My quarantine get in shape plan

by Dream Big

 Stuck at home during the quarantine, Terry orders a used weight machine, figuring he’ll use the time to lose weight and tone up. His motivation doesn’t really hit, though, until he starts spending time with his hunky neighbor, Sebastian.

Added: Aug 2020 Updated: 3 Oct 2020 17,396 words 10,173 views 4.9 stars (11 votes)


I’d moved into the condo a few weeks ago, and I liked the neighborhood. More importantly, I liked the neighbors.

I’d finally got the job I’d been looking for, and was about 4 months into it—just past the trial period—and I was doing really well. Well enough to finally upgrade my shitty apartment to a trendy condo in one of those new, fancy developments adjacent to a metro stop. And now that I was settling in nicely, I’d made it my goal to finally get back into shape. So I picked up a used pro-series Bowflex, stuck it in the unused spare room amongst all the boxes I intended to eventually unpack, and had every intention of getting to work on it.

I remember the day it arrived, vividly, because I’d just run into my hunky 20-something neighbor Sebastian at the mailbox, and was making pleasant chit chat with him when the delivery arrived.

Ah, Sebastian—half Mediterranean Greek god, half Native American hunk. All cheekbones, deep set eyes, and black, black hair. So ridiculously good looking, and so sweet natured. Always had time to say hi to me, a dumpy 30-something, over the mailbox or as our paths crossed in the parking lot. Strong big bro/little bro vibe with him from the start, which was a shame, because he was objectively one of the hottest men I’d ever met. And he was smarter than he looked—mostly because you’d never want to look deeper than the incredibly hot surface for fear of disappointment. I mean, it would be unfair to look that good and be a decent stand-up guy, with some wit and smarts to back it all up, right?

But no. He was sweet natured and easy-going, and he always smiled with that damned dimple drawing me in. The one in his face.

The one in his left butt cheek, when he wore the blue shorts? That was for when he left.


Anyway, Sebastian was chatting with me about nothing much—I think he was asking if I’d seen the news with the latest atrocity from the Annoying Orange—when the delivery guy walked past and up to my door.

“Oh, that’s me,” I said.

“Terry Beringer?”


“Sign here,” the gruff deliver guy said.

“Oh, yes,”. I did so, and then showed the team where to bring the mostly assembled unit. They did so, and brought it up the stairs for me while I dug for cash for a tip. The burly boys were in and out in about 10 minutes and I was saying goodbye when I realized Sebastian was still by the mailbox on his phone, texting. He caught my eye.

“Hey bro, your key’s still here,” he said, pointing at it.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Yeah, no big, I was in no hurry and I didn’t want you to forget your keys,” he said, smiling. “Whatcha order?”

“Oh, it’s a used Bowflex.”

“Nice bro. Trying to get swole?”

“I’d settle for any semblance of shape,” I said truthfully.

“Good for you! I would recommend my gym, but its kinda… not for beginners?”


“Nah,” he said. he flexed his upper arms, revealing some impressive muscles. “I’m the littlest dude there, and if I didn’t work there, I probably wouldn’t dare go in. Some of those guys are massive!”

I looked him over appreciatively; Sebastian was in really good shape, bulky and lean in all the right places.

“Not really my scene,” I said.

Not entirely true. It wasn’t what I wanted for myself, but hot muscle was a big turn on for me.

“Oh,” he said, oozing slightly wounded.

“Not for my self. It looks good on some folks.”

Sebastian cast a critical eye over my body.

“Yeaaah… you could probably make it work, but it’ll take a long time to get ther.

“I’d be happy with you—” (I quickly caught myself) “—your level of development.”

“Sweet, but I want to be bigger,” he said….

My hot neighbor and I continued to cross paths, usually at the mailbox, here and there for the next few mornings, exchanging nods or small talk occasionally.

Thanks to a crushing deadline, my Bowflex sat there in the spare room for a solid week before I really had time to play with it. It was a really nice deluxe model, apparently, with all sorts of attachments. I had no idea what most of them were for, and the user manual was conspicuously absent, though a diagram for the main unit had enabled the burly delivery guys to get the big pieces assembled. There were lots of pullies and straps and small handles and bars, and most of them seemed familiar—I had done basic circuit training at some point. So one Sunday morning, I woke up with a little extra energy (like I sometimes did after I caught up on sleep at the end of the product development cycle), and decided to run through some basics. Ended up with a decent little starter workout, and 45 minutes later, I was pooped, but in a good way. I felt like I could do this on the regular—the machine had been pretty easy to figure out for the basic stuff, at least, and would be just fine for what I needed.

Then, the virus hit. The world shut down, everyone ordered masks and groceries and hunkered down to ride it out. Lockdown orders were in place, and my job was well set up to work from home, so I did so. Software developers were hardly essential!

Thanks to lucky timing, the quirky little mobile app we had just released took off like gangbusters, and the dev team’s bonuses had been very generous and immediate. My boss told our team to just take a week off after the lockdown. Which was great and all, but after you catch up on sleep and chores and binge watch a series or two, boredom sets in. It was also rainy season, and we really did get hammered with precipitation, and then thoroughly baked in a heat wave. So it was two weeks before I bumped into Sebastian again at the mailbox.

“Bro!” he said from behind the mask.

“Hey, Sebastian,” I said. “Fuck this heat, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And fuck this virus, right?”

“I hear ya,” I said. I noticed something though—he looked a little….softer, maybe?

“Yeah, it sucks. The gym had to close and we are all furloughed. Things have been tight, so I got a delivery side hustle going. Half these fuckers don’t understand what a tip is. But hey, what about you? Get started with that fitness program yet?”

“Not really,” I confessed. “I have used it maybe twice?”

“What? No way, man. You got a golden opportunity here. Stuck at home with this shit weather is like the best time to get in shape.”

“I guess you’re right. Hard to get motivated, though, and I don’t know what half that stuff is for. No manual.”

“Dude, just find the manual online. No excuses, man,” he grinned under his mask.

“Well, I do have the week off,” I said, “so I suppose I could really get a leg up.”

“Now you’re talking. I wish I had one of those things! With the gym shut down, I got no place to work out.”

I could almost see the thought leap into our minds at the same time.

“Hey, I know we are just neighbors and you don’t really know me all at well, but…may be we can work something out here. I’ve been working as a personal trainer, and I have no place to work out. You have a place to work out, but could use a trainer.”

“Yes,” I blurted out before my proper brain could stop my mouth.

“really? Cool!” He said. “I mean, if you don’t mind my sweaty ass yelling at you every day. Man, you’re a life saver. I was starting to worry—there’s plenty you can do without equipment, but my place is pretty cramped with the three of us living there, and I can only do so much in my room, you know?”

To his credit, Sebastian quickly established that he had been tested though his job. I hadn’t, but I was scheduled for a physical the next day anyway, so I figured I would get it done there.

“Cool, yeah, get tested, and clear your workout plans with your doc. If we were at the gym, you’d have to fill out papers and get clearance first anyway.” We exchanged numbers (after three years of only mailbox hellos) and vaguely planned to get started on Thursday.

Inwardly, I was panicky. My place needed a thorough cleaning, and a hot guy I fancied was about to see just how out of shape I really was. So that’s how the rest of my day was spent—scrubbing my place And tidying up. I had no illusions about what Sebastian was coming over for, but still wanted the place to look decent, you know?

“You lucked out, Terry,” Dr Wong said. “If you want a test, I happen to be working with Hopkins on this, so I actually have the new fast test…”

My doc was apparently well connected at Hopkins and NIH. It wasn’t the first time he had roped me into one of his studies, or at least talked about them. But he was also a really good GP, and seemed to have endless sidelines in research. My nose was still stinging a bit from the test when I mentioned my workout plans.

“That’s a great idea for you. I mean, your health is okay, but we have talked before about your genetics here, and I think getting into better shape may help stave off some of those worrisome traits from your parents.” So he enthusiastically generated a quick form letter suitable for any gym, right there on his tablet. He seemed to genuinely enjoy his tech, and being cutting edge.

“Grab the printout when you check out, Janet should have it in a moment. Meanwhile. I think you should probably start taking a supplement or two, just to help you get started. Should help a bit. Multi vitamins, and a few specific things to keep you limber. Actually,” he said, “you would be a good candidate for this other study….”

Now, this isn’t one of those stories where the protagonist breezes past the instructions on some mysterious medicine, exceeds the dosage, and gets hung and buff overnight. Let me be clear about that. Dr Wong’s instructions were clear, and I followed them to the letter. Right? I mean, why be dumb about something like that?

Thursday came, and with it, a new sense of purpose.

My house looked good, I had bottled water handy, and I’d had oatmeal (yuck) and banana for breakfast about an hour ago, as Sebastian had recommended over email when we coordinated. I had showered, even though it was silly to do so, because I didn’t want to smell bad for my hot neighbor. I knew he would put me through my paces, but at least the t shirt and gym shorts were presentable enough.

At 7:55 a.m., my doorbell rang, and I opened the door to find a smiling Sebastian, practically beaming at the door.

“Hey Terry, looking fresh and ready huh?”

Fresh and ready? Holy crap, if this was how Sebastian looked when he was at work, my new goal was to work my way up to feel comfortable going to that gym. Man. His IRON MAN GYM compression shirt hugged his beefy chest and lean torso like he was training for the superhero team, and his shorts cupped a discretely shielded, but ample, package. And he clearly didn’t skip leg day.

“Ugh, sorry, I’ve been letting myself go a bit, but don’t worry, we will both get there, right? Now, let me ditch my bag, then grab your keys and we can warm up with a quick run. Then we will have a look at that machine. Stretches first!”

Fifteen minutes later, I was already drenched and ready to collapse, but we were home. I tossed my keys on the table and Sebastian, eager puppy that he was, looked like he had barely broken a sweat.

“No worries, bro, it gets easier every day. You are doing just fine. Now let’s see your muscle machine!”

I chugged half a bottle of water, remembering that I hadn’t taken my vitamins, even though I’d painstaking filled the daily pill manager according to the doc’s instructions. Down they went. And then it was into the ground floor bonus room where the bowflex was.

“Nice,” he commented. “ My old apartment complex had a similar model, I think…Oh, dude, you got like all the extras they ever made for this thing. Shit, this must have been pricey! “

“Like $500 used?”

“That’s really good. Shit, it’s probably worth a couple grand! Still. Let’s start off with the basics…”

An hour later, Sebastian had measured me (embarassing for me), and had run me through what felt like a pretty intense workout. It followed this basic pattern: he would explain how to set the device, then he would demonstrate with a quick set, and then have me do it. I watched him intently, glad for the excuse to watch his muscles at work. But he watched me with the practiced eye of a good trainer, and corrected and encouraged me throughout. But by the end of the session, I was wiped.

“Go hit the showers, bro. Mind if I do my own set while you’re there? Then we can chat about other goals and such.”

“No, by all means…”

I left him there, and imagined him panting away while I stood under the hot water for a bit. I actually felt pretty decent, and imagining my neighbors sweaty, muscled body getting stronger downstairs meant my own needs suddenly made themselves known in no uncertain terms. My seven inch tool was absolutely rigid, and I was urgently concerned that it had been at least half chubbed when I was working out. I put it out of my mind and wanked quickly, came very satisfyingly, Finished my shower, and came downstairs.

“How ya feeling?” Sebastian said. He was toweling off, having clearly just finished his set. “That was a nice long shower, but you’ll be glad you did that. You are going to be sore tomorrow.”

I Looked at the clock and was shocked to realize had been upstairs nearly thirty minutes, which meant Sebastian had been panting away for the better part of forty five minutes. He gleamed and glistened, and his muscles were pumped. “Man, I really needed that. I gotta get back into shape. But you did great for your first day. Now the tricky part is keeping it up, but that’s on me.”

He advised me about some dietary changes—nothing major, just a big increase in protein and shifting my meal times a bit, and we agreed on times for the next few workouts. Then he and his fine ass left with a smile and a wave. Fuck, it was hopeless, he was to adorable. Even his sweat smelled nice. I expected another kind of stiffness was in my future if this kept going.

I hadn’t told him about the supplements, and I hadn’t mentioned the study—which had provided some post workout supplements for me to try. Just one large pill, after workouts. I took it without further thought. And the next day, when I woke up feeling the effects of my first day back, I did as suggested: I stretched, did some calisthenics for like twenty minutes, Popped my supplement, and felt A little better.

We had a session every other day, and two weeks soon passed. As we worked out, we chatted a bit, though Sebastian kept me pretty focused. The routine was established: get up, eat, run, work out, shower and wank while Sebastian got swole in my spare room, get dressed, take supplements, chat with Sebastian until he went home.

After our sixth session together, Sebastian chuckled suddenly.

“What?” I’d just stood up. He pointed down.

“Dammit, the elastic on these cheap shorts should have held up better than that…”

“Nah, bro. That’s you. Your belly isn’t taking up that space now. Good thing you’re no slouch there or they’d have fallen down,” he laughed. I was mortified; my semi was the only thing keeping my shorts from sliding down.

“Sorry man, that’s just too funny. No worries, it happens. And that’s a great sign of progress! Let’s update your measurements…”

Most of my measurements weren’t changed, they were just firmer. But in one area, I was shocked. Two inches! I’d lost two inches of pudge around my waist. After Sebastian left, I was feeling so good, I went upstairs to bang another one out (my libido was responding to all this as much as the rest of me) and I couldn’t help but measure my dick, too. (What, we all do it sometimes.)

I was surprised to see that my seven inch dick was half an inch longer. I immediately assumed it was because of the fat I’d shed.

I was wrong.

Four weeks into the program I’d worked out with Sebastian, and things were progressing really nicely. I was basking in the glow of progress. Nearly three inches of midsection flab gone, and I was getting toned nicely. It had been so long since I had really worked out properly, and my body seemed to really respond to it.

Sebastian, however, was the real deal. Charismatic, chatty, and gorgeous, he was a fantastic trainer who pulled off a great balance between encouraging me and holding me accountable. He didn’t let me slack, he pushed me to go just a little farther, and he praised me for my little achievements along the way. And he seemed genuinely to enjoy my company as much as I enjoyed his.

Around this time, our routine together was feeling more like a bromance, and quite a routine. I’d even started to join him on his morning runs, and no longer felt like I was a drag—in fact, I was surprised to find myself keeping pace with him, though I was a lot more winded than he was when we got back to the complex. That was now a daily thing, and every other day, I’d follow it with an increasingly strenuous workout, coached by Sebastian. Then he would put in some time on the Bowflex while I showered. And as we became more comfortable around each other, that time grew. He did a solid hour after my routine, and then we would have some breakfast together, chatting about our lives and friends and families, or whatever.

Aside from being objectively hot (and getting hotter, in my book, as the dark haired Adonis had put on several pounds of muscle while shedding that bit of softness he had developed after being laid off from the gym), Sebastian was intellectually curious and open minded. He read a bit, and had a mind for trivia. While no comedian, he had a gentle, teasing wit about him that added to his charm, and he seemed a decent guy.

it was pointless to try to wear a mask For most of our time together, but aside from his roommates (two old college friends who Sebastian was discovering he was no longer as fond of), I was pretty much the only human contact for Sebastian, who clearly thrived interacting with people.

Me? Not so much. I did better one on one, when it came to people, so this was ideal for me. I’d always had a small cadre of friends, but most of them were hours away now, since I’d moved here. Weekly zoom chats were my jam there, and I missed them, but the time I spent with Sebastian filled the gap nicely. By this point it was between one and three hours every day.

The main downside was that My libido has ramped up, and I had no outlet for it. I was cranking one out every morning before the run, and then one in the shower post-workout, and typically another before I went to sleep at night. And the constant there was my hot coach, who I realized I was starting to fall for. Still, I felt healthy and pretty happy, keeping my attraction wrapped up and hidden in the easy friendship we had developed.

But the quarantine dragged on, and on.

Two months in, and I’d pulled off what would have been an amazing transformation, the sort of change that gets everyone in the office talking. But there was no office, and I wasn’t much of a narcissist, so I was largely blind to just how far I’d come, because I was preoccupied with a life that suddenly got quite complicated.

Sebastian had occupied most of my fantasies for a while now, and while my progress had been steady (if not quite as dramatic as the first month), his had been, too. If anything, he had doubled down on his personal goals, and he’d added some bulk to his well sculpted physique—to the point where he looked less like a sculpted personal trainer, and more like a pro athlete.

Over breakfast one day, I mentioned his added size.

“It’s like I always told my clients, man, you always do better with a workout buddy,” he said, crediting me far more than I deserved. “I gotta stay ahead of you, Terry, or you might flip the scene on me!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon,” I demurred.

“Seriously, man, you have been in beast mode lately. I don’t think you appreciate how far you’ve come in so short a time. That first day, you could barely jog around the community, and now you’re keeping pace with a guy who does fitness for a living. That’s remarkable. So proud of ya, man!”

I blushed. We had measured me that morning, and even I had to admit he was right. What I had thought was a plateau was simply that I was now five pounds heavier than when we started, but it was all lean muscle, and that had replaced a lot more flab than I had realized. My arms were still 17 inches around, but it was now a muscular 17 inches. My waist was down to 35, but I’d been pushing 39 inches when I started, and it looked good on my 6’3 frame. My hair, a dirty blond, had grown out quite a bit, and I thought the shaggy look made me look and feel a bit younger. My shoulders were broader, and while I couldn’t see abs—they don’t magically appear when you’re in your late thirties—I could at least feel them under the increasingly thin layer of tummy fat.

One area Sebastian hadn’t measured where I definitely felt and saw evidence of my transformation, was my sex drive. I hadn’t been this consistently horny since college, and I had never masturbated so much since puberty. Every morning, without fail, just after I peed. Hen another time in The shower after workout. Another around 3 to 4 p.m., and once before bed.

And part of that was that my dick just felt amazing. It felt thicker, and it was longer by over an inch—an inch I was still attributing to my evaporating layer of flab. And all the extra masturbation had stimulated my production too, so my loads were larger, and I leaked a fair amount of pre. I realized I was spending about an hour, total, working out my dick, in addition to the thirty minute run and hour-plus workout every day.

Oh, yeah—the workouts had stepped up in frequency. Two days on, one day off. And I missed that one day. I love a predictable routine, but if I’m honest, I mostly loved spending the time with Sebastian.

I had just about run out of the supplements that Dr Wong had given me to try, and he had sent me another bottle of them, this time a 90-day trial. He was as excited about my apparent progress as I was, though he seemed most keen on the fact that I was taking them daily and actually filling out the online form each day.

“I would really like to see you in person here before the next phase of the trial, but I am so slammed with this virus stuff, it’s not funny. And the safety protocols are slowing us down just when the patient count is on the rise. Let’s at least set up a video chat appointment, though.”

Then, fate intervened.

It came out of the blue, in a company-wide email. We’d been bought out by one of the bigger players, and they were absorbing us. As a lead designer and one of the original team, I’d be getting a cash buyout and some stock. But I was being released, along with most of the company.

I guess I’d known that the app was doing well, but I’d been so focused on my workouts and my budding friendship with Sebastian, I hadn’t clued into just how well. And I had always stayed out of office gossip. Still, it was a shock.

Being laid off was not a problem, and I could take my time looking for a new gig. Shit, if I was smart, I wouldn’t need to work again. Ever.

Major change number two hit that afternoon, when I got a handful of urgent texts from Sebastian all within the space of about five minutes.

hey bro, got a sec?

terry, you home?

Got a situation and a big favor to ask

Sebastian’s familiar knock had some urgency to it, and when he came in, he was so visibly upset, he was shaking.

“Sit. Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m being kicked out!” he said. He was hurt, and angry. And worried.

“Jesus. Those fuckers just decided they didn’t want a roommate anymore, and they’re kicking me out. I have two weeks. Like I can find a place on no notice, with no job and a goddamned pandemic!”

I hadn’t really thought about his situation before, but he had mentioned that the shut down was eating into his savings. But personal trainers were not in much demand now, with all the gyms closed down due to the virus. I knew he had talked about picking up A delivery or uber side gig, but was worried about exposure. And I didn’t blame him.

I didn’t really think about it. He was my friend, and he needed a place. I had room. He would bunk in the futon in my den.

Any thoughts I had about where I would rather he sleep, I kept to myself.

One thing about all the effort I’d put into getting into shape—I made clearing some space for Sebastian a lot easier, and having Sebastian help made it a lot more fun. We rearranged a bit, so his stuff would fit and give him a sense of privacy.

As it happened, he didn’t have much actual stuff; one small advantage to being a 25-year-old was that your life wasn’t yet full of clutter and baggage. He had about a dozen boxes of stuff, a decent TV, some heavy dumbbells and other portable exercise equipment (they ended up in the spare room with the Bowflex), a closet full of clothes, and some suitcases.

“Whee,” he said, wiping a burly forearm across his brow. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Nah, I think I carried more stuff to the dump from this room than you brought with you,” I replied. “You travel light.”

“It’s not that, bro. Lost all my stuff over the past year, just before you moved in.”


“My ex threw a bunch away, and then there was a robbery. And a fire.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“It was a hell of a weekend,” he nodded. Then he laughed at my expression.

It has been years since I’d lived with, well, anyone at all, much less someone I was attracted to sexually. It took some getting used to…and some serious wanking time to prevent my interest from being blindingly obvious.

It was honestly starting to worry me, the frequency of masturbation. Once when I got up, once before and once after our workout time together, and once more at bedtime. Minimum. At least twice a week it would wake me up with its demands at around 2:30 a.m.

That first night was miserable, knowing he was down the hall and I couldn’t go there. But my dick seemed determined to meet him halfway. Since I’d started the quarantine, I’d added two inches to my dick. It was also thicker, and my balls seemed to have more heft to them lately. And all of it was directed to the mere thought of Sebastian, guiltlessly snoring a few dozen feet away.

I came twice more that night. Five times in one day!

It was about three days into our cohabitation when things really started to change, though.

I’d tried to keep to the same routine as before—get up, jerk off, pee, morning vitamins, run with Sebastian, hit the Bowflex for about 90 minutes (yeah, we had upped the time), shower and whack off again, then grab something more substantial in the kitchen with Sebastian. That day had seen a personal best, and as I grunted out the last press, I sprung my most epic woody yet. Only I was so in the moment, I hadn’t noticed yet. I lay there panting for a few minutes.

“Wow, man. Guess you hit two personal bests today!” Sebastian said. His eyes were, to my embarrassment, fixed on my crotch.

I was mortified, but my hunky trainer laughed. “Dude, it’s almost inevitable. At last you have something to celebrate!”

he was so good natured I couldn’t stand it. I just lay there, blushing to beat all, and too wiped from the Herculean effort is just put in to even cover myself. There it stood, a tower under my grey shorts.

“No worries, Man, seriously. Happens all the time. And shit, I knew you were no shrimp, but damn!”

He was right, I realized. I had started with a pretty average six inches. My current trouser occupant was over nine inches, and half again as thick as it had been before quarantine.

“I am so sorry…”

“Might want a nice cold shower anyway. Go on, it’s time for my sets.” He said, shooing me away, apparently already over it. I mean it made sense, given his normal job, that he was no stranger to natural male reactions, right? I stood awkwardly, adjusted myself a bit, and excused myself.

In my post workout shower, I came twice, and they were both personal bests, too.The first orgasm left me hornier than when I started, and triggered a repeat before I had the shampoo out of my hair.

If you’ve been keeping count, that was my third nutting and it wasn’t even 10am. I took a pretty long shower until I finally felt sane again, then dressed and came downstairs.

When I got there, Sebastian was ready with scrambled eggs and avocado, which he had gotten pretty good at. But he said nothing and neither did I as we ate. But when I got up to rinse the dishes, I saw his eyes fixed on my waist as I walked past. He usually showered after he ate, which was fine by me. His natural scent was pleasant and manly, a little spicy. I avoided it as we maneuvered around my kitchen. Funny, it seemed big enough when I bought the place, but it was a little cramped with two guys in it. I thanked him for cooking, and went back upstairs for a bit, trying to ignore the lingering scent of him.

A box popped up on my phone, reminding me of my upcoming video chat with Dr Wong. I checked my email and sure enough, his office had sent a questionnaire for me to fill out. That was in addition to the normal paperwork, which I dutifully worked through. Nothing like paperwork to kill a boner, right?

Except Doc Wong had also asked for my full current measurements, in a rare personal email.

Terry, can you also attach your journal and current state of progress for the supplement study? I’ve linked to a google doc, just use the patient code I’ve attached above the link, so your results are part of the study. Do the best you can, I know measuring can be a challenge. Thank you, Dr Henry Wong

The form was incredibly detailed, and we hadn’t measured recently. I would need Sebastian to help with that.

I trotted downstairs, only to find Sebastian in my way—we almost collided as he was toweling off his hair and glistening upper body. He was just in boxers but absolutely confident and casual around me by this point, so I did my best to avoid checking out his crotch. He smiled, piercing my heart again with his deadly dimple.

“Sure, bud. Besides, you’re overdue for a measure up. Normally I avoid those because they can kill enthusiasm, but at this point I doubt that’s a problem for you.”

I had him snap a few photos, and then he began measuring—entering the data as he went, mumbling “huh” every so often and smiling as he refused to tell me any of the measurements until he was done. He periodically checked the instructions on the web form, but he had clearly done these before, and found few surprises. Until the last screen.

“Um, the last ones are a bit… personal.”

“You’ve measured me everywhere already,” I said, cluelessly.

“Heh. Not quite. I think they expected you’d do these on your own. Unless you want me to measure your junk,” he said.

Was that a flirtatious tone I was hearing? Really?

“What?” I replied. For some reason I wanted him to say it…

“I’m serious, man, they’re asking for length and girth, soft and hard, as well as your ball measurements.”


“Dead serious. Is this the usual stuff for your doc?” He seemed understandably dubious.

“Oh,” I replied, “I’m kind of in a study, and I guess they’re monitoring everything.”

“So you gave these measurements before, at the start?”

“yeah,” I said. I had nearly forgotten, but I had skipped that last screen, which had been optional, when I was in the office. It had all been forgettable clinical.

“So what’s the study?” He asked. I noticed he hadn’t left or handed me the tape measure yet.

“It’s about the supplements I’m taking,” I said. “They’re just super thorough and this is three months in.”

He nodded. Then, unexpectedly, he said, “Well, what are you waiting for? I might as well finish the job.”

I think I forgot to breathe, because it got super quiet as we stared at each other.


“Dude, I am curious. Today wasn’t the first day you’ve popped wood while working out and I haven’t said anything. But I gotta know. Call it professional curiosity.”

Somehow I agreed and next thing I know, he had my pants down and my eyes looking at the wall as he very carefully measured as the directions indicated. His hands were warm and this felt incredibly intimate, as he gently took his time measuring me. I barely breathed.

“huh. Okay, I guess that’s about as flaccid as you get. Now, I’m supposed to get your erect measurements…oh, there you go! Glad I finished before you got too excited.”

Still looking at the ceiling, but thinking of my hot friend, my fuck stick inflated like a pool toy.

“Nice, bro,” he said. “Okay, just…warn me if anything feels wrong.”

it didn’t feel wrong at all. It felt amazing, and the moment he touched the base of my rampant dick, I must have surged another half inch. I was screamingly hard now, my teeth grinding together and breath held.

“wow,” he mumbled. Wow? When had I hit wow territory? I mean, I’d lost the pudgy bits and revealed more than I …hoooo….fuck, what was he…”

I looked down, and he was slowly stroking my dick, as if in a trance. Christ, it really did look big.

I cleared my throat, not trusting myself with words.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, then scooted over to enter the data. Okay, I clicked the review button..

“I uh, I’ll be right back,” he said, and fled the room.

Shit, it had been awkward, hadn’t it? I mean, masuring another guy is intimate enough, but that careful handling of my bait and tackle?

But when I saw the data, I understood.

My starting stats were unremarkable, other than having a quite respectable 7-inch dick.

my new stats, however, were remarkable across the board.

Shoulders, 54
Chest, 50
Arms, 19
Neck, 18.5
Waist, 34
Thighs, 27.5
Calves, 17.5

Fuck, I really had gotten into seriously good shape,possibly the best of my life. Still 6’3 (almost), and probably around 18% body fat.

Which was nice, but the stat block that had me go smacked was the genitals.

Soft: 7 x 4.5 inch
Hard: 9.5 x 5.75 inches.

I was now as long soft as I’d ever been while hard, and hard….and my balls? The size of large eggs. Definitely bigger.

On some level, I must have been blind to my own progress. I mean, I was clearly aware that I had gotten into pretty good shape, but so much of it has been routine, and I’d been so singularly focused on working out with Sebastian, and trying not to throw wood around him, that I had missed the full extent of my own transformation. But there it was.

Lots to ask Dr. Wong about the next day. But first, I needed to make sure things were still cool with Sebastian. No wait, that needed to be second, because I needed desperately to get my rocks off first.

I closed the door and grabbed some paper towels, and set about the task of achieving my fourth nut of the day.

It wasn’t even 1 p.m. yet.

In no way was this normal, and I knew it, but I also knew I was in the best shape of my life, my dick was insistent, and it’s not like I had a job to occupy my time. No, I had Sebastian. Eating into my every waking thought with his increasingly bulky-lean body and sculpted pumped muscles, his black black hair, his scent, his dimple…. and that slow-burn sexual tension that had to have been building since well before he moved in.

Fuck. My pre had been in overdrive too, of late, and my slick-fingered grip and teasing technique were doing a number on me. I just needed another good minute to push me over the edge…

Shit, he knows my dick size. He knows that it’s big, bigger than it was and bigger than his. He literally ran off after he measured it, saw it hard and straining. He knows I’m cut, he knows about the lopsided vein on the left, the slight curve, the bell-shaped head….

Fuck,” I said, and came again. I’d have to start doubling up on those paper towels or resign myself to doing a lot more laundry. This was getting ridiculous.

I lay back panting for a moment, but quickly recovered. At least the beast seemed to be sated, for now. A glance at my watch told me that moment of pleasure had taken no more than five minutes, but time had seemed to stretch teasingly.

I washed and dried my hands and popped on a different pair of shorts—I’d have to order more, as these were a little snug, and at the rate I was going, a whole new wardrobe seemed distressingly near—when I heard something faintly echoing through the air ducts in the bathroom. I’d never noticed ,but of course it was a straight shot to the first floor den from here.

I knelt down and listened carefully….to what were, unmistakably, the sounds of Sebastian whacking off. And sadly, before I could fully process that, he finished with a sexy and guttural groan that almost ended in a purr. Then, he distinctly said “Fuck.”

My ears perked up at that. And then, an electronic tweedle, followed by Sebastian speaking quietly with someone else.

“Hey. Yeah. No, it’s fine here. Really good, actually. That’s…that’s part of the problem.”

What problem?

“No, nothing like that. But I think I like him. And I kind of crossed a line or two lately.”

Maybe this was a colleague? I imagine measuring your clients’ junk was normally verboten.

“Yeah, I didn’t. No, I don’t think so. But I’m also not sure I really want to. After Mason, I really haven’t.”

Mason? Who was that?

“I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t. But man, it’s getting more and more tense every day. I have put on twelve pounds myself, but he…he is getting to be a real work of art. He’s catching up fast, and fuck if I’m not into it.”

Shit! It wasn’t my imagination!

“Yeah, so what. Mason can fuck himself, herself, whatever. I’m over that. But if I …”

“Yeah, I know, don’t shit where you eat. I literally can’t afford to fuck this up, remember? Easy for you to say, but where would I go?” A long pause. “Well, yeah. I mean, that would be an unmistakable sign that the door was open. But until then, I just gotta keep it together.”

So he was into the idea, just scared? Hmm.

“Stop that. No, it’s rude. Fine. Over nine and a half. Yeah, I’m serious. Thick too. I told you I measured it both ways for him. No wonder he’s been jerking off so much.”

“It’s like there’s a whole new kind of horny here, man. It smells like us, especially in the workout room. Not locker-room stench, just…I smell him, and he probably smells me. It’s a good smell. No, I’m not! But there’s something kind of primal going on, you know?”

Yeah, that was the word for it. Primal. It was almost instinctive, basic. Being around each other triggered something, especially lately, that we were both aware of and had been avoiding.

“Maybe,” he said, more quietly. “Yeah, I will think about it. No promises.”

Was it my imagination? Was Sebastian really tasking to someone about… about having the hots for me?

I sat on the floor for probably ten minutes, turning what I’d heard over and over in my mind. Fuck, there was no mistaking it, and I hadn’t misread the sexual tension. But he wasn’t ready to act on it, for what sounded like entirely practical, sensible reasons.

Which meant if we were ever going to do anything, I would have to make the first move.

There was a time in my life where Making the first move wasn’t so daunting a prospect. I’d hit that stage in my twenties where I was pretty aggressively sexual, reveling in my newfound freedom to get laid. I Was stupid in the way every twenty-something gay boy is sometimes, and had done a little damage to my friendship circle, if I’m honest. Then a close call with VD scared me out of the clubs and bars for a while. And then I’d landed this job, and it stuck…and I was too busy to date, or see much family, or eat properly or exercise. And just after I moved, the pandemic hit.

I was rusty at this stuff and I knew it. still, the only way to ride again was to get back on the horse….but somehow the stakes seemed higher, and not because I had almost a dozen years on him and he lived in my house. It was way scarier for him.

And another thing. Did I want the power dynamic to be that much in my favor?

Did he?

Shit. Paralyzed by indecision, I decided to gather more info for now, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hide how my body was reacting to him.

Speaking of which, I really needed to talk to the doctor about this whole… situation. The raging libido was too much, and I had no real explanation for adding to my dick and balls at my age.

What I needed was to clear my head. A bite to eat, that might help. But I knew the cupboard was pretty bare.

So I grabbed my mask and keys, and headed downstairs. As I slipped on my shoes, I shouted “Running to the store, need anything?” A noncommittal grunt sounded enough like “no” that I just left…

One advantage to this condo was a nice organic market within walking distance, but I also needed more clothes ASAP. I’d resolved to stick to my diet—nutrition plan, really—and I was not going to blow it, so it was off to Walmart. Ugh.

Even in the middle of the day, the place was an annoying madhouse, but at least they were enforcing the mask ban… and didn’t care how poorly the clothing I wore fit me, so long as I had a shirt and shoes on (and pants…trust me, it needs to be stated clearly for some of their patrons). And the one I grudgingly visited when absolutely necessary had a decent produce selection. I noticed some folks giving me weird looks, but this pair of shorts didn’t have a zipper or button fly, they were pull-on gym shorts.

First things first, over to grab some athletic wear. I grabbed some gym shorts and a few t shirts ( and uncertain about my actual size, I picked up a few sizes) and went to try them on. For a place that sells cheap junk, they’re really worried you will steal the flimsy polyester and cotton crap, huh?

Problem one was shorts: my usual Ls didn’t fit, and the XL felt distressingly snug, verging on obscene. For that matter…fuck, that’s what folks had been staring at. My bulge looked huge in the shorts I was wearing!

And the XXL was okay, other than really needing the drawstrings in the waist. At least I didn’t look like I had shoved a softball down there….and that train of thought needed to end quickly.

Same problem with the XL beefy tee shirts, although… yeah, I got the 2XLs, but picked up one stretchy navy blue thing in XL. I almost grabbed one in white for Sebastian but he had an endless wardrobe of workout clothes, most with the name of the gym he used to work for.

I was grabbing some cleaning supplies and a pack of paper towels when I noticed I was being followed. A sturdy looking female security guard had been trailing me through half the store probably since I left the fitting rooms. Fuck, she probably saw my bulging sack and figured I was a shoplifter.

I can’t really explain why I did it, but I suddenly found myself at the mercy of my own evil sense of humor. I just… needed to get her to search me and see her reaction to what I was really smuggling.

I feigned obliviousness, but continued to shop, then went back over to the clothing section to swap out the shorts I didn’t need, but… I was deliberately shady about how I did it.

And sure enough, as I made a show of looking around and then adjusting myself, she took the bait.

“Sir, I’m going to need to ask you to step over here for a moment.”

“What’s the problem?” I asked, and then addedm “What, did you spot a snake or something?”

“That remains to be seen,” she said. “Let’s not make a scene here, just come with me.”

We were close to the security office, and she brought me into an interview room.

“Sir, we have witnesses who claim you may have taken some merchandise. But it’s near the end of my shift and I don’t want to spend any more time here than I need to. So if you hand over whatever you’ve got there, you can go on your way and this ends.”

“But didn’t—”

“Please empty your pockets, sir.”

I did so.

“Come on man, I’m trying to do you a solid here.” She sounded annoyed.

“But I really don’t have anything else,” I said.

“Fine,” she growled. “I guess I gotta do paperwork,” she threatened.

“Wait, you really think I stole something? Where am I supposed to have hidden it?”

“Gimme a break,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, gunning for Best Performance in a Walmart Office, “oh, you thought…”

“Yeah,” she said. “I kinda did. Pull out whatever you’ve stuffed your shorts with, and you better not—”

I did, feeling a shameless thrill as my shorts dropped to my knees and my bulging undies were on full view. And then, I flexed a little to make it move.

“Sir, this is not …not appropriate,” she growled half-heartedly, but her annoyed look shifted to wonder and surprise. It finally dawned on her that this was real, and my big fat sack and

“Oh, sorry,” I said sweetly. “It’s just cold in here. I’m so embarrassed…”

She was caught between shock and delight, I think. I enjoyed being ogled for a moment, then…

“I’m not usually so small,” I said.

A discreet knock gave me the chance to pull my shorts back up as another security guard popped his head in. “Martha, you need to see this,” the man said.

“I’ll be right back. If this is some sort of prank…”

Oh well, it kind of was… but I’d had my fun, and realized I may have done something really stupid. Luckily, she was back in a flash.

“Okay, sir,” she said. “Looks like we were misled. My apologies, but I had to verify you weren’t stealing.”

“I understand,” I said. “But you’re lucky I’m the forgiving type. If you’d called the cops on me for having done nothing but adjust myself discreetly, I’d probably have sued.”

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in to whisper.

“And if you’d gone any further, I’d call it in as indecent exposure.” Guess she was tougher than I gave her credit for. “A word of friendly advice: don’t let your… luck… write checks you can’t back. You’re not the first big boy I’ve had to search. Just between us, I’ve seen bigger. But I gotta collect my kids, so like I said: you got lucky.”

Duly chagrined, I finished my shopping quickly, but when I got to the front, the line clerks were super attentive. Surely word hadn’t got round that fast? Judging by where Hunter the Cashier Associate was looking, maybe it had.

The trunk was filled and I was glad I’d sprung for the fancy cold bag—and I realized I’d probably need to hit the big warehouse store soon too. I pulled through the nearest drive through and ordered as healthy as I could, desperate to fill my belly now. Three grilled chicken sandwiches, no sauce or mayo, extra lettuce and tomato. Unsweetened iced tea.

I inhaled it.

When I got home, I did feel better. I opened the door and yelled for Sebastian to come help, and got the treat of watching him carry in a load of groceries.

“Damn, is that all?”

“Yeah, the other bags are new clothes. I had to trade up a size.”

He turned away, but I caught his ears reddening a bit. he was suddenly quite interested in organizing the freezer. “Huh,” he said, carefully neutral.

“Well, two, actually.”

Oh, yes, I had him. The poor boy almost certainly popped wood, and now he couldn’t turn around without embarassing himself.

“So you are what, XL?” he said quietly.

“Nope! Double x!”


“What?” I teased. “Funny thing, though, the security guard thought I was shoplifting. Turns out I just really needed new shorts. I never thought having a big package would be so much trouble,” I said, with all the innocence I could manage.

“Hah! Well, you can finish this, I gotta go pee,” he said, then spun around to dash past me.

Not before I saw the tented outline of his own pecker, though.

The afternoon passed slowly, and it was obvious that Sebastian was avoiding me. I was torn between finding it cute that he was embarrassed and turned on, and finding it annoying and awkward that the one other person I actually got to interact with regularly was not present.

It was stupid, right? I mean, he would definitely get over it. Just needed some time.

Meanwhile, I buried myself with the laundry and some other chores. By mutual agreement, we pretty much did most of our own laundry separately—though we got in the habit of tossing our sweaty post-workout stuff into a small laundry basket in the laundry room, and just doing a load every couple of days to keep it from smelling too much like a locker room. Since I had bought some new workout gear—all of it cheap and disposable—I popped the tags and threw it all in with the last couple of days’ worth of sweaty gym clothes. Then I did some chores, poked around on the Internet for an hour or so, found a new recipe to try, threw some chicken into the crockpot for dinner, and set up the rice cooker on a timer. I would just need to steam the veggies later. Modern technology made cooking so easy sometimes. Still, I was bored and a little lonely.

Still no Sebastian, just a closed door and the sound of his video game in the background. Fine, two can play that game… game, yeah that was an idea. Honestly, it was nice to get a break from the routine, and I spent the next hour being an annoying goose terrorizing a small village. I didn’t think once about Sebastian, nor about how drastically my body had changed.

When it was time for dinner, I knocked on the door, and Sebastian answered that he’d be down in a bit.

“This is pretty good,” he said as we tucked into the meal.

“Found it on the Internet, one of those meal plan sites. Geared for muscle heads, but it sounded like it actually had flavor.”

“Yeah. Chicken, rice, and veggies gets old after a while. But these spices remind me of my aunt’s cooking.”

“You don’t talk much about your family,” I said.

“A bunch of crazy Greeks on that side, with a few Italians, lots of shouting, too much religion. I miss my cousins, though.”


“Yeah, my aunt and uncle raised me, really. I was kind of a surprise from a one night stand, and my mom was useless. Don’t know my dad at all, but apparently he was a party boy from out west. So the crazy Greeks got me, which was okay, but they’re pretty religious and it only got worse as they got older. We don’t talk much anymore.” He seemed sad.

Wow, that was the most I’d heard from him about his family. I hesitated to ask more.

“Huh. You are not religious, I take it?”

“Not at all. Never have been. I mean, I went through the motions but never connected. Plus, you know, those traditional religions kinda suck.” I stared at him until he caught my eye.

“Any reason in particular?”

“Um…well, we haven’t talked about it, but… fuck, I’m bisexual. Mostly.”

“And they kicked you out?”

“No. Worse, they tried to help me for about six months after I got caught fooling around with a boy from my high school. Then it was the disappointment and judgement. College was a relief because it got me out of there.”

“Sports medicine?”

“Hell no, this whole trainer thing was a side hustle. History and international relations. Even got into grad school for it, but the money wasn’t there to keep paying for it. Um. I hope that doesn’t change anything…”

“Why would it? You may not have noticed but I’m gay, too.”

“Really?” Shit, he really hadn’t noticed? His guileless expression made that clear. “I… I guess I suspected. But I didn’t really think about it much before.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that. I raised an eyebrow.

He blushed. Man, he was cute when he blushed.

“Wait, that came out wrong! I mean, I was never into anyone older than me, and I just figured you were the same.”

“Plus, I was out of shape, and you had your fill of hot guys—sorry, and girls—at the gym, right?”

“Hey, I’m not that shallow. And I don’t pee in the pool, you know? The gym I worked for would fire you for shenanigans between staff and clients. But yeah, I guess I was into bigger guys, and I wanted to be like that. I started being a bit of a gym rat in middle and high school, but in college I really toned up and boy does that get you laid.”

“So I have heard,” I smiled.

“Probably too much, honestly. I kind of let it distract me from doing what I needed to get into grad school right away and missed out on the window. So I wiped up and had what I thought was a good steady girl, only she must have been about a year behind me on the maturity scale. It wasn’t much fun being on the receiving end of that whole sleeping around thing.” He moved his food around on his plate thoughtfully. “So, you are gay. Is that why you took me in?”


“Ummm, it may have been a factor, but it wasn’t the main reason. I mean, I wasn’t—” I stammered. “I didn’t really have any ulterior motives.”

“I am just teasing, man. If I thought you were a creep, I would never have helped you and I sure wouldn’t have moved in, no matter how desperate. But you were just Terry from the mailbox who wanted to tone up. Mutually beneficial.”

“Can’t argue with that.”


Oh shit.

“..that was then. You weren’t my type and I didn’t think you had any interest in me, just a nice guy type. Older brother vibe.”

“….and now?”

“Now?” He took a deep breath. “I think the situation may have changed.”


“Because have you looked at yourself? I’ve never seen anyone take to this workout plan like you. At least not without juicing or devolving into a meat head. You have no idea how many guys I’ve dealt with who seemed to go from cute to hot to lunkhead in a few months. That bro culture bullshit has limited appeal, you know? It’s hot for a very short while, and then those jersey shore wannabe douche canoes lose all appeal. Brains and maturity last longer. I had to learn that the hard way.”

Shit, I felt so shallow. I had been shamefully and shamelessly ogling the hottie at the mailbox, and discovered he had some depth… but I wasn’t prepared for him to be like this.

“I don’t know how to reply to that,” I said honestly.

“Look, if this changes anything, I’m sorry and I will pack up and find someplace else, but I have spent the last few months helping you build a body that I like a lot. But I already kind of liked you, just wasn’t… attracted I guess, until I got to know you. So I am saying that I liked you, but now you also turn my crank.”

shit, that turned mine, too. Not sure if it’s the ego boost about my body—which had been doing a number on me all morning—or the fact that this objectively hot buff boy was into me, but I sprang some serious wood.


“Wait, let me finish,” he said. “I’ve spent all day wrestling with this, and I need to get it out. Whatever is going on with you physically—and I think you need to ask your doc about it—it’s not the whole package. I like the whole package. The stuff that matters. I think I am falling for you.”


He looked so downcast when I didn’t immediately respond, but to be fair, I was still reeling.

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” he said after a brief but uncomfortable pause.

“No, you don’t,” I said, then grabbed him and kissed him. He looked briefly surprised and then kissed me back… And then kissed me again with more passion.

“Okay, now do you get it?” I said, smiling. “You little dope. You just took me by surprise. I wasn’t ready for that sort of confession.”

“Fuck, neither was I,” he said.

“Did you really think I’d kick you out?”

“Like I said, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“So…” I said, “what now?”

“I, uh, didn’t exactly plan all this out. But I want to talk, and I want to eat dinner…”

I admit I looked as crestfallen as he had, for a moment.

“But first, I think we should make up for lost time.”

“Sounds good.”

“And then, when our heads are clearer, we should probably put our heads together and make a list of shit for you to ask your doctor about tomorrow.”

Three months was a lot of lost time to make up for, but we did our best.

He smiled as I sat on the bed, with him pushing gently against my chest. Then he smoothly shucked his shirt.

I knew he had put on some size, but we tended to work out fully clothed, so I hadn’t really realized how much he had changed. He had added some bulk, and tightened up his already enviable waist, so he was essentially somewhere between underwear model and fitness model. It looked amazing on him.

“Nice,” I said, as his nipples peeled up in the air conditioning.

“I’ve added fifteen pounds since this started.”

“It’s no quarantine belly, that’s for certain,” I chuckled.

He traced a finger down my chest.

“I already know your measurements, remember? And it’s so fucking hot. By my count, you dropped fourteen pounds of flab, and put on seventeen pounds of muscle,” he continued, pulling my shorts down as I shucked my own shirt.

“And while I take credit for that,” he said, “this is another matter entirely.”

Oh man, I was worked up, and my dick was eager to show off. He was already pushing past the 9 inch mark, I’d say, but the minute he saw Sebastian smiling at him, he got super eager. My cock throbbed all the way up to its previous limit… and Sebastian dove for it, his mouth and tongue doing things that made me squirm with pleasure. With one hand firmly gripping my balls and fondling them (they seemed swollen but the attention felt fantastic), he brought his old college skills to bear and I mentally thanked whoever he’d learned from. He soon had me thrashing and moaning like a whore, and then I couldn’t help it—I cut loose.

Six, seven, eight powerful shots, and then an almost painful cramp hit me, like a muscle spasm. I threw my head back and grunted a wordless roar, and then my whole core and crotch throbbed.

“Holy shit,” Sebastian said, his eyes full of wonder and cum specks on his face. “Fuck, I think—”

But another grunt and a painful spasm left me gasping. And then I came.

Fourteen wild spurts of hot jism, some finding their way all over my hot roommate and trainer, but most coating the walls, bed, and ceiling. It was like I had never come before in my life.

I brushed my hand across my eyes, to get the juice off my face, and then stared down at my stunned friend and… well, the reason for his being so stunned.

I had grown. And reality felt like something I could watch on TV. W.T.F.

I had likely grown everywhere, but my attention was focused on the thing that stood, leaning slightly to the left as a trickle of white syrup surged gently down its obscene length, from my crotch.

“Jesus,” Sebastian said. “You just… you just fucking grew like two inches while I watched!”

“I did?”

“Easily,” he said, in awe. “I mean, I have to measure it,” and he ran to grab the tape.

Sure enough, I had shot from just over 9.5 inches to just shy of 12 inches. And noticeably thicker, too.

“That’s so…. freaky… so obscene… Jesus that’s a big dick. Hang on, I think you might be bigger all over!”

What the hell?

Yeah. Bigger all over.

It felt like the post workout pump on chest and arms day—except it wasn’t going away. Sebastian quickly measured with the casual skill and speed of someone who worked in a gym and did it regularly.

“I was right, Terry. Shit, you’re nearly half an inch bigger all over.”

I mentioned how it felt like a pump.

“We’re in the weeds, man. Way off the map. I mean this does make me seem less crazy for thinking you might have been on something, but you were keeping pace with some of the bigger juicers I’ve seen, in terms of raw growth. Now I guess I know why.”

But we didn’t know why, not really; we just confirmed it was happening. The why, the how, would be at the top of what was now a rather long list for my first in-person consult with my doctor since the pandemic started.

And I planned to have that discussion—but in the morning. Not now. Now, it was time to make up for all the time Sebastian and I hadn’t been together.

Morning wood was so familiar to me after months of overstimulation and testosterone overload, that I tended to find it a nuisance more than anything else.

But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Delicious, beautiful, and surprisingly deep hottie roommate/trainer Sebastian was there, cuddled up in the little spoon position, while my horse cock leaked precum all along his back. I traced my fingers along his neck, behind his ears, and into his thick, black, hair.

“Hey,” he said, snuggling back. “Your arm is wet and sticky.”

“Um… not my arm.”

“Shit, really?” He rolled around a little awkwardly so that my prodigious tool lay between us. “God damn. How is this even real?”

“Hopefully we get some answers today,” I said. “Assuming this monster ever goes down enough for me to be decent.”

“Hmm, well, music hath charms to soothe the savage beast,” he said sexily, “and that is a savage beast if I ever saw one.” And with that he was on me, skillfully bringing me to a near climax three times before he finally let me release.

For his efforts, he got a serious cum-blast that was more than he was fully prepared for—all over his face and in his hair. I couldn’t help but laugh, and he followed suit. We giggled like schoolboys for several minutes.

“Ahhh. At the rate you’re going, that ought to last until at least lunchtime.”

“Try 10 a.m. if I’m lucky,” I groused.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I think I came about 6 times yesterday.”

He grew serious and quiet for a moment. “Yeah, this is fun and all, but that’s a lot of libido to manage.”

“You’re telling me!”

I skipped breakfast and morning workout because of th doctor visit, but my stomach was not happy about that, and made a lot of noise—which my friend found amusing. (Sebastian was kind enough to wait to eat until I was gone.) He kissed me passionately as I left the condo, and off I went.

Hopefully whoever reads this will do so from a post-COVID world in which normalcy is restored, and not have to don his hazmat suit to go outside. I signed in, signed forms indicating I was okay physically, updated health insurance, payments, etc.—each step was punctuated with sanitizing spray. But eventually I finished, and sat in the sparse examination room until Dr Wong finally appeared.

“Whoa! Look at you!” Dr Wong said. He was covered in the usual quarantine attire: gloves, double mask and face shield.

I chuckled a little nervously.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s… that’s remarkable, Terry. Seriously, you didn’t look this big last time we talked. Let me take a look at your stats.” He pulled up the info on his tablet and I could see his surprise in his eyes.

“Are these numbers accurate?”

“Yeah, or they were yesterday.”

“Who measured you? Or did you do it. yourself?”

“My roommate. He’s a trainer.”

He looked me up and down. “Yeah, they look about right. Hmmm.” And then he proceeded to do the basic look-over: temperature, heart rate, the works.

“I’m going to take a few extra blood draws. You remembered to skip breakfast today, and nothing but water since last night?”

“Yup.” On cue, my stomach gurgled. I looked away as he quickly and efficiently drew a few blood samples.

“Heh. So clearly, you started working out. We haven’t talked about nutrition much, but I have to ask: are you taking anything other than the stuff I gave you?”

“Just the trial supplement and the multivitamins you suggested. But I’ve been eating a lot better, and Sebastian has been putting me through my paces.”

“The roommate? I thought you lived alone?”

“I did, but my neighbor turned out to be a trainer, and lost his job, and then needed a place to live. It’s worked out.”

“So have you, apparently. Terry, I have to be honest, I can’t think of the last time I saw such a drastic transformation without steroids being involved. But the bloodwork will tell us one way or other if there’s something going on. I mean, I’ve got about six guys here on the same supplement and none of them have had this sort of result. Anything else I should know?”

“Well…” I began, “My um. My libido has been crazy and I swear, my junk is bigger.”

“I’m not surprised, you lost a few inches of pudge around the middle, if I’m any judge.”

“Um…not that. It doesn’t just look bigger, it is bigger. By a lot. How do you explain going from 7 inches to almost 12?”

He opened his mouth to say something, then looked back at his tablet. “Wait, you said 9.5 inches here,” he said. “And I was going to say something about that, because it’s already an outlier at that size.”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing, Doc. It grew yesterday.” I quickly filled him in on almost everything—he took copious notes—and he began to look alarmed.

“Well, first off, I think you should stop the supplement right away,” he said. “And I’ll need a sample of your semen to send off for lab work. Ideally, I’ll need you to pee in a cup, too.”

He handed me two sample cups. “Think you can manage at least one of those while you’re here?”

“Probably both, but it may take a little time.”

“Okay. I’ve got a video call or two after this, but if you can be done with those in about 20-30 minutes, I’ll get them sent off to the lab today. And honestly—I’d like to confirm those measurements before you go.”

Turned out I had to pee anyway, so that was an easy one. And my libido’d been on high gear for so long, the bigger challenge would be aim. Pretty quickly I was at full mast, and took a quick measurement (thankfully, no growth, but still 11.85 inches), and then let the imagination and a quick website visit get me worked up. Hopefully their office wifi wouldn’t look too deeply into the sites I visited to get in the mood.

Fuck I was quickly horny and fuck it took no time at all to be ready to blow. I was surprised at the force of the stream as I held the cup in place and aimed. Eight, Nine, ten shots. I sat panting for a moment, then sealed the container. It was warm to the touch. Shit, that was about 2.5 ounces of dick juice! That seemed a little extreme. I mean, wasn’t a tablespoon considered a lot?

I cleaned up and waited for another ten minutes before Doctor Wong came back in, and I presented him with the two samples.

“Uh…” he began. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, I just did that. Still warm. Seems like a lot, right?”

“That’s a little concerning. And you feel okay?”

“Honestly, I could probably do that again. But I didn’t realize how much there was…”

“Hmm. That’s extraordinary. I think, if you’re okay with it, we should probably do a prostate and testicular check as well.”

Of course that had the reaction it sometimes does, and my doc got to witness the beast waking up. If he hadn’t moved, he’d have lost an eye. Okay, not really, but the scene got me a little hot and bothered, and Doc Wong was a pretty good looking Chinese guy, probably close to 60, and trim, kind of a trim daddy vibe. He was professional, and so was I, but I’d probably replay it in my mind later, thinking about him sweating as he remembered my visit….

“Sorry about that second sample,” I said.

“Happens to the best of us,” my very understanding doctor—who luckily had a spare shirt—said. “Now remember what I said: I want you to cut your dosage entirely until I say otherwise. I’m worried about your reaction. At least wait for the labs to come back.”

“But I can keep exercising, right?”

“Would you stop if I asked you to?”

Honestly? Probably not—but only because for the first time in my life, I was the buff guy throwing around weight, and I found I rather liked it.

Besides, any excuse to be with Sebastian.

I stopped on my way home, because I was very close to gnawing my own arm off. I hit the drive through and devoured two sausage McMuffin meal; it barely took the edge off, but eventually my body realized it had been fed and stopped giving me grief. As I drove home, it really hit me: I’d been incredibly lucky with this whole quarantine thing. Friends had lost loved ones, lost jobs, fought depression. I’d made bank with the app, then gotten into fantastic shape, and somehow netted a boyfriend.

And thus far, the only downsides were an annoying level of libido and the food and clothing bills. Hell, I wasn’t even concerned about my McMeal, my gut was long gone and a little splurge wasn’t going to make my pants tighter.

Though if my dick kept unexpectedly growing, I might have that problem anyway.

Three days later, Sebastian asked—again—whether the test results had come back yet.

“Doc Wong said he’d call with the results,” I said, annoyed.

“I know, I keep asking, but you stopped the supplements and even the vitamins…”


“And we’ve basically shifted to maintenance mode until we have more information.”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

“So why are you still bulking up?”

He was right. I’d stopped the supplements, the vitamins, the protein drinks, everything—and yet here we were, and I was already bigger.

“No clue.”

He hesitated, thought a bit more, and finally said “I think we should take a few days completely off. Like, no exercise at all.”


“Yeah. I mean just until the labs come back and we know whether there’s any danger.”

I was torn, but then he said “I mean both of us. We’ll just have to eat a bit less and get our exercise other ways.”

“Well, in that case, how about a morning workout?”

But the next morning, I woke up a bit groggy, and then I guess I must have forgotten, because when I fully woke up, I was finishing a set of seated presses.

Sebastian was annoyed, and made me stop. We tackled some household chores and then after lunch, I took a nap—and woke to the sound of the Bowflex. Which I was on.

“For fuck’s sake, Terry. We agreed to stop for now.”

“I know… I just…..”

By Friday, I realized that if I let my guard down—just for a moment – I’d wind up basically sleepwalking my way through a set after promising Sebastian I wouldn’t. But that’s not the worst of it.

The worst was that we also realized he’d been doing the same thing.

It was clear something weird was happening.

Apologies were exchanged, and more than a little shame, as we realized something else was going on.

The sleepwalking thing was super weird, and Sebastian had the sense to immediately suggest he lock up the supplements, just in case. But the package was untouched and I still had most of the bottle left. It wasn’t even about trust, it was about trying to sidestep whatever was going on. Just like locking your stuff up—the more steps, the more likely you’ll get caught.

Waking up exhausted at 3 a.m. because you were exercising hard in your sleep was not really welcome, but suddenly it shifted from a kernel of suspicion to something we now knew we had in common.

On Saturday, we opted to sleep in shifts, trying to figure out what was actually happening. We avoided our phones, temporarily uninstalled the workout tracker apps, took whatever steps we could to block ourselves from whatever was pushing us to work out.

We ate a quiet breakfast and skipped the run—and the shower fun—to dig around a bit. The internet was, surprisingly, of little help; the only similar cases were fantasy sites and I had never dug deep enough to realize how far that rabbit hole went. I’d tackled the idea that we might be hypnotized and did a bit of research there, too. Sebastian, meanwhile, found himself looking into curses and supernatural explanations for what was happening. He was both intrigued and annoyed, because his family would have eaten this stuff up and begun telling tales, and he had tried to grow beyond their magical thinking—but it gave him a more solid foundation than I had. Still, fiction aside, we didn’t find anything that passed a cursory sniff test.

I found myself dozing at my seat when Sebastian poked my shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you take a nap. I’ll keep an eye on you and wake you if you try anything stupid,” he offered.

“Okay, just wake me in an hour,” I yawned.

“Snap out of it,” Sebastian said.

What the hell. I was sitting at the Bowflex, doing leg extensions with a surprising amount of weight. The bands rattled as they snapped back when I stopped fighting.

I had no memory of anything after I lay on the sofa.

“I don’t think you were out for more than five minutes when you suddenly stood up and walked out,” Sebastian said. “It was just so weird. You ignored me shouting at you for—”

Fuck I’d started doing my extensions again!

“Ok, that’s not right.” He backed away. “You need to get up and get out of this room,” he said, pulling at me. I had to will myself out of the machine and force myself to leave the room—the whole time, feeling irritated that my workout was interrupted.

I went and got a padlock for the door, and installed it before dinner. Sebastian dozed off and found himself standing at the locked door as I grabbed him to wake him up.

After dinner, we planned again to sleep in shifts. I made him sleep first, and within ten minutes of falling asleep, he was shambling to the spare room door and stood there, seemingly perplexed by the lock. When it was my turn, the same thing happened.

We woke up every hour or so that night, stopping the other from a zombie-like crawl to the spare room. It was exhausting, and increasingly scary to feel so out of control. but we managed to make it through the night. It was the first time in months that I hadn’t masturbated or otherwise gotten off at least three times.

A few hours passed, and I went to wake him with a kiss, and he returned it enthusiastically—our make-out sessions had been pretty great—but it quickly turned to a mutual masturbation session. He attacked my pole with intense suction and tongue action, supplemented with a pulling and ball-groping that had me seeing stars, bringing me to the edge twice before I finally lost it and shot my seed deep into his mouth. Only when he didn’t pant and nuzzle into my side when he was done did I question anything.

“Babe? You want me to return the favor?”

He said nothing, but rolled back over and swallowed my slowly sagging pole like it was a lifeline, and I sprang to life almost immediately. This time, he edged me three times, and swallowed what felt like a huge load. And then, just when I was still reeling, he did it again.

Like a man possessed he clamped onto my dick, silently probing and sucking—and when I didn’t react quickly enough, he surprised me by probing my ass until he found my spot, and expertly milking me. My dick hurt and my balls felt empty.

“Whew! I guess we’re getting our workout a different way, huh?” I chuckled, thoroughly empty. No response. He just sat there for another moment, and then crawled into bed beside me and began snoring faintly.

When I woke next, I was the one ministering to Sebastian. Waking up as you choke on a dick—and while the owner of that dick is obviously completely asleep—is just plain weird. No, not just weird. It was scary.

I was, essentially, a passenger in my own body. Watching as I groped my partner and probed with a slick pair of fingers until I found his prostate, feeling my own mouth almost numb from sucking and my tongue sore from licking.

I couldn’t stop—and on some level I didn’t care, because the sensations were quite strong—as I coaxed a full load from Sebastian.

His dick felt bigger in my mouth. Something I’d never have expected to think, because a few months ago I’d never have dared to do more than fantasize about my sexy neighbor. My fantasies had not extended to anything near what was happening in reality, and almost against my will.

Yeah. Almost. Because a part of me found this hypnotically compelling. So tempting to just…just ride it out.

“Aah!!!!!” Sebastian moaned, shuddering awake as I expertly milked another load, waking him. “Fuck, man, that’s…..whew…”

By Monday, we had given up any hope of stopping whatever was going on with us, and were resorting to practical management. Either of us leaving meant the other would just work out, almost nonstop, until we returned, as we found out during (a) a trip to the mailbox, and (b) a run to Target for more condoms. Because whatever else we wound up doing, we were fucking like animals at least three times a day, on top of a few mutual hand jobs or oral stuff. Just periodically zone out and then suddenly it’s later and you’re fucking again or working out again.

“I don’t think it’s the supplements. It’s been a week since I cut those out, and unless you’re sucked them out of me, you never took them.” I frowned at my sculpted forearm. “Either way, it’s still happening.”

“It’s crazy, whatever this is,” Sebastian said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so consistently horny in my life—not even as a teen.”

“Right? I’d be impressed blowing three loads in a day—but we’re doing five or six,” he said. “Or at least averaging that.”

He wasn’t wrong. Sunday had been particularly hot, and I was aware of at least seven times I came.

“My dick aches from all the sex, and my tongue…” I stuck it out, “well, it’s sore too.”

“Whoever heard of sleepfucking?”

“Or sleep-benching?”

“Or that. I mean, fuck, anytime you take that shirt off, I’m jealous.”


“You just can’t see it, Terry. You’re hot. Seriously, you’ve put on a pound a day all week, all in the right places.”

He wasn’t wrong. And just since the doc visit, I’d added another three quarters of an inch of length and almost a half inch in girth to my dick.

All 13+ inches of my manhood were rapidly filling out, as if summoned. Sebastian was also showing some signs of growth there, too, and though his narrow 8.25 inches was perfectly fine by me, we both expected he’d be packing a little more before long.

Five days later, I got a call from Dr Wong.

“Not much to tell you, I’m afraid,” he said. “We’ve run full panels and other than high testosterone levels and some other minor hormonal stuff that’s not terribly exciting, we literally found nothing to explain your growth. I’ve sent out to a few other labs, but don’t expect much different. But your sperm sample was something else entirely,” he said. “You clearly have hyperspermia, but no clear cause there either. Anything happening on your end?”

I filled him in on my continued growth, to many exasperated noises on his side, and then mentioned that Sebastian had begun to see similar improvements.

“But wait, he wasn’t on the supplement or the vitamins, was he?”

“Nope. And he’s the most ridiculously scrupulous eater I’ve ever met. Other than the odd protein shake, he’s not a big supplement user himself. Just eats right. But we’ve both been eating everything in sight lately, and… well, if I’m honest, fucking like oversexed teenaged rabbits.”

“I’m not surprised—that fits with the elevated hormones. So, what, three, four times a day?”

“Seven or eight,” I replied.

“Holy cow,” he said. And then I heard him breathe extra deep. “Look, I know this is going to sound…frankly insane? But if we don’t see a physical cause for what’s happening to you, well….”

“Eliminate the possible, and whatever’s left, no matter how crazy, has to be the truth?”

“Something like that.”

“We’ve looked into that a bit, too.”

There was a long pause. “Um,” he said. “Look, I can’t believe I’m even suggesting it, but….”


“Well, I have an uncle who’s into all that supernatural stuff. Traditional medicine, mumbo jumbo stuff. He believes it but I’m not sure I do. Anyway… point is, he studies a lot of out-there stuff, and he might point you in the right direction.”

Under ordinary circumstances, if your doctor suggested you seriously consider supernatural assistance, your next call would be to change your primary care physician, and rightly so.

But clearly, we were not in ordinary circumstances.

And so, the next day, Sebastian and I managed to tear ourselves away from the house and squeeze into my car—-in some very ill-fitting clothing, honestly—and let the GPS lead us to the nondescript suburban home of Doctor Wong’s uncle, who he said had agreed to see us.

Feeling a bit foolish and awkward, we parked on the street and walked up the driveway—it was a cookie-cutter suburban road, full of Karens and Kevins and Chads, no doubt. But sure enough, the mailbox said “WONG” and had what I presumed was the Chinese symbols for it as well, neatly printed on the mailbox.

The door opened as I touched the bell.

A lanky older Chinese man in a pink polo shirt and khakis opened the door. He had to be in his late 60s but seemed the type to jog or play tennis or something.

“Terry and Sebastian, I presume,” he said in perfect unaccented English. Of course I assumed he’d be right out of central casting, but no, he had all the mysterious mojo vibe of a dentist. “Come on in.”

“Sit at the table, have some tea, and let’s talk about your problem.”

Now, Doc Wong was a modern tech nerd and a very casual sort of doctor in terms of how he related. He put me at ease. Apparently it was a family trait.

“Bet you were expecting long white mustache, mandarin coat, and crazy eyes, right?”

We laughed nervously.

“Probably a little disappointed because I look like a boring suburban grandpa, right?”

I mean, I was, but didn’t want to say it. Sebastian nodded a little guiltily.

“Yup. I’d say i get that a lot but …well, look, it’s like this. I don’t advertise what I do. I am a retired history professor. No shop full of oddities, no gremlins, no weird incense. Got a ton of books upstairs, and I know my shit. Okay?”

I nodded dumbly.

“Right. Well, drink that tea up and then we’ll talk more. Gotta see how you react, first.”


“Oh right. That’s supposed to react if you’re—”

Sebastian gasped suddenly, and looked at his fingertips, which were turning quite spectacularly red. I quickly glanced down, and mine were the same.

“Yup, figured,” Wong said calmly. “Have a glass of water and ignore the salty taste—it’s just purified water with a little salt. Should clear that stuff out pretty fast.”

We did as he asked and sure enough, other than feeling a little warm, we both felt fine and the redness faded almost immediately.

“Better? Good. Now, take it from the top, and fill me in on all the details.”

We did, and I did most of the talking, with Sebastian adding minor details I forgot to mention. Our host nodded and jotted down a few notes on a small pad.

“It’s the workout machine,” he said, as if he was discussing a failed alternator.


“Got to be. What were the circumstances of your purchasing it, again?”

“I was trying to get back into shape.”

“And why was it for sale?”

“I think the guy said he was clearing out his dad’s garage.”

“So,” Wong said. “Probably dad pinned a lot of hopes and dreams on this thing, and died before he finished. The device soaked it all up and is pushing that onto you boys.”

“Oooh Kay, so what do we do about it?”

“Good question. I’ll come and take a look, but it’s likely that it’ll push you to a specific goal. Achieve it and you’ll put it to rest.”

“Wait—you’re saying Terry’s Bowflex is what, haunted?”

“Near enough. Stuff picks up meaning and resonance. Soaks up psychic energy sometimes—mostly benignly. So I’ll need to see the device to—”

Fuck.” Sebastian was suddenly on the floor doing crunches, and I realized I was doing pushups. We both blushed and managed to muster the willpower to stop.

“Huh, even without the proximity? Interesting,” he said. “I’ll follow you back, and see if we can figure out whether this is naturally occurring resonance, or whether it’s a curse, a possession, or whatnot.”


We were at the padlocked door to my spare room, and Wong was watching me fumble for the keys. Sebastian was hovering worriedly until I opened the door, and he was visibly trying not to go right over to it. I was fighting the same urge myself. The room reeked of our scent.

“Okay if I light some incense here?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Might help. At least with the musky scent in here.”

“Sorry about that.”

Wong pulled out a stick and stuck it in a small glass, and lit it.

I wasn’t expecting any fireworks, but I certainly got them. A bright white spark lit the room briefly, and what appeared to be fireflies swam through the air and settled in lazy spirals around the Bowflex.

I had no expectations, but when you see your mundane junk glowing under a spell… well, that’ll do wonders for your belief.

“Huh,” Wong said.

“That was kind of impressive,” Sebastian said. I nodded in agreement.

“Normally we don’t get such a show,” Wong said. “That’s some mojo there, for certain.”

“So what next?”

“Next I have to figure out what is actually going on, how it operates. Can I get a big bowl of water—either glass or metal—ideally purified water. I’ll need to light some candles and I need some a little quiet to do some readings. And then I’ll need to go over each of you…”

Who knew magical mumbo jumbo was so scientific and detailed? I sure didn’t. It was all very workmanlike and professional as he laid out some herbs here in a bowl, lit some candles there, and generally mumbled and touched everything. He’d grunt and make a note in his little notebook (it was a rather nice Moleskin one), and then move on methodically to the next inexplicable set of readings. It was equal parts fascinating and boring, so once we got the gist of what he was doing, Sebastian and I turned our attention to other things.

By “other things”, I don’t actually mean sexy things….though we wanted to. Instead, I made lunch and Sebastian tackled laundry—we’d been a little behind on that and sweating a lot. About ninety minutes later, Wong came out of the room with a tired expression.


He thanked us and joined us for lunch, but was quiet as he ate. Finally, he drank the rest of his water and frowned.

“Well?” Sebastian said, impatiently.

“I still need to check you boys out, but I see the shape of it. In layman’s terms, I’m guessing this device has been soaking up hopes and dreams and intent for a few years, and …well, it’s full. It’s full of all that energy, and it’s found an outlet with you guys. Where did you say you got it?”

“Auction site,” I said. “Let me dig up the site…” While I dug around, Wong had Sebastian go through his little tests, which seemed to involve him mostly naked and standing in a cloud of incense. At least that room would smell a bit less like a locker room….

About fifteen minutes later, Sebastian was released and Wong guzzled a large glass of iced tea.

“My mother would have hated this iced tea, but I like it. What did you find, Terry?”

“It’s been some detective work here. Seems like the seller I bought it from might have got it in a salvage thing for a private school that burned down about five years ago. The model is older, maybe 15 years older than that.”

“So it soaked up years of …what age kids?”

“It was a boys prep school, so like, high school.”

“Any deaths?”

“Yeah, actually. A real tragedy, like 8 boys and a coach died in the fire. It trapped them in the locker room.”

Wong sighed. “That makes sense. Well maintained, but definitely used. Soaked up a decade of high school boys’ sweat and dreams, then got caught up in a big tragedy. “

“Hundreds of high school athletes using it all the time,” Sebastian said.

“That’s my working theory,” Wong said. “And it makes sense, because who’s more oversexed, prone to growth, and prone to physical excess, than a bunch of teen boys? All of them hoping to build on what puberty was already doing to make them studs.”

“So, what, all that pent up energy is going into us?”

“Yeah, I think so. I still need to verify with you, but I’m pretty sure what I’ll find.”

“So how do we do this part?” I asked.

“Strip down to your briefs, stand in the circle, and be ready to hold your breath.”

Wong opened a small paper packet of colored sand, or something, and dumped it into his hand. Then he blew gently past the candle and a fragrant mist blew over me. I could smell sweat and axe body spray and raw testosterone.

“Yup,” he nodded. “Same as your friend, but more intense, as I expected.”

“So,” I asked, “What the hell do we do about it?”

“First thing is to figure out what you want. See if it is compatible with what it wants. But that’s not quite what I mean. That device has soaked up energy and you are benefiting from it—but only when you help it fulfill those pent up goals.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t, it makes us!” Sebastian said. “Can we, I dunno, reason with it somehow?”

“There doesn’t seem to be any particular entity driving this, so probably not. Nobody there to talk to.”

“Then what?”

“Well, there is no way I know of to tell how much of that energy is still looking for an outlet. If we had some sense of how much there was, we might be able to bring in others to draw it down. Otherwise you two will have to keep on bleeding it out.”

“I could call some of my clients from the gym, maybe …but nah, they probably don’t want to risk it now.”

“Plus there is a concern about refilling the reserve. I’m betting your gym clients bring plenty of hope and dream content to the table.”

“Oh, right, that would just top off the tank, right?”

“I don’t actually know, but it seems likely.

“Then maybe just a few folks? Someone who needs the program and whom we can trust?”


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