derek_williams
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A Tuesday in the Life
🕑 Added 2024-12-31 23:56:34 +0000 UTCHey guys, here's December's post for Horny Himbo members! You met this character for the first time in "A Day in the Life", and I couldn't resist bringing him back. I hope you enjoy!
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Monday ended the way it always does. A few too many beers in some shithole bar, a long drawn out conversation with an innocent bartender. The slow and subtle seduction where he realizes that maybe... for the first time in his life... he’s interested in a man.
I took him up to my room and showed him the mirror. His eyes grew wide as I described a new life, just waiting for him to take it. A muscled up cowboy – big hairy pecs, a ten gallon hat, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. He stared into the dull pupils of his reflection while I wove a spell with my hand.
“I’m such a hot slut...” he moaned. I couldn’t tell if the bartender was saying it or his reflection. He arched his back and pushed out his ass. “Such a fuckin’ whore...”
His phone was sitting on the table, buzzing with his girlfriends number. He rubbed his cock through tight denim. I watched him squeeze his cheeks in anticipation. His mind was buzzing and clouded.
“Actually... that’s Colt,” I teased him. “Colt’s a hot slut. A fuckin’ whore. He doesn’t worry about shit. His party never stops. But you... uh... sorry, what’s your name?”
“Dustin...” he moaned, gripping his balls. The bartender was trapped by his reflection. Crumbling. Unable to resist the lure of youth and sex and shallow thoughts. “My name’s Dustin... but I wanna be Colt...”
The way my power works, someone has to make a decision. Put aside their old life, fall into their new one. Colt blinked as he stared at his now-accurate reflection. His phone fell silent. His entire reality had changed.
Colt didn’t have a girl at home, wondering where he was. He had a guy named Denver... and Denver wasn’t the type to sit at home. Denver had a job – stripping at the dive bar across town.
In the meantime, I had a great cock and a full pair of balls. We’d find some way to keep busy.
Colt bounced on my cock until I filled him with hot cum. He charged a hundred bucks for the experience. Two hundred if I wanted him all night.
I paid with cash, then tucked a pair of silky pink briefs into his rear pocket.
Not so innocent anymore.
--------------------
I woke up ten minutes before checkout. If you travel for work, you know that’s no big deal. Hotels act like their rules are written in stone, but a little charm goes a long way.
Still, I had to get going. I was still eight hours from my destination – Broken Bow, Nebraska. The client worked all day - something about computers for a farm equipment company – so we were scheduled to meet at his house around suppertime.
I liked that about this client. He was paying thousands of dollars so I’d zap him into an Instagram model, but first he wanted to finish an honest days work.
The water pressure was good. I stood in the shower and washed the previous day away. You can’t dwell on the past in my line of work – the six men I’d transformed into gay muscle sluts were forgotten. Today was a clean slate.
I felt good. A clean white t-shirt. Coffee stained jeans.
“Checking out,” I said, slapping my key on the counter. A mousy looking college kid was working the front desk. His vibe screamed ‘beer money’.
“It’s an hour past checkout time,” he said in that midwestern twang. “I gotta charge you for the extra day.”
“Aw, c’mon,” I groaned. “I’m sorry, I slept in.”
I make plenty of money, but it’s the principle of the thing. I refuse to play stupid games.
“I don’t make the rules,” the desk clerk shrugged. Apathy. I’m Gen X, he would have fit right in.
“And just where are these rules written down,” I demanded. “I never saw them.”
He pointed at a sign on the wall. Hotel Rules: No pets. No smoking. No late checkouts.
“Right there in black and white,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
The poor guy probably had this conversation five times a day. What I did next... that was a new experience for him.
I grabbed a thick marker off his desk and walked up to the sign. I jotted a word down, changing the sign so it read ‘Hotel Staff Rules’.
“Hey!” he yelped, suddenly present. “You can’t do that!”
“Sure I can,” I said, slashing a line through the ‘no pets’ rule. “You’re just too dumb to understand.”
I wrote a new rule above the crossed-out phrase. “No Brains”. I moved my hand subtly beside me, weaving a spell that would drag him along for the ride. Most guys, I like to do my trick with the mirror, but with a little more effort...
The intelligence drained from his face. All those subtle signs – the engaged expression, the worry lines around his eyes, the tired annoyance... they all faded in seconds.
He stared at me with confusion.
“What’re y’all doin’?” he gasped, his jaw hanging open. “I can’t... I don’t...”
“Don’t worry,” I smiled gently. “You don’t need to be smart. You just focus on that body.”
I crossed out “No smoking” and wrote “All Brawn”.
I moved my hand and incorporated the new rule as we went. His body swelled with size. Instead of a college kid, working for beer, the desk was now staffed by a bodybuilder.
The clerk had stacked on at least a hundred more pounds. His polo shirt was gone, replaced with a muscle-fit tee that barely managed to contain his bulk. His khakis were still intact, but just barely – his muscle ass strained at the fabric.
“Look... buddy...” he protested in a thick voice. “I don’t want no trouble...”
“Neither do I,” I shrugged. “You know what I want?”
I struck “No late checkouts” off the sign. I grinned at the clerk and turned back to write.
“Complimentary Blowjobs,” it read.
One flick of my hand and he was finished. Not just a dumb stud anymore. Now he was a cocksucker. A big horny slut who needed his mouth filled. And honestly... from the look of that ass... he probably needed more.
The muscle slut in front of me was undeniably gay. Between his bottle blond hair and his fuck-me outfit... I could see the band of a lime green jockstrap poking up above his tiny yellow shorts. His bulge was big and obvious and urgent. His muscle tee was a size too small, chafing his permanently hard nipples and showing off his bottom row of abs.
“I know what you want...” he moaned. “I know exactly what you want...”
I walked around the desk and got on his knees. My belt hit the floor and my underwear got stuck around my knees. It didn’t matter – he had access to my cock and that was all he needed.
He flicked his tongue around the head and closed his lips around my cock eagerly. I was already dripping precum. The man was a professional.
It only took about five minutes for me to blow my load in his mouth. He swallowed it up eagerly. He gave his lips a satisfied lick afterwards, careful not to waste a drop.
“Thank ye’ for stayin’ at BJ’s,” he drawled automatically. “Best blowjobs in the Rockies.”
I paused and pulled a small wrapped box from my suitcase. Some guys give out business cards. I have a signature style of underwear.
“What’s that for?” he asked, tugging at the bow and breaking into the box.
“You’re good at your job,” I chuckled. “How many guys work here?”
“Uh...” he said, contorting his face with the effort of a math problem. He counted slowly on his fingers. “Six... seven if ya count the owner.”
I counted out six more boxes and placed them on the counter. My spell would impact the entire staff, turning them one at a time until the hotel was manned by cocksucking himbos. His beer money job was about to get a lot more benefits.
“Make sure everyone gets a pair,” I told him. “After they clock in.”
I wished I could stay to watch.
--------------------
Here's the thing about Wyoming – it’s goddamn boring to drive across. Yeah, there’s a harsh beauty to it, but how many times can you glance at the mountains before they stop being striking.
I was falling asleep on the road, so I pulled into a gas station in the middle of nowhere. I told myself I was stopping for coffee, but really I needed relief from the monotony.
The air outside was hot and dusty. It smelled like cow shit.
“Fill ‘er up?” a thirty-something man asked as I stepped out of my car. He was wearing a loose blue shirt with the name “HENRY” stitched above his heart.
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
“We got AC inside,” he said, unscrewing my gas cap. “Won’t be a minute.”
I stepped into the building and took a look around. It was small. Barely cooler than outside. The air smelled like tobacco smoke. I could see an ashtray beside the till, a half-smoked cigarette still burning.
The attendant was cleaning off my windows while the tank filled. I wandered around the little store, picking out a chocolate bar and rifling through last months magazines.
“That’ll be fifty-four dollars,” he said, letting in a blast of manure and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He left a long streak of dirt on his skin. “Need anything else? We got Coke in the freezer.”
“Just this,” I said, tossing the chocolate bar on the counter. My eyes landed on a colourful display hidden behind a rack of magazines. “What’s all this?”
He glanced at the metal stand and rolled his eyes. It was covered in little rainbow flags, rainbow sunglasses, rainbow keychains.
“That shit?” he laughed. “Corporate says we gotta have it up for June. Gay month or somethin’. You ask me, I’m sick of ‘em shoving it down our throats.”
I smirked. He took it for agreement.
“You ever met a gay guy?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nah,” he laughed, shaking his head and scanning in my chocolate bar. “But I seen ‘em on TV. Bunch’a dumbass showoffs. Who cares, just keep it where I don’t gotta see it. Those parades... that ain’t right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing innocent. Below the counter I started weaving my spell.
“Well, they’re prancin’ around wearin’ practically nothin!” he said with wide eyes. “Buncha guys who think they gotta act like chicks!”
“Like... what do they wear?” I said, acting like I’d never seen a pride parade.
“Man,” he laughed, sounding a little more distant. “I saw one where some queer was wearing nothin’ but teeny-tiny jean shorts and a t-shirt that don’t fit! That’s hot on a chick, but...”
“But you think guys should dress different?” I asked.
“Hell yeah...” he said, his voice growing distant. He was starting to feel the threads of my magic tugging on him. “When a dude dresses like that, it’s cause he wants it up the ass! Real men should...”
He trailed off, suddenly confused. His eyes were glassy and distant, looking out at me from the trap he’d stumbled into.
“Real men should wear whatever the hell they want,” I suggested.
“Yeah...” he mumbled. “A real man doesn’t give a shit what other people think...”
“He just wants to look hot,” I prompted. I watched as the thought wormed it’s way into his subconscious. “A real man loves the way he looks... that’s why he works out.”
“You get it,” he breathed. “Real men do what they want... Look how they want...”
“Come over here,” I told him. “We’re going outside.”
He followed me with the zombie walk of a man who’s no longer in control. We left the building and stood outside in the heat, catching his reflection in the store windows.
“Look at that,” I said, pointing at the makeshift mirror. “Looks like you work out.”
We were staring at a distorted image of the attendant. Instead of the skinny frame and distended gut he had in reality, this version of him had been at the gym everyday for a decade. You know the story – leg press gives you an ass, the bench gives you pecs, and abs give you the confidence.
“That ain’t me...” he drawled. But he couldn’t take his eyes off his image. “Holy shit... I look like...”
“Like you’re a real man,” I suggested.
“Well holy shit...” he mumbled quietly, squinting to see clearly. “I’m dressed like I wanna suck a cock...”
Sure enough, his reflection was dressed just like he described. A pair of denim short shorts, a rainbow flag crop tank that showed off his obliques. Electric blue hair that was guaranteed to draw attention.
In the window, his reflection mouthed the words along with him. “I wanna suck a cock...” it echoed.
I weaved the spell with my hand and watched closely.
“Henry,” I said. “Meet Hank.”
“He looks like me...” Henry said softly. “But I never had them pecs...”
In the mirror Hank was bouncing his big pecs at Henry. I could see Henry staring and wishing they were his. He reached up unconsciously, feeling his flat chest through the polyester of his shirt. Hank’s hand landed on a muscular pec, half-visible through the deep cut of of his tanktop. Henry’s hand dropped down to his gut, while Hank raked his fingers softly over his six pack abs.
“You look better with the muscle, don’tcha boo?” I asked, like it was a casual observation.
“Yeah...” Henry mumbled, staring as Hank echoed his words. “You gotta work out to get big. But...”
I let that hang in the air for a few seconds.
“He looks like a flamer,” Henry groaned. “Like he don’t shuddap about suckin’ cock.”
“Or taking it up the ass,” I reminded Henry. “Real men take big cocks.”
“Yeah...” Henry and Hank said together. “Real men are big. They take a cock easy...”
They paused and stared into each others eyes.
“Real men got muscle...” they said together, giving each other a knowing smirk. “Real men are dumbass showoffs...”
Henry paused and glanced over at me. His eyes were begging for it. Straight guys almost always need that nudge.
“Go ahead,” I nodded, giving him permission.
“Real men...” Henry said, sweating as new gears clicked inside his brain. “Real men are sluts... real men... real men suck cock...”
Henry and Hank were speaking in unison. Hank was gripping his cock tightly through his barely-there shorts. A tear in them showed off a scrap of baby blue fabric. Maybe a thong?
“Real men get their holes fucked...” they moaned, squeezing their dicks.
“Everyone wants to fuck Hank,” I said pointedly. “You wanna be Hank, don’t you?”
“I...” Henry said, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “I... yeah... I...”
“Say it,” I told him. “Say it... Hank’s a real man.”
“Hank’s a real man...” he mumbled. “I wanna be Hank...”
We blinked and I was standing next to Hank in the western heat. The man was huge, over muscled and tanned to accentuate it. His shorts were damp with sweat. His rainbow croptop clung like a second skin.
“I wanna suck your cock...” Hank moaned, gripping his own package tightly. “C’mon inside... or we could do it right here...”
Hank might have been ready to fuck in the parking lot, but I like a little privacy. He took me to the back office and sat me down in a battered chair. The carpet needed a cleaning, but it was enough to protect his knees from the concrete.
“Look at that,” he grinned, releasing my cock from my jeans. “Lemme suck you off...”
“Sure,” I smirked. “I’ll shove it down your throat.”
Hank liked that just fine.
Then I bent him over the freezer and fucked his ass, listening to his desperate grunts the whole time. He blew his first load all over the storeroom wall.
“Mmm...” he murmured, pulling up his shorts and letting the cum stain spread from his hole. “You sure got a beautiful cock... any chance ye’ wanna stick around? We’re the only gas for a hundred miles, so lotsa guys stop in... Maybe we spitroast the next dude who comes through...”
“Sorry,” I chuckled. “I’ve got to get on the road. Got a job in Nebraska.”
I went out to the car and got him a pair of pink briefs. By the time I came back, he’d started re-arranging the store so the pride merchandise was front and centre. He’d even broken into one of the packages and unfolded a pride flag to hang in the front window.
Still made me pay for gas. Fucker.
--------------------
“Where are you?” Alan asked, his tense voice barely audible over the terrible cell reception.
“I don’t work for you,” I snapped at the speaker. Sometimes my agent forgets that I’m the talent and he’s just the guy who manages my calendar. One of these days I’m gonna drive out to LA and give him an attitude adjustment.
But not today. Today I’ve got a customer in Nebraska.
“C’mon Jake,” he whined. “Don’t be a bitch. The client just called and wants to know if you’ll be there soon. He’s thinking about heading home early.”
I chuckled. Impatience is one hell of a drug.
“Sorry,” I said, wondering Alan could hear my head shake. “I got a late start because there wasn’t a rush. I’m on time... but it’s a car, not a rocket ship, y’know?”
Really I was running an hour late, but hey... like he was gonna cancel?
“Fair enough,” my agent sighed. “I’ll call him back and tell him he’s got to wait. You should have heard him though... he’s babbling like a teenager.”
I turned up the stereo and stepped on the gas.
Don’t tell anyone, but I love my job.
--------------------
I didn’t stop for the next six hours. I even managed to drive past an exit for a town called ‘Manville’ without indulging myself.
I couldn’t wait to make this clients day. Make his life. I love when they’re excited.
Broken Bow is a cute little town. The kind of place where everyone has a house and the biggest store sells farm supplies. In the early summer heat it was easy to imagine quitting my job and buying a bungalow. I suspected the winters were deadly.
I pulled my car up in front of a picturesque little house. It was set back on a lot, surrounded by hundred year old trees. A wooden deck with white trim wrapped around the exterior. I stepped into the evening heat and went to ring the bell.
“Uh, hey...” he said when he opened the door. “Is it... uh...”
“Jake,” I said, sticking out my hand. “I’m here to meet with... Oliver Grayson?”
He looked me up and down. If you’ve seen my handiwork, I’m not what you expect. I’m in my mid-forties, and I spend my days driving across the country and eating fast food. I’m not some beer-bellied schmuck – I get too much exercise in bed... but I look more like a shop teacher than a professional himbo maker.
“You’re the guy?”
The client was in his late twenties, dressed in a pair of bluejeans and a button-down flannel shirt. He was skinny and his acne scars were obvious. I’ve done this one a hundred times – he was invisible, and he wanted to be seen.
“Jake,” I said again, offering my hand. “I’m the guy.”
He grabbed my hand and pumped it.
“I’m Oliver,” he said. “Come on in. Let’s get started!”
He led me into his kitchen. The table was covered in printouts – some of them were my work, some of them are just guys you can find online. He’d clearly been doing his research. There was a big piece of craft paper and a glue stick on the table... I guess he wasn’t a photoshop kind of guy.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Water, coffee, soda?”
“Got a beer?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.
I don’t like drinking while the sun’s still up, but I wanted him to calm down a little and take the edge off.
“Yeah,” he grinned, pulling a couple of cans from a beige fridge. “Lemme show you what I’m thinking.”
I popped the tab on my beer and drank. He took a small sip, too excited to do anything but shove his art project at me.
“See, I wanna look like this,” he said, stating the obvious. “Kinda like a bodybuilder, but not all veiny and stuff. Big shoulders, big chest, big arms... I don’t care about the bottom stuff that much, but it’d be cool if I looked like it all fit together.”
I couldn’t help but notice he’d pasted a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt over the entire physique.
“That’s a pretty modest outfit,” I pointed out. “You wanna get big but you don’t want to show it off?”
“I mean... I’ll show it off on the internet,” he shrugged. “Make myself an Instagram, get myself a bunch of followers, fuck every chick who comes through town...”
“That’s not how it works,” I pushed back. “If we go through with this, you’re going to be a big dumb party slut. The kind of guy who thinks flexing is a deep conversation. Yeah, you’ll show off on the internet, but you’ll also show off at the grocery store. And like my agent must have told you... you’re gonna end up gay.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he chuckled. “I know that’s how it works for most guys. I’ve seen the before and after shots. But I’ve always been smarter than everyone... trust me, I can handle it.”
“Oliver... it’s not just plastic surgery. I’m not just going to pump up your muscles... if you want that, there are lots of surgeons who will take the job. I can give you a referral...”
“Yeah, but that’s fake,” he said, shaking his head. “And everyone will know. I figure if you do the magic thing, then everyone’ll just accept it, right? And I’ve seen some of those botched jobs online... I don’t want to end up with all kinds of scars and stuff.”
He touched his face unconsciously. Poor kid probably got made fun of all through school.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “It’ll be real. And everyone will accept it. But... looking at this... I’m not sure this is right for you. You want a gym body without the work, that’s fine... but if you wanna be straight, this isn’t it.”
“I can handle it,” he shrugged. “Those other guys, they were probably gay already.”
“I doubt that,” I said bluntly. “Look, you can’t stop halfway. Once this ball gets rolling... it goes all the way down the hill.”
“I can handle it,” Oliver insisted. “Look, I’ve thought this through. I’ve paid the money. The customer’s always right?”
I raised an eyebrow and stared at him.
“Besides, let’s say I’m wrong,” he granted. “And I end up liking guys... look, I promise I won’t sue.”
I sighed and finished my beer.
“Okay,” I shrugged. “We’re gonna need a mirror.”
--------------------
Oliver only had one mirror in the house. It was over his bathroom sink, hung crooked and cracked on the corner.
“Let’s talk it through,” I said. “One piece at a time. A lot of guys start with the hair.”
“I don’t care about the hair,” Oliver chuckled. “You saw the mockup. Make me big.”
I rolled my eyes behind him. I think of myself as an artist. I wish guys wouldn’t treat me like a McDonalds drive through.
“Fine,” I said, trying to keep a professional tone. “Let’s start with your torso. Big and thick, yeah? You want wide shoulders and a strong back?”
I stared moving my hand softly like I was conducting a string quartet. I was starting to gather up all the threads of his life and weave them into something new. Something beautiful.
Oliver’s eyes shot open. He could see his body shifting in the mirror, getting bigger underneath his flannel shirt. His top button pulled tight and popped off, ricocheting against the inside of the mirror and landing somewhere out of view.
“Maybe a little bigger?” I teased.
“Holy shit...” Oliver said as the second button flew off too. His chest was still sunken and flat, but the width of his shoulders made the shirt impossible to button. He looked down at his still slim body. “Why... why’s it just the mirror?”
“Trust the process...” I chuckled. “Let’s fill out those pecs.”
His face was full of wonder as pec muscle swelled up beneath his shirt. Big round plates of muscle that would hang heavy over his flat stomach. In the mirror his reflection reached up and ripped the shirt open, spraying plastic buttons across the room.
I grinned at the image – his nipples were big and brown, pointing down towards the floor.
“Look at that,” I said softly, weaving my spell as we went. “Let’s make those shoulders match... And nice heavy arms too, huh?”
Oliver nodded. The mirror showed his delts twitching and growing until they took on that capped look. The twitch moved down his triceps as his arms grew to match the aesthetic. Oliver held his thin hands up in front of him, while his mirror image showed off a set of thick fingers.
“This is a weird trick,” Oliver said, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His doppelgänger mouthed the words a half second after him. “But yeah... that’s perfect. Let’s lock it in.”
“You sure you don’t want to change more?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe clean up those acne scars? Once we’re done, we’re done.”
“Yeah...” he said, sounding a little bit distant. “I guess... yeah, I’d like the scars gone.”
His reflection echoed the words a microsecond after he said them.
“How do you wanna look?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he shrugged. I couldn’t tell if it was him or the reflection talking. “Whatever you think...”
“That’s right,” I smiled. “Leave the thinking to someone else...”
“Huh?” he said, glancing over at me with a suspicious look. But his eyes snapped back to the mirror as his acne scars vanished, leaving a smooth tan behind. His teeth adjusted themselves into two perfect white lines. A dimple appeared on each cheek. His lips puffed up slightly and his eyebrows subtle rearranged themselves until they formed two surprised arches.
“What do you think?” I grinned. “Isn’t that better? Doing the full job?”
“Holy shit...” the man and the reflection both repeated. “I look good...”
“You still want me to leave the hair?” I asked. “You’re a good looking guy, shouldn’t your hair look good too?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, watching his heavy shoulders rise and fall in the mirror. “Just do whatever.”
It was easier to let me do the thinking. Mousy brown curls straightened into a peroxide blond fade.
“Whoa,” he laughed, staring at the reflection. “No way.”
I watched his reflection echo his words perfectly.
“Why?” I said.
We were at the rubicon.
“I look so dumb,” he laughed. Oliver’s mouth moved in sync with the image, the thought straddling both of their minds. “Like... it’s hot, but totally dumb,” they laughed.
“You look like an influencer,” I chuckled. “One of those guys on instagram. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Show off on the internet?”
Oliver looked confused, his brow furrowing and his eyebrows squeezing together. For a moment his mouth hung open, trying to understand what I was saying. In the mirror his reflection went through the same motions – but his dimples made it look endearing.
“But I’m not dumb...” Oliver said. The mirror image just stood there, his thick torso and dumbfounded look going together like two and two.
“Of course you’re not,” I offered. “That’s not you in the mirror. That’s Ollie. Ollie’s not you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, sounding a little bit relieved. “But like... it’s a mirror...”
“But you’re different,” I pointed out. “You’re smart. Ollie’s dumb, isn’t he? Just look at that hair. Look at those big blank eyes. He’s too hot to be smart.”
Ollie stared out at Oliver with a blank grin. Suddenly he stuck his tongue out, making him look like even more of a carefree muscle boy.
“Braaaaaah....” they nodded together. “Too hot to be smart...”
“But everyone loves you,” I pointed out. “You’re so hot and easy to like... one flash of that grin and people just wanna be your friend...”
“Yeah...” Oliver said. “Big. Buff. Charming as hell...”
“And gay,” I chuckled. “No big deal, right? But what straight guy would get waxed and bleached and tanned... especially in this town!”
I watched Oliver run his hand across his sharp chin. In the mirror Ollie moved along with him, drawing attention to his squared jaw.
“He doesn’t have’ta be gay...” Oliver moaned. His voice was starting to quiver. Ollie spoke the words with him, dimples showing with a sympathetic smile. “Lotsa muscle... not a lotta brains... that don’t make me a queer...”
I moved my hand in a perfect stroke. The spell was coming together nicely.
“Of course not,” I said confidently. “You’re queer cause you love cock. Cause you love hot dudes and gettin’ fucked and lettin’ everyone know...”
Oliver looked at his mirror image in shock. Ollie stared him down with confidence.
“And cause I look awesome in a jockstrap,” Ollie added with a charming grin. One flash of that smile and Oliver got carried away, speaking the words along with Ollie, each syllable bringing him closer to his new life. “I got a big ol’ bubble butt. Squats everyday brah... Love it when the dudes stare at my ass... when a dude eats my ass...”
I couldn’t tell who was talking now. The two men were reflecting off of each other, mixing until Oliver couldn’t tell where he stopped and where Ollie began.
“I need to get noticed...” they said, raising their arms to flex. “I need to get fucked...”
I could feel the spell starting to close in on itself. His old life was gone. Reworked into something infinitely better. He just needed one little push...
“So what do you say?” I whispered in his ear. “Do you wanna be Ollie?”
Oliver stared at the fantasy in the mirror. Ollie was waiting with an easy grin. He had no doubt about the answer.
“I wanna be Ollie,” Oliver said. No second thoughts. No thoughts at all.
We blinked and he was a new man. Ready to go. Between the dimples and the muscle and the charm... it was overpowering just to be near him. I could barely believe he packed all of that into a rocket red jockstrap.
I felt a surge of pride. I really outdid myself time time. The bathroom seemed impossibly small with Ollie barely squeezing inside.
“Here,” I said, handing him a gift wrapped box. “Consider it a birthday present.”
He tore into the wrapping and pulled out a pair of my signature pink underwear.
Ollie cracked his neck and laughed. He tossed the briefs back in my face.
“Brah, what are you... like... prude?”
--------------------
Most guys want to fuck right away. Not Ollie. He needed to be seen.
“This house is like... so not insta-ready,” he whined, trying to find an angle that worked for his profile photo. “Oh my god... this house is like... so boring! I need to paint it dayglo! And put up lots of mirrors! And like... fill it with naked dudes!”
He gave an easy laugh. I watched his cock jump at the simple thought.
He’d be having a lot of those.
“Brah!” he shouted, looking up with another flash of inspiration. “Why don’t we hit up the bar! You can change a bunch of dudes there! Make ‘em sexy like me!”
My agent hated when I gave away freebies. I couldn’t imagine how he’d react to a whole bar. Besides, I didn’t want to be working all night. I had a gig in Chicago tomorrow, and I needed some rest.
I bit my lip and looked outside. It was a quiet street in a quiet town in the middle of nowhere. If we were in New York, I’d send him to Rebar and forget it. But there are gay people everywhere...
Ollie downloaded Grindr without hesitation, snapping a half dozen pics of his ass to get started. There were three profiles in town, all of them headless torsos. They couldn’t hold a candle to Ollie’s body.
We picked a torso at random and told him to meet Ollie at the nearest bar.
My car was parked on the road so we walked down to the end of the driveway. The sun was starting to meet the horizon, so of course Ollie needed to stop and take a few pictures. Doing a pull-up on a tree branch. Flexing with his tongue out. Bent over my car, hands on the hood and ass in the air.
“Hi Mrs. Carmichael!” Ollie shouted, waving at a passing neighbour as we did our impromptu photo shoot. “Beautiful day!”
The elderly woman got caught in his smile and glowed.
“Good evening dearie!” she waved back. “Remember to wear your sunscreen!”
Eventually I got him into the passenger seat.
If you’re from New York or LA or even Chicago... I don’t want you to imagine this bar. It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s panelled with that same fake wood your grandparents had in the eighties. It’s staffed entirely by middle aged women. There’s carpet.
But there was also SamLikesDick69 from the app, staring down the door as we came in. He was a cub in a pair of ill-fitting khakis and a dark blue t-shirt. He had that jittery look guys get when something’s too good to be true.
The moment Ollie followed me inside his eyes went wide as dinner plates.
Of course, nobody noticed Sam. Everybody was staring at Ollie.
The new himbo was thriving off the attention. His bare ass jiggled as he strutted across the room, his muscular body nude except for the narrow band of fabric. He was hard under there. The women behind the bar giggled and stared at him the way they stared at their yearly calendar from the fire department.
Most of the other patrons were blue collar guys. Tired after a long day loading trucks or working on the farm. They stared too – but Ollie radiates charm. One grin in their direction and everything was cool.
One guy in flannel was having a sexual awakening. Too bad for him, Ollie already had a target.
I took a seat at the bar while Ollie walked right over to SamLikesDick69.
“Hey,” Ollie said, sliding up next to his hookup. “I’m Ollie.”
“Uh... Sam,” the guy stuttered. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“Yeah,” Ollie chuckled. “New look. You work at the gas station, right? I think I seen you there.”
Sam gave him a careful look. Ollie was impossible to miss, so how had he managed it?
“You really don’t remember me?” Ollie poked at him. “I drive a red F-150 that’s about 20 years overdue for an oil change... I always grab a soda and a Mars bar...”
“Holy smokes...” Sam said, his eyes widening with recognition. “Oliver? You’re the computer guy? That’s impossible... no way you could get this buff... and the way you talked about women... you were gay this whole time?”
“Nah,” Ollie said, flashing that grin right at Sam and pointing in my direction. “But that there’s Jake, he fucked me up good. Bro does magic. Got me big. Turned me out. I just wanna fuck now...”
“Look dude, this is... weird,” Sam stammered. “I think... I’m just gonna...”
I rolled my eyes. I’d done great work. Ollie was practically gift wrapped. Just take him home and fuck that beautiful ass. Why do I have to do everything?
I spun around on my barstool and stalked towards them.
“Hey,” I said. “Couldn’t help but overhear. I’m Jake. It’s Sam, right?”
“Uh, yeah...” the man said, treading lightly, like he’d just seen a snake in the grass. “Look, I don’t want trouble.”
“Me either,” I chuckled. “Did you always want to work at a gas station Sam?”
“Huh?”
“Look at me,” I said, staring him right in the eye.
Sometimes you’ve got to make it simple. His whole world narrowed until it was just me and Ollie. I watched his hand grip tight around his empty pint glass.
He wouldn’t be freaked out much longer.
“Did you always wanna work at a gas station Sam?” Ollie asked.
“No,” Sam said, taking a sip of air from his glass. He couldn’t focus. I’ve got that effect on guys sometimes.
“What did you wanna be?” Ollie asked. He put his hand on top of Sam’s.
“I... I dunno,” Sam stammered. “Look, I’m gonna go...”
“Of course you know,” I said, ignoring his denial. “Tell us about it.”
“I... uh... I wanted to be a firefighter,” Sam blushed. “It’s dumb.”
“No it’s not,” Ollie said with a grin. “I can see it. Physical work. Saving lives. You’d be good at it.”
Sam shook his head, but it was too late for him. Like I told Oliver, no-one stops halfway..
“No,” he said sadly. “I tried to apply, but I’m too outta shape. Those guys are beasts."
“You could be,” Ollie encouraged him. “You got nice wide shoulders. Imagine if you worked out like those guys... you’d be built nice and tough. Stocky, y’know? The kind of muscle that makes guys weak.”
“I just don’t see it,” Sam sighed.
“Look in the mirror,” I suggested, directing his gaze behind the bar.
His eyes swept past us and landed on the mirror hung behind every bar in the world. Just past the bottles of hard liquor there was a mirror image of the three of us. Me, looking like one of the guys. Ollie, whose ass was a force of nature. And Sam...
Two hundred pounds of stocky muscle packed into a plain white beater and an impossibly tight pair of Levis. The kind of hard eyes that made weak men avert their gaze. A cocky grin that told the whole story.
“Sam,” I grinned. “Can you picture it now?”
“Holy smokes...” he swore. “Yeah... if I looked like that...”
“You’d fuck me at dawn,” Ollie smirked. “Every morning before you left for work. Nothin’ in your head but muscle and cock and savin’ lives. Be a big dumb slut like me... and a hero to boot.”
Sam stared across the room at the mirror. This is my favourite part, when a guy starts to slip into the fantasy. When he stops resisting the idea and starts adding to it.
“I...” he stuttered. “I... I gotta pee.” Sam bolted from the table, headed for a hallway at the back of the room.
“Sweet,” Ollie giggled. “Bathroom sex.”
“Leave it to me,” I said, holding up one hand. “You just wait here. And try not to fuck the whole town while I’m gone.”
I left Ollie at the table, rocking back and forth on his eager ass. I found a trio of doors in the service hallway – ‘Does’, ‘Bucks’, and ‘Staff Only’. Sam was in the mens room. He was splashing cold water on his face, then staring in the mirror, then looping back to step one.
“No... no... no...” he was repeating like a mantra.
“Or maybe... yes?” I suggested. He jumped at my voice.
I walked up behind Sam. He was staring into the mirror at his reflection. His reflection was grinning back at him – two hundred pounds of muscle and a lustful stare.
“No way...” Sam snapped. “You seriously did this to Oliver? Gave him the body and sucked out his brains?”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I laughed. “No, I’m not... I’m not some vampire or whatever. Ollie’s too hot to be smart – he knows it now. He paid me a lot of money to change him into a hot as hell influencer, and he got exactly what he paid for.”
“I don’t have any money,” Sam said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but you’re a freebie,” I shrugged. “Ollie needed someone round here to fuck him. Not like he’ll ever be monogamous, but... he needs a steady, doesn’t he?”
“Oh,” Sam said sarcastically. “So I got lucky.”
“That’s right,” I said, coming up with a new game plan. “Tell you what... if I just gave you the body... no changes to your mind... no changes to your sex drive...”
“Yeah...” Sam asked cautiously.
“Just two hundred pounds of thick muscle... would you be okay with that? I just need someone hot enough for Ollie.”
I watched the muscles at the back of his neck relax.
“Yeah...” Sam nodded slowly. “I mean... no tricks, right?”
“No tricks,” I lied. “Just look in the mirror and give yourself a flex.”
Sam’s eyes darted over to me, then right back to the mirror. He raised one arm slowly and squeezed his bicep tightly. In the mirror his counterpart showed off a bicep that looked more like a small bowling ball.
“Look at that...” Sam said in wonder. In the mirror his reflection mouthed along to the words. “Yeah... if you just wanna make me big... I’d be into it.”
“Maybe a little bit bigger?” I asked. “I mean... as long as we’re here?”
“Yeah...” Sam said, his voice starting to get distant. “A little bit bigger...”
His reflection echoed back the words. I wove a spell with my hand.
“A little bit buffer?” I asked, watching as Sam brought up his other arm and flexed. His mirror image looked proud and cocky.
“Yeah...” Sam and the mirror echoed each other. “A little bit buffer...”
I wove the spell and watched his image swell up more. Two twenty. Maybe two thirty.
“Now there’s a guy who spends all his time in the gym,” I chuckled. “And the bedroom...”
“Yeah...” the mirror image gave a dumb chuckle. “I fuck like... a lot.”
His voice was deep and raspy.
“Whoa...” Sam said faintly. “I don’t know... he sounds...”
“Pretty dumb,” I shrugged. “But you wanted to be buff... and you don’t get buff in the library...”
“Or get laid...” the mirror smirked. “And I need to fuck...”
“Like a lot...” Sam said. Or was it the mirror? Who could tell.
“Cause I’m a hero...” the said together. “Big muscles. Big balls. Tiny little brain... but I fuck... like... a lot...”
“Sam,” I whispered in his ear. “Meet Buck. Volunteer firefighter. Professional porn star. And Ollie’s favourite cock to swallow.”
Sam licked his lip. Buck made it look even sexier.
“Yeah...” Sam said, his gaze fixed in the mirror. “Turn me inta that...”
We blinked and the cub was gone, replaced with 233 pounds of workhorse muscle. Tiny little spandex shorts. A mesh tanktop that barely qualified as fabric. Bright pink hightops that screamed himbo.
He finally relaxed his arms and turned to face me. With his giant arms hanging beside him, his heavy pecs were even more apparent. Ollie looked more like a model, but they were both walking orgasms.
Speaking of which... I hadn’t cum in hours. Not since that gas station in Wyoming.
“Hey Buck...” I smirked. “Before we go see Ollie... I need to bust one out...”
“I got you brah,” Buck said, breaking into a wide smile. He didn’t even hesitate – the gentle giant pushed me toward a stall. A second later he was on his knees, fishing my dick out of my jeans.
“Mmmm...” he moaned at the sight of it. “Gimme that cock.”
It was tight with the two of us in there. I was up against the stall wall, while his feet stuck obviously out from under the door. I was so turned on... if a guy walked in, I’d probably snap my fingers and make it a threesome.
Buck knew exactly what he was doing. He swirled his tongue around my head, took a few slurps down the pole, and then started sucking on my insatiable balls. The first spell I ever cast was on myself... I gave myself this sex drive.
“Uhhhhhnnnnn...” I moaned, grabbing the back of his buzzcut and guiding his head up and down my cock. “That’s right baby... right there... right...”
I blew my load right down his throat. Buck swallowed with gusto.
Fuck that felt good. Between Oliver thinking he could short-circuit the process and Sam making a break for it, I was exhausted. Lucky for them I take pride in my work. There are himbo makers out there who would have given up on both of them... but not me.
I made them happy.
Remember that pair of briefs Ollie threw back at me earlier? Buck was only too happy to slip them on. I left him to change while I headed back to Ollie.
“Oh my god,” Ollie whined. “You were in there like... forever...”
“It’s cool,” I promised. “I just had to make a few extra changes.”
Ollie wasn’t listening. Buck had stepped out of the bathroom and was swaying his meaty hips as he did a runway walk over to our table. The line of my signature briefs was obvious under his spandex shorts – it made him look a dozen times sluttier.
“Sam!” Ollie said, drinking in the man with his eyes. “Oh my god... you’re like... yes!”
“He’s called Buck now,” I said, stealing the pint away from Ollie. “Not like you care.”
“You said we’re gonna fuck every morning,” Buck said in a deep growl. “What about night?”
“As much as you want!” Ollie promised.
“Good,” Buck chuckled. He moved behind Ollie and rested his hand on Ollie’s bare ass. “I need to fuck... like... a lot...”
“I’m your boy,” Ollie giggled. “You wanna get a drink first?”
“I think we better go,” Buck suggested, running his finger gently towards Ollie’s hole. “I gotta be up early to fuck you. And I gotta break you in tonight...”
Ollie squirmed as Buck teased his hole. His eyes closed in bliss when Buck leaned in and kissed him on the neck, rough stubble scratching against Ollie’s pretty skin.
Ollie let out a whimper. I think he was falling in love.
Buck tossed a twenty on the table and stood. When Ollie followed suit, Buck bend down and grabbed him by the waist, tossing him over his shoulder like a rag doll. Ollie’s ass was up in the air, twitching with anticipation.
“You wanna come?” Ollie asked brightly. “Like... you totally earned it!”
My phone chose that exact moment to buzz. A text from my agent.
“Hey Jake, can you get to Chicago early tomorrow?” it read. “Mr. Montgomery wants another couple of guys done, so I promised we’d squeeze him in.”
I groaned. Chicago was ten hours on the map. At least a dozen hours on the road.
“Nah,” I told Ollie. “You two have fun. I’ve got miles to go...”
I watched Buck carry Ollie out to his truck. A few minutes from now they’d be having the hottest sex of their lives. I wanted to tell my agent to go fuck himself. This last minute bullshit had to stop.
But you don’t turn down Mr. Montgomery.
Comments
Derek Williams
Thanks! It's good to be back!
Naks
This has always been one of my favorite characters. I guess it's been one of my greatest fantasies. To be transformed in to a big dumb gymbro. i've missed your writing DW. Thank you so much for coming back!
Derek Williams
You’re welcome, and thank you! I’ve got some ideas about where this series is gonna go and I’m stoked to write em for all of you :)
Real Recon Rick
Wow – read that slow – so slutty and luscious – Thanks for making 2025 start out with a bang!
