yearites
Admired Member
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2012
- Posts
- 431
- Media
- 0
- Likes
- 844
- Points
- 213
- Location
- Ellensburg (Oregon, United States)
- Sexuality
- 90% Gay, 10% Straight
- Gender
- Male
My Quarantine Get In Shape Plan
- Thread starter Dream Big
- Start date
When I woke next, I was the one ministering to Sebastian. Waking up as you choke on a dick -- and while the owner of that dick is obviously completely asleep -- is just plain weird. No, not just weird. It was scary.
I was, essentially, a passenger in my own body. Watching as I groped my partner and probed with a slick pair of fingers until I found his prostate, feeling my own mouth almost numb from sucking and my tongue sore from licking.
I couldn't stop -- and on some level I didn't care, because the sensations were quite strong -- as I coaxed a full load from Sebastian.
His dick felt bigger in my mouth. Something I'd never have expected to think, because a few months ago I'd never have dared to do more than fantasize about my sexy neighbor. My fantasies had not extended to anything near what was happening in reality, and almost against my will.
Yeah. Almost. Because a part of me found this hypnotically compelling. So tempting to just...just ride it out.
"Aah!!!!!" Sebastian moaned, shuddering awake as I expertly milked another load, waking him. "Fuck, man, that's.....whew..."
By Monday, we had given up any hope of stopping whatever was going on with us, and were resorting to practical management. Either of us leaving meant the other would just work out, almost nonstop, until we returned, as we found out during (a) a trip to the mailbox, and (b) a run to Target for more condoms. Because whatever else we wound up doing, we were fucking like animals at least three times a day, on top of a few mutual hand jobs or oral stuff. Just periodically zone out and then suddenly it's later and you're fucking AGAIN or working out AGAIN.
"I don't think it's the supplements. It's been a week since I cut those out, and unless you're sucked them out of me, you never took them." I frowned at my sculpted forearm. "Either way, it's still happening."
"It's crazy, whatever this is," Sebastian said. "I don't think I've ever been so consistently horny in my life -- not even as a teen."
"Right? I'd be impressed blowing three loads in a day -- but we're doing five or six," he said. "Or at least averaging that."
He wasn't wrong. Sunday had been particularly hot, and I was aware of at least seven times I came.
"My dick aches from all the sex, and my tongue..." I stuck it out, "well, it's sore too."
"Whoever heard of sleepfucking?"
"Or sleep-benching?"
"Or that. I mean, fuck, anytime you take that shirt off, I'm jealous."
"wha....?"
"You just can't see it, Terry. You're *hot*. Seriously, you've put on a pound a day all week, all in the right places."
He wasn't wrong. And just since the doc visit, I'd added another 3/4 Inch of length and almost a half inch in girth to my dick.
All 13+ inches of my manhood were rapidly filling out, as if summoned. Sebastian was also showing some signs of growth there, too, and though his narrow 8.25 inches was perfectly fine by me, we both expected he'd be packing a little more before long.
* * *
Five days later, I got a call from Dr Wong.
"Not much to tell you, I'm afraid," he said. "We've run full panels and other than high testosterone levels and some other minor hormonal stuff that's not terribly exciting, we literally found NOTHING to explain your growth. I've sent out to a few other labs, but don't expect much different. But your sperm sample was something else entirely," he said. "You clearly have hyperspermia, but no clear cause there either. Anything happening on your end?"
I filled him in on my continued growth, to many exasperated noises on his side, and then mentioned that Sebastian had begun to see similar improvements.
"But wait, he wasn't on the supplement or the vitamins, was he?"
"Nope. And he's the most ridiculously scrupulous eater I've ever met. Other than the odd protein shake, he's not a big supplement user himself. Just eats right. But we've both been eating everything in sight lately, and ...well, if I'm honest, fucking like oversexed teenaged rabbits."
"I'm not surprised -- that fits with the elevated hormones. So, what, three, four times a day?"
"Seven or eight," I replied.
"Holy cow," he said. And then I heard him breathe extra deep. "Look, I know this is going to sound...frankly insane? But if we don't see a physical cause for what's happening to you, well...."
"Eliminate the possible, and whatever's left, no matter how crazy, has to be the truth?"
"Something like that."
"We've looked into that a bit, too."
There was a long pause. "Um," he said. "Look, I can't believe I'm even suggesting it, but...."
"Shoot."
"Well, I have an uncle who's into all that supernatural stuff. Traditional medicine, mumbo jumbo stuff. He believes it but I'm not sure I do. Anyway... point is, he studies a lot of out-there stuff, and he might point you in the right direction."
I was, essentially, a passenger in my own body. Watching as I groped my partner and probed with a slick pair of fingers until I found his prostate, feeling my own mouth almost numb from sucking and my tongue sore from licking.
I couldn't stop -- and on some level I didn't care, because the sensations were quite strong -- as I coaxed a full load from Sebastian.
His dick felt bigger in my mouth. Something I'd never have expected to think, because a few months ago I'd never have dared to do more than fantasize about my sexy neighbor. My fantasies had not extended to anything near what was happening in reality, and almost against my will.
Yeah. Almost. Because a part of me found this hypnotically compelling. So tempting to just...just ride it out.
"Aah!!!!!" Sebastian moaned, shuddering awake as I expertly milked another load, waking him. "Fuck, man, that's.....whew..."
By Monday, we had given up any hope of stopping whatever was going on with us, and were resorting to practical management. Either of us leaving meant the other would just work out, almost nonstop, until we returned, as we found out during (a) a trip to the mailbox, and (b) a run to Target for more condoms. Because whatever else we wound up doing, we were fucking like animals at least three times a day, on top of a few mutual hand jobs or oral stuff. Just periodically zone out and then suddenly it's later and you're fucking AGAIN or working out AGAIN.
"I don't think it's the supplements. It's been a week since I cut those out, and unless you're sucked them out of me, you never took them." I frowned at my sculpted forearm. "Either way, it's still happening."
"It's crazy, whatever this is," Sebastian said. "I don't think I've ever been so consistently horny in my life -- not even as a teen."
"Right? I'd be impressed blowing three loads in a day -- but we're doing five or six," he said. "Or at least averaging that."
He wasn't wrong. Sunday had been particularly hot, and I was aware of at least seven times I came.
"My dick aches from all the sex, and my tongue..." I stuck it out, "well, it's sore too."
"Whoever heard of sleepfucking?"
"Or sleep-benching?"
"Or that. I mean, fuck, anytime you take that shirt off, I'm jealous."
"wha....?"
"You just can't see it, Terry. You're *hot*. Seriously, you've put on a pound a day all week, all in the right places."
He wasn't wrong. And just since the doc visit, I'd added another 3/4 Inch of length and almost a half inch in girth to my dick.
All 13+ inches of my manhood were rapidly filling out, as if summoned. Sebastian was also showing some signs of growth there, too, and though his narrow 8.25 inches was perfectly fine by me, we both expected he'd be packing a little more before long.
* * *
Five days later, I got a call from Dr Wong.
"Not much to tell you, I'm afraid," he said. "We've run full panels and other than high testosterone levels and some other minor hormonal stuff that's not terribly exciting, we literally found NOTHING to explain your growth. I've sent out to a few other labs, but don't expect much different. But your sperm sample was something else entirely," he said. "You clearly have hyperspermia, but no clear cause there either. Anything happening on your end?"
I filled him in on my continued growth, to many exasperated noises on his side, and then mentioned that Sebastian had begun to see similar improvements.
"But wait, he wasn't on the supplement or the vitamins, was he?"
"Nope. And he's the most ridiculously scrupulous eater I've ever met. Other than the odd protein shake, he's not a big supplement user himself. Just eats right. But we've both been eating everything in sight lately, and ...well, if I'm honest, fucking like oversexed teenaged rabbits."
"I'm not surprised -- that fits with the elevated hormones. So, what, three, four times a day?"
"Seven or eight," I replied.
"Holy cow," he said. And then I heard him breathe extra deep. "Look, I know this is going to sound...frankly insane? But if we don't see a physical cause for what's happening to you, well...."
"Eliminate the possible, and whatever's left, no matter how crazy, has to be the truth?"
"Something like that."
"We've looked into that a bit, too."
There was a long pause. "Um," he said. "Look, I can't believe I'm even suggesting it, but...."
"Shoot."
"Well, I have an uncle who's into all that supernatural stuff. Traditional medicine, mumbo jumbo stuff. He believes it but I'm not sure I do. Anyway... point is, he studies a lot of out-there stuff, and he might point you in the right direction."
Under ordinary circumstances, if your doctor suggested you seriously consider supernatural assistance, your next call would be to change your primary care physician, and rightly so.
But clearly, we were not in ordinary circumstances.
And so, the next day, Sebastian and I managed to tear ourselves away from the house and squeeze into my car —-in some very ill-fitting clothing, honestly—and let the GPS lead us to the nondescript suburban home of Doctor Wong’s uncle, who he said had agreed to see us.
Feeling a bit foolish and awkward, we parked on the street and walked up the driveway — it was a cookie-cutter suburban road, full of Karens and Kevins and Chads, no doubt. But sure enough, the mailbox said “WONG” and had what I presumed was the Chinese symbols for it as well, neatly printed on the mailbox.
The door opened as i touched the bell.
A lanky older Chinese man in a pink polo shirt and khakis opened the door. He had to be in his late 60s but seemed the type to jog or play tennis or something.
“Terry and Sebastian, I presume,” he said in perfect unaccented English. Of course I assumed he’d be right out of central casting, but no, he had all the mysterious mojo vibe of a dentist. “Come on in.”
“Sit at the table, have some tea, and let’s talk about your problem.”
* * *
Now, Doc Wong was a modern tech nerd and a very casual sort of doctor in terms of how he related. He put me at ease. Apparently it was a family trait.
“Bet you were expecting long white mustache, mandarin coat, and crazy eyes, right?”
We laughed nervously.
“Probably a little disappointed because I look like a boring suburban grandpa, right?”
I mean, I was, but didn’t want to say it. Sebastian nodded a little guiltily.
“Yup. I’d say i get that a lot but ...well, look, it’s like this. I don’t advertise what I do. I am a retired history professor. No shop full of oddities, no gremlins, no weird incense. Got a ton of books upstairs, and I know my shit. Okay?”
I nodded dumbly.
“Right. Well, drink that tea up and then we’ll talk more. Gotta see how you react, first.”
“React?”
“Oh right. That’s supposed to react if you’re —“
Sebastian gasped suddenly, and looked at his fingertips, which were turning quite spectacularly red. I quickly glanced down, and mine were the same.
“Yup, figured” Mr Wong said calmly. “Have a glass of water and ignore the salty taste— it’s just purified water with a little salt. Should clear that stuff out pretty fast.”
We did as he asked and sure enough, other than feeling a little warm, we both felt fine and the redness faded almost immediately.
“Better? Good. Now, take it from the top, and fill me in on ALL the details.”
We did, and I did most of the talking, with Sebastian adding minor details I forgot to mention. Our host nodded and jotted down a few notes on a small pad.
“It’s the workout machine,” he said, as if he was discussing a failed alternator.
“Really?”
“Got to be. What were the circumstances of your purchasing it, again?”
“I was trying to get back into shape.”
“And why was it for sale?”
“I think the guy said he was clearing out his dad’s garage.”
“So,” Mr Wong said. “Probably dad pinned a lot of hopes and dreams on this thing, and died before he finished. The device soaked it all up and is pushing that onto you boys.”
“Oooh Kay, so what do we do about it?”
“Good question. I’ll come and take a look, but it’s likely that it’ll push you to a specific goal. Achieve it and you’ll put it to rest.”
“Wait — uou’re saying Terry’s bowflex is what, haunted?”
“Near enough. Stuff picks up meaning and resonance. Soaks up psychic energy sometimes — mostly benignly. So I’ll need to see the device to—“
“FUCK.” Sebastian was suddenly on the floor doing crunches, and I realized I was doing pushups. We both blushed and managed to muster the willpower to stop.
“Huh, even without the proximity? Interesting.” He said. “I’ll follow you back, and see if we can figure out whether this is naturally occurring resonance, or whether it’s a curse, a possession, or whatnot.”
But clearly, we were not in ordinary circumstances.
And so, the next day, Sebastian and I managed to tear ourselves away from the house and squeeze into my car —-in some very ill-fitting clothing, honestly—and let the GPS lead us to the nondescript suburban home of Doctor Wong’s uncle, who he said had agreed to see us.
Feeling a bit foolish and awkward, we parked on the street and walked up the driveway — it was a cookie-cutter suburban road, full of Karens and Kevins and Chads, no doubt. But sure enough, the mailbox said “WONG” and had what I presumed was the Chinese symbols for it as well, neatly printed on the mailbox.
The door opened as i touched the bell.
A lanky older Chinese man in a pink polo shirt and khakis opened the door. He had to be in his late 60s but seemed the type to jog or play tennis or something.
“Terry and Sebastian, I presume,” he said in perfect unaccented English. Of course I assumed he’d be right out of central casting, but no, he had all the mysterious mojo vibe of a dentist. “Come on in.”
“Sit at the table, have some tea, and let’s talk about your problem.”
* * *
Now, Doc Wong was a modern tech nerd and a very casual sort of doctor in terms of how he related. He put me at ease. Apparently it was a family trait.
“Bet you were expecting long white mustache, mandarin coat, and crazy eyes, right?”
We laughed nervously.
“Probably a little disappointed because I look like a boring suburban grandpa, right?”
I mean, I was, but didn’t want to say it. Sebastian nodded a little guiltily.
“Yup. I’d say i get that a lot but ...well, look, it’s like this. I don’t advertise what I do. I am a retired history professor. No shop full of oddities, no gremlins, no weird incense. Got a ton of books upstairs, and I know my shit. Okay?”
I nodded dumbly.
“Right. Well, drink that tea up and then we’ll talk more. Gotta see how you react, first.”
“React?”
“Oh right. That’s supposed to react if you’re —“
Sebastian gasped suddenly, and looked at his fingertips, which were turning quite spectacularly red. I quickly glanced down, and mine were the same.
“Yup, figured” Mr Wong said calmly. “Have a glass of water and ignore the salty taste— it’s just purified water with a little salt. Should clear that stuff out pretty fast.”
We did as he asked and sure enough, other than feeling a little warm, we both felt fine and the redness faded almost immediately.
“Better? Good. Now, take it from the top, and fill me in on ALL the details.”
We did, and I did most of the talking, with Sebastian adding minor details I forgot to mention. Our host nodded and jotted down a few notes on a small pad.
“It’s the workout machine,” he said, as if he was discussing a failed alternator.
“Really?”
“Got to be. What were the circumstances of your purchasing it, again?”
“I was trying to get back into shape.”
“And why was it for sale?”
“I think the guy said he was clearing out his dad’s garage.”
“So,” Mr Wong said. “Probably dad pinned a lot of hopes and dreams on this thing, and died before he finished. The device soaked it all up and is pushing that onto you boys.”
“Oooh Kay, so what do we do about it?”
“Good question. I’ll come and take a look, but it’s likely that it’ll push you to a specific goal. Achieve it and you’ll put it to rest.”
“Wait — uou’re saying Terry’s bowflex is what, haunted?”
“Near enough. Stuff picks up meaning and resonance. Soaks up psychic energy sometimes — mostly benignly. So I’ll need to see the device to—“
“FUCK.” Sebastian was suddenly on the floor doing crunches, and I realized I was doing pushups. We both blushed and managed to muster the willpower to stop.
“Huh, even without the proximity? Interesting.” He said. “I’ll follow you back, and see if we can figure out whether this is naturally occurring resonance, or whether it’s a curse, a possession, or whatnot.”
"Huh."
We were at the padlocked door to my spare room, and Mr Wong was watching me fumble for the keys. Sebastian was hovering worriedly until I opened the door, and he was visibly trying not to go right over to it. I was fighting the same urge myself. The room reeked of our scent.
"Okay if I light some incense here?"
"Go right ahead."
"Might help. At least with the musky scent in here."
"Sorry about that."
Mr Wong pulled out a stick and stuck it in a small glass, and lit it.
I wasn't expecting any fireworks, but I certainly got them. A bright white spark lit the room briefly, and what appeared to be fireflies swam through the air and settled in lazy spirals around the bowflex.
I had no expectations, but when you see your mundane junk glowing under a spell...well, that'll do wonders for your belief.
"Huh," Mr Wong said.
"That was kind of impressive," Sebastian said. I nodded in agreement.
"Normally we don't get such a show," Wong said. "That's some mojo there, for certain."
"So what next?"
"Next I have to figure out what is actually going on, how it operates. Can I get a big bowl of water -- either glass or metal -- ideally purified water. I'll need to light some candles and I need some a little quiet to do some readings. And then I'll need to go over each of you..."
Who knew magical mumbo jumbo was so scientific and detailed? I sure didn't. It was all very workmanlike and professional as he laid out some herbs here in a bowl, lit some candles there, and generally mumbled and touched everything. He'd grunt and make a note in his little notebook (it was a rather nice Moleskin one), and then move on methodically to the next inexplicable set of readings. It was equal parts fascinating and boring, so once we got the gist of what he was doing, Sebastian and I turned our attention to other things.
By "other things", I don't actually mean sexy things....though we wanted to. Instead, I made lunch and Sebastian tackled laundry -- we'd been a little behind on that and sweating a lot. About ninety minutes later, Mr Wong came out of the room with a tired expression.
"Lunch?"
He thanked us and joined us for lunch, but was quiet as he ate. Finally, he drank the rest of his water and frowned.
"Well?" Sebastian said, impatiently.
"I still need to check you boys out, but I see the shape of it. In layman's terms, I'm guessing this device has been soaking up hopes and dreams and intent for a few years, and ...well, it's FULL. It's full of all that energy, and it's found an outlet with you guys. Where did you say you got it?"
"Auction site," I said. "Let me dig up the site..." While I dug around, Mr Wong had Sebastian go through his little tests, which seemed to involve him mostly naked and standing in a cloud of incense. At least that room would smell a bit less like a locker room....
About fifteen minutes later, Sebastian was released and Mr Wong guzzled a large glass of iced tea.
"My mother would have hated this iced tea, but I like it. What did you find, Terry?"
"It's been some detective work here. Seems like the seller *I* bought it from might have got it in a salvage thing for a private school that burned down about five years ago. The model is older, maybe 15 years older than that."
"So it soaked up years of ...what age kids?"
"It was a boys prep school, so like, high school."
"Any deaths?"
"Yeah, actually. A real tragedy, like 8 boys and a coach died in the fire. It trapped them in the locker room."
Mr Wong sighed. "That makes sense. Well maintained, but definitely used. Soaked up a decade of high school boys' sweat and dreams, then got caught up in a big tragedy. "
"Hundreds of high school athletes using it all the time," Sebastian said.
"That's my working theory," Wong said. "And it makes sense, because who's more oversexed, prone to growth, and prone to physical excess, than a bunch of teen boys? All of them hoping to build on what puberty was already doing to make them studs."
"So, what, all that pent up energy is going into us?"
"Yeah, I think so. I still need to verify with you, but I'm pretty sure what I'll find."
We were at the padlocked door to my spare room, and Mr Wong was watching me fumble for the keys. Sebastian was hovering worriedly until I opened the door, and he was visibly trying not to go right over to it. I was fighting the same urge myself. The room reeked of our scent.
"Okay if I light some incense here?"
"Go right ahead."
"Might help. At least with the musky scent in here."
"Sorry about that."
Mr Wong pulled out a stick and stuck it in a small glass, and lit it.
I wasn't expecting any fireworks, but I certainly got them. A bright white spark lit the room briefly, and what appeared to be fireflies swam through the air and settled in lazy spirals around the bowflex.
I had no expectations, but when you see your mundane junk glowing under a spell...well, that'll do wonders for your belief.
"Huh," Mr Wong said.
"That was kind of impressive," Sebastian said. I nodded in agreement.
"Normally we don't get such a show," Wong said. "That's some mojo there, for certain."
"So what next?"
"Next I have to figure out what is actually going on, how it operates. Can I get a big bowl of water -- either glass or metal -- ideally purified water. I'll need to light some candles and I need some a little quiet to do some readings. And then I'll need to go over each of you..."
Who knew magical mumbo jumbo was so scientific and detailed? I sure didn't. It was all very workmanlike and professional as he laid out some herbs here in a bowl, lit some candles there, and generally mumbled and touched everything. He'd grunt and make a note in his little notebook (it was a rather nice Moleskin one), and then move on methodically to the next inexplicable set of readings. It was equal parts fascinating and boring, so once we got the gist of what he was doing, Sebastian and I turned our attention to other things.
By "other things", I don't actually mean sexy things....though we wanted to. Instead, I made lunch and Sebastian tackled laundry -- we'd been a little behind on that and sweating a lot. About ninety minutes later, Mr Wong came out of the room with a tired expression.
"Lunch?"
He thanked us and joined us for lunch, but was quiet as he ate. Finally, he drank the rest of his water and frowned.
"Well?" Sebastian said, impatiently.
"I still need to check you boys out, but I see the shape of it. In layman's terms, I'm guessing this device has been soaking up hopes and dreams and intent for a few years, and ...well, it's FULL. It's full of all that energy, and it's found an outlet with you guys. Where did you say you got it?"
"Auction site," I said. "Let me dig up the site..." While I dug around, Mr Wong had Sebastian go through his little tests, which seemed to involve him mostly naked and standing in a cloud of incense. At least that room would smell a bit less like a locker room....
About fifteen minutes later, Sebastian was released and Mr Wong guzzled a large glass of iced tea.
"My mother would have hated this iced tea, but I like it. What did you find, Terry?"
"It's been some detective work here. Seems like the seller *I* bought it from might have got it in a salvage thing for a private school that burned down about five years ago. The model is older, maybe 15 years older than that."
"So it soaked up years of ...what age kids?"
"It was a boys prep school, so like, high school."
"Any deaths?"
"Yeah, actually. A real tragedy, like 8 boys and a coach died in the fire. It trapped them in the locker room."
Mr Wong sighed. "That makes sense. Well maintained, but definitely used. Soaked up a decade of high school boys' sweat and dreams, then got caught up in a big tragedy. "
"Hundreds of high school athletes using it all the time," Sebastian said.
"That's my working theory," Wong said. "And it makes sense, because who's more oversexed, prone to growth, and prone to physical excess, than a bunch of teen boys? All of them hoping to build on what puberty was already doing to make them studs."
"So, what, all that pent up energy is going into us?"
"Yeah, I think so. I still need to verify with you, but I'm pretty sure what I'll find."
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2010
- Posts
- 500
- Media
- 333
- Likes
- 62,583
- Points
- 523
- Location
- Auckland (New Zealand)
- Verification
- View
- Sexuality
- 60% Gay, 40% Straight
- Gender
- Male
“So how do we do this part?” I asked.
“Strip down to your briefs, stand in the circle, and be ready to hold your breath.”
Mr Wong opened a small paper packet of colored sand, or something, and dumped it into his hand. Then he blew gently past the candle and a fragrant mist blew over me. I could smell sweat and axe body spray and raw testosterone.
“Yup,” he nodded. “Same as your friend, but more intense, as I expected.”
“So,” I asked, “What the hell do we do about it?”
* * *
“First thing is to figure out what you want. See if it is compatible with what it wants. But that’s not quite what I mean. That device has soaked up energy and you are benefiting from it — but only when you help it fulfill those pent up goals.”
“yeah, but if we don’t, it makes us!” Sebastian said. “Can we, I dunno, reason with it somehow?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any particular entity driving this, so probably not. Nobody there to talk to.”
“Then what?”
“well, there is no way I know of to tell how much of that energy is still looking for an outlet. If we had some sense of how much there was, we might be able to bring in others to draw it down. Otherwise you two will have to keep on bleeding it out.”
“I could call some of my clients from the gym, maybe ...but nah, they probably don’t want to risk it now.”
“Plus there is a concern about refilling the reserve. I’m betting your gym clients bring plenty of hope and dream content to the table.”
“Oh, right, that would just top off the tank, right?”
“I don’t actually know, but it seems likely.
“Then maybe just a few folks? Someone who needs the program and who we can trust?”
“Strip down to your briefs, stand in the circle, and be ready to hold your breath.”
Mr Wong opened a small paper packet of colored sand, or something, and dumped it into his hand. Then he blew gently past the candle and a fragrant mist blew over me. I could smell sweat and axe body spray and raw testosterone.
“Yup,” he nodded. “Same as your friend, but more intense, as I expected.”
“So,” I asked, “What the hell do we do about it?”
* * *
“First thing is to figure out what you want. See if it is compatible with what it wants. But that’s not quite what I mean. That device has soaked up energy and you are benefiting from it — but only when you help it fulfill those pent up goals.”
“yeah, but if we don’t, it makes us!” Sebastian said. “Can we, I dunno, reason with it somehow?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any particular entity driving this, so probably not. Nobody there to talk to.”
“Then what?”
“well, there is no way I know of to tell how much of that energy is still looking for an outlet. If we had some sense of how much there was, we might be able to bring in others to draw it down. Otherwise you two will have to keep on bleeding it out.”
“I could call some of my clients from the gym, maybe ...but nah, they probably don’t want to risk it now.”
“Plus there is a concern about refilling the reserve. I’m betting your gym clients bring plenty of hope and dream content to the table.”
“Oh, right, that would just top off the tank, right?”
“I don’t actually know, but it seems likely.
“Then maybe just a few folks? Someone who needs the program and who we can trust?”
Hey gang. been away for a bit with some family and medical issues, but I expect to return to my smut duties soon.
I really only have one more chapter in mind for this, but I would like to wrap it up neatly.
I really only have one more chapter in mind for this, but I would like to wrap it up neatly.
We spent a few hours drawing up lists of names, and trying to find at least two candidates to help siphon off some of the energy -- at least we wanted to test the theory that we needed to find an outlet for the pent-up energy the device had soaked up. Someone other than us, before we got ridiculous. Well, MORE ridiculous....
I mean, it didn't seem safe to give it away without warning, and we didn't want to see it abused, either. But it was tricky to explain, and Mr Wong seemed very concerned about putting anyone at risk.
"That kind of energy, you don't want to misdirect and you don't want to do anything morally wrong with it -- especially since there's trauma involved. Giving focus and an outlet is one thing, but if you try to use it for anything shady, it would end very badly for everyone, I fear."
"Aww, it would be awesome to have this, working as a personal trainer," Sebastian said. But while it might have done wonders for his career in PT, he wasn't willing to risk everything for it. Besides, at this point our main focus was on keeping it from soaking us in its energy.
Turned out Sebastian had someone in mind for our first test: a former client of his who had run into money troubles and had to give up on his dreams of getting stud-ified. A bit of brainstorming with Mr Wong -- and a promise that we wouldn't turn this into some sort of money-grab scheme -- and he agreed to brew up a mild energy drink for us that Sebastian would use as a Trojan horse for explaining the gains our victim might see. The pandemic was the excuse for doing it at home. But we also agreed that if either of us got a bad sense after talking to him, and if Mr Wong got any sort of worrisome vibe, we'd can the experiment.
Bobby was a 19-year-old college sophomore who'd lost his mom to cancer the prior year. The chubby, shy nerd had been a high school senior talked into getting into better shape by friends, and had been on the right track when his single mom had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He'd thrown himself into his fast-food night job and spent every spare minute trying to cover expenses for school while his mom's illness drained every dime the family had -- and then some. Sebastian had friended Bobby on social media back when he was a client, and had sent condolences when Bobby's mom had finally passed. From what he could see, it looked like all Bobby's progress had faded away, thanks to the deadly combo of horrifying stress plus bad eating habits and overwork. The promise of free workouts, and an energy drink that might be a weight loss trigger, was enough to get Bobby to meet with us to see if he'd be a good candidate....
I mean, it didn't seem safe to give it away without warning, and we didn't want to see it abused, either. But it was tricky to explain, and Mr Wong seemed very concerned about putting anyone at risk.
"That kind of energy, you don't want to misdirect and you don't want to do anything morally wrong with it -- especially since there's trauma involved. Giving focus and an outlet is one thing, but if you try to use it for anything shady, it would end very badly for everyone, I fear."
"Aww, it would be awesome to have this, working as a personal trainer," Sebastian said. But while it might have done wonders for his career in PT, he wasn't willing to risk everything for it. Besides, at this point our main focus was on keeping it from soaking us in its energy.
Turned out Sebastian had someone in mind for our first test: a former client of his who had run into money troubles and had to give up on his dreams of getting stud-ified. A bit of brainstorming with Mr Wong -- and a promise that we wouldn't turn this into some sort of money-grab scheme -- and he agreed to brew up a mild energy drink for us that Sebastian would use as a Trojan horse for explaining the gains our victim might see. The pandemic was the excuse for doing it at home. But we also agreed that if either of us got a bad sense after talking to him, and if Mr Wong got any sort of worrisome vibe, we'd can the experiment.
Bobby was a 19-year-old college sophomore who'd lost his mom to cancer the prior year. The chubby, shy nerd had been a high school senior talked into getting into better shape by friends, and had been on the right track when his single mom had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He'd thrown himself into his fast-food night job and spent every spare minute trying to cover expenses for school while his mom's illness drained every dime the family had -- and then some. Sebastian had friended Bobby on social media back when he was a client, and had sent condolences when Bobby's mom had finally passed. From what he could see, it looked like all Bobby's progress had faded away, thanks to the deadly combo of horrifying stress plus bad eating habits and overwork. The promise of free workouts, and an energy drink that might be a weight loss trigger, was enough to get Bobby to meet with us to see if he'd be a good candidate....
Similar threads
