Brandon Twice
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Bitchy Ex-Boyfriend Behavior
🕑 Added 2022-09-20 01:20:16 +0000 UTC[muscle drain, twinkification, some muscle growth by the end]
Just before he went into the club’s bathroom, Trav waved across the ocean of men on the dance floor to his boyfriend Gregg, who stood dutifully at the bar ordering drinks for them both. A half-dozen men, thinking big Trav was waving at them, waved back with grins on their faces. He shrugged and headed into the bathroom. At least I’m out, he thought. But was being “out” better than spending the Friday night at the gym, the way he usually did?
Trav felt like a giant in the bathroom. He had to stoop a bit so his head–6’6” from the floor at its peak–cleared the low-hanging pipes. The sink was near his waist, the urinals even lower. He shrugged his big shoulders and headed to a stall.
A thin man with glasses nearly bumped into him as he left the stall Trav had chosen. “Oh my GOSH!” he exclaimed. “You’re HUGE!” His face blushed, his hands wringing as he looked up at Trav’s chiseled face and his thickly built bodybuilder physique.
“Thanks,” Trav said, trying to sidestep the little guy. It was a tight squeeze getting his wide shoulders in the stall. “Let’s wear midriff football jerseys.” Yeah, Gregg, great idea. He reached down and patted his exposed 8-pack, wishing he had covered up more. He was 280 pounds with his head scraping against the ceiling! There was no way people weren’t going to stare no matter what. Why wear outfits that drew MORE attention to him?
This is what I retired from competition for, Trav reminded himself as he shook his big dick off before yanking his shorts back up. Get out, be social, be around “normal” people who aren’t gym-obsessed freaks. If they’re staring, they’re just complimenting me.
Trav paused as he realized the glasses-wearing man was still waiting outside the stall. He had a fistfull of bills in his hands.
“I was wondering… if you’d let me suck your dick?” he asked, his voice shaky.
Trav sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, bud. I’m here with my boyfriend.” It seemed like a gentler let-down than, “I don’t rent my dick out to people.” Of course, Gregg had friends that did that sort of thing, and they seemed like cool guys. Just not for Trav.
“What if I could… I dunno… touch your muscles?”
Trav sighed again. He’d spent most of his adult life in a competitive atmosphere. He certainly wasn’t a virgin, and his Instagram profile was no stranger to attention like this, but he wasn’t accustomed to men openly propositioning him like this. He looked up at the other men at the sinks. They’d heard the little guy’s questions and didn’t bat an eye. They washed their hands and just left.
“No, thank you,” Trav said. He gently patted the little guy on the shoulder, eliciting a sigh from him, and then went to the sink. He had to stoop over to reach. He felt more comfortable when the guy with the cash walked out the door. Damn place is out of paper towels, he grumbled, wiping his hands on his shorts. He gasped when he turned around to see a tall dark-haired man staring at him, arms crossed with a smarmy grin.
“Trav! How are you?” the man asked. He wore a silk purple shirt that had gold moons embossed across it. The way the light danced off it was… mesmerizing.
“I’m sorry,” Trav said. “I don’t think I… Oh, wait, are you a fan?” He wasn’t used to fans of his bodybuilding career approaching him so boldly in public, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“No, I’m not,” the mysterious man said. His eyes were so light, they seemed to be silver. His voice seemed to echo somehow. “But by the end of the night, a lot of the men out there will be.” He produced a glass orb from what seemed like thin air. He spun it between his fingers, sliding it between each of his hands. Trav couldn’t help but stare into it. “Just follow my orb, and listen to my words… You desperately wish you could fit in with this crowd, don’t you?”
“Fit in…” Trav mumbled suddenly. He hadn’t had a drink yet, but he felt light-headed.
“At your size, with a body and face like that, you’ll stand out, here,” the man said. “My name is Cyrus, and I’m here to make your dreams come true. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Dreams…” Trav said, starting to sway on his feet.
“A lifetime of cold steel and restrictive diets, when what you really wanted was to let the soft animal of your desire take hold. All that discipline, all that genetic potential, holding you back from the life you’ve always thought you missed out on… the life that all these men take for granted!”
“Granted…” Trav blurted out. A dollop of drool hung from his lower lip.
“Let’s take care of that for you, big fella. Erase everything that makes you ‘you’ so you can blend into this crowd, the way your heart has so desperately needed for so long…”
Trav shivered. The room seemed to be growing larger. Somehow, Cyrus, who only came up to his shoulder before, was staring into his eyes–no, he was looking down at him! The ceiling seemed so far away, the sinks behind him just the right height…
“What a silly outfit for a man like you to wear…” Cyrus said, clucking his tongue.
Trav glanced down to see his shorts gathered around his feet, the oversized jersey thankfully covering up his little dick, allowing him a modicum of modesty. Good god, what was he doing in public dressed like that? He stepped out of massive sneakers, still tied but far too big for his size 7 feet.
“Let’s get you properly attired…” Cyrus said. Good god, this man’s voice felt so good.
Trav felt his tensions ease as he looked down to see a long-sleeve shirt that fit his slim torso perfectly. His hands slid into his khakis, then down to his little brown shoes. Everything was as it should be. He turned around to see his face–plain, if not a little chubby despite his slim physique. He smoothed out his messy hair; good god, he should have brought a comb, or at least some product. Not great, but it’ll have to do, he thought with a sigh as he surveyed his average appearance before stepping around the strange man to head back out to the dancefloor.
“Have fun out there, Travis.”
Now, how the hell did that hot guy know my name? He considered going back to ask him, but there was no way he could work up the nerve to talk to a stud like that!
*
Gregg took a sip of his overpriced beer as the bartender winked at him. He turned around, wondering where the hell Trav was. How could I miss a guy his size? Trav was a full head taller than the rest of the overcrowded dancefloor. There’s no way he could have left that bathroom without being seen.
“So, that big guy you came in with…” the bartender asked after tapping Gregg on the shoulder. The guy was good-looking, a little older than Gregg usually checked out but well-built with a full beard and a nice broad jaw. He looked like a hunky gym-teacher working his after-hours gig in a leather vest.
“Trav,” Gregg finished, wondering what the hell Trav was truly up to in that bathroom. “What about him?”
“He single?”
“My boyfriend,” Gregg added. The bartender nodded and shrugged.
“You two fuck around?”
“Only with each other,” Gregg said.
The bartender shrugged again. “I guess that can’t totally be true, or you guys wouldn’t be in a place like this, right? Couple of big hunky guys like you have GOT to be both tops.”
Gregg was only distantly aware of the bartender’s words. He watched men walking out of the bathroom who had gone in after Trav. Certainly Trav was okay–none of these horny little twinks was a threat to a guy his size–but the mystery of where his lover was started to overtake his thoughts.
“Hey, I’m Marcus,” the bartender said, extending a hand. “You got a nice body–not quite as big as that boyfriend of yours, but still, you clearly know your way around a gym.”
Gregg held up a finger. “Be right back,” he said.
“What’s the problem?” Marcus asked.
“My boyfriend hasn’t been back for awhile. Gotta go check on him.”
“Maybe you guys aren’t in as ‘committed’ a relationship as you thought,” Marcus said. Gregg shot him an irritated glare. “Or maybe it’s Cyrus,” Marcus added.
Gregg’s heart stopped. He ran a hand through his thick, blonde hair. “C-Cyrus?” he stuttered. He hadn’t even thought that name in over a year. The beer bottle slipped from his hands, foaming all over the bar as it rolled. Marcus chuckled and started wiping it up.
“I’m guessing you know Cyrus,” Marcus said. “A lot of guys react that way when they hear his name.”
Gregg shook his head. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same guy. I know a different Cyrus, is all…”
“I spent a month as an elderly woman with six cats, all cuz I farted in bed with him,” Marcus said.
Gregg started to feel dizzy. “I spent a year–a fucking YEAR–as an obese accountant,” he said. “I need to get Trav,” he said. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
He spun around to come face-to-face with Cyrus, who seemed to just materialize behind him, the way he always fucking did. “Well hello there! So nice to see one of my ex-lovers out and about, cavorting with the common folk.”
“Cyrus!” Gregg said. “Cyrus, I don’t want… anything. Period. So don’t talk, don’t say a word, don’t DO anything, just…”
“How was that year at ‘Markson, Brigham and Spline’? That was one nasty tax season, wasn’t it?” Cyrus waved over Gregg’s shoulder. “Dry martini please, Gretyl,” he said.
Marcus leaned over the bar. “He still calls me by my old lady name,” he explained. “That’s why I give him his drinks for free, so I don’t end up as her again.”
“I’m leaving, Cyrus,” Gregg explained.
“Look at you, regained your athletic physique, your nice blonde hair… Your butt still looks amazing, of course,” Cyrus said, walking a half-circle around Gregg. “And this cutoff footbal jersey you’re wearing looks PHENOMENAL on you.” Moments before, men had been edging past Gregg to reach the bar and order a drink, but Cyrus seemed to carry with him an aura that repelled others. No one came near them.
“Cyrus, I don’t want any trouble, really…”
“Are you looking for you boyfriend?” Cyrus asked with a wink. He gestured out at the crowd. “He’s out there… somewhere.”
“You didn’t,” Gregg said coldly.
Cyrus chuckled and sipped his martini. “Oh, I did. Seems that big clydesdale of a man was worried about the empty-headed twink lifestyle he never got to have a part of on account of his gigantic muscles and his heavy genetic endowment… an endowment I’m sure you’re well-acquainted with, of course.”
“Cyrus, whatever you did… please undo it.”
“Gregg, can you mix me up an appletini for my friend’s boyfriend here?” Cyrus gestured to Marcus, who got to work shaking up the drink. “I’m going to play a fun game, Gregg. Go out there on that dancefloor and see if you can find that studly man of yours. And if you guess correctly, feed him this drink…” He took the glass Marcus handed him and dropped a green stone into it. The martini bubbled and fizzed, then started to gently glow. “And all of your boyfriend’s best qualities will be returned to him.”
“What if I can’t find him?”
“Well, then, it seems that big brute of a man will get to spend some time as a meek little twink. Which, I might add, he was greatly enjoying the last time I saw him!”
Gregg grabbed Cyrus by his stupid cheap-magician-looking shirt. “I swear to god, Cyrus,” he threatened, but he felt a chill across his skin as Cyrus gave him a stern look.
“I would reconsider that avenue, unless you want to be buried in spreadsheets for the next decade,” Cyrus said. He held up a finger. It started to glow a pale blue. Gregg let him go, grabbing the martini and heading out onto the dancefloor.
*
Travis couldn’t believe how many hot guys there were there that night! He stood up against the wall, just surveying all the action. He liked the tall guys with their shirts off. He liked the way the sweat ran off their abs… and their big arms! Wow, he loved the way they pumped and flexed as they danced.
Maybe with a drink or two in me, I could work up the nerve to get out there on the dancefloor! Travis thought hopefully. He headed toward the bar, casually getting shoved out of the way by the taller, bigger men all around him. “Excuse me!” he cried weakly, unheard over the music. “Oof!” Somebody’s big bubble butt backed right into his face, knocking him to the floor. He struggled to get back up on his feet, luckily surfacing again right next to the bar.
Thank God, I’m next in line! He noticed a big hunky guy to his left–tall, blonde hair, nice muscles and an absolutely beautiful face, plus a shirt cut-off so it showed his studly abs! He was angry with somebody next to him, another hunky man in a billowy purple shirt with moons over it. Hey, it’s that guy from the bathroom! The blonde man rushed to the dancefloor, pushing past Travis, with some glowing martini in his hand.
“I’ll have a rum and coke!” Travis shouted to the bartender–who was amazingly hot too! Good god, how could so many beautiful men be in the same place? Travis felt a moment of yearning, wishing HE could be one of those beautiful guys other men looked at… but that had to be so much pressure. He thanked the bartender with a two-dollar tip, sipped his drink, and headed back out into the mass of gyrating bodies.
A tall Asian man shocked him as he danced up on him, grinding his ass into Travis’ crotch. Travis nearly shot his load right then and there.
“Hey there, cutie,” he said, turning around. He pulled up his shirt–he had abs too, just like the other hunks!--and pulled Travis’ face into them. “You’re fucking adorable,” the man whispered into his ear a moment later. He took a sip from Travis’ glass without asking. “Hey, I’m horny. Are you a bottom!”
Travis had no idea–he’d never had sex before! But he wasn’t about to admit to this cute stranger that he was a 32-year-old virgin. He just nodded emphatically. The man grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the back of the dancefloor so quickly Travis nearly spilled his drink.
*
Gregg searched the dancefloor, inspecting each of the twink’s faces for any traces of his retired pro-bodybuilder boyfriend. Should’ve asked for a damned clue, Gregg thought. He looked back at the bar; Cyrus was gone. He never did like to hang around after he caused all his chaos. It’s fine. I know Trav, and I know Cyrus. Cyrus is king of the twisted wishes, so… Just think… what kind of guy would Travis want to be?
He saw a gogo dancer up on a box–slim, blond, hairless with an enormous ass. He stood there, watching the man dance. Would Trav recognize him in his new state? He slid a single dollar bill into the gogo-boy’s jockstrap; he squatted down to accept it, then gave Gregg a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks babe!” he said, then kept dancing.
Gregg shook his head. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was about that guy, but it wasn’t Trav; Trav wouldn’t have wanted to be in a position where he got so much direct attention. Retiring from bodybuilding had been, mostly, about stepping OUT of the limelight.
His next suspect was a heavyset bearded man sitting on a Rascal scooter by the door, drinking a Pina Colada and smiling as he watched all the pretty men dance. The guy had to be 300 pounds, easily. Cyrus would have absolutely loved cramming Trav’s physically flawless body into the shape of a man so heavy he could barely walk around on his own, and Trav had expressed a desire to relax and indulge more…
Gregg stared at the contents of the martini glass. He had one chance to restore his boyfriend. Cyrus had never permanently cursed anyone before; his spells usually had an expiration date. This martini was just a way of allowing Gregg the opportunity to circumvent the waiting period, to save Trav from having to live another identity for awhile, and also to allow Cyrus the joy of torturing Gregg with the anxiety of the hunt.
He roughly kicked in the door of the bathroom, bursting in to scan the crowd. A lanky man with a ponytail turned away from pelting the urinal to give him an uninterested glare. He could hear two men loudly fucking in the stall. Sex with strangers was something Trav always said he wasn’t interested in, but… maybe…
Frustrated, Gregg left the bathroom. How the hell was he ever going to figure out who was actually Trav? He froze when a short man in glasses anxiously tugged at the bottom of his jersey.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said meekly, “I hope this isn’t too forward but… you have a beautiful body. I was wondering…” He produced a wad of money.
Gregg took a sigh. That had to be Trav; he’d always talked about wanting to indulge in the thrill of paying for sex. Gregg handed the glowing martini to the little guy.
“Forget the money,” he said. “Drink this and I’ll do whatever you want.”
Green light swirled around the little man. He burped and an iridescent cloud escaped. He dropped his glass suddenly (Gregg deftly caught it) and his whole body twitched as it started to stretch and inflate. He sprouted up quickly, his face reshaping into the beautiful visage Gregg woke up to every morning. His body blew up with muscles built by decades of extreme training. The only thing that didn’t change were his nerdy clothes; of course, his muscles burst through them. He looked like he had undergone a “hulk”-style transformation when it was over. The shredded clothing, the burst shoes, looked comical on his big, bulky body.
“Oh, thank GOD,” Gregg said, hugging his boyfriend close to him. “Let’s get you home, big guy,” he said, dragging Trav by the hand toward the door.
“So fucking weird,” “Trav” said as he squeezed Gregg’s thick hand with his own. “I feel like… like I haven’t been myself or… something…”
Outside Gregg threw his arms around Trav, hugging him tightly and kissing him deeply. He felt Trav’s big cock hardening against his thigh, busting through what was left of the smaller man’s underwear. Trav still had his glasses on, bent and sitting crooked on his bulkier face.
“Ditch these,” Gregg said, tossing them away. “And we are never going out AGAIN.”
“I feel like fucking you right here,” Trav said, grabbing Gregg’s well-built arms and squeezing them, gently lifting his lover a few inches off the floor.
“Let’s get home first,” Gregg said, glancing around for Cyrus. “Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
Trav’s cock inflated to its full 10 steely inches. Gregg licked his lips and fumbled for the keys, glad to get out of there.
*
Marcus flipped the lights on, watching all of the drunken twinks suddenly realizing the true faces of the men they were dancing with in the dark. Some left, hand in hand, while many others left alone. As the dancefloor emptied, he noticed one meek little guy with shaggy hair approaching the bar.
“Too late for one more rum and coke?” he asked. He climbed up on the barstool.
“Way past last call,” Marcus said. “You have fun tonight?”
The little guy blushed. “Yeah, you could say that! I really wanted to, y’know… cut loose, get out of my shell. And tonight I sure did!”
“Well, if you’re interested, I’m not serving booze here anymore, but if you hang out, I can bring you back to my place for a nightcap.”
The scrawny man’s eyes lit up.
“What’s your name, bud?” Marcus said, extending a hand.
“Travis!” the waif of a man said proudly.
Marcus pulled out his phone as he started cleaning up the bar. He sent Cyrus a text: “How long did that curse on the bodybuilder have til it wore off?”
“Three weeks!” Cyrus texted back.
So in three weeks, this little man would blow up into a massive bodybuilder, and the guy that blonde-haired chump went home with would shrink back to a little pipsqueak again. “Oh, Cyrus, you are NAUGHTY!” he texted back.
Cyrus texted back a winking emoji. Marcus glanced at the little twink on the barstool, who looked like he was having the time of his life. The next three weeks were sure going to be an experience for him!
Comments
Ninjakeyblder
I’m loving this so much! In a way! They all got what they wanted
