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The young man stopped as if he hadn't registered Mr. Thompson’s presence until the man spoke. He turned to the car. Mr. Thompson let out a quiet gasp but closed his mouth before uttering a sound. He should have caught it right away. The loose hoodie, the saunter of his walk. Exactly what it promised: A wandering boy. No older than Danny. He gripped his steering wheel trying not to jump to anger-inducing conclusions about the teen’s home life. But why else would a young man be out here?

“You mean it?” The boy asked expectantly. There was a brightness in his voice, though there was a tiredness there as if he hadn’t spoken much.

“There’s a storm coming.” Mr. Thompson shared.

“Are you going the way I’m going?”  He leaned down, hands on the open car door window. Eyes hopeful. As he did, Mr. Thompson could have sworn he watched the boy’s body change. His face had a bit of an edge as his shoulders filled out. He was wider than Mr. Thompson thought. More than that. The young man before him was clearly in the range of older teens to early twenties. Youthfulness hadn’t left his face, but there was no denying he had solidity to him. He no longer looked like the slightest wind would send him over. It was more than a trick of the scarce sunlight, but Mr. Thompson let it go.

“Well, I can't promise that, but I hope a ride to the nearest gas station might suffice.”  Mr. Thompson answered.

“I’ll take it, man!” The young man opened the car door, took off his backpack, tossed it on the floor and stepped in. When he came down, he didn’t sit. He planted. A soft thud from his ass hitting the seat and his back colliding in its rested position. There was definitely serious weight to the young man, Mr. Thompson hadn’t clocked it before in the slightest. As clear as day now. He could see how the hoodie bunched around the male's body, contorted to a fitted shape. Underneath, the hint of pecs, right before the start of a pulled down zipper.

Mr. Thompson put his foot on the gas and pulled off. He took a few more glances at his new passenger. Black hair, brown skin, cool dark brown eyes: Latino. His body was a bit too hardened to match his innocent face. Developed from years of athleticism no doubt, which didn’t explain his current predicament. Because if he was killing it for whatever sports field he was, on why was he out here? The young man happened to turn his head at the exact moment Mr. Thompson tried to take another glance.

“Oh, my bad man, where are my manners? I’m Ghilherme,” he said, offering a handshake.

Mr. Thompson accepted, with a quick shake, happy to put a face to the name. “Gill-Ur-Me,” He sounded the words out, his new passenger had quite the grip.

“Arthur Thompson.”

“Mister Thompson.” The young man said without missing a beat.

The corners of Mr. Thompson, curled upward at the sign of respect. A very well-mannered boy for someone wandering about. “Nice to meet you, Ghilherme, that's a pretty unique name.”

“It’s Portuguese…I’m Brazilian if you couldn't tell, not that I walked here from Brazil.”  Ghilherme said, upon realizing how complicated his sentence sounded.

A gentle laugh escaped Mr. Thompson's mouth as he watched the young man get flustered. Tension in the car evaporated. Mr. Thompson felt confident now in his choice to pick the lad up. With a storm on the horizon, he would have been beside himself knowing the young man was caught up in the rain.

The forest continued on. Trees passed by. Road leading nowhere.

“Can I ask where you’re coming from?” Mr. Thompson tapped the steering wheel, “A young man out here in the county isn’t something I was expecting. I prefer my nice suburbs, get past the county line and it’s too rural out here for me.

Ghilherme shrugged his shoulders, “Here and there.”

“Man of few words, I can respect that. Can I at least ask where you’re headed?”

“Uh, I think…the city’s called Fullerton.” Ghilherme answered.

“And here I thought you’d be tight lipped the whole way,” Mr. Thompson said, surprised. “What’s in Fullerton: family, friends, fame?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“A guy who promised me a ride, then ditched me.”

Mr. Thompson nodded his head. “What does a young man need to do to get by?” A thought he didn’t let escape his mind. He took another look at the way Ghilherme, took up space in the car now, arm on the open window. A duality was at play. There was something so unapologetic and confident in his posture, yet his movement and tone of voice conveyed someone more guarded and awkward. Mr. Thompson wasn’t stupid; he knew there was a performance going on; he just couldn’t tell which one it was.

The road continued to wind and the woods were endless, but just as an unsettling thought began to creep in the man's head, the woods broke and the car was released back out into open pastures. Darker Gray skies above.

They pulled into the first gas station they came across. Mr. Thompson’s car fuel was full but was hoping Ghilherme could get back home from here. However, as they got out, the man noticed not a soul was around. Wind was blowing heavily. The pumps were old and rusted and the store's lights were out.

Ghilherme approached peeking inside, “I don’t think anyone’s been here in years.”

Thunder roared.

Then the drizzle started and quickly morphed into a downpour. They sprinted back into the car. Mr. Thompson pulled off as rain beat on the windows. The windshield wipers could hardly keep up. His car sloshed through water building up on the road, as he drove slowly and carefully. Ghilherme’s attention was fixed on his window, trailing droplet paths with his finger as it moved down his window.

“We can’t be out in this. News said it was going to be all day. I didn't know it was going to be this bad.” Mr. Thompson stated and got his phone's GPS to direct them to the nearest motel. A 20-minute drive, the man turned 40. He pulled into a packed parking lot, finding a parking spot in the back. The young man was going to use his bookbag for cover when, Mr. Thompson offered his umbrella. Ghilherme was going to refuse, but the older man took off, getting his small suitcase out the trunk, then running for cover. They both sprinted to the front desk office, car locked behind them.

Mr. Thompson was soaked by the time the entrance chime played as he and Ghilherme entered. Even with the umbrella Ghilherme hadn't fared much better with the wind making the rain come down at strange angles. The office smelled like old tobacco and peppermint. An old analog clock on the far wooden wall, ticked, and noted every passing second. A single ceiling fan spun in the center of the room, to beat the humidity but was too slow to generate any true cooling ability. The front of the brown carpet was squishy with countless wet footsteps leading to the check-in desk. 

The young woman behind the front desk sat, feet posted up, black braids back in a ponytail.

blowing a bubble, while watching TV on a travel television. Mr. Thompson approached, dripping water onto the floor with every step.

“Hi, I’d like a room with two beds please.”

The employee didn’t look up, just pointed to the key rack hanging behind her. Only five were left. “We’re full, from the storm, you get what we got.”

Mr. Thompson looked back at his passenger, currently fiddling with an old gumball machine beside the entrance. He sighed, “Okay fine.” He handed his card over, and the young woman finally looked up. Her eyes went to Mr. Thompson then to Ghilherme by the door, her expression dropped as she stood up, fixing her tan polo top.

“Just a warning. We don’t do angry spouses here. We will kick you out.”  She pointed over at Ghilherme, before swiping the card.

Mr. Thompson’s face flushed red, as he caught on to what she was implying. “That’s— We’re not— I’m—I’m not married, " he whispered, the only rebuttal he could think of.

The motel employee's face softened, “Oh!  Well then do whatever!” She smiled, handing over the key.

Stuffing his card back into his wallet, Mr. Thompson dragged Ghilherme back out into the storm as they went in search of their room. Hey, found it at the far end, which of course it was. He opened the door, ushering Ghilherme inside as he closed the door, sealing the rain off. He leaned his back against it. Finally, out of the storm. His eyes landed on the one bed in the room. Of course that was all they had left. Ghilherme stood huddled off to the side staring at it.

Mr. Thompson sighed, both of them were drenched. “You can have the bed. Though you should take a shower first and get those clothes off. Don’t want you getting pneumonia.”

“You can have the bed. You paid for the room after all, but I will take you up on the shower.” Ghilherme started stripping right there, shucking off his hoodie, shirt and jeans until he was down to his underwear. Mr. Thompson was shocked at the brazenness, but Ghilherme showed no emotion about it. That’s when the man realized instead of being surprised, he should have been taking his own wet clothes off. Soon there were two guys rocking it in their underwear. Ghilherme had on a tight pair of white Calvin Klein briefs that hugged his ass in the back and sagged heavily in the front. Meanwhile Mr. Thompson’s Tommy Ford navy blue boxers were damp and clung to him all around.

Ghilherme did a short jog to the bathroom leaving his bookbag and clothes on the floor. Mr. Thompson rolled his eyes, such a Danny thing to do. He moved them into one of the two chairs at the small table by the window. The curtains were drawn but he did take a peek outside. It looked like night, as rain pelted the ground, water moved across the asphalt like small waves. The shower water started, competing with the outside world. Mr. Thompson turned his attention back inwards. The TV was a bust, bad connection from the storm. Thankfully Ghilherme came out, towel around his waist as Mr. Thompson popped in. He came out feeling refreshed crawling into bed as his mind drifted off, Ghilherme attempting to watch TV.

Hours later, Mr. Thompson woke up briefly. The rain was still going.  The TC and lights in the room were off. However, he could see thanks to light coming in from outside. He turned his attention to the widow. Ghilherme was sitting in a chair, bookbag now on the floor, staring out at the rain.  A strange dichotomy took place for Mr. Thompson, Ghilherme looked wise beyond his years as the motel’s night lights illuminated his face and yet childishly entranced like he’d been in the car.  His body was huddled up in the chair, legs pulled up, hands around his arms in nothing but underwear. He was trembling. Mr. Thompson didn’t like that, had the young man not been planning to say anything?

“Hey,” He whispered to get Ghilherme’s attention. The young man turned towards him in shock. “Get in the bed.” He pointed.  Ghilherme didn't even argue, just crawled in. Mr. Thompson could feel the chill rolling off his bed mate, the young man had been freezing. Mr. Thompson’s eyes grew heavy, tired, and he was soon asleep again. 

The rain became the perfect white noise as it transitioned the man somewhere else. The heavy fall sounded more distant, fake almost, as it was projected in through a TV. Mr. Thompson found himself standing in an upscale version of the motel he was in. The furniture, the bedding, the wallpaper, even the flooring was improved. He could hear birds calling outside, nor ones he’d ever heard before though. He went to take a peek outside realizing the window was a terrace. Once he stepped out, he felt warmth on his skin, realizing he was only wearing his boxers. The motel had turned tropical, strange plants surrounded the glassed-in terrace. Mr. Thompson’s mouth was agape, stunned truly. He stretched his body out, eyes closed, basking in the sun's rays, his cock twitched, then tented the loose fabric out.  When he opened his eyes again cock hard, he nearly jumped, noticing another person had been out there with him. For a split second he swore he saw Danny’s shadow on a chair grow, but it was just Ghilherme, lazily resting on a chair in his own underwear. The young man was also only in his underwear. He gave Mr. Thompson the peace sign.

Mr. Thompson’s cock responded back involuntarily with a very noticeable throb. Mr. Thompson took in Ghilherme’s form. How stunning it was when the fear of getting sick wasn’t attached to it. This was a retelling, a more provocative situation, than the actual reality the two had found themselves in. Mr. Thompson took a step forward, cock leading the way as he closed the distance between the two of them. He hunched over Ghilherme, hands resting on both sides of the wicker lounge chair. The soft smile stayed on Ghilherme’s face the whole time, even as Mr. Thompson drew his lips closer to Ghilherme.  He could smell the jock’s warm skin and body wash and hear his breathing. Time was slowing the closer he got, making every moment turn into an eternity.

The dream dissolved.

When the man truly started to wake up, he was surprised to see the back of Ghilherme’s head. Closer than he remembered it being, their upper bodies were only inches apart. Mr. Thompson had an arm over Ghilherme’s mid-section, having pulled him closer during the night. The young man’s back looked wider, shoulders sturdier. Mr. Thompson thought that couldn’t be real. Sleepily, he took a finger and softly pressed it to Ghilherme’s back: warm, soft. Real flesh. He traced it along, imaging at some point it’d fall through as a continuation of the dream. His attention went lower and that’s when he noticed Ghilherme's ass was fully flush against his crotch. Ghilherme’s butt was fuller, firmer, and overall bigger than last night. Mr. Thompson considered he was simply mistaken yesterday about the young man’s size. Then the man felt it. The shift of warmth on either side of his dick. The man looked down again, waking up more. His cock was fully out of his boxers, wedged between Ghilherme’s hairy thighs—did they have hair yesterday? He decided to ignore that question. Just to make sure he wasn't actually asleep he pressed forward. A heated hefty weight rested on the front half of his dick, which he was sure was Ghilherme’s own cock and balls, sitting in the young man’s briefs. That woke him up.

Mr. Thompson tried to slide his cock out, but it throbbed madly at the friction from Ghilherme’s skin. There was no denying he was already at his limit, and his cock was in hair trigger mode. Once more he tried. He ended up cumming, unable to stop himself or his morning wood. His cum hit the bed sheets, mimicking last night’s rain as it pelted the bed. He was able to get his cock out, the sensitive head, leaving a slimy trail on Ghilherme’s thighs. Mr. Thompson could not believe himself he immediately got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He needed a washcloth to clean the young man off before he woke up. On his way he paused, turning back to the bed. Ghilherme was larger, he had to be, he sunk into the bed more and his feet went down the bed longer. But that wasn't logical. He just had to be older than Mr. Thomspon had given him credit for. Yes, that certainly had to be it.

Just as he got into the bathroom and pulled out a washcloth he heard.

“Oh shit,”

He walked back out into the room, to find Ghilherme on his knees, covers thrown back. Cum puddles on the bed and ropes on his underwear. “Mr. Thompson, I nutted in my sleep and hosed the bed...” he looked up like a guilty dog.

There was a chance there for Mr. Thompson to play it off. Let Ghilherme take all the blame for the genetic concoction splattered on the cheap motel mattress but, Mr. Thompson wasn’t that kind of man. “No. you didn’t. It was me.” He sucked his teeth. “I woke up with my cock out of my boxers and between your legs. I tried to pull out but instead… I blew.”

“Oh,” Ghilherme looked around at the mess, “Okay word.” That was all he said.

“I’m so sorry, I'll clean it all off you.” The man offered.

Ghilherme didn’t say anything, just slid to the edge of the bed, legs open, Mr. Thompson's sticky evidence still there. Chastising himself, Mr. Thompson wet the cloth and went to wipe up his mess and squatted down between the young man’s legs. As an anxious father sometimes, he could get caught up in his own worries and forget situational awareness. He didn’t notice the missile rising between Ghilherme legs until it was poking him in the face. Before he commented he actually noticed, his cum had stained the young man’s black underwear. “Shoot,” He went into his suitcase and grabbed out his extra pair. “You like Calvin Klein, right? Here.” he tossed them and Ghilherme expertly grabbed them from the air. Then the young man slid his own off, his cock smacking between his legs as he put on Mr. Thomspon’s, a toothy smile on his face. Mr. Thompson couldn’t look away from the black bush of pubes that fed into the tube dangling below.

A video call on his phone broke his thoughts. Danny was awake. Typical Ghilherme, Mr. Thompson would have already started his day but between the rain and whatever was happening now; he’d gotten delayed. “Morning son,” he answered flustered.  He hadn't even done his typically perfectly combed hair to start his day.

“Beat you, dad.” Danny’s chipper voice came through.

“That you did,” Mr. Thompson’s chuckle was off kilter. He spent a few minutes talking to his son, as the teen got ready to head off to school. Danny said the storm hadn't hit their town. The talk was nice as he sat at the small table, eyes ever so often drifting over to Ghilherme, laying on the bed watching TV. How did Mr. Thompson ever think Ghilherme reminded him of Danny? Danny was a boy and Ghilherme, he was undoubtedly a young man. It was obvious in his looks and the way muscles sat on his frame. A mustache coming in over his hips. His jaw line coming in sharp sat upon a thick neck that fed into strong traps. Rock solid shoulders fed into, bulging biceps and huge forearms that flanked his sides. Pecs protruded from his torso with dark hair spread out from the center, dancing out to his dark nipples. Abs came in next, its own golden brick road that led to a dark treasure trail, then the desired land of his pubes and bulge. Due to how Ghilherme, was sitting, Mr. Thompson could not experience the true view of how massive Ghilherme’s ass was. It all fed into long legs, crossed over each other, that stretched down the bed. Overgrown thighs, covered in curly dark hairs, and hardened calves, topped off with two massive feet, fiddling with the other as his toes flexed.

Mr. Thompson drifted seamlessly back into his conversation with Danny. They talked until the bus came and Danny was off again. The man set down his phone, already whipping his comb out to fix his hair.

“Does your son always call you, or do you make him call you?” Ghilherme asked from the bed.

The man shrugged, “Is there a difference? I just like knowing he’s okay.”

“I’d say there’s a huge difference.” Ghilherme flicked the TV off, “between a kid who wants to call and one who has to check in.”

“Well, it’s not supposed to be a punishment.” Mr. Thompson frowned.

Ghilherme held up his hands, “Didn’t say it was. Just wanted to share an opinion. I think…lightening up on him might not be so bad.” he rubbed the back of his head as if he was unsure, he could even say it.

“What are you talking about, I’m so light on him.” He joked back comb going through his hair.

“Eh, no offense Mr. Thompson you’re a really nice guy, but you seem pretty wound up in some ways. Like so wound up, you came between my legs.”

Embarrassment returned to smash into the man like a freight train. “I deeply apologize that was truly so unbecoming off me. I haven’t had anyone sleep next to me in a while and I think, my body found yours in the night—

“No, no” Ghilherme sat up shaking his hands, “I’m not blaming you. I’m actually kind of happy for you. I think you really needed to get that nut out. You probably don’t notice it, but it doesn't look like you're moving as stiffly today.”

Mr. Thompson knew sometimes young people talked nonsense, but his body did feel a lot looser after he came. But he knew his issues were more than just being sexually backed up. Tension in the body born from years of worry couldn’t be eradicated with one good nut. Maybe he could try taking advantage of how good he was feeling though. He stopped combing his hair. It was neat, but it wasn’t perfect. He put on his next polo shirt on, a soft teal as he left the buttons undone. His own pecs pressed firmly out, had it always been so tight in the chest? Then he slid on his pants, they were tight coming past the knees and once on and zipped made his bulge stick out a bit. He forewent his belt as his shorts didn't give any leeway today. Different, but good.

” Dad outfit, complete.” He joked and posed like a Power Ranger, as Ghilherme groaned, and that sounded like Danny’s annoyed son groan.

Ghilherme got dressed next, going for his clothes from yesterday, now dry. He started with his jeans putting one foot in, then the other. The next thing Mr. Thompson knew, the young man was hopping about like a rabbit attempting to pull them up.

“What are you doing?” He sat at the table, stifling a laugh, watching the event transpire.

“They won't come up,” He flopped on the bed like a fish, then floundered about kicking his legs. Mr. Thompson chuckled; from his vantage point the pants were stuck at Ghilherme’s thighs.

He stood up, “Alright let me help.” if he watched any longer, he was going to fully burst out laughing. Ghilherme got up as Mr. Thompson came from behind him and pulled on his pants. The two were trying and inches were being rewarded, slowly sliding him in. Mr. Thompson's eyes briefly watched that bubbled jock ass jiggle and bounce about. The pants stopped going up, right at the curve outward. There was no way the pants were going to fit that ass. The man leaned around Ghilherme, the young man’s bulge rested heavy in the front, the zipper was not going to conquer it.

“I think you should wear something else.” Mr. Thompson shared, Ghilherme, conceded with a huff of air. The two then had to work together to get the pants off, Mr. Thompson pulling with all his might, biceps straining as Ghilherme crawled back on the bed. The young man’s legs eventually popped free as Mr. Thompson held up the pants like a trophy. Ghilherme went to his book bag for something else. While he was doing that, Mr. Thompson examined the pants in his hands, how light they felt, how small they were. Curious, he peered at the size. The same size Danny wore. His eyes flew to the muscular frame squatted before him, even off sight alone no way could that body fit into these. But he had been in them yesterday, comfortably even. How did it make sense he couldn’t wear them today?

Ghilherme pulled out a pair of gym shorts and put them on. He made a gesture for Mr. Thompson to throw the jeans, which the young man caught, then stuffed away into the bag. Ghilherme didn't even attempt to put on the shirt, banishing it to the bag. He zipped up his hoodie, having to hunch his back to make it go up, only to have his pecs force the zipper back down, when he stood normal. Mr. Thompson thought Ghilherme was going to have trouble with his shoes, which also appeared to have shrunk in size overnight, but as the socked feet slid in, the shoes adapted and expanded larger. The man blinked. No, they had to have always been that size.

Mr. Thompson considered parting ways at the motel, perhaps offering to buy more nights for Ghilherme, but as the young man’s stomach growled. The man knew he had to at least buy breakfast for the young man, especially after the incident Mr. Thompson caused that morning. “Let’s go eat!” he said, flinging the door open.

The two were on the road again. Mr. Thompson didn't feel nervous at all, in fact felt nice having someone to talk to without Danny around. He avoided the family topic but did ask more about Ghilherme generally. Favorite color, food, city. Ghilherme answered like any other self-prescribed cool young man, “Depends on the day, depends on the mood.” Not ‘my’ mood the mood, Mr. Thompson had no idea what that even meant.

Q’s Diner was loud and busy; some form of gas station crashed into seated dining. The place had the aroma of salty bacon and warm toast, the endless chorus of eggs sizzling in the background. Mr. Thompson held the door open for Ghilherme, as they came into what looked like a trucker refugee. There were a couple of families, a few solo travelers, but it was obvious where the real money was made. Large 18 wheelers sat outside, in their own refuel stations visible from the windows. The two got a booth and a waiter came by and handed them menus.

“So, where’s next for you?” Mr. Thompson asked, eyes wandering up from his list of options. 

“Already told you, got to get to Fullerton to see a guy who ditched me.” Ghilherme answered, not looking up.

“And you want to find him, why?”

“Oh that,” Ghilherme smirked, “He stole some money from me. I intended to get it back, all $783.23 of it.”

“You know where he lives?” The man asked.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll find him. Don’t worry about that.” Ghilherme said, determined. 

They ended up ordering when their waiter came back and 20 minutes later, they had their food. Mr. Thompson watched as Ghilherme ate. The young man dug into his breakfast burrito and fried like it was going to get up and walk off his plate. He wondered when was the last time his passenger had a proper meal. Eating his own food, his omelet disappeared with a delicious bite. 

A door to the diner slammed open, causing heads to turn. At the entrance stood a large burly bear of a man. He towered over most people in there at 6’3. His chest and stomach entered the establishment before the rest of him. One of his wide hands kept the door open, palm and fingers fully on the glass. Hair ran up his forearms leading to a flannel sleeve that had been pushed down to the elbow. The Flannel itself was wide open, revealing a white tank top, with wiry brown hairs spilling over it. His legs were hidden by dark blue jeans that fed into boots, but based on how close it pressed, wasn’t much for the imagination there. Then there was his head, his neck hidden behind his bushy brunette beard, the same as with his upper lip. Nothing but hair on his lower jaw that seamlessly fed into the hair on his head top off with a cap. A true trucker through and through. But his eyes rang with a fury of something else.

He stepped forward, his belly didn’t shake or wobble; it was a true muscle gut, a testament to his power. Marching forward he was a moving bullet headed forward. Mr. Thompson prayed this second oncoming storm wasn’t meant for them, but he found no such luck as the man stopped at their table and slammed his hands down, paying attention only on Ghilherme.

“You little shit!” The man was gruff and spat venom. “Where’s your older brother, or was he your dad?”

Ghilherme didn't react, only stuffed the end of his burrito into his mouth and swallowed. 

The man pulled Ghilherme out of his seat. One arm clutching the hooding and forcing the young man to stand, “What the fuck did you freaks do to me?”

“That’s enough.” Mr. Thompson shot up and gripped the space between the man’s shoulder and his neck. The trucker let go of Ghilherme, spinning around as if finally taking in Mr. Thompson’s presence. Despite the enormity of the stranger, Mr. Thompson didn’t think the trucker was huge once he stood up too. Mr. Thompson had always been a respectable 5’10” but now a few more inches had appeared on him.

The hirsute man turned his head finally registering Mr. Thompson. The man then looked about the diner and could see multiple faces staring at him. His let go of the young man’s hoodie and Ghilherme was free.

“Go to the car.” Mr. Thompson threw Ghilherme his keys. 

“But” Ghilherme’s eyes darted between the two men.

“Go,” Mr. Thompson’s voice was firm. He didn't even think of how dumb of an idea that was: handing his keys to a stranger. Ghilherme slid past the man and left. All the father saw though was someone with too much size and power lording it over someone younger. If it had been his son, it’d be over, but even if it wasn’t he was still going to have words.

“You’re disturbing everyone’s meal. You should go. I don’t think anyone here wants to hear from you.”

The trucker looked like he wanted to punch a hole through, Mr. Thompson. But Mr. Thompson had never felt more indestructible like his body was solid. He could feel from his feet planted on the ground, up to his abs flowing to his chest and arms. The space in his shorts was completely vacuumed up by his thighs, as his ass turned the seat of his pants into a curve. His biceps choked up his short sleeves, making his shoulders appear larger. All His muscles were breathing new life into him as his veins rose over challenging the trucker. One the trucker seemed eager to accept, a cocky smirk denoting he was still assured he’d win, but a look across the diner. There were other people who seemed ready to hop in if a fight did kick off.

A derisive snort left the trucker’s mouth. He stood up straight, eyeing Mr. Thompson up and down “Wait until your balls drop, before challenging me.” He left the dinner. Mr. Thompson immediately asked for the check and paid, rushing outside to make sure the trucker didn’t chase down Ghilherme. 

Rushing out to his car Mr. Thompson came upon a sight.

A sight that made him laugh.

Ghilherme sat in the driver’s seat, door open, hoodie off, keys not in the ignition, playing behind the wheel as if he were driving. Mr. Thompson let out a soft chuckle and Ghilherme looked out to him, caught red headed. The young man suddenly changed his position and posture as if he were doing something way cooler.

Wiping the smirk off his face, Mr. Thompson said, “You’re adorable, you know that.” Then his face went red. It was a quick thought, but he hadn't meant to say it. The words came tumbling out of his mouth. After all, what young man wanted to be called adorable?

Ghilherme gave a chuckle in return as he stood, “Thanks.” His body moved and his voice conveyed it with a cool swagger that took the compliment in stride. “What now?” He was ready to move the conversation along.

“I was thinking, we could part here, but with that trucker around I think it’s best if I take you to the next gas station.” Mr. Thompson motioned for his passenger to get on the other side. They pulled off leaving the diner behind. Ghilherme had his window down, arm resting on the doorsill, as the wind blew in. Mr. Thompson kept peeking at his guest’s hair, it was shorter, right? More uniform than it had been before. Weren’t there soft curls tossed by the wind yesterday? He peeled his eyes away before Ghilherme noticed. Looking in the rearview. He saw a truck far in the distance. With nothing else but grass around for miles there was nothing else to see; it suck out like a sore thumb. Regardless, Mr. Thompson calmed himself there was no way it was who he thought. His worries were getting the best of him.

A few hours past noon, they pulled into another diner-gas station. Way further than he promised. Mr. Thompson got out as Ghilherme grabbed his book bag from the back, as well as his hoodie. Mr. Thompson had a sinking suspicion Ghilherme could no longer fit into his hoodie and that’s what he didn’t put it on. The young man dropped his stuff by the front license plate as the two travelers stood in front of each other. It was Ghilherme who went in for a handshake and the older male pulled him into a hug. Mr. Thompson hadn't even planned it. He just did. Very unlike him. But in a span of 24 hours he had come to care for his passenger. Ghilherme's bare chest collided with Mr. Thompson's pecs on pec. Arms around a warm back, as even the too cool Ghilherme, folded and hugged the man back. Time passed and they didn't seek to pull away, in fact they held each other harder.

“I really enjoyed riding with you, sucks that it’s over.” Ghilherme's voice sounded so melancholy.

“Same here.” Mr Thompson ran a hand up and down Ghilherme’s back, comforting him. He pulled his head slightly away from Ghilherme’s. The two looked each other in the eyes, then kissed. Mr. Thompson had to be careful, the more spirited young male was grinding into him, and he was grinding back. Slight rolls of the hips, most people would miss on a quick glance, but the dalliance was begging them to go further. The tip of an uncut cock poked at him, sneaking over Ghilherme's waistband. Mr. Thompson stepped away, using a finger to tuck Ghilherme's cock away, by setting the waist band back over it.

“It’s been fun, hasn’t it.” Ghilherme asked.

“Yeah, it was.” Mr. Thompson wanted a few moments longer, so he whipped out his phone. “Maybe you should give someone a call.” he extended it towards Ghilherme, “I’m not saying it has to be your parents, or family but maybe…someone?” 

Ghilherme looked like he was about to say something, but instead took the phone, dialing and stepping away. Mr. Thompson watched him talk on the phone, not intruding, then patiently waited as the young man walked back, handing over the phone. 

“Thanks, I should be good from here.” Ghilherme smiled, a toothy grin that promised his own personal mischief was on the way.

Mr. Thompson laughed, “I hope so, you take care of yourself hear?”

“I will,” Ghilherme nodded.

The man took off waving goodbye to Ghilherme.After he got up the road the truck from earlier pulled into the gas station. An unsettling feeling was in his gut. He kept driving for a little more until he could no longer ignore it. He stopped at the side of the road, looking at the recent calls. No number was listed. Tutting his teeth and shaking his head Mr. Thompson whipped his car around and sped back to the gas station. 

Pulling in, he parked his car in a fluid motion and hopped out. Ghilherme wasn’t by any of the normal pumps or inside the store. Mr. Thomspon rushed to the specialized pumps. The 18 wheeler he spotted earlier was there, but no one was inside. He ran between the trucks. Nothing. Nothing. Until he found that bear of a man cornering Ghilherme. The man looked imposing an angry. Ghilherme was backed up against a truck but didn’t look too fazed.

“Hey!” Mr. Thompson shouted charging in, both heads turning to look at him. He got in between the stranger and Ghilherme, making a space for himself by shoving the man back, one hand  was all it took.A hand larger than Mt. Thompson was used to, with the arm and shoulder to match, same for the other. “You need to think carefully about what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” The Trucker echoed. “What about the fuck him and hsi family’s doing!” He pointed to Ghilherme aggressively. “I used to be somebody, ya know. I get one fucking blowjob from his brother and next thing, I know I’m a burly bear.”

“I don’t have a brother.” said as simple as a fact, stepping to the guy, but Mr. Thompson placed his other hand on Ghilherme’s left pec to keep him back. His thumb ran over Ghilherme’s nipple as if in a soothing motion.

“Okay, you’re fucking Father then! I don’t give a fuck who it is, but I know ya’ll are related” The bear grumbled back. His attention turned to Mr. Thompson. “You can feel it can’t you? That something ain’t right with that boy.” 

Mr. Thompson turned back to Ghilherme, who had a slight frown on his face. The way Ghilherme couldn't fit into his clothes any more, how tight Mr. Thompson’s clothes were. THere was something preventing it from being at the forefront of his mind, but yeah he knew Ghilherme was different.However the inconsistencies didn't make him unworthy of being someone Mr. Thompson wanted to protect. This was about Mr. Thompson’s decision, not Ghilherme’s existence. What kind of man would he be if he let this brutish trucker unleash what was clearly pent up rage on Ghilherme.

Ghilherme spoke with a calm voice. “You keep blaming me or someone else for what happened to you. But what really happened?”

“You’re dad sucked my cock and changed me.”

Ghilherme tilted his head, a smirk on his face , cocky, knowing. “No he didn’t.”

“You little shit!” The trucker spat, reaching for the young jock.

“Try being honest Eddie. What really happened?” Ghilherme shrugged.

The man's arms stopped flailing around,”People call me Ed,now” He paused as his eyes widened, staring at Ghilherme. Then his entire demeanor shifted to one more relaxed. “But that’s right it used to be Eddie. I didn't even know I forgot that” He fixed his shirt standing up a bit straighter. “I was a big deal ya know.” He turned to Mr. Thompson,”Came to the gas station and wanted to get a load off. The man asked for a ride, but I already knew I was going to pump and dump. Once we were in the bathroom. I thought about how good the head was, that i should just delicate my life to road head and breaking dude’s hearts. Then it’s like I was draining away into my own cock,  my body was climbing higher.” Ed nodded toward Ghilherme. “Then his dad gulped everything I was down his throat.” Next Ed. fixed his cap and left the two alone.

Mr. Thompson got Ghilherme into his car and drove off, making sure a truck wasn’t following them. It was a town over, from his own stop, but Mr, Thompson was going to get Ghilherme to his destination.

“That wasn’t true, was it?” he asked, watching Ghilherme adjust the car seat so his legs could fit.The man licked his lips before continuing, “ What he said about your dad, was actually about you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Ghilherme admitted casually. “But he got some details wrong.I didn’t suck shit out of him. He shot it into my throat. He was so eager to get rid of the responsibility and pressure, almost choked me.”

“Does that normally happen around you?”

Ghilherme had a wry smile, “Why you wondering if you’ve always had such milkable jugs?”’

Mr. Thompson glanced down at his chest as his pecs flexed very visible through the thin fabric. Questions arose, but not ones he was interested in. “No,” he answered honestly. “I’m wondering if that’s why you're on the road, because you're different. Because of what you can do.”

Ghilherme let out a laugh, not a mocking or insulting one, a genuinely damn near boyish one that conveyed every bit of youthfulness in him. He wiped a tear from his eye with a beautiful smile, “No, That’s not why Mr. Thompson. I’m just a hitchhiker. There are so many tales about them, happy, sad, good,bad. I don’t determine my story, I just play my role as dictated by who I’m with. Though to be fair to me, I didn’t even get a ride with Eddie, but he got the blowjob he wanted.”

“What do I get?” Mr. Thompson nervously gripped the steering wheel. He wasn’t scared or angry about learning the answer. He  just hoped the reason wasn’t terrible to Ghilherme either.

Ghilherme scratched his head, prideful smiling at Mr. Thompson, “You get a ‘boy’ to fret over who’s not your son and to loosen up.”

“Wha–

“Now before you get to protesting, like I said I didn't determine your actions, you did. From the very moment you picked me up you were worried. I’m just relaying what I’ve been watching. Hell, I didn’t even think you would come back.”

Mr. Thompson turned to him mouth open “Of course I’d come back you were in danger had to make sure you were okay.”

Ghilherme, gave Mr. Thompson once over, and nodded his head, “Yeah, I definitely like this role.” The man felt his face go red. Do you mind if we pull over? I want to put my  stuff in the trunk.” 

Driving halfway on to the dirt, Mr Thompson calendar down Ghilherme got out the car. He got out himself prepped to say more words only to find the young man peeling off his shorts. They looked tiny on him now, Ghilherme’s face had hardened even more. He had grown again. His underwear ended up sliding down around the curve of his ass,orange sunlight on the brown buns and thicker back.

Mr. Thompson’s cock leapt as if trying to detach, he wanted Ghilherme badly. Absolutely no denying that now.

Reaching into his bag, Ghilherme pulled his jeans back out. Mr. Thompson watched dumbfounded as the jeans slid smoothly up the longer legs in a way they hadn’t that every morning. Ghilherme fastened them, perfectly contained.

“Could you have done that at any time?” He asked voice portraying his arousal,

“No, not anytime, only when you wanted to see it.”. Ghilherme walked back to the car, ass jiggling.

Mr. Thompson had no record of getting to the next motel after that. He just remembered his lips on Ghilherme‘s the moment the door closed. He pushed the younger man back on the bed and climbed on top of him. He kissed Ghilherme pes before softly biting them. A strange desire had built up inside of him to protect and yet absolutely wreck the man with him. He couldn't get his clothes off fast enough and he didn’t allow Ghilherme to take his own ants off either. Mr. Thompson pulled the damn things off, flinging them to the floor for deceiving him earlier. Next were the briefs and they could not contain the absolute MAN MEAT Ghilherme was slinging. Off went the small briefs, not befitting some Ghilherme’s size. 

Pressing his face forward, Mr. Thompson let the heat of the member take him. His nose nuzzled into the dark pubes, before he stuck one of Ghilherme’s testicles in his mouth. He could have sworn he felt the balls make themselves bigger, churning and sloshing more seed and she sucked. Ghilherme smelled like the words best campfire and smore, the man wanted—needed more. The fat cock, every single last inch of the uncircumcised beast, disappeared into Mr. Thompson’s throat. He milked his companion with the seriousness of his professional self, but the eagerness of a virgin. Giraffes couldn’t give better neck than Mr. Thompson in that moment. He pulled off for a second, just to stare and admire the wet throbbing pillar. His saliva was all over Ghilherme’s cock. He gulped it back down. Ghilherme didn’t last long on the second round. By the time Mr. Thompson went balls deep, Ghilherme lost his load, shot after shot into the single father’s mouth. 

Hunched over the bed’s side, Mr. Thompson’s cock had been drooling, a trail of precum glinting in the light, connecting his cock to the floor. He hadn’t allowed Ghilherme to touch him back. Mr. Thomspon had only wanted to start by absolutely serving the jock showing just how much he wanted him. Ghilherme’s wet cock slammed back on his abs, drained of his seed stolen by Mr. Thompson’s lips. The jock looked like he had run a marathon absolutely haggard. He didn't get time to rest; Mr. Thompson wasn’t done. The man lifted the jock's legs, folding him over, and dove into those spectacular glutes, eating ass and grunting all the while. Ghilherme’s cock got hard again, and Mr. Thompson stroked it fiercely, pushing into Ghilherme's ass. It jerked fiercely, unable to escape the man’s grasp, as Ghilherme came again. His cock splattered against his face and upper body. It smelt heady, potent, like something every jock produced to impregnate. Got Mr. Thompson hard as FUCK. He leaned in and got all the abandoned nuts for himself, cleaning Ghilherme completely.  

Ghilherme may have looked haggard but the toothy grin he displayed as they locked eyes relayed it as perhaps just another performance. Good Mr. Thompson wasn’t done. He worshiped, now it was time to wreck. He flipped the male around lining him up with the headboard. Mr. Thompson’s cock looked heftier and meaner than mere seconds ago, regardless it all sank into Ghilherme depth the same. The man always had a good size, but this was now a lot of COCK to give. But before he knew it his brown pubes met the toasted buns. It was like he could still feel the afternoon sun backing them. Their hips met and skin slaps echoed through the room. Mr. Thompson couldn’t; give a fuck if other people heard him. This was his boy and he needed everyone to know. The trucker Ed had really tried to fuck with him. Mr. Thompson leaned in kissing Ghilherme as their fucking continued switching off and on between love making and pure sexual gratification. The room was laced with the heavy scents of their bodies co-mingling. Ghilherme ass took a pounding, its owner breaking out in a full sweat.

And surprisingly it was Mr. Thompson who noticed. He didn’t just have Ghilherme like others. He had Ghilherme beyond the boundaries of flesh. Something deeper, the essence, that had been forced into the visage of a lost young person when they met, perhaps far ancient and wiser than even it understood. His boy. Only his. He had made an older brother for Danny. He took one more look at Ghilherme's back side.

Mr. Thompson’s cock detonated, an explosion that backed up Ghilherme’s poor colon. He pressed forward, laying his legs on Ghilherme’s. The man’s crotch laid on top of ass cheeks. buried as if he were trying to impregnate Ghilherme. Fuck maybe he was. Mr. Thompson collapsed onto Ghilherme’s back, chest collided and fell perfectly. Ghilherme held the man’s weight, no spill over anywhere. He had gained more years through their fucking, and it only made Mr. Thomspon go harder.

He fell asleep quickly.

In the morning, he woke up arms around Ghilherme, cock pressed on that fine ass. Leaning over, he kissed Ghilherme’s face, then slowly and painstakingly crawled out of bed to take a shower. He got dressed putting on another polo, and dress pants, he didn’t comb his hair or put on a belt. Tennis shoes, not dress shoes. More of a natural look, less polished. His upper body was completely visible under the shirt chest, bigger than most women’s boobs. The ass he was packing felt ready to pop out the back of his pants, while his bulge made a very obvious indent on his fly area. Ready for the day, he went over to bed to lightly stir Ghilherme awake.

“Hmmm?” Ghilherme rubbed his head in the pillow.

“Want anything for breakfast?” He asked.

Ghilherme shook his head, then went back to sleep. Mr. Thompson chuckled, absolutely sure Ghilherme didn’t even hear him. He headed out the door, to pick up some food. His phone rang as Danny called on video and he answered. Danny was still in his night clothes, rubbing his eyes

“Looks like I beat you today. I’m already on the road.” He taped the stirring wheel

“I overslept a bit.”  Danny sighed.

“Well don’t worry about it, I’ll let you go so you can finish getting ready.”

That made Danny’s eyes open, “Really? Wait,” He leaned into the camera closer. “Dad, your hair’s not styled.”

“Just trying something new today, Danny!” He smiled to his son and to himself. “Love you son, have a nice day.”

“You too dad,” and then Danny was gone. 

When Mr. Thompson got back to the motel room with breakfast sandwiches, Ghilherme was already up and dressed. The man tossed one over and Ghilherme snatched it from the air with ease. “Someone’s on point today.” he smiled.

“Have to be, today I get my money back.” He bit into his food.

“Do you even need money?” Mr. Thompson asked amused.

Ghilherme looked at his driver like he was stupid, “Whether I need it or not, how about it’s my money and it was stolen. Guess his story was about being an ass to strangers.”

“Fair enough,” Mr. Thompson shrugged as they ate together. His eyes roamed over the completely filled in body, everywhere just full of more mass and muscle for Ghilherme to adorn, there was nothing ‘young adult’ about him. This was another man who had come completely into himself and would only grow more into himself. 

After they finished eating, and cleaned up the room, Mr. Thompson grabbed Ghilherme and made out, ravenously. They had been heading to the door, and he just went for it. Dropping to his knees he yanked down Ghilherme’s pants cock springing out. Firm hands on Ghilherme’s ass, Mr. Thompson went to town, washing down breakfast with Ghilherme’s massive cumshot. He wasn’t allowed to just walk away though, Ghilherme cock was raring to go again, and he got them in a 69 position. They both got a taste of each other that morning.

Then Mr. Thompson brushed his teeth, because he was more carefree, not dumb.

He drove to Ghilherme’s city first. He stopped at a random park.

“I could wait you know, or come back to get you?” He offered.

“Thanks man, that means a lot, really,” He smiled and Mr. Thompson wanted to melt. “But I think we both know our time’s up. It’s up to someone else to help this hitchhiker. Mr. Thompson nodded sadly, popping open the trunk as Ghilherme hopped out, getting his things, then walking on Mr. Thompson’s side Ghilherme leaned in for a kiss, their lips met. Not a goodbye. Their mouths parted. Mr. Thompson spotted it first in his peripheral vision, a guy eating a donut, then body freezing like he’d seen a ghost. Ghilherme turned his head, then slapped the car.

“Hey, you fuck where’s my money?!” The guy took off running.”

“I’ll be seeing you Mr. Thompson!” Ghilherme was right behind the guy. They ran down the block and turned the corner and then he was gone.

He waited for a bit before pulling off.

The work event went by smoothly; he didn't even think too much about putting his best foot forward, they all felt naturally drawn to him. The investors were secured, the higherups would be pleased. Time to head home. The drive back was lonely without another presence. He thought back to his final kiss with Ghilherme. Something had flashed in the man’s mind, shared by his companion. He hadn’t said it, but he wanted to know where Ghilherme would be after their time together. The kiss was the answer. He’d be everywhere.

There were various meetings with hitchhikers waiting to take place, taking place, even then.

Mr. Thompson continued driving with wind on his face, another beautiful day. His mind drifted only a second and when it came too, the scenery around him was different, less plains more tropical. Up ahead of him a figure walked alone on the road.

Great body? Fat ass? He definitely knew who that was. Mr. Thompson pulled up beside the man on the road.

“You going my way?” The man asked.

“Where are your clothes?” Mr. Thompson chuckled.

“The last guy I was with took them…” Then the hitchhiker looked at Mr. Thompson and leaned in, “or maybe, you didn’t want me wearing anything?”

“Get in the car,” He planted a kiss on the man's lips. They made it back on the road, laughing it up, not noticing the tropical scene fading back into familiar plains.

—

A mysterious figure walked on the side of the road, a smile on his lips.

Nude body open to the elements.

Hand extended out.

Standing in a place where time slowed to a crawl, and the next story waited to take shape.

They pair arrived at Balmora’s when it opened. Their waiter was visibly annoyed when they said they were meeting friends who were always late and they’d be waiting to order until they got here. He huffed off as the pair watched him leave.

“He’s cute,” Amir said while sipping on a mimosa.

“I think we fucked,” Neil scrunched his face and stared into the sky as he tried to remember.

“I love how you act like any remotely attractive guy we meet has had sex with you,” Amir admonished. “What? I’m being serious!” “Sure thing Neil, I’ve known you for ten years. Your sexploits don’t fool me.” They clinked their glasses together and started chatting about other topics while keeping their eyes firmly on the gate. Their flippant waiter brought carafe after carafe of mimosa as the pair drank away the time. Finally, their quarry arrived.

Radden and Jai rolled in like a pair of movie stars. Radden’s big and powerful legs caused him to strut suggestively, an oversized package in the front bouncy playfully in his tight khakis. He wore a shiny oxford shirt buttoned halfway, leaving his smoothed bronzed pecs well on display. Jai followed a step behind, rolling his hips in a strange, mincing way. He had silver cowboy boots with an oversized heel, shiny white jeggings, and a pink crop top that hid the tits but exaggerated his ripped abs and tiny waist. Both of them had several bracelets and rings on and expensive sunglasses covering their eyes. Amir and Neil stared in shock for a moment, instagram was one thing but seeing it in person was still shocking. Neil recovered quickly and stood up.

“Oh my god, Jai!” He dragged himself up and grabbed his ex-friend into a tight hug. Jai squirmed a bit before hesitantly hugging in return.

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Amir joined in, genuinely happy to see his friend. “How have you been?”

“Oh umm, hi, girls,” Jai’s voice had a small affectation to it, a bit of high pitched squeak that reminded Amir of guys who watched too much Drag Race.

“Are you having brunch? Are you meeting people? We have seats at our table!” Neil rambled quickly. Jai seemed completely overwhelmed. A throat clear behind the boys silenced everyone.

“Jai, babe, who are these boys?”

“Oh my gawd, this is my boyfriend, Radden,” Jai introduced the older and much taller hunk with the lustful adoration of a first kiss.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Amir smiled and waved slightly.

“And we haven’t seen you since,” Neil poked his finger into Jai’s hard pec, and then did it again and again. “Those are nice tits, Jai,” Neil admired openly. Jai perked up and puffed them out proudly.

“Well, we should eat with your friends!” Radden smiled with overly bright veneers. 

“Uh, okay,” Jai sort of stuttered. “But like, I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

“I have been hogging you, Jai. I’m sure your friends want to catch up!” He sat down cheerfully and took a swig from the latest mimosa carafe. “I told him he needs to keep in touch with his friends. But young guys get so caught up in relationships. Not that I mind having him all to myself. But everyone needs some girlfriends.” Neil and Amir glanced at each other curiously.

“Wait really? Jai, did you just blow us off?” Neil frowned. Jai kind of stuttered for a bit, flitting his hands in the air.

“Okay, like, I’m sorry I got obsessed with my hot daddy boyfriend.” Even with the sunglasses on, the boys could feel the eye roll underneath. “I felt bad at first, but we were taking trips and he hired me a personal trainer and a nutritionist…”

“You hired them?” Neil questioned Radden.

“After he asked,” Radden continued drinking straight from the carafe, his eyes scanning the restaurant for a waiter.

“Yeah!” Jai indignantly replied. “We were going to hot parties and cool beaches. I didn’t wanna be the ugly guy. And then I figured you guys would be judgmental about it that I didn’t wanna tell you.”

“Just so we’re clearing the air,” Amir stepped in. “You did all of… this,” he waved his hands in the air around Jai. “Because you wanted to be hot? Mission successful.” Jai giggled.

“And you didn’t want this,” Neil grabbed the carafe out of Radden’s hands to refill his own beverage.

“I liked him before, I like him now. I mean, I’ll admit, you are fucking sexy as shit now,” he rubbed his hands lecherously on Jai’s crotch. “But mostly, I just like Jai either way.”

After a moment of silence at the table, Radden spoke again. “So, we relieved you of your concerns? You weren’t very subtle about it. Not that the booze probably helped.” Amir and Neil blushed intensely and looked down. “I, personally, think it’s very good that Jai has such devoted friends. And I look forward to getting to know you both!” He finally flagged down a waiter and ordered more carafes in addition to shots. Jai, Neil, and Amir passed around a set of sheepish apologies.

-----

One month, several parties, two weeks attending exercise classes, and one shopping trip later, Neil and Amir found themselves climbing the steps to a private jet to join Radden and Jai on a fabulous holiday. Radden invited them to some island resort across the Pacific, and the boys never even considered saying no. Sure, the past month has been kind of odd. Jai wasn’t acting for Instagram– in real life he’d seemingly embraced being hot and shallow and catty. It caused a change in the friend group dynamic; Neil and Amir were suddenly demoted to Jai’s entourage instead of being an equal part of the trio. But on the other hand, they were dragging new suitcases filled with new clothing onto a private jet.

Neil and Amir oohed and aahed over the luxury of the plane, while Jai lectured them on the differences between PJs (private jets) and his newfound preferences among them. For his part, Radden seemed content to enjoy an herbal cocktail and admire the boys. Amir noticed he did a lot of that, just kind of looked at them. Lots of people looked at Jai– that came with hotness. But Radden gazed with more intensity, the primal energy of a seasoned hunter measuring prey. Still, he had been nothing but kind and pleasant and Amir liked him quite a bit. Aside from the obvious physical differences, Jai seemed very happy and well treated and you couldn’t want a lot more for a friend.

Radden disappeared at the start of the flight. The others didn’t even notice as they were already popping champagne and talking vapidly about things they’d seen on social media. The booze flowed as they gossiped about everything. Eventually, both Jai and Neil decided to get some shut eye, leaving a wide awake Amir extremely bored before Radden reappeared.

“So what exactly do you do, like for work?” Amir, slightly drunk and flushed, saddled up next to Radden. He laughed in response.

“I’m a trust fund baby!” He offered a toast from his champagne and brayed louder. “I mean, my family owns several businesses. Lots of luxury resorts actually.”

“Like White Lotus places?” Radden laughed again.

“I guess so. They tend to be, no offense, places normal people never hear of.” “None taken.” “You’re pretty easy going. I like that,” Radden reached out and brushed Amir’s cheek, who giggled and blushed in response. Radden exuded charm and charisma on a celestial level. “I seem to have won over Neil, too.”

“Oh, he has a crush on you,” Amir blurted out.

“Really?” Radden cocked his eyebrows in lurid interest.

“Did, I should say,” Amir backpedaled quickly. “You don’t remember it, but the night you met Jai, you met us too. And Neil hit on you pretty hard. And you turned him down.” Both men giggled. They continued having their pleasant conversation, though Amir couldn’t help but notice that Radden’s eyes kept drifting to Neil. Amir hoped he wasn’t going to say anything. He’d just put his friend group back together and didn't need it falling apart again.

“You should get some rest, darling,” Radden rubbed Amir’s shoulder tenderly. Amir bit his lip and blushed more. “Might as well take advantage of all the luxuries on board!”

-----

The four of them made for a strange pairing. Neil and Amir were dressed in cute pastel shorts and t-shirts that could come from any of a dozen stores or brands. Radden wore sharkskin trousers with a pleat as sharp as the namesake’s tooth. A linen button down with one hole buttoned in the middle, the fabric flowing around him like Fabio in a wind machine, covered his chest. Jai’s hot pink button down shirt tucked into white shorts. The orange hue of his skin made the pink seem to glow on him. The lobby was open air and spacious with gorgeous employees in white trousers and shirts helping guests. Gigantic marble pillars and floors, all in white, gave the space a heavenly look. A piano tucked in one corner belted soft melodies from its tuxedoed player. Jai dragged the boys along, their mouths agape at the divine monstrosity. Radden was already headed towards check in.

The man behind the desk glowed unnaturally, white teeth and painted skin ripped with muscles underneath his staff polo. Radden turned to the others.

“You boys give me your passports and head up to the room,” he offered Jai some woven bracelets that were apparently room keys. They slipped them on without thought.  “I’ll check us in.” Neil immediately pulled his passport out and handed it over, but Amir hesitated.

“Should… is it okay to just give you our passports? And you already have a room key?” Radden shrugged.

“Yes, perks of money. And they have to scan them for check in. It’s totally normal, promise!” He flashed that award winning smile and Amir’s resistance melted away as he handed his little blue folder over. “It’s top floor, Jai, obviously. You boys freshen up!” He sauntered up the counter with a spring in his step, and all three of the boys watched his muscled ass shake from side to side in the tight pants.

“God, I wanna fuck him,” Neil didn’t even bother hiding his desire. Amir tried to shush him but Jai was already replying.

“He only tops.” “So much for you being verse,” Neil snickered.

“He’s got a hot cock,” Jai crudely replied. “And I’ve always loved sucking dick.” Amir nodded along as they ambled to the elevator. At least that hadn’t changed. Jae-sung had always been the kind of guy who’d suck off a stranger in a bathroom for the thrill of it.

The top floor was one giant suite, balconies lining every side with windows overlooking a jungle paradise and pristine cabanas where gorgeous men paraded around in tiny swimsuits while being served by dutiful staff who were tanned and toned clearly on display. Jai took himself to the master suite, while the other two slummed in smaller, though still luxurious rooms, to the side. They shared a bathroom, and Neil almost immediately walked through to Amir’s side with a swimsuit in hand.

“Just straight to a swimming suit, eh?” Amir laughed as Neil dropped trou immediately, putting his pale buttocks on display as he pulled up a camo patterned, square-cut swimsuit. Neil had a nice body, not an excellent one, but nothing to sneeze at. He obsessed over the really fit guys, the ones with huge pecs that look unnaturally glued on. Neil took a few moments to pose in the mirror, restyling his hair (which was too short to really change) and assessing his physique.

Unconsciously, Amir reached down and tugged at the modest pudge around his waistline. He was the “fat” one of their trio: Neil muscular, Jai thin, Amir fat. Although in straight world he’d be unremarkable. Still, he was the one with the baggy trunks that came to mid thigh. Which was a shame, because if he had any trait that made men stare, it was his derriere. Voluptuous, almost feminine in its curves, but distinctly masculine in muscularity. Amir wanted to look better, he always imagined what he’d look like with a trim waist to really set off his ass but he’d never really found the motivation to get there. Probably the same lack of motivation that kept Neil thinner than he wanted.

“Hey dolls,” the whimpery voice of Jai snapped him back to reality. Jai, formerly thin, was now ripped and toned and his body painted in iridescent orange that made it all pop just so. He blew a kiss in the air, which Amir thought was meant for him but then he realized he was standing in front of the mirror.

“Cute suit,” Neil commented with uncontained envy. Jai was in a hot pink speedo that rode high on his hips, sinking in the deep cuts of his Apollo's belt and clinging to his body like it was already wet.

“Jealousy’s an ugly color, Neil,” Jai quipped confrontationally. “Kind of like that suit. Kidding!” He offered the last word like a bitchy teenager who’d just been called out. Neil replied with a middle finger as he sucked his gut in even more.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Amir asked, hoping to break the tension.

“Party? Relax. Drink.” Jai said all the words dully, as if reading off a teleprompter.

“Where?”

“I dunno, around the pool probs. That’s usually where the hotties hang during the day. There'll be parties and clubs at night.” “You’ve been here before?” Neil asked, clenching his abs as hard as possible to his red faced reflection.

“Here here? No, but these places are all pretty similar. Spa, gym, pool, second pool, hot tubs, clubs, restaurants. It’s all about mixing and mingling.” Amir changed into his black suit and pulled on a loose fitting top that hid his arms. Not from embarrassment but from the sun. Neil finished dressing himself with a tank top.

“Wanna look around?” Amir offered.

“You guys take a walk. I’m gonna wait for Radden.”

“Where is he? Checking us in couldn’t take that long.” “Oh, he’s probably flirting with a manager or booking appointments. He loves a spa day.” Jai spent several minutes discussing the multitude of expensive spa time he’d experienced over the past few months, including the lurid detail that Radden always wanted a blowjob afterwards. Amir had never minded the sex talk; it was pretty normal among homos. But the way Jai described it always felt kind of… icky. Very Radden centric. Radden wants a blowjob. Radden only tops.

The pair left to explore, Neil started complaining about Radden and Jai, but Amir distracted him with the buildings, pools, clubs, and every hot man they walked past. Radden had said this was a gay resort, but Amir hadn’t expected it to be entirely men top to bottom. Every employee was a work of art. The guests ranged from ultra mega hot to merely passable, but they all exuded a level of wealth he couldn’t really begin to comprehend.

They went into a shop that sold nothing but tiny swim briefs in a variety of colors and patterns. Amir found some that look suspiciously similar to the one Jai was wearing, in a range of neon colors ordered like a pride flag. He tried to show Neil but found him outside the store.

“Goddam, look at those!” Neil’s voice rang green with envy for all to hear. He was slack jawed, staring at a dark-skinned (though Amir had no idea how natural the color was) man in an orange swim brief that made his dick look terrifyingly massive. But Neil hadn’t even noticed that. Instead, his eyes were fixated on a pair of thick juicy pecs that rose like dough from his chest, pushing out wide and broad, forcing the nipples down, almost underneath the curve of the muscle. They were so prominent and hard, Amir felt certain he could probably balance a drink on them.

“You should probably stop staring.” “I wanna touch ‘em.” Neil gasped. “I wanna grab ‘em and lick ‘em and ugh. Ugh. I want to have a pair on me!” He grabbed his own, not unnoticeable chest, like a pair of breasts and shook them for an imaginary audience. Then he deflated visibly.

“I’m sorry Neil,” Amir didn’t really know what to say.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m being dramatic.”

“And jealous.” “Is it obvious?” Amir burst out laughing despite Neil’s seriousness. He silenced himself and offered a quick apology.

“But yes, it is obvious.”

After a few more minutes of walking and admiring the resort and the men, Neil finally spoke up again. “I want a body like that.”

“Well, ask Jai. Or hell, ask Radden since he’s probably the one who knows how to get it.” He wasn’t sure how old Radden was, but he was definitely hot.

“Is that weird?” “He paid for us to come to an expensive resort for two weeks. I don’t think anything is weird at this point.”

“Why did we agree to come to a strange resort with our friend's new boyfriend?” Neil asked suddenly, giggling and shaking his head.

“Because we wanted to be featured on some murder mystery podcast?” Amir replied with a playful shrug.

—--

They didn’t see Jai or Radden until dinner. Their phones pinged with a dinner reservation notification that didn’t have an RSVP option. The place had several restaurants and this one overlooked the ocean with rattan furniture and excessive candlelight. Jai, dressed in a skintight, white shirt that looked like it chafed his nipples, offered droopy, drunken eyes and a giddy smile as they walked up. Radden also wore white, though his wasn’t spray painted on. He had a blush across his cheeks, likely from booze but seemed to carry himself better than Jai.

“Evening, dolls,” his silky voice greeted them calmly. He stood up and offered Neil a fake handshake before pulling him into a hug that pressed Neil’s face into his chest and then seated him next to himself. Amir was grateful to take the seat between his friends.

“We walked around. This place is gorgeous,” Amir answered when asked about their day.

“We went to the spa!” Jai burst out in rapturous giggles.

“Nothing better than a massage to start a trip,” Radden cocked a smirk at Jai as he spoke and Amir remembered Jai detailing Radden’s post massage routine. “Speaking of, I booked you two with some stuff for tomorrow.” He pointed quickly between Neil and Amir as he spoke. Radden reached over and tenderly rubbed Neil’s shoulders while devouring him with his eyes. Neil shyly looked away, but glanced back to see Radden glowering at him. The shoulder rubbing seemed to intensify.

Amir, eager for a distraction, chimed in. “You didn’t have to do that.” “But I wanted to!” Radden insisted with almost childlike glee.

“What, uh,” Neil’s voice broke as Radden seemingly plunged his fingers into a knot deep within Neil. It took Neil several seconds to recover. “What did you book?”

“Massage. Facials. Is there something else you’d want?” Radden’s voice tried to play soft and coy, but there was always something slightly predatory about it. He punctuated his question by tapping Neil on the chest then rolling his finger in circles around his nipple. Neil gazed into Radden’s eyes like a starstruck superfan.

“Umm, I mean, I did wanna ask you… stuff,” Neil was never one to be shy or bashful. He’d never once stuttered when complaining or asking for a refund. But he was down bad for this hunk. Neil tried to turn his face away, but Radden slipped his hand under Neil’s chin and directed his face towards his own before leaning in so close they were almost kissing.

“And what’s that?” Neil flushed red and rolled his eyes like having an orgasm. Amir looked at Jai who seemed content just sort of staring off into the distance. He’d figured his new bitch personality would assert itself, but apparently he was the passive in all aspects of this relationship.

Neil seemed to hesitate before responding, or maybe it was just the orgasmic release he was experiencing from Radden’s hands. When he finally responded, it was a moany, breathy voice unlike his normal one. “W-workout tips? Like, how, how are you so hot?” Radden’s face lit up like a kid who got their birthday wish after blowing out the candles.

“Oh, I can definitely help with that! After dinner, I’ll take you down to the gym. Jai and I already did our workout today. But I can get you set up. You’ll be absolutely amazed what good nutrition and a trainer can do. You won’t believe how quickly it can work.”

The rest of the meal was less dramatic. Radden swapped between being kissing and controlling with Jai, ordering for him and chiding him for slouching, and then being weirdly physical with Neil, brushing him or touching him or just peering into his eyes with devoted passion. 

Amir felt like he was watching it all from the outside, and he partially was. His presence at the table went almost entirely unnoticed unless he spoke up. He didn’t really mind. He’d enjoyed some cocktails throughout the day and the wine with dinner. By the end of the meal, he offered a quick goodbye as Radden directed Jai and Neil towards the gym, one arm hanging over the shoulder of each. Amir turned around after a few steps and watched as Radden shifted his hands to grope the cheek of each boy’s butt as they went.

It was weird. Really weird. The kind of weird that a less sleepy Amir might have thought about more. But right now, all he really wanted was to sleep off the travel and the booze and wake up tomorrow morning refreshed and ready.

—--

Amir had literally never felt so relaxed in his entire life. The massage removed tension he didn’t even know he had and the facial left him physically energized and on a strange emotional high. Everything just seemed really great!

He hung around the room afterwards, expecting Neil to show up from his sessions, but he never did. Eventually, he tired of waiting and slipped on his bathing suit to hit the pool. It was packed with well-to-do men with harsh six-packs, juicy pecs, and bubbly butts. Designer labels clung to their suits and shoes and sunglasses like branded grades on cattle.

This was not a place of modesty. Everyone else was wearing something tight and vibrant, usually a well cut speedo though a few did have short little legs on the sides, usually older gents. No one wore black. Except Amir, whose baggy, black swimsuit might have made him feel self-conscious if he wasn’t still high on post massage endorphins. Fortunately, he was still feeling delightfully relaxed and at ease and just in a generally pleasant mood.

He’d meant to bring a book or something to do, but instead found himself slurping down cocktails brought by attentive staff and just sort of staring at the hot men and the beautiful water. He should have been bored or restless, but anytime his mind started to wander it just fizzled out. This was good enough; being here was good enough. Being happy. His empty brained revelry ended when a dark shadow cast over him. He glanced up to see a muscular, older man in Dolce and Gabbana staring down at him happily.

Radden made himself comfortable on the lounger with Amir, cozying up like an intimate friend, and placed one hand on his thigh.

“How are you feeling, Amir?” His voice oozed sensuality.

“Good, really good.”

“I’m glad,” Radden purred while drifting his hand high on Amir’s thigh, brushing under the hemline of his swimsuit. “I want us to have fun. Whatever that means to you.” He whispered the words with unspoken meaning that made the hair on Amir’s legs stand on end.

“Yeah, thanks,” Amir’s voice, intended to be strong but strict, instead came out small and wimpy.

“Of course, darling. And you know, if there's something you want, feel free to ask.”

“Mmhmm,” Amir couldn’t do more than moan as Radden’s hand reached further up his leg, brushing his manicured fingers into the slip between his thigh and hips.

“Good, glad you understand,” he finished with a kiss on the cheek that made Amir’s heart flutter. He pulled back and turned to leave, and Amir took the moment to admire the absolute size of Radden’s package, bouncing happily in a seafoam speedo. His mouth watered uncontrollably. A part of him wanted to call out, to say something to keep Radden’s attention, but it was quelled by the arrival of a staff member, bronzed to perfection, offering him another beverage with an obscenely white smile. He took it with a drunken grin and immediately slurped down the fizzy beverage.

He stayed for hours, applying some sunscreen the resort supplied and just admiring the patrons. Jai and Radden occasionally passed through, offering small waves before talking with other couples. It got more rambunctious as time wore on, younger guys became looser and freer, flirting aggressively and dancing sexually on the men with the most expensive watches or sunglasses. They flashed brand labels he’d never heard of but found himself obsessing over, wondering what they were, where they came from, and how much they cost.

Amir was not a fancy dresser. There was a part of him, the part that scrolled social media too frequently, that always imagined what it would be like to be like that. To parade around a hot (probably chemically altered) body in designer clothing, acting carefree. Peacocking about just to show off the goods, otherwise why the hell would you work so hard to have them. D&G sunglasses, Versace speedo, some silly, expensive bracelet that looked like it came from a vending machine. He watched as one guy, unnaturally tanned with jet black hair swept backwards like an ominous tidal wave, bounced his bikini briefed buttocks on the face of a man wearing tons of jewelry who seemed absolutely enthralled. Amir could be like. Maybe. Maybe he could be the hottie with the body acting a fool for laughs or gifts or fucks.

That bizarre train of thought actually snapped Amir back to reality. He laughed, feeling like he’d probably just woken up from a silly dream resulting from too much sun and too much booze. He resolved to sober up for the night, eat dinner, and head to bed.

—--

Amir hadn’t seen any of the others since the afternoon. He got food at a grab-and-go type cafe and ate in the privacy of the room. Initially, he’d hoped to see Neil and catch up about the day. He wondered if he’d seen him passed out by the pool. But the need for sleep came quickly, and before he knew it, he’d stripped off his clothing and crawled into bed in a pair of cheap boxers he kept just for sleeping in.

Amir awoke in the dark of the night to a slamming cupboard and running water. He heard muttering from the other side.

“Neil?” he went to the door and whispered.

“Oh, um, heyyy, Amir,” his voice was drawn out and slurry, sounding both drunk and stoned.

“You alright? I haven’t seen you all day.” “Yeah,” the h sounded like a relieved sigh. “I was at the spa. It was really fun. I’m gonna go back tomorrow.”

“Wait really? What did they do?” Amir jiggled with the door but found it locked.

“Just like, a massage and stuff. It was so relaxing. I really needed it.” “Oh, okay,” Amir felt like he was talking at a club where the other person was only half hearing what he was saying. “You need anything?” “Sleep, I’m super sleepy. Just gonna rinse off and sleep.” Amir wanted to ask Neil some more questions but he found himself drawn back to his bed and fell asleep without effort.

—--

It turns out Neil wasn’t the only person hitting the spa the next day. Radden had seemingly booked treatments every day at random times. Massages, facials, cleansings, steams, saunas, manicures, foot scrubs, acupuncture, Amir kept getting notices on his phone of another booking, with easy check-in and constant reminders. And he went. It felt a little too aggressive, a little too showy. But then again, he had happily flown here on Radden’s PJ. It’s not entirely shocking that he’d throw money around like a drag queen throwing shade.

The first few days rolled together. After yet another session where handsome staff doted over him obsessively, if he didn’t end up lolling around a pool or on a beach, Radden or Jai were grabbing his attention, insisting on hot tubbing or checking out guys or dancing or eating or doing shots. Each day, he kept not seeing Neil. And while he wanted to worry, every time it crossed his mind, Radden seemed to pop up out of nowhere to distract him with another drink, another event, another shopping trip.

Despite the fact that they seemed to own everything in the shop already, Radden and Jai always took a cruise through the resort’s stores each day. And they always picked up some new designer piece, whether it was a shiny watch, tight swimwear, or just some generic piece of trash that would likely sit on a shelf for a few years before being tossed in a refuse pile. He’d watched Radden try on pair after pair of spandex swimming suits in pastel colors with floral prints that Jai seemed to ooh and aah and agonize over. Jai spent nearly an hour obsessing over turtle shell engraved bracelets that all looked the same to Amir. Each time, Radden always tried to get Amir to try something on. Amir’s attempts at resistance became more and more perfunctory each time.

“What about these?” Radden handed Amir a pair of square shaped, black sunglasses trimmed in gold around the lenses. They looked good. Amir put them on, admiring how they framed his face, the harsh lines perhaps a bit too bold for his square face. He turned his head, admiring the cut of his jaw line when he noticed the sides had the most ostentatious logo he had ever seen. D&G embossed on a golden plaque attached on each side. It was utterly, completely, fabulously ridiculous. He wanted them so much.

Amir couldn’t even hide his desire. “I mean, I like them,” he tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably. “They’re probably really expensive.”

“Nothing’s expensive, babe,” Radden winked as he whisked the glasses off Amir’s head, an AmEx Black already in his other hand. They were bought and back on his face within seconds.

He couldn’t stop admiring his reflection in the mirror. Amir liked it. Really liked it. Liked it on a level he hadn’t even imagined liking something before. All the sun and spa treatments had given his dark skin an almost ethereal glow, like spit-shined leather. Soft and supple but strangely masculine. He felt imbued with a strange confidence, a need to sort of strut, to puff out his chest and stick out his butt and hold himself with all the attitude of a needy social media influencer.

After that, it was a little easier to let go and just sort of flow. Radden wanted him to add tanning sessions at the spa and soon his skin had taken on an artificial sheen that matched Jai. He refused to hop into a swim brief, but accepted designer shirts and sandals. Soon, he was misting himself with aromatic colognes from brands he’d never heard of while sipping on champagne, real champagne, and gossiping about celebrity plastic surgery.

And still, Neil was nowhere to be seen. He heard him, each night, in the bathroom, and could see the remnants, opened toothpaste and used floss, of his activities. But he hadn’t come face to face in days. And that should have worried Amir. Really it should.

He knew that it should. But he didn’t care. He was having fun. Real fun, the kind of fun you see people on TV having. Everyday was just another party. Every man was a stunning stud with bulging biceps and hard cut abs who flounced and flirted without a care in the world. More and more, he spent afternoons chatting with overly muscled hunks with jaw implants and waxed bodies who giggly happily about getting fucked and who only worried about the calorie count of a cocktail and who was paying attention to them.

—--

Jai started taking him to an early morning aerobics class where swarms of beautiful men with perfect (and likely plastic) jaws and chins shoved their nuclear tanned muscles into shiny lycra that hugged each and every curve and striation as though desperately clinging onto a lifeboat. Mister Giant Pecs, the one Neil has drooled over, was shirtless, wearing peach color tights that shimmered in the morning light and did nothing to hide his massive bulge. Another stud with huge blond hair and an unending, dopey smile was shoved into a yellow leotard that sunk between his ass cheeks and wasn’t big enough to cover his pecs, instead the straining fabric nestled underneath his pecs. With the thin straps rolling over his shoulders, it looked like a window into his chest.

Amir wanted to die. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one who was struggling. Sweat, scented with poppers and booze, seeped out of every man as they strived to cut the teeniest bit of fat or water from their bodies to be just a smidge hotter, make the waist just a bit smaller, make Daddy just a bit harder.

But the atmosphere of the class was infectious, cotton candy in event form. Despite the grueling workout and the aching pain, like he’d had teeth extracted from his muscles with no drugs, everyone was happy. The instructors had the wild enthusiasm of theme park guides, every man in the class giggled and groaned with each new movement. Vapid pretty boys constantly encouraged him to push harder, stretch further, breath deeper. And he did. Each time a little better, a little harder, a little tougher.

He had never felt so much pain and so much pleasure simultaneously. The dopey fun and physical arrogance on display made him horny and competitive. And before he knew it, he was prancing to a Britney song alongside the rest of them. Afterwards, he asked Jai to sign him up for every additional class they had.

—--

Another day, another shopping trip, Radden clenched Jai’s speedo clad buttocks with one hand while keeping the other tightly wrapped around Amir’s waist. The physical contact, the almost pathological need for it, from Radden had initially bothered Amir. But now, it just was. That was Radden. He was gonna hold and touch and rub and kiss and there was nothing Amir could do to stop it. Nor did he want to anymore. It felt like getting attention from a movie star.

Without warning, Radden shoved baby blue briefs into Amir’s face, rubbing it in like a chloroform soaked rag intent on knocking him out. It was stretchy and sexy. But what really caught Amir’s eye was the waistband. He’d seen it dozens of times on internet “models” and obscenely wealthy trophy boys. The repeating Grecian pattern of Versace. God, he wanted it so fucking badly. 

But there was no way, no power in heaven or earth, that could convince him to put such a tiny thing on. There was no way he was walking around this palace of sin with fat rolls hanging out while everyone else looked like they were sculpted from the world's most perfect marble by the most talented hands to ever carve stone.

Just looking at the suit made him kind of hard.

He wasn’t sure what it was, specifically, about that waistband that infested his mind so effectively. Perhaps it was the almost vulgarity of it, the prominence of the label, the idea of having a brand instead of a personality. He loved it. He hated himself for loving it. And that kind of made him love it more.

But he would not wear them. Not today at least. Radden insisted on something, anything other than his basic black suit. In the end, Radden made him try on a pair of floral print jammers that had the illusion of being loose while still fitting tighter than his underwear. The flowery pattern (a sort of shimmery orange on a blue suit) seemed to glow on his body.

“Those workout classes are paying off,” Radden purred in his ear like a sex deprived vixen. Amir knew, knew knew knew, this was messed up. He might not have been fat per se, but there had definitely been a noticeable ridge around his waist that should, at this very moment, be spilling over the side of the elastic waistband, flipping it upside down underneath the roll.

But it wasn’t there. He wasn’t cut. There were no visible abs or even hints of. But his waist, while thick and stocky, formed a smooth line from his rib cage down to his hips. The suit fit fine. Not the aesthetically superb bodies all those other boys had. But he honestly felt so fucking sexy in it. His skin radiated and glowed, his face looked light and heavenly. Wrinkles and lines that should have dotted his face had seemingly vanished under the skin treatments and massages. His skin looked weightless, ageless almost. Vivacious. He barely even processed Radden buying them.

Radden made him wear them out of the store. His previous suit was left in a trash can. Amir felt different. It made him want to walk differently, to feel the tight fabric glide across his thighs and sink into his ass crack. He rolled one leg over the over, causing his buttocks to sway behind him. And he giggled happily when Radden’s rough hand possessively groped his spandexed ass.

—--

He paid more and more attention to the vapid himbos. No longer just admiring their asses or envying their pecs, but really focusing on their behavior. They were all so bouncy, there was no other word to describe it. They moved with a spring in their step, every time they got excited they seemed to jump up and down which caused their massive pecs to tremble and their gorgeous asses to shake like a rap video. Every movement oozed sexuality, their confident struts or rolling hips and puffed out chests were obvious. But it was the little things, the way a guy bent over, forcing his ass out just a bit too much, or how another seemed to just touch everyone whenever he spoke, that drew his attention. There was a need to show-off and a need for validation, each reinforcing the other.

Speaking of, one of those hyper muscles himbos, this one with a gravity defying quiff and a lime green speedo containing an ass that shook gloriously with every movement, was rubbing a giant black dildo between his pecs while two older men groped him lecherously. The himbo seemed to be having the time of his life, titty fucking himself to ogling onlookers. And Amir had to admire, those were the nicest pecs he’d ever seen. Huge, round, high and tight, luscious hard mounds of striated muscle that would never be contained by a shirt or jacket or sweater, permanently on display. Which is surely the point. No one spends that much time, money, and energy making those perfect meaty globes without wanting to show them off to the world. It made him think of Neil, ever envious of perfect pecs. In fact, this dude would probably make Neil cream himself on site.

But as he got closer, he couldn’t help but notice that despite the bronzed, smooth skin and blissful smile, that face was awfully fucking familiar.

“Neil? What. The. Fuck?” For a brief moment, the mental fog Amir had been under thinned. The image of his friend, formerly uptight and always on the verge of arguing, titty fucking himself in broad daylight and laughing like a moron snatched him fully to reality.

“O.M.Geee! Amir, like, yay! Where have you been?” Neil’s voice had never been deep, but it had always contained a sort of rough edge, like he was moments away from shouting. But now it was airy and empty, Loud but soft, like it couldn’t ever be angry or sad. “Where have you been?” “The spa!” Neil licked his lips lasciviously to the delight of the older men. Neil giggled in response as one of them groped his pecs aggressively.

“What happened to you?”

“Umm, I dunno. Radden set me up with some super fun treatments! Because, like, he said I was being so fun and he wanted me to have fun!”

“Listen Neil, something-”

“Niko, Radden wants me to go by Niko now! Isn’t that, like, so fucking cute!” Yes, it was fucking cute. This version of Neil was halfway between adorable and cum-on-sight-able. His now long hair was unnaturally blond and voluminous. The face was the same, just prettier somehow: the cheekbones a bit stronger, the jaw a bit more defined, the eyes a touch wider. The body, on the other hand, was absolutely astounding. It wasn’t even like Neil had improved. No, this titan’s body looked like a gymnast on steroids. The waist was minuscule, the pecs bobbled out in front of his body like floating balloons. His thighs were thick and veiny, seemingly like they should move mountains as he marched, but instead slipped over each other with dainty precision.

“Listen, Neil-“

“Niko, baaaabes!” Even the correction has such an air of passive joy that Amir almost forgot what he was saying.

“Niko,” Amir continued, the name slipping through gritted lips though it tasted like silk as he said it. It felt good to say. Calming and soothing. Fun. “But like, Niko… what happened?”

“When?” He bounced his pecs obliviously while sipping on a neon green drink with a curly emerald straw.

“When you, umm…. With Radden?”

“Oh!” Niko's voice perked up when Amir said his name and he couldn’t help but notice a stiffening in Niko's speedo. “Yeah we, like, talked. I told him I wanted to be hot. And he helped! He is sooooo sweet!” Niko giggled, like schoolgirl giggled, and then grabbed Amir’s hand and placed it on the curve of his pec right over his nipple. And then bounced them happily, causing Amir’s fingers to rub over his nipple as Niko’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Amir was taken aback. He and his friends were many things, but not sexually active with each other. It seemed gauche. And many a queer groups had broken up over break ups and jealousy and hook-ups. But the most shocking thing about it was how not Neil’s type Amir had ever been. Neil liked guys who looked like they walked off the cover of a fitness magazine, plastic sheen and all. But now, here he was, forcing him to rub his nipples while making orgasm faces with no shame or embarrassment.

It was hot. So fucking hot. And for a brief moment, that hotness was all consuming.

But then Radden arrived. Somehow, Niko became even bubblier, his sexual aura spiking to eleven as he ran and jumped into the much taller man’s arms and proceeded to make out like two guys in a porno. Again, soooo hot. But then Amir remembered Jai and wondered how he’d feel. But there he was, another pink speedo covering his essentials and pink sunglasses over his eyes. He had a snotty smirk on his face as he sauntered up, drawing the hungry eyes of men nearby.

“Listen slut,” Jai commanded. The pair stopped kissing but Radden still held Niko, whose arms and legs were coiled around Radden’s body. “I’m the boyfriend. You’re just a side piece, got it.”

“Babe, that’s, like, soooo hot!” Niko might have twirled his hair if his hands were free. Jai looked satisfied at the response.

“I’m the queen bee. You’re just a fun, dumb fuck doll. Fun and dumb,” Jai’s words had all the venom of a teen queen.

“And I need to be filled with cum!” Niko responded obliviously. Jai just laughed and agreed. 

“I need a refill. We’re going,” Jai ordered Niko, who nodded like a golden retriever. He took one last gooey kiss from a satisfied Radden before bending over backwards, his legs still around Radden’s waist, and then performing a backwards handspring to right himself. Radden swatted his ass as Jai grabbed his hand and pulled him away. They minced towards the bar together, swishing their hips to show off the prime real estate to the pleasure of everyone watching.

A smug Radden wiped his face and watched lecherously as the two sauntered off. Amir, on the other hand, immediately turned and hustled the other direction. He slipped past a trio of bangable bros in tight suits who were playfully grabbing at each other’s crotches. Through the lobby, past the shops, swiping his bracelet for the elevator and immediately heading upstairs to his room.

Weird things were going on in his head. Things and thoughts that didn’t make any sense. Watching Nei-Niko… Niko make out with Radden was weird, right? Radden was Jai’s boyfriend. But Jai didn’t care. Maybe they had an open relationship? That would at least make sense. His brain kept dancing around the actual questions he wanted to think: what the hell had happened to Neiko. Neiko. Ne-ne-Niko.

Ugh, it made his head hurt. Surely, the booze didn’t help. Nor did the sun, the workouts, the protein, the long nights and endless debauchery. He felt very lightheaded and not like he had the previous days. His head felt dizzy and uncomfortable, not the effervescent fluffiness that had been slowly turning his brain into cotton candy. He felt like vomiting or maybe passing out, but then a very strong set of arms wrapped themselves around him and pulled him into a muscular body so tightly he almost gagged on the scent of Armani cologne.

“Feeling alright, doll? You ran away so quickly, I knew I needed to come check on you,” Radden whispered in his ears. Amir couldn't tell if he wanted to push off or snuggle in. He settled for doing neither, simply looking up to stare into his wondrous eyes. He reached down and cupped Amir’s face like Hamlet holding a skull. “You are so very pretty. You know that, right? All three of you, honestly. You just need a little touch up.”

Amir wanted to fight back, to squirm and pull away, but he also wanted to sink into Radden’s eyes and voice and just let himself dive into his muscled body like some romance novel slut.

“Jai had those pretty, pretty lips that just NEED to be on a dick. And Niko, well, those pecs are the stuff of dreams and now he can live out his fantasies of being a cum whore in peace. But you, you dear, sweet, Amir, you have a glorious ass. And I bet a pretty pink hole under there that is just quivering to take me.”

Amir bit his lips and looked at Radden with eyes made of melting butter.

“You’re going to look so hot taking my cock and squealing like the little whore I know is inside you.”

“But first,” Radden pushed Amir back, analyzing him coldly. “You need to get some work.” Amir tried to speak up but Radden shoved a thick finger in his mouth, silencing him. “Nothing major, nothing you don’t want. Just a hot body, bigger muscles, really turn that ass into a work of art. And tousle the hair, fill the lips, you know I think a big bottom looks great with a bit of a pelvic tilt. Not too much, don’t want to ruin a prize bull. But you’ve got those beautiful features and some bronzer wouldn’t hurt. No, no, Daddy’s got it all worked out. You just need to hit up the spa starting tomorrow.”

Amir didn’t speak, lips sucking on Radden’s finger in surprising delight. He tasted salty and musky and his brain couldn’t help but obsess over what his cock would taste like.

“It’ll take a few days, you know. But don’t worry. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. And your friends won’t even notice you’re away. After all, they’re just dumb cumsluts now. Don’t you think that’s so hot?”

There wasn’t room for disagreement. Amir just nodded, eyes wide as he stared into Radden’s brown orbs.

“Good. Remember, Daddy knows best. And starting tomorrow, you’re gonna do what Daddy says.” He ruffled Amir’s hair affectionately and pulled his finger out of Amir's mouth with a loud pop. “Now, get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day, beautiful.” Amir’s brain felt mushy and odd, like the grey matter burst into rainbows and glitter that made it impossible to do anything other than smile and nod. He stripped off his wayward bathing suit and threw himself into the plush comforts of his bed with nary a thought in his head.

—--

Amir awoke to a pair of gorgeous men in tight, white uniforms knocking on his door, offering him a fluffy robe and slippers, before ushering him down the service elevator straight into the spa. The air smelled like honeysuckle and buttercream while an army of men of all shapes, colors, and ethnicities kept busy tending to their work.

He stripped at a locker before being directed to a sauna where he spent a few minutes soaking in the heat before being put under a cold shower and then moved to a steam room filled with overpowering oils. His body was scrubbed, then he swapped between hot and cold tubs before returning to a massage table where a man of unknowable ethnicity treated his body like unmolded clay and pushed and prodded his muscles into a new shape. Then facials and more scrubs, microneedles embedded into his face, and then a man who looked like a circus strongman pulled and twisted his hips in strange ways that made his back pop constantly.

He spent most of it wearing noise cancelling headphones that played soothing chants backed by repetitive static. The only interruption came when he was given orders: turn over, stand up, sit down. No one ever explained what was happening, only what to do. Which was fine with him. He felt an overwhelming calm echoing around inside his skull, making it feel as though his brain wasn’t present at all.

The day ended with Amir strapped down on a table while a collection of long needles were inserted throughout his body, along the edge of every major muscle group. And then they began pulsing. Tingly, nearly painful, waves of electricity spasmed through his body, each moment feeling like he’d just worked out his muscles to their fullest, only to immediately be forced back into the exercise at a higher weight or greater intensity. All the while, he could do nothing except twitch and drool as the physical exertion overpowered what little remained of his brainpower.

Before he knew it, he was again wearing a robe and slippers, consuming recovery beverages the texture of mucus, as the techs took measurements and prepared him for tomorrow. He stood up dizzily and was gently escorted back to his room by hypervigilant attendants.

The process repeated over several days. New treatments were introduced. Sterilized needles were inserted into his lips and along his jaw and chin that injected strange, stiff gels that made him feel like he’d been stung by a bee. His hair was wrapped in foil and subjected to treatments under an old fashioned hair dryer while he was allowed to watch porn videos of hot guys looking rapturous as they got railed by older men.

Soon the massages were followed by waxing, where each tiny little follicle of hair anywhere below his neckline was evicted from his body with resounding glee from a babyfaced technician with red hair spiked sky high. The muscle twitch needles followed again, sending larger and larger pulses of electricity through every inch of fiber in his body, thrusting his pecs and pulling his lats and crunching his abdominals over and over again. It hurt tremendously, but like a gym burn, like he’d just exceed his limits and immediately set new, higher goals. The needle placement slowly changed, further apart as he muscles responded to the stimuli and sustenance, as they grew into a bulky, masculine form like a gymnast in his prime. Those sessions were always followed by intense stretching where his legs were slowly pressed into perfectly straight lines, front to back, side to side, and over his head.

The back popper happened more frequently, moving up and down his spine, seeming to snap things into place. It kept feeling deeper, like the change happened further inside the spine, altering his stance outright. He began spending extra time right at his hips, pushing his buttocks back and forth in a small thrusting motion. His thumbs remained firmly pressed against Amir’s butthole the entire time, creating a not unpleasant sensation throughout the process.

The chanting began forming into words. Fun words. Things that made him want to have fun. To be fun. To not worry or think or stress. Instead, he focused on how good it felt to be pretty, to wear pretty clothes, to make men horny just by looking at you. God, he wanted men to get hard just seeing him! Wouldn’t that be the life, to be so fucking sexy that hot guys just threw themselves at him? And he’d want them all. Want to take them all. Want to be filled by their hard rods past the point of sanity, until he was just a writhing and moaning mass of muscles and rainbows.

He was constantly hard. And leaking. And harder muscles made his brain leak, too. Pesky thoughts and fears just drained out as his personality got polished and shined and plasticized. Nothing deep, nothing interesting. Surface. Hot. Fun. Dumb.

—--

Time became meaningless. His days were just cycles of being tended to in one way or another. It felt right. It felt like what he deserved. Another massage, some lotion, hair styling, and then suddenly things changed. The attendants took him to a large room with a circular multi-panel mirror. Andd he saw himself for the first time.

He was GORGEOUS!

Every inch of his dark skin, denuded of hair, now shone in amber brilliance, luminescent, obviously artificial, and perfectly smooth. No human on earth naturally had this color. It was a testament to tanning and skincare, a proclamation that the person who cultivated this amber glaze obsessed over their physical appearance on a level most people could only dream of.

Amir’s face had been cute, charming even, in the right lighting. But now it would stop traffic. His cheekbones rode high and wide on his formerly blocky face, giving it some harsh angularity that put runway models to shame. His lips were fuller, pinker, and hung ever so slightly open, a constant seductive pout. Bushy brows had been plucked and laminated into dark blades, inviting people to stare into his wider eyes whose brown color looked a bit lighter now, woodier with fantasies of forest greens amidst the bark. And on top of it all was bleach blond, pure white hair, mostly swept back but a few loose curls dangled just above his left eye.

But that was just the start. Amir’s body, previously thick and slightly flabby and devoid of any visible muscle, now shamed Apollo. His lats spread wider than his chest, reshaping him into a stunning male hourglass, thick, wide shoulders that cascaded into meaty pecs before tightening into hearty, natural abs– the kind of abs that existed for more than vanity, they suggested that he could bend or twirl into positions unimaginable by an average man.

All of that was nothing. Below his abs, his body ballooned out into the most delicious, curvy, round, perky, prominent, aggressively sexual ass he’d ever seen. This ass wasn’t a dumptruck, it was a fucking pickup truck because men would be riding in the back constantly! It was perfect! Huge and high and muscular with just the perfect level of fleshy bouncy that shook and wiggled with every step. It belonged on the Mount Rushmore of asses, a thing of such phenomenal beauty it just begged to be used.

And the thought of being used, of being fucked until dawn by some aggressive mega-dicked top with the stamina of a breeding ox just filled him with such passion, such lust, he couldn’t help but bite his lips like a vixen hoping to entice men. He wanted, no he needed, to be seen. Not as a person but as a sexual object. 

God it made him feel so hot.

He stood, utterly transfixed by the myriad of flawless reflections that cooed back at him with ravenous, sexual hunger in their eyes. His hips tilted forward slightly, a little curve in his lower back, that caused his ass to jut out a bit further, a bit higher, a bit more enticing, like a fleshy bait to lure cocks to his hole. Never, in his life, had he stood in front of a mirror totally naked and felt nothing but admiration for the form before him. It had no flaws, no worries. There was nothing to improve. He looked like an Olympic gymnast with a great plastic surgeon who made millions of dollars on OnlyFans doing nothing more than exposing his body and offering sultry looks.

“Well, well, well,” the deep, breathy words came from behind Amir. He turned to see Radden, in a leopard print Versace speedo and a delicate linen button down left open to show off his pecs and abs, clapping softly as he admired Amir’s new form. “You look perfect,” he purred. Amir might have blushed, but instead he just posed, pushing out his glutes more and puffing up his lips as though offering a kiss. Radden strut over, the leopard print covered package bounding from side to side in a mouth watering and hole wetting display. Amir looked up expectantly as he approached, eager for more approval.

Radden didn’t say more, he just took in the sight of Amir’s altered form, playing with the curls in his hair and patting his muscles as though inspecting a product. He cupped Amir’s balls with one hand, gliding his fingers across their newfound smoothness in gentle appreciation. His other hand nestled up inside Amir’s gigantic booty until one finger was firmly planted on his butthole. Amir bit his lip and released a lush, porny moan that he would never, ever have made before. But now it slipped out as naturally as blinking.

“Good boy,” he whispered erotically into Amir’s ear. Amir whimpered submissively in response and then his face twisted into a lustful smirk as he began rolling his butt, slowly snaking Radden’s finger inside his hole. Radden let him continue for a few moments, proudly baring down on his latest conquest before pulling off as Amir released a squeaky whine.

“Not yet,” Radden put a finger over Amir’s lips. “We still have work to do. Now,” he turned the technicians with dispassionate professionalism. “Is everything as ordered?”

They confirmed, laying out a list of detailed improvements Radden had commanded: lips, cheeks, muscles, glutes, brain, personality. Amir just stood silently, not paying attention, as the details of his own transformation were laid bare. He did catch a few words, specific measurement of pelvic tilt, gluteal curvature, reformatted personality type. But none of that was very interesting. Radden, looking so serious and business-like, was more fun to watch. Despite being dressed in a showy speedo, he still commanded the room and the men in it like a ruthless CEO acquiring a rival company. Amir got hard again.

“Now that that’s settled,” Radden returned his attention to Amir. His voice dropped the harsh tones he’d addressed the help with and adopted the cloyingly sweet tones he used talking to his boytoys. “We just have a few more things to do, okay baby?” Amir was given a collection of jewelry, a turtle embossed bracelet, a dainty little silver chain, and a tiny stud in his nose. With grandiose flourish, as though introducing this season's debutante, he produced a tiny pair of baby blue fabric with a Grecian design on it. The Versace swim briefs from earlier. Amir clapped giddily and reached for them, but Radden shushed him and insisted on dressing him like a doll. He stepped into the swimsuit and Radden slid the tight fabric over his smoothed and enlarged legs, forced it backwards over the luscious rump of his titanic ass and pressed his cock and balls downwards as he allowed the waistband of the suit to snap around his tiny waist.

Amir creamed himself immediately.

“Now that’s my beautiful boy,” Radden cooed. “Oh, and one final note. Since you are such a good boy, aren’t you?” Amir nodded eagerly. “See, you’re almost perfect now, so pretty, so stupid, so obsessed with cock and cum that you’ll treat your body like a holy temple dedicated to the pleasures of homosexuality. And that temple deserves a good name, doesn’t it? Not Amir. That’s so boring, so lame. You wanna be fun and simple and stupid and hot, right doll?”

Ami was so hard, despite having just cum, that not a single drop of blood was pumping to his brain. His vision blurred and a bystander could almost hear the whirring clink of broken joints as Amir’s mind stopped and slowed and ceased. His face nodded in agreement.

“Good, cause I think it would be soooo hot if you were named Rio. R-I-O. Fun, right?” Sparkles, rainbows, a sun exploding into atoms, nothing could quite explain exactly what happened inside his head at that moment. Only that the words broke something, or rather fixed something, permanently.

“Tell me your name,” Radden’s command was strong but seductive, a dom coming home to roost.

“I’m Rio!” Sparkles, rainbows, cotton candy exploded inside his head.

“Again.” “I’m Rio!” Sweet, charming, hyper sexual, and completely and utterly devoted. Rio, freed from Amir and his body and brain, shifted just a bit. A bit cockier, looser, gaining full comfort in his new form and function like a prisoner freed from shackles and now standing upright.

Radden walked next to Rio and grabbed his glutes aggressively. Rio forced them back into his hand with a subtle moan. Radden slapped his glutes and watched them jiggle.

“Now, we’re gonna go back to the room and you’re gonna show me that pretty hole I paid for. And I’m gonna fuck you so hard that anything left behind in that pretty head of yours is gonna melt. I’m gonna turn your hole into a cavern. My cock is going to become your God and salvation.” Rio’s eyes fluttered and his heart raced at the promise of a good fucking. He needed it, like fundamentally needed it, as much as he needed water and food. Without another word, Radden slipped the D&G sunglasses over Rio’s eyes. The perfect finishing touch for a trophy.

Radden’s hand pawing as his newfound ass, Rio paraded through the main lobby like a hero from war. He could tell people were looking at him, knew they were devouring his ass with their eyes, knew they were envying Radden’s huge hand on his bulbous mound. It felt fucking great.

They were both hard and leaking by the time they got the room. Briefs were stripped off unceremoniously, though Radden didn’t bother taking off his shirt. He hoisted Rio up and fireman’s carried him into the master suite. Rio didn’t spend a second taking in the massive luxury of the room, superior to the practically pitiful room he had by comparison. His entire brain focused on the massive erection riding up from Radden, the purple head bobbing several inches above his bellybutton and dripping with semen.

Unceremoniously, he flipped Rio on his back and pushed his legs over his head, forcing them straight and insisted he keep the toes pointed. All the body reshaping Rio had undergone meant that it was completely natural. Radden admired the hole, praising its color and shape, and then with brutal efficiency, plunged his hard cock inside.

There was nothing romantic about the sex, no emotions, just need. Rio wasn’t his boyfriend after all; he was just a hole. And Radden pistoned in and out of him like a beast releasing years of pent up aggression as only sex can. For Rio it was more sparkles and rainbows. A cock, a huge cock, thrusting inside of him and treating his body like a fleshlight was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. He didn’t touch his own dick. He didn’t need to. His prostate was what mattered now; the top’s cock is what mattered now. He’d cum when they did, once they dumped their thick loads inside him and left him sweaty and leaky and ready for more. Rio would always be up for round two. And round three.

It ended quickly but ferociously, with Radden releasing a primal cry into the sky, veins bulging across his neck as the spasming rod inside Rio sent them both into orgasmic bliss. Rio’s own cock blasted out and launched his cum directly into his mouth. He let out a stilted moan as he slurped down his own cum with glee.

—--

Everything was soooo much more fun now. The boytoys got up, worked out, looked hot, and tended to Radden’s sexual needs. Otherwise, they did whatever they wanted. They’d flirt with other hot himbos or rich old men. They got shitfaced drunk and grinded their sweaty bodies on dance floors. The trio even ended up in a gymnastics contest, donning leotards and doing flips and cartwheels with relative ease, although their exaggerated physiques kept them slightly off balance.

Radden kept them color coded for convenience: pink for Jai, green for Niko, blue for Rio. Everyday he picked out matching swimsuits with flashy designer labels prominent and loud. Rio’s collection of high-end sunglasses grew daily as Radden shopped with him, happily choosing the perfect pair for his newest toy.

They still had the spa daily, though now the whole foursome went together and got their facials and massages. Jai still sucked Radden dry after a good massage, but Niko was on hand for a tit fucking while Rio kept his bussy clean and lubed just in case Radden needed to blow off some steam. And of course, any other guy who caught his fancy. Rio’s sex drive had turned from mild to insatiable. He LOVED it. But he never felt satisfied. Within minutes, he’d be ready to search for another dick, another load, another guy to flirt and flounce with.

Rio was hot as fuck, horny as hell, dumb as a rock, and could not have been any happier.

The music blasted through the cracked concrete walls of an abandoned warehouse during Halloween night. Chad, 22 and cocky as ever, flexed his pale gym-rat arms in a tight tank top, his Grindr notifications buzzing like flies. Failed influencer? Maybe. But tonight, he was hunting for more than likes.

It was a chilly night. The full moon was obscured by clouds, but an eerie glow remained over the place where Chad found himself at an underground Halloween rave party. He had ditched his job earlier that evening to attend the rave, hoping to let loose and have some fun. He didn't even have a costume on, just a basic white tank top and some jeans that he had worn to his shift.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with sweat from all the bodies grinding together on the dance floor. The music was very loud, nauseating even, but that didn't stop Chad from noticing every Grindr notification that buzzed on his phone - tonight, he would definitely score some holes. Heading straight to one of the bars, he downed a shot of something that made his throat burn. His eyes were scanning for his type: twinks with that hungry look. But the heat inside was suffocating, the air reeking of sweat and alcohol. He needed a breather, eventually.

At around 11 p.m. that night, Chad got fed up with the claustrophobic heat and the relentless pounding of the music. He slipped out of the warehouse, craving a smoke break and some fresh air. The cool night air was a relief, but as he leaned against the brick wall to light his cigarette, something caught his eye in the dimly lit car park.

He didn't notice it at first, but as he took a drag from his cigarette, he started hearing soft groans coming from the shadows. Squinting, he saw a figure slumped against the wall, blood seeping from a wound on his shoulder.

His name was Alex, though that doesn't matter much now for reasons soon to be clear. His skin was tan and smooth, and he was shivering, either from cold or shock. Wearing only some shorts, and having blood on his face, he looked like he had been through hell.

"What the fuck? Man, you okay?" Chad immediately said after noticing the wounded man. He crouched down, using his phone as a torch to cut through the dark. Alex's eyes fluttered open, hazy with pain, his breath ragged. Up close, he was kinda cute - twinkish, with messy black hair and full lips. Chad's heart raced a bit, though he was still concerned due to all the blood he saw. "Hey, dude, what happened? You look like shit." He reached out, his hand hovering near Alex's shoulder, the blood glistening under the phone's light.

Suddenly, Alex's hand shot out, gripping Chad's arm with a strength that belied his weakened state. "Run..." he rasped, his voice cracking like brittle glass. "Get away from here. It's not... it's not what you think." Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth, staining his lips crimson. "He bit me. And now... fuck, it's..." Chad yanked back, confusion on his face. "Who bit you? Dude, you need a hospital." But Alex shook his head weakly, a guttural moan escaping his throat. "Too late. For m-me... For you t-too if you stay... J-just go!"

Chad froze, but his eyes darted to Alex, who was convulsing now. He couldn't tear his gaze away as Alex's body began to writhe, muscles bulging unnaturally beneath his skin, a low growl building in his throat that sent shivers down Chad's spine. "Dude, what the fuck is happening?" Chad exclaimed, but his voice was barely audible over the distant sound of the rave inside the warehouse.

In case I wasn't clear enough with my storytelling, Alex over here had been infected with the Lycan-virus, unbeknownst to our dear Chad. The virus effects started manifesting violently, which made Chad unable to look away, as Alex's form twisted and changed into something more suited to spreading the virus.

It started in his eyes: a burning itch that made him claw at them, tears streaming as his pupils narrowed, and his irises turned from common brown to a vivid yellow. Then his ears: a sickening crackle, like twigs snapping underfoot, as cartilage stretched and reshaped. They elongated upward, tips pointing subtly. Alex whimpered, hands flying to them, but the touch only amplified the sensation - a mix of agony and sensitivity that shot straight to his groin, stirring an unwelcome hardness in his now ripped shorts. "N-no... PLEASE" he begged, but his voice deepened mid-sentence, gravelly and raw, as his gums throbbed. Sharp teeth erupted next, growing and pushing with a wet grind, tearing tender flesh. Warm blood filled his mouth, his thickening tongue lapping at it instinctively, the taste igniting a feral hunger that made his growing cock twitch against the air.

He tried getting up, but his limbs felt heavy and sluggish, as if he were moving through thick mud. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he stumbled, catching himself against the rough brick wall. His heart raced wildly in his chest as he stared at Chad, his brain starting to lag behind, all while he was standing naked with a semi hard-on in front of him.

Now, Chad after witnessing what can only be described as a grotesque and terrifying transformation, stood frozen in shock and horror. His mind struggled to process the impossible scene before him. The rational part of his brain screamed that this couldn't be real, that he must be hallucinating from something he ingested at the rave. Yet the instinctive part of him knew with sickening certainty that what he was seeing was all too real to be a dream.

"R-run..." - the supernaturally attractive man in front of him managed to say with his last strength. "G-get away... before... he comes back..."

Before Chad could respond, a deep growl rumbled from the shadows behind him. He froze, a chill crawling up his spine as the air thickened with an oppressive heat reeking of musk and blood. Slowly, he turned, and there he was - another man, emerging from the darkness like a predator. Barefoot and totally naked, his Latino werewolf body was a sculpted horror, presenting one monstrous girthy penis. It was something else, like a mix of a human and dog's dick - long, veiny, and with a swollen knot at the base. But it was his eyes that terrified Chad - golden orbs glowing with hunger, fixed on Chad with predatory intent. His sharp teeth glinted in a savage grin, blocking any path back to the warehouse, trapping Chad in between these 2 sexy but monstrous men.

"No deberías estar aquí, cabrón" comes out of the muscular hairy man staring at Chad. Chad backed up. "Who are you?! What the fuck is happening to him?"

The muscular werewolf's lips curl into a feral smile. "He's becoming like me. Like us."

"The fuck you mean 'like us'?"

The werewolf's grin widened. "What do you think, cabrón?" He stepped closer, that obscene knotted cock swaying heavy between his bronze thighs, dripping clear pre that shined faintly on the concrete. "In ten minutes he'll be on his knees begging to spread it. And you..." His golden eyes eyed up Chad's body like a predator. "...you're next."

Before Chad could bolt, the man also known as Diego lunged inhumanly fast, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him close. Chad swung a fist, but it was futile; Diego's strength was superhuman. He could feel his hot breath on his neck, and then... agony, as sharp teeth sank into his shoulder. Blood welled hot and fast, the bite burning like acid injected straight into his veins. Chad's knees buckled, vision blurring, his strength draining as the werewolf's DNA coursed through him, sapping his will while igniting something inside of him.

Alex, still mid-shift, staggered up. The virus was rewriting him now, skin warming from olive to a deeper caramel, flushing outward from the bite like a bruise in reverse. Muscles twitched and swelled beneath, his slim frame thickening with painful pulses: biceps bulging, chest broadening, each fibre tearing and reforming stronger, sending jolts of ecstasy through his body all while Chad couldn't do anything but watch as Diego kept him close on his mouth, biting down harder to keep him subdued.

Alex slammed back against the hood of a random car, yanking some ragged cloth that covered it, spine arching as the pain increased. His breath came in ragged snarls, hips bucking against nothing while the virus tore through his groin. He threw his head back and howled, a raw, desperate sound that cracked into a moan when his tongue lolled thick and wet over his new fang-like teeth.

Dark wiry curls erupted across his chest, racing down sculpted abs, curling thick over swelling pecs and plunging into a dense treasure trail. His pits filled with coarse black hair, sweat-matted and reeking of musk. His ass rounded softly with a dark fuzz covering it in a forest of damp hair.

Between his legs his cock throbbed violently - lengthening, thickening, skin turning crimson. The head tapered to a sensitive point, until he felt his testicles fuse into the base and balloon into a fat, angry knot that slapped wetly against his new empty sheath. Pre gushed in thick ropes, splattering the car hood. Alex's clawed hands held onto the metal, nails screeching as he rutted the air, hips dry-humping helplessly. Another howl ripped from his throat - half pain, half obscene pleasure - while his golden eyes rolled back, lost to the pleasure in his mind.

Then, with inhuman speed, he slammed Chad face-first against a cold dumpster, pinning him with his newfound strength. A thick, knotted cock dragged up the groove of Chad's spine, smearing hot pre through the soaked tank.

"S-sorry, bro", Alex rasped, voice shredded to gravel, tongue hanging long and wet. "Can't... stop... feels too fuckin' good."

Chad thrashed. "Nngh, get off—fuck—!" He struggled feebly, blood dripping onto the ground as it started raining, but Alex's grip was strong.

Diego then stepped forward, golden eyes blazing with lust. He ripped Chad's jeans down with one claw-like hand, exposing his pale skin to the night air. "You're gonna enjoy this, puto" - Diego growled low, his breath steaming against Chad's ear.

He thrust in raw, no prep.

"HRRNGH—!!"

Chad's scream cracked into a choked grunt as Diego speared deep. Pain lanced through him, but the infection twisted it, blending it with waves of forbidden pleasure as Diego pounded his tight hole. Every slam dragged a new sound out of him:

"Ugh—fuck—!"

"Nnngh—too big—!"

"Hah—ahh—!"

The knot battered his rim.

"Grr—stop—please—HRRAAHH—!"

Then, it popped in.

Chad's eyes rolled. A low, broken "guh—guh—guh—" punched out with every grind against his prostate, his hips jerking traitorously. Diego roared and flooded him. Chad's own cock spurted untouched against the dumpster, a pathetic "ungh—ungh—!" ripping from his throat as the virus burned hot inside him.

Finally, the knot deflated enough for Diego to pull out, leaving Chad dazed and leaking, a sticky warmth trickling down his thighs. In a surge of adrenaline-fuelled panic, Chad shoved free and stumbled away, yanking up his pants, bolting back toward the warehouse door. Laughter echoed behind him - Diego and Alex, letting him go.

"Let him run. He's already ours."

They knew his time was ticking.

...

It was 11:15 p.m. when Chad burst back inside with his shoulder throbbing. The rave's chaos swallowed him - strobe lights stabbing his eyes, and bass pounding his head. He needed somewhere private. The restroom, down the hall with the door hanging crooked was the first thing that popped in his mind. He staggered in, slamming it shut, twisting the lock. Inside, the restroom was a mess, cracked glass everywhere and a smell of piss lingering in the air.

Chad leaned on the sink, staring at his reflection. His face was pale. The rain outside had washed his wound's blood away; the bite looked like nothing more than a faint pink scratch now, almost healed. "This isn't real" - he muttered in denial, but the sting started anyway. His eyes started burning as if embers pressed against them. He blinked hard, tears welling, but when he looked again, the world sharpened unnaturally: every crack in the tile, every drip from the tap, assaulting his senses. Terror gripped him, his eyes had shifted from blue to a glowing yellow that pierced the dim light.

The ears came next - a crackle like bones fracturing in his skull as cartilage elongated, tips pointing upward. He grabbed them, yelping as they stretched under his fingers, the new sensitivity sending shivers down his spine, straight to his groin, where an insistent ache began to build. "Stop... please." But it didn't. His mouth ached, canines lengthening with a grinding tear, nicking his swelling tongue. Blood hit his tongue and his brain lit up like a slot machine: TASTES GOOD. WANT MORE. He licked his lips slow, drooling.

The heat built under his skin. It was like he was being boiled alive. Skin prickled, warming from the inside out. In the mirror, he watched it happen - his pale white skin darkening to a warm bronze, starting at the bite mark and spreading like a plague: across his chest, down his arms, blooming over his abs in waves. It itched, burned like fire ants under the surface, but the change enhanced him, his gym-rat build taking on a richer, more alluring glow that stirred a vain, horrified arousal - he looked... better, stronger, even as the humanity slipped away.

Heat flooded his veins. Thoughts that used to be in his head, like his unpaid rent, his few followers, or tomorrow's shift, started melting in his mind. He blinked hard.

"F-fuck... what was I... thinking about?"

Thinking was getting hard. Too many syllables.

His muscles twitched next, fibres thickening with ripping agony. Chad doubled over as his biceps swelled, veins bulging like ropes. His thighs bulked, ass rounding fuller and firmer, each pulse a cocktail of pain and pleasure that arched his back, forcing a moan from his fanged mouth.

"M-make it stop!"

He pounded the sink, but the mirror showed a stranger: broader, more powerful. His body was betraying him with a growing erection that begged for release. Truth be told, he looked hot. Old Chad would've definitely taken a selfie of himself. New Chad however just drooled and humped the air.

Body hair erupted then, dense and black, like shadows claiming flesh. A happy trail snaked from his navel downward, thickening into a lush forest across his abs, pits sprouting damp curls that trapped his musky scent. Thighs and ass furred up, coarse and insistent, the growth tickling and itching in ways that heightened his arousal, making him grind against the sink edge despite the revulsion.

He looked like a little gooner wolf-boy. His bones shifted with a grinding crunch - cheekbones widening, jaw squaring out, and nose bridge flattening subtly. His face morphed, features reshaping into Diego's Latino phenotype. Chad touched his reflection, fingers trembling. "Quién... w-who am I?" The panic spiked, heart hammering as the virus rewired his very identity, the new face staring back both foreign and seductively handsome.

Worst - and most intoxicating - was his cock. It throbbed first, lengthening inch by agonizing inch, growing longer, tapering to a wicked point that dripped pre-cum. Balls migrated upward, fusing into a swollen knot at the base, the former scrotum loosening into a pouch-like sheath that pulsed with heat. Chad groaned, hand wrapping around it instinctively, the new shape alien yet exquisitely sensitive.

"G-gotta—NNNGH—n-need to—Ngh—flush it out!" He jerked frantically, strokes building a frenzy of pleasure. His mind was fractured:

Stroke. Stop. Stroke. Can't stop.

"Gotta... gotta breed..." he slurred, voice deep and broken. Memories of Grindr, of likes, of being an "influencer" melted into one looping reel: HOLES. KNOT. CUM. BREED. REPEAT.

Minutes blurred under the flickering light. His changes peaked, every sense sharpening, like the smells of the rave seeping under the door, or the sounds that were now deafening to his sensitive ears. Chad was panting. Unable to cum by himself, he slowly calmed. His ears retracted, fangs shortened, eyes dimmed back to normal - shapeshifting back, hiding the wolf-boy within. All except his cock, which retracted into the hollow pouch that were his balls now, a hidden beast waiting. He looked almost like himself again, well except for the bronze skin, and the different facial features. No longer white, he looked like a sexy Latino man now.

His panic subsided, being replaced by a simmering calm. But the moon was rising.

He was calm now. Breathing slow, but his heart was still steady. The monster had sunk back inside, leaving him to stare at himself in the mirror. He stared at it, and all he could see was a hot Latino stranger, with bronze skin and built like a god. His bite scar was gone, no sign of it whatsoever. He even let out a laugh, soft and shaky:

"Okay... okay, it stopped. I'm good. Just... just good."

He splashed cold water on his face, and wiped his mouth. His cock slid fully into its sheath, knot soft and hidden. He leaned on the sink, smiling at the hot guy in the mirror.

"Maybe this ain't so bad—"

Midnight struck. The full moon was high on the sky, its light slicing through the clouds into a grimy window high on the wall of the restroom. Chad's mask suddenly shattered. A surge hit him - his senses exploded, and his libido skyrocketed. He arched, growling as the wolf-boy form came out again: ears pointed, eyes glowing yellow. Strength flooded him, rut-driven. Panic flared anew. "No, not again!" - but the hunger won, a feral need to rut, to infect, drowning out the human screams in his mind.

His last human thought flickered:

"no no no—"

Then the rut hit him like a train. His knot ballooned inside the sheath, cock surging out hard and red, slapping his abs with a wet smack. Hips bucked the air, and claws gouged the sink. His brain melted to one word, loud and endless:

BREED BREED BREED BREED BREED

Chad's eyes rolled back, tongue lolling. A dumb, horny smile split his fanged mouth. Human Chad was gone. Only the rutting werewolf boy was left. He howled deep, and smashed straight through the bathroom door. The wolf-boy was loose, and the rave was full of holes...

He burst from the bathroom, cock bulging in his tattered jeans but dripping, knot already half-swollen. His nose locked on one scent: a sweet, needy twink in red devil horns, grinding alone under the strobe lights.

Going close to him, the twink turned, his pupils dilating the second their gazes met.

"H-hi... what's your na—", he tried to say before being cut by the larger man.

"Javier" - Chad, or Javier as he called himself now, growled. "Come. Now."

Upon this sight of a man, the boy dropped his drink and followed like a puppet, whimpering already. Back in a filthy handicap stall, Javier slammed him chest-first against the tile, and kicked the stall door shut. The twink tried to turn around, with his lips parted to say something flirty.

Then he looked down.

Javier's cock jutted out crimson, thick, pointed, the knot already fattening at the base like a fist made of meat.

The twink's breath hitched, a sharp little "oh fuck—" slipping out.

"That's... w-what the fuck is that", he whispered, backing up until his shoulders hit the wall. His voice cracked, half terror, half helpless lust. "P-please get away f-from m-me."

Javier just growled hungry, and closed the distance in one step. One clawed hand clamped the twink's jaw, tilting his face up. His golden eyes locked on brown ones. "You're taking it", Javier rumbled. "Every inch. Every drop."

The twink whimpered, trembling, but his own cock betrayed him, straining hard against the ruined shorts.

Javier shredded the fabric, spun him around, and pressed that slick, monstrous head against his hole.

"N-no, wait, it's too—HRRNGH—!!"

Javier drove in.

The twink screamed, high and broken, his nails clawing the tiles as the tapered shaft speared him open.

Javier didn't slow. Just fucked, hard, wet, and relentless. The knot battered his hole, stretching... stretching... until it popped past the ring with an obscene, wet sound.

The boy's cry turned into a sob-moan, his legs were shaking, tears ruining his red body paint. Javier leaned in, his chest hair rasping the twink's back. "Take it easy, cabrón." Then, the knot swelled huge, locking them tight.

The twink's eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream as Javier unloaded: thick, burning ropes pumping deep, flooding him, bloating his belly slightly with the sheer volume. He came untouched, cock jerking, spurting against the wall in helpless ropes while the virus sank its claws in.

Javier slowed down, flooding the twink with the last thick ropes of his gift. The boy's whimpers turned to choked gasps, eyes fluttering gold, then rolling white. Javier felt the twink go limp, dead weight on his knot. A final shuddering spurt deep inside, then Javier yanked free with a wet, filthy pop.

The horny twink crumpled instantly, unconscious, his face planting the piss-wet tiles. Cum poured from his wrecked, gaping hole in heavy pulses, pooling beneath him.

Javier stood over him a second, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and dripping. He nudged the limp body with one foot, watched it flop bonelessly, then snorted, satisfied.

He didn't look back, already hungry for another hole to fill up next. He crashed out of the warehouse into the pouring rain. Diego and Alex were waiting for him under the floodlights, naked and soaked, their hard cocks dripping. "Te lo dije, cabrón" - Diego grinned, eyes gleaming. "We were waiting for you, bro. Vamonos. Can't spend too much time in one place. These balls don't empty themselves, heh?" Then, they were gone - only blurs over the distance, with golden eyes cutting the through the darkness of the night.

...

An hour later into the night, the warehouse side door banged open again.

A soaked, trembling man stumbled out into the rain, his clothes ruined, but seemingly unbothered by that. His skin tanned a bit under the downpour, muscles twitching and swelling, new hairs sprouting dark across his chest. Eyes snapped open glowing like gold, ears stretching tall. His cock had grown, sporting veins that ran so hot the water from the rain evaporated on contact. While not fully transformed yet, a knot had already formed at the base, slapping wet against his thigh.

He threw his head back and howled. Then he vanished into the storm, hunting the scent of his maker with his cock dripping, and his mind blinded by the moonlight. However, a single word ran through his mind:

BREED

And so, dear reader, another lost soul was erased and reborn as a bronze, knotted beast whose only purpose now is to hunt warm holes under the next full moon.

By day, what was once Chad struts through the streets like a god: his thick pecs straining every shirt, with a heavy bulge coiled tight behind pants that can't quite hide the outline when he's hard (which is often). He smiles easy, and fucks slow and deep when he wants, leaving boys trembling and begging for seconds they'll never get again in their lives. Life feels like an endless paradise to him.

But when that moon bloats full and silver, the leash snaps. The only thought left is to breed. He'll hunt you down, and rip your clothes to shreds while his fat, pointed cock leaks rivers of pre down your thighs. You'll feel the knot swell, stretch you wide, lock you to him as he pumps load after thick, burning load straight into your body, claiming you, and changing you, until you're moaning his name in the same feral tongue he has.

So be careful dear reader, stay inside when the moon is round and bright. I've done my best to tell you what Lycantropy can actually do, but it's up to you to heed my warnings. After all this isn't just an Halloween story, it's—

ARGHHH…!

...

...

...

HRK—GLRK—GLRK—GLRK—

...

"Sweet dreams, putito... if you can still close your legs after this."

[end recording]

--------------

Subject 47-B, former Dr. Morrison, audio log terminated at 25:38.

Note: Outdoors narration experiment succeeded. Subject 47-A, 47-B both detained in quarantine. Level-5 quarantine enforced.