m/m Draining my Friend (Six Chapters Total)

[GainsWorshipper]

I tried my best not to show that I was excited, but my heart pounded in my chest as I began massaging Cris's shoulders.

 

I know he asked me to do it because I was the farthest thing from a sexual being he could imagine: large, doughy, and friendly. (And, I suppose, because I had some degree of untrained skill at massage.)  But I did it anyways, just for the opportunity to put my hands on him. The massages were always just his back, shoulders, neck, and occasionally his scalp. In my fantasies, though, he always asked me to follow it up with his biceps, his chest, his legs. What I really wanted was to get him on a massage table or bed, and convince him that it should be done naked.

 

I had never seen him naked, and had only ever seen him without a shirt one time. The image had remained fixed in my mind, like the one lucid moment of a dream otherwise forgotten. His body was mostly hairless - although I wasn't sure if that was natural or the result of manscaping. I suspected the latter, if only because he also shaved his head. His body had been gorgeous then, and although he had gained a little weight in the years since, I still found him to be intensely attractive. I felt like being able to touch him, even in this non-sexual way, in front of friends, was an honor beyond anything I could hope for.

 

As for myself, I was rather hairy. I had formerly had a solid, but lean musculature, although years of stress and bad diet decisions had literally weighed on me. I had recently decided to turn things around, but my progress was slow and hard-earned. I had spent many a morning at the gym, and the rest of each day wondering why increased exercise and an improved diet were giving me such slow results. I'd have done anything to improve faster.

 

As the party we were at wore on, Cris turned to address me. "I should probably get home. Gotta be up early tomorrow." He raised his eyebrows as he did so. I knew for a fact he had no reason to be up early the next day, but I took the eyebrow raising as a request not to question it in front of friends.

 

"You're my ride," I reminded him. "So wait for me to get my shoes on." We said our goodbyes to the hostess and other friends, then Cris watched, somewhat impatiently, as I pulled on and tied my shoes.

 

As his car pulled out of the driveway, he told me, "I actually wanted to grab a drink tonight. Want to come with?"

 

"Sure," I shrugged. I had no other plans, and hanging out together would be more fun than going home alone.

 

We got to his place and took a rideshare to the bar. I wasn't really a fan of the taste of alcohol, so I only had two cocktails whose fruitiness disguised a fairly high alcohol content. After an hour or two or nursing our drinks and chatting, we caught a ride back to his place.

 

"You can stay at my place tonight," he said. "You shouldn't drive, you had like... two drinks." He laughed. When we got inside, he brought out some pillows and blankets, laying them on the couch.

 

"Are we going to bed already? It's only eleven-something."

 

"No," he answered. "Just getting things ready for you." He then settled down on the couch beside me and turned on a comedic cartoon we had watched a few episodes of prior. Ten minutes in, he asked me, "Can you massage my neck again? What you were doing earlier felt great."

 

"Okay," I said, and I positioned myself on the couch so that he could sit right in front of me, between my legs, spread wide. My cock, already half hard, stiffened as he accidentally grazed my package with his knuckles. The massage lasted through that episode and most of another before I suggested we move. "Want to do this lying down? On your bed?"

 

He was tired, and we were both still pretty buzzed. I'm not sure if that's why he agreed, but he seemed eager to get his knots worked out. When we reached the bedroom, he retreated to his bathroom, closed the door, and came out moments later with gym shorts on. It was clear to me that he had taken off his underwear as well as his pants; his flaccid penis swayed as he walked, and I couldn't see an underwear line where the shorts clung to his  firm, round ass. As he crawled into bed, I stopped him. "Shirt off. I'll grab lotion."

 

He was leery of removing his shirt in front of people, an artifact of having gained some weight. He clearly didn't consider himself to be as attractive as I did. With some gentle prodding though, he removed the shirt. As I remembered, his chest was hairless. He had a faint happy trail leading from his belly button to his waistband, and dark underarm hair. His chest, while not as defined as it had been when we met, was more muscular than it had been a few months prior. It was clear he had been hitting the gym - he was getting some impressive results. He didn't quite have abs again yet, but his abdomen was much closer to flat than mine had been in a long time. My mouth watered as I took in the sight of him. Truth be told, it was not the only body part producing fluid as an involuntary reaction to seeing him. My dick, which had deflated back to a semi, throbbed again, squeezing a large bead of precum into my boxer briefs. Luckily, Cris had turned away and not noticed the visible bulge as he lied down on the bed.

 

I grabbed the lotion and rubbed it between my hands, warming up a bit. As soon as he was flat, I straddled him and began working from the neck down. His neck had to be about 17 inches. Even his back was gaining definition. I couldn't believe that I was even allowed to touch this man.

 

Around the time I reached the small of his back, I realized I was sweating through my shirt. Cris was so engrossed in the massage that I figured it wouldn't bug him for me to take off my shirt, so I told him I was going to. He mumbled an indistinct affirmative back at me. I continued massaging.

 

As I reached his waistband, I silently debated what to do next, then moved back up to his arms. His biceps looked huge. I could feel my own arms beginning to burn from the effort of massaging him, but I kept up the massage through the soreness, my sweat and adoration a sacrifice to this demigod. As I worked out a knot on his left triceps, he groaned in pleasure. The sound of it made my semi awaken once more.

 

I knew he could feel my erection against him, so when I finished his arms, I moved on to something I had never massaged before: his legs. I started with his calves, which were rock hard and as hairy as mine, but paler. I was quite proud of my calves, as they were the only part of my body that were still beautifully muscled. His were hard and well-defined with muscle, although slightly smaller than mine. As I moved up to Cris's thighs, I became conscious of the burn of exertion in my own thighs.

 

At first I thought I merely needed to reposition myself to distribute my weight from my thighs, but then I realized that they were very much at rest where I was. There was no reason for my thighs to feel exertion right now. I looked down at them, pausing the massage for a moment and standing. My thighs looked leaner. I couldn't explain it. It felt as if I had just done an hour on the stairmaster. I stared at myself dumbfounded for a long moment, hands resting on his upper thighs, perhaps an inch or so below the bunched-up hemline of the shorts that stretched tight across the firm, twin mounds of his ass.

 

I was broken out of my reverie by Cris, who groaned out, "Fine, I'll take them off. But keep going." As I looked at him, I realized he also looked slightly smaller, but instead of looking more lean, he somehow just looked deflated. As he slipped off his shorts, though, I got a great look at his meaty glutes and my mouth began to water. They were as pale as his legs, but where his thighs and calves were covered in dark hair, his ass was lightly dusted with fine colorless hairs that brought peach fuzz to my mind. I dropped my pants, leaving me wearing nothing but boxer briefs. They were loose on me at the waist. They never had been before.

 

I felt the burn as I moved up his thighs and began to work the pale mounds of his ass. They were firm and taut, and as full of knots as his back. I could feel my own glutes tightening up as I kneaded his. I didn't understand why it was happening, but I wasn't going to quit. Maybe I was just hallucinating it in my drunken state. I had had two drinks, after all.

 

After I finished his ass, I drummed on it a little and told him, "Lemme get your chest." He rolled over placidly.

 

His cock was soft, but still fairly large. He was definitely a show-er, not a grower. His happy trail extended down to a dark patch of trimmed pubes. He was circumcised, with a visible difference in shade on either side of the scar. The inch between his head and the scar was much lighter than the dark scar, as were the five inches between scar and base. I tore my eyes away from it to return to his shoulders, then his pecs, and back to his arms. I moved my way down his abdomen. As I worked each area, I felt my body lighting up as if the muscles were on fire. I was shaking as if approaching muscle failure. I avoided looking at myself as much as possible, but there was no way to not see my forearms looking corded, or the way my abdomen was bulging less with each passing moment while I pressed into his. I could practically feel my love handles melting off as I put pressure on his hips. I returned to his legs. Here it was easy to keep my eyes off myself: I could stare at his cock instead. As I kneaded his thighs again, I brushed it a few times. It began to visibly harden, surprising me by growing a bit more anyways. He had to be seven and a half, nearly eight inches fully hard. And he was throbbing, leaving a puddle of precum across his lower abdomen. I felt warmth and growth in that region of my body as well, but I was pretty sure it was just the normal reaction.

 

After I finished his thighs, I got up from the bed. "I'll be right back," I told him. "Bathroom." I willed my dick to soften up, then took a piss. My body was much leaner. I looked like I had never gained that weight. I kicked off my underwear and looked at myself in the mirror on the bathroom door. Without a doubt, I was in great shape. I stepped onto Cris's scale. One hundred seventy-five pounds. I had been two thirty-five when I weighed myself at the gym twelve hours ago. I couldn't help but say aloud, "what the fuck."

 

I returned to Cris's bedroom, only realizing when he looked at me that I had forgotten to put my underwear back on. Cris's dick, which had begun to soften in my absence, gave a visible jump before landing back on his midsection with an audible plap. I froze there, then said, "let's get back to that massage."

 

"What else is there to do?" Cris asked apprehensively, a look of utter confusion on his face. My guess was that he was confused by the sight of me: his fat, unsexual friend no longer either of those things.

 

I looked at his stiffening cock. "Looks like just the one thing." Then I lied down between his legs, grasped the base of his cock with one hand, and began covering his cock with my saliva, kissing and licking my way up one side and down the other. My tongue found the puddle of precum on his abdomen and cleaned it off of him. He tasted musky, but clean; salty, but sweet. My own six-and-a-half inches began leaking, pressed against the soft, loosened muscles of his calf. I deepthroated him for a good twenty seconds before I came up for air. Even so, I just exhaled and inhaled through my nose, never letting his cock leave my mouth. After a few minutes, he pushed me off, gasping for breath.

 

I looked up at him, disappointed that he wanted me to stop, until I realized why. He had retrieved a bottle of lube from his bedside table drawer, and was rubbing it into his hands as I had with the lotion. He sat up and grabbed my firm, muscular ass with both hands, pulling me onto him. He kissed me as his fingers began to find their way to my hole. As we made out, he slowly inserted a finger into me. His hands were large and rough. The sensation was mind-blowing. After working a second finger into me, he aggressively flipped us over so that he was on top. He looked somewhat deflated, but he was still as muscular as I was now.

 

Cris lined his cockhead up with my hole and slowly pushed in. I moaned in pain as his length - and girth - filled me up. He stroked and groped my hairy pecs and biceps, leaned down to worship one of my armpits for a moment before deciding that the angle wasn't optimal for pounding my ass. Then he dedicated himself to that task while holding me by the throat and looking into my eyes. I didn't bottom often, and his rough fucking was not immediately pleasurable to me, but the look of pure lust in his eyes more than made up for that. I stroked my cock furiously as he picked up the pace, and within a few minutes I had stretched - and been lubricated by the combination of lube and precum - enough that his thick cock was gliding in and out of me. Even though he only fucked me harder and faster, the way he was hitting my prostate caused me to shoot my load before he even warned me he was close.

 

The first shot hit his hand on my throat, and splattered onto my face. The second landed on my chest. The third hit his arm. The rest ended up on my abdomen. As my orgasm washed over me, I clenched and unclenched my ass. Cris scooped up the cum off my face and fed it to me without relaxing his pace. He grunted loudly as I tightened on his cock. Then he licked the cum off the back of his hand and said, "I'm about to bust, where do you want it?"

 

"Keep fucking me, keep going." We were both on PrEP, and I had actually never had someone cum in my ass before - at least, not bare. He bent down to kiss me again, and thrusted hard. An intense amount of pressure hit my prostate, triggering a dry orgasm from me as he unloaded inside me.

 

We kissed a few more times, but it wasn't long before he passed out. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, then brought out a warm, damp rag to clean Cris up before I pulled his blanket over him and went out to the couch, to sleep there in my shirt and boxers. The shirt was large enough on my that it could pass for a nightgown. The boxers were precariously close to falling straight to the floor. I wasn't far from passing out either, and welcomed sleep.

 

In the morning, my body seemed to be back to normal. I felt my own midsection, disappointed that the fat deposits there had returned. I had begun wondering if perhaps the previous night's events had been some drunken fantasy my imagination had played out, but then Cris came stumbling out of his room, bleary-eyed and naked. His heavy cock was pendulous without his usual underwear holding it in place. He froze when he saw me - overweight and undesirable. He was shocked; I can only assume because he expected me to look as I had the night before, when he had fucked me.

 

"Forget I was here?" I chuckled as he covered his package with one hand. I sat up and inspected him. His body looked almost back to normal - he was still slightly smaller than usual. I hoped he didn't just seem smaller because he was naked.

 

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I just had a weird dream last night," he said evasively.

 

"Good weird?" I asked, more certain now that it hadn't been a dream at all.

 

Cris looked uneasy, but nodded. "Really good."

 

I smiled at him. "Must have been, you slept pretty soundly." He nodded, then retreated without turning his back to me.

 

He showered, and I took a shower when he finished, wondering all the while what had caused that temporary transformation. After drying off, I stepped on the scale, peering down over my protruding belly to look at the weight there.

 

Two twenty-five. I guess I hadn't gained it all back. I smiled as I began planning how to initiate the next massage.

Edited July 31, 2019 by GainsWorshipper
Got rid of the annoying white background

[Kymuscleboy]

Great story! I hope he finds more, bigger, people to drain and that more and more of the effects become permanent as he goes!

[GainsWorshipper]

Chapter 2

 

I wasn't sure what had caused the transformation that overtook me a few weeks before, when my evening out with Cris had turned into a lust-drunk fuck, but I had a hell of a good time trying to replicate it. 

At first, I tried massaging Cris again. He was more than willing to get the knots worked out of his shoulders, neck, and back. He would never say no to a scalp massage. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable whenever I tried to push the massage further, however, not wanting me to massage his arms, chest, or legs. If I had to guess, it was because he couldn't reconcile his image of me as his fat friend with what he still believed was an erotically charged dream. 

He had been hitting the gym especially hard lately, talking about lost gains and needing to catch up, especially since he could see that I had leaned up a bit. I had been having an easier time at the gym myself, and had lost another five pounds per week since I had massaged him. 

Since he didn't want the full massage treatment, I had to look elsewhere. Luckily, there were no shortage of guys on apps like Grindr and Scruff, but getting one who was extremely muscular would be difficult. Guys on those apps, I knew, could be pretty shallow. To be fair, I wasn't really interested in guys with my body type either, so how could I expect them to be?

Within a few days, though, the promise of a free massage turned a few heads, and I managed to get the attention of a guy by the name of Arturo whose profile pic was his impressively sculpted pecs. They were covered in a light crop of dark chest hair, and from what I could tell of the pictures he shared, his entire body was tanned. He invited me to come by after he was done working out, and since I was free that afternoon, I accepted. 

He was short, maybe about 5'5". The four inches I had on him made me feel huge, at least until his clothes came off. His arms were like something out of a superhero comic. Without even flexing, I could see that his biceps were probably close to the size of a grapefruit. His triceps looked as big as golf balls. 

When Arturo took off his shirt, he turned his back to me. His back rippled with muscle as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head. His shoulders were large and round, and sloped downwards from his thick neck. He kept his shorts on, telling me, "You get to take them off if you do a good job."

As he lowered himself, facedown, onto the bed, I mounted him and began warming his massage oil between my hands, then I started kneading his large shoulders. Almost immediately, I could sense a tingle beginning in my own shoulders. This was what had been missing with those casual massages with Cris. I presumed, then, that at least two factors were needed: an intense physical attraction to the man I was massaging, and that he be lying down during the massage. I wondered what else might be required to make this happen. 

As I squeezed, kneaded, rolled, and adjusted every inch of Arturo's astounding body between his neck and the waistband of his shorts. When I got to that point, I made as if to move to his legs, but he commanded me: "Not the legs yet. Take my shorts off."

My shoulders, back, and arms were burning from both effort and whatever connection was draining Arturo, but I was too excited to grow fatigued. My heart pounded as I pulled the shorts down. He wasn't wearing underwear. 

When I got the shorts about halfway down his lean, hard thighs, I focused my attention on his ass. It was smaller, less shapely than Cris's, I had to admit. I wasn't sure if Cris's higher body fat was the reason, or if Arturo simply hadn't done as many squats. I would have to ask Cris about his workout habits to clear things up. Even so, Arturo's ass was taut as a drum. His crack had a line of fine, dark hair.

Without thinking, I buried my face right there, in the center of his cleftal horizon. Arturo had quite obviously showered just before I arrived. He tasted sweet and clean. One of his hands reached around to grab my head and hold it in place. He moaned loudly as I forced my tongue into his hole. By the time I needed air, I had to struggle out of his grip to gasp for breath. When I did so, he muttered contentedly, "Let's come back to that later. For now, get my glutes and work your way down."

I did so, reveling in the burn I felt in my own glutes and thighs. As with Cris, massaging Arturo's calves was something of a respite - my own calves were definitely bigger, with next to no fat to burn away. 

Then he flipped over. I gasped at the sight of his cock. It was huge, and looked monstrous on his 5'5" body. He had much more to work with than I did, with my own respectable 6.5" erection, or even Cris, who approached a beautiful 8 inches. Arturo had a solid nine-incher, uncut but with the foreskin pulled tight over his monster dick. 

There was no way he could fuck me. I would definitely get his cum inside me somehow, though. 

I climbed back onto him and began massaging his chest, using an ample amount of oil to prevent his chest hair from chafing him. I got his shoulders again, and his arms, and his armpits. His forearms looked like a braided steel cable coated in copper. As I watched myself massage the knots out of his forearms, I could see that my own were approaching that level of lean musculature. 

I especially loved working his gorgeous abs. He was clearly flexing them for me as I massaged them, loving the sensation of my hands moving across them. I could feel the extra weight around my midsection burning away as I did so. In time, I moved back down to his thighs. His cock bounced as I moved past it, and after only a minute or so of kneading his somewhat thin, but rock-solid thighs, he interrupted.

"Forget the massage, suck my cock!"

I did so gladly. It was difficult to deepthroat him, but I put my best effort into it all the same. I looked up to his face as I did so. He was in a crunch position so he could see me over his massive, hairy pecs. I thought they looked somewhat less massive now, but they were still beautiful. He grabbed my head and held me down. 

I jerked my head, not trying to get away, but to continue increasing his pleasure. He seemed to love the "struggle" and released me after ten seconds or so. He let out a long, low "fuuuuuuuuck" when I didn't come up for air right away, but continued bobbing my head while keeping as much of him in my mouth as possible. 

Then he slightly altered his position, and his dick pushed deeper into my throat. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. His cock was filling my airway. He was holding me down again. My entire body was burning as I struggled for precious oxygen. Eventually I grabbed his hands and pulled them off of my neck, slowly and deliberately. I raised my head up so that only the last two inches of his cock were still in my mouth, took a deep, practiced breath, and resumed. 

He had clearly been expecting me to stay up longer to catch my breath. When I immediately began deepthroating him again, he let out a gasp. "Oh fuck, I can't hold back. You're gonna make me fucking bust!"

In answer, I pulled back off so that only a few inches of him were in my mouth, and dove back down. 

He came buckets. It was a thin, liquid load, and tasted especially bitter. I swallowed it all regardless. He fell back onto the bed, shaking and moaning. 

"Damn Mark, that was amazing," he said between breaths. 

I smiled and got up on my knees. "Ready for me to get back to eating that ass?"

He laughed. "Thanks, but my ass is off-limits unless you can overpower me." 

I decided to take that bet. "Worth a shot." I grabbed his left calf and twisted it, firmly but slowly, to the right. Arturo instinctively rolled with it, landing ass-up. I didn't know much about wrestling, but I knew that being so much taller and heavier than him, I had the advantage. Additionally, I noticed that his arms seemed smaller, his back less defined. His ass even seemed softer as I began to stroke it with one hand while pressing his head down into the pillow with the other. 

He tried to buck me off but couldn't gather the strength to do so. 

"If you tap, I'll oil my dick up before I fuck you," I growled into his ear. He fought back even harder, to no avail. I reached down to point my cock at his hole, lubricated only by my (admittedly ample) precum. I reached a lower to squeeze his balls, and found by the firmness of his taint that his dick was back at full mast. 

"Oh, you're not struggling because you want me not to fuck you, are you?" I said as I realized what was going on. "You're struggling because you want to make sure I'm strong enough to take you."

He moaned an affirmative into the pillow. I rubbed my leaking head around his asshole and forced the head in. He was so tight, so warm, and so unbelievably silky. He yelped a bit as I pushed my way in, balls deep, but he pushed his ass back against my pelvis to force me in deeper. 

He didn't notice, or couldn't tell, that the thick belly fat I had had when I arrived was no longer there. I had transformed. I was what he would look like at 5'9", just hairier. Admittedly, I had a smaller cock and our facial features were nothing alike, and I was nowhere near as well tanned as he was - but facedown in a pillow, having his prostate pounded by my thick erection, he was in no fit state to notice any of it. I could see myself in the mirror of his sliding closet doors, however, and the sight of myself looking like some Nordic sex god helped push me over the edge much more quickly than I had hoped - and I had to give credit where it was due, that ass was so smooth on the inside for being so hairy on the outside. 

As I filled Arturo with my cum, I realized he looked smaller still. He seemed to have almost a swimmer's build, but with especially large pecs. My own could smother him, I could tell. It was a good thing my clothes were made to fit a much fatter me, because they still fit when I put them back on, although the sleeves of my t-shirt were tight around the shoulders and biceps. 

Arturo stayed in bed, facedown, shuddering, the rest of the time I was there. I drove home, and could slowly feel myself deflating. 

When I got back to my place, I had to tighten my belt before I could get out of my car. Once inside, I loosened the belt and my pants and boxer briefs fell right off. I heard my phone make the tell-tale Grindr chirruping noise and checked my messages. It was from Arturo: "what the fuck did u do to me???" 

I ignored it. He'd be fine in a few hours, if still somewhat smaller. I shucked off the rest of my clothes and made my way to the bathroom, where I stood on my scale. 

I didn't need to suck in my belly to read it - there wasn't much belly left, even though I had stopped transforming back to "normal" already. I felt a thrill of excitement as I saw what the scale's digital readout said. 

190 lbs. 

I had lost another 25 pounds since I had last weighed myself. 

My stomach was flatter, my pecs more prominent, my arms - hell, my arms had barely changed from when I left Arturo's. They looked chubbier, but the added muscle underneath only made them look more impressive. As I flexed in the mirror, I knew I had to keep this up until I reached my goals. 

 

[Thedemon1906]

this is amazing, cant wait for the next part

[GainsWorshipper]

Chapter 3

 

After massaging Cris and then Arturo, I knew I had to learn more about why I was suddenly transforming like this. To do that, I retraced my journey with Cris the night we had our encounter. We had been at a party hosted by friends, and left fairly early. I was pretty sure there'd be nothing for me to find there - the hosts of that party were an older couple with kids, and I was sure that if either of them had a way of magically becoming more physically fit, they'd use it themselves. So from there, I went to the bar that Cris had taken us to that night. I had never been there before and hadn't really considered going again - although, of course, if Cris had asked me to, I'd have joined in a heartbeat. I didn't want Cris to know why I had come back, though, so I made this journey alone. 

I went to the bar on a Tuesday evening after work, shortly after they opened. I was one of three patrons in the bar when I entered. The bartender - a lean, scruffy, dark-haired thirty-something with a charming smile - asked what I'd like to drink as I approached. I knew next to nothing about alcohol, so I just asked for the first drink whose name popped into my head - an Old Fashioned, the drink Cris had ordered when we came before. "Coming right up," he said, grinning. 

As he prepared the drink, I glanced toward the door and the other patrons, making sure nobody else needed his attention. The two other patrons were seated at a table, deep in conversation. Nobody else had entered. I took in the bartender's clothes - black shoes, black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black vest and tie, with a nametag on it reading "Shaun" - then called out to him. "Hey, Shaun, can I ask you something?"

"Fire away," he said, looking me in the eye while dexterously preparing my Old Fashioned. 

"I was in here, Saturday night, a couple weeks ago..."

He chuckled and cut me off. "Lemme guess, one of the bartenders hit on you and you're trying to get another shot with him?"

I froze. That hadn't been at all what I wanted, but it seemed like being hit on by a male bartender here wasn't that rare an occurrence, despite it not being a gay bar. I played along. "Am I that obvious?"

Shaun shrugged, making the motion look like it was part of the dance his arms and hands were doing with my drink. "I only guessed you're gay because of the way you sized me up just now. Most straight guys would probably look at the drink I'm making if they looked at me at all. That, and you look like you're the kind of guy Freddie would hit on."

I struggled for a moment to recall the features of the bartender who had served Cris and I when we came in before. He had been blond, twinkish, and pretty openly lustful towards Cris. I described him to Shaun: "Blond guy, green eyes, small frame?"

"That's our Freddie. He's not working tonight, but if you want to come back any night between now and Sunday he'll be here." Shaun pushed my finished drink across the counter. 

As I took it, I told him, "Thanks, I might do that. And I'll close out now."

As he ran my card to pay the tab, he asked, "Do you want me to give a message to Freddie?"

"Ah, probably not. I don't know when I'll be free to come back this week to come back, don't wanna get his hopes up. Thanks, though." I signed the receipt, tipping him 100% of the bill, and took my drink to an unoccupied corner. Periodically sipping it, I pulled out my phone and started scanning the bar's Instagram page for photos of Freddie. When I found one, it dispelled any doubts that he had been the guy who served us that night. The photos in which he looked the happiest, I noticed, contained men with muscular physiques. I wondered if he had put something in my drink that caused this change, and if so, why. Unless he had done so for purely altruistic reasons, I couldn't imagine why he'd risk exposing such a secret to benefit me. 

I could hear a whispered conversation at the bar, but I didn't look up. I was busy finding my way from the bar's Instagram to Freddie's private one. What did make me look up, however, was the sight and sound of someone pulling one of the stools away from my table. I casually swiped the home button on my phone, hiding the screen's contents as Freddie perched himself on the stool next to mine. 

"I thought you weren't supposed to be working tonight?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'm not supposed to be. I'm just covering a shift for someone who called in sick. Have we met?" He was taking me in exactly how I had checked out Shaun, with an interested look I was entirely unaccustomed to. 

"Uh, yeah," I said, somewhat nervously. "You served me and a friend drinks a couple weeks ago."

He looked confused, but then smiled lasciviously. "I think I would have remembered seeing you, hot stuff." He laughed. I chuckled too. Then I realized he wasn't quite as small as I remembered. He was still much smaller than me, but his work shirt was tight around the chest and sleeves in ways they hadn't been a few weeks ago. Judging by the pictures I had just seen, they hadn't been that tight a few nights ago - there had been a picture of him on Instagram from Saturday, shirtless at the beach, with his arms and chest looking like they had all the toned musculature of a spaghetti noodle. Then one from Saturday night on the bar's page with him gazing longingly at some drunk muscled stud. Three days later, his sleeves looking like a sausage about to burst its skin; the fabric across his chest stretched tight. I downed my drink. 

"Well, maybe you'll remember me better after tonight," I said. 

"Let me fix you another drink," he said coyly. "Then we can talk about what we can do to make sure I remember you when I wake up tomorrow." He sauntered away, swinging his hips. His glutes stretched the seat of his pants as taut as his chest did that tiny shirt. I watched him go to the bar. He made me another drink - probably another Old Fashioned, I thought, resigning myself to drinking another one. I was already feeling the buzz coming on, and a second drink would put me over the edge. I watched Freddie making the drink. When he noticed me looking, he smiled warmly at me, then turned his back to me, still holding the drink, as he continued to mix it. Moments later, he brought it back, along with a drink of his own. 

I took a sip. It was an Old Fashioned, but there was something about the taste that didn't match up with what I'd just had. Not as if the drink had different proportions - there was a new flavor in the mix here. My suspicions had evidence to back them up. "So," I asked, the alcohol lending me a degree of charm I might not have been able to muster without it, "What does it take to get you to remember me next time?" I leaned in a little as I spoke, giving a small smile and letting the burning sensation in my throat give my voice a sultry growl. 

He stroked my bicep, admiring the way I filled out my own long-sleeved button-up. It looked great on me. I had started buying a wardrobe more appropriate to my new measurements. "You could come to my place when I'm off work," he said hopefully. 

I chuckled. "I could, but I have work tomorrow. And I probably start a few hours after you get off. I'd probably still be drunk. Wouldn't even have time to sleep," I added with an exaggerated wink. 

Freddie looked around the empty bar. "Well... there's also a back room we could go to. While there's nobody here."

I took larger gulps of my drink. Freddie's eyes lit up every time I lowered the glass a little emptier than I had raised it. "That sounds like fun," I said. "And I could sleep before going to work." I tossed back the remnants of my drink, and Freddie took that as his cue. He stood, grabbed my hand, and let me to a door by the bar. On the other side was a dim hallway. He whispered furiously to Shaun after pushing me through the door, then followed and directed me to a storage room on the left. It was unlocked and mostly empty but for a few cases of rum. 

"We're getting a new shipment tomorrow, and this room will be mostly full. So today is the perfect day to do this," he whispered. Then he stood on tip-toes and kissed me. 

I made out with him for a good ten, fifteen seconds, then nudged his head aside. He took it as a sign to start kissing my neck. I allowed it, because it enabled me to whisper in his ear. 

"So how does this work?"

"Well," he responded, "first I get this big dick hard by sucking it" (he groped my crotch, finding my cock completely soft) "and then once it's nice and wet, you bend me over that stack of boxes and make me scream your name."

I chuckled again. I was drunk, but not drunk enough to forget that I wasn't here to fuck this guy. "No," I said. "I meant the stuff you put in my drink. How does it work?"

He froze, then backed away from me. I grabbed his arm. "You put this stuff in my drink. I want to know why and how it works." 

He looked confused again, but had the decency not to try to lie. "You say that like you know what I put in it..."

"Yeah," I told him. "Almost like you put it in my drinks two weeks ago, when I was a fat little schlub you wouldn't look twice at. Almost like it turned me into someone you would look twice at, and try to fuck at your workplace." Comprehension and horror dawned on his face. 

"You were here with..."

"With the hot guy with the shaved head, yeah."

"It was supposed to be in his drink," Freddie muttered. "He was supposed to go home with me." 

"Your first mistake was assuming that he wanted the weak, fruity drink. That was all me. Your second mistake was in assuming that he'd leave a drunk friend behind just to hook up." I considered how deep I needed to cut to break him down, then decided to go for it. I put a hand on the back of his neck and pushed down. He dropped to his knees. "Your third mistake was in thinking he'd be into you at all."

The hurt in Freddie's eyes was only undercut by the excitement in them. Yeah, he was being told all the ways he had fucked up, but he clearly wanted to be on his knees in front of me. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my half-hard cock. "Tell me how it works, or else."

He looked up me, trying to disguise his glee as defiance. "Fuck you," he said, spitting. His saliva landed on my dick. I responded by grabbed the base of my cock and slapping him in the face with it, over and over, without letting it enter his mouth and while silently begging it not to get any harder. His frustration at not being able to suck my cock mounted as I held his head in place with one hand while using the other to assist in cock-slapping him. He broke. 

"Fine," he said. "I don't really get how it works. I bought the recipe online. Dark web voodoo shit. I had to borrow from my retirement money to afford it." I held my cock still in front of his mouth, nd let his head move enough that he could just barely reach the tip with his tongue. He immediately began licking the slit furiously, desperate for a drop of precum. Despite my best efforts, my cock stiffened entirely, and he got the precum he was working his tongue overtime to earn. I yanked his neck back an inch, then asked my next question. 

"What do I have to do to get it to work? Clearly it works some times and not others. What's the difference?"

He responded eagerly this time, willing to answer any question to get my dick again. "It only works if you cum inside the guy! If you do that, you drain his gains away. All of them for a while, but after an hour or so, he's back to normal and you're a little bigger than before." 

I moved forward far enough to allow contact between him and my dick, but only so I could slap him in the face with it again. "Fucking lies. It worked for me even when I didn't cum inside the guy I was having sex with." I held my cock just above his reach. A gob of precum slowly lowering from my head. He desperately reached his tongue out to catch it. I spun my dick a bit, not enough to hit him, but enough that the precum drooling out of the head ended up all over my shaft and hand rather than dripping onto his eager tongue. I held him still, thinking, while another rope of precum began to drip down. I swung that safely away too, and the third. Then I shared my thoughts with him.

"You want me to fuck you. Or at least to cum in you. So that much is clear. Sex is part of it. But I'm bigger than you. Just like the guys I've stolen mass from were way bigger than me. Well, more muscled, anyway."

Freddie looked up, startled. "Wait, guys? Plural? You got it to work more than once with only one dose?"

"Yeah," I told him. "Twice so far."

"It's only supposed to work once," he said, more to himself than to me. "It stops working when you cum inside..." He cut himself off. 

"Good to know," I said. "Tell you what. Give me that recipe and I won't report you to your coworker out there for drugging my drink."

The expression on his face returned to horror. "You wouldn't..."

"I would. And I will if you..." I slapped his face with my cock, splattering his cheek with precum. "Don't..." I made a matching splatter on the other side. "Share." I lifted my cock up and brought it down between his eyes. Precum oozed from the bridge of his nose down into his left eye. He began blinking furiously. 

"Okay," he said. "Whatever. Fine. The recipe is on my phone. There's a pic of it in my gallery."

I bent down and pulled it from his pocket myself, holding the phone in front of his face until it unlocked. In his image gallery, among a ton of pictures of him sucking cock or being fucked, taken from the POV of the guy he was sucking or being fucked by, was a picture of a handwritten recipe. I showed it to him. "That it?" He nodded. I let my cock rest on his face. He began sucking and licking my balls. Precum began flowing onto his forehead.

"I've figured it out, I think. Tell me if I'm wrong. One guy drinks this potion of yours. Then he hooks up with another guy. Regardless of who drank it, the more muscular guy loses mass and the other guy gains it. When the one who drank it cums inside the guy he hooks up with, the spell is broken. That correct?"

He moaned, "Mmmhmm," with a mouthful of testicles, nodding at me for good measure.  

I turned his phone's NFC on, then shared the picture. Putting his phone in my shirt pocket, I pulled out my own, turned on NFC, and received the picture. I backed it up to my cloud save before I pulled his phone back out, turned off NFC, and deleted the picture of the recipe. Then I paused for a moment.

"Oh hey," I said. "And I figured out how to make you remember me." With his phone, I took a picture of my cock, oozing precum across his face as he sucked my balls like they were the fountain of youth. 

Then I tugged my balls out of his mouth. He didn't resist - he opened wide, ready to swallow my cock. But the only thing swallowing my cock was the hole in my pants between my belt and my lowered zipper as I tucked myself back into my boxer briefs. I zipped up, then shoved him backwards so he was on his back. I dropped his phone on his chest as I left the store room. 

After I left the hallway, I told Shaun, "Sorry to leave so soon. I guess I'm not as into him as I thought." Shaun looked like he had no horse in this race, but empathized with someone not being into Freddie. "You have a good one, man."

"You too," he said as I headed for the door.

I drove a few blocks away, head swimming from the alcohol, then parked at a strip mall and called an Uber. I had my gym bag in the car, remembering that I had meant to go after swinging by the bar. I grabbed it as the Uber arrived. My head began to clear as the Uber drove me to the destination. It occurred to me that my newfound size was probably making me more aggressive. I had been uncharacteristically rough with both Arturo and Freddie, in ways I hadn't been with Cris or any guy I'd hooked up with before. I hoped it was something I could get under control. 

I was lost in my thoughts until the Uber pulled to a halt and announced, "Here you go." It was then I realized I wasn't at home. I had gone to the same place I had gone the last time I took an Uber. Cris's house. I was about to apologize and tell the Uber driver that I had put in the wrong address when I heard Cris call out to me from his car, whose spot my Uber had stopped behind. 

"Mark! I wasn't expecting you to come by. Does this mean you're hitting the gym with me again?"

Oh shit, I thought. Here we go. I hefted my gym bag so that he could see it, and called back, "Hell yeah. Let's get swole." 

[Kymuscleboy]

This is getting more and more interesting!

[Mamey]

More please, this is very hot

[Namelessbutneednames]

That's a great story. I would definitely want to see more!

[GainsWorshipper]

Chapter Four

 

Normally, it would be unusual for me to work out with Cris. It wasn't because my attraction to him made either of us uncomfortable, although there was a trend of me experiencing some discomfort when I saw his shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked body. Some people looked fatigued or haggard when they were getting a particularly good workout. Cris just looked more enthusiastic with each rep, no matter how hard it had been. 

No, the first reason I didn't usually work out with Cris is because I always walked away feeling like I knew nothing about the gym. He could be a bit insensitive, tactless, patronizing. The few times I had worked out with him, I found it easiest to just copy what he did, but with smaller weights. That way he wouldn't scoff at my choice of muscle groups to work out together or interrupt his own workout to correct me. 

It had been months since the last time we had worked out together, and I had improved my form. I knew a bit more about which muscle groups to work out together. And most importantly, I had put on a significant amount of muscle - and lost a good amount of fat - since then. I wasn't much concerned that I would leave here having made a fool of myself. 

The other main reason I didn't like working out with Cris was that I had a habit of following his line of sight to the other guys in the gym. He would check them out, and for the briefest of moments a lustful expression would flit across his face. Instantly I could tell he was fantasizing about squeezing, kissing those biceps. Raking his fingers across those rippling back muscles while he inched his cock into that guy's thick, muscled ass. Being held down and dominated by the 6'2" stack of muscle with the blond hair Cris liked to privately refer to as "Thor". 

I wasn't quite as concerned about this either - between accidentally using this voodoo serum to take muscle from Cris and Arturo and my own regular workouts, I had gotten as far down as 185 and started adding more muscle to my frame. Cris was about to learn the hard way that there was a new man in front of him, not the doughy pal he was accustomed to. And, to be fair, my drunken confidence and the effects of Freddie's serum had an effect. 

When we arrived at the gym, I told Cris I needed to go change and proceeded to the locker room. It was empty when I came in. I checked out a temporary locker and began stripping out of my work clothes. I carefully hung my dress shirt and pants on the hooks in the locker, then placed my dress shoes at the bottom with my socks inside. I had just pulled off my boxers when I heard the door creak open. I turned partly, showing myself in profile to whoever was at the door. I was hoping it'd be Cris - I knew seeing me like this would make him gasp a bit. 

There was a slight gasp, but the man at the door wasn't Cris. It was "Thor". He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that clung to every curve in his heavily muscled frame. He smiled and even blushed a bit as he saw me. "Sorry," he said, letting the door close behind him. "Didn't mean to give everyone out there a show."

I chuckled. "I doubt they saw much. And if anyone was looking, I doubt they saw anything they didn't want to see."

He laughed at that too. "You got that right." He chose a locker near mine and pulled his shirt off in a single motion. I stood there, naked, and watched. His pecs were huge and had a light dusting of dark hair over them. His abs were hairless except for a happy trail that led from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans. He saw me looking and a devious grin grew on his face. "You gonna stand there and watch or are you getting dressed?" He gestured at the clothes hanging in my locker. 

"Actually," I said, pulling my jockstrap out of my bag, "I just got here." I turned away from him as I pulled it on, allowing him the view of my ass between those white straps. When I turned back to look, he had done no more than undo his belt and unbutton his pants while watching me. He gave an appreciative nod. 

"Cool, so I'll see more of you out there." He unzipped his jeans and let them drop, then stepped out of them and bent over to pick them and toss them in his locker. 

"I think you already saw all there is to see of me," I quipped at him. I pulled on my gym shorts. My semi, tucked into the pouch of the jock, made a still-visible bulge. 

He chuckled and said, "Yeah, just about." With that he pulled off his boxer briefs. I blinked in surprise as his cock and balls swung freely. His dick was much larger than I'd have guessed from the bulge, and his balls were proportionally huge and hung low beneath his heavy meat. He gripped it at the base and gave it a quick tug. I tore my eyes away from it to pull on the tank top I'd brought with me. 

I pulled on my socks and shoes as he began slowly rifling through his bag for his own jock. He turned away from me and bent over to pull it on. The crack of his ass was shaved hairless, his hole puckering a bit as he stepped into the jock bent over. I gulped and hoped my erection would go down some before I left the locker room. Dressed to go, I fumbled with my locker as "Thor" quickly pulled on his shorts, shirt, socks, and shoes. Safely flaccid again, I led the way to the door. As we stepped out into the gym, "Thor" reached out to shake my hand. "

"I'm Danny, by the way," he said. 

"I'm Mark," I replied. "Nice to meet you." My eyes slid past Danny as we went our separate ways. Cris had his eyes locked on me. I watched as his expression changed from lust, to shock at being caught, to recognition as he realized it was me, to shock again. I made my way over to him and did a little flex while spinning slowly. "You like?" I gestured to the shirt, and Cris took the out gratefully. 

"Yeah, your gym style is way better than last time we worked out together. Was that, uh," he licked his lips, "was that Thor you were chatting with?"

"Yeah, we met in the locker room. His name is Danny." I moved toward the rack of dumbbells nearest Cris and began looking them over. "What are you starting with?" I asked. 

Cris raised a hand to rub the back of his head. "Uh, the forty-fives. Overhead press."

He took them and got into position in front of the mirrored wall to watch his form and the other men in the gym. I took up position next to him with the 50-pound dumbbells. He looked shocked that I chose more weight than he was doing. It was more than shock, though - for the briefest moment, he looked turned on. 

Every exercise, when Cris went for his weights, I went for the next heaviest ones. When we used the barbell for squats, deadlifts, and bench press, I spotted him first and added another weight to each side after. I noticed while bench pressing that he was starting to pitch a tent in his shorts from watching me, a few inches from my head. I tried not to imagine racking the weight to pull out his cock; otherwise I might actually suck him off in full view of the gym. Admiring me while I pumped iron was a sexual experience for him: and that's when it hit me: if he got sexual pleasure from this, was it enough to trigger the serum's effects? I felt muscles burning all over my body, but I wasn't sure if it was because of the serum or my own exertion. I decided not to worry about it and let things play out. 

Play out they did, and I got my answer in short order. I felt huge by the end of my set, and no more tired. And Cris, despite looking no more fatigued than I did, was clearly slowing down. After another half hour, he was shaking and approaching muscle failure. He looked less small than he had after fucking me, but still smaller than he normally did. My shirt was tighter than I remembered around my neck. My pecs stretched the fabric between them. The only place the shirt seemed less tight was around my midsection. I decided to check myself out in the mirror when I got back to the locker room. 

"All right," Cris said after swallowing a few mouthfuls of water, "time for cardio."

"Actually," I said, "I did my cardio this morning. Three mile run. Nineteen and a half minutes."

"Oh," he responded. "Well, I'll get my run in while you..." 

"I'll get a shower," I told him. "You normally shower at home anyways, right?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Let's do that and meet back at my car in thirty."

I headed to the locker room and pulled off my shirt as soon as the door closed behind me. I admired the V that pointed from my abdomen to my crotch. I counted visible abdominal muscles, touching each one to ensure I didn't double-count. Eight. Three weeks ago I had a gut. Now I had an eight-pack. I took out my phone for a quick seflie, then dropped my shorts for another. Lastly I took off my jockstrap. My cock looked bigger soft than I ever remembered seeing it. Normally, depending on the temperature, it was about three, three-and-a-half inches soft and about six-and-a-half hard. It looked almost five inches soft now. I wrapped my hand around it, the pinky lying against my pubis. Soft, my cock poked out another inch from my hand. "Huh," I said aloud, wondering whether it would be any bigger hard. I decided not to find out here, though. 

I left my clothes on the floor in front of my locker, pulling out flip flops to wear in the shower before closing and locking my locker back up with my phone inside. I went to the showers, grabbing a towel from a stack of neatly folded, fluffy, white towels on a nearby shelf. I hung it up and turned the water on, adjusting the knob so that the water was slightly cooler than my elevated body temperature. It was soothingly cool when I stepped under the shower head and rinsed away the sweat from my body. 

"Oh, hi Mark," a voice called from the entrance to the showers. I chubbed up slightly, then brushed water from my eyes so I could see the exquisitely chiseled Danny taking a shower next to mine. 

"Danny," I replied, "Pleasure seeing you again." I was looking at his cock when I said it. 

"Where are you headed after this?" he asked me innocently, turning away to expose his entire body to the shower water. 

"I carpooled with my buddy," I began. 

"The bald one?" he interjected. I nodded in response. "He's pretty hot," Danny continued. "How long you been together?"

"Oh, we're not..." I said, conscious that my face was turning red. "I mean, he isn't... I wasn't..."

Danny laughed. "No need to explain, man. You clearly have the hots for each other, is all. I didn't want to intrude if you were spoken for already." 

I took a breath and responded evenly, "I'm not spoken for yet."

Danny smiled and turned back to me, his cock more than halfway hard and pointing straight ahead of him. "I'd love to speak for you for tonight then, at least," he said. 

 

When I met Chris outside, I asked him to take me to my car. Since I had gotten to his place, I was pretty sure I'd sobered up enough to drive. 

"Sure," he said. When we were driving to my car, he asked, "You coming back over after?"

I didn't want to tell him I was hooking up with "Thor", so I nodded. "Sure, we can watch some TV, hang out a bit," I said. 

"Cool," he said. "I'll probably need you to work this kink out of my neck," he said, rubbing the offending area. "That is, if it's okay with you." He didn't normally ask me, just took it for granted that I'd be willing to massage him. I appreciated this change. 

"Yeah, I have some errands to run but I'll come back over after."  

When we got to my car, I leaned over and gave him a one-armed hug before hopping out. "See ya later," I called to him. He waved goodbye. 

From there, I drove to the address Danny had texted me after our shower. It wasn't a long drive, so before I knew it I was parked in his driveway. I strode up to the door to ring the doorbell, but he answered before I could. "Heard your car come up," he said. He was wearing sweatpants - nothing but sweatpants. 

I pushed my way inside and took charge, worshiping at the nipple of his left pectoral before kissing my way between the two bulging slabs of muscle to his right. He swung the door gently shut and slowly moved back to the beige faux leather couch while I followed, still attached to him via the mouth. I squeezed at his biceps. He flexed them as I did so. I knew I probably couldn't close both of my hands around one of them. I slowly sunk to my knees, lips and tongue scrabbling over the ridges of his abs, brushing over the smooth hairs of his happy trail. 

He undid the knot at his waistband and the loose sweats fell to the floor. I immediately took him into my mouth, tasting a bead of precum and smelling the clean scent of soap. I got about eight inches down before my throat wouldn't accommodate him anymore. Unwilling to accept that, I pushed him into a seated position. He leaned back on the couch, almost reclined. I lied down next to him and continued attempting to swallow his entire length from the new angle. Here I was able to get my lips around the base of his cock, and despite the fact that I couldn't breathe, I darted my tongue out to lick his balls while I held myself in position. The longer I stayed there, bobbing my head to increase the sensation, the louder his moans got. Far too soon, I was forced to choose air over his dick, and I slid off, saliva mixed with precum leaking from my mouth. I took a few deep breaths and went in for more, groping his chest, his arms, his legs as it occurred to me that I wanted more from him than just his cock. Danny wrestled my pants down. 

He reached a hand down and held it next to his crotch, palm up. I slid up to give him the lubrication he was looking for, and allowed the mixture of saliva and pre-ejaculate to coat his palm. He made sure his fingers were covered in it. I dove back down on him as he began to finger my ass. I could barely feel the penetration as he went in with his index finger over the burn of my body adjusting to match his godly form. I had thought of myself as looking divine before. I couldn't even imagine what I'd look like after this. Within a few more minutes, he had three fingers in me and was reaching for his pants with the other hand. He pulled out a packet of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

I took the condoms from him and tore one off before ripping the packaging open with my teeth. He lubed up his hand and continued fingering me with three fingers. (I could feel that burn now.) I deepthroated Danny's cock one last time before I unrolled the condom onto him. It looked obscenely tight on his throbbing meat. I could see little rivulets of precum beginning to form inside it. Then I turned around on the couch and felt him line up. 

The best thing I could say about it is that he went slow, perfectly aware that his huge cock could tear me apart. After he made it about six inches in, he was filling me up so much that my prostate was getting constant pressure. I was jerking off instinctively, finding my pleasure despite the pain. I could feel myself getting bigger as he bottomed out inside me. I was on fire. I laid my head on the armrest of the couch and took my weight off the arm I had pressed down into the cushions. I put the hand I was jerking off with at the base of my dick and closed my right around it as well. With both hands, one on top of the other, there was still at least an inch and a half of dick uncovered. I struggled to do the math as Danny began pounding faster and harder. Nine? Nine and a half? Surely not ten. 

I arched my back and pressed back further into Danny. It hurt like a bitch but I wanted all of him, wanted everything I could take from him. I knew I was already in the best shape of my life, already in the best shape of any of my friends. After this, I would be bigger than Arturo, bigger than Cris, bigger than "Thor". Danny felt like he wasn't filling me up as much now - but he was still well beyond the point of hitting my prostate. I resumed stroking myself, slowly but firmly. Long, deliberate strokes. 

Danny whispered in my ear, "turn over. I wanna fuck the cum out of you and watch you bust. He pulled out slowly as I did so, and applied more lube before sliding back into me. I looked up into his eyes. He had a lustful look there that reminded me of Cris, and the way I had caught Cris looking at me in the gym. It was all I had wanted - my inspiration for getting back into shape. But I was here instead of with Cris when I knew he finally wanted me. 

I focused on those memories: Cris's lustful gaze lingering on me at the gym. His bulge growing next to my face as I benched 250 for the first time - and managed to do ten reps, to boot. The sight of his dick leaping to attention when he had seen me coming out of his bathroom naked the night I massaged him. With that, I passed the point of no return. I began stroking faster, more furiously, imagining it was Cris inside me now. Danny was pounding me so hard my eyes were rolling, so it was easy to pretend the blurry figure on top of me had a shaved head instead of closely-cropped blond hair. I came as he began pulling out of me, and his head relieved the pressure on my prostate and then hit it again. One shot went right over my head. The next landed partly in my open mouth as I called out in pleasure. I was bucking my hips, and impaling myself further on Danny, who slid all the way back in before pulling out again and ripping off the condom. 

"It'll break if I cum inside it," he explained. 

"Just get the fuck up here and cum in my mouth," I answered. His load was huge enough to put mine to shame. He held his cock steady while I nursed the head than squeezed and stroked his balls with one hand. My other was exploring his chest again. taking what I still could in the aftermath of his orgasm. I swallowed his thick load, then milked a few more large droplets of semen out of him, to swallow those as well. 

"Let's get a quick shower," he suggested. I nodded and he led the way to a bathroom with an ample standing shower. I got in and started the water running. It was cold at first but I was running hot - and it felt amazing on my skin. I rinsed the cum and lube off of my body while Danny still waited for the water to heat up to his liking. I looked at him critically. He was as deflated as his softened dick. He didn't even look like he was five inches taller than me anymore - at a guess, I'd say he looked to be about 6 feet tall even instead of the 6'2" I knew him to be. As I watched his movements, though, he didn't seem to be confused about being shorter than usual - and then I realized that he was still 6'2". I had just gotten two inches taller. He entered the shower when it was finally warm enough and all but collapsed against the wall, huffing and assuring me that the sex had been exemplary. 

"Thanks, I had a lot of fun too." I picked a few more chunks of cum out of my chest hair, a task that was much easier now that the water was hot. "I gotta hurry though, I have to go. Dinner plans." 

"It's like... ten at night," Danny said. "On a Tuesday." 

I hadn't realized how much time had passed. I had gotten off work at three, spent some time at that bar, then gotten to Cris's by five. Then we had spent an hour, maybe one and a half, at the gym. The remaining three and a half hours had been spent with Danny. Cris would be pissed at me for leaving him hanging, especially if he knew I had done so to hook up with his gym idol. 

"My plans have probably fallen through, then," I said, chuckling to hide my anxiety. "But I have to go anyways. I have to be up by five."

I toweled off while he finished showering, then made my way back to the living room, naked, to find my clothes. As I dressed, I pulled out my phone to check my messages. Sure enough, from Cris, about an hour before, was a series of text messages. I read the most recent one. 

Guess you're busy. Don't worry about coming over tonight. Maybe later in the week. 

I sighed as I put my phone back in my pocket and pulled on my shoes. Then I called out, "Gotta go, Dan. I'll see you around!" before heading out the front door and making my way back to my car. 

[Namelessbutneednames]

How you wrote it just made me want to go to toilet to...

 

 

 

Masturbate