In Training (vignette) (Patreon)

“You want me to wear that?”  Brandon blushed as he looked at the slinky pile of fabric next to Greg, his tone incredulous.  The shirtless, dark-haired jock nodded down to the exposed patch of boxer briefs through his open jeans and shook his head.  “You know I’m not into that kinky shit.”  

“Awww, big strong Brandon afraid of some underwear?”  Greg laughed and rolled his eyes, his athletic arms inflating as he leaned back on the bed.  The fit young blonde was down to his stuffed briefs, giving Brandon a full view of his tanned, tightly muscled frame.  He was every bit as built as his olive-hued friend, and he knew that if his plan was going to work he needed to play on the closeted jock’s competitive side.  “Better be careful...wouldn’t want people to think you’re gay,” he said, running a foot up Brandon’s leg to the other man’s open fly.  It was the blushing jock who’d eagerly stripped Greg to his briefs, just like he’d done dozens of times before.  The two had been hooking up regularly for months, and while the chiseled blonde usually loved riding Brandon’s thick cock, he’d finally had enough of the arrogant jock’s behavior.  

He didn’t care that Brandon was in the closet.  Greg understood how a college athlete could feel uncomfortable being out on campus.  The problem was in how Brandon acted whenever he ran into Greg, or any of the other guys he hooked up with, while he was out with his teammates.  Instead of pretending like they didn’t know each other, or like they were just friends, Brandon would go out of his way to hurl insults and slurs and egg his fellow jocks on to do the same.  Greg knew about the behavior when they started fooling around, and he was willing to overlook it for someone with the kind of striking face and body that Brandon had, but after getting chased out of a bar by the other man and his clueless entourage, he’d had enough.  Brandon had texted him a dick pic later, as if that was an apology, and was continuing to act as if his skills in bed excused the way he treated people.  

“Fuck you,” Brandon laughed awkwardly, holding Greg’s foot against his girthy package.  “I’m not scared, I just...how do you even wear something like that?”  

“Drop those jeans and I’ll show you,” Greg said, kneading Brandon through his underwear.  “After that shit you and your boys pulled the other night it’s the least you could do.”  

“Hey, man, I said I was sorry.  You know I don’t mean any of that...I just gotta put on a show,” Brandon shrugged.”  

“Do you, though?  None of your dudes seemed all that concerned until you started pushing.  Ever stop to think they might be cool if you were just honest?  Felt like they were trying to impress you after you started it.”  Greg wanted to give Brandon one last chance, but he wasn’t surprised when the shirtless stud shook his head.  

“No way.  They might be cool with it, but I didn’t work this hard to get to this level just to be treated like some chick if they knew I was…” he trailed off and sighed, nodding at the bed.  “Fine.  I’ll put it on for you.”  

Greg tried not to look too eager as he hopped off the bed while Brandon shucked his jeans and boxer briefs.  Despite his frustration, the sight of the dark-haired hunk’s naked body still made him ache with desire.  Brandon was perfectly proportioned, with broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, shredded abs, and powerful arms.  He had a perky, solid bubble and a set of meaty thighs, offset by a long, thick cock and a full, heavy pair of balls.  The raven hair that he kept cropped short on his scalp covered the rest of his olive skin in a light dusting, adding to the air of masculinity that was further accentuated by his lantern jaw, handsome features and deep voice.  Greg almost felt bad that Brandon seemed so overwhelmingly straight, making the decision to come out harder than it would have been for someone more obviously flamboyant who couldn’t hide as easily.  But if things worked according to plan, the smug jock wouldn’t be hiding for long.  

“Where did you even find this?” Brandon asked as he picked up the slinky harness.  A white elastic band formed a collar that would fit around his wide neck before traveling down the center line of his torso, bisecting his plump pecs and impressive abs, and terminating in a small pouch for his thick package.  

“You can find anything on the internet.”  Greg stepped close, his brief-covered bulge brushing against Brandon’s dangling hose.  He gave the other man’s hairy pecs a squeeze before taking the harness from him and slowly slipping it down over his head.  

“There’s no way that little pouch is gonna hold meat like mine,” Brandon said, his face turning red as he felt the elastic tighten around his throat.  

Greg grinned and gave the blushing stud’s plump balls a squeeze.  “It’ll adapt,” he said, slipping the white, stretchy pouch over Brandon’s sizable equipment.  There was just enough time for him to step back and get a look at the strapping jock’s fat cock twitching in the overstuffed pouch, his sculpted physique accentuated by the white line that popped against his dark fur, before the harness went to work.  

“HNG!” Brandon grunted, his eyes going wide as his body tensed.  The athletic young man’s impressive physique exploded with definition as his every muscle flexed against what felt like an electric current shooting through him.  

As much as Greg enjoyed the view of Brandon’s ample muscle, he was more focused on the dwindling pouch.  The straining elastic receded inch by inch until the pouch barely stretched at all around the other man’s now-petite nub of a cock.  Without the bright fabric drawing attention to it, Greg knew the little button would barely be visible between Brandon’s powerful thighs and dark, trimmed bush.  

“Wha...what the fuck was...that…” Brandon shook his head and cleared his throat, his red face going pale at the sound of his voice.  “Do I sound...funny?  WHAT THE HELL?!  WHY DOES MY VOICE SOUND LIKE THIS?!” he cried, clutching at his neck.  Instead of a commanding roar, Brandon’s frantic voice was high and light, having risen several octaves.  

“Huh.  I thought you’d be more worried about that.”  Greg nodded at Brandon’s shrunken equipment, unable to hold back a grin.  The average, twitching bulge in his briefs looked massive compared to the dazed hunk’s tiny lump.  

“FUCK!  FUCK! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DICK?!” Brandon shrieked, his knees going weak as he clawed at the diminutive pouch.  

“Easy, easy,” Greg laughed, putting a hand on the other man’s trim waist.  “Just calm down.”  

“CALM DOWN?! HOW CAN I...calm...down….whoa…” Brandon stammered, his heaving pecs slowing as his breathing pulled back from the edge of hyperventilating.  “Why...how...did I just stop freaking out,” he asked, his soft voice shaking.  “And why can’t I take this thing off?”  

The smiling blonde let his hand slip around to give Brandon’s solid cheek a squeeze.  “Because I told you to.  And because I haven’t told you to.”  

“What does that mean?  Dude...what...what is this?”  The dark-haired man’s handsome features went back to a deep shade of red as he listened to his soft new tone.  

“It’s a training harness,” Greg said, snapping the elastic band between Brandon’s prominent pecs.  “As you’re discovering, it can do all sorts of fun things to someone.”  

“You...did this?  Fuck you!  Why?!  Put...put me back!”  Brandon’s expression stayed calm despite the fury he tried to muster.  He balled his fists and furrowed his brow but looked more pathetic than threatening.  “Why...why can’t I…why am I just standing here?” he finally asked, his soft, plump lips trembling.  

“Because I want you to see what life is like without acting so fucking aggressive all the time,” Greg sighed.  “You were worried about the dudes treating you like a chick?  Now you’ll find out if that’s true or not.  I mean, all those pheromones you’re putting out right now might skew things a little bit, but it should be enlightening one way or the other.”  

Brandon’s stomach dropped at the mention of his friends.  “What?  What pheromones?”  

“Those nanites coursing through you, the ones that gave you that cute new voice and tiny little cock, are pumping out a cloud that’ll make even the straightest of guys take a second look.”  

“But...that’s...that’s not possible…” 

“It’s not?  Then how do you explain this?”  Greg reached down and slipped the pouch free, giving Brandon an unobstructed view of his petite new equipment.  The twitching organ couldn’t have been more than three inches, solid, with a barely visible set of balls.  It was a jarring contrast to his former beast, the lack of size made all the more apparent against his broad, chiseled frame.  

“Oh...oh god…” Brandon moaned, his hands shaking as they hovered inches away from the altered organ.  

“We can take this off now,” Greg said, slipping the elastic collar from around Brandon’s neck.  He laughed at the other man’s stricken expression, tousling his hair and giving him a quick peck on the forehead.  “What are you so worried about?  Everything still works.  And if you’re good, we can put you back to normal.”  

“We...we can?  Please...whatever you want me to…” 

“That’s a big if,” Greg said, interrupting the stammering jock.  “Why don’t we pick up where we left off?  You came over here for a reason, right?”  

“O...okay,” Brandon nodded, a confused look on his face.  He knew he should be trying to undo whatever the blonde man had done, not making out with him, but he couldn’t say no.  At Greg’s suggestion, finishing their romp was suddenly the most important thing on his mind.  The horror over his altered body and voice could wait.  

“Whooo...those fumes ARE potent,” Greg sighed as Brandon began kissing his way down his neck.  He groaned when the dark-haired man pushed his briefs down and began tugging on his aching cock, stopping to bat the six-inch pole against Brandon’s tiny poker.  “Oh my god it is so cute,” he laughed, grinding the mismatched duo together.  “And apparently sensitive,” he purred when he felt the other man shiver in his arms.  “But you’re quieter than usual.  Where’s all that bragging you usually do?”  

Brandon’s face went purple as he started grinding his button cock against Greg’s firm stomach.  “You sure you can handle all this dick,” he asked, his soft voice making the statement all the more ridiculous.  “It’s the biggest one you get, right?  Name one guy on campus who’s bigger than me?”  It wasn’t just the altered register that made Brandon sound different, but the lack of his aggressive swagger.  Without it he just sounded desperate and eager, his Adonis physique a sign of overcompensation more than pride.  

“I don’t know if we have time for a list that long right now,” Greg laughed, pulling Brandon down onto the bed with him.  He hefted his legs onto the other man’s sturdy shoulders, assuming his usual position.  “Come on, you always said it was your skill not your size that made you so good.  Prove it.”  

Brandon gripped Greg’s thighs, trying to hold himself back.  He knew his shrunken member wasn’t nearly large enough to do more than poke the prone man, but that didn’t stop him from pushing it against the blonde’s waiting hole.  “HHOOOOOIIIIIEEEEE!”  The dazed jock tensed and spasmed, shrieking as his little cock erupted after only a few rolls of his hips.  Normally he could last for hours, but now the former stud was horrified to find his stamina reduced to a few seconds.  

“Dude...your cum face is so good right now.  And that sound!  Screamer Brandon is my new favorite,” Greg laughed, feeling a few droplets trickling down his firm cheek.  There was a part of him that legitimately missed the sensation of the other man’s thick girder sliding in and out, but Brandon’s blushing face made up for it.  “Are you done already?  I can’t tell if you’re still in there or not.”  

The humiliated jock dropped Greg’s legs and fell onto the bed next to him, his entire body an embarrassed crimson.  “Is that what you wanted?  Are we done now?”  

“Does it look like it?”  Greg batted his rigid cock against the other man, an expectant look on his face.  “If you can’t get me off with that little nub, we’ll just have to try something else.”  

Brandon reached for the blonde’s throbbing organ, a confused look on his face when Greg pushed his hand away.  “You want me to blow you?  Fine, but...wait...you don’t mean…” 

“Sure do,” Greg said, grinning as he slipped a hand under Brandon and pressed a pair of fingers against the furry man’s tight button.  

“WHHHOOOOAAAAAA….!” Brandon howled and arched his back up off the bed.  “Wha...what the fuck was that…” he panted, squirming ecstatically as Greg’s fingers pushed harder. 

“I don’t mind that you always wanted to top,” Greg said, pushing the fingers inside.  “I get it...some guys like certain things more than others.  That’s fine.  It’s that you always thought it somehow made you better, or more of a ‘real’ man.  You wouldn’t even entertain the idea of bottoming without being a jerk about it, which kind of makes me think you’re more interested than you let on.”  He smiled at the wordless, wide-eyed gasps streaming out of Brandon’s slack-jawed mouth as his fingers probed deeper.  “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to, but I think you should at least give it a shot.  Especially since your days on top are over at the moment.”  Greg pulled his hands free and stroked through the patch of hair at the base of Brandon’s abs.  “Do you want to try it for real?”  

“Yuh...yes...yes!” Brandon nodded, his expression wild and feverish.  He knew the overwhelming pleasure had to be a result of whatever else had been done to him, but at the moment he didn’t care.  He just wanted to feel it again.  Greg wasn’t wrong, he’d always been curious what it would be like, but he couldn’t let himself cross that line.  If he only ever gave and never received, he could claim that he wasn’t really like the guys he hooked up with.  

“If you insist,” Greg said, throwing Brandon’s legs onto his shoulders in a reversal of their regular routine.  The nanites ensured an easy entry, just as he knew they would, but he was still unprepared for the explosion of lust that shot through the penetrated jock.  As soon as he started pumping, Brandon thrashed and writhed, a high, piercing shriek echoing off the apartment walls.  The stuffed jock was relentless.  He bucked and screamed and begged, his wild eyes locked with Greg as his useless cock spurted again and again.  The desperate, animalistic display was nothing like the smug, confident jock’s usual performance, and the sight, more than the sensation of Brandon’s tight hole, pushed Greg over the edge.   

“See?  Not...not so bad, is it,” Greg panted, letting Brandon’s legs drop and climbing off the bed.  

The prone jock could only blink in silence for several minutes while his addled brain tried to catch up.  He could feel the other man’s release dripping out of him, but more than anything he just wanted Greg back inside him.  “O...okay...yeah...we can switch it up from now on,” he finally gasped.  He forced himself upright, wincing at the absence of his meaty package from between his legs.  “So can I…?”  

“Nope, not yet,” Greg said, clapping Brandon on a shoulder before hurrying out of the room.  He returned with a pair of scissors, making short work of the blushing jock’s jeans and leaving them as a pair of small cutoffs.  “I know you don’t like to stick around after, so let’s get you dressed and on your way.”  

“But...but I can’t go out in this…” Brandon squeaked as Greg slipped the harness over his head again.  He could only watch and blush as his small package was concealed in the miniscule pouch once again, but his humiliation grew when he was ordered to put the shorts on.  The former pants were so small the pockets hung exposed against his thighs, and he could feel the bottom of his ass hanging out the back, but worse was the way the white elastic band rose up from behind the fly and connected with the collar around his neck.  “Do I get my shirt back,” he asked, knowing the answer even before Greg shook his head.  He went to tug at the strap, but found that, while he could touch it, he couldn’t bring himself to remove it.  “But...what do I do if I have to take a piss?”  

Greg shrugged.  “You better find someone to help you take it off, then.  I wouldn’t worry.  Walking around dressed like that with all those vapors pouring out of you...it shouldn’t be hard.”