My Quarantine Get In Shape Plan

Dream Big

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Washington (Washington, D.C., United States)
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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 mediterrenean 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.

Ahem.

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?”

“Yup”

“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?”

“No?”

“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 goood 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 myse;f “—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 755am, 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 3-4 pm, 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.”

“Really?”

“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 230am.

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!
 
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.”

“Really?”

“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 230am.

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!

loving it so far! keep it up! :)
 
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.”

“Seriously?”

“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.

“Um...”

“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. Ok, 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, Measuring 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 1pm 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 ale 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 night 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 ok, 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 loooking female security guard had been toiling 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 added “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.