Those who think sexuality exists on a spectrum have clearly never met Rick Stevens. If they did, they’d probably put him as far right as humanly possible. “Straight” didn’t quite cut it: the only man Rick had ever loved was himself.
He was a gym-rat, of course. Rick knew the best place to pick up girls was at the gym, showing off his almost inhuman body. He’d been lifting since middle school — fifteen years ago — and in those fifteen years, Rick had fashioned a body for himself that was unparalleled at the local gym, and all the surrounding ones for that matter.
But Rick was a dick. The only bigger dick at the gym was the one he packed in his shorts. He was rude to the staff, never re-racked his weights, and worst of all, he hated Matt.
Matt was gay as all hell. He loved showing off his body at the gym too, but for completely different reasons. The two had something of a rivalry, but Matt’s attempts to pick up guys at the gym yielded far more successes than Rick’s attempts to pick up girls. It didn’t matter how hard or how big Rick got, Matt always got more ass… just not from girls.
Things turned bitter. Rick started being outwardly nasty to Matt at the gym, throwing homophobic insults any time he got the chance. Matt put up with it the best he could, but only because he knew Rick’s attacks wouldn’t last for long. Not after he was done with him…
It was Monday. The gym was practically empty, save for Matt and Rick. Matt had gotten there early on purpose, and intentionally chose Rick’s favorite chest press machine. He made sure to spend a good ten minutes in the sauna before hand, that way when Rick got to the gym, the first thing he’d see was Matt working out in his sacred spot. Sweaty. Shirtless.
As Matt anticipated, he was livid. Rick marched over and demanded Matt move to another machine.
Matt looked around at all the empty machines. Then back to Rick. “Use one of those bro,” he said, “we can work out together.”
Rick leaned in, hissing. “I am NOT working out with your faggot ass.”
Matt smiled. “Have it your way.” Matt got up, leaving the bench thick with his fresh sweat. Rick thought me might gag.
“You’re not going to wipe it off??” He thrust a single finger at the wet leather. Matt just shrugged.
“They’re out of paper towels. Sorry.” He gave Rick the smallest of smiles. It was a challenge, and Matt knew how much straight boys like Rick loved competition.
Sure enough, Rick thrust his chin up, puffed out his chest, and sat down.
The bench was way wetter than it looked. Rick immediately jumped up. His shorts were already soaking with Matt’s essence.
“Something wrong?” Matt asked.
“Your faggot face is the problem,” Rick retorted, and gathering himself, laid back down. He could feel the sweat soak through his clothes, drench his dry body. It took every inch of his strength not to throw up. So much of his strength, that it was difficult to do his reps.
Matt smiled. “Need someone to spot you—?”
“NO!” Rick snapped. He took a deep breath. “I’m fine.” He lied.
“Suit yourself,” Matt said. “I’m here to help.”
Like that will ever happen, Rick thought. But deep down, he knew something was wrong. It was never this hard to do chest flys. Not unless he was distracted, specifically distracted by a girl.
Only there were no girls around. Only Matt.
No. Bullshit. Focus on your chest. Focus on the reps.
And yet his eyes kept drifting to Matt. He fought hard to keep his gaze forward, but every couple of seconds he would catch a glimpse of his nipple through the side of his low-cut tank top, and his senses would flood with the smell of his sweat simmering all around him.
“Damn, is it hot in here?” Matt said. Rick didn’t respond. He was only on his second set when Matt began to remove his tank top.
“STOP!” Rick blurted.
Matt froze. “Something wrong?” he asked, as if he already knew the answer.
Rick was sweating hard. “D-don’t you… isn’t it… can’t you get in… trouble?… for…”
“What? Oh no, the staff are all on break. No one will notice.” He peeled the wet piece of clothing off his back, which flared and expanded out into the cool gym air. And, with a smile and a wink to Rick: “it will be our little secret.”
Rick felt a rush of blood to his dick, spurring on an erection so fierce and so hard, half of his energy was spent keeping it tucked between his legs (which was difficult, considering he was on a bench). How was this possible? Was he really feeling attracted to Matt? Or had he just never noticed how perfectly his body was sculpted, how nicely his tattoos wrapped around his arms, his chest…
He let go of the machine and leaned back. He couldn’t finish the set. Not without help.
“You okay?” Matt asked, again with that salty air of superiority.
“I… I…” Rick couldn’t seem to get the words out. No matter how desperately he wanted Matt closer to him, there was still a part of his mind that was disgusted by the thought of being anywhere near the man. Finally, he stuttered: “I… need help.”
“What was that? I didn’t hear you?”
“I. Need. Help.” This time with more venom. But Matt only smiled, and moved behind Rick to spot his arms.
It was like that moment before a first kiss, where you’re so nervous and so excited, nothing else matters but the person standing in front of you — or in Rick’s case — right behind him. If anything, it was even harder to concentrate now that Matt was spotting him.
Hard… hard… It made him think of Matt’s body. Towering and large over him, his shadow throwing his whole vision into darkness. The scent of a man just inches above him, that smell of musk that had wafted bellow him as he was lifting was now like a torrent in his nostrils, and caused him to go dizzy with envy. He imagined what he must look like from this angle, his head peaking out from behind his pecs, bulge dangling centimeters above his face.
This wasn’t like anything Rick had felt towards a girl—towards anyone. This was something else: an attraction so intense and so powerful, that working out was completely out of the equation.
Rick dropped the weights, and craned his neck back to get a better look. But Matt was already ahead of him.
“Hello down there,” Matt said, hand tight around his erect cock, “took you long enough to notice.”
Rick was speechless. He’d never seen a dick this big… and this up close. He could stick out his tongue and touch the tip if he wanted to.
“Go on: lick it.” It was as if Matt read his mind. Rick couldn’t find the right reply. “It doesn’t bite,” Matt continued, “I promise.”
The thought of sucking a dick should have been disgusting to Rick, but his body was telling him otherwise. It was as if his own chemistry was shifting, his gag reflex subsiding and his nerves tingling with hot anticipation. He wasn’t hesitant. He wanted to savor this moment, the image of Matt standing above him like a titan.
But Matt was getting impatient.
“C’mon,” he said, “suck daddy’s cock.”
He couldn’t resist. Rick stuck out his tongue and tasted of the salty sperm glazing the tip. All he needed was a little taste before he was completely enamored, his own personal heroine. Within three seconds, Matt was almost balls deep in Rick’s previously straight throat, face fucking him like a cheep whore.
“Fuuuuck meeee.” Matt had always wondered what a straight guy’s throat would feel like, but apparently his magic sweat had done a good job of tempering Rick’s gag reflex. And that’s not all it was doing. The changes were small, not noticeable to the naked eye, but to Matt they were abundantly clear:
Rick’s legs were spreading wider and wider, his butt shifting uncomfortably on the bench as his asshole began to itch with need. His toes were curling inside his shoes as raw, animal pleasure rocked his body, and Matt felt Rick’s muscles writhe underneath his hands as they finally got the chance to explore the mountains and canyons on his perfectly sculpted form.
The changes were almost complete. In just a minute, Rick would be a full on gay bottom. And not just any bottom, but a bottom specifically wired to crave Matt’s cock.
Rick couldn’t take it any longer. He expelled Matt’s slobbery meat from his mouth and gasped: “fuck me… please…”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Matt said, and flipped Rick over on the bench. Moving around to the other side, he yanked his gym shorts down, lifted the man’s gargantuan legs above his head and spat onto his puckering hole. Rick was moaning loudly, so much so that Matt was scared someone would walk in on them. But this wasn’t the first time he’d had sex with a guy at the gym, and he was sure anyone would be pleased to see Rick the Dick in such a compromising position.
It didn’t matter that Rick had never been fucked before; his transformation had given his ass extra elasticity, so Matt slipped inside as if it were butter. Rick, having never felt another man inside him, let out a scream of pleasure. Mixed with his trademark masculinity was a hint of feminine inflection. In other words, he sounded unmistakably gay as he called out for Matt to “pound his ass” and “destroy that pussy.”
Matt obliged.
If you were to meet Rick now, you might think differently about which side of the “spectrum” he falls on. Sure he’s still got the same phenomenal body, the same gorgeous blonde locks and handsome smile. But when he opens his mouth, there isn’t a trace of the douchy, homophobic straight bro from before.
Instead, Rick (or “Ricky” now) cannot seem to shut up about his boyfriend Matt. The two are inseparable, always working out at the gym… among other things. Needless to say, if you happen to be alone in the sauna with them at one point, you’re in for one hell of a show. Ricky gives new meaning to the word “power bottom.” His body and stamina allow him to fuck for hours and hours. Sometimes it’s even hard for Matt to keep up.
But best of all, there isn’t a mean bone in Ricky’s body. He’s always nice to everyone at the gym, always willing to give up his equipment for someone that needs it. People still call him “dick,” but for other, more physiological reasons.
And as for Matt, well, what more could he ask for? He had the hottest guy in the gym under his little finger. Maybe it will make you think twice about pissing off a stranger. Who knows? You could end up like Rick the Dick, gay as hell and horny 24/7.
Then again, that doesn’t sound too bad… does it?
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