orientation-gay My Hulk-daddy is Paying : Chapter Fifteen

[Hialmar]

The Prelude is found HERE

The preceding chapter is found HERE

My Hulk-daddy is Paying

Chapter Fifteen

 

”Did you know, that Northern Ireland has two Governor-Generals since the Maundy Thursday Agreement?”, Max asked Jim. Max was watching a documentary about history, and Jim was cooking.

”I’ve never understood if Northern Ireland is a part of UK or a part of Ireland.”, Jim answered.

”Neither. In reality it’s totally independent and sovereign, they say here, but the Maundy Thursday Agreement introduced The Andorra Solution, and there is still a legal fiction in place, keeping a notional tie to the UK, balanced with a few words about 'located in the north of the island of Ireland, the history of which it is a part'. Some of their politicians use the expression Canada plus plus”

”What’s The Andorra Solution?”, Jim shouted over the sound of chicken frying in a pan.

”It means, that Northern Ireland has two citizens who ’take precedence over all other persons in the State’: One of them, the King of Northern Ireland,  coincide with the Monarch of the UK under another name, and the other one, the President of Northern Ireland, coincide with the President of Ireland under another name. None of the ’citizens who take precedence’ ever put their feet on Northern Irish soil, but appoints one Governor-General each instead.”

”What’s a Governor-General? Is that like a President? Oh, wait! Doesn’t Canada have a Governor-General?”, Jim shouted back. The scent of chicken began to spread through the flat.

”Not like the sort of President we have here in Cascadia. My impression from this documentary is, that Governor-Generals are mainly involved in cutting ribbons, and they say here, that they are not allowed to have any political opinions at all. All the cabinet-work is done by two Prime Ministers.”

”Two?”

”Yes, one of them from the one of the unionist parties which got the highest number of votes, which seem to be the Alliance Party these days, and the other one from the one of the republican parties which got the highest number of votes, but the documentary hasn’t got to the last decade yet, so I’m not sure which one that is.”

”Sounds complicated.”

”From what they say in this documentary, it’s a country with a very complicated history. Come here, Jim. Since I got those mind-implants I feel so incredibly dumb. Watch this, so you can explain it to me later! What the hell is a Dail?”

Jim joined Max in the sofa. There were two history professors chuckling on the screen:

"Stormont is obliged to have seven different flags on show outside, because the inhabitants weren't able to decide which one to chose. In order, to not offend anyone, they fly all seven 365 days a year.

* * *

Alpha titan. His mind felt weird. Weird but good.

Rob and Nate had showered together after the 'hancing process, and had heard the faint noises of Bill cleaning the jacuzzi for next customer from the treatment room nearby. Bill had taken their new improved measures, and sent them to the waiting tailor, but then, Rob and Nate had been separated because of the theme party later in the night. They had grumblingly accepted to be separated, and Rob was now waiting in an adjacent room, only wearing a terrycloth bath robe and sipping mineral water and a protein shake. He felt strange. Dizzy. Weird but good. Bill had explained to them before the rejuvenation, that their hormone levels would return to the levels of their late teens, but Rob had never felt like he did right now. He clenched his fist and flexed his biceps. Stronger. Stronger than ever. This must be the hormone levels he would’ve had, if he had ’hanced in his teens. He had never felt like this before. It felt …

The tailors had been prepared for the incoming order within the facility. Bill brought him a parcel wrapped in brown recycled paper. It was meant to be a surprise. Rob had put an X in the form deciding Nate’s clothes for the theme party, and Nate had decided what Rob had to wear, none of them supposed to tell the other beforehand. They had kept their promises. Let’s see what Nate wanted Rob to wear. He unwrapped the parcel.

The rascal must be kidding. Mixed feelings welled up inside himself. Oh Nate … The sweetest man. The toughest man. Nate’s sense of humour … The iconic jacket gave it away. The large amount of surplus army blankets in the end of the Space War had caused the Armed Forces to use the blankets to produce bomber jackets out of blanket fabric, and the veterans had continued to use them after discharge, which in course … The Bad Boys. The particular style of jacket had become popular among younger brothers and neighbours of veterans in rough areas, and become a part of Bad Boy wardrobe that way. It was affordable. It was efficient. It was tough looking. All the things Bad Boys were aiming for. Well, the jacket had to wait. Each piece of clothing in order... 

Jockstraps had been more in Nate’s taste, than in Rob’s, but he dutifully put the jockstrap from the parcel on.

There was a collar, two ribbed bands and a spray can. He sighed, conflicted, and asked Bill for assistance. Bill helped him put the spray-on polo on, and it looked – eh, sprayed on – which was flattering. Polo fabric clung to the two hemispheres of his beefy pec shelf, and snugly hugged his volleyball-sized and steel-hard shoulders. 

The scent of the leather trousers filled his nostrils. Except for that silly commercial many years ago, it wasn’t a fabric he usually preferred to wear. Since they were tight-fitting, it took him some time to put them on. Then he leaned down, and buttoned the buttons along the outside of his calves, and, since they were tailored for his exact measures, the trousers fit like a glove. He tied his boots. Bill helped him put his braces in place, and he tightened the leather belt. Before he put the jacket on, he noticed the embroidered patch on the back of the jacket: ”Party like there’s no tomorrow.”

”Nate, you cheeky bastard.”

Rob inspected himself in the mirror, and his conflicting feelings returned. His face was youthful, but it wasn’t the face of his youth: His cheek was more powerful. The bones in his jaws were more prominent. There was something about how he held his head, that was different from his youth. His teenage bullies had looked like this, but no, they hadn’t. None of his teenage bullies had been built like this tall, wide, massive muscleman. A lump formed in his throat, and blood rushed to his dick, forming a nice bulge inside the leather trousers. His teenage bullies had run scared witless if they had faced his present self. He adjusted his stance again. The lump in his throat became more noticeable, the bulge in his trousers harder, and something fluttered deliciously in his lats, his chest and his gut.

”Nate, you cheeky bastard.”

Then he remembered, which option he had chosen for Nate, and he couldn’t avoid cracking up in a smile, realising, that Nate probably went through similar mixed feelings at the same time.

A nineteen-old Bad Boy with his own face stood in the mirror, and gazed back at him. He adjusted his stance again, adjusted his posture, cheek raised in an arrogant pose and made a double biceps. Three bulges throbbed: two bicepses hugged by ribbed bands and one, leather-clad, in his trousers. Perhaps not so bad, after all. He began to look forward to the theme party.

* * *

They gathered in separate room of the facility. Rob was fresh from the hairdresser, who had given him a mohawk buzzcut, the rest of his head entirely shaved. It felt unusual. Not his usual style. Air against the skin of his head.

All men in the room were dressed in Bad Boy style. All the BIG men. ”Big” didn’t mean, that they were all of the same build. Some of them looked like participants in ’Men’s Physique’ competitions.  Some were short and wide fireplugs. There were bodybuilder-shaped men and there were strongman-shaped men. And then there was Rob. It sunk in, that, even at a ’Hancing-facility, he was the biggest man in the room. His leather-clad bulge throbbed again. He hadn’t been competitive in the past. ’Hancing had not been about competitiveness to him, but about wellbeing and service to others, but the rejuvenation had awakened an unfamiliar side of himself inside. Biggest man in the room. Throbbed again. Admiring glances in his direction. Respect bordering to fear in some glances. Throbbed again. All dressed in Bad Boy style. No sign of Nate. Perhaps …

An employee of Physical Potential Foundation cleared his voice, and began to speak:

”The theme of the surprise party is BAD BOYS GATECRASH THE FRAT PARTY. The other participants are kept in the belief, that the theme is BIG JOCKS’ FRAT PARTY. Before we all invade their party, have a welcome drink here, and get to know each other.”

No sign of beer. Since hops farmers were struggling with parasites and the dwindling number of bees, beer was the posh drink these times: What you could expect among the affluent, not among working class Bad Boys. Despite their decent incomes, neither Rob nor Nate had consumed beer particularly often, only very seldom.

”You are a big fellow, mate.”

A burly Bad Boy pressed a glass of vodka in Rob’s hand. Rob nodded, and the man continued:

”Are you a younger relative to that man in that MegaGrowth commercial? You know, the famous one: I HAVE THE POWER!”

Rob cracked up in a smile again:

”That’s actually me. I just rejuvenated. I’m Rob.”

He hesitated. Then he put his glass down, stroke a pose and shouted in the familiar way:

"I HAVE THE POWER".

His demonstration was appreciated. Time allowed him conversations with three men in the same tough-looking style. The room was increasingly filled with the scent of leather, cigar smoke, vodka, anti-perspirants and sweat. Then the employee interrupted:

”It’s time, blokes. Time to surprise the fratboys and crash their party.”

Rob felt in good mood and excited. The mood in the room rose to even higher levels. Someone shouted:

”Party like there’s no tomorrow!”

Oh, what he had hated that catchfrase in the past. Now, in this very moment, he allowed himself to become one with that catchfrase, and he bellowed:

”PARTY LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW!”

It was met with cheer, and their crowd was set in motion towards the room where the jocks were.

The facial expression of the men wearing NuJock-style clothes was an expression of total surprise. The rooms were styled to look like a frat-house, and the mix of clothes from the 1950s, 1980s and 2030s that had merged in NuJock was ever present in the rooms, not surprisingly, taking in regard how popular that style was among ’hancers.

Rob looked for Nate. It wasn’t difficult to find him, since he was the biggest of the ”fratboys”, sitting in a sofa surrounded by two admirers and a third one at the floor between his legs. Nate was wearing a white t-shirt, a varsity jacket and unbleached denim jeans, and his hair was styled in 1980s fashion. The loud music in the speakers changed the same moment the Bad Boys entered the room, and Third Wave of British Donk was filling their ears.

An admiring NuJock pressed a beer bottle in his hand. He answered with a bro nod, grabbed the bottle with his right hand, drank eagerly and grabbed the NuJock with his left hand. The yelp coming from the other man confirmed, that he enjoyed the gesture. He kissed the NuJock, simultaneously glancing in Nate’s direction. Nate was surrounded by three men’s attention, but Nate glanced back and winked. Rob winked back.

The masculine energy in the room was way beyond 100%. Brawny ’hancers, many of them young-looking, but presumably in many different ages, kissed and groped each other, or sat relaxed talking to each other over a drink or two. The polos and t-shirts revealed the powerful build of them. Rob’s memories returned, mixed, blurred … The years immediately after their ’hancing, Rob and Nate had spent a lot of time clubbing, exploring the pleasure their powerful muscular bodies were able of, but they had been in their mid- to late twenties then, and this return to a teenage state …

He was a horny giant with the testosterone of a titanic teenager now. Snogging Bad Boys and NuJocks were fun, but … Nate. His mind was eager for Nate. His body lusted for Nate. There was no one like his husband. Mildly squiffy, Rob waddled confidently through the crowd and loud donk-music, his leather-trousers squeeking as he moved, and he found himself standing before Nate’s sofa, erect, wide-shouldered and with his bootclad muscular legs wide apart. He registred how the other men’s eyes became wide in awe, but his main focus was at Nate, the biggest frat-jock in the room. Their eyes met. Time disappeared, and they silently lost themselves in each other's eyes: Rob’s icy blue and Nate’s gemstone brown. Rob’s bulge throbbed inside the glossy black leather. Nate’s bulge throbbed in unison inside the blue denim. Rob broke the silence:

”Sorry lads. This one belongs to me.”

He lowered himself in a squatting position, grabbed Nate with his big hands, and then the titanic platinum-blond Bad Boy left the room firmly carrying the biggest NuJock in the room. Most eyes were turned in their diretion when they left, but the party went on. The bulge in Nate’s jeans confirmed, that Nate enjoyed his husband’s demontration of strength, and they soon reached their hotel room, where Rob threw Nate on the bed:

”More fun to come, fratboy!”

”Hell, yes, Bad Boy!”

Then they laughed, and said in unison:

”Of all styles … This one?”

The sound of their deep laughs reverberated inside their hotel room, again.

* * * 

 

Next chapter may be found HERE

Edited May 11, 2022 by Hialmar
details, spelling, language, added link