Raising the Bar

[C Monty]

This isn't my first story (I wrote that old, old "Hercules Revealed" story – which I am completely rewriting and completing, by the way). But this might as well be my first story, for all intents and purposes. Hope you enjoy it.

*02.17.2008. Couldn't help doing another revision.*

---------------------------------------------

Spike's was a small bar tucked away in a residential section of a small college town. It was a popular hangout spot for college students old enough to drink, for those who weren't but tried anyway, and for graduates who just can't seem to break ties with the place where they had their first drink. Four of those graduates in particular never missed an opportunity to leave behind their respective stresses from the week and unwind over at Spike's. This July night, however, only three were in attendance: the fourth was nowhere to be seen. No matter; the other three wasted no time in striking up yet another discussion about nothing in particular.

“I'm just sayin', tho, Vernon,” the tallest and loudest of the three young men declared aloud, “every guy knows that if you gotta get a pet, then you gotta get a dog. Cats are for old ladies and fags. Pussies for the pussies.” His name was Ricky van Buren, a cornfed white boy from the Midwest who, nevertheless, dressed and spoke like the rappers he saw on Black Entertainment Television every day. The twenty-three year old gymrat with the skin fade and goatee had more muscles than brains, and neither made nor pretended to make any attempt at logical or critical thinking.

The black man looked back at his associate with a smirk on his face. “Ricky, I stay in a fuckin' apartment,” Vernon replied. “So unless I'm getting a fuckin' Chihuahua or some shit, I ain't got no room for a dog.”

“Whatever, man. Lots of folks got dogs in their apartments.” Ricky shot back. “Hey, Denis, remember Butch? The bull terrier I used to have when I was ten?”

“You mean the one I had to feed and clean up after?” Ricky's younger brother Denis winced at the painful memories. “The one that'd bite the shit out of me all the time?”

“Oh shit. I'd forgotten about that,” Ricky snickered as he continued to down his Guinness.

“Yeah, I'll bet.” Denis continued. “I thank God every day that that bastard got hit by a moving van.”

“'Ey, don't be talkin' 'bout Butch like that,” Ricky protested. “He went out like a G.”

Vernon nearly spit out his drink from laughing. "Wow. I was not yet drunk enough to hear you say that Butch 'went out like a G,' Ricky. You know you're a mess, right?"

"Hey, hey, hey…the fuck is alla this," a fourth voice shouted from several feet away. "You know you fuckers aren't allowed to be happy 'til I get here!" Everyone looked up to see two more men approaching their table. The shorter of the two – the one with the smart mouth – was Luis, the previously absent fourth member of the clique. The Dominican young man's jet black hair and tanned skin contrasted with the appearance of his unidentified accomplice, who was much taller and thinner with light brown skin, short dark brown hair, and bright grey eyes. Ricky noticed that the skinny unidentified guy was wearing an oversized long-sleeved shirt, despite the fact that it was about eighty-five degrees outside.

"Luis!" Vernon got up and gave his friend a pound. "Thank God you finally made it. Now maybe the average IQ at this table'll go up a few notches." Vernon shot a smirk at Ricky, who frowned up at him as he took the last gulp of his current glass of beer. "Who's your friend?"

"'Sup, guys?" Luis grinned. "This is Bernard. He's the guy I told y'all about from my film classes." Bernard nodded and tossed out a singular "'sup", but otherwise remained silent, taking in his surroundings.

Ricky cocked his head at Bernard as he sat down next to him. "You ain't one a' them shy, salad-eatin' bitches, is you? You gotta man-up if you wanna hang out with us, dude."

Bernard gave Ricky a bewildered look. "'Man-up?'"

The more sociable Vernon ignored Ricky and extended his hand to Bernard. "What's going on, Bernard? I'm Vernon…this here is Denis…and this punk motherfucker over here is…"

"…Ricky," Bernard interrupted. "I've heard…a lot… about him."

"All good things, I'm sure," Ricky grinned, still staring Bernard up and down. "Right, Luis?" Luis remained silent as he took his seat. He had gone out of his way to warn Bernard about Ricky's tactlessness, but for whatever reason Bernard had seemed unbothered by the warnings. Now here Bernard was sitting right next to Ricky, as if nothing was wrong or would be later.

The two latecomers situated themselves and Luis fell into Ricky and Vernon's off-kilter discussion about choosing a pet. A half-minute after Bernard and Luis sat down, a waitress, all teeth and bubbly personality, appeared at the table to take their orders.

"Hi, guys! Welcome to Spike's! Can I get you two anything?" Luis ordered an MGD, while Bernard ordered a Miller Light. Everyone else ordered two extra rounds of Guinness. As the waitress walked away with their orders, Ricky leaned back further in his chair, his eyes locked directly on the blonde waitress's slender frame. He leaned back up after she'd exited into the kitchen, a dirty smile on his face and his tongue peaking out of his mouth.

"Yo, she gets hotter every time I see her," Ricky raved. He set his chair back upright and shifted his seating position. He didn't seem to notice or care that his left kneecap was pressed up against Bernard's right leg. But Bernard did notice, and cared enough to slowly move his leg away. Three seconds later, Bernard felt Ricky's leg up against his again. Well, that rules out coincidence, Bernard thought to himself.

"That waitress? Cute, but too skinny," Vernon responded. "That one over there's cute tho.'" Vernon pointed in the direction of a female bartender with larger curves.

The smile on Ricky's face thinned a bit. "Oh, yeah, I forgot, V. You only like them fat bitches." Ricky laughed at his own joke, but everyone else alternately looked away or sighed in exasperation.

" I'm just sayin' though," he continued. "I want a woman that won't put a dent in my bedframe if I'm tryin' to fuck 'er. You feel me, Bernard? Or are you a chubby chaser too?"

Bernard looked up from the stack of coasters he was shuffling in his hands. Here we go, he thought to himself. Out loud, he responded, "I'm gay, Ricky. But I do like my guys a little on the big side."

His remark didn't elicit much of a response from Vernon or Denis, but Ricky damn near did a double take. "You for real? No bullshit? Fuck, I woulda never guessed; you look normal. Well, except for the grey contacts. That's pretty gay, man."

Despite everyone else's silently shocked reactions, Bernard replied calmly and confidently to Ricky's comments. "It's the Creole blood. My grandmother was from Louisiana; she had grey eyes too."

"Well, ain't that sweet," Ricky deadpanned. "She know you're a homo?"

"Don't make me whoop your ass, Ricky," Vernon warned as he rubbed the temples of his bald mahogany scalp. "Shut the fuck up."

"No, it's cool, Vernon," Bernard assured before turning back to face his heckler. "My grandmother's dead, Ricky, but yeah, she knew. My whole family knows."

"Holy shit," Ricky said aloud, although the tone of his words made it seem like he was thinking aloud. "So you're one of those 'out and proud' fags, huh? Running around in the streets with a fuckin' rainbow flag and another dude on your arm? Shit's disgusting."

For whatever reason, Bernard’s guard fell with this response, an uneasy and troubled look painting his face before he had time to think up a response. The usually light-hearted Luis' face was getting colder by the second. "Yo, son, cut that shit out," he started. "You're being a real dick tonight. Even for you."

"Yeah, Rick," Denis added, "leave the guy alone. We just met him a few minutes ago, and you're already showing your ass."

Ricky snorted. "Whatever, man. It's just jokes. Y'all know I 'on't mean nothin' by it." No one bothered to respond, and the table fell uncomfortably still. Like a godsend, the waitress finally got back with the guys' drinks, breaking the tension before things could get worse.

"Here you are," she sang as she set a large hodge-podge of beer glasses in the middle of the table. A sea of hands had descended upon the beer like starved wolves attacking venison.

"Yo, you're like right on time, ma," Luis remarked cheerfully. "Baby Ricky over here was getting pretty fuckin' grumpy without his Guinness." The others laughed. Ricky, of course, remained silent and scowled.

"Thanks so much," Vernon said to the waitress with a smile.

"You're more than welcome!" she replied back with an even bigger smile. "Let me know if you need anything else!"

The waitress sashayed away from the table, and sure enough, Ricky was leaning back in his chair a second time, his eyes locked on her body for a good minute. The others preoccupied themselves with distributing their respective beers to the proper person. It took a tap on the shoulder from Bernard, holding a glass of Guinness, to snap Ricky back to attention.

Ricky nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that Bernard had tapped him. "Ahhh!! Don't touch me in public, man!"

Bernard looked at Ricky as if he were insane, and gave the beer glass in his hand a little shake for emphasis. "Um, you want your drink, Ricky?"

Ricky took the tall glass of dark brown beer from Bernard's hand. Vernon was watching Ricky's every action, daring him to start some shit. He half expected Ricky might wipe the glass down after he'd retrieved it, but was surprised to notice Ricky's hand linger over Bernard's for a bit longer than it should have.

The atmosphere at the table became relaxed again, and Luis struck up conversation about his latest film project. Ricky was virtually silent at his side of the table, chugging away. No sooner than he had managed to down nearly half of his glass did Ricky start smacking his lips loudly and inquisitively. "Yo," he addressed the table, "this shit taste different to anyone else?"

Denis shrugged. "Same ole Guinness to me. And good as ever." He continued drinking.

"Pretty much," Vernon co-signed. "I mean, come on, Rick. It's the same Guinness that we've gotten from the same bar we've gone to ever since we could legally drink." To prove his point, Vernon took his own glass and downed about a quarter of it in one gulp. "See? Exactly the same."

"Well, hey, it tastes…different to me, aight?" Nevertheless, Ricky didn't hesitate to down another massive gulp of beer. And another. And another after that. In less than thirty seconds, Ricky's glass was bone dry, and he elicited a cartoonishly loud "ah!" after swallowing the last drop. Just as he was reaching for his fifth beer of the night, however, the jukebox on the other side of the bar queued up, of all things, a Madonna song as part of its random shuffle. Ricky rolled his eyes and excused himself from the table, fishing a dollar bill out of his pocket. "Be right back…seems like the gays're even takin' over the jukebox." He walked off without turning around to witness the reactions from his cheap shot.

Luis turned to his buddy the second Ricky was out of earshot. "Hey, B, don't worry 'bout that fucker, man. He's a homophobic asshole, just like I told you." Luis' breath came through his nose in exasperation. "He's our boy and all, but yo, this shit's gettin' outta hand, man."

"Luis is right, Denis," Vernon chimed in. "You might wanna ask Ricky to leave. Before we get up and throw him the fuck out."

"You guys really think he's gonna listen to me?" Denis protested. "As drunk as he is right now? I mean, I can try though -- I don't wanna make Bernard uncomfortable his first time here…"

Despite everyone else's concern and plotting, Bernard still seemed almost eerily cool about the whole situation. "Hey, you don't have to go through all that trouble, man. We're here to drink, right? 'Sides, I ain't even worrying 'bout Ricky; I'm used to dealing with his kind." Bernard went back to his Miller Light, his eyes keeping track of Ricky as the dumb jock crossed the bar's minuscule dance floor to reach the jukebox display.

Ricky made his way to the digital jukebox display and flipped rapidly through the albums offered onscreen. "Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit," he repeated over and over again, his thumb tapping away at the "next" button. He paused for a second to glance over his shoulder, noticing Bernard looking in his direction. Creases became visible in Ricky's head as he elicited a long sigh and shook his head.

Finally, Ricky happened upon something he approved of: the latest single by 50 Cent. He inserted his dollar into the jukebox and pressed the "play" button, his head already nodding back and forth in anticipation. The screen read "loading", and a progress bar appeared, but once it got to about 70%, it stopped.

Ricky banged his hand angrily against the device. "The fuck? Work, dammit!" He banged the jukebox again, harder. Still no response. And still playing fucking Madonna. This piece of shit, Ricky thought to himself. You gotta abuse it just to get a song to play!

Ricky wound a cocked fist behind his back, determined to bring the jukebox back online. But when his fist came in contact with the jukebox, he felt an equal force push back against him and knock him off his feet. Ricky sailed across the bar, landing in a heap in the middle of the dance floor. He propped himself up on his side, sore from his fall, and looked up and over at the jukebox. There wasn't a single person anywhere close to the device, which had suddenly fallen silent. "Who the fuck punched me?"

Ricky quickly looked around the bar, hoping no one saw him. But as he surveyed his surroundings, he realized that something was wrong…out of place. And then he realized what it was: all the girls were gone. The handful of women that had been present in the bar just a few seconds ago – even the girl who was waiting his party's table - had inexplicably disappeared. So had his friends. Only Bernard remained at the party's table on the other side of the bar, and he and many of the other men who remained in the bar were all staring directly at Ricky. A nervous twinge crept up Ricky's spine, and he tried to walk away – or, if possible, run – but he found himself unable to so much as lift a finger.

"Why can't I fucking move?" he grunted wearily. He began to wonder if perhaps he had too much to drink – wouldn't be the first time - when his mind suddenly began racing without his consent.

Ricky, Ricky, Ricky, a voice in his head sighed. Why can't you cop to the truth?

"Huh," he shot back aloud. Was he going crazy? His neck swiveled in three directions at once looking for faces to attach to the strange voice, but no one in the dimly lit bar appeared to be speaking. At all.

The truth, Ricky. The truth.

A sharp chill went down Ricky's back. “Oh, God; I am going crazy,” he whispered aloud. “I know I'm really drunk right now, but this is a little too fuckin' weird for me.”

I know the truth, Ricky, the unseen voice started again. I see the truth. I see you shuddering with sexual pleasure every night as you lust over images of beautiful men. I know every dark fantasy you've ever had, Richard. I saw you desperately staring at and trying to touch the man you just met, all the while taunting him shamelessly for being gay.

Bernard. As much as Ricky wanted to fight his feelings- his desire – he couldn't. “I can't help it. But it's not my fault, tho; he's hot as fuck, man. And that ass…he…it was worth the look...worth a touch if I could…”

The inebriated jock unwittingly began to smile to himself, his hands beginning to rub up and down his firm, toned legs. Inside his boxer shorts, Ricky's dick suddenly sprung to life, and began to swell and snake its way within the front region of his pants. Realizing what he was doing, he stopped himself and jerked his hands away from his legs. However, Ricky soon founding himself straining to keep his hands away from his body, his arms drawn towards his legs as if they were magnetic. He wanted – no, he needed – so badly to touch himself right now. The other men in the bar remained silent and still, their eyes still locked directly on Ricky as sweat beaded on his brow from his struggle with what appeared to be nothing.

Naked terror burned in Ricky's wide eyes, but deep down within, a small part of him liked – loved - the fact that he had an attentive all-male audience. Just like when he was in the gym, pumping out another rep...not just for health, but for show.

Why do you struggle, so, Ricky? Why do you lie to yourself? You love the attention you get from other men because you love men. You desire it. You desire them. Just give in to the truth.

“No,” Ricky yelped aloud, still doing his best to keep from stroking himself in front of his onlookers. He was fighting a losing battle. The tip of a finger from his right hand grazed against his torso at the waist, and the resulting sensation was uncannily electric. Ricky quickly caught himself, the jolt causing him to fall against a support column a few feet from the center of the dance floor.

You see, Ricky? You want it so bad it hurts.

Hot blood began to run through Ricky's veins, searing his mind and senses. He moaned helplessly as his hands overpowered his resistance and began to roam his body again. Whatever semblances of rational thought that were left in his unstable mind were now long gone. The only thing on his mind now was sex. Hot sex. Hot sex with another man. Hot sex with lots of other men. The thoughts poured into his brain so fast he had difficulty standing. Pleasure. Lust. Satisfaction. Fucking.

Fucking.

Fucking. The word wrapped itself around Ricky's mind and sunk in. It said so much with so little. It spoke to Ricky's mind of hard, heavy sex. A showcase of sweat, power, and deep-rooted passion. He'd wanted it for so long, but for just as long, he'd kept his desires for other men bottled up tighter than the posing briefs worn by the hunky male models in his secret photo collection. Suddenly every photo in that collection seemed to appear before his eyes and swirl past his vision. The mental records of the oiled muscle studs flew past Ricky's eyes so quickly, it was a as if he were watching a movie.

“I can't take it anymore,” Ricky responded aloud to the stray voice rattling inside his head. “Whoever or whatever you are, leave me alone!” He wanted very much to blame his current mania on the alcohol, but five glasses of Guinness had never made him horny and schizophrenic before. Unless...that strange taste...

It'll stop it if you'll give in to the truth, Ricky. Set yourself free.

Ricky felt his stomach knot up in fear. "No," he moaned, struggling to control his words as the waves of lust hit him harder and harder, his skin burning as if he were ripening.

Give in.

"No." Ricky's body bucked in response to another amplified wave of sexual desire. His dick was now rock-hard and tenting his pants.

Yes, yes you will. One way or another...you will.

The air caught in Ricky's throat, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. When his air finally returned to him, Ricky was shocked to feel the sides and front of his shirt stretch against his sides as he took in air. He looked down to find that his extra-large white T-shirt had been somehow reduced to a tight, medium sized shirt that showed off many of the bulges and curves of his sculpted torso. And, even more shocking, Ricky could feel the shirt slowly getting tighter around his chest and arms. Was the shirt still getting smaller...or was he...?

“Wait,” he wondered aloud. “What's happening?”

You love putting on a show so much...so why don't we give these fellows something to really look at? More than that; let's give them something to touch...

“No," he moaned aloud.

...something to feel...

Ricky looked down and gasped when he saw his pecs pressing against the front of his shirt, and the tight shirt sleeves starting to ride up his arms. He did his best to quell his immediate excitement and arousal from the peculiar situation, but found himself unable to stop it. His hands made their way to his chest, which had become inexplicably sensitive to his touch. "No," he repeated unconvincingly.

...something to fuck.

The word echoed again in Ricky's head as he stared down at his body, which seemed to be growing warmer and warmer by the instant. As he stared in disbelief, Ricky could see that the now-smaller shirt was being stuffed and stretched with a body that was getting harder, tighter, and larger by the second. The outlines of his nipples were visible through the fabric, and Ricky's eyes rolled in the back of his head as the cotton threads slowly rubbed back and forth across this sensitive region. Just below, the undercarriage which separated his chest and abdomen was becoming more pronounced, creating a shelf of muscle which loomed over his deepening abs. He brought his arms in front of him and saw that they too were expanding, the biceps, triceps, and forearms swelling larger by the second.

Louder moans escaped Ricky's lips as he felt his baggy jeans suddenly draw up against his legs. His balance shifted, and he grabbed hold of the support column with larger, stronger hands to keep himself elevated. Ricky's jeans were now so tight against his firm thighs and calves that they threatened to split, but they did not. Instead, Ricky watched in a combination of horror and excitement as the hems of his pants legs began to rise on their own, creeping higher and higher up his calves towards his knees. And with each inch the pants hem traveled, Ricky's thighs and calves bulged thicker with fresh muscle. At his groin, Ricky's hard dick pushed obscenely against the confines of its prison.

By this point, Ricky's lustful moans were beginning to stir the men of the bar from their states of shocked paralysis, and they slowly crept closer to the changing figure holding on to the column as he writhed and shifted with desire. Ricky felt something at his feet and looked down to see his socks gone and his favorite pair of sneakers peeling apart. Holes suddenly appeared at the sides of the size twelve shoes, and as the holes became larger and larger until more foot than shoe was seen. The Ricky van Buren everyone previously knew had poorly maintained feet, but when his shoes had finally faded away into thin air, his bare feet were without a single blemish or flaw.

Ricky's pecs continued to loom larger and larger at his chest, now forty-five inches and still growing, and his lateral muscles began to swell out from behind him in accompaniment. The t-shirt was now stretched dangerously thin, the bottom of the shirt riding so high up Ricky's torso that his tight, newly rippling abdomen was on full display. Above his head, his beefed-up arms were twenty-three inches around, and ready to burst from the sleeves. Instead of being ripped into irregular shreds by Ricky's bulging body, however, the shirt began to come apart slowly at the seams. The stitches came undone an inch at a time, an invisible force pulling Ricky's shirt off of him as if it were adhesive. Deep moans of satisfaction escaped Ricky's lips as the shirt peeled away and his new torso was slowly revealed to all present. His fifty-two-inch chest and massive shoulders were thick with perfectly proportioned muscle, and not a single hair was seen on the smooth, bright golden skin. His waist, while it had neither grown nor shrunken from its original thirty-two inches, was now deeply etched with awe-inspiring cuts defining his lower abs and obliques. The cold painted cement of the support column chilled Ricky's now-meatier lats and the entire mass of his Herculean torso swelled and contracted with the slightest move.

Not to be outdone, Ricky's pants legs had finally made their ways up and over each knee, leaving gorgeously sculpted calves in their wake. In the space of a few seconds, Ricky felt cold air stinging the smooth skin of his swelling thighs. He looked down in time to that see his jeans had somehow become a pair of tight black posing briefs; the boxer shorts he'd put on that morning were inexplicably gone. The shorts were stretched tight about Ricky's hips, pulled even tighter in the back by a large bubble butt that had formed there. Thirty-inch quads bulged dramatically from the leg holes below. In the front, the briefs were tented obscenely by Ricky's throbbing dick, which, unlike the rest of his body, had somehow remained at its original size of six inches.

By now, Ricky's breath came in ragged pants as he looked around Spike's, his body nearly nude and virtually perfect in appearance. Twelve of the men in the bar had gathered close to Ricky's support column, giving him a six foot radius of open space as he continued to transform. As his transformation began to slow itself, however, the stoic looks on the men's faces began to slowly fade away in favor of lecherous visages which burned with lustful hunger for the young muscleman in the tight, straining posing briefs. This both threatened Ricky's sense of safety and turned him on to no end, as he stood there grabbing onto the column for dear life. His new body was like a caged animal, thrashing about, and daring – yet inviting – anyone who dared to approach him. The sweat from Ricky's pores made his skin shine as if oiled, glistening under the low light of the facility. Sweat was even visible in the light shadow of dark brown stubble on his head, beads of it rolling down the front of his face across his goatee and pink lips. He had not a single speck of visible body hair, with the exception of a lightly dusted trail of brown hair which led the eye easily from Ricky's muscled abdomen to his straining crotch.

From the crowd, one man – a big and burly type with a thick beard and mustache – stepped forward, stopping just in front of the gyrating young muscleman. Ricky watched in simultaneous horror and bliss as the older man's hand rose to touch Ricky's thick, flexing right thigh. The old closeted Ricky was hard to silence, and he could hear himself screaming out in fear in his head. But only in his head. Ricky's body defied its owner's apprehension, and held his head high in approval as the bare leg slid out towards the stranger's open hand.

The second Ricky's thigh met the other man's hand, everything changed. Ricky cried out, his voice shivering with sexual need, as his dick suddenly began to inflate itself from within the tight black briefs. Eight inches of dick. The seams of the briefs began to strain. Ricky tried to hold himself back, but the stranger's hands began to caress him harder, rubbing deep into the satin-like skin which coated his quads and hamstrings. Ten inches of dick. Ricky's body was contorted in the strangest way possible as his briefs began to split at the sides. His entire body was bent as if he were trying to either stop his dick from growing, or somehow trying to aid the growth by pushing all of his strength into it.

Twelve inches of dick. With an audible rip, the posing briefs were no more, and the thick, throbbing monster emerged, its head drooling with slick precum. Ricky's bare body was finally on display for all to see, and instead of cowering Ricky responded by drawing his arms up into a double-bicep bodybuilder's pose, his pelvis pushing his thick erection forward towards his onlookers. The already rippling tendons popped out in sharp relief across his torso, and Ricky's hands were soon kneading and caressing his bare muscled body, at one point circling his groin in long, slow strokes. His eyes were forced closed from the overwhelming sensations, but Ricky could hear and sense the scores if men in the bar rushing forward to mob him all at once, overcome with lust and desire. A mass of five men fell upon Ricky all at once, two of them each grabbing a thick leg, two more at each nipple of his massive chest, and one lucky man at Ricky's huge phallus. Pleasure rocketed throughout Ricky's new body like lightning as he was kissed, sucked, and nibbled to heaven, hell, and back by each of those five men.

It took seven more men to prop Ricky and his partners upright, revealing his open and vulnerable backside. Ricky gasped as he felt someone rubbing and sucking at the thick muscles snaking across his back, and shouted and shuddered with joy as he felt a pair of thick fingers find their way inside his dimpled, rounded ass. He allowed the penetrating hand entrance into his hole, and had trouble drawing breath as the pair of fingers felt him up from the inside. Ricky shut his eyes and began to shout in response to the pleasure he was feeling as the orgy continued. Just as his own clothes had somehow magically fallen from his body, so did the garments of each and every man who came in contact with him. Soon, Ricky and his numerous partners were on the ground again, expressing the throws of their passion on a matted pile of unsown strips of cloth. Ricky's magnificent frame jerked wildly as hands and mouths fucked and sucked at him with ever-mounting intensity, and a multicolored sea of bare skin danced over, around, and on top of him. Massive amounts of cum swelled in his egg-sized balls, but Ricky's arousal teetered endlessly on the precipice of orgasm without going over the edge.

After what felt like hours of bliss, Ricky finally came up for air and saw Bernard, silent and stoic, staring down at him. Bernard was the only man in the entire bar that was still clothed – he'd made no contact with Ricky, who stared back longingly and reached out for him with his hand. Bernard continued to stand still, his head titling questioningly when he noticed the outstretched limb. After an anxious moment during which Ricky felt his heart sink and soar a thousand times over, Bernard stepped forward just enough to allow his knee contact with Ricky's hand.

Instantly, Bernard's clothes split apart and felt to the floor. "Yes," Ricky sighed as Bernard's toned bare body, and especially his bulbous ass, came into full view. Bernard bent down towards Ricky, allowing the young muscleman's hand to slide up his thigh towards Ricky's target. The other men who had been pleasuring Ricky stopped their respective activities when they saw the look in Ricky's eyes as Bernard edged closer and closer. This wasn't about lust any longer, that much was clear.

"Yes," Ricky moaned again as Bernard's left hand reached behind Ricky's head. At the same time, Ricky's right hand found Bernard's ass, and a loud, long moan vibrated in Ricky's throat as his balls began to pump harder and harder with each second. Benard seemed to start backing away from Ricky, but Ricky held him tightly about the hips and gently pulled him closer.

"No, Bernard…Bernard… please..." Ricky moaned. "I want you…I want you so fucking bad" He continued to plead and declare his feelings for the brown-skinned man, licked his glistening lips and kissing Bernard's flat stomach as he did. Bernard's face inched closer to Ricky's, and the massive amount of cum in Ricky's balls began to churn. Three of Ricky's fingers quickly made their way to Bernard's warm, tight rectum and began to push. One finger managed to slip into that hot chasm, causing Ricky's lungs to nearly collapse in excitement and cum to gather at the base of his dick. He could feel and smell Bernard's breath, his body, and his sweat as the other man crept closer, and he couldn't remember the last time something else -anything else – had felt so good, smelled so good. Two more fingers entered Bernard's rectum, and Ricky's head fell back softly against the column. Cum rose in Ricky's foot-long dick like mercury, forcing an orgasmic cry into his throat just as Bernard's sweet, soft lips met his own. The bulky Adonis closed his eyes, and Ricky van Buren, the shameless homophobe, exploded with orgasm, his load rocketing out of his impressive, throbbing shaft and soaring nearly to the ceiling.

And then there was riotous laughter.

Ricky looked around and suddenly he was back in Spike's as it had been before. Vernon, Denis and Luis were literally falling out of their chairs laughing, while Bernard remained seated, with an embarrassed and uneasy look on his face. Even the guys' waitress couldn't help laughing as she raced back into the kitchen to alert the manager.

Dazed, Ricky brought his hands to his head, hoping to stop his head from spinning. He was very, very drunk, and found it difficult to stand. He did manage to catch sight of his body and limbs, and found that he was again clothed and had returned to his original size.

Ricky stood up from the table to try and clear his head, but little did he know that that was the worst thing he could have possibly done at that point. The entire bar erupted into hysterics, and it was only after Vernon's and Luis' pointing fingers alerted him to the problem did Ricky notice the huge, sopping wet stain at the front of his pants. He bent a hand to the stain, hoping it was beer and not what he thought it was. The misplaced swagger Ricky had walked into the bar with that night evaporated the second his hands met with the viscous stain at his crotch and realized that, much to his embarrassment, it was indeed cum.

"It's the craziest shit ever," Vernon howled. "This…this mothafucka was like…he was like…'Bernard…oh, Bernard, it's so fucking good'. Andthenthatmothafuckabustanut! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!"

"Ricky," Denis gasped between guffaws, "you will NEVER be able to live this down! Man, wait 'til our cousins hear 'bout this shit!"

The Internet acronym “ROTFLMAO” perfectly described what Luis was doing as he mimicked Ricky's incessant moans of “no” and “yes” and “oh, Bernard, please.” over and over again, almost unable to contain himself. After a while, Luis was able to stand up from the floor. Still holding his stomach and still chuckling incessantly, Luis laid into Ricky: “Goddamn, Rick! Motherfucker, you owe Bernard the apology of all motherfucking apologies! Maybe you could teach HIM how to be” - Luis raised his hands to create finger quotes - “'gayer!'" The Latin young man then went right back to laughing his ass off.

Ricky didn't know what to do. His gaze shifted rapidly from his three friends, who were falling over each other with laughter, to the other bar patrons doing the same, and the bar manager walking towards their table chuckling. Then Ricky's eyes fell back on Bernard, who stared back without a word, his grey eyes wide and his face dark red.

It was all too much. Ricky bolted for the front door before the manager made it to the table. The older man watched silently as the drunk young man with the huge crotch stain hobbled his way out of the bar. Vernon, Denis and Luis were slowly recovering from their merriment, and offered to fill the manager in on the details. Denis' brother Ricky, they explained, had gotten excessively drunk and had fallen asleep at the table. In between loud snores and grunts, they continued, he'd mumbled a few incoherent things about growing and muscles, then a few random moans of "yes". Before anyone knew what was going on, Ricky was moaning blatantly orgasmic couplets about their openly gay friend Bernard, whom the homophobic Ricky had picked on almost endlessly before passing out.

The manager remained quiet as he listened to the story, rubbing his thick beard and mustache thoughtfully as the three guys stumbled over each other to tell the story. It was easily the most unusual bar story he'd had occur in his place in a long time.

"Shouldn't you boys make sure he gets home alright?" the manager suggested.

"Yeah. He don't live but two blocks from here, but we'll catch up with him and make sure he's okay," Vernon replied, trying his best not to laugh. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to the manager. "Don't worry about the change. We're really sorry about all of this…"

"It's fine. Forget about it! You guys are welcome back at Spike's any time. And Ricky--that's your brother's name, right?--Ricky too."

"We'll be back for sure," Denis responded, "but…"

Luis couldn't contain himself "…but we don't think Ricky's ever coming back. Hell, he may very well skip town on us after this shit!"

"Well, for now, let's just go and make sure he didn't skip out into the middle of the road," snorted Vernon. The manager excused himself and went back into the kitchen shaking his head with a laugh, and Vernon, Luis, and Denis made their way towards the door. Bernard, however, remained at the table, barely so much as blinking an eye.

Luis retraced his steps to the table. "Hey, Bernard, you coming?"

"Huh? Oh, no…not right now. I need to stay here for a second and…you know…"

"…get drunk enough to forget this shit ever happened?"

"Exactly."

"Whatever floats your boat, man. Just don't keep your new boyfriend waiting," Luis teased with a wink. Bernard cracked a smirk and shook his head as the others loudly exited the bar, laughing and joking all the way. Once Bernard was all alone at the table, he reached his had into his pocket and produced a homemade glass vile. Inside was a Creole hoodoo brew his grandmother had shown him how to make many years ago. "Truth serum," she had called the liquid in the vile Bernard was now holding in his hands.

Works like a charm, Bernard noted in his mental log. Too well, in fact: he wasn't prepared for Ricky's responses to the serum, and he had not expected the dumb jock to have such a serious crush on him. Furthermore, he had no interest in dealing with Ricky any further, even if he was good-looking. But if one this was for sure, Bernard thought to himself as he finally got up to leave the bar, Ricky van Buren was never going to pick on another – pardon, a fellow – gay guy ever again.

[sexiscriptor]

haha, that was really hot; very well written and engagingg
though i can't see why on earth bernard wouldn't want to go fool around with ricky XD sounds like a total dreamboat to me, haha; plus i'm sure bernard has some kinda grwoth serum too :P
~Ille

[arpeejay]

Thanks! Words can't express what a pleasure it is to read a muscle story (growth or otherwise) that's so well-written. Not to mention Ricky and Bernard are too, too hot!

xoxo

Richard

[arpeejay]

I'm guessing this was a one shot deal (but you conveniently left off THE END at the end); I'm sure I'm not the only one who would like to hear MORE about Ricky and Bernard, especially if the latter has a change of heart!

xoxo

Richard

[omelissokomos]

Would definitely like to see more of Bernard and his Truth Serum.

[fillups44]

Interesting to read a story that is so dialogue and character driven. A really interesting read. There is a possible series in this with Bernard and his truth serum. It works great as a stand alone too though!!

Wonderful work, Thanks!!

[fleXodus]

Just thought I'd bump this thread to the top since I noticed C Monty had made some extensive revisions since the original version had been posted.

[C Monty]

Yeah, I'm a copy-editing fool. LOL.

[chocomus]

Good story. The ass deserved the humiliation. And it was a hot one

[hollow]

Wow. This was really good. I can't remember the last time I
enjoyed a story this much. Hope to see more stories from you.