Hood Hunks

By Willie Cici
published April 6, 2021
4623 words
Summary

Forced to move from his home, Greg watched the moving van pull up to his house. Who did his mother hire to pack their house?

I carried another cardboard box out of my bedroom. I can’t believe this shit. My parents, after 27 years of marriage, are divorcing. Worse, my dumb mother did not want the house. My father and his new piece of ass girlfriend prefer to live a city lifestyle. That meant that they decided to sell the house. The house where I grew up. The house where my brothers and I fought and played, laughed and cried. The house where my brothers and I entertained our girlfriends, when the parents were away. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a comfortable home in the Westchester suburbs with a basketball court, a pool and a great deck. I just graduated college and expected to enjoy a leisurely summer before I started my Master’s Degree studies at Fordham. All gone.

Now, I had to pack my stuff and figure out where I was going to live. There is no way I was going with my mother. Dad was too busy with the trophy girlfriend, one of my brother Rob’s leftovers who could not wait to suck Dad’s dick. Unfortunately, Dad found Corrine irresistible. Dad had a momentary attack of guilt. He offered to pay my rent for the next year. With Dad paying for my Master’s, I told him he could pay for the University’s off-campus housing. I didn’t want to bleed the old man just because wanted his dick sucked every once in a while. Motivated by guilt, Dad agreed and offered to pay for the tuition and the room and board.

For now, I had nowhere to go. June and July – what was I going to do? I stood on the front lawn fuming. Did I have to leave my home in Harrison and go with Mom to her new townhouse, a shoebox in New Rochelle? I dreaded it.

As I pondered this dilemma, I saw a moving truck pull up on the driveway. I looked at the multi-colored lettering on the side of the truck: Hood Hunks.

“Hood Hunks.”, I thought to myself. “Who the hell did my mother hire?” Given the title, I assumed she hired some hood rats from Port Chester to move our stuff and rob her blind.

When the passenger door of the truck cabin opened, I stared in amazement at the blonde muscled beast, wearing a tight white athletic shirt, jeans and tan suede work boots. Another blonde muscled beast lumbered out of the truck. And then another. The trio of muscled beasts left me speechless. From the driver’s side, the muscled beasts’ supervisor, another Nordic specimen of strength and beauty, stepped out and approached my drooling mother.

“Are you Janice Vardelos?”, the 6-foot tall muscled and tanned behemoth asked. He turned and stared at me and winked.

“I’m Janice Vardelos.”, my mother said, sounding like a college co-ed at a mixer. She tucked in her t-shirt to accentuate her figure, making sure that she looked her best.

“We’re from ‘Hood Hunks’. I’m Jack Hardwick. Pleasure to meet you. Why don’t you show us what we’re moving.”, the muscled man-god asked.

My mother stood there, entranced by the sight of the ‘Hood Hunks’. Finally, she realized that she was staring and said, ‘Oh … uh … yeah … let me show you.” The four muscled studs followed my mother into the house. I could not believe my eyes. I worked out with muscle heads like these guys at my gym, but, in my prejudice, I never thought of them as having lives outside of the gym.

Before long, another pick-up trunk transporting three other crew members arrived. These crew members were not as muscled and developed as the first four, but they had the building blocks of great physiques. “They must be in training.”, I quipped to myself.

“Yo! Greg!”, one of the newly arrived crew members shouted.

I turned to stare at the three crew members. I drew closer as I did not recognize any of the faces. “Do I know you?”, I asked.

“Bro! It’s Chip Danielson.”

“Chip Danielson”, I thought to myself. We went to high school together, played Varsity Lacrosse and fucked cheerleaders. He did not look like the Chip Danielson that went to Trainter Academy. “You look … different.”, I said, doing my best not to sound insulting. It was not only his body that looked different. His face, the chiseled jaw line, looked changed. Chip had a pudgy face despite the lithe physique of a Lacrosse athlete. This Chip looked cut, with broad shoulders and blonde hair that gave Chip a muscled-boy-next door look. It was off-putting to say the least.

“Bro! You look the same.”, Chip quickly replied. Chip was right. My body and my look did not change much from high-school. I liked going to the gym and enjoying the bedroom benefits of my physical endeavors.

“So, … is this a summer job?”, I asked, still trying to process the information flooding my mind: Chip, his physique, his look, his speech.

“Nah! I work full-time. Me and my bros. The work keeps me lean. Gym keeps me pumped.”, Chip answered.

“Oh!”, I replied, as I listened to the mindless, vapid banter. Chip was Pre-Law in college. “What the hell happened to him?”, I thought to myself.

“Bro, you should work out with us. For the summer. We could hang out, chasing babes.”, Chip added. He turned to one of his bros and said, “Buster, what do you think?”

“Buster?”, I asked in complete shock. “Buster Anderson?”

“Yeah. I was waitin’ for you to say somethin’.”, Buster replied.

Something was up. Chip and Buster were high-school student athletes, lithe physiques molded by gym time and Lacrosse. They were incredibly intelligent. They were not ‘muscle heads’. The two ‘bros’ that stood in front of me looked different from our high school days, but, more importantly, sounded and acted extremely different.

“I’m sorry, guys. I just … didn’t recognize you. You look so … healthy.”, I replied.

Before I could say another word, my mother came out of the house and said, “Greg, Mr. Hardwick needs the boys in the house.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Vardelos.”, Chip said. “Bro, gotta work.”, he said as he and Buster walked into my house.

My mother approached me and said, “How does he know my name?”

“That was Chip Danielson. And the other blonde you were leering at was Buster Anderson.”

“I wasn’t leering.”, my mother retorted, with the anger of someone getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I was … admiring.”

I shook my head. If she had shown one percent of interest in my father in the bedroom, they would still be happily married. My father did not stray from his marriage vows with Corrine because of her skills in the kitchen. “Whatever.”, I said. “I’m going to give the guys a hand. Keep an eye on our stuff.”

I volunteered to help the ‘Hood Hunks’ in their work in whatever help they needed. Mr. Hardwick accept my offer. To their credit, they took their time and carefully moved our furniture and personal effects onto the moving truck. Luckily, we had several days to pack and move. At least Mom did not botch that part of the deal.

When lunchtime came around, I watched Chip and Buster join the others near the pick-up truck. Mr. Hardwick opened a cooler in the rear of the pick-up truck and passed out bottles that looked like chocolate milk. The boys enjoyed their first bottle. Hardwick then removed his tank top, which prompted the others to do the same. “Okay, boys. Two miles. Let’s go.”, Hardwick shouted. He led the crew on a quick-paced run in the neighborhood, which I’m sure, have caused a stir. These desperate house wives have not seen studs like these in years, unless they paid for the experience. I watched the ‘Hood Hunks’ jog and then run down the street. No one complained; no one strayed, despite boys working all morning, doing heavy lifting.

I walked over to the truck and grabbed a bottle of the chocolate milk from the cooler. There was no label on the clear plastic bottle. From the cloudy tops of the bottles, it looked like someone had prepared the bottles by pouring the substance into the bottle. I opened the bottle in my hand and smelled the liquid. It smelled like chocolate. I took a sip. It tasted like chocolate with a little salty aftertaste. I took a full gulp.

“Bro, what are you doin’?”, Chip asked.

I turned around and found Chip and Buster standing behind me, panting from their 2-mile run. “I … I wanted to see what you guys were drinking.”

“Bro, that’s a high-intensity protein drink. It’s incredible.”, Chip bragged.

“The juice behind the pump.”, Buster said, as he flexed and posed.

“Bro, finish the bottle. We’re gonna have another.”, Chip said. He opened the cooler and grabbed a second bottle for himself and Buster. The three friends clinked their plastic bottles and drank the chocolate protein drink. As I finished my first bottle, Chip said to me, “I know this is gonna sound stupid, but, you should go for a run. I dunno know why but it gets the blood flowing. You’ll feel pumped.”

“Bro … yeah … what he said.”, Buster added.

I had no reason to question Chip and Buster. They appeared to benefit from the ‘juice’, as Buster called it. “Okay.”, I said. I went into the house, rushed to my bedroom to find some exercise clothes and a pair of sneakers. I could not go for a run in my jeans, t-shirt and fake Timberlands.

As I was getting changed, my mother walked into my bedroom and caught me practically naked. “Mom!! What the fuck!!”

“Don’t talk to me like that?”, she hollered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going for a run. I … I need to clear my head.”, I said.

“But there’s work to be …”, my mother insisted.

I ignored her. It was rude, I know, but, quite frankly, I had enough of her bullshit. I blamed her for the deadlines that she created on my life. I dressed for my run and walked out of my bedroom without saying another word to my mother. Her stunned expression did not move me to speak. If anything, I reveled in finally shutting her up and getting the upper hand.

An hour later, I returned to my home. I well exceeded my 2-mile run. I followed along Harrison towards Pleasant Ridge Road to Polly Park Road and ran the perimeter of the country club until I returned to my home. Dad and I used to do that run; it was a little more than 5 miles. When I reached my house, I could not wait to drink another bottle of juice. The cooler was still there, as if Chip and Buster knew that I would want another bottle after my run. I gulped the contents of that plastic bottle in seconds. The sweat dripped off my brow, but I also felt a heat and energy coursing throughout my veins. The sweat oozed from my pores. I removed my athletic shirt and wiped my arms. The sweat that beaded on my arms looked like a cloudy liquid. At first, I worried, but I felt so good that my worries fell by the wayside. In fact, it was the best I felt in a long time. “Could it be?”, I thought to myself. I opened the cooler, grabbed another bottle and drank another bottle of juice. I headed for the house to shower and change back into my work clothes. The ‘Hood Hunks’ had resumed their work. I did not have the time to lollygag.

Around 3:30pm, Hardwick approached my mother and said, “Mrs. Vardelos, we’ll be back tomorrow and the next day until we finish. The truck stays in your driveway. I’ve notified the police for overnight commercial parking. I’ll leave you the key to the padlock. The contents are still in your possession.”

“Okay, but … I thought this was a one-day project.”, my mother replied, sounding annoyed that the crew was not working around the clock to please her.

“No, ma’am. We don’t work that way. We want to make sure we pack your home and then unpack it safely and intact. No rush, no damage. Makes everyone happy.”, Hardwick replied.

I watched the boys march out of my home and head for the vehicles. Chip and Buster, trailing behind, turned around and shouted out, “Bro, we’re going to the gym. Join us.”

“Nah. I’m tired. Plus, I got stuff to do here.”, I answered.

“Bro. Gym. Join us. Do it. Nothing like it.”, Buster insisted.

I listened to my friends. They sounded dumber than this morning. For some strange reason, though, I thought it was a good idea. “Okay. Maybe you guys can teach me a thing or two.”

“Maximize the burn, baby!!”, Chip hooted.

I shook my head. “Okay. Let me get dressed. Which gym you going to?”

“PhenomEvolution. Just off the Parkway.”, Chip replied.

Hardwick secured the trailer and handed the key to my mother. Another pick-up truck had arrived at some point in the afternoon. The crew piled into the two vehicles and drove away.

I hurried to my bedroom and rummaged through my clothes for some exercise gear to wear at the gym and then clothes to change into after I showered. I had a girlfriend who was a member at ‘PhenomEvolution’ so I was familiar with their layout and amenities. Once I packed a bag, I grabbed my keys and headed down the stairs. “I’m going to the gym. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll grab something.”

“Don’t be late.”, my mother shouted back as I walked out of the front door. Normally, I would have walked into the garage via the door near the mud room, but the truck blocked the driveway. I had parked my car on the street. My mother’s car, on the other hand, was blocked by the moving van parked in our driveway. That was her problem, not mine.

At 6:30, after 2 ½ hours of pumping irons at the gym, I grabbed my towel and said, “I’m done. I can’t do anymore.”

Chip and Buster smiled. Chip walked over to the cooler, grabbed three bottles of ‘juice’ and handed me one of the bottles. “Cheers!”, Chip said. I cracked open the bottle and drank its contents in one gulp. Even though that was my third bottle, fifth one if you count the two at the house, I could not get enough of the ‘juice’. I felt energized, empowered, strong. I just wanted to pump some more irons, but I knew it was time for the body to rest and recover. You can’t do that much weight lifting in one day.

Chip and Buster then removed their tank tops and started flexing in front of the mirrors that lined the weight room. Their fellow ‘Hood Hunks’ had already struck a pose. I had to admit: the boys looked incredible. Their lats and shoulders impressed me. They looked improved from the start of the workout. I knew my eyes were playing tricks on me. A 2-hour session cannot change your body in one day. I watched the boys as they caressed their sculpted chests, even tweaking their nipples in a playful fashion.

I don’t what came over me, but I removed my t-shirt and joined Chip and Buster, posing like the others. “Bro, you look hot!”, Chip said.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. “It can’t be.”, I thought to myself. My chest seemed more developed, my waist narrower, my core more defined, more cobbled. I could live with that, if my eyes were not deceiving me. What upset me was the raging hardon in my shorts. Between the jockstrap and the compression shorts I was wearing underneath my nylon basketball-style shorts, my cock had no option but to rub against the lycra, My hard-on now distracted me. And worse, the more I stared at Chip and Buster and the others, I got harder. “Bros are hot.”, I thought to myself.

As I stared in the mirror, I noticed a cloudy sheen of perspiration cover my upper body and arms. I grabbed my towel and wiped away the perspiration. Chip and Buster experienced the same, but they must have grown accustomed to the phenomena and learned to ignore it. After minutes of mindless posing, I grabbed my soaking-wet towel and t-shirt and headed for the showers. Normally, I would have spent ten to fifteen minutes in the sauna, but, after all the perspiring I had done, I thought it best not to aggravate the situation. The juice must have revved up my body’s thermogenics. It did not need the heat of the sauna.

I stood in front of my locker and stripped out of my clothes. When I removed my jockstrap, I stared at my flagpole, rock-hard erection. First of all, whatever hair I have on my legs and groin, there were gone. I was totally hairless, as if I had been lasered or waxed or whatever women do. I could see the curly follicles in my jockstrap. “Ewww!”, I thought to myself. I generated so much body heat that the follicles melted. Second, and more importantly, my dick looked bigger and thicker. Third, I looked great. I grabbed my towel and strut to the nearest shower stall proud and hard.

I showered at first, but soon realized that my hard-on had not abated. If anything, with every soapy glance of my hand, my cock reacted flooding my body with pleasurable endorphins and hormones that made me stroke my cock only more. I wanted to shoot my load. I had to shoot my load. Bros work out, shoot their loads. I stroked and stroked, harder and faster, but I could not climax. I could not understand why I could not orgasm. It rarely took me more than three to five minutes to shoot my load. Suddenly, my cock deflated. “No!”, I muttered to myself, disgusted. I wanted to cum. I stroked and stroked, but my cock remained flaccid and limp. “Did I do too much in one day?”, I thought to myself. I finished showering, toweled my body and returned to my locker. Hopefully, my date with Debbie would take care of my pent-up sexual frustration. She was always good for a fuck. She almost always replied ‘yes’ to my texts. She knew.

As I was getting dressed, Chip and Buster approached me, their gym bags slung across their chest. “Bro, come back to the house. We’ll chill.”

“Nah! I’m beat. I’m just going home.”, I replied.

“Dude. The cable is off and the house is full of boxes. Whatcha gonna do at home? At least at our house, we got brews.”, Chip answered.

Chip did have a point. I checked my cell phone. I shook my head after reading Debbie’s text. “Not tonight.”, the text read. The reliable booty call disappointed me. I was pissed off, especially in light of the climax failure I experienced in the shower. I was hoping to fuck her and talk to her about moving in to the apartment over the garage of her parent’s home, not less than a quarter mile away from my house. With my plans for the evening ruined, I said, “Okay. I’ll come over.”

Chip and Buster smiled and nodded their heads. Once I packed up my gym bag and grabbed my gear, the boys and I headed to the parking lot. Chip and Buster hopped into the pick-up truck, while I entered my vehicle and followed the pick-up truck to presumably Chip and Buster’s home.

When we entered Chip and Buster’s townhouse, I soon realized that this was not their home. This was ‘Hood Hunks’ central command. All the ‘Hood Hunks’ were present and accounted for, strutting about wearing only jockstraps. At first, I was surprised to see these muscled beasts practically naked. When Chip and Buster stripped down to their jockstrap, I became fearful that the boys would expect me to follow suit. I didn’t have a jockstrap. I would feel like the odd-man-out.

Chip and Buster walked into the kitchen, opened the frig and grabbed another plastic bottle of juice. Chip grabbed one and tossed me a bottle. Despite drinking the juice all day long, I didn’t feel hungry. I had not eaten anything since breakfast, but I did not experience any hunger pangs. I finished my bottle and hook-shot the empty into the recycling can in the corner of the kitchen.

Chip and Buster then walked into the living room, turned on the large-screen TV and sat down on the couch. The others were also in the living room, except Hardwick. I watched the boys as they became quiet and reserved.

What happened next shocked me. Gay porn flashed on the TV. Chip, Buster and the boys became captivated by the scenes of hot, muscled studs stroking their dicks and shooting their loads. And then, on cue, the boys whipped out their dicks and started stroking their cocks. “What the fuck is this?”, I thought to myself. “This is some crazy shit.”, I thought as I kicked off my sneakers, removed my sweatpants and Henley, stripped out of my Calvins, sitting in between Chip and Buster. My dick was as hard as diamonds. I could not believe what I was doing but as I stroked my dick, the words flowed from my mouth. “Bro, this is awesome!”

Chip and Buster said, “I know, Bro. Awesome.”

Hardwick then entered the room and passed out these devices. “It’s a fleshlight. You fuck it like pussy.”, Hardwick said to me. “Cum inside the fleshlight.”

“Thanks, Big Bro.”, I said. I assumed he was the ‘big bro’ since he was in charge. When he finished passing out the fleshlights, Hardwick took his seat and stroked his cock.

Seven studs, naked and sitting on a couch, watching porn, jerking off with a sex toy. The situation should have freaked me out, but not today. I couldn’t wait to shoot my load. I could not wait to … and then my body spasm as I released what had to be a quart of semen. The boys and I howled for what seemed minutes as we climaxed in concert. I don’t remember anything after that. I think I passed out.


Hardwick watched his ‘hunks’, all passed out from the monster orgasm. He collected the fleshlights and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He poured all the seminal fluid into a metallic device that looked like a still. After he activated the device, Hardwick watched the device process and purify the seminal liquid into a pure white creamy milk-like substance. As the device distilled the cream, Hardwick returned to the living room and passed out the fleshlights again. He would collect two or three specimens from the boys. Tonight, he hoped for three.


I opened my eyes, stared at the TV, this hot Brazilian with a cock that had to be a foot long. My cock bounced and rubbed against the fleshlight resting between my legs. I slid my cock into the fleshlight enjoying the fake rubbery lips on my shaft. I pumped my cock in and out of the sex toy for minutes, as did my bros. I could not wait to shoot my load and when I did, I filled that fleshlight with another quart of my man-juice. “Bro, … this … is …”, I said, right before I fell unconscious.


Around 11:00pm, Hardwick climbed down the stairs carrying two large covered buckets of distilled ‘juice’. He walked into the kitchen, opened the frig and grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup which he added and mixed into the distilled cream-like juice. He made sure to add extra chocolate as the addition of ‘Greg’ may add some additional salt to the mix. Once he finished adding the chocolate syrup and stirring it in to the ‘juice’, using a funnel and metal pitcher, Hardwick filled the empty bottles he recovered from the job site and the recycling bin. He then placed the bottles of juice in the frig, ready to feed his boys for another day.

Hardwick walked into the living room and stared at his boys and Greg. He shook his head. He knew Greg would never be the same, just as Chip and Buster would never be the same. Even in one day, Hardwick noticed the change in Greg’s physique. He had shed inches of fat, the oily substance literally oozing from his pores as he exercised. Greg’s muscle popped. Within months, Chip, Buster and Greg would look like the others. “Maybe I could turn them into exotic dancers.”, Hardwick thought. He wouldn’t even have to change the business name. ‘Hood Hunks’ would work just fine.

For now, Hardwick had to get to sleep. It was almost 11:30p.m.


The next morning, the boys and Greg awoke at the sound of the alarm, 7:30a.m. They filed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of ‘juice’ to start the day. From there, the boys meandered into their rooms, looking for their work uniforms. Greg walked into the living room after finishing his bottle of ‘juice’ and searched for his clothes. He found his clothes in a pile in the corner of the living room. He did not remember putting his clothes there, but he was grateful that he found them. As he donned his clothes, Chip and Buster climbed down the stairs. Chip asked, “Bro. you gonna join us at the gym?”

“Bro, for sure. After we pack the house.”, I said.

Hardwick walked into the living room and asked, “You doin’ anything this summer?”

“I was just gonna hang out. My plans got all screwed up with the divorce and move.”

“You can work with us. Doesn’t pay much, but, if you need a place to live, you can live here.”, Hardwick said.

“Big Bro, that would be awesome.”, I said.

Hardwick smiled. “Big Bro.”, Chip said, “I like that. Can we call you that?”

“Yeah, Chip. You can call me ‘Big Bro’.”, Hardwick said, smiling. “Let’s get in the trucks guys. Time to work.”

I followed the guys out of the townhouse and entered my car. The morning traffic turned a ten-minute drive into a twenty-five minute pain in the ass, but that was okay. I felt alive, energized and ready for the day.

When I got out of my car, I walked up and said hello to my mother. She stopped in her tracks. “Who are you?”, she said to me.

“It’s Greg. What do you mean ‘who are you’?”, I said.

“Greg, you look so different … you … you like Chip, but brunette and … beefcake.”, my mom said.

From behind, Chip had stumbled onto the conversation. He stood next to my mother and said, “Look at him, Mrs. V.” My mother leered at me, her 22-year old son. (To see Greg, https://64.media.tumblr.com/8dd5c6d56e5eee2326d3cca7277e1434/580e9e8a8db18504-1a/s500x750/d6028520aa8ae7650eaaebcabb0cb6c8f16f81cd.jpg). “He’s a ‘hood hunk’.”

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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