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LJackson

Okay, here's the start of something new. Let me know if you want me to carry on!

 

               What you need to understand is that Harry and I had been friends all our lives, or nearly. When we were in playgroup, I chewed on his toy car. When we went to school together, we taught one another to read. If a teacher asked me what my name was, I’d say: “Max and Harry.” For years, right up till we went to university, people would call us Maxandharry or Harryandmax.

               Even at Uni, him studying Biological Sciences and me doing Business Studies, we texted nearly every day. For a while, after celebrating our Friendversary, we even changed our Faceboook names to MaxandharryandharryandmaX, till he pointed out it looked a bit gay. I felt a bit sad changing it, but my girlfriend of the time told me he was right.

               In the years since then, of course, we drifted apart a bit. We were both in London but we would only meet for a drink every couple of months. I guess he slowly started noticing a change in me about summer 2019 when I had made a special effort to get #BeachBodyReady.

               ‘Shit, mate, you really do have a gym membership, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When are Men’s Health ringing you for a cover feature?’

               I was in a short sleeved shirt and I was feeling pretty good about myself back then, but still I knew he was talking shit. ‘Bro, have you seen the guys on Love Island? All I’ve done so far is lose a bit weight really.’

               ‘Impressive though,’ he said, sinking the last of his pint.

               ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’

               ‘Well, I reckon Niamh would think so,’ he said.

               I cuffed his shoulder. ‘She’s not superficial like other ho’s,’ I said.

               ‘Girls like that sort of thing, though,’ he said. He looked down at himself. ‘They can’t help themselves.’

               ‘They like to see we’re taking care of ourselves,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, you’re far from overweight, dude.’

               ‘Underweight, if anything,’ he said. ‘I do my heavy lifting with this.’ He tapped his brow, and we both laughed.

               ‘Mind you don’t go impairing it with two many hipster beers, then,’ I said, getting up to fetch another round.

               ‘If you promise not to go crazy with this gym stuff,’ he said. ‘You’re fine as you are.’

               But I knew he was wrong.

               By the time we met to toast Christmas, he couldn’t resist squeezing my arm. ‘Holy shit!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought you just had a big jumper on under that coat. You’re huge!’

               ‘Not as big as I’d like,’ I couldn’t help saying, blushing. ‘Still a way to go.’

               ‘What do you weight though…?’

               ‘About 70kg,’ I said, automatically. ‘Roughly 150lbs.’

               ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect you to actually know. You must be taking this seriously.’

               I shrugged. ‘It’s fun too.’

‘Bet you’re not drinking tonight.’

‘Maybe just the one. My body fat’s down to 7%.’ I sipped my orange juice. ‘It feels great, though. I’m so alive, so capable. And, bro, let me tell you, the girls are hanging round me like flies around shit.’ God, it felt good..

               Harry didn’t seem to feel so, though. ‘Mate, I didn’t need to have another reason to feel inferior,’ he sighed. His mouth was proper down-turned.

               ‘Niamh,’ I said, testingly.

               He nodded glumly. ‘I wasn't enough for her, it seems.’

               ‘You were too good for her, anyway,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure how true it was. There he sat, a weedy little guy with glasses, maybe half my size. He couldn’t have lifted a weight above his head, let alone bench-pressed what I was doing. He looked pretty pathetic. ‘Maybe you should join my gym. Just to cheer yourself up.’

               ‘Can’t think of anything worse,’ he said.

               ‘Come off it, mate,’ I said. ‘Build a bit of muscle and you’ll feel amazing. Imagine if Niamh sees you on the beach next summer with your shirt off, biceps bulging, pecs rippling…’ I tailed off, thinking how ridiculous this sounded. Even if I could persuade him to take some exercise, I thought, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to take his shirt off on camera. He was still as lean and hairless as when we both set off for University.

               I wondered, was I naturally superior to him? Niamh would certainly have picked me over him for a mate: law of the jungle. I’ve have shown her a better time, as well. I didn’t like to think how embarrassing Harry must have been in bed.

               I shook my head to clear it. Harry had been talking to me and all the time I’d been thinking about banging his girlfriend, cucking him in his own bed. Crazy thinking. I interrupted him: ‘I don’t want to hear any shit, mate, you’re coming with me to the gym tomorrow and that’s that.’

               He sat back in surprise, held up his hands. ‘Fine. Fine!’ There was a long pause. Finally he laughed and got up to go to the bar. ‘Better get a round in while I’m still allowed, then!’

               ‘Skip the crisps this time, okay,’ I laughed back. ‘2020’s going to be your year.’

               And to be fair to him, he turned up. He obeyed me, as if I was in control of him. He did the exercises I told him to do. He changed his diet. It became quite fun, turning up to see him at the gym – maybe not as often as I would be there, but at least a couple of times a week. He didn’t enjoy it but he worked hard.

At the end of January, he had actually lost a bit of weight – but sadly, he hadn’t put on a single shred of muscle.

               We stood looking at one another in the mirror.

               ‘I can’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I’m actually smaller than before.’

               ‘I’ve just grown bigger,’ I said, ‘that’s all, mate.’

               ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re bigger but look at me. I’m a shrimp. Nobody would guess we were the same age.’

               ‘You’re a week younger,’ I told him, shrugging off my sweaty vest. ‘Maybe you’ll always be…’ Again, I didn’t want to say the truth.

               ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘What were you going to say? Weaker? Smaller? Inferior?’

               ‘But only to me,’ I told him. ‘You might put on some muscle by summer. You won’t be strong but you’ll be fit.’

               ‘That’s really what you think of me,’ he said, eyes wide. Furious. He looked like he wanted to pick a fight with me, but something rational was stopping him. He’d be mullered in a second.

               Instead, he ran away. Just grabbed his bag and stormed out.

               I should have run after him, but I was meeting this girl for dinner. He had told me on Tinder that she wanted me to fuck her like an animal, and I was still wondering how best to do that. I was too distracted.

               That was half my trouble.

               MaxandharryandharryandmaX was in trouble for the first time in history. An unshakeable bond, broken by the gym. Or maybe more, I thought. Maybe by masculinity and testosterone. Maybe by alpha male power. It could never be equal again now that I had begun to dominate.

               February slipped past, and I thought about him every day. I dreamt about him. I dreamt he was watching while I effortlessly fucked Niamh. I was pumped and bigger than ever while I worked at her tight snatch, and he got smaller while he watched me.

               In March, I finally sent him a message. ‘Miss lifting weights with you. Miss lifting pints even more.’

               He replied almost straight away. ‘Maybe we should resume one of those activities. Guess which one.’

               ‘Gym’s open longer hours,’ I replied, with a 😛 emoji to show I wasn’t serious.

               ‘Mate,’ he texted back, ‘I wouldn’t go there right now.’

               ‘Why?’ I asked, expecting a joke.

               And so, Harry was the first person to tell me about coronavirus.

               I thought it was just him making an excuse about not exercising. I don’t follow the news, don’t really do social media; in fact, I was pretty buried in work and working out. I suppose, I also didn’t want it to be true. I was in full denial.

               And so, inevitably, I caught it.

               I’m strong. I’m healthy. I don’t even take roids, so no strain on my heart. So I guess I was well prepared for it. Even so, it knocked me out for longer than I expected. Those were some crazy weeks. Maybe the weeks that followed were even stranger.

               Apart from work, Harry was the main person I was in contact with during lockdown. At first we talked a bit about fitness: my gym had closed. I tried to buy gym equipment online, but there was none available.

               ‘I must have got the last set,’ Harry told me.

               He told me it was the one good thing in his life now. It was hard for him - he was still so weak - so I sent him tips over email, links to videos and online advice. He asked me questions about diets and supplements and steroids. I told him to do it all clean, which disappointed him, being the biology scientist – he wanted to make himself into his own experiment. But it was a good thing. It was like we were the same person after all, just slightly out of phase.

               Except I couldn’t work out, not properly. I did some bodyweight stuff and started running. The muscle just melted away. I ended up looking as lean as a stick of celery.

               ‘You’re going to end up as my trainer,’ he said, when we talked about it.

               I didn’t like that. What if he caught me up?

               So we didn’t talk about it.

               And the lockdown rolled by.

               The lockdown was raised. Life began to return to normal. It was September when we arranged to meet again. A few drinks in the same old pub we used to frequent – but first, we would work out together, side by side.

               It struck me, as I walked towards the bench press: we were equals at last.

               MaxandharryandharryandmaX had been brought closer together by the quarantine. We had both realised something: his innate power, my humility. At last, we would be best friends once again.

               The only problem was, he didn’t appear to have showed up. The gym was pretty much empty, and the only person hanging around our agreed meeting spot was a big guy. Proper monster. Shaved head. Lats out to here, waist in here, a real triangle. He looked nearly a foot taller than me and I was worried for a second. In an empty gym, it’s pretty bad etiquette to stand waiting for a piece of equipment. I didn’t want him to think I was trying anything on; he could have ripped me apart.

               He turned around and the light glinted off his glasses. He smiled. ‘Hey, Max, you made it!’

               ‘Harry?!’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a wind-up.

               He opened his arms inviting me for a hug. Each arm was as big as both of mine put together. The muscle was thick and pumped as if he had just completed a workout, not spent months in quarantine.

               ‘Harry,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘This is insane. You’re a fucking beast.’

               ‘I used the lockdown well,’ he said seriously. His voice had grown deeper. It was like talking to a different man with my friend’s face, one who towered over me.

               ‘All this came from working out?’

               ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I see you went the other way.’

               I looked down at myself, blushing. ‘Yes, I’m pretty small these days.’

               ‘How big were you before the lockdown?’ he asked me.

               ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should –’

               ‘Cut the crap,’ he said. ‘I asked you a question.’

               ‘About 75kg,’ I told him. ‘165lbs.’

               He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You used to seem so big,’ he said. He ran his hands over the huge globes of his chest and the hard, thick ripples of his abdominals, lightly brushing his fingers across the giant vascular boulders of his biceps and the vast shoulder-muscles that framed his firm chin. ‘I’m about 270lbs. 125kg.’

               ‘It’s not possible,’ I said.

               ‘Feel it,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll know how possible it is.’

               I laughed and held up my hands. ‘That’s fine, I’ll believe you.’

               ‘What is the problem with you?’ he said. He didn’t raise his voice but the authority was clear. ‘I told you to feel it, you little bitch.’

               ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him.

               He shook his head for a second. ‘Sorry, bro. It’s the testosterone. Sometimes I lose control. I mean, it’s true that you’re little. And you’re being a bitch.’ He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’

               ‘Will it help you if I – if I feel your muscle?’ I said, putting my hands on his physique.

               ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I’m like a loaded gun nowadays.’

               ‘More like a cannon,’ I said, feeling his might. ‘The Incredible Hulk has nothing on you. So you went for the steroids after all?’

               ‘No way, you little cunt,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Max. But no – not steroids, exactly. I did some research. With some friends online. Other biology academics into weightlifting. I was looking for short cuts, and they were looking for ways to build size and strength. I think between us we tapped into something that did both. Workouts combined with certain hormones and particular herbs. It’s all perfectly safe, just a few side-effects.’

               ‘Like the anger management issues,’ I suggested. ‘And all this fur.’ I ran a hand through the pelt on his monstrous chest. ‘You really are becoming a beast.’

               ‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You touched it! I should have warned you – but I thought it would sound gay.’

               ‘Touched what?’

               I snatched my hand away but he caught it in a giant fist. ‘You touched my nipple. Fucking sensitive nowadays.’

               ‘So what – what does that mean?’

               ‘It means,’ he said, ‘either I need to fuck a woman in the next ten minutes or…’

               ‘Or what?’

               Harry looked toward the changing room door. ‘Or, old friend, you’ll have to milk the cum from my big swinging balls…’

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

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debate1

This is great!

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Lefty

Great start! Can’t wait for more. Thanks

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dredlifter

Oh nice!  I love surprise-growth reunion stories!

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Mdlftr

Interesting!  Mystery growth during coronavirus lockdown!  Cool!

Question:  What does this mean:  

"He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’"

"just bants"??? is that a British slang expression?  I've never heard it before.
 

Brief pause for online research:

informal British. Playfully teasing or mocking remarks exchanged with another person or group; banter.

   https://www.google.com/search?q=just+bants&oq=just+bants&aqs=chrome..69i57.1744j0j1&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8 

==========

So, YES, it is a British slang expression.  I learned something new today!

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sithspawn
2 minutes ago, Mdlftr said:

Interesting!  Mystery growth during coronavirus lockdown!  Cool!

Question:  What does this mean:  

"He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’"

"just bants"??? is that a British slang expression?  I've never heard it before.
 

Bants is short for banter, basically means he’s busting his chops as they say in America.

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muscleboy2811

Fuck yeah! hot start man!

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debate1

Any chance for more?!

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LJackson

Okay, here's part 2. Things start to get heavy...

 

2

 

               ‘You what?’ My jaw had dropped. I mean, I thought I knew this bro. I thought he knew me. ‘Dude, I’m not – I mean, where did you get the idea that I was –’

               ‘Gay?’ He laughed grimly. ‘Man, I know you ain’t a homo.’

               ‘Well, then –’

               ‘Neither am I,’ he said. He looked over his glasses at me. ‘You believe me, don’t you? This isn’t about gay or straight. This is like farmyard animals, okay? I’m on heat. I need to release semen.’

               He grabbed my hand and put it on the front of his gymshorts. I could feel what felt to me like a modest-sized grapefruit that some lunatic had put in the microwave. Or maybe it felt like a bomb about to go off.

               He moaned. I realised it was the touch of my hand that was getting him more aroused. But he didn’t sound happy about it. There was a kind of anger in it.

               ‘Come on, you stupid pussy,’ he said. ‘We need to get into the changing room. I can’t exactly do it here, can I?’

               I glanced around. The gym was empty of punters, but there was a bloke in the gym’s uniform of grey trackie bottoms and red polo shirt. I remembered him, showing Harry how to load weight onto the squat rack or bench press; he got used to waiting around until Harry began inevitably to struggle, then rushing in to take some weight off. He was the guy you brought a problem to: equipment that had broken down, the paper towel dispenser running empty, the odd dispute over somebody hogging the pull-up bar. I didn’t think he wanted me to bring him this problem to solve.

               I looked at my friend, who used to be a weedy, pathetic, hairless little specimen and now looked like a roided pornstar with a thick pelt of black fur on his huge pecs, making his singlet look almost redundant. ‘You sure it’s not gay?’

               ‘Mate,’ he said, ‘how you’re acting right now is fucking gay. Stop being a cunt, act like a real fucking man, and help me spend this fucking load.’

               He sounded angry and he looked dangerous, so I went with him to the changing room. I was pleased to see that nobody was around. Harry looked like he couldn’t care less. His hands were inside his singlet, working at his nipples with thumb and forefinger, and his eyes were unfocused. ‘Take it out,’ he said. ‘Take out that dick.’

               I yanked down his shorts. His hard cock flew out unexpectedly and smacked me in the face. It felt seriously heavy.

               ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Bro, I never knew you were so big down there.’

               ‘It’s grown too, in the last couple of weeks,’ he panted. ‘Used to be about six inches. Gone up to nine lately. Thicker too. Mmm - shut the fuck up and get wanking it, dude.’

               ‘Whatever you say, bro,’ I said. ‘I’m just not used to jerking off something this size. Fuck it, I’m not used to jerking off anyone but myself!’

               ‘I’m bigger than you all over,’ he said, smiling.

               I knelt to get an easier grip, put one fist around the base of his cock and another one above it, sliding the foreskin back and forth over the thick round bulb of his knob-end. Precum oozed over my hands in a mini-torrent. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I just wanted it to be over.

‘Fuck, that’s not enough, bro. I need to cum sooner. I need to cum now.

               ‘What more can I do?’ I asked him. ‘Get some titty porn up on my phone?’

               ‘No time for that,’ he said. ‘You’ll need to use your mouth.’

               ‘No way,’ I said, without hesitating.

               He snarled at me. ‘When I tell you to do something, you do it, cunt,’ he growled, and grabbed my head with one huge hand, steering my face toward his outsize dick. Before I knew what was happening, I was noshing on my first ever cock, choking like a beginner. ‘Yeah,’ he said, pumping his hips. ‘You’re not my bro anymore. You’re my cunt, my boy-cunt…’

               I gasped as his huge dong pummelled my throat like I was a pussy.

               Suddenly I heard someone cough lightly, and a second afterward, another voice: softer, friendlier, nervous, almost a whisper. ‘’Ere, lads,” he said, ‘get a room!’

               Harry’s hand released on the back of my head and I took my face out of his crotch. Panting for breath, drool hanging in strands from my lips, I turned my head. It was the gym support guy. I recognised him right away – he had the lean, toned look of Tom Daley, and there was something in his big eyes, his coy smile, that told me he was sympathetic to us.

               I looked up at Harry, wiping my mouth. He smiled. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘An actual gay guy. You’ll do nicely. Over here, mate.’

               The gym guy didn’t move. He was looking at me. I realised the recognition had gone both ways.

               ‘I’ve seen you around before,’ he said. ‘Max, ain’t it? I see you’ve lost a bit of muscle mass over the quarantine. If I’d known you were into this sort of thing we could have Zoomed each other and I’d show you some bodyweight stuff – but I always thought you were straight.’

               ‘I am,’ I said. ‘This isn’t what you think it is.’ I let go of my mate’s big hard-on and wiped my hands on my Nike shirt. Maybe I could hand my task over at last.

               ‘You used to come in here all the time with that weedy guy,’ said the gym support guy. ‘He your boyfriend? You can do better, mate.’ He looked up at Harry. ‘Clearly, you can!’

               ‘Harry wasn’t – is not my boyfriend,’ I said. ‘I’m not gay. I don’t fancy men. I have a girlfriend at home.’

               Harry gave a low chuckle. ‘You remember the guy who used to come here with Max?’

               The gym guy looked at him, his eyes roving over Harry’s huge, powerful muscle, the fur crowding out his gym singlet, the big cock and balls sitting on his gym shorts waistband. ‘Yeah, and not being funny, I suppose he was a sweet guy. A weed. Shy. Nerdy. Glasses-wearer – no offence.’ He looked nervous for a second, about what my friend would do to him if he got angry. ‘But that little guy wouldn’t say boo to a goose. He was skinnier than a goose. Not a gym guy at all. Nothing to him. Sort of pathetic.’

               ‘Maybe I was sweet,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe I was nothing.’

               The guy’s jaw dropped as he realised what was happening. ‘No way.’

               ‘But I became something,’ said Harry. ‘I grew into something – and I’m not so sweet any more.’

               ‘Jesus,’ said the boy. ‘It really is you, isn’t it. You’re like a porn star now. A Marine. A beast.’

               ‘I’m a god.’ Harry was showing off now. His dick was getting even harder.

               The gym support guy looked at me. ‘Wow, Max, your little friend eclipsed you.’ He laughed at me. ‘He’s so much bigger than you now. So much stronger than you. So much more powerful than you. He makes you look small and pitiful.’

               ‘I’m your superior in every way,’ said the once-shy Harry. ‘Come and worship me.’

               ‘But what if my boss –’

               ‘You’d better do what he says,’ I murmured. ‘He’s in charge for now.’

               ‘What’s your name?’ said Harry.

               ‘Tim,’ said the gym support guy.

               ‘I’m your boss now, Tim,’ said Harry.

               Tim stepped toward him. ‘Yes, sir.’

               ‘Turn around, you dirty little poof,’ said Harry. His voice had deepened to a tiger’s growl. ‘You’re only good for one thing.’

               He leant forward, reached out a big hand, and ripped apart the lad’s tracksuit bottoms. He reached inside and shoved his thick fingers inside Tim’s arsehole. With the other hand, he straightened his glasses. The look on his face was serious and thoughtful, as if he was in the kitchen, preparing some meat. Tim, hunched over, began to moan. It was the sign. With his free hand, Harry bent the gym guy over.

‘Wait,’ said Tim. ‘You’re so big – I don’t think I’m ready…’

‘You don’t get a say,’ said Harry, and with that he picked up the smaller guy and sat him down on his big dick. Tim gave out a cry, half of pain and half of pleasure.

‘You, Max. Your mouth on my pecs, alright?’

               Dutifully, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and stuck my face in the fur on his chest, and tongued his pec. It was like sucking my girlfriend’s tit, except it was hard underneath the softness, and his fur was rank with the smell of stale sweat.

               Tim was groaning. ‘Mate, you’re too big!’

               ‘Yeah,’ Harry said. ‘No more little guy. No more geek. I’m too big now. Too big for anyone. What used to be pathetic and weak is now beastly. What used to be small and inadequate is now strong as a bull. I used to beg for sex, and now girls get wet as I walk in the room. I used to be a shrimp, now I’m a shark. Used to look like Daniel Radcliffe, now I look like Daniel Craig. Fuck, it I’m bigger and more powerful than Daniel Craig. And I’m just going to keep going till I’m bigger than – ah, fuck – bigger than everyone – fuck, that’s it!’

               ‘Oh Jesus!’ said Tim the gym guy. He pulled his dick out of his tracksuit bottoms and began furiously wanking, cumming in seconds, white spatters on his trainers.

               Harry convulsed, bucking and rearing, growling and snarling. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fucking fuck!’ Cum slopped out of Tim’s hole before Harry had even pulled out. Harry had lost control, so I grabbed the base of his huge dick and helped ease it out of Tim’s arse.

               Tim sprawled on the floor, watching as Harry’s hugely hard dick jerked out of my grip, my mate cumming another huge load, and another. Harry’s eyes had rolled back in his head, and his mouth was open in a crazy gurn. Tim the gym guy knelt and grabbed the dick as if it was a firehose gone wild. Shoving it in his mouth, he gulped down Harry’s sperm. When he couldn’t eat anymore, he pulled off his polo shirt and let the spunk fall over his hard, pert pecs, rubbing it over the nipples like white lube.

               Finally, the orgasm subsided. Harry grinned, and shoved Tim roughly away. ‘Fuck off, you little queer,’ he said. ‘I’m done with you.’ He picked up the discarded polo shirt and used it to mop himself up. ‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ he said, tossing the shirt away. He got to his feet and opened his gym bag, shrugging off his kit so that he stood naked before us both, huge and flushed and slowly regaining his breath. He looked like he’d just finished a game of rugby, not a fuck session with two guys. He looked at both of us. ‘Neither of you cunts breathe a word to anybody about this. Got that?’

               ‘Can I see you again?’ asked Tim.

               ‘Fuck off,’ said Harry, laughing. ‘You can come back when you’ve put on a bit of muscle, little man.’ He was pulling on a silver chain, a big expensive watch, a beautifully tailored suit. He looked smart, authoritative and powerful. An alpha male in business regalia. He really could have been anybody’s boss.

               ‘What now?’ I asked, rushing to get dressed too. I was worried he was going to toss me aside like Tim the gym bunny.

               ‘Mmm,’ said Harry, thinking. ‘I’m hungry.’

 

               ‘We were going to go out for a couple of pints,’ I said. ‘Why not dinner?’

‘Yes, let’s go back to yours,’ he told me, shouldering his gym bag.

               ‘Well,’ I said, turning pale, ‘I’m not sure —’

               ‘Remember,’ he said, ruffling my hair, ‘you’re not my bro any more. Not just my bro. You’re my boy-cunt. You do what I want. You give me what I want. Get it?’

               ‘You’re a bit scary these days,’ I said. ‘You know that?’

                He took a deep breath and rubbed his shaved scalp. ‘Sorry, mate. I lose control sometimes.’ He smiled at me. ‘Yeah, I realise I’m intimidating now. I see it on guys’ faces. People I would have been afraid of in the past, blokes on the street, big guys in the gym – they look at me differently now. New respect. And a little bit of fear too.’ I saw him squeeze the bulge in his suit trousers. I wonder if he realised how much this new authority turned him on.

               We left the gym, and started walking back to mine. ‘You wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, though, would you?’ I said. ‘I mean, you’re still the same guy.’

               ‘Am I?’ he said, and I looked up at him, warily. ‘I used to be sweet. I used to be gentle. I used to be weak. Not any more. But with every gram of muscle I put on, I’ve become a bit more of an animal. A bit stronger, a bit stupider.’ He sighed. ‘Sometimes I feel like the muscle is taking over. My body is asserting itself. I can’t read so good. I used to be an English major and now I just like to look at pictures. And work out. Every day.’ He flexed a big arm in his suit. ‘And eat. That’s why we’re going back to yours. Normal restaurants can’t handle my appetite any more.’

               ‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘It’s just – if I did something to make you annoyed…’

               ‘You’re my bro,’ he said, and patted my shoulder. ‘And my boy pussy. I’d never hurt you.’

               I hope that’s true, I thought, as I let him into our house.

               ‘Hey babes,’ said a woman’s voice from the living room. ‘How did it go?’

               ‘I know that voice,’ said Harry, pausing in my hallway. ‘Who is that?’

               Part of me had hoped she would be out, or at least, not so obvious.

               ‘What’s he like, then?’ said Niamh. ‘Still look like a teenage Harry Potter? I hope he hasn’t lost weight during the lockdown, there’ll be nothing left of him.’

               I followed Harry into the living room. Niamh was sitting on the sofa, reading a book in her pyjamas. She looked up, confused. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘sorry, didn’t know you had company.’ She extended a hand for him to shake. ‘I’m Niamh, Max’s girlfriend. Are you his personal trainer or something?’

               Harry was having to control his breathing. ‘We’ve met before,’ he said.

               Her eyes travelled over his perfect physique. ‘I’d remember you,’ she said, betraying a hint of lust.

               ‘In fact,’ he said, ‘we knew each other very well, or at least I thought so. Maybe we were wrong.’ He looked at me. ‘Maybe we don’t know each other at all.’

               ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, putting the book down and sitting to attention. ‘Max, baby, who is this? What’s going on?’

               ‘For example,’ said Harry, ‘I thought you were my girlfriend. A little restless. Dissatisfied with me. Never wanted to watch Star Trek or come to the theatre with me. But loyal.’

               Her eyes widened. ‘Harry?!’

               ‘I never realised how much of a slut you were,’ he said. ‘Never realised what a whore my best mate was, either.’ He looked at me, his brow furrowed, mouth contorted in a sneer. He was breathing hard now, trying to control himself.

               ‘But you look completely different,’ said Niamh.

               ‘Was always like this on the inside,’ he said. ‘You never realised what a beast was caged up in that pathetic little boyfriend of yours.’ He laughed grimly. ‘But now you see. Both you cunts see it – now.’

               ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

               ‘Made me angry,’ he said. ‘Made big mistake.’

               ‘You won’t hurt us, will you?’ I said, cringing.

               ‘I never harm you. None of you two,’ he growled. His vocabulary seemed to have shrunk, grown primitive. ‘But it the chemicals in me. Get me angry, chemicals in me flow. Oh fuck, yes, me feel it…’

               ‘And what happens then?’ I asked, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘Now, I mean. For god’s sake, what’s happening to you, Harry?’

               ‘Me can’t control it,’ he said, looking me dead in the eye and smiling. ‘Me going to grow. Me get bigger…’

 

T

o be Continued…

(Let me know your thoughts!)

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Ro20316

whata fantastic follow up and whatever they gave him, It's changing him in every way

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