TQuintA Posted August 31, 2021 Author Share Posted August 31, 2021 Part 3 – The West California Wild Card Chapter 12 When I woke up the following morning, Puck was sitting next to me in bed, watching as my massive pecs heaved up and down. He looked so small, almost delicate. “Morning, Muscles,” he said, teasingly. “Morning, Puck,” I said. “That was a fun night.” “More fun than a wet undies contest, for sure.” Puck looked like he was hiding something from me, so I took a guess. “While I was sleeping, you took a million pictures of me at 300 pounds with a massive cock.” “If you must describe my actions accurately,” he said with a faux sigh. “But I promise I won’t post them online or show them to other people without your permission. These are for my own use.” “You can have your muscles back,” I said. I shrank back down to a still quite huge 272, and he returned to his normal proportions. With his muscles returned to him, I could appreciate just how strong he actually was. “About time,” he said, the relief palpable as he felt himself up. “Alphonse is coming back today,” I reminded him. “He didn’t say AM or PM.” “Funny you mention that,” Puck said, showing me his phone. Alphonse was on his way from the airport. That news allowed me to ignore the fizzing in my cock—and the knife’s edge of horniness that cut its way through my body. We got dressed and made breakfast. The airport was far enough away that Puck and I had enough time to finish eating and clean the dishes. We decided to wait out the rest of our time by reading in the living room—Puck, as always, sitting on my lap. “I’ve got to enjoy feeling that colossus poke into my ass while I can,” he said to justify it, even though him sitting there made it harder for me to read. “Besides,” he said, running his finger down the length of my stiff cock, “I know at least part of you is enjoying the attention.” When Alphonse knocked, Puck fairly leaped from my lap and got to the door in two steps. “Thank you so much,” Alphonse said, hugging Puck. “Or I guess, I should be kissing Shakespeare’s feet.” He came to me in the living room, and I stood up into his hug. “Glad everything worked out,” I said, stroking his back affectionately while positioning my hips away from him in an effort to hide the erection Puck had given me. “Of course, it did,” Puck said with a dismissive hand gesture. A little sad but mostly relieved to return his deposit, I said “You can have back your…” but Alphonse put his hands over my mouth to stop me. “I have a proposition,” he said. “How about you only give me back half? That way, you get to be the 9-inch stud stallion, and I can have a dick that’s shorter than a ruler.” “I don’t know,” I said, hemming and hawing. “No, that’s perfect!” Puck said, practically clapping in glee. “I couldn’t take a full foot, but I’m pretty sure I can take 9 inches, even if I need a little practice.” “I’m so happy,” Alphonse said. “Then, it’s settled,” Puck added. “Give him back half, Muscles.” “You both realize that I didn’t say yes, right? That I haven’t agreed?” “What could possibly be holding you back?” Puck asked. “I’ve seen that glint in your eyes this week. You like being the big guy with the heavy-swinging cock.” I explained to them the fizzing, that if I didn’t give back the entire deposit, I would be fizzing forever unless I increased the size of my cock to reach homeostasis. “I get it,” Alphonse said. “This week was gift enough. I was being greedy.” Puck got in between me and Alphonse. “You’re not even going to try?” he pleaded. “You don’t know how unignorable the fizzing is.” “I can keep your cock satisfied, Muscles. Trust me, I can keep your mind fully occupied.” “You’re not around me 24/7.” “What if we just try it for a month? Just a month? That’ll give Zane some time to move and get settled, and it’ll give you time to try life with a fizzing 9-inch dick.” “Why so eager?” I asked. Puck looked down, embarrassed. “I couldn’t take the full 12 inches.” “That’s it? It’s a point of pride? You want me to bottom you out with a massive cock?” “Yes, and…” Puck looked even more embarrassed. “I like you being bigger than me.” I flexed both my biceps. “I’m way bigger than you.” “I like you bigger than me everywhere.” I shook my head amusedly. I knew if I fought this, he’d just wear me down. Besides, it wasn’t agreeing to forever, and I did like having a big cock. “Fine. We’ll try it for a month.” If we could get past the fizzing, it actually sounded exciting, especially if I could go about my normal life, including giving Puck a good, deep fucking. “Really?” Alphonse asked. “Really,” I answered. “Thank you. And if it’s too much, I get it. It’s too much for me too.” I cleared my throat and said, “Alphonse, you can have back half of the size I borrowed from you.” The weight in my crotch diminished, and the obscene bulge in my pants shrank down to just a normal-hung-guy sized bulge. I did admit, now that I was unlikely to get so many stares, the bulge looked really good on me. Alphonse’s bulge grew, becoming prominent and somewhat obscene, but nowhere near as absurd as it had been a week ago. Alphonse reached down and adjusted himself. “It’s heavy. Not as heavy as it was, but it’s still heavy. I adjusted my own crotch. “Tell me about it.” “Thank you for this. If you like it, we don’t have to consider this a deposit. You don’t even have to get a hold of me. As far as I’m concerned, if you like this, it’s yours forever. Consider it a gift. You can keep it.” A switch flipped in my head, and the fizzing in my cock was gone. Also, the heaviness in my crotch felt different. Not heavier or lighter, just more tangible and real. Mine. Apparently, I was making a strange face because both Puck and Alphonse asked, “What’s wrong?” “Let me try something,” I said. “It’s an experiment. If things go awry, we’ll go right back to this right away. Cool?” “Cool,” Alphonse said, unsure what I meant. “You can have back all of your extra cock,” I announced, enunciating clearly. Nothing happened. “You can have back your three inches of cock length,” I tried again. Nothing happened. Now Alphonse looked confused. “What’s going on?” Puck asked. “Nothing,” Alphonse said. “Nothing at all.” I echoed. “The extra three inches, it’s mine now. The extra testicular mass, it’s mine now. No fizzing. I can’t give it back. It is simply my anatomy.” “For real?” Puck said incredulously. “For real,” I answered, checking my internal rule book. “Because he said I could keep it, it’s mine forever. Puck smiled devilishly. We bid goodbye to Alphonse, and Puck jumped into my arms. I think he was trying to knock me to the floor, but I outweighed him by almost 90 pounds, so it accomplished nothing. “Fuck me now,” he insisted. We took off our pants, and I leaned him over the arm of the couch. I looked down at my 9-inch majesty. It was not as obscene as it had been just this morning, but it was still gloriously bigger than I’d been my whole life: a real thick, long weapon of a cock. I prepped myself with lube and condom, and lined up with his waiting hole. With one decisive thrust, I was all the way in. “That feels wonderful,” he said. “How much more of you is there?” “None. I’ve bottomed out,” I said. “Just checking in on you.” “I feel pleasantly stretched out, not like I’m enduring intestinal trauma, like the footlong cock made me feel. Now, fuck me Muscles.” So, I did. We spent the rest of that day fucking like rabbits. It turns out, all of our sex games over the week made him hornier than he’d ever been, and he really wanted my cock up his ass, and that just was not going to happen while I’d been so huge. We made up for it that day with my new, permanent, 9-inch cock. 27 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted August 31, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted August 31, 2021 Part 3 – The West California Wild Card Chapter 13 Over the next few days, I grew to love my new bigger cock and balls. Getting dressed was a thrill because I could feel the size and the weight bulging in my pants. Working out was awesome because I could feel the extra testosterone surging through me as I did—though nowhere near as much as I produced at 12 inches. Even meetings with Natalie or H. K. were more fun than they’d been because it felt like everywhere I went I had a naughty secret with me. If people who knew me looked closely, they could see the difference, but no one was looking closely. Apart from Alphonse’s present, I had other reasons to be excited. Both of my books were released that week, and I was waiting for the sales results to come in. I had no expectation that either book was going to be a Hunger Games-level phenomenon, but I did hope the sales justified all the work I’d been putting into their sequels. Rather than wait for H. K.’s call, I’d subscribed to some of the trade magazines. I had toyed with just getting an online subscription, but the online edition and the print edition were released on the same day, and this way checking my mail might be a fun surprise rather than the onslaught of loneliness it had become. That had been my thinking, but I was wrong. Checking my mail every day had instead become a ritual in anticipation and letdown. About ten days after my newly enlarged cock came into my life, I had done an extra-intense workout to calm myself down before I went to the mailbox. After I showered and changed, I found breakfast waiting for me at my living room table. Puck had stopped by unexpectedly. I sat down to eat my breakfast, and Puck pointed to where my mail was. “Are the sales numbers in?” I asked eagerly, sorting through the mail quickly. “No, it’s all bills. And your 10th high school reunion is coming up.” “That’s the third invite they’ve sent me.” I was about to toss it into the recycling as I had the two prior ones when instead I asked, “Would you want to go to that?” I paused, then added, “You could meet some of my high school friends.” “No thanks,” he responded. “Why not?” I sat down at the table, surprised by his refusal. “There are only three reasons to go to a high school reunion. Number 1, you peaked in high school, and you want to relive your glory days.” “Definitely doesn’t apply to me,” I acknowledged. “I was fine in high school, but I mostly flew under the radar. Life got far better when I got to California, especially once I graduated college.” I cleared my throat, “Number 2?” “You’re looking to fuck.” “That can’t possibly be a reason.” I outright laughed at Puck. “People get drunk at these things. Old emotions flare up. People act like teenagers. It’s a recipe for questionable one night stands.” “And I’m not looking to hook up with anyone from high school. Not even if I wasn’t dating you,” I said honestly. “Alright. Number 3?” “To show off how awesome your life is and rub it in other people’s faces.” “Yeah, I don’t want to rub anything in anyone’s face. I wasn’t bullied in high school. I need no revenge.” “Like I said. You have no reason to go.” “You left out Number 4: it could be fun. And you’ve never been to one before,” I egged him on. “I know what will convince you.” Puck ran over to my bookshelf and came back with my yearbook. Holding it in hand, he took his seat on my lap as though I was about to tell him a story. It made it harder for me to eat breakfast, but I was used to it by now. “You just know where my yearbook is?” I teased. “I have memorized your bookcase because lord knows I’m not going to a library.” He opened my yearbook. “I haven’t looked through this before now because I thought it seemed utterly boring. Now, though, I’ll indulge your nostalgia, scratch that itch. Then, you won’t want to go to your reunion.” He flipped a few pages. “Show me what you looked like before you were Muscles.” I took a bite of eggs and turned to the appropriate page. I tapped on my photo. “Here I am.” Puck snatched the book away from me to look at my photo close up. “You were a cutie,” he said. “No, I wasn’t. I was a gangly, unimportant geek. Hell, I was editor of yearbook.” “I cannot attest whether you were a geek, but you were a cutie,” he said, moving his head so I could see the yearbook. I hadn’t really looked at any pictures from this time because I hated how insignificant I looked. Now, 10 years removed, I was looking with kinder eyes. I was, indeed, a cutie. Goofy, but cute. If I were 18, I’d think about asking this guy out. “Holy fuck,” I said. “I was cute.” “This is why you shouldn’t bother contradicting me,” Puck said. “Show me other pictures of you." He flipped through pages randomly, expecting to find other shots of me. "There aren’t any others,” I informed him. “But you were in clubs,” he zoomed back to my senior photo and pointed to the bio next to it. “I didn’t like having my picture taken, even then,” I said. “I cut school the day the club photos were taken.” Puck slammed my yearbook on the table. “You just said you were editor of yearbook. Editor. The whole reason guys who think they’re ugly geeks become editor of yearbook is to get their picture into the yearbook as much as they can.” “If I could’ve cut my senior photo, I would’ve done that too.” “This is not the yearbook of someone who wants to go back to high school,” Puck said. He had a point. “But the reunion isn’t at the school. It’s at a Holiday Inn.” “Luxurious,” Puck said sarcastically. He could tell I was unconvinced, so he continued. “Fine, if you’re still nostalgic, show me your high school boyfriend.” I flipped to the appropriate page and tapped on Gregg’s photo. “Holy fuck!” Puck shouted. “He’s a total stud.” “Yes, he is.” “Even thinking you were an ugly geek, you landed a total stud.” “I thought it was dumb luck combined with a small dating pool of out gay guys.” I flipped back to my senior photo. “Now, I’m thinking I was cute enough to land a total stud.” Puck took back the yearbook and flipped through the pages, scanning each one. “There are a million pictures of this guy.” “He was popular and in a bunch of sports and clubs.” “There are a lot more pictures than even that would justify,” Puck declared. “I was the editor,” I reminded him. “I did that on purpose.” Puck turned another page. “He was prom king? You dated the prom king?” “Yeah,” I admitted. “Then you don’t know the definition of ‘under the radar.’” I protested. “We’d broken up by then. He was prom king; I wasn’t.” “You dated the prom king,” Puck said, this time sounding impressed and pleased. He pulled the yearbook closer and settling more comfortably in my lap. “Is he why you want to go to the reunion?” “Not really,” I said honestly. “I just think it’d be a fun time.” He turned to look at me, dubious. “How did the prom king break up with you?” “I broke up with him.” “A twist!” Puck’s fingers danced with excitement. “Tell me everything.” So, I did. I even pointed out pictures of Dennis, the Solomon brothers, and Jonah. “Is that why you want to go back? To take a whole bunch of deposits?” “No. I keep telling you why I want to go. I just think it’ll be fun.” “Trust me. It won’t,” Puck said, and he continued to pore through my yearbook as though the matter was settled. I went back to my breakfast, thinking how I could convince him until my phone rang. Puck handed me my phone so he wouldn’t have to get up, and I answered, putting it on speaker. It was H. K. “Are you sitting, G. P.?” “Yep. I’m sitting, eating breakfast.” “I just got some advanced sales numbers.” I internally cursed myself. Of course, my publishers would get access to the numbers early. That subscription was a waste of money. H. K. had stopped speaking, so I prompted him. “And?” “And your book is a hit.” “Really?” I said, holding Puck close to me. Puck mimed applauding so as to not interrupt the phone call. “Really,” H. K. answered. “Not top of the overall bestseller’s list or anything crazy like that, but #9 on the New York Times YA list, and that’s fantastic for a first-time author. Digital copies of the book also greatly outpaced our expectations. All that press paid off. If it gets a following, it’ll climb the list, too.” Puck pumped his fists in celebration; I wanted more details. “Really?” I said. I couldn’t believe it. “Hollow Maple is #9 on the YA bestseller’s list?” “What? No. Death Knell is.” Of course. “Well, I guess that’s good,” I said, but the wind was somewhat out of my sails. “How did Hollow Maple do?” “Respectably. It’ll probably be enough to justify the franchise. We’ll see in a few more weeks.” Trying to get me excited, he added, “But Death Knell! You’re a bestselling author! Congrats!” I shook my head, realizing I was looking for problems where none existed. “That’s excellent news," I clarified, the joy returning to my voice. “Thanks for letting me know.” “You and my brother should go out and celebrate,” he cheered. “We will,” Puck said. “He’s right there, sitting on your lap, isn’t he?” “Yes,” I answered. “We were on speaker this whole time,” H. K. surmised. “Morning, H. K.” “Morning, E. C.” H. K. laughed slightly, then added, “Well, I won’t bother you two any longer. This is great news. Kudos.” I hung up the phone asked Puck, “What do you want to do to celebrate?” Puck scratched his face, and then patted my cheek. “I’ll surprise you.” With that, Puck bounced out of the condo and off to his ballet class. Unsure what to make of that proclamation, I went about my day as usual, assuming Puck would come back later that night to surprise me. After I’d had dinner, I was going to start do some writing, when I got a Face Time call on my cell phone. I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered warily. “Gerry!” the person on the other end said. “Gregg?” I asked. “What in the hell?” Gregg looked just as gorgeous as ever. He’d clearly kept up with his workouts because he was just as buff as he was in high school. His hair was just as striking and blond. His eyes were just as dazzlingly blue. “I got a strange text message from this guy named Puck insisting I call you.” “Huh,” I said. “Did he tell you why?” “To celebrate your book. Congrats on that.” “Thanks,” I said, “but I think he only had you call me to convince me not to go the reunion.” “Yeah, don’t go to that. I’m skipping it too,” he smiled broadly, gorgeously. “It’s only been ten years. Maybe I’ll go to the 20th or something like that. Besides, I’m not the person I was in high school.” “Even still, you look good,” I said, going over to lay down on my couch. “You look huge,” he responded. “Yeah, I’m pretty huge,” I responded, flexing my pecs into the camera. “Bigger than you even.” Gregg laughed, flexed his own still impressive bicep (even if it was significantly smaller than mine). Out loud, he said, “Obviously.” “What’s new in your world?” I asked. Gregg groaned in disapproval. “We’re skipping the reunion, Gerry. Let’s not make this a game of twenty questions.” “What should we talk about, then?” “The stupid stuff we used to talk about. Books, guys, stuff, nothing, everything. Do you really want to spend our time together just reciting our résumés?” He had a point. With that in mind, I started a new conversation. “I’ve come to really like my beard, especially as it gets thicker.” “I noticed your facial scruff. Hot choice, man.” Flatterer. “Do you think I should start using beard oil?” Gregg smiled his approbation, and we began talking freely about nothing in particular. Conversation flowed naturally and calmly. It was easy and smooth, and it felt like I had only seen him the day before. We talked for two hours, when a memory hit me. I said to Gregg, “I know we’re not supposed to play catch-up, but there is something I should remind you about. I still have a deposit from you.” “That’s right,” Gregg replied. “Wow. All these years, and you still have it.” “You want it back?” “Sure,” Gregg said, shrugging. “You can have your muscles back,” I said, and the ten pounds melted right off me. Through the video screen, I could see Gregg firm up, his muscles filling out his clothes, his shirt sleeves especially getting too tight for his biceps. I shrank ten pounds—barely noticeable on my frame—but the feeling was entirely different. It was like taking a deep breath after holding it as long as I could. I had thought the fizzing ended ten years ago, but it hadn’t. It had just gotten quiet and bearable. Now, after I gave his deposit back, for the first time since high school, the fizzing was actually, totally gone. Not even background radiation. “Damn,” Gregg said, flexing. He took his shirt off and snapped a few selfies. “I look fucking hot.” “They’re yours,” I said. “I was just holding on to them.” After he felt up his abs and pecs for a few minutes, Gregg looked at me. “Care for a quick go? We never had video sex.” I really wanted to. There was nothing in the world I wanted more. Sex with my first love? Seeing him bigger than I ever had before? Showing him my newly grown cock? It would have been heaven. I had to use all of my self-control to stop myself from just whipping out my cock and going to town with Gregg. But I resisted. “I won’t cheat on Puck,” I said. The words sounded emphatic, but if Gregg had pushed me even slightly, I would’ve given in. Mercifully, Gregg said, “Right. You always were the monogamous one.” He almost sounded disappointed. He looked down at his bigger pecs and ripped abs, sighed, and then announced, quite frankly, “I can’t keep these. I want to. Believe me, I really want to. But I just can’t. People will have too many questions, and with these extra muscles, none of my clothes will fit right. I like ‘em tight, and with this mass, I’d explode out of some of my most expensive tops, and just ruin them. Can you take them back?” I shrugged. “Why not?” I answered. “I’ve only been keeping them warm for a decade.” “Then you can borrow ten pounds.” After a second, he added, “In fact, you can keep them forever.” The ten pounds went right back to my body, this time for keeps. The conversation went on for another half hour, still talking about nothing in particular. Then, as it was drawing to a natural close, I wrapped it up by saying, honestly, “It’s been great to hear from you.” Gregg blew me a kiss goodnight and ended the call. After the phone call, I stretched my body out. Something felt different. I hadn’t noticed it when I was on the call with Gregg, but now something was unusual. It was hard to put my finger on it, and then my internal rule book piped up. The summer when Gregg first lent me the ten pounds, I learned that taking a deposit traps the muscle beneath it. That summer, the ten borrowed pounds trapped the ten pounds of my real muscle underneath it—I was never going to lose that muscle no matter what I did. My internal rule book was letting me know the same situation applied here, but with all the muscle trapped underneath it. All of it. In other words, thanks to Gregg’s permanent deposit, 272 pounds was now my default. I could do absolutely no maintenance, and I would never fall below 272 pounds of muscle. “Thank you, Gregg,” I said. 31 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted August 31, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted August 31, 2021 Part 3 – The West California Wild Card Chapter 14 Puck was pleased for me that the phone call went well and that my massive physique was my new baseline normal. And for a few days, things did go back to normal. Then, there was the razor incident. I had just gotten out of the shower after my morning workout. It was time to groom my beard: trim the parts that had grown too long, shave the parts that were outside the shape I wanted. It was a daily activity for me, especially with the increase in testosterone from Alphonse’s permanent deposit. I had just covered my face in lather and was about to start shaving. I picked up my razor, but as I did this, a little bit of lather went up my nose, and I sneezed violently. The force was so abrupt that I accidentally tossed my razor. And it went flying. And it landed in the toilet. I wasn’t going to use that razor again, naturally. But I still had a face full of lather, so I opened the medicine cabinet, figuring I’d just borrow Puck’s. Puck had no razor in my medicine cabinet. Suddenly, a thousand thoughts floated to the front of my mind. Incidents over the past four months that seemed perfectly normal as they happened, but no longer did. Puck had no razor in my medicine cabinet, and I had blinded myself to that reality. Puck had no razor in my medicine cabinet, and I was about to freak the fuck out. I searched the rest of my medicine cabinet. No razor. No soap. No toothbrush. Nothing belonged to Puck. A few things belonged to Shafe, but nothing belonged to Puck. I raced out of the bathroom, my face still covered in lather, still only with a towel wrapped around my waist, and I went to my bedroom. Nothing in my closet or in my drawers belonged to Puck. I found some of Jonah’s things, some of Shafe’s things, but nothing at all in the apartment belonged to Puck. “Fuck,” I said out loud. I went back to the bathroom and washed the lather off my face. Then, I grabbed my phone and texted Puck that I was hoping he could come by around lunch. When he swung by, I was sitting on the couch, and I had him sit next to me, not on my lap. “What’s up?” he asked, sensing this was serious. “You don’t have a razor in my medicine cabinet.” Puck stared at me, unsure what he was supposed to conclude from that. “You shave your head. You must do it pretty regularly because I’ve never even seen it stubbly.” “Yeah. I shave it every other day.” “And yet you don’t have a razor in my medicine cabinet.” “What’s the big deal?” “You don’t have a toothbrush in my medicine cabinet.” Puck shrugged, waiting for me to make a point. “You’ve stayed over here a million times in the last four months. You don’t even have a toothbrush or a razor here.” “I have one in my overnight bag.” “You have no clothes here. Nothing to sleep in. You’ve never even left anything here by accident.” “Yeah,” Puck said. “All my stuff is at my apartment.” “An apartment I’ve never been to.” “Your condo is way nicer than my apartment.” “Not the point. You’ve never invited me over to your apartment.” “You want to come to my apartment and watch me shave my head?” he asked, intentionally obfuscating. “You’ve met exactly one of my friends who isn’t your brother, and Shafe lived here for two months. I find Shafe’s stuff all the time. You don’t have a god-damn razor here.” Puck moved to speak, but I interrupted him. “When I suggested we go to my high school reunion to introduce you to more of my friends, you dismissed it fervently. I haven’t hung out with any of my local friends in the past four months. And yet, I’ve met all of your work friends and some of their wives. We’ve had dinner with your brother twice. We went to a ballet party with your friends (when I was obscenely hung, no less, so you could show me off to them).” “What are you implying?” Puck asked. I got closer to him on the couch. “Over a year before we met, you made a lot of sudden changes in your life. You wanted to live life to the fullest and enjoy yourself before you settled down and returned to a normal, boring life. You even explained on our first date to dating some guys because they were the sort of guys you never would have considered dating when you were a professional dancer. I’m beginning to realize that I’m one more of those guys. I’m a dalliance. I’m an experiment. I’m nothing permanent. I’m just something fun you’re doing.” Puck said nothing. I couldn’t read his facial features. “I was supposed to be a one night stand, wasn’t I?” I paused to think back. “Our first morning together, you said you’d never slept with a guy on the first date and you’d never had sex with a muscular guy. You were just fucking a muscle guy. I was supposed to be a notch on your bedpost and nothing more. A Russian restaurant? Considering some of the crazy stuff we’ve done together, a Russian restaurant is beyond tame. A one night stand with the nameless muscle stud, the guy you literally call Muscles? That sounds more daring.” I paused again. “And then, within 24 hours of meeting me, you found out I’m The Repository. Suddenly, there were a whole bunch more things you could do. You hang along, keep coming back, as long as we’re doing fun and exciting things—things you’ve never done before. Taking photos of everything for your own personal catalogue. When we were even somewhat close to becoming a normal, traditional couple, you lost your shit. You broke a plate on the floor and invited Alphonse over.” Puck didn’t look angry or sad. He looked guilty. But he said nothing. I continued. “You were also surprisingly reluctant to let me borrow muscle from you. Was that too intimate for you?” Puck nodded. I continued. “Then you got Gregg to call me. You got an ex-boyfriend to call me. That’s a weird thing for a boyfriend to do. On the call, he suggested video sex, like he knew I had a hall pass, like someone had put the idea in his head. I turned it down because I didn’t want to cheat on you. But that decision felt hollow. Today, when I was looking for your razor and I found no trace of you in this place, it hit me. You’ve never told me you love me.” Puck sat silently. I continued. “It’s only been four months. Not everyone falls in love that fast. That’s not necessarily weird. What’s weird, Puck, is that I’ve never said I love you. I fall in love fast and hard. I’ve told guys I love them after a week. I’ve thought it after two days—maybe sooner. I’ve never even thought it about you.” Puck looked confused, but said nothing. I finished. “I don’t want to date a guy who doesn’t love me. I don’t want to date a guy who isn’t open to loving me. And I especially don’t want to date a guy that I don’t love.” Puck looked physically relieved. “I am so glad to hear that because everything you’ve said is true. If you weren’t The Repository, I would’ve said goodbye forever as soon as I finished my post-sex oatmeal.” “Do you think you ever could fall in love with me?” I asked. “Maybe,” he said. “Under different circumstances. But now that everything is out in the open, I can come clean about something I’ve been hiding.” I gestured that he should continue. “The reason you’ve never been to my apartment is that everything’s in boxes. Five months after I quit the L.A. company, my friend Stefano called me and let me know that he started a ballet school in Florida, and that it was doing very well. The second I wanted it, a job would be mine. But I put that aside and just kept living out loud. Two days before H. K.’s birthday party, I started packing for Florida. I was getting bored. I knew I’d hang around for a month or two just to make sure, but I also knew I was definitely going to take that job. I told you as much on our first date. If I weren’t dating you, I probably would’ve moved to Florida two months ago.” “Damn,” I said. “You were worth hanging around for. Not only because you kept getting bigger and bigger. And bigger,” he added pointing to my crotch. “It was fascinating. But it was more than that. I really liked dating you. You were a lot of fun.” “You’re describing our relationship in the past tense.” “Isn’t it over?” I thought about it intensely before answering. “Yeah, I guess.” I paused, then added, “But let’s go out with a bang, not a whimper.” “A bang? You want one last fuck?” “I want one last fuck.” “I’ve never had break-up sex,” Puck said. “Our last will be another first.” I rolled my eyes, but said nothing. I carried him into my bedroom, and we quickly disrobed. I lay down on the bed and spread my legs. Puck straddled my waist, one knee on each side. He lowered himself onto my cock, pistoning himself up and down as he looked down at me; his hand caressed his own face and scalp, an autonomic expression of sheer pleasure. With my hands, I rubbed all around my massive, hairy chest, feeling my firmness, hardness, and sheer size. Occasionally, my hands would drift down to the grooves of my abs, feeling their etched presence. We rutted like that for at least fifteen minutes. We barely made eye contact; we didn’t kiss; our only point of body contact was the point of penetration. It was just one last fuck of two men saying goodbye to each other. When Puck saw that I was drawing close to orgasm, he reached down and began stroking his cock so we could finish simultaneously. A few more seconds of stimulation, and we exploded in unison. We toweled each other off, got redressed, and then kissed one last time. I escorted him to the door and said, “Goodbye, Puck. I’ll miss you.” He nodded his head and said, “Goodbye, Muscles. You’ll miss my ass.” And then we were no more. END OF PART 3 34 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted August 31, 2021 Share Posted August 31, 2021 Onwards to Mass Monsterdom (one hopes!) 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ToolShedCub Posted August 31, 2021 Share Posted August 31, 2021 TWIST! but damn. can't wait for the next chapter!! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted September 1, 2021 Share Posted September 1, 2021 Wow. That was COLD. It's chilly in here 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MadDog Posted September 1, 2021 Share Posted September 1, 2021 I was not expecting him to get to have 270+ lbs of muscles with no longer having to work at it! Really awesome! Hopefully that lets him devote more time to other pursuits in his life... until naturally something happens to spur him on to even greater muscular heights! (I wouldn't say no to even more beard, fur, cock, and balls, too~) 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted September 1, 2021 Share Posted September 1, 2021 1 hour ago, Mdlftr said: Wow. That was COLD. It's chilly in here On second thought, since this is Puck, we should reconsider. After all -- If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. A Midsummer Night’s Dream 5.1.440-455 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted September 1, 2021 Author Share Posted September 1, 2021 9 minutes ago, Mdlftr said: Give me your hands, if we be friends Well quoted. (My best at "giving hands" via emoji) I tried to sneak in a "Lord, what fools these mortals be" or a "Cupid is a knavish lad," but it would've been forced. 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
AtTheMomentNew Posted September 1, 2021 Share Posted September 1, 2021 Bravo! Great but heartbreaking chapter. Can't wait for what's next. Anticipating and playing "What if..." is almost as much fun as reading a new chapter. Maybe Gerry wakes up in a hotel room with a hangover (after drowning his sorrows the night before) with no memory of what happened. He's much bigger (everywhere) with no idea from who he borrowed his extra attributes and no way to return them. He then spends the next day trying to reconstruct the events of the night before. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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