With a few clicks of the mouse, I set about covering my cyber-tracks. The college computer lab is free in terms of actual money, but you pay another price for usage. Especially when you don't want anyone to know exactly what you're doing. As the hard drive whirred its happy song, logging me off the system, I pushed in my chair and headed out the door, my boot heels echoing down the empty hall. Not many people around at 11 PM on a Friday night. That by itself should tell me something.
The north wind bit sharp and cold against my cheeks as I hurried out to the parking lot. With a click of my remote, the truck lights came on, illuminating three weeks of dirt and junk I hadn't bothered to pick up yet. Climbing in, I turned the key, hearing the pleasant rumble as my diesel came to life. A quick click of the gears and a shove of the gas later, I turned onto the quickest way to my meeting point.
This wasn't exactly the first time I had done this. Since transferring five months ago, what had been a minor obsession throughout puberty and my first four years of higher education had blossomed into a raging desire for sex that had found an outlet through several different “hook-ups”. None of them had been what I wanted, though. The lights of the fast food stores along the main drag played over my dashboard as I sped by, a different color for every kind of quick meal you could want. Just like my love life, I reflected bitterly. One meal and you're satisfied for at least five hours—then you always want more.
Why do I still do this? I thought, turning off onto a shortcut. It's always the same—I just get disappointed each time. In five months, all I've learned is that descriptions like “athletic”, “masculine”, and “muscular” were always somewhat sideways to the reality involved. And then when I turned people down, I always felt guilty. As if I didn't feel guilty enough just from what I was doing. As the lights of the convenience store where I was meeting my soon-to-be latest disappointment came through the window, I steeled myself mentally. A quick scan of the parking lot showed no blue Chevy pickup, so I parked as inconspicuously as you could park a crewcab and rehearsed what I would say: “Sorry, I'm just not feeling anything. Yeah, I feel bad. Thanks for being understanding.”
A blue Chevy pulled into the parking lot, almost black-looking as the fluorescents reflected off its shiny surface. At least he waxes it, I thought idly. I stepped out of the truck just as he pulled next to me, pasting what I hoped was a sincere smile on my face. My cock used to tingle when I met these guys, I reflected. Now it knows better and just stays quiet. With measured steps I walked around to the driver's window, arriving just in time to see it lower. The blast of warmth from the heater wafted over me as I looked at the latest man of my dreams—or nightmares.
Handsome face, broad shoulders, nice brown crewcut, mustache. Not at all really femmy or fat, but that parka could hide a considerable load of lard. “How ya doin—,” he said, his Texas drawl as thick as mine hanging in the air around us as he stuck out his hand.
“OK,” I said, automatically taking his hand. He smiled as I looked at him, my breath catching in my throat. His eyes were a mysterious gray-green, almost the color of tropical ocean, staring right into me as if my skin were transparent. I had the distinct and uneasy feeling that he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Why don't you follow me back to my place,” he said, his grin broadening.
“OK—I guess,” I replied so intelligently again, walking back to my truck. I snapped out of autopilot once we had turned down a side street. What was I doing? Rule Number One for me was “My apartment, my control”. For all I knew, he was either dragging me along like an idiot to a public humiliation—or a robbery. Especially since I've never been on this road before, I thought, looking around as the city lights receded in the rearview mirror. All of a sudden, a well-lit little cabin appeared in the windshield, his taillights like red beacons pointing the way through the blackness. I shut down the truck, being careful to hide my parking permit, wallet, and cell phone under the seat. No use making it easy for him to try something funny. I got out as his key turned in the lock. “Come on in,” he said over his shoulder as he stooped to enter the door. Funny—I didn't think he was that tall, but he had to be a good six five” and pretty wide, considering he had to turn to get his shoulders in the door. Yeah right—it's probably all Big Macs. Casually I stepped up on the porch and went in the house, looking for alternate exits as casually as I could.
Not too bad. Nicely-furnished, Early Guy décor pattern, nothing too fancy. My nose twitched, trying to identify the strange odor that all of a sudden seemed to hit—nothing bad, but sort of exotic and tingly. “Have a seat,” he said, reappearing at an interior door. “I'll take your coat.” I handed it over, watching his legs move under his jeans with a bit of interest—too far away to read if those were relaxed fits. It sure doesn't look like jiggly thighs, though. I sank back into the cushions of the couch, curious as to exactly what was happening.
“Comfy?” I looked up again as he came into the room and plopped himself into the armchair opposite me, looking at me with interest. Those eyes again—straight through me. Avoiding his glance, I studied him—sweatshirt, chest hair showing over its cuff, its chestnut color a nice compliment to his brown crewcut and handlebar mustache, jeans tight against his legs, even at his calves, and bare feet. Very cute bare feet.
“So tell me about you,” he said in a pleasant baritone.
“What would you like to know?” I answered, a bit of a grin on my face. Rule Number Two: “Loose lips equal lose job”. A quick deflection with quick wit and we can get back onto safer ground.
“Let's not try that,” he said, leaning forward. “I think you have a lot of issues you'd like to talk about. That's why we're here.”
What in the heck was going on? THIS is a hook-up?
“Like anything. For instance—why did you agree to come?”
“You privated me in the chat room, and you sounded cool.” Direct answer, flatter him a bit—it'd work. It always had before.
—Scuse me buddy—school let out six hours ago. “You know—masculine, muscular—all that.”
“Why did that interest you?”
Before I knew it, I was confessing all of my past sins. Jacking off to Incredible Hulk comics, buying every muscle mag on the rack and ignoring the articles, working out tirelessly all those years on the college football team, exploring everything the Internet had to offer in the way of bodybuilding pics, cybersex—you name it. He listened quietly, inclining his head this way and that, always fixing me with those eyes.
“What does wb stand for in wbhunk?”
“Wanna Be.” And a few other things, or so other guys thought.
“Why do you say you're a wanna-be hunk? You look pretty good to me.”
All right. Now we're in territory I understand. “I guess I just don't think of myself that way. I've always wanted to be bigger, more handsome, athletic, whatever than I am.”
“Good. That's why we're here.”
WHOA! Major malfunction! Iceberg ahead!
“What do you mean?”
“Your obsession with getting bigger—becoming a hunk. You're very typical of a person who is insecure about their body image and self-esteem. Granted, your sarcasm is funnier than most, but it's just a defense—a shield you put up. You're also convinced no one would like you if they knew you well. That's why you are very secretive with your information and why you don't like commitment. I'm here to help you deal with this.” I stared at him, mouth open. What in the heck was this—do one cheap encounter, have your psychic reading free, and get a coupon for therapy?
“How do you know all that?”
“I've watched you in chat. For all the work you put into hiding it, you really wear your heart on your sleeve. It wasn't too hard to figure out your obsession. The rest was even more obvious.”
“OK—this is too weird. I'm out of here,” I said, getting up.
“SIT DOWN,” he said, his voice suddenly deepening and echoing through the tiny house, his gaze locked on my eyes. Without knowing exactly why, I sat back down on the couch. What the hell?
“Sorry I had to do that,” he said apologetically, his voice returning to a normal tone. “But you need to work this out. It's slowly ruining your life.”
“And what difference does it make?”
“A lot. A lot more than you think and understand.”
“All right. Cut the crap. I don't know why I'm still here, but I want to know what's going on.”
He looked at me again, his eyes slowly softening. “All right—let me explain. Ever since the dawn of time, there have been humans with strange—abilities. Call them wizards, witches, sorcerers, mages, whatever. Most of them have been known for evil things. But there are a tiny few that have used their abilities to help fellow people.”
“I'm a bit old for fairy tales, don't you think?”
With a flourish, he pointed at the coffee table between us. In a flash of smoke, it suddenly reduced to the size of a Barbie toy.
“Jeez!” I said, scrambling back up on the couch, fear suddenly stabbing into my awareness. How was I going to get out of this one?
“Don't worry,” he said, chuckling at my reaction. “I'm one of the good guys. But in order to reach my full potential, I have to find a familiar.”
Thank you, CBS, for airing that TV adaptation of “Witch Cat”. At least I know what he's talking about.
“Why do you need me to find you a dog or cat?”
“I don't need a dog or cat. You're my familiar.”
“ How in the world can I be a familiar?”
“You're a locus of mystic energy—like the focus point when you hold a magnifying glass in the sun. I can draw upon the power that you collect and perform spells that do very potent things. That's what a familiar actually does—it doesn't necessarily have to be an animal. But an animal doesn't have the—issues….that you do.”
I sank back on the couch cushions, overwhelmed. What had I gotten myself into? Issues?
“That's what I meant,” he said, coming over to the couch and sitting next to me, his hand sneaking onto my thigh. Somehow I relaxed at the touch. “An animal just expresses the power. It doesn't think about it. But you’ve spent your whole life repressing what are very natural urges. It's like you’ve been jamming radio waves—all you're giving off is static. You’ve got a very potent force for good inside you, but you're fighting it every single step of the way. The longer that happens, the weaker you become—and the weaker I become.”
“All right. So what am I supposed to do? Admit that I'm some sort of pervert?”
“Not quite,” he said, easing even closer to me. I felt a hum like an electrical transformer suddenly building somewhere deep inside me. “You’ve taken the first step—actually admitting your urges and feelings to me. But the hard part is allowing yourself to give into them. And that's where I can't help you.”
“I think you’ve already helped me a lot. I feel better somehow.”
“Practical psychology. It was a lot harder than the obedience school course that my cousins had to take, though.” I started laughing at the joke, all of a sudden feeling a warm gush throughout my being, the problems that I had been considering since this all started suddenly fading away.
“That's a good start,” he said, his fingers running through my hair. “Now let's see if you can keep it up.” He gestured again—and suddenly his whole body was revealed, his clothes melting away like shadows. Oh my god, I thought, as I stared at my perfect fantasy come to life. Huge shoulders, delts like basketballs under the skin. Pecs the size of mountains, covered with a forest of brown man-fur, nips like bare beautiful summits with the room lights reflecting off them. Thighs covered with what looked like braided steel cables, muscle bulls huge and bulging over downright sexy ankles and those gorgeous feet. And the crème de la crème, a ten-inch cut rising like a majestic tree from a thicket of bush, tennis-sized balls huddled close together. He leaned even closer, my scared face reflected in his eyes, mustache framing perfect lips just right for kissing, his hands moving like the tide on the beach, closer and closer. Without thinking, I reached down, intercepting them just above my cock, already pushing hard against my Wranglers. His eyes flashed with confusion, then solidified in definite want, my conscience screaming no over and over again. “This is it. I can't help you here. It's got to be your decision.”
Time fragmented, my mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. I knew that it was now or never—I had to give in or give up. My body fidgeted, brain yelling to get the hell out of here, this'll ruin your life, you can't do this, my soul tugging fiercely the other way, nailing my feet to the floor. Helplessly I looked into his eyes again, feeling them burn into me, reflecting my whole life, my desires, scenes flashing like silent movies as my consciousness fought back and forth. And then suddenly, a flare from deep inside me—the knowledge that this was what I was always meant to be. I felt a surge of power from nowhere I could name flow into me, denim disappearing in a flare of light, my cock and ass revealed. I turned and felt his cock shove into my hole, the fragments of the old me shattering like black glass, splinters of joy-light suddenly playing across my mind and illuminating the darkness that had held me in check for so long. I held him close, arms hugging as if I were drowning and he was my life preserver, feeling my ass contract and milk his cock as he thrust against me, our lips and tongues blending together as one. The wave of pure energy rose higher and higher as we came together, filling us both, illuminating the room with a white-hot light, the walls trembling as we got closer and closer, then exploding in enormous surges, power radiating from us as we came together in an orgasm of unthinkable sensations, cum filling my hole as fast as I shot it out, pure pleasure over and over and over again, unending.
With a flash, we separated, sweat dripping left and right, the odor of man-sex overpowering as we trembled against each other. He looked up at me, that same fire burning in his eyes, then, like a blacksmith's forge, flaring even higher. “Look at you!” he said, his voice filled with wonder.
I turned, a full-length mirror appearing in a puff of acrid smoke. “Good gravy!” I rumbled, my voice like a clap of thunder, as I stared into the incredible image before me. I was quite simply the fullfillment of all my fantasies—six six, 350 pounds of perfectly shaped muscles, lats like wings off my back, pecs growing and trembling like an erupting volcano, tree-trunk thighs covered in twitching waves of muscle fibers, biceps ballooning and peaking almost cartoonishly, enormous balls beneath a perfectly- shaped fourteen-inch cock thick as a normal man's arm, quads and hams sculpted from solid bronze, flaring and snorting muscle bulls over massive feet. I met my own gaze, green eyes burning from an achingly- handsome face, supported by a neck like a tree trunk and capped with a gorgeous brown flattop that perfectly matched a handlebar stache and goatee, beautifully complimenting a Chia-Pet forest of man-fur that sprung up even as I watched across the topography of pure muscle that was my body. I hit pose after pose, enjoying the view that I had always dreamed of, then rotating back as the floor groaned under my weight to share it with the man I loved. Loved—the word I had never even dreamed of using in relation to another guy now flowing through my mind like a laughing brook. As he gestured again, I felt the power collect in me, then flow to him, binding us together like a golden cord as the room rearranged into a beautiful tropical island. The sand crunched under my feet, waves laughing against my ankles as I swept him up in a bear hug and kissed him long and hard.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with tears. “I never thought—I mean'this is almost too much—”
“And it only gets better,” I said, lowering us both to the ground as the breeze blew over us, a cool blessing of the beautiful thing that had transpired.