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The Call -Part III


Cappy50

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Comments on characters, plot, and style are greatly appreciated.  Please advise on muscle and sex descriptions --do they work or not?

 

Hope you enjoy.

 

The Call - Part I

The Call -Part II

 


 

The Call –Part III

 

Sun streamed into the clubhouse’s committee room. A glass wall created a visible meeting space, even in closed sessions. Frank sat at the room’s roundtable, his back to the glass. On Frank’s immediate left sat Jerry, and Dwayne on his right. Their one hundred percent American Corvette muscle framed Frank. Next to Jerry sat Lucy, a bubbly woman with curves that warranted slow-down signs, not that she did. Filling the circle was Roz, the committee chairperson. Roz’s preferred expanding grey cells over contracting muscle fiber; The Doc’s formula restored her brain acumen, and Roz never complained about her youthful good looks, restored vigor; and she had never refused a big man.

        Lenny’s fate at More to Life Living Facility depended on these five people deciding he had met the entrance criteria.

       The “senior” criterion seemed easy for Lenny to pass, but age didn’t make a senior. Degree of infirmity, amount of aging, and psychological outlook were factors. The average recruited “senior” was sixty-three for men and sixty-seven for women. A vital seventy-two-year-old man had been rejected as not a senior.

       Another criterion rated Lenny’s adaptability: could he accept the More to Life philosophy? How would Lenny react to a second youth and a body better than in his actual youth? Would he become an egotistical SOB? Or would he embrace a second chance to explore life’s pleasures for himself and others?

       The committee considered Frank’s commitment to apply his accumulated wisdom to help others, both at More to Life and outside. Altruism as a criterion always caused debate: sainthood wasn’t for everyone and difficult to measure: What constituted help and how often? In the early years, committees had struggled with this criterion until a pattern emerged. Even with super fit bodies and restored good looks, people retained their inherent personality, with exceptions. A jerk early in life remained a jerk. But dramatic events could change an asshole into a nice person and vice-versa.

       To determine the last criterion, Lenny’s nomination came via Frank –a portrait of Lenny’s inherent personality in high school. Dwayne, the independent investigator, uncovered Lenny’s latter life development with thorough background checks.

       This meeting reviewed Lenny’s adaptability, data obtained by the ostensibly friendly chitchats, inexplicable plowing of muscle into his face, and a gym power tour. This elaborate staging provided a sense of Lenny’s reactions to morphed bodies with wrinkle-free faces.

****

Frank sat upright, fingering Lenny’s dossier folder. Without glancing at his notes, he said: “I know he’s a little odd, but Lenny was a good guy, is a good guy.” Frank looked to Roz. “He’s very smart… and he always helped others, and never hurt anyone. Frank played no role in hazing freshman, a tradition in our fucked-up high school.”

       Jerry interrupted Frank, turning in his chair like a bull with a hard-on for a matador, the feeling Frank had when Jerry’s hard cock had poked into him during their private meeting the previous Friday to explore Lenny’s personality. Jerry’s aggressive tone startled Frank.

       “I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Lenny never married. He says he straight, but is he ashamed of being gay? We don’t discriminate. Is Lenny an intolerant gay man? It happens, you know. For his generation –yours-- gays could act like straights.”

       Before answering, Frank sat back, Jerry’s barrel chest sucked oxygen, they way he had sucked Frank’s penis a few days before.

       “Well Jerry, he didn’t marry because Lenny was wedded to his job. And you may not have the imagination to understand that working on spacecraft, sending men and women to the moon, is a thrill. Maybe Lenny chose work over a woman. In high school, he studied more than mingled. But everyone liked him. Lenny would do anything for anyone. He confused the bullies because he never complained at their teasing, gave them his lunch money with a smile saying they probably need it more than him. Lenny was never prejudiced against any group. Maybe he’s a hermaphrodite –you’d find a way to enjoy that, wouldn’t you Jerry?”

       Roz tapped her fingers on the table, mumbling about Frank’s discourteous response. Frank scowled an apology.

       Roz waited for Frank’s breathing to settle before pointing to Dwayne for a comment.

       Dwayne, a six-three former detective, and Lenny’s official investigator, said with his deep-water cavern voice, “His former NASA colleagues confirm what Frank said.”

       Dwayne rested his chin on his fist, his forearm the size of a Roman plinth, his massive head motionless as his lips grappled with his tongue. Dwayne retained his New Jersey detective skills, and used former connections for favors rather than More to Life hackers accessing government computers; he preferred the old-fashion inside approach to illegally acquire private data.

       Uncovering latent homophobia was Dwayne’s trademark; he’d have known if Lenny hated gays. Dwayne had a particular disdain for closet gays because it reminded him of himself. He had grown up in the eighties, an unkind era, but worse for him as a gay African-American police officer. He still berated himself for being a coward, keeping his homosexuality a secret.

       Frank’s eyes focused on Dwayne’s twitching pecs poking through his fishnet shirt, the same one he had worn during their Saturday review of Lenny. Frank’s ass had saddled Dwayne’s balcony chest, his legs had dangled behind Dwayne’s ridged deltoids. Frank had commandeered Dwayne’s 747-size latissimi dorsi into an intense horizontal landing. They made notes between ejaculations.

       Lucy’s two cents came with her hand adjusting her breasts: “He’s cute too, and he’ll be even better once he’s in shape and loses the wrinkles.” Lucy liked gorgeous buff men, not bulkheads that suffocated her. She only required her men be hard in one place; her exact words while rating Frank’s cock for tensile hardness during their Sunday review of Lenny.

       Dwayne raised his hand like a traffic cop to Lucy. With a scowl, Lucy reacted: “He’s not yours yet, so pack those oversized muscles in a suitcase as you leave, Dwayne.”

       Dwayne stuck out his tongue, Lucy gave him the finger, and Roz groaned, a sound familiar to Frank. During their Monday discussion about committee procedures, Frank had taken the opportunity to review Lenny’s intelligence as a rocket scientist. Frank had launched past Roz’s clitoris, hearing her familiar moan with each full-blast thrust.

       The Saturday to Monday private encounters had given Frank confidence in a favorable decision. He had promised all three follow-up  private sessions, should the committee give preliminary approval to Lenny.

                                             ****

Frank cleared the table dishes, Lenny’s half-eaten meal evidence of his old man appetite.

       “Like it?” Frank held Lenny’s empty frappe glass.

       Frank spread a photo album on the table. The early pictures were of them in high school. Their youth made them laugh, although Frank didn’t look that much older. Viewing their toothpick legs in gym shorts nearly knocked them to the floor.

       A few pages later were wedding photos of Frank and Helen. She was beautiful, her wedding dress elegant. Frank asked Lenny why he missed the wedding.

       Lenny taped the date scrawled under the photo. “It was my first launch. I was so excited, and I’m sorry I never met Helen. What was she like?”

       Using the back of his hand, Frank rubbed his nose. Lenny apologized for asking.

        “No, that’s okay. Its just that I didn’t treat her well.” Frank revealed he’d neglected Helen, but had never cheated. “I was worse, I’d become indifferent.”

       There was no doubt after years Frank was more interested in the bottle than Helen. “I realized what I had lost when she died, and that I’d become an asshole.”

       The next photo showed him and Helen at the Grand Canyon. Frank looked like a cheese wheel, the top of his shorts hidden by a layered stomach overflowing like melted cheddar. Helen remained gorgeous, but her eyes had become sad.

       “I’m so sorry, Frank.”

       “Yeah, me too. It was a trip to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary. Helen died later that year of an embolism.”

       With Helen gone, Frank had become morose, leading to job loss, and depression. In four years, he had squandered Helen’s insurance policy, and he had stuffed two hundred ninety pounds on his five foot nine inch frame.

       Lenny thought Frank’s description disingenuous until he saw the next photo. A mummified face stared out topping an atmospheric balloon like those Lenny had sent up at NASA to gather meteorological data. He read the words scrawled under the photo: Mancuso Blimp.

       “That was taken the day I entered More to Life. Every new member has their photo taken the day they arrive. My doctor had given me a year to live, two max.”

       Fat Frank seemed to ooze onto the paper, a grease stain showing around the edges of the picture.

       “Keep this picture in front of you. I want to show you something, and…uh, this may seem …uh, maybe kinky, but believe me it is not, trust me.”

       The lines creased on Lenny’s forehead as Frank stood to unbutton his shirt.

       “Stay with me, Lenny. Its fine.”

       Lenny’s eyebrows reached his hairline watching Frank’s pectorals billow into the room, his areolae giant graffiti. His oversized chest pushed down his nipples so they pointed to his feet.

       “Jesus, I had no idea. I mean your arms are big but those are… incredible,” said Lenny who inhaled his words

       “Thanks.” Frank placed his shirt over the chair and turned around. Lenny imagined a V-shaped Yield Sign,

       Frank bent, his spine ridges visible. His pants flung upward. Lenny gripped the chair’s side arms.

       “Ready?”

       Frank walked to the room’s center, rolling on log legs. He wore a tiny bodybuilder’s posing suit.

       Lenny choked, and reached for his water.

       “Take it easy, Lenny. Its just a show.”

       “Frank, what have you done to yourself? Look at those legs…and…. Lenny nodded to Frank’s crotch. “I’m sorry, but that bulge...”

       Frank shook his right leg, the muscle flopped like a dishrag. As he tensed his leg, dewdrops formed, veins crisscrossed rice paper skin. Frank relaxed his thigh, to lift his left calf that evolved into a small surfboard.

       Lenny held the water to his lips, taking small sips between intakes of air.

       With a swift turn, Frank’s back flared. He pulled up the sides of his bikini poser, sinking it into his ass crack. Lenny choked, and Frank turned. Lenny waived okay.

       Tightening his glutes, vertical striations draped Frank’s ass. Lenny blurted out, “What the hell, that can’t be real?”

       Laughing as he turned to face Lenny, Frank adjusted his front pouch. “This too is real, but like I said, nothing kinky, so don’t worry I won’t be taking it out…not tonight.”

       Before Lenny could respond, Frank did a double bicep pose, and knelt in front of Lenny.

       “Feel them. Go ahead, crush them.”

       Lenny’s hands rested on each mound, then moved to Frank’s pectorals.

       Frank pointed to his Mancuso blimp picture. “Lenny, let’s take one of you. The committee has agreed to grant you a trial residency, and I’m sure you’ll be accepted. I meeting with everyone in the next few days.”

       “So, I was voted in this afternoon?”

       “Moe a consensus.” Frank’s eyes drifted to the ceiling.

        “So one meeting and the committee knew enough.”

       “No. I had separate meetings first to allay individual concerns.” Frank chuckled. “I can be persuasive.”

       Frank suggested they work on Lenny’s interview, but Lenny thought it a waste of time. There had to be others more deserving then him, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to join.

       The top of Frank’s lips rose. “I told the committee you always put others before yourself, and you still do.”

       The subject changed to Lenny’s health, which Lenny waved off. He lowered his head, and he saw Frank’s posers silhouetted with a mushroom headed rocket. Lenny gasped

       “Sorry, sometimes flexing makes me hard. And, it is bigger and harder than ever.”

       With flushed cheeks, Lenny circled his water glass on the table.

       “Don’t be embarrassed. More to Life means restored youth and strength, and more chance to live a complete life. To find new pleasures from a better body.”

       Frank paused. Lenny’s eyelids had closed.

       “You know, I had limited sexual experience before I married and after thirty-five sex ended for me. I’m not gay but—Frank’s hand swung around his upper torso— this has made me experiment. I want men to explore me… and women. I am constantly amazed at what I can do with such strength.” Frank’s face split by a wide grin.

       “You can’t imagine what it feels like to have the strength, the stamina, and the physique of Hercules. You’ll see.”

       From his vantage, all Lenny saw was Frank’s massive hard on.

       “I feel myself up. Do you know I masturbate twice a day, three if there’s time?” Frank’s pouch had lowered.

       Lenny blinked rapidly several times.

       “Sorry, too much, right?”

       Lenny nodded.

       “Why not explore alternative pleasures? Don’t rule it out.”

       A big, full-on tooth grin seeped across Franks’ face.

       With a short pause, Lenny wanted to known if there was anything besides sex and flexing muscles at More to Life.

       The response was ambiguous: plenty of intellectual activity but enough sinew to feed a pride of lions. “How can you really ignore this?” Frank’s bicep rocketed upward.

       Lenny’s glass stopped moving. He reached for Frank’s arm and said, “I don’t know what’s come over me. All day I’ve felt an increasing urge to massage your muscles. I’ve never felt like this and I haven’t even had the special meds.”

       Frank’s eye movement was nearly imperceptible.

       “What? You didn’t? Medication can’t act that fast.”

       “It doesn’t, not normally. Maybe because you had a double dose.”

       “What?”

       “A mistake. I gave you a pill in the morning. Todd phoned to say he fortified you too, not knowing about me. The frappe’s are enhancers, but pills are full doses—remember Todd and the Kidd? Todd and I worried about your quadruple bypass and —“

       “Wait. How do you know about my bypass? What’s going on, Frank?”

       With the heel of his hand, Frank banged his forehead and groaned, Frank’s head rested on the table. “I’ve screwed this up. You were my first choice, too. Shit, I am so stupid.”

       Lenny stood to massage Frank’s shoulders, and felt he was kneading golf balls. “Don’t worry, please. You did what you thought right. And you’ve honored me with the invitation.”

       Hearing a grunt, Frank raised his head to see Lenny flexing.

       “I haven’t felt like this in years. Feel this.” Lenny moved his arm to Frank.

       Although he strained, there was no bulge in Lenny’s arm, just his same old loose-change bicep.

        “Oh, Lenny, you’re such a muscle hunk,” said Frank with a whispering laugh.

       The two men were still laughing as Frank’s poser stretched, his penis outline again visible.

       Lenny moved back and stopped laughing.

       “Frank stood and hugged Lenny. “Hey, this happens.”

       Wiping his lips, Lenny explained his last sex with a woman had been in his thirties, after that he had remained faithful to himself.

       Frank grinned like he’d eaten cheesecake, and Lenny remembered Frank did it three times daily.

       “Frank, its different for me. I have no desire for sex. I don’t need it, so I doubt I’d be of interest to anyone here.”

       Tapping Lenny’s head with his two fingers, then he pulled Lenny’s hand to his bulging posing suit.

       “Don’t be so sure, Lenny, we still have tomorrow.”

****

 

 

 

 

The Call -Part I

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