Stuck

Damnit. He’s stuck. Again.

At first, I thought turning Chuck into a bro tank would be hot. From the second he started going to the gym, all he’d do would gawk at my muscles. It was pretty innocent at first: gazing at me while I was doing bench presses, or picking the locker right next to mine so he could watch me undress. I considered initiating something, just to quench his thirst. He wasn’t terrible looking, and he might have stood a chance if he hadn’t been so creepy.

But then it started to get weird. He would watch me shower, watch me in the steam room. And Thursday night, I caught him in the sauna, hand around his dick, and one of my sweaty old tank tops pressed to his nose. Right then I knew: this guy was nuts. And something needed to be done.

So, since he seemed to be obsessed with my body, I decided to let him get… familiar with it.

The next day, I left a note in Chuck’s locker, telling him to meet me in the steam room. He probably thought he was going to suck my dick, or let me fuck him. Instead, I turned him into a bright orange tank top, and slipped him over my huge muscular body.

There wasn’t a whole lot he could do now, other than savor my sweat and hug my pecs. But boy, was I wrong. Turns out Chuck really, really likes being a bro tank. So much, that it’s damn near impossible to get him off after my workout every day.

It’s almost like he’s shrinking, as if the shirt is dropping a whole size every other day. The way he clings to my abs, his straps pulling on my shoulders as if hanging on for dear life. He can’t get enough of his body. Hell, it’s almost worse than when he was human!

C’mon… almost there…

There we go. Finally.