Transform: Muscle City 17

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“I found a Penthouse magazine in my garage!”

“Your dad’s?” The other boy grinned and nodded vigorously. “You stole it?”

“Borrowed it,” he answered defensively. “He’s got tons. He won’t miss it. I dug into the pile and….”

“Pile? There was a whole pile?”

“Tons,” he repeated.

“Where…?”

“In my backpack.”

“You brought it to school?”

“‘Course.”

“Cool.”

“What’re you guys….?”

“Steve brought a Penthouse to school,” Nick explained.

“Shut up! You want everybody to hear?”

“A Penthouse?”

“Porn? Naked chicks? Pussy? Any of that ring a bell, Billy?”

“Oh, shit,” Billy Titus answered, honestly shocked. “You can’t….”

“Wanna see it?”

“No,” Billy answered. His friends scowled at him oddly. Then he quickly added, “Not here.” They were standing in a school hallway near the lockers.

“Lunch. Outside. The football field,” Steve, their leader, ordered.

“Excellent,” Nick agreed, grinning widely.

Billy sucked in a long breath and sighed.

Billy wrapped Magnus in his embrace and held him tightly. Their lips were locked together. Billy was kissing Magnus with deep and penetrating love.

Magnus opened himself to the older man, and watched.

 

They already had the magazine open and were staring at a folded out page when Billy finally appeared. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his head down. There were at least a dozen guys there, and he knew them all.

Including Mark, the captain of the baseball and football teams. He was larger than the others, and was wearing his usual red cap over his blonde hair. He was in the center, holding the magazine.

And he had a hard-on in his faded blue jeans.

Why was he here? Mark, the beautiful boy. Mark, the perfect boy. Mark who was too cool to hang out with any clique because he was his own clique. Mark of the golden tanned skin and the waves of soft brown hair and the dark, smoldering eyes. Mark of the quick smile and the soft lips and the ass, the ass, the ass that would not quit.

Mark was here.

Mark had a raging, throbbing, obvious hard-on.

Billy glanced away from the other boy’s crotch quickly, his face coloring and a sting of fear and shame rising in him strongly.

 

Magnus stood beside him. “You like him,” he observed.

“No, I don’t,” 14-year-old Billy protested.

"Wow," Magnus observed, "people honestly used to dress like that?" He turned and narrowed his eyes, looking at Billy. "You're still fucking cute though. Just need a better haircut. What year is this?"

"1983," Billy answered. He was already trembling. He was already scared.

Magnus held his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, softly. “You’re okay.”

 

“Titus! Yo! Where you been, sucking someone’s dick again!”

“Oh, ha ha, Jackson,” someone else - it sounded like Nick - said.

Mark was watching him approach and shifted his chin in a nodded greeting. Mark was always pretty nice. Mark was always friendly.

 

“He’s ridiculously hot,” Magnus said. "I'd let him fuck me."

“Shut up,” Billy answered.

The two of them walked towards the circle of boys.

 

Some of them were visibly uncomfortable, tugging and shoving at their crotches to gain some room for their overactive teenaged male libidos. Some had glazed eyes as they looked down at the magazine. Others had torn pages in their hands, crumpled and well-handled, probably ripped from its pages. “S’up, Titus?”

He shrugged. “Lemme see,” he said with feigned enthusiasm.

One of the guys - Harrison - stepped next to him and showed him a full-color, glossy image of a naked woman. She was looking directly at him with her legs open. Her breasts were ponderous, huge, heavy round things capped with enormous dark nipples. Her face was smeared with lots of make-up and she had one hand down on her pussy, opening her lips for him. “Wow,” he said.

“I know, right?” Harrison agreed, lustily. “I’d fuck her so hard.”

“You’d take one look at her and faint,” someone else joked. “And she’d never let you near her with your limp dick, anyway.”

“I ain’t limp at the moment, shithead,” Harrison argued, grabbing himself. Billy looked down. He could see Harrison’s cock shift and push against his denim. Indeed, he was nowhere near limp.

But Billy was.

 

“She’s pretty,” Magnus said, looking over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, looking at the woman and trying to feel what the others felt.

“Nice pussy,” Magnus said.

“Yeah,” Billy answered, looking at Harrison’s bulge.

 

“Billy! Hey, Titus! You gotta see the centerfold! C’mere!” Steve called to him. Billy looked up. Steve was standing next to Mark, who was staring intently at the open magazine in his large hands. There were a half-dozen guys crowded around him for a look at the goods. Billy attempted to smile and nod and walked in closer to the pack.

 

“You’re okay,” Magnus said.

“I’m scared,” he answered as they walked.

“What are you scared of?”

“Being found out.”

“That you’re gay,” Magnus said. Not a question.

Billy’s body went cold. His mouth went dry. He wanted to run away, but then everyone would wonder - or know. They all joked about each other being faggots. You were a fag if you didn’t get the joke. You were a fag if you didn’t drink the beer. You were a fag if you didn’t cheer at the game.

You were a fag if you didn’t fit in.

You were a fag.

Magnus’s hand was on Billy’s neck and he squeezed. “You’re okay.”

 

Magnus’s hand was on Billy’s neck and he squeezed.

 

Mark looked up as Billy approached. “Hey, Titus.”

“Hey, Morrison,” he answered to the jock. Mark used everyone’s last name, so they all used his. Mark was smiling as he held the magazine towards Billy. Mark had a huge hard-on in his pants. It was practically pushing through his zipper and he just stood there with it, not even caring.

Because he was looking at a naked woman in a magazine surrounded by other guys all looking at naked women. Of course they had hard-ons. Mark probably walked around naked in the showers all the time. Not like Billy, who sometimes didn’t even take a shower.

Not with the other guys around, at least.

He looked down at pages that were unfolded and spilled open before him. Another woman with even bigger tits and more make-up on her pretty face. She would be pretty, Billy thought. Maybe even beautiful. Except for all that make-up.

She was holding one breast in her hand and licking her own nipple, which seemed weird. He’d never considered that women did that, but maybe that’s why they had such big breasts. Her hair was red and curly and very long, except the hair around her pussy was dark. There was a lot of hair around her pussy. She was opening her legs as she licked her nipple.

And Billy felt nothing. Nothing at all. Curiosity, maybe, at that fact. Why didn’t he feel anything? And what did it feel like, to just look at a picture of any naked woman and feel...whatever Mark and his hard-on was feeling.

Billy was looking down at the picture in silence, searching for something inside him - anything at all - that he could feel about it.

“Fuckin’ nice, right?” Someone jostled his body to look at her. He could feel the other boy’s heat against his skin. “Fuckin’ nice,” he repeated, almost worshipfully.

Billy wondered if the woman in the picture liked what she was doing. He wondered when he would find the woman that did for him what her image was doing for every other guy around him.

 

“You’re okay,” Magnus said.

“I’m a freak.”

“We’re all freaks,” Magnus agreed. “I bet your friend Steve there is into watching dogs fuck. Maybe Nick likes watching women throwing food at each other, rubbing banana cream pies into her crack and licking it out. Everyone’s a freak.” He kissed his cheek. “You’re okay. You’re actually pretty great.”

“Don’t….”

 

“Don’t…,” Billy said, looking down.

“Yeah, I’d fuck her so hard.”

“You’ve never fucked anyone,” someone else suggested.

“Shut up, faggot,” was the retort.

Billy tried not to show that he felt anything from the rebuke, even though it wasn’t aimed at him. He kept looking at the naked woman and kept not getting hard. Morrison took the magazine back and flipped it around to look at it, saying, “I gotta jerk off.”

“Now?”

“Here?”

“Who the fuck’s gonna care?” Mark asked. He tucked the magazine under his arm as he set his hands to his belt and undid his buckle. It sounded loud in Billy’s ears as he could not stop watching what Morrison was doing. Then he was pulling open his snug, well-fitting button-fly 501’s exposing a pair of clean, white Y-front underwear. His cock jumped forward and for a moment Billy thought it was going to rip itself free.

 

“Well, that’s just not fair,” Magnus observed. “Are you sure about this one? Something tells me he wanted to whip it out for you more than you wanted to see him whip it out.”

Billy was silently staring at Mark as he dug his thumbs along his slim hips and started to work his shorts down his body.

“See? Now who does that? Why doesn’t he just dig around in there and pull it out? What’s with the show?”

“Stop,” Billy whispered.

 

“Stop,” Billy whispered.

Mark was looking down at himself as he shoved his shorts off his stiff prick. It bounced up hard, fully engorged and shiny. He had a cut dick and the head was smeared with precum and it started to swell as he released himself.

He was huge. He was fucking beautiful. Suddenly, Billy imagined taking Mark’s prick into his mouth to suck on it. He wanted to lick him, and grasp him, and stroke him, and hear him groaning and jerking as he came.

Then Mark Morrison handed the magazine to Billy and instructed him to, “Hold this.” Billy held the magazine in both hands, opening the centerfold for Mark to look at.

Some of the other boys were looking around to see if anyone was watching or coming near. Others were looking at the centerfold and a couple were even pulling their own dicks out, now, and their breathing turned harsh and shallow. They formed a semi-circle in front of Billy, who was holding the show for them.

Billy looked at Mark’s face. He was scowling as he stared at the open magazine. He lifted his hand to his mouth and spat in his palm, then set his slick fist to his hard-on and stroked himself with determination and familiarity.

Some of the guys made furtive comparative glances at Mark’s hard-on for comparison and from curiosity. Others simply stared at the centerfold in Billy’s hands, refusing any hint that they wanted to see anything other than the naked woman.

Billy was looking away, staring sideways or down, anywhere but at Mark’s face. He could not see the other boy’s cock but, when a couple of his classmates allowed small whispers of “Fuck,” and “Jesus,” from their astonished mouths, his imagination started running wild. He was getting even bigger. Every stroke, every jerk, Mark’s cock was swelling larger and larger.

And his cock started to swell, too.

‘Not now,’ he pleaded. ‘Please, god, not now.’

 

“Not now.”

“Fuck,” Magnus said. “I can see why this one is stuck in your head, Dark God. I think I’d be Kinsey Six if I had to go to school with this dude hauling out that shank of meat at every opportunity.” Magnus squeezed Billy’s neck again. “You’re doing all right,” he said, softly. “You’re great, Billy. You’re fucking amazing.”

“Jesus…”

 

“Jesus,” Billy whispered.

Then he heard Mark make a sound. A small, deep grunt. It seemed to strike something inside him, something feral, something primal. He looked up.

Mark was staring at Billy. Mark was staring at Billy’s face. No one else could see it. Everyone else was watching the magazine, or Mark’s slow, masterful stroking along his meat, or they were concentrating on their own pleasures or making sure no one was coming.

Right there on the football field, in the middle of a dozen of his friends. Right there in the open, under a blue sky with a warm wind. Right there, Mark was looking into Billy’s face, into Billy’s eyes, and jerking off.

And Mark was smiling.

Billy’s cock bulged and throbbed and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Oh god,” he said softly. Barely a whisper.

And Mark Morrison nodded.

 

“Oh god,” Billy moaned. Then he kissed Magnus harder, deeper, with more passion than ever.

Magnus kissed him back, pulled him inside, drinking his fire.

 

Billy’s cock bulged. Bigger and bigger. The slick wet sounds of Mark stroking his huge dick. Billy swallowed drily and closed his eyes. ‘Don’t look at him,’ he thought. ‘Don’t look at him and it’ll go away.’

Mark grunted again. The same call to Billy’s desire, and Billy’s dick pulsed hard and pushed at its denim prison painfully.

Harder and harder. His cock was pushing out.

Everyone was going to know.

 

“That’s your fear,” Magnus said. “That everyone would know who you really were.”

“Yes,” Billy said. His teeth were clenched and his eyes were closed and his dick was rock hard.

“And what would happen if they knew, Billy?”

“They would hate me.”

“What else?”

“Everyone would hate me.”

“And what else?”

“And I’d be alone.”

Alone.

Alone.

 

“Open your eyes.”

“Open your eyes.”

Billy opened his eyes. Carl was standing there, looking at him, and love was pouring out of him. Carl, more beautiful than any man, more true and honest, protecting him, relying on him, trusting him.

Carl was there.

Carl.

“Carl,” he said. Then Billy was wrapping his lover inside his embrace and holding him tight, tighter, and kissing his mouth deep, deeper.

Carl was there.

Carl would always be there.

And Trevor.

And Raul.

And Brian and Scott and Derek and a dozen, dozens, hundreds of other men were there.

He wasn’t alone.

He’d never be scared of being alone again.

“Carl,” he said, holding his lover’s face and looking into his green eyes. “I love,” he said with terrible desire. “I love you so much.”

Carl beamed with pride and happiness and love. “I love you, too, you stupid fucker.” Then they were kissing again.

“Not bad,” Trevor observed, nudging Magnus.

The small red-haired young man nodded. “Not bad,” he agreed.

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