O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Hunter: C.Y.O.C. (musc mc ap tr)

by Aardvark

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“I think we’re gonna do it, finally – Katie and I, I mean.”

“Do what?” Neil paused the Madden game. “Oh, get married? About fuckin’ time.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “I think I have you and Mel to blame. We both want what you guys have, you know? Katie wants the big, huge wedding, and I can pay for it, and I want to give her whatever she wants. We want to wait a couple of years and then have some kids, all of them together so that they’re close and not all spread out like me and my brothers.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of a unique situation.” Neil spoke with his eyes firmly planted on the game. “I mean, you were kind of an only child like me, but then you have these six younger siblings. Henry’s, what, 13?”

“Yeah, 13. He’s huge, have you seen him? He’s six-foot-one now, growing everyday, and his voice sounds just like mine. He’s a kickass QB too. Dad uploads videos of his games.” Hunter, playing as himself, completed a virtual pass and pumped his fist. “Anyway, yeah, I’m sensing a kind of Manning situation with the two of us – too bad about the big age difference, I’ll be in my thirties by the time he’s signed. I think he’s going to be the only other football player, though. The twins play soccer – European football, I guess – and Harry, well, Harry is built like a tank. He’s bigger than any of us were when we were his age, I think he’s gonna wrestle or somethin’. But back to Henry - he’s SO good. Real accurate, speedy, smart. Good-looking, too.”

“He looks just like you,” Neil smirked.

“Exactly.”

“Fuck. I swear, if there was Madden Swimming, I would kick your ass.” Neil threw the controller down as he lost. He stood and walked through the penthouse to grab a beer. “Want a beer?”

“Hell, why not?”

“I have to drink here now, Mel doesn’t let any alcohol in our place. Says it sets a bad example for Lachlan,” Neil yelled through the rooms.

Hunter picked up the controllers. “He’s two. He doesn’t know beer from breast milk.”

“See, that’s what I say. Like, I’d get it if he was five or six, y’know, but two? Come on. But she’s the boss, and she’s there all day. I just pay the bills.”

They laughed, because they both knew that Neil did much more than that. He did not go unrewarded by Mel.

“So what about the youngest two Hardys?”

“God, have you seen Hudson?” Hunter swigged his bottle and grabbed an apple. “He looks like a little Cupid. He is scary attractive.” There was a long pause as they both weighed this statement. “Like, even on a Hardy level. He’s such a good-looking kid that it’s almost creepy. He, like, radiates. And Hailey, well, she’s like my little girl. Which sounds weird, but it’s not. Katie says she can’t watch me with Hailey anymore because it makes her want to have kids. But I was twenty when she was born, so I feel more like her Dad than her brother. She calls me ‘Hunny’ because she can’t get her mouth around ‘Hunter,’ it’s so fuckin’ adorable, I just…” He trailed off. “Listen to me, I sound like YOU.”

Neil laughed. “No, no, I know what you mean. You and Katie will be having kids soon, you’ll know what it’s like. It’s indescribable, man. I think about Lachlan every minute.”

They both sat at the bar in the huge kitchen, and there was a long pause. Uncomfortably long.

“Hunter, can I ask you something?” Neil set down his beer and walked behind the bar to get an apple as well.

Hunter shrugged. “Of course.”

“It’s a weird question, but we’re both weird guys, considering what you did to me and…well, that doesn’t really apply, but – Hunter, did you make your Dad?”

Hunter instinctively looked down at his lap and breathed deeply. There was another extended pause.

It was short, clipped answer. “Yeah.”

“I – I thought so.” Neil nervously ran his hands through his short blond hair and took a bite of apple. “I just figured, with what you do…”

“I was ten. I didn’t know what I was really doing.”

“Oh, so that’s why – oh, God. That’s why that age gap is there. I get it now.”

“You can’t tell anybody. My Mom doesn’t even know.”

“Is she really your Mom?”

“Yes, of course. God.” Hunter sighed, exasperated. “Sorry, it’s just…it’s a sensitive subject for me. I haven’t been able to talk about it for thirteen years. Yes, she’s really my Mom. He’s really my Dad too. Now. He didn’t used to be. It’s a long story, but I’ll give you a condensed version. You have to PROMISE--”

“Hunter, I’m not going to tell anybody anything. If I can keep my own self a secret, I can keep anything.”

“Right. My Dad – my real Dad – died the day after I was born in a car crash. His name was Sam Scott, my Mom was Wendy Scott, and I was Hunter Scott. So I went ten years without a Dad or a brother, just me and Mom, struggling to get by. She never talked about him, she just internalized the whole thing. He had been driving home to get some stuff before he brought me and Mom home from the hospital, and he just…” There was a long pause. “This thing I do, I don’t know where it’s from, or why I have it – I just DO. It started manifesting itself when I was three or so, and it just kept getting bigger and bigger. Mom didn’t think I had control of it, but I knew I did. She used to know I could do this, but once I made my Dad, I took away that knowledge. My Dad doesn’t know, my siblings don’t know, not even Katie knows. I think I’ll tell her, eventually, I just…I just don’t know how. I’m afraid she wouldn’t know what to make of it.”

Neil leaned forward, elbows on the bar. “Did you make Katie?”

“No. I couldn’t make her any more perfect if I tried,” Hunter smiled. “She is flawless. She was born to be the celebrity of the town, before I intervened and you showed up. Anyway, one day, I tried to change myself – I wanted black hair. Stupid kid stuff, y’know.” He smiled again. “I wanted to look like James Bond, because James Bond always had that cool black hair. Of course, now he’s blond, and you look more like him than I do.” Hunter reached up and rubbed his buddy’s blond hair. They both smiled, and Hunter went on. “Anyway, it didn’t work. I can’t change myself. I was pretty scrawny, really blond.”

“You were blond?”

“I was. I would show you pictures, but obviously, there aren’t any like that, they’re all…different now. Anyway, I really wanted black hair, and I wanted a Dad. I don’t remember how I figured it out, but I remember thinking if I somehow got a Dad in the picture, I would look like him. So, I…” He trailed off and wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, this is a terrible story for me.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Neil’s sparkling blue eyes clouded with concern.

Hunter shook his head. “No, no, I have to. You’re the only person I can tell. There was this big kid at school, he probably had six inches on me, and he was really mean. Pushing, tripping, taunting. So, one day, I – God! – I transported him into my house and I, I changed him. He was freaking out. It was so awesome when I was doing it, because I was going to have a Dad! Finally, I was going to have a Dad like everyone else did. And I was going to look like him. I was right, it changed my genetics…but when I think back, I can still see his face begging me to stop. It’s horrible. I remember watching him disappear – the way his body got so big, so fast, the way his face...have you ever watched someone age twenty years in five minutes? And go from being some fat, ginger bully to looking like my Dad? He’s a God, dude. I had no idea at the time what six-foot-six and 290 pounds really looked like up close. I’d seen those stats on TV somewhere. I’m so conflicted about it. Dad still remembers his life up to that changing point – he talks about how crazy puberty was for him, because his red hair turned black and he got so big in junior high, and just kept growing and getting better and better looking in high school. He calls it the Hardolescence. He coined that when he saw how much I changed during my teen years, and now Henry’s doing it…we just transform over a few years into, like, fucking gods on earth…”

Hunter started crying. Neil had never seen his friend cry, ever. They had always joked that Neil was the crybaby. “I love my Dad, and I love that he’s here, and he loves me, more than anything. He’s perfect. He’s the perfect Dad.” The tears came faster, and his voice crackled with emotion. “And without him, I wouldn’t have all of my siblings, or my career, or Katie because he introduced us…it would still just be me and my Mom, and I’d work in some fucking dead-end job and…”

“Enough, enough.” Neil wrapped his arms around Hunter and held him close. “You don’t have to justify anything.” He put his hands on Hunter’s shoulders and talked to him, the ‘Dad Neil,’ as if Hunter were his son. “Everything happens for a reason, bud. Everything happens for a reason. Your Dad loves you, and your family. That is what matters. I’m sorry I brought it up, I was just…”

“No, no, thank you. I’ve been dying to tell somebody about this for years.” Hunter grabbed a napkin from behind the bar and wiped his face.

“You gave me life. I was dead inside, and you helped me.” Neil struggled to maintain his composure. “Without you…without YOU, I wouldn’t have my career, or the pool, or my wife, or my…my son. My baby boy. My heart.” He swallowed. “Without you, I would still be friendless and fat and alone. Never, ever forget that.” The blue eyes shimmered, and Neil poked his finger into Hunter’s broad chest. “Ever. You have this gift for a reason, and your Dad will always be a part of that. It was meant to be. Meant. To. Be.”

“Thank you,” Hunter sniffled, then smiled. “You’re awesome, dude. It’s me who’s the lucky one here, because I have a friend like you.”

Neil smiled and grabbed Hunter another napkin. The doorbell rang, and Hunter went pale. “Shit, shit. I think that’s the Internet guy. Our Broadband conked out this morning. I forgot about him. Fuck!”

“I’ll let him in. You go, uh, compose yourself. Or something.” Neil ran up the spiral staircase to the front door of the apartment.

Neil opened the door and looked down at the repairman. At six-four, Neil was always looking down, but this guy was pretty short. And he had a pretty big schnoz, too, and a thick mass of red curly hair, sort of like…

At the realization, Neil almost fell down, but retained his composure and let the guy in.

“Hey, Hunter’s downstairs. I’m his friend Neil.”

“You’re Neil Blue!” The man shook his hand meekly. “Can’t believe it!”

“Yup. This isn’t my place, but, uh, I’m pretty sure the main router is around here…somewhere…” Neil poked his head into the study and motioned to the top of a shelf. “There we go. Hunter will be up here in a second to help you out. What was your name?”

“I’m Andy Carver.” The guy had a mildly nasal voice, slightly affected. His lily-white skin was dotted with freckles, and he had bright curly red-orange hair, slightly overgrown. The nose was the focal point of the face – it was just too big, jutting out too far and set too wide. And he was probably only five-six or so, at best, not skinny but not fat either, just lumpy.

“Hunter!” Neil walked back downstairs to the lounge and bar and huge TV, with the Madden game still running. Hunter stepped out of the bathroom, face freshly washed. “Hunter, the Internet guy looks like the old me. Except he’s got red hair. But he’s short and his nose, oh God, the nose!” Neil reached up and let his fingers lightly touch the smooth, straight bone of his own, new beautifully sculpted nose. “It’s just like mine was.”

Hunter cocked one eyebrow. “You hinting at something?”

“Well, yeah. Maybe.”

---------

The rumble of Hunter Hardy’s voice was a beautiful thing. It was slightly deeper than Neil’s kind baritone, and so deep and smooth and sexy that it commanded attention just like his father’s voice. When he introduced himself to people – with a disarmingly informal “Hi, I’m Hunter” – people stood bolt upright and paid attention.

That is exactly what Andy did, pulling his five-foot-five frame up as high as he could. “Hey, hi, sir. Andy Carver. My boss says you’ve got a problem.”

“Indeed I do. Looks like you’re the man for the job.”

Hunter plopped his muscled frame into a second office chair as Andy worked on the large mainframe computer. The study was teeming with electronics – two huge monitors and a massive flat-screen TV, all of which were used to study game footage, and a third equally large computer for Katie’s business. The morning had brought the discovery that they no longer had Internet, and Hunter’s usual tricks weren’t working either.

The three talked as Andy ran scans, unplugged cords and reconfigured systems. Andy was completely taken aback by Hunter and Neil’s normalcy. They were seemingly just a couple of regular guys, albeit unbelievably good-looking and muscular and athletically gifted. They sat there in their cotton v-necks, looking magazine-ready with their even-toned tan skin and bulging biceps, just a couple of beautiful bros knocking back a beer or two. Andy was intimidated, intrigued and comfortable all at once, and amazed they didn’t have anything better to do than talk to little old him.

“You married?,” Hunter asked the techie.

“No. Hopefully one day.” Never even had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Andy turned a quick glance to Hunter that said it all. Did he see Hunter nod? What the hell did that mean? It felt like this guy was reading his mind or something.

Hunter smiled – Andy was a real find. All the signs were there – not attractive but well-groomed, a telltale gym card hanging off his keyring that looked like it was never used, the calm tones of a kind voice, the stutter of the unconfident. This was going to be really good for him.

Neil piped in next. “Got any hobbies besides fixing computers, Andy?”

“Actually, I’m a digital artist.”

“No way? That’s cool, dude,” Neil said. “Explain though, all I know is a little Photoshop.”

“Well, I do a little bit of everything. I like to do freehand stuff, scan it in, digitally color it,” Andy mumbled while he stared at the big screens. “Just for fun.”

Neil and Hunter began to wonder if Andy, with his almost translucent white skin, ever got outside. Hunter inquired, “What do you draw?”

“Oh, uh…just…” Andy trailed off, changed the subject to the computer, then went back. “People and stuff.”

“People? Do you sit outside and sketch, or something?”

“No, no, I just draw, y’know, men and women.” Mostly men. Okay, all men. The techie was clearly starting to get uncomfortable. “Kind of…images of ideal people. Stuff like that.”

Neil nudged Hunter so deeply in the ribs that Hunter slapped him back on the shoulder. Neil winked and grinned, pulled off his cotton v-neck and walked into the hallway. “I’m gonna whiz. Want a beer, Andy?”

When Andy looked up, he saw Neil Blue shirtless, pecs and biceps popping with veiny muscle, his six-foot-four darkly tanned body shredded into perfect muscle slabs. The blue eyes sparkled, the white teeth shimmered, and the light from outside reflected off of his light blond hair like a halo. And those shoulders! Shoulders like Atlas…

“I…ahhh, uh, ahhh…” DON’T STARE, ANDY. ANSWER. “Uhhh…s-s-sure.”

With a grin and a nod, Neil’s flawlessly V-tapered form swaggered down the hallway.

“Sorry about that, he’s such a fuckin’ weirdo sometimes,” Hunter grinned. “So, you draw, like, masculine and feminine ideals?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it sounds weirder than it is, I promise.” Andy avoided eye contact as he worked.

“So, you draw your idea of a perfect man?”

Damn it, was it that obvious? “Y-yeah.”

Neil re-entered with a beer and plopped it down on the desk next to Andy, who mumbled a “thanks” and tried not to ogle the perfect body exhibited behind him.

“Andy, what if you could design yourself? Make yourself into your idea of a perfect man?”

The geek chortled and stood to re-plug a connector. “There’s not enough surgery in the world, Mr. Hardy.”

“Hunter. And you wouldn’t need any surgery.”

“I’d ask ‘Where do I sign up?’,” Andy laughed. The Internet signal flicked to life, and Andy clapped his hands together. “All fixed.”

“Cool, man. So, you want to design yourself?”

“I, uh…I’m still confused. I don’t know what you mean,” Andy said, his orange brow furrowing in confusion.

Hunter stood. Neil just sat, a smoldering smirk on his face. “Like, say you didn’t like your red hair.”

Andy smiled nervously. “I don’t.”

“Then this is a good example. What color would you make it?”

Andy pretended to think, but he knew exactly. “Brown, like a shade above chocolate.”

All the screens in the room – the computers and the TV – flicked on, displaying a life feed of Andy’s chubby face. “What? How’d that…” He trailed off as his watched the kinky red curls straighten and fall in layers around his face, then darken to a beguiling honey-soaked brown. The hair got wavier, shorter, thicker, until it was only an inch long, neatly cut on his head.

“Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said, too,” Neil said, still smirking as he appeared to give his perfect body the once-over.

“You? Neil Blue? I, I…this is some kind of trick, right?” Andy stuck his hands in his hair and the image onscreen did the same. He could feel how short and dense it was. “How did you--”

“What else would you change about yourself?”

“E-e-everything.” Why was he being so honest? “I don’t really like anything about myself.” He noticed then that his eyebrows were the same shade as his hair, and they had gotten thicker – a lot thicker, but maybe because the hue was so much more darker and noticeable. They had a really nice, straight, masculine shape to them. He looked so much better already.

“So, what first?”

“You promise this isn’t some kind of sick game?” Andy’s face was betraying all of his emotions – lust, desire, fear. “Nobody’s going to pop out with a camera and make fun of me?”

“Nope.” Hunter shrugged. “Not sick. It’s a good game.”

“Then, I would make myself taller. Like, six-foot-two. I…nrrrgh…” He felt a pull on his calves and a heat that rocketed through his skeleton, then the pulling shot through his thighs and his arms and chest, and he doubled over squealing, then popped up and watched helplessly as his body elongated in all directions. He wriggled his fingers as they stretched, then watched the forearms do the same, as if plates of bone were being slid in invisibly. Hunter’s face got closer, then Andy backed away into the desk, giving in to the joy of growing tall.

He braced himself against the desk and panted. It felt like his heart was going to explode, his pulse was racing so fast. “What next, Andy?”

Andy’s mouth was so dry, he could barely talk. Hadn’t he been fixing this guy’s computer like thirty seconds ago? How was this happening… His blue technician’s polo was too small on his stretched frame, and the same went for the standad uniform khakis. He pulled down on them, trying to cover more of his peekaboo body. He looked down frantically, squeaked “Oh my God,” and began to teeter on his longer limbs. “It’s not a trick?! Do I have to sell my soul or something, or am I dreaming? It feels like I’m-”

“You’re not dreaming,” Neil interrupted. “Man, they always ask if they’re dreaming.”

“You did, too, pal.” Hunter turned around and spoke directly to Neil while Andy continued to gawk at his new, tall body.

“I know,” the swimmer demurred. “I’m not saying I’m surprised, just stating the obvious.”

They could all hear Andy’s heavy, labored breathing. “Muscle,” he moaned. “I want muscle. Please, please…please.”

“Oh, really? What kind of muscle? You got your cut muscle, your swollen muscle, your big buff--”

“BIG! Buff and hard. Please. Oh, please. Ohhhhh…ohhhhhhh...OHHHH FFFFFUUU...” He looked down and watched the little tits rise high and proud on his chest, then shoot out as they bloated with muscle, the buttons rapidly exploding off the tightening polo. The collar was pulled apart by a sudden broadening of his shoulders, then the shirt began to tear down the front as the pecs got bigger still. “OHHHH I’M SORRY, I CAN’T HELP, H-H-HELP IT…” Andy’s khakis soaked with cum as his fantasies shot through his mind. He looked down at the double-D pecs peeking through the torn cotton, then flexed them and watched as the bottom rippled, then the top squeezed inward. “They’re so biiiiig.”

With that, they bulged out even further, his chest measurement gaining another inch. “OHHHH, fuck. How big is my chest?!”

“I was thinking you’re six-two, so about 56 inches would be good.”

“56?! 56…ohh, fuck…I’m huge! I’m, I’m, I’m IDEAL.” His eyes darted back and forth between the two other men in the room. “Listen, I’ve studied the ideal fitness body, for my drawings, I, I, I…OHHHH…” He came again, interrupted by the changes in his stomach. The belly quivered like jelly as it got smaller, higher and harder, shrinking into oblivion. The skin tightened and smoothed, as if no gut had ever been there, and then abs erupted outward, as if created by an invisible chisel. Little veins snaked up from the elastic of his underwear, and his ribs widened outward as he appeared to broaden. At the touch, he couldn’t believe, or even understand, how rock-hard his stomach was. “It’s, it’s…”

“…ideal?,” Neil asked with a sly smile.

“Yeah. If my chest is 56 inches, then my waist should be, uh, um…32 inches.”

The abs got tighter, bulging out into a brick road that led down to the future pot of gold in Andy’s khakis, as the obliques became starkly visible on the shrinking waist. “I did 30 inches, actually, makes you look even bigger up top.”

Andy just orgasmed again instead of responding. It looked like he was wearing a ridiculous prosthetic muscle-chest, compared to the slight fat hanging on the rest of his tall body.

The shoulders began to broaden more. His collarbone lengthened, the traps swelled outward and upward, delts blowing outward through the fat and into magnificence. Andy put his hands on his head and tried to control the torrents flowing out of his cock, but when he noticed he could see the tips of his shoulders in his peripheral vision, he began to cum more. “Uunnnghhh, how broad are they?”

“24-and-a-half inches.”

“OHHHHHHHHH…” Andy felt so pumped, so painfully masculine. He felt a cramping in his arms. “Wait, wait! Not too big…the arms, calves and neck are supposed to have the same measurements.”

“How’s 19 inches apiece?” And with that, Andy felt the fat inside him transform into rock-solid muscle. Indentations and peaks and valleys blew into view, as his body quivered with power. His neck cramp and he eased back, trying to stabilize, feeling the beautiful neck muscles and ligaments empower themselves, feeling his calves cramp and then bulge and then cramp some more as they got big. But his arms, his arms were the stars. He heard the sleeves – the last remnants of his polo – rip and tear, as the sexy swoop of his musical-note triceps grew to match the bowling-ball peak of his very large biceps. The forearms grew pumped, swollen, as the skin tightened around them, the tendons snapping and reforming all over his body. His hands grew stronger, and he forced them open painfully before they cramped back into huge fists, straining with veined power. Everything ached. He couldn’t even feel his body anymore, and he crumpled onto his knees, leaving two sweaty marks on the floor from his cum-and-sweat-stained knees.

“God, look at him, he’s looking like a fucking ‘50s bodybuilder, not ‘roided like the guys look now.” Neil said, calmly taking a bite of apple. “Masculine ideal, I guess.”

“Have you heard of Steve Reeves?” Andy moaned, trying to maintain his dignity as he watched his old body disappear. Neil and Hunter shook their heads no. “Uuuuungh, he was the standard…the, the, the OHHHH…”

“Yeah, explain after. This WILL end eventually. Y’know, those arms and neck and calves just need a little bit of an extra kick…” Andy screamed with joy as he grew more. “…there, an extra half-an-inch does so much.”

Andy strained his muscled neck to look at the screens around him. “Oh, God…God…I’m so perfect…” He seemed to radiate with utter glee.

“Not yet. Calves are done, how about the rest of the legs?”

“God, look how big my hands are…” He held up the huge instruments, thick fingers attached to a big palm, and made fists. “Sorry…thighs are, uhhhh….27, 28?”

“28 it is.” And with that, two huge teardrop delineations, huge and proud, burst out of the strained khakis. Andy sat like a limp puppet against the desk, his legs stretched in front of him, merely watching and cumming at the sight of his burgeoning legs. The thighs got bigger, larger, more powerful – and then the muscle shot down into his knees, then all the way down into his feet, even giving him a little triangle-shaped muscle on his two feet that he didn’t know the name of. The feet cracked and grew large, like his hands, into proportionate instruments for his flawless physique. He felt his seat grow higher as his ass grew into a perfect, pert butt, then his pelvis expanded. His boxers grew tighter around his lengthening, erect dick, and the balls dropped low and large inside a big ballsack. The ass grew bigger still, and Andy shifted uncomfortably as the boxers began to tear and he came again. His cock grew long and veiny and beautiful, a foot-long garden hose peeking out of shredded cotton. He felt his body seemingly swell in response to the new dose of testosterone, and he swallowed as he felt his voice drop an octave in pitch and completely lose its nasality. “Ohhh, listen to that – I sound like you…” He wrapped his huge hands around his muscled neck and felt the strong shape of the Adam’s apple, surrounded by the swooping neck muscles. “God, that’s so fucking hot.” The hormones had changed his the short light orange fuzz into short dark brown, bristled stubble, and the short whiskers sounded like sandpaper when he rubbed them.

Andy, and his massively proportioned muscles, lay exhausted wearing only boxers that were overflowing with his huge endowment. He reached up give his impossibly wide shoulders a squeeze, but was blocked by the size of his pecs, which squeezed hopelessly together, the muscles rippling like windblown water. Two big tears were squeezed out of his dull brown eyes. “Thank you…I don’t know why you chose me, but…thank you.”

“Fate brought us together, buddy.” Hunter offered his hand and Andy took it. “It chose you, not me.” Pulling up his six-foot-two, 220 pound body took some work. He had one of the most flawless physiques in the world, classically proportioned in the Grecian style, nearly impossible to have from simple genetics.

“Now, tell me what to do with your face.”

Andy paused. He hadn’t thought about the face. He looked at the images around him, his lily-white muscle body contrasting hilariously with the ultra-nerdy visage. “I…” He stopped and touched his cheeks with his large fingers. “I can’t imagine how different I’ll be.”

“You’ll still be the same ol’ Andrew Carter – what was it? Carver, sorry – underneath. But you have an opportunity that nobody gets but everyone would kill for. You get to design yourself. It’s the new millennium, brother, we make ourselves now.”

Andy’s drawings flashed through his head, the beautifully butch faces he drew coming to life inside his mind. He was going to look like them…be them…a deep-voiced, musclebound hunk…him, him. Andy the Hottie. No way…no way this could be real.

“Can I use your computer?” He turned and saw the way the muscles of his neck and shoulders bulged when he moved. He came at the sight of his own flawlessly built body.

Hunter nodded. Neil just sat, continuously amazed at how effective the applied transformation always was. Save for the face, no trace of the short, geeky shlub was left in the unbelievable man standing before them. When Andy bent over to type, his bubble butt tore right through his boxers. “Sorry…”

“Whatever. You blew wads all over yourself, so you can’t really be embarrassed by anything anymore.”

Andy reached back to cover his ass with his large hand – which took some maneuvering, because his muscles had grown so beautifully large – but he managed, and typed with one hand while maintaining his last shred of dignity.

“There.” He pulled back to reveal a picture of Steve Reeves on the screen, next to one of his facial drawings from his DeviantArt account. The drawing was of a darkly handsome man, Tom of Finland-style, gorgeous like a male ‘50s pin-up.

“Going for the beefcake look, huh?” Neil smiled. “That’s cool, don’t see a lot of that these days. Buff guys usually look more like, uh…”

“…you?” Andy finished the sentence honestly. “You two are held up as the masculine image for this country, don’t deny how hot you both are. I’d like to add a third option to that.”

“Well, yeah.” Neil smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, I guess.”

More tears came down Andy’s face. “Please make me look like these guys,” he said, gesturing to the screen. “I want it so bad.”

“Turn around and look at the screens. Tell me if I’m screwing up.”

Andy turned his tear-stained face around and watched as the last shred of his old physical being became new. “Bye, nose…”

“Oh, so that first? Okay then. Let’s just check out this dude you drew…” Andy watched as the tip of his nose rose prominently, then shrank, as the bridge smoothed and nostrils shrank. The nose lengthened slightly on his face, then squared at the top, as if blasted out of solid stone. “Fuuccckkk, it’s perfect, look at it…”

“That’s a good-lookin’ schnoz, dude,” Neil complimented. “Hunter does good noses. Just a regular Doc Hollywood.”

“Shut up, man,” Hunter laughed. “Okay, now for the rest.”

Andy clamped his eyes shut and breathed deeply. Inside, he was terrified at his fantasy finally happening. This can’t be real…this can’t be real…

He opened them and saw his eyebrows take on a pronounced arch, then drop lower, hovering above his eyes, as the deep brown stubble grew more dense on his face. His eyes shimmered into a dark green that got lighter around the center, with flecks of hazel. They burned holes into the screen, they were so sexy. And his eyes were bigger now, too, sexy bedroom eyelids over the limpid, deceptively innocent-looking saucers.

And suddenly, his face began to shift. The eyes got farther apart, the brows burrowed lower. The lips got wider, then dropped lower as the nose shifted into place and an entirely new face came into view – a handsome face, impossibly so, as his jaw moved forward and down. With a lick of his lips, they grew, plumping. With one thought, a deep cleft appeared in his chin, then that chin became large and square and strong, covered with beautiful brown stubble. His jaw shot outward, the angles hugging the skin so tightly that he couldn’t believe it when he looked. His hairline crawled forward, then the hair grew out, swooping over and back in a homage to the ‘50s pompadour. He set his jaw and grit his teeth, feeling them shift inside his mouth, enlarging behind the sexy mouth. When he looked in the screen, he saw the skin stretch as he moved his jaw back and forth; so tightly was it attached. His cheekbones were last to appear, like two cliffs jutting on the side of his face. And finally, his entire body appeared to radiate. The porcelain skin darkened to a beautifully golden California tan, even over his entire body and supple to the touch. It was perfect skin, like silk draped over his muscles.

It stopped. He stared, enraptured. He was pornographically gorgeous. That was him. The big hand reached up and touched the high cheekbones, then ran down across the chiseled jaw, into the cleft, across his mouth. He sucked on one of his fingers, staring, obsessed.

“Andy? You good with that?”

The technician nodded blankly, feeling his muscles, looking at the unbelievable beauty contained in his face. “My…me. That’s me.” The deep voice wasn’t familiar either. He tilted his head back and slightly squinted his eyes, then pouted his lips, as if he was beginning to approach orgasm. “Ohhhhhh, that’s ME. It actually happened!”

He spun around, eyes wide and pleading. “What do I owe you? How can I ever possibly-”

“Nothing. Dude, I don’t really need anything. I thought you could just use a little help.”

“I…I’m speechless,” Andy whimpered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Most guys who look like you do don’t have to say anything. They just stand there and look awesome and reflect the sun. So, can I set you up with a new job to go with the new bod?”

“I…sure. Yes, please...”

“Close your eyes.”

Andy shut them and felt suddenly weightless, as if he was floating. He felt like he was asleep, or stoned. He heard voices around him but struggled to open his eyes at first, they felt so heavy. “Open…” He swore he heard, but it wasn’t Hunter’s voice. “Water…I think he passed out…no, he’s alright…”

“Whuuuh? Wha…” The beautiful eyes fluttered open and he looked around in stark confusion, and then felt a light spray of water on his face. “What the…I’m up!”

“Drew?” A blonde woman, wearing a tank top and sweats and a headset, leaned in close. “You alright, beautiful? I think you got too hot.”

“I’m fine. Really, I…” Drew – he always liked that more than Andy – looked down and saw the tight leather briefs around his bulging meat, the leather sandals wrapped around his large feet, big golden plates covering his shins and forearms. He touched the cool gold necklace that lay in between his pecs, then felt the itchy red cloth clasped around his impossibly broad shoulders.

Oh, how he knew that outfit well.

“Drew? Drew, you alright?”

Drew Carver just sat, gaping at his perfect body, dressed like a Spartan soldier. He flicked his gaze back up to the assistant and smiled the winning movie-star smile.

“I’m on set, right? For the sequel?” He laughed and touched the necklace again, refusing to believe. “I’m in the sequel!”

“Uh, yes, Drew. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ve never felt better. I just had to lay down for a second, it’s been a really long day.” He smiled, then shook his head slightly. “Just the fight left for today, yeah?” Thank God, no lines, because I don’t know them. But I know the fight choreography…

“Yeah, the car’s already waiting to take you home once you’re done and cleaned up from that.” The assistant stood and laboriously handed Drew his shield and helmet.

“Hey, before I put on the helmet, could you hand me my phone? I need to use it for a second.”

“How did u know about me and 300?,” he texted to Hunter, then flipped his helmet on. His phone buzzed.

“U left ur art stuff on my computer. I C all, lol. break a leg. not literally tho in that fight.”

Drew smiled and handed the phone back to his assistant. Then he took a long, hard stare at her. Smolder gun, set to stun.

“Drew?” She met his intense gaze. “What?”

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” He walked right up to her and pulled her down on his lap. Normally, he knew this would be a bad idea, but he was such a sexually-charged being that women expected it from him. “You have the prettiest little face.”

“Drew, Drew…not now.” She tried to resist, but his body, his face, his scent. He was the whole package. Maybe five men on earth were as beautiful as he was. “Drew…”

“Ten minutes in my trailer. They won’t know we’re gone.” He bit his lip and widened the famous eyes.

She looked down at the masterful body, at the well-stubbled square jaw. Eat your hear out, Brad Pitt.

“Okay. This is so sudden…,” she giggled. “Aren’t you bisexual? I thought you were only fucking guys--”

“Oh, babe, I can get it up for you just fine. I like sex. I’m not picky about it.” Drew loved hearing the words come out of his mouth, and he loved that he could physically back them up. This was going to be fine, just fine.

Especially since he started production on the big-budget Hercules reboot right after he wrapped this movie…

---------

“Well, that was nice.” Hunter stretched out and checked his e-mail.

“Mmmm, you know what’s funny? You can fix your Internet with a thought. I think YOU just wanted to make someone’s life a little brighter.” Neil raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I know you too well.”

“Guilty as charged. I do that on occasion. But watching you get all excited when he showed up was hilarious.”

“Shut the fuck up. You know how I am!” Neil smiled. “‘Consider me your benefactor,’ blah blah blah. You love this shit, don’t deny it!” Neil’s cell phone rang. “Hey, Mel. Yeah, yeah, baby, I was just leaving.”

Neil continued talking as he swigged the last sip of delicious, forbidden beer, and waved goodbye to Hunter. “See you later,” he mouthed delicately as he slipped on his hoodie.

Hunter smiled. That one had been worth it, for sure. He read the last text – “Thank u – can’t say it enough. Will call later.”

With that, Hunter stood up and grabbed a tape measure, and headed to the bathroom to get a few stats he had never given thought to before.

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