Hunter: W.W.E. (musc mc ap tr)

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“Y’know? We’re really just kids ourselves.”

Neil mumbled this nugget of wisdom as he bounced Lachlan on his lap. Hunter quietly nodded and brought two beers from the fridge, and sat down on the sofa next to his friend.

“I know. I feel like I’ve lived a helluva life already, and we’re only 23.” Lachlan turned his little smiling face to Uncle Hunter and giggled. Hunter pinched his honorary nephew’s cheeks. “Heyyy, tiger!” He looked up at Neil. “God, he’s such a great-lookin’ kid.”

Neil beamed with pride and tossed Lachlan into the air, catching him with his big hands. “Yeah, look at those eyes! He’s gonna be a real ladykiller.”

Hunter didn’t respond. He just smiled. Neil, you have no idea.

They flipped on the massive plasma TV, turned to the baseball playoffs and relaxed into the confines of the plush couch. Two beers and a sippy cup.

Neil stretched his long, muscled limbs. “Done any alterations lately?”

Hunter smiled. “Yeah, a couple big ones. Usually I’m just healin’ the sick or something, but on occasion…yeahhhh!” He cheered at the screen for a second. “Sorry, on occasion I do a big one. Like you, you were a big one, Whale. Anyway, remember Grant Brewer? He’s from our town.”

“Nope…we didn’t go to high school with him, did we?”

“Nooooo, no. He worked for my Dad. He was the accountant for a bunch of the gyms, but he was really miserable and I felt bad for him - such a nice guy. So I made him a personal trainer, real big and muscled. A bodybuilder, actually. I’ve been doing a lot of builders lately, not on purpose – they just kind of happened. I think I’m up to four now. But you should see this guy! He was this bald, paunchy accountant and now he’s HUGE” - Hunter made a broad motion with his arms – “just a musclehead, good-looking too. Bleach blond fauxhawk. Dad loves him; sometimes he’s kind of a dick, which is funny because he was so mousy before. And then, same weekend, I randomly met this poor little fella outside that Thai restaurant at home. Kind of a runt of the litter. He was really bummed out on life. I knew he needed help but I didn’t have time to figure out what he really wanted to be, y’know? So I gave him a little dose of power, every time he jerked it he changed a little bit into his fantasy. Y’know what he made himself? Fuckin’ massive-“

“Dude, language around my son.”

“Sorry, sorry. Freakin’ massive, six-eight and 370! Unbelievable. He’s a Marine and in the Secret Service now. He’s always behind the president when he addresses the nation, so look for the guy taking up three-quarters of the screen next time.”

Neil chuckled. “People are weird. But it’s so great that you can do that…” Instinctively, he looked down at his beautiful, buff body, tanned to perfection. “Every time I’m swimming, I’m thinking about what you gave me. Trials are coming up. I’m ready for the Olympics to be here again.”

“I’m ready too. Watching you makes me feel like a proud parent, at least until I have my own.” Hunter tickled Lachlan’s little chubby belly. “Oh, and I made Kate’s bodyguard. He was a white, racist little homeless punk. Watching that one happen was nuts.”

“I knew it,” Neil said. “I kept looking at him going, ‘No human has a body like that.’ He’s unreal. I can’t believe he finds clothes that fit.”

Hunter clapped his hands at the game but continued his story. “Part of his salary is me having his clothes be specially made, especially the suits and shirts he has to wear when he’s with Kate at fashion shows. You should see what he wears to the gym.”

“No thanks.” Lachlan started to cry and Neil’s big blue eyes turned tender instantly. “What is it, prince? What do you need? You hungry, buddy?”

Lachlan nodded. “Hungy.”

Neil grinned. “That’s his new word. I love his husky little voice, cracks me up.” Neil pulled his son in tight to his broad chest and walked into the kitchen to get a snack, leaving Hunter in the living room with his thoughts.

The penthouse’s door opened and Bianca walked in, carrying several bags. “Mr. Blue, I am back!”

Neil poked his head into the hallway. “Hi, Bianca. The four of us are going out tonight for a little while, we’ll put Lachlan to bed before we go.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Blue. I bought some more food for him, we will be all set.” She clapped her hands together and smiled at Lachlan. “And here is my other Mr. Blue – how are we tonight?”

Lachlan blubbered slightly, rasped “Dad-dy” in his throaty baby voice, and took a cracker from Neil. “He’s tired and hungry,” Neil said. “It’s time for bed, isn’t it, bud.”


The towncar pulled up to Blue Fin.

Neil looked out the tinted window onto the busy sidewalk. “I can’t believe we’re eating in Times Square. It’s like we want to start a riot.”

“Riots are fun,” Katie grinned. “I was craving Blue Fin, okay? It’s good, dammit.”

“We ready?” Hunter reached for the door handle. “Should I open it?”

Mel grinned. “I’m just excited that we’re going out, babe,” she said, nuzzling Neil. “Let’s have some fun, let’s make a scene.”

Neil smiled. “Sure, H, open it.”

They stepped out onto Broadway and a crowd immediately assembled. A few quick autographs later, they were whisked inside. “See?” Hunter smirked. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“It’s so cheap here. Everything’s like 30 bucks. I feel like I’m at McDonald’s,” Mel said, perusing the menu.

“Some of us didn’t grow up wealthy, Mel,” Neil said, smiling. “And you’ve never eaten at McDonalds.”

“That is a lie, sir. I had a McChicken there that one day when you were training and Bianca was sick. I hadn’t been grocery shopping for a week, so there was no food. I took Lachlan and walked to McDonalds because I was going to eat it if it killed me.”

Neil laughed. “If I recall, it almost did.”

“My God, it was excruciating. I felt like I was going to puke from being so cruel to my body. I walked home, put Lachlan down for a nap and ran on the treadmill for an hour.”

“She called me, saying she felt like her skin was an oil slick,” Neil recounted to Katie and Hunter. “And that she didn’t feel good. I had to ask a ton of questions to figure out it was because she’d actually eaten fast food. She has had McDonald’s once in her life.

Katie gaped and Mel squirmed. “It makes me sound like a high-maintenance bitch! I’m not.” There was a pause. “I’m NOT! My parents just wouldn’t let me and I don’t have any tolerance for it.”

Hunter lisped in a mock-Mel tone, “Everything’s 30 bucks! I feel like I’m at McDonalds!”

Mel shoved him. “Stooooop, you ass.”

Their waiter brought wine and took their orders. As he left, a man approached their table.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I…are you…yeah, of course you are! My son and I would love your autographs. All of you.”

They all flashed megawatt smiles and used their usual assents – “Of course,” “I’d love to,” “you bet.”

Katie and Mel scribbled first, while Hunter made conversation. “You a New Yorker, or visiting?”

It was a nice question, but the man was obviously not a New Yorker. He was nondescript, balding and very rotund, and about six feet tall.

“Nah, I’m from Knoxville. Name’s Darren Walker.” He extended his hand. Hunter shook, and so did Neil. “My son Devon is over there.”

“What’s he doing sitting over there?!” Hunter looked over at the kid sitting alone at his table, turned away shyly.

Darren shrugged. “Nervous to meet you, I guess.”

Hunter stood, his tall frame dwarfing Darren. “Well,” he said, “let’s fix that.” He walked over to the table and crouched down next to Devon. “Devon Walker?”

The kid responded to his name and turned around, then gasped. “Oh! Oh…”

“How ya doin’, buddy?” Hunter slapped Devon’s back. “I just met your Dad, and I wanted to meet you. You watch many games?”

“Well, yeah. I watch you like EVERY Sunday. I have your jersey.”

“Awesome, dude. Like the City?”

“Yeah! Yeah,” Devon smiled slightly. “It’s great.”

“Well, what brings you here?” Hunter turned and saw Darren making conversation with Neil and the ladies.

“We won a prize. A big one from the radio in Knoxville. We’re going to the WWE match tomorrow at Madison Square Garden and we get to stay in the hotel here, the uh…the…”

“The W? That’s what’s above here.”

“Yeah, the W! It’s supposed to go along with the W theme, y’know, W hotel, WWE...”

“Ahhhh, I get it.” Hunter stood as Darren returned to the table. “Your son was just telling me about the contest you won!”

“Oh, really?” Darren put his hands on Devon’s shoulders. “Yeah, it’s exciting. We love watchin’ the WWE together – it’s really the one father-son thing we get to do.” Hunter observed that Darren wasn’t wearing any ring.

Devon shrugged. “He works all the time, so it’s cool that we get a few days here! I wish I saw him more.”

“VIP Treatment, I bet.” Hunter smiled. “How old are you, Devon?”

“Ten.” He was a skinny kid, not chubby like his Dad, but kind of cute in a unique way. “I’m in fifth grade.”

“Ten, huh? My brothers are about your age. Great time of life! You live it up. You like wrestling?”

“Yeah!” Devon responded and Darren smiled, then spoke. “There’s nothing he’d like to be more than a wrestler. He wants me to coach him, but I don’t know nothing about wrestling ‘side from what I see the pros do!”

“I loooove wrestling,” Devon said proudly. “I’m not too good yet, but I’ll get a lot better.”

“Of course you will, of course you will. That’s great.” Hunter shook Darren’s hand. “Enjoy your weekend, guys. Welcome to the City.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hardy,” Darren reciprocated. “Lookin’ forward to next season.”

Hunter went and sat down at his own table. “Nice guy – kinda edgy, but nice. Kid needs a confidence boost.”

“Yeah,” Katie shrugged. “He was so laid-back! Now I just want the food to get here.”

Hunter felt Neil step on his foot under the table. He looked up. Neil widened his eyes and nodded toward the Walkers, eating at their table and stealing glances over at the quartet.

Hunter smiled and quietly, covertly nodded back.


Hunter walked up to the urinal next to Devon. “Does your Dad spend much time with you?”

Devon looked up and saw Hunter. He was taken slightly aback by the question, as aback as a ten year old can be. “No. He’s always in the office. Always. Sometimes he works so much that he forgets about me, leaves me at school or something. I won the contest on the radio and it took a long time to make him come with me.”

“Well, he’s here, isn’t he?”

“Yeah! It’s been great.”

“So what you’re saying,” Hunter said as he washed his hands, “is that you want to be a wrestler and you want your Dad to spend more time with you.”

“That’s it. Totally. I can’t wait to watch the matches with him tomorrow.”

“It’ll be great,” Hunter patted Devon’s small back. “Just great.”


“Hey, Dad, can you make me hot chocolate?” Devon stared at the coffee pot perplexedly.

“You just have to boil water and pour it in a cup, Dev,” Darren sighed from behind the screen of his laptop. “It’s not that hard.”

“I want you to do it.”

“God.” Darren stood up and hurtled over to the sink, where he filled a cup with water and stuck it in the VIP suite’s microwave. “When it’s done, take it out and stir.”

Devon was defeated. “Sorry. You can go back to whatever it is you’re doing. I won’t bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me, you’re…” Darren sat down at his computer but looked at his son. “I’m sorry, Dev. I’m just busy.”

“You’re always busy.” The microwave dinged and Devon took out the cup, then poured the sweet-smelling mix in it and stirred it with one of the hotel’s balsa wood stirrers.

Darren was typing his e-mail when he heard a grunt, then a soft moan. He looked up and saw Devon set down the drink and lean against the wall, then grunt again and slide down it with a soft, drawn out squeal.

“Dev? You okay?”

Devon leaned his head back and let out a little shriek. He bucked his hips in the air, pulled back, and did it again. He let out a drawn-out wail and then the most insane thing happened. As Darren watched, panic-stricken, his son appeared to stretch, to…grow.

Legs got longer, attached to a stretching torso. Devon squealed like a pig and started to shake. He threw his arms over his head and they stretched toward the ceiling, bones stretching and reforming. He appeared to be doubling in size. “DAD! Daaaaaaaaddddd…” He looked up, eyes wild and teary.

“I’m coming, Dev. I’m coming! I’m…” Darren fell back and heard himself make the same noise that his son had made moments earlier. “OHHHHHHH…I’m COMING…I…I…”

And he felt his old jeans get wet, then saw his ankles poke out from the top of his socks as he grew taller.

“Dad! Help me! Help meeEEEEE.” Devon’s voice caught and he fell forward, his butt tearing through his pants in one solid rip, the waistband exploding off him along with the crotch seam. He desperately crawled forward, wracked with spasms, leaving torn pants behind him. “Daddy, daddy, please, please…OH, PLEASE…PLEASE…” He shot his head back and felt his shirt get tighter all over. “How is this…am I? DAD…”

Darren tried to crawl across the room, but he moved slower and slower, until he couldn’t propel himself at all. “Dev,” he rasped, “Dev, I’m trying…I can’t…move…” He came again as waves of pleasure shot through him.

“Dad…I’m…” Devon swallowed at the sound of his voice. It was older, deeper. “Daddy, it hurts.” He fell back against the wall and pushed himself up with it, and Darren saw how much Devon had grown. He was six-four instead of five-one, looking almost as tall as the doorframe, and as Darren watched with growing horror, Devon began to change more. He appeared to bulk outward, muscle pushing at the confines of his increasingly taut tee. Pecs formed, then squared, then jutted outward solidly. His arms tensed and tightened into powerful, bulging biceps, thick with veins. His hands were grasping at nothing; there was a sick crack, and they both appeared to double in size. Another crack and his feet shot out, six sizes bigger.

Devon stared his tear-stained straight ahead at Darren, both unable to take their eyes off the immobilized other. “Dad?” His voice had dropped more, into a sultry Tennessee baritone. “Dad, I’m…” He swallowed. “Something weird’s happening…”

Devon’s body’s metamorphosis showed no signs of letting up. The thickly knotted arms were matched instantly with bulging delts, and Devon’s traps swelled outward as his neck thickened. He barked in pain and heard his voice drop farther. “DAD!”

“Dev, I’m trying so hard…I can’t. I just can’t…” Another cum.

The T-shirt ripped down the center. Devon reached up and tore it off.

Big calves bulged into fruition, then quads and hamstrings were birthed from the soft legs. Devon’s waist got tighter and his abs carved themselves into perfect, glorious indentations, leading down into impossibly sharp obliques. “Dad, Dad – my body. Oh God, my BODY…”

Every time Darren heard that deep voice coming out of his son, he got a chill down his spine.

Devon turned his neck and watched his butt – which hadn’t really existed previously - rise up and push out. The underwear ripped, but he saw metallic fabric underneath instead of skin. “Whaaat the…” With one solid tear, he pulled the briefs on and saw a pair of shimmering silver BVDs, with black accents, encasing his enlarging dick and ass.

“Dad, doesn’t this look like…”

They both came to a realization, looked up at each other, and blubbered. “Oh my God.”

“Dev, your face! Y-your teeth.”

Darren, preoccupied with his son’s transforming body, hadn’t noticed at first how different Devon had become. His face appeared to age into adulthood quickly. “What is it? What’s…ohhhh…” His speech was distorted as he felt teeth reform, big and white and much straighter, and the mouth aligned itself with a stronger, chiseled nose. His chin jut out and his jaw pushed farther outward along with impossibly high cheekbones and a very strong brow. “Rrrngh…” Lips pouted, the forehead flattened, eyebrows curved into two sharp lines, his hair turned brown and grew into a well-maintained two-inch shag. Devon’s skin became very tan, kind of leathery.

Devon was a jock. His little boy Devon was a jock, big and buff. “Son…son…Devon?”

The jock looked up, thoroughly confused. “D-Dad? What just…” He wandered over to the mirror. “Shit. M-m-my face…my voice…my body…”

There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere. Every fiber of muscle, every tendon, every ligament was visible underneath Devon’s shimmering tan skin. He bulged out everywhere with beautiful definition, but he was impossibly ripped and shredded, a layer of tight tan skin barely stretched over every body part. Square pecs, powerful arms, a broad back and shoulders, a flat defined stomach and a big cock…all leading up to an angel’s beautiful, innocent, jocked-out face. Even the Adam’s apple that resided on his thick neck was beautiful. And all he wore were the tightest pair of silver briefs, showing off the pert ass that ran into perfect legs, where the thighs pushed together and the calves looked like diamond footballs.

“Deeevvvv…” Darren moaned as his hips pumped and he appeared to hump the floor. “DEV. I think it’s…it’s…it’sssssss….”

Pop, pop, pop. Three buttons went right after the other. Darren rolled over onto his back and bucked his hips in the air, cursing. He looked up and saw the new Devon – broad-shouldered, muscled and very handsome – standing over him, eyebrows knotted in bewilderment. “D-Dad? Darren?”, the deep voice stammered. “What…happened to me – to you?”

Devon watched in bewildered amazement as the kinky horseshoe around the crown of Darren’s head sprouted. The hair pushed forward on Darren’s scalp, longer and thicker and silkier. Darren itched desperately, his hand disappearing into the long brown locks. His hair reached his shoulders and he whipped it back from his face, feeling the silk density – it was beautiful hair, like a Viking’s.

“I think you need some help, Dad.” Devon reached down and tore off what remained of Darren’s stressed shirt, revealing the old hairy chest. “Look! Look…”

Darren looked down and saw the small deposits of fat rise up on their own accord. The hair appeared to get thinner, then shorter, and then disappeared completely, leaving his tightening skin smooth. He had…pecs. Big ones, just like Devon’s, squared-off and pushing slightly into each other, bobbing up and down rapidly as Darren drew in panicked breaths. He fell back more as abs popped out, one on top of the other, the gut disappearing into a tightly defined, youthful waist. Tan, unblemished skin was stretched tight over his flawlessly perfect torso.

“Dev, I think I’m getting younger…I feeeeel…GREAT.” He felt his boxers soak with cum and wondered if Devon would understand, now that he was a grown man.

Oh my God, Devon was a man…his Devon…and not some Average Joe, either, he was utterly magnificent, built like Adonis with a face like Narcissus. A face that was staring at him now, perplexed and caring – beautiful.

The blemished skin on his body cleared, his body hair getting wispier and shorter. He put his hand on his stomach and rubbed the rock-hard muscle, then ran his hand down into his pants and moaned from the electric shock he got touching his erect penis. He felt Devon unbutton his pants and pull them off, then Devon reached down and tore off his underwear too, showing that Darren wore the same metallic briefs as Devon, with the colors reversed – black, with silver accents around the square-cut material.

“What’s happening to us?!,” they both asked at once, in the same deep tone of voice – the same pitch. Their voices sounded identical.

Devon dropped to his knees, straddling his father’s perfect waist, to get a closer look at Darren’s transforming body. He looked back and watched his Dad’s legs swell, fat giving way to dense muscle, cankles disappearing and ligaments making themselves known. Darren grimaced and wrestled with the air, just as Devon had done. Darren thrashed with all his might but was held by his son’s powerful physique. “AUGH…IT HURTS!”, he gasped. “It hurts so much!”

He felt his back push out, leaving his shoulder blades and butt pressed into the carpet and forcing his lower back out of touch with it. Devon grimaced – “I’m not done!” – and Darren watched as his shoulders creeped wider, inch by inch. They both got V-tapers, then those V’s stretched wider still, looking disproportional to their tiny waists.

“AHHH!” Darren felt his own cock grow. He watched it tent in the shimmering black briefs and felt his balls swell.

Devon grunted. Although physically now a grown man, his balls only then dropped suddenly and enlarged, a massive bulge born in its silver home. His balls swelled to the size of plums, and testosterone shot through his body like a raging wildfire. Darren watched veins crisscross up and down Devon’s perfect, muscled physique. A day’s growth of beard showed up on his pretty face, still beautiful despite a suddenly thicker, wider jaw and deeper brow. And the smell, suddenly Devon smelled like a man, musky and sweaty and strong. Beads of sweat poured down his tan skin. Then, suddenly, he appeared to swell, his densely muscled body empowering itself even more. The veins thickened into ropes, his hands growing larger. The noise was unreal. His shoulders appeared to reach for his head; with one blink, his eyes changed from grey to green. He packed on 25 more pounds of muscles, pecs blowing out, thighs thickening. Darren felt his son’s waist dig into his own, squirming as if in a lap dance, their wildly horny cocks rubbing up against each other. Devon’s arms snapped up at an angle as the traps and lats flared out from muscleman to musclegod, then bent slightly from the swelling of the biceps and forearms. “Dad, I…” He grunted in a still-deeper voice, as his neck thickened more, as his mind was flooded with urges. “I think I just grew up for real.”

Darren didn’t respond, he just groaned as his face creaked, his round forehead flattening as the long, flowing locks pushed his hairline forward. Sexy lips puffed out, his nose straightened into one identical to Devon’s, then snapped and reformed from a break. “Darren, your face…you’re becoming…” He felt Devon’s wide hand run down his face. “I think you’re becoming ME.”

Darren’s very face widened, as Devon’s had done moments before. He shut his eyes and grit his teeth as his own body type changed, his slightly flabby physique ripping itself into the cut body of a professional athlete, then every muscle growing outward from there. The skin on his face tightened, wrinkles and age spots going away. Whiskers burrowed out of the tan, youthful skin, a goatee forming around his lips. His butt pushed out, harder and higher. Devon felt his ass do the same.

Darren struggled to stand, and Devon did the same. Their hands met in a veiny grip as the eased onto their big feet and stared face-to-face, looking in the mirror and then back at each other.

Darren held his right hand up and Devon pressed his left against it, not tearing away his glance. They were of the same size and strength, identical, in fact.


No sooner had they thought the word than their minds warped slightly. “Dare, why was I calling you Dad a second ago…?”

“I…I…” Darin looked down, perplexed, at their powerful chests bobbing up and down in perfect, rhythmic unison. “I dunno.”

“Because I think, I think…” Devin stared at Darin then put both hands up to his face. “I think we’re brothers.” The hands gripped tighter. “We ARE brothers, I know it. I just can’t think straight…” He tipped his forehead forward against Darin’s. Darin’s hands tenderly touched the obliques on Devin’s waist. “We’re twins, Devin…I think we’re twins.”

Twins? Of course, look at them, 6-4 and 260 apiece. Darin was four minutes older. They were absolutely inseperable, how could they forget they were identical twins?! They’d been kinda fat as kids, so their Dad put them in…something…and they’d buffed up fast. Now look at ‘em! Two studs, built for breeding. Faces of gods, too. Devin was slightly more handsome than Darin because his nose was straight, Darin had broke his that one time in junior high doing…something, god, what was it?

Devin had tears once more streaming down his face. “Of course, we’re TWINS. You’re a part of me. You are me.” He wrapped his hand around Darin’s sculpted torso and pressed his hand into the back of Darin’s hair, pulling him into an embrace. They stood locked together, practically one unit.

Devin’s hand wandered from the back of Darin’s head to the wide muscled expanse of his back. “Our bodies…”

They pulled apart and looked down. Model bodies, really, no sign of the baby fat of their youth. Big pectorals, huge actually, all veiny and pumped. They were close enough that their nipples were lightly touching, like a battery charge blasting through them. They remembered all the weight they had benched.

Bowling-ball biceps with rope veins that shot up into equally large delts and down into massive forearms. All those curls and presses had been worth it, hadn’t they? Same with the huge legs, thighs carved from marble. Big dicks too, but that was all luck from genetics. Thanks, Dad. And their faces, practically identical save for the noses, with those smoldering green eyes and wide, high cheekbones that seemed to almost connect to the thickest, squarest jaw. Devin kept his hair short and his stubble neatly trimmed, to show off how incredibly handsome he was. But Darin, Darin liked the goatee and the stubble and the long hair, like a lion’s mane. He was intimidating and he liked that.

“We’re so muscle-y. It’s like we’re, like we’re…” Devin looked at how built they were, cut but huge, with big necks like…

“…like we’re wrestlers?”

They both clamped their eyes shut and moaned, then re-opened them and stared at each other once more, burning green orbs mirroring each other. Well, it would make sense that they looked like wrestlers, since they were. Dad had seen them horsing around in grade school, fighting in the house all the time. He put ‘em in wrestling in sixth grade so that they’d lose a little weight and gain a little confidence, but they did more than that – they blossomed. They were the best damn wrestlers the town had ever seen. State champions, in fact, and then nationals. Darin had been a weight class up so that they’d never have to fight each other in championships, but as soon as they went pro, Devin bulked up to match his twin. The twin thing was such a great gimmick. When the WWE came calling, of course they jumped for it. Those huge crowds screaming for you, for your huge muscles – no better thing to experience with your twin at your side.

Beauty and the Beast, they were sometimes called, which was funny because they really looked exactly alike and Darin’s beard just fooled everyone. Every now and then, they’d both put on baseball caps and Devin would grow out a beard too, and with the hair hidden, nobody could tell them apart. They called Devin “Pretty D,” which he liked but pretended to hate in the ring. “Men ain’t pretty,” he would roar to the crowd’s approval, but secretly he was the most vain motherfucker in the WWE. He’d come up with Pretty D himself. Always pumped, always shining with a fresh tan, wearing the skimpiest little BVDs to show off his perfect body. One time, he’d gotten a tooth knocked out, and it was like his life had ended. Got that sucker replaced the next day. Darin was vicious in the ring too, Rarin’ Darin, crazy as a motherfucker, green eyes blazing with fury. When they fought each other, the crowd went wild, and they’d really go at it. Their records against each other were almost perfectly even.

They acted macho all the time, confident and cocky, but when they were alone together, they were so tender and loving toward each other. Nobody could ever see that side of them, so when the parties and the clubs and the fights were over and they finally had a chance to rest in a hotel room, they would spill secrets and play video games and even sleep in the same bed, like they’d done when they were little boys. Here they were right now, naked and crying, embracing each other as their memories returned.

“God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Dev.”


They were surprised to see Hunter in their dressing room after the MSG match. “Great fight, guys. Some real great maneuvers going on out there. Just checking on your status after…the fight.”

“Mr. Hardy,” Devin extended his hand. “I didn’t know you were out in the crowd, brother.”

“I wasn’t for most of it, just swung by at the end. Thought I’d tell you two how great you guys are, man to man.”

“Much appreciated,” Darin said, pumping Hunter’s hand. “We really love it out there.”

“I can tell, and I agree. There’s no feeling like it in the world.”

“No sir.” Darin and Devin were stripped down naked, completely free of inhibitions as they dressed.

“Well, guys, give me a call when you’re in the City again. I’ll get you tickets to one of the games.”

“It’s a deal, man. Thanks for the support.” Handshake, fist bump. Usual guy stuff.

“Thank you. Did you know I have twin brothers?”

Devin shook his head but Darin nodded. “Yeah, I heard somethin’ about that – Hank and Hugh, right? We should meet ‘em. Talk about the twin thing.” The wrestlers chuckled.

“Yeah, man. They’d love that. They’re ten now, getting pretty big already.”

Devin turned on the shower. “Identical or fraternal?”

“Oh, identical. They’re mirror twins. They play soccer, and they’re fast. Faster than I was at that age, that’s for sure.” He smiled at the memories. “Well, guys, pleasure seeing you both again. Have a great night.”

“You too, bro.” Darin hopped into a second shower and waved. “Thanks, Mr. Hardy. Lookin’ forward to next season.”

But Hunter was already gone.

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