magic Love Potion 99

[Dogma]

This was up on the old site and given that the old site is pretty searchable now, I probably didn't need to drop it in here. But it was an excuse to run through it again and make a few tweaks. Part is up here now, the rest should get up pretty quick.

 

Don’t go drinking with Tommy!

 

Carl couldn’t remember where he had heard that but he definitely remembered hearing it and it had definitely included an exclamation mark. But here they were, first day of September, pounding back drinks in the Grey Goose with Tommy as the third man at the table.

 

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. And this isn’t about Tommy. It’s about Carl and Jamie. They were students at Podunk University and by Podunk, I mean it was located in a small city, close to not much of anything. One of the repercussions of that was that there wasn’t a lot of housing. You either stayed in residence or you squeezed into one of the handful of suites or apartments scattered throughout the city. The university did what it could by hooking up people who were looking for roommates and pointing them to what was out there. So it was that Carl and Jamie ended up sharing a character one-bedroom suite. There was a hide-a-bed in the living room.

 

They’d met for coffee to size each other up before heading over to check out the apartment. Carl was a big guy. He tipped the scale at 220 and topped out at 6’2”. He’d played football in high school but while he’d stuck with the gym, he hadn’t minded his diet quite as well and 20 pounds of that 220 had been added to his midsection over the past couple of years. He was a good looking guy with green eyes and a face that you’d almost term pretty, if it wasn’t hedged with a bit of stubble and messy brown hair in desperate need of a hair cut. Add in a plaid shirt and jeans.

 

Jamie was everything opposite of what has just been described. He had jet black hair, blue eyes, and was 5’9” and 130 pounds of gay attitude. Jamie was a twink. If you didn’t realize it, he’d point it out to you. When he met Carl he was wearing a ‘I shaved my nuts for this?’ t-shirt, which was a misnomer since Jamie shaved his nuts for pretty much everything.

 

They looked each other up and down as if the other was an alien creature. And then Jamie cocked his head to one side and said, “Hey. You’re gay. We can make this work.”

“How the hell?”

Jamie shrugged. “You checked out my package. It’s a gay thing. Like two dogs sniffing each other’s asses. I checked out yours too, you just didn’t notice. So, are you in?”

Carl was in.

 

As it turned out they weren’t so different. They’d both kicked around for a few years before coming back to university. So they were both in their twenties; just that little bit removed from their fresh out of high school classmates. They both liked watching hockey, were both sci-fi movie nerds, didn’t mind each other’s cooking, and Jaime might have looked like a waif, but he could drink like a fish, so they could head out to the local pub and argue about life, politics, and various and sundry progressive causes; they were in university after all. Two months into the apartment sharing experience, they’d went in halfers on buying a beat up used Datsun to get around in. Three months in they’d had sex, and then again four months in, then a long stretch of awkwardness, followed about seven months in by more sex and more awkwardness. You know how these things work. Anyway, it was a new year. Carl had got in first, set up the apartment and then headed off to the airport to pick up Jamie.

 

They hadn’t really talked all summer, other than to confirm everything was a go for the apartment in the fall. It had never even been suggested that they wouldn’t bunk together again. Still, when Carl spotted Jamie coming out of the terminal his heart did a little stutter jump. He caught himself smiling but managed to keep it from turning into a grin. Jamie looked like he’d been working out. He looked good.

 

Jamie had finally spotted him. He casually took off his sunglasses, pocketed them, set down his bag, and then sprinted directly towards Carl.

“Oh crap!,” Carl had just barely finished the crap part of that statement when Jamie landed in his arms and planted a big wet sloppy kiss on his lips.

“Hi.” Jamie smiled. “Did you miss me?”

 

“I …” Carl had caught Jamie instinctively. He was thinking about how good Jamie’s ass felt in his hands. He was thinking about how warm their chests felt together. He was thinking about … how red his face was getting.

 

“I love the mortified look you get when I do gay stuff in public. Totally worth it,” Jamie extricated himself from Carl’s arms.

 

Carl rolled his eyes, grabbed Jamie’s bag, and tossed it in the trunk of their Datsun.

 

“So, did you miss me? I didn’t get an answer,” Jamie looked away before Carl could answer. The hug had been a fun public display, but Jamie didn’t feel as confident in private. Carl caught his hand and squeezed it, “Yeah, I did.” He caught himself and pulled his hand back awkwardly. “Of course I did, twink-boy. I spent the whole summer thinking where else can I find a cool room-mate that will let me have the bedroom all year.”

 

Jamie grinned back, and the awkwardness was over: “Only if you win the coin toss man. I’m not that good a room mate.”

 

As it turned out Carl did win the coin toss for the first four months. They stood  in the apartment for a minute before Carl looked at Jamie and said. “We should go and get drunk, right? To celebrate the new year?”

Jamie nodded. “We should totally go and get drunk.”

 

Along the way they bumped into Tommy. Tommy was the go to guy on campus for … well, it was never exactly clear what. He was into some pretty strange stuff. But if you needed something Tommy was the guy you went to. He was a bit of a stoner. But a decent enough drinking partner and four rounds later they were all in a good mood. Tommy had started earlier and he had reached the stage of drunkenness where he loved every one.

 

Tommy looked at them both through beer colour glasses and a dopey smile: “So how long have you two been a couple?”

 

Jamie rolled his eyes. Carl looked at the ground. They both said, “We’re not a couple.”

 

“Well unless the wanna-be hetero here has about a dozen drinks in him. Then all of a sudden we’re a couple,” Jamie raised an eyebrow at Carl. “I’m betting even odds that we’re a couple later on tonight.” Invitation. Challenge. Admonishment.

 

“Jamie I …,” Carl started, but his face was already turning red enough to give him away. The truth was he’d being eying Jamie since they’d met at the airport, but every time they hooked up it always ended in awkwardness the next day.

 

“You two …,” Tommy leaned forward and cut them off from either fucking or fighting: it could have gone either way. “Need some new drinks. And I have just the thing.”

 

Carl and Jamie watched him go and then looked down at the full pitcher that was already sitting in front of them. And then in the blink of the eye, the pitcher was gone, smashed on the floor and a drunk townie was sitting on the table instead. To add a touch of elegance to the scene, he was swearing too.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

 

Carl and Jamie looked to see who the asshole was, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else involved, which meant the only asshole was the one parked on the table in front of them and his opponent had probably been his left foot crossing paths with his right foot.

 

“So,” Jamie looked down and said drily. “Would you say you’re a premium draft or more of a house standard?”

 

This had happened before. Jamie was an asshole magnet. And, little known fact? Drunk people aren’t always slow. While the drunk guy planted on their table had no idea what Jamie had just said, he did know that in some way or fashion he’d just been sassed. And no drunken hetero male will accept sass.

 

“You little fag, I’m gonna …,” only he was already doing it, and while the drunken swing didn’t pack much power, it caught Jamie square in the eye and knocked him out of his chair.

 

But that was the drunken guy’s swan song. Carl had his arm behind his back and his head bashed once and then pressed against the table before he could do anything else. Carl’s lip curled up and he was getting ready to do a whole lot more when, two bouncers appear on either side of him and caught his shoulder.

 

“No foul man. We saw what happened. Let him go and see to your buddy. We’ll get this idiot out of here,” the lightly less massive bouncer told Carl.

 

Carl threw a glance at Jamie who was sitting up and looking pissed. But he nodded, “It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m alright.”

 

Carl bashed the guy’s head into the table one more time—the bouncers politely looked the other way—before letting him go and then hunkered down in front of Jamie and tenderly took his face in both hands and looked it over. He traced a finger around Jamie’s eye.

 

“Ow,” Jamie said helpfully.

 

Carl nodded. “You’ll have a black eye in the morning, but don’t worry you’ll still be gorgeous.”

 

“And you my Knight in Shining Armor.” Jamie grimaced up at Carl and held out his hand.

 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dummy,” Carl hoisted him up.

 

“And we’re back!,” Tommy announced his return by slamming two fresh drinks down on the table. “Awe and you guys are holding hands now. That’s sweet.”

Carl was still hanging on from hoisting Jamie up. He gave it an extra squeeze before letting go.

 

Tommy slid the beers forward: “Brewer’s treat. On me.” It was just after he klunked the empty glass down that Carl recalled; the line wasn’t ‘Don’t go drinking with Tommy!’ It was ‘Don’t drink anything from Tommy!’ But by that point they were already on to the next pint.

 

Part 2

Carl woke up the next morning. If this had been a Disney cartoon there would have been birds chirping and happily pulling the covers off him as the sun shone merrily across his face. All of which is to say that despite getting black out drunk, Carl didn’t feel hung over. At all. In fact, he felt positively charged.

 

When he headed out to the kitchen he found Jamie was already up, eating a huge breakfast. He did have a black eye. But it had a Kick Ass sort of sexiness to it. He looked up from a plate of bacon and eggs at Carl suspiciously: “How do you feel?”

 

“I feel great!”

 

“Yeah … me too. I should feel like death warmed over. No good will come of this.”

 

Carl agreed, but he was feeling to good to worry about. “I think,” he said as if having a revelation, “I’ll go for a jog.”

 

“You don’t jog,” Jamie pointed out.

 

Carl shrugged, “I do now.” And from then on he did, daily, as if he always had. An hour or more jog in the morning and an hour of aerobics or yoga at night. On some level the change up surprised Carl; but he chalked it up to being tired of the same old gym routine and considered it a nice change up.

 

As for Jamie, he hit the gym. Oh not right after breakfast. Bacon and eggs and then a hard work out? Ugh. No. But later that day and in some fashion every day after that. He’d started during the summer, but this took things to a whole new level. And the lumberjack’s breakfast wasn’t a one time thing. He punched up his diet, and added in some protein and weight gain shakes. He’d always assumed that his metabolism kept him from gaining much weight or muscle, but now he was ready to challenge it.

 

And so it went: between studying and their exercise routines, Carl and Jamie found they weren’t tripping over each other quite as much as they had been the year before. Even though they weren’t sleeping together—hell, neither of them was sleeping with any one, which was atypical for Jamie—things didn’t feel awkward. It felt like they were waiting for something. Carl just wasn’t sure what.

 

“You’re going to get fat,” Carl said as he handed Jamie a plate of chicken gumbo that had twice as much on it as his. They were both camped in front of the television working their way through the second season of Breaking Bad on Netflix.

 

Jamie responded with his mouth full: “Hulk Twink need meat. It make him strong and ruler of all twinks.” But then paused after swallowing. “I dunno. I just feel hungry all of the time.”

 

Carl laughed, “They’ll tear up your membership card if you get too strong. As for Carl he was happy to be shaving the weight off. He’d had to hike in his belt three notches and roll up his jeans to deal with the weight loss. It wasn’t like he was playing football any more. So why not trim down?

 

Part 3

“Coming in,” Carl banged on the washroom door and then headed in. It was mid November and exams were on the horizon. Jamie was having a shower and Carl didn’t feel like waiting to brush his teeth.  They had room mate rules for this sort of thing. You could come in while the other guy was showering and have a piss or brush your teeth or what not. But don’t try and take a crap. That’s gross. Jamie cut the shower and pulled back the curtains. He was slick with water, buck naked, and the washroom was filled with steam. But he had the biggest grin on his face.

 

“Check this out!,” and he hit a double-bicep pose. His arms had to be closing in on 17 inches.

 

Carl had known all that working out, eating like a horse, weight gain powder, etc etc was paying off. But this was the first time he’d see the naked truth of it.

“And this!” Jamie hit an absolutely awful most muscular, apparently posing is a learned skill, but there was still a decent about of muscle to be mosted and Carl frankly stared.

 

“You like?”

 

!

 

Carl literally shook his head to knock his eyes loose. “Uh yeah, you’re making some good gains. Man, this routine is really working.” He glanced down as he said it. He couldn’t help it. Jamie’s thighs looked surprisingly thick. He’d always had a nice ass. A really really nice ass, as Carl recalled, but it was fuller now and there hints of striations in it.  The head of his cock was beaded with water from the shower and his balls were tightening up as he stepped out of the shower.

 

Jamie caught him and grinned again: “Where ya looking, Carl?”

 

Carl immediately looked away, but he could feel a blush working its way up his cheeks. He finally gave up, shrugged and laughed at himself. “Yeah. Busted. You stopped shaving eh?” They both looked back down with a sort of frank appraisal.  Jamie’s nuts were dark with a short tight layer of public hair and there was a treasure trail leading up to his navel that hadn’t been there before.

 

“Yeah … I dunno. I’ve never had a lot of hair, but it seems to be coming in faster now.  It’s not like I’m taking steroids. Just that Iso-whey-something-or-other protein stuff and weight gainer. Maybe it’s something hormonal from all the gym stuff. It was a pain to try to keep shaving every other day, so I figured I might as well just let it grow out while I’m doing this bulk thing. It’s not like anyone’s been looking at my cock anyway … Carl …?”

 

Carl was still looking at Jamie’s cock. The muschroom head seemed to have grown fuller, rounder and darker than Carl remembered. And there were two veins coiling around the shaft that, even soft as it was, seemed fuller and thicker than it used to. Jamie’s cock involuntary twitched and started stretching out under the appraisal and his nuts seemed to fill visibly, but he ignored it and gave Carl a light rap on the forehead. “Stop being a tease. You know I’ve been behaving by not throwing myself at you this year.” He grabbed a towel and climbed out of the shower.

 

“Sorry,” Carl met Jamie’s eyes as he sidled past, barely having to look down to do it. “You know I …” he felt his face going red. And Jamie put a finger to his lips.

 

“Yeah, I know, and we’ll talk more when you can finish that sentence.” And with that he dried off and sashayed out of the washroom naked, giving Carl a good look at his shapely, increasingly muscular, ass.

[Dogma]

Part 4

Carl ‘s head was literally buried in his raisin bran. He’d been up all night studying and he was wrecked.  But when he looked up with blurry sleep deprived eyes he found Jamie, who was downing a six-egg omelet, was staring at him. Kinda like a dog does when its spotted a squirrel.

 

“Wuuut?”

 

Jamie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you going blond?”

 

“What?” Carl woke up in a hurry. “Oh, fuck.” He dropped his spoon into his cereal (Splashing milk EVERY where) and bolted for the washroom. “Christ … “ His hair had been getting long and shaggy anyway. Things were just too busy this term and he was due for a hair cut, so he hadn’t noticed it growing out. “Crap.” He WAS going blond. He had over a half an inch of blond roots showing. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before.”

 

Jamie was leaning against the doorway. His arms crossed, he tugged annoyed at the material as it pinched his bicep and then looked up again. “What’s going on here, Carl?”

 

Carl floofed up his hair and let it drop in frustration, “I ran out of hair dye weeks ago. I was planning to buy some but then things got busy and I forgot and …”

 

“You. Dye. Your. Hair?! How do I not know this?! You’re a natural blond?! HOW DO I NOT KNOW THIS?!”

 

“I switched way back when I started high school. I always used to get razzed when I was a kid, so when I started high school I switched to brown and just kept with it when I came here. I didn’t deliberately not tell you. I just kinda kept the dye in the back of my room and only did it when you weren’t around …”

 

Jamie was still absolutely bamboozled: “But when we hooked up last year, you weren’t …” his eyes drifted down to Carl’s crotch. “No … you actually dye your …”

 

“Shut up,“ Carl barked. “… yes, I mean not as much, just enough so it doesn’t look like super noticeably … “ He trailed off realizing what he was discussing.

 

They both looked down again and pondered the bulge in Carl’s loose fitting pants.

 

“We’re giving you a haircut,” Jamie said bluntly.

 

“What?” Carl looked down at his crotch again with wide eyes.

 

Jamie laughed. “Not there, dummy. Though you should at least be trimming that. Up here,”  and he reached over and playfully mussed Carl’s hair. Jamie was just tall enough that he could look over Carl’s head and see that the hair really was streaked with blond now. “I think you’ve grown out enough that if we cut it back we’ll be able to get rid of all this brown muck entirely.”

 

“No … You don’t even know how to cut hair.”

 

“Oh please, unlike you butch boy, I’m a flamboyant gay. Being able to cut hair is in my DNA. That and I summer jobed at it the other year. So, DNA and a two-week training course. Look, I can buzz your sides out, not too short, maybe a three, and then shag out the top. It’s not rocket science. If you hate it, you can throw on a hat and go get it dyed. But come on, when was the last time you looked at your self with your natural hair colour? If not for you, Carl, do this for me. I’m dying,” he paused, “dying? Is that a pun? Anyway, I’m dying to see a blond you.”

 

Carl looked at the mess of his hair. There was no way he’d keep the blond but … it had been years. He had to admit. He was curious.

 

And so, a crisply efficient 15 minutes later, they were both staring goggle eyed at Carl in the mirror. Jamie was positively giddy. “OMG! You look so …”

 

Carl glared at him: “Don’t say it. Do. Not. Say. It.”

 

“Cute! You look fricking adorable! You’re gorgeous!. You’ve been keeping this hair under wraps all along?! It even feels softer.” Jamie ran his hands through, Carl’s hair. It felt downright silky. “That dye was beating the crap out of your hair.” He was still running his hands through Carl’s hair.

 

“I look gay, “ Carl whined.

 

“Exquisitely gay!” Jamie beamed. “Delightfully gorgeously gay!”

 

Carl ran a hand through it. It did feel soft. The hair changed the entire complexion of his face and made the green of his eyes stand out even more. The last time he’d looked at his hair this way he’d been in junior high, gawky and breaking out and the hair just drew attention that he didn’t want. But now, well, maybe a little attention wasn’t a bad thing.

 

“You like it,” Jamie smirked and put his stuff away. “I had to cut it short to get rid of that dye, but let it grow out some, you’ll look even better.”

 

Carl got whistled at the next day. Two guys in the hallway. He thought they were messing with him, or whistling at the girl in front of him, there was even an outside chance it was the prelude to some homophobic trash talk. But instead it was exactly what it seemed. Two cute guys checking him out and showing their appreciation. He’d never had anyone pick him out in public as gay before. To just take it as a given. Never.

 

 

Part 5 I swear these pants fit yesterday …

Exams were over and Christmas break beckoned. Carl and Jamie were both staying put which meant that Carl got to wake up to the cheerful sounds of Jamie swearing and thrashing about in the other room. When he went out to see what all the noise was about he found Jamie stretched out on his bed trying to hike up a pair of 30-inch waist twink pants. They wouldn’t even make it past his thighs. That wasn’t the only problem. His underwear was stretched tight around his package. He was literally too much male for his clothes.

 

Carl leaned against the doorway and watched. He knew Jamie had been getting bigger but it was like he had put on another 20 pounds of muscle over night.

 

“Uggggh” Jamie finally gave up. “I swear these fit last week.” He sat up on his elbows and looked down at himself. The pants were only a couple of months old. He’d bought them in the fall. “And I swear this underwear is so tight … I’ll probably never be able to have children after wearing it.”

 

“Well, barring a donation to a sperm bank, I don’t think that was much of a threat anyway,” Carl muttered. But he disappeared into his bedroom and came back with a pair of jeans and some boxer briefs and tossed them to Jamie. “Here. These should work.”

 

Jamie held up the underwear and wrinkled his nose. “They’re just out of the laundry, princess.” Jamie tossed them down and then held up the jeans and wrinkled his nose again. “Fuck, Levis? Maybe I’ll go do some cattle rustlin’ after I put them on.”

 

“Hey, it’s that or walk around in nothing but your nuts crushing underwear.  Your call. I don’t mind looking at that meaty cock head of yours.”

 

Jamie grumbled, but he stood up, extricated himself from his pants, and then pulled down his underwear.  Jamie had always had a good-sized cock. He topped out at seven inches and that was seven real inches not seven online inches, if you know what I mean. But he was a grower. So most of the time things were tight; tight high balls and a tight cock. It was like a holstered gun between his legs. He didn’t look holstered at all now. His cock looked heavy and full. Not hard. Not semi aroused. Full. He had probably rolled out of bed with it looking that way. His balls were bigger too and where before they'd been pulled up tight, now they hung full and heavy between his legs; stretching his sack down and filling it with their size and weight. Jamie pulled on the boxers and adjusted them. It wasn’t just that they fit; he filled them. His heavy muscular ass pushed out the back of them. His cock and balls pressed the material out prominently in the front and the mushroom headed end of his cock was framed almost obscenely by the material. His waist was still narrow, but his thighs swelled as they stretched out of the underwear. He’d lost the definition of his abs but his stomach was still lean as it and surprisingly muscular obliques pushed out the top. The top of his glutes also pushed out to form an inverted triangle above his underwear. His pecs were full and round and capped by a set of nicely erect and full nipples.

 

“What …?” Jamie finally caught Carl staring at him. He looked down at himself to see what the big deal was. “You like?” He looked up coyly, but his voice was uncertain. Carl circled him. Literally circled him looking him over, with the same sort of appraisal one might give a prize bull. Jamie pulled his arms against each other nervously. “Carl? You’re freaking me out. What’s up?”

 

Finally Carl walked directly towards him so that they were standing toe to toe and looked up at Jamie. Up.

 

“What the hell?!,” Jamie’s eyes widened and he stumbled back a step. For the first time in months Carl actually looked at Jamie. Not the sly out of the corner of his eye hoping that Jamie wouldn’t notice he was checking him out look, but a full on appraisal. Building muscle by hitting the gym is always a little unnatural and it shows, with the body looking strained or stretched in different areas: especially if you put on muscle fast. Jamie was muscular but it wasn’t like that. It was as if he had woke up with a body that was naturally muscular. But he was getting big. Bodybuilder big. His arms had to be pushing past 18 inches by now. Jamie was looking at himself and seemed to be making the same discovery. He stretched out his arms and looked down them. Flexing the biceps. And then ran them across his muscular shoulders and chest. He rolled his back muscles and felt them sliding against each other. He tensed up his quads and loosened them again; the material of the boxers dug into the muscle and then tore, just slightly, to make room.

 

Jamie turned to Carl. They both knew Carl had been losing weight with all the jogging and aerobics. But this was more than that. Carl had been big; a former football player but now he had a dancer’s build. Lean and lithe. If Jamie looked like he had gained 70 … 80 pounds, Carl looked like he had lost 60. Without realizing it, he’d quietly started borrowing Jamie’s clothes and replacing his own. He hadn’t been fat, exactly, but losing that much weight that quickly should have left his skin hanging off him. But like Jamie, his body didn’t look like it had gone through a change. It looked like he had always been slim and toned, with defined but not huge abs. A natural blond, despite his efforts to cover it up, his body hair had never shown up that much. But now it didn’t look like he had any on his chest or stomach. But it wasn’t just that.

 

“Carl. C’mere,” Jamie pulled him into the washroom so that they could both look at their reflections in the mirror. Carl had always had a solid frame and the features to go with it. But now his face looked almost delicate; his cheekbones were higher, his face thinner, his pursed lips … Jamie licked his own lips. The light blond hair colour seemed to lighten Carl’s entire complexion. The fact of the matter was Carl looked pretty. Masculine, but pretty. It was still Carl’s face, but a slightly more androgynous version. Carl had been staring at himself too. He reached up to touch his chin. The funny thing was that for as much as he knew this wasn’t right. It didn’t feel wrong. Jamie’s face was different too, though not as dramatically. His jaw was a little solider, and there was the hint of a five-a-clock shadow. And he smelled. If a person could small “male” Jamie smelled male. Not over-poweringly so, but just a hint of musk and sweat.

 

“Carl. I’m not going to lie. You look gorgeous, like, ‘Please let me jump you right here in the washroom’ gorgeous and I fully intend to make that request in writing later on. But what the hell is going on here? I mean I’ve been working out, you’ve been jogging but that can’t account for this … and why the hell are we just noticing now. Did it just happen over night?!” Jamie pulled his reflection out of the mirror. They didn’t talk about the height difference, but crowded into the washroom it was obvious that Jamie had grown a few inches, and Carl had lost a few; he came up to Jamie’s nose now.

 

Carl grimaced—even grimacing he looked pretty—and said. “I think something happened over night. It was like we hit critical mass or something.” He looked Jamie over and gave a bitter laugh. “Well, you certainly did anyway. You were able to get into those pants a week ago. I remember seeing you in them, but they were getting crazy tight. It’s like I’ve been noticing things over the last couple of months—two guys whistled at me the other week, nobody has ever whistled at me but they did cause they were that damn sure I was gay—but it’s like all these little clues weren’t really registering. In fact ever since we got back … “ his eyes narrowed. “Tommy. This all started after we hooked up with him. I knew something felt off the next day.”

 

“I knew no good would come of dodging that hangover!,” Jamie looked over himself again. “Didn’t imagine this exactly …”

 

Carl growled, but it sounded like a kitten’s purr,” Are you done yet.”

 

Jamie hit a double bi pose and then nodded. “I’m done. We better see him. This is freaky.” He gave Carl an appraising looked. “And we should pick up some eye shadow for you. A hint of colour would really make your eyes pop.”

 

Carl punched him in the shoulder.

 

“Hey! I’m just saying.”

[Dogma]

Part 6 Seriously. Never drink anything this man hands you.

 

“Whoa, hey Carl!,” Tommy’s eyes positively lit up as Carl and Jamie stormed up to him. “Look at you on the twink-fast diet! Rowr! And Jamie, hitting the gym! Good job!” He grinned at them both dumbly for a minute and then slowly put a hand to his mouth, “Oh. Ohhhh wow.” He giggled. “Oopsy doodles.”

 

“It was you! You did this to us!” It was at precisely that moment that Carl realized his voice had shifted from a baritone to an alto. The revelation did nothing to lighten his mood.

 

“Yeah … my bad, let’s grab some drinks and talk about it.” Carl and Jamie’s matched look of horror said drinks probably wasn’t on. “Well, maybe later. Look, you guys were so cute together, I just thought you needed a little push to seal the deal. So I spiked your drinks with a love potion.” He looked them over again. “Eesh kinda goosed the strength on it too. I should not be mixing these things when I’m drunk. Typically you’re not supposed to notice it’s happening but love spells are tricky, at a certain point their subjects have to know what’s going on.”

 

Carl and Jamie stared at him: “Okay … but we didn’t fall in love. What’s that got to do with any of this?”

 

“Well, of course not. You were already in love. That’s what made you so cute. But you were stalled. I dunno, it’s like there was something out of balance. So I figured let see what the love potion makes of it? Didn’t imagine this exactly …” he perked up. “But I totally get it!  It reshaped you into bodies with which you can love.”

 

Jamie shook his head like he was trying to chase a mosquito out of it. “Wait. So what’s going on here is we’re turning into each other’s ideal man? I look like this as a ploy to get Carl to love me?”

 

“Pffft,” Tommy laughed. “You’re. Not. Listening! You guys ARE in love! He loved you just fine the way you were. He loves you just fine this way. It’s your personality he loves, stupid. He doesn’t care whether you have muscles or not. Man, you two don’t know each other at all. You’re like two bottoms backing into each other trying to have sex.” He did the bumping motions with his hands, as if the concept needed demonstrating. “Queens of denial.”

 

Jamie had always made his feelings for Carl clear. Well, he’d tried to anyway. But he’d never known how Carl felt. No. That wasn’t true either. He could never get Carl to admit how he felt. Now it was dumped in front of them both like a freshly made stew; served up and ready to eat. Tommy was still talking but Jamie’s eyes headed straight for Carl’s, which were studiously looking at a spot on the wall. It didn’t matter. Carl’s face slowly turned a deep red and Jamie looked away immediately to spare him any further embarrassment.  Jamie managed to keep his own face neutral, but inside he was on fire.

 

“No, your issues weren’t with each other. You needed to learn to love yourselves. To be in a body that you truly felt comfortable with. Once that’s done you’ll finally be able to accept that you love each other.” He added. “Hey, if you’d gone to a counselor, I’m sure he could have figured it all out with a couple of hours of yakking, you’d have accepted yourselves as you were, and still made things work. But you ended up with me, and magic has its own ways of figuring things out.”

 

Carl refused to believe it: “So, you’re saying I look like this because I wanted to be a twink? That I WANT to be this way?”

 

Ninety-nine per cent of the time Tommy acted like a stoner and his eyes looked like he was walking in a fog. But during the other one per cent of the time his eyes would clear and when he looked at you it felt like you were in the centre of a Foucauldian panopticon: Everything revealed, everything vulnerable, your very essence scraped raw. As if he was not just seeing you, but defining you. It was that look Tommy turned on Carl now:

 

“Don’t you?”

 

Carl’s mouth opened but nothing came out.

 

And then ‘that’ Tommy was gone, “You know, for what it’s worth, you look cute like this. Down right pretty actually. Nice pert little ass. You’ve trimmed down, it looks like you’ve got a decent set of abs happening there, and your eyes positively sparkle when you’re angry. And that hair! I LOVE the hair! Were you always a blond?” he looked over at Jamie: “Is the hair not awesome?”

 

Jamie nodded solemnly: “The hair IS awesome.”

 

Tommy paused and then narrowed his eyes to look closer. “Are your teeth even a little straighter? Man. Magic does the craziest shit. And you,” he looked over at Jamie. “You’re positively dripping male-ness now.”

 

“Look, even if, say, we were okay with this,” like Carl, Jamie was just noting that his voice had changed, in his case dropping to a baritone. “What are other people going to think?”

 

Tommy shrugged. “That this is normal. You hit the gym. He shed some weight. People change.”

 

Carl gave Tommy a skeptical look: “So at my high school reunion I’ll get together with my old football buddies and they won’t think anything is amiss?”

 

“Yup,” Tommy laughed. “Hey, I didn’t say it made sense. They’ll remember you as a big guy with tragically dyed hair and they’ll see you as the hot looking guy you are now but they won’t see the dichotomy and you won’t be able to convince them that there is one.”

 

Jamie shook his head. “That makes no sense at all.”

 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “I DID just say that right? Tell me I just said that or it means we’re stuck inside some sort of time loop …”

 

“Look,” Carl said. “Can you just change us back?”

 

“Didn’t I just say you don’t want to be changed back? Fuck. I bet this IS a time loop. God, I hate time loops. They take forever to get out of,” Tommy put up both hands to do a full stop. “I need to get stoned. This magic stuff. It fucks me up.”

 

“Look,” he focused on the two of them again. “This potion is about love. If you truly hate the way you look, it’ll change you back. But for now, you’re going to have to ride it out. Because there’s no cure and there is no turning back once you’re into it. That’s love, man.”

 

“What if we …,” Carl threw a glance at Jamie. “What if we stopped living together? Would that impact it?”

 

Tommy shrugged, “It really doesn’t matter does it? Cause you’re not going to stop living together.” And with that, he was done with them and off to snag a joint.

 

 

Part 7 He’s right you know

Jamie waited until they were home before speaking: “He’s right you know.”

 

“About what,” Carl said cautiously.

 

“Everything. I do like this. I was always defined by being the skinny guy. The ‘oh, he’s clearly gay’ guy. I was always the guy you had to defend at the bar. Not that I wasn’t okay with being gay. Trust me, I rolled out of the womb and slapped my doctor’s ass. But I let my body define me,” he flexed an arm and then bounced his pecs back and forth. “I like this. I feel more confident.”

 

“What about you, why did you want to be,” Jamie couldn’t help smiling again as he looked at Carl, “An absolutely gorgeous twink. I’m not mocking you!” he held up his hands as Carl shot him a cross look. “I swear. But you’re going to have to get used to guys checking you out. Not that you were bad looking before. Could have dressed a little better granted. And I don’t know why you never listened to me about your hair and …” Carl’s cross look grew crosser, with every indication that it was about to hit crossest. “BUT my point is there’s something in the way you carry yourself now, not NOW when you’re on guard, but other times when you’re not that’s so sultry. It’s like you’re more comfortable in your own skin. Carl, you’re hot and you look like you’re enjoying being hot.”

 

Carl brushed some hair out of his eyes and sighed. “I didn’t roll out of bed gay. I fought with it. I didn’t want it at all. I was a big guy, I was into sports, football. In my high school gay guys still got beat up. If this was 40 years ago, I probably would have gotten married and had some kids and the being gay would have been something twisting inside me. But when I got to university there were other gay people around. I started to embrace it a little. You and I, we … I’ve only been with a handful of guys, you know and you were the only one that meant anything.”

 

“But this?!” Carl lifted up his shirt and looked at himself. He was lean, but lightly muscled. Not a model’s build. Not that perfect, but close. He ran a hand down his abs, something he had never had before. “If you said, “Carl, do you want to be a twink? I would have said you were nuts. But … I get it. I was using MY body as a shield. I even gained weigh so I wouldn’t look gay. But now … well …” he let the shirt fall down and smiled wistfully at Jamie, “here I am.”

 

“Carl. Just so we’re clear. I’m going to hug you in a minute. There’s no way you’re getting out of here without a hug. That’s settled. But before I do that, we need to make a few things clear. Tommy was right about everything else too. I do love you. I loved your strength when you stood up for me at the bar. I love your vulnerability now. And I know you love me too,” Jamie smiled. “Yeah, I have the confidence to call you on that now. I also have the confidence not to push you. Look,” he held up a hand to cut off Carl’s reply. “I know you’re not comfortable with this yet and I’m not going to push you. That’s part of me having the confidence to know I shouldn’t push; that you’ll come around eventually. So for now I’m putting it on the table and I’m not going to take it off unless you tell me to.”

 

Carl looked down for a moment and then he looked up and he smiled, effortlessly, and nodded, “Okay.”

 

Jamie cocked his head, “Am I taking it off the table?”

 

Carl shook his head.

 

“Good. Now,” Jamie held his arms out. “Cause we’ve had, what I think is by any stretch of the imagination, one of the wackiest days ever from a physical and emotional point of view, can I give you a totally I’m-so-into-you-but-I’m-not-going-to-push-it-until-you’re-ready hug. Cause I think you need one. I know I do.”

 

For the first time, but not the last, Carl jumped into Jamie’s arms.

 

“Oh,” Jamie could hoist him up easily. “Tommy was right about one other thing too. We’re not going to stop living together. So don’t let me be hearing that nonsense from you again.”

[Dogma]

Part 8 Yeah, about the hide-a-bed

There were a few days of awkwardness and boundary setting and then they settled back into a routine. It was almost a dance. True to his word, Jamie had given Carl space. But both of them were finding excuses to be around each other and when they headed out it was usually together.

 

The physical changes continued, but they had gone back to a subtle shifting. Jamie was up to 220 now, a solid 6’2” with thick thighs and arms that had hit 19 inches. Solid. But not obscenely big. He still had abs but his body weight was a more natural 10 or 12 body fat percentage.  He had a dark treasure trail and a dark, but not overly long covering of hair across his chest. Carl looked positively boyish next to him now at 5’9” and 145 pounds.

 

As with most events in the apartment, the next one kicked off with a crash from the living room, swearing and then Jamie knocking on Carl’s door.

 

“Hey,” Jamie came in looking a little bashful. He looked back towards the living room as if Carl could see through the wall. “This is going to sound a little weird, but the hide-a-bed is completely trashed. The leg on the one corner gave out. Your bed is huge. Do you mind if I join you? I swear I won’t put the moves on you or anything. We can bitch to the landlord about it in the morning.”

 

Carl’s voice had been flirting with mezzo-soprano lately, but he fought it back to an alto, “No, that’s cool. C’mon in.”

 

Jamie laid down beside him, the bed creaking slightly in his direction as his greater mass settled down. There was the silence of two people breathing in tandem for a few minutes before Jamie finally said.

 

“You know the funny thing is, there was a hammer sitting right next to the hide-a-bed. It was almost as if somebody, oh, I dunno who, had bashed in the one leg.” Carl coughed and Jamie rolled over to face him with a grin on his face.. “You could have just asked me to join you. We’re due to switch in another week anyway. If I’d called your bluff you’d have been the one sleeping in a busted hide-a-bed.”

 

Carl giggled. A full blown giggle but he accepted it. “Yeah, look, you’re the confident one now. I’m still warming up to this. One step at a time, okay?”

 

Jamie pulled him over so that his arm was wrapped around him, and Carl’s head was resting against his chest. “As much time as you need, little guy.”

 

When Carl woke up, Jamie’s thick arms were still wrapped around him; like he’d been protecting Carl all night. They were also both hard. Carl could feel the length of Jamie’s cock pressed up against his ass, bowing his underwear in slightly. Involuntarily, okay, maybe not involuntarily but not completely intentionally he pressed himself against it and felt Jamie flex his pelvis into him in response and let out a low, “mmmm.”

 

Carl swore he was going to be mad, but a laugh tumbled out of his mouth instead and he didn’t do anything to extract himself. “How long have you been up?”

 

“Up?” Carl couldn’t see Jamie’s smile, but he knew it was there. Jamie also slid his leg over Carl’s. “I’m been awake for about a half an hour. I swear when I woke up we were already curled up like this. I didn’t want to move and wake you.” He nuzzled Carl’s neck.

 

“You said you wouldn’t put “the moves” on me!”

 

Jamie rebuttalled: “I contend you backed into my arms. We’ll need the video replay to reveal the truth.” He licked Carl’s neck playfully. “And I swear I only moved a little.” He flexed his pelvis one more time.

 

“Gah,” Carl finally struggled out of his arms and got up.

 

“You know your righteous indignation would carry more weight if that sweet cock of your wasn’t so hard,” Jamie pointed out.

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

Carl rifled through the closet and dresser, grabbing some clothes. While they flipped a coin to see who got the bedroom, they had always shared space in the closet. At some point over the last month they had both started losing track of whose clothes were whose. No, that’s a lie. Their styles were entirely too different for confusion. Or at least they had been. But they’d at least stopped worrying about whose clothes belong to whom. Yeah, underwear too. Carl wrinkled his nose at what before would have seemed crazy to him and pulled on a pair of Jamie’s Pumps.

 

“You look so good in those,” Jamie said playfully from the bed. The pants were Jamie’s too. “And those.” The socks weren’t. “meh.” And the shirt wasn’t either. “Gah! With those pants?!” Jamie muttered.

 

Carl shot him a glare: “Shut up!” and headed out.

 

“Wait!” Jamie shuffled around and put his feet on the floor. He rubbed some sleep out of his eyes and then ran his hand through a rat’s nest of morning hair. “Do you have anything else you need me to talk to the landlord about?”

 

Carl was bemused: “The landlord.”

 

“Yeah, I was going to talk to him about fixing the hide-a-bed.”

 

“Right …” Carl paused in the doorway.

 

Jamie leaned back in the bed. He pulled his legs up, together at first and then let them slide apart to reveal his own stretched underwear. “Unless … maybe you don’t think I should talk to the landlord because we don’t need the hide-a-bed any more and we’re making this permanent, mister handy with a hammer guy?” he added a ‘come hither’ smile to the ensemble, one that had survived the addition of 30 pounds of muscle entirely intact.

 

Carl felt his face growing warm. He could still ‘feel’ Jamie’s arms around him from when they’d woke up. He felt a smile pulling at his lips. It turned into a full blown grin. He felt giddy. He couldn’t ever remember feeling giddy. He shook his head trying to knock the grin off his face, but he just couldn’t.

 

Jamie saw it and grinned back at him: “So … do you want me to talk to him? You’re going to have to say yes or no. I’m making it your call.”

 

“Bastard,” Carl said. “No. No, I do not want you to talk to the landlord. Take half the dresser … the top half is mine!”

 

“Sure it is. And just so we’re clear, I will not make a move on you. That,” Jamie added as Carl headed out. “Will be up to you.”

 

And Jamie was as good as his word. He made Carl make the first move. It’s not like sharing a bed made them a married couple. They came and went at different times and were quiet enough to make that part of it work. But when they were in bed together, they were always in contact. A leg against another leg. An arm thrown over a chest. Cuddled up together when they awoke in the morning. Going to bed started to feel a lot like edging. It didn’t help that Jamie declared he was sleeping nude two days later.

 

Finally, on the fourth morning Carl awoke to find that they’d both tossed and turned to the point he was turned halfway around in the bed and was sprawled facedown across Jamie’s now nicely muscled abs. He could feel Jamie’s hard cock shifting against his arm and Jamie’s hand was resting casually on his shoulder. But when he looked up Jamie’s other hand was behind his head and he was looking back at Carl with an innocent expression.

 

“Seriously, you’re still not going to do anything? How long can you keep this up? I mean I’ll wait. The balls are in your court,” he rubbed them against Carl’s arm. “But … seriously?”

 

Carl started laughing. It was just too much.

 

“Does your mirth mean you’re going to suck my cock now?” Jamie bounced it once suggestively.

 

“No,” Carl pulled himself up Jamie’s chest so that their faces were only inches apart. “It means I’m going to kiss you, stupid, and then I’m going to suck your cock.”

 

They still didn’t call it a relationship. They didn’t talk about that. But it wasn’t just about sex, although there was plenty of that. There was a new physical intimacy that bled into everything they did; a surprising hug from behind when Jamie was doing the dishes, and their legs intertwined when they were watching TV. And they held hands when they were in public.

 

Part 9 Find a new bar

Inevitably, they did hit the Grey Goose again. Jamie had aced a term assignment and both of them were in a mood to celebrate. Carl probably wouldn’t have gone in the middle of winter, when he was still getting used to being a twink. But by spring he was settling into his new body. His hair had grown almost long enough to fall into his eyes. He was pretty. There was no other way to put it. His face was narrower, his skin seemed to glow. Apparently he looked younger too, because he got ID’d at the door, something that had stopped happening when he was 17. Jamie was mildly appalled when he didn’t get ID’d.

 

Oddly, it hadn’t occurred to them that they made an odd couple. Carl looked demonstratively gay. Jamie was dressing down and looked downright butch. He was also one of the biggest guys in the bar. And apparently the juxtaposition of the two of them was enough to prick the sensibilities of the local homophobic goons. After slugging back a half-dozen drinks one finally swaggered over and parked himself in front of Carl and Jamie’s table.

 

“Hey.”

 

It wasn’t so much that they ignored him. But engrossed in their conversation they didn’t even notice he was there.

 

“Hey!” he pounded his fist down on the table. Jamie looked up annoyed, and then swept his eyes over the man in front of him and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The man was probably 6’2”. He was solid with muscles that came from working rather than hitting a gym. But he was also running to fat with a gut that paunched over his poorly fitting jeans. He spat at Carl and then looked back at Jamie.

 

“I was sitting there. Why don’t you and your pansy run along.”

 

Jamie was completely bemused. “We’ve been here for over an hour. What, were you constipated? Were you sitting in the can for an hour and hoping the table would be here waiting for you? You know,” he looked the man up and down again. “If you drank less and got more fiber, you wouldn’t be in this fix.”

 

Jamie was used to winning fights with his tongue. He didn’t recognize that the trash talk was meant to get him to stand up and throw the first punch. Alpha goon would then be justified in following it up. But Carl knew exactly what was going on here. Granted, he had to wrap his head around the fact that he was the “pansy.” He looked over at the guy and rolled his eyes, “Fuck off. Nobody wants to fight you.”

 

Alpha-goon ignored Carl and kept his eyes fixed on Jamie: “Is your pansy going to do your fighting for you?” He stepped forward and slapped Jamie. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to piss him off. Again. It was all about getting the other guy to take the first swing.

 

“What the fuck?,” Jamie looked at the guy as if he were deranged.

 

But Carl was out of his chair and around the table in an instant. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t the big guy any more. But instinct planted him squarely between Jamie and this asshole: “Back off!” Sigh Full mezzo soprano this time.

 

The goon was completely thrown off. This was not how the game was supposed to be played. He finally focused his blurry eyes on Carl and put a hand on Carl’s head as if he was going to hold him back. “Whoa-hey a spitfire! You gonna take me on, little guy?”

 

Carl saw red and … Time. Slowed. Down. Despite everything that had happened, he still knew how to fight. He’d always been a pretty big guy and in the bar everyone wants to take down the big guy. He pivoted left to shake the grip on his head, and punched from the right on the guy’s nose, a left to the side of his face and then kicked him full in the stomach.

 

“Fuck!” Carl felt a spike of pain from his hand and shook it out. “I …” he looked down and caught himself; I am NOT going to say out loud that I just broke a nail. I am NOT going to DO that. “My fucking hand.”

 

Carl still knew how to fight, but he didn’t have the strength to back it up anymore. So while alpha-goof had a bleeding nose and was bent over from the kick to the stomach he wasn’t down. He looked up at Carl and growled, “You little fag. I am going to fucking kill …”

 

And it was right in mid threat when Jamie tackled him. Unlike Carl, Jamie didn’t know how to fight. He never had before, and putting on ninety pounds and five inches hadn’t taught him how. But Jamie did understand physics and he knew that when you tackle someone with 230 pounds of weight behind you he’s going down. Glaring at Carl, the guy didn’t even see it coming.

 

It was right about then that the bouncers pulled them apart. They knew who was to blame but they were pragmatic. “You two, out the front door, grab a cab and get out of here.  This idiot is going out the back door.” Carl and Jamie knew better than to give him any flak. “This asshole probably won’t remember any of this when he sobers up. But if you’re smart you’ll give us a miss for a while.”

 

The two of them sat in awkward silence on the ride home. Carl had the shakes from the adrenaline rush of the fight. Finally Jamie looked over at him, licked his thumb and said, “Here, you’ve got some blood on your lip. I don’t’ know how though, he never managed to lay a finger on you.” Jamie reached over and rubbed it off, tracing his thumb across Carl’s lips.

 

Carl grimaced. “I bit it after I hit him.”

 

Jamie snickered.

 

“What?!” Carl glared at him.

 

“You. You’re still fighting my battles.”

 

“Well, I can’t win them any more. He would have wiped the floor with me if you hadn’t jumped him. “

 

“Maybe,” Jamie stretched his hands behind his head. The move flexed his triceps and made his back muscles pop out. He smiled and glanced down at himself and then shook out of the posture and looked over at Carl. “But that guy would have kicked my ass if you hadn’t stepped in, and the bouncers hadn’t stepped in to break us up. He probably doesn’t know that, but you know that, right?”

 

Carl said nothing. They paused as they cleared out of the cab and climbed up the stairs and into their apartment.

 

“What I mean is, we’re a pretty good team, you know … and,” he laughed. “You seriously need to teach me how to fight. Cause I’m not being modest when I say that guy would have killed me. I should be the one protecting you.”

 

“Jamie, I don’t want you to have to be that guy. When I stood up for you all those times before it wasn’t because I didn’t think you could handle yourself …”

 

“Let’s be clear, “ Jamie cut in. “I totally could not have handled myself.” He looked down at himself, buff body and all. “Hell, I still can’t.”

 

Carl smiled in spite of himself and then winced as lip hurt. “Shut up. I did it because I didn’t think you should have to put up with that shit, with that chest thumping, alpha male, ‘I’m tough because I’m calling you down’ crap. You deserved better.”

 

“Carl.” Jamie physically picked him up and set him on his lap so that their faces were inches apart.

 

“Hey!” Carl squirmed, but Jamie was having none of it. He wiped the corner of his eye and grabbed Carl by the shoulders so they had to meet each other’s eyes.

 

“I love you, ya big dummy.” And he kissed him. Carl didn’t fight it. He sunk into Jamie’s lap, enjoying the solid feel of a man below him, and leaned into his chest. When they finally broke apart he nuzzled into Jamie’s neck and whispered, “I … no, let’s do this right.” And he looked up so that their eyes met and there was no confusion. “I love you too, twink boy.”

 

And then, despite what Tommy had said, they parted. Oh not that at that very moment. They both had to wade through exams, and they did that together. Curled up next to each other studying.

“Fuck,” Carl swore one evening. They’d thrown a blanket on the rug and Jamie was laying on his side, reading a book. Carl was leaning back against him, using his stomach and his pecs, which seemed to have become even fuller and thicker, as a backrest and reading his own book. He looked over at Jamie and glared. “We’ve become one of ‘those’ couples.”

 

Jamie smiled and then sat up popped his chest and bounced Carl away from him as if he was knocking a cat off his lap. “Better?” Carl was back on his lap in an instance and kissing him: “Better.”

 

The parting came at the end of April. Both of them had summer jobs lined up in opposite ends of the country. Carl headed east. Jamie west. But it wasn’t like last summer. This time they talked constantly. They texted. They e-mailed. They didn’t’ skype though. By silent agreement that wasn’t on. The landlord, who lived in the apartment below them and … well, knew the sort of stuff that someone who lives in the apartment below you knows … had e-mailed them in mid-summer and said unless he heard back he’d be replacing the busted up hide-a-bed with a couch. He didn’t get any e-mails back.

 

In the fall, Jamie got in a few days before Carl and set up the apartment. He was there waiting with the car when Carl walked out of the airport. They’d both changed again. Jamie had trimmed down to about 210, and he’d shed a bit of height to, down to maybe 6’1” as if his body was finding a comfortable balance point. You wouldn’t call him a twink any more. His shoulders and chest were thick, and his thighs had kept a respectable amount of their bulk. Feeling a little playful, he was wearing one of his old tank tops but with his buffed up body it didn’t fit him any more and showed off his midrift; trimmed—not shaved—jet black hair fanned out from below his belly button and disappeared underneath his belt and there was a dusting of it on his chest as well.  When he lifted an arm to scratch his head it revealed a band of short black hair in the depths of his muscular armpit. His voice when he spoke now was a low jungle cat’s purr. When he had got home he had found that people wanted to call him James now, or Jim or some fricking manly equivalent. But he was having none of it. He was still Jamie. Deal with it.

 

Carl was still 5’9” and as lithe as ever, he kept up the jogging but added cycling and swimming to put a little more meat on his bones. He even spent a bit of time in the gym, but he had no desire to be a football player again. That was done. He was probably closing in on 160 pounds. He’d also started taking tae-kwon-do lessons to better learn how to use the strength he did have and any body who challenged the two of them in the bar would find Jamie smiling and sliding neatly aside to let Carl do the fighting. Sometimes it was like watching Yoda take down Count Dooku. But the end was usually never in doubt.  Jamie eventually learned to handle himself a little better too. But fighting never was and was never going to be his thing.

 

Carl’s body hair had never come back and he could go a week without shaving now. Unlike last year, he wasn’t afraid to dress to show off his body; his jeans hugged his ass and the top two buttons on his loose, silky shirt were unbuttoned. He was gay, and he was telling you he was gay, but he wasn’t hitting you over the head with it.

 

Jamie jokingly held his hands out to catch Carl as he walked towards him, but there wasn’t going to be any of that. Carl just grinned, slid his arms around Jamie’s waist and kissed him. He sure as hell didn’t care who noticed. “And just so we’re clear,” he said, when they finally stopped, “I missed you.”

 

Jamie grabbed Carl’s bag in one hand, hefted it up easily and took Carl’s hand with his other: “Good. I hope you enjoyed missing me. Because it is the drop dead last time you’re going to have that opportunity. Agreed?”

 

Carl squeezed his hand: “Agreed.”