All-Star

What does it take to be an all-star athlete? Speed? Strength? Looks?

Whatever it was, Jessie didn’t have it. He’d tried his hand at every sport; hockey, football, even golf… all to no avail. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for it. Maybe he should just stick to computers like his parents told him to.

After all, Jessie was a killer programer. He’d got himself a job at Best Buy working at the Geek Squad counter, and his almost magical skills had earned him the “employee of the month” title ten times in a row.

So of course, Kyle had to see him.

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon when Jessie saw the fit, tall young man swaggering towards the counter, a cracked laptop under one arm and a look of relief in his eyes as he said: “are you Jessie? Like… the Jessie?”

Jessie blushed. It wasn’t enough that his incredibly hot guy (literally, it was a 100 plus outside and he was sweating balls) walked into his Best Buy; he walked into his Best Buy looking for him.

“Um…” Jessie stammered, “Yes. Yes I am.” He reviled in the fact that this was about as close to being a sports superstar that he was ever going to get. Maybe I should try competitive video games…

There was a BANG as Kyle dropped the broken laptop onto the counter. “I need your help,” he said, desperate, “I run my business off of this thing, I gotta have it back up and running pronto.”

Jessie took in his customer. He was about his age, a hair over 26, but unlike Jessie, Kyle looked like he played every sport imaginable. His body was lean and athletic, his tank top falling over broad shoulders, built from years of rowing, swinging, throwing, and every other imaginable thing Jessie could never seem to do.

“Well,” Jessie picked the laptop up off the counter with delicate hands, “you could start by not throwing it around like a football.”

It was Kyle who blushed this time. “Sorry, force of habit.” He looked around the counter as Jessie picked apart his computer. The damage was shockingly minimal, it was really just the power button that had been damaged.

“How did you know about me?” Jessie asked as he got to work.

“Friends,” Kyle said, “they say you’re some kind of computer magician.”

Jessie grinned. “That’s flattering,” he said. He put the laptop down and sighed. “It’s going to need a new casing,” he shook his head, “they don’t come cheep, and you’ll probably have to wait a day or two.” He could see the air leave Kyle like a balloon. Whether it was attraction or pity, he felt for the guy.

So he decided to change the subject. “What is your business, exactly?”

“Personal training,” he said with a smile, “You could say I’m sort of a ‘magician’ too.”

“How so?”

Kyle looked around, as if anyone in Best Buy would be eavesdropping on such a stupid conversation. “Tell you what,” he dropped his voice, “fix this computer for me today, and I’ll give you a one-on-one session.”

He was finished in twenty minutes.

“Is this where you work out?” Jessie said as he looked out onto the empty baseball field with Kyle. They’d gone right after he got off work. Jessie was still in his Best Buy uniform, but he didn’t care; if Kyle really was as good as he said he was, today was going to change his life.

Kyle laughed, “I work out at the gym,” he said, “but yes, I usually train here.” He pulled out a bat and a few baseballs from his trunk and stepped onto the field. “First I wanna just get a sense of where you’re at,” Kyle said, “You a batter or a pitcher?”

“Neither,” Jessie said, “I mean… I used to bat for my softball team when I was younger, but I wasn’t very good.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here to change.” Kyle smiled. “Batting it is.”

Jessie missed the first five balls Kyle pitched. On the sixth, he sent it careening into the dugout. Jessie sighed. “I told you, I wasn’t very good.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Kyle said, “you’re just getting started!” He thought for a few moments, and Jessie began to worry he was giving up on him. Finally, Kyle said: “I have an idea.”

He walked up and positioned himself behind Jessie. He was so close, Jessie could feel his breath up against his ear as he spoke: “I’m going to position your arms, is that okay?”

Jessie was glad he was behind him, so that he couldn’t see him blushing. He nodded, “yes.”

He felt Kyle’s hands drift down his arms, across his biceps, his forearms, and finally his wrists, grabbing them and guiding them into position. With his chest pressed up against Jessie’s back, he could practically feel the curvature of his pecs, the grooves of his abs through his thin, sweaty tank top. It was driving him wild… and making him hard.

“The key is to anticipate the ball. For now, don’t worry about how hard you’re hitting it; just focus on targeting. That sound good?” Jessie could barely make out his face, but he could have sworn he saw him wink.

“Yup,” Jessie said, and Kyle gave his arms and extra pat. As he walked back over to the plate, Jessie’s could swear he still felt his hands—or someone’s hands still caressing his arms. He spun around to make sure he was alone. He was, but the feeling persisted and intensified. It was as if and invisible force were giving him a deep tissue massage. And it wasn’t doing anything to stop his boner.

“Ready?” Kyle asked. Ready for what? Jessie was in such a daze that he’d almost forgotten where he was. Was this his mind playing ticks on him, or had Kyle’s hands really done something to change his arms?

Was he really magical?

The ball flew at him with lighting force. Jessie didn’t have time to think. He closed his eyes, and heard a deafening CRACK.

When he opened, Kyle’s ball was soaring up over the empty field and into the trees. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Kyle said, clapping, “I knew you were good with a bat.”

“I… I’m not. I mean… not until…”

But Kyle was behind him again. “This time,” he said, mouth closer to Jessie’s ear, “I wanna improve your form. It’ll help you direct the ball once you’ve hit it.” He gripped onto Jessie’s chest, pulling him taut. “Stick your chest out like this, and keep your back curved,” Suddenly, the hands were on his back, sculpting Jessie’s posture in real time. “Finally, shoulders down,” He pressed Jessie’s shoulders to the ground, and he could feel them rising up to resist his hands. “Better,” Kyle said with another wink as he walked back to the plate, “let me know when you’re ready!”

The feeling this time was unreal; rough hands, all over his body, molding and sculpting and expanding his muscles, shifting his bones. Jessie knew he should have been in pain, but it was all so… arousing. He felt a bit of pre cum leak from his dick into his boxer shorts, as his dick grew harder than his increasingly sore body. He felt the shirt around him dig deep into his skin, like it was shrinking.

“Hey!” Jessie yelled to Kyle, “mind if I take my shirt off? It’s baking out here?” He wasn’t wrong; the heat was intense, though Jessie knew if he didn’t get the shirt off soon, it might tear off on its own.

“That is a great fucking idea,” Kyle said as he tore his sweaty tank top from his chest. It shined, brilliant in the hard sunlight. Now that he could really see the definition and form of the young man’s body, Jessie could swear he was even more muscular than before.

Jessie struggled with his Best Buy shirt, pulling and yanking from every angle. It was only when he managed to get it above his chest that he realized the shirt wasn’t getting smaller…

His body had gotten bigger.

Sweat dripped down the cleavage of Jessie’s pecs like a waterfall, the expanse of his back straining the seems of his wet blue t-shirt. He looked over at each arm, and sure enough, they were HUGE. He could see his triceps flash each time he struggled with the fabric. Biceps like footballs, flexing and bulging with each fruitless tug.

“Need help?” he could hear Kyle say as he walked towards him.

Jessie spoke between grunts, “what’s… happened? Why am I… so…?”

“Swole?” Kyle said. He was next to his ear again. His breath smelled unreal, musky and sweet. “I told, you Jessie,” he whispered, close enough to kiss his neck, “I’m very, very good at this.”

He pulled the shirt from Jessie’s arms, and they fell to his side with a comical thud. It was the first time he could truly feel their weight. He curled his biceps, watching in wonder as they protruded far from his arms. He reached up and felt his traps, which has risen so high and gotten so thick, it was a wonder he got that shirt off at all. Finally, he felt his pecs, which were so wide and big, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were bigger than Kyle’s.

“Finished?” Kyle said. Jessie smiled, and Kyle wrapped his arms around him, “you might be a good batter now, but you’re not the best. Do you wanna be the best, Jessie? Because if you’re happy with where you’re at, we could stop now.”

It was crazy to think that there was more Kyle could do. Jessie was already more handsome, more muscular, and more athletic than he ever imagined he could be. If he turned back now, he could have the perfect life; he was still a tech wiz after all, but a tech wiz and a killer baseball player? He would be unstoppable. Guys would be fawning over him. He could afford to move out of his crappy apartment. Maybe start his own business.

But to be the BEST. What would that mean? Would he have to leave his old life behind? Leave his job, leave his hometown, his entire life? Would he make it to the major leagues? The world series? The baseball hall of fame?

Would he even be “Jessie” anymore?

“Yes,” Jessie said, “I wanna be the best.” With that, Kyle took his arms, and together, they swung.

Everything went dark. Suddenly, Jessie was falling through a warm, watery abyss. Thousands of particles moving in and through his body, changing it even further. They seeped into his bones, into his very being, irrevocably altering his DNA.

As they did, Jessie also felt his mind escape him, thoughts and memories vanishing as he lost all sense of self. Who was Jessie? He wasn’t Jessie. He couldn’t be. Not anymore. He was completely at the mercy of the space around him, which sent him into a deep, horny haze.

He came… or so he thought. If it was an orgasm, it seemed to last for eternity, and flood of endorphins that overtook his shifting body. A moan escaped his lips, and seemed to cry out for days, months, years of endless warmth and pleasure.

He was being re-made. Re-invented. Re-born. A sliver of light crosses his vision, and he knew that soon he would have to leave this space. That he would have to wake up in a new body. A new life.

But he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay there, in perpetual orgasm, body growing bigger and bones becoming stronger, until he was the image of male perfection. And through his resistance came a single word, a name, which ingrained itself in his mind like a branding…

Bryce… Bryce…

The light grew stronger. The wet warmth around him turning to soft sheets,

Bryce… Bryce… “Bryce, wake up.”

He opened his eyes. It was Kyle, standing above him. Very naked. “Bryce,” he said, “I’m your personal trainer, not your alarm clock. Now let’s go.”

Bryce stirred. He’s had the craziest dreams last night. It was like he’d lived an entirely different life, and he needed a few moments to acclimate himself to reality—to this reality.

He tore the sheets off of him. The sight of his body was shocking, first because he had never realized how amazing he looked naked; perfectly toned abs and biceps, his tattoo wrapping perfectly around his obliques. Then, he was shocked to see that oh-so perfect chest covered in thick white spunk. His cock—the culprit—sat lazily on his thigh. Still hard.

“Someone had a wet dream,” Kyle remarked, staring down at him with a smile, “I wish you’d have saved that load for me.” He bent down and licked the cum off of Bryce’s chest.

He shivered. “Fuuuuuuck,” Bryce moaned. Kyle was his “personal trainer” in so much that he kept his sex life as active as possible. Nobody knew about them—thank god. If the news got out that baseball superstar Bryce Harper was fucking his cute personal trainer, it would be a disaster.

Once Kyle had sufficiently cleaned up Bryce (and fucked the rest of the cum out of him), he patted his chest. “Okay,” he said, “for real this time. Get up. We’ve got a big day today.”

Bryce rose. It took a second or two to grow accustom to his body. Like for a brief moment, it was his first time using it. His arms felt too long, his legs felt too big, his beard felt too thick. Even his cock felt somewhat alien to him. I seem to recall that being a lot smaller…

Worry struck. How could he pretend to be a killer right fielder if he could barely move around? How could he pretend to be Bryce Harper?

Kyle walked over and gave him a kiss. “Ready?” he asked, running his hands along the sides of his perfectly toned biceps.

No, I AM Bryce Harper, he thought. He had full control over his body. If anything, he had more control over his body than most people on planet earth! He could pitch, he could sprint, he was a wonder with a bat (not to mention a wonder in bed).

Whatever it takes to be an all-star athlete, rest assured; Bryce had it.