From Pitcher to Catcher, Part 3 of 3

By Will Topping -
published February 27, 2016

Final chapter in Mike’s slow destruction from hot, hung, jock to horny boi slut.

Woah. I finally finished this story. Who knew that I could do it? I hope you like reading Mike’s fate as much as I enjoyed writing it. Check out my blog at if you want to read more of my stories. There is some new stuff up on the site that isn’t posted anywhere else.

Mike fled the diner as quickly as possible after eating, yelling over his shoulder to Dave and Chris that he was going to take the rest of the day off. He had to get out of there. He just needed to go back to his apartment and go to bed. This whole day had to be a freaky nightmare. There was no way it could be real. When he woke up, everything would be back to normal.

Yeah, that was it; he just needed to sleep.

The string from the fucking pink thong he was wearing rubbed painfully against his sensitive butthole and his short, beefy legs made walking difficult. He was sweating after a couple of blocks and out of breath by the time he reached the parking lot. Fuck! What was wrong with him?

He was nearly to his car when he remembered that he’d left his keys on his desk at the office. He stopped and cursed loudly. He just wanted to get home! He couldn’t show himself at work looking like this! He would be laughed out of the place! Shit shit shit shit shit! He briefly contemplated walking home but that would take hours and he was already exhausted from the short walk over from the diner.

He had no choice but to go back to the office.

Shit, what did he have to lose anyway? Mr. Bennett was clearly getting ready to fire him. His life in the insurance business was over. He felt a sense of doom descend upon him as he trudged back to the building.

People stared at him on the sidewalk when he walked by. He tried to ignore them but some of the business guys smirked openly and one man even grabbed his ass. Mike slapped the guy’s hand but the fucker just leered at him. “Nice ass!” the dude commented as he walked away. Mike flipped him off.

The door woman at his office building gave him a funny look when he walked up, acting like she wasn’t sure whether to open the door for him. He slunk inside and was standing in front of the elevator when he realized that he could take the back stairs up. It was a slim hope but there was a chance he might slip in and out of the office undetected.

Please, please, please, let Mr. Bennett be out, he prayed as he opened the door and made his way up the stairs. The stairway smelled like smoke and stale beer, making Mike’s stomach turn. He’d been so freaking worked up by Chris’ bold advances that he’d gorged at lunch and felt ill. He was puffing by the time he reached the fourth floor and the thong string was driving him nuts. Shit, his legs felt like they were made of lead or something. He purposely refused to look down at them; he couldn’t stand seeing his massive thighs encased in the transparent shorts. His hand was poised on the doorknob when he heard the fateful sound again.

He stopped, heart in his mouth.

There it was again: His phone buzzed with another message. Mike fought for control. He would not look at it. He would not look at it. He would not….

He looked at it.

The message didn’t make any sense. All it said was: >>Coffee boy.<<

The door opened and Mike stumbled inside. For once that day, fate had smiled upon him: Mr. Bennett’s door was closed and most of the staff appeared to be in meetings. Feeling a bit more confident, Mike was reaching up to open the knob of his office door when he paused.

The names on the door were wrong. The plaque read “Dave Hunt, VP Sales” and “Chris Matthews, Sales Executive.” Chris Matthews? What was Chris’ name doing on Mike’s door? Chris was the office fag, not a sales executive! Was this some kind of stupid joke that Dave and Chris had cooked up after lunch? The plaque looked pretty convincing, though. If it was a joke, they had been planning it for a while. As if in slow motion, Mike pushed open the door.

Chris looked up at him from his desk.

Mike stared. Chris was sitting at his fucking desk!

“What the…?” he started to say but the words got stuck in the back of his throat.

“Mike?” Chris asked, a sly smile on his face. “I thought you’d gone home for the day?”

Mike swallowed, his mouth dry. What was Chris doing at his desk in his office? And why was his name on the door?

“You Ok, Mikey?” Chris asked, standing up and walking over to him. Was it Mike’s imagination or did Chris move as if he were stalking prey? There was something undeniably predatory about the way he moved and Mike shivered, inadvertently clenching his butt and retreating a step. What had happened to Chris the office fag?

He swallowed and Chris stopped, looming over him. Barely three inches separated them.

“Mikey? You doing Ok?”

Mike was getting so fucking tired of being asked that. He pulled himself up to his full height (which was still only up to the middle of Chris’ chest) and demanded, “What are you doing at my desk?”

Chris’ brow furrowed. “Your…desk? What do you mean, buddy?” He put a patronizing hand on his arm but Mike shook it off. “Your desk is out in the hallway where it always is.” He looked down the hall.

Mike stared at him and then turned, following his gaze. Sure enough, there was his desk with all of his stuff on it. “What? How?” he sputtered.

Chris patted him on the shoulder before drawing him in for a hug that was little too intimate for the office. He chucked Mike on the chin, saying in a paternal voice, “It’s Ok, Mikey. You’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you go home and catch up on your sleep?”

Mike’s mouth was hanging open. He looked up at Chris and back at his desk. Chris smiled before glancing at his watch. “Sorry, man! I have a meeting with Mr. Bennett in a few. I’ve got to get my sales projections finished.” He turned, patted Mike fondly on the ass, and sat back down at the desk. Squinting at his screen, he began typing furiously.

The ride back to his apartment was a blur. Mike was only vaguely aware that he had to adjust the seat as far forward as it would go and that his feet felt funny on the pedals. He was too worked up to pay much attention. It took everything he had to just drive without getting in an accident.

He stumbled up the stairs to his place and fought to steady his hand so he could get the key in the lock. He half expected to walk into his apartment and find someone else living there. At this point, it wouldn’t have surprised him.

Mike threw down his gym bag and keys when he entered. He locked the door behind him and, for good measure, put the safety chain across the door. No one could get in. He was finally safe. And finally alone.

He stood there, chest heaving. Everything seemed to be normal inside. Sure, his perspective was skewed (it was like he was looking at everything standing on his knees) but it looked like his old apartment. Part of him felt like collapsing on the floor in tears and part of him just ached to go to sleep. He was so tired. His whole body felt drained of life. His whole life felt drained of…everything. He didn’t know himself anymore. He teetered down the hall to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed (well, “climbed up on the bed” was more like it), not bothering to get undressed. He didn’t even have the strength to pull off the skintight shorts and horrendous thong. He just wanted to die. And failing that, sleep was the next best thing.

He awoke when the sun was getting low and streaming in his bedroom window. He rolled over and stretched, momentarily forgetting everything that had happened to him. Then he noticed the walls of his bedroom were painted lavender. He sat up in bed and stared. Lavender? He hated that color. And then he saw the pictures on the wall. There were black and white photos of naked guys everywhere. And not just any naked guys but really buff, muscled guys. Mike propped himself up on his elbows.

Then he remembered his horrible day and buried his face in his hands.

“God. Oh, god. Oh, god,” he said over and over. What was going on?

Heart pounding in his chest, he pulled his hands away from his face and stared at them. Yep, they were still small and slender with just the barest trace of his old callouses. They looked almost like a boy’s hands. And why was he wearing his baseball uniform?

Wait, was that his baseball uniform? It looked weird.

Breathless, he got up from the bed and looked down at himself. Yes, it was a baseball uniform but not the one he remembered from college. His college uniform had been loose; this one was really tight, hugging him across the chest and ass. His cup was clearly outlined in the front, too. And the color. The color! His uniform wasn’t striped lime green and white!

And he wasn’t a catcher! Why was “Catcher” emblazoned on the front of his jersey? Mike was a pitcher! He’d never been a catcher in his life. Catchers were losers.

The restful feeling from just moments ago vanished as he descended back into the nightmare that had been his reality ever since the night before when fucking Zoe had posted those fucking pictures on that fucking site. How was any of this possible? Was she a fucking witch? No one could change reality. No one could…

Shaking, he padded over to his mirror and gaped at his reflection, struggling to recognize himself in the…man boy…staring back at him. Only his brown eyes were the same, everything else had shifted or changed. How was this fucking even possible?

The kid staring back at him couldn’t be more nineteen years old. His round face and big eyes made him look young and naive and his small stature didn’t help. Gone were his rugged good looks; his formerly chiseled features had softened and he realized with a shiver that he was merely cute. A cute kid.

A cute kid with big, brown eyes, full lips, and tousled brown hair poking out from under the bright lime green baseball cap on his head. But there was something else about his face that he didn’t like. Something was off.

Maybe it was the patchy scruff on his chin and jaw or maybe it was…

Why were his ears gauged?

He reached up and felt his lobes. There were half-inch plugs in both ears.

Shit! He swallowed and stared. Then something else caught his eye. There were marks on his wrists where the uniform had slid down his wrists. What was that?

He held up his arm, pulling back on the sleeves. They were tight and didn’t give much but they didn’t need to. Under the sleeves of his jersey were, shit, more sleeves! Only these sleeves were permanent.

Rainbows were tattooed on both wrists.

Gay rainbow swirls.


In a panic, Mike popped open his jersey, exposing his hairless chest. He momentarily forgot about the tattoos covering his arms when he saw his pecs and nipples. His pecs were so pumped up that they looked fake. They couldn’t be real.



Hands shaking, he cupped them in his hands. Shit, they were fucking massive! Not wanting to, but feeling helpless to stop himself, he squeezed them and cursed.

He was right: They weren’t real.

He suppressed a shudder of revulsion. When squeezed, he could tell that there was something under his skin. Feeling both a sinking dread and a burning curiosity, he hesitatingly probed under his soft, pliable skin. (Even his skin belonged to someone else!) What was that?


There was something hard under there. It was like a plate or something. He probed at it again with his shaking fingers. The plates under his skin were rigid and thick, formed to fit over his pec muscles.


He had fucking pec implants!

Mike warred himself, wanting simultaneously to cover his pecs and fondle them. The desire to fondle them won out and he stood there, moving them up and down in his hands (the fuckers were so big that his hands could barely hold them!) both appalled and captivated by their freaky size. He let his hands fall and watched them sag heavily downward, his puffy nipples pointing down at the floor.

He had the biggest fucking pecs he’d ever seen on a guy. The implants caused them to swell beyond the normal bounds of decency. Even his nipples looked swollen. He lifted one and then quivered when a shot of pure pleasure rocketed down this spine, electrifying his crotch.

Whoa, sensitive!

His nipples had never been that sensitive before! And they were all puffed out; the dark brown areolas were huge. There was no way his tits were that big. No way. He squeezed his nipples lightly. Another blast of pleasure rushed through his body and he cried out, both in ecstasy and horror. “Fuck.” The nipples were all him. He had a fucking pair of bitch tits. “Fuck!”

He went to bury his face in his hands but froze. He noticed something else.

What now? What the fuck else could possibly go wrong with him? As if he wasn’t a big enough freak already?

Helplessly, he looked down at himself.

There was something on his belly that he’d missed because his freaky pecs pushed out so far.

Stomach sinking, he pushed his huge tits out of the way and stared at himself.

“Cock slut” arced in rainbow-colored letters over his slightly pudgy, hairless belly.

“FUCK!” he yelled, not caring if his neighbors heard. Frantically, he rubbed his hands over the fruity, neon-bright lettering on his smooth belly in a vain attempt to wipe off the ink.


It didn’t work.

His skin was permanently tattooed, labeling him forever.


Not forever, he reminded himself, somewhat desperately. He’d heard that you could have tattoos removed with laser treatments!

Yeah, that’s it! I’ll get them removed! he thought. I’ll pay whatever it takes to get them removed!


That meant that he would have to go to a clinic and expose the humiliating tattoos to the staff who worked there. His ears burned as stared down at the flamboyant lettering. Shit, it would take fucking hours to burn away the hideous tattoos! There were so many different colors! And he vaguely remembered that some colors took even longer to burn away. Shit, it would cost thousands of dollars. And many, many visits.

And then he remembered the pink butterfly tramp stamp over his ass.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

It was going to cost a fortune and take forever to get these fucking tattoos removed!

He collapsed back on the bed, defeated, only to jump back up again in surprise.

Something was wrong with his ass! He went to grab his butt cheeks but then stopped himself, panting. He didn’t want to touch himself. He couldn’t take one more thing right now. When he’d sat down, it felt like he was sitting on something foreign, something that wasn’t part of him. Something…

Mike couldn’t stop shaking. This was too much. He couldn’t take this. He fucking couldn’t take any more. His brain and every other part of him rebelled against the waves of changes that were washing over him. There almost wasn’t anything of his old self that he recognized. He was becoming a completely different person.

A freak.

That is what he had become.

A fucking freak.

Wait, what was that?

Panicking, Mike realized that there was someone at the front door of his apartment. He could hear keys jingling and then the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.

Shit! Who the fuck was that? The building manager? No one had keys to his apartment, not even Zoe!

He slammed the bedroom door shut as the door opened. There was a surprised grunt followed by a shout.

“Hey, Mikey! Why did you lock us out? Are you doing something naughty in there?”

It was Dave. Why did Dave have a key to his apartment?

He cracked open the bedroom door, yelling, “Go away, Dave! I don’t want you here.”

Dave chuckled, a rich throaty sound. “Yo, Mike! I’m not going away. You can’t kick me out of my own apartment!”

His own apartment? What the fuck? This was Mike’s apartment!

“Get the fuck out of here, Dave!”

“Aw, come on, Mikey!” Wait, that was Chris. What was Chris doing here? “Are you going to kick me out, too? Did you forget that Dave and I live here? Come on, dude! Let us in.”

Mike was silent. His head was spinning. Dave and Chris…lived with him? What…?

“Come on, man! Open up!” Dave yelled again, losing patience. “We’re not going away.”

Mike cowered in his bedroom, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t go out there looking like…this. He couldn’t.

Just then, his phone vibrated on the dresser. Before he could stop himself, he looked at it.

Our ball boy has a short bat. LOL<<

Ball boy? Short…bat? What…?

Mike felt a sickening tingling in his groin. Ouch! Fuck, it hurt! It felt like his cock did when he jumped into really cold water. He grabbed at his cup but couldn’t feel anything under the rigid plastic except his balls. Shit, they were really swollen, though. They were pushing so hard against the cup that they threatened to come out the sides. As he stood there, his nuts pulsed and swelled even more. At the same time his dick felt like it was encased in ice, it was so tight.


Dave pounded again, even louder.

“Mikey! I’m going to fucking bust down this door if you don’t let us in now.”

Reluctantly, Mike snapped the buttons on his “uniform” closed, covering his freaky pecs and the majority of his gay-ass tattoos and trudged awkwardly out of the bedroom, adjusting his nuts in his cup and feeling his cheeks burn in humiliation. This was ridiculous.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t let them see him like this but they were clearly not going to leave. He crept up to the door. Dave’s foot was stuck in the crack and the chain was threatening to pop off. Mike tried to steady himself as he peered through the crack. Dave and Chris were standing there, perturbed. They were dressed in their running clothes and looked sweaty. Chris was holding a pizza and a six-pack of Mike’s favorite beer. Mike scowled at them and pushed against the door, closing it on Dave’s foot.

“Ow!” his friend exclaimed. “Not cool, dude! Let us in. We come bearing gifts.”

“Fuck you,” Mike spat, still pushing against the door.

“Mike, don’t be a jerk,” Chris said. “We’re worried about you. You haven’t been answering your phone and we know that you have tonight off at the club.”

The club? What was he talking about? “Fuck you,” Mike spat again through gritted teeth. “And go away.”

“Sorry, bro,” Dave spoke up. “No way.” He stepped back, his foot disappearing from the crack in the door.

Mike was starting to shut the door, intending to lock it again when Dave threw his shoulder against it. The chain popped off and Mike sprang back as Dave fell through the door. Chris stepped in behind him as Mike swore at both of them.

“What the fuck? Get out of here!” he shouted, holding his hands instinctively in front of his crotch, hoping his neighbors would hear and call the police.

Dave stood up, panting, and moved closer to him. Mike could feel the heat emanating from his body. It made him feel uncomfortable; he started to back away from them.

“Dude, why are you acting so weird?” Dave said, an expression of concern on his face. Then his eyes lit up mischievously as he took in Mike’s get up. “And why are you wearing that? I thought you had the night off.” He paused before grinning, “Or were you trying it on just for fun?”

Mike swallowed uncomfortably and took another step backward but Dave stepped closer. The space between them dwindled as he stared up at Dave, feeling very small next to his friend’s towering bulk. He was taking another step back when Dave surprised him by reaching out and pulling him into a tickling hug.

“You know I can’t resist it when you’re in your uniform,” he said, laughing. Mike struggled to get away but Dave had him; he was pressed firmly against the bigger man’s body. Dave’s heady scent filled his nostrils and his sweat soaked through Mike’s uniform. Dave was holding his face against his heaving chest, refusing to let loose. Mike could hear his friend’s heart beating through his sternum.

“Hey!” Chris complained, stepping in to grab Mike from behind. “No fair hogging him all to yourself!” Mike blanched as he felt Chris’ member press against the small of his back. As he gasped for air, Chris started rubbing himself up and down against Mike’s body. In moments, Mike felt his cock get hard and press against his cup. Was it his imagination or did it feel different somehow? Like it should be pushing out his cup further than it was? There wasn’t the pressure down there that he was used to. Not that he made a habit of getting hard in his cup…

He struggled and finally worked free enough to complain. “Hey, guys! Stop it! Let me go!”

Reluctantly, Dave and Chris relaxed their holds and stepped away. Their faces were flushed and their eyes were on fire with…with something that Mike found profoundly unsettling. No man had ever looked at him like that.

With great effort, he managed to catch his breath. “What is going on here? Why are you both acting like this?”

Dave gave him a bemused smile, reaching up and scratching his chin. “What do you mean, Mikey? We’re your best buds.”

Mike stared at him, bewildered. “Best buds…don’t do this together.” He motioned expansively. Both Dave and Chris stared at him.

There was a long silence.

“Um, yeah, we do,” Chris said finally. “Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?”

When would everyone stop asking him that? Before Mike could retort, though, Dave interrupted. “Forget it. Come on, guys. Let’s eat pizza, drink beer, and watch the game. It started five minutes ago. We can…talk…about what best buds do later.” He motioned with arm to the couch. Chris didn’t wait for any further invitation. He put the pizza and beer on the coffee table and plopped down. A second later, he found the remote on the back of the sofa and switched on the TV.

Mike was stupefied. All he could do was stand there and gape. This was the weirdest fucking day ever.

Dave grabbed plates and napkins from the kitchen and, returning to the living room, steered Mike by the elbow over to the couch. He tossed a beer at Chris who caught it deftly and then cracked one open for Mike. Mike took it, woodenly, but refused to sit down.

“You need to chill,” Dave continued, punching Mike lightly on the arm as he sat down. “We know how hard you work at the club, dude. I don’t know how you do it. Two jobs.” He shook his head, smiling.

Chris nodded and then cheered as the quarterback on the opposing team threw a pass that was intercepted. Dave grabbed pizza and a beer for himself and settled down on the other end of the couch. Mike stared at them. The room was growing dark as the sun set and their faces glowed in the light of the television. Dave patted the cushion between him and Chris and motioned sideways with his head.

Mike took a tentative sip of his beer before leaning against the arm of the couch, still carefully covering his crotch.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Curtis! Take a fucking seat!” Dave ordered. “What is wrong with you?”

Mike jumped, startled. How dare Dave yell at him like he was a kid! How dare he! Nonetheless, he surprised himself by sitting tentatively down between the two big guys.

They watched the game and sipped beer together and gradually Mike felt less on edge, although he was far from settled. There was no way he could feel settled with everything that had happened him during this bizarrely surreal day. Still, he did like watching football. He took a slice of pizza and nibbled on it before realizing how starving he was and gobbling it down. He took three more and, tossing his empty can on the floor, helped himself to another beer.

The guys were mesmerized by the game and Mike slouched back after eating, feeling the effects of the beer. Dave was leaning back, his legs spread wide. His knee was pressing against Mike’s. Mike moved his knee away but then bumped into Chris’. Chris was lying practically flat, legs splayed open like Dave’s. His eyes were half-closed. Mike closed his legs and positioned the plate over his crotch, realizing he’d been staring at Chris’ package. Those running shorts didn’t hide much. He felt his face grow hot when he realized that he could smell Chris’ body odor. Rather than repulsing him, he found it kind of…stimulating. How could this big man be the office fag that Mike had teased and bullied? It didn’t compute. He took a deep swig of his beer, finishing it and reaching for another.

He was nearly at the end of his third beer when Dave yawned dramatically, allowing his arm to settle over Mike’s shoulders. Mike stirred, shrugging it off but Dave draped it over his shoulder again.

“Dude!” Mike started to say but Dave hushed him.

“Shhh…” he said. “Just chill.”

Mike warred with himself. What was going on?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris stretch. When he put his arms down again, though, he tugged at his shorts, adjusting himself. Mike felt his pulse begin to beat in his temples. Was it his imagination or was Chris sporting wood? He didn’t dare turn his head to look.

Mike sat there squirming. Chris adjusted himself again, letting out a soft moan. This time, it was Dave’s turn to stretch and adjust himself. Mike swallowed. And felt himself growing hard as he looked and saw the outline of Dave’s monster growing steadily more defined in his shorts. Dave reached down and casually put a finger under the elastic in the crotch of his shorts. Mike watched transfixed as Dave slowly moved it up and down, his bulge growing firmer and bigger with each passing second.

Chris put his hand on Mike’s leg and squeezed. Mike fought the urge get up. This was definitely not normal. This was definitely not what three buddies did together. This was wrong. He should leave. He should get out of there.

Mike stayed sitting down on the couch. He knew he should get up and get out of there. He knew he should make them both leave. He knew…

Chris’ big hand moved up this thigh. Mike held his breath and swallowed. On his other side, Dave’s thigh moved closer, inch by inch until it was pressing firmly against Mike’s. Then Dave’s hand moved down Mike’s shoulder and he gently tweaked his left nipple. Mike shivered and felt both of his nipples grow erect. He pushed his plate down on his lap; cock at full attention in his cup.

The opposing team scored a touchdown but the room was completely silent. Chris’ hand was working its way slowly up Mike’s thigh and Dave thrust his hips upward, the tip of his cock just beginning to peek out of the waistband of his shorts.

Mike felt like he was going to explode. He couldn’t take it any longer and he stood up, saying, “I gotta piss.”

He tried to leave but Dave stopped him, hand firmly on his arm, pulling him back down. Chris carefully took the beer can out of Mike’s hand and set it aside. Mike sat there, frozen.

“I’m glad you have the night off, buddy,” Dave breathed in his ear. Mike’s pulse was pounding in his ear as Dave slowly unbuttoned the top buttons on his jersey. Mike shivered. Chris reached over and undid a couple more buttons. Together, inch by inch, Dave and Chris unfastened more buttons, pulling open his jersey until his enormous pecs pushed out and his huge nipples were fully exposed. Mike stared straight ahead, afraid to move.

He didn’t resist when Dave picked up Mike’s right hand and moved it onto his lap. Mike stiffened, his cock pulsing in his cup, as he felt his friend’s massive member. Christ! It was long and fat! Reflexively, Mike’s fingers curled around it. Dave sighed and leaned back.

Next, Chris took Mike’s left hand and moved it onto his lap. Fuck! Mike thought. His cock was even fatter than Dave’s, though not nearly as long. He caressed the outline of the tip across Chris’ shorts. Mike gasped as he realized that he was feeling the ridge of Chris’ circumcised cockhead. Fuck. Fuck. He moved his hand up to the elastic of Chris’ shorts and reached inside. Inside, his skin was moist and hot and…smooth. Chris shaved his pubes. He reached up and felt Chris’ belly. Chris apparently shaved everything. Mike was rock hard in his jock.

Simultaneously loathing himself and exquisitely turned on, Mike shut off the part of his mind that was repulsed, allowing himself to savor the sensation of holding the meaty cocks of his two best friends. (Two best friends?!) Chris’ cock was so fucking fat that he couldn’t close his hand around it but Dave’s was a perfect complement, long and veiny and uncut. Chris and Dave both stiffened and sighed next to him as he gave their cocks a hard squeeze.

“Fuck, dude! You always did have magic hands,” Dave exhaled. “I wish Madison knew how to treat a cock the way you do.”

Chris snorted, “Madison? Forget about that bitch. Let’s take this into the bedroom.”

In unison, the two studs stood up and lifted Mike off the couch, carrying him down the hall. Mike struggled but only halfheartedly.

Time slowed down and the journey to the bedroom seemed to stretch on forever in Mike’s fevered mind. After what seemed like an eternity, they pushed through the doorway.

Dave used his elbow to flick on the light switch. There was a pause.

“Huh?” Chris’ voice was gruff. “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed.” The bed was unmade from Mike’s nap earlier.

His bed? It was Mike’s bed!

They tossed him down; he let out a little yelp when his butt hit the bed. (What was that weird…thing…he felt down there?) He scrambled backward on his elbows. His mind had stopped working back in the living room. He was completely at their mercy.

Dave laughed, leering down at him. “It looks like someone’s been sleeping in my bed, too.” He paused before adding theatrically, “And he’s still here!”

Chris crossed his arms, erection bulging luridly against his skimpy shorts, and Dave grinned.

“What should we do to him, Daddy Bear?” Chris asked, savoring the moment. “He looks pretty helpless, doesn’t he? Good thing we’ve got a king-sized bed.”

Dave lowered his voice to a deep bass. “I dunno, Mama Bear, but I’ve got a few ideas…” Mike felt himself begin to shiver, both with fear and excitement.

Chris made a growling sound in the back of his throat and, pulling off his tank to expose this shaved, tanned chest, knelt on the edge of the bed, a predatory look in his eyes. He leaned forward, catlike, and Mike drank in the sight of him: Square shoulders, bulging arms muscles, satiny dark skin. A lock of his black hair fell across his forehead as he took hold of Mike’s jersey, now wadded up around his waist. He scarcely registered that this was the same fag he’d bullied around the office. Chris oozed a pungent masculinity.

Mike held his breath, waiting for Chris to pounce. Before he could, though, Dave let out a loud whoop, pulling off his own tank and tossing it in the corner of the room. He launched himself onto the bed, landing with a thump beside Mike. Smiling broadly, he propped his head on his hand and watched Chris pull off the jersey, inch by inch. His eyes burned with desire.

Mike glanced at him momentarily and flushed, looking away again. Dave had never looked at him that way before. He wasn’t supposed to look at another guy like that. He was straight, right? Dave chuckled and pinched his nipple.

“You are one fucking hot twink, Mikey! I love your new tits. I’m so glad that we finally found that doctor down in Brazil.” He pulled off his shorts and threw them across the room. Mike looked over at him and caught his breath, struggling to process Dave’s disturbing words (Had Dave paid someone to do his pec implants?) while fighting the overwhelming desire he felt as he stared at his friend’s naked flesh.

Mike had never seen Dave like this; it was almost too much for him to process. Dave’s body was one massive slab of toned, hairy muscle. Sandy brown hair covered his chest, tumbling down his rippled belly, and piling up around his massive cock. Mike could see the pink tip of his cockhead peeking out through the thick folds of his dark foreskin. His cock was the biggest Mike had ever seen! The glimpse he’d gotten earlier at the urinal was just the tip of the fucking iceberg. And now that cock was fully erect and pointing straight at him. Seeing Dave naked was one thing but seeing him naked, sporting a throbbing erection, and staring lustfully at him was too much. Mike licked his lips, frozen.

Chris had finished pulling off Mike’s jersey and, throwing it aside, reached down to release the button on his baseball pants. “Tits?” he asked in a flippant tone. “I’m more interested in burying my face his in his new, huge ass! Turn over, Mike!”

Not waiting for Mike to respond, Chris flipped him over onto his stomach and started yanking on the waistband of his pants. They got stuck on his butt, though, and Chris let out a startled exclamation.

“Whoa! Would you look at that ass? Shit!”

Dave smacked Mike hard on the butt, causing him to yelp. It hurt! What had they done to his ass? Had the Brazilian doctor done…something to that, too? How could Dave and Chris do this to him? He never would have agreed to let them turn him into a freak!

“Here, bro,” Dave said, slowly running his hands over Mike’s pecs before getting up. His enormous erection bobbed between his legs. “It’s gonna take both of us to get at that ass. Those pants are practically sewn on!”

Together, his “friends” worked to get the pants over the gigantic mounds of his ass. Mike lay there stoically, though a low whimper eventually escaped his lips as they pulled and pulled. The material of his uniform was stretchy but even it had limits. Finally, after a lot of cursing and tugging and yanking, they managed to get his pants off. Chris whooped, holding them up like a prize, before he threw them on the floor.

Mike was mortified. He lay on the bed, bare ass up in the air, breathing heavily, while both Dave and Chris stared at him. His cup was still on, but just barely. Mike felt the straps of his jock straining for dear life to hold on.


Mike felt his neck and ears grow hot.

Finally, Chris exhaled. “Oh. My. God.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Dave said, a note of smug satisfaction in his voice. “I told the doc that I didn’t want our little Mikey to ever be able to wear normal pants again. Everything will have to be custom made to hold that ass from now on.”

Mike wilted when he heard these words and hung his head. How could this get any worse? What had they done to him? Chris and Dave seemed not to notice his humiliation, though. They were too busy admiring the doctor’s handiwork.

“Shit, Dave.” Chris was almost speechless. “How did he get it so huge and yet still so realistic? It’s the most perfect bubble butt I’ve ever seen. And that butterfly tattoo sets it off perfectly.”

Mike sank lower in the bed. His whole head and neck had to be bright red by now.

Dave laughed. “That doc makes his own silicone implants; he’s the best in the business. And the most expensive. The tattoo was cheap. You don’t want to know how much that ass set me back!” He laughed again. “Good thing I got that huge commission last month!”

“Shit,” Chris said in an awed voice. “Shit.”

Mike wanted to die and was about to crawl off the bed when Dave reached over and snapped one of the straps on his jock causing him to jerk in surprise. He felt his massive ass jiggling with the motion and blushed.

“Christ,” Dave said, his voice reverential, “I could stare at that ass all night!”

Chris made a bestial sound in the back of his throat. “You can look at his ass all you want, Hunt, but I’m going to fuck it!”

(What!? He wants to fuck me in the ass! Mike’s mind went blank.)

These words served to snap Dave out of his reverie. “No, you don’t!” he exclaimed. “Wrestle you for it!” In an instant he had reached out to grab Chris around the midsection. Chris was too quick, though, and dodged out of his grasp. Instead, he turned and lunged at Dave, catching him by surprise. The two of them collapsed on the bed next to Mike, wrestling furiously. It didn’t take long before they had rolled over onto Mike and pulled him into the fray. A heartbeat later, they were on top of him, fighting to be the one to claim Mike’s bubble butt as his own.

Mike’s face was ground into the blankets and he gasped for air. Finally, he was able to scream, “Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting me!” His voice was a plaintive whine. Where was his old, deep commanding tone? The one that instantly got everyone’s attention? The voice that girls loved. Now he sounded weak, pleading.

Despite his pathetic tone, Dave and Chris stopped wrestling. They were both naked by this point and Mike could feel their twin cocks pressing down against him. He could even tell by feel which cock belonged to which guy. Chris’ was closest to his butthole, an advantage that Chris didn’t have to be reminded to exploit. In a second, he took advantage of Dave’s hesitation and, shoving him aside, ground his cock furiously against Mike’s hole.

Mike cried out. He wasn’t ready! He didn’t want to be raped! He cried out again. How could Chris treat him this way?

“Dude! Chris! Stop!” It was Dave. He was gasping for breath. “Ok, you win! You get his ass first but let’s not rush into this. Let’s start over and do this right. Mike wants to enjoy this, too!”

I do? Mike thought. Is this what I want?

He didn’t want it, did he?

No, he couldn’t possibly want this.

He wasn’t a fucking fairy.


Not him.




Then it hit him.

He did.

He fucking wanted it.

He fucking wanted both their cocks as far up inside of him as they would go.


No way.

He was…

He was…


He was a fucking fag. The tattoo on his belly didn’t lie: He was a cock slut.

Cock slut.

He swallowed.

Mike Curtis, baseball star and ultimate hetero stud was a fucking fruit.

All his strength faded out of him and he sank down on the bed. He didn’t care about Chris’ cock pressing insistently against his pucker. He didn’t care. Everything was lost. He was lost. He didn’t recognize anything about himself anymore. There was nothing of the old Mike left. He was now a bizarre freak. A tattooed, pierced, augmented, silicone-filled freak.

“Yo, Mikey, it’s Ok. I’m sorry.”

It was Chris’ voice. He sounded so sweet, so kind, so sincere.

“I got a little carried away.”

“Me, too.” That was Dave. The note of contrition in his voice was genuine.

Mike opened his eyes. His head was lying on Dave’s lap. Dave had taken the baseball cap off Mike’s head and set it aside on the nightstand. Chris was leaning down over him, face only a few inches from his own. His brown eyes were soft. He smiled at Mike while Dave caressed his cheek with a calloused hand.

“It’s just that your body is so hot that it drives us wild,” Chris continued. “We’ll be gentle, though. Let’s go at your pace.”

Mike blinked and Chris’ big, soft lips were on Mike’s. Stars exploded in his head. Shit, he was kissing a guy…and it felt…right. So right. His lips parted and Chris’ tongue delicately brushed the inside of his mouth. Mike made a funny noise in the back of his throat but then he responded, opening his lips further, inviting Chris’ tongue in deeper. They locked in a passionate kiss, tongues probing and locking. Chris’ beard was rough against Mike’s mouth but he didn’t care. All he wanted was for Chris’s tongue to explore every part of him. He didn’t care if he wasn’t supposed to want this. He did. He wanted it.

He fucking wanted it.

Chris pulled back then and Mike let out a little moan of disappointment.

“Let’s get that cup off of you, little guy,” Chris said, sighing. His voice sounded thick. “I mean, as much as I love seeing that lime green jock on you, I want your cock against mine even more.”

He winked at Mike and Mike obediently raised his hips so Chris could pull down on his jockstrap. It was crazy how far he had to lift himself before his butt came off the bed. He almost couldn’t do it. He realized belatedly that his dick was still rigid, pressing fiercely against the molded plastic of his cup.

Chris grimaced as he wrestled to get the jock off. “Shit, we’re going to have get custom jocks, too!”

Dave laughed. “Fuck yeah! Our boi is going to need custom everything now!”

Mike flinched. Why did they have to keep rubbing his face in this…thing they had done to him?

The jock finally came off. He heard a sharp intake of breath. It was a second before he realized that it had come from him.



What the fuck?!

That couldn’t be his dick!

“Awww, I always forget how cute it is!” Chris exclaimed happily. “The perfect little dick.”

Dave laughed. “Yep, a boi dick with man-sized balls. Just the way I like ‘em!”

Mike could only stare down at his tiny member. It was standing at attention, all four inches of it. The only thing that he recognized from his formerly hefty schlong was the cockhead. Everything else about it had shrunk down to near-adolescence. As he watched, a drop of precum dribbled off the tip. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. What…?

Chris reached down and cupped Mike’s balls in his hand, rolling them around. Mike shivered with pleasure before registering their size. They were…fucking enormous.

“Bull balls and a tiny prick. The perfect boi bottom!”

Mike swallowed. In a far off corner of his brain, the last traces of his old identity were falling away, unshackling him from the past.

Falling away.





Until. Yes.

Yes, he was free now, he realized, feeling a sense of…what? It was new, whatever it was.

Was this…?




But he was too young, too helpless. He wasn’t powerful.

Or was he?


Maybe he was?

Maybe he was powerful now. Just in a different way. Yes, his power was his freedom. He sat up in bed a little straighter, pushing his shoulders back.


He was free to be who he really was.

The last gears clicked into place as he stared at his big, razor-smooth sac and heavy balls rolling around in Chris’ hands.

Yeah, he thought. Why would I need a big dick anyway?

Big dicks were for big guys and he was just a boi.

But he needed a swingin’ pair.

Yup, he definitely needed a swinging pair of bull balls.

He needed a swinging pair for Dave and Chris to hold onto while they rode him. In his heightened state of freedom and arousal, he knew now that he was made to be ridden. Made to be fucked. Dave and Chris had made him who he was for just that reason. Yes, Dave and Chris were there to help him realize his true potential. They would take care of him and encourage him, support him as he claimed his new life. They were there for him. They were the best.

He fucking loved them.

Both of them.

He smiled up at Chris. Dave reached down and tussled his hair.

“That’s our bottom boi!” Dave said fondly. “Now let’s take him for a test drive!”

Carefully and gently, Chris guided him onto his hands and knees. Mike was so proud when he felt his huge balls flop down and slap against his outspread thighs. Was it his imagination or did they just brush against the blankets? His little cock plumped up at the thought.

He heard a rude squelching noise and looked over to see Chris squeezing a glob of lube onto his hand. He rubbed his hands together, warming it up, before he slathered it around Mike’s eager hole. Mike shivered in expectation, feeling his butthole clench. He was going to get fucked! He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner.

Watching Chris, Mike saw that his body was just as impressive as Dave’s but where Dave was hairy and corded with muscle, Chris was silky smooth, lithe, and lean. He had very impressive arms and shoulders, though. His skin was naturally darker than Dave’s and Mike flushed when he saw that Chris had distinct tan lines; he’d clearly been lying out in the sun wearing just a skimpy Speedo.

Mike felt himself quail when his gaze landed on Chris’ swollen member. Shit! He thought. How will that thing ever fit inside me! Chris’ cock might not be that long compared to Dave’s but it made up for it in girth. His smooth, shaved pubes only served to accent the fatness of the dripping tool between his legs. He winked at Mike and smiled encouragingly as he slipped on an (extra-large) condom and slicked up his dick with lube.

“Hey, eyes up front!” Dave commanded, startling him. Dave reached down to turn Mike’s head toward him.

He gulped when he saw Dave’s giant member bobbing in front of his face.

“Ready to have both your face and your ass fucked, boi?”

Mike swallowed, feeling his arms begin to tremble. It wasn’t fear that made him tremble, he realized slowly; it was expectation.


He was ready.

He was ready to be fucked.

There was a pause and then he braced himself, feeling Chris grab his ball sac in one hand and his shoulder in the other. Dave exhaled loudly as he thrust his cock into Mike’s open mouth while Chris’ red hot cock pushed its way into his open hole. Mike’s mind exploded with ecstasy and he knew that even as he lost the last vestiges of his heterosexuality, he was embracing a whole new future as a big, slutty, bottom boi. Life was full of surprises!

He couldn’t hear it but his phone buzzed on the dresser just then. Later he would pick it up and smile when he read the comment.


Afterward, the three of them lay back against the pillows on the bed in a pleasant post coital haze. The room smelled like sweat and shit and spunk. A sticky pile of condoms seeped spent cum onto the hardwood floors beside the bed. Mike nestled between the two big studs who had just fucked him to within an inch of his life. His hole was thrashed raw from taking those two huge cocks. Over and over and over. He sighed, savoring the afterglow. Dave and Chris each had an arm slung protectively around him.

He felt safe and loved.

Dave looked down, chucking him under the chin. “Shit, dude. You’re the best fuck ever. You could teach Madison a thing or two.”

“Fucking Madison again!” Chris complained. “Just because you’re bisexual doesn’t mean you have to rub our faces in it.”

Dave turned to Chris and shrugged. “I can’t help who I am, bud. Sometimes this big ol’ cock just needs to be dipped in a hot pussy.”

Chris shuddered. “Shut up.”

Mike smiled, tunneling against Dave’s side. His friend squeezed his shoulders.

“But Mike’s ass is better than any pussy,” Dave continued, clearly enjoying pushing Chris’ buttons. “In fact, between his ass and your cock, I might be convinced to give up pussy altogether…”

Chris turned to stare at Dave. “You mean…?”

Dave’s smile broadened. “Yeah, I do.”

Chris let out a loud whoop and leaned across Mike to plant a passionate kiss on Dave’s lips. Mike was briefly smothered by his sweaty bod but he didn’t care too much. He took the opportunity to lick Chris’ smooth armpit, causing his friend to shudder.

“Stop that!” Chris said, pulling back and playfully giving Mike’s little dick a swat. After cumming five times, it was finally soft.

Dave was watching them, a curious expression on his face. “We’ll make one, big happy family, won’t we?”


Life was good for Mike Curtis. He had his job as the coffee boy at Bennett Insurance and on the weekends he was a stripper at the gay club down the street. He had two hot studs who looked after him, protected him from people who might tease him for being such a freak…and they fucked him silly every night. To top it off, he had his own room with all of his baseball stuff in the apartment they shared.

He surveyed his reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. Dave had helped him get another procedure and now he had the biggest, most succulent boy lips imaginable. His patrons at the club would pay handsomely for a few minutes with him in the backroom after his shift. He winked at himself and pulled the baseball cap down a little. He was devilishly cute, he had to admit.

Walking out of the bathroom, he nodded at Mr. Bennett as he strode proudly down to Dave and Chris’ office.

“Mikey,” Mr. Bennett said, giving him a fond wink as Mike sauntered past; Mike was Mr. Bennett’s favorite employee.

Dave and Chris looked up at him from their desks and smiled when he entered.

“Hey, dude,” Dave called out. “Close the door and come over here for a sec.”

Mike duly shut the door behind him, smirking.

“No, you don’t, Hunt!” Chris challenged, standing up from his desk. “He’s mine!”

“Well, bitch, then let’s wrestle for him.”

Mike leaned back and folded his arms as he watched Dave get up from his desk, throwing his tie behind his back. Chris growled in the back of his throat and the two studs rounded on each other. Mike smiled with satisfaction.

Yeah, life was good.

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