Lockdown gym

by BRK

 When Ed clears out his garage, his neighbor’s hunky college-age sons suggest converting the space to a lockdown gym for guys like them who want to maintain and can’t work out anywhere else. Despite the risk of distraction, Ed agrees, though the effect on his daily life turns out to be even greater than he expected.

Added: Apr 2021 3,110 words 10,451 views 4.7 stars (17 votes) This story was commissioned via Patreon Vignette Party.


It was a Saturday during quarantine with nothing to do. Everywhere interesting was either closed or full of maskless yahoos, and the luster of binge-watching anything had worn off months ago. Working from home was for weekdays—he was adamant about that, no matter how much he loved his graphic design work, or how stuffed his inbox was.

Out of diversions and needing to do something, Ed grit his teeth and decided the time had come. Today was the day he would finally clean out his garage.

It wasn’t a pressing need—he didn’t presently have a car, and wasn’t about to buy one—but it was a bona fide full garage, occupying the front half of the ground level of his quiet three-story townhouse in the Presidio. With space at such a premium in San Francisco leaving seven hundred square feet fallow and full of old boxes and bric-à-brac left over from his move three years ago seemed almost criminal. Not to mention that his junk-filled garage was the unedifying view from the back windows of his converted home office, which took up the rear part of the ground floor. The weather couldn’t be better for it, too, warm but not hot or muggy.

There was nothing for it. Ed pulled down a full pack of thirty-gallon heavy duty trash bags from the top shelf of the linen closet, tugged on a pair of flex-grip leather gloves, and got to work.

After a few hours’ steady effort he was at the point of collapsing boxes and was about to start trundling the several full trash bags he’d created out to the curb when he noticed he had an audience. Pausing to take a breath and wipe his brow with his glove he smiled at the neighbor’s college-age kids, Hank and Charlie Yuen, who were standing by the open garage door conversing quietly with each other as they looked over the mostly-cleared expanse of Ed’s garage with interest.

“Hey, guys,” Ed said, walking over to them. He was conscious of being sweaty and a little grungy compared to the two brothers. Not only did they always seem shower-fresh, but they were wearing their usual new-looking jeans and solid-color pocket tees—brick red for Hank, the slightly thicker older brother; dark purple for Charlie, a year younger and an inch taller, almost at Ed’s trim 6-foot-1—and these somehow always seemed so pristine he half expected that if he touched them they’d still feel hot from the dryer. Of course, Hank and Charlie were handsome young men and both clearly worked out, giving every sign of having impressive, nicely sculpted bodies under their immaculate gear, so it wasn’t the first time Ed had had stray thoughts about hands-on contact with the Yuen boys. He found his attraction to the two very straight brothers amusing and liked to tease himself about it. Hey, he thought, you’re only thirty—barely ten years older than them. You won’t be a dirty old man until you’re at least thirty-five!

“This is a nice garage,” Hank said, his eyes still roving the space Ed had opened up. Ed knew that the Yuens’ house next door, like most of the stately old homes on this street, did not have a garage; Ed’s house, a knock-down and rebuild only fifteen years old, was the exception.

“Sure is.” He remembered the brothers both rode motorcycles to campus. “Hey, now that it’s cleared out, if you want to park your bikes in here you’re welcome. Shame to let it go to waste.”

Charlie glanced at his brother and said, “Actually, we have a different idea.”

The brothers explained that the gyms on campus were closed or restricted access, and they were getting frustrated at not being able to keep up the daily regimen of working out and maintaining their conditioning. They could lay their hands on a good array of second-hand weight-training equipment, but they had nowhere to set it up.

Having a gym full of young, hot, muscular guys working out on a regular basis right outside his office window sounded like a bad idea and a major distraction. It was also a proposition that Ed couldn’t possibly pass up. “Help me tie up these boxes and get all this out to the curb,” he said, “and you’ve got a deal.”

The brothers smiled wide. Ed’s vision seemed to blur just for a second. After a couple of quick blinks it cleared, revealing how the brothers’ grins seemed to have made them even more handsome, and Ed wondered what he had just got himself into.

Over the next week Ed’s newly emptied car hole was transformed into a bona fine garage gym. The brothers assembled all kinds of free weight equipment from friends and online classifieds, including a standard bench press, an incline press, a leg press, a curl station, a squat rack, and a pull-up bar, plus a rack of bumper plates and even stall mats to protect the concrete floor. By the following Monday Ed was waking up to the distant clank of weights and the burble of muted, happy masculine conversation. He laughed at his extra-stubborn morning wood. “Get used to it, buddy,” he told it.

Once he was dressed and presentable, Ed turned to his duties as host. He’d placed a delivery order the day before for several cases of bottled water and sports drinks from the local warehouse club he belonged to, plus some bags of ice he could stow in his chest freezer, so he was fully prepared. In short order he was walking through the interior door into the open garage with a cooler full of ice-cold liquid refreshment.

The Yuens were already well into their morning workout, he noticed, looking sweaty and pumped. Both were decked out in long, seven-inch black workout shorts, white tennies, and, disappointingly, heavy gray tee shirts. Ed shook his head, amused at his own reaction. Shirts should not be a thing for guys built that beautifully, he thought wryly as he set the cooler on the back workbench by the windows that looked into his office.

The brothers had a workout buddy with them, a friend their age from down the street named Eric Martin. He joined the brothers with a big smile as they came over to thank Ed for the drinks. Eric was seriously built, more so than the Yuen brothers, and unlike them didn’t seem to mind showing off his thick, rounded, slightly hairy pecs and clearly-defined six-pack abs while he worked out. He was tanned and sandy-haired with loose, messy curls, which Ed liked, too, though Ed couldn’t help thinking that his looks were only ordinary compared to the rest of him.

Eric grabbed the white gym towel off of his shoulder to dry his face, and Ed’s vision seemed to briefly blur again at the same time. He blinked it clear as Eric pulled the towel away and grinned at him, his youthful, movie-star handsomeness making Ed draw in a quick breath. He reached past Ed to grab a water bottle. “Thanks for setting all this up, Mr. Nash,” he said in a rich baritone voice, his vivid green eyes meeting Ed’s with a cocky confidence. Muscles bunching as he unscrewed the cap, he added, “I was really worried about losing definition during the lockdown.”

Ed was slightly dazed at the weird trick his eyes seemed to be playing on him, but he managed to reply, “No problem. And call me Ed.”

Eric beamed at him and took a long drink from the bottle, and Ed was so turned on by the working of his throat and the overwhelming combination of his face and body that he had to look away. His eyes fell instead on the Yuen brothers, who… seemed to have whipped their shirts off while Ed was shamelessly scoping their buddy? Ed glanced briefly around in confusion, but there was no sign of the gray shirts having been dropped or tossed anywhere.

Both of them were watching him as they drank from their own bottles. “Everything all right, Ed?” they asked.

Ed nodded. He tried not to look, but he was only human, and they were showing off some fierce aesthetic muscle. Hank was, as he had previously noted, a little thicker: where Charlie was superbly defined, with almost a textbook swimmer’s build distinguished by broad, noticeably thick pecs, a smooth, cut, wide-spaced six-pack, rounded delts, and long, sculpted arms, Hank looked more like an Olympic-level acrobat, with broader, more pronounced biceps and triceps, gracefully prominent delts and traps, and first, square pecs that were visibly and significantly heavier than his brother’s.

Abruptly Ed realized what he was doing and jerked his gaze back up to Hank’s subtly intoxicating face, but the older brother’s soft smile as he took another long pull from his bottle, and the matching one his brother was giving him, told him the Yuens didn’t much mind being checked out like that—at least, not by Ed. Okay then. Duly noted!

The boys returned to their workout, trading off machines and spotting each other as needed, while Ed headed back to his office, slightly disconcerted and very aroused. He sat down at his desk, his brain and hormones both fighting for his attention. There was a lot he had to do today; at least three projects were stacked up in his online inbox. Yet he couldn’t help but be aware of the windows to his right and the godly, addictively hot shirtless and sweaty men working out just beyond them in the open, sunlit garage. He grinned to himself. Usually it was the windows to his left looking out onto the back lawn and garden that were the distraction. Now, though, he wondered, only half facetiously, if he’d get a kink in his neck from not turning to occasionally leer at the eye candy diligently working out a few feet away in his new garage gym. Well, he thought, chiropractors are expensive…

It happened that he had an L-shaped desk, and the other, perpendicular surface was positioned to his right. All it took was a bit of casually sliding his monitor, keyboard and mouse a few feet around to the other side of the L, and presto, the boys were now directly in his line of sight. No neck-twisting necessary.

Over the next few weeks, Ed improvised a modified schedule for himself out of necessity. In the mornings the boys would come in bright and early and start lifting. A bit later, after he got up and took care of things upstairs, Ed would bring in the cooler and visit with the guys; they’d talk for a bit about their workout regimen for the day, or which actors or musicians had the best bodies, or other seemingly increasingly homoerotic topics while Ed took his chance to ogle them up close. (Weirdly, the Yuens, never before ones for exhibition, after that first day remained determinedly and invariably shirtless, even when he saw them around the neighborhood; and Ed almost believed his gut sense that they were getting infinitesimally hotter and more attractive every time he laid eyes on them.) After the drinks run, the boys resumed their workouts while Ed went back to his office, accomplishing what work he could in between helpless bouts of staring through the windows separating his office and the gym. A few days in he invited the boys to stay for dinner, and they all gathered around the table in the breakfast nook, the boys still shirtless and sweaty, for Ed’s home-cooked, low-fat, high-protein meals—baked chicken, salmon burgers, beef and bean burritos, and anything else the internet told him was good for growing muscle. Then, after his guests went home and he had the place to himself, Ed would buckle down and finish up the work he should have gotten done during the day, though usually with a session of self-fulfillment first, and maybe another one after. His dreams were taken over by the perfect, glistening bodies of the three young men, too, so that they began to occupy his thoughts both day and night.

Every now and then, as he watched through the window or as they chatted up close during the morning kaffeeklatsch or joked around the dinner table, that thing would happen where Ed’s vision blurred just for a second, and when he blinked and looked again something seemed different in slightly impossible ways. Charlie’s height, for example. Ed kind of liked that Charlie was taller than Hank; it made him seem excitingly lanky, especially as he was a notch less bulky muscle-wise than his brother. It did start to seem, though, that the difference in their heights was more than Ed had thought it was, and one night as the three of them hugged him in thanks for his unexpectedly delicious shrimp, sausage, and lentil jambalaya, the vision thing happened and when it cleared Ed realized he was looking up at Charlie’s sweetly handsome face. Had he been wrong about them being about the same height before? His dick, of course, only knew that it liked Taller Charlie even more than Same-Height Charlie.

Other things he could definitely chalk up to his imagination as the days of pumping iron went by, like the incrementally larger bulges he was clocking in the young men’s sweaty shorts. Pure fantasy, obviously. And maybe Eric’s chest just… grew really easily? There were a couple of times when he found himself staring mindlessly at Eric’s pecs, achingly hard under his desk, and the vision thing would happen and they would just jump a size—and stay that way. By the time a month had passed, Eric’s oversized melon pecs were verging on disproportionate in a way that was almost literally captivating. They seemed to draw the eye, and the hand too, seeing as Eric couldn’t avoid stroking his protruding chest a few times a day. The brothers soon started jokingly rubbing the almost spherical mounds of heavy, thick muscle, too, as if the attention would make them grow. They even got Ed in on the act, and by month’s end the morning chats always ended with a minute or two of Hank, Charlie, and Ed stroking Eric’s chest for “growth-luck”, all of them pretending not to notice the hardening of Eric’s down-pointing nipples whenever they performed this ritual.

From that point, the touching thing seemed to expand, infecting all the boys’ muscles. One afternoon Ed was watching from his desk as Hank and Charlie paused after a long set to towel each other off. That was hot enough in itself, but then the vision thing happened, and when he blinked it clear the towel was gone and the brothers were just running their hands appreciatively over each other’s damp, flushed, and exercise-pumped muscle arms and thickening chests, massaging here, caressing there, and obviously enjoying each other’s touch as a pleasant coda to couple of hours of heavy exercise. That became part of the daily program, too. Ed felt a little bad for Eric, who watched the bothers fondle each other with a big grin while he toweled himself off—at least until the day Ed blinked and then saw that today his three regulars had been joined by Eric’s equally monster-pec’ed identical twin, Evan, who seemed more than willing to share the same kind of ministration with Eric that the Yuen brothers had started enjoying as part of their workout day. Eric and Evan were a bit more aggressive, adding butt-grabs and even the occasional full-on kiss to the twice-daily groping session, but the Yuens quickly followed suit, grinning the whole time, while Ed caved and stroked himself to a rapid orgasm under his desk and hoped the boys didn’t notice.

It was during one of these gropefest intervals, too, that Ed blinked and noticed that the barest hint of Evan’s cockhead was poking past the reinforced hem of his traditional loose, gray gym shorts. Startled, Ed wondered if one twin could possibly be more genitally fortunate than the other, but when he looked over at Eric’s shorts he spotted the wide, rosy tip of his ponderous wang attempting to make an appearance as well. Over the next couple of weeks the twins’ cocks became a regular sighting during the caressing-and-make-out breaks, a bit more showing each time, presumably as the twins got more accustomed to chubbing up partway during their mutual pleasure interludes. It was another week after that before Hank and Charlie’s cockheads made tentative appearances at the hems of their longer-legged shorts, though Ed judged it was worth the wait as the Yuens’ hefty cocks were uncut and at least half-again as wide as the twins’. That his own fat, almost constantly hard dick seemed thicker and heavier and more sensitive than it should have been, Ed barely noticed, his mind on more important matters.

In retrospect, it was all a period of adjustment. The two sets of brothers settled into being a daily part of his life, and the workouts, the chats, the dinners, the hugs goodbye, and even the weekday distraction of mesmerizingly hot muscle men on the other side of his office windows—all of that became blissfully routine and gratifyingly ordinary. Once Ed understood it that way, the moments of blurred vision and momentary confusion around his four uncannily hot men, two thick-muscled, überpec’ed gods and two exquisitely muscled, perfectly sculpted hunk-angels, happened more and more infrequently. When they did Ed just smiled and adjusted his painfully hard cock, not even worrying about when he would get a chance to cum: being hard for his guys was part of the routine, too.

The world shifted slowly around them, but Ed was gratified to realize that the boys didn’t want this all to change any more than he did. One night Hank was taking his turn kissing him goodbye, while the twins kissed each other, hands pushing through each other’s fast-growing curls as they aggressively made out, both sets of brothers having become almost kiss-insatiable when they weren’t actually at the weights. As Hank broke the kiss he asked, “When the gyms and everything open up again, will you still keep your garage gym for us?”

Ed grinned. “Always,” he said. “My gym is your gym.”


For more on BRK commissions click here or go to commissions.metabods.com  (Credit: Aaron Amat)


I’m glad you’re here. For more about Metabods, visit the About page here.

More Like This