Hunter: C.P.A. (musc mc ap ar)
by Aardvark
Another story for you all, inspired by some of your comments! Please continue to message, e-mail, post and the like; I get and read everything. Don't be afraid to tell me exactly what you want. These are as much for you all as they are for me!
Enjoy...this is a long, but worthwhile, one.
“Thank you, Bianca.”
Mel watched her housekeeper fill her glass with red wine and explained her selection. “This is my Dad’s favorite. He sent it over, it’s from one of his friend’s vineyards.”
Hunter took a sip. “Mmmm. Delicious.”
He and Katie held hands on the table, and he rubbed the large engagement ring on her finger.
Neil took a drink and leaned back in his chair. “Nice rock there, Hunter.”
Hunter grinned. “Thanks. The BCS ring finally came! It’s almost as big as Katie’s.” He winked at his fiancée.
“Stop it,” she smiled. “You’re horrible.”
Ever since Hunter had been drafted as the Jets QB, the four had been inseparable. Katie and Hunter had bought a sprawling penthouse right above Neil and Mel’s, in addition to a house in East Rutherford. Dinners had become commonplace. They liked eating at Neil and Mel’s: Bianca was a wonderful housekeeper and cook, and Mel was trying to improve her skills as a hostess. Plus, it let them be with Lachlan, who was currently asleep in his crib.
“Lachlan’s getting so big!” Katie took a nibble of her food. “I couldn’t believe it when we got in here.”
“He’s a long fella,” Neil beamed proudly. “Doctor says he’s in the 90th percentile of height but just above-average with weight.”
“Look at you, Dad.” Hunter smirked at his friend. “And I thought Mel had you whipped.”
Mel blushed but was clearly pleased.
“She still does, but wait ‘til you have kids, man. Everything just makes sense now.”
“It does, it really does.” Mel swallowed her food. “Which is why I’m going to retire.”
Katie did a double-take. “What? Sweetie, are you sure?”
Hunter and Neil shared a glance across the table.
Mel nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’m going to be 22 this year, and for a gymnast, that’s pretty much it. I’ve thought about defending the all-around, and I want to, but I can’t compete against 16-year-olds anymore, you know?” She took a bite. “Plus, I have Lachlan. I don’t want to be risking literally breaking my neck when I have someone who depends on me. My agent’s shopping a book deal, I’ll be doing endorsements and a clothing line, I’ve got options. I’m not going to be stay-at-home, but whenever I’m away from Lachlan I just feel guilty. The first time I went to work out after I had him, I just broke down crying. I missed him.”
Hunter grinned like a schoolboy. “That’s funny, Neil told me he did the same thing.”
“Shut UP, ya bastard!” Neil playfully swiped at Hunter, who grabbed his friend’s arm. They wrestled for a minute.
“I’m going to do another Olympics, for sure,” Neil said. “Mel and I talked about it and she was thinking about walking away for a while. The time just seems kind of right. Plus, I know what I need to focus on and I have my agents now. I’ll be either training, making appearances or promoting stuff, or I’ll be here with the baby.”
“That’s awesome, dude.” Hunter took another bite of dinner. “Bianca, this dinner – perfection.”
Bianca smiled gratefully and walked into the kitchen.
“Katie and I are actually going back home this weekend,” he continued. “My Dad’s doing a fundraiser through the gym for a Children’s Hospital, so we’re going to show up and help out.”
“It’ll be really good to see all the boys,” Katie said as much to Hunter as to Neil and Mel. “They love seeing Hunter.”
“And you, too, babe.” Hunter kissed her cheek.
A cry arose from Lachlan’s room.
“Oh noooo.” Mel fluttered her hands. “He’s supposed to be sleeping for another hour!
Neil looked into his son’s room. “He’s usually such a good sleeper.”
Hunter stood. “I’m the oldest of seven. I’ve seen my fair share of babies. Let me see if I can calm him down. You and Neil have been working so hard tonight, just stay seated.” There was a pause. “Uhhh, if it’s okay with Mom, that is.”
“That’s so sweet,” Mel said, revealing her beautiful smile. “He probably won’t respond but you might as well try it. He loves you!”
“No problem. I’d like to see if I can do it!”
Hunter walked into the nursery and shut the door. He knew that Mel and Katie would coo about this for weeks. Mel was the one of the first of her friends to have a baby and she was anxious for Katie to join the club, but it just wasn’t going to happen. Still, they both loved to talk about babies and what their ideal baby would look like and how they would dress it and what they would name it, and he knew Neil would just sit there, laughing his kind laugh and observing the love of his life.
“Shhhh, buddy, shhhh.”
Lachlan was just yelling. No tears, just screams. It was time for attention.
Hunter leaned in, picked up the baby, and set him on the floor.
The room had been decorated by an interior designer. It was adorned in blue, with an aquatic theme of sea horses, googly-eyed octopi and other cutesy sea creatures. Hunter looked at the wall clock, a custom piece, and watched it stop as he stared at it.
“Go to sleep, kiddo.”
Lachlan immediately responded with a peaceful slumber.
Sometimes, Hunter liked to have a little fun. Never at anyone’s expense, but curiosity had been known to get the best of Hunter Hardy at times.
This was one of those times.
He crouched down next to the sleeping child, slipped off its onesie and wrapped it in a towel. Then, he watched the baby grow.
Lachlan got longer, a lot longer, very quickly. His legs and arms sprouted rapidly, as if in a contest with one another. The boy’s skeleton grew at a stunning rate. He was going to be a gangly kid, definitely tall like his Dad, a mass of limbs and muscle.
Lachlan’s face was defining itself, a nose emerging from the soft tissue, skin tightening over growing bone as he grew a beautiful jawline. Hunter had seen that jaw before. The boy was probably thirteen or fourteen now, and his features began to lock into position at the command of puberty. He was indeed a combination of his parents. Dark brown hair and that shapely lip, from his Mom, while Neil had given him that slightly button nose and big blue eyes, and the heavenly bone structure, all cheeks and chin.
The body was the real show. Lachlan’s chest calmly moved up and down, but it was a much bigger chest, broad and chiseled and striated, like a dancer’s. Neil and Mel both had cut, defined muscle, so it was natural that their son would as well. Lachlan’s arms and legs were well-proportioned and his musculature was outstanding. Deeply entrenched abs and obliques led down to the towel that Hunter had put over Lachlan’s manhood.
His facial features had settled, tightened into a harmonious blend of his parents. Lachlan was strikingly beautiful, even in the darkly lit room. His mouth parted slightly to show a row of straight white teeth. His chin was square, his jaw wide, like a model’s – like his father’s.
Adult Lachlan lay there, wrapped in a towel like a new sculpture of a Greek God. His wavy brown hair framed his beautiful face. Every muscle was clear and cut.
“God.” Hunter looked at the man at his feet. “I couldn’t have done it any better. Like a Michelangelo sculpture.”
Lachlan was a six-foot-two stunner. Hunter knew, right then, that he was going to be a model. He could feel it. The boy didn’t have the exact build of a swimmer, or of a gymnast, but a combination of the two. He was on the taller side, and cut like a swimmer, but his muscles had a firm plumpness and roundness. Neil’s hands and feet were slightly larger than normal, and his shoulders were exceptionally broad. Lachlan’s body was no less spectacular, but it was proportionate, like the da Vinci man. And he had such a hauntingly beautiful face, such an exquisite pair of lips. He was a sculpture come to life, a star-child.
The change reversed. Lachlan’s face softened into boyhood, along with his body; ribs and muscle and hair disappearing into pale flesh until the baby boy once again lay, perfectly still and silent. Hunter slipped his outfit on, placed him in the crib and nestled a blanket over him, then kissed him on his forehead.
“No one needs to hear this now,” Hunter smiled to his friend’s son, “but if you married my sister Hailey, that would just be okay with me. She’s only a few months older than you.”
There was a big pause. Hunter thought about Neil: the fat Neil, then the handsome Neil. He thought about how a high school outcast became the world’s best swimmer, fell in love with a beautiful woman, and had a gorgeous baby.
“You know what?” Hunter once again spoke to Lachlan, who was fast asleep. “Sometimes I wonder why I am the way I am. But then I look at your Dad, and I look at you…” He swallowed and the clock started again. “…and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He walked back out to the table. “Just sang him a little song and bam, out like a light.”
Katie and Neil asked, incredulously and almost in unison, “You sang to him?”
“Yeah, this song my Mom sang to me when I was little. I kind of forgot about it until your wedding, actually, when I heard my Dad singing it to Hailey. It always calmed us down.”
“How does it go?” Katie cocked her head, slightly, her big eyes sparkling in the chandelier’s light.
“It’s my little secret.” He stroked her cheek. “You’ll hear it one day, I’m sure.”
-------------
“Henry Scott Hardy, I swear you’re more of a man every time I see you!” Katie wrapped her arms around her future brother-in-law, who had grown to her height since the last time she saw him. At 11, Henry had begun to grow into the man that Hunter and Sean had become before him. His hair was thick, black and shiny; his muscles were carving themselves into the same round beauty of Hunter’s glorious body. And his young face had already began to show the chiseled definition that ran in his genes. The youthful roundness had started to square, and his voice had the deeper tinge of manhood that signified real changes were soon to come.
“Hey, Katie.” The hug was returned. “Need help with the bags?”
“No, sweetie, thank you. Hunter-“
“I got ‘em, big guy.” Hunter set the bags down and walked out to the rental car for the second round. “It’s good to see you, buddy.”
Henry grinned. “You too! You both.”
Hank and Hugh picked up Katie’s bags – sometimes splitting the weight between the both of them – and Henry and Hunter took the rest.
Hunter wiped his brow. “I thought Dad was here?”
“He was supposed to be.” Henry plopped down the last bag. “He was in a meeting with Mr. Brewer that was supposed to be done an hour ago. They’re probably just talking now.”
“At Dad’s office?”
“Yeah.”
Hunter walked down the stairs into the large main hallway. “Hey, Kate? Katie? Sweetie?”
“Yeah, babe?” He heard her voice in the kitchen.
“Dad’s at the office, I’m gonna go see him. You wanna come?”
“No, thanks, I think I’m going to get lunch with a few of the girls.” Katie didn’t get to see her high school friends much – most had moved on – but a few were still in town and they enjoyed catching up.
“Okay. I’ll take one of the cars so you can have the rental.” He slipped the keys into her hand and gave her a peck. “Dinner tonight? Just us? One of the ol’ high-school stomping grounds?”
“Love it.”
-------------
“Knock, knock.” Hunter tapped his knuckles on the large wooden door.
He heard his Dad’s voice. “Come in!”
The door swung open and Hunter walked into the spacious, lavishly decorated office. There was a packed trophy case from Sean’s fitness-competition days, and another shelf stuffed with pictures of Sean’s seven kids: various school pictures, scenes from the hospital on the day they were born, athletic triumphs. Hunter was represented several times, showing his progression from boy to man in quick snapshots. The office had a fireplace, a huge wooden desk, a Persian rug, a mini-fridge, a flat-screen TV – throw in a pantry and a person could live there for weeks.
“Son!” Sean popped out of his seat and hugged Hunter. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home. Grant and I were talking shop.”
The Grant in question stood up to his full portly, five-foot-three height. Hunter grinned at the man who he had known more than half his life. “Mr. Brewer, so good to see you.” They shook hands.
Grant’s hand was slightly clammy. “Mr. Hardy, how is the Big City treating you?,” he wheezed.
Hunter looked to his father and realized that Grant was addressing him, not Sean. “Oh, oh, it’s great. I love it there. Mr. Brewer, I told you, call me Hunter. You’ve known me since I was ten years old.”
“You’re not that ten-year-old anymore.” Grant stared almost straight up the surface of Hunter’s mountainous chest.
“Sure I am, just twice as old and three times the size.” Hunter grinned and sat down, Grant and Sean did the same. “So what’s the deal here? Everything alright with the gyms?”
“Oh yeah, running along. Memberships are slightly down because of the economy but our clients are faithful. Nobody gets money like Grant here does.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hardy.” Grant couldn’t bring himself to ever address his boss as Sean, no matter how much the man insisted. “I do the money and you do the exercising.”
Hunter had known Grant Brewer since the age of 10, when Sean hired him as the first gym’s accountant. They were the same height then. Grant was a little more than a year older than Sean, 44 to the Hardy patriarch’s freshly-turned 43. But Sean was tall, dark and handsome – all incredibly so, to an almost inhuman level – and those three words could not be applied to Grant Brewer. He was five-foot-three in socks, partially bald and extremely beer-bellied. He had let himself go, if he had ever had anything to let go of in the first place. He had never been attractive, and he eventually gave up trying to be. A daily uniform consisted of short-sleeved plaid shirt tucked into his old khakis, a cellphone clipped to his elasticized waistband, and old penny loafers. He was an old nerd.
Sean Hardy was good to all of his employees. There were lots of benefits and company parties, even events at the Hardy home. Grant considered Sean his friend, but knew that Sean was also responsible for his image complex.
He’d been laid off from his first job, which he’d had for several years after getting his accounting degree, and finally got a job working exclusively for the growing Hardy Health Clubs (which even he found to be sickeningly ironic.) The company boomed, more gyms opened up, then more after that, and all the while there were numbers to manage and keep track of. All the while, he worked closely – almost daily – with Sean. He knew the family well. He had watched Sean transform from that disarmingly pretty gym bunny into a complete family man. But when most men let themselves get fat as they take care of their wives and children, Sean did just the opposite. His face got better-looking with age, his body grew larger and the muscles seemed to fit him perfectly. He wore them with pride, showing them off in polo shirts almost every day that bulged with biceps and pecs and lats. When he needed to be formal, his suits were beautifully tailored and enhanced his muscled six-foot-six body. Grant couldn’t help but be jealous of the God that employed him.
And then the kids started coming. Hunter had been this cute little kid, but as the years passed he grew tall and handsome, into the man he was destined to become. He had seen a teenaged Hunter, his muscles taut from his burgeoning athleticism, playing with his younger siblings in Sean’s office. Henry was already taller and better-looking than most men, and Grant knew that eventually, all six of the boys would be grown men, occasionally returning to the Hardy gyms to show off their bodies and brag of their exploits in the world. They would all lead charmed lives, just like Hunter and Sean before them. Life was so easy when you were a beautiful person.
The phone in Sean’s office rang and took Grant’s thoughts with its interruption.
“Apparently I have to answer a couple of questions for the paper about the fundraiser,” Sean said, rubbing his temples. Hunter noticed a tinge of white in the hair, by Sean’s massaging fingertips. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Grant stood. “I should go. Dex needs to be let out anyway.” He’d given up on finding a mate, so he’d just gotten a dog instead.
“I’ll walk you out, Mr. Brewer. I’d like to catch up anyway.” Hunter walked to the door. “I’ll be back in five, Dad.”
“Sure thing.” Sean smiled and his eyes twinkled. Hunter was relieved to see how much they could still sparkle.
-------------
“How’s life, Mr. Brewer?” Hunter pressed the elevator for the ground floor and the doors shut.
“Oh, decent.” Grant stared up at Hunter. The height contrast was ludicrous. “Just me and Dex, and my work, really.”
“How old’s Dex now? He’s been around for a long time.”
“He’ll be nine soon.”
“What a great dog he is.”
“Yeah, always waiting for me, waggin’ his tail.” Grant smiled, sadly. “How’s Katie?”
“Beautiful and too perfect for me,” Hunter smiled. Grant looked at the young man’s face, streaked with affection, and silently wished that he knew that feeling.
“She’s a gorgeous girl. And stop with the ‘I’m unworthy’ stuff, kid! You’re perfect for each other.”
“Thanks, Mr. Brewer. I think we are too. There’s a part of me that is scared to get settled down so early in life, but when you have someone like Kate…”
“…you just kind of have to,” Grant agreed. “I say go for it. Otherwise you’ll end up like me, fat and alone.”
“No!” The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. “Mr. Brewer, you have Dex and you have your friends and you have us! You’re never alone when you know the Hardys.”
Grant noticed that Hunter did not say he was skinny.
They walked across the parking lot to the old truck parked in a space. “I mean…” Hunter looked down. “What would you do if you weren’t an accountant? What do you want from life?”
Jeez, personal question, thought Grant. But he’s really just a kid – gorgeous and tall and rich, but still just a kid. There’s still a lot to learn at 21, isn’t there? “I don’t know…when you look like me, and you’re good at math, you’re going to be an accountant, right?” Grant forced a laugh. Hunter did not. “And if I could’ve gotten married, I would have. I wish I’d played around in my 20s and then settled down and had a couple of kids when I hit 30 or so. But life doesn’t really give you options like that.”
“Don’t give up hope so fast.” Grant climbed into the truck as Hunter spoke. “You never know what’s coming up next, huh?”
“That’s what Disney tells you, Hunter.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just a cynical old man. Your life is perfect. Enjoy it.”
Hunter’s large eyes were haunting. Grant couldn’t tell what the younger man was thinking.
“I will.” Hunter spoke abruptly, stepped back and slammed the door shut. “You have a good day, Mr. Brewer. Give Dex a pat for me.”
“Sure thing.”
The truck scooted off into the distance. Hunter watched it go, then headed back into the offices.
He stood in the elevator and smiled to himself. “Disney my ass.”
-------------
Sunlight broke through the sheer curtains and illuminated Hunter and Katie’s naked bodies, mid-cuddle. Hunter’s arms were wrapped around his fiancée. She breathed deeply and rolled around, placing her face in his chest and kissing it. She felt like she was wearing a suit of armor.
“Morning.”
“Morning, sweetheart.”
She felt his dick tickle her thigh. Morning wood. “I had a dream about you. See what you do to me?”
She giggled. “You’re so cheesy sometimes.” She bit her lip and looked up into his eyes, like an innocent child. “What was I doing in the dream?”
“Dancing for me. Fucking me.” He moved slightly and his cock rolled up her thigh and lightly touched in between her legs. He leaned in and nuzzled her, like a calf does to its mother. He submitted to her. Leaning in close, she could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, “I’m aching for you.”
She nodded and rolled on top of him as he put it in her. Their hips bucked and she began to moan. “Oh God, baby…oh God…GOD…” Her voice got higher and higher until she squeaked like a baby doll. In contrast, Hunter’s voice dropped until he practically grunted. “Fuck yeah…unnnnghhh…FUCK, baby. I love you, Katie.”
“I…love…you…too…”
She rolled her head back. He loved pushing her to orgasm.
He bucked more and she put her hands on his naked, sweaty chest. The touch, the physical connection, was like a spark.
They both grit their teeth and he started to cum.
Katie screamed a little and Hunter laughed as he playfully covered her mouth. “There’s KIDS in the house!”
“Ahhhhh, there we go.” She rolled off him. “Fuck, that was good.”
He wrapped his arms around her once more and kissed her neck. “You excited for today?”
“Yeah, I’m eating lunch with some of the girls. That’s okay, right?”
“Of course. I can find something to do before the fundraiser.”
Hunter knew exactly what he would be doing.
They rolled out of bed and showered together, then put on matching bathrobes that Wendy had bought for them. Katie rubbed her arms up and down. “Mmmm, this is comfy. I am taking this home.”
“You look incredible in it.” And then he surprised even Katie by sweeping her into his arms and carrying her.
“What are you doing?! You’re crazy!” She laughed and playfully pounded his chest.
He carried her down the sweeping staircase and she giggled like a little girl. “Honey! I’m not going to say this is unlike you, ‘cause it’s not, but I’ve never…”
They entered the dining room, which was bathed in warm sunlight, and she stopped talking. The glass table was spread with every breakfast food imaginable, decorated perfectly. “Hunter…”
He set her down and nuzzled her again. “I got you some breakfast.”
“You are just…” She released a noise that could only be described as an endearing guffaw. “I’m just speechless!”
“Let’s eat.”
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A few hours later, Grant spun in his chair and opened up his computer for the day. He opened up his e-mail and was surprised to see that it was empty. All the messages were gone.
“Oh, gosh. Okay, it’s like that.”
He went online and saw that all of his favorites were gone. CNN Money, his portfolios…but they were replaced with sites like Sports Illustrated and ESPN, Men’s Health online, GQ, and bodybuilding.com.
“Damned viruses.” He saw that even his desktop wallpaper, the standard Windows mountains, was replaced by the Hardy logo. Actually, he kind of liked that.
He stood up to ask one of the other workers if they had been on his computer. Right as he walked to the door, he heard a voice behind him.
“It’s alright, Mr. Brewer. It was me who messed up your computer.”
“JESUS CHRIST.” Grant leapt a foot in the air and landed on only one ankle, teetered and collapsed on the floor.
“Are you okay, Mr. Brewer?” Hunter leapt forward and Grant shook his head as he stood.
“I’m fine, I’m fine, you scared the SHIT out of me. Where the hell did you come from? I was…I was sitting there and then I stood up and then, you were behind me? Did you crawl through the window? Were you hiding under my desk or…”
“It’ll make sense in a sec, Mr. Brewer.”
“What do you…”
“Shhhhhh.” Hunter stood up and walked over to Grant. “Mr. Brewer, do you like my body?”
Hunter could see Grant searching for a response. He tried to say no.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to look like me?”
No! NO. I’m friends with your Dad. I’ve known you since you were a little boy. “Yes. Yes.” Why am I saying this?! Was there a truth serum in my orange juice?
Hunter smirked. Grant had seen that half-smile before; Hunter started doing it when he was thirteen and really starting to become attractive. More recently, it had been on the cover of the ESPN magazine.
Grant rubbed his eyes and groaned a little bit. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes. The room was kind of spinning…
“Owwww.” He ached a little, actually, it felt like growing pains. He hadn’t had many of those, but he’d had a few.
“Mr. Brewer?”
Hunter sounded really far away, practically the other end of a tunnel or something.
“Mr. Brewer, you’re leaning on me.”
“Srrrtf.” He tried to say sorry but his whole body felt like lead. His lips felt clamped shut, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the sharp white of Hunter’s tight tank top, the tank that encased his big plate-like pecs.
Which he was now looking down at?
He stumbled back and grabbed his bare stomach. “I’m taller!” His pants painfully cut into his groin and he pushed the waist down to give his crotch some breathing room. He had several inches of leg bared, or would have if he weren’t wearing…
“Nice tube socks, Mr. Brewer.” Hunter did that smirk again. God, he was sexy.
“Hunter, I think there’s…” He swallowed uncontrollably and the most funny thing happened – his voice sounded younger, refreshed. It was the same voice, but deeper and youthful. “I think there’s something wrooooong here.”
Man, they all react the same. Hunter didn’t respond.
He swallowed again and felt a sensation in his voice box, and suddenly his voice was much deeper, and a lot louder. It was a confident, roaring bass.
“This doesn’t match me. This isn’t who I am…” He looked Hunter in the eye. “Call 911.”
“What?! Nah, dude, you’re fine. Don’t worry.”
Grant stumbled back and sprouted two more inches. “There we go, Mr. Brewer. Six-foot-three. You are officially a foot taller.”
“How do you know that?!” Grant swept his hands over his comically ill-fitting clothes. “I think I’m sick. I think I’m hallucinating.”
“You’re not sick, and this is real.”
Grant covered his mouth with his hands and screamed into them. The muffle came out as a dulled roar. There two sharp snapping noises and Hunter watched each cankle burst into a beautifully defined calf. Big, round inverted hearts.
“What WAS that?! What am I…what’s happening here?!”
“You’re going to have to be a little more quiet.”
“Listen to my VOICE.” He was trying to speak softly, but it didn’t work with the depth of his voice and it just made him sound like a frog. “That’s not my voice! I think I’m allergic to something in here.”
“Just speak normally. Don’t hurt yourself, Mr. Brewer.”
“Ah!” There was a sharp stab in his eyebrow and earlobes. He reached up and touched metal. “What’s…”
“It’s an eyebrow piercing and two square-cut diamond studs in your ears.” Hunter spun Grant around to look in a full-length mirror.
“Where’s that mirror from?” He reached up and tugged on his lobes, like a woman removing hoops. “I can’t have these, they’re not…wait! How do I have these?! They’re just…here? These look dumb on me.”
“Eh, they won’t for long.”
“What do you mea-a-A-ANNN AUUUGHH…”
Grant dropped to his knees and shrieked, and suddenly Hunter wrapped his hands around the screaming mouth.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brewer, you gotta be quiet.”
Grant thrashed and Hunter held him fast. Despite Grant’s new height, he couldn’t control it yet, and he was still fat.
Or not.
It felt like someone had placed a vacuum in his back and the fat was being sucked into it, somewhere into space. He got skinny, fast. The gut receded in quickly, sensationally collapsing in on itself, and as he struggled to his feet, his pants dropped around his ankle, desperately oversized. He felt the same pop he had felt with his calves and suddenly, BAM, he had thunder thighs, thick ones, striated and cut. They were wider than his waist, giving him some kind of odd hourglass shape, big swollen thighs going into shredded calves and big feet that were bursting through the old penny loafers.
“Those were my favorite shoooooooes…”
“Let ‘em go.”
The old leather ripped apart and Grant kicked his feet out as they snapped and reformed. He reached down and desperately tried to relieve his discomfort as he picked the shreds off his big feet.
“Uuughhhh….” He was too tired and confused to talk anymore and he just stumbled around like some caveman, clutching his head and watching himself transform. And transform he did.
He felt a hundred thousand needles shoot through his head, like ants crawling across his skull, and he saw hair sprout out. His hairline pushed forward and made his forehead look smaller. In fact, his forehead looked flat now, surrounded by a sharply square hairline. His hair was dark brown and he watched as it spiked itself into a solid two-inch-long faux-hawk, perfectly spiked in the center. Colors formed, the first inch stayed brown and the second inch became bleach blond, and the very tips turned red.
“Well, Mr. Brewer, that’s more like it.”
“I look fucking ridiculous! I sound fucking ridiculous…fuck!”
Did he always curse so much?
“This shit hurts, bro.”
Bro? Why was he calling his boss’s son ‘bro’?
He wanted to say “Help me, please, this hurts,” but it came out in that rumbling bass, “Fuckin’ shit, man, I feel swole.”
“Why are people saying ‘swole’ all of a sudden?” Hunter shrugged his shoulders. “Well, whatever. I mean, you’re starting to look it, too.”
Grant’s plaid shirt hung on his now-skinny body like it hung on a clothes hanger. The seams started to tighten around the shoulders, then under the arms, then around the chest. He got bigger, and bigger, and began to hear the thin cotton burst under pressure. He looked in the mirror, his mouth hanging open vacantly, unable to resist anymore. His shoulders burst outward and upward, rounding in all the right places. His traps swept out from a suddenly thicker neck, evaporating into basketball-sized deltoids. Each shoulder was twice the width of his head. He felt the tattered shirt get stuck in between his cavernous pecs. The puffiness subsided and hardened and his pectorals got higher, elevated, like two sheer cliffs. He felt them and felt the pillow of muscle underneath the pale skin.
“Fuuuuuuuuck me…”
His head…was it thinner? It had lost its roundness. In fact, it looked like a sharp rectangle. His jaw suddenly got sharper and squarer while his nose got smaller on his face. His cheeks pushed out to meet the distance of his jutting, square chin, and when his mouth opened to show a mouth of glittering white teeth, two dimples appeared deep in his cheeks. His eyebrows got thicker, straighter; they were resting heavily over his wide blue eyes.
The skin around his face tightened, every wrinkle and sag and sleepless night fading away into perfect, youthful skin - dark skin, very tanned, hard to the touch from excessive tanning.
His whole body had skin like that now, crispy bronze. He could barely move his arms; they just hung at his side, limp and sore. But as he watched, they forced their way up into an angle and began to twist. Wait – they weren’t twisting, the muscle underneath was, roping its way up his arms and bulging out into huge mountains of muscle. He felt a sharp sensation on his skin on his huge right bicep and saw a Celtic cross and barbed wire wrap around the 20-inch bicep. The same sensation happened on the left and he saw five Chinese characters, one on top of the other, shoot down the peak of his huge bicep. The underside of his veiny left forearm, which had the size and power of several baseball bats tied together, was instantly covered in Runic writing.
“My arms are twice as big as my fuckin’ head. And what the fuck’s this shit all over ‘em? I mean, it looks kinda coo’…but…my accounting clients prolly won’t fuckin’ like it.”
Hunter burst out laughing. “Your accounting clients?! Mr. Brewer – Grant – you work for the Hardy Health Clubs, but you sure aren’t our CPA anymore.”
Grant wasn’t listening. “Fuck, my muscles…”
He uncomfortably wriggled his back as he felt the same needle sensation across the entire expanse of his muscled back. His spine shot straight up and adjusted to his new muscled stature, and he stood straight, every spinal disc hugged by immense tissue. His shirt seams had long since burst, and he only had two buttons left on his plaid shirt. The nerdy accountant uniform looked like some kind of dumb costume now. His khakis had ripped into teeny shorts that were wedged between the two melon-like butt cheeks of his breakfast-tray ass. The shirt hung in tatters, like it belonged in a museum of clothes destroyed by the Hulk.
His 32-inch waist was carved from marble, bulging obliques holding eight thick abdominal muscles in their embrace, thick veins leading down to a cock that was growing longer by the minute. A big stain appeared in the cheap khaki fabric.
“Ahhhhh, fuckin’ shit!”
Grant blew a wad in his pants and cum dribbled down his massive thighs.
“That’s not like any Disney movie I ever saw.” Hunter reached up and tore the shirt, or what was left of it, off of Grant’s shoulders.
“What? Disney? I…oh…yesterday…aw, shit.”
The skin had been wrapped tightly in the old plaid pattern, but taking off the tatters was like a woman removing a corset. Every muscle burst forth in its glory, big watermelon pecs and those basketball deltoids and arms, suddenly free. Grant came again, about to scream when Hunter once again covered his mouth.
When Grant turned, he could see “BREWER” in a tag font spread across his back, like a graffiti artist had tagged those bigass shoulder blades. His arms had limited mobility and when he tried to rub his neck, he barely could, because his forearms pushed too tightly against his biceps. The Chinese characters and Runic writing became slightly distorted when he flexed so much.
His cock snaked out from the khakis and white briefs, which he pulled off to relieve the pressure on his churning balls. “Oooogh.” He dropped to the floor, on all fours, panting like a dog.
“God, it stinks in here. Get a Glade candle or something.” Hunter walked around the room innocently, as if nothing had happened.
The deep voice rumbled out, like someone talking in a deep cave. “It smells like…me. Like a man.”
“Apparently, you’ve never been in a football locker room, because it smells like that too.” Hunter rolled his eyes.
Grant pulled himself up and looked over his body. His built body. His body. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
He saw corded muscle, starting from his bull-thick neck that wrapped tightly around his square jawline, rippling down through bulging shoulders and pecs, down into his flat abs and horse cock, wrapping around his legs and calves and stopping at the tip of his toes. Steel-grey eyes peered out from underneath his low brow. Real diamond studs completely covered his earlobes, a beautiful silver rod was slammed through one of his eyebrows. He had nipples like silver dollars, and his body was enhanced by the numerous tattoos on his arms, chest and back. He had big straight teeth that shimmered like a disco ball, hidden by a cocky smirk of a mouth that was smeared with brown stubble, leading up into thick sideburns and that faux-hawk with blond and red tips.
Grant took a breath. The God in the mirror did too.
“Y’know what CPA stands for for us young people?” Hunter massaged the big man’s shoulders and curled up his nose at the musky, masculine scent rolling off them.
Grant’s eyes sparkled. Yeah, he did know. Because he was young and cool now, wasn’t he?
“Certified Piece of Ass.”
“That’s what you are, my friend.”
“Fuck.” Grant rubbed one of his huge hands across his bouncing pec, moaning at how soft and supple it felt. His hand was covered in sweat when he pulled it away, and he rubbed it between his hands. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Yup. You said it yourself, you want to play the field when you’re in your 20s, and then settle down when the big 3-0 hits.”
“I…I did. But I said that shit, when I was fuckin’…when I was…when I…how old was I? Fuck.”
Hunter danced around the question. “You’re 24 now.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Did you get your degree in accounting from NYU?”
“Nahhhhh.” Grant shook his head and slowly began to realize how naked and sweaty he really was. “Man, this is some gay-ass shit right here. Heh heh heh.”
“What was your degree in?”
“Exercise science,” came the instant reply followed by a confused look. “I think. Yeah, exercise science. I fuckin’ majored in working out, basically. Heh. I want to help people be as buff and hot as I am.”
“Right, right, you’re just a total gym bunny.”
“NO!” Grant’s eyes flared. “No, fuck that shit. I’m buff but I’m strong. I compete. Your Dad and I talk all the time about all the Expos and shit that I do, because he used to do the exact same stuff.”
“So, you wear a skimpy little posing suit and tan for hours and pump up and rub oil on yourself? Then you flex for the public? And get trophies and money for it?”
“Fuck yeahhhh, dude.”
“So you’re the head trainer for the main Hardy gym and you’re only 24. Not bad.”
“Yup.” Grant nodded his head proudly and rubbed his beard growth. “Need ta shave before I go out tonight.”
“What do usually you wear when you go out?”
“Polo. Usually a medium one so that it’s real tight on me, you can even see the veins and shit through the fuckin’ fabric. I like Ed Hardy shirts too, those fit real nice.”
“Pop the collar?”
“Hell yeah. That and some real fuckin’ acid-washed jeans, plus whatever shoes are in at the fuckin’ moment, you know?”
“Yeah, I bet you tear it up in the clubs.”
The portly accountant was completely gone, replaced with a swaggering, bodybuilding man-slut. “Fuck, yeah. Get more ass than a toilet seat. I’ll just get some dumb bitch or one of those fuckin’ slutty muscle dudes and fuck their brains out in the back of my…”
“Stop.” Hunter stared at the cocky asshole personal trainer. “Y’know what? The world doesn’t need more pricks. How about you remember a little bit about where you came from.”
Grant breathed deeply, his muscles constricting and releasing. He was a walking diagram of peak physical condition, every muscle carved to perfection, as if God Himself had been the man with the chisel. His eyes snapped open. There was a kindness to them that had been absent before. “Fuck, man. What was I talkin’ about?”
“You told me you wear really tight clothes to show off your muscles...a popped polo or an Ed Hardy shirt, some acid-wash jeans, stylish shoes.”
“Yeahhh, fuck, sometimes. I own like a hundred polos and I buy a fuckin’ Ed Hardy, like, every other day. Heh. I like real nice clubs too, though. I’ll take a girl there and dress real nice and shit; I love three-piece suits, the fuckin’ works.” He smirked. “Other times I’ll dress kinda fuckin’ slutty and pick up some muscle dude at a bar. It runs 50-50, either it’s fuckin’ GQ or that real tight lycra cotton spandex shit, like in Muscle & Fitness. Lots of skin showin’.” He broke into a wide smile. “I like to fuck around sometimes, but I’m a fuckin’ monogamist. Every girl or guy knows what the fuck they’re gettin’ into. Eventually, I’m gonna settle down, you know? Fuck, I’ll just work for your Dad, trainin’ and competing, and I’ll raise my kids.”
“Oh, kids?”
“Fuck, yeah. I want a fuckin’ hot wife. Muscle guys are great for a real aggressive fuck, just lettin’ it all out, but they can’t give birth! I want a couple boys so I can train ‘em, at least pass on my genes, ya know? And then a girl so that she can wrap me around her finger, I’d love to have a Daddy’s girl.”
“That’s cool, Grant. Do you take the studs out when you go to a nice place?”
“The eyebrow one, fuck yeah, and I replace these big boys--” He flicked one of the huge diamonds on his ear, “--with smaller ones, little round white diamonds.” Grant’s jocky frat-dude persona belied the fact that he was quite smart. Details of the accounting degree, and his old life, began to seep back into his head. Without noticing his mind’s improvements, Grant bent down and swung his gym bag over his huge shoulder. “Gonna work out today, dude? I got a client in ten but I’d fuckin’ love to see ya while you’re in town.”
“Sure, dude, sure. Goin’ clubbing tonight? Katie and I might come out. Double-date or something.”
“Fuck, yeah! I don’t have a date. Yet. I’ll find one at the fuckin’ gym. Tonight is Muscle & Fitness night, motherfucker.” Grant laughed, that deep bass rumble. “I got this pink polo that, when you pop the collar, it says PREP across the back of it! Fuckin’ awesome. The stitching makes me look even more fuckin’ built. Got some great new dark jeans, too. I gotta get home and feed Dex after work, but I’ll fuckin’ call ya. I could meet you guys somewhere, for sure.”
Hunter smiled at the happiness, the vivacity seeping out of the formerly dull man’s visage. “For sure, Grant.”
Grant didn’t notice that they were at the gym now, not the office. His eyes shone with an increasingly growing acceptance, and intelligence. He stopped for a second to look at the Celtic cross and band wrapped around his massive bicep, threw a little flex, and walked over to meet his client.
Hunter watched. That was how he liked it. Creating happiness and watching it thrive. Grant wouldn’t constantly remember his old, boring life, but every now and then something would trigger a memory, and he would think back and remember.
One day, he would thank Hunter. And that gratitude made it all worthwhile.