Popular Post TQuintA Posted September 3, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted September 3, 2021 Part 4 – The Hollywood Hunk Chapter 2 Jason Prentiss was a star. An actual, living, breathing, bona fide Hollywood celebrity. He’d broken out about eight years ago and was known mostly as the nice guy in romantic comedies and the brooding heartthrob in depressing dramas. And was he the perfect type to play them. He was 6’4”, and solidly built with broad shoulders and a tight abs. Among his fans, there was a subcategory who were only fans of his reality-defying abs. Even when playing a small-town innkeeper, he played a small-town innkeeper with rock-hard abs. Every Jason Prentiss movie had at least one scene of him shirtless to show off those beauties. And the two movies in which he showed his ass (the briefest of glances, you had to pause the film), it was round, supple, and perky. In addition to just his body, he had a gorgeous face. Jet black hair that looked good regardless of how he styled it, but usually it was just long enough that it could fall over one eye when he laughed. Immaculately groomed eyebrows over his pouting, glistening, soulful brown eyes. God, I loved his eyes. He also has a defined, prominent jaw with a square chin—a matinee star’s lantern jaw. His nose was sharp and aquiline. His teeth were pristine, even, and white, and his smile was broad and inviting, a crooked half-smile that showed off the adorable dimple in his right cheek. He had that flawless, radiant skin that a lot of Hollywood stars have. He was routinely on lists of the “sexiest men in Hollywood.” He never hit number one for reasons that escape me, but he made the lists routinely. He was also more than just a pretty boy. His voice was buttery brass. I had no idea how he’d never been in a musical because his speaking voice was only outmatched by his singing voice. It was an open fact that he was gay, but he kept that part of his life closely guarded and never answered questions about it. He’d come out in college and never denied being gay, but it was just off the table at interviews. He was known for being a fiercely private person. I had met him briefly once before this, but I doubted he’d remember me. When I was working on the Death Knell movie, I’d been allowed on set once to watch them film a scene. To my extreme luck, it was a Krixby scene they were filming that day. The Krixby of the book was a man in his fifties with bloodshot eyes and a slight potbelly who was charismatic despite his appearance, not because of it. That was not Jason Prentiss. I knew immediately it was terrible casting, but I kept silent because it meant I got to meet him. I was in a crowd with the five other writers, but Jason Prentiss shook my hand. He looked down at the floor the whole time and apologized that he wasn’t more social, but he had a long day of shooting ahead. The interaction lasted all of fifteen seconds, but I talked about it nonstop for a week and would still bring it up at parties if someone hadn’t heard the story. And now I was on a date with him. “Hi,” he said, breaking into a smile, his eyes generously appraising my muscles while he shook my hand. “I’m Jason Prentiss.” He gestured to my chair, and we sat down together. I could feel my face warming as I blushed. “I know who you are,” I said. “Everyone knows who you are.” “You’re a fan, then?” he asked. “Yes, I’ve seen all of your movies, most of them twice. Some I have on well-worn DVDs,” I said honestly, then shook my head slightly to bring myself back to my senses. “I promise not to fangirl. Did H. K. give you my name? ‘Cause he didn’t give me yours.” “No. He was mysterious. He just said I wouldn’t be able to miss my date when he came in.” Jason looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my expansive pecs. “He wasn’t kidding.” “I’m Gerald Vaughn. H. K. usually calls me G. P.” “G. P. Vaughn,” he said delightedly. “Then I’m a fan too.” “You’ve read my books?” “Both of them, and one of your short stories. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’m a huge fan of YA books. I can’t get enough of them.” That’s why H. K. had set us up. “Glad to hear. That’s what I write.” Jason looked excited, almost like an eager child. “We can talk about YA books, and you won’t get embarrassed?” “Not even a little.” “Good. ‘Cause if I tell most guys that my favorite book is Death Knell, they think I’m joking or being ironic. When I insist I’m being serious, they roll their eyes or laugh at me.” I screwed up my eyebrows in consternation. “H. K. told you to say that, didn’t he?” “Say what?” “That your favorite book is Death Knell.” “No, he didn’t. It is my honest-to-goodness favorite book. I told you, I’m a YA nut.” “You have to be kidding me.” “I’m not. Why would I kid you about that?” “’Cause you’re having dinner with Miles Uhler.” He leaned in close and gripped the tablecloth. “You’re Miles Uhler?” “In the flesh.” Really loudly, Jason shouted, “You’re kidding me!” A few heads turned, but Jason hardly noticed. “I’ve read Death Knell thirty times. I fought hard to get into that movie even though I was totally wrong for Krixby. I just had to be in that movie. Can I ask, is Krixby finally going to be executed in the next book?” “You’ll have to read it and see,” I teased. Honestly, I couldn’t answer him because I hadn’t written that far yet. Still overly loud, Jason spouted, “Miles Uhler is gay, and I am on a date with him.” Then, he practically growled he was so excited. “I am on a date with Jason Prentiss.” “This is why H. K. set us up,” Jason said, beaming, as if he read my thoughts. “Because we’re a mutual admiration society.” Jason slapped himself lightly and quickly two times, once with each hand, then said, “I promise not to fangirl over you either.” “I obviously know H. K. because he’s my editor. How do you know him?” I asked. He squinted his eyes to do the math. “His wife Paula is my agent’s accountant. I met H. K. at a small dinner party my agent threw, and we hit it off.” “How long have you known him?” “Four years, maybe five.” Almost as an accusation, I said, “He’s kept you from me all this time.” “I could say the same thing.” “Well, I also kept myself from you.” I told him the story of how we almost met on set. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I get painfully shy in crowds. I’m better one on one.” “You’re an actor, and you get shy in crowds?” “I went to college to get an art degree—I planned on becoming a photographer. Acting only happened because an ex-boyfriend dragged me to an open call. Besides, when I’m acting, it’s not me. It’s the character.” “That, dear sir, is adorable.” He smiled wide, his dimple showing. At that point, the waiter took our order (both of us barely ordered anything), and the food came promptly. Conversation bounced around lightly and delightfully. We got to know each other. I asked him about his favorite photographers; he asked me about my favorite authors. I asked him about his favorite and least favorite roles; he asked me why books six and eight of the Death Knell saga weren’t as good as the others. We’d been talking for at least half an hour when he said, “I should confess, when I saw you, I did recognize you. Not as Miles Uhler—that was an incredible surprise. But I definitely recognized you.” “From set?” “Nope. A few years ago, I was at a spa. It’s this place in downtown L.A. I sometimes go to because I love their sauna. You were in there by yourself. I was outside the door, reluctant to go in. I’ve always had a thing for guys with big muscles, and I could see you through the window in the sauna door. You overfilled that window. You were sitting there, your eyes closed, wearing only a towel, your beautiful, hairy muscles wet with sweat. I almost went in and talked to you, but then a handful of people went in ahead of me, and I chickened out. But that image of you in the sauna has been burned into my brain.” “You should’ve said hi. I only go to that spa to flirt with guys. The gym at my condo has a steam room I prefer.” “Too many people in the sauna. It never would’ve happened. Especially not with a guy as spectacularly big as you.” Throughout dinner, I’d been looking at Jason’s chest, arms, and shoulders. I was very familiar with his body, but he looked so much bigger in person. His shoulders pushed out his shirt, showing off their roundness. His sleeves strained a little at his thick biceps. His chest protruded just enough to taunt me. Jason Prentiss was a fit, toned, sexy man, but I wouldn’t have exactly called him buff. “Since you brought up the topic of muscles,” I said, “might I compliment you by saying you look more muscular in person?” He flexed his left bicep and smiled. Then, he said, “Coming from a guy as big as you, that’s a very flattering thing to hear. I’m about 3/4 of the way through bulking up for a part. I’m the most recent actor in L.A. to get cast as a superhero. The studio wanted me to put on 20 pounds, but I’m aiming for at least 30.” “You’re, what? 205? 210?” “Thereabouts. And I’ve got 8 more pounds to go to hit my minimum goal, and one month to do it.” “It looks great on you.” “Thank you. I’ve always admired big muscles, the studio wanted me to bulk up, and the trainer’s already putting me through hell. Why not go for it?” “Smart.” “I do mean hell. Our date had to be tonight because my trainer and agent micromanage my schedule.” “Glad you could squeeze me in.” I flirtatiously flexed my pecs for him. His jaw went slack. “Those arms. That thick neck. Those arms. How big are you?” “270. Thereabouts.” “That is unbelievable,” he said, mesmerized by my size. “H. K. should have introduced us years ago.” “He really should have.” Jason’s phone beeped. “Important call?” I asked. “Nope,” he sighed, silencing his phone. “Just an alarm to tell me my carriage is turning back into a pumpkin.” He looked me deeply in the eyes. His soulful, beautiful brown eyes. “I’m not the sort of guy who has sex on the first date, so I was always going to disappoint you that way, but it’s time for me to go to bed. My trainer says my sleep schedule is just as important as my workout schedule.” “He’s not wrong.” “Can I have your number so we can do this again? Hopefully very soon?” “Of course.” We exchanged numbers, and he escorted me back to my car. Standing next to it, I asked, “I respect that you don’t have sex on a first date, but do you kiss on a first date?” “Most definitely,” he said. He put his right hand behind my head, leaned in, and kissed me passionately. I reached up to hold both of his cheeks and kissed him back deeply, strongly, intently. As we kissed, he placed his left hand on my chest. I internally burned, hoping he’d feel up my pec or tweak my nipple or something overtly sexual, but he just pressed his hand against me and felt my hardness. When the kiss concluded, my knees were weak and my nether regions were tingling. “That was a perfect first kiss,” he said. “See you soon, Miles.” 32 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted September 3, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted September 3, 2021 Part 4 – The Hollywood Hunk Chapter 3 The whole drive home, I was still in awe of it. I’d met Jason Prentiss. I’d had dinner with Jason Prentiss. I’d flirted with Jason Prentiss. I’d gotten Jason Prentiss’s phone number. I’d kissed Jason Prentiss. I called H. K. as soon as I got back to my condo, and he answered on the first ring. “How’d it go?” he asked expectantly. “Amazingly,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Jason Prentiss?” “If you can’t keep the fact that you’re friends with Jason Prentiss a secret, you can’t be friends with Jason Prentiss.” “Thank you for setting us up.” “I knew you two would hit it off.” H. K. sounded so happy he was practically cheering. “I would’ve done it years ago, but you’re my co-worker, you’re arguably my employee, and you used to date my brother. I feared crossing some line. Have fun, but don’t fall behind in your chapters.” “Goodnight,” I said dismissively. “Goodnight,” he responded, and I could hear his goony smile over the phone. If that one date was all it ever came to, I still would have been glad it happened, but it became so much more. The morning after our kiss, Jason had spoken to his trainer about pushing past his studio-mandated goals to get as big as possible. He’d also offhandedly mentioned starting a new romance with an impossibly muscular man, so the trainer wanted to meet me ASAP. I said yes because it meant I got to hang out with Jason again. I was given the address to the private gym where the two worked out, a passcode to get past the security gate, and a time to arrive the following day. I was also given strict instructions to wear workout clothes because I was going to sweat. The following afternoon, two days after Jason and I shared our first date, I showed up to the gym in my most seductive workout clothes. I slung my gym bag over my shoulder to show off how broad, wide, and round they were. I wore my tightest workout shirt so it would conform to my body. My hairy pecs brimmed out of the collar, distorting its curve and creating a splash of cleavage. The long sleeves showed off the bulges of my biceps and triceps, somehow making my arms seem even bigger. The fabric hugged my midsection, showing each of my six ab muscles underneath. The fabric was white, so as I built up a sweat, more and more of my hair would show through. It was also just short enough that if I reached up, I’d flash a bit of midriff. Instead of workout shorts, I wore slightly-too-small, form-fitting tights that showed off the definition in my quads, each separate ass cheek, and the clear outline of my bulge. I knocked on the gym door, and Jason answered. He did a double take when he saw me, scanned me from top to bottom (with a noticeable linger at my crotch), and then made eye contact and flashed me his crooked, dimpled smile. “If I’d known we were dressing to impress, I would’ve picked a different outfit.” Jason was dressed in a beaten-up black tank top and loose basketball shorts. The shirt showed off his arms and gave me a glimpse at his shaven pecs. The shorts showed off his defined, thick calves. He was definitely bigger than I’d ever seen him onscreen. “Your outfit is perfect,” I said. Jason kissed me hello on the cheek and pulled me into the gym proper. It was equipped with both top of the line equipment that looked right out of The Jetsons and old-school materials like ropes and tires. The whole floor was matted, and the place smelled more of bleach than sweat. Standing near the free weights was a sculpted hunk of a shirtless man with close-cropped bleach-blond hair, brown eyes, a thick jaw, and a tattoo of a wolf’s head on his left pec. His abs were so defined they looked sinister. “Curtis, this is Miles, the guy I told you about. Miles, this is my trainer Curtis.” When Curtis approached me, I realized that he was two inches taller than me (halfway in between my height and Jason’s), but that I was significantly more developed than he was—probably by 50 pounds. Curtis grabbed my hand and shook it tightly. He was clearly trying to establish dominance. I gripped it back to show him that I could crush his powerful paw with my meaty mitt if I wanted to, then I backed off to show deference to his station. Curtis looked at me and nodded. “Impressive,” he said. “I like you already, Miles.” “Nice to meet you,” I said. “Our man Jason has big ambitions, but he’s hit a motivational plateau. He needs something to push him. When he told me about you, I thought you might help with that.” “I need a workout buddy,” Jason said, interpreting. “Consider this an audition,” Curtis said. “I’m going to give you two a minute to talk in private, then we’ll get started.” Curtis left the gym, leaving me all alone with Jason Prentiss. “Are you okay with this?” Jason asked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “We met two days ago. We’ve had one date, and I’m scheduling us for a month of close-contact, extreme togetherness with lifting, sweating, and grunting. That would scare off a lot of guys.” “I like close contact and extreme togetherness. I’m more than happy to be your extra motivation.” “I don’t really need the extra motivation,” Jason admitted. “I just wanted to see you again, but my schedule is crazy right now, and this was the only way I could do that.” “It’s fine,” I reassured him. “Good. I’m in here six days a week, and I’ll have you here as often as your schedule allows.” “I work from home,” I said. “I’ll schedule my work around this.” “Excellent.” “Besides,” I said. “How could I say no to working out with a dreamboat like you and a smoke show like Curtis?” Jason’s voice dropped to a hush and he shook his head seriously. “Don’t flirt with Curtis. He’s aggressively straight.” “Note taken.” “He’s intense,” Jason admitted, his voice returning to its normal volume. “But he helped me grow these,” he said, flexing his biceps. “And this,” he lifted his tank top, and I got to see a well-defined, intense 8-pack. “Those are gorgeous.” “I’m well known for my 6-pack abs, but I’m playing a superhero. I had to step it up.” “Your audience would be disappointed otherwise,” I averred. Curtis came back in. He barked, “You sissies ready?” quite aggressively. To Jason, I whispered, “He knows we’re both gay, right?” Jason suppressed a chuckle, and then Curtis started the workout. I’d forgotten how grueling and exhausting a workout can be when someone was pushing you to your physical limit. The last time I’d had a workout this intense, Shafe was living with me. Ever since I became a permanent 272, I’d slacked—just a little—in my workouts, lifting mostly to maintain the definition and to release endorphins. Curtis was pushing us to grow. Whenever I thought I’d lifted my max, Curtis made me lift a little bit heavier. Whenever I thought I’d done as many reps as I could, Curtis made me give more. I was pushed past my brink so far that I often forgot Jason was even there. By the end of the workout, I was drenched with sweat, all my hair showing through my shirt, which had been rendered virtually translucent. This first day had been chest and arms, and mine were red, swollen, and pumped. My workout shirt strained to contain me. Jason was similarly drenched with sweat and swollen. If he was sexy before the workout, he was a sex god after it. The workout had forced a lot of the veins in his chest and arms to the surface, making him looked extra-jacked. I wanted to trace those lines with my tongue. “Jason, hydrate,” Curtis barked. “Miles, here.” Jason started drinking, as commanded, and I walked over to Curtis. “Jason has never lifted more or harder or with fewer complaints.” “Glad to hear it.” I was panting and puffing, still exhausted from the workout. Curtis eyed me up and down the way a building inspector might examine a new construction site. “Jason tells me you’re 270,” he said. I nodded, then wheezed, “That’s right. 272 to be specific, unless I haven’t been watching what I eat for a while.” “Let’s see if we can’t push you even further. Your meal plan,” he said, handing it to me. “Follow it to the letter.” “Yes, sir,” “Welcome aboard,” Curtis said, shaking my hand. I went back over to Jason. “I’m officially your new workout buddy,” I bragged. The second Curtis wasn’t looking, Jason grabbed my face and kissed me desperately. After the kiss, he burst with, “You were amazing. I’ve never seen anyone lift anything so heavy.” “Thank you. You were no slouch yourself.” “Are you kidding? We’re not even close to the same level.” “Don’t disparage yourself. As my buddy Shafe says, ‘Self-reproach will jinx your growth.’ And we both want you to get as big as you can. Or, to put it in YA terms, since I know you’re a fan, be Johanna Mason, not Peeta Mellark.” Jason looked at me conspiratorially and whispered, “I am obsessed with you. I want to squeeze in as much time with you as possible. That sound good to you?” “That sounds awesome to me.” “Get here a half hour early every session. Then, after each session, we can hang out in the changing room for another half hour.” “Why are you whispering?” I asked. “I’ve been padding my schedule with Curtis so my manager doesn’t fill it with auditions and press interviews, and all that stuff. I think Curtis is a spy who would let the cat out of the bag.” “Then I’ll whisper too,” I whispered, feeling like a little kid disobeying the babysitter. Jason and I then went into the changing room. Unabashed by anything on my body, I stripped naked right there in front of him. When I pulled down my tights, revealing my large cock, Jason saw it and widened his eyes, but then he turned around so he couldn’t anymore. “My my, you’re big everywhere,” he said. “It took so much focus not to stare at you the whole workout.” “You’re free to look,” I said. “If I look, I won’t be able to keep myself from touching,” he admitted. “You’re free to touch,” I said. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. But most guys I date only want to date me because I’m Jason Prentiss, the movie star. No one really wants to date Jason, the man. As soon as I’m convinced this can be something real, something substantial, I will be all over you.” “I empathize,” I said. “With a body like mine, most guys just want me to be the massive masc alpha who’ll crush and dominate them. I’m a fetish, not a person.” “Exactly. You get it, then. Our first date was amazing, and today was exhilarating, but I’ve been tricked before. The number I gave you to contact me isn’t even my number; it’s just a number you can reach me at.” “It’s cool,” I said, walking past him over to the showers, making sure Jason got a lingering eyeful of my mighty, muscular ass. “You’re not playing fair,” he said. “You’re the perv staring at my ass,” I said from the shower. 40 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted September 3, 2021 Share Posted September 3, 2021 I was hoping Jason would have Henry Cavill qualities -- and he does! 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted September 3, 2021 Author Share Posted September 3, 2021 1 minute ago, arpeejay said: I was hoping Jason would have Henry Cavill qualities He was definitely an inspiration. 2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MadDog Posted September 4, 2021 Share Posted September 4, 2021 Would love to see this relationship with Jason have the bonus of catapulting our intrepid protagonist into bigger, more successful ventures! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
AtTheMomentNew Posted September 4, 2021 Share Posted September 4, 2021 So after the superhero movie wraps, Jason is up for a role in a drama, but the producers want him to drop a lot of size because it would be "distracting". Jason is torn because he has to be back at "full size" in less than a year when they start to shoot the big superhero team-up film. Jason is about to turn down the role when Gerry pipes up "maybe I can help you out here..." 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ploder4 Posted September 4, 2021 Share Posted September 4, 2021 40 minutes ago, AtTheMomentNew said: So after the superhero movie wraps, Jason is up for a role in a drama, but the producers want him to drop a lot of size because it would be "distracting". Jason is torn because he has to be back at "full size" in less than a year when they start to shoot the big superhero team-up film. Jason is about to turn down the role when Gerry pipes up "maybe I can help you out here..." BUUUUT.... the producers of the superhero movie want Gerry to play a supersized hero or villain after seeing his size while Jason is shooting the other movie. They like Gerry being so massive. The studio obviously sees Gerry shrinking as Jason grows so Jason and Gerry have to figure out how Gerry can keep the extra muscle while Jason packs the muscle on again. This happens a few times... Gerry loses track of how much extra muscle and/or cock and/or height he has. Gerry also doesn't realize how truly massive he became until he gives Jason back the extra muscle only to see Jason blow up to almost 300 pounds himself. Keep in mind Gerry has to workout to so they can keep up the appearances being honest. 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted September 4, 2021 Share Posted September 4, 2021 So Part 4 is upon us! I re read the first episode and realized that TQuinta was very straight forward about how this story was going to go - 4 boyfriends - and he's delivered! Def see Henry Cavill inspiration in the depiction of Jason Prentiss - handsome, square jaw, dimples, shy affect, broad shoulders - all there! I would LOVE to see the college boyfriend (Now very wealthy but still in love with Gerry!) to reappear. But Jason's pretty promising! Excellent writing as always! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted September 7, 2021 Author Share Posted September 7, 2021 Part 4 – The Hollywood Hunk Chapter 4 And that was my life for the next month. I’d hang out with Jason before and after workouts at his private gym. We’d often make out a little, do some feeling up—but always through clothes—and we always showered in separate (if adjoining) stalls. I’d seen him shirtless plenty of times—a delectable treat each and every time, especially since I got to see those million-dollar abs in person, dripping with sweat or shower water, a small pool collecting in his navel—but, disappointingly, he always kept his bottom half covered, usually in oversized basketball shorts. Most of that hangout time, though, was actually spent just talking. We talked about everything and nothing. He confessed to hating all vegetables and essentially all green foods, only eating them so trainers like Curtis don’t yell at him. He jokingly hoped his acting career tanked because at night he had long, involved, recurring dreams that involved barbecue ribs, pretzels, and Boston cream doughnuts. I also got to hear about his past. He’d lost his virginity in high school to one of his older brother’s friends, and his brother had walked in on them. It caused a rift that took ten years to heal. He absolutely loved singing—he would serenade me as we showered—but he felt out of his depths dancing, admitting to me, “I can do choreography if you give me a minute, but just making it up as I go? I look like a dying bird.” He also confessed to having every card, gift, and letter ever given to him by any ex-boyfriend. “But weirdly, I hate birthdays,” he added. I shared just as much from my own life (my hatred of spicy food, an edited version of how I’d lost my virginity to Gregg, how I’d made my money with Flynn, the chasm between my mother and me). I even confessed my love/hate relationship with the Death Knell series. That almost broke his heart. “Don’t tell me that,” he said, with a look of pain on his face and both hands gripping at his heart. “Next you’ll be telling me there’s no Santa Claus.” “It was based off a card game!” I told him. “If you want to read something I’m proud of, read the Hollow Maple trilogy. It’s published under the name Gloria Bowman, but I wrote them too.” At 2 AM that morning, he called me, saying, “Death Knell is better, but I could not put my Kindle down.” “You’ve read Hollow Maple already?” “I’ve read all three of them already.” “I’m impressed.” “You took the words right out of my mouth, Miles. Now, I’ve got to go.” Jokingly, he added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Curtis has surveillance that tracks my sleep, and I should have been in bed hours ago.” “Goodnight, Jason.” “Night, Miles.” I stayed on the phone until he hung up, just in case he wanted to talk more. The more time I spent with Jason, the more I felt this feeling creeping into me. At first, I thought it was just being a fan. Jason mesmerized me, and I often found myself starstruck by him. I’d have thoughts like, “I can’t believe I’m really working out with Jason Prentiss” or “I can’t believe I’m showering next to Jason Prentiss while he sings,” or “I can’t believe I’m kissing Jason Prentiss.” But, even after I would get over these momentary hiccups, the emotion would linger. So, it had to be something more. For a while, I thought it was just a crush. I’d had crushes before. The infatuation, catching myself thinking about him when I was cooking or working or, yes, even masturbating. But this feeling wasn’t a crush. It was much too big of a feeling to be a crush. In my experience, crushes are intense but burn out quickly. This was a slowly building fire, working its way up to an inevitable conflagration. At my next meeting with H. K., he stopped me before I left his office. Apparently, I’d been smiling dreamily the whole meeting. He had to know if the smile had something to do with how things between Jason and me were going. I told him everything was great and offhandedly mentioned the feeling. He just said, “You’re blushing, buddy. Sounds like love.” Love? I guessed it could be. I hadn’t fallen in love in a long while. Maybe I just forgot what the feeling was like. I sat with the feeling, meditated on it. Love might have been a part of it, but it wasn’t love. It wasn’t the same as love. It was warmer than love. It had a different shaped than love. Whatever the feeling was, I liked it. I really, really liked it. My workouts went from an obligation to my favorite part of the day. Because when I worked out, I got to see Jason. The whole month, we worked out together, and we worked out hard. Jason steadily got bigger and buffer and thicker. It was both enrapturing and enraging to watch it at such a slow, un-supernatural pace. But, after each workout, he was a little bigger. He was looking like a real-life superhero. His shoulders broadened, his chest thickened, his arms curved more solidly. His muscles were all perfectly proportioned and pretty. I’d never thought muscles could be pretty until I saw Jason’s up close. Powerful, yes. Sexy, yes. Majestic, yes. Pretty? Not until I’d seen Jason buffed up. I’d been growing too. It was harder to notice on me, but having spent seven years at a baseline 272, I could tell that my pecs and arms were getting thicker and that some of my favorite pants were fitting me tighter in the ass and thighs, that my shoulders were more noticeable in my peripheral vision, that doors and stairwells were closing in on me a little, and that there was more weight, making gravity pull on me a little harder. On the last day of our contracted one month of workouts together, Jason told me, “I can’t fit into any of my clothes anymore. I basically had to get a whole new wardrobe.” He flexed his gorgeously bloated bicep, the skin pulled tight as a vein bulged to the surface, and he smiled giddily, showing off the dimple in his right cheek. “Shirts that I used to wear every day, I can’t even get over my arms or my pecs. It’s the best problem I’ve ever had.” At our last gym session together, Curtis announced it was time for our final weigh-ins. Jason got on the scale and looked dead ahead as Curtis adjusted it. 215. “This is by far the biggest I’ve ever been, and ten pounds more than the studio asked for. I’m huge!” Jason said, flexing himself into a powerful most muscular to show off his defined pecs and biceps. He looked thick and ripped and strong. And beautiful. “Your turn, Miles,” Curtis said. “Why me?” I asked. “Your turn, Miles,” Jason insisted. So, I stepped on the scale. 285. “Wow. That’s a lot for a month. That’s big.” I wasn’t used to being lost for words, but those nothings dribbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Jason put one hand on each of my shoulders in an attempt to shake me. “That’s astronomical. You’re 70 pounds more than me, and I’m superhero big.” “Is this the biggest you ever been too?” Curtis asked. “Sure,” I lied. After Curtis had left the gym, while Jason and I were hanging out in the locker room, Jason sat next to me on a bench and said, “You’re not that good of an actor, Miles. This isn’t the biggest you’ve been, is it?” “Nope. It is not.” “Wow,” Jason said in a voice that was practically a prayer. And a tent grew in his basketball shorts. He’d gone through great pains to make sure I’d never seen his dick, so this was a big deal for him. And, if the tent was anything to go by, his dick was a big deal for me too. “You want to take care of that?” I asked, pointing to his erection. “I was hoping you would,” he said. Before he changed his mind, I was on my knees in front of him, pulling down his shorts and briefs. I was immediately met with a thick, musky aroma that invited me in. His dick was beautiful and disproportionately thick. His balls were also quite large. I wouldn’t call them bull balls, but they were far bigger than I expected. His equipment wasn’t as big as mine, but it was definitely big. “Thankfully, I’m a grower, not a show-er,” he said, snapping me out of my reverie, “or they’d have to design me a special superhero suit.” “How big?” I asked expectantly. “A smidge over 8. Call it 8 and a quarter.” “That is so hot,” I said, taking as much of his cock into my mouth as I could. It was even thicker than it looked, and I had to calm down my zeal or I was going to choke myself on it. While I sucked him off, he took off his tank top and flexed his glorious abs and thickened pecs. I looked up at his refined masculine beauty in awe. I felt honored to suck the cock of this gorgeous specimen of male beauty. I teased his cock head with my tongue, and Jason’s breathing grew more intense and erratic. I picked up my speed, and he began squirming in his seat. When his balls drew up and he ejaculated, I heard Jason curse for the first time. He got a foul mouth during orgasm, and I loved it. I swallowed every last drop of his cum, and then licked my lips to show him how delicious it was. I don’t know how long I was worshipping his cock, but it was over far too soon for me. “Your turn,” he said, patting the bench next to him. Eagerly, I took the seat. Jason pulled down my tights and underwear, and my fully-hard cock popped out. “I knew you were big,” he said, awe-struck, “but I didn’t know you were gigantic. How big is this?” “9 inches,” I answered plainly. “Have to be bigger than me everywhere, don’t you?” “You’re noticeably taller than me,” I said. “Only standing up,” he responded, then swallowed my cock. In my seven years at this enlarged size, I’d only met a handful of men who could deep throat me, and Jason put them all to shame. My cock was down his throat so fast that his nose crashed into my pelvic floor like a speeding car. “Fuck,” I said as he blew me. He tickled my balls, coated my entire shaft with his saliva, and tantalized my glans. I, meanwhile, was in heaven, looking down at his distended face and gorgeous eyes over the mountains of my pecs and past the hills, plains, and valleys of my tight torso. I played with my pecs and biceps, taunting him with just how big I was, stirring him on to suck me harder. When I erupted, Jason returned the favor of drinking everything that rocketed out of my cock. Both of us now spent, he joined me on the bench. Both of our cocks were out, and both of us needed a shower. But as we sat there, I felt that odd, beautiful, nameless emotion return to me. I had to push it out of the way so I could even talk to him. “How did you learn to do that?” I asked. “I’m a bit of a size queen,” he confessed. “You should see my toys at home,” he added. “Is that an invitation to your house?” I asked. “I guess it is.” He went over to his locker, pulled out his phone, and sent a quick text. I heard my phone buzz in my locker. Smiling, Jason came back over to the bench, sat down, and rested his head on my shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Did you just text me from your real phone?” I asked. “I did at that,” he said, idly stroking my hairy chest. “Glad you decided to trust me.” “You know this means we’re officially together, right?” he asked. “Sounds good to me,” I said. The emotion I couldn’t name intensified within me. 22 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted September 7, 2021 Author Share Posted September 7, 2021 Part 4 – The Hollywood Hunk Chapter 5 Five hours later, I was home and elbow-deep in writing, when my phone rang. “I made a huge mistake,” Jason announced. His voice practically reverberated with stress. “Hello to you too.” “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “Hello. How are you?” “I’m fine. A little worried about what huge mistake you made.” “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said, full of self-reproach. He almost sounded like a teacher had caught him smoking in the boys’ room. “If you’re talking about blowing each other in the locker room, I’m going to have to emphatically disagree.” “You don’t know everything.” Jason sighed. I could hear a crinkling sound in the background. “What is that sound?” I asked. “I’m stress eating,” he confessed. “I’ll work it off later, but right now it’s comfort. Principal shooting starts tomorrow. For the next three months, I’m going to be so busy. For the next three months, I’m going to be too busy to see you. For the next three months, Miles. I shouldn’t have started something if I wasn’t going to commit. If…” He was going to keep steamrolling with why dating was a mistake, but I interrupted him. “If your schedule wasn’t a factor, would you want to start something with me?” “Yes. Absolutely yes.” He sounded almost relieved to admit it. “I want this to be something more. I meant it when I said I was obsessed with you. I just don’t have the time to see you as often as I want, and that’s unfair to both of us.” “Have you forgotten that my schedule is incredibly flexible? If you can only meet for 5 AM breakfast dates, breakfast will simply become the most romantic meal of the day. If you need to crash after a long day of filming and have to reschedule a date, that’s cool too. We’ll find a rhythm.” “But I liked our rhythm,” Jason said. “I liked seeing you basically every day.” “Me too.” I paused for a second. “Give my number to your assistant or agent or whoever keeps track of your schedule. If we have to schedule dates like business meetings while the movie is shooting, that’s what we’ll do.” “I’m so glad to hear that. My schedule is either go-go-go a mile a minute, or an empty block of waiting. Depends on if I’m filming or not. There’s very little in the middle.” “Are we both on the same page again? Are we still together?” “Yes.” The call ended soon after, and I went back to writing. However, only five minutes later, I got another call. “Good afternoon, this is Lacey Schreiberg calling on behalf of Jason Prentiss. Am I speaking with Mr. Miles Uhler?” She had a pleasant but pragmatic voice. And I swear I detected the faintest trace of a New York accent and a lot of effort being exerted to cover it up. “You are,” I said tentatively, surprised Jason had given her my pen name. Technically, she was talking to Miles Uhler, but more accurately, Miles Uhler didn’t exist. “Hello, Mr. Uhler.” Her voice rose and fell with practiced intonations as though she spent most of her day on repetitive phone calls. “Is now a good time to talk?” “Yes,” I said, still tentatively. “And you can call me Miles.” “Thank you, Miles. I will make a note of that. I am Mr. Prentiss’s personal assistant. I see to all of his scheduling, and I have just been informed that the two of you have entered into a romantic relationship.” “We have,” I said. I had to stifle a laugh because the phone call felt like a customer satisfaction survey, not a discussion about the guy I was dating. “Happy to hear it. I am calling to introduce myself and to get some basic information from you so I can add you into the relevant parts of Mr. Prentiss’s Google Calendar. As I said, my name is Lacey Schreiberg, and I am his personal assistant. You may call me Lacey or Miss Schreiberg, whichever is more comfortable for you. In addition to his scheduling, I see to Mr. Prentiss’s personal errands—everything from making sure his housekeeper is paid on time to making sure his tux comes back from the cleaners. As such, if there are any receivables that need to make their way to Mr. Prentiss, please funnel those through me.” “Receivables?” I asked. “Gifts, cards, flowers—things of that nature.” “If I want to give my boyfriend a gift, I give the gift to you?” “My apologies. You misunderstand,” she continued in her polite, but vaguely robotic, voice. “If you are going to have anything delivered or shipped to him, I will make sure he receives them. If you want to surprise him with a gift in person when you liaise face to face, that you can do without involving me, though I would appreciate a heads up if the gift involves maintenance of any kind.” Flummoxed as to what sort of gift would need maintenance, I said, “Okay.” “I understand that Mr. Prentiss has already shared his personal contact information with you. If, however, you are ever having trouble reaching him, you can contact me, and I will make sure he gets the message.” “Thank you,” I said. “Also, if you need any reservations made, I will gladly do so on your behalf. It allows me to streamline his schedule.” “Thank you, Lacey.” The conversation went on like that for fifteen minutes. By the end, I almost felt like I’d been through a tax audit, but I was officially a part of Jason’s schedule and had been linked into his official calendar. Drained by that conversation, I decided to take a sanity break from writing and make myself a mug of tea, maybe play some mindless video game. The water wasn’t even hot when my phone rang again. I turned off my burner and answered with a hello. I was greeted by the most vivacious and friendly voice I had ever heard. “Good afternoon, Mr. Uhler. Sorry, Lacey said I should call you Miles. Good afternoon, Miles. This is Margaret Whalen. I’m Jason’s PR rep.” “Nice to meet you,” I said, slight hesitation in my voice. “I just wanted to touch base with you about your new relationship with Jason. Lacey tells me your schedule is wide open. Would you be free for a brief one-on-one at 4:30 today at my office?” That was one hour from when she called me. “Sure,” I said. An hour later, I found myself in Margaret’s waiting room. The office was decorated in different shades of light brown—lots of beiges and tans, including the leather couch I was sitting on. A meek secretary had offered me a coffee, but I’d declined it. After waiting twenty minutes, I was finally escorted inside Margaret’s office. She was a tall woman with big blond hair, wafting a floral perfume, wearing bright makeup and even brighter clothes. I suspect she kept the waiting room in neutral tones so she would pop out against the background. When I came in the room, she shook my hand and smiled warmly. She was wearing six or seven rings on each hand, and her nails were long and painted garishly pink. “Sit, sit!” she said. Rather than sitting in her chair, she walked around her desk so she was on the same side of it as me, and then sat on her desk. “Since you’re so important to Jason, I thought we should meet in person.” “Okay,” I said. “You are quite the striking fellow,” she said, clearly indicating my mass and size. “Handsome, too.” “Thank you,” I said, practically with a question mark at the end. “I’m so glad he’s dating again. He hasn’t dated in years. I told him—completely unsolicited advice—that he should date a man who wasn’t in the biz but who understood the pressures of high-achieving success.” “Reasonable advice.” “I actually suggested a chef at a high-end restaurant, but a best-selling novelist works too.” “I guess,” I said. “What am I doing here?” “Jason hired me to take care of PR. With Jason, that’s a threefold job. One, I have to make sure he gets the right press to promote his movies and get him more acting jobs. Two, I have to make sure he has an appropriate social media presence (he’s such a perfectionist with a camera he’d never post a selfie unless it could hang at the Louvre). Three, I have to make sure that his privacy isn’t violated in any way.” It clicked. Now I understood the rushed meeting. She had to make sure there wasn’t a wolf in the henhouse. I nodded, indicated that she didn’t need to explain why I was here. “Smart man. I can tell from a quick internet search that you are also a man who values his privacy. I couldn’t even find a picture of you online.” I smiled. “Miles Uhler is a pen name.” Margaret clapped once excitedly. “Excellent. You really understand the value of privacy, then.” I nodded. “Good. I’m not going to make you sign an NDA or anything like that, but I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page and that you weren’t going to make my job any harder.” “Not on purpose,” I said. “Excellent. Now, this next thing is going to sound like I’m contradicting myself, but I’m not. I’m going to send you down the hall to have a few press photos taken. That way, if news of you leaks, we have something professional and discreet to use to break the story in a way that works for us.” “Leaks?” “Jason’s an attractive, eligible, Hollywood bachelor. A gay Hollywood bachelor. That shouldn’t matter, but we both know it does. One rag or another is constantly snooping around for news about his sex life. If the story ever has to make the celebrity blogs and tabloids, we have our press ready to go.” “I’ve read about Jason Prentiss in dozens of magazines and websites. I’ve never seen anything about his personal life, just his professional life.” “Because I am very good at my job,” Margaret said, leaning in. “Trust me when I say that we need these photos only as a precaution.” What happened next was a whirlwind. I was shuffled off to have my hair and make-up done. I had a blinding array of photos taken of me. And then I was headed back home. It felt like two seconds had passed, but it was almost 75 minutes. When I got back to my condo, I got a text. From Jason. “Sorry about today,” it said. I texted back, “I asked for it,” followed by a shrug emoji. “Come by my place for an apology?” It ended with a kissy-face emoji. I could get my writing done the next day. 22 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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