Fir Hollow, ch. 23: Read All About It (Patreon)

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Owen gave a long, low sigh as the old press clanged to life.  He still didn’t know how any of it was even possible, or what strange forces drove the process, but he couldn’t argue with the results.  No one could.  Though it helped that no one else even knew there were any results to feel contentious about.  At least he always made sure the involved parties were left happy enough.  Owen wasn’t actually interested in being vindictive, he just wanted to have some fun and get some payback.

The printing press and the old typewriter saw to that.  He’d acquired them both for next to nothing at a recent auction after they’d been discovered in the basement of the library.  The Fir Hollow Gazette hadn’t been published since the turn of the last century, and while no one knew exactly how the old equipment wound up in the basement, the library was just happy to be rid of it.  Like most young folks in town Owen had grown up around antiques, but unlike his peers the spindly, dark-haired man actually enjoyed them.  He liked the history they brought, the glimpse into a world he’d never get to experience.  They were temporal meteors burning up in the atmosphere of the present, and he wanted to collect as many fragments as possible.

Of course, being both scrawny and in possession of a hobby that was mostly reserved for old ladies left Owen with a constant target on his back.  He’d been teased and bullied through the majority of his youth, a pattern that had continued into early adulthood.  The only difference now was that the guys picking on him had grown significantly larger while he’d retained his inferior stature, and Owen had begun to fear that he’d never be able to do anything about it.

Until he came across the old press.  He’d started having dreams of himself at a writing desk, hammering out articles for the Gazette on the old typewriter.  He’d clack away on the tarnished keys while the wheel of the old press stirred the drum to life, pumping out piles of the one-sheet paper all on its own.  The copies even bore the old letterhead across the top, despite Owen not knowing how to set type or how a printing press even worked.  It did it all on its own.

After a few nights of the odd dreams, Owen finally found himself sitting in front of the old typewriter.  As soon as he sat down it had all felt inevitable, like it was just waiting for the triggering event.  He’d had a run in with Brad and Lincoln when he’d gone for groceries.  His former classmates seized upon him as soon as they spotted him, and proceeded to follow him around the store, insulting him and bumping him with their carts.  Owen did his best to ignore the beefy tormentors, all the while silently resenting the way they’d continued to pile on bulky muscle even after their high school football days had ended.  He didn’t really want to be big like they were, but he wished he had a way to turn their size against them.

It was that very thought which framed the article.  Owen was following an impulse, thinking he was indulging in nothing more than a harmless fantasy as he wrote about the “fashionably flamboyant duo scandalizing the town with their risque looks and provocative displays of affection.”  It would be a fitting fate for the rugged pair who loved to taunt him with strings of homophobic epithets, but not one that Owen ever thought would come to pass.

And then the press started printing.  Just like in his dreams the wheel cranked to life, the drum spewing out sheet after sheet though the press had no paper.  It produced it all on its own, just as it did with the ink that coated the aged, sepia-toned pages.  Following the same impulse, Owen gathered the papers up and discreetly distributed them around town, still thinking he was doing nothing but performing a harmless prank that would, at best, cause a minor embarrassment for his bullies.

He’d stopped thinking about it altogether by the time he saw the pair a few days later.  He was driving through town, and he’d almost crashed into the car in front of him when he got his first glimpse of the exposed beefcakes strutting down the sidewalk.  Brandon, his shaved scalp shining in the afternoon sun, was clad only in a lime green thong and matching hightops.  “Thong” may not have been the right word as it didn’t fit like regular underwear but instead only circled one meaty thigh as it barely concealed his girthy equipment, leaving the rest of his hairy bulk fully on display.  Next to him, Lincoln’s rugged physique was only slightly more covered by a golden, snakeskin pouch that slipped over his stout cock and hefty balls before attaching to a pair of matching straps that circled his burly torso.  Though he wore a matching pair of gold go-go boots, it was hard for the attention to be focused anywhere other than his striking face.  Just like Brandon, the young hulk’s normally blunted features had been honed to an exaggerated degree.  He had plump, botoxed lips and surgically accentuated cheekbones, all of which were expertly highlighted by perfectly applied makeup.  And on top of their jarring appearance, Owen couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the limp-wristed way their hands flailed while they spoke, and the chirping lisp that had replaced their former grunts.  At one point they’d stopped walking to begin making out, and when Owen finally forced himself to drive away it looked like they were about to engage in much more than mere kissing.

After that, he knew what he had to do.  The Fir Hollow Gazette was back in print, and Brad and Lincoln were only the beginning.

**********

“Just look at this garbage!  Who the fuck writes this?!”  Ezra glared at the paper in his hands.  The handsome blonde’s face was crimson from a mix of anger and embarrassment as he re-read the article out loud for his friend.  Josh seemed more amused by the whole affair than anything, but Ezra was determined to change that.  “The pair is known around town for showing off their funky moves by dancing wherever they go,” he read.  “For anyone else, the constant hip swaying and booty shaking would be considered a lewd display, but it’s only natural for the lusty duo.  Since trading their brains for brawn, all the musclebound meatheads want to do is flash some skin and make sure they put on a good show for their friends.  Which, fortunately, includes just about all the men in Fir Hollow.  Pro tip: keep an eye out for the flashing disco lights in the old warehouse downtown, and don’t be afraid to ask for a personal performance if you want to experience the sultry studs first hand.  Touching is encouraged.’”  Ezra shook his head as he looked up at Josh.  “What the fuck does that even mean?”

The wiry brunette shrugged.  “It’s obviously someone’s idea of a joke.  Unless you’ve got some hidden talents I don’t know about?”

Ezra scowled and rubbed his trimmed, sandy beard, scanning the article a second time.  “I don’t know, man.  These have been popping up all over town and none of ‘em have been fake so far.  Look at this last one about Brad and Lincoln.”  He rifled through a pile of junk mail and receipts on the cluttered coffee table and handed the one-sheet over to his friend.  “If that’s not a perfect description of those two queens I don’t know what is.”

Josh blinked at the article for a few moments before setting it down without reading it.  “Okay, but that still doesn’t mean anything.  So they wrote up an article about those two?  Big deal.  This one’s still obviously fake.  Why is it bothering you so much?  It’s not like anyone’s going to believe a word...of...it…” Josh trailed off, his eyes going wide when he looked down and saw the light swaying of his hips.  He’d been oblivious to the fact that he’d started doing it at all.  “Uh...what am I doing…” he stammered, his face going red when he realized he couldn’t stop.

“Very funny,” Ezra said, leaning his head back and rolling his eyes.  “I’m not...falling...for it…” he broke off in a gasp when he leaned his head forward again, only to find himself bobbing it to the rhythm of some unheard melody.  His broad shoulders joined in moments later, rocking in time with his bobbing head.  “Dude!  What are we doing?!  I can’t stop!”

“I can’t either,” Josh cried, his lean torso joining forces with his swaying midsection.  “What is this?!”

“It’s that fucking article, man!  I told you there was something weird about it,” Ezra spat, watching his friend’s increasing gyrations.  He’d only ever seen the brown-haired man make a handful of drunken attempts at dancing, and none of them had been anywhere near as smooth as his current movements.

Josh’s face went a deeper shade of embarrassed maroon when he felt himself start to purse his lips.  His swaying hips were taking on an emphasis at the back half of their rotation, as if he was throwing his perky bubble back against someone.  “What do we do?!  How do we stop this?!”

“I don’t know!  No one knows who the fuck has even been writing this shit,” Ezra growled.  His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath in a futile attempt at forcing himself to sit still.  When that failed he hopped up from the couch, letting out a sharp gasp when he used the momentum from standing to grab the bottom of his shirt and peel out of it in one smooth motion.  “Fuck!  What...why am I…” he sputtered, his toned arms raised above his head while he rolled his abs like a wave.  He shouldn’t have been any better a dancer than Josh, but his body was on autopilot.  When he finally lowered his arms, in a side-to-side pattern that matched the jerking of his trim hips, things only got worse.

“Hey!  What are you doing?!”  The brunette’s frantic tone was a sharp contrast to the wide grin that had stretched across his face as he watched Ezra reach over and start to undo the fly of his jeans.  He shivered when he felt his friend’s fingers brush against the front of his stuffed boxer-briefs, an unaccustomed thrill shooting through him.  For a blessed, terrifying instant Josh felt his mortified anxiety vanish, replaced by a giddy lust that horrified him when the sensation passed seconds later.  “Oh fuck...oh fuck...oh fuck…” he whimpered as he kicked out of the discarded denim, already toying with the elastic waist of his underwear.  He could see a similar conflict playing out on Ezra’s face as the blonde’s boy-next-door features wavered between shock and excitement, one hand kneading a modest pec while the other popped the fly of his own pants.  Josh tried to tell himself that the sight didn’t really send a throb shuddering through him, but the way his cock twitched made it clear that was a lie.  Though neither of them could be considered “brawny,” Ezra’s athletic physique was still well above average, as was his own toned, shredded frame, but Josh had never stopped to think about either of their looks in the context of being so prominently on display.

Or desired by the other.  “Oh, come on, dude!  Why are you hard right now,” Ezra groaned when he stepped out of his fallen pants and began bouncing his brief-clad bulge.  The grey cotton was stretched to capacity, outlining the blonde’s girthy log with intimate detail.

Josh wanted to point out the way his friend’s lengthy member seemed to be getting harder itself, but instead he shimmied forward, turned around, and started grinding his solid little cheeks against the front of Ezra’s briefs.  “Why aren’t you,” he purred, aware that the words were all wrong even as he pursed his lips and lifted his arms.

“I...I don’t…” instead of pulling away, the fit blonde pushed his hips forward in an opposing rhythm, his hands slipping up under Josh’s shirt.  Ezra sighed, drinking in the sensation of his friend’s smooth definition before grabbing the bottom of the other man’s shirt and pulling it free.  “That’s better,” he grunted, his hands locking onto Josh’s hips.  He slipped a few fingers into the brunette’s boxer-briefs, brushing them through his friend’s chocolate bush as they writhed together.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Josh said with a short laugh.  “Fuckin’ hate those things.”

“I know, right,” Ezra agreed, each word chipping away at his crumbling resistance.  He felt like he was falling.  His head spun, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything other than the warmth of Josh in his arms and the growing beat pulsing in his brain.  Though no music actually played in the apartment it was as if he wore headphones, a constant, danceable rhythm beaming straight down his spine and through his suddenly-nimble limbs.  “What can we do about these,” he laughed, snapping the waist of his friend’s underwear.

“Just gotta ask,” Josh cheered, hooking his thumbs in the elastic and pushing the boxer-briefs down.  He bent over once they slid beneath his rear and worked his bare cheeks against Ezra with renewed vigor, seemingly unaware of the extra bounce they’d acquired.

“Love it when you do that,” Ezra sighed as Josh twerked against him.  A vague suggestion of dread penetrated his giddy haze as he felt the inflated, meaty globes, but he couldn’t place where it came from.  He’d watched his friend’s shoulders push apart and thicken, and when the now-beefy brunette righted himself and flexed, the massive arms seemed exactly as they should be.  Ezra reached around and palmed Josh’s juicy pecs before running a hand down the other man’s thick ‘roid gut, not recognizing his own transformation until his friend spun around and their exposed cocks batted together.

“How about when I do this,” Josh laughed, tweaking Ezra’s inflated nipples.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck bro,” the expanded blonde groaned, his widened jaw dropping while he watched his friend toy with the mountainous pecs he’d somehow acquired.  His own lumpy, cresting muscle gut pressed against Josh’s, and he understood why his friend hadn’t seemed any larger despite the sudden growth spurt when he saw the size of his own chiseled girders.  The tattered remains of Ezra’s briefs clung to his thickened waist, leaving his muscled globes and powerful thighs entirely bare as they flexed and shifted against each other while he continued to sway against Josh.  He reached down and absently tore the straining elastic away, his expression shifting to an eager, excited mask.  He felt happy and free, entirely unburdened by any worry or fear.  The fact that he couldn’t seem to hold onto a thought for more than a few seconds at a time didn’t bring with it any anxiety, and even if it did the emotion would have passed as quickly as it came.  All he wanted to do was dance and fool around with Josh, and based on the other man’s dull, matching grin, he could tell his friend wanted the same thing.

“Were we just doing something…” Josh asked, blinking.  He looked around at the altered apartment, unsure whether or not the open, studio layout with its exposed brick and duct work looked familiar or not.  Their bed was at one end while a kitchen lined the wall at the other, but in between was mostly open space save for a pole in the center of the room.  Against the remaining wall a couch sat, opposite the bank of windows that looked out over the town.  Hanging from the ceiling was a disco ball attached to a bank of color-changing LEDs, making the spacious interior look more like the dance floor at a club than an apartment.  It was the perfect setup for when they had company, or if they just wanted to have fun, and once they turned the lights on everyone in town knew they were invited to the party.

“I know what we were about to do,” Ezra purred, giving Josh’s muscled cakes a swat.  He sauntered over to the couch and folded his meaty pistons behind his head as Josh swayed forward, loving the way his friend’s meaty frame moved.

“I got next,” the brawny brunette winked as he slowly brought his swaying globes lower and lower until he was impaled and squirming on Ezra’s fat log.  Being stuck on his friend’s blissful organ did nothing to slow his bobbing head or rolling shoulders as he rocked his hips, an open-mouthed look of ecstasy on his new meathead features.  “Should...should we go..out tonight…or just turn the...lights on...”

Ezra looked at the scattered piles of thongs, posers, and tiny shorts littering the floor, thrilled at the prospect of wiggling around town in them.  “Out, for sure,” Ezra grunted, feeling himself pulled towards the edge by Josh’s expert lap dance.

The burly brunette beamed and nodded like an excited bobblehead before breaking into a mock-pout.  “Okay!  But only after I get my lap dance.”