Crack the Code, ch. 4: Golden Rule (Patreon)

Rich didn’t know what was happening.  He’d been at the Oasis for nearly an hour but still sat alone at the bar, an unprecedented event for the ochre-haired hunk.  It wasn’t that the crowd was sparse.  The bustling Tiki spot was full of the same twenty-something hipsters as always, complete with ample young women whose attention Rich normally held captive.  Under ordinary circumstances his mere presence was enough to attract prospective partners, a state that he’d grown accustomed to.  Others may have seen it as arrogance, but after an easy twenty-eight years on the planet, Rich just saw it as the way things were.

Even his detractors had to give credit where it was due.  By societally accepted standards, Rich was as close to perfect as people came.  He stood an even six-feet, his athletic frame covered in an impressive layer of sculpted muscle.  His shoulders were broad, his arms chiseled, and his prominent pecs were a pair of eye-catching mounds that simultaneously served to accentuate the tightness of his trim waist as they pushed whatever shirt he wore out and away from the ripped washboard below.  Not wanting to be outdone, his lower half was just as impressive, sporting a set of firm, gravity-defying cheeks that were large enough to be noticeably present but not overpowering, along with a pair of sturdy thighs and rocky calves.  Covering the precision-crafted muscle was a deep, natural tan from the time he spent jogging outdoors, along with a sparse dusting of the same golden hair that sat in a short, wavy crop on his head.  Rich was by no means “hairy”, but the silky patch in the center of his pecs, along with the wiry coating on his forearms and thighs, were just enough to add a redundant layer of masculinity, while the expertly maintained stubble on his high, prominent cheekbones enhanced that manly aura, roughening what was otherwise a set of almost pretty features.  His lips were full and pouty, his comely nose neither a button nor a beak beneath his bright, sparkling blue eyes, all offset by a wide, dimpled chin, and a deep, smooth voice.  He was both stunning and approachable, someone who could pass for a model or the boy next door depending on what the situation required.  And though he could be admittedly smug, as well as thoughtless and self-absorbed, Rich didn’t think of himself as a “bad guy.”  He could be charming enough to lure in a partner when his Adonis-like physique didn’t get the job done on its own, and he prided himself on making sure that the many, many women fortunate enough to experience his girthy, virile cock never left unsatisfied.

At least physically.  Rich was great when the clothes were coming off, but he ran into trouble when it was time to put them back on.  Because of his abundant opportunities, the smug stud had never even thought about settling down with one person.  This wouldn’t have been a problem on its own, but Rich sometimes had to pretend otherwise in order to land an exceptional hookup that might be looking for more than a quick fuck.  He took a special joy in landing women who were strong and powerful as well as stunning, the act of partnering with someone who was socially as well as physically gifted boosting his already elevated view of himself.  As he regularly bragged about to his friends at the gym, it happened often, though the handsome jock would usually diminish his partners to a level just below himself.  This meant that, between the many women he’d lied to and then spoken ill of, and the resentful men over whom he lorded his physical superiority, not to mention whose girlfriends and wives he eagerly fooled around with, Rich had more than his share of resentful connections.  Not that they affected him in any way.  If things became dramatic or complicated he simply moved on to the next partner or groupie, never having to go for long without his ego, or cock, being stroked by someone.

Which is what made his current circumstances so confounding.  Despite an abundance of potential partners, Rich couldn’t get any of the women at the Oasis to give him so much as a second glance.  He’d even gone to the bathroom to double check his appearance, confirming that his sandy hair was still styled properly, and that his pecs still popped against the straining, tropical-print polo.  Everything was exactly as it should have been, with his ass looking just perky enough in his khaki shorts, so his looks weren’t the problem, and a quick sniff test of his woody cologne and spicy deodorant ruled out hygiene as the issue.

As he sat and stared at his mostly empty glass, Rich began to wonder if his shirt was sending the wrong vibe.  Normally he wore a muted blue or black polo, but since he was going to the tiki-themed spot he’d picked one up on a whim that was light pink and covered in palm fronds.  He already had a few other shirts in various shades of pink and mauve that still looked entirely masculine on his powerful torso, but based on the number of men he saw glancing in his direction, he started to question if he’d made a wrong turn with his attire.  Rich was used to guys hitting on him, and he wasn’t above enjoying the attention, though he’d never noticed quite this many gay guys at the Oasis before.  The lingering eyes became so prevalent that the flustered hunk assumed either a private party or other LGBT-focused event was happening, except that none of the men seemed nearly as interested in each other as they were in him.

Rich drained the rest of his drink and prepared to leave, finally willing to admit defeat, but the sudden appearance of a strong, obviously masculine hand on his lower back stopped him.  A cloud of cologne crept up his nostrils before a man’s face appeared in his peripheral vision, a deep, confident voice quickly following.  “Looks like you need a refill,” the stranger said, taking up the next stool over.

Rich’s instinct was to bristle and pull away.  He didn’t mind when guys flirted with him, but such an obvious power move, the assumption that someone on his level could be picked up so easily, crossed a line.  Or at least it should have.  Instead of pulling away, Rich let the hand linger as he turned to face the other man, his pouty lips curling into a slight grin despite his growing confusion.  Whoever he was, the bold man carried himself with a familiar, self-assured swagger, and he had the looks to back it up: deep brown skin, chiseled, statuesque features beneath short, stylish hair, a toso that showed off every one of its ample muscles as they strained against a pointlessly thin gray t-shirt, and a pair of navy shorts that bulged imposingly in both the front and the back as they stretched around a pair of powerful thighs.  Rich didn’t realize he’d been looking the man slowly up and down until it was far too late to pretend he’d been doing anything else. “Do you just have good timing or were you waiting for me to finish,” he asked, to his own surprise, as he gave the empty glass a twirl.

The other man slowly pulled his hand away from the blonde’s back.  “I may have been enjoying the view,” he said with a guilty smile.  “I thought there’s no way in hell someone so pretty would be sitting here by themselves.  Be a crime to let it continue.”

Rich hated that he felt himself blush.  He’d never been called “pretty” by another man in his life unless it had been an insult, and he’d certainly never had his stomach flutter in response to a guy hitting on him.  “My hero,” he said, leaning closer to the stranger.

“What are you drinking?  No, wait, let me guess,” the man said before Rich could answer, looking him up and down.  “One of the real fancy cocktails, right?  The fruity ones?”  He signaled for the bartender and scanned the menu, nodding.  “Can we get a Peach Passion for my friend here?  I’ll take a scotch and soda.”

Rich felt like he should correct the other man, tell him that he’d actually been drinking whiskey, neat.  He didn’t go for the sugary rum punches or bright, flower-crowned cocktails, but as soon as his new friend ordered it sounded delicious.  “Just scotch and soda?  That doesn’t sound like fun,” Rich pouted, feeling like he was already drunk.  None of his behavior made sense.  He knew he shouldn’t have been playing along, and that even if he was somehow interested in the stranger his desire shouldn’t manifest as him playing the role of lonely lady.  Yet there he was, letting the man touch him and order him a frilly cocktail, the whole time unable to avert his eyes from the stranger’s strapping, sculpted frame.

“I’m a man of simple pleasures,” the flirting hunk shrugged, turning so that his knee brushed against Rich’s.  “So what’s your name?”

Rich knew exactly what was happening.  He could have written a play-by-play of the man’s calculated moves.  The early touch, sitting close, ordering a drink for him, their legs bumping together, asking for his name before the stranger gave his own; they were all techniques that Rich employed to great success.  He just never imagined them working on himself.  “Rich,” he offered, his tone coy.

“Aiden,” the other man said, purposely flexing a powerful arm as he leaned against the bar.  “I’ve seen you around here before, haven’t I?”

Rich nodded.  “I come here all the time, actually.  The drinks are, like, soooo good, but they get me soooo wasted.”  The blonde stud blushed and felt dizzy when he heard himself giggle, seeming more and more like a passenger in his own body.  He was mortified at the way he spoke, but Aiden’s smile only grew to match the obvious desire in his lingering eyes.

“That’s why I stick with the scotch.  The fancy drinks sneak up on you real quick,” the other man said, his tone obviously patronizing.  “Speaking of…” Aiden trailed off as a squat rocks glass was placed in front of him, the hazy tan liquid inside a far cry from the towering hurricane glass that landed in front of Rich.  The contents of the curvy drinkware were a bright pink, capped by an equally colorful umbrella and skewer of tropical fruit.

“Omigod it’s so cute,” Rich giggled again as he leaned in to take a sip from the bamboo straw.  He didn’t try to stop Aiden when the other man reached over and plucked the umbrella from the glass, sensually licking it clean before sticking it back in Rich’s wavy hair.

“It’s a good look,” Aiden said, his hand resting on the blonde’s thigh once he’d affixed the umbrella.  “Matches your outfit.”

“It…does…” Rich froze.  The sensation of Aiden’s hand on his bare thigh hadn’t immediately registered as wrong since he’d been wearing shorts, only now he realized the skin-to-skin contact was occurring much too high on his leg.  Instead of being closer to his knee, the other man’s fingers practically brushed against his bulge, and when he looked down he understood why, if not how.  Instead of a straining polo and shorts, Rich was now clad in a revealing romper.  The one-piece getup bore the same pink-and-palm print as his shirt, but that was where the similarities ended.  The short, cap sleeves barely crested his broad shoulders, while the front was open in a wide V almost to his waist.  The gap left most of his sculpted pecs and impressive washboard on display, and even when it came back together to form the pointless lower half nothing was left to the imagination.  The bottom of the garment ended at a point higher than his former boxer-briefs, and even while sitting on the stool Rich could feel the bottom third of his muscled, meaty cheeks hanging free.  His girthy package was so prominently outlined that the stuffed romper looked like a tropical wrestling singlet, complete with a pair of matching pink boat shoes that had replaced his white leather sneakers.  Rich was arrogant enough to skip over any question as to whether or not he was simply going crazy, jumping straight to the knowledge that something impossible was happening.  He didn’t know if Aiden was responsible or if other forces were at work, but he couldn’t actually muster the will to get up and flee.  He didn’t want to.  When the time finally came for him to leave, he’d want his new friend to come with him.  “Omigod it totally does,” Rich chirped excitedly as he pursed his lips and took a series of selfies.  He immediately heard the change to his voice, and how his deep tone had risen several octaves, but none of that concern showed on his beaming face in the pictures.  “Let’s take one together!”  Rich couldn’t stop himself as they adjusted their positions and he leaned into Aiden’s embrace, taking the opportunity to obviously cop a feel of the other man’s equally-imposing package.  He always liked it when women would do that to him, and he wanted to make his intentions, and the invitation, as clear as possible.

Aiden picked up on it right away.  He gave one of Rich’s meaty globes a squeeze before the other man shifted back to his stool, his hand now fully resting in the nook between the blonde’s sturdy thigh and stuffed package.  “Let me see it before you post that,” he rumbled, his voice now sounding exaggeratedly deep against the romper-clad jock’s light new twitter.

Rich knew what was happening when he handed over his phone.  He knew Aiden was putting his number in it and sending himself a message, not looking at the picture, but he was all too happy to let him.  “Satisfied,” he purred when the phone was handed back to him.  “Oh, hey, look at that.  I sent you a text,” he winked, as he read it aloud.  “‘What’s up stud muffin,” Rich giggled, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you think I’m a stud,” Aiden grinned, flexing his pecs independently and making the thin t-shirt bounce.

Rich drank it all in, along with another pair of Peach Passions.  He basked in the sound of his new friend’s deep voice as Aiden went on and on about himself, flaunting his startup salary and bragging about his townhouse.  He tried to sound impressive as he launched into a detailed account of his workout routine, slipping Rich’s hand beneath his shirt to feel the firm abs underneath, never once stopping to ask the blonde anything about himself.  Rich didn’t mind.  He was only barely paying attention anyway, his thoughts having drifted to everything he wanted to do with, and have done to him by, Aiden.  He saw himself on his knees, his face bobbing up and down as he eagerly slurped on the other man’s undoubtedly massive cock, before he started to think about how good it would feel to bounce on that rigid girder instead.  He squirmed internally as he thought about having the fat monster inside him, and how he longed for the sensation of Aiden looming over him as he was taken again and again.

It wasn’t until he felt a growing pressure at his core that Rich noticed the discrepancy between what he was feeling and his body’s reaction to it.  He was so turned on he felt like he could combust, but the fat cock wedged against Aiden’s fingers was still stubbornly soft.  He excused himself to the bathroom, trying to ignore the sensation of his exposed rear shifting in the open air as his feet carried him straight into the Women’s restroom.  It didn’t even register as his destination until after he was inside, and though he felt a brief moment of panic, none of the women acted as if a buff, scantily clad man had just sauntered in.

Rich slipped into the nearest stall, his heart racing as he peeled the romper down to discover a violet thong where his boxer briefs should have been.  The pale purple pouch was filled to capacity, but as he pulled it down and sat on the toilet to relieve himself, there was absolutely no indication that the hefty hose would be hardening any time soon.  There was a damp spot in the thong from where he’d been oozing, but no amount of groping or tugging could cause the slumbering serpent to stir.  The sensations still felt good, but Rich became immediately aware that the dangling banana was no longer the source of the pressure he felt at the base of his spine.

A pattern started to emerge as he pulled the thong back up and stretched the romper over his shoulders.  His outfit, his behavior, his voice, his fantasies; they were all the things he looked for in a woman.  He liked a ditzy, doting doll whose tits and ass were on display and who wasn’t afraid to get freaky in the bedroom.  Oral and anal were his favorites, and as he strutted back out to the bar he knew, without a shred of doubt, that he was about to discover if that held true when he was on the receiving end.

Aiden was waiting for him at the bar, no longer seated but standing next to their stools.  “I cashed us out while you were gone.  Do you want to…”

“Go back to my place?  I thought you’d never ask,” Rich purred in his seductive new voice.  He took Aiden by the hand, not feeling the hesitation he’d expected at the thought of walking hand-in-hand with another man down the street, but no one reacted anyway.  Rich liked the Oasis because his condo was only a few blocks away, a short stroll that allowed for preliminary makeouts and groping before their arrival, though he was afraid they’d entered the wrong address when they finally stumbled inside.

Much like his clothing, instead of the drab, masculine interior he’d expected, everything was pastel, floral and feminine.  Rich knew he’d never owned, or even seen, any of it ever before, but at the same time he knew without a doubt that it was his.  It was all impossibly familiar, from the cozy, scented-candle aroma, to the faux-fur blanket on the back of the pink sofa, to the rose quartz and amethyst crystals peppering nearly every surface.  It was a meme-worthy interior, an amalgamated caricature of all the things he’d ever expected to find in the homes of his previous hookups.

There was a vase full of fresh flowers on the table with an envelope in front of it, but Rich didn’t have time to investigate before Aiden was on him.  The burly hunk wrapped his arms around him from behind, eliciting a sharp gasp as he pulled open the front of the romper and kissed his way down Rich’s neck.  The blonde jock couldn’t believe the rush of exposure he felt when his nipples were suddenly bare, as if his cock had just flopped free, which itself wasn’t far from happening.  Aiden already had the romper down to his thighs, exposing the stuffed thong while his own clothes remained untouched.

“Looks like someone’s excited,” the smug stud grinned, running a finger over the growing damp spot on Rich’s pouch.

“Can you blame me,” the blonde Adonis asked, his head spinning as he tried to process what he felt.  He’d never been this turned on before without his hefty cock aching and rigid, and as he ground the limp organ against Aiden’s hand he felt a rush of arousing embarrassment at the way the handsome hunk smiled at it.  “Am I the only one?”  He reached out and grabbed Aiden’s rigid cock through the other man’s shorts, kneading the impressive pole as he danced his fingers along the tented outline.

Rich didn’t even try to stop himself.  He had Aiden’s pants and briefs down in a flash, his full, soft lips eagerly wrapped around the other man’s fat log as he went to work.  Though Rich had never even thought about blowing another man before, he moved with a decade’s worth of acquired muscle memory, suddenly recalling his many, many encounters from the other side.  He knew how to use his lips, tongue and hands to bring Aiden to the brink over and over, relishing the sensation of the other man’s warm, firm cock against his face as he nuzzled the spit-slick organ.

By the time they collapsed onto his pastel sheets in a tangle of naked lips and limbs, Rich no longer questioned any of it.  He wished he had a better vantage point than looking back over his shoulder when Aiden plunged inside and began hammering into his meaty rear, but he knew how much guys loved a good doggy-style.  The feeling of his plump pecs bouncing and his limp, oozing cock slapping wildly no longer registered as out of the ordinary, just as the sound of his shrill, ecstatic wailing echoing off the walls sounded entirely normal.

Rich lost himself to the experience.  It was everything he’d hoped for and more, at once brand new and impossibly familiar.  Aiden came long before he did, blissfully filling Rich’s fluttering guts with a warm deluge, but like a true gentleman he fingered the blonde’s battered hole until the whimpering hunk finally fell over the edge.  Instead of the brief, intense release he was used to, the sensation was agonizingly slow, as if his every muscle melted and oozed out of his limp, leaking member.

Following some light cuddling while they caught their breath, Rich ignored his desire to spend the night in Aiden’s arms and saw the other man out.  He knew guys didn’t like it when he got all clingy and tried to insist on them staying over, so he wasn’t going to push.  After all, Aiden had his number if he wanted more.

In the process, though, Rich discovered how far the changes went.  It wasn’t just his outfit at the bar that had been altered, but all of his clothing.  Boxer briefs were now thongs and bikinis, everything was as small and bright as possible, and though most of it was still cut for a masculine body, it was all very feminine in styling.  He’d slipped into a pair of pink bikinis and a loose, cropped tank-top to walk Aiden to the door, feeling a new need to cover his sculpted chest the way he covered his package.  He normally lingered shirtless whenever possible, but now Rich felt a naughty thrill shoot through him at the thought of jogging bare-chested down the street or wearing nothing but a bikini bottom at the beach.  He likewise ignored the voice in his head that kept insisting it all should have been horrifying, acknowledging that something had indeed changed but refusing to let himself feel bad about any of it.  He was well aware that his life had become wildly different, but it all felt far too right to be anywhere near wrong.

Until he finally read the letter waiting for him with the flowers.  He’d almost forgotten about it entirely during his romp with Aiden, but the pink envelope had caught his eye after he’d seen his new friend out.  The hand-written note inside was devastatingly brief, the sweet, fragrant aroma wafting from the bright bouquet of hyacinth and freesia a sharp contrast to his plummeting stomach as he read it aloud, his lightened voice shaking:

“Rich - I hope this note finds you well.  Please understand that I really do have your best interests at heart, even if those feelings aren't reciprocated on your end.  I wouldn’t have been upset by our brief time together, even though you led me to believe it was going to be otherwise, only I heard about how you described me afterwards.  I’ve worked too hard in my life to be a promiscuous idiot’s “desperate” or “easy” lay, and I’m nobody’s “whore.”  I know you can’t help yourself, and since you seem to be so obsessed with experiencing as many women as possible, I thought it would make things easier for you to just live that feminine life firsthand.  Or at least whatever twisted version of it lives in that pretty, empty head of yours.  None of this was cheap, believe me, but I tried to make sure the Code Breaker included as many of your favorites as possible.  This note, and your memory of it, will disappear when you get to the end, so don’t worry; we can still be friends.  Can’t wait for us to have a girls’ day soon!  All the best - Lisa.”

The scantily-clad stud blinked at the brimming vase on the table, a hand absently scratching at his exposed abs.  He felt like he’d just been doing something, but he couldn’t remember what it was.  There was a brief moment of disorientation as he looked around his primped, pastel condo, though Rich couldn’t put his finger on the cause.

He shrugged and shook his head, blaming his dazed state on the pounding Aiden had just given him.  “Oh well.  Guess it wasn’t that important,” he squeaked, his barely covered cheeks bouncing as he trotted to the bathroom.  “I hope I still have one of those Berry Blast bath bombs…I need to soak this pussy after all that.  Hashtag selfcare,” he giggled to himself as he cranked the hot water on and slipped out of his crop top.

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Voting Options

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Option 1: Check back in with Austen and Matt to see how things have been going since their changes in the first Crack the Code story.  (age progression, cock growth, cock shrink, shrinking)

Option 2: Since being targeted at work after exposing his abusive superiors, a whistleblower causes the men to expose themselves more and more for each lie they told, as well as pulling a Pinocchio. (stripped, straight to gay, cock growth)

Option 3: After luring in new employees with promises of a “fun” work environment, a company which is anything but gets an extreme makeover in order to live up to its promises. (stripped, fetish gear)

Option 4: A man learns the hard way that it’s not a good idea to try and rip off the Code Breaker, taking on all of the changes that he tried to put on another. (cock shrink, muscle growth, exhibitionism)