Fir Hollow, ch. 17: Trade In (Patreon)

“Well look at you,” Stu whistled, eyeing his friend’s turquoise muscle shirt as he stepped into the other man’s small apartment.  “Should I worry about you comin’ for me now?”  He laughed and flexed a chiseled arm, the granite bicep threatening to shred the thin cotton of his straining t-shirt.

Tim blushed and shook his head, shrugging the bony shoulders that stuck out through the open sides of his shirt.  He mirrored Stu’s pose, flexing a toned, though significantly smaller, arm, accentuating the differences in their opposing builds.  Stu, with his short blonde fade, precision-sculpted muscle, and brooding features sat on one end of the spectrum, while Tim, with his shaggy mop of auburn hair, lanky frame, and boy-next-door face occupied the other.  “Nah...just liked the shirt,” he said, looking down at the exposed patches of his smooth torso.  The baggy top’s open sides and scooping neck left more of the young man on display than covered, appearing almost comically large as it hung off his tight build.

“Where’d you even get it,” Stu asked, slipping a hand in through the open side to snap the exposed elastic of his friend’s underwear as it stuck up above the waist of his shorts.  “They didn’t have one that fit?  Or is this a style thing I don’t understand?”

Tim blushed harder and swatted the other man’s hand away.  “Have you been to the Trading Post yet?  That new vintage place?”

“You mean the overpriced thrift store?”  Stu rolled his eyes and walked over to Tim’s fridge for a beer.  “No thanks.  Bad enough people are always trying to push their busted up furniture as ‘antiques’ in this town...don’t need someone doing that with a sweaty old gym shirt.”

“That’s what I thought too, but it’s not so bad.  She’s actually got some really cool stuff in there...said she gets it shipped in from all over and goes out hunting for it, so it’s not the same stuff you see at the Goodwill.  Aaaaand I didn’t pay shit for this, so her prices aren’t that bad,” Tim said, sounding proud of himself.  “Turns out the name of the shop is literal.  She liked my old Kathy’s t-shirt and traded me this one for it on the spot.”  Tim adjusted the flowing shirt when he leaned against the counter next to his friend and caused one of his small nipples to spill free, feeling oddly self-conscious.  He’d anticipated Stu’s surprise as it wasn’t the sort of thing he normally wore, but he still wasn’t entirely sure why he was wearing it himself.  All he knew was that the moment he’d seen it in the store he’d felt like he had to have it.  It didn’t matter that the style wasn’t his, or that it didn’t really fit, or that he felt all too exposed.  He just wanted it.  So when Sherry sized him up at the register and offered to trade for his old Kathy’s t-shirt he jumped at the chance.  He didn’t know why she’d asked him so many times if he was sure, or why she’d stared so intently as she looked at him, but he wasn’t about to turn down the offer.  He’d even peeled out of his shirt right there in the front of the store and slipped the new one on, not thinking about how odd that was until he’d left.

Stu raised an eyebrow, the beer paused at his lips.  “Ohhh, I get it,” he laughed.  “Credit where credit’s due...that’s a smooth move.”  He took a swig and waited for Tim to catch on, giving the other man an expectant look.  “Really?  Dude, come on.  Lonely old lady running a store...hot young guy like you comes in...she gets you to trade your shirt…” he trailed off into another pull from his beer.

“What?  No!  It wasn’t like that,” Tim stammered.  He’d already had a similar notion, but when he thought back on the exchange it didn’t feel like she’d been checking him out in a romantic way.  It felt more practical, the way coaches and doctors had sized him up in the past.  He didn’t know why that thought made him so uncomfortable, but a free shirt was a free shirt.  “And even if it was, I'm one step closer than you.  She wasn’t old.  She was like forty, tops, and fuckin’ hot, too.”

That got the blonde’s attention.  “Okay, okay,” he grinned.  He gave a slight nod as he reached down, lifting the bottom of his tight t-shirt to expose the thin trail of golden hair flowing up the center of his ripped washboard.  “Maybe I’ll stop in after all.  If your bony ass got a free shirt this shit should get me the whole store.”

“I’m sure she’d love that,” Tim sighed, trying to sound annoyed as he forced his eyes away from his friend’s impressive abs.  The insistent orbs wanted to linger, sending a shiver through him as soon as they’d landed on the exposed flesh.  Without warning, Tim was suddenly reliving every encounter that involved the other man in any state of undress, the memory of Stu’s chiseled physique forcing its way front and center.  Locker rooms, swimming holes, drunken parties; Tim saw them all in vivid detail.  He’d always been envious of Stu’s perfect physique, of his protruding pecs and solid rear, the way the other man’s arms seemed to gather muscle the way old furniture gathered dust.  The blonde Adonis carried himself with a kind of smug confidence that Tim could never seem to muster, leaving him constantly in the other man’s shadow.  He’d never resented his friend for it, he knew Stu wasn’t doing it on purpose, but now that aura of masculinity was hitting him in an entirely different manner.  Tim wasn’t envious; he was hyper aware of just how attractive Stu really was, and how much that knowledge turned him on.

“Everything okay?”

Tim blinked and shook his head, giving a short, awkward laugh when he realized how long he’d been staring in silence.  “Whoa...sorry...spaced out there for a second,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as his stomach erupted in a cloud of anxious butterflies.  The wry curl to his friend’s soft lips, the amused glint in his brown eyes, hit Tim like a slap in the face.

“They have that effect on people,” Stu grinned, giving his abs a final flex before lowering his shirt.  Tim wondered if the other man would be so quick to make a joke of it if Stu was aware of the confusing thoughts racing through his mind, but he knew the answer was yes even as he formed the question.  The only thing his friend loved more than attention was getting off, and he wasn’t overly particular about the source of either.  Tim never imagined that he’d be in a position to supply the sculpted stud, but he’d been having strange thoughts all afternoon.  He’d blamed it on an overactive imagination coupled with the novel sensation of the baggy shirt hanging off him like a curtain.  He hadn’t been able to stop picturing the kinds of thick, beefy men that would wear such a garment.  Whoever they were, they had to be huge.  Even on Stu’s strapping frame it would have been large.  It wasn’t meant for a vain, tapering bodybuilder like his friend but a meaty wall of muscle, a walking mountain of flesh more concerned with size than shred.  A real man, not a preening pretty-boy.

A bravado as strange as the confusing lust suddenly surged through Tim.  “Maybe if they’re into little boys,” he laughed, surprising them both by reaching over and squeezing the hefty lump in Stu’s pants.  There was nothing little about the girthy package that the wiry man had seen plenty of times over the years, but had never actually felt until now.

“Hey!  Fuck you,” Stu sputtered, clearly caught off guard.  It was the kind of move he normally pulled, and his crimson cheeks made it obvious that he had no idea how to respond being on the receiving end of such macho aggression.

“Blush like that for her and I’m sure it’ll help,” Tim purred, relishing the sensation of Stu’s cock twitching against his palm.

The flustered blonde batted his friend’s hand away.  “Dude, what is with you,” he asked, the bulging mounds of his chest rising and falling a little too fast.

Tim didn’t know how to respond.  He’d been just as stunned by his own behavior, and his reaction to it.  He was grateful for the baggy shirt as it now hid the obvious tent in his shorts, and it took all of his willpower to keep from throwing himself at his friend.  It was like he’d developed a sixth sense.  Tim could read Stu’s body language like a book.  He could sense the other man’s confusing excitement at the thought of what they were about to do.  He could practically taste the pheromones pumping out of the handsome hunk, causing his own body to respond in kind.  It was an impulse, an involuntary reaction that now came as naturally to him as blinking or breathing.

Tim had another flash of memory as he struggled to compose himself, only he wasn’t sure the memory belonged to him.  He was gyrating on a stage, naked from the waist down and clad only in the turquoise muscle shirt.  A sea of hungry-eyed men looked up at him as he looked down past his beefy, bearish body to return a smug grin.  He was already thinking of all the things he wanted to do to them, and to let them do to him in turn, his fat club of a cock glistening with the oozing suggestion of things to come.  It didn’t make sense, for a lot of reasons.  Tim wasn’t gay, nor was he an exhibitionist, nor had he ever been in a similar situation, the burly body notwithstanding.  He wasn’t uptight or overly shy, but that didn’t mean he was, or ever would be, some go-go daddy jerking off on stage.  It struck him for just a moment that he should have asked Sherry where the turquoise muscle shirt had come from, and whether he’d traded more than a piece of clothing for it, but the strange vision passed as quickly as it formed.  Once again Tim found himself staring at a confused, gawking, excited Stu.

“I, uh, I’ll be right back,” he stammered, barely mustering the strength to turn and hurry from the room.  His whole body was vibrating with a potent energy that he initially mistook for desire, but which quickly made itself known as something else altogether.  “What the fuck is going on…” he muttered, his heart racing as he closed the bathroom door and leaned back against it.

It was the only question he had time for before everything changed.  Tim caught sight of his toned, heaving pecs in the mirror, noting the layer of hair that now somehow coated them.  The silky fur thickened from a light dusting to a dense carpet, tufting out around the shirt as it flowed up over his shoulders and down around his trim sides.  He could feel it join together in the middle of his back, the follicles erupting like risen zombies, an undead army marching its way down over his solid little cheeks until the formerly-smooth young man sported the auburn pelt from head-to-toe.

Tim wanted to inspect the impossible reflection but a wave of pressure brought him to his knees.  He felt like he was being squeezed in a vice, every muscle going painfully tense all at once.  The now-hairy hunk struggled for breath as he fell forward on all fours, fearing that he’d black out and hoping that Stu would come to check on him before too long.

Then, as quickly as it came on, the pressure melted away.  “Guuuunnnhhh…!”  Tim grunted, shuddering as his aching muscles loosened their hold.  He took a deep, gasping breath, though the rush of relief was accompanied by a variety of strange sensations.  There was a loud ripping sound, a sudden rush of air on his lower half, and he wondered if he had blacked out after all because it felt like he was laying on top of someone who had a firm grip on him.  Flesh rubbed against flesh, and though he could move again, his body was slow in responding.  “Oh...oh god…” Tim finally gasped, losing the breath he’d only recently regained.  As his head cleared, he gradually began to realize that he was the sole source of the strange sensations.  He was alone in the bathroom, and it was only his body that rubbed against itself, which also explained the loud ripping and the rush of air.

There was no way his formerly skinny shorts could have come close to fitting the mountain of flesh he’d somehow acquired.  Struggling upright onto his knees, Tim felt his meaty new thighs and plump, thick cheeks squish against each other.  He swayed momentarily, clutching the hairy trunks with hands that were far too big to steady himself, his hairy forearms brushing against his bulging new muscle gut in the process.  A long, wide cock that dwarfed his formerly thin five inches jutted out between it all, but Tim could only see the tip of the bulbous head over the new crest of his stomach and the massive slab of uncut muscle that his pecs had ballooned into.

He lurched upright, feeling at once godlike and infantile.  His inflated body surged with power, but at the same time his limbs were heavy and uncoordinated, like lead weights were strapped to every inch of him.  “Fuck!  What the fuck?!” he barked, noting the deeper register to his voice as he backed away from the strange reflection in the mirror.  Instead of a shaggy mop of auburn hair he looked at a bald, shining scalp, the only remaining hair a buzzed circlet that wrapped around the back of his head at the level of his ears.  His features were still recognizable as his own, but they were no longer charming and boy-next-door.  They were full and rugged, offset by a thick layer of stubble coating the jaw that seemed to sit directly on his torso.  If there was still a neck in there somewhere it had been entirely swallowed by his cannonball shoulders and burly upper back, which themselves were obscured by the thick layer of hair.  Looking at the way his piston arms hung at an angle, and the way the once-baggy shirt now clung to him, exposing the enlarged, nubby nipples he’d once tried to hide, there was nothing “boy-next-door” or even “boyish” about him.

“This...this can’t be real…” he said, his voice deep and husky as he reached around and palmed the massive globes the bright shirt bunched upon.  He let go and wrapped one hand around his thickened club, the other reaching up to run a calloused palm over his now-bare scalp.  He paused when he caught sight of the pose in the mirror, pursing his lips and grinning despite himself.  Before he knew it he was flexing the raised arm while rolling his hips to pump the fat log through his other fist, marking an end to his fumbling movements.  The motion felt entirely natural, and Tim didn’t know what to think when he realized it all did.  The clinging fur, the power-lifter bulk, the rubbing flesh, the bald scalp; it all felt like it belonged.

“Of course it does,” Tim scoffed, shaking his head.  “Who else has a body like this?”  The words didn’t make sense, but he still said them.  He looked away from the mirror at the tattered shorts and briefs on the floor, feeling more confusion, though not in the way he’d expected.  “Fuck did those come from?  Did Stu...I don’t remember him leaving ‘em here.”  He bent and picked them up before lumbering back out into the apartment, his aching cock leading the way.  Stu was sitting on the couch waiting for him, his muscled arms looking as appealing as ever as they rested up on the back of the sofa.  He still clutched a beer in one hand, his muscled thighs rocking back and forth as he watched Tim approach.  For an instant the hulking bear wondered why the other man wasn’t reacting with surprise, but then he remembered that wasn’t the reaction he was looking for.  “These yours?  Found ‘em on my bathroom floor, but fuck if I know where they came from.”

Stu caught them with his free hand and shook his head.  “Not mine.  Should I be jealous?  How many guys you got coming through here?”

Tim took a plodding step forward and reached down to rub his friend’s head.  “You really want the answer to that question,” he asked, wondering why the revolving door memories suddenly stood out in his mind.

Stu flashed a grin that tried a little too hard as he shrugged.  “None of ‘em have dick like this,” he said, kneading the rigid cock that was outlined against his pants.  “So are we finally doing this?  I’m down to hang all night, but it seems like you’re ready.”

The now-bigger man shook his hips, waving the solid pole in the seated stud’s face.  “Is tonight the night you give it a try,” he asked, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Maaaaan, don’t start...you know I come over here to receive,” Stu said, pulling his head back.

Tim was already processing the shift in his memories even as he spoke.  He and Stu were still lifelong friends, only there’d been a significant change in the nature of their relationship.  Instead of a pair of wingmen, Tim was an exceedingly gay mountain of muscle who loved the effect he had on his cute, gym-boy friend.  While all the women in Fir Hollow fell over themselves to flirt with Stu, Tim had the blonde hunk coming back for more almost daily.  The chiseled stud still insisted that he was straight, but the brawny bear knew how much wiggle room his friend’s definition left.  He tousled the other man’s hair again, his voice dripping with condescension.  “Aww...you are so cute when you’re scared.”

“Fuck off,” Stu spat, pulling his head away.  “I’m not scared, I just don’t want a dick in my mouth.”

“You’re not the least bit curious?  After all this time?  Bro...it’s me,” Tim said, his deep voice booming around the apartment.  He didn’t know why he kept thinking of it as odd that he was making Stu squirm.  He’d had the hung hunk wrapped around his fingers for years.  The blonde bodybuilder wanted more than anything to have a body like his; it was part of the reason they hooked up so often.  “Just give it a try.  If you don’t like it you don’t have to keep at it.  But if you’d rather keep being sca…”

Tim was cut off when Stu darted forward and wrapped his lips around the big man’s bobbing monster, pulling his head away seconds later.  “There.  Happy?”

“You tell me,” Tim said, nodding.  “What’d you think?”

The blonde’s face was crimson.  “I don’t know.  I don’t see what the big deal is?  Just like having a finger in your mouth.”

“You saying we don’t need to do this, then?”  Tim laughed when Stu quickly shook his head.

“I mean it wasn’t like...I don’t know...I expected something…” he stopped stammering and sighed as he looked up at Tim.  “You’re gonna make me do it again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not making you do anything, bud,” Tim said, his smile turning sympathetic.  “But if it makes you feel better to tell yourself that, then sure.”  His face still crimson, Stu scooted forward, slowly this time.  He took a deep breath, his eyes firmly locked on Tim’s muscle gut as he swallowed the big man once more.  His technique was awkward and stilting, but the sight of the blonde’s head bobbing in and out was almost enough to make Tim cum on its own.  He sighed and peeled out of the muscle shirt, absently stroking at his furry torso while Stu slurped away.  “See?  Not so bad, right,” Tim said after a few moments.  “You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

Stu pulled his lips away, a determined look on his face.  “What?  You don’t think I can finish you off?  Gimme a damn minute...this is my first time.”

“Hey, take as much time as you need,” Tim said, beaming as Stu went back to work.  He’d known his friend’s competitive streak would take over once he got going, and he hadn’t been wrong.  They paused one more time so he could peel the blonde’s t-shirt free, after which Tim could feel the other man relaxing more and more.  As he found his footing, Stu’s hands began to knead his hairy cheeks more freely, the bobbing motions of his head becoming more rhythmic and smooth.  It wasn’t long before the burly bear was ready to pop, a warning he decided to give his friend.  “Ohhh...okay...you did the...trick…” Tim grunted.  “Unless you want a mouthful you’d bet...betterrrrrruuunnnhh…!”  He was a little disappointed when Stu jerked his head away at the last second, the ropey strands winging past the shirtless stud’s shoulder.  “Great job dude,” Tim said when he’d caught his breath a few moments later.  “You’re a natural.”

“Which no one better hear about,” Stu insisted, his expression torn between humiliation and pride.  He seemed surprised when he looked down at the obvious damp spot on the front of his pants, his cock straining for freedom.

“Looks like you enjoyed the experience at least.”  Tim pulled Stu to his feet before the other man could keep blustering, giving his pecs a rough, kneading squeeze.  “Don’t worry, it’s our secret.  You think I’m gonna complain about having those lips all to myself?”  He didn’t wait for a response before slowly dropping to his knees, pausing to work the blonde’s pert little nipples with his tongue on the way down.  He took his time, both because Stu had earned a treat, and to try and silence the nagging voice in his head.  Tim kept catching himself thinking that this was all wrong.  He kept thinking that he should be the smaller one, that they shouldn’t be fooling around like this, that he shouldn’t even want to.  It was ridiculous.  This was the kind of thing he lived for.  Lifting, fucking, and partying, in any order.  He didn’t know who the skinny, frantic man he kept seeing in his mind was, and he didn’t care.  At the moment there was only one man he wanted to focus on.  “Woooowwww….you did have a good time,” Tim laughed when he tugged Stu’s pants down and his friend’s rigid banana sprung free.  The blonde’s underwear was soaked with precum, his eager head wet and shining.

“Can you nnuuhh...not keep brining that up…” Stu stammered, gasping when Tim ran his fingers around the sensitive organ before swallowing it whole.  He sighed and gave a few gentle pumps of his hips while Tim fell into rhythm, his eyes drifting shut.  “I mean...okay...it wasn’t bad, but I like our arrangement the way it is, you know?  I’m here to give by receiiIIIEEE!”  Stu had been so focused on the memories of his maiden blowjob that he hadn’t noticed Tim’s clutching fingers sliding towards the valley between his muscled globes until the probing digits were already inside.  Lubed up with a mix of the blonde’s copious precum and the lingering remains of his own, Tim slipped the fingers inside with the deftness of a concert pianist.  “Fuuuuuuuuck...what...what are you duuuh...doing…” the blonde yelped, squirming in Tim’s grip.  His cock was still wedged in the kneeling man’s mouth and he had yet to try and pull away, a struggle that became pointless moments later.  “OOUUHHHOOOUUUHHH!”  Stu howled as Tim began working his virgin prostate.  The blonde jock spasmed and shuddered, clutching the kneeling hulk’s hairy shoulders for support while his cock hung half in Tim’s mouth, an afterthought compared to the blissful new sensations rocketing through him.  “Are...are you fucking...fingering me…” Stu finally gasped, wide eyed.  The initial shock was wearing off and his clenched hole was beginning to relax, giving way to more and more of the rapidly peaking pleasure.  “Sne...sneaky fuck…” he laughed, his mouth falling open in a groan.  “Don’t...don’t stop...don’t stooooOOHHH!”  He bucked like he’d stepped on a live wire as he came, the explosive release spilling out the sides of Tim’s mouth and down his stubble-covered cheeks.  Stu’s sculpted legs actually gave out when the kneeling man pulled his hand free and he found himself laying in a heap against the hairy mountain as Tim sat on the floor with his back against the couch.

“You said you wanted to receive,” the bigger man grunted, an arm draped heavily around Stu’s shoulders.  The sculpted blonde still had a shell-shocked expression as he nestled against his friend, his girthy cock still leaking onto Tim’s thigh.

“That...that was incredible,” Stu finally croaked.  “Am I...does this mean I’m gay?”

Tim’s draping hand found its way to one of the blonde’s hard little nipples.  “It means you’re lucky enough to have a friend who knows how to treat you right,” he purred, tweaking the tiny nub.  He had another flash of the smooth, wiry man sitting in his place, feeling small against the blonde’s granite muscle, but he pushed it away.

“I could be a little gay,” Stu mumbled, still in a daze.  “This isn’t so bad.”

Tim leaned down, his lips brushing against the other man’s ear when he spoke.  “Only one way to find out,” he whispered.