WingMan, ch. 3 (Patreon)

“Oh fuck…Vince…fuuuuck…you feel, like, so good inside me…”

“Gui…Guillermo…I’m…I’m…” Vince groaned, his furry pecs heaving as he clung to his friend’s perky rear. The bronze-skinned beauty writhed on his lap, his toned frame tense and flexing while he rocked his trim hips and dragged his rigid log through the trail of hair on the detective’s firm, flat stomach. The squeaky voice chirping out from between the taller man’s plump lips was odd, as were the words he spoke, but Vince couldn’t bring himself to point it out. He couldn’t do much more than whimper and moan, his stocky frame melting between Guillermo’s long legs.

“I knew that dick’d feel, like, guh-rate, bro,” Guillermo grinned, batting his overly bright eyes. “But, like, what happened to mine?”

Vince gasped when the long, thick club and churning balls resting against his stomach suddenly receded, shrinking to the reduced proportions he’d seen in the park. When he looked back up, the Guillermo he’d expected was gone, leaving Rocky’s buff, compact frame writhing in his place. “Fuck! No! Guill…Guillerrr…Rocky…I…” Vince sputtered, trying to force the words.

“Kinda fucked up that you just left me with that guy,” Rocky said, now speaking in Guillermo’s deep, smooth voice. “I thought you were looking for me? What the hell, man?”

“But…but that wasn’t…I mean…you’re not…you…” Vince grunted. “You’ve got Guillermo’s face, but this body…the way you’re acting…how can this be you?”

Rocky pursed his lips, shrugging his broad shoulders. “You’re the detective…figure it out,” he purred, his head falling back on his widened neck. “Fuck, dude…we really should’ve done this before. I never understood what you saw in taking a dick, but damn. Now I get it,” he grinned, his eyes going wide. “Too bad you had me…but you just let…let me…gooooOOHHHHH!”

“NNNGGHHH!” Vince sprang awake, his eyes shooting open as his cock erupted. The fat log had escaped through the fly of the groggy detective’s briefs, and for a moment Vince still thought it was Rocky who came all over him. “Oh…oh fuck…” he finally groaned, falling back on his disheveled bed. He’d thrashed his sheets and blanket free for the third consecutive night, each evening bringing with it a variation on the same theme.

Vince’s encounter with “Rocky” had left him rattled for days. He saw the buff little Adonis every time he closed his eyes, could hear the giddy, squeaky chirp ringing in his ears. He kept trying to tell himself that his suspicions were impossible, that the short stud couldn’t actually have been his once-tall, once-lean friend reduced by half. There was no way to take someone who stood just over six feet and reduce them to just under three, and there was no way to pack that much muscle onto a body that had never been so built in such a short time. And, while Vince knew how much Guillermo enjoyed fooling around, his friend had primarily done so with women. The lucky ladies man he knew never would have been so excited over a dick, or so eager to show off his own diminished endowment. Guillermo could be vain, and the handsome hunk enjoyed the attention his looks brought him, but he’d never traipse around in public with a tented speedo, especially if that speedo contained a package less than half the size it should have been. So, no matter how uncanny the resemblance, Vince knew there was no way that “Rocky” could have been Guillermo.

And yet, the detective couldn’t shake the thought. No matter how impossible it should have been, all the instincts he’d developed through years of detective work were screaming at him that it was true, that the bite-sized beefcake he’d held in his arms truly was his friend. It wasn’t just how the smaller man looked, it was how the smaller man had looked at him. That flash of recognition had been followed by a tangible release of tension. He’d felt “Rocky” relax in his arms, as if the other man had suddenly remembered how safe those arms were. His formerly-taller friend had indulged him in enough wrestling matches over the years for Vince to know that “Rocky” hadn’t just looked like Guillermo; he’d felt like him, too.

It left Vince feeling unmoored. He was wracked with guilt for not asking more questions, for not getting the rich punk’s contact information so he could follow up. There were enough cameras in the park that he could track the man down if he needed to, but he couldn’t get over the fact that he’d literally had Guillermo in his arms only to let him go again. And that he’d loved it. Despite his shock and surprise at the discovery, having a buff, nearly-naked version of his friends in his arms had been an unexpected turn-on. His stomach equally dropped and fluttered whenever he thought about Guillermo prancing around and flaunting his new muscle, and how much a part of himself wanted to take the shorter man up on his offer of getting naked. As attractive as his friend was, Vince had purposefully never thought about the other man that way. Now he couldn’t stop. He told himself it was only natural, that a WingMan was made to be magnetic. They were essentially hot, horny jocks on a smaller scale; it would have been more surprising if he wasn’t aroused by them. Given the erotic turn in the WingMan advertising, the promise of “beautiful boytoys,” it was clear that just about everyone else was.

“No…I’m just up in my head,” Vince yawned, reluctantly forcing himself off the bed. He peeled out of his briefs and stumbled over to the bathroom, blushing as he saw the drying cum mingling with his dense, salt-and-pepper stubble. “Couldn’t have been him. It couldn’t,” he repeated, letting out a sharp gasp as he stepped into the shower before it had fully warmed up. He wanted the frigid water to slap him awake, to clear the fog from his addled thoughts. Rocky wasn’t Guillermo. He couldn’t have been. Guillermo had quit and moved away. There was no Guillermo in the first place. “No…that’s not…of course Guillermo’s real. I don’t care what Murphy says,” Vince muttered, lathering up his furry muscle.

He hadn’t asked the Captain for an update on the missing man in a few weeks, but it had jumped to the top of his list after the encounter at the park. Unfortunately, it only made matters worse. Now, the older man acted like he didn’t even know who Guillermo was. At first Vince thought his boss was just being sarcastic, but it quickly became clear that Captain Murphy’s confusion was genuine. To make things more confusing for both of them, when Vince tried to pull up a picture of Guillermo on his phone, they’d all vanished. So had their text messages. Even his friend’s inactive social media accounts were gone, as if they’d never existed in the first place. His professional intuition kicking in, Vince asked the Captain if a WingMan named Rocky had ever come through the station, which his boss surprisingly confirmed. The older man described Rocky down to the last detail, along with the young man Vince had met in the park. Now, as Captain Murphy remembered it, the short stud had a thing for cops and wanted to see a precinct, so his Big Buddy brought him in. They’d given him a tour and one of the toy badges and then sent him on his way. He’d certainly never worked there. Vince knew that was wrong the same way he knew all of it was wrong, but he couldn’t say it. He could barely hold onto the thought. He knew his missing friend had been real, was still real, and that there was far more to the WingMan phenomenon than anyone suspected. The problem was in how to prove it.

It was a problem that would have to wait. “Get it together, Vince,” the detective sighed, forcing thoughts of shrunken studs and missing friends from his mind as he shaved and got himself ready. He slipped into a fresh pair of briefs, followed by jeans that clung to his ample rear and a polo that showed off his ample pecs, slowly grinding into “work mode” as he headed out to meet with a witness regarding a hit-and-run. He’d initially resented the mundane assignments that were his actual job for cutting into his WingMan research, but now Vince found himself looking forward to the break. He needed something simple and concrete that could take his mind off the confusing and impossible.

Unfortunately for the disappointed detective, The Confusing And Impossible had other plans. Walking up to the posh apartment building, Vince knew he’d be dealing with someone who had money, but he didn’t think about all the possibilities that implied until it was too late. “Erik? Detective Capello. Thanks for talking to me,” he said, swallowing the wiry blonde’s slender hand in a rugged mitt when the apartment door opened. The younger man eyed the brawny detective immediately, leaving Vince torn in his judgments. On the one hand, he felt a universal solidarity for his fellow gays, but, having had to work hard his entire life, he also felt a universal disdain for trust fund babies, uptight finance guys, and tech bros. The blonde looked like he fit into that first category, though Vince told himself the kid couldn’t be all bad since he was voluntarily coming forward as a witness after a bike messenger had been swiped, a rarity in a big city.

“Of course! Come in,” Erik said, stepping aside to let the detective enter. If the young man’s manicured appearance, fitted outfit, and hungry eyes hadn’t been enough, Vince’s suspicions regarding the blonde’s orientation were fully confirmed by the various pieces of high-end homoerotic art scattered around the spacious apartment. “Can I get you anything? Soda water? Iced coffee? I’ve…Charlie! Come on, bud! We’ve talked about this! Not when we have company, mister.”

Vince turned and froze, barely biting back a gasp at the sight of the burly, naked ginger who’d waddled around the corner. The man’s sharp face was framed by a trimmed, fiery beard that accentuated his handsome features rather than obscuring them, the pretty face resting on a broad, well-muscled torso. The man was built like a rugby player, the thickness of his meaty thighs and hefty rear magnified by the fact that he was only three-feet tall. The pillars of flesh on either side made the man’s stout, rigid cock look even shorter than it already was, but he seemed entirely unbothered by the lackluster endowment as he smiled up at the taller pair.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Erik said, blushing as he hurried over to the shorter man. “These guys are a handful sometimes.”

Seemingly oblivious as to what he could have possibly done wrong, the buff ginger cocked his head to the side like a confused dog at the blonde’s flustered state. “What? I just wanted to come say hi.”

“That’s nice, but what are we supposed to do when people come over,” Erik asked, his voice dripping with condescension. It was an odd contrast, the wiry twink talking down to a man who could have picked him up with one arm had he been full-sized. There was also an obvious age difference, with the burly redhead looking several years older than the taller blonde.

“Uhhh…” Charlie said, his face going serious. “Oh! Put something on!”

“There we go! Good job, bud,” Erik cheered, giving the burly bulldog’s hair a rough tousle, much to the smaller man’s delight. He turned his attention back to the detective, his expression sheepish. “Are you okay with him being out? I can put him away if it’s…”

“No, no…it’s fine,” Vince said, captivated by the short stud for more than the obvious reasons. There was something about him that struck the detective as familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. “I’ve actually been curious about these guys for a while. Don’t get too many opportunities to interact, though. Not on my salary,” he said with a forced laugh.

“Well, help yourself,” Erik said. “Do you want me to have him put something on?”

Vince shook his head and dropped into a nearby chair while Charlie scampered up onto the sofa, his stubby legs hanging over the edge. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Erik looked relieved as he dropped down next to Charlie on the couch. “Probably for the best. There are so many options now the big guy can never make up his mind. You wouldn’t believe what’s out there. Every kind of costume, underwear, harness, jockstrap, speedos, thongs…the WingMan corporation isn’t the only one making money off these guys. It’s a miracle if you can keep ‘em clothed for more than five minutes anyway, so it seems like a moot point. Especially for a thicc boy like Charlie,” he said, squeezing the ginger’s meaty thigh.

“I’ve got a great ass, bro,” the bearded beefcake casually chirped. “Erik tells me that, like, all the time.”

Vince enjoyed watching the blonde squirm. He also couldn’t help but notice that “regular clothes” weren’t included in the list of apparel for the WingMan. “And do you like it here,” he asked, trying to read the ginger’s vacant expression.

“Duh! It’s great! I get to, like, work out all the time. I’ve gotten so big, bro. Like, you don’t even know,” he said, his deceptive arms inflating when he broke into a double bicep pose. “I don’t even have to try! My butt just gets, like, bigger. Erik said if I keep doing a good job and he keeps feeding me right, he might even enter me into one of those bodybuilder shows just for guys like me. That’d be so awesome, dude! He also said we could start me an OnlyFriends if I wanted...but I want him to do it! He’s, like, so hot!”

Vince started to ask Charlie what he did before his job as a WingMan, but he immediately felt a familiar fuzziness brush against his thoughts. He pulled back instead, trying to get at the issue another way. “Is that what you want? To get bigger?”

“For sure! Erik says I look hot with big muscles,” Charlie nodded.

“What about…bigger like us,” Vince asked, motioning between himself and the blonde.

A familiar, confused expression briefly crossed the bearded man’s face before he shook his head. “Nah…I’ve always been this size. I like it!”

“What else do you like,” Vince asked, fighting against the encroaching dizziness.

“All kinds of stuff! I like lifting…I like when Erik takes me outside…I really like when Erik fu…”

“Company, remember,” the younger man interjected with a stern glance.

Charlie’s smile was bashful as his thick log twitched. “I like dancing! We went to a bar once and I got to dance on the…the bar…and it…” the ginger’s expression went slack for a moment before the smile returned. “...it was so fun!”

Vince returned his attention to the younger man. “Based on what he was going to say, I take it that the rumors about these guys in bed are true?”

Erik looked mortified, but nodded. “They’re…capable, that’s for sure. Nothing’s too big and they can go all night. It’s like they really are made for it.”

Vince took a deep breath, feeling a sudden need to get as far from the apartment as possible. He could feel the wheels turning in his brain, and he didn’t know what was going to happen when the pieces finally fell into place. He felt frustratingly close to the answer, like it was right in front of him, but it wouldn’t gel. “I’m sorry, I guess we got sidetracked here. I’m supposed to be at another appointment, but I’ll give you a call for your statement on the accident. Thanks for the, uh…chat,” he said, giving Charlie a final glance before hurrying out into the hall.

The rest of the day was a blur. Vince needed space, to let his mind work while he kept his body occupied. He took the rest of the day off and headed for the gym, hoping that some wrestling and lifting would clear his head. The exertion certainly helped, though writhing on the floor with men bigger than him landed a bit different than it once had. But Vince was able to push through, and after a soak in the hot tub, some time in the sauna, and a quick shower, he was heading to his usual spot at the usual bar in the hopes of putting thoughts of WingMen to bed with a few stiff drinks.

Once again, the WingMen had other ideas. Everything clicked as soon as Vince sat down, his drink order forgotten as Jeremy, the bartender, approached. “Listen…this is very, very important,” he said, eliciting an alarmed yelp when he grabbed the young man by the wrist. “There used to be a bartender here named Joey. Do you remember him? Toned, fit guy. Red hair. Worked here for years.”

Jeremy gently pulled his wrist free and shook his head. “You start drinking already, Vince? You’ve been coming here for as long as I’ve worked here, and there’s never been a Joey.”

The detective took a deep breath, holding the bar for support as the floor tilted beneath him. He hadn’t immediately recognized him with the beard and the altered voice and the extra muscle, but Vince finally realized why Charlie seemed so familiar. “What about a guy and his WingMan? Skinny blonde kid, early twenties, with a bearded little ginger named Charlie?”

The bartender thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, they were here not too long ago. Thicc guy, right? Tiny dude was dancing up a storm…people loved it.”

“But you don’t…you don’t remember Joey,” Vince asked again, struggling to hold onto the fact that he still did himself.

“Nope. Wait…was he a little guy too? I feel like I vaguely remember a Joey now that we’re talking about it. But he was always tiny. It’s against the rules to have those guys working here, too. Can’t serve ‘em, either. They look big and buff, but doesn’t take much to get ‘em wrecked, you know? Half a drink and they’re in the bag.”

Vince gave an absent nod and hopped off his stool, deciding against the drink. He knew more than his young friend behind the bar could guess, and he needed to seize on this moment of clarity before it passed and the fog returned. The way the bartender said it, “he was always tiny”, had the same vacant ring as “quitting and moving away” and “I’ve always been this size.” It was like a virus, and although Vince knew he was infected, for some reason his symptoms came and went. At the moment they were in remission, his head felt more clear than it had in weeks, and, if his theory proved true, he might have remembered a way to permanently innoculate himself.

The detective practically sprinted home, diving into his closet to retrieve a key piece of the puzzle that had been sitting there from the start. “I knew it. I fucking knew it,” Vince gasped, torn between relief and revulsion as he looked into Guillermo’s gym bag. He’d completely forgotten about it until Jeremy’s “in the bag” comment at the bar. Vince had no idea if it would still be there, or what it would contain, but he found it unaltered, no different than the day he’d brought it home. It still held his friend’s clothes, his full-sized clothes, along with what could have been the sole remaining photo of the then-taller man on his work ID. Whatever impossible forces were at play, they clearly weren’t airtight, and like a switch being flipped, Vince felt his doubts evaporate. “Rocky” really had been Guillermo. “Charlie” really had been Joey. As impossible as it should have been, someone was collecting these handsome hunks and releasing them back into the world as WingMen. Vince may not have known how they were doing it, but he did know how he’d find out.

He needed to get his hands on an invitation.