Werkout (vignette) (Patreon)

“Dude was a total creep.  He had the nerve to tell me...ME...that if I didn’t want him staring I shouldn’t have been dressed that way.  What the fuck am I, some chick?  You don’t get to tell me what to wear, bro,” Mike called over the sound of the shower.  He’d been complaining to Vince about his run-in at the gym since he’d walked through the door.  The beefy jock had just finished working out and was prepared to shower in the locker room like he normally did when he’d caught an older man eyeing him from across the room.  He’d made direct eye contact, glaring at the older stranger, but the man refused to look away.  When Mike pulled his sweaty tank off to menacingly flex his hairy, bulging pecs and pile driver arms, the man only raised an eyebrow and grinned.  “What?  Did he think I was flirting with him?  Really?  Do I look like a fag to you, dude?”  

“I mean, what shorts were you wearing again?” Vince laughed, leaning in the open doorway.  The taller man shook his head as he watched his stocky friend through the steamy glass, not sharing his friend’s concerns.  

“Fuck you,” Mike laughed as he slid the shower door open and grabbed his towel.  The furry stud had no problem showing off to his roommate.  They’d been friends long enough that nudity around each other was practically second nature.  That’s how it usually was in the locker room too, which is what had the dripping jock so rattled.  It was supposed to be a place where he was on top of the food chain.  He had the muscles and the looks and the cock that most other guys dreamed of.  With his full head of raven hair, his brooding features and chiseled jaw, the broad shoulders that tapered to a tiny waist framed by sculpted biceps, and his long, thick hose, Mike wasn’t supposed to be on guard.  He was supposed to be envied.  The only thing he should have had to worry about was his slightly below average height, not being mentally undressed against his will.  He got to do that to girls; guys didn’t get to do it to him.  

“I’m just sayin’ man, I think you’re getting a little too upset by it.  So a guy thought you were hot?  That’s what you want people to think, right?”  

“That’s what I want WOMEN to think.  Not men.  Dude’s aren’t on the menu.”  Mike sighed and patted the furry mounds of his chest dry.  “I get that YOU need all the attention you can get, but I’m not that desperate,” he said, hanging up his towel and sauntering naked past his taller friend.  Though Vince wasn’t as bulky, the athletic brunette was every bit as handsome as his dark haired friend, and they both knew it.  He was covered in lean, ripped muscle, with a boy-next-door face and a charming smile in place of Mike’s dark, serious looks.  His equipment wasn’t as long or thick as the dangling hose and heavy orbs swaying between his friend’s thighs, but he was far from small.  

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, stud,” Vince said, giving Mike’s round, ample ass a swat.  

“Oh!” the stocky man yelped, pursing his full, pouting lips as he gave his friend the finger and kept walking to his room.  “So I finally told the guy to knock it the fuck off, but…” Mike trailed off when he opened his dresser drawer and saw the unfamiliar wads of fabric.  Instead of his normal boxers it was filled to the brim with small, bright briefs and equally garish jockstraps.  He rummaged through the rest of the drawers but his previous underwear was nowhere to be seen.  Even the piles of dirty laundry peppering the floor of his room had been swapped out with the new, revealing garments.  “Oh, come on!  Very fuckin’ funny, man.  Good timing, I guess,” he grumbled.  

Vince walked in and cocked his head to the side as he watched his naked friend stand and stare at an open drawer.  “What?” he shrugged.  

“Is that what we’re doing?  Pretending?”  Mike searched his friend’s face for any sign of a crack, a hint of a smile, but Vince’s expression was only flat, bordering on confused.  

“Uh, for real, dude, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” 

Mike was impressed.  He didn’t think Vince had it in him to be this good of an actor, but he almost believed his friend.  “Okay, I’ll bite.  My underwear.  It’s…” the stocky jock trailed off again, the words fading from the tip of his tongue.  He stood in confused silence, absently scratching at the wiry hairs coating his abs as he looked at the open drawer.  

“Right there?” Vince finished, nodding towards the bright wads of fabric.  “What’d you expect?”  

“I don’t...know…” Mike stammered, pulling out a hot pink jockstrap.  The bright material popped against his olive skin as he slid it up and over his meaty thighs, the stuffed pouch leaving nothing to the imagination as it outlined his snaking hose and plump balls while the elastic straps in back lifted his prominent rear.  Everything felt perfectly natural, leaving the burly man to wonder what he’d been worked up about.  

“You good?” Vince asked as he watched Mike poke and prod at the straining jock.  

Mike smiled awkwardly up at his friend and nodded.  “Yeah...that was weird.  I totally blanked out for a second there.  What was I saying?”  He pulled a plain, black t-shirt from another drawer and followed Vince out of the room, feeling a rush of embarrassment when he crossed the threshold without pants.  The brawny jock had a momentary feeling like he should be wearing something else, but it passed before he could get a grip on it.  The sensation of his bare cheeks shifting in the open air, the bottom of his shirt resting on the shelf formed by the sturdy globes, seemed just as natural as wearing the jock in the first place.  

“The guy in the locker room…” Vince prompted.  

“Oh, right.  So I finally told the guy to knock it off...but he just kept staring.  It was creepy as hell, and not just ‘cause it was a dude.  Felt like he would have bent me over and, like, fucked me good right in the middle of the room,” Mike said, blushing when he heard his last sentence.  He was glad to be facing into the refrigerator, until it occurred to him that this left his exposed cheeks facing his friend.  He cleared his throat and continued.  “So I went over to him and, like, slammed him up against the locker ‘cause this totally isn’t a free show, right?  I’m just there to make this booty pop, not fool around with old creepers.”  Mike’s heart was racing as he reached around and gave his ass a swat.  He had no idea why he was talking the way he was, or why his hands were starting to move around while he did it.  He shivered as he shut the refrigerator door, feeling like the skin on his torso was crawling.  

“So what’d the guy do?”  

“He…uh…” Mike stammered, feeling like he was going crazy when he looked down. What had been a slightly loose, plain t-shirt was now at least two sizes smaller and missing the sleeves.  The paper thin fabric was stretched tight across his prominent pecs, accentuating his solid little nipples and round, muscled shoulders.  Instead of resting on his solid bubble the shirt now stopped just above his navel and had “Daddy’s Boy” written in gold letters across the front.  “Uh...like, did something just happen…?” he asked, running a finger up and down the exposed line of hair trailing out from the bottom of his shrunken shirt the way someone would twirl a finger through their hair.  He didn’t notice his coy stance at first, the way he arched his back and shoulders to thrust out his chest.  

“You were telling me how you got all tough and butch on some guy at the gym,” Vince said, his voice dripping with condescension.  

“I so did!” Mike cried, balling a fist against a trim hip.  “I like, totally pinned him right up against the lockers and said if he didn’t stop he’d be sorry.”  

“Uh-huh...with those big, strong arms?”  Vince laughed.  “And then what happened?”  

“Then he...he…” Mike’s stomach dropped when he looked over at Vince’s mention of his arms.  The thick pistons were still chiseled and well above average, but they weren’t quite as beefy as they should be.  The same went for his chest and shoulders.  His pecs were still outlined and straining proudly against the small shirt, but they weren’t the slab they had been, nor were his striated shoulders a set of sturdy bowling balls.  It was a subtle difference, but with as much time as he’d spent building his body, there was no way Mike could miss it.  “Um, what’s that, like, supposed to mean mister?”  He flexed his solid arms, the bulging biceps still feeling like twigs in his mind.  

Vince laughed and stepped forward, putting a hand on the exposed part of Mike’s stomach.  “You ARE feelin’ yourself today, aren’t you?”  

Mike didn’t know why the feeling of his friend’s hand on his skin made his stomach flutter, or why he was suddenly so eager for that hand to slide south a few more inches.  “I just, like, want you to believe me,” he pouted, dropping his arms.  

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vince cooed, sliding his hands around to give Mike’s cheeks a squeeze.  “Go on...what happened after that.”  

Mike’s eyes went wide as he realized he hadn’t lost muscle as much as it had merely repositioned itself on his body.  When Vince gave his ass a squeeze, the plump cheek squished much more than it should have, feeling huge against his friend’s large hand.  “He...I...I told him he’d be sorry but he just laughed and, like, said I ‘needed a new outlook’ or whatever.  Like, what does THAT mean,” Mike sighed, unaware that he’d reached up to toy with Vince’s chest through the other man’s shirt.  

“Well that’s ominous,” Vince said, pulling the other man close against him.  “That means scary,” he added with a laugh.  

“Duh,” Mike said, rolling his eyes.  “Like I don’t know what omnio...onimu...ominoo...that word means.”  The shorter jock felt like he was melting in his friend’s arms, too focused on the way Vince’s hand felt stroking through his hair, and the way his friend’s solid body felt against his, to pay much attention to his sudden lack of vocabulary.  

“Of course you do,” Vince laughed, his hands reaching down to tweak his friend’s nipples through the thin cotton.  

“Oh!” Mike gasped again, for real this time, squirming against Vince.  “I SO do!  I’m not, like, just a pretty face ya knoooohhhh!”  He groaned when his friend reached around and gave his cheeks a rough squeeze, his fingers sliding into the deep valley between them.  

“You sure aren’t,” the taller man said, his deep voice a seductive rumble.  He locked eyes with Mike and leaned in, brushing their noses together.  “So do you wanna keep telling me your story or do you wanna put that mouth to better use?”  

Mike swooned at the condescending, commanding line, a thrill running through him at the way Vince spoke.  It had a familiar ring, as if he’d said similar words himself, but thought of him speaking like that, especially to women, seemed absurd.  There was another quick stab of fear when he felt himself start lowering towards the ground, but it only lasted as long as it took to undo his friend’s jeans.  As soon as he had the denim down and was face-to-cock with Vince’s twitching boxers, he was nothing but eager.  

The kneeling jock tugged his friend’s boxers, greeted with a sight he’d seen plenty of times over the years, but never so close.  Or at least that was his instinct before he leaned in to begin licking the other man’s hairy balls as the twitching cock hardened against the side of his stubbled face.  He took his time, relishing the musky scent and salty taste when he ran his tongue along the underside of the thick pole.  Vince’s quiet gasps filled him with pride when he licked around his friend’s shiny head before wrapping his soft, full lips around the aching organ.  

He was in love.  Mike had no other word for it.  He’d never felt anything like the sensations rocketing through him.  Vince’s strong hands guiding his head were like security blankets, the oozing organ in his mouth a comforting thumb.  His friend was so strong and masculine and in control.  He just wanted to be near him, to do whatever he said.  He needed him.  Just thinking about being in Vince’s arms caused Mike’s girthy cock to ache.  He squirmed on his knees, feeling like his throbbing organ was going to explode just thinking about it.  

“MMMMMmmmmMMMMM!”  

“Whooooaaaaaa….go...goddamn dude,” Vince laughed at his friend’s sudden hum.  “That’s new…” 

Mike didn’t respond.  He started sucking more frantically as he reached down and palmed his heavy, lifeless package.  Despite being more turned on than ever, his proud beast slumbered.  He tugged desperately, trying to will it to life.  

“Someone’s getting impatient,” Vince purred, lifting the other man’s face from his crotch.  “Alright...let’s go,” he said, tousling Mike’s hair as he stood.  

“I...Iiiieeeee!” Mike’s stammering turned into a shriek when Vince reached down and dug a pair of fingers against his hole.  

“After you,” Vince said, grinning when Mike went up onto his toes.  He pushed the other man forward by his plump cheeks, toying with the twitching pucker while they walked.  

Mike wanted to point out his limp member, but every time he opened his mouth the only thing that escaped was a whimper.  He couldn’t even ask about the new frosted tips he saw topping his raven hair when they passed a mirror.  

“We can lose this,” Vince said, shoving Mike onto the bed and sliding the pink jockstrap down his meaty thighs.  The whimpering jock gave the heavy package flopped over his leg a stunned look but was quickly distracted by the sight of Vince peeling out of his t-shirt.  The view of his friend’s naked, athletic frame drove him wild.  He didn’t care whether his own cock worked or not when Vince’s solid, lovely rod was so nearby.  

Mike let himself be manhandled onto all fours, eagerly pushing his bubble back as Vince lined himself up.  He was still thrown by the jarring sensation of being so aroused while his envious package dangled heavy and lifeless, but as he felt his friend’s slick rod press it’s way in, he stopped caring.  “HHHHoooouuuhhhnnnnn….” he howled, arching his back and clutching at the sheets.  “Fuuuuuck, babe...that’s, like….sooooooo good…” he whined.  

“Glad you...like it…” Vince grunted, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusting.  “Fi...finish telling me...your...story…” he said, wrapping his arms around the other man and pulling him upright.  

Mike gasped, both from pleasure and horror when he was pulled upright to face the mirror at the other end of the room.  The sight of himself swallowed in Vince’s arms was enough to jar his old mind back to the surface.  He was horrified as he watched the sides of his inflated cheeks rippling and bouncing with each of Vince’s thrusts, while his fat, dangling cock and heavy balls slapped with limp abandon.  The golden “Daddy’s Boy” script across his chest matched the dye in his hair while he pursed his plump lips and rolled his hips.  

“I...I luuuuhhh...like told him I waaauuhhh...wasn’t on the menu,” Mike groaned.  “I to..told him I had a du...daddy...and didn’t need anuuu...another…” 

“And you had him sluuuhhh...slammed up against the luh...locker…”

“To...totally…” Mike said proudly, flexing his arms as he reached up and back to stroke Vince’s hair.  

Vince grinned and nibbled on Mike’s ear.  “That’s...kinda hot…” he laughed, reaching down to knead the other man’s soft, oozing cock.  “Picturing you as a….tough...macho...meathead…” 

Mike had a final flash of himself on the wrestling mat and on the football field.  He saw himself hitting on women at the bar and hanging out watching sports with the boys.  And he felt it all fade away, replaced by a dull giddiness.  He wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth all he did was giggle.  “I...like...know, right?  Can you...EVEN...imauuuh...imagine…” 

“I like this...version...bett...uuuuuuuUUNNNNHHHH!”  Vince didn’t get to finish.  He tensed and gave a final stab, clutching Mike’s pecs as he erupted inside the other man.  

Hearing Vince’s sweet compliment at the same time he started filling his insides pushed Mike over the edge.  The former stud let out a shrieking moan, his cock suddenly running like a faucet.  When his vision cleared he was wrapped in Vince’s arms on the bed, gazing up at his boyish friend.  

“It IS pretty funny,” Vince said, leaning down to give Mike a peck on the forehead.  “I can’t even picture you throwing a ball.”  

“Uh!  I so can!”  Mike chirped, giving Vince’s granite chest a limp-wristed slap.  

“Oh you can?  You can, huh?”  Vince rolled on top of Mike, tickling the other man’s sides as he slid off the bed.  He scampered out and came back with a football that he quickly tossed towards his friend.  

Mike fumbled the easy catch, distracted by Vince’s naked frame in the doorway.  “Hey!” he squeaked.  

“If you can even get that to me at the other end of the hall, you win.  You don’t make it, I win,” the taller man said as Mike scrambled off the bed.  

The shorter man gripped the ball awkwardly.  Though he was still built like an athlete, any coordination or muscle memories had faded with his old existence.  “Okay...but if I win, you only get to wear one of my jocks around the house for a week.  I don’t care who comes over.”  

Vince laughed as he trotted down the hall.  “Okay...and when I win, you only get to wear that lace number.”  

“Deal,” Mike nodded.  The former jock had a moment of hope as he pulled his sturdy arm back, feeling confident in his technique until he shot his arm forward, his wrist flopping on the follow through.  The ball made it less than ten feet before hitting the ground.  “Oh, boo,” Mike pouted, sticking out his lower lip.  “Looks like I lose,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  

Vince loved the sight of the buff man’s flailing throw.  For all his muscle and masculine surface, he knew Mike wasn’t much better than a teenage valley girl.  The shorter man might not have been very smart, but he could do things with his mouth that no one else could, and he had an ass like Vince had never seen before.  “Depends on how you look at it.  I think we both win.”