Skipping Ahead

By screamingmoist published March 4, 2019
Summary

A young man’s attempted shortcut leads to an entirely different destination.

It was a ridiculous situation, yet Eric couldn’t walk away. He’d been caught off guard, standing naked in front of a stranger with nothing but a small, thin towel wrapped around his trim waist, but there was more than mere awkwardness behind his hesitation. This man, who he’d never seen before, approached him out of the blue in the locker room asking if he believed in magic and saying he could give him his heart’s desire.

“Look, man, you kinda have me at a disadvantage here,” Eric said, looking down at his lean, exposed torso. His wiry muscle still glistened from the recent shower, and his thick, black hair was a damp tangle on his head.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time,” the man said, betrayed by the mischievous sparkle in his bright green eyes. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What was it you said? You could give me what I wanted?” Eric was still trying to size the stranger up. He crossed his toned arms over his modest pecs and cocked his head to the side, unable to peg the other man’s age. His wavy blonde hair and handsome, unblemished face made Eric think the stranger was in the same mid-twenties ballpark as himself, but there was a feeling of age and confidence about him that usually came with someone much older. He filled out his tight, green t-shirt and straining shorts with the kind of solid, well-muscled body that Eric had been struggling to build for so long, but the dripping, dark haired young man felt like his brain was constantly having to remind itself that it was looking at someone young and not a person of an advanced age.

“Not ‘give’, exactly. There’s always a price to be paid, but the end result is still you getting what you want.” The man flashed a charming smile and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jordan, by the way.”

“Eric,” he said, impressed by the man’s grip. It felt like he was squeezing a granite block. “And what is that I want?” he asked, forcing himself to stay on guard even as his body wanted to relax.

Jordan grinned again and looked down at his chiseled torso, flexing a steely arm. “This. Not me, specifically, but the body. You want them,” he said, motioning over a broad shoulder to the group of hulking adonises walking out of the showers. “How long have you been working towards that?”

“Forever,” Eric sighed before he could catch himself. “But look, that’s not exactly groundbreaking insight. So you’ve seen me busting my ass out there before…how can you get me from this,” he said, spreading his arms before reaching out and poking Jordan in a firm, bulging pec, “to that. I don’t have the genes for it.”

Jordan shook his head, a sympathetic look on his deceptively boyish face. “It’s not about genes. It’s about time. You want to get from point A to point B without having to do the work.”

“Fuck you, buddy,” Eric laughed defensively. He flexed his washboard abs and the rest of his whipcord muscle, his lean body breaking out in an atlas of definition. The motion caused his towel to lose it’s precarious hold but he let it drop, showing off his wiry thighs and hefty package to emphasize his point. “I’m not huge but don’t tell me I haven’t done the work.” He bent and picked up the towel, holding it in front of his dangling hose instead of wrapping it around his waist.

“Whoa, hey, didn’t mean to insult you,” Jordan said, raising his hands in surrender. “You’ve obviously put the time in…that’s not what I meant. Twenty more years of that kind of effort and I’m sure you’ll be huge. But you want it now, correct?”

Eric took a deep breath and let his shoulders drop. “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? But unless you can…” he stopped, finally realizing he was talking to a crazy person. When Jordan had approached him talking about magic, Eric had just assumed he meant some kind of steroid or growth hormone, but the hunky blonde was being literal. “Alright, uh, this has been….interesting….but I gotta get to work, man.” He turned his perky bubble in Jordan’s direction and headed for his locker.

“Just think about it,” the blonde stranger whispered in his ear, suddenly right behind him even though Eric hadn’t heard or seen him move. The wiry man sidestepped to get some distance, but Jordan was already gone when he spun around.

“The fuck was that about…” he muttered to himself, seeing the small card with Jordan’s name and phone number resting on the bench next to him.

He looked around again, letting out a sigh of relief when the other man was nowhere in sight. Wanting to avoid any further conversation he slipped into his boxer briefs, pulled on his khakis and dress shirt, and hurried for his car. “How the hell did that get in there,” he said when he reached for his keys and pulled Jordan’s card out with them. He’d had no intention of taking it. He didn’t even remember picking it up, yet, somehow, it found its way into his pocket. “Think about it. Yeah, right.”

But as the day went on, he couldn’t think about anything else. At first he’d simply mulled over the strangeness of the whole experience. He’d never had someone walk up and offer a magic solution to all his problems before, especially someone who seemed to believe so earnestly in what they were saying. Sitting in his office, unable to focus and falling behind on a massive project, Eric tried to tell himself he simply felt bad for the stranger. The man was obviously delusional. When he thought back on Jordan’s sculpted body, handsome face, and piercing green eyes, though, he didn’t feel much in the way of sympathy.

It was that appearance his mind kept drifting to. Jordan seemed put together. He was well groomed and clearly took care of himself. He wasn’t some disheveled lunatic ranting on a street corner. Try as he might to write him off as someone who needed to up their meds, Eric couldn’t get the image of the other man out of his head.

As when they were speaking, whenever Eric thought about him, his mind kept trying to add years to the other man. No matter how convinced his eyes were, his brain refused to accept that Jordan was someone his own age. He’d never felt anything quite like it.

By the end of the afternoon the mystery was too much to resist. He was on the phone with Jordan and writing down the other man’s address before he stopped to think about what he was doing. He was relatively confident Jordan was harmless. What did he have to lose?


“Eric! I’m glad you thought about our talk.” Jordan’s bright, charming smile hit Eric like a physical force when he threw open the tall, oak door. The handsome blonde’s overwhelming presence nearly knocked him off the brownstone’s stoop.

“Uh, hey,” Eric said awkwardly, his heart starting to race without warning. He swallowed hard and stuck his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. “So about what you said…”

“Relax! Seriously, Eric, relax. It’s okay.” Jordan’s emerald eyes bored into Eric’s as he swallowed the other man’s lean shoulder in a meaty grip and ushered him inside. “I’m well aware of how crazy I sound…there’s nothing I can do about that, unfortunately. It’s just the way of these things.”

Listening to Jordan speak while taking in the antique-filled house only further cemented Eric’s theory that his new friend was older than he looked. “What exactly are these ‘things’ you keep mentioning?”

“Right down to it, then,” Jordan nodded, rubbing his lantern jaw as he looked the lean, olive-skinned man up and down. “Come, sit,” he said, leading them to a pair of massive, leather wingbacks in what appeared to be a study. “It’s what I promised you in the locker room…the key to your heart’s desire. I won’t go into all the details, just trust me when I tell you reality isn’t as fixed as we’re led to believe.”

Eric scanned the room while Jordan spoke, noting all manner of strange looking relics lining the walls. Masks, both primitive and ornately carved, hung next to detailed paintings full of intricate geometric shapes and what looked like unfamiliar writing. Shelves that weren’t covered in books were full of crystals, bones, and fetishes, leaving the house somewhere between a library and a witch doctor’s hut. There seemed to be a vibrating beneath his feet, making him wonder what lay beneath the plush, oriental rug, and a heady, spicy aroma hung in the air, adding to the dizziness he felt whenever Jordan’s eyes met his own.

“Okay…let’s say I believe you,” Eric said, telling himself he was just humoring his new friend but knowing deep down his toes were inching closer to crossing a line. “How does this work?”

“It’s a simple ritual, as far as these things go…”

Eric tensed in his chair. “Uh…ritual? Is this some weird cult thing?”

Jordan’s deep laugh bounced off the antiques around them, seeming to come from everywhere at once. “There’s no cult, I’m afraid. Just me. But the ritual is necessary if we want to attract the proper attention.”

Eric blinked and shook his head, rubbing his sharply angled face with his hands. His feet were planted firmly on the floor but he still felt like he was falling. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he said, more to himself than Jordan. “I don’t even know you, man. Why am I sitting in your house? Who are you?” he spat, a sudden edge of anger to his voice. “You come at me with some bullshit about magic and…and…”

“You’re free to go” Jordan said, calmly motioning to the open door. “This is all voluntary. If you want to leave…leave.” He watched the other man squirm in his chair, the storm of emotions further darkening Eric’s brooding features. “You should think about it. I mean, look at you! You’re clearly in great shape, as I saw earlier,” he winked, “and you’ve got looks to spare. Why do you want to change that?”

Eric didn’t have an answer. He knew how good he looked. With his raven hair, pouty lips and shredded body getting laid was never a problem, and he was well aware that most guys would kill for a body like the one he lamented. But that didn’t change anything. “You know what? Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s do this ‘ritual’ or whatever…just so I can move on, if nothing else.” The lean man stumbled to his feet, drunk on every regret and secret desire he’d ever tried to ignore. Jordan’s eyes were like magnets, bringing it all to the surface. He knew on some level that the blonde man was doing something to him, had some kind of power over him, but in that moment he didn’t care.

“You’re sure,” Jordan said, a statement, not a question. A coy smile crept across his lips as he looked up at Eric from his chair. He waited for the other man to nod before standing. “Follow me.”

Eric stumbled behind, Jordan’s house becoming a labyrinth of narrow, winding halls. He staggered over stairs that seemed to go up and down at the same time, clinging to the railing for fear of falling into the chasm that loomed below. The addled young man winced against the sudden, icy, mountaintop gale and broke out into a sweat at the blistering, molten heat that followed. His athletic legs ached like he’d been hiking for hours. “Where…where are we…”

“What do you mean? We just went upstairs to the library,” Jordan laughed.

Eric blinked against the echoing sound. The void and the tempest were gone, replaced by flickering candle light and hardwood floors. He still felt an odd breeze, and he understood why when he looked down at his naked body. “Shit! Where are my clothes?!” He instinctively went to cover his long, swaying hose, but his arms felt like lead.

“They’re right there…you just took them off.” Eric followed Jordan’s pointing finger to the pile of folded clothes near the door, finally registering that the muscled blonde was as naked as himself. The other man was every bit as impressive as his straining clothes had suggested, with a hulking, sculpted frame. Broad shoulders hovered over a tapering waist that expanded outwards again at the wide quads which thrust forward an absolutely massive package. It looked like Jordan had a forearm sprouting from his trimmed, golden bush, the heavy organ swaying hypnotically as the other man moved.

“I don’t remember any of that…”

Jordan took Eric by the hand and led him over to the ring of purple candles. The flames flared to life as soon as they stepped inside, making the room spin around them with their wild flickering. “Just relax,” Jordan said as Eric groaned and swayed on his feet.

“Whu…!” The dark haired man gasped when Jordan reached over and took his other arm, his blonde friend’s big hands closing around his thin wrists like vices. He wanted to pull away but there was an electric current flowing between them, numbing his body with a blanket of pins and needles. The wind he’d felt earlier kicked back up, starting as a gentle breeze but quickly developing into a gusting maelstrom. If Jordan didn’t have him locked in place Eric thought he’d have been knocked off his feet from the buffeting winds. “What…what is this?!” he cried over the roaring gale, his knees going weak as he started to realize the source of the wind. He wasn’t being batted about in a swirling vortex; he was being pushed towards the other man. It wasn’t a tornado; it was a vacuum.

The abrupt realization brought with it clarity of vision. The image his brain had been trying to force on him all day crystalized, giving Eric a glimpse of the real Jordan. The man holding his arms in an unbreakable grip wasn’t young and beautiful. He was ancient and withered. His impossibly strong arms were spindly, his skin sagging and wrinkled while the handsome face was a grotesque mask of missing teeth and gaping sockets.

“No! Let…let me go…!” Eric struggled, straining his lean muscles to the limit in a futile attempt at escape. “What…what are you doing?!”

“Feeding,” the raspy voice responded, the once charming grain cracking across the weathered face in a toothless smile. “Don’t worry…you’ll still get what you want, but I told you there was a price.”

“Let go of meeuuuhhnnnn…” Eric gasped, a shudder running through him as the pins and needles sensation turned into an aching cramp. He would have doubled over if he could, but as it was he could only stand, wincing and whimpering in pain. His skin felt tight and itchy and his muscles burned like he’d been working out for days in a row, a feeling that was made all the more appropriate as he watched his body start to change.

It was subtle at first, starting with a puffy swelling that soon blossomed into obvious muscle growth. Somehow he was packing on pound after pound of bulky flesh. He watched his toned chest rocket outwards, quickly followed by a round, shredded muscle gut. Jordan’s hands had to adjust their grip as his forearms widened, the growth spreading up to his new, girder-like arms and bowling ball shoulders. His whole body shook when his lean legs exploded, his meaty new thighs slamming together and causing an avalanche of flesh to push his pert little bubble ever outwards into a set of mountainous, solid globes.

Eric managed a rush of joy through his terror. He didn’t know what was happening, but it appeared as if he really was getting what he wanted. In a matter of seconds his lean, wiry body had packed on the muscle he’d always yearned for and then some. He was built like a burly, beefy meathead and even his twitching package had thickened to match. He felt huge. He felt powerful. He felt…old.

The thought crept in without him realizing. He’d been staring at his inflating arms when he noticed his skin started to look rougher and more weathered. The dark hairs that were smattered across his chest and which coated his arms and legs lightened into a salt and pepper carpet. He couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the skin hardening, as if it was being sandblasted.

“Sto…stop! What are you doing?! I don’t want this!” His deepened, husky voice confirmed his fears as he struggled, still trapped despite his larger new size.

“I told you…I’m feeding. You’re giving me your years, boy. Your vitality. And in return you’re getting what you want. You’re jumping ahead to the finish line without having to do all the work.” The creature that was Jordan tilted its head back in a cackle. “That’s not entirely true. You did all that work. About twenty years worth, by the looks of it. You just didn’t live them. Not all the way.”

“You…you can’t…” Eric moaned. “This isn’t what I wanted! I can’t…what happened to my life?”

“It’s exactly what you said you wanted. You’ll see. I told you reality wasn’t as fixed as you thought…it tends to adapt to these things rather quickly. As far as the world’s concerned, this is exactly how you should be.”

“But…you can’t leave me like…”

Jordan let go before Eric could finish, sending the burly ball of middle aged muscle that had replaced the lean young man tumbling backwards into darkness as the floor disappeared beneath him. He fell through an inky void, his deepened cries drowned out by the rushing wind. This wasn’t a gradual descent but an uncontrolled plummet. Images began to form around him as he fell, hazy memories that were blown up and projected like a movie screen.

He saw himself as he should have been, young and trim, walking into his office. It was a commonplace memory, one that could have been from the previous day or the previous month. It was unremarkable until he saw himself storm into his bosses office. This part he didn’t remember. His stomach sank as he helplessly watched while he quit his job. Eric screamed at himself to stop, but he knew it was pointless. They were memories of things to come. He remembered what Jordan said about reality filling in the gaps and realized he was watching that process in action.

After quitting he’d gone straight to the gym and basically never left. The horrified formerly-young man watched the images blur, a fast forward montage of his new life. He ate and lifted and ate and lifted. Day in, day out; eat, lift, eat, lift. He suddenly remembered living off his savings during this time until he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He couldn’t afford his fancy gym, either, and moved both across town, swapping out a spacious loft for a one-room hovel, and an expensive fitness center for a meathead muscle shop.

Eric’s stomach fluttered as he remembered walking through the dingy door for the first time, the musky smell of sweat mixing with the ringing plates and grunting men. He remembered feeling like it was where he really belonged. At this point he was starting to fill out, his lean frame losing its extreme definition as he bulked up. He watched his hair change from a stylish fade to a short buzz, all to make himself look bigger. His clothes steadily vanished until all he owned were shorts and muscle shirts. He remembered being increasingly desperate for money, his desire to get bigger outweighing everything else. He couldn’t take time off for a job; he needed to lift.

“UUUUNNNNNN….” Eric groaned, his stocky cock rocketing to attention at the memory of his first time. It was late, just him and one other guy in the gym that night. He didn’t remember the other man’s name, just that they’d been checking each other out the whole time. It wasn’t uncommon, the guys always sized each other up, but this felt different. Eric remembered stammering out an excuse when the man finally made a move, but when he offered him twenty bucks, it was too good to pass up. That was the first time Eric had ever blown a guy, but as the images rocketed past, he saw that it clearly wasn’t the last. He remembered being awkward and fumbling at first, but as the days turned into weeks and months and years, he perfected his technique. The musky, salty taste was an elixir in his mouth, a thing he craved almost as much as lifting.

He used his body more as he grew, building his thighs and ass when he realized just how much money both could bring him. His body lit up at the memory of the first time he bottomed and how the stranger’s small cock felt like it was tearing him in half. But the time after had felt better, and the time after that had been ecstatic. It wasn’t just that he was getting paid; something inside Eric loved the fact that the muscled men he’d always longed to be were using him to get off.

The whole time he kept growing. Eric watched in time lapse fashion as his body steadily expanded. Eat, lift, fuck, eat, lift, fuck, the whole time growing broader and thicker. As he watched himself with partner after partner, Eric also realized he was getting older. The muscled adonises seemed younger and younger compared to his increasingly burly frame. His skin started to roughen and weather, wrinkles breaking out on his fuller face as more and more streaks of grey appeared in his thinning hair.

Eric screamed as he hurtled towards the image of himself, his head reeling from nearly two decades worth of new memories. Quitting his job, going broke, warping his body and his mind all so he could get bigger. He was horrified at the thought of what he’d become; a beefy meathead who made his way by selling his ass to anyone willing to pay. Worse, he knew it wasn’t even about the money anymore. Like any addict, he just needed some young stud, guys like he should be, to fuck him. If he could get some money out of it, all the better. If not, he still got laid.

He knew he’d been tricked from the start. This wasn’t at all what he wanted. His body was a work of art, especially for someone who’d just hit forty four, but if he’d have known it meant sacrificing his youth he’d never have taken the deal. And when he’d said he “wanted” the sculpted young studs at the gym he didn’t mean it like this.

But none of that mattered. He crashed into the memories, the images shattering like glass around him.

“OOOOOHHHHHHHH!” Eric’s eyes shot open on his messy apartment. His heart was racing and a layer of sweat coated his burly pecs. He was in motion, his strong legs raising and lowering him in piston-like fashion, jolts of pleasure running through him with each squat. “Fu…fuuuuuuuck yeah…” he grunted in a deep, hoarse tone. “Told you…I…was better…pussy than your…girlfriend…” The older man didn’t know why he felt an unusual stab of embarrassment as he looked back over his shoulder at the glowing adonis behind him. The young blonde couldn’t have been more than twenty one with a body like a greek god. He was all shoulders and pecs and arms, with smooth, soft skin and a trim waist. Most importantly he was hung like a horse, with a solid rod that had been going for what felt like hours. The younger man’s eyes were closed, his baby face twisted by pleasure.

“Don’t…don’t talk, man,” he panted, his hands clutching at Eric’s dirty sheets.

The older man just grinned and continued slamming his ample globes up and down on the younger man’s lap. His excessive muscle shook from the force of the pounding, but he needed it to go deep. Eric knew with some of the younger guys, especially the “straight” ones, he had to do most of the work.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck…shit man…I’m gonna…gonna…” the young blonde tensed and grunted, sending a geyser of cum splashing into Eric’s guts. The older man squeezed with his nimble hole and wriggled his hips, drinking in every gasp and whimper he drew out of the prone stud. “Hol…holy shit…” the young man laughed with a stunned look on his face when Eric slid off his lap. The older man loved the sensation of the sticky fluid trickling out and mingling with the salt and pepper hair on his meaty thighs.

“Told you,” Eric said, a smug grin on his face.

“I, uh, I’ve never done that before,” the younger man said, climbing to his feet and blushing as he looked at the older man’s thick, solid cock. “I’m, uh, I’m not gay or anything! My buddy Dave said he hit it…I mean, that you two had…and he…”

“It’s okay, kid. This doesn’t make you gay. Even if it did, who gives a fuck?” Eric stretched out on his bed, his squat pole throbbing at the sight of the bashful young muscle god. Just moments before the young stud had been all power and confidence, but now he was suddenly insecure. It was his favorite part.

The thought made him pause, a wave of horror washing over him. Memories he hadn’t thought of in years, of his old life when he’d been a skinny kid working an office job, hit him like a brick to the face. Had he really become this? A dirty old muscle man desperate to get fucked by the young guys at the gym? He’d had plans and a life that didn’t involve selling his ass in a dirty, barren apartment. Favorite part? None of this should have been his favorite. For just a moment he teetered on the edge, longing for the days of his youth. It felt like only yesterday.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

“Huh?” Eric started and looked up at the confused young muscle god. “Sorry…spaced out there for a second. Happens when you get to be my age.”

The young man shifted his weight from foot to foot, his chiseled quads flexing. He had a conflicted look on his face. “I, uh, I don’t usually leave people unsatisfied,” he stammered, nodding to Eric’s thick, still-solid cock.

“You offering to switch places?”

The blonde blushed and shook his head quickly. “No! No, uh, I just…”

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya, son,” Eric laughed. “If you really wanna help and old man out, how ‘bout you flex for me while I finish?” The younger man’s whole body turned purple with embarrassment, but Eric saw the recently spent cock start to twitch at the thought. “It’s alright….just pretend you’re competing.”

The shredded blonde hesitated before breaking into a double bicep pose. His awkward grin turned into an arrogant smirk the longer he flexed, loving every second of the older man’s desperate whimpers.

Eric’s memories surged to the surface again, shame draping over him like a wet blanket. Was he really jerking himself off in front of some buff kid half his age? And why did he keep thinking the date should be later than it was? He kept catching himself, thinking it was the year 2038, not 2019. He thought of himself in his younger days, back when he’d never have even considered doing something like this, wondering how he’d fallen so quickly. Those days couldn’t have literally been yesterday, could they?

He didn’t want to think about it, focusing instead on the nubile young hunk and hating himself with each stroke. It was worse than getting fucked. He was still being used, the kid was clearly the one with the power in this situation, something the young blonde was realizing more and more with each passing second. His flexing became teasing, arrogance turning to disdain as Eric whimpered and pumped away, a dirty, desperate old gym rat.

“So who was better…me or Dave,” the young man asked, wagging his dangling hose in front of Eric’s face.

“You’re biiiuuuhh…bigger…than Dave,” Eric grunted, his body tingling at the memory of the young man’s dark haired friend. Dave wasn’t nearly as endowed and hadn’t lasted half as long, but Eric didn’t complain.

“Of course I am,” the blonde stud said, tugging on his twitching rod until he was hard again. “But that didn’t answer the question.” He started stroking himself, running one hand along his granite pecs and toying with his tiny nipples.

“Yuh…you…were….” Eric groaned, fighting back the coming eruption with a pained look on his face.

“Fuckin’ look at you, man,” the blonde laughed, shaking his head. The brief, bashful innocence was gone, replaced by a smug, domineering attitude. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you? Gettin’ fucked by young guys over and over….it’s kinda pathetic, dude. Doesn’t matter how many dicks you take up that fat ass of yours, you’ll never have this,” he said, running a hand across his hairless, washboard abs.

“UUUNNNNggg…..” Eric tensed and spasmed, the humiliating speech pushing him over the edge. His cock exploded all over his burly chest, another stream splattering against his face when the young man came for a second time. He was mortified, but that didn’t stop him from licking as much of it into his mouth as he could.

The blonde just shook his head and turned to get dressed, pulling on his boxers and baggy jeans. He paused before pulling his shirt on, giving one last flex of his ripped torso. “Just so we’re clear that was your payment,” he spat, slipping on his sneakers and leaving Eric panting and sticky on his mattress.

The older man stared up at the crumbling plaster ceiling, horrified at how good he felt. Each of his ample muscles were relaxed, like he’d just finished a good workout, and the feeling of drying cum on the insides of his thighs, chest and face was a sign of a job well done. The odd resurgence of memories was already fading into the distance, drifting back into another life where they belonged. He still didn’t understand where the strange thoughts had come from. The thought of being a skinny little office worker seemed horrible. What did he have to feel bad about? He got to work out and fuck as much as he wanted, and his beefy muscle could still pull in studs half his age. What else was there?

“Christ I’m gettin old,” Eric groaned when he finally pried himself off the bed, his joints aching with the motion. “Better hit the gym…rent’s not gonna pay itself.”

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