Standing there in the surf, suddenly Russ was overwhelmed with conflicted emotions. No one had ever controlled him, not even his parents. He couldn't deny that he was turned on, standing in the surf, flexing muscular arms that somehow had just ballooned with muscle, wearing a barely-there posing suit, and yet, even as his dick was starting to get hard from how good and sexy he felt, he was sure that he didn't necessarily like where this might be going, and he definitely didn't like liking something that he shouldn't be liking.
He dropped to his knees in the surf, trying to look for all the world as though he were playing in the waves, when, in reality, he wanted to get the fact that he was boning up under the water, hoping it would go away and he could walk back onto the beach and back to the apartment.
"What the fuck are you guys doing to me?" he asked Jake and Brent, standing on either side of him, grinning at him, at his sudden return to total awareness of who and where he was.
"You really should have had a little closer communication with your dad," Jake said.
"Well, why don't you just tell me then?"
Russ' anger made his dick go soft.
"Okay, Russ. I'll let Brent help you with that. Brent?"
Brent knelt down in the surf by Russ.
"Look at me, Russ. Turn and look at me." Russ did as he was told, defiantly, but he did it. "Now, I want you to close your eyes. Close them. Feel the surf pull you and push you and let each wave send you deep, deep, deeper still. Good. Now I'm going to say your name and you will open your eyes. When you open your eyes, you will remember everything. It will be okay to remember everything. All right, open your eyes, Russell."
Russ opened his eyes, and he did remember everything. The shots, the hypnosis while he was "sick," the telephone conversations between Jake and his dad, the suggestions that when he heard himself called "muscleboy," he would go into a semi-hypnotic state where he would be uncontrollably aroused by the transformation they were making him undergo with this experimental medicine, that he would slowly merge into that personality, which also happened to be gay and totally ruled by inexhaustible sexual energy and drive. He would become a muscle toy. He would be turned into a massively muscular guy, and his muscle would be a pure expression of his masculine sexuality, as much as his cock and balls, which would also grow from this medicine, and the more growth he showed, the more extreme his change became, the more completely it would become an erotic display for pure sexual enjoyment, his own and any other guys that he turned on. And the more he changed, the more he would love the changes as his personality merged into the muscleboy, the huge, hot musclefag, totally queer massive muscle guy, in love with muscle, cock, balls, manhair, mansex, everything male, obsessed with the pleasure of homoerotic physicality exploding with muscle, huge, thick, massive, bulging muscle.
Oh yeah, he remembered it all. Kneeling in the surf, all eyes on him, he remembered everything. Sold out by his own dad. How sick was that? And big handsome hero, Uncle Jake, using him like some kind of queer sex toy. He was so angry he wanted to scream, but that wasn't his style. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw muscles flexed. Only Jake and Brent saw how his squared, muscular jaw flexing made him look twice as devastating.
"Fuck you," he said almost under his breath. "Fuck you both to hell."
He got up and strode from the water across the beach.
All eyes on the beach followed him as he stormed toward the apartment. He tried not to pay any attention, but he couldn't help hear the admiring comments and a few whistles. He couldn't shake his hyper-self-awareness, the feel of the muscle on his tall, reshaped frame, especially the thickness of upper arms colliding with broadened lats and muscular thighs set into narrow hips rubbing together, bouncing the heavy package that he knew was barely contained by the ridiculous, tiny, wet, clinging posing suit. If his anger and pride allowed, he could almost have stopped to let the horny queers that seemed so turned on by him get a good look, hit a pose or two, make them cream their Speedos, but he was way too mad, and he wasn't about to let that go.
He slammed the apartment door. He went to the refrigerator, got out a beer, and chugged it. Beer ran down his face and chest. He crushed the can with one hand and tossed it hard into the trash. He ripped a paper towel from the roll to wipe off the beer, and as he did, he felt the thick wide pecs he'd grown from that fucking medicine. Oh, yeah, those guys all loved his pecs. With his memory intact now, he saw himself posing and flexing, naked and hard, acting like the total muscle fag they wanted him to be. Pissed him off. Pissed him off big time. Talk about taking advantage. Shit, he was only eighteen. But damn if his cock wasn't getting hard again.
He threw away the paper towel, and rubbed his hand over his torso. He couldn't deny that he looked good. His abs were so much more defined. He'd definitely got back his jock boy look, and then some--taller, longer legs, natural great V shape. He flexed an arm and felt the muscle. It really was pretty fucking hot having bis that mounded up like a muscle guy's, and opposing tris that gave his arm more shape than he'd ever had. And he did have a stronger sense of his own masculinity, or maybe it was more his male sexuality that he felt now, just plain studliness. Any girl would get wet panties over him now. He imagined himself stripping to a poser like this one at a club like Chippendale's, the women going crazy over his body. Yeah, that's how he looked now. That was cool.
He went into the bathroom to look in the mirror, to see himself through their eyes. He faked some dancing and stripped off the suit. He was totally hard again. Yeah, okay, he thought, this is a turn on. His dick was bigger, and his nuts were, too, and hung lower. He had quite the package. He stroked his cock as he alternately flexed for himself and felt his chest and stomach. His cock was big and heavy in his hand. Was that supposed to make him feel like more of a man. Oh, yeah, fuck 'em all, it did, it felt hot as shit. He probably had close to a niner, and a thick one, too. Okay, he'd get over it. It felt hot, it was cool, just no more, just no muscle fag so huge he looks like a total freak, but this, this . . . oh, yeah. He came.
"So," Jake's voice behind him startled him, "I guess you don't hate it all that much."
"Fuck you, Uncle Jake."
"I'd love that, muscleboy. You want to? You want to shove that big cock in my muscle ass, muscleboy?"
Russ stood there, looking in the mirror, cum all over his hand and the sink, his model-handsome, overbuilt uncle standing behind him grinning, naked, and totally hard, and he fought the feelings he got when he heard himself being called muscleboy. He knew what it was all about now. He knew that word was supposed to make him think like the muscleboy they wanted to make him into. He was Russ. He was a UCLA freshman. He just was living with his gay bodybuilder uncle. That didn't mean he had to go along with the "program" they'd drilled into his head with all those drugs and hypnosis. He didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do. And he didn't want to be turned into some faggot so massive with muscles he looked like a total freak. He didn't want to be turned on by huge muscles and showing off and being used like some kind of trashy, sleazy sex toy for a bunch of musclebound fags. But damn if he wouldn't like to get those muscles in his hands and stick his cock into Jake right now.
"And what if I did?" he came back, defiantly.
"Well, then you'd have to come out here and take me like a man, muscleboy." And Jake turned and went back into the living room.
Brent was there, sitting on the sofa, preparing a syringe.
"What's he doing here?"
"Why shouldn't he be? This is my place, boy. You can pitch a fit and act like a little boy, but that doesn't mean my buddy and I have to be sissies like you."
"I'm not takin' any more of that shit."
"Who said you had to?"
"Then what's he doing?"
"You're not the only guy in love with his muscles, muscleboy. Only some of us aren't afraid of admitting it. You got that ready, Brent?"
"Great. Stick me, man."
Jake walked over to the sofa and offered Brent his ass cheek. Brent swiped it with alcohol, jabbed in the syringe, and emptied it. Then Jake held the small piece of cotton in place while Brent prepared another syringe.
"You see, muscleboy? Bigger muscles, bigger dicks, all the more fun to be men with."
Brent took the syringe he'd just filled and jabbed it into his own hip.
Russ watched, silently freaking. He couldn't believe they were both giving themselves that shit. No matter how much he wanted to scream at them again, he couldn't do it. His cock was so hard it hurt, and he needed release again, he needed sex. He couldn't hide his feelings, and he couldn't hide from them, either. Maybe he didn't want to be turned into their freak, but to see them doing it without him made him mad and jealous, and that freaked him even more. But he would not, could not say anything or go along with it.
Jake walked past him to the kitchen, and as he passed, he flicked Russ' big boner so it slapped back and forth, sending shock waves of erotic sensation through him, but Jake didn't even look at him. He went and got a beer for himself and one for Brent.
"Have a beer, man," he said. handing one to his buddy. "That shit should hit pretty fast. Then we can have some fun. Maybe the muscleboy will even want to join us."
"Nah," Brent said, his voice taunting, "he's too skinny, man. I like muscle on my guys, bro. Like you, man. You know that."
"Yeah, I know. A shame he want to be some lame skinny jock boy instead of a real muscleboy."
Every time he heard the word muscleboy, no matter how much he was aware that it was a key word to make him feel a certain way, it worked. Skinny jock boy. Fuck them. Fuuuck them, he thought. He got himself another beer, just to divert his attention from his own head.
"Startin to feel it, man," Jake said.
"Oh, yeah. Hey, muscleboy," Brent flexed, "Feels great. Want to play?"
Was it his imagination, or could Russ see a kind of fullness to their muscles all of a sudden, a subtle but incredibly hot difference? Their cocks were both boned to the point of standing up almost to their bellies. They were both so fucking handsome, so completely masculine, it wasn't like they were a couple fairies or something. And he sure as hell wasn't a fucking sissy, either. So he got a little more muscular, so what? Even if he looked like a bodybuilder. There were plenty of guys like that around here. He did feel really hot when he was flexing his muscle. And when he thought about it, with all his memory intact, he could recall the feel of muscle growing on him, growing thicker, heavier, growing in bolder relief as it swelled on his body, bolder in how it looked, how it made him feel.
"Yeah, okay, man, fuck it," he heard himself say.
"He speaks." Jake put a hand on Russ' shoulder. "Okay what, muscleboy?"
"Yeah, I'll play, man. Whatever you want."
Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. "Whatever you want." But it is what he heard himself say, and deep inside it excited him.
Already Brent was filling a syringe. It wasn't important to point out to Russ that he put in about twice as much as they had both taken.
"Get over here, then, muscleboy, before I can't do this," Brent said, motioning to Russ with the needle.
Jake held him back, grabbed his arm. "Mmm, nice arm already, for a skinny jock boy. You sure you want that, now?"
"Yeah," Russ could already feel himself with bigger muscles and a bigger cock, "Yeah, I want it."
"So you're not just a skinny jock boy, are you, boy?"
"You want that medicine bad, don't ya?"
"Why, Russ? Tell your Uncle Jake. Who are you now? Who do you want to be?"
"Muscleboy," Russ said. Oh god, could he feel it now, the weight of the muscle on him, his huge cock, the way he would look bulging with massive muscles. "I'm your muscleboy."
"Yeah. Go get it, muscleboy."
"Come over here," Brent said.
Russ went to the sofa and stood in front of Brent. Brent looked up at Russ, rubbed his left hand up his hard abs and down to his cock, slowly felt the length of his cock, all the time, eye to eye with the young stud.
Russ looked down at Brent, a man so hot and young and powerfully built it was hard to believe he was a doctor and not a movie star. He could see the thickness of Brent's muscles now, swollen with the strength of his masculinity and the medicine. He watched with deep feelings that overwhelmed him, feelings he invited in and couldn't stop, as the handsome stud took his big thick cock into his mouth, sucked it in hard down to the root. And when his beautiful cock was completely engulfed by the man's hot mouth, he felt the stab of the needle in his ass.
Behind him, he felt Jake's breath on the back of his neck as he said, low, quiet, and so sexy, "Grow for us, muscleboy. Get huge."
And then, as the medicine suffused his being, and Brent sucked slow and hard on his cock, he felt Jake's hands come around to grab his thick, hot pecs and the stab of Jake's cock enter him. He had no other will at that moment. He was their muscleboy.