Another Notch, ch. 1 (Patreon)

Hank folded his hands behind his head, sighing as he looked up at the underside of his headboard.  He’d built it himself from reclaimed timber after a nearby farmhouse had been demolished, carefully etching each existing mark that he carried over from his old one.  They were clearing the land to make way for a fresh set of overpriced condos, which, unlike some of his older neighbors, suited the rugged young man just fine.  The once-rural area was booming as people wanted to get out of the larger cities nearby, and more people meant more women, and more women meant more notches in the headboard.  As far as Hank was concerned it just made his life easier.  At the rate he went through the ladies in town he was still bound to run out eventually, but he told himself he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

The burly, russet-haired young man had a soft rule about no repeat customers.  He’d go back for seconds if there weren’t any other options, but each notch had to belong to someone new or it didn’t count, and he was determined to grow his collection as big as he could.  Given the small size of the town all the women knew what Hank was up to, but despite that the handsome hunk never lacked for attention.  With his chiseled face and plentiful muscle, it wasn’t hard to see why.  He’d always been athletic, and while he wasn’t covered in gym-sculpted muscle, Hank’s youthful frame was still packed full of firm, natural bulk.  His shoulders were broad, his arms were strong, and he had a set of prominent pecs that bulged just enough above his firm stomach.  A pair of sturdy legs and a plump, ample rear finished off his lower half, and covering it all was a light coating of the same reddish-brown hair that sat on his scalp.  His overworked cock was long and thick, though not the largest in town, and hung in front of a set of heavy, churning orbs, leaving the smug ladies man with an impressive, well-rounded appearance.

And Hank needed every inch of it to make up for his personality.  He wasn’t exactly cruel, but neither was he kind, feeling all too comfortable when it came to judging his frequent partners.  Hank always had something to say about their clothes, or their appearance, or their skill in bed, never seeing the irony of someone like him referring to their appearance or behavior as “slutty.”  For a person who was literally trying to grow his collection of conquests, it never occurred to Hank to view his own behavior through the same lens.

“Not bad,” he said to himself, counting the marks and reliving each encounter.  It was his favorite way to start the day, and he could feel his thick hose already beginning to tent the thin sheet.  Something about the notches seemed extra captivating that morning.  He’d only finished building the new headboard a few days ago, and after putting in the first new addition to his collection the previous evening, the rest of the collection seemed to almost glow in response.  He told himself it was just a trick of the light, that the freshness of the dark stain made the carvings look brighter than they actually were, but he still liked the effect.

“Hey man, you up yet?”

Hank jumped at the unexpected sound of his roommate’s voice, blushing slightly when he looked past his tented sheet at the lean blonde standing in the doorway.  “What the fuck, man?  What happened to...knocking…” he trailed off when it finally registered that the other man was naked.  While it wasn’t uncommon for them to spend time around each other in their underwear, Hank had never seen his friend without at least a pair of boxer-briefs on.  Because of that he was already aware of the long, sizable snake that Colby’s ripped frame sported, but he didn’t anticipate the reaction that seeing it so exposed would cause.  “Uh...why are you naked,” he asked, the sheet twitching noticeably as his cock throbbed.

“Shorts just slow you down, and I don’t have a lot of time this morning,” Colby said, grabbing the thin cover and pulling it free.

“Hey!” Hank yelped and sat up as his rigid member was fully exposed.  He wasn’t shy when it came to his body, but he still didn’t understand why he couldn’t take his eyes off the other man.  Colby was taller and thinner, with a body that sported all the definition his own rugged frame lacked, and a face that was just as long and sharp as the rest of him.  Hank had always thought of himself as the more attractive one, but as he stared at the other man, his cock aching more and more with each passing second, he found himself rethinking that opinion.  “What are you doing,” he laughed awkwardly, painfully aware of his own naked, rigid frame.

The wiry blonde rolled his eyes.  “Dude, I just said I don’t have a lot of time.  If you want your morning cock we gotta get to it.”

Hank felt like he’d been slapped in the face as he watched his friend start tugging away on his steadily-hardening log.  “What...what did you just say?”  His instinct was to deny it, but he could feel his exposed cock leaking already, an eager thrill running through him at the thought.  “I...I don’t know what you…”

“Oh, like you’re really gonna say no to dick all of a sudden?”  Colby’s tone was impatient as he waved his rigid club in Hank’s direction.

The stunned hunk’s eyes followed the swaying organ like a hypnotist’s watch, his heart racing.  Despite his brain insisting otherwise, Hank’s body had already come to a conclusion.  His mouth watered, his hands tingled as he clutched at the sheets, and his stomach was a rollercoaster of eager anticipation, making the impending outcome evident even as Hank tried desperately to deny it.  “What do you…” he tried to swallow the rest of the sentence as soon as he realized it wasn’t going to sound the way he’d intended.  He’d meant to ask “what do you mean,” and to further protest Colby’s insane behavior, but what he actually said was nothing of the sort.  “...think?  Of course I’m not,” Hank grinned, scooting forward before he could stop himself.  He watched Colby’s firm abs and trimmed, golden bush approach in slow motion, taking a deep breath of the musky scent before his soft lips swallowed his friend’s aching member.

The wiry blonde let out a long sigh, his smug grin unseen as Hank’s face was buried between his thighs.  “Had me worried for a minute there,” he laughed.  “What would the guys in this town do if Horny Hank suddenly cut ‘em all off?”

Hank groaned, the fluttering in his stomach reaching a fever pitch as Colby spoke.  Like everything else his friend said, none of it made sense, but that didn’t stop his strapping frame from quivering at the sudden thought of all the men in town.  He knew he should be mortified at his actions, not only that he was blowing his friend but that he was jerking himself off while he did it, but try as he might Hank couldn’t will the emotion into being.  Far from being embarrassed, his body hummed with ecstasy, his jaw, lips and tongue displaying previously unknown skills as the trio expertly worked Colby’s oozing pole.

The blonde’s large hands clamped onto the side of Hank's head as he held it in place and started pumping his hips.  “I mean, shit, what would you even do with all those slutty clothes of yours?”

Hank only half-heard what his friend said, his attention split between the confusing rush of bliss at having his face fucked, and the loud, slow scratching noise that rang in his ears.  It took a moment for the addled stud to recognize it as the familiar sound of another notch being added to his headboard, only this one felt like it was being etched into his bones.  His vision blurred and the sound of his huffing gags seemed to grow momentarily distant as he erupted, the warm torrent from below mixing with the drool running down his stubble-covered chin.  Colby followed a few moments later, jamming his cock against the back of Hank’s mouth and blasting his copious load straight down the overwhelmed stud’s throat.

“Muuuuuuuuch better,” Colby panted, stroking Hank’s head while the other man gave the softening organ a few final slurps to suck it dry.  He pulled it free after and slapped it roughly against the side of his friend’s face as he tousled the other man’s hair.  “Thanks bro...that’ll tide me over til I meet up with Courtney later.”

Hank was still too overcome to speak, and he didn’t know what he would have said even if he’d been able.  He fell back against the bed, one meaty leg still draped over the edge while his own spent cock flopped onto his hairy stomach, staring in a daze at the underside of his headboard.  Just as the sound suggested, a new notch had somehow dug its way next to the rest.  Hank reached up and ran his finger over the rough edge to convince himself it was real, but yanked the digit away when it brushed against the existing hashes.  Instead of the pleasantly familiar memories that normally came with admiring his collection, Hank’s head flashed with a menagerie of hard, hairy, masculine flesh.

“No!  No...just...that’s not possible,” he told himself, practically leaping out of the bed.  He rubbed his face, feeling none of the disgust he wanted when his palms brushed through the drying cum in his dense stubble, or when he breathed in the occasional waft of Colby’s clinging musk.  He could still taste the other man, and as he eyed his naked frame in the mirror above his dresser, Hank’s cock twitched at the thought of his friend’s juices lingering in his firm stomach.  He scratched absently at his hairy abs as if it would quell the lingering butterflies, giving himself his usual once-over.

Externally, everything seemed exactly as it should.  Broad shoulders, prominent pecs, brawny arms, plump rear, solid thighs, fat cock, light carpet of ruddy hair; nothing was even remotely out of place, yet Hank felt like he was looking at a stranger.  He flexed a powerful arm and pursed his full lips, hoping the sight of his tensed muscles and charming, chiseled face would reinstill his missing sense of unfettered masculinity.  It worked until the rugged fuck-boy realized he was posing and pouting seductively, flashing the kind of expressions he was used to seeing on more feminine features.

“What the fuck is with this morning?!  I was still just asleep, right?  Fucked up thing to dream about, but I didn’t really just blow Colby, did I?  There’s no way I’d…”  Hank broke off in a gasp when he pulled a dresser drawer open, his cum-covered jaw dropping.  Instead of his usual boxers, all he found were designer jockstraps, small bikinis, thongs, and elastic pouches.  “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!  Where did all this shit...come...from…” even as he gawked, Hank found himself pulling out a lime green jock and slipping the revealing garment up his muscled thighs.  He wanted to blush at the way the underwear seemed tailor made to thrust his hefty package forward, at the same time lifting and accentuating his already-ample rear, but all he felt was a smug sense of satisfaction as he looked at his fit frame.  “No...no no no no no…” he moaned when the rest of his wardrobe was revealed.  Instead of inconspicuous jeans, t-shirts, and gym gear, everything Hank should have owned had been swapped out for small, revealing variations.  The unfamiliar garments seemed to share the sole purpose of revealing and accentuating his brawny frame as opposed to covering it, a fact that was driven home when Hank finally pulled out a pair of shorts.

The thin, knit bottoms weren’t so much a pair of actual shorts as much as they were a heather-gray suggestion of them, settling around Hank’s hairy thighs no larger than a pair of standard briefs. The waist was so low that the entirety of the jock’s elastic waist was on display, as was a bit of the pouch, and the visible straps jutting out the bottom were bright green betrayals as the shorts highlighted the middle band of Hank’s muscled cakes while leaving the tops and bottoms of the solid globes exposed.

Any hopes that a top might provide some coverage were dashed when Hank slipped into an unfamiliar t-shirt.  It should have been one of his favorites, a worn, red graphic tee from Brewster’s, a local dive bar, and it should have modestly highlighted his athletic torso, not thrown it to the wolves.  The bottom had been cropped to well above his navel and the neck now scooped low to show off his furry pec-cleavage, while the sleeves and sides had been removed altogether, leaving Hank clad in a seductively frayed, purposely-altered scrap of a muscle shirt.

“Ohhhhhhhh fuck...oh fuck...oh fuuuuuuuuck,” he sputtered, Colby’s earlier statement punching through the haze.  His friend’s comment about Hank’s “slutty clothes” bounced around the addled stud’s skull, slowly becoming echoes of his own voice saying the same thing about the women he’d hooked up with.  As Hank looked at what appeared to be a large orange wedged in the front of his shorts, the exposed bits of his meaty cakes in back, and the slinky top showing off his broad torso, the voices kept jumbling and merging until the shell-shocked pretty-boy wasn’t sure whether he’d always said them about others, or had always heard them about himself.

“I...I can’t...what am I doing?!” Hank tried to stop himself as he sauntered out of his bedroom, an impossible task as he couldn’t even form the idea, let alone put it into action.  Instead he casually slipped into a pair of workboots and grabbed his keys, his heart racing when he saw the time.  In his dazed state he’d forgotten all about his shift at the warehouse, but no matter how much he dreaded the idea of being seen in his current outfit, he was helpless to do anything other than hop behind the wheel of his truck and start driving.  Hank was mortified at the way his shorts rode up, and how natural it all felt as his lower half was left almost entirely exposed as he sat behind the wheel.  The sensation of the open air on so much bare skin should have been foreign, but Hank had to force himself to recognize that anything was out of the ordinary at all.

He was pulling into the parking lot when he finally realized that the tanlines he should have sported were nowhere to be seen, and by then it was too late.  He hopped out of the truck and strutted inside, wishing he could hate the way his meaty rear bounced in the warm sun.  The old Hank braced himself as he threw the door open and stepped inside, but the new one was all smiles at the sight of his coworker.  “Hey man,” he called, spotting Jay lounging by the door.  The bald, heavyset hulk spilled out of a small metal folding chair, his meaty frame making it look like children’s furniture.  He and Hank were the same age and had grown up together, but Jay’s weathered features gave him the appearance of someone at least a decade older.  “How’s it lookin’ this morning?”

“Hell of a lot better now that you showed up,” Jay purred, squeezing the front of his straining denim.