Hitting the Vain

By Marc of a Man published July 7, 2018
A chance encounter at a supplement store helps Chris go from wimp to Greek God. But at what price?

This idea just came to my mind. More to follow but let me know what you think.

Hitting the Vain

For as long as he could remember, Christopher Connelly had been thin. Not just svelte thin, like the twinks he saw in the porn mags, but gangly thin. He had gone to his doctor about why he couldn’t gain weight, but the doctor told him he was just a naturally thin person. “You are a classic ectomorph,” he explained to Chris. “You’ll be happy about it when you get older.

Ha. Fat chance of that, Chris thought. He had been the target of bullies in middle school and high school; he lost count of how many times he had chased home from school by kids who would take advantage of his thin stature by pushing him to the ground and calling him a girl. He hated the idea of being so goddamn thin. But there didn’t seem to anything he could do to convince his body to gain weight, let alone muscle. He tried to eat 4,000 calories a day but his high metabolism burned it faster than he could stick a fork in his mouth.

Now, 20 years old and a sophomore in college, that didn’t seem likely to change any time soon. He would go the cafeteria and load up his plate, but it almost seemed a moot point by the time he walked back to his one-room apartment on campus. He even got brave enough in his freshman year to go to the gym on campus, but quickly fled when he could see the football players making fun of him.

His thinness also didn’t do much for his social life. It was the weekend and he didn’t have classes. Instead, he did what he always did: spend the day at the library reading his text books and then wandering around town for an hour or two before going home to sit alone in his little apartment. He longed to have the other guys on campus think of him as a somebody, to even notice him, and the few hours wandering the street made him think he might find someone who would show him some respect.

This particular day he decided to take a different route. He went down fifth street instead of fourth. As he got halfway down the block, his eyes caught sight of a storefront: Major Supplements. The store specialized in vitamins and supplements for the fitness crowd in the area. He stopped and looked in the front window. Inside, two big cardboard cut-outs of bodybuilders flanked each side of the window; an arrangement of powders and pills promising “MASSIVE GAINS!” filled in the middle part of the display. Chris sighed and looked at the cutouts a few more seconds. Jesus H. Christ, he thought. Now those are the guys I wish I –

His thought was cut off by a deep voice off to his left. “You could look like that,” the voice said. Chris turned towards the voice and gasped. Standing in the doorway of the store was a guy who looked like the cutouts. He looked massive, with huge biceps and a chest that stood out from the white tank top that barely covered his upper body. He legs were covered in a tight-fitting gray pair of sweatpants that outlined the powerful calves underneath.

He also couldn’t help noticing one other feature: the man had a thick maim of fiery red hair that made it look like flames were shooting out of his head. It was, well, kinda hot.

“You could look like that, you know,” he repeated.

Chris blushed. “Oh, well. Maybe some day…”

The man shook his head. “No, my boy. Today. Right now.” He waved Chris to come into the store and disappeared into the doorway. Chris looked up and down the street. It was practically dead in the small town on this Sunday afternoon and he was the only one on the block. He should go home and study more for his biology test … but he decided to walk into the store.

Chris stepped up into the store. To the right were various shelves storing the powders and pills he had seen in the window; to the left set a glass counter where the red-haired bodybuilder stood behind. Chris adjusted his backpack over his shoulder and slowly walked to the counter. He had no idea what to say to this guy but he couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“I saw you out there staring at the window and you looked like a guy who needed my help,” the man started. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Vince.” Chris sheepishly gripped his powerful hand. “I’m, a, Chris. Nice to, uh, meet you. I guess you own the place?”

Vince shook his head. “No, just filling in.” He leaned forward on the counter. “So, Chris, you ever want to get as big as me?”

Chris blushed again. “Well, yeah, but look at me and look at you. You look like you spend a lot of time at the gym.”

Vince chuckled. “Yeah, it can be hell all that working out, but there are other ways, too.” Chris raised his eyebrows. “Other ways? How?”

The bodybuilder reached under the counter and came back up with a six-inch long syringe. It wasn’t the small plastic kind you see in a hospital or doctor’s office, but one with a glass tube and a metal injector surrounding it; a small rubber protection tube covered the two-inch needle. It looks almost retro, Chris thought, like something from 60 years ago.

“What is that?” Chris asked.

Vince set the needle on top of the glass counter and gently flicked it with his index finger. The syringe slowly rolled across the counter until it stopped against Chris’ fingers that were resting on the end of the counter. “Vanity, my dear boy, vanity.”

Chris looked down at the syringe then looked back up at Vince. “Steroids? Oh I don’t think I could —”

“No, no, no,” Vince said, cutting him off again. “Not steroids. Something much, much better. This is, let us say, a special formula. And one shot is all it takes.”

The syringe still hadn’t moved from its resting place against his fingers. He took another look at the clear liquid that slowly sloshed around inside of it. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I could take drugs. And, and, besides, I don’t have any money.”

Vince waved his hand. “No, no. Totally my gift to you. You would not owe me a thing.”

Chris still felt like he was in a dream with this conversation. What was this fiery red muscle God offering him steroids – or whatever this was – in the middle of an afternoon? “Well. I don’t know…”

“You don’t want to look like that?” Vince said, pointing to a poster at the left of the counter. Chris turned his head quickly and saw a poster on the wall with a bodybuilder similar to the one in the cutout in the store window. He smiled at the physique and for a few seconds could have sworn he saw his face juxstaposed over the face of the guy on the poster. He shook his head and looked again. His face was gone.

“I’ll tell you what,” Vince said. “I’ll make a deal. You put that in your backpack and take it home to your apartment. If you decide by the time you reach there you don’t want it, throw it away. No hard feelings. Deal?”

Chris thought it best to say no and run out of the store, but he didn’t want to piss this guy off. He was huge. He had been beaten up enough in his life. He grasped the syringe with his fingers and stuck into a side pocket on his backpack. “Well, OK. I mean, I am not saying I’ll use it.”

“Fair enough,” Vince said. “But it will give you want you are looking for. And also consider this: vanity can be a powerful thing. The more you feel it, the bigger your ego gets.”

Chris had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t want to ask. He nodded thanks to Vince and left the store.

It was about five-mile walk back to the apartment that was right inside the campus limits. As Chris stood at the bottom of a hill looking up at his apartment building, he spied two other guys coming down the hill. He cringed. They looked familiar, two of the guys from the nearby fraternity house that must have lost their way. He slowly walked up towards them. He would keep his head down and hope they didn’t notice him.

As the two got near, Chris feared his luck wouldn’t hold out. “Yo motherfucker!” the one said in a voice that sounded like it was distorted from too much alcohol. Drunk on a Sunday afternoon? Only in college town. Chris said nothing and tried to keep walking but the two stepped in front of him. “I said yo motherfucker,” the dark-haired one in a frat shirt repeated. “Say, you got any money? We need some cash. You coming back from chess club?”

The other, lighter-haired one laugh. “Look at this dude. What are you, like 100 pounds. Damn, I’ve seen girls with more muscle.” Chris ignored the comment. “Uhm, no, I didn’t bring my wallet,” Chris replied. The dark-haired one turned angry. “What, I think you are motherfucking lying!” he exclaimed as he push Chris off his feet. He went flying, his backpack softening the blow as his landed on his left side.

The two drunk frat boys got on either side and gave Chris as few swift kicks in his side. He winced out in pain and tears began to role down his face. “Stop it!” he screamed. The light-haired one laughed again. “Ah, the little girl is crying. Aw, boo fuckin’ hoo.”

Both of them slapped each other on the back and laughed at Chris yet again. Then they continued down the hill like they never saw him in the first place.

Chris made his way a few minutes later back to his apartment. He took off his shirt and looked at his side. There would be some black-and-blue marks there, he thought. He should go to the hospital or the campus police but thought better of it; he didn’t want it to get around campus. Instead, he would self-medicate. He took a bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden under the bed and took a gulp. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon, half of the bottle had been gone.

Chris lay on his bed, his head now in a daze from the alcohol. The Jack killed the pain but also made him more agitated. He started to think about the frat assholes who just attacked him. (“I’ve seen girls with more muscle!”) The tears start rolling down his cheeks again. “Fuck!” he yelled out. Chris didn’t want to continue like this but what could he do? He took another swig of Jack and spied the backpack. He reached into the side pocket. The syringe surprisingly had not been damaged. He held it in his one hand while taking another bigger swig.

He popped the protective rubber sheath off the needle with his finger. Then had another swig. (“I’ve seen girls with more muscle!”) He stuck the needle into his vein and pushed the metal plunger. The liquid disappeared into his arm. “Fuck!” he yelled out again then passed out on the bed.

Chris opened his eyes and stared at the clock on his dresser. 8 a.m? Fuck! He must have passed out and had a class in a half-hour. If he rushed he could make it on time. That’s when he felt the breeze blowing over his body. Damn, it is cold in the apartment. Did someone turn the air conditioning up in the building? Then he looked down at his body and let out an audible gasp.

He was naked. His shorts lay in tatters on the bed, like it had been ripped off his body. The same with his underwear and socks. They were in shreds. Then he looked down at his body, let out another gasp and jumped out of bed. Chris stared down his chest towards his feet. His chest was, well, huge. The 150 pound weakling suddenly had rock-hard pecs that were highlighted by a washboard stomach. What the hell? He had to be still dreaming. He ran his hand over his chest. If this was a dream, it felt fucking real as hell.

His skinny little legs now were replaced with huge thighs and solid calves. Even his feet seemed …. bigger? That can’t be possible. He then saw the cherry on top of this surreal sundae: His average-sized dick looked like it had widen and added two inches. Even soft, the dick dangling between his legs was the dreams of porn stars.

“This has to be a dream,” Chris said out loud. He went over to the closet and opened the door. There was a full-length mirror on the back of it. That would prove he was just – “Fuck!” he exclaimed after looking in the mirror. No, this rock-hard body belonged to him. His eyes widened even more when he looked at his face. That baby-faced teen who never needed to shave suddenly sported dark wavy hair and a dark scruffy beard. Chris’ mouth dropped open as he kept looking in the mirror. He barely recognized himself, but where did he see this physique before?

The store. The poster on the wall. The one whom he thought he saw his own face on it. He must have gained 30 pounds, all of it muscle. He looked like a …. Greek God? But fucking how? Then the night before came back to him. That syringe the guy gave me. He remembered now, in his drunken state, picking it up and putting it into his arm? He would never do such a thing. But he did. Chris turned back towards his bed and searched on and under it. The syringe couldn’t be found. He knows for sure he fucking took the thing out but it wasn’t in the room.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. Chris grabbed a towel off the dresser and wrapped it around his waist. Who the fuck was bothering him now? Chris opened the door a crack. Standing in the hall was Kyle, the TA for the building. Chris had seen him before and admired him from a far. Blonde hair, blue eyes and with an attitude to match.

Kyle looked at Chris and raised his eyebrows. “Who are you?” he asked. “I’m looking for the guy who lives here. Chuck, I think.”

Chris frowned. “Uhm, Chris.”

“Yeah, OK, whatever. We got complains about noise coming from his apartment last night. Do you know where he is?”

Chris realized Kyle had no idea he was talking to the right person. “Oh, yeah. I don’t know where he is at.”

“Well, you aren’t supposed to have guests here without permission. I don’t know who you are –-”

Chris decided to let him see the rest of him and opened the door all the way. Kyle let out a gasp. Fuck, this guy is huge, he said to himself. It was also about the time the odor from the room hit him in the nostrils. It smelled like a man scent, something you might smell in a locker room. But this wasn’t body odor. It smelled kinda … nice.

Kyle could feel his head getting a little light. “Uhm, well, yeah … if, uh, Chuck comes back ….”

After a few seconds, Chris could tell Kyle looked a little woozy, like he had been coming off a drunk the night before. What was happened to him? Then Chris became keenly aware of the scent rolling off his body. Could this be causing it? He had just studied pheromones in biology class and thought of the possibility. Should he take it further?

“You look a little peaked there. Why don’t you come in for a second,” Chris suggested. Kyle put his hand on his head. “Yeah … yeah. Maybe for a second…”

Chris led him in the room and sat him on the edge of his bed. He definitely is a beautiful guy, he thought. Kyle sat there silent, his breathing increasing with each passing moment. Much to Chris’ shock, he also started rubbing his crotch. What the hell was going on? “What’s going on with you? Feel better?” Chris decided to ask.

“Uhm, yeah, I feel strange …. like really fucking horny ….”

Really horny? Chris couldn’t believe his ears. But he could look at Kyle and tell he was all worked up. He feverishly rubbed his cock through his shorts. Chris realized it had to be him. He was reacting to his new body in a way he didn’t expect. Maybe take it further?

Chris dropped his towel. His flaccid dick began to stand at all its 8-inch glory. When Kyle saw it, his eyes lite up like a kid on Christmas morning. He licked his lips. “I … I … love your cock. Please let me touch it.”

Chris gave him a nod and Kyle immediately sprung off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of Chris’ erect monster. He grasped the shift with his right hand while fumbling to free his cock from his shorts with the left. “This is so beautiful,” he said almost in a whisper. “I have to taste it more.”

Before Chris could even answer, Kyle had the head of his cock in his mouth. His tongue expertly licked the piss slit, sending an erotic shock up his spine. Kyle wasn’t done. He took the head out of his mouth and frantically began licking up and down the shaft. “This tastes so fucking good!” he exclaimed. Chris had never seen anyone this turned on, but Kyle wouldn’t – couldn’t – stop. He gently licked his ball sack and let his tongue wander into the sensitive area between his balls and asshole. Chris realized he was about to cum. He tilted his head back and started to moan. Kyle stuck the shaft back into his mouth and teased his balls with the tip of his fingers. A few seconds later, a load shot down Kyle’s eager throat. He didn’t spill a drop, but also began beating his own cock harder. A few more seconds passed and Kyle unloaded his nut all over the carpet.

He let out a final sigh and looked up at Chris. “Thank you sir for letting me swallow your load.” Chris nodded then looked down at the carpet. “Look at the mess you made.

Kyle looked at the floor and blushed in shame. “I am so sorry, sir! I will personally come in and clean this but you have to let me worship you more. I want to lick your ass and even ride your cock, if you so permit me, sir.”

Chris gave a small nod. “Of course. But I have some things to do this afternoon. It will have to be later.”

Kyle looked disappointed. “Oh, sir, I can give you my cell number. Text me whenever you need me to help you out. I will do whatever you want!”

This has to be a dream, Chris thought. But it was a damn great one. He wasn’t about to stop playing the role. “I will let you know, But now you must leave. I have to get dressed.”

Letting out a sigh, Kyle rose to his feet and pulled up his shorts. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will come in later and clean your entire room for you. I have a pass key.”

“That’s perfect. I will let you know.” Chris walked over to the door and opened it. “You must go for right now. I’ll tell Chris you were here. What did you need him for again?”

Kyle looked confused at the question. “Uhm, I don’t remember, but everything is cool with us. Any friend of his is welcome to stay here.”

Chris gave another nod and led Kyle to the door. He walked out in the hall and Chris closed the door. He stood looking in the mirror again. What the fuck is happening? A blonde hunk just sucked his dick and swallowed his load and asked to worship him. The idea did sound great and Chris had to admit it gave his ego a huge boost. He looked again in the mirror and raised his eyebrows. Did it look like his arms or chest got a little … bigger? Nah. Impossible. Or was it?

The morning was becoming afternoon and Chris knew he had to find out some answers. First, he needed some clothes. His little wimpy shorts wouldn’t fit him. He needed to find some before he could leave the place. He already had an idea as to where to look.

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