Paint

It was weird enough that the paint was so pink, but who was Cedric to judge. It wasn’t his house but it was his job. If the guy wanted bright pink walls in his gym, he wanted bright pink walls. Cedric wondered if the color was some kind of motivating thing. The home-owner was huge, after all, especially compared to Cedric’s skinny ass. He wondered if painting his own apartment pink would make him big and then he laughed it off. He’d rather stay skinny than be surrounded by some chick color.

When Cedric opened the paint can, however, he had to turn his head away and wrinkle his nose. Paint fumes were one thing but that weird paint smelled like body funk! It was like he’d opened up the door to his high school locker room. Immediately he put on his mask but the smell kept coming through. It seemed to be getting stronger by the second. It made his chest tingle but he was breathing fine otherwise. Maybe a little better than he’d been breathing lately. All that cigarette smoke had been catching up to him and the thought of it make him cough. Cedric looked in his pocket, found his cigarettes, and threw them in the trash. Why, he didn’t know for sure. He’d been meaning to quit for a while. No better time than the present, right? Just looking at them made him sick. Just looking at the paint made him reconsider some things.

The color wasn’t so bad. Brighter than he liked, yeah, but so what? It was cheerful. Kinda fun. Kinda… he had to laugh. Yeah, it was kinda gay. It was really gay. So was the home-owner, at least as far as Cedric could tell. But, again, it wasn’t his business. Usually gay guys grossed him out but the dude seemed cool. It was a weird thought but Cedric figured that, if he were a gay guy—and he definitely was not a gay guy—he’d go out with the home-owner, whatever his name was.

Cedric poured the pink paint into his tray and dipped his roller in, then he started. The weird funk of the paint wouldn’t let up but the more Cedric rolled the pink color over the walls, the less the smell bothered him. It wasn’t so bad. It was kinda good. Kinda manly. It even made him feel manly and strong. That tingling in chest spread over his body, however. Cedric cracked open a window to let more air in but that made the room heat up. And even though he felt strange, he didn’t feel light headed so he closed the window a few minutes later. But that didn’t help either. He just felt warmer.

Taking off his shirt was like taking off a heavy backpack. Cedric just tossed it on the ground like it was a moldy rag. The thought crossed his mind to burn it but he held back. and carried on painting. He was halfway done. The shirt could wait.

But when he put his roller back on the wall he noticed his forearm was all puffy. No, not puffy. Muscly! Maybe painting walls was more of a workout than he thought because both of his arms seemed bigger, both in the forearms and in the biceps. He felt his bicep up and a jolt went through him. He’d never felt more secure of his masculinity than at that moment. If a bear had charged at him at that moment, he knew he could have taken it down. “I’m tough as shit” he said. Was he really? Fuck if he knew, but he felt tough as shit and that was all that mattered.

Cedric forgot about the paint roller until he ran it over his chest. “Aw, damnit!” he said. He dropped the roller and reached for his shirt to wipe the paint off but then the tingling… oh, the tingling! It was so strong that it almost hurt. He wiped the paint with his bare hand, forgetting the shirt, and he felt a firmness underneath his chest. Muscle? No, it couldn’t be! but he looked down and saw the swelling. And he felt the sweet burn of the paint.

At that moment he made the connection. He was standing on the edge of the cliff. He was at the threshold of the gate. All he had to do was walk out of the room. Just walk out, wipe off the paint, and get out of that house. All he had to do was leave and all the weird shit would stop, and it was most definitely some weird shit. The last thing he needed in his life was some weird shit.

Cedric trembled. He looked down on his new chest, jutting out for the first time in his life. And then he looked at the paint can, full of faggy pinkness. There was a brush beside it. He reached for it.

"I shouldn’t do this." Cedric said. It didn’t matter that no one was around. It had to be said.

"This is wrong." He put the brush into the can.

"This is so wrong." He pulled brush out, sending another cloud of man-stink into the air.

"This is so fucking wrong." Cedric shut his eyes and put the wet brush against his belly. He jumped off the cliff. He crossed the threshold.

The more paint he put on, the more growth he could see. The paint didn’t dry, it just sank into his skin. The stench of the paint became his own stench. Each layer of paint he put on became his own skin and his own muscle. It was masturbation even before he took his jeans off, first fumbling with the buttons and then ripping them away with his bare hands out of frustration. The paint went onto his legs like it had gone onto his arms, thickening them to athletic perfection. He threw the brush aside and reached into the paint can with his bare hands. He threw handfulls of it on and over his shoulders, letting it roll onto his back. He lathered up with it like he was in a shower. He slathered it onto his dick and started stroking. The sensation of his small prick soaking up the paint, swelling to sizes that would make other men jealous, perhaps even ashamed, made Cedric roar.

He hesitated when he realized he was going to put his paint coated finger up his ass. When had he done that before? He’d never let a woman… The realization came. There weren’t going to be any other women, not that there had been many before. From there on out it was going to be all men. He clenched his asshole at the thought, then he relaxed and stuck his finger in.

"Sorry, mama." Cedric said. "Your boy’s a muscle fag, now." And as he rocked back onto his thickened, calloused finger, as he found his prostate, he said "Your boy’s a proud, fucking muscle fag."

In the end he lifted the paint can over his head and poured it down. The paint went into his nose and into his mouth. It tasted like cum, just as he’d anticipated. When it went into his sinuses there was no pain or gagging. It was better than air. He wiped as much paint as he could onto his dick and made his last strokes before the pressure in his groin became too much. It was as if he shot out all of the paint he’d absorbed. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, still thrashing and still stroking as he came and came and came.

The afterglow was so thick that Cedric couldn’t move. All he could do was lie on the floor, growling at the feeling of his new muscle, his new strength. He had visions of himself in a world’s strongest man competition, lifting tires and tossing them like they were beach balls, sporting his new, foot-long erection all the while. He was still hard in fact. Cedric whimpered as he felt his hand moving on its own to start stroking again. Pleasure mixed with the slightest touch of panic as he realized he couldn’t resist. The need was too great. He moaned out a long, low “no” and then he heard a response.

"Yes"

It was the home-owner. The big man, wearing a dress shirt and jeans that were obscenely tight, was leaning on the door frame.

Cedric’s heart jumped, and it took a few seconds for him to register the smile on the man’s face. Cedric didn’t smile back. He just rested his head again and closed his eyes. Even if the home-owner had been looking at Cedric with disgust, Cedric realized he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. His strokes were already speeding up and his grip was tightening. He started to finger his anus.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Cedric said. Even his voice was deeper. Just speaking in the lower register turned him on.

The home-owner walked over with a swinging step and squatted down besides Cedric. “You did it to yourself, pal. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be sex crazy like this for a day or so, then you’ll start to calm down, though…” Cedric took his hand off of his dick and but the home owner took up the stroking with the same rhythm, not missing a beat. “…you’re always gonna need it. That’s the way it is with us. When we gotta fuck, we gotta fuck.” The man kissed Cedric’s cock-head. “And we gotta fuck all the time.”

There were so many questions in Cedric’s head but he couldn’t even verbalize them. The need to cum was too strong. Cedric whimpered and that made the home-owner chuckle. Looking at the man’s face, Cedric wondered what he’d ever seen in women.

"It’s not just pleasure, though. We’ve got a lot of work to do, you and I. We have a lot of men to change. To awaken. We’re gonna make everyone like us. And you’re gonna love it. I promise. See?"

The home-owner looked at Cedric’s cock and Cedric followed the man’s gaze just in time to see the first drops of pink paint gush from his cock.

END

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