Fitness Club

Schlong

Henry seemed like a competent twink in terms of advertising himself. He wore a tight, pink v-neck that showed off his lithe, toned torso. His shorts, covering three-fourths of his thigh, snugly hugged his rear, even pushing it outward a bit. He wasn’t dressed slutily, though his status as a young gay man was a bit obvious, but he outfitted himself in a way that displayed his assets to any interested parties. That’s why I’d originally assumed he’d come to the Foundation to further himself as a twink, wanting a thicker ass or a talented mouth, but he surprised me to say that he was entirely displeased with his mode of participation in his sexuality. He said he wanted to be bigger, bulkier, and irresistibly masculine. His main complaint seemed to be that other gay men tended to assume he was submissive and cock hungry like most other twinks out there. When he was honest with himself and told his prospective lovers that he was sexually dominant by nature, wanting to fuck more than anything, he was laughed at.

The client’s concerns seemed valid enough, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the littlest bit of sympathy for the self-professed boy-toy who wanted to become a real man. I led him deep into the Foundation, a fairy godfather aiming to grant his wish to the best of my capabilities, until we arrived at particularly ostentatious door. Padded in leather with a golden handle, it spoke of hedonistic luxary, and the candy pink, neon sign above seconded the theme by proudly declaring, “Schlong!”

I invited Henry inside, and he eagerly followed. He was clearly no stranger to the club scene, but I could tell he was surprised by what we had to offer. Drenched in a rosy lighting was a huge, energetic crowd of go-go dancers. They filled the nightclub, seemingly matching the attendees on a one to one ratio. They were gorgeous specimens, bulky and chiseled, with a boundless amount of energy. Every one of them threw their everything into a provocative dance, and none of them mimicked another.

No sooner had we arrived than one of these performer made his way over to us. His exposed abs were glistening from sweat above his drenched thong that barely served to hold the considerable member held within. Henry gawked, awe-struck, and the dancer laughed at the younger man’s blatant interest. His voice was deep and uninhibited in volume, and the dull expression in his gorgeous eyes conveyed that there was little in the way of thought going on upstairs. I think Henry never got past that charming smile, however, as when this man invited him out on the dance floor, he eagerly accepted.

I watched from a distance as the dancer dragged Henry by the hand, dopily guffawing until he let go. He turned to face Henry, smiling salaciously as he pressed his own chiseled physique against Henry’s thigh in leisurely, paced thrusts as he stared into the younger man’s eyes, smiling. Henry, in turn, began to grind against the dancer’s beefy thigh. He met the older man’s gaze, yet he didn’t smile. Too enamored with the pleasure, he merely gasped and moaned in time with the music, clearly enjoying having his groin pressed against the performer’s brawny, exposed body.

Henry’s face began to flush, matching the neon pink that he was bathed in and I took care to avoid, and he began to move faster. His professed dominance clearly asserting itself, he seemed to derive great enjoyment railing into a man twice his size, even if there was no penetration, and surprisingly, the dancer seemed into it. Henry slowly began to lead things, allowing his unfulfilled lust to take the reigns. All the while, the dancer slowly rotated, presenting his hardened ass to his partner on the floor. If my client noticed this, he didn’t show an ounce of surprise. He pounded into the dancer as if the clothes separating them didn’t exist, and the entire time the dancer just kept on shining his flirtatious smile, moaning with Henry’s every thrust.

Sweat began to drench Henry’s clothes, rendering his tight v-neck nearly invisible over his toned body, and this made it extremely apparent when his torso started to swell. I was subtle at first, mistakable for a trick of the dim, pink lighting. Then his pecs began to strain against the meager t-shirt, stretching it thinner than it was even before. Henry’s abs became more pronounced, no longer just flat but also meaty and defined. His arms sprouted from his sleeves like tree trunks from flower pots, his biceps growing to be the size of soccer balls. It wasn’t long before a loud ripping sound echoed from across the dance floor, and Henry was left shirtless, his former v-neck discarded at his feet.

Henry barely paused to regard his ruined clothing, instead putting on a charming smile and emitting a deep, hearty laugh that was alien from his mouth. He looked back to his dance partner, idly grinding up against his inviting rump. He continued to bulk up, muscles growing with a hardened tone, but as he did the grinding began to slow back down. His hands around the dancer’s hips, Henry barely bumped up against him, intimate and yet entirely disengaged. Both of them continued to stupidly smile, eyes glazed over with empty expressions, until another rip was heard.

All at once Henry’s shorts fell down around his legs. They were about as brawny as the rest of him by this point with thighs that could match an Olympic champion’s. Covering his groin was an orange thong, one Henry seemed surprised to see, and within was a considerable package, one even bigger than the dancer’s, surprisingly enough, thought entirely flaccid. Henry and his dance partner stared at the thing, occasionally prodding it like two dumb primates in captivity, before taking note of Henry’s other new asset. His rear, already tantalizing, was now irresistible. Barely restrained by the thong, the perkily protruded from his backside like two melons ripe for the tasting.

Henry regarded his rear for a moment before slowly exploring it, caressing it with hands, while the dancer watched, smiling. Unnoticed, the man circled my client, taking in Henry’s backside with a lecherous look in his eyes. His own massive cock was equally flaccid, he too gave attention to his bottom. Turning to show Henry, the dancer’s hand slowly slipped into the backside of the thong, delving deep into the crack of his luscious behind. Henry followed suit, reaching to slowly massage his new pucker.

I heard his moan clear across the dance floor as Henry’s fingers reached his eager hole. Being a firm top, Henry had never before experienced pleasure in having his hole toyed with, but now something had changed. Firecrackers of euphoria went off in his mind as his touch so much as lightly brushed up against his hole. His legs felt weak and rubbery. His face was crumpled into a mask of pure pleasure. His cock, now simple meat on the front of his body, didn’t so much as twitch from the sensation, yet Henry had never experienced better in his life.

Enjoying himself in much the same way, the dancer smiled at Henry, happy to see his impromptu mentoring a success. He removed his hand from his thong, gesturing for Henry to follow. My client nearly didn’t notice to offer, to self-absorbed in his own pleasure, yet he somehow managed the willpower to withdraw his hand as well and follow. The dancer didn’t take him far. Next to a particular bank of pink lights was a single dildo left unoccupied. Henry looked at the toy, looked at the dancer, and then rushed for the dildo.

I watched Henry for hours after that, dancing his own unique dance. There was no doubt he was just one more of the go-go dancers now, as everyone became when exposed to enough of the pink light. He was also just as muscled and masculine as he had wanted to be, however, and though it was unlikely he’d never experience of sexual dominance again, he did have that excellent schlong.

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