Description Rory his getting exasperated with the selection of unappealing men on his dating app. Then he comes across Buck, only a half mile away and looking for twinks over muscle. What his profile doesn’t say is why.
|Updated||08 Sep 2018|
Rory swiped left. Again, and again, and again.
“No, too old.” Swipe left.
“No, too hairy.” Swipe left.
“No, too much roids.” Swipe left.
This was his nightly routine on the dating app. Maybe once a week he found another man just like him: small, smooth, and slightly effeminate. But mostly he just said no to all the men that popped up on his app. “There are too many damn bears in this city,” he’d think angrily to himself before grabbing his average cock and settling in for another lonely night.
‘There’s no one new around you,’ declared Rory’s phone. He sighed dramatically, placed his phone on his coffee table and unzipped his skinny jeans. Before he even had a chance to fish out his semi-erect manhood one more face popped onto his screen.
‘Buck, 21 years old, only half a mile away.’ Rory sneered at the overly masculine name, but was intrigued. The man was everything Rory was into. Lean body with barely any muscle or athletic definition. No body hair, beard, or tattoos. And to top it all off, the man’s bio said ‘twinks to the top of the list.’ Rory swiped right. The match was instant.
“Hey stud,” Buck messaged. Stud? Nobody had called Rory that before, but it didn’t matter, he was getting action tonight.
“Hi. What’s up.” Rory replied.
“This is it. Why don’t you come on over?”
Normally Rory would’ve been put off by the man’s directness, but he was lonely and horny so he just said “sure.”
Thirty minutes later Rory was standing in front of Buck’s apartment door. He was surprised to find that the clean-cut man named Buck was living in a rougher part of town. His apartment building was old, not well maintained, and adjacent to a row of warehouses. Nevertheless, Rory was committed. Standing in front of the door he was irritated to smell cigarette smoke. Wasn’t that illegal in most apartment buildings these days?
He smoothed his hair with his hands one more time and then knocked delicately on the door. Silence at first. Then he heard a creaking noise, what sounded like someone getting out of a squeaky couch or armchair. A few footsteps thudded from behind the door and then it opened.
“Hullo little guy.” Buck grinned down at Rory.
Rory stood stunned for a moment, taking in the site of the hairy behemoth that stood before him. Buck was short but exceptionally thick. Broad hairy shoulders sloped into a thick corded neck and a wide rugged face, partially obscured by a big but well-groomed beard. Buck had a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth with a fragrant stream of smoke rising from it that Rory had mistook for cigarette smoke.
Rory’s confusion turned to anger and quickly spat out “fucking catfish” and turned to leave. Buck gently but firmly grabbed the smaller man’s shoulder and turned him to face him again. He calmly blew a cloud of cigar smoke into his face. Rory grimaced in disgust and tried to turn away, but not before inhaling a lungful of the smoke. His eyes instantly watered and he became lightheaded. His thoughts slowed.
“Where ya going little guy?” Buck said gruffly with a half smile.
“I… I don’t know.” Rory concentrated, trying to remember. But his thoughts were slow and he suddenly felt safe with the big bear standing before him.
“Wanna come in for a drink?”
Rory nodded slowly and looked up pathetically at Buck.
“Attaboy. Make yourself comfortable.”
Rory stepped cautiously into the apartment. It was tidy and minimalistic. The furniture was large and comfy looking, clearly worn down by holding many big bodies over the years. He sank down quietly onto the couch. He heard a pop and a fizz and then Buck was holding a cold can of beer up to Rory’s hand.
“Oh.” He said, almost apologetically. “I don’t drink beer.”
Buck sucked on his cigar, letting the smoke fill up the room. “Give it a try, you might like it.”
Rory looked at the open can in his hand, the label read ‘Lumberjacked, a Canadian beer by Nexus Brewery.’ He shrugged and sucked back the bubbly golden liquid. It warmed his innards, and Rory instantly felt more at home on the big bear’s couch.
“Like it?” Rory nodded shyly. He really did like it. It was sweet and bitter at the same time. Just like beer should be. But wait, he hated beer! Rory’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion until he breathed in another lungful of the heady cigar-laden air and took a sip of the Lumberjacked beer.
Buck sat down on the big leather armchair opposite the couch, drinking his own beer and sucking on his cigar. He began talking about something. Rory wasn’t quite sure what, he was focused on the beer and an odd feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He looked at the big man opposite him and realized he was suddenly feeling buzzed, maybe even a bit more than buzzed. Buck was wearing a loose tank top that showed off his oversized and hairy chest and arms. Rory’s gaze followed these down to the Buck’s shorts, which were made out of a sweatpants type material and clearly cut off at the knee. The big bear’s package was clearly visible, a fat cockhead outline betrayed his cut status. Almost as if on cue the bigger man adjusted his package and kept talking.
Rory suddenly noticed a change in his own pants. His dick was pumping full of blood. The sensation of it radiated throughout the rest of his body. He gulped hard, suddenly feeling warm and heavy.
“Wow, you finished that fast,” Buck said, motioning to the empty beer can almost hanging out of Rory’s hand. “Here, I’ll get you another.”
Another pop and fizz and there was another cold beer in his hand. “Thanks.”
“Hey, you ever think of growing a beard?”
Rory blinked. “What? Oh. Me? No. I don’t like beards….” He trailed off thoughtfully, feeling his cock thickening unstoppably in his pants.
“Well, you’d look good with one,” Buck declared with a smirk. “You already got a pretty thick shadow man, just let it grow.”
“No, I shaved before I came here.” Rory lifted a hand to rub his chin, it was covered in thick covering of stubble. “What?”
Rory didn’t register the sound of the couch squeaking slightly under his weight, but Buck did. “You been working out man? You’d look good with some beef on you.”
“What…? No, gross.” Rory scoffed. But he suddenly found himself feeling constricted. His shirt was tight over his… chest?! Rory felt the foreign muscle proudly jutting from his torso, it was hard and rippled slightly as he moved his arm. He looked down at his arms and gasped with horror as he saw a couple of beefy hairy limbs in front of him. “What’s… what’s going on?” He groaned in pain and perhaps pleasure as his dick suddenly became uncomfortable tight in his skinny jeans. His cockhead was already peaking over his waistband. And it wasn’t just his cock, his quads, ass, and calves were also struggling to fit in the denim.
Buck stood up to grab the younger man another beer. “You’re empty, here’s another one,” he thrust it into the confused man’s hand and grinned with approval as he immediately took a long sip. “Better get out of those jeans, doesn’t look like they fit anymore with all the beef you’ve put on recently.”
“I… I’ve been working out,” Rory said to no one in particular before heading to the bathroom, beer in hand.
Rory began struggling to peel his pants off when he caught his reflection in his ear. His heartbeat began whooshing in his ears and he had the vague feeling that he was going to pass out or vomit. “What…?” He said, staring dumbly into the mirror. His jaw had squared into a dense meathead look that ensured he would never be totally taken seriously again. He motioned to run a hand across the new short beard that covered it and gulped as he saw his new giant hairy hands and gorilla forearms.
A burst of pain from his all too tight pants captured Rory’s attention again. He looked at his new oversized bodybuilder arms, still piling on mass before his eyes. He gripped his jeans with his meaty paws and began to tug. With less effort than he imagined it would take he ripped the pants and freed his mighty, hairy legs and beer can cock which swung down with heavy appreciation. “Unfff,” he sighed in relief.
Rory looked down at himself apprehensively. But as he inspected his thick furred chest, broad cannonball shoulders (also with a substantial dusting of hair), and impossibly meaty cock his apprehension turned to blind acceptance. I’m a muscle bear, he thought, rubbing his thick beard with his calloused sausage fingers. The only clothing left on him unshredded was his socks, which were straining over a pair of enormous hairy daddy feet. They made a quiet thud as he paced around the bathroom.
Inevitably his thoughts turned to the piece of meat sticking up from his groin. A slow dribble of precum perpetually dribbled from its tip expectantly. Rory grasped it with his hairy mitt and began stroking it. In that moment all that was Rory—the small effeminate man that would’ve been repulsed by the naked hairy bodybuilder in the bathroom animalistically stroking his cock—was replaced. He suddenly had an idea and stopped stroking. Buck would do that for him. He opened the bathroom door and stepped into his new life.