It Can All Work Out, If You Let It (ar musc)
by MS_alberta
Donald Robert Candor loved life. At the age of 45 he was very much pleased with how things had turned out. He owned his own small, but very successful pornography store, had an amazing body, and among his social circles, was considered to be a god when it came to sex, even though for many years now, he had subscribed to the notion that it was better to give, than to receive. His well-earned muscles, thick body hair, and other genetically blessed features earned him quiet the reputation as a lover. So when he began to notice he wasn't garnering as much pleasure from sex as he had before, he slowly and quietly became alarmed. Numerous thoughts and explanations began crowding his mind, intruding on everything from taking a shower to ringing up a customer. His partners, whether they were young and tender or mature and knowledgeable, still crawled out of bed exhausted, but extremely satisfied. He wasn't impotent. He was still, what his close friends had dubbed him as "A Sexual Gladiator", so what was keeping him from enjoying sex.
Now don't assume that just because Mr. Don Roberts had spent the last three decades indulging in the flesh, that he was ignorant in the way of the church. In fact, his closest friends might even say that it was his Catholic school upbringing that made him the man he is today. So like any good religious man, when after consulting physicians, psychiatrists, and even some new age healers that had bought the property next door, he began to pray for an answer, or foregoing that, a resolution.
After about a month of constant prayer and church attendance, Don woke up one morning with a new lust burning inside him. He knew his prayers had been answered. He stood up and began rubbing and massaging his morning erection, while his other hand played with his ass. This was momentarily odd to Don, as he had not touched himself like this in years, but that thought was quickly forgotten as that old familiar pleasure began mounting inside him. He leaned back against a wall for support as he came and let out grunt after grunt.
He felt amazing. He could always go at least three rounds, but now he actually wanted to. He built himself up another four times that morning before changing and leaving for work.
He arrived at the store mid-morning and found his good friend and often fuck buddy, Michael. Michael, while two decades younger than Don, was his first choice for anything business related, and planned on leaving the store to him when he retired. Michael had a quick mind and a warm personality. No customer ever left the store feeling dirty or ashamed as long as Michael was there.
As Don walked into the store, he heard the familiar "Can I help you, today?" from Michael. It took Don a moment to realize that the question had been directed at him. "Very funny, Mike. How are things going today?” Michael just stood there, giving Don a look he had, up until this point, reserved for calculus problems and mystery meat. "I'm sorry, man. Do I know you?" replied Michael.
Man? Thought Don, Michael only calls the young customers "Man", the ones around his age. ""Michael! It's me! Your boss. Don." The two stared at each other for what seemed like a season. Don, waiting for his young friend to respond, and Michael looking for some clue as to what was going on.
"Oh my God! Don is that really you!" said Michael as he rushed towards him. He began touching his face and chest, examining him like he had been blind until this very moment. Don batted away Michael's hands. "Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?" Don snapped, he was beginning to get tired of this, and practical jokes weren't the norm for Michael. "I'm sorry, Don. But have you seen yourself this morning?" Michael rushed Don into one of the private mirrored viewing rooms for the customers and quickly undressed Don. He stood there, facing his reflection, in his white briefs, with a nervous and unbelieving smile that quickly faded away. "Michael! I'm really getting tired of this practical joke, bullshit! Quit fucking around!" Michael was visibly frightened, Don never cursed, unless something incredibly horrible had happened. Almost at once, Don knew his mistake, Michael’s face made it clear, he wasn't pretending, and this mirror was showing him the truth. It was him, but a much younger him, probably around Michael’s age, and not exactly as he remembered. He still had chest hair, but a lot less, and he still had large muscles, but no where near as defined. Michael patted him on the shoulder, he could tell that Don had no idea what was going on. "Listen, its Tuesday, no one buys porn on Tuesday mornings, go up top and rest. When Vince gets here, I'll come up and we'll figure this out." Don looked back at Michael, and silently agreed. The "top" was what they called the roof of the store, it was a lounge/getaway for the employees, and was sometimes used to host parties. Don just sat down and stared, his mind not quiet processing what was happening to him.
Michael was worried, but he didn't show it. It wasn't in his nature to wear his heart on his sleeve to the world, but only to his best friends. Vince, one of the other store managers, finally came in at three to take over for him. Michael rushed up to the top and slowly took in the image in front of him. Don sat there, with a cold look in his face, wearing Michael’s own red shorts and cap. "Hope it’s ok that I borrowed your clothes, Mike. Mine... don't fit anymore." Don said, ending the statement with a depressed note.
"Oh Don..." Michael moaned. "This isn't even how I was back then, I was a lot hairier!" Don said, clutching at the tufts of hair on his chest. "There's nothing we can do, I just feel it." Said Don. "Just...just take me home with you? Ok? I don't want to be alone through this."
Alright, Don. Alright."
After a quick shower, and a change into more of Michael's clothes, Don began to adjust to his new body. "You know, Mike. I think it's gonna be ok."
"How do you mean?" asked Michael.
"Well, I've been thinking about it for awhile now, you've always been my first choice when it came to the store. In fact, I pretty much left my whole life to you in my will-"
"Are you saying you think you're gonna die!" interrupted Michael.
"No. No. The same way I know there's nothing I can do to stop this, I know I'm not gonna die. In fact, the only thing that concerns me anymore is, how am I supposed to live?"
They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Don looked over at Michael and spotted one of his trade mark smirks. He had an idea. "You said you left everything to me in your will, right?" asked Michael.
"Yeah."
"Well, tomorrow, I'll call the police and report you as missing, I'll tell them you were very depressed today, which isn't exactly a lie. They look for you, and of course, won't be able to find 45-year-old Don Roberts, so you'll be declared dead, and I'll inherit the store. Now here's where everything comes together. If you left me everything, that means if you had any kids, they'd be my responsibility. Whatever's happening to you, you still look kinda like you did. I'm willing to bet at least half your DNA is still the same. Whenever this thing stops changing you, I bring you into hospital, have your blood compared against "your father's" and bam, your his son, your now you're my kid. See! Everything will work out. You'll have a place to stay, and the business won't sink."
Don felt the weight of the world lift off him. Michael was right, everything would be fine. Don knew he had picked the right guy to leave the store to, quick-witted and everything. But now Don felt something else inside him. Don moaned, "What? What is it? Are you alright?" Michael let these questions fly out of his mouth.
"I just realized I haven't cum since this whole thing started this morning." Don let out an even louder moan. "Oh god. Mike! I need it, I need it bad, Mike!" Don leaned forward and began to tear away his clothes, showing his furry young chest. Even in his new form, Don still held on to the title of "Sexual Gladiator". Only this time, he felt the joy of receiving, as well as giving to his good friend Michael.
Two months later, a young boy by the name Robby Candor, enrolled in the local high school. His school file said he was 15, and home schooled in Canada, until his mother died and after being sent to live with his father, found that he too, had passed away. His legal guardian was his father's good friend and business associate. The boy quickly made his sexuality known and on the first day of school joined the swim and water polo team. Many teachers have commented on the boy's adult attitude and somewhat inappropriate knowledge and question what kind of upbringing he had in Canada.
END