Unraveled, ch. 2 (Patreon)

Grant’s head was still spinning as he stood at the sink cleaning up the dishes.  Other than his outfit, he and Wes had hung out like usual while they’d ate, but there was a creeping tone of condescension in the way Wes was speaking to him and ordering him around.  Things weren’t a request; they were an expectation.  And Grant jumped at it.  If Wes needed more water, he was up and getting it.  If Wes wanted more, he was filling the plate.  After they were done, it wasn’t even a question that Grant would clean up the dishes while Wes sat in front of the TV.  

Through it all, Grant still had on nothing but his tiny, bright underwear.  He couldn’t remember purchasing it or ever owning anything like it, but it felt perfectly normal.  On the contrary, the thought of dressing like Wes in gym shorts and boxer briefs, the way part of his brain was telling him he should, made his stomach drop.  He was still in growing awe of the other man, his original feelings continuing to magnify exponentially.  

He heard the shower hiss to life and turned to see Wes stripping down and stepping in with the bathroom door open.  His glittery pouch twitched as he stared at his friend’s sculpted muscles glistening under the streaming water.  The thick cock that he’d had in his mouth that morning hung invitingly long and heavy, bouncing as Wes lathered up and rinsed off.  

Grant felt a reflexive twinge of embarrassment when Wes slid the door open and saw him hard and staring, but the other man just grinned and toweled off, not bothered in the slightest.  “You can add these to the laundry,” he said, tossing Grant his sweaty, musky shorts and underwear.  

“Okay!” Grant chirped, his solid pole leading the way as he followed Wes into his bedroom and added the clothes to his hamper.  There was no reason his friend couldn’t have done it himself, but he knew it was his job.  Just as he closed the lid, there was a knock at the door.  

Grant didn’t think about his lack of clothing or his rigid cock until he’d opened the door and saw Wes’s friend Bill.    “I’m happy to see you too,” Bill laughed, tousling Grant’s hair with a meaty paw as he brushed past into the apartment.  

Grant shivered at Bill’s touch.  He’d never particularly cared for the burly man.  He was loud and crass and as stereotypical a “bro” as you could get.  He never had on anything but baggy basketball shorts, a tanktop, and a backwards baseball hat.  Ordinarily Grant did his best to avoid him, but now the other man’s presence hit him like a wave.  Bill wasn’t particularly attractive, with a round face that complemented his beefy, barrel chest and stocky build.  He had powerful arms, sturdy legs, and a coating of wiry hairs that spread over everything from the neck down.  Grant knew there were plenty of guys that would have found his bearish build attractive; he just wasn’t one of them.  Or at least he didn’t use to be.  Now, staring at the other man in his shorts and tanktop while he stood in just his pink thong, he felt his stomach flutter.  

“Hey man,” Wes said as he came out of the bedroom.  He’d put on a fresh pair of mesh shorts, but from the bouncing outline underneath, Grant could tell that was all.  

He was then promptly ignored while Wes and Bill talked.  They usually at least made a token effort to include him if he was around, but it was clear in this case that he might as well have been invisible.  Still, there was part of his brain that made him hover at the edges in case one of them would need something.  

“You want a beer or anything,” Wes asked, as if on cue.  

“Sure,” Bill said, settling back into the couch, his meaty thighs spread wide.  They didn’t need to ask.  Grant scampered over to the fridge and came back with one in hand for each of them.  He turned to leave again but stopped when he felt Bill’s rough hand on one of his bare cheeks.  “Is it cool if I use him tonight,” he asked Wes, as if Grant didn’t get a say.  

Wes just shrugged his broad shoulders and sipped from his beer.  “Fine by me.  I mean, look at him.  He’s been hard all night,” Wes laughed.  “He doesn’t mind, do you?”

Grant felt a stab of betrayal at Wes’s casual mocking, but he shook his head and quickly stammered, “no, I don’t mind at all!”  

“Thanks man,” Bill said, again to Wes, as if he’d just been loaned a piece of equipment.  

That’s exactly what Grant felt like as he sat next to Bill, his heart racing as the other man’s beefy arm draped behind him on the back of the couch.  While the big man sipped his beer and kept talking to Wes, Grant slid a hand into the baggy shorts and began working the heavy bulge he felt lurking underneath.  When Bill was solid and throbbing, the stout man lifted himself up just enough to let Grant tug his shorts and underwear down, his fat rod springing free.  He stroked the other man’s short, wide cock methodically, feeling smaller and more insignificant with each pump.  

This was more than just his feelings for Wes coming into play.  He knew something had gone wrong with the spell.  The two straight men were like golden adonises.  He was already infatuated with his friend, but any thoughts of Bill as annoying fled under an overwhelming desire to prostrate himself before both of them.  He’d felt it earlier at work, too.  Instead of being irritated with the sales team when they’d asked him to do their work, he’d practically jumped at the chance.  Part of Grant wanted to get up, to put real clothes on and figure out what was happening, but the most he could muster was an idle thought that didn’t come close to action.  There was even a tiny part of his brain that was furious at Wes for the way he was treating him, but it was like a shout in a hurricane.  

He kept working Bill, a shudder running through him when the man’s stubby fingers started stroking his hair.  It was less romantic and more like Bill was petting a dog.  Grant tried to focus on the part of himself that realized what was happening when he finally leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the wide, oozing rod.  There was a stutter in Bill’s conversation with Wes as he groaned and continued to casually stroke Grant’s hair.  

“Isn’t he great at that,” Wes asked, laughing at the big man’s increasing grunts.  

“He...sure...fuckin’...is…” he sighed.  Grant felt his face burn.  He was mortified not just at what Wes said, but how good it made him feel.  “I’m gonna...have...to get...one of….my own…” 

Grant barely had time to register what Bill just said before the throbbing organ in his mouth exploded.  He greedily sucked it down, not wasting a drop.  Something in his brain told him he needed to get it all.  

“OOOohhhhh man,” Bill sighed deeply, dropping his head against the back of the couch.  “Good job buddy,” he said condescendingly, giving Grant’s ass a quick swat and tousling his hair.  

“Th..thank you…” Grant stammered, barely able to look at the other two.  It was like trying to stare into the sun.  

“Now’s a good time to go put that laundry in,” Wes said.  “Don’t want the other guys to take all the machines before you get there.”  

Grant just nodded.  He was out the door and halfway down the hall before he realized he was still hard in just the glittery thong.  He wanted to turn around, but that would mean disobeying Wes, which wasn’t an option.  He bit down on his embarrassment and kept going.  

“Oh...oh god…” Grant dropped the hamper as soon as he walked into the laundry room, feeling like someone punched him in the gut.  There were half a dozen other men in there, all clad like he was.  He recognized some from passing them in the building.  A few he’d known for sure were gay, and his suspicions on the others had just been confirmed.  The sight made him nauseous with guilt.  This meant that his spell had spread to affect more than just himself.  

“Hey Grant,” a sculpted brunette waved from a nearby machine.  

“Uh...hey...Scott…” Grant stammered.  Scott was gorgeous.  He was built like Wes and normally oozed the same appealing masculinity.  He’d actually hooked up with him a few times before and was already familiar with the huge bulge barely concealed by the powder blue thong.  But looking at the gym-built hunk now, he felt nothing.  Not even the slightest bit of attraction.  That went for all of the other guys.  

“Wes keepin’ you busy,” Scott asked, grinning down at Grant’s tented thong.  

“Uh, no, his friend Bill, actually…” Grant watched Scott carefully fold a small pile of boxers.  The other men were doing the same to clothes that clearly weren’t theirs.  He joined them, making small talk with Scott who wouldn’t stop talking about someone named Pete.  Grant had no idea who that was since the last he’d heard Scott lived alone, but the other man was clearly smitten.  As Scott talked, he had a flash of the other man with someone else; a short, pudgy lump of flesh that was nowhere near Scott’s league.  Somehow he knew this was the Pete that Scott was so in love with.   

Ordinarily once the machine was loaded he’d leave and head back to the apartment, but Grant found himself lingering.  It was like he couldn’t leave until it was done.  His head spun as he was sucked into conversation after conversation about the straight men that all of them were taking care of.  He wanted to scream when he heard himself talking about Wes like a schoolgirl with a crush and how important it was to keep him happy.  They compared notes on blowjob techniques and bottoming positions like they were trading recipes, which they also ended up doing since they all cooked for their respective men.  

By the time the laundry was done, all Grant wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide until he could figure out a way to fix this.  That plan only lasted as long as it took to shut the door behind him.  

“Got an open machine?”  Wes asked from his prone position on the couch.  

Grant nodded feeling a lump form in his throat at the sight of Wes’s stretched out body.  “Yeah, last one.  Did Bill leave?”  

Wes stretched and yawned, shutting off the TV as he stood.  “Yeah, just a few minutes ago.”  He scratched his abs and smiled at Grant.  “He couldn’t stop talking about what a good job you did.”  

Grant was hit with a humiliating surge of pride.  “I try…” 

“Since it’s just us tonight how about you sleep in here with me,” Wes said, telling more than asking.  “You know I hate an empty bed.”  

Grant’s heart leapt.  Despite everything that was happening, the thought of finally sleeping in bed next to Wes made his knees weak.  “Okay!”  He practically ran into his friend’s bedroom while Wes shut off the lights in the rest of the apartment.  

“You can put that stuff away tomorrow.”  Grant turned from Wes’s dresser in time to see the other man strip out his shorts.  The sight of the stud’s naked body hit him like a physical force.

He was trembling as he climbed into bed and felt Wes scoot against him before he could roll over onto his back.  He gasped at the feeling of the other man’s solid body pressed against him.  The wiry hairs on Wes’s solid pecs tickled his back while the other man reached over and gently rubbed his chest.  Grant’s eyes started to close as Wes did the same to his back, the hand drifting lower and lower until his friend was sliding the back of the thong aside.  

“OOHH!”  Grant yelped when Wes abruptly worked several fingers inside.  The hand on his chest held him tight while he squirmed and his body lit up with pleasure while his hole was worked.  He whimpered while Wes fingered him, feeling the other man’s long cock hardening against him in preparation.  He was hungry for it.  Desperate, even.  When Wes pulled his fingers free, Grant pushed himself back roughly onto the waiting rod.  Wes’s quiet grunt drove him wild.  The feeling of the other man’s large cock inside him was pure bliss.  It was nirvana.  Grant felt the satisfied contentment that came with knowing that one was fulfilling one’s purpose in life.    

“Uunn...seriously...how did...I get so...lucky…” Wes said, leaning his head into Grant’s neck.  

Grant couldn’t respond.  All he could manage was to gasp wordlessly, relishing Wes’s hot and heavy breath on his shoulder.  Even without the added effects of the spell, Wes was very good at what he was doing.  He would alternate between slow and methodical, and quick and rough.  He brought Grant to the edge and back over and over, but more than that, Grant could tell Wes was taking his time for himself.  Grant knew the other man was essentially using his ass to jerk off, but he didn’t care.  Even after he’d soaked his thong and Wes was still pumping away he was perfectly content to lay there and let the other man take his time.  When Wes finally came, he was actually disappointed that it was over.  

He’d gotten up to clean himself and take off the soaked thong at Wes’s command and he stood next to the bed gazing down at the slumbering man.  It was everything he’d wanted, but nowhere near HOW he’d wanted it.  Worse, the effects were somehow spreading.  Was it just the building?  The block?  The world?  He knew he should leave and try to figure out a way to fix what was happening, but instead he gently crawled into bed, melting when Wes instinctively wrapped a meaty arm around him. 

He could figure it out in the morning.