Fantasy 2 (mc musc)
by Derek Williams
It was about 3 PM on a Thursday afternoon when Trent let his mind wander for a minute. He tried to stay focused, but when you’re in love with a guy like Pete it’s hard not to think about him every once in a while.
You’d be in love with Pete too, if you’re ever lucky enough to get close to him. He’s got this scent that just drives you nuts. I’ve seen straight dudes rethink their sexuality based off of standing too close to Pete in the grocery store aisle. His 6’1” hot jock frame, pale blue eyes, and perfectly messy blonde hair doesn’t give them much reason to stay away.
Trent had every reason to be in love with Pete. Between modeling jobs and high-priced hookups he occasionally sleeps with Trent for only a few thousand dollars a night. If that’s blowing your mind, you should know that he charges five figures for any other guy who wants him badly enough.
You might be catching on that Pete isn’t Trent’s boyfriend or anything like that, but he still gave Trent a discount. After all, Trent made Pete the man he is today.
A few months ago, Pete was better known as “Peter”. He was this fat little twerp working a minimum wage mailroom job at Trent’s office. Peter got Trent to come home with him one afternoon and had gotten Trent horny with a fantasy about a total stud of a jock named Pete.
The really special part about Trent? His sexual fantasies always come true. When he sees a tough looking marine flying home for leave, all Trent has to do is imagine it, and pretty soon the marine is on his knees in a bathroom stall, sucking him dry and begging for more. When he see’s a loser twerp and imagines that he’s actually a buff porn model, well...
Peter took Trent home to a dingy apartment, but by the time he left Pete was a famous model with a downtown penthouse.
These days, Trent tends to ramble a bit when he talks about Pete. He’d been with a lot of guys, but I don’t think he was ever really in love until Peter came along and used him to become Pete.
Like I was saying, it was about 3 PM on a Thursday afternoon when Trent let his mind wander for a minute.
That particular Thursday afternoon, he was thinking how great it would be if Pete came to see him for once, just as a surprise. He’d decide he had to see Trent on a whim, and no matter how many hot and horny guys he saw, he’d know that he was coming for Trent alone.
Trent brushed off the thought quickly and tried to get back to work. Pete was far too busy with his important life to interrupt it for him.
* * *
Pete was taking the afternoon off, naked and sunbathing on the chaise lounge he kept on his patio. His skin bronzed easily and Pete was enjoying the time away from his hectic schedule. Just him, a cold bottle of beer, and tunes cranked through his outrageously expensive stereo.
His cell phone chimed next to him. “Hello?”, Pete answered. The call display claimed it was his agent.
“Pete! Tell me you don’t have plans. I’ve lined up this amazing shoot, but the photographer’s only in town tonight.”
“Can’t do it then. I’m just headed out the door to see Trent.”
That was odd, thought Pete. He hadn’t been planning to go see Trent, but at the moment it seemed like the thing to say.
His agent put up a good argument, but two minutes later Pete had slipped into a pair of slacks and a well-fitted t-shirt. Going to see Trent would make a great afternoon.
Just then his doorbell rang. Pete wanted to ignore it, but he needed to get out that door anyhow so he swing it open and said “Yes?”
“Delivery for Pete Winters,” the deliveryman held out a package as Pete’s aroma washed over him. Neither of them knew it, but Trent’s innocent fantasy was already playing out, making the men around Pete both hot and horny.
Before the door opened, the deliveryman had been almost fifty years old, still in reasonable shape but carrying a few pounds and starting to go a little bald. The moment the door opened he felt the uniform start to bind up against his tight pecs. Which was weird, since he didn’t have tight pecs.
The deliveryman felt his body spasm suddenly. He felt himself being moulded by Trent's fantasy, his pecs pushing against his uniform shirt, popping the first two buttons right off. His biceps and triceps squeezing out of the constricting short sleeves. His ass felt like it was being violently grabbed as it rounded out and tried to burst out of his khaki shorts. The deliveryman's hair went jet black and gelled itself up into short spikes. His skin got smoother, looking more like he was in his early twenties than his late forties.
Pete knew this had to be Trent's doing, so he'd make sure to mention it when he got over there. "Excuse me," he said to the deliveryman, "I'm just headed out now."
The deliveryman gripped his rapidly hardening cock through the rough fabric of his uniform shorts. "Didn't you hear me sir? I've got a package for Pete Winters." As he heard himself say the words, the deliveryman looked shocked. Pete stepped around the confused man and called for the elevator. When Pete stepped into the elevator, the deliveryman found himself following.
Pete looked at the poor guy in sympathy. Every so often, Trent fantasized some random guy into this for him, but honestly how many stereotypical fantasies can you have before it stops being fun? "Look," said Pete, "it will all go a lot better if you just accept it."
The deliveryman gave him one last fleeting look of confusion, then something seemed to pass over his face and his expression shifted to extreme horniness.
"Please sir, I need you to accept my package." He thrust his hips towards Pete, hoping he’d understand just how much he needed Pete to take advantage of him.
The deliveryman followed Pete out through his building lobby. Pete signaled the security guard by the door to come over and help get this guy off his back. He was busy this afternoon. He had to see Trent.
As soon as the security guard got within six feet, he felt something come over him. "Yes Mr. Winters, what can I do for you?"
Pete looked on in despair as his building security guard started to change too. His soft gut, the result of too many days sitting in a chair eating donuts, melted away until his uniform shirt hung loose and baggy. His ill fitting pants stuck out oddly as his legs reformed into powerful and muscular pistons. Even under the baggy shirt, Pete could see the hints of a wide chest and intimidating shoulders.
The deliveryman flashed a grin at the guard. "I've got this package to deliver to Mr. Winters," he thrust out his hips so the guard could have a good look.
The security guards uniform started to change, tucking itself in and letting itself out in all the right places to show off his new build. Under the thin cotton, Pete could see a pair of nipples becoming hard. Pete hurried off, leaving the guard to deal with the deliveryman.
"I'm sorry," the guard said, "it looks like Mr. Winters is in a hurry to get somewhere. Maybe I could accept that package on his behalf."
The two men stepped closer.
* * *
Pete darted down a side street. He could tell that Trent had fantasized something about him being accosted by horny guys, but that couldn’t get in the way of him seeking out Trent. Pete figured that if he just avoided guys until he could get to Trent’s office, there’d be less trouble.
That didn’t mean there would be *no* trouble. In the distance, Pete saw a cop strolling down the street towards him. He was an older, serious looking guy with a runners build and a spit ‘n polish uniform.
‘I should just avoid him, I’ll see Trent faster that way,’ thought Pete. He ducked into an dead end alley and waited for the cop to pass.
The cop saw him and got curious. He followed Pete into the alley, just to make sure he wasn’t trying to burgle a condo. You could never trust those young people. The moment he rounded the corner, he saw Pete.
His cock went ramrod hard for the first time in years. He took a deep breath in, and when he breathed out he found that his chest had stayed just a little bigger than before.
Another breath, and it started to push at his small uniform shirt.
“Is there a problem officer?”, Pete asked the cop. He could see the mans gray hair starting to go a deep brown and his skin smooth out and become a deep tan color.
The cop stood there looking confused. He knew he should answer this stud, but he just couldn’t get his thoughts in line. Suddenly his hand shot back and started scratching his rear.
“Oh god, it itches,” he scratched furiously. A look of urgency replaced the one of confusion and he tore at the fabric, trying to relieve the itch. Moments later, the cop ripped off his belt and lowered his pants. He turned and exposed his hungry ass to Pete.
“Please,” he begged, “stick your cock in me and make it stop.” The cop didn’t know why, but he knew a mans hard cock coating his insides with cum would make the terrible itching stop.
He breathed in and out frantically, adding a little to his measurements every time.
Pete looked at the man. In half a minute, he had turned from an old thin cop into a thick young buck who desperately needed to get stuffed with dick.
At just that moment, a twenty-something man in a baggy hoodie and ripped up jeans came around the corner. He had a spray paint can in his hand and looked like he was ready to tag the alley. “What the hell?” he shouted.
Then he saw Pete standing there with the needy cop. He went urgently hard, and his body started changing to fulfill Trent's innocent fantasy too. His short cropped hair grew out suddenly, cascading to a wavy shoulder length in seconds. While that happened, his hoodie and jeans shrank into a form fitting sleeveless workout hoodie and a pair of running shorts. His limbs ballooned with well toned muscle and a slight sheen of sweat emerged onto his sunbaked skin.
“Please, I need it so bad!” the cop whimpered. He pulled his nightstick from his belt and tried to maneuver it towards his hole.
“Why aren’t you helping him?”, the former hoodlum ran over to the cop and dropped his shorts. He lined up his desperately hard cock and plunged it between the cops firm cheeks. Instantly, both of them breathed out in relief before settling into a rhythmic fuck. The sex seemed to stop the cops growth and settled his itch, at least for the moment.
Pete breathed a sigh of relief too. He could get on with his day and go see Trent now.
* *
When Pete arrived at Trent’s office, it was about five-thirty, and most of the lights were off. Pete tried to sneak in quietly, hoping that Trent might still be burning the midnight oil, when he saw his old boss approaching him from down the hallway.
“Hey, Pete!” the man cried out. “Here to see your little buddy Trent?” He slapped Pete on the shoulder and started to change.
Pete’s old boss had always been a big guy, and over the years had spent his fair share of time at the gym to turn his bulk into muscle. Now it was all draining away. Pete watched him lose height until he stood only 5 feet tall. His bulky body quickly dwindled down to a slim hundred pounds.
While he shrunk, his clothes kept pace. His button down shirt looked like it was being sucked in close to his body, becoming clingy and stretchy, losing it’s buttons and arms. It’s color fading from a deep blue into a glittery pink, it turned into a babydoll T that hugged against his small rounded pecs and willowy trunk. Meanwhile his dress pants shrank down into a pair of white jeans that showed off the newly minted twinks tight ass and flexible body. White sneakers completed the look.
Confusion passed off his face. “You know Pete, Trent’s not here, but you can bend me over his desk anytime you want,” purred the former bodybuilder.
“Uh, I gotta go,” Pete backed towards the elevator.
“Come-on hun, you can’t leave me here all alone. I’m soooo horny for your cock.”
The elevator doors slid open, and two night janitors walked in past Pete. He darted for the elevator, watching the dirty old men balloon out of their uniforms as the door closed. Even from the lobby, Pete could hear the former bodybuilders moans as the janitors-turned-musclemen skewered him from both ends.
‘Damn,’ thought Pete, ‘If only Trent hadn’t fantasized...whatever he fantasized, I’d have found him already.’
* *
Trent’s apartment was only a couple of stops away on the subway. Normally Pete would take a cab, but he had the suspicion that whatever cabbie he got would just pull over and beg for cock.
The platform was deserted after the evening rush, and Pete jumped into an empty car. He leaned his head against the wall and listened to the train burrow it’s way through the city. Only one more stop until he found Trent.
The trains doors hissed open, and Pete saw two men walk in, unlucky passengers for the last leg of his trip. They couldn’t be more different. The older one was an uptight looking businessman with a three piece suit and an expensive briefcase. The younger man was a college aged punk, with his sloppily dyed hair glued up into liberty spikes.
They both froze and looked at Pete with conflicted expressions as they entered the car. The executive’s briefcase hit the floor with a dull thud.
The executive began to look younger, his receded hairline once again becoming full. His vest and suit jacket faded away, and his dress pants morphed into well fitted denim that showed off an incredible ass. His shirt untucked itself in a carefully sloppy way, and his tie narrowed from a power tie into a thin red strip.
His hair styled itself into a hipster combover, spilling down over his now young forehead. Worry lines faded, replaced by a shit-eating grin and a devilish look in his eye.
At the same time, the punks clothing shed its accumulated dirt, and his neglected body tightened up. Rounded muscles and tanned skin now burst forth from a set of clothing that could only have been purchased at Hot Topic. His mohawk shrank down to a set of one inch spikes and deepened to a carefully maintained blue.
His expression shifted from cynical to confused, then to ambitious and horny. The former executive followed suit. To Pete, it looked like both of them had morphed into boyband-esque parodies of their former lives.
“Hey, you’re Pete Winters, right?” said the preppy hipster. “I’m, like, your biggest fan.”
The pop-punk guy got into it too. “Dude, it’d be fuckin’ sweet if I could suck you off. Please?” He flashed a charming little grin.
Pete didn’t have time for that. The train was slowing and he had to go see Trent today.
“Sorry guys, some other time,” Pete said as he fled the train.
The doors hissed shut behind him. By the time the train pulled from the station, the punk was down on his knees, licking enthusiastically up and down the former executives shaft.
* *
“Pete,” Trent grinned. “Did we get our wires crossed man? I don’t have the money to pay you again yet.”
“Hey,” said Pete, stepping inside and pulling off his t-shirt, “can’t a guy pay a courtesy call to his buddy every so often?”
“And by courtesy call you mean booty call, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Pete stripped Trent of his shirt and went to work.
END