Brandon Twice
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Just a Sweet Treat
🕑 Added 2024-10-10 04:48:54 +0000 UTC[feminization]
[Les eats an enchanted cupcake that makes him, a fully straight man, into a simpering queen; he remains 100% straight, but you wouldn't know it by the way he's standing, talking and moving around! Meanwhile the gay men around him develop hypermasculine mannerisms at the same time. Let the shenanigans begin.]
“Honestly, Les, if my own brother doesn't show up at my housewarming party, I’m going to take it personally. Like REALLY personally.”
“Step-brother.”
“For God’s sake, what are you, a teenager? Quit changing the subject. Are you coming to my housewarming party or not? You never even SAW my last condo, y’know.”
“Kev, buddy, I would, but… y’know… your friends can be a little…”
“...a little WHAT, Les? And you know I prefer ‘Kevin,’ please use THAT name.”
“Geez, KEVIN, that’s what I’m talking about. All your buddies are… y’know… particular.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“I mean your friends are all… real uptight.”
“Uptight like the guy who refuses to stop by a CATERED PARTY with free liquor and a DJ?”
“Kevin, c’mon, man… I mean, you know I’m totally cool with you being gay and all–”
“--not like I EVER asked permission, may I remind you, dear step-brother…”
“--yeah, sure, it’s just… your buddies are all… y’know, like ladies.”
“WELL. Really.”
“C’mon, don’t be pissed…”
“FIRST of all…”
“Oh geez, here we go…”
“FIRST OF ALL… if they truly WERE ladies, I’d think you’d be clamoring for an invite. I’ve seen the crowds of bargain basement whores you always end up getting drunk with.”
“Look, Kevin, don’t take this the wrong way or get all ‘Gay Pride’ on me or whatever… you know I’ve got no issue with that! It’s just… what’s a big meathead straight guy going to do with a bunch of hairdressers and… y’know… theater guys?”
“ARE YOU JOKING? You clearly DO have meat in that head of yours–and where do you get your perspective on LGBTQ+ folks, the year 2001?”
“Isn’t this reason enough NOT to invite me? I’ll just offend somebody!”
“Listen, Les, either you show up or you’re off my Christmas list.”
“Wait, though–I thought this year you were sending the whole family Italy!”
“Exactly. Have fun watching our amazing trip on Instagram.”
“Kevin, I’m your BROTHER!”
“STEP-brother. Make your choice, big man. Come hang out with my ‘ladylike’ friends or miss out on a dream vacation.”
*
Les adjusted his shirt, a snug black tee that hugged his massive chest and broad shoulders. At 6'4" and 280 pounds of chiseled muscle, he was a walking powerhouse, built through years of dedication, protein shakes, and intense training. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt, and his traps practically swallowed his neck. He smirked at his reflection in the car window before heading inside.
He knew he looked good, and he loved the attention that came with it–but this situation felt like tossing bloody meat into a shark tank. Then again, showing up looking like a slab of hot meat might be JUST the way to get in good with Kevin’s friends–and thus Kevin too.
(That trip to Italy was going to be UNREAL.)
As he stepped into the apartment, the music hit him first, a catchy pop tune he didn’t recognize, and then he noticed the crowd. The place was filled with Kevin’s friends, and they were all gay men with a flair for fashion, style, and the sort of confidence that bordered on flamboyant. True, they weren’t the simpering caricatures he’d imagined, but it was certainly a bit out of his comfort zone.
“Les!” Kevin greeted him with a big smile, wrapping him in a quick hug. Les was shocked by the embrace; hadn’t Kevin BRIBED him to be there?
“Kev, I uh… hope I wasn’t supposed to bring anything,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.
Kevin laughed. “Oh, just yourself. My friends have been DYING to meet my big bodybuilder brother!” He gave Kevin a pat on his meaty bicep before before wandering off to mingle.
Almost immediately, Les found himself surrounded. A group of three men, all with perfectly styled hair and impeccable outfits, sidled up to him, eyeing him with open curiosity.
“Oh my God, Kevin didn’t tell us his stepbrother was this... massive,” one of them, a guy named Andy, said, dragging his gaze up and down Les’s frame with undisguised admiration. He was bald with boxy glasses and a suit that looked like it cost as much as Les’ car.
Les chuckled, uncomfortable but trying to keep it cool. “Yeah, well, I like to keep in shape.”
“Keep in shape?” Another one, a dark-haired man named Rafael, rolled his eyes dramatically. He sipped his apple-tini, then bounced his eyes. “Honey, you look like you could pick up this entire building if you wanted to.”
Les laughed awkwardly, running a hand over his biceps. “Yeah, well, I lift a little.”
The third guy, a little blonde with impeccably styled hair named Jamie, bit his lip and reached out, his fingers lightly brushing Les’s arm. “You must work out all the time. Can we feel? I mean, this is insane!” Before Les could respond, Jamie’s hand was squeezing his bicep, and he couldn’t help but flex instinctively, feeling a surge of pride. Maybe this kind of attention wasn’t so bad?
“Wow, it’s like a rock!” Andy gasped, running his hands over Les’s chest, fingers lingering a bit too long. “Do you ever let anyone feel you up like this? Or is this a treat just for us tonight?”
Les shifted uncomfortably. Back in college, he’d stripped at a men’s club and made a fortune doing it. Kevin had no idea about that, though. Ever since he left his days on the stage behind, he’d tried to avoid gay men entirely but the truth was… there was something DIFFERENT about a gay man’s admiration. Women fawning over him was great, but when it came from another man, it felt better. Stronger. More earned.
It had been a long time since he’d acknowledged how much he missed this kind of attention.
“Uh, thanks, guys. I do put a lot of work into it,” he managed, offering a weak grin. “It’s all about dedication, you know?”
“Oh, we can tell,” Rafael cooed, trailing a finger down Les’s chest. “Do you mind flexing for us? I mean, you’re just so... impressive. It would make our night.”
Les hesitated for only a moment before lifting his arms, flexing his biceps, the peaks straining against his sleeves as the three men gawked, murmuring in admiration.
“Goodness, look at those guns!” Jamie said, running his hands over one of Les’s biceps as if appraising it. “And the chest too? I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have that kind of power.”
Les smirked, deciding to play along a bit. “Well, it’s not easy, you know. It takes years of hard work.”
Andy leaned in, grinning slyly. “Oh, we can see that. I bet you don’t let just anyone see you like this, huh? We’re pretty lucky tonight.”
Les chuckled, feeling a bit more comfortable. He struck another pose, flexing his chest this time. “Yeah, you guys are getting the full show,” he replied, half-joking.
The three of them practically swooned, laughing and touching his arms and chest with even more enthusiasm. Les was beginning to feel like a prized possession on display, a sensation both flattering and strange. Good god, he had missed this.
Kevin reappeared with a drink for Les, smirking as he saw his stepbrother surrounded. “You look like you’re fitting right in,” he teased, clapping Les on the shoulder.
Les’ face was scarlet as he took the drink. He stepped out of reach of the pawing hands, his posture tightening back up. “Yeah, sure, if fitting in means being the party mascot.”
Kevin laughed. “Hey, I told you my friends would love you. I think you’re making their night.” He gave Les a wink before disappearing into the crowd again.
Les looked back at the three men, who were now discussing his workout routine and asking him to flex his legs, his abs, his shoulders. He glanced around to see if Kevin was nearby, then indulged them.
Kevin appeared again, far too quickly, just as two men were rapping their knuckles gently on his abs, feeling their density while he held his shirt up with one hand. At the sight of his stepbrother, Les dropped his shirt and stepped away. Kevin winked at his friend, then approached Les with a tray of cupcakes. “Come on, big guy, you’ve got to try one. UNBELIEVABLY expensive, and hand-crafted by an artisanal baker I met downtown.”
Les eyed the tray skeptically, noticing the cupcakes were all navy blue, except for one—bright purple and covered in glitter. Kevin held up the sparkly one and pressed it into Les’ hand.
Les wrinkled his nose. “Man, I can’t be eating stuff like that. Sugar, fat, all those empty carbs… You know I don’t put junk in this body.”
Kevin grinned, tilting his head with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, it’s one cupcake. It’s a party, Les! Live a little.” His eyes went from warm to icy in a moment. “Remember: ITALY is only for those who APPRECIATE my gifts.”
Les rolled his eyes; why was Kevin being such a pain in the ass about his stupid party? He picked up the cupcake, still unsure. “Fine, but only because you won’t stop bugging me about it.”
Les took a bite, grimacing at the overly sweet taste. He was about to comment on the sugary overload, but before he could, a strange warmth spread through him. He blinked, feeling his body relax, almost as if a weight had lifted off his shoulders.
“Wow, um, that’s, like, really… interesting,” Les said, his tone suddenly more airy, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that felt… unfamiliar. He frowned, trying to shake off the odd feeling, but it only intensified.
He noticed the guys around him staring, their faces a mixture of amusement and intrigue.
“Les, are you okay?” Rafael asked, trying not to laugh.
“Oh, I’m, like, totally fab!” Les replied, his voice coming out a bit higher, softer, almost musical. His hands flew up to his mouth in surprise, his fingers splayed out daintily. He let out a light, tinkling laugh that he immediately regretted but couldn’t control. “Oh my gosh, did I just say that?”
Andy giggled. “You sure did, sweetie!”
Les felt his cheeks flush as he attempted to compose himself, but even his posture had shifted. Instead of standing tall and dominant, he was now leaning into his hip, his hands resting delicately on his chest. “I mean, like, who even am I right now?” he mumbled, shaking his head. “This is, like, so crazy!” He tried to lower his voice, but every word still came out in a gentle, sing-songy tone.
The guys around him were having the time of their lives, watching this transformation unfold. Jamie smirked, crossing his arms. “I think that cupcake did a number on you, big guy. Or should I say... big girl?”
Les scowled, or at least tried to, but his face only managed a pout. “I’m totally not a girl, duh! I’m, like, totally straight… and the biggest guy here!” he retorted, putting his hands on his hips, his fingers fluttering as if he were about to break into a sassy snap. He caught himself, his eyes wide. “What’s happening to me?” he murmured, feeling a wave of anxiety.
Kevin returned, chuckling as he took in Les’s new mannerisms. “Oh, I think you’re just finally loosening up a bit, Les. Maybe this is the real you.”
Les shook his head, but even the motion was softer, more fluid than his usual assertive movements. “Like, no way. I’m, like, super chill and macho and… stuff. I’m like… a stud! I get tons of girls!” He couldn’t even get the words out without giggling, his tone lilting and playful.
Rafael leaned in, patting Les on the shoulder. “Aw, poor guy. Only girls you’ll get now are the ones who want to go shopping with you!”
Les’s face flushed even redder as he processed that, but he couldn’t seem to summon any of his usual bluster to defend himself. “You guys are all being kinda mean to me…” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper, his tone oddly tentative.
“Wow, this is adorable,” Andy said, laughing. “Les, you’re so sensitive all of a sudden. How does that feel?”
Les hesitated, biting his lip. “It’s, like, super confusing,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I mean, I don’t wanna be, like, that guy who’s all tough and grumpy all the time, you know?” He let out a sigh, his hands moving in small, fluttering gestures as he spoke. “I guess I just wanna be, like… happy and free and, like, chill?”
The guys around him were barely containing their laughter, playfully teasing him as they egged him on, asking him questions, each one more humiliating than the last.
“So, Les, do you still hit the gym every day?” Jamie asked, smirking.
Les put a hand on his chest, tapping his fingers daintily as he considered. “Oh, totally!” he said, rolling his eyes with exaggerated enthusiasm. “But, like, maybe I don’t have to be so, you know, obsessed with it? Maybe I could just, like, go for the vibes?”
His own words startled him, and he let out a small gasp, covering his mouth. “Oh my gosh, did I just say ‘vibes’?”
Kevin burst out laughing. “I think you’re discovering a whole new side of yourself, bro.”
Les felt a pang of embarrassment, but it was softened by a strange, almost comforting warmth. He let out a small giggle, then instantly regretted it, realizing how far he’d fallen from his usual confidence. But part of him, deep down, couldn’t help but feel oddly… free. He caught himself using phrases and slang he didn’t even recognize, his words coming out more melodic, his body moving with a lightness that seemed to mock his usual powerful presence.
The guys continued to laugh and tease, but Les found himself less able to care about his image, his reputation. He was too lost in the strange haze that had overtaken him, unable to resist the pull of this new, exaggerated persona. For the first time, he wasn’t the intimidating, dominant presence in the room. Instead, he was soft, open, and, to his dismay, a bit of a pushover. But a part of him—small, but growing—started to feel that maybe it wasn’t so bad to let his guard down, even if just for one ridiculous, glitter-filled night.
As Les tried to process his new, uncharacteristic behavior, he noticed a strange shift in the atmosphere. The previously flamboyant and delicate energy that filled the room began to change, becoming heavier, more assertive. He glanced around, and to his shock, he saw that Kevin’s friends were standing straighter, broader, and somehow… tougher. It was as if the air itself had thickened with a different kind of energy—bold, powerful, and overwhelmingly masculine.
For a moment, he thought they even smelled different. But no, that couldn't be.
Andy, the same guy who had been cooing over his muscles just moments ago, now stood with a commanding stance, his chest puffed out and his arms crossed defiantly. His face took on a hard-edged confidence, and his voice had deepened, sounding more like a coach than the flirty guy Les had met earlier.
“Yo, Les,” Andy drawled, his tone gruff. He gave Les a look up and down, his eyes narrowed. “How’s a guy with wrists as limp as yours get as big as you?”
The nearby crowd laughed, but it sounded more like a bunch of fratboys with a new victim than the men Les had met before. He blinked, stumbling back a step. “My wrists aren’t, like, limp! I’m, like, all muscle,” he protested, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched and airy, like a whine. Sure enough, however, his hands hung limply. He gasped and quickly tensed up his posture. He could feel himself blushing as he tried to stand tall, but even that didn’t feel right. Instead, he just sort of leaned into his hip, putting a hand on his chest.
Rafael, who’d been a stylish and delicate presence, seemed like a completely different person despite looking exactly the same. “You call that muscle?” he mocked, giving Les a playful shove. “Bro, I thought you were supposed to be this big, tough dude. What’s with the dainty act?”
Les flinched, realizing he couldn’t even push back. “I… I’m just, like, chillin’,” he stammered, his hands moving in small, flustered circles. “I don’t have to be all, like, macho all the time, you know?”
Jamie, who had transformed the most, looked like he belonged on a football team, his demeanor now brash and cocky. He swaggered over to Les, towering over him with a smirk. “Yeah, you’re right. Leave the macho stuff to us real men.” He reached out and ruffled Les’s hair, practically patting him like a kid. “Ain’t that right, princess?”
Les’s face turned crimson. “Princess?” he squeaked, his voice coming out soft and breathy. He could feel himself shrinking in their presence, both physically and mentally. His usual dominance, the pride he took in his muscular frame, seemed to evaporate in the face of their overwhelming machismo.
“Yeah, you look like a little princess,” Andy chimed in, crossing his arms and giving Les a condescending smirk. “Didn’t realize you’d be the one acting all prissy and delicate tonight. We thought you were supposed to be the ‘big man’ around here.”
Les tried to protest, but even his gestures had become more delicate, his voice soft and wavering. “I can be tough too!” he said, but the words came out weak, like a flimsy defense. He could feel his lip tremble, and he bit it, horrified at how sensitive he felt. Everything about him, from his tone to his posture, seemed to be betraying his usual image, making him feel small and insignificant next to these suddenly hulking, assertive men.
Rafael chuckled, crossing his massive arms. “Oh yeah? Then why are you standing there looking like you’re about to faint? You one of those big roided bitches who just goes to the gym to pose in your panties?”
Les flushed deeper, the humiliation washing over him in waves. “I’m, like, REALLY strong and I train harder than anyone here!” he muttered, but he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Even his mannerisms betrayed him, as he brought a hand up to his chest in an almost protective gesture, his fingers lightly brushing his collarbone.
Jamie let out a laugh, loud and deep, and threw an arm around Les’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Oh yeah? Hate to break it to you, but you look more like a cheerleader than a bodybuilder right now.”
Les tried to pull away, but he felt an odd twinge of excitement mixed with his humiliation. Being so close to them, feeling their masculinity radiating off them, only emphasized his own delicate, almost submissive posture. His heart raced, the feeling both thrilling and terrifying. All those years ago, stripping for all those men, he’d felt like he was in control… powerful. Here, he felt helpless, despite the fact that he knew he could squash these men with one hand.
This was different… new, and not unpleasant. He missed his old mannerisms, missed being recognized as a REAL man, and he envied this man for having somehow become that while he became their “princess.” This was an entirely different brew from being fawned over by men–a brew he couldn’t get enough of.
Andy shot him a patronizing grin, reaching over to tap his cheek lightly. “Don’t worry, princess. We’ll let you hang around, even if you’re not really in our league. You can just stand there and look pretty for us.”
Les’s cheeks burned, his pulse quickening as the words sank in. They were treating him like a sideshow, a little pet, and part of him hated it—but part of him couldn’t deny the strange thrill it brought. He tried to respond, to muster some sort of dignity, but all he could manage was a weak, almost whiny, “Most gay guys, y’know, really like my muscles and stuff,” he stammered, his voice breathy.
The three men chuckled, giving each other knowing looks as they continued to tease him, ruffling his hair, patting his cheek, nudging him as if he were nothing more than a delicate, little plaything in their midst. And as they stood there, towering over him, Les felt a rush of emotions he could barely contain—a heady mixture of humiliation, excitement, and a strange, unsettling longing for something he couldn’t quite name.
Jamie, his confidence radiating like a beacon, caught Les’s eye and grinned. “We prefer our men to be MEN,” he taunted, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “How about a little arm-wrestling match? Let’s see if you’re as strong as you think you are.”
Les blinked, his heart pounding. Arm wrestling? That was his game. He was built for this—280 pounds of solid muscle, biceps that could intimidate even the toughest guys at his usual gym. But now, faced with Jamie’s unyielding gaze and the smug smirk playing on his lips, Les hesitated. Jamie wasn’t even close to his size—Les had three times his bulk, but the shift in energy between them had thrown him off. He felt small, delicate, despite his bulk; even fragile under Jamie’s gaze.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Les murmured, his hand fluttering up to his chest. The soft, hesitant tone in his own voice startled him, and he cursed himself for sounding so timid. “I don’t wanna, like, hurt you or anything.”
Jamie let out a deep, raucous laugh. “Hurt me?” He smirked, sitting down at the nearby dining table and slapping his hand down. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. The only one getting hurt here is gonna be you. So let’s go. Show us what you’ve got.”
The other guys crowded around, their jeers and taunts filling the room as they egged Les on. “Come on, Les! Let’s see if those muscles are all just for show,” Rafael teased, crossing his arms with a cocky grin.
“Yeah, you’re all talk, princess,” Andy added, grinning as he leaned in close. “Let’s see if you’ve got any real strength, or if it’s all just steroids and protein shakes stuffed in there.”
Swallowing hard, Les felt a mix of shame and frustration boiling up inside him. He couldn’t back down now, not with them all staring at him, daring him to prove himself. He forced a confident smile, masking his growing unease, and sat down across from Jamie, laying his arm on the table. But even as he did, he felt a strange tremor run through his body—a sudden wave of nervousness, of uncertainty that he wasn’t used to.
“Ready, princess?” Jamie sneered, gripping Les’s hand in a tight, unyielding grip.
Les nodded, feeling the pressure from Jamie’s grip, and tried to steady himself. They began, and immediately Les pushed, expecting Jamie’s arm to give way. But instead, he felt resistance. Real resistance. Jamie’s arm didn’t budge, and instead, Les felt his own arm waver, his strength faltering almost as soon as the match started.
“Come on, Les! Is that all you’ve got?” Jamie growled, pressing down with a renewed force.
Les’s hand shook, and he found himself struggling just to keep his arm upright. He couldn’t believe it—Jamie was barely half his size, but Les could feel his strength ebbing away, his once powerful muscles failing him. He glanced up, meeting Jamie’s intense gaze, and felt a wave of panic. There was no fight in him, no will to push back, only a strange, helpless sensation that left him utterly vulnerable.
The guys around him burst into laughter as Jamie forced Les’s arm down, slamming his hand against the table. Jamie sneered, pulling his hand away and strutting around the defeated muscleman. “Guess you’re not as tough as you thought.”
Les’s face burned with embarrassment as he withdrew his hand, rubbing his sore wrist. He could feel the humiliation spreading through him, knowing he’d just been overpowered by someone a fraction of his size. He tried to play it off, but his soft, high-pitched laugh only seemed to make things worse.
“Oh my gosh, I, like, wasn’t really trying,” he mumbled, but even his words sounded unconvincing, and the guys just laughed harder.
“Sure, sure, princess,” Andy drawled, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder, the gesture somehow both patronizing and dismissive. “If you can’t even arm-wrestle a guy a third of your size, what was all that time in the gym even FOR?”
Rafael leaned in, smirking. “Guess you’re better off just standing around looking pretty. Let the REAL men do the real man stuff.” He reached over and pinched Les’s bicep, squeezing it in a way that was less admiring and more condescending. “Do you sit down to pee, princess?”
“N-no, I… I stand up to pee!” He stepped back, needing to say it with his whole chest. “I, LIKE, TOTALLY STAND UP TO PEE!” The cry was more of a shriek and he couldn’t help snapping his fingers to punctuate it. There was a moment of silence before the crowd burst into riotous laughter.
These were not the gay men he’d seen when he walked in! These were a bunch of drunken bros, shoving each other around and taking joy in making him the butt of their jokes.
Les felt a strange mixture of emotions swirling inside him—humiliation, frustration, even a strange sense of helplessness that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t muster the will to push back, couldn’t find the defiance that had once come so naturally to him.
Les’s heart raced, and he could feel his eyes prickling with tears, a reaction he fought desperately to hide. He tried to smile, to play it off, but he felt so small, so utterly powerless. “I… I just wanted to have, like, a fun night, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
Andy let out a hearty laugh, slapping Les on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Don’t worry, princess, you are the fun. Watching you embrace your TRUE self has been a real party for all of us.”
As the laughter and jeers continued, Les could only stand there, blushing furiously, feeling more humiliated and out of place than he ever had in his life. He had walked in as the dominant, muscular powerhouse, but now, surrounded by these new, hyper-masculine versions of Kevin’s friends, he was just another fragile, delicate presence—one that they could tease and torment at will. And the worst part was, some part of him, deep down, couldn’t deny the strange, inexplicable thrill that came with it.
Les stood there, surrounded by these new versions of Kevin’s friends, his heart racing as the last remnants of his old self slipped away. The femininity that had crept in so insidiously now filled every corner of his being. He no longer fought it; instead, he let it wash over him completely, wrapping him in a soft, comforting embrace that felt both foreign and strangely reassuring. He could still remember who he was—still recall the confident, muscular powerhouse who had walked in here tonight—but that version of him felt distant, almost like a faint echo of someone else.
As he leaned into this new self, he caught his reflection in a nearby mirror, taking in the dainty, almost coquettish way he now held himself. There was a part of him that felt a sharp pang of shame, remembering the pride he’d once taken in his size, his strength, and his tough guy demeanor. But another part of him—the part that now dominated his thoughts—felt something else entirely: a sense of fulfillment, a deep, almost intoxicating pleasure in this new role he found himself playing.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said, addressing the crowd once again. “And I’m not, y’know… GAY. I might be a little more… uh…”
“Flamboyant?”
“Queenie?”
“Girlie as FUCK?”
Les blushed at the accusations. “I meant to say… VIVACIOUS…” He planted a hand on his hip as he continued. “But it’s like, I still LOVE ladies. Love love love them! So don’t anybody go getting any ideas just cuz I’m… y’know… FABULOUS now.” He winked at the crowd as the men–now swilling beers from longneck bottles–high-fived and cheered at him.
Jamie stepped closer, his towering presence radiating confidence and machismo, and gave Les an appraising look. “I bet I know why you got so big, muscle man… You just love ATTENTION, don’t you? You may not be gay, but you’re a SLUT for people looking at that big bulky body.”
Les let out a soft, lilting laugh, batting his eyelashes without even realizing it. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr. “Maybe a little?” He felt his cheeks flush as he leaned into Jamie’s gaze, feeling a thrill at the way they looked at him now—like he was a rare prize, an object to be admired, flaunted, even possessed.
Andy moved in close, wrapping an arm around his waist in a way that was both casual and possessive. “You know, we don’t usually have someone like you hanging around with us, princess,” he said, his tone filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Guess you’re just special, huh?”
Les’s heart fluttered at the words. He no longer felt the need to stand tall, to assert himself. Instead, he found himself softening even further, letting his body relax into the gentle, graceful posture that felt right. It was as if he’d become the centerpiece of the room, the one everyone wanted to be close to, to touch, to admire. And the attention, no matter how objectifying, felt oddly comforting.
“Yeah, you’re real special,” Rafael chimed in, running a hand down Les’s arm with a possessive smirk. “Kinda like the hot girl everyone wants to hang out with but doesn’t quite respect, you know?” He laughed, clearly enjoying the new dynamic, and Les found himself laughing along, a soft, airy giggle that seemed to float out of him without effort.
Les felt a blush spread over his cheeks as he took in their words. “I used to, y’know, strip. At a gay bar! I made, like TONS of money.”
“I bet you did, sweet cheeks!” Jamie said, flipping a bottle cap at him. Les gasped and swatted it away with both hands.
“Dance for us, big man,” Rafael taunted.
“I mean, all the moves I used to do on stage were like, SUPER manly,” Les said. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, like he was on auto-pilot. “I would like… flex, and shake my hips…” He swiveled his hips but then wrinkled his face. “But not like THIS. I did it all masculine.”
“Oh yeah? How masculine do you feel right now?” Jamie chuckled, stepping back and folding his arms as he waited.
“Well… not really… but it’s not my fault!”
“Then why don’t you leave, big boy?” Rafael said. “Why you staying here for all of us to talk about that big ass and those muscle tits? You’re straight, right? Then get the fuck out of here! Waddle that big muscle ass out the door.”
“I… I don’t want to…” Les said. He had the urge to make his pecs bounce just to get these men back on his side, but he resisted.
“Yeah, you’re loving this, aren’t you?” Andy smirked, stepping closer, his gaze predatory yet amused. “I bet you’ve never felt so… free, huh?”
Les nodded, a shy smile playing at his lips. “It’s… different,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “But, like… it feels kinda good, you know?” He looked down, his fingers trailing lightly over his chest, a gesture that was both flirtatious and self-soothing. The shame he felt clashed with the exhilarating new emotions swirling within him, creating a heady mix that he found himself leaning into, despite the embarrassment.
Rafael laughed, clapping a hand on Les’s shoulder. “Well, get used to it, princess. You’re the life of the party now, and we’re just here to enjoy the view.” He grinned, ruffling Les’s hair with a rough affection that bordered on possessive.
Les shivered, feeling the full weight of their attention on him. He realized, with a strange, intense satisfaction, that he no longer needed to be the biggest or the toughest guy in the room. Instead, he was something else entirely—an object of fascination, of amusement, even of desire. And as he settled into this role, letting their playful taunts and rough touches wash over him, he felt an odd sense of peace, as though he’d finally found a part of himself he never knew existed.
For the rest of the evening, he let himself go, embracing the taunts, the teasing, and the unapologetic objectification. He moved with a newfound grace, giggling softly at their comments, letting them pull him close, treating him like he was something precious and fragile. And as they continued to toy with him, to parade him around like their prized trophy, he felt the last traces of his old self slip away, leaving only this new, softer, more delicate version behind. It was humiliating, yes, but it was also freeing in a way he hadn’t expected. He felt oddly fulfilled, even as he blushed under their stares, leaning into his new identity with a shy, eager smile.
Jamie leaned back, folding his thick arms over his chest as he looked at Les with a smirk. “You know,” he began, glancing at the others, “it’s funny. When you first walked in here, all massive and flexing, I remember thinking, ‘Damn, this guy’s gonna take over the room.’ You looked like a real powerhouse, like nobody could touch you.”
Rafael laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, man. I was honestly a little intimidated. You looked like one of those dudes who lives in the gym, all alpha, like you owned the place just by being here. I was ready to steer clear.” He shook his head with a grin. “Who would’ve thought you’d end up like this?”
Les felt his cheeks flush as the men recalled their first impressions of him. It was surreal to think about how they’d seen him as this intimidating presence, a figure of pure strength and dominance. He could still remember how he’d felt walking in—confident, powerful, assured. But now, standing here, his posture soft and almost delicate, he felt like he was living someone else’s life. And part of him liked it, even as the memories stirred a bittersweet pang of shame.
Andy joined in, grinning at Les. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my cool around you. I saw those muscles, that swagger, and I was like, ‘This guy probably thinks he’s a god or something.’ You had this whole vibe like you were untouchable, like none of us could measure up.”
Les swallowed, feeling a strange thrill at hearing them describe how they’d once viewed him. He’d always loved being the center of attention, admired and respected for his physique, his power. But now, that admiration had transformed into something else entirely, and as they looked at him, he realized they saw him differently. He wasn’t a powerful figure in their eyes anymore; he was delicate, even fragile, something to be amused by rather than feared.
Jamie tilted his head, giving Les an expectant look. “So, princess, what about you? When you first got here, what did you think of us?”
Les hesitated, biting his lip as he looked around at them. The way they stared at him, all intense and expectant, sent a shiver down his spine. He knew they were waiting for him to admit something—waiting for him to acknowledge the complete shift in dynamics between them. He could still remember what he’d thought when he’d first walked in, how he’d seen them as delicate, flamboyant, even a little beneath him. But now…
“Well,” he began softly, his voice almost a whisper, “I thought you guys were, like, different… from the guys I usually hang with.” He let out a nervous giggle, his fingers fluttering over his chest as he spoke. “I, um, thought you were all just… you know… FEMME! And I figured, since I was the tough straight guy… you’d probably all be into me.”
Rafael laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet you did. Bet you thought you’d be the alpha here, huh? Just waltzing in with all that muscle, thinking you’d have us wrapped around your finger?”
Les nodded, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought I’d, like, impress you guys. Thought you’d all be in awe or whatever.”
The men shared a laugh, and Les squirmed under their gazes, the reality of his situation settling over him. They weren’t in awe of him anymore. If anything, they found him amusing, a toy they could play with, tease, and mold into whatever they wanted. He could feel himself shrinking emotionally, losing any sense of authority he’d once clung to.
“So, what do you think of us now, sweetheart?” Jamie asked, his tone challenging. “Now that you’ve seen us for who we really are?”
Les’s heart pounded, and he felt his breath catch as he searched for the words. He knew they wanted him to say it—to admit just how thoroughly they’d broken down his perception of himself, how they’d turned his once powerful image into something soft, fragile, and completely at their mercy. He could feel the shame bubbling up, but with it came a strange thrill, a satisfaction he hadn’t expected.
“I think… I think you’re all, like, really manly,” he admitted, his voice a delicate murmur. “It’s like, I’ve never really, y’know, seen ‘manliness’ from the outside before. And I like it. A lot!”
Rafael grinned, stepping closer to him. “Aw, big muscle Mary wishes he was still a REAL man, doesn’t he?”
Les shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “No, I don’t,” he whispered, feeling the last fragments of his old self dissolve, replaced by a new, unfamiliar identity that he both feared and craved. “I kinda like who I am now!”
Jamie shoved a martini glass filled with an iridescent green martini in it. “THERE we go. Pretty drink for the pretty lady!”
Les sipped with his pinky out, a shy smile creeping onto his lips. “I mean if you guys don’t mind,” he murmured, barely able to believe the words were coming from his mouth. “And you, like, get that I’m not into dudes… I still kinda like you guys looking at me.”
The other men chuckled, patting him on the back, ruffling his hair, and giving him playful nudges. They treated him like he was their new favorite toy, and he found himself enjoying the attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The shame he’d felt earlier was still there, but now it was wrapped in an odd sense of fulfillment, a new purpose he hadn’t known he was searching for.
As the night continued, Les—now feeling more like Lee, a softer, more delicate version of himself—found an intoxicating thrill in his new role. He felt strangely fulfilled, standing out not just for his size, but for the way he moved, the way he spoke, and the way the guys treated him. It was as if he’d found a hidden part of himself that had always been waiting to come alive, and now, in the middle of these hyper-masculine men, he embraced it completely.
But then, slowly, a change began to creep in. The energy in the room started to shift, just as subtly as it had before, and Lee felt the first pangs of an unsettling sensation. His gestures began to lose some of their graceful softness, his voice started to lower slightly, and a familiar tension settled in his shoulders, hinting at the muscular posture he’d once been so accustomed to.
“No,” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking with a desperate edge as he looked around, seeing the changes in the others too. Jamie’s cocky smirk softened, and he let out a small, confused laugh, rubbing the back of his head as his posture reverted to a more delicate stance. Rafael blinked, glancing down at his own hands, which seemed less broad and powerful than they’d been just moments before. Andy’s macho swagger faded, replaced by a hint of the playfulness he’d had when Lee had first arrived.
“Wait,” Lee said, his voice trembling as he watched his hand, which had once rested so daintily on his chest, slowly return to a more familiar, rougher grip. “No, this can’t… I don’t want this to end,” he murmured, his heart sinking.
Jamie looked over at him, a hint of confusion in his eyes, the tough, hyper-masculine attitude fading as he tilted his head. “Les? What’s going on?”
Les swallowed, feeling his old self rushing back, bit by bit, as if he were being pulled away from the strange, blissful fantasy he’d just been living. He felt the softness in his mannerisms harden, the graceful sway of his posture give way to his usual powerful stance. His voice deepened, and the delicate laugh he’d come to enjoy returned to a gruff chuckle that felt foreign and disappointing.
“No, no, I—” he stammered, struggling to cling to the feeling of fulfillment he’d just experienced, that wonderful sense of being both adored and delicate. He wanted to stay in that role, to keep the feminine grace and lightness he’d felt only moments before. But he could feel it slipping away, retreating like a dream in the morning light.
Around him, the others were visibly changing as well. Rafael’s demeanor softened, and he crossed his arms, looking slightly embarrassed. “What just happened? I feel… weird,” he muttered, almost as if he were waking up from a trance.
Andy blinked, glancing between Les and the others, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. “Wait, were we just… I mean, I feel like I was… I don’t know. It’s all hazy,” he said, rubbing his temples.
Les tried to hold onto what remained of his delicate self, his heart pounding with desperation. But the cupcakes’ effects had worn off completely now, and he felt the last traces of his softer side drain away, leaving him standing there, once again a towering, muscular man in a room full of smaller, feminine guys. The other men, now back to their former selves, exchanged uncertain glances, clearly just as affected by the sudden transformation.
Les looked down, feeling the weight of his muscles, the familiar broadness of his shoulders, and it filled him with a strange, aching sadness. He’d finally felt alive, letting go of his dominance, embracing a side of himself he’d never thought possible, and now it was gone. The sense of loss hit him harder than he’d expected, and he looked around the room, hoping to find a trace of the magic that had just evaporated.
Kevin, who had been watching from the corner, approached Les, concern in his eyes. “So I’m imagining you probably want to beat me senseless for slipping you that cupcake, right big man?”
Les let out a shaky laugh, trying to compose himself. “Not really, no,” he muttered, his voice thick with disappointment. He could still remember every moment of it—how he’d loved being the center of their admiration, the delicate princess in the crowd of hyper-masculine men. But now, he was back to being his old self, the big guy, the one everyone expected to be tough and assertive.
He looked around at the guys, who were now back to their playful, flamboyant selves, laughing and chattering as if nothing had happened. And while he smiled and tried to play along, he felt a hollow ache in his chest, knowing that the side of him he’d just discovered might never return. He wasn’t sure how to let go of it, how to go back to being just Les, when he’d finally found something else he’d loved.
For the rest of the evening, he went through the motions, flexing for them, taking their compliments, but it all felt empty now. The spell had broken, leaving him with a bittersweet longing, a quiet desire to feel that strange fulfillment once again, even if it meant being someone entirely different.
