hardier workforce. Maybe even have them pick up some of the delivery jobs on his behalf. Santa felt that he could use a little rest after the last few centuries, sending a couple.. or couple dozen magically enhanced elves out. The results went beyond Santa’s wildest dreams. Within days of unleashing his magic on the elves they’d begun to change, some got taller, some got heavier. But by the end of the week with Christmas fast approaching Santa had several dozen elves who looked nothing like elves. Some like Gumdrop were a towering 6’7 with muscles unrivalled by anything in the world beyond, or they were like Sugarplum and were only 6’3 but had a dick like the fattest sugarcane at the North Pole. Santa didn’t know why some elves were more affected by the magic, but he wasn't arguing with the results. For many of the elves they now found themselves too big for their world, their giant wide feet would hang out the end of their small bunk bed, annoying the smaller elf trapped in the bunk below. Doorways and ceilings in the elf building were too short for many elves now, and their clothes were struggling to contain their enhanced muscles and stretched out heights. Santa got them to work, while using his magic on any and all elves who wanted the change. Many were signing up, but some were worried about the change. They didn’t like having to lookup at their fellow elves, especially ones like Sweetpea who’d grown massive hairy concrete slab like pecs which his enlarged elf clothes couldn’t hold back. Santa didn’t pay any attention to the naysayers. Even when some of the smaller elves started getting used to relieve the swollen bull nuts of their larger fellows. Some elves were relishing their new size, they even created a gym in one of the old reindeer stables, lifting heavy sets of Christmas presents to work their magically bulging muscles. When Christmas arrived Santa just sat back in his gingerbread house and drank some sherry while his workforce of beastly muscle bound elves flew around the world delivering presents. Santa was the boss after all, so why would he be doing the grunt work. A few elves didn't actually go out and do their jobs, they just stayed in their bunks seeing how many gooey loads their smaller fellows could swallow. The next day when the world was busy opening presents Santa went to check out how his elves did. The results weren’t quite what he expected. Some elves had had a bit too much fun while out in the world for the first time. Cotton and his brother Candy had ended up raiding a frat row for hunky boys to bring back, they’d returned hours late having left an entire frat full of Christmas cheer. One elf even brought a very happy Australian surfer boy back to the North Pole and was keeping him warm by letting his hulking brothers gang bang the cute blond hunk’s eager mouth and ass. Some elves hadn’t even come back at all.
  10. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boyfriend John, but after 8 years of realtionship the things between us have slowed down a lot. The fire that had been burning between the two of us has died down to a candle and while we still have sex on a regular basis it’s neither as often nor as intense as 8 years ago. Usually his dick, while only 5 inches long when hard, always does a good job of satisfying me, lately he hasn’t really been able to really make me orgasm. That’s why we decided to change something about our relationship. We talked and it seems like I wasn’t the only one who noticed the things that go wrong in our live. I also have a feeling that John has been rather self concious lately, especially about his at best average body. We are about the same height, yet I go jogging and stuff a lot, so I have a slim athletic body, while my lazy boyfriend has gained a few pounds and a slight pouch since we became a couple in high school. That’s why we decided to contact my friend Sheila. She and her husband, who she frequently called a wimp, had been going through hard times, like John and me, but then she just stopped complaining one day, which is pretty out of character for her. Also she really loves gossip and girl talk, so when she told me about how much she gets fucked by her stud of a husband I naturally asked if she had left her man and gotten herself a manlier one. She just smiled and said that if me and John ever wanted to experience what she and her husband did, we should come and visit her. And so on a sunny Sunday afternoon me and John found ourselves in front of the huge mansion Sheila and her husband Rick inhabited. Apparently Rick was a CEO in some huge company and made a ton of money that allowed them to live quite the lavish lifestyle. Carefully I rang the bell and almost immediately an absolute behemoth of a man opened the door. The man must have been about a foot taller than both me and John and easily twice as wide. His immense shoulders looked like they’d have no trouble carrying us and the rest of his body absolutely matched. Huge flipper like feet, probably size 17 or above, that were attached to diamond shaped claves and tree trunk quads that were so big they forced him to take a special stance in order to be at least semi-comfortable and not crush the immense bulge resting between them. The man was shirtless, showing off his muscular tanned torso with washboard abs and boulder like pecs. Of course the huge arms that looked like they cold rip apart steel doors and had pencil thick veins running along them were something to gawk at too. With the most mascuine soothing baritone I had ever heard the man introduced himself: “I’m Rick, please come in.” I couldn’t believe that Sheila had ever complained about how wimpy Rick was. This man looked like he needed to look wimp up in a dictionary to even know what it meant. Speaking of the devil, my trophy wife friend came hurrying down the stairs. She planted a sensual kiss on her husband’s perfect lips and turned to us. “Good thing you decided to come. Let’s go upstairs. Rick, please take care of John.”, she quickly ordered and just as hastily as she had come she dragged me upstairs, leaving our two men in the lobby. John looked incredibly uncomfortable and emasculated next to the giant that was Rick, who just threw him a friendly smile and guided him towards the living room. Sheila still had my wrist in an vice like grip when she dragged me down the hallway into a room at the far end of it. She pulled out a small piece of chalk, drew a small symbol on the door and it sprung open. She shoved me inside and pulled the door closed behind her. I looked around the room. It was dominated by a large bookstand in the middle that had a huge book rested on it. The walls were lined with smaller bookshelves and cupboards contaning bottles with dried plants and the like. Overall the place reminded me a lot of a stereotypical witch house, even though it was only a small room. Finally Sheila decided to explain herself. “Don’t freak out, but last year I found out that I hail from a long line of witches and wizards. I found that huge tome in my mother’s attic when she died.” She pointed to the book in the middle of the room and resumed. “It’s a so called grimoire with all kinds of magic spells inside. There’s literally a spell for anything you could imagine.” I was more than just a bit baffled, but she just kept talking. “That’s how I found the Body Modifying Ritual. I used it on Rick and now he is that epitome of manliness you saw in the lobby.” She seemed to be finished and all of a sudden the questions started to bubble out of me. Magic? Witches? Rituals? I was ready to call the local psychiatry, but Sheila stopped me and offered a demonstration. After that I was completely sold on the idea of magic, after all seeing a dried rose turn into a cat and back into a rose in a matter of minutes can kind of make you a believer. She showed me a few spells that I might find interesting, among others one that would make all of my cooking really delicious. However the most interesting one was the Body Modifying ritual that she had mentioned beforehand. That was also what she had meant when she offered to solve the problems between me and John. Quickly she explained it to me and it turned out that it was pretty easy. We just needed to assemble things that represented certain attributes, like a cross would symbolize the Christian faith, and say a magic spell that Sheila had prepared. And so after a quick cup of coffee at Sheila’s, where Rick told us about the side effects of the spell (apparently only relatives and loved ones remembered the old you, the rest of the world remembered the new you.) and how he had apparently been a porn actor before his CEO career, we were on our way home, eager to cast the spell. Sheila had given us a list of items that would be useful and as soon as we closed the front door behind us we started gathering the stuff. Good luck that because of our jobs we had a lot of free samples at home. After about an hour of searching and rummaging through even the smallest of closets we had assembled all the stuff we needed and sat in the kitchen. Clearly uncomfortable with the situation, John pulled off his shirt and revealed his upper body. I could fully understand that my boyfriend didn’t like stripping, with his slightly pudgy, unimpressive torso out in the open, his slightly crooked back full of zit marks. Of course we both knew that I didn’t love him for his looks, but he still looked a bit embarassed, even though I had seen his body hundreds of times before. He murmured something along the lines of “Let’s please get this over with.” I quickly said the first part of the spell and a shimmer coated his body in a substance that looked a lot like sweat, but a lot stickier, which would allow me to stick the few items we had gathered to his chest and shoulders. I also rubbed a bit of the body wash we had found into his pits, since there was probably no way the bigger bottle would be held by the spell. Then I cast the second incatation and my boyfriend was engulfed by a blinding light, that seemed to fill the world. When the glow subsided it was obvious that something had changed. While I could tell that something about our lives had changed overall, the biggest change sat across from me. Instead of the scrawny unsassuming John I knew and loved now sat an absolute mountain of a man. The spell had done what we wanted, even though it had taken everything John and me had planned and cranked it up to 11. I was in awe as John flexed took in his new form and flexed his new muscles curiously. I almost squealed as he bounced his more than watermelon sized new pecs, his nipples quarter sized, round and basically begging to be sucked on. Each little flex and bounce caused the enormous mounds of flesh to become heavily striated, sexy mass of brawn that made my mouth water. I could barely hold myself from cumming when he threw up his arms into a double biceps pose. His biceps alone were bigger than NFL footballs and his triceps were incredibly impressive massive horseshoes. He absentmindedly rubbed his abs and when he sat upricht I could see the deeply cut upper 2 rows of what I assumed was the sexiest sixpack had ever seen. Even his legs were massive, like sinewy oak trees and from what I could see peeping out from under the table, they were capped off with huge and muscular size 19 feet. When he spoke, John had a masculine, sexy baritone. Even though it was still a bit unsteady from the unsureness of himself (which was fully understandable after a transformation this drastic), I could barely refrain from leaping onto him to passionately make out right then and there. “I think the spell worked.”, he said and smiled a perfect, yet uncertain smile. Finally I couldn’t hold back anymore. That trace of his old insecure self inside this absolutely gorgeous hunk of a supermodel faced hunk was just too much to take. I basically leaped over the table and onto John wildly making out with him, exploring every inch of his new body I could reach with my hands. I rubbed the bumpy road that were his abs, traced the thick veins that ran along his massive biceps and circled his perfect nipples. All the while our tongues were wrestling in his mouth and he started ripping what little clothing I had on at home off of me. What followed were hours and hours of passionate lovemaking. I won’t go into detail here, but let’s just say the spell really increased John’s once pathetic sexual stamina to a nearly inhuman level. Apparently the spell also made sure that the newly grown hunk would have the skills to make any porn star jealous and a cock that woud even make Long Dong Silver green with jealousy and outsized the bottle of body wash greatly. I also suspected that John was incredibly virile now and that after the couple rounds of unsafe sex, I was now carrying his child. I’d have to get this checked soon. After we both had calmed down a bit (Even after a dozen orgasms John’s dick was still semi-hard.) we analyzed the results of the spell.Obviously the sample of protein gel had worked as expected and caused his formerly basically nonexistent muscles to grow. Though none of us had expected him to be champion bodybuilder size. The face mask I had found seemed to have cleared his skin of any imperfections like zits and scars and made him painfully handsome, but since it was a Korean brand it also had the unexected side effect of turning him from his formerly pasty white self into a stud with Korean heritage. The little tube of toothpaste had turned his formerly slightly crooked teeth perfectly straight, as well as making them pearly white. It also gave him a smily that was both incredibly sexy and completely adorable and could probably melt ice. The body wash I had smeared into his pits before the smell had of course given him the incredible body odor, that while pretty musky was still unbelievably mouthwatering (I normally wasn’t much of a musk girl, but John’s new smell drove me wild.) And then there was the Magnum XXL condom. John had accidentally bought a pack of those a while back, grabbing some that were far too big for his old package. Now however that was a different story. John’s dick had grown so much that the condoms only fit around the soft version of the monstercock. As soon as that thing got hard it blasted the condom right off it’s sizable girth and blew it to shreds. Nowadays we have to have them custom made online so they can contain his tool and his massive loads. Overall I can say that the spell was a complete success. I really need to remember to bring Sheila some thank-you-gift when we’re around there next time. Her witchcraft really didn’t disappoint.
  11. Hey guys, So I finished a story that's been sitting incomplete on my hard drive for the last couple years. A brief warning: it is dark and a little twisted but as it's meant to have a Halloween theme, it's not unexpected. This story evolved from a series of therapy writings I was doing while in treatment for severe depression and trauma. This story may not be for most so while I will appreciate any feedback, pleas make it constructive. Again, you've been warned this is not a "Happily Ever After" sort of tale... or maybe it could be depending on your point of view. I hope you enjoy and have a Happy Halloween! ***** Chapter 1 Halloween. The one day a year where magic seems much more tangible and attainable. Where anything can happen (and often does) in ways that should be unexplainable and yet are accepted as easily as dream logic. I was never a fan of Halloween, even as a kid. Sure, the free candy was nice, but it ranked just slightly above Valentine’s Day in terms of my enthusiasm because I just didn’t get it. This year, that changed. This year I realized the full scope of Halloween. The ancient power it held and how easy it was to tap into that power. This year, Halloween became my favorite holiday. Let me back things up just a bit for you. Proper introductions are important after all. My name is James and I’m what most people call a “good guy”. At least, that’s what I have heard from seemingly everyone lately. Trouble is though that I don’t seem to be good enough. Okay, maybe I should back things up just a bit more for you. A little over a year ago my first real romantic relationship ended. The guy I had been “seeing” for about 8 months told me that he was officially going to be with someone else. Someone younger than I was. Someone who was more outgoing and fun than I was. Someone that was better built than I was (my ex had as much a muscle fetish as I do, more on that later). Someone that he had been seeing the entire time we had been dating (though he refused to call it dating) and even though he said he still cared for me (downgraded from loved me, which he told me he did less than a month before breaking things off) and wanted to be in my life, he needed to follow his heart. Trouble is, I seriously doubt that his heart had anything to do with the matter, other than supplying enough blood to his dick… Anyway, in the months following the “break up” we had been trying to remain friends. I was trying at least, whereas he seemed to be phoning it in most of the time because, let’s face it, he had someone else to devote his time/life to and no one else really seems to matter in that situation. After a series of setups and disappointments by both of them, their constant playing with my emotions and making me question my sense of reality/history, this culminated in quite a severe mental breakdown: a major case of depression resulting in multiple suicide attempts telling myself I wasn’t good enough to keep living. After being hospitalized and attempting my best at treatment, I wasn’t “getting better” as quickly or in the ways he thought I should. Unfortunately, due to this and his own choices, recently he decided that I was no longer worth his time or trouble and he completely cut ties with me. I’m sure many of you are saying that I should have done that first and a long time ago. That I should have moved on, found someone better, written him off as one of the worst human beings on the planet and been done with it. I had more than one therapist tell me as much, or at least something akin to that fact, as well as many friends/family members tell me that I needed to simply forget about him and move on. If only the heart worked on a system of logic like that. My brain certainly did, and I kept telling myself all the things he had done that were clearly in the “con” column to try and give my own heart enough evidence to stop hurting. Alas, the heart is chaotic and ruled by something far stranger, more complex and far more precious than logic. I loved him. I loved him with all I had and I still do because real, true love is unconditional like that. That was enough in the “pro” column to outweigh anything else I could muster in opposition. Still, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurt, betrayed, disappointed, angry, hell furious to the point of nearly feeling homicidal at both of them, but through all of that pain, I still love him. Anyway, slightly off track so let’s get back to the main part of this story. Throughout the last several months I have done my best to try and “get better”. To improve myself and to regain some semblance of normalcy after the trauma and continued hell that I was put through both by myself and the actions of others (not just my ex). Eventually I was able to learn how to put up enough barriers and walls to not feel like a raw nerve all the time and allow myself time to heal a bit, but let’s face it, wounds that pierce that deep never really heal. Eventually, I realized that I wasn’t going to be the person I was before. Too much of me had changed, too much had been irrevocably lost. I could be someone different, maybe even someone better, but I couldn’t ever get back to the place or the person I was either when I was with him or before. So, I did what I could to make myself feel better, to rebuild my life as it were and a large portion of that would next revolve around me rebuilding a “new” body. One of the things I shared with my ex was a desire to become as big and muscular as possible. I’m not talking cute fitness or “beach bodies” but real hulking muscle monsters. Those beasts of brawn at the top of the bodybuilding community where you part crowds like the Red Sea, and where limited range of motion is the goal. To get to the point where there was no doubt that we were serious meat heads and that we had no desire to slow down nor stop growing anytime soon… well ever really. With his encouragement and guidance, I was able to break through the last mental hurdles I had that were stopping me from actively pursuing that goal and started going to the gym. I had been giving myself no end of excuses for years but with him in my life I finally had enough confidence to put them all aside and start on the path of never-ending growth. I paid for a personal trainer, dedicated myself to it and I was fortunate to share the beginning of that journey with him and even though I stumbled with it for a while after our “break up” I have gotten back to it and have continued to grow and develop and improve myself physically which has helped in many ways to improve myself mentally. The only trouble I had though was that I still tie a lot of this muscle growth journey to him. I still recall our workouts together when I’m lifting, the meals we prepped and shared after a long workout, even when I was giving him his weekly injections. All in the pursuit of our mutual growth. I’m still trying to untangle the goals and desires of being massive from including him and have the focus be for me. However, knowing that he left me for someone bigger and better built than I was while initially highly damaging to me, has now provided plenty of motivation for my workouts. I was going to work my ass off to show him what he missed out on. I may not have been good enough before, but I would do whatever it took to outclass the guy he left me for and show them both what real muscle was! At least, that was the plan. Despite the fact that I had done all this work, changed my physique and was in much better shape and condition than I had ever been, I still was considered a “good guy” but not enough for anyone to want to date or be in a relationship with. Sure, I had many who wanted to fuck me, or be fucked by me, a single photo update on my online profile was enough to see that I had improved physically to be more desirable, but the couple of times I had met someone it was just a hormone release to them, or another sexual conquest and then they ghosted me. I was a good enough one-time disposable fuck toy, but not good enough to date. In my mind, it always came back to the voice that I wasn’t “good enough”. I wasn’t big enough, defined enough, handsome enough, so I did my best to focus that negative energy into my workouts. Given my pre-depression mindset of body dysmorphia for wanting to be a juggernaut of muscle and strength, this caused quite the feedback loop of pushing myself like a madman in the gym. Having all that fuel the fire of my workouts has no doubt been a benefit given my progress in the last few months even if it tends to scare off some people at the gym. Several friends I have lifted with commented that when they see the determination and focus on my face during a set, to them it came across as intimidating, aggressive and what one friend lovingly refers to as RBF (Resting Bitch Face). “Hey James, how have you been?” I jump and turn around to see Scott one machine down from me. “Oh, hey Scott, didn’t see you there. I’m good man, how’re you?” Normally I would say that even if I had seen him so as not to come across as a creeper, but I really hadn’t noticed him because when I lift, I am 100% focused on my form and my own body. All my concentration is in my muscles to ensure maximum engagement and results. I don’t scan the gym for whatever eye candy is there and ogle the guys showing off like so many do, despite Scott being seriously delicious eye candy. Plus, today he was in very different gym attire than what I was used to seeing him in (head to toe oversized sweats instead of a tight muscle tee and even tighter shorts that he normally wore) including a cap that obstructed his face so I honestly didn’t recognize it was him. “Not surprised. You’ve got better focus than almost anybody I’ve seen. I bet a riot could erupt and you wouldn’t know until you were done with your set!” “Probably. Came close to that the other day apparently. There was some issue with another member that had to be asked to leave and I had to ask what happened after all was said and done because I was doing a drop set and missed the whole thing! Besides, you look like you’re trying to avoid the paparazzi dressed like that! What’s new with you? Still prepping for that show in February?” Scott had planned and started doing prep three months ago for a show that took place last week but had to back out last minute due to other obligations. Scott had one of the best physiques I’ve ever seen in person coupled with a model level gorgeous face and a really nice, genuine personality. He was honestly as close to my ideal guy as possible which of course meant he was unavailable. Despite that letdown, he has taught me quite a bit about different exercises, plus helped me a bit with how to pose (which is nowhere near as easy as spectators believe). “Oh yeah, that was a bit of a mess I heard. Steph had to threaten to call the cops before he finally left.” “Yep. Which given the fact that I’m sure she could have kicked this guy’s ass by herself was merely a courtesy to him.” Steph was one of the employees at the gym. She is about 5’6 or so but better built and more conditioned than half of the guys who work out here. Couple that with a “take no shit” type of personality and she’s a force to be reckoned with! She will speak her mind even if it’s not in a professional way and is one of the funniest and friendliest people I know. She is not someone I would like to mess with though, even if I have a good 6” in height and 100 or so pounds on her. She’s small but she’s scrappy. “No doubt! I would not want to get on her bad side for sure! And no, not looking to avoid the paparazzi, I’m not that popular. Yeah in the midst of prep for it, hence the sweats. Time to up the cardio and it’s better to do cardio in sweats or heavy clothing as it traps the heat meaning you burn more calories. So how have you been? Haven’t seen you for a while.” Scott and I tended to lift at about the same time every day depending on our work schedules and had developed a rapport. Because I found him so easy to talk to, he inadvertently was one of those people that I had dumped my problems onto without consciously realizing it. The biggest of which happened to be my love life, or lack thereof, and all the things that had happened with Lee (my ex). He was one of the few people who helped keep me accountable and consistently going to the gym to help work through my issues and use the weights to better myself. Even though he was straight (which I found out after asking him out on an impulse, however he was extremely gracious and tactful in his response to my invitation) he was truly a nice guy and always had a nice word for me to help bolster my spirits. “Um, good, I guess. Been a rough few days at work but hanging in there as best I can. Have another ‘anniversary’ coming up which will be a challenge but somehow, I will make it through. And believe me, you’re more popular than you realize! I’ll admit to having the urge to be a paparazzi and sneak a few shots of you from time to time! I haven’t, but the urge is there. You’ve got a killer physique; one you’ve worked really hard developing and one that should be photographed and shown off.” One thing I’ve learned about most “straight” guys who are bodybuilders, if you stroke their ego enough, they tend to overlook the sexual inuendo and subtle flirting. “Ha!” he laughed and looked humble (yet another thing I found so attractive about him) “Maybe at a show, not any other time. But sorry to hear that you’re having a rough time. Well Halloween is coming up so that should help you right? Isn’t Tric doing some big Halloween party? You should get dressed up, go out, get drunk, have some fun. Take your mind off things for a night.” “You would think so right? I do actually have tentative plans with some friends to go to a party, but the anniversary is Halloween. Spent it with my ex last year post break-up to try and see how well we mesh as friends and he was the happiest I have ever seen him. The later it got, the drunker he got and more he went on about how great the other guy was and how happy he was in the relationship. Hard to sit through. Still, all I can do is take things one step at a time which right now means getting back to my workout and not letting a super stud like you distract me from my gains!” I laughed and took a quick sip from my shaker while I waited for his reply. He raised his hands in surrender with a grin forming on his face. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that! I need to get my ass on the stair climber anyway. Have a good workout man and I’ll catch you later!” He shook my hand before turning to leave. “Good luck climbing the Empire State Building!” I called after him grinning. He turned to smile back and then we both returned to our respective workouts. I finished up my chest workout a short while later having fully exhausted myself and burned through all my frustrations caused by my job that day. I managed to catch Scott's eye and wave as I walked out of the gym saying goodbye to the person at the desk. Once outside I patted down and searched in my pockets to find my keys. Realizing they weren’t there and most likely landed in my gym bag, I stopped at the back of my car setting the bag on the trunk to fish them out. Without warning, I was starting to sob digging around my bag. Despite every effort to the contrary, the memories of last Halloween were filling my mind and I was recalling the look of pure exultant joy on the face of the man that I saw my future with knowing he had already chosen another… “Excuse me?” I hear a voice from slightly behind me and turning around I was face to face with a middle-aged woman. Wiping my face quickly I did my best to put on a smile and “brave face”. “Yes?” I asked trying my best to look respectable and courteous despite wanting to run away to be alone. “I’m so sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something. I brought this old chest to sell at the antique store here and I’m having some trouble getting it out of my car. Would you be so kind as to help me?” “Of course. Let me just put my bag in my car quick and I’ll be right there.” I smiled again and using the remote on my keys to unlock the doors, which I had finally located and extricated from the jungle of my gym bag, tossed the bag in the back seat and followed to her vehicle. “Thank you so much for this. I was counting on someone in the store being able to help me, but no one seems to be around and I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She did look slightly frazzled saying this and checked her watch to see the time. “It’s no trouble. I’m happy to help out.” She had a sizeable chest, at least a good 3 feet long and 2 feet wide secured with bungie cords into the trunk of her car. It had very intricate carvings all along it and despite looking extremely old, it was in almost immaculate condition. “This is beautiful.” I commented as I began undoing the bungie cords. “It’s a hope chest, right? My mom has one. Not nearly as detailed as this but about the same size.” “Yes. It belonged to my great aunt who recently passed away. I’m in charge of her estate and when some things didn’t sell at the auction and no one claimed them as inheritance, my only choice left was to sell them. For some reason this one didn’t sell at the auction even though the auctioneer was sure it would be one of the highest ticket items due to its condition. A friend suggested I bring it here.” Having been dragged to several auctions as a kid (and hating every minute of it) this was odd to me. Usually people will buy the strangest things when they can do so for pennies on the dollar of what they are actually worth. And this piece seemed highly valuable, so it was a shock to me that someone hadn’t snatched it up. I managed to pull the chest out easily enough given it was empty and she closed the trunk. “Actually, my friend suggested I try for that Antique Roadshow first and that maybe it would be end up being worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I don’t want to spend that much time and effort on it. I just need to get rid of it as I live out of state and can’t miss too much more work.” “I’m sorry to hear that. Loosing someone is never easy.” I puffed out as I walked trying my best to hold onto this thing. It was an awkward shape and size with no handles and I guess, without realizing it, I was trying to show off for this complete stranger by not having her help me carry it. Hearing about this woman’s family member dying shifted my mind immediately back to Lee as I walked toward the antique store next door to my gym. It was so strange that I only now realized it was exactly like a death that I was mourning but he was still alive. He was forever out of my life as though he died but he is still living and happy just not with me which somehow made it that much worse. “Thank you. To be honest, I never knew her that well so I’m not sure why she entrusted me to do all this, but here I am.” She shrugged at this and walked a bit ahead of me to hold open the door to the antique store. “You can just leave that here they said. Someone will take it to the back when we’re done filling out the paperwork after the appraisal. Thank you so much again for your help.” “You’re very welcome. I hope you have a good rest of your day and sorry again for your loss.” I smiled and turned to leave when something about the chest recaptured my attention. The woman was already moving deeper into the store to find the clerk or whomever to do the appraisal, but I was drawn back to this chest. It really was beautifully decorated and well maintained on the outside. Wonder what the inside looks like I thought and found myself kneeling to open it. It opened smoothly and was almost completely empty except for a single piece of paper. Reaching in to check it wasn’t something the woman might need that would accidently get lost with the chest, I found myself stunned at what I was looking at. The page looked and felt ancient. That really old thick paper or parchment that you see in movies or TV shows that is from the 1700’s or something. It didn’t feel delicate or fragile despite its apparent age. It was obviously torn from a book given the single jagged edge, but the rest of whatever book it came from was nowhere to be found. What was even more intriguing about this old page however was what was written on it: This page is conjured for a person whose life is woefully out of balance. Someone has caused you great pain for their own gain and this must be brought back to balance. Use the power of All Hallows Eve to call upon the forces needed to restore balance. If you truly believe, the instructions will appear. If not, this page will soon vanish and travel to the next person most in need of its services. I looked up with the overwhelming desire to laugh. This had to be a joke, right? Was there a camera somewhere, or was this planned just for me? It was too… specific. Well no more or less specific than most psychic readings in my opinion. Despite my skepticism, I always thought there was something out there beyond the tangible. Never really anything as mainstream as magic as that felt too easy, but I’ve had too many unexplainable things happen that I can’t help but believe there is some kind of force working in our lives that we haven’t identified… or maybe just forgot about/lost faith in? I looked around the store quickly to see if the woman had returned or was nearby to ask about this strange page and when I couldn’t locate her, assumed she went into a manager's office or back room and returned my gaze to the paper. There, below the first few lines, a new sentence appeared: No this is not a joke. That wasn’t there before. I know it wasn’t. Must have been some reaction to the sunlight after being planted in the dark chest. I remember reading about inks and dyes that act like “invisible” ink but require light or heat to be made visible again. Definitely a neat trick or novelty item, especially given that Halloween was so close. The only thing that could have made this even creepier would be… James I watched as my name was written onto the parchment. Not slowly appeared as though the ink were drying, but actually written out, letter by letter by some unseen hand. I dropped the paper in shock. Okay… either this is the best prank setup in history… Or it’s real. Like really real. Holy… or maybe unholy? There was no denying now that I believed this was some sort of magic but the question now thundering in my head was: what would be the cost of using it? I heard the sing song, high pitched voice of Rumpelstiltskin from Once Upon A Time in my head: “Magic always comes with a price dearie”. What exactly would happen? Restore my life to balance? That could mean any number of things. Without even really registering it, I had picked up the paper from the floor, folded it gently before putting it in my pocket then I was walking towards the back of the store to find the woman. She was talking to a man in what looked like a back-office area. “How much would you like for the chest?” I asked before really thinking through what I was asking. Why do I suddenly want to buy this woman’s hope chest? I didn’t have a use for it, didn’t really have a place for it in my apartment... but something inside told me I had to have it. “Oh!” She was shocked by this and said she’d be happy with $200. I told her I would be right back as there was an ATM at the end of the strip mall. The salesperson looked annoyed and I heard him say he could beat the price, offering to pay several hundred dollars more, but apparently the fact that no one from the store had helped her move the chest countered the lost income. Not to mention would save her time not having to fill out paperwork and wait for this guy before she could leave. I returned about 5 minutes later with the cash in hand and hauled off the chest I just brought inside back out to my car. Bringing over the bungie cords she had used and giving them to me as a ‘bonus with purchase”, she shook my hand and thanked me. I moved around to the driver’s door pulling out the folded page from my pocket as I went and got in the car. I had originally planned to go home and have my post workout meal but as I sat in the car looking at the unfolded page with the instructions for what to do magically appearing, I knew those plans had changed. Now, I have a couple stops to make.
  12. Hi there! Long time lurker, this is the first time I’ve decided to post some content. I know stories have been posted about this topic before, but I wanted to make my own tribute to one of the hottest scenes ever created. Enjoy (and please forgive my English). Jafar felt his body pulsing with magic energy when he was ready to make his final wish. He had become the most powerful sorcerer in the world. But somehow he wanted more. He wanted ALL for himself. He put all his lust for power together into his final wish when he yelled: ‘I wish to become an all-powerful God!’ He was overwhelmed when the ultimate power beam striked him in his chest. Even the most powerful being on Earth wasn’t prepared for the immense amount of power he was about to receive. His body and mind rapidly changing, the Genie’s blue form suddenly shrinking due to all of the power needed for the ultimate wish. ‘Yes! YES! THE POWER!’ Jafar yelled. His body form rapidly changed from that of a monstrously big snake to that of a true God. His face reshaping into a cruel yet extremely handsome face, exuding manliness, beauty and power. His torso quickly inflating, exhibiting insanely growing slabs of muscle conforming mountainous pecs. A brick wall of abs rapidly appearing underneath, with deep cleavages forming between each individual muscle. Huge shoulders spreading to the sides the size of watermelons, then of wrecking balls, then of mountains! Immense muscled arms hanging beneath, solid, veiny and almighty. ‘THE ABSOLUTE POWER!!!’ Jafar was laughing manically, eyes going blank. He moved his head backwards, he inflated his mighty chest while he breathed deeply, he clenched his fists with his godly strength. He was overcome by power. Two immense legs were holding his growing form, the size of tree trunks, and finally the size of towers, every muscle visible, striated and sculpted. Finally an inhumanly big cock appeared between his legs, obscenely growing to meet the size of a god’s. It was hard and veiny, with a mushroom head on top. It was pointing upwards while it continued to enlarge, and was followed by testicles that appeared to be squeezing, beating, as if they were pumping more power into an already godly muscle-bound being of pure power. ‘I HAVE BECOME A GOD!’ His voice boomed. ‘THE UNIVERSE IS MINE TO COMMAND! TO CONTROL!’ His newly formed body was truly that of a god. Jafar felt his muscles pulsating with endless power, and he loved it. He was aroused by it. He knew he had become the ultimate being on Earth. He was so overwhelmed by his own power, that soon he was lost to the ultimate feeling of his sensitive and insanely big godly cock. He started to stroke it frantically with his right powerful hand, while he flexed his left bicep admiring its new mind-blowing size and strength, laughing and moaning while he speeded the process. ‘Al! What are we going to do now?’ Jasmine asked desperately. Aladdin was paralyzed at the sight of such a perfect being, newly formed in front of his eyes. ‘Al, there’s only one way of resolving this. You still have one wish left, remember?’ The Genie continued. ‘You have to become a God’. Aladdin stared at the Genie. ‘But I do not wish power for myself, besides it may kill you!’ Al said, begging for another solution. The Genie stared directly at his eyes and tenderly said ‘You are our only hope’. Aladdin knew there was only one thing he could do. ‘Genie, I wish to become an all-powerful God!’ He wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen. The Genie used the remaining of his powers to make the ultimate wish come true. The beam hit Al in the middle of his torso, clothes disappearing instantly. His young, well-toned, bronze-tanned body was suddenly fed with a such an immense source of power, it was immediately forced to grow with muscles beyond his imagination. It started with his abs, quickly inflating and protruding under his skin, forming a chiselled 8-pack, each individual muscle continuously growing in size and definition. As if the wish was spreading through his body, obliques appeared at the sides, and the most impressive Adonis belt underneath. His pecs were the next part to be empowered, his torso quickly gaining volume and unbelievable mass. His pecs were so massive that they fought for space, forming a deep cleavage between them. His frame was further endorsed with wide lats, then his shoulders were raised upwards and separated from each other while they ballooned with no end in sight. The empowering magic spread to his biceps, now inhumanly big, with muscle appearing over muscle endlessly, and to his triceps, now perfectly visible and striated. Finally his former forearms gained so much muscle they looked rock-hard, veiny and virile. Huge and solid hands seemed to bring perfection to his godly arms, which now Al felt as the ultimate weapons of power. Aaah! AAAHHH! Al yelled while he flexed his biceps and clenched his fists at the sides of his waist. Meanwhile, muscles in his thighs had become to enlarge, size spreading downwards. Even with his legs separated they gained so much mass that they started to push each other away, with diamond calves appearing underneath, and mountainous glutes at the back, also struggling for space and perfectioning his rear view. To complete his enhanced godly body, a mammoth cock was growing while Al could only stare in awe. It was enlarging beyond his imagination, pointing upwards, pulsing veins spreading through its shaft until they reached the throbbing mushroom head. Al’s now perfectly handsome facial features showed pure joy and pleasure. Al had to admit that the feeling of becoming the ultimate male, a pure being of raw power, an almighty muscle-bound God, was pure pleasure. But, unlike Jafar, Al didn’t give in to his overwhelming power, his lust and his godly condition. He was resolved to fight Jafar. ‘NOW I AM READY TO SHOW YOU MY POWER’ Al boomed with a new deep powerful voice. While Jafar was reaching his sexual climax, lost in his own pleasure, Jasmine quickly grabbed the Genie’s lamp and exclaimed ‘I wish that Al overpowers Jafar and becomes the world’s true and only God!’ With the combined powers of Jasmine’s sincere wish, the Genie’s magic and Aladdin’s godly powers, Al forced Jafar’s wreckless being to disappear. He shot a power beam that connected him with Jafar. ‘NO! NOOO! MY POWERS ARE THOSE OF A GOD! YOU CAN’T DEFEAT MEEE!’ Jafar boomed with despair. ‘I’M SORRY JAFAR, THERE CAN ONLY EXIST ONE GOD IN THIS WORLD, AND PEOPLE IN AGRABAH HAVE CHOSEN ME!’ Al confidently replied. ‘Al! It’s a God you’re fighting with!’ The Genie shouted. ‘He can only disappear if you absorb his power! There’s no other way!’ ‘WHAT?’ Said Al, suddenly realizing what to do. He forced Jafar’s immense powers to abandon him and fuse with Al’s already inhuman body. ‘YES! YEEES, I’VE WON! NOW I AM THE TRUE GOD OF THIS WORLD! Al’s voice shouted more powerful than ever. While Jafar’s godly powers were being drained, his once obscene muscles were shrinking, his cock, once the ultimate piece of manhood, disappearing. And at the same time, Al’s body prepared for the incoming godly amount of power being forced into it, his cock pulsing as in anticipation. Al thought nothing could be more powerful than the divine being he had become, but he was just about to be proven wrong. His body started to reshape, evolving, forced to accommodate another god’s powers within him. Muscles exploded all over in newly immense size, looking hard as steel, feeling hot as fire, each muscle fiber visibly striated, veins popping all over, feeding his muscles with endless power, pulsing obscenely. His once human frame was now monstrously deformed. His eyes had gone blank, his jaw looked more square than ever, a fearsome smile appearing on the most virile face imaginable. His mammoth delts almost engulfed his head, his massive pecs protruded onwards, his shoulders were separated even further, wide slabs of muscle conformed his lats, arms became truly almighty, his abs reshaped into a the most impressive 10-pack, his legs were powerful enough to hold the whole world. And his cock grew so disproportionate in size that it now reached his head and almost matched his waist in width, its surface almost entirely covered in thick veins, its cockhead pulsing, beating, while divine seed started to ooze, then drench, then his cock shooting semen like a throbbing cannon. ‘YEEEEES!!! I’VE BECOME PERFECT! LOOK AT ME PEOPLE OF AGRABAH, LOOK AT THIS BODY, I’M THE DEFINITIVE BEING OF POWER! I WILL RULE THIS WORLD AT MY DESIRE, AND THERE WILL BE PEACE, HAPINESS AND ENDLESS PLEASURE FOREVER.’ And with that, Al forced his massive godly body to take a more suitable and human-like form, still unable to hide its endless power, with chiselled, solid, and massive muscles, a perfect manly and beautiful face, and an obscenely big, hard, throbbing cock pointing forward. His imposing frame walked towards Jasmine, with lust in his eyes. ‘So princess, do you want to reign by my side?’
  13. Host: Hello everyone and welcome to another season of "Gainers". I am your host Freddi Fit and you may remember me from becoming the muscle alpha I am today on our very first season just three years ago. *Freddi Fit raises a double bicep flex, stretching his button down short sleeves to their limit. "After all, who can forgot that glorious moment when I was voted to steal everything from Hank The Tank who had been growing massive all season. It was a major upset and the audience was ready to see a new alpha show that brute a lesson. Since then I've been living the dreams as America's hunkiest bodybuilder. Well tonight this dream begins once again with 8 brand new contestants. After twelve weeks, one of them will be left with a hulking body while the others leave smaller than they came. And like always, every week you the audience will decide who gets what. Now let's not waste any time here and meet our contestants. Screen switches to contestant video number one. A nineteen year old college wrestler named Cam. "Hey everyone! The name is Cameron, or Cam for short. I've been wrestling for six years and I can't wait to show the other men who the real jock is gonna be. Maybe if you're lucky you might even see me put some of them in headlocks and drain the muscle from them." Screen switches to contestant video number two. A 39 year old college professor who has been working out for many years. "Hello everyone, it Max here. I've been a health science teach for about 10 years and have always wanted more in life. I'm hoping to win and become the next leading model for muscle god magazine. Either way, I'm hoping to teach the other men a thing or two about what it means to be blessed with muscle." Screen switches to contestant number 3. A 24 year old ex fire fighter who recently begun a modeling career. "If you thought fighting fires was hot, wait till you see me on nothing but my suspenders. Hey everyone my names chad. Make sure you vote for me this season so I can become the muscular flame that makes you sweat." Screen switches to contestant number 4. A 31 year old cop from NYC. "Hey. It's Stu. I've been lifting ever since becoming a cop, but to keep the streets safe, I'm going to need your help to grow my guns and have the fire power needed to intimidate the bad guys and fight crime." Screen switches to contestant number 5. A 27 year old businessman. "Hello everyone, being a businessman keeps me quite busy. So I'm going to need your help building these muscles as big as they can get so I can really fill out my suites nicely! By the way, the name is Dominique." Screen switches to contestant number 6. A 42 year old father. "Hello everyone. My name Ken. Before I had children I was in pretty good shape. However since then I've begun to get out of shape. I need your help to be bigger and better than I was when I was younger." Screen switches to contestant number 7. A 21 year old college graduated pursuing a career in acting. "Hey y'all. Zac here. I've been trying to make it big as an actor but you know they are looking for muscular guys these days. Help me become a jacked up actor." Screen switches to contestant number 8. A 25 year old man living in his parents house. "Hi everyone. I'm Tony, and I've been having a really hard time finding a job. Can you help me you help me out and give me the chance to pursue a career in fitness and get the hell out of my parents house. They'd really appreciate it as well!" Tony is clearly the smallest guy. Although he still has slight hints of muscle, there isn't much for the others to take. Host: "Well don't we just have a great batch this year. The group will be entering the growth cell now where they will spend the next 12 weeks changing. Go online now to vote for your top 4 favorite guys who will receive a special serum boost tomorrow night to start off the game. And don't forget to send in your nicknames for each dude. The most votes will decide what we call each contestant from here on. Anyways. Goodnight Gainer fans! Freddi Fit signing off!" *Freddie fit solutes the camera and transitions in to an archer pose as the credits roll.*
  14. It was the night of Halloween and Alan was getting ready for a party. His bro Rick had invited him over to his house, where he was having costume party for all the college’s athlete’s, swimmers, wrestlers, footballers and the like. But probably best of all was that Rick had also invited their cheerleading squad as well as the teams from two other campuses, meaning there’d be an abundance of pussies to plow. Just thinking about it, Alan could feel his sizable tool getting hard. He’d show these cheerleaders why he was called “The Piledriver”. Rick hadn’t been very specific as to what the costumes should be like, just shrugging and saying they should wear whatever they wanted. Though when Alan had asked him if he was kidding, Rick just smirked and said he had planned “a special surprise” for the party. Knowing Rick Alan thought that meant his bro would probably turn up in some awkward fairy outfit or something. Rick was always pulling pranks like that. For example he turned up as a flamenco dancer, red dress, high heels and everything. Miraculously he still went home with the captain of the cheer squad and Sarah didn’t even look that drunk. Alan chuckled as he thought of that. Rick was really the master of pick-up lines. But this year Alan would steal the show. His costume consisted of a loincloth with leopard print, a necklace with fake animal teeth and a hollow mace filled to the brim with condoms. His caveman costume left all of his hard earned muscles on display, really showing off why he deserved to be the captain of the wrestling team. He wasn’t as stocky as most of his teammates, but rather on the cut side. Though he was just as big as the rest of the team, if not bigger. Finally after having styled his mop of brown hair to look especially wild and unruly and making sure his loincloth accentuated the size of his dick enough he was on his way to the house next door. Luckily he wouldn’t have to walk far to get to the party, or get back to his room with a girl later. On his way out he looked into his little brother’s room. While Alan was a total jock, who had been blessed by puberty, it had pretty much passed by his brother. Matty was nerdy and the only real change puberty had given him was a growth spurt of about half a foot, making him a little over 5′8 and thin as a stick. The little guy was facing his computer, probably writing another superman fan fiction or wanking off to some weird Hentai. Alan just sighed, but his fists clenched. He really didn’t want to be angry, but every time he saw Matty, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the nerd that was his brother. Luckily only a few of his best friends knew of their kinship and even those were too much. “I’m off to Rick’s party. Don’t do anything weird, I’ll be back later.”, Alan said plainly and left the room, not even waiting for Matty’s response. He knocked at the door of his best bro’s house and was surprised by Rick’s costume. The almost equally big guy was dressed in a rather cheap looking lion onesie and was smiling like a madman. The costume was loose fitting and didn’t show anything of his strong body. “What the fuck are you wearing, bro. You look like a weirdo.”, Alan said and gave his bro a friendly punch to the chest. “Well I wanted to feel like a real animal for once.”, came the chuckled reply from Rick. Alan just rolled his eyes and stepped inside. Immediately he jumped back. Right in the middle of the hall, on a little table at the bottom of the stairs sat a weird Jack O'Lantern. The pumpkin had a wide, toothless smile and wide eyes, but the creepy thing about were the signs that covered the rest of the orange globe, kinda like runes and satanic symbols Alan had seen when looking for material on a presentation. Also it had a big black candle on top, which seemed to absorb the light from around it. “Told you I had a surprise planned for tonight.”, Rick said and patted his bigger friend’s shoulder, “It is imbued with magic and ass long as the candle burns everyone will be transformed into their costumes.” Alan just rolled his eyes. Rick was into such stuff from time to time, but Alan never took him seriously. “Yeah whatever dude.”, Alan said and shrugged his wide shoulders and grabbed a beer from a nearby cooling box. “To a legendary evening.”, he said and downed the beer in one go. Within the next hour the guests came, every single one freaked out by the jack O'Lantern. There were so many different costumes. The wrestlers came as cavemen, similar to Alan, and gladiators, the football team seemed to have made a pact and all came as toddlers in oversized diapers, leaving their impressive impressive torsos on display. The cheerleader had come as nurses, cops and the like, of course everything in the slutty version to attract a strong athlete and fuck them good. Finally when everyone was there Rick lit the black candle and that’s where Alan’s memories stopped. He awoke the next morning with a massive headache, just some pictures left of the last evening. He barely remembered the band of toddlers that had been crawling around the house or how he had smashed his wooden club on the head of a mustached cop, that had been flirting with a busty hippy girl. He walked into the kitchen downstairs and grabbed to grab a mineral water but as soon as he entered the room his jaw hit the ground. There at the kitchen table sat an impossibly big man in a tight superman suit. Even though he was sitting Alan guessed the man had to be at least 6′6 and over 270 pounds of pure muscle, which was barely concealed by the tight textile he was wearing. “Who the hell are you?”, asked Alan the stranger. “Are you kiddin’, bro?”, said the stranger in an incredibly deep voice, “It’s me Matt.” Alan was sure he would have fainted had he not grabbed a wall. This giant of a man was supposed to be his nerdy little brother? He couldn’t believe that, yet the face of the man looked familiar, like someone had sent Matty’s face through a kind puberty twice. He had the same light blue eyes, though they now had a piercing look and the same nose, though it was now accentuated by the angular form of his lantern jaw. Matt stood up from the table and Alan gulped. Standing he was even more imposing than sitting, though that was hardly possible. Calmly the big guy walked over to his older brother. Only then Alan noticed that the costumed man wasn’t walking, he was floating over. “You can fly?”, asked the dumbstruck jock. “Yep. I have all the powers of Superman. Flight, super strength, super speed. I ran to France this morning and stemmed a truck over my head single-handedly.”, Matt answered and thought back, ignoring the fact that his brother had just fainted and fallen onto the floor. Some time later when Alan reawoke he found a letter next to his head. “Hello Alan, I hope you’re feeling better. I carried you to your bed, when you fainted. Currently in Europe to do some sightseeing. Will be back tomorrow. Matt.” This had to have something to do with that weird stuff Rick was talking about the last night, so Alan decided to pay his bro a visit. After some debate and threats Rick admitted that he had found that spell online and it had actually worked last night and transformed everyone into their costumes. However the spell seemed to have reacted with Matty’s Superman pajama and have made him into a superhero, like his idol. However he couldn’t explain why it was still active despite the candle having burned down. A quick visit of the magic website confirmed Rick’s worries. Since Matty had only been barely 18 at the moment of the casting, his transformation was permanent. And as if that wouldn’t have been bad enough, Alan had found a small white puddle of cum in the garden. It wasn’t difficult to find out the puddle was cum and that it had come through the hole in the roof. So not only was Alan now stuck with a musclebound superhero as a younger brother, the superpowered teenager was also dealing with an increased libido right. And if the costume hadn’t been stuffed than Alan would have to get used to a little brother with an immense tool too. That sure as hell was scary enough for this years Halloween.
  15. Sorry for the long delay between parts one and two. Enjoy! Two Half an hour later Brett emerged a totally broken man from the bathroom. His eyes were red from the tears, his agonizing ass prevented him from walking normally and his self-esteem was completely shattered. Where he once strutted around the house, he now cautiously scanned the corridor before slowly exiting the bathroom and walking to his room while glancing behind him. As he passed his brother's room, he felt his heart pounding in fear of seeing the dominant alpha show up even though he knew that his brother would be in the gym by now. He quickly went inside his own room, shut the door and locked it. He spent most of his holiday hiding in his room, hearing his brother's heavy footsteps sounding in the corridor and on the stairs. Only in the evening during the family dinner he had to face his brother, who was always grinning smugly from his side of the table. He decided to leave for campus two days early, pretending that his coach had called in the team for some additional practices. Since his parents had to go to work, they agreed to drive him to the station. The morning of his departure, he descended the stairs joyfully to finally free himself of his brother. He headed with his parents for the door. "Not leaving without saying goodbye are ya, little bro?". The deep remark made Brett and his parents turn around. Jason was standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, radiating masculinity with his skintight tank top. "We'll go the car so you two can say goodbye", their father said and went out with their mother. Brett gulped as his parents shut the door and left him with his brother in the kitchen. His brother’s smug look added to his intimidating aura. "I like the look of awe and fear when ya look at me, little bro", Jason said and closed the distance between them. Before Brett could react, his brother wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a hug. He felt his brother's strong muscles press against his own softer ones. 'Ugh", he grunted as the embrace tightened some more and his brother's biceps dug into his flanks. He tried resisting but his weakened body was no match for his brother. "Don't ya forget who's the new top dog, little bro", Jason groaned in his brother's ear while he hardened his embrace some more. He felt his brother's cock harden against his own quad. "Enjoying being close to my muscles", he growled, "I'm looking forward to yar next holiday, little bro. Imagine how much bigger than ya I will be by then". He hardened his hold a final time and then released his brother. Brett stumbled backward as he tried to catch his breath. He rushed out the house totally humiliated and jumped into the car. He looked behind as the car drove away but he couldn't see his brother anymore. A beeping sound made him look at his phone. A shiver went through him when he saw that his brother had texted him. He put his phone in his pants without opening the message and looked at the passing landscape, happy to leave his new tormentor behind. Later that evening when he was alone in his dorm room, he opened the message his brother had sent him. A reminder of the new reality, little bro. Brett opened the attachment. His eyes stared at the screen of his phone as the video appeared on the screen: his shirtless brother was standing in the gym locker room and grinned into the camera. The muscle atop his brother’s torso were rock-hard, vascular, pumped and shiny with sweat. “Watch this”, his brother said and threw a most muscular. Brett’s eyes widened as his brother’s torso exploded into a symphony of striations and veins that filled the screen of his phone. He tossed the phone atop the desk and drifted off to sleep. Brett awoke from a peaceful sleep. The fact that his now dominant brother was hundreds of miles away had given him a state of calmness he hadn’t felt until before the holidays. He got up, ditched the boxers he’d slept in and went into his little bathroom. He turned on the shower and let the hot water rain down on his 212 pound, muscular body. He chased the thoughts of his last shower incident from his mind as he rubbed soap across his meaty chest. Half an hour later, he emerged a new man from the shower. His brother was just a bad memory far away. He grabbed a towel and began drying his body. The sound of his phone made him look toward his desk. He continued toweling his body while he walked back into his room. He grabbed his phone without looking at the screen. "Hello", he said as he finished toweling off. "Sup, little bro." The low voice of his brother sent shivers along Brett's spine and made goosebumps exploded across his entire body. He felt his face go red and quickly wrapped the towel across his midsection to cover his cock, even though he knew that his brother couldn’t see him. "Did ya already check out the video?" "I…euhm…", Brett stammered. "Ya did, didn’t ya", Jason said at his brother's embarrassed tone, "Guess what, little bro, I’m standing in yar room right now. Miring my 215 pounds of pure muscle in their full glory. Ya don’t mind me using yar big mirror, little bro?”. “… “, Brett couldn’t get a reply past his lips as his mind filled with the image of his naked brother. "Ya should see me, little bro", Jason continued, "All pumped from a long session at the gym. My arms are so pumped I can’t even flex ‘em. Fuck man, my bis are so hard. Like fucking rocks crammed under my skin. And the web of veins crossing them…” Brett listened in silence. He felt his cock inflating under the towel. “And my pecs, slabs of thick beef hanging from my chest”, Jason continued, “Fuck, little bro, ya should feel the weight of the shelf of striated muscle. My abs, a wall of eight bricks separated by deep grooves. Fuck. I'm getting hard myself." Brett's cock throbbed violently as he heard his brother describe his muscles. "Ughn", he grunted as he came inside the towel. "Blew yar load hearing me touch my muscles. Ya're pathetic, little bro", Jason said and ended the call. Brett stared at his phone, his rock-hard cock tenting the cum-slick towel. Even miles away, his brother still dominated him and made him feel inferior. The next days more students arrived back on campus and life began going back to normal. Brett kept thinking about his lanky brother's sudden growth. He searched the internet for a muscle transfer curse but could only find some sites with fictional stories about muscle theft curses. He read some of them but didn't find any actual proof of the kind of curse his brother had mentioned. "That prick's just on steroids like I thought", he said to himself as he closed his laptop, "He took advantage of my fatigue after the first semester and his roid-fueled strength to outlift me during our workouts. I can't believe I let myself be intimidated by him." He balled his fist as he thought back at the humiliating scene in the shower. "I'll make him pay", he said to himself. His anger resurfaced and drove him to reclaim his spot as the alpha of the family. The next day, Brett rushed into the university's gym and had the most grueling workout he'd ever had. He lifted until his entire body felt like it was on fire and all his muscles screamed for mercy. After an hour, he stumbled down to the floor as his quads gave out and he threw up in a trash can against the wall. "Got your stamina back, eh". The rumbled remark made Brett look up and he saw Mike, the star quarterback, stare down on him. He nodded, grabbed hold of the man's hand and let him pull him up to his feet. He leaned against the wall for support as he tried to calm down his breath. "Well?", Mike asked. "My… brother…got big…", Brett said in between quick breaths, "Put on… 60 pounds… in one semester. Bigger than me now." "60 pounds in one semester?", Mike replied, "Man, he must be on some powerful stuff. What are you going to do to get bigger than him again?" "Train like a … madman", Brett replied, "Shakes, food, anything to grow." "We both know that won't cut it", Mike stated and looked around to check the gym but didn't see anyone else, "I was stuck around 220 pounds last year. Thanks to some chemicals I'm now just over 260. Shot up 40 pounds in just three months. Enough to give me an edge on the field and not too much mass to arouse suspicion. Check out these guns." He flexed his right arm that hardened into a 23 inch orb of power. "Got some stuff left?", Brett asked without taking his eyes from the heavily muscled arm that clearly dwarfed his brother's arm. A grin formed on Mike's squared face. "I'll make some calls. See you in your room tonight." Brett awaited his teammate eagerly in his room. He had gulped down four thick protein shakes during the afternoon and couldn't wait for the star quarterback to arrive. He would finally have the tools to knock down his brother. His heartbeat jolted up when a loud knock resounded. He rushed to the door and threw it open. He stepped back instinctively as he looked up into the 6'5, 261 pound athlete's eyes. "Mind if I come in?", Mike asked casually. Brett motioned him to enter and stepped back, staring at the man's wide back as he shut the door. "And?", he asked nervously. "Calm down, little man", Mike replied and put his backpack down on the desk. He pulled out several vials and a syringe and put it atop the desk. He grabbed Brett's hands as the guy reached for the goods. "These things aren't free", he said and named his price. Brett blinked at the amount. His mind urged him to bargain but his desire to grow bigger was too much. "I don't have that much on me", he said, "but I'll give you everything I have right now and get you the rest tomorrow." Mike accepted the money and filled the syringe with the liquid from one of the vials. "Drop your pants", he said as he tapped against the syringe and turned to Brett. Brett turned around, dropped his pants and boxers and exposed his ass to Mike. He shivered as he felt the needle plunge into his ass and the liquid being pushed into his body. A faint moan escaped his mouth as the thought of his new growth filed his mind. "There you go", Mike said and pulled back the syringe, "Take one dose every day for a month to start. And I expect my money tomorrow or else…". Mike clenched his fist, making his meaty forearm explode in hardness to emphasize his point. Brett gulped as the large athlete made his point. "Don't worry. First thing tomorrow morning after my workout." "See you tomorrow morning in the gym", Mike said and left. Brett took his phone, dropped his pants and played the video of his flexing brother again. "Enjoy your size while it lasts, little bro", he grunted while he pumped his dick. Once more, he climaxed as his brother hardened his flex to the max, but this time Brett thought of his own superior future size. Three weeks later Brett noticed the first results of his new routine: he was up to 227 pounds, his arms reached 19 inches and felt more energized and stronger than ever. Even his performance on the field improved. That night, he flexed in front of his mirror and jerked off to his own reflection. "Curse my ass", he said to himself and compared his own flexed body to his brother's in the video, "Fuck yeah! bigger than that squirt again. He'll pay for what he did to me". His eyes scanned the new beef on his body while his hand stroked his cock vigorously. "UGHN", he moaned as he exploded and his cum splattered against the mirror. The next weeks flew by: Brett practically lived in the gym, working out two times a day and gulping down massive amounts of protein to feed his now growing body. The steroids combined with his grueling workouts and protein gave him a growth spurt. After a month, when he injected his last dose, he'd put on 28 pounds of meat and now weighed 240 pounds. He once more dominated the other freshmen on the field and had even briefly replaced Mike when the coach wanted to spare his star quarterback for a more important game. "Nice hustle out there, man. You trashed the other freshmen." Brett turned around and saw Mike entering the otherwise deserted shower zone. “I feel unstoppable”, he said while a grin formed on his face. They had just had their last training of the season and as usual this semester Brett had totally dominated his fellow freshmen. Even some of the older players avoided him now out on the field. " Looking good, man. What do you weigh now?", Mike asked and stepped up to the shower next to Brett's. "240", Brett replied proudly and puffed his beefed up chest as he compared their bodies. He was now a big man himself, dwarfing al the other freshmen and most of the older players as well but Mike still had 20 pounds of beef on him and half a foot of height. "You’ll be the new star on the team once I’ve graduated", Mike said as he noted Brett taking in his size. “But smaller than me this year”, he added with a grin and bounced his thick pecs to emphasize his point. “Yeah, but way bigger than my brother now. Can’t wait to show him who’s the real alpha”, Brett replied and flexed his right arm. The 21 arm exploded into hardness and was only 2 inches shy of Mike’s superior gun before he went back to washing his body. Mike nodded appreciatively. “How ‘bout a drink then to celebrate your new top spot in your family?”, he asked and added, “You’re buying”. He turned off the shower and strutted back to the locker room. A month later, Brett returned home for summer filled with bliss: he had somehow managed to pass all his exams, had become the undisputed number two of the football team and knew he would move on to number one next year and he couldn’t wait to get back at his brother and unleash the full force of his beefed up body on the guy that had humiliated him during their last holiday. He felt somewhat disappointed when his father picked him up at the airport ant told him that his brother was out celebrating. The disappointment quickly made room for anger when his father added that his brother now occupied his room and had moved his stuff to the smaller room he had lived in all these years. Brett’s fist clenched and his bicep hardened inside his shirt, tensing the seams of the sleeves. One they got home, Brett greeted his mother, grinned at her remark of how big he’d gotten and walked upstairs to the bedrooms. He tried the door of his former bedroom but found it locked. He then proceeded to his new room and found all of his stuff tossed around on the floor. “I’ve wanted to put your things in the closet, but Jason told me not to”, his mother said as she appeared in the doorway, “He said you could arrange your stuff yourself”. “I can’t wait to get a talk with him”, Brett replied through clenched teeth and began picking up his clothes. “Don’t worry about it, mom”, he added. Deep in the night, Brett was awoken by the sound of his brother walking up the stairs. He heard him slam the door of his room shut. “See ya tomorrow, little bro”, he said to himself and went back to sleep. His dreams were filled with images of him teaching his brother some lessons of who was in charge. The next morning Brett awoke to a quiet house: his parents were already off to work and his brother was still sleeping. He went down and grabbed a quick breakfast. He ended it with a large protein shake from the container of his brother in the kitchen and went into the bathroom for a good shower. His fists clenched as the thought back at how his brother had humiliated him in here last time. “Can’t wait to show that squirt who’s the alpha now”, he rumbled to himself as he turned on the water and let it rain down on his beefed up frame. A good ten minutes later, he turned off the water, dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist and went back into his room. He froze in his track when he passed the door of his brother’s room. A smirk formed on his face. “Why waste any more time?”, he asked himself and threw open the door. “WAKE UP, LITTLE BRO”, he bellowed as he stormed into the room and pulled open the curtains to let in the light. “What…” The grunts turned Brett’s attention toward the bed. His brother was lying under the sheets and only the back of his head was visible. “GET UP, SQUIRT!”, he yelled again. This time he got more reaction: Jason turned around and opened his eyes. He blinked several times before his eyes settled on Brett. “What the fuck ya think yar doing in my room, bro?”, Jason spat back in anger. Brett blinked as the deep, rumbling voice that filled the room and he took in the square face. His brother’s ones ratty face had somehow evolved into an ubermasculine, face: a strong, angular jawline gave it a squared look and his cheeks were covered with the stubble of a five o’clock beard. His once semi-deep baritone voice was now a deep, rumbling bass that vibrated down the room. He couldn’t see the rest of his brother’s body because Jason had pulled up the sheets over his body. All that Brett could see was the strong, bull-sized neck that supported his brother’s head. He noticed his brother taking in his new size. “Ya look bigger, bro. What do ya weigh now?”, Jason asked casually. “241”, Brett replied and bounced his chest to emphasize his point. He felt some of his old dominant nature return at the compliment. “Yar waist is thicker. Been roiding?”, Jason asked. “So what?”, Brett spat back, “I’m up almost 30 pounds since the last time we’ve seen each other”. He flexed his 21 inch left arm to underline his new status. His thick bicep balled up. He noticed his brother staring at his bicep and felt ready to reclaim his spot as the alpha as testosterone soared through his veins. “Seems like the tables have turned back my way, little bro”, he said and emphasized the word ‘little’. He had dreamed off this moment and knew that his revenge was going to be sweet. A smirk formed on his lip and tension hung in the air while he stared down on his brother. “Time for some payback”, he added cockily and hardened his flex some more to make his bicep swell a tad bigger. Jason didn’t say a word. He tossed the sheets aside and got up from the bed in a swift motion. The arrogant smirk froze on Brett’s lips as he took in his now truly massive brother. His mind noted that his brother had gone to bed fully clothed, but that was the least of the things it perceived. He saw striations ripple across his brother’s wide chest through the tight fabric of the insanely stretched shirt. His boulder-like shoulders pulled the shirt snug around their mass and the sleeves didn’t manage to cover the meaty arms. As Brett’s gaze travelled downward, he saw the lines of an eight-pack pressed against the shirt and he could even see the separation of the quads through the jeans that seemed painted on the tree-sized legs. “Did ya say anything about tables that had been turned, little bro?”, Jason rumbled and emphasized the word ‘little’ like his brother had done seconds earlier. He stepped toward his brother. Jason’s knees weakened as his brother seemed to swell with every step he came closer. He had to tilt his head back more and more to keep looking into Jason’s eyes. As his brother stopped a few feet from him, the massive guy eclipsed him completely: Jason’s 6’8 feet body towered over Brett’s 5’9 body and his brother’s shoulders were at least twice as wide as his own. “Guess what, little bro: I grew too”, Jason growled grinningly, “I told ya I cursed yar ass. For every pound ya gain, I put on 10 pounds of muscle at first. The curse is wearing off and these last few months, it’s only 4 pounds. I’m now 327 fucking pounds of pure muscle!”. His last booming remark was followed by his left paw grabbing his shirt and ripping it into shreds from his body. Brett looked in horror and disbelief at the bare torso of his humongous brother. The wide shoulders formed a strong line topped with thick traps and capped with two bowling ball-sized delts that highlighted the separation between the different heads of the muscle. His ham-sized upper arms hung relaxed but menacingly heavily muscled at his sizes and flowed into meaty forearms crossed with cable-like muscles leading up to his huge paws. His chest looked like someone had stuffed two half watermelons under his skin: the hefty, striation-crossed pecs defied gravity despite their mass and formed a protruding rack of muscle that hid his nipples from view as they pointed straight down to the floor. The top half of his deeply grooved eight-pack was obscured by the shadow of the pecs but the last two rows of brick-sized abs rippled against the paper-thin skin and a dark treasure trail ran across the center of the lowest row of thick abs. Brett blinked at the sight: with every breath his brother took, his abs rippled and his pecs seemed to go burst through the paper-thin skin they stretch to the max. Jason laughed smugly at his brother’s reaction. “So, whatcha think, little bro?, he asked and bounced his chest like his brother had done just minutes earlier. Brett’s eyes widened as the massive rack of muscle atop his brother’s chest danced before him and exploded in a display of striations and veins. He felt a jolt go through his cock beneath the towel as blood began rushing toward it. “Let’s compare our bodies”, Jason rumbled and moved his brother in front of the large mirror. “Some old mirror from the gym I put on here”, he said as he noted his brother’s quizzical look. Brett stared at his reflection that now seemed way less intimidating than before. He saw his brother pull down his pants and noticed how his boxers were stretched tight around his waist and pushed up by the mass of his tree-sized quads. He also noted that the front of the boxers were fully stuffed and stretched by his brother’s package. “Right, let’s check things out”, Jason said and positioned himself a few feet behind his brother. “I think yar invisibly when I’m standing behind ya, bro”, he rumbled with a grin. Brett looked at their reflection and gulped: his body seemed to drown into his brother’s beastly frame. His own well-muscled shoulders ended a few inches shy of where his brother’s canon ball-sized ones began. His own muscular arms were sticks compared to the monster arms of his brother that hung at his sides. He saw a small tent beginning to form beneath his towel as his cock kept hardening. He inhaled sharply as his brother put his hands on his hips and flared his lats: Jason seemed to almost double in broadness and eclipsed him completely. “Flex yar left arm, little bro”, Jason commanded as he relaxed his pose. Brett did as he was told. He raised his left arm and flexed as hard as he could. His 21 inch arm hardened into a fleshy orb of hard muscle topping a thickly muscled tricep. “Remember that last time I only had half an inch on ya? 18.5 inches to your 18 inches. Seems like ya put on some size. How small are yar arms now, little bro?”, Jason asked. “21 inches”, Brett muttered. “Let’s compare then”, Jason said as he took a step closer and he extended his own left arm behind his brother’s flexed one. Brett couldn’t believe the sight: even fully outstretched his brother’s arm looked more defined than his own flexed one. And then Jason flexed… His bicep didn’t just harden, it exploded upward and outward to form a perfectly round hill drenched in veins that eclipsed his own arm like a mountain eclipses a boulder. Even Jason’s low-hanging, titanic tricep was visible beneath Brett’s tricep. “How… euhrm… how big…”, Brett muttered without taking his eyes from the incredible sight in the mirror. “28.5 inches of steely-hard muscle, little bro”, Jason answered. “Just look at how my canon outsizes yar feeble gun”, he added. Jason suddenly lowered his arm and placed his paw atop his brother’s flexed arm. Brett shivered as the hot paw grabbed his upper arm and he felt the fingers dig slightly into his tricep. He hardened his flex some more to resist but his brother’s strong fingers dug into his flexed upper arm as if the hard muscle was pure jelly. He winced in pain as the vise-like grip crushed the ball of muscle atop his arm. “P….please, bro”, he pleaded and his right hand reached for his brother’s wrist. “Jeez. I’m not even trying. Yar so weak, little bro”, Jason replied and hardened his grip a final time before releasing his brother’s upper arm. “Let’s check yar wheels, little bro”, he added. Brett was still inhaling deeply, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in his right upper arm when his huge brother barked his second command. He pulled the towel aside gently to let his left leg appear through the split without exposing his semi-hard cock. He flexed his quad, making the deep lines appear between the mass of hard muscle atop his leg and the prominent tear drop shape form next to his knee cap. His legs had always been one of his best-developed muscle groups. Jason looked in the mirror at the display of his brother’s muscular quads. Without a remark, he closed the distance between them, positioned himself directly behind his brother and placed his own leg against his brother’s. Brett whimpered as he felt his brother’s thick rack of pecs push into his neck and the back of his head. His eyes were drawn down at the image of his brother’s leg. He couldn’t believe the sheer size of the monster leg pressed against his own heavily muscled one. Even though his brother’s leg was still relaxed, it dwarfed his own completely in length and thickness. The hard lines on his own flexed quad were nothing compared to the crevices high-lighting the separate heads of his brother’s still relaxed quad. And then, Jason flexed his quad… Brett blinked as his brother’s quad seemed to explode in size and hardness: the crevices turned into deep canyons as the muscles forming his quad hardened beneath the paper-thin skin. The tear drop shape totally obscured his brother’s knee cap and thick veins snaked across the hefty mass of meat atop the quad. “Wow’, he muttered and his cock jolted as it hardened even more. Jason switched his position slightly so that his two legs were against his brother’s legs and flexed them. Brett felt the superhuman legs flex and dig into his own. He tried resisting but his brother’s thick quads seemed like pure concrete. He felt like he was being crushed. “P…please, bro… you’re… hurting me…”, he pleaded again. “Weak runt”, Jason spat back and released his grip. As he did, the towel wrapped around his brother’s waist got pulled back and dropped to the floor. Brett was too busy rubbing his aching quads to notice his brother’s grin. “Seems like ya enjoy being close to me, little bro”, Jason said smugly as he saw his brother’s rock-hard 8 inches pointing straight at the mirror. “Can’t blame ya: even in the gym most guys can’t keep their eyes off me when I’m working out and sport wood when they share the shower. Hell, even I get turned on by me new bod. All these hard, huge muscles. Feels so fucking good to be the alpha”, he added. The thought of his own muscular superiority and totally dominating and outsizing his beefed up brother filled his mind. In a matter of seconds, his own cock sprang to life inside his boxers and raced to full hardness. With a tearing sound, the fleshy snake ripped away the boxers and reed itself from it’s fabric prison. Brett shivered in fair as he felt his brother’s rock-hard cock slap against his muscular ass. Memories of their last encounter in the shower whirled through his mind. He took a step forward to escape, but his brother shoved him to make him smack with his pecs against the mirror. He placed his hands against the cold glass to get away, but his brother’s paw landed on his shoulder, making him freeze in his tracks. He felt his brother’s breathing in his neck as Jason positioned his mouth next to his ear. “Remember last time? How my 8.5 incher made ya whine like a baby?”, Jason asked. Brett didn’t reply. His hole clenched in a ridiculous attempt to defend himself from his now beastly brother. His mind knew it was useless, but his natural instincts made his hole clench in a defensive reflex. “Guess what, little bro: my cock grew along with my muscles”, Jason went on, “Picture it: soon ya’ll have 14 inches of me inside ya.” Brett shuddered as his brother’s remark raced through his head. Images of an impossibly thick and unusually long cock popped up in his mind. Another jolt shot though his own painfully hard 8 incher. He tried speaking but the words died on his lips. “Have ya been looking forward to meeting again, little bro? Thinking to reclaim yar spot as the alpha?”, Jason asked. Brett nodded in response. He thought back at the countless times he had flexed in front of his mirror in his dorm room, comparing his beefed up frame to his brother’s body in the video Jason had sent him, jerking off at the mere thought of going to physically dominate his brother that had humiliated him. Every hope of realizing his plans made during his long workouts had molten away from his mind like snow in the sun. He knew there was no way he could stand up to his now over 80 pounds heavier brother. “Guess what, little bro: I have been eager to see ya again ever since my body exploded in size. I knew instantly ya had to roiding. Fuck, I gained like 60 pounds of pure muscle in three weeks. And the slabs of muscle only grew more and more on my bod”, Jason said into his brother’s ear, “Energy and testosterone coursing through my veins, feeding my ever growing muscles. Fuck, little bro, ya made me into a tank: unstoppable!”. Anticipation hung in the air for a split second. Then, Brett felt the thick head of his brother’s cock being positioned against his asscheeks. His breathing fastened as he knew what was coming. His brother’s strong paws placed on his left shoulder and right hip made any escape or even movement impossible. He closed his eyes and tried thinking of pleasant things. Images of himself dominating the football field formed inside his head, followed by images of him setting new PR’s in the gym with his grown body. None of Brett’s attempts was enough to prepare his mind for what came next. A loud, pain-filled shriek tore open Brett’s mouth and flew through the room as the thick head of his brother’s cock pushed inside. His tows curled against the floor. His hands clawed at the mirror. His back arched and pushed his neck and head into the thick rack of muscular pecs shoving against him. His breathing froze inside his chest. His heartbeat pulsed inside his ears. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t focus his mind on anything else to relax: the sheer size of his brother’s cock was the center of his entire existence at that moment. “Still enjoying my new size, little bro?”, Jason asked sarcastically into his brother’s ear, “Feeling the difference with last time?”. Brett couldn’t answer: his mouth was torn open in a soundless scream. His knees buckled from a combination of pain and pleasure, sending trembling motions through his 241 pound body. Jason felt his brother’s muscular body shake in his firm grasp. He continued pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside the helpless athlete in his grip. “There we are”, he rumbled inside his brother’s ear as he pushed the final inch of his cock inside him. Brett didn’t know what was happening: black dots danced in front of his eyes and agonizing jolts of pain made his overstretched ass spasm. He was forced to stand on his toes as the entire length of his brother’s manhood filled him. He felt his brother’s trimmed pubes brush against his ass, a scratching sensation that felt somehow pleasant. But the very center of his being, the essence of his entire existence at that moment was the searing hot, thick snaked that filled him unlike anything he’d ever felt. His own cock spasmed wildly into the air. Jason noted the look of pain, pleasure and sheer ecstasy on his brother’s face. He felt the overstretched ass spasm around his thick cock, sending a responsive feeling of electrical pleasure through his rock-hard shaft. “Mugh. So fucking tight”, he growled into his brother’s ear. His left paw released his brother’s shoulder and grabbed on to the 241 pound athlete’s left hip. Brett felt his brother grab his waist tightly. He moaned in relief as he felt the cock withdrawing from his ass. With an audible ‘pop’ the fleshy snake left his ass and he inhaled deeply. His body shivered as his knees buckled again in weakness but the strong paws held him upright. He inhaled loudly and deeply to fill his burning lungs with oxygen. The nerves around his wrecked hole sent painful stabs to his brain. But a feeling of emptiness dominated his mind. After what felt like an eternity to Brett, but were only seconds in reality, Jason’s 14 incher was pushed back in. “Oughnpf”, Brett squawked as the fleshy snake sought its way again inside him. Once more, the thickness of the engorged shaft destroyed his defenses and overstretched his ass. He felt goosebumps brake out cross his body and his back arched him against his brother’s protruding shelf of pecs again. The black dots came dancing before his eyes once more as inch after inch of rock-hard meat invaded him for the second time. “Mugh. A bit less tight, but still a near perfect fit”, Jason said as he buried his dick completely inside his brother. Brett had closed his eyes in complete submission. He stood on his toes, impaled on his beastly brother’s 14 incher, feeling smaller and weaker than ever. His own cock still stubbornly hard. Jason grabbed his brother’s hips more tightly and began thrusting back and forth, plowing his brother’s ass as his cock moved back and forth inside it. He looked into the mirror and saw the striations on his freakishly wide shoulder as the massive delts bulged from the movement. His massive triceps jutted from the sides of his arms. Brett’s face was shoved against the cold mirror, drool leaking from his opened mouth onto the glass. His body rocked under the force of his massive brother’s thrusts. He felt the thick pecs push into his neck as the 327 beast inhaled and the strong breath ruffled his hair when his brother exhaled. The low grunts rumbled into his ears. “Ughnpf”, he groaned as his brother upped the pace and force of his thrusts. His left hand let go of the mirror and reached down. He closed it around his own throbbing 8 incher. He began pumping his shaft as the grunts of his brother got deeper and the breathing onto his hair got faster. “BRO…ughn”, he yelped as he came in long spurts against the mirror. His entire body spasmed and cramped up as his balls blasted out their load with an unprecedented force and violence. Jason felt his brother clamp tight around his cock and heard his cum splatter against the mirror. The thought of totally dominating him sent him over the edge. He buried his dick violently and deeply inside his brother as his lemon-sized balls drew tight and rushed out their load. His cock twitched forcefully as it spewed its hot liquid into the 241 pound athlete. “YEAUGHN”, he roared in a sound that rivaled thunder and rattled the window of the room. Brett’s eyes widened in disbelief as he felt the fleshy snake fill him with cum. The pressure kept building up inside him while his six-pack began bloating and he felt the hot liquid drip along the inside of his legs.
  16. One Jason heard the rumbling sounds coming from his brother's room. "Can't he just do anything quiet", he said to himself and returned to the book he was reading. He had been granted a full academic scholarship to the prestigious university a few blocks away from his house. He was all too happy he would get a top degree and could do it from the comfort of his own room. Brett, Jason's brother, was throwing his clothes atop his bed and putting them into the two large bags on the floor. He was eager to leave for Orchid University and was going to enjoy living on campus. His athletic skills had earned him a football scholarship and he just knew that professional football was his future. Jason was washing his hands when his brother entered the bathroom. He rolled his eyes as he saw that his brother was walking around shirtless once again. Despite the fact they were twins, their brown hair and dark eyes was their only resemblance. At 5'8 and weighing 155 pounds, Jason was a typical nerd: a smart guy, always buried in books, shy and somewhat clumsy. His triangular face and the absence of any beard whatsoever made him look more like a 15 year old. Brett on the other hand was a tad taller (5'9) but weighed an impressive 212 pounds of mostly muscle. He was a pure jock: when not out on the football field, he was pumping iron in the gym, didn't miss an opportunity to ditch his shirt to show off his muscular torso. His strong jaw line and five o'clock beard made him appear a few years older than 18. "Ya done here, little bro?", Brett asked in his deep baritone. "I was born first. That makes me the big brother technically", Jason replied in his higher voice. "You? The big brother? Think again", Brett said and flexed his right arm, "18 inches of power". "Muscle won't take you everywhere in life", Jason shot back. "I'll take brawn over brain every day, bro. How many chicks did your big brain get you so far?", Brett asked and caressed his six-pack, "My muscles got me every girl I wanted. Now be a good little boy and let me shower in peace". Jason shook his head and hurried away from the bathroom as his brother didn't even wait for his reaction to pull down his own pants. He heard the water turn on as he headed back to his room. "One day he's going to get what he deserves", he mumbled to himself. He entered his room and found a parcel on his desk. He opened the little box and discovered an old looking book. A small note fell from the book as he lifted it from the box. He retrieved it and read off the message: A small gift for someone greatly interested in books. Congratulations on year scholarship and good luck in university. Grandpa Jason opened the book and noticed it was some kind of ancient spell book. He knew his grandpa had a great collection of rare books. He had spent hours and hours with him in his library, fascinated by the tales his grandpa had told. Unfortunately, his grandparents lived on the other side of the country and visits had become very rare. He dove onto his bed and began reading the curious book. The next morning Brett took one of his signature long showers. Everyone in the house knowing what he was doing from the loud moans escaping the bathroom. He appeared bright and shining at the breakfast table, a skintight shirt hugging his torso. "Gotta feed this body", he mumbled with a full mouth as he took a fourth serving of pancakes. "Makes us proud, son", his father said, "Maintain the athletic heritage from our family". "Don't worry", Brett replied and gulped down a protein shake, "I will take the field by storm". He gulped down another shake, patted his six-pack and burped. "Fine. Let's get you off to Orchid university then", his father said and get up. "Jason, honey", his mother yelled, "we're off to take your brother to his campus. We'll be back tomorrow. There's plenty of food in the fridge." "Always with his head in the books", his father said while he shook his head and followed his wife and son to the car. Jason watched from the window in his room and saw his parents and his brother drive away. He went to the bathroom and headed into the long walk-in shower. He grinned as he noticed the traces of his brother's morning ritual on the tilled wall: several sticky stains of cum glistened on the dark tiles as they were slowly sliding down. "Luckily Brett always shoots his loads as high as possible up the wall", he said to himself. He pulled a fresh hanky from his pocket and let it soak up as much cum as possible. When he was done, he returned to his room and put the soaked fabric on his desk. He wrote the formula from the book on a piece of paper, according to the instructions. He then proceeded to reading the formula out loud: "Let the body of he who's fluids shall cover this page bond with mine. Let my body fourfold gain whatever mass he should obtain". He grabbed the hanky and rubbed it along the page, smearing his brother's cum onto the paper. In the car, a sudden wave of dizziness hit Brett. His vision went dark for a split second but then returned to normal. In his room, Jason felt an analogue sensation shoot through his own body. He hid the paper inside his desk. And then, the semester got underway. ------------------------------------------------------------ One month later. Brett indeed did well on the football team. He was among the best of the freshmen and everyone agreed that he could lead the team one day. He had become friends with most of the 'big five': the five biggest guys on the team, the group of seniors that dominated their part of the game. Four of them had invited him over for a drink after his first month on the team. The fifth, Mike, the star quarterback who led the team hadn't bothered. He didn't hang out with anyone on the team: his rich parents had rented him a flat off campus and his natural arrogance made him a first class jerk. But his skills on the football field combined with his 240 pounds of muscle made him an almost unstoppable force on the field. Even in the locker room his teammates moved away when he came in. The competitive spirit on the team drove Brett to the gym every day combined with his practice out on the field. Jason eased through his classes with little effort, studying punctually and avoiding the jocks. He didn't have any real friends as he kept to himself in the back of most classes and always returned home. The curse he'd cast on his brother did have positive effects: he'd put on 20 pound of pure muscle since the start of the academic year. At 175 pounds of defined muscle, he looked more like a fitness model when he took off his shirt. Even his face now looked more like that of an 18 year old with a more squared jaw line and the hint of a beard. He kept his new physique well hidden underneath baggy shirts he took from his brother's closet. Only back at home, he went into his brother's room, took off the baggy shirt and admired the new mass on his torso. Brett didn't understand why his body wasn't reacting to his training regime. He decided to up the intensity of his training: he doubled his daily workouts and upped his protein consumption drastically, gulping down shakes whenever he could. During his new early morning workouts, he frequently bumped into Mike in the otherwise deserted gym. The huge star player only nodded to him as he went through his workout. The effects of his brother's increased training were quickly visible on Jason's body. During the next two weeks, he put on another 20 pounds of muscle. His new weight (195 pounds) and muscular arms (17 inches) made him look like a very well muscled fitness model. The once baggy shirts from his brother's closet now hugged his torso nicely and he no longer hid his physique. More heads turned his way as he passed to his classes and even his dad made proud comments. He began drinking protein shakes from the tubes left in his brother's room. One day he even decided to join the local gym. A bit nervous he stepped in and went to the front desk. "What can I do for you?", the guy behind the desk asked. "I'm new here", Jason said, "I would like to join this gym." "You're obviously used to working out", the guy stated as he took in Jason's body, "I'll let you try out for free and we'll discuss the possibilities after you training. Locker room's over there." "Thanks", Jason said. He went into the locker room, changed and entered the gym. Three other guys were working out as he entered. They nodded to him as he went to the bench press. His body seemed to know what to do and the next hour, Jason eased through a good workout. By the end, his pecs and triceps were pumped. He showered quickly and went to the bar to order a shake. The same guy from the desk made him a protein shake. "Had a good workout I see", the guy said and motioned to Jason's pumped arms. "Yeah", Jason replied, "I think I'll join this gym." "Good", the guy stated, "Membership for a month? Or a year?" "Make it a year", Jason answered, "And I'll have another shake too." "There you go", the guy said, "All done. Hope to see you again soon." Jason gulped down his second protein shake and went home. It was the first of his daily visits to the gym. As the semester went on and got near the end, Brett's performance on the field began waning. His body lacked its usual level of energy, during practice he went from being the best among the freshmen to a good top five and in the gym most of his lifts were off. He still looked muscular but hadn't gained one single pound since arriving at Orchid University despite his grueling workout regime and the vast amount of protein he was ingesting. He was probably close to overtraining for once was happy that exams were coming up so he would have a break from training. --------------------------------------------------------------------- At the end of the semester Brett had passed his exams reasonably and was happy to return home for the holidays. He took a train home and arrived mid-afternoon. He entered the house and found his brother lying on the couch. "You're home early", Jason said as he sat up. Brett noticed his brother's deepened voice and blinked as he recognized the shirt. "Are you wearing one of my shirts?", he asked. "Yea", Jason replied, "Mine don't fit anymore since my recent growth spurt. Yours are fine. Bit tight though." Brett didn't respond but took in how the shirt clung to his formerly bony brother's torso. "Huh", he said as he noticed his brother was speaking. "I asked if ya want to go hit the gym. It's time for my workout", Jason repeated while he stood up. "You work out?", Brett asked incredulously. Despite feeling far from okay, he couldn't resist the chance of showing his grown brother who was the alpha. "Fine", he said, "I'll go change and I'll show ya how a real man trains, little bro." A few minutes later, Jason drove both of them to the gym in his new car. None of them spoke a word, the tension between the two brothers hanging in the air: Jason eager to show what his new muscles could do and Brett determined to highlight his dominance. They continued their silence as Jason parked the car and they walked into the gym. "Yo Sam", Jason said to the guy behind the desk, "Brought my bro today. Ya mind if he joins me?". "Bro, I used to train here. I'm a member. Still have my card", Brett interjected and handed his card to Sam. "Yar membership isn't active if ya didn't pay", Jason answered. "Card is no longer active", Sam read from the computer screen, "Do you want to reactivate you membership?". "He's only here for a week. Ya mind if he trains with me for free?", Jason asked. "No problem, J. I'll arrange it", Sam replied. "J?", Brett asked as they entered the locker room. "The guys around here call me J", Jason said and tossed his bag into the locker, "Let's toss some weight around". Brett followed his brother into the deserted gym up to the rack of dumbbells. "Friday is back", Jason said as he grabbed a pair of heavy dumbbells and began doing rows. Brett followed reluctantly: his back wasn't his strong point and his old level of energy was still lacking. He couldn't believe how easy his brother handled the heavy dumbbells. The guy kept cranking out reps when his back was burning from the effort and he dropped the dumbbells. The next hour Jason cruised through his workout while Brett struggled to keep up. Whenever Jason saw his brother grab a weight, he made sure to grab a heavier one and pump out more reps. "Something wrong, bro?", he asked as he saw Brett trying to catch his breath. "Feeling a bit tired from my trip home", Brett muttered in between deep breaths, "We're done yet?". "One more exercise, bro", Jason said and walked over to the pull up station. He grabbed the bar and performed 50 perfect reps. Brett looked at his brother in disbelief, watching the muscles on his wide back work. He nodded 'no' as his brother motioned him to start. "Come on, bro. Thought ya were gonna show me how a real man trains", Jason said smugly and folded his arms in front of his chest to emphasize the new thickness of his biceps. "Fine", Brett replied to maintain some of his old dominant pose. He grabbed the bar and pulled himself up. He tried to ignore how little fluent the motion looked compared to his brother. He reached 15 reps before his grip faltered and he jumped down. He avoided his brother's gaze while he sat down on a nearby bench. "I'm done", he mumbled exhaustedly. Jason just grinned and performed three more long sets of pull ups. "Let's call it a day, bro", he said and walked out of the gym, enjoying how his pumped lats pushed his arms out from his sides and added wideness to his posture. "Prepare me a shake for after my shower, Sam", he said as he passed the bar. Brett followed his brother, marveled at the formerly shy guy's new dominant attitude and the wideness of his frame. As they entered the locker room and begin stripping down, he felt like saying something to excuse his lame work out if he wanted to keep his dominant position in the family. "You're lucky I'm tired from my trip, Jason", he said, "If not you would have begged for mercy". The lack of conviction in his tone only emphasized the hollowness of his words and only diminished his dominance. "Tired. Right, bro", Jason added sarcastically. Savoring how his brother tried to ignore their new statuses. He didn't even bother to look aside and kept stripping down. Brett entered the shower first and went to the furthest shower head in the right corner. He faced the wall as he turned on the water. His mind still trying to process the new reality. A few moments later he heard another shower turning on and he cautiously turned his head a bit. He saw his brother standing under the shower in the center of the left wall. Jason wasn't facing the wall as he showered. Ever since he'd grown he didn't miss an opportunity to display his body. Brett glanced from the corner of his eyes, blinking when he saw his brother's biceps twitch as the guy washed his hair. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes. "I'm gonna have my shake, bro. Don't take too long, I wanna get home for dinner. Gotta feed my body", Jason said and left the shower. A few minutes later Brett showed up in the bar. His brother was gulping down a second protein shake based on the other empty glass on the bar. "Yeah, up to 215 since last week", he heard Jason say to Sam as he approached. "Ya pay these shakes, bro. I got ya in for free. See ya tomorrow, Sam", Jason said and stood up. Brett quickly paid his brother's shakes and followed Jason to his car. Back home, Brett was greeted by his parents and the family enjoyed their first family dinner in months. Unlike before he'd left to Orchid University, Brett wasn't being served first. Jason took the biggest steak and the largest serving of potatoes. After the first serving, Jason and Brett reached for the steak that was left. A quick glance and a slight flex of his brother's right arm made Brett retreat his fork and he watched his brother devour the juicy steak. Just three months ago there would have been no question to whom would eat the last steak. Somehow his once lanky brother had become more dominant while Brett had been at Orchid University. As his brother helped himself to his third serving of potatoes, Brett excused himself and mumbled an excuse of being fatigued from his trip. "Hope ya're feeling better tomorrow for our work out, bro", Jason said with a full mouth. The next morning Brett did feel better when he got up. He went down and found his brother dressed in his workout gear at the table. "Feeling fresh, bro?", Jason asked and gulped down a protein shake. "Let's hit the gym and I'll show you", Brett spat back and made himself a shake too. "Can't wait", Jason replied with a grin. Just minutes later the two brothers drove off to the gym, greeted Sam and entered the weight room. "Arm day, Jason", Brett said and grabbed a 80 pound bar. This time he was going to make his brother follow his lead. He cranked out reps, enjoying the feeling of his biceps pumping. Brett just grinned and grabbed the 90 pound barbell as a warm up. He made sure to pump out 5 reps more than his brother. "Time for the real work", Brett stated and grabbed the 150 pound bar. He groaned and his face reddened instantly as he managed 8 reps. He dropped the bar and looked aside with a grin. The grin froze on his face as he saw his brother curling the 170 pound bar. Unlike him, his brother even managed three sets. "What's up next, bro?", Jason asked matter-off-factly. "Hammer curls", Brett said angrily and grabbed a pair of 80 pound dumbbells. After two reps the familiar feeling of fatigue and weakness began spreading in his biceps. At his sixth rep his biceps were burning painfully and he had to drop the weight. Jason shook his head, grabbed the 100 pound dumbbells and began pumping out reps casually. "…3,4,5,6,7,8…", he counted out loud to stress his new strength. He managed 12 nice reps before gently lowering the weight. Brett didn't want to go down without a fight and grabbed the 80 pounders again. This time the painful burning filled his biceps at the first reps. His arms shook, his body trembled as hoisted the dumbbells up. After three lousy reps, his grip gave out and the weights crashed down on the floor. "Watch it, bro. Sam doesn't like weights being thrown down. Show some respect.", Jason said while he began his second set. He once more performed 12 perfectly controlled reps before ending his set. "Next one", Brett said as he racked his dumbbells. "Not done just yet, bro", Jason replied and performed a third and fourth set just to show off his new position. It felt like he was getting more dominant with every rep he did. "Now we're done", he said after his fourth set. "Preacher curls", Brett muttered and stepped over to the machine. He selected a 100 pounds and began pumping out reps. Jason sat down on the adjacent machine, selected 200 pounds and followed his brother's lead. The competition was on and neither one wanted to quit first. After 20 reps, Brett's arms cramped up completely and he had to stop. His body felt completely drained. He looked aside and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw his brother continuing his grueling set. Jason felt totally energized. His body fed on the energy of his brother that pushed him beyond his limits. "…35,36,37…38…39…40", he groaned and ended his set. The pump in his biceps was unreal. "That was fun, bro. Let's hit triceps now", he said and stood up. "Wh…what?", Brett blurred out in total disbelief. Jason grinned at his brother's reaction. "Sure thing, bro. Biceps are just half the work on arm day", he said and returned to the dumbbells. "Or are ya tired again?", he added. Brett followed his brother but didn't train anymore. He just handed him the weights he demanded. He felt his once dominant position weaken with every rep his brother performed and even handed him his towel when he asked for it. He simply watched After an hour, Jason finally decided that their workout was over. His arms were fully engorged, his biceps and triceps pumped after the torture he had put them through. "Can't even flex from the pump", he said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Fine. Let's hit the shower. And bring my towel, bro", he stated and left. Brett grabbed his brother's towel and followed the guy. He gazed at the defined, hard triceps that jutted out from the back of his meaty arms. "Thanks, bro", Jason said as he grabbed the towel from his brother's hand and ripped his shirt off. "Can't get it over my head. My arms are too pumped", he said as he saw the shocked expression on his brother's face. "When ya train like a real man, ya swill feel this too", he added and strutted into the showers. Brett followed a few minutes later. He entered the shower zone and saw his brother standing in the center of the left wall, his body on full display for everyone. He looked away quickly when his brother made eye contact. He retreated to the furthest shower on the opposite wall and face the wall like the day before. Now and then, he turned his head slightly to peak at his brother. The way his biceps swelled as his brother massaged his hair made a faint 'wow' escape his mouth. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes again. "Time for my shake. Don't make me wait, bro", Jason said while he left. Brett inhaled deeply when he was alone in the shower zone. The second training with his brother had made another deep dent in his once unquestionable dominant position. Deep down he knew he wasn't the alpha anymore but his brain refused to accept the new reality. He turned off the shower, got dressed and went to the bar. He blinked as he saw Sam feeling his brother's left arm. Jason noticed his brother. "Now ya know what a real arms feels like, Sam", he said and gulped down his second protein shake. He got up, winked to Sam and left. Brett wanted to follow his brother but was asked to pay for the shakes again. He did and followed his brother to his car. On the ride home, he took short glances at his brother's arms, watching the corded muscles on his forearms tense as he shifted gears. Back home he rushed into his room and didn't come out until dinner. As it was Christmas the next day, the gym was closed and Brett was relieved not having to join his brother again. At noon the family gathered for their traditional feast. The food was delicious and most of it ended up on Jason's plate. Everyone watched, the parents lovingly and Brett in disbelief, as Jason wolfed down serving after serving. "Ya done, bro?", he asked and took the half serving of meat lying on Brett's plate. When every dish was emptied, he patted his tight six-pack happily. "Gotta feed my body", he said, "Fuelling up for our workout tomorrow. Can't wait for it, bro". "Me too", Brett said unconvincingly. "I'm so glad you two finally share an interest and spent some time together. I'm proud of both of you", their father said. The next morning Brett found his brother once again waiting for him at the breakfast table. Minutes later they were driving toward the gym. As the previous times none of the brothers spoke a word and the tension hanging in the air was like a thunderstorm ready to explode. Both of them knew it would be a decisive moment: Brett was fighting to maintain his former dominance over his brother and Jason was ready to finally claim the top position as alpha of the family. They maintained their silence until they entered the weight room. "Let's smash chest", Jason said. He put on his usual warm up weight and cranked out 20 quick reps. "I'll show ya how it's done, bro", Brett said smugly and cranked out 20 equally fast reps. He knew that his chest was his best muscle group and he wasn't going to step down from the confrontation today. Jason added some weight to the bar and did his first working set of 12 solid reps. Brett followed suit. Jason continued adding weight to the bar after each set. After their third set Brett's chest was beginning to feel fatigued. He'd even one rep less than his brother. "Fourth set", Jason groaned as he pushed up the bar and cranked out another 8 reps. Brett got under the bar, pushed it up and felt his arms shake. He got to 5 reps before his pecs gave out and he re-racked the bar. He stood up, trying to catch his breath and felt his face turn red. "Not so strong after all", Jason said smugly. He added two more plates to the bar and got another solid 7 reps. "Put on some more weight, bro", he said as he laid down on the bar. Brett did as he was told and watched in disbelief as his brother pumped out 5 reps with the heavy bar. It was 30 pounds more than his own max. He felt his once undisputed position slipping away. "Dumbbell presses", Jason said as he stood up from the bench press and wandered over to the free weights. He grabbed the third heaviest pair and began his exercise. Brett followed suit but took a pair of considerably lighter dumbbells. "A bit over trained from football", he mumbled to his brother. Even with the lighter weights he couldn't pump out the reps of his brother. He dropped the weights to the floor and looked in disbelief as his brother grabbed the heaviest dumbbells. "Don't hurt yourself, bro. I never managed that weight", he said. Jason grinned and cranked out 8 solid reps, enjoying the feeling of the pump spreading through his chest. "Too bad they don't have any heavier dumbbells", he grunted as he did three more sets. He sat up, racked the dumbbells and went to the dipping station. "You go first, bro", he said, "ya had time to catch yar breath while I was still dumbbell pressing." Brett grabbed the handles and began dipping. He got 12 nice reps before his arms began shaking. He managed two more reps before jumping down. Jason grabbed the handles and copied his brother's movement. On his twelfth rep, he intentionally made his arms tremble. Then, he continued dipping. Brett's eyes widened as his brother passed the 30 rep point with perfect form. He felt the balance of dominance between them shift with every passing set. "50", Jason groaned and stepped down from the dipping station, "You're up, bro." Brett reluctantly grabbed the handles again. By now his chest felt totally exhausted but he couldn't give up just like that. He only got to 6 reps before his form faltered completely. Jason went through his second set, getting to another solid 40 reps. He stepped down and looked at his brother. Brett simply shook 'no' and pretended to suffer from cramp. His mind on the verge of accepting he had been knocked down by his once lanky brother. Jason blasted through three more sets of 35 dips. He inhaled deeply as he stepped down from the dipping station, his stretched tank top protesting with some tearing sounds as his pumped pecs inflated further. "Pec deck is up next, bro", he said. From that point on Brett simply followed his brother through the gym and watched as he pushed out rep after rep, and feeling him get more dominant with every rep. An hour after they'd arrived, Jason finished his fifth set of pushups and got up. His sweat-drenched tank top was glued to his pumped torso. "Enough for today", he grunted and walked toward the locker room, not even looking at his brother. None of the brothers spoke a word when they began stripping off their workout gear in the locker room. Both of them knowing that the balance of dominance had shifted completely and definitively. Brett's mind was still processing the acceptance of being taken down a notch and Jason was savoring in his new position. "Someone pumped his pecs today." Brett turned around at the remark and saw Sam entering the locker room and admiring his brother's chest. His eyes widened as the guy stepped up to his brother and groped the pumped mass of muscle atop his chest. "Ya like feeling a real chest, don't ya", Jason asked while he let the smaller guy worship his pecs. "Come on. Flex 'em, J.", Sam pleaded. Brett just stared at the unbelievable scene in front of him. Jason grinned and flexed his chest, making striations explode under the smaller guy's touch. "Ya know what to do, Sam", he said casually while he stared right into his brother's eyes. Brett's eyes widened when the smaller guy kneeled, slid down his brother's pants to reveal his plump cock and took it in his mouth. He couldn't believe what was happening right there in the center of the locker room. It was as if he wasn't there for those two guys and his brother kept staring directly into his eyes with a smug expression on his face. Within seconds Jason spilled his load into Sam's eager mouth. When his orgasm wore off, he pulled his cock from the guy's mouth and walked to the shower zone. "Don't ya need a shower, bro?", he asked as he passed his brother. Brett watched Sam stand up and disappear and followed his brother's example. The next morning Brett awoke late. His parents had already left for work and his brother was apparently still in his room as he walked into the bathroom. He ditched his boxers and entered the long walk-in shower. He turned on the shower and enjoyed the hot water cascading down on his body. A grin formed on his face as he thought back at the countless times he'd jerked off against the tilled wall. Lately even his morning wood seemed less hard than at the end of summer. A faint noise caught his attention and he turned off the water. He turned around and a yelp escaped his mouth as he saw his fully nude brother standing at the entrance of the walk-in shower. "What the fuck, Jason", he said angrily while he put his hands in front of his cock. "I asked if ya were done here, little bro", Jason replied grinningly. His deepened baritone easily rivaling his brother's deep voice. Brett didn't react to the 'little bro'. He just stared at his brother's grown body. Standing just a few feet away, his brother looked truly intimidating. Just a few months earlier no one would have told they were brothers: he outsized Jason by a good 60 pounds. Now the tables had turned. Despite being close to his brother's weight, Brett's 212 pounds seemed way less intimidating than Jason's 215 pounds. Brett's muscles seemed a bit saggy: his pecs hung slightly as if their weight pulled them down and his shoulders hunched forward making his posture lack his once usual aura of strength and confidence. Jason on the other hand radiated power: his pecs protruded firmly from his chest and his wide shoulders formed a strong line capped with his rounded delts. His now squared face added to his masculine look. The guy seemed to ooze power and confidence. Jason grinned smugly while his brother scanned his torso. "Miring my bod like after all our workouts in the gym shower, little bro?", he asked casually. Brett tore his gaze from the ripped six-pack and focused on his brother's eyes. He blinked when he realized he had to look up slightly to stare Jason in the eye. "I'm no longer just technically the bigger brother", Jason said, "How big are yar arms?". "18 inches", Brett replied and tensed his right arm to show off his size. "18.5 inches cold", Jason replied. He raised his arms and threw a double bicep pose to emphasize his point. Brett could only stare as his brother displayed his superior form. Ever since their workout the balance of dominance had shifted entirely in favor of his brother and now Brett felt how Jason was imposing his alpha-status completely. "What does half an inch really mean", he muttered unconvincingly. Jason hardened his flex some more in reply to his brother's remark. "We both know what it means, little bro", he groaned and relaxed his pose. "Besides, I'm bigger everywhere", he added. "Huh?", Brett muttered as he pretended not to know what his brother meant. Jason stepped closer while he casually stroked his cock, grabbed his brother's ass and pulled him in. Their hard cocks brushed against each other. "See what I mean, little bro?", he asked. Brett followed his brother's gaze down and inhaled sharply: his brother's cock pressed into his the base below his cock while his own cock lay atop his brother's dick without touching his brother's groin and didn't rival his brother's one in girth either. "See, little bro. Mine's longer and thicker than yours. I'm bigger everywhere!", Jason boomed and savored his new dominant status. His erection jolted underneath his brother's hard dick. Brett broke from his brother's grasp and took a step back. "How did you do it, Jason?", he asked, "you were a runt before I left and now you're…". "The bigger man, ya mean", Jason rumbled, "I cast a curse. When you train, my body gains the size you would have gained. The more ya train, the bigger I get. And ya can't stop training or ya'll lose yar scholarship. So, ya will only make me bigger and bigger, little bro." "Cursed me?", Brett let out, "You're just on steroids. Now get lost so I can shower in peace." "Ya're in no position to tell me what to do, little bro", Jason said, "How many times did ya storm in here when I was showering and told me to leave? Flexing yar arms to intimidate me? Mocking me with yar brawn being superior to me brain? Guess what, little bro: I have brains and brawn now. I'm the new alpha here. Ya should now yar new place." Brett retreated some more, his back pressing against the tilled wall. He had never felt this intimidated before and his once runty br