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Life Store, The: The Thieving Three
|The diminutive Man turned the key in the lock and opened the door to his store, looking over the various clothes and knick-knacks on display. Everything was in its proper location. He hardly cared about the things in his front room; they were rarely purchased, mainly because he didn’t even bother to try and sell them. It was the backroom that he had invested so much time and effort into – and that was much more difficult to break into.
He flipped up a hidden panel to reveal a fingerprint scanner, then pressed his thumb on it. The screen turned a green color and he heard the familiar unlocking sound. He pulled on the metal door and saw the file cabinets, back changing room and table. The thought of all that had happened in this room – lives changed, memories made, memories LOST – made him smile.
The three juvenile delinquents walked down the sidewalk side-by-side, blocking the walkway for other pedestrians. Jimmy, Kyle and Bruce weren’t exactly hoodlums, per se, they all had beds that they could go home to at night and knew who their parents were. Instead of being forced to be tough to survive, they just caused trouble because they thought it was fun. They’d been bounced in and out of various detention centers and regularly cut school, just because they could. What was the point of school when you could go get high? Jimmy and Bruce were of average height for their fifteen years, but Kyle was much shorter than both. Though he was a year younger, he stood at just about five feet even, whereas the other boys were around five-five or five-six. Their skin was harsh and unwashed, covered with the acne of adolescence. Their lips were chapped by the dry air, their hair was stringy and their teeth hadn’t been brushed in a couple of days. “Dude, fuck my parents, y’know? My Dad dropped me off at school today and didn’t even notice that I walked across the street, AWAY from the school. He’s so fuckin’ stupid.” Kyle kicked a stone across the street as he spoke. Bruce spat. “I know, dude. They’re so retarded.” Jimmy stuck his hand out and stopped his friends. “There’s a cop across the street, guys.” His friends immediately whirled around so as to avoid being seen – or, worse, sent back to school. “Let’s go in here.” They all scurried through the doorway into the store.
Man heard the bell jingle as the three entered the store. Their voices had the annoyingly fake street accents that made them sound desperate to be ghetto. He smiled to himself. New customers. When he walked out of the back room, he saw them all huddled in the corner, with the shortest one occasionally peeking out onto the street. “The cop’s gone, guys!” They started to move toward the front door, but Man spoke before the reached it. “Can I help you young men with anything?” They freezed. Fuck! They’d been spotted. They all turned slowly around. “Uhhhh, no…” Jimmy stammered. “We’re good.” Man walked right up to them and began his usual selling routine. “You seem on edge, guys.” He took Bruce’s hand in his own and began reading his palm. “Wow, this is interesting.” “Fuck you, dude!” Bruce pulled his hand away. Man apologized. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to violate your space. How about you come to the back?” The three exchanged looks, then answered in unison. “Nahhh.” “No, really, I insist.” Kyle’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’s in the back?” “Everything you ever dreamed of, kid.” “Yeah, right. Let’s go see.” He turned around and cocked an eyebrow to Jimmy and Bruce, who both shrugged and followed.
Man walked into the room and pulled open the file cabinets. “Boys, I have made the greatest breakthrough in the history of science. Imagine, being sick of yourself, of your parents, of school, of your body. Imagine being able to take a pill and get rid of all of it, and give yourself a perfect life.” Jimmy snorted. Man pretended not to notice the teens’ smirking faces and continued. He’d been through all this before. “Imagine it was true.” He pulled out a bag and read the paper stapled to it. “Charlie Perkins, 23 years old, British rugby player.” He put that away, thumbed through the various files – “Athletes,” “Businessmen,” “Models” - and read another. “West Landry, age 18, good ol’ American cowboy.” The boys burst out laughing. “This is fuckin’ crazy, dude.” Jimmy patted his slightly flabby stomach. “I’m pretty proud of this thing.” He and his friends shared a laugh, and Man stuck the bag back into its proper file, slightly annoyed. “Let’s get outta here, fuckers.” Bruce spun a 180 and headed for the door. Man, with agility that surprised his young guests, sprang in front of it. “I’m sorry…but I can’t let you leave. You might reveal my secret.” Bruce, Jimmy, and Kyle slowly walked backwards as Man advanced, his voice suddenly thick and threatening. “You have to take the pills now.” “Fuck that shit.” Bruce launched himself toward the door, but in one swift move, Man grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him backward. Bruce whirled around and Man moved with him - just catching a glimpse of Kyle’s fist before it smashed right into his face. Dazed by the blow, Man let go of Bruce and fell towards the ground. His head ran into one of the file cabinets and he tumbled to the cement floor, unconscious. The metal cabinet shook from the force and the boys could hear the pills rattling inside. For a few excruciating moments, all was quiet. The only sounds were the boys breathing. Kyle spoke first, uncharacteristically frightened. “Is…is he dead?” “No, you stupid fuck, he’s not dead.” Bruce took hold of Man’s wrist. Jimmy was perplexed. “What’re you doin’?” “Taking his pulse. It’s the only thing I ever learned in health class. And, since he has one – no, he’s not dead.” Jimmy walked to the door. “Let’s get outta here. Still no cops.” They quickly bolted.
Kyle, Bruce, and Jimmy walked down the street. Though they’d done worse than knock a person out before, something was bothering them, and they couldn’t shake it. It was like they’d randomly grown consciences. Except for Jimmy. “Look what I got, guys.” He semi-cackled as he reached into his back pocket and withdrew three familiar-looking bags. “Duuuuuuude!” Bruce grabbed them out of his friend’s hand. “I didn’t even see you taking these! You’re good!” Jimmy bowed. “Thank you, thank you.” Bruce flipped them over. “There ain’t no paper attached to them!” Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows. “There was when I took ‘em…weird.” “Whatever.” Kyle reached for one and nabbed it out of Bruce’s hands. “Let’s take ‘em!” “They’re probably Ketamine or somethin’,” said Bruce. “I say we don’t.” “Ketamine’s a powder, stupid. And if it’s a pill, it doesn’t look like this. These look like fuckin’ Advil or somethin’. If they get us high, who the fuck cares?” “I guess.” Bruce handed the second bag to Jimmy, who took it greedily and tore the bag open and popped the pills in his mouth without saying a word. “JIMMY--” Bruce and Kyle saw the motion in Jimmy’s throat as the pills went down. They stared at each other, shrugged, and swallowed theirs as well. “Feel anything?” “Nope. You?” “Nuh-uh.” They both turned to Jimmy. “Don’t look at me, nothin’s happening.” They all started laughing about how crazy the Man was, and moved on down the sidewalk.
When Man’s eyes lazily rolled open, all he could see was the ceiling, paired with the sound of silence. He slowly stepped to his feet and braced on the table for balance. His head felt like it was being smashed under a rock – what a killer headache. He rubbed his head and grabbed some Tylenol. It was when he was walking toward the front that he noticed the still-open file cabinet, and all memories came flooding back to him. Those damn kids! He flipped through the files, and sure enough, his inventory was off. Three were missing. He hit the file cabinet in frustration. Then, he remembered something: the computer chips. Maybe he’d be able to worm a payment of some kind out of them after all. He opened his computer account and typed in his username: “lifestore1.” Password: “getAlife.” Double-clicking on a folder resulted in a new program pulling up: “Wireless signals.” He looked at the chip’s serial number written on the back of the physical manila folder it was contained in, then typed it into the appropriate box. Another window, full of coding, opened. Man smiled and began typing.
“So, where should we go?” Kyle’s hands were stuck firmly in his pockets. Bruce shrugged. “Dunno, don’t care. What about you, Jimmy?” Jimmy stared down at the pavement. “I don’t care either.” A shadow passed over Bruce’s face, and Kyle took a step back. “What’d you say, Jimmy?” Jimmy looked up, pissed. “I said I don’t care, you prick!” Kyle’s eyes widened. “Dude, Jimmy…what’s…what’s wrong with you?” “Nothing’s wrong with me!” Bruce stepped forward and stared into his friend’s face. “It’s your voice…it’s like it changed, or somethin’. And, holy shit…your skin…” Jimmy reflexively touched his cheeks, suddenly aware. “Oh, God. Yours too.” Bruce realized that the voice coming out of his mouth was, too, different than it had been. Both their voices were no longer at the awkward pubescent stage – they’d deepened and anchored into a bass resonance, with clear diction and no trace of the street accent. Jimmy’s acne-plagued complexion had, in a matter of seconds, become completely clear. Bruce’s pimples had also disappeared, but his skin was still sweaty and oily. “What’s wrong with my skin, Jimmy?” “Look at your hands, man!” Jimmy massaged his suddenly-protruding Adam’s Apple as he spoke. “You’re so dark!” Bruce looked at his bare arms. What had once been burnt, slightly red skin was as deeply tanned as possible, completely even. He could tell by how natural it looked that it was real, untouched color. “Oh, fuuuuuckk…what’s wrong with us?!” He looked wildly at his friend. “What’s that on your face?” Jimmy rubbed his cheeks and heard the sandpaper noise his fingers made. “Nothin’, nothin’…that’s been there,” he lied. Bruce walked up and began to rub Jimmy’s cheeks too. “That’s a beard! AUGH! Christ!” “Nnnnnnngggghhhh…” The voice behind them wasn’t as deep, but still resonated with masculinity. Bruce and Jimmy stared at Kyle as his body contorted and stretched right out of his clothes. His feet burst through his shirt and he tugged, painfully, at his T-shirt. Mentally, Kyle was desperately trying to stop the change, but no relief came. It wasn’t the pain that frightened him – he didn’t have any. What was scary was the orgasmic pleasure. Bruce stared as the shortest member of their club sprouted into the tallest, at a strapping six-four. He could feel the cum dribbling down his legs and staining his pants. This was the best feeling ever. Jimmy’s hair was changing color to an almost-platinum blond, with a light beard to match. He, too, was growing fast, his legs stretching out of his pants. His cock was bulging in his stolen khakis, with the big balls heaving and rock-hard stick stretching straight outward. His skin was getting darker and darker, but not as dark as Bruce – that boy’s skin had transitioned to the sexiest combination of olive and golden. His beard was starting to fill in, with jet black stubble sprouting on his cheeks. The growth matched his new hair, which had gone from the original thick black curls to a straight, sleek mane, touching his cheeks and mixing in with the sprouting whiskers. “Jimmy! Stop it!” Jimmy’s eyes had bugged out of his face as he saw Bruce’s features changing right before his eyes. “I’m not…DOING THIS…AAAUGH!” He scratched his face as his beard filled out and clawed at his polo shirt. The buttons had long since popped across the alley and his pec cleavage was pushing through the collar. His nipples were completely erect and so hard that they began to tear through the fabric like knives. He tried to adjust his blossoming bulge, but hiding it was impossible. It was a man’s cock on a boy’s small, if hysterically muscular, body, and the massive appendage looked ridiculous. Kyle could see his friends morphing into studs right before his eyes, and he knew the same was happening to him. He had become very tall, and his shaggy hair had become shorter. When he ran his hands through it, he could tell it was only about three inches long. His face had been a little chubby now, but when he touched it with his fingers, he could tell it was changing. And indeed it was. Kyle was the first of the three to start looking like an adult – his sideburns grew in and his jaw sharpened, becoming so firm and chiseled that it looked as if it could cut stone. He had deep-set grey bedroom eyes hooded by his inviting eyebrows, and a perfect, sloping nose. He could feel his back pushing outward and his shoulders broadening – pecs had popped out on his chest, finally ripping his see-through t-shirt all the way from top to bottom. His abs were chiseled and defined and his biceps were massive – but not as massive as feet and hands. The appendages – with his cock, in addition – were so huge they seemed almost disproportionate to his body. All at once, Kyle realized he was developing a swimmer’s body, with a rock-hard chiseled torso and wide shoulders. He scratched under his armpit and found that the hair had disappeared, then felt for pubes. There were none. But as his hand searched for the hair, it instead found his smooth, shaved, monstrous dick. Grasping his new manhood made Kyle moan with pleasure, sending waves of ecstasy through his quivering body. Bruce’s arms ached so badly that it felt as if they would fall off at any moment. They hung at an angle and were swelling with muscle. He had sprouted a trim goatee and grown several unmistakable inches, becoming taller, wider, and much more handsome. Of the three new men, Bruce was by far the most muscled, with every muscle popping out of his clothes. His biceps were the size of his head, and his pectorals jutted out like rocks from a cliff, overhanging a canyon of abs. Small rips appeared in his tighter-than-tight jeans…small rips that became big rips, with his massive quads and hamstrings bursting through. His fly was beginning to unzip itself under the pressure of his monstrous genitalia. He could feel the metal zipper pushing against his cock and it made him even hornier, causing him to cum even more than before. “FUCK!” He leaned against the wall and brushed his cascading black hair out of his eyes, staring down at the blond hair of Jimmy, who was quickly growing to meet Bruce’s new six-foot height. Kyle still towered over his friends and was growing continuously more fascinated and turned on by his body. Power began to surge through it, pumping him up even more. He grabbed his pants with his big hands, and, with a power that even caught him by surprise, tore them off easily, like a stripper removing his chaps. His cock practically unrolled and he began to violently jack off, spraying cum all over the sides of the alley walls. Jimmy had undergone the most dramatic change of all. His legs had started cramping at the beginning, and when he’d felt them, he’d discovered the massive muscular growth of his calves. The growth spread up his whole body like a blessed, wanted virus. His eyes changed to a baby blue so light that the sun shimmered off it, and his sun-kissed blond hair and beard completed his new California surfer look. His cheeks shifted to be higher on his face and when he smiled, newly-formed dimples appeared and framed the bleached-white, perfect teeth. Bruce’s brand new Italian-stallion body was almost done developing. His height had topped off at six-one, with 240 pounds of muscle and zero-percent body fat. His jeans had ripped and all that remained was the waist and top of the legs, leaving him wearing a pair of denim cutoffs. The waistband of his briefs had snapped and he pulled the underwear out through the bottom of the cutoffs, which left his rock hard cock poking out, running down his leg. His ass was thickening, becoming larger and sticking out like a shelf from his rock-hard body. The cutoffs started to ride higher and higher on it, and he grimaced and grinned at the same time as the denim cutoffs started to look more like a denim thong, clinging tightly to his ass and crotch. He looked up and stared at Jimmy and Kyle, each of the former boys panting against opposite sides of the alley. No one said anything, but each one made an expression of discomfort as the chip started its work.
Man shut down his computer, stood up, and waited. Any minute now. He heard the jingling of the bell and heavy footsteps. A man’s voice groaned, and Man smiled. Their bodies had betrayed them. He popped a pill in his mouth, sipped a glass of water, and walked out. He stood behind the main counter and looked over the three studs before him. “Hello, gentlemen.” He didn’t know which boy had become which man, but they were all gorgeous in a different way. There was the Italian bodybuilder, the hunky one, with thick lips and thicker muscles. The surfer was the cute one, with those dimples, piercing eyes and shaggy blond hair, and the muscles that glowed with tan perfection – a tan that was built into his genetics, since Man couldn’t do it any other way. The surfer, Jimmy, would have seemed completely wholesome and All-American if it wasn’t for the sleeping snake curled up in his bulging shorts. He was the only one who had been able to keep his shirt on, but it was wrapped strictly around his heaving pectorals and pointy nipples. Then there was the Olympic – oh yes, he was an Olympian, he just didn’t know it yet – swimmer. The six-four man was 180 pounds of sleek swimming perfection, with big size-15 feet that could propel him through the water. Of all the men, he was the most stunning. His features weren’t cute like Jimmy’s or exotic like Bruce’s. Instead, they were sharp and chiseled, like a model’s, with the defined cheekbones and afore-mentioned jaw. If the whole swimming thing didn’t cut it, a modeling contract for Speedo might. “Come into my back room, please.” The men looked at each other – with Kyle taking a quick glance at Bruce’s protruding dick – and then followed Man in. They knew he’d already won. With every step, Man grew, and the other men began to take notice. He slowly pulled off his polo shirt as his body outgrew it; then undid his belt buckle and dropped trou. The slight gut became a eight-pack, the short legs grew long and strong. Pretty soon, Man was six-six, with the flowing hair and beautiful features that so many transformees at the Life Store were familiar with. Kyle was staring more intently at Bruce’s penis, poking out of the leg of its denim prison. It was so long and hard, so manly, a symbol of Bruce’s newly-discovered adulthood. Man took notice. “Do you want that?” Kyle quickly changed the direction of his gaze. “Oh, uh, no, no.” His erect cock told another side of the story. Jimmy had discovered his blond hair and beard and was becoming borderline-obsessed with it. “Shit, I look like that guy in the Fast and the Furious.” Man slowly slid his briefs to the floor and stood before the three completely naked, rubbing his rock-hard chest. “Except you’re even more gorgeous than Paul Walker, Jimmy. You’re a god, you know that? A god among men. All three of you are.” He walked up to Jimmy and ran his finger over Jimmy’s blond, trimmed beard. “Mmmm, that’s so soft and silky. You’re quite the pretty boy, aren’t you? Those nice, plump muscles.” He gripped Jimmy’s big bicep. “And your tan is so deep. Don’t you just love what hardcore surfing does to a man?” Jimmy just stared with his pretty baby blues, with his big chest heaving, the open-collared polo going up and down with it. Bruce had started to finger the ripped denim on his bronzed and buff legs, lightly touching his cock as well. Man sat on a swivel chair, with his big cock resting between his legs. “You know, boys…uh, gentlemen, you took two pills. One was for your body, and one was for your mind. As you know, your minds are still the same.” There was silence in the room. Jimmy began to fiddle with his polo, running his big, veined hand along the front of his pecs, then sticking it inside the shirt. Man smiled. “Rip it off.” Jimmy grabbed the collar and tore the shirt right down the front. “Unnnngh, fuck, yes.” “I don’t appreciate you boys stealing thousands of dollars worth of work from me, you know that. I want to paid in full, but since you probably have no money…I have others ways of payment.” Kyle was adjusting his hard-on in his pants, becoming increasingly more aware of his own beauty and sexuality. “Touching yourself, swimmer-boy?” Man smirked at Kyle’s blushing cheeks. “Don’t be ashamed of it. I know our Italian Stallion over there is getting pretty turned on by your hot body, too.” Cum began to leak out of Kyle’s granite dick, and he wiped a tear away. “Bruce, I…I just…you’re my friend! But, you’re so fucking damn hot now…GOD…” He was beginning to slowly jack off, his hand running up and down on the inside of skintight pants. Man walked over and leaned down to the computer, with his bare ass sticking straight up in the air. He typed something on the keyboard of the computer, then hit save. Bruce stared at Kyle pleasuring himself, completely ignoring Jimmy, who was becoming completely enamored with his own gorgeous reflection. Even staring at so simple an act as masturbation made Bruce look sexy, with his silky, glistening goatee that surrounded a pair of pouty lips, and his square, masculine face framed by his thick black hair. “Kyle, your hands…they’re so big, so sexy.” Bruce could barely believe the words he was saying. The chip had been activated, he could tell. His deep voice was now thickly accented, making it sound as if he’d been born and raised in the heart of Italy. Kyle was becoming so much more attractive in his eyes, and as he stared straight up into those deep greys and grabbed Kyle’s massive hands in his, they began to kiss. Jimmy turned and stared at his two friends making out. He gaped as they slammed against the wall, hands and arms and limbs intertwined, getting more and more passionate. Sweat poured down their faces, and Kyle leaned his head against the wall, giggling and groaning all at once. Bruce kissed his lips, then slowly moved down his friend’s ripped body, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his pecs, his abs, his clothed dick. “Siete bei, ti amo. Lascilo vaffunculo…” Jimmy was becoming, slowly, less shocked and more titillated. Man stood up and walked over to the beefy, bronze surfer, blocking Jimmy’s view. Jimmy stared up at Man, half-faking a dimpled smile. “What happened to them?” “The same thing that’s happening to you.” Jimmy smirked, for real this time. “Nothin’s happenin’ to me, dude.” “What’s your name, then?” Jimmy opened his mouth to state the simple fact, but nothing came out. He fingered a lock of his blond hair nervously. “Uhhh…oh, shit…” “See?” “No! No, it’s right on the tip of my tongue.” “Then how old are you?” “25,” came the instinctive reply. “Wait, no! No, I think I’m…oh, God! 15! I’m 15!” “What’s your name?” Man moved closer to the stud’s whiskered, plump lips. “Jagger.” “Really?” “Fuck, I think so…jesus, I’ve got such a fuckin’ headache…” Bruce and Kyle were rolling around on the floor, passionately fucking the daylights out of each other. Strength coursed through their veins and bulging, rippling muscles. They moaned and screamed. “I want you to focus on me, Jagger.” Man set his palms on Jagger’s chest, one on each pec. “Tell me all about yourself?” “Auuuuuughhhh, JESUS! Where’d this beard come from? What HAPPENED to meeeaaaaAHHHH…” Jagger rubbed his trim blond facial hair and grimaced. “My HEAD! GOD!” He raised his arms above his head and slammed his hands into the wall, showcasing his triceps. “Tell me about yourself, Jagger.” “I’m a pro surfer, dude. Can we talk about this later? My head…GOD!” “No. Now.” Man’s voice was firm. “My Dad was a surfer, too. He made me do it when I was little but now I fuckin’ love it. Makes me a shitload of money, too.” “How old are you, and why did your Dad name you Jagger?” “I think I’m 25…I’m not sure. And my Dad, he just loves the Stones, man.” Man sighed. “Okay, then. Does the name Jimmy ring any bells?” “I went to school with a kid named Jimmy, I think. Fuckin’ hated him.” “Was he skinny, kind of streetwise, with bad skin?” For a second, Man panicked at the thought of any kind of subconscious memory of the former person. “No, he was a fatass. I picked on him ‘cause I’ve always been fuckin’ hot, dude.” Jagger smiled genuinely, chuckling over his own beauty. His dimples were visible through the blond whiskers on his cheeks, and his straight pearly-whites shimmered. Man sighed with relief and changed the subject. “Ever modeled, Jagger?” “Fuck yeah. Easy money.” “How old are you?” “25 years old, dude. March 29th, 1980.” Man kissed Jagger straight on the lips, then pulled away. “Did you like that?” Jagger looked very confused. “Uh-huh.” Man kissed him more passionately, and Jagger kissed back. “Ever made it with another man, Jagger?” “Nah, dude. I’ve lost count of all the girls…” Man began to kiss and suckle Jagger’s thick neck, but the surfer kept talking through the euphoria. “I think I may even have a kid, but I dunno. Don’t really care, either. All I know is…” He started laughing out loud from the soft sensation of Man’s lips on his chest. “…girls fuckin’ love surfers.” Man felt Jagger’s powerful hand wrap around his head and pull him closer, tighter. “Come on, dude. I wanna know.”
Kyle and Bruce’s session was interrupted by their changing minds. Kyle grabbed his head, just as the former Jimmy had done seconds before. “SHIT!” Bruce slammed his head against the wall. “AHHH!” He slid his big hands down his big cannonball pectorals, past his cobblestone abs, and down to his groin. “NNNNNGGHHHH…!” Kyle rested his head helplessly on Bruce’s golden abdomen. “You, sir, are a beautiful man.” Bruce’s white teeth were visible through his black goatee and dark, Italian skin. “Sì e così siete.” Kyle continued to grip his head. “AUGH…that’s beautiful…what’s it mean?” The accent was very thick, but the English was perfect. “It means ‘yes, and so are you.’” The swimmer smiled his model smile, still showing off his formidable beauty. “Why, thank you…what was your name?” “Il mio nome è Giuseppe. Oh, my apologies…English, of course! My name is Giuseppe. What’s your name?” The stud licked his lips and grimaced more. His teeth were as perfect as Jagger’s and Giuseppe’s, and his waxed, shaved body shimmered with sweat. The muscles popped from his chest, perfectly defined. He stared at them in amazement. “My name…uhhhh…” “Surely you know your own name?” Giuseppe leaned down and kissed him tenderly. “It’s Drake. Drake McDonald.” “I believe…have I heard that name?” “Olympics. I won a couple medals.” They kissed more passionately, becoming so fascinated with each other that they couldn’t resist. Giuseppe was so beefy and masculine, and Drake had a body like the David of Michelangelo - tapered and toned. Giuseppe stuffed his other, free hand down Drake’s underwear, then rolled on top of him. “Where do you live, amante?” “I just moved here, actually. Still looking for a place,” Drake said. “As am I!” Drake smiled wickedly. “Wanna be roommates? Before Giuseppe could answer, Man broke free of Jagger’s confines and swaggered over, offering a hand. “Get up. Lovin’s over.” Giuseppe lifted his brawn up off the floor and Drake bounced up onto his feet. Jagger wiped his mouth and half-walked, half-stumbled over to the other two hunks. Man opened up another drawer and sorted through files. “I have clothes for all of you., which you obviously need, even though walking around downtown naked is very tempting, both for you…” He smirked. “…and for me.” He pulled out several items of clothing and set them on the table. “For our exotic muscle stud here…what was your name?” “Giuseppe Giordano.” “Right, right, Giuseppe. For you, a Camp shirt. This’ll cling to your muscles like glue.” Giuseppe obediently began to button the shirt up the front, leaving the top several buttons undone which left his pecs bursting out of the open. “And here are some nylon pants – also clingy. Like the grommets up the front, like a football player?” “Yes, that’s nice.” The stallion pulled them on and tucked the shirt in, making his waist look smaller and his shoulders look broader. He slightly loosened the string on the front of his crotch, which made his bulge even more massively obvious and intensely sexy. When he walked, his thunder thighs rubbed together, generating muscular tension. Every time his massive legs touched each other and his big balls bounced with a step, he sprang a boner – as did others, as well. “Jagger, for you.” Man tossed a bright blue nylon/spandex male bikini swimsuit to the surfing stud, who immediately ripped off the shredded remains of his old clothes and pulled on the new item. His big pecs bounced as he moved and his biceps bulged, and the suit accentuated his big cock and pert ass. “Let’s cover up those Tootsie Roll nips, Jag.” Man seductively pulled a black, skin-tight tank top over his protégé’s ripped torso, which did nothing to cover the imposing nipples – and sculpted physique – at all. Drake got a pair of Speedo jammers, snapping to his thick thighs and meaty cock like a second skin. He gratefully took a white t-shirt, size small, from his benefactor. It clung to his big arms and wide, powerful chest, emblazoning the Olympic rings across his pectorals. To cover his big feet, he got a pair of leather sandals. Jagger got flip-flops; Giuseppe got expensive Nikes. “Well, gentlemen, the satisfaction of meeting you all is my payment.” Man slowly rubbed his hard-on. “You look fantastic. This is as far as we go together…enjoy your new lives.” The three hunks were thoroughly confused by this statement, but left without asking for an explanation. Drake and Giuseppe walked down one end of the street, Jagger headed towards the beach. Watching through the window, Man smiled. Shit, he loved this job.
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