How Much Are Those Geniuses In The Window? (Patreon)

Tom knew it was a bad idea. He’d known it was a bad idea as soon as Mike and Jeff had said it out loud, yet there he was, standing in a dim corridor acting as a lookout for his friends. The whole plan hinged on him and his knowledge of the mall’s hidden arteries, he could have prevented all of it by simply refusing to participate, but saying no to Mike and Jeff wasn’t that simple. They weren’t bullies or blackmailing him; they were just hot, wealthy fuckboys who liked to party. Tom had landed in the pair’s orbit when Mike had paid him to write a few of his papers in college, and he’d somehow remained there ever since.

For a slightly scrawny, relatively unremarkable man like himself, Tom was well aware of his privileged position, and its tenuous nature. Being around the handsome pair came with more than just eye candy, and the wiry blonde didn’t want to blow it and see himself cast out by pushing back too hard on his friends’ plan. Tom would never be able to afford the luxurious trips he got invited on, or pay for the expensive cocktails and fancy dinners they regularly enjoyed. He’d never own a posh townhouse with a rooftop pool and sauna, with bathrooms bigger than his current bedroom, or furniture that cost more than he’d make in a decade. Mike and Jeff each had eight-figure trust funds, accounts which they could now fully access having reached their mid-twenties and having successfully obtained the degrees they were busy not using. Tom wasn’t eager to lose his access to that world over something as minor as a potential felony, and he kept telling himself that the pair could literally buy their way out of trouble if they got caught. He didn’t think they’d leave him hanging, they liked having him around for the attention and the social street cred that having a gay guy provided. It made them seem more open-minded than their aggressively bro-ish nature would normally suggest, and the twinkish blonde’s ill-concealed attraction was an easy ego boost.

Tom still didn’t understand why they wanted to steal from the Kennel in the first place. As far as he was concerned, Mike and Jeff were nearly perfect to begin with. They were both lean and defined without being bulky, they had perky rears and broad shoulders, and each possessed an enviable face that bordered on stunning. Their features were sharp where they needed to be and soft where they didn’t, switching from charming and cute to seductive and smoldering as the situation required. Each had a thick head of wavy hair, chocolate for Mike and raven for Jeff, the differing colors being the largest difference between them. The proclivity of Mike’s chocolate coif to spread over the rest of his body was another distinction, but the toned body it attempted to cover was so similarly shaped to his dark-haired counterpart that they could have passed for twins, right down to their equally impressive packages.

Unfortunately, despite Tom’s abundant appreciation of their whipcord frames, Mike and Jeff wanted to bulk up. No longer content to be a pair of toned pretty-boys, they wanted real meat on their bones. They were tired of looking like runners or climbers, and they were far too impatient to go about things the old-fashioned way. They had more than enough money to pay for the best personal trainers and gym equipment, but even steroids and designer supplements would have taken too long. The wealthy young duo wasn’t used to delaying gratification, and the Kennel had drugs that could literally give them the bodies they sought in mere moments.

Which is where Tom came in. On top of everything else, Mike and Jeff also just happened to know a doting twink who’d worked at the mall for years, and who could get them the access they needed. The Kennel had staff present around the clock to keep an eye on the guys who were up for adoption, but they mostly stayed in the front after hours. The labs and clinical areas were shut down in the evenings, meaning that, if they timed things out right, it was theoretically possible to slip in via one of the maintenance tunnels that veined through the mall, grab the formula, and slip back out. Thanks to Tom’s inside information they knew the maintenance tunnels didn’t have security cameras themselves, and the wiry blonde could lead them through the labyrinth and out to the sole blindspot in the parking lot’s camera coverage. It would require thorough planning, precision timing, and a little bit of luck, but it technically was possible.

And, apparently, successful. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Tom started at Jeff’s sudden whisper breaking the silence, his heart racing as his two friends darted through the door. “Did you get it,” he asked, fighting the urge to start sprinting down the tunnel. Just because his friends could most likely get him out of trouble didn’t mean he was eager to find out.

Mike's eyes, the only part of his face that was visible between the mask and hat he wore, gave away his victorious smile. “We sure did,” he said, holding up two bottles. “Snagged the bonding agent and the Jock formula. Didn’t want to get too jacked like one of those Alpha dudes.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Tom muttered, once again asking himself if any of it was worth it as they hurried down the tunnel. A quick look back at his friend’s tight frames pouring out of their black t-shirts and black jeans answered in the affirmative, much to his pride’s dismay.

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff scoffed. “We did it! We fuckin’ did it, man! Even if they got us on camera they won’t be able to tell it was us. We’re solid, dude.”

It wasn’t until they were in the car and nearly back at the duo’s house that Tom started to believe it. He knew Jeff was right, that they were covered from head-to-toe, and while the mall would likely plug the hole in their security after this, there was every reason to believe they’d get away with it. At least as far as the breaking and entering part of the plan went. Tom still wasn’t convinced that ingesting the formula was a good idea, but Mike and Jeff both insisted that they’d “done the research” and weren’t worried. According to them, it was almost frighteningly straightforward.

“Alright, dude,” Mike said, holding the bottle of bonding agent in front of Tom once they were inside the posh house. “Spit in here.”

The lean blonde blushed and gave his friends a hesitant look. “And you’re absolutely sure you want to…”

“Bro, we’ve been over this,” Jeff groaned. “What are you nervous about? We’re the ones doing the gross shit and drinking your spit. Think of it like us making out,” he added with an exaggerated pursing of his lips.

Tom sighed and did as he was told. “What’s this supposed to do again?”

“It primes the pump or something,” Mike shrugged. “I guess it needs someone else’s genetic material or whatever to activate it, then the Jock formula will bind to it. It’s in the title, dude,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

Tom wasn’t convinced, but he also wasn’t in the mood to argue. He watched the pair shake the bottle and then each take a large swig, his stomach fluttering despite himself at the thought of what was about to happen. In all the excitement of the heist he hadn’t actually processed the fact that his friends were possibly about to balloon with muscle in front of him.

“Ugh…stuff tastes nasty,” Jeff sputtered, shaking his head. He blinked at Mike for a few moments, his smug grin slowly spreading. “Feels kinda good, though. Right? It’s like I’m buzzed.”

The brunette nodded, letting out a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ wild, dude,” he said, flashing the bottom of his washboard as he absently scratched at the trail of fur snaking up out of his jeans. “Shame you can’t get in on this,” he said to Tom, a bushy eyebrow slowly raising as he looked at his friend.

The wiry twink squirmed uncomfortably as Mike’s eyes were joined by Jeff’s. ““Uh…is something wrong? Why are you guys looking at me like that? I already told you I’m not taking any of this…”

“Relax,” Jeff grunted, interrupting Tom’s sputtering. “We’re just lookin’ at you. You seem, like…different.”

“He’s kinda cute when he’s all freaked out like that,” Mike laughed, his eyes going wide when a new thought occurred to him. “Oh, shit! Dude! It just, like, hit me! Dude’s gonna seem so small when we’re done.”

“Oh, fuck! You’re right! We’re gonna be able to toss that cute little ass around,” Jeff half-laughed, half-groaned. There was a hungry glint in both of their eyes, and the dark-haired hunk appeared oblivious to the twitching in the front of his jeans.

Tom wasn’t, and the lean blonde’s brain raced as fast as his heart at the unfolding events. He was starting to put together exactly what was happening, what had already happened, but he needed to test his theory. “Uh, if you guys are about to get big, don’t you think you should take those tight clothes off, first? Might get uncomfortable,” he suggested.

“Oh! Yeah! Good call, dude,” Mike nodded, peeling out his t-shirt and jeans without the slightest hesitation. He shucked his boxer briefs with the same eagerness, finally giving Tom a view of his semi-hard log in all its glory.

Jeff had followed suit next to him, his smile growing as he looked back and forth between their rapidly hardening members. “Lookin’ good, dude,” he said, reaching over to give Mike’s aching organ a quick tug.

“About to look even better,” the brunette laughed, doing the same to his friend.

Tom swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he watched the pair practically jerk each other off in front of him. He’d already guessed just how little “research” his friends had actually done, and he knew there was still a slim chance they could turn back, but he’d suddenly become a believer in the pair’s plan. “Do you guys want to keep doing that, or do you want to drink the rest?”

There was a long pause, punctuated only by the occasional gasp as the two pretty-boys stared at each other and kept pumping. “We…we should, like, drink the rest right? We wanna get big and shit, don’t we,” Mike asked, seemingly unaware of the change to his speech.

“Duh, dude,” Jeff nodded. “We can keep going after we’re all jacked.”

“Fuck! You’re, like, so smart, man,” Mike said, his voice dripping with sincerity. With great reluctance, he let go of his friend and shook the bottle with the Jock formula, his brow furrowing as he stared at it. “I think this is it? I don’t know how much we’re supposed to drink? I thought I could, like, read it or whatever before, but now it’s just mushy.”

“Mushy? Words don’t get mushy, dude,” Jeff scoffed, snatching the bottle. His sharp features focused as he held it up and turned it in a slow circle, eventually softening into a confused mask. “Damn. It’s all mushy,” he said, looking helpless as he held it out to Tom. “Dude! What’s it say?”

Tom’s hand shook as he took the bottle from his friend, his head spinning at how fast everything was happening. In only a matter of moments Jeff and Mike had gone from a pair of shrewd, arrogant hunks to literal dumb jocks, unable to even read a simple label. Tom knew that was the bonding agent’s purpose, that it synched the pair to him while reconfiguring their personalities, but he’d assumed that his friends had found a way around that when making their plan. Instead, they’d apparently glossed over the details like they always did. “Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, scampering into the kitchen and returning with a pair of pre-portioned glasses. The two naked hunks had started going at each other again in the few moments he was gone, and Tom took the opportunity to snap a few pictures. He wanted to remember what their tight, toned frames looked like in their original states, and a part of him was sad to see them go after only having such a brief glimpse.

“Are you, like, taking pics,” Mike asked with a chuckle instead of the embarrassed defensiveness he should have. “How’s this,” he purred, flexing his free arm. Jeff did the same, both looking proud as they posed and pumped each other.

Tom cleared his throat and held out the glasses. “If you’re ready…”

The naked duo looked dubious as they inspected the meager liquid in each glass. “Is that it,” Jeff asked, swirling the milky substance. “There’s, like, nothin’ in here!”

“You guys really should have read the label before,” Tom said, his tone going serious. “That could’ve been super bad if you’d just swigged it like the bonding agent. Probably had too much of it, too, but there’s not much we can do about that now.”

“Oh. Whoa. Thanks, man,” Mike said, his expression earnest as he gazed at Tom. “We’re, like, so lucky to have you, dude.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeff added, nodding excitedly. “We’re gonna take care of you when we’re all, like, big and shit. Like, so good.”

“Uh-huh! We’re gonna tear that ass up,” Mike grunted, as oblivious to the odd statement as he was everything else.

The pair drained their glasses before Tom could react, having just enough time to set them down before the final changes began. The stunned blonde hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d thought it would be subtle, or slow and steady, not as if the pair had been hooked up to an air pump. Their toned bodies seemed to swell all at once, their shoulders pushing out as they packed on muscle. The burgeoning bulk quickly filled in the gap at their upper backs and chests, their modest pecs jutting out into solid mounds while their arms inflated in time. The already impressive washboards became all the more so as their abs grew entrenched and defined, their waists appearing pinched as their perky bubbles ballooned and their thighs expanded. As they’d both expected, their thick logs gained at least a pair of inches in length, along with considerable width, settling as hefty, eight-inch clubs with heavy, churning balls swaying below. Surprisingly, their faces remained relatively unchanged, a fact that made Tom’s mouth water even more as he gawked at the now-stunning studs.

“OH SHIT! LOOK AT US, DUDE,” Mike roared, his now-powerful arms flexing as he ran his hands across the layer of scruffy fur that had sprouted over the newborn bulk. “We’re fuckin’ huge!”

“Hell yeah we are,” Jeff cheered, the same dull grin plastered across his striking features as he poked and prodded at his strapping new physique. “We’re, like, fuckin’ hot!”

“Shit’s got me all horned up, dude,” Mike grunted, his brows furrowing when he attempted to reach for his enlarged cock. His hand stopped just out of reach every time, and no matter how much his sculpted new muscles tensed and strained, he couldn’t start tugging on it. “What the fuck?!”

“Me…me neither,” Jeff cried, looking exasperated. In a stroke of what now passed for genius, he reached out and resumed tugging on Mike, the relief palpable on both of their faces.

“That’s, uh…that’s part of the formula,” Tom finally interrupted when he found his voice again. “Jocks...any of the guys at the Kennel…there’s a rule that they can’t jerk themselves off like that or most of them would be doing it all the time. I figured you guys knew that.”

The two just blinked at the blonde, the words slowly sinking in. “What?! We can’t, like, beat our meat anymore? That’s, like, fucked up,” Mike stammered, his dull laugh betraying his supposed distress.

“We’ve, like, got each other,” Jeff added, his deepened voice sounding chipper. “And Tommy.”

The blonde’s stomach dropped, then fluttered back up when the hungry hunks turned their attention in his direction. It was exactly what he’d wanted, what he’d hoped for as soon as the holes in the plan had become clear, but now that he was face-to-face with the aroused Adonises he worried that he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Literally. “We should, uh, probably figure out what toooOOOOHH! Hey!” he yelped, instinctively tensing when the pair grabbed him. It happened so fast that Tom heard the tearing and felt the air on his naked frame all at once as his friends peeled him out of his clothes, leaving no time to react before their eager hands were all over him.

“Yes! We can, like, tug on him too,” Mike cheered, giving Tom’s cock a pull before nodding for Jeff to do the same. “See? Dude, I bet we can, like, suck on it too!” Tom tensed against the hairy wall of muscle that held him in place, his jaw going slack when Jeff dropped to his knees and swallowed his five inches whole.

“Tastes so good, dude,” Jeff groaned after a few rounds of bobbing. “You’re, like, never putting this thing away again, Tommy.”

“Duh, dude,” Mike grunted, his now-huge hands drifting down to the toned blonde’s ample bubble. “We can’t look after him if he’s all covered up.”

“Dude…do we, like, have to wear anything again? Feels weird to think about…” Jeff said as he gazed up from the floor. “I don’t think I want to.”

“Nah, man. Fuck that,” Mike said. “So, like, Tommy might have to wear shit sometimes, but, like, we can make up for it,” he purred, a pair of fingers slipping into the blonde’s tight hole. “I don’t think we can, like, do shit anymore, dude. I mean…fuck…words are all mushy and shit now? Are we, like, stupid?”

“Probably,” Jeff laughed, resuming his bobbing for a few more rounds. “Who gives a fuck? I feel great, dude. This is, like, what we wanted, right? We take care of Tommy, and he takes care of us. He can have all the money and the house and stuff…I just want him.”

“Me too! Fuck yeah! I love this,” Mike roared, his excited tone sounding like he’d just won the lottery.

Tommy squirmed between his friends and let out a hissing gasp, trying desperately to keep up with what he was hearing. He’d essentially just inherited the pair’s fortunes, along with the hunky duo themselves, but it was becoming quickly apparent that they’d be occupying too much of his time to do much with it. The thought of being kept as a naked little boy-toy for the hunky himbos was equally arousing and mortifying, especially considering what Tom had heard about guys who took the Jock formula and their legendary virility. Some training classes could get it under control, but that required paperwork to enroll, and considering their less than legal activities in obtaining the formula, Tom’s options were limited.

At the moment, he had more pressing concerns. “NNNGGHHH..!” He grunted, his eyes going wide when Mike’s fingers were replaced by the other man’s slick, oozing club. With Jeff’s soft lips wrapped around his cock while the brunette started slipping in and out, his own thoughts were becoming increasingly addled.

“Why didn’t we, like, do this before,” the raven-haired hunk asked when Tom had been repositioned, now with Jeff’s cock stretching his jaw while Mike continued to hammer away. “Dude was always hot for us. How come we never, like, had any fun?”

“I dunno,” the furry brunette shrugged, his hands locked on the blonde’s hips while he alternated between quick jabs and deep thrusts. “Maybe we were, like, stupid before and not now?”

Jeff just blinked, his expression going momentarily slack before his grin returned. “Dude! That’s, like, so smart,” he laughed, running a hand through Tom’s cum-slick hair as he prepared to unload down the smaller man’s throat. “Did you hear that, Tommy? Dude’s, like, a genius or something!”