Charlie

[dhalden]

This is the first story that I have ever posted publicly anywhere, ever. So be honest, but kind. That said, I've worked on about a dozen different versions of this same story, always with the intention of posting it here, but never quite finding it right. I've settled on this, so let me know what you think.

Also, it's kind of a slow burner (I promise you that there is growth to come), so if you'll just grant me your patience, you'll be rewarded in good time.

Without further ado, I give you the first entry of "Charlie".





Friday night and my only company was the cold beer sweating beside my open laptop and the stack of my students? essays I still hadn?t gotten around to grading. Such was the product of the English education major who had decided to return to his hometown instead of moving on to bigger and better things. And if you think reading the half-formed arguments of high school seniors trying to convince me that Holden Caulfield was anymore intellectually insightful than angst-ridden teens today was my ideal way of spending my Friday evenings, you’re wrong (and doubly so, if you think Mr. Caulfield wasn?t just an egocentric little shit).

Yes, even I, Mr. Donovan of West Cape High, wished his life was more than it was.

That said wish would begin to be fulfilled in the form of an email would never have crossed my mind, but as I slashed across yet another essay with my trusty red marker, I heard the gentle ping on my laptop signaling that a new message had just dropped into my inbox. Sighing, I capped the marker and tossed it aside. Another late assignment, I thought. Number three of the night. Can you say ?ten points off?? Which wasn?t exactly fair, considering I?d promised to return them two days previously, but that was one of the small joys of being a teacher: minor omnipotence.

It was the subject heading that caught my attention first: ?Long Time, No See!?

When I?d begun teaching, I had gone into envisioning that I would be one of those few educational greats who ends up getting a movie made about them, even if it was a small, Lifetime-sized one. As part of that image, I had taken to giving out my personal email address to my students because it made me, by connection, seem more personal. In the end, proved fruitless because they used it only to turn in late assignments or ask for the reading they had been too lazy to copy down. That being said, you can imagine my surprise at such an unexpected and amicable subject heading.

I clicked open the email and, well?have you ever had your stomach drop and your heart jump simultaneously? It?s not a pleasant feeling, let me tell you, but such was the sensation that gripped my torso as I read the first sentence of that fateful email.

I hope you?re sitting down. Are you? Good?Charlie Greene here!
If you?re still reading this then I guess you didn?t have a heart attack.
I know I would have if you had emailed me out of the blue like this, so I guess I owe ya one. How about lunch this Saturday?

Shoot me back a response ASAP. I?d love to see ya again soon man!

Charlie

I stared flabbergasted at the name on the screen before me. When I finally realized that my mouth was literally hanging open, I reached for my beer and downed the rest of it. And then I went for a second. When I had finished that one and began to feel the alcohol start to permeate, I finally flexed my fingers and let them drop to the keyboard. I must have tried a dozen variations of the same reply before I settled on the briefest. Before I could stop myself I hit ?send?.

I suddenly realized that my pulse was electric and I was rock hard.

All eight and a half inches of my cock throbbed in my boxers, begging for attention. I swiftly reached for the pulsing shaft and gasped at the sensation. It was incredibly sensitive to the touch and as I gently wrapped my hand around it, my cock twitched eagerly. I haven?t been this hard in years, I thought. Slowly, I eased my hand down my rigid dick and instantly I felt my balls draw tighten and draw close to my body. It?s like I?m nineteen again or something. This isn?t going to last long. And it didn?t. Not the first time, at least. As the first shot of cum splattered across my chest, I lost my breath and jerked in my chair. My toes curled as the second, third, and fourth followed and my ass clenched.

?Holy shit,? I panted when I?d finally finished. ?Holy shit??

I couldn?t remember that last time I had had such an overwhelming sexual experience?and all by myself at that! Don?t get me wrong: I had stretched my fair share of holes since graduating college and had some incredible encounters, but none in recent memory and certainly none that had left me feeling so, so?fresh. For the first time in years, I didn?t feel my age.

I wanted to feel it again.

My cock was still half-hard when I picked it up and it instantly responded to my coaxing, lengthening once more to its full potential as I stroked. Every vein, every rigid vein, pulsated as I jerked my cock, and I could practically feel my balls swelling for a second round of output. A minute later they released their contents in three long ropes, splattering my already cum-covered chest.

?Oh, wow?holy shit…? I said, collapsing backwards in my chair. Dazedly, I plucked some Kleenex from the box beside my printer and started cleaning cum off my chest. I haven?t cum back to back like this since I can?t remember when. I wonder if I could go for a third time?

?I don?t think so,? I panted to myself. As fantastic as the orgasms had been, they exhaustion that followed them was already settling in. I had just wiped off the last of jizz from my right nipple when my laptop pinged again. Hurriedly, I tossed the cum-soaked Kleenex into the garbage and opened up the reply awaiting me in my inbox. It simply said:

See you tomorrow!

I was halfway through my breakfast the next morning when I abruptly remembered that I still had a box of college mementos tucked away somewhere in the attic. And so, abandoning my half-finished plate of toast and eggs on the morning of the day that would change my life, I found myself crawling into the cob-webbed filled attic of my house wearing only boxers and my glasses.

I hadn?t slept well and thus yawned loudly as I began rifling through the dozen or so boxes that filled one corner of the attic. I had gone to bed shortly after the previous night?s jerk session, spent yet still horny, but found that I couldn?t even begin to fall asleep. Thoughts of Charlie Greene filled my head, both good and bad. As an English teacher and aspiring writer, I would be amiss not to reveal this next part?the obligatory and necessary details of mine and Charlie?s backstory. The short version sounds something like: we were nineteen when we met in the latter half of our freshmen year at college. I was an English major with a lit minor from California, he was a business/communications double-major from Indiana. We met when we were assigned as partners in a shared Bio lab and such was the not-so-glamorous meeting of our two lives. By sophomore year we were roommates. That?s the short, clean, ?boy meets boy? part of the story.

The ?boy loses boy? part comes later.

?Here it is,? I grumbled as I heaved the box marked COLLEGE DAYS from its place in the corner of the attic. Sliding it into the middle of the floor, I opened it and began pulling out the contents within: old papers and portfolios, a foam finger from some long-forgotten sporting event, my diploma, and an assortment of other once-valued memorabilia that I could just as easily do without. Beneath it all, however, was a stack of photographs held together by a rubber band.

Charlie?s beaming face stared back at me.

The same disarming grin that had sent butterflies frantically buzzing through my stomach nearly twenty years ago had not lost its effect. If anything, it was more potent and infectious. I felt a grin of my own spread across my lips as I plucked the photograph from the pile and examined it closer: those clear green eyes, the short, sun-kissed blond hair, and the beautiful fucking smile. It was a politician?s smile, fake as all hell, but nonetheless handsome. It would throw you on your metaphorical ass if you weren?t prepared for it and I hardly ever was. Nor were the half-drunken coeds he had picked up every Friday night.

Are you really still bitter about that all these years later?

?So what,? I grumbled, and began flicking the rest of the photographs. Charlie and I (looking pathetically sub-par beside him in my oversized leather jacket that I had once inexplicably thought was cool looking) standing in front of our dorm. Charlie in his soccer uniform, sweaty and grass-stained. Charlie with his arm around me at one of the countless house parties he had dragged me along to some weekend. Surely there were more photos than just those of Charlie? I?d had other friends, like Carol and Jeff, so where were those photos?

As I reached for the box again, I glanced out the dusty window. The sun was already high in the sky, easily nearing noon. How long have I been up here, I thought, and hurriedly scrambled back downstairs.

?Shit!? I hissed. Only an hour until I was supposed to meet Charlie and I still needed to shower. Mentally kicking myself, I hurried into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Five minutes later, sopping but cleaned, I reached for a towel and began drying off when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Where in the hell had that guy come from? Sure, I hadn?t actively worked out in a few months (okay, at least a year), but the slight paunch of fat around my middle seemed a little unfair. And my chest, when had that happened? I?d never sported an enormous chest, but it had at least been defined. But now?now my pecs were just sad and drooping.

?Real impressive, Andrew,? I said. Despite the fact that it was easily eighty degrees outside, I donned a jacket in hopes of hiding my softening blob of a torso and jumped in my car.

We had agreed on Applebees, an old favorite of mine, and as I stepped through the door, I prayed that I had arrived first. A table wouldn?t hide much, but it would tuck my enormous erection out of sight. Just the memory of Charlie had made me hard again on the short drive over and I desperately wanted to keep it hidden from view. Correction: I desperately wanted to duck into the bathroom and jerk off until I couldn?t move, but that didn?t exactly seem a feasible option.

?I?m meeting someone here,? I told the hostess nervously. ?Last name is Donovan.?

?Oh, yes,? she said perkily. ?The second party hasn?t arrived yet. Would you like to wait for them or would you like to be seated now??

?Now,? I said, perhaps a little too desperately. The hostess? grin faltered only slightly as she beckoned for me to follow her to a corner booth. I ordered water and waited, my eyes trained on the door. I wonder what he looks like now. Why the hell don?t I have a Facebook? I could have just looked him up. Idiot.

Every time the door opened, I straightened in my seat, but each time it was an elderly couple, a middle-aged woman and her friend, or a pair of students that I discovered I unfortunately recognized. Not that the student body at West Cape didn?t know I was gay (that was the most swiftly trafficked news that I had ever come to know), but it was nonetheless awkward to see them out and about when I was on a date. This isn?t a date though, Romeo. It?s a lunch. Keep that line of thinking at bay. It got you into major trouble last time, remember?

Last time. How could I forget?

The door opened again, but I was hardly paying attention. I was lost in one of the most mortifying memories of my life. That cool, spring night my senior year of college. Outside, in front of that frat house that still haunted my dreams. Some Third Eye Blind song was blasting from a stereo through an open window. Inside, people were screaming and laughing and cheering. Beer cans and Solo cups littered the front lawn and I was standing before him, lips trembling and dry?

?Andy??

?Hmm?? I said, looking up from my water. And then my mouth fell open.

To say my heart skipped a beat would be an understatement. Leaped would be a closer, more accurate description. Jumped. Dove. Take your pick. They?re all relatively inadequate. I believe my heart may have altogether stopped, if only for the briefest second, which technically means I died for a second. Which, in that moment, instantly seemed a much more attractive option.

?Charlie,? I breathed.

The first thing I noticed was that grin. That impossibly fucking brilliant grin. It was stretched across the face that time had ostensibly forgotten. Whereas the first of middle age?s wrinkles had already begun to form at the corner of my eyes, there wasn?t the slightest hint of one on that flawless face. Dazzlingly white and wide, his smile was practically blinding. Or, it would have been if the rest of him didn?t absolutely command examination. Although I wouldn?t have thought it possible, my eyes were torn from that grin and drawn to the rest of him, starting with his shoulders.

The slim, wiry soccer star that Charlie had been when I had known him last was long gone. His shoulders were wider than I had ever seen them. They weren?t massive, but sculpted to fit the red polo shirt that fit him snugly as a glove?and those arms! They were easily as thick around as my calves and strained the sleeves of that shirt in a way that made my already hard cock impossibly harder.

?Hey, man!? he said, sliding in across from me. ?How are you?! It?s been so long!?

?I?I?m fine,? I said breathlessly. ?You look?how are you??

He grinned again. ?Good, I?m good. Sorry I?m late. I got a little lost. You already order??

I must have answered, but I don?t remember. I watched in a daze as he scanned his menu, his thick arms swelling even thicker and straining the sleeve further as he bent them to hold the menu. They had to have been at least eighteen inches, probably larger. I wouldn?t know; I had only ever dreamt of arms that large.

?I think I?ll get the steak. What?re you getting?? he wondered aloud.

?I?the, uh, steak, yeah,? I stammered.

?Great!? he said, and flashed that grin. My cock grew painfully stiffer.

I?m certain I was painfully obviously awed by the man sitting across from me, but I was evidently not the only one. As the waitress arrived, she audibly gasped at the sight of my lunch companion before composing herself again.

?So that?ll be two steaks, medium?? she said after he had ordered, never taking her eyes off him.

?Sounds right to me,? he said and winked at her. Girl, I feel sorry for your ovaries. They must be on fire, I thought instantly. I know I am. At the thought, I reached for my water and began sipping it ferociously.

?So you?re probably wondering why I?m in town, right?? he said, placing his hands on the table. They were so much thicker than the last time I had seen them, the hands of a man who had labored long hours in the gym. Cords of muscle stood out in his forearms. Not at all the hands a former soccer player.

?Yes,? I said. Drop the monosyllabic answers, you sound like a cave man. ?Yes, I was wondering why you were in town, yes.?

?Well,? he started to say, and paused dramatically. It was nice to see that not quite everything had changed about him, though the obvious transformations certainly weren?t unwelcome. ?I?m moving here! I got a transferred last month and now I have to relocate here, man. Can you believe that??

I reminded myself not to give a one word answer.
?I can?t, no. What do you do??

I couldn?t have cared less what he did, honestly. I just wanted to hear him speak. In addition to the underwear model?s physique he had developed since we had graduated, his voice had dropped half an octave. It probably wasn?t obvious to everyone, but I could still vividly remember the long nights we had stayed up talking about everything under the sun and, to me, it was definitely deeper.

He frowned slightly. ?Personal accounting, mostly. I won?t bother you with the gory details. So you?re an English teacher now??

I wondered for a moment how he knew, but then I remembered that he had contacted me through my school email. I didn?t realize it then, but that necessarily meant that he had done some digital digging for my contact information. West Port High?s faculty contact information page wasn?t on the first page of Google results, if you catch my drift. Nevertheless, I blathered on for a while about my teaching duties, before asking,

?So where?re you living? The east side of town??

For the first time that afternoon, the smile dropped from his face and the light behind those green eyes dimmed. He turned and stared out the window, biting his lip. It would have been sexy as hell (okay, it was sexy as hell) if it didn?t look so unnatural on his face. He turned back to me.

?I actually don?t have a place yet,? he said. ?I?m still looking, you know??

And before I could stop myself, before I could fully formulate the thought in my mind and factor in the countless possibilities and repercussions that could and ultimately would result from such a simple, stupid, and unguarded statement, I said,

?Stay with me.?

He turned back to me. He still wasn?t smiling.

[vga518]

Oh my WOW! The suspense! I can't wait to read what happens next and read about his past too.

[pizzadaddy]

well... that was insanely hot. I dont know if I fit the Andrew or Charlie character... Ill just go to the bathroom and recreate this whole thing in the mirror... shut up

[arpeejay]

http://www.facebook.com/arpeejay

[dhalden]

Thanks for the early feedback, guys! I'm psyched to know y'all enjoyed it!

Working on the next entry as we speak!

Arpeejay - thanks for the corrections/compliments.

[dhalden]

?You want me to stay with you?? he asked. His frown grew graver.

Which was when I realized that H.G. Wells had made the Time Machine too convoluted, because in that moment I discovered that you didn?t need a thousand gears and steam pressure to send yourself careening into the past, all you needed was a too-vivid memory. As Charlie?s words hung heavily in the air between us, I felt myself slipping back into 2000?

The song was ?Deep Inside of You?, a personal favorite of mine then and occasionally now when, on the lonely nights when I sometimes become nostalgic, I look it up on YouTube. It was streaming from the second floor window of the Alpha Gamma Sigma house, across the front lawn. The smell of rain was heavy in the air, preceding the storm that would ensue, and I was standing wordlessly in front of Charlie. His plaid shirt was peeled open, revealing his flat stomach and the dark treasure trail beneath. There was a thin film of sweat on his abs and I had to remind myself not to look at them. In that moment we were further from one another than we had ever been, despite the fact we only stood a few feet apart.

??you?re lying,? he said finally.

I shook my head feebly.

?How the hell am I supposed to respond to that??

?You don?t have to. I just thought you should know.?

?That you?re a faggot?? he said loudly. The few people standing in the front lawn turned to look at us; I could feel their eyes trained on us like children?s at the animals in a zoo. Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone break away from the crowd and dart inside, undoubtedly eager to report the news that there was drama unfurling outside. Soon people would be crowding at the door. My cheeks grew hot.

?So, what?re you saying,? he continued. ?You want to, like, suck me off or something??

I flinched. ?No,? I said, wounded. ?I?you?re my best friend and I just??

?I am not your boyfriend,? he said loudly.

?That?s not what I said,? I growled, growing angry. ?I said you?re my best friend.?

?You go find yourself some other fairy to suck off,? he said. Half of the party was on the lawn now, beers in hand, audibly oohing at the sight of us, practically egging us on. I felt like I was on fire. I had never been so embarrassed in all of my life, nor so angry.

?That?s rich,? I said sharply, before I could stop myself.

?The hell are you talking about?? he said, stepping closer.

?Calling me a fairy,? I said, just as loudly. ?You?re the big soccer star?grass fairy.?

I regretted instantly, but I still ended up on the curb tasting blood, waiting for someone to help me up or at least ask if I was okay, envisioning myself pushing them away heroically as I rose to my full height and showed the world that I could handle myself?but no-one moved an inch nearer to me. They all just stood where they were and laughed as I struggled to my feet, my nose streaming blood.

Back to West Cape, California. 2013.

?You want me to stay with you,? he said again. His mouth was a thin, straight line.

?I?I mean, just until you can, you know, find a place,? I said quickly. ?Just so you?re not, you know, spending all your money on a hotel. I?ve got an extra room that I?ve been meaning to turn into an office, but I never got around to it, so??

Shut up. I was blathering. I could hear myself, but I couldn?t stop. And I hated myself for it, doubly for the fact that I still felt so insecure after all these years, still felt the need to justify myself. It?s always the scars written on our souls that we can?t escape that surface and remind us who we truly were?or are.

He rolled the thick, square jaw of his and suddenly the frowned melted away.

?I don?t want to impose or anything?? he said slowly.

I was dumbfounded, which many people say they?ve been, but I couldn?t admit to being until that moment. Truly and wholly dumbfounded. Nonetheless, I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could utter a sound, the waitress suddenly materialized beside us again, brandishing our food.

?Two medium steaks,? she said, her eyes glued on Charlie. ?You sure can eat a lot, mister.?

?One of those is his actually,? he said affably, and slid one of the platters toward me.

?Oh, of course. Silly me. I just saw those big arms of yours and assumed all this meat and protein was for you,? she said, in what was an obviously rehearsed, though poorly delivered, pick up line.

His smiled dropped away. ?Right. Thanks.?

She lingered for a moment longer, chewing her lip, but then suddenly turned on her heel and marched away, tossing an angry glare over her shoulder at me. Normally, I would have felt triumphant in that moment, but I was presently still wordlessly in awe of my own luck.

?You said you have a spare room,? he prompted me.

?Oh, right,? I said quickly. ?You. Me. Living together?beside one another, I mean. In the same house, but...different rooms. Right.?

?I wouldn?t be imposing? You?re sure? I mean, your boyfriend wouldn?t mind???

I frowned. ?I?m not, uh, seeing anyone right now, no.?

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but stopped and suddenly picked up his fork and knife and cut into his steak. I mimicked him, carefully training my eyes on my plate. Below the table, my erection had subsided, a combination of the sheer surprise and disbelief I was experiencing and the anxiety now coursing through my veins. This bubble?s about to pop, I thought. Any second now, so don?t you dare start buying into this dream you?re having. You?ll wake up any second now.

But there was no bubble, so it did not pop. We ate in relative silence, occasionally tossing in a meant-to-be-humorous story about some circumstance we had recently encountered, but the humor was lost on the both of us. I didn?t know what he was feeling and I was sure I didn?t want to. I certainly didn?t want him to know what I was feeling. A half hour later the waitress returned, noticeably less genial, and dropped our check onto the table.

?Let me,? he said, and reached for the check.

?My treat,? I said, extending a hand.

?I invited you,? he said. ?Seriously. Let me.?

?Save your money. You need it.?

He cocked a confused eyebrow. ?For what??

?You don?t think I?m not going to charge rent, do you?? I said. I was surprised by how smooth my delivery was, because so rarely do lines that you form in your head sound so well when they escape your lips. I was a lucky man that day though.

?That?s a yes?? he said, straightening in his seat. I hadn?t even realized he had begun to slouch, but as he sat up and rolled his shoulders back, I felt my cock began to stiffen again. Good Lord, boy, we?re going to have to work something out. You can?t have me yo-yoing back and forth this much. My blood pressure can?t handle it.

?That?s a yes,? I said, and smiled.


We agreed that he would move in the next Wednesday. I explained that despite the fact that I did have a spare room, it was full of junk and needed cleaning out. Though he offered to help, I refused and spent the next three days slaving away after I got home from work to make sure that the room was in shape for his arrival. Truthfully, however, I worked more on the rest of the house. I wanted to rid it of as many ostensibly ?gay? things as I possibly could before he moved in. Granted, he had seemed more acceptable of my sexuality than he had when I had seen him last, but every man has limits, I knew.

Which was how half of my DVD collection, books, and music ended up in boxes in the attic.

At least that was the worst of it. Or so I?d thought.

On Wednesday afternoon, as I settled into the teacher?s lounge for my tuna sandwich lunch, a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. Before I even looked up to follow the arm that it was connected to, I knew to whom it belonged. The rough callouses that covered it were perceptible even through my shirt and the fingers that gripped my shoulder dug into it unnecessarily hard. Dark black hair covered the huge knuckles.

?Mind if I join you?? he said, dropping into a seat beside me before I could answer.

There are certain obvious disadvantages to moving back to your hometown after graduating college. In addition to the fact that you never get to experience the outside world, you may have the displeasure of having to end up working with someone you have despised since high school. For me, that person took the form of Rick Hockstetter.

?I was actually hoping for a little alone time today,? I said flatly.

?Contemplating that big move-in later today, eh?? he said conversationally.

My head instantly swung toward him.

?How do you know about that?? I demanded.

Rick was the obligatory combination gym teacher/football coach. A part of me had always thought that he must have taken pride in the image because he tried so ridiculously hard to maintain and fit it, but another part of me thought it was sad. Then I remembered that I was an English teacher who wore glasses and fantasized about someday becoming a famously published author and realized that I was as much a clich? as he was. I tried to interact with him as little as I possibly could, but work and the fact that we lived a small town made it frustratingly impossible sometimes.

?This is a small town,? he reminded me, scratching is unshaven cheeks with one of his big, equally hairy hands. ?People talk too much.?

?Evidently,? I said. ?Can I help you with anything else??

He chuckled a deep, gravelly chuckle.

?As a matter of fact there is,? he said. ?I was just wondering what the fella?s name is.?

He was a high school football star gone to seed and, as such, had a barrel chest that would have been impressive were it not undermined by the large, rolling stomach that jutted out beneath it. Every inch of him was covered in hair?this I had learned after an unfortunate run in at the local gym?s locker-room?and seemingly growing hairier by the day. He was the only man I had ever met who could shave one day and have a full lumberjack?s beard three days later. He had actually been pretty attractive when we were high school and (gag me with a spoon for saying this) I had even had a slight crush on him back then. Experience and time had sobered me up though, and I knew that I would never feel anything but repulsion for him.

Before I could answer, he laughed raucously and slapped me on the back.

?Have fun with your new boy toy,? he said, loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear, and then he rose from the chair and stalked out of the room, belching underneath his breath. Gross, I thought.

I spent the rest of the day wondering just how Rick had known Charlie was moving in. Sure it was a small town, but it wasn't like I had advertised Charlie?s arrival with a neon sign. There was no stopping the rumor mill once it was in motion though; soon, everyone would know. Which I honestly didn?t mind for my own sake as much as I did for Charlie?s. If he heard that people thought we were together?well, let?s just say I feared I might find myself transported back to 2000 again.

After school, I raced home and did one last check of my house. We had agreed that Charlie would move in at approximately four thirty, seeing as he was due out of his hotel room at three forty-five. Everything seemed in order when I scanned the house, but I knew myself well enough to know that I had forgotten something. Before I could check a third time, the doorbell suddenly rang. I froze in place. Here goes.

I opened the door and my stomach turned over at the sight of him.

He wasn?t wearing a polo shirt this time, but tan dress pants and a deep purple dress shirt, minus a tie. The top three buttons of his shirt had been left undone, revealing an all-too-noticeable line of cleavage in his chest. It was as deeply tan as the rest of him and beckoned for my eyes to follow it. I resisted and quickly tore my gaze from his chest.

?I?m not early am I?? he said. ?You look...unprepared.?

For you? Always.

?No, I just got off work. School. Same difference. Do you need me to help you carry stuff in??

Like he needed my help; he looked as if practiced physical labor for a living. The moment I had opened the door, however, I had caught strong waft of his aftershave, a pungent musty smell that somehow reminded me of leather, and I decided that I hadn?t quite had my fill of it yet. I followed him out to his car, catching furtive glances of his wide shoulders and back out of the corner of my eye. Is he taller than he used to be, I wondered. Maybe I?m just shorter. Or maybe not. He is thicker, that?s for sure. Why not taller too?

He had surprisingly few possessions and we managed to get all of it into the house in just a few trips. When he had finished, I dropped onto the couch, embarrassingly tired. He remained standing.

?Do you want a beer?? I offered.

?No thanks, I don?t drink. Empty calories. Can I just have a glass of water??

When I returned from the kitchen, beer and water in hand, I found that he had taken a seat on the couch himself, his hands folded placidly in his lap. Charlie?s handsome, clean-cut look was at odds with my drab, second-hand furniture and d?cor. It looked like I was entertaining a celebrity whose car had broken down outside of my house and needed to use my phone.

?You?re very healthy,? I said conversationally, handing him the glass of water. ?I just mean, I noticed that you eat well. And you said you don?t drink. You work out a lot??

Dumbest question ever. Obviously he works out. Look at that body.

?Whenever I can fit it in,? he said. I couldn?t decide if that meant he didn?t get to work out as much as he would like or whenever he had the free time, but didn?t ask. ?What about you? Do you work out??

Second dumbest question ever. Look at my body.

?I used to, but not in a while. My gym membership expired and I never, uh, renewed it.?

Something behind those green eyes flitted to life and I mentally checked myself to make sure that I hadn?t said anything remiss or given a wrong impression.

?Hey, I?ve got an idea,? he said suddenly. ?It?s kind of crazy, but hear me out.?

?Yeah??? I said slowly.

He grinned excitedly, that fucking brilliant smile flourishing on his face, and I shifted in my chair to hide the erection I could feel growing in my pants. He suddenly unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back his sleeves, revealing those thick forearms that strained the fabric. His arms were lightly covered in hair. I hadn?t noticed before, given that the hair was blond, but sunlight was streaming through the window and illuminating them now. How the hell big were his forearms anyway?

?How about I become your personal trainer? I?ll be living here anyway, so it?ll be easy to keep you accountable and that way I?ll be like your personal personal trainer. You won?t have to pay or anything. In fact, I?ll be paying you, since I?ll be paying rent. I used to do some training when I lived in Florida for a little bit. What do you think??

He moved his hands animatedly as he spoke. I had forgotten how much of a kid he seemed to me whenever he got truly excited by an idea?which was ironic, given that I felt like a gawking teenager whenever I was in his presence. A sort of light erupted behind his eyes, as if he had stumbled across the world?s greatest prospect, and seemed to radiate out from every pore of his body. His skin even seemed to glow a little bit, but they make have just been his golden tan and the sun.

?Can I sleep on it?? I asked, my mind on the rapidly stiffening rod in my pants.

?Oh come on, man,? he said, and reached out to slap my leg. He is taller. He has to be if he can reach all the way across from there and touch me. But if he touches me again, I might just blow. ?It?ll be great, like old times when we used to hit up the gym at school. Are you telling me that there isn?t some part of your body you don?t want to improve? Because I don?t believe that for a second. Every guy wants a little more or a little less somewhere.?

The ?old times? to which he was referring were perhaps great in his mind, but not so great in my own. On the rare occasion that I had accompanied him to the gym, I had spent the hour or so gently passing the time on a stationary bike while he sprinted himself to death on the treadmill. I hardly ever broke a sweat and he always came away drenched. Soccer and cardio had done wonders for his body back then, but he had evidently traded them in for some time pumping iron as well. The treadmill had given way to dumbbells; you?d have to be a dumbbell not to realize that.

Think about it though. If you like what you see now, just imagine what that body will look like when it?s wearing Under Armour. And if you lose a few pounds in the process, you?re better for it in the end. It?s a win-win situation.

?Okay,? I said, instantly convinced.

?Sweet!? he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. My cock suddenly rocketed to its full length at the sight of his arm straining his sleeve and I smiled weakly to hide my grimace. ?Man, this is going to be awesome. Just like college, but better. I know a shitload more than I did back then. You?re going to love it.?

I suspected that he had been waiting to say the latter part of that statement since we had met, a sort of humble brag that I could not exactly blame him for; I know I would have bragged some if I had a body like that. I also realized that a part of him that I had only caught glimpses of when I had known him before had grown more virile in my absence. He had always been athletic, but almost never a jock. Almost. Occasionally, whenever he had gotten in a particularly good workout or practice or won a game, the jock in him would make an appearance, but he usually quelled it fairly quickly. I wondered how much stronger it had gotten since I had met him last.

?So, we?ll start tomorrow!? he said, smacking his palms together.

?I?what?? I stammered. ?I don?t know about that. I?have school and then essays to grade and??

?Come on, man,? he said, and suddenly stood up. ?Don?t you want to look like this??

And then the shirt came off.

[dhalden]

Phew. That's all for tonight. Enjoy!

If you see any mistakes, let me know and I'll try to edit!

Thanks again, guys!

[manlion]

Holy crap, this is an amazing narrative. The emotion and depth are really drawing me in. I can't wait for more!

[pizzadaddy]

well, im a fan man... your work is amazing and... yeah im a fan

[HugestFuckGod]

This will definitely be a story that I will be checking on! Your writing style is smooth. can't wait for more

[msclundylvr]

Good work. I cannot wait to see where this goes!

[funboy]

An incredible beginning.

[rododoro3]

Why are you taunting me so? ;-;
You call me, lure me in, ensnare me with your words...
And then end on a cliffhanger leaving poor me staring at the page, willing the next part to magically appear. Somehow. I don't know.
More please. Quickly if possible. Take your time if you need it.
Just give me more!

[reality779]

More please!

[dhalden]

Wow. I never expected such a positive response from you guys. Thank you!

As the for the next installment: it's definitely in the works. It's taking some time because I don't want to get sloppy with it. Keep in mind that this early in the story, I'm still laying out the ground work. Once the foundation's built, then the real fun can begin.

I'll try to have something up by the weekend for sure, granted my laptop behaves.

[dhalden]

Okay, guys, here's a next installment. You'll see that it's notably different from the previous installments, but it's for good reason. It is shorter as well, but that is because I don't really want to give you too much insight into what is going on in a certain someone's head.

As always, if you see any grammatical errors, let me know. Enjoy!

(Oh, and for reference purposes, this is the same night that Charlie moved in with Andrew, approximately nine o'clock that night)

His large, yet nimble fingers undid the buttons on his shirt with a speed and dexterity that proved it was a practiced act. It fell open, revealing the V-neck undershirt he wore beneath, the one that clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing his broad chest and washboard stomach.

?Like what you see?? Charlie asked, putting his smile on full display.

?I do,? the woman said. ?But I?m not a client.?

Charlie Greene froze in place, one hand on his belt buckle, the other cupping the woman?s chin. He cocked an eyebrow and let both of his hands fall to his sides.

He heaved a sigh. ?Tony.?

The woman smiled. ?Brett said you?d be eager to please.?

Chewing the inside of his cheek, he nodded and began buttoning his shirt again.

?Leave it,? she said. ?You?ll be taking it off in a second anyway. There are a few things we need to discuss first. Necessary details. It won?t take long. How much has Brett told you??

The Royal Inn was one of the nicest hotels in Sacramento; you didn?t have to notice the Egyptian cotton bed sheets to see that, Charlie thought. Personally, he had always felt a little more comfortable in less expensive hotels, but with the high dollar clientele came the high dollar meeting places. And this was no ordinary meeting, as the woman had pointed out. This was all business, no pleasure.

?The general framework,? he said, leaving his shirt open. He relaxed, dropping his shirt and the sensual pose that he had instinctually adopted the moment he had come through the door. ?You loaned him your best earner a few years ago and now he?s repaying you in kind. Mind if I take a seat??

?Not at all,? Tony said.

?You know,? Charlie said, as he crossed to the bed, ?you really ought to spell your name with an I. It?ll cause less confusion.?

?I?m androgynous like that,? she said, turning her back on him. She began rifling through her designer bag. It was black leather and hardly large enough to carry a clutch. She turned back to him.

?There?s more to the story than Brett?s told you, but I?m in no position to give you all of the details either. Suffice to say, he hasn?t sold you out. Quite the contrary, actually. He?s the one doing me a favor?or will be, if you agree. Which I think you will.?

She crossed toward him and stood, feet planted, in front of him like a statue. Or a guard. He couldn?t decide which. He thought she was one of the most imposing women he had ever seen, with her designer pantsuit and unsmiling expression. She had only the slightest hint of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but her skin was notably taut in other places, a telltale sign of Botox, he thought. He scanned her as best as he could without outright scrutinizing her from top to bottom and suddenly noticed a small vial in one of her hands, no larger than her pinky.

He nodded at the vial. ?Because of that,? he concluded.

?Because of this, yes,? she said, and held it up to the light. It was full of what looked like water, though he noticed it was slightly thicker as she turned it over, watching the bubble?s at the bottom rush to the top. More viscous, like corn syrup, really. ?You have no idea what this is, so I won?t bother taunting you with the question. This is called NPH-01. And it?s about to make the both of us a lot of money.?

He frowned. ?So what is it? Like a popper??

?Nothing as instantaneous as that, no. Think of it as a long-term investment.?

She uncapped the small vial and waved it underneath her nose, her eyelashes fluttering sensually. She extended it toward him and he gently leaned forward to sniff it himself. It didn?t smell particularly sweet, more acrid than anything actually, but it did make his head swim.

?The deal Brett and I made was this. If you agree to come over to me, you?ll work for me just like you did for him. Same hours, ten percent increase in pay. All you?ll have to do is take one vial of this once a week and report back to me any?developments. And it?s as simple as that. Do we have a deal??

He glanced at the vial again. It glistened lethally in her hand.

He nodded.

?Great!? she said, and recapped the vial. She tossed it to him and he slipped it into his pocket. ?Now that that?s out of the way, we can move on to the examination.?

?Examination?? he echoed.

?Physical examination, yes. You?re working for me now and I always get to know every inch of my earners before I send them out. So let?s see that birthday suit.?

Chuckling softly, he stood and peeled off his shirt. Gently, so as to avoid wrinkles, he folded it in half and laid it on the bed. His undershirt clung to him like saran wrap, leaving little imagination to the finely carved muscles beneath. Bending down, he slipped off his polished shoes one at a time and laid them at the foot of the bed; he folded his socks inside of them and turned back to her. He always worked deliberately slow, sensually one might say, leaving as much to the imagination as he could while he could. Once the curtain had been raised?or dropped in this case, he thought?reality set it. As impressive as the show would be, reality could never hold a candle to the fantasies people built up in their heads.

Tony had taken a seat in the floral printed chair in the corner opposite, one hand to her chin, eyebrow furrowed. She watched him like a fashion designer might a model, but instead of displaying his clothes, he continued peeling them off. An image of a vulture roosting on a dead branch flashed through his mind.

He paused briefly?this wasn?t work, as Tony had pointed out, but the dramatic pause only came natural to him when he was undressing, if he was being paid or not?before pulling off the undershirt.

?Oh my,? he heard her say softly under her breath.

His chest demanded attention first. The two broad, firm pecs practically leapt into view, commanding any and all eyes present. They looked as delicately and diligently carved as a Roman breastplate and just as durable. A smattering of dark chest hair spread evenly over the thick slabs of muscle, the hair darkening and thickening as it disappeared into his deep cleavage. He had trimmed it short, but it was still long enough for him to run his fingers through. And although it wasn?t remotely cold in the room, his nipples, approximately the size and shape of pencil erasers, stood proudly erect. He ran his hand over his pecs, coyly brushing one of his nipples in mock absentmindedness, tugging at his hair. And as his hand made its descent, so did the attention it drew, guiding all eyes to the rippling six-pack that waited below.

His abs, similarly sturdy-looking, were more deeply cut than his chest. Every rippling abdominal seemed a brick that had been carefully laid beneath his skin and when he breathed deeply, they expanded lightly outward, doubling in size?only to snap back into place as he exhaled, strong and seemingly inflexible. Their deep, excessively pronounced shape and size was made even more apparent by the dark trail of hair that wound its way between them, a trail of hair that fanned outward as it neared his waistline?

She smirked. ?Pants.?

Grinning wryly, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants in a single, fluid motion. Shimmying, he shook them to his ankles and stepped out of them one leg at a time. He hooked the pants with his toe and sent them sailing across the room to the bed, where they landed beside his shirt. So what if they got wrinkled? He was working now, damn it, and he would be damned himself if he was about to interrupt his performance. Without even waiting for Tony to prod him, he cupped his prominent package and gently squeezed it.

?Eight inches,? he reported smugly.

?I?ve been in the business easily over half of your life. They all say that. The truth lies in the tape,? she said, and extracted a length of measuring tape from her purse. He wondered what other items it could possibly hold, but did not let it show on his face. She tossed the tape to him.

?You don?t want the honors?? he asked. He was already hardening; he could feel it.

?Oh, I?ve had my share, believe me. Continue.?

Her expression did not change as she leaned back in her chair and watched his cock get lured into full rigidity and length. It was only once she expected his cock to finish thickening and it did not that she raised an eyebrow. Already as thick as the average man?s, it was giving every indication of being anything but average. Fatter and fatter it grew, the veins plumping as well, until it finally could swell no more. Dramatically, Charlie unraveled the measuring tape and placed one end in the midst of his finely trimmed pubic hair, firmly against his pubic bone. He stretched the other end toward the fat, mushroom head eight inches away. Evidently impressed, Tony waved him on. Charlie grinned wider and proceeded to wrap the tape around the broad, rock-hard middle of his cock.

?Six inches thick,? he said. ?You need a measurement on these too??

He cupped his balls. They, too, were proportionally larger than average balls, like grade-A eggs, but somehow less impressive beneath the stout cock they hung beneath.

She raised a hand. ?No need. Can you work any magic with that thing or are you a one-trick pony??

?Show?s not over yet, lady,? he said, and hungrily grabbed his cock.

?I think I?ve seen enough for tonight actually, thank you,? she said hurriedly, and collected her purse. She quickly rose. ?You start tomorrow. I?ll text you with the usual details. I?ll finalize the rest with Brett.?

?But?? he started to say, gesturing to his throbbing cock.

?Oh, right. That. The room?s paid for, so have at it,? she said. She gave him one last glance over, a quick scan from head to toe, and he could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth curl. ?Oh, and one more thing,? she said as she opened the door wide. A middle-aged couple passing by turned toward the open door absentmindedly and suddenly stood aghast at the sight of Charlie standing in the middle of the room, cock pointing skyward. Looks of mixed repulsion and admiration spread on their faces. ?Welcome to my agency.?

She left the door open behind her.




After he had jerked off, cursing her beneath his breath all the while, he showered and took the elevator to the first floor. As he crossed the lobby, he caught sight of the middle-aged couple near the coffee machine and waved a hand in their direction affably. The wife raised a hand in return, but quickly pulled it back to her side as her husband glared. At his car, he unlocked the trunk and withdrew the duffle bag inside.

Back in the room, he changed into the cargo shorts and Indianapolis Colts tee-shirt the duffle bag had to offer, pulled on a baseball cap, and slipped into a pair of gym shoes. It felt much nicer, he thought, but somehow odd. He wondered only momentarily if it was the same feeling secret agent?s felt when they had to juggle between disguises. He decided that it probably wasn't so, but the thought made him smug nonetheless. He had just begun to fold up his formal pants when he remembered the vial tucked away in one of its pockets.

?The hell do you do?? he wondered aloud as he extracted the vial. He uncapped it and sniffed it again, rolled his eyes, and started to recap it. ?Oh, right??

Without a second?s consideration, he tossed back the contents like a shot.

Twenty minutes later he pushed a shopping cart through the front door of Walmart. As bland an activity as it was, he privately enjoyed it more than he cared to admit; and because it was a secret pleasure, he appreciated it more. It was not the act of shopping itself that excited him, so much as it was the fact that he was the only human being in earshot that knew from where he had just come, what he had just done. To them, he appeared as an exceptionally in-shape suburbanite. A father of four, maybe. A man who spent his days in the office, his evenings in the gym, and his weekends on the golf course. Who could guess he was a high dollar escort? Sure, his arms filled his sleeves generously. Yes, his shorts fit his ass like a glove. Neither, however, were an indication of the countless number of men and women?predominately men, he reminded himself?he had massaged, sucked, tickled, fucked, licked, and caressed over the past decade.

Or the countless many more that would soon follow.

At the checkout line, the cashier, a chubby young man who didn?t look a day over twenty five, stopped in the middle of scanning the carton of eggs Charlie had dropped onto the conveyor belt and glanced at the rest of the contents of the grocery cart.

?You a bodybuilder or something?? he said, with something akin to awe in his voice.

Charlie looked down at the items: two more cartons of eggs, four containers of baby spinach, a jumbo-sized package of frozen chicken breasts, two grapefruits, and a dozen other equally healthy and organic food stuffs stared back. He flashed that grin he knew too be overwhelmingly charming and said,

?Not me, no,? he chuckled. ?This is for a friend.?

[msclundylvr]

And the intrigue keeps coming! Loving this so far!

[dhalden]

Working on another installment right now! Expect something very soon!

[dhalden]

Firstly, the next installment will be up tonight or tomorrow, cross my heart and hope to die. I didn't realize how few hours there are in the day between work, school, working out, and writing! And I don't want to hastily throw together an entry and risk it being sloppy, so I've been editing my ass off.

Secondly, head on over to the "Morphs & Artwork" media page to check out the first of many images related to "Charlie". I'll be posting images there related to the story from here on out, hopefully to satiate you guys between entries, and to give a frame of reference for the characters.

Have great day, guys!

[dhalden]

Here it is fellas! The next entry. Thoughts, comments, and criticisms are appreciated as usual.

For reference sake, this begins the morning after Charlie's rendezvous with his new employer, Tony.


?Looks like someone was up all night.?

Stifling yet another yawn, I looked up from my laptop and offered the woman standing in front of me my first genuine grin of the morning. She returned it generously and as Lynn Portman dropped into a seat across from me, I felt the tension in my shoulders begin to dissipate.

?No, actually,? I said, snapping shut my laptop. ?I got up early if you really want to know. Four.?

She cocked an eyebrow curiously. Elaborate, that perfectly penciled brow said.

?I...am on this new exercise regimen,? I said carefully. ?And my trainer says I?ve got to start getting up early so that I can have breakfast, so?well, that?s pretty much it.?

Not a lie exactly, but not exactly the truth either of course. The whole truth was that, yes, I had gotten up at four o?clock that morning, but not of my own accord. I had been in a deep slumber, dreaming some dream that?s lost to me now, when a soft voice calling my name began towing me back to consciousness. The louder the voice called my name, the harder my shoulder shook, until finally I was fully awake, staring up at confusedly at the unfamiliar figure standing at the side of my bed, leaning over me?

?bolting upright in bed, I drew my blankets close to me and started to call out, but even as my mouth dropped open, the broad-shouldered invader?s voice started to sound familiar.

?Hey, Andy, it?s me?it?s just me,? he said, throwing up his hands.

The image of a gun-wielding invader still not completely gone from my mind?s eye, I snatched my glasses from the nightstand and rammed them onto my face. Even in the early morning gloom, he was stunning to look at. I wondered only momentarily if I was still possibly dreaming?and then I looked at the alarm clock.

?It?s four in the morning, Charlie, what the hell? I have to be at work in three hours!?

?Which is why I made you breakfast,? he said, taking a step closer. He reached for my lamp on the nightstand and I had but a momentary whiff of his deodorant before I was blinded by the lamp?s sudden illumination of my bedroom. ?Come get it while it?s hot, Sleeping Beauty.?

If it were anyone else, I would have simply receded beneath my blankets and moaned until I fell back asleep, but as Charlie ambled from my room, I could not help but feel the urge to follow the ass that filled his gym shorts snugly. Wouldn?t mind catching another whiff of him either, I thought. Grumbling, I slipped out from beneath my blankets and quickly reached for my bathrobe draped over the foot of my bed. Yeah, you?d better cover up before you embarrass yourself. I nevertheless caught a glimpse of my tired-eyed, bushy-haired self as I stepped past the body length mirror beside my closet and cursed beneath my breath. I had a greater resemblance to the Pillsbury Doughboy on some mornings than others and this was one of them. As I pulled on my robe, I grimaced at the pasty pudgy flab that was my waistline.

Fruitlessly trying to brush down my hair with my hand, I stepped into the kitchen thirty seconds later.

?Whoa.?

I could not remember the last time that my kitchen had played host to such a meal, let alone such a brawny chef. A veritable breakfast buffet had been laid out on my kitchen table: eggs, both scrambled and hard-boiled, bowls of oatmeal, an assortment of berries, grapefruit halves, and glasses of milk. At the stove, Charlie stood, spatula in hand, and motioned for me to take a seat over his shoulder.

?Help yourself,? he said without turning. ?I?m just finishing up these turkey sausages.?

In the brighter illumination of the kitchen, I could fully appreciate Charlie. He wore a skin-tight athletic suit that looked both tailored to his exact proportions and designer made. I?d personally never seen an athletic suit that appeared so chic and simultaneously practical. That thought was, of course, second to my fascination with the breathtaking sight that was his ass, perfectly cupped and tight in the lycra. I hurriedly tore my eyes away before he could catch me and grabbed a seat at the table.

?I?m not sure who the guest here is,? I said hesitantly. ?Me or Betty Crocker.?

He chuckled. ?You always had that.?

?Had what??

?You were always good with the wit,? he said, and clicked off the stove. He turned and ambled to the table, a spitting skillet of sausages in hand. ?You could always make me laugh.?

?Uh?thanks. And you always, uh??

?You can get back to me on that later,? he said, and winked?

?I blinked my eyes and suddenly I was back in the staffroom of Westport High, the brunette chemistry teacher that was Lynn Portman staring me down. She stabbed at her salad with a fork and jammed a mouthful of baby spinach into her mouth.

?I need to get in shape myself, but I can?t find the motivation,? she said between bites. ?Well, I can?t keep the motivation, I mean. I keep starting and then I stop and then I start again and it just becomes this ridiculous cycle, you know??

?Please,? I said flatly. ?You don?t need to get into anything except your size two?s. You look phenomenal and you know it.?

She smiled. ?You sure you?re still gay? Because I?d be willing to try to change your mind.?

If it had been the first time she had playfully propositioned herself to me, I might have gasped, but it was part of our usual lunchtime banter. It had taken me a few months to get used to it, I?ll admit, but now my days seemed to somehow lack humor if she didn?t pretend to promise that she would end up on my couch by the end of the night. I still wondered sometimes how far she would be willing to go if I played along.

?More than ever,? I said, thinking of Charlie. ?Speaking of?where do you work out??

I asked in what I hoped was my most offhand manner, but she leveled a stare at me anyway.

?Platinum Fitness Warehouse. Don?t worry though. It?s not one of those types of gyms. People won?t point and laugh if that?s what you?re worried about. It?s like a Planet Fitness, only better.?

?And Planet Fitness is???

As she explained to me the various marketing points, pros and cons, and her general impressions of the handful of gyms that Westport had to offer, I pushed away my Tupperware full of cubed chicken and thought back to breakfast?

?I don?t want to disappoint you or anything,? I had said as I sunk into a seat at the table. ?But I don?t think I?ve eaten this much of anything since Thanksgiving ?99, Charlie. Maybe you could just, like, wrap some of it up for tomorrow or something??

?Most of this isn?t for you, genius,? he said. He began doling spoonful after spoonful of the various dishes onto his plate. ?Let me guess: you don?t even eat breakfast normally, do you? Of course not. I can see it written on your face. Cup of coffee, right? Maybe a doughnut? You couldn?t stomach half of this if you tried, Andy. That?s why you get oatmeal. The rest of this is for me, but if you think you can handle more, go for it.?

I watched in amazement as he stacked his plate with two pancakes and berries, eggs, and all but two of the sausages. I wondered if he ate like that every morning and, if so, where the hell he put it all to remain so trim? Oh, yeah, I thought, glimpsing his thick arms and broad chest again. There.

True to his prediction, after I had finished the bowl of oatmeal, I fell back in my seat.

?You?ve succeeded only in making me want to go back to bed,? I announced.

?Here?s the plan,? he said, ignoring my declaration. I could barely focus as he shoved in bite after bite of egg, grapefruit, pancake, and sausage. Seriously? I?d have thrown up by now. ?I looked up online last night some gyms in the area and I think our best bet is Platinum Fitness Warehouse on?Grandy, I think the road was called. Anyway, you meet me there after you get off work and we?ll hit it hard. Sound good??

?Sounds tiring. When did you buy all of this food??

He stopped, a mouthful of egg halfway to his lips, and looked at me.

?Uh, last night,? he said. ?After you went to bed. Thought I?d surprise you.?

?You went grocery shopping at eleven o?clock last night??

?Yeah, why not? I always do my shopping after dark. It?s, uh, less crowded that way.?

Something akin to curiosity started to spark in my mind, but then a wave of overwhelming fullness swept over me again and pushed it away. Why not go shopping after dark? Besides, he probably wasn?t adjusted to West Coast time yet anyway, having just flown from Indiana the day before. I decided to chock it up to jet lag and an off-kilter body clock. I lingered for a minute longer, watching him pack away the food like a ravenous man, before traipsing into the bathroom.



?So that?s a proper warm-up. How you doing??

?I?think that?s enough?for one day,? I panted.

We were standing in the free weights section of Westport?s one and only Platinum Fitness Warehouse, an aptly named gym, considering it had formerly been the storage facility for a company that had gone bust when the economy had decided to nose dive. As such, the high ceilinged building was decked out with metal rafters and sprawling floors filled with machinery that, to me, looked closer to medieval torture devices. Fortunately, there were very few other people in the gym when we entered, four others to be exact, and two of them were visibly more out of shape than I was.

But then again, I was evidently more out of shape than I had presupposed. After a round of jumping jacks, pushups, and some fucking tormenting move known as ?planking?, Charlie had prepped me for what he had, in so many words, promised would either start me on a track to a full-body transformation or land me in the emergency room. Well, that second part he hadn?t quite said, but as I stood there panting before him, forehead gleaming with sweat, it seemed a very real possibility to me.

?I?m putting you on what is known as a split routine circuit,? he said.

?Greek,? I panted. ?Complete Greek coming out of your mouth right now.?

?In other words, you?ll be working two body-parts each day for five days a week.?

?Where the hell did you learn this? Nazi Germany?? I said. ?I will not survive that.?

He frowned. ?We?ll see.?

This was followed by the less-than-welcome announcement that the first of my limbs to be obliterated would be my legs. Leading me to the nearby rack of weights, he plucked a pair of incredibly heavy looking dumbbells from their place and motioned for me to take a pair I felt comfortable with, which turned out to be less than half of the weight he had selected?and that was when I saw us.

In the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind the dumbbell rack, I witnessed the two of us for the last time as we were then9: ourselves, unchanged. He, with his wide shoulders and V-tapered torso, and me, with my rawboned arms and sunless skin. Side by side, we looked like some comical version of a before and after shot. We didn?t look like we belonged together, let alone were friends, and I would have even ventured to say that it was downright emasculating. Little did I know then how much would soon change, both to and between us.

?Lunges,? he said, and began demonstrating.

He dropped effortlessly into a position that looked like it would have just about tore my leg in half and rose back into a standing posture. He began explaining the movement in detail, but I could hardly concentrate on a single word that passed his lips. Between staring, fascinated, at the thick chords of muscle straining his legs with every movement and the barely containable urge to reach out and touch his rapidly swelling thighs, I missed more than half of what he explained. His legs thickened even as I watched, the hairs slicking wetly against them with sweat, every fiber straining and flexing with each extension of his leg. He gritted his teeth as he finished the last of the lunges and the first beads of sweat formed at the top of his forehead.

?Next up are what are called squats,? he said.

Do not get hard now, I told myself as I watched that high, firm ass of his cross to what he called the squatting rack. He subconsciously adjusted his shorts, plucking his shorts free from the canyon that were his ass cheeks. I bit my lip as he loaded what looked about four too many plates onto the bar and then ducked beneath it, his shorts instantly pulling between those cheeks again.

?Like this,? he said, and began. Please do not get hard right now, please, please, please?

He repeated the first few repetitions without visible strain, though I caught him gritting his teeth as I glanced at his face in the mirror. It was growing redder by the second and collecting more sweat, but he hardly looked like he was exerting himself at all. In fact, I watched in surprise as he suddenly racked the weight, grabbed two more plates, and loaded them onto the bar.

?Weight was off,? he said, more to himself than to me, and began again.

Down he dropped, and I imagined that tight bubble ass of his sliding down my cock like that, slowly and purposefully. Biting my lip harder, I willed my cock to not grow any more, but it simply swelled more noticeably in my shorts. Feet away, Charlie bit his own lip as he dropped into another squat. Sweat was dripping down his temples now, but it might as well not have been there at all. The fierce determination in his eyes was frighteningly potent and focused.

?Grr---yeah!? he suddenly cried out as he completed yet another repetition. I flinched in surprise. If I had been paying attention I would have known precisely what number he was on, but even in my amazed and horny state, I realized that he was easily past his tenth repetition. He grunted again, a deep bear?s growl of a sound that I had never known him to produce, and exhaled, ?Grr?few more??. And a few more he did, each accompanied by a grunt more virile than the last, until he finally rose to full height for the last time and dropped the bar on the rack, crying out, ?Hell yeah!?. I, meanwhile, stared astonished at the impossibly thicker and plumper ass filling his shorts. It looked larger than ever, and even as I watched, he squeezed and flexed it like a vice.

?That was?awesome,? he panted, his eyes trained on his own reflection. ?A new record for me, can you believe that? I?ve never squatted that much before in my life!?

?Definitely impressive,? I said breathlessly.

?Woo!? he said, clapping his hands together. ?I don?t know what got into me!?

Indeed, a new vitality seemed to have flooded his veins. When he turned back to me, his eyes sparked with an electricity the likes of which I had never seen. He kept flexing and relaxing his hands as if itching to punch something and when he finally gestured me toward the squat rack, he hiked up one leg of his shorts and flexed his thigh. I?m gonna fucking blow a load right here.

?Look at that!? he said, and slapped his thigh. ?Now that?s a pump. Rock hard!?

You have no idea. In fact, I should probably go take care?

?You?re turn, Andy!?

To say that I was distracted and impeded by the my fat, throbbing cock would be an understatement, yet I somehow managed to bust out ten squats, though at an admittedly embarrassing weight compared to that which I had just seen so cleanly tossed around. All the while, Charlie stood close behind, ready to steady or catch me should I falter or fall. He even reached out his hands and let them hover near me as I struggled to complete my final rep. When I did, much to my own surprise, I stumbled backward and he steadied me with one hand on the small of my back.

?Feels great, doesn?t it?? he said, and smiled. Any bit of stamina left in me drained away at the sight of the smile and I collapsed onto the nearest bench. Have I told you how fucking brilliant that smile can be?

?I?m just gonna?take a little break,? I announced.

?Okay, but don?t take too long. You?ve got another set to go,? he said. ?I?m going to really hit it hard now though. I was going easy before, but now that you?ve got the general idea, I?m really going to go for it. You can watch if you want. See how a real man does it.?

How a real man does it? I could hardly be insulted though; I was too impressed by the spectacle that followed. Charlie proceeded to bust out another set of lunges and, without missing a beat, made his way to the squat rack again. Halfway through his second set of squats, the growling jock in him surfaced again. Squat: ?Grr?yeah, baby?grreeahh?come on?? Squat: ?Grrah?yeah.? Squat: ?Aw hell yeah grrr?? Squat.

A conflicting sense of attraction and tentativeness stirred in my chest as I watched him, the man I had pined for throughout college and, to some extent, unknowingly ever since. He was much improved in many ways?in fucking fantastic ways, obviously?but I couldn?t help but wonder what else in him had changed, what else had perhaps grown in my absence.

And you always had that, I thought as I watched him. I just didn?t know how much of it you had.



The next morning, I was sore in parts of my body that I never even knew existed. Charlie awoke me promptly at four again and, much more slowly this time, I followed him into the kitchen. The same spread he had prepared twenty four hours before greeted me once again. He wore the same outfit, freshly cleaned, he had the day before and I my same bathrobe. Were it not that he seemed to eat even more this time around, I would have sworn I was pulling a Billy Murray in Groundhog Day. Oh, and if my legs weren?t killing me as well. The ache radiating in my ruined quads, calves, and hamstrings assured me that I had, indeed, truly worked out for the first time in my life the day before. Breakfast was also accompanied by quasi-scientific explanation of the importance of nutrition from my trainer/roommate.

?Like, these pancakes aren?t just regular pancakes. They?re protein packed,? he said, as he shoved another mouthful of the cakes into his mouth. Meanwhile, I spooned my oatmeal reluctantly past my lips.

And thus proceeded the first week. Each day we worked on a different body part and each day I stared amazed as Charlie not only vastly surpassed me in his athleticism and strength, but surprised himself as well. At least once a day he remarked that he couldn?t believe the strides in strength and endurance he had inexplicably made since moving to Westport. This was usually accompanied by the grunting and growls.

?Must be something in the air,? I said to him one day.

?Air, right,? he mumbled back. He was once again in the free weights section while I plowed away on an elliptical. Today was cardio for me, but once again he was furiously busting out concentration curls. As if those babies aren?t big enough already?wait, what?re you saying? You?d love it if his arms were bigger. It nevertheless struck me as odd that I had yet to see him perform any type of cardio himself. I guess when you look like that you can skip a day or two. Or seven.

?Well if it ain?t Shakespeare in my gym!?

Something akin to panic exploded in my chest at the sound of his voice and I stopped midstride on the machine. I quickly jumped off of it and spun about, nervous as hell but hoping it didn?t show. Standing there, meaty hands on his thick waist, a smug grin on his whiskered face, he looked me up and down. Evidently unimpressed, he shook his head and settled his beady eyes on my own again. He wore a black shirt with the white outline of an overly muscled weightlifter on the front, a shirt that strained to contain his gut and chest. Curls of thick, coarse chest hair peeked from the top of it.

?Rick,? I said coldly, by way of greeting. You can fuck off now, I mentally added.

?Pumping some iron or just checking out the local tail?? he said. ?How do you think your new boy toy feels about that? What?s his name again? Chelsea??

?Charlie,? I said and at the mention of his name, he looked up.

?Yeah?? he asked. Spotting Rick, he dropped the dumbbell he was holding to the floor and crossed to stand beside me. ?What?s up??

Now it was my turn to smile smugly.

?Charlie, this is Rick. Rick?this is Charlie.?

Rick?s beady black eyes slowly grew wider at the sight of the veritable Adonis standing before him, struggling to come to odds with his shock and disbelief. And my good fortune, no doubt. His bearded jaw fell open and he swallowed slowly. I turned to give Charlie a cheerful grin and swallowed myself.

Damn. Look at those things. They really are bigger.

His arms, formerly thick, were now downright engorged. Red and swollen, they strained the lycra sleeves to their limits and, in fact, it looked as if the material were pinching them. It would have been just as plausible to believe that they had been stung by a swarm of bees, they were so inflated. Gathering myself, I turned back to Rick.

?We work together,? I explained happily. ?Rick here?s a gym teacher.?

?Physical educational instructor,? he growled. The shock was rapidly draining from his face and being replaced with a reddening anger. He suddenly stood straighter and inhaled, his barrel chest inflating to its impressive size. ?And football coach to a team with three state titles. Soon to be four.?

?Great to meet you,? Charlie said. ?But, I gotta get back to my
workout. Don?t want to lose that pump, you know? Anything else, Andy??

?No,? I said cheerily. Rick and I watched in silence as he strode back to the dumbbell on the floor, picked it up, and began pumping away again. ?So how?s your son Jimmy??

?Fine. In school,? he growled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him squeeze his huge hands into equally huge fists and grind his teeth. The embarrassment radiated from him in palpable waves.

?Tell him I say hi, won?t you? Excuse me, I have to get back to working out,? I said, and patted him amicably on the shoulder. ?Don?t want to lose that pump, you know??

He stood for a full minute longer, eyes boring with laser-like precision into Charlie. Not many men could make Rick Hockstetter feel like he was less than he was, but I had done just that. And if my life had been some 90?s television show with guiding morals to teach an audience, and I had been a better person, I would have admitted that it was the wrong thing to do and felt remorseful. I might have even apologized. But it was life and I was me. How?s it taste, asshole?

Finally, he trudged away. As he did, I thought I heard him whisper beneath his breath, ??fucking fairies.?

[Mdlftr]

Impressive~!

and INTRIGUING?

Why is Charlie growing so fast?

Why does the gym teacher keep bugging our narrator?

What deep secrets are hidden at the high school?

The plot thickens!

...and so does our narrator's um,,,,center of sexual gravity!

Can't wait to read more!

[arpeejay]

http://www.facebook.com/arpeejay

[convolution]

Great writing
I wonder when our hero gets a little vial of clear liquid ?

[muscle16a]

Originally Posted by convolution

Great writing
I wonder when our hero gets a little vial of clear liquid ?

that might be it. Or, perhaps Charlie's last treatment changed him in such a way so that he can pass it on (whatever "it" is) sexually . . . a la "Transform".

[dhalden]

What can I say without giving anything away? How about:

I have almost finished laying the foundation of the story ahead, especially in terms of characters. The cast may expand (pun intended) a little, but not much more than it is now. Everything from here out will most likely be constructed atop of the characters and events you've encountered so far.

Oh, and convolution - you're on the right track.

[imfit]

Great narrative so far. I totally agree with whomever wrote, chain yourself to the keyboard and keep writing.

So does Andy eventually get some of that blue liquid?

[dhalden]

You'll just have to wait and see.

[dhalden]

As usual, comments, criticisms, questions, and corrections are welcomed. Enjoy!

Charlie Greene was nervous. It was an emotion which he had once been intimately familiar as a child, being the child of an alcoholic father, but he had not known deep anxiety in almost a decade, not since he entered the gym for the first time in his life and had begun building the strapping body of which he was so proud. That it was this very sculpted torso of his that was the source of his nervousness only made him all the more anxious.

He stood before the mirror, pinching the skin at his waist, frowning.

His body fat percentage was undoubtedly in the single digits, he thought, but seemed nearer to ten than zero than it had in years. He rolled the skin between his fingers and frowned more deeply, feeling the thinnest layer of fat between them. Objectively, he was as stunning a specimen of man as any could hope to be, but the practically insignificant layer of fat that had begun forming around his middle and softening his abs still concerned him. When had it formed? He had been eyeing his physique more actively in the past two weeks than he had in months. True, he had been eating more than usual, but that was only because he had been hitting the weights harder than usual. That, too, perplexed him though. Why was he abruptly lifting more? Going harder? Churning out an extra set almost every day?

He met his own gaze in the mirror. Mechanically, he raised his arms into a double bicep pose and examined the ample peaks that formed. Then a side tricep pose. He followed it with a front lateral spread and finished with a most muscular pose, his shoulders and traps bulging impressively around his neck. Each pose looked as remarkable as ever, but…was there something different about them somehow? He flexed a softball-sized bicep again and ran his hand over it, inspecting the fibers beneath his fingers. Now that he thought about it, lately his sleeves had felt a little tighter than usual, as if his arms were perpetually pumped. And, unless he was imagining things, his arm did feel more solid somehow. More dense even.

His phone vibrated on the sink, signaling a new text.

In the lobby. Be up in five. –T

“Tony,” he sighed, and quickly pulled on a shirt. Why the vulture of a woman had demanded to see him in the middle of the week, on a Wednesday night—a night he could have otherwise used to entertain a client—was beyond him. It certainly wasn’t how Brett did things back in Chicago, he thought. A soft knock at the door a few minutes later signaled her arrival and he called for her to enter. Had she been a client, Tony would have found him partially nude at the foot of the bed, clad only in his underwear, one hand stroking his nipple or searching the confines of his Calvin Klein’s, but seeing as this promised to be a purely business meeting, he had opted to slouch in a chair in the corner.

“You’re looking a little under the weather,” she said, dropping her bag onto the bed.

“I had hoped to use tonight for a more…pleasurable rendezvous,” he said, smiling coldly.

“Lucky you, this won’t take long,? she said. She stood before him, hands planted on her hips, scrutinizing him. He stared back determinedly. He was struck by a swift bout of self-consciousness and had the sudden urge to pinch at his waist again, as if sensing that she could somehow see the weight that had begun to form there. Finally, she turned to her bag and withdrew another of the small vials she had granted him with the last time they had met and held it out to him. “Your next dose of NPH-01.”

But as he reached out to take the vial from her, she suddenly pulled it away.

“No side effects yet?”

“Seeing as I don’t even know what the hell that stuff is supposed to be doing for me, I can’t really say. So, no, I haven’t had any…” he started to say, trailing off. It wasn’t exactly true, what he had started to say, he suddenly realized. He had been experiencing some changes, hadn’t he? The image of his fuller muscles reflected back at him in the mirror formed in his mind again, the way his arm had felt beneath his fingers…the way his poses had seem fuller. Nervously, he scratched at his waist and flexed his jaw. “Like I said,” he said, avoiding Tony’s suddenly curious gaze. “No side effects.”

“Really?” she said, evidently surprised. He wasn’t entirely convinced that she believed him, but he remained silent, grinning smartly. Waiting. “In that case…”

She turned back to her purse, dug through it, and withdrew a second vial.

“We’ll increase the dosage then,” she said.

His smiled dropped. “What?”

Pursing her lips, Tony slowly extended the vials of NPH-01. He took them.

“You going to tell me what this stuff is?” he asked, pocketing the vials. “Or why I’m supposed to be taking it. Or what’s it supposed to do? Maybe I should check with my doctor first or something…”

“Your job has a lot of perks, but knowing what I know isn’t one of them. And if you’re not already making regular appointments with your doctor, you’re in the wrong line of business, honey.”

He swallowed slowly. “So we’re done here?”

“I am,” she said, and grabbed her bag. “You’ll probably want to take care of that raging hard-on you’re sporting though. I’ve got a bottle of lube if you need some.”

He merely flexed his jaw and shook his head. Flashing a poisonous grin, she waved him goodbye with her claw-like fingers as she flitted out the door, generously shutting it behind her this time. He waited until her footsteps faded from earshot before extracting the vials from his pocket. He stared at them lying innocently in his palm and wondered momentarily if he ought to go straight into the bathroom and empty their contents down the drain. A single dose had thrown his workouts into overdrive, sure, and it had also made his arms and the rest of muscles noticeably fuller, but it had also made him put on the damned unwanted weight around his waist that had set his nerves on edge. What would two vials of the mystery drug do? He didn’t want the bloated, off-season look off a weightlifter. He needed to stay trim and ripped, if not for his own satisfaction, then for that of his clients.

The drain it was. He was halfway to the bathroom, however, when he stopped short.

Granted, he didn’t need the translucent shit, whatever it was, but that certainly didn’t mean that someone else didn’t. And, more importantly, his curiosity had yet to be satisfied. To a man his size, the stuff would probably only make him look more swollen, but to someone who didn’t have any size to speak of? He tried to picture what Andy would look like with a good ten or fifteen pounds of muscle on his frame. Even if five of that were pure bloating, he thought, it would certainly make the thin little guy look more impressive.

A smile flourished on his face at the thought and he replaced the vials in his pocket.




Two weeks had passed since Charlie Greene had so swiftly reentered my life. The affections that I harbored for the man who had decided to make me his personal project grew with each passing day. I stole furtive glances at him whenever I thought I could get away with it: in the mornings over breakfast, whenever he turned his back to me at the stove or refrigerator, or in the evenings, as we sat in the living room watching television. The latter had become a frequent pastime of ours and though I was by no means a fan of ESPN, I gladly conceded to Charlie’s desire to stay glued to the channel. If it meant his eyes were on the screen while mine were on him, then I had no problem with it at all. He often propped one foot up on the coffee table, so that the leg of his shorts slid down his thick thighs, giving me quite a show out of the corner of my eye.

But there were eyes on me as well, I soon discovered.

“Have you lost some weight Mr. D?” Luke Freeman, a junior on the varsity basketball team, asked me one day as he turned in his test. “You look like you’ve been working out.”

“Uh, somewhat, yeah. Just a little,” I said, unsure how to answer. No-one had ever paid me the compliment before, let alone a student. “Thanks for asking.”

And an A+ for Mr. Freeman, I thought cheerfully as he sauntered back to his seat. Needless to say, as I strolled into the teacher’s room come lunchtime, I walked with a little more spring in my step and practically floated to my usual table in the corner. Even my typically bland bowl of brown rice and chicken didn’t seem as unappetizing.

“Tell a girl how to join you up there on cloud nine or come back down to Earth.”

I hadn’t even noticed Lynn approach, but nonetheless turned to her with a wide smile. She settled into a seat across from me without invitation and began unpacking her salad and fruit, all the while cocking that curious eyebrow of hers. Her white blouse was, per usual, filled with her bountiful breasts, and even for a gay man, it was hard not to take a good long stare. “Spill.”

“I was just paid a compliment earlier. That’s all.”

“For an English teacher, you sure are lax on details.”

I grinned. “Do you know Luke Freeman? Plays forward guard on the varsity team?” I started to say, before suddenly biting my lip. Now that I was actually about to verbalize it, it seemed odd to be so proud of the compliments of a seventeen year old high school student. Almost creepy. “He, uh…just said he can tell that my workouts have been paying off.”

“Please. Don’t be so bashful,” she said, waving her fork flippantly. “At least they actually tell you that you look good instead of drooling over you while you’re trying to teach them what an alkylate is. I mean, it’s flattering in a way, to know that they’re probably making me a deposit in their spank banks, but it really impacts my professionalism sometimes. Besides, for a D average student, he’s right. You do look good. What’ve you been doing?”

“You…you noticed too?” I stammered, choking on a piece of grilled chicken.

“What girl wouldn’t notice when her favorite piece of unavailable ass improves?”

Someone could juts have easily lit my ears on fire, they felt so warm, but I nonetheless began to recount to her the routine the Charlie had put me on, the one that, despite my initial misgivings, I had stuck to and which was now, evidently, paying off.

“It’s brutal at times, but Charlie’s always going on about—”

She raised her fork. “I’m going to stop you right there. You’ve mentioned this Charlie guy like four times in the past five minutes. Is he, like, your personal trainer or something?”

I hadn’t even realized that I had dropped his name and quickly bit my lip.
“He’s, uh, a private trainer, yeah. Anyway, he’s always telling me—”

“But he lives with you?” she interrupted again.

I mentally kicked myself. How much have you blabbed, you idiot? Have you no filter? I started to open my mouth to spit out a convenient lie, but decided against. Of the few people who wouldn’t pass along sensitive information, I knew Lynn to be one of them, despite her playful attitudes. Heaving a sigh, I began confessing the events of the past two weeks, starting with Charlie’s unexpected email. And despite the loyalty I felt she would shield me with, I nevertheless left out the more personal and intimate details. She didn’t need to know of the nighttime visitations I dreamt about or the daytime fantasies I frequently found myself in.

“Two questions,” she said, when I had finally finished. “Is he straight and is he available?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and suddenly, the day seemed brighter again.




“I think we should start you on supplements.”

We were sitting in the living room the very same night watching ESPN (again), I with a book in my lap, and Charlie resting in his usual place in the recliner, eyes glued to the screen. He hardly spoke during these times other than to cheer on a team or curse them whenever they missed a crucial pass, and only to me when it proved unavoidable. So when I looked up from my book to find him staring full-on at me, I felt surge of adrenaline rush through my veins.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “Okay. You’re the Einstein when it comes to these things.”

I was doubly surprised when he muted the television and leaned in closer.

“Just some creatine and BCAA’s,” he said. “Nothing fancy. To aid recovery.”

I spread my hands. “Like I said: you’re the boss. I trust you.”

Something flashed in his eyes then, something akin to surprise but more complex, almost wounded. I convinced myself that it was just the illumination from the television in his eyes though, and raised my eyebrows to signal he should continue.

“I’ll pick some up soon then,” he said. “You can just have some of mine until then.”

The phrases “BCAA’s” and “creatine” were practically Latin to my ears, but even I had garnered enough knowledge in the field of physical fitness in the past two weeks to know that recovery was key to success. Thus far, my recovery periods had consisted of plenty of rest, a good diet, and the occasional protein shake, but if BCAA’s and creatine (whatever they were) could expedite the process, I was all in. You might even pack on some size, I thought. I had a momentary flash of my head resting on a physique that mirrored Charlie’s and, blushing, hurriedly looked back down into the book in my lap. I had never dared imagine myself as being buff, but I would have been lying if I said the idea wasn’t attractive.

Charlie rose from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Taking his momentary absence to readjust the rapidly stiffening cock in my pants, I quickly settled into a new position on the couch before he reentered, toting a glass of water. When he extended it to me, I looked up at him questioningly.

“For these,” he said, and dug into his pocket. He withdrew two small, capped vials. The liquid inside looked precisely like corn syrup, perhaps slightly more fluid, and could not amount to more than half a mouthful between the two vials. “I figure I might as well just go ahead and give you some BCAA’s now, since I have them. We’ll begin cycling the creatine later.”

Slowly I took the vials from his palm and examined them. That they lacked any visible labels, brand names, or nutrition facts and were simply clear, black-stoppered cylinders like the sort you might find in a high school chemistry class struck me as slightly odd. But then again, what did I know about supplements? Maybe they're from like a jumbo pack or something. Uncapping the first one, I sniffed it, and got a nostril full of an acrid, sour smell. I’d learn from my dozens of protein shakes, however, the healthy didn’t always mean delectable tasting or smelling. Tossing back the first vial like a shot, I winced at the flavor and sipped from the glass of water Charlie extended to me to clear the taste from my mouth. I repeated the process a second time, downed the rest of the water, and returned the empty vials to the hunk that towered before me.

“A spoonful of sugar would’ve been better,” I joked.

He smiled, but it seemed reluctant and forced.

“Hey, what would you say to dinner with a friend of mine tomorrow night?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. “She’s a co-worker, actually. Her name’s Lynn.”

“It’s your house. I’m just living here.”

I couldn’t argue with that and though he didn’t seem exactly thrilled by the proposition, he agreed and dropped back into his spot on the recliner. It creaked beneath his sudden weight and he groaned and shifted uncomfortably. I quickly looked back into the book in my lap and stifled a surprised grin. Someone’s in a bad mood. Better not pester him. Who knows what a bod like that’s capable of when it’s pissed off?

Not that I would have been against finding out.

[Reeza]

I just finished re-reading the earlier parts of this story before proceeding to the latest installment. I'm glad I did. I didn't give this story the careful reading it deserved the first time through. You're an excellent writer! I suspect that you are, like the narrator, an English teacher. Or maybe you were an English major in college, as I was. Either way - you've got skills!

It is a pleasure to read something so expertly constructed. Your hard work shows. Thank you for all the time and effort you obviously put into this.

[dhalden]

Thanks for the compliments, Reeza! I'm flattered you think so highly of the story so far. Here's to hoping you'll stick with it!

[convolution]

Thanks for the great story so far. I can't wait to see what happens when things start to ramp up

[pizzadaddy]

cant wait for the handsome english prof to grow some serious biceps... got to admit its an awesome fantasy to have a hot teacher mess with his class by having a massive back and beefy arms that you cant see the blackboard

[dhalden]

You may have just given me an idea, pizzadaddy.

[pizzadaddy]

glad i could help... been thinking about how to continue the Josh story... its getting less sexy and way too hollywood... guess im stuck... and my gym is on vacation so i got to contempt to pushups... ill take a nap now

[musclematt]

BUMP!! Please write more, I've been waiting

[dhalden]

Something's in the works, I promise! Been crazy busy lately. Thanks for the enthusiasm!

I'll try to have it edited and up tomorrow or Monday!

[dhalden]

Here you go guys. Apologies again for the delay. I'm hoping to get the second part of this particular installment up by no later than tomorrow night.



I awoke with my skin on fire.

The sensation had gripped me suddenly as I slept, hauling me from my dreamless slumber. I lay for only a second in the sweat-soaked sheets, stricken motionless by the shock and oddness of the sensation, before sitting upright, panicked. I hurriedly pulled off my t-shirt, struggling as the drenched material clung to my skin, and tossed it to the floor. My boxers followed. Naked and burning, I lay beneath the glorious breeze of my ceiling fan, relishing in its cool wafts. When the sweltering finally began to diminish and become bearable, I rolled to look at my alarm clock. 3:05am.

I don?t feel sick. No nausea. No aches. So what the hell?

Still tired, I nevertheless spilled from bed and started for the door, the bathroom on my mind, but stopped short of the hallway. Normally I would have ambled naked as a jaybird down the hall, especially in the middle of the night, but the thought of Charlie discovering me, infinitesimally small as the chance was, petrified me. I quickly pulled on my boxers again and tiptoed down the hall, the bathroom blinding as I turned on the light. The moment my eyes adjusted, I stepped back and examined myself in the mirror.

My skin was only slightly flushed, as if I had recently stepped from a too-hot shower, but certainly nowhere near as red as it had felt only minutes before. I quickly pressed a hand to my chest and withdrew it, expecting the negative of my hand to appear like it did whenever I got sunburn. The print was faint, but still evident, quickly fading away as if it weren?t there at all. Actually, it?s kind of cold in here, I thought, shivering amidst the cool porcelain tiles and appliances. Whatever strange episode had plague me was now gone. Suddenly tired again, I took a piss, splashed my face with water, and trudged back to bed.

Sleep eluded me. I lay tossing and turning for the first hour, willing myself back to sleep, but try as I might, I could not slip back into my dreamless state. Sighing angrily, I pondered my options and had just settled on catching up on some grading when I heard the creak of floorboards across the hall. Charlie must be up. Is this how early he always gets up to make breakfast? I listened as he moved around the spare bedroom, opened his door, and crept down the hall to the bathroom. A moment later the toilet flushed and his footsteps moved distantly into the kitchen. The muffled bang of pots and pans met my ears. I should probably go help him. Return the favor. At the mere thought of food, my stomach suddenly clenched painfully. I winced as it growled loudly and sat upright, rubbing it.

By the time I had changed into a fresh t-shirt and pair of shorts?my original, sweat-soaked pajamas tossed into the hamper?and ambled into the kitchen, Charlie was already dutifully whisking a bowl of egg whites and shredded spinach. He looked up in surprise, grinning brighter than the sun that had yet to rise.

?You?re up early,? he said. ?Did I wake you??

?No,? I admitted, reaching for the package of turkey sausage and tearing it open. ?I, uh, had a nightmare and couldn?t get back to sleep. Thought I?d help you out here.?

He shrugged. ?Whatever floats your boat.?

Per usual, he was already dressed in his morning workout suit, this one blue but just as form fitting as the rest that he owned. As he crossed to the refrigerator and bent to peer into it, I tossed a glance toward his ass and marveled at the sight of it straining the fabric. I imagined fleetingly my face buried between his globular cheeks, but quickly banished the thought. Pop wood here and he?s bound to see it. As the aromas of the sausage, egg, and protein pancakes filled the kitchen, my stomach clenched again. I grimaced and smiled awkwardly as it let out another ravenous growl, one that made Charlie turn his head toward me.

?Go ahead, killer,? he chuckled, nodding toward the food on the table. ?Don?t wait for me.?

Thank you, I thought desperately, and dropped into my usual seat. I piled my standard helping of eggs and sausage onto my plate and considered it for a moment before adding a second helping of each. I ate like a man who had been deprived of food at length, barely swallowing mouthfuls of half-chewed food before shoveling in more. What the heck?s going on here? I?ve never been so hungry before.

?The routine must be working,? Charlie said, as if answering my question. He dropped into the seat opposite me. ?You?re putting it away like a linebacker over there.?

?I?m not even full yet,? I said, swallowing the last morsel and eying the stack of pancakes that Charlie usually reserved for himself. ?Mind if I???

?Go ahead,? he said, offering the plate; I quickly forked three of them. ?It?s about time that appetite kicked in. I was beginning to wonder if I we should kick things into overdrive, but it looks like it?s finally arrived. Don?t gorge yourself though, man. You don?t wanna crash later.?

By the time I had finished the pancakes, I finally felt full and sat back in my seat, patting my slightly protruding stomach. I heaved a sigh and was surprised when a loud belch followed: ?Braaaaacccckkk!?

?Jesus, man,? Charlie laughed.

?Sorry,? I apologized quickly. ?I?have no idea where that came from. I usually never??

He raised a hand. ?Hey, man to man, it?s all good. No offense taken.?

Slightly embarrassed, my cheeks burning and flushed, I rose and deposited my dirty dishes into the sink and hurried into the bathroom for my morning shower. It being a Thursday morning, the one day of the week I could not manage to fit in a workout before heading off to work, I showered languidly, enjoying the near-scalding water on my skin, even though it bitterly reminded me of my abruptly interrupted slumber.

Seriously though, I wondered as I lathered up my chest, what the heck?s going on this morning?

Pulling into my assigned spot in the teacher?s parking lot of West Cape High forty-five minutes later, I cast a quick glance around the mostly deserted grounds. In the next half hour, students would be pouring into the well-manicured grounds, sleepy-eyed and yawning. Personally, I?d always enjoyed beating the hordes of students and walking the halls before my day began. With my lunchbox in hand and my bag slung over one shoulder, I ambled inside, savoring the rare silence that greeted me. Within the hour it would be broken by the gossiping, laughing, cursing, weeping, and yawning mouths of hundreds of adolescents. Grinning, I started strolling toward my classroom, decidedly taking the long way via the back hallway by the gymnasium. I had gone, perhaps, four feet down the hall when I heard the clamor echoing toward me from somewhere near the locker-rooms.

?Rraah!? a voice, straining painfully, called. Cocking an eyebrow, I softened my pace and crept toward the noise. It was soon coupled with the intermittent clang of iron and metal clinking together. ?Come on?uurrgh!?

I pressed myself flat against the wall outside of the entrance of the weight room and gingerly peered in, expecting to see one of the members of the varsity football team, the quarterback Jordan Stein perhaps, pumping away. I knew that they sometimes the players were given early admittance to the school to get in a morning workout and, not wanting to interrupt whoever it was, quickly turned to go?and did a double-take. Well, that?s definitely not our star quarterback, now is it?

Even from behind, I could recognize the stocky torso and thick-legged frame that was Rick and, as if sensing my presence, he turned, wiping his dripping forehead on the back of one of his meaty forearms. The chords of muscle were barely visible beneath the thick, dark hair that peppered them. Quickly ducking out of sight, I held my breath, waiting for him to call me out. When he did not, I risked another peak and found him loading 50lbs plates onto a barbell, his face determined and red with exhaustion. His beard, glistening with sweat, rose and fell with every heavy pant, his hugely swollen chest distending his shirt. He reached for a bottle of what I could only assume was a protein shake by the looks of it and chugged it down in long draughts, his Adam?s apple jumping with every swallow.

?Fucking fairies,? he grumbled beneath his breath when he?d finished. ?Fucking show them how it?s done. This is how a real man lifts.?

I probably would have risked lingering a moment longer to watch his admittedly impressive musculature at work were it not that an unstoppable bout of laughter rose to my lips. Practically shoving my fist in my mouth to stifle it, I hurried back down the hall, bursting into a full fit of laughter as I stumbled into my classroom thirty seconds later. The big galoot?s jealous? There?s no way. Oh, this is just too rich. Which is how I began my day of teaching with an irregular sense of pride, beaming irrationally as I called out students.

I was halfway through my lesson on the importance of symbolism in Flannery O?Connor?s writing when, all of a sudden, my stomach clenched painfully for the third time that day.

?You okay Mr. D?? Luke Freeman asked as I pressed a hand to my side.

?Cramp,? I lied, tossing a glance at the clock. Lunch period?s still an hour and a half away, I thought bitterly. Never going to make it that long. I?m going to need a snack. Fortunately, pulling bullshit reading assignments from thin air was a particular talent of mine and, instructing my students to reread the assigned chapters for the day, I threw myself into my chair at my desk. Pulling my lunchbox from below, I quickly rifled through it and pulled out every item that didn?t require microwaving: an apple, turkey wrap, rice cakes, and bag of baby carrots. I started in on the turkey wrap and was halfway through the rice cakes when the bell signaling the end of the period rang shrilly in the hall.

?Next four chapters for tomorrow!? I called to the class as they packed up their bags.

I had barely finished my apple when the next batch of students settled into their seats, but only fifteen minutes later, my stomach rumbled thunderously again. I grimaced and leaned against my desk to steady myself, glancing toward the clock again. Thirty minutes. You can make it. Just try not to think about it. Think about?television or something. National Geographic or the Weather Channel for god?s sake. Anything but food?Food Network? No!

When the bell finally rang a half an hour later, I was one of the first out the door, lunchbox in hand, and one of the first in the teacher?s lounge. Tearing off the lid of my Tupperware full of chicken and rice, I tossed it into the microwave and punched the power button.

?No breakfast?? someone asked behind me. I grunted a reply without turning to see who it was and tore what was left of my lunch from the microwave the moment it beeped. I didn?t even wait to take a seat before stabbing the biggest chunk of chicken with my fork and forcing it into my mouth.

?Ouch! Damn it?? I said the moment the blistering chicken touched my tongue. I looked down at the Tupperware full of steaming rice and chicken again. Fuck it, I thought, and dug in again, though with admittedly smaller bites. In no time, the container was empty save for a few morsels of rice. Opening my bag again, I peered inside at the only remaining bit of food: the bag of baby carrots. This has got to be like a sugar withdrawal or something, I thought as I tore open the bag and shoved three of the orange sticks into my mouth. I?ve never been this hungry in my life.

?Hey, we still on for dinner tonight?? Lynn?s voice asked, drifting to my ear from across the room. Looking up, I saw her perched in the corner, stirring a cup of tea. ?Six o?clock, right??

?Mhmm,? I said, shoving another carrot past my lips and nodding.

?Good, I want to me this Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome you told me about.?

And winking, she flitted from the room.

There is no way in hell I?m going to make it to dinner if I don?t eat some more before then.

Much to my surprise and relief, the hunger abated some by the time I had finished the baggy of carrots, seemingly momentarily satisfied, though not altogether appeased. It still lingered in the back of my stomach, a dull aching that I would have mistaken for nausea were it not that the thought of a double cheeseburger seemed so alluring. Taco Bell sounds good too. Or Chipotle. Maybe just a quick bite on the way home? Charlie doesn?t have to know. Like they say: what he doesn?t know, won?t hurt him. Besides, I?ve been fucking perfect on this diet. I deserve to splurge a little. Get some sugar in my system. That should mollify this ridiculous appetite. At least until tonight.

Back in my classroom, I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick text to Charlie.

Have to duck out on the gym today. Sorry. Have to stay late for an impromptu meeting. Don?t forget dinner tonight with my friend. Six o?clock.

The moment I hit send, I was out of my seat and down the hall, digging in my pockets for spare change. Lunch period didn?t end for another ten minutes and I wouldn?t have a chance to eat again until school let out, I realized; I would need snacks until then. The vending machines, off limits to students during school hours, stood gloriously at the end of the hall as I turned a corner, beckoning me. I bought as many snacks as quarters I had in my pocket and carried them back to my classroom, dumping them into the topmost drawer of my desk. Wait a second. There?s splurging and then there?s splurging. Don?t you have any self-control?

And then I grabbed a Kit-Kat.

[Reeza]

Originally Posted by dhalden

Here you go guys. Apologies again for the delay. I'm hoping to get the second part of this particular installment up by no later than tomorrow night.

Nicely done. As much as I anticipate the next part(s), I understand how time consuming writing can be. Do what you can, when you can. I will wait. (And I will hope someone else nags the shit out of you. )

[convolution]

Looks like a "growth spurt" of some kind might be coming on ...
nice build up

[dhalden]

Nag away, my friend, nag away. I need the incentive. haha