Today was a day off for Alvin—the first in quite a while he could spend all on himself. Usually, he had other errands to do, other business to attend to, but today was, truly and genuinely, a break. The first thing on the agenda was going to the gym. After all, it was a much-needed break from working, not working out.

Since it was a Thursday morning, Alvin was hoping that none of the local fags that went to his gym would be there to harass him. He figured they probably had jobs and would be too busy to go to the gym at this hour.

Truth be told, Alvin didn’t really mind so much that there were fags who worked out at his gym. He supposed they had to be working out somewhere since the majority of them looked like they spent all day in the gym, but still, he wished that they would just leave him alone.

It wasn’t that Alvin had anything in particular against fags. Sure, he thought they were disgusting and that what they did was a crime against nature and against God, but he wasn’t one of those backward Christians that called for society to get rid of them.

As long as the fags weren’t bothering him, Alvin was fine with having them around. It wasn’t like they were harming anyone. In fact, he didn’t understand why people got so up in arms about fag marriage. It wasn’t like the government was suddenly going to force straight men like himself to marry fags.

The issue Alvin had was when they got it in their heads that he wanted to make small talk with one of their queer asses. It really made him angry. More so because he suspected they were trying to pick him up and it was a bit insulting that they didn’t realize he didn’t swing that way.

Normally, Alvin couldn’t give much of a fuck about fags. The only reason he was even thinking of them right now was because of the one that had approached him as he was getting dressed in the locker room, last night.

Up until that point, Alvin had been having a pretty great day. He’d managed to get all his work done in advance of his day off, and he’d managed to pick up a date with the hot new receptionist at the building. The idiot fag just had to ruin it all by coming on to him in the locker room.

The fag had even had the gall to look offended when Alvin said, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t swing that way. As if Alvin was stupid enough not to know that the fag’s motive was to get in his pants.

Alvin grunted and shook his head. He didn’t even know why it made him so angry. It was just so gross the way that those fags looked at him like he was a piece of meat.

There was no point dwelling. If there were fags there, Alvin would live with it. It wasn’t like they could hurt him even if they wanted to, and he could defend himself if they tried to start some shit. He just wanted to have some peace while he pumped his iron. As long as he got that, he figured he would be happy.

---

Even though he’d worn them to the gym probably more than a hundred times in the years he’d had them, Alvin’s clothes felt inexplicably scratchy on his skin. He couldn’t, for the life of him, think of why. He hadn’t changed his detergent or fabric conditioner, and he’d washed them the same way he’d always done.

Whatever the case might have been, the prickling Alvin felt against his skin was outright intolerable. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would feel once he’d soaked the fabric in sweat, and in truth, he didn’t want to know.

Luckily for Alvin, not only was there a sports attire outlet on the way to his gym, but he’d also decided to walk to the gym today. Trying not to look too suspicious as he scratched himself through his clothes, he popped into the shop to take a look at what they had on offer.

Though they weren’t his typical fare, Alvin found himself drawn to the tank tops and compression shorts. He had been meaning to buy new gym clothes for a while now. Today felt as good a day as any.

Without really thinking too much about it, Alvin pulled a red tank top and black compression shorts off the rack. He followed the store signage to the fitting rooms in the back and wasted no time in trying on his potential purchases.

As he was looking at his reflection in the mirror in the back of the changing booth, Alvin was dismayed to find that he’d gotten clothes a size too small for himself. He hadn’t even noticed until he’d taken a look at the way that they stretched over his muscles, leaving very little of the definition he’d worked so hard to get to the imagination.

Briefly, Alvin considered taking the clothes back. The size he had on was currently on sale, but not his actual size. Money wasn’t much of an issue, but perhaps it would be more prudent to get clothes that were in his actual size. That being said, Alvin didn’t really mind the tightness of the clothes.

Even though the tank top and shorts were too tight, they weren’t uncomfortable at all. The fabric was quite breathable and the way that they hugged Alvin’s skin felt rather lovely. The feeling of the soft fabric against his skin as he moved around in the little booth had given him the beginnings of an erection.

The stirring in Alvin’s groin didn’t register as particularly weird, though he was aware of it in the back of his mind. He was more enamored with the way that the tightness of the clothes showed off his body. He wasn’t an exhibitionist by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d worked hard to get where he was and it only felt right to be a little proud of the progress that he’d made so far.

Alvin popped a pose in front of the mirror and grinned. Yeah. He liked the way that the tank top stretched taut across his firm, muscular chest. He was going to buy it. Along with the compression shorts. Not just because they were comfortable, but because he looked good in them.

---

As he walked up to the till to pay for his new clothes, Alvin couldn’t help but feel pumped. The clothes had felt so good just trying them out. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much better they would feel once he was working out in them. He was so fired up he barely even noticed the scratchiness of his old clothes on his back.

The voice of the cashier pulled Alvin back to the real world. "Good morning, sir," said the guy. As he placed his purchases on the counter, Alvin looked the guy up and down. His nameplate said that his name was Ben, which Alvin figured actually fit his appearance.

"Morning," said Alvin. Ben was pretty wiry, his uniform hanging somewhat loosely off his shoulders. Pity, since he would have looked great with just a little more muscle on him. Since Ben had such pretty eyes and a great jawline, Alvin was sure he’d have no trouble picking up ladies if he just put on a little meat.

"Do you have a membership card, sir? These are already discounted, but if you have one, I can take another 10% off your purchase," said Ben, giving his best customer service smile.

"I do," said Alvin. "But I don’t have it with me." Ben would have made a great ladies’ man if not for the unfortunate fact that he was a fag. Alvin had guessed as much walking up to the counter, but it was really the way that the corner of Ben’s mouth curled in a wry little grin after he looked Alvin up and down that really convinced him the guy was gay.

The pride flag tattoo on the underside of Ben’s wrist was just more evidence as to Alvin’s correctness. And that was fine. He didn’t mind fags as long as they didn’t come on to him, as long as they kept their distance and respected the fact that he was straight.

Predictably, though, the fag just couldn’t resist Alvin’s hot body and good looks. "That’s okay, sir," said Ben. "If you give me your cell number, I’ll be able to look you up in our system and apply the discount through there."

Like hell, Alvin was going to give his number to a fag. Ben was being so fucking transparent it was laughable. If he gave his number now, even if it was to get a bigger discount, he was sure he would hear from the fucking queer sooner or later, and that just wasn’t something he wanted in his life.

The strangest thing, though, was that Alvin felt like his body wasn’t reacting to his anger. He felt as if his jaw should be clenched, but it wasn’t. His fingers should have been balled into fists at his sides, but they weren’t. In fact, anyone looking at him would probably think that he was perfectly calm.

Even worse, somehow, Ben’s attention was making Alvin’s cock stir in his pants. It wasn’t enough to be visible, but he could feel the blood going down there, the faint buzz of horniness in his loins. Even though no one could see, it was fucking embarrassing. He was not getting turned on because a fag was ogling him.

"Sure," said Alvin’s voice, even though he hadn’t even thought of saying anything. More words spilled out of him, not necessarily against his will, but definitely without his input. "Do you have a pen I could use to write it down?"

"Sure, sir," said Ben. He pulled out a small scrap of paper from under the countertop and set it down in front of Alvin with a pen. "Please write clearly and legibly, sir, so I don’t have to ask you for clarification."

Alvin felt like there was a vein in his head about to burst. The fag’s sheer temerity enraged him. He could handle suggestive looks and shit like that, but the fag was openly flirting with him. And he wasn’t responding. Not in the way he was supposed to. Other people around might start thinking he was a fucking cocksucker too.

"Of course," Alvin heard himself saying. "We wouldn’t want you to get confused just in case you have to take a look at my number again later, for security reasons."

Alvin looked down at the piece of paper and what his body had decided to write of its own accord. His phone number was there, alright, but also, inexplicably, the words "call me" followed by a little heart with a wink emoticon next to it.

To say that Alvin was mortified was the understatement of the decade, but things got even worse than he could have imagined. When Ben turned the paper around to face him and smiled with that adorable little smile of his, Alvin felt his body flex a little and say, "Like what you see, Ben?"

A couple of guys one lane over chuckled. One even muttered "fucking fag," under his breath before shaking his head. Alvin felt so humiliated, violated, and enraged that he could have burst into flames. He wanted nothing more than to reach over the counter and strangle Ben, but his body did nothing.

"Oh, certainly, sir. This number is very clear. It’s exactly what I wanted. I won’t have any trouble following this at all," said Ben as he gave a flirty little wink to Alvin. He typed the number into his computer, pulled up Alvin’s membership, and applied the discount to complete the transaction.

As the receipt was printing, Ben took out his phone and made a show of entering Alvin’s number into his contacts list. "I hope you enjoyed your experience here today, sir, and we hope to see you back soon," said Ben, with a grin.

Even though the only thing that Alvin wanted to do was storm out of the place, he rather calmly walked out, looked over his shoulder, and waved goodbye to Ben before continuing down the street to his gym.

---

The brief walk to the gym helped dissipate the rage that Alvin felt in the pit of his stomach. He was in control again, now, for the most part. He wanted to turn back around and warn the faggot from the sports store never to call him, but however hard he tried he just couldn’t get his body to obey.

Alvin had no idea what was happening to him, but it was clear there was nothing he could do about what had already occurred. He figured it was best to just put behind him because there was no use ruining his whole day over it.

For a moment, Alvin stood in front of his gym and took a deep breath. He still hadn’t entirely recovered from the feeling of being a prisoner in his own mind, but he figured that a good, long workout would probably help him get his shit back together.

Luckily for Alvin, it didn’t seem like any of the patrons he’d long ago branded as fags in his mind were around. There were a few new faces, but a cursory examination of the way that they acted gave Alvin no reason to concern himself. He made his way to the locker room and got changed. He couldn’t wait to get started.

As soon as Alvin had pulled on his tight new tank top and compression shorts, he was raring to go. He launched into a harder, more intense workout than he had planned, but just as he’d expected the tight new clothing felt so good against his skin as he moved.

Between the sensations of the soft fabric moving in tandem with his body, Alvin sank into a sort of trance before long. This was the best part of working out for him, getting to just lose himself in the mindless repetition of the motions, putting all the stupid worries and concerns that he had as an adult out of his head and just getting to enjoy the burn of his muscles.

Unfortunately, the meditative state didn’t last for very long. Alvin realized halfway through a set of barbell squats that every single other guy in the gym was staring at him.

Alvin had no idea what they were looking at until he lowered himself into another squat and heard the almost-erotic grunt that he’d let out. He froze, knees bent, hands wrapped around the bar, ass sticking out behind him. What the fuck.

Shaking his head, Alvin coughed and straightened his legs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Most of the guys got back to their workouts and, strangely enough, he felt a little disappointed they weren’t looking at him anymore. "Focus," he told himself, under his breath. What did it matter if anyone else was watching him?

Alvin lowered himself into another squat. As soon as he did, he let out a loud, sensual groan. He wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, but he was sticking his ass out as far as it could go, and everyone was staring at him.

A strange flush of heat flooded Alvin’s chest and throat. Guys he’d thought were straight were openly ogling him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of his longest-time gym buddies licking his lips.

Alvin was furious. People he’d thought were safe to hang around with were showing their true colors. He felt like a fucking piece of meat and he wanted to scream at them to stop looking at him. But his body refused to do any such thing. Instead, he had to go along for the ride as he did another squat and moaned, even louder.

God. Alvin could only imagine what he looked like. He had on a too-tight shirt and a pair of too-tight shorts that looked incredibly tiny on his large muscular frame. Worse than that, he was sticking his ass out and moaning like a cheap whore every time he did a squat. He looked like a total fag and yet for some reason his cock was rock hard in his shorts.

Alvin had had enough. He needed to get himself out of the gym before he embarrassed himself any further. His body, however, continued to refuse his commands.

Every squat until Alvin finished the set was accompanied by increasingly sensuous moans. He was drawing so much attention that other members of the staff had come by to watch. Everyone seemed spellbound by his performance and the strangest thing was that a part of Alvin liked it. A part of him was basking in the attention.

God. Alvin had no idea why he was so fucking horny all of a sudden. Every time someone new came in, or someone who had been elsewhere returned to watch him, his cock jumped. He was getting so turned on there was a spreading patch of wetness in the front of his compression pants.

Once the squats were done, the spell seemed to break, and most of the people returned to whatever they were doing, albeit with some snickers and a couple of derisive whispers about Alvin’s sexuality. Control, however, remained frustratingly out of Alvin’s reach.

The anger Alvin felt earlier curdled into terror as his body proceeded to do increasingly provocative things with pieces of gym equipment.

The worst of the lot happened while Alvin was doing bicep curls. He practically crawled onto the bench, grunting like a porn star as he picked up the dumbbell and flexed his bicep. The moment he saw for certain that someone was watching him, he arched his back and pushed out his ass, making sure to put on a show for the guys.

Alvin felt violated. It was as if his body was whoring him out to the fags that attended the gym, and not as a dominant top with a big cock, either, but as a bottom bitch with a big ass and thick muscle tits. It was near obscene the way that his body pushed out his chest while he was using the chest fly machine.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, then, that one of the guys Alvin had thought was straight approached him. If he’d had a problem before with the occasional fag that came up to him to hit on him, he knew for certain that they’d be more emboldened than ever thanks to what he was doing.

Alvin imagined clenching his teeth as the guy approached. His body did no such thing and instead waved in greeting. "Hey, John," he heard his own voice say.

"Sup, Alvin, bro," said John. The corner of his lip was curled up in a little smirk. He was handsome, and the way that he looked at Alvin made Alvin’s stomach flutter. "You never told me you liked these kinds of clothes," he continued, walking right up into Alvin’s personal space.

If any man did that to Alvin while he was in control, fag or not, they would either get punched across the face or shoved ten feet across the floor. Fortunately for John, Alvin wasn’t in control. His body stood there, relaxed, not even flinching when John lightly caressed his chest.

Alvin felt his body puff out his chest even more. "I just bought these today," he heard himself say. John reached up traced a finger along the inside of the tank top sleeve. "Do you like it?" said Alvin.

"Bit small, aren’t they? But I guess that’s why they look so good on you…" said John. He pulled his hand away from Alvin’s chest and moved it down to trace his fingers over the ridges of Alvin’s chiseled abs. "They really bring out your muscles…"

John took a deep breath and a step back. His gaze raked over Alvin’s body. The attention, the scrutiny, made Alvin’s cock jump. He was starting to feel a little fuzzy in the head, and he didn’t like it. Another man’s attention shouldn’t be turning him on the way that women fawning over his body did. He wanted to scream, but he knew no one would hear it.

"God… I wish I had a body like yours…" whispered John, as he licked his lips and rubbed a thumb down along Alvin’s side. "You don’t mind me touching them, do you, bro?"

Alvin imagined the sensation of bile rising in the back of his throat, but in truth, there wasn’t any. He wanted to be sick, but he couldn’t be. He felt trapped, and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could even think to try. He was powerless to stop himself as he struck a pose and said, "I don’t mind…"

"Fuck," said John, doing little to hide the way he adjusted himself in his gym shorts as he squeezed Alvin’s bulging biceps. "I don’t know how you manage to keep your hands off yourself, man… If I had a body like yours I’d spend all day rubbing my hands all over it… You’re so fucking hot."

"You’ll get there eventually," Alvin heard himself say as his body clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. The silence lingered an awkward moment too long as Alvin fought tooth and nail to regain control over himself. Alas, the effort was in vain and his body refused to budge so much as an inch.

If he could have, Alvin would have shivered as he felt his body lean in to whisper in John’s ear. He didn’t care anymore that John was a fag. All he wanted was for someone to help, someone to know that he was trapped in a body that was no longer his to command.

Alvin’s tone, which should have been pleading, instead came out as low and sultry. "Maybe you just need a little help getting motivated… In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind letting you feel me up. Call it practice and inspiration for when you get a body like mine…"

John seemed shocked for a moment, but his surprise didn’t linger. He grinned. "Wow, bro. I didn’t think you were… you know. Mmm… I like where you’re going with this." The corner of John’s lip twitched into a little smirk. "If you really mean it, I get off work at 6:30. You can come over at 7… Or I can go to your place."

Alvin felt his own lips twitch into a smile. "Your place works," he heard himself say. Few things had ever made Alvin want to cry. This was one of them. He was about to get fucked. Well and truly fucked. Literally.

"I’ll let you get on with it, then, bro," said John. He winked at Alvin. "I’ll be looking forward to later. Text me, yeah?"

"I was actually just about to wrap up, and yeah, I’ll text you later," said Alvin. After John had started walking away, he added, "Oh, and just for the record, I’m not."

"Not what?" said John, glancing over his shoulder.

"You know… gay," said Alvin. One of the other patrons in earshot burst out laughing. It felt like a dagger to the heart.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, man," said John, his lips twitching. Alvin watched, cock throbbing as John’s shoulders shook with barely-contained laughter.

---

The moment he entered the locker room, Alvin took off all his clothes. A couple of the guys gawked at him as he walked around with his cock swinging hard and free between his legs. The more people looked at him, the hotter he felt in the pit of his stomach, and the more pre-cum dripped from the tip of his hard member.

After setting his gym bag down by his locker, Alvin went straight for the showers. He tried his best to ignore the way that his body stood in the middle of the open floor, luxuriating in the spray from the showerhead. If there was any way to escape his own mind, Alvin would have, when his body decided to spread its legs and bend over, back arched, to soap his feet and legs.

After he’d rinsed off, Alvin went to the sauna wearing nothing but his skin. There were two other guys in there, clearly a couple, and they made no secret that they were eying Alvin. He grinned and flexed his muscles, making his cock jump and flooding his veins with arousal.

Alvin hated it but he was powerless to do anything to stop himself as his body struck pose after pose, showing off his hard-won muscles. He could see that the two fags were hard, but nowhere near as hard as he was, especially after he gave himself a few quick strokes before leaving just to be a little bit more of a tease.

It wasn’t until his body had forced him to flirt with a few more fags and he was half of the way home that Alvin seemed to regain control of himself.

The sensation of finally having some command over his body was so overwhelming that Alvin had to pull over to the side of the road and just take a moment. His arms and legs were shaking, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

After a few minutes, Alvin managed to calm down. He had no idea what was happening to him, but he could only hope it was temporary. If it was, then he figured the best thing to do was to stay out of public places at least until it passed. Since it was his day off anyway, he didn’t mind locking himself in his apartment at least until he felt confident he would be able to maintain control of himself.

Still uncertain but at least with a plan of action, Alvin drove the rest of the way home and tried his best to put the events of the day behind him.

---

At around 6:45 PM Alvin got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as his body started moving on its own again. Fifteen minutes earlier he’d gotten a text containing John’s home address, and he’d ignored it. Now, his body had picked up the phone and had sent a reply that he was on his way.

Despite everything, Alvin had managed to enjoy the rest of his day after the gym. He’d had a good bite to eat, and had caught up on his favorite shows of the season. He’d felt as if he was in control again, only for it all to come crashing down.

Feeling anxious and apprehensive, but only in his head was such a mind-fuck for Alvin. He didn’t know what to do, or what to think. Everything was spinning out of his hands and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt like he was drowning and breathing at the same time and it was the worst sensation he’d ever experienced.

Under the crushing weight of it all, though, was an undercurrent of arousal that only grew as Alvin got closer and closer to his destination. He was wearing his tight new clothes again, and a look down between his legs showed off the obscene outline of his hard cock against his thigh. He was so fucking turned on, and by the idea of having a fag touch and play with his body, too. It was absolutely horrifying and yet he couldn’t deny that it also felt good.

Alvin felt his heart thump against his chest as he stepped out of the car and walked up to John’s front step. He rang the doorbell once and waited. Less than twenty seconds later, John was greeting him with a broad grin. "Come in, bro! I didn’t think you’d show," he said.

As the two of them walked along to the quaint little living room, John gestured at the couch and said, "Sit down or something, man. Make yourself at home."

"Nice place," Alvin heard his own voice say. His feet carried him, unbidden, toward the couch. He leaned down and placed his fingers on the glass of the coffee table, reading the titles of the books underneath. "And don’t mind if I do," he said, settling his weight into the sofa as he threw his arms over the backrest.

"Want a drink, bro? Or something else?" said John, leaning forward over the back of the couch.

"A shoulder massage would be nice," said Alvin. He craned his neck up to look at John. He smiled. "My shoulders are feeling a little bit sore from the workout I did earlier…"

"Hell yeah, man. My friends say I’m great at that," said John, his grin nearly splitting his face in half. Alvin had to admit, the guy had talent. His fingers were deft and really worked the muscles of his neck and shoulders rather well. It felt good enough that he forgot he was in a fag’s house waiting to get fucked, for a moment.

John didn’t let Alvin forget for long, though. John’s hands slowly made their way down his torso, gently tweaking his nipples and then rubbing all over his abs before grabbing at the bottom hem of his tank top. "Why don’t we get this dirty thing off you?" said John.

Alvin felt his body put his hands over his head as John pulled the shirt off him. He heard himself grunt as John reached down and squeezed his cock through his compression shorts. "What’s this? This muscle seems to be really straining. Maybe I can help with it…"

"Oh, fuck… Yeah, it’s been like that since I got here…" said Alvin, winking up at John as he spread his legs.

John walked around to the front of the couch and knelt in between Alvin’s legs. He reached up, grabbed the waistband of Alvin’s compression shorts and pulled with all his might. Alvin pushed his ass off the couch to help, as John said, "Let’s see what you’re packing here, bro."

"Fuck, that’s big," said John, as Alvin’s hard cock sprang free of the tight confines of the compression shorts and the jockstrap he was wearing. John leaned forward and rubbed his face against it. "Mm. I can tell it’s really hard. I think I need to use a special technique for this one, bro. Don’t worry, I’m a master at this."

Alvin’s back arched off the couch as John took him all the way down to the root in one go. Not even the sluttiest girl he’d been with had been able to take him like that. For once, his body and his mind were in agreement. John was fucking good.

"Fuck. Yeah, John. Just like that," Alvin said, his broad fingers winding their way into John’s dark locks. Some small part of him was disgusted that he was letting a fag do this to him but at the same time there was too much pleasure to let that little quibble get in the way of enjoying it.

Low, guttural grunts and moans escaped Alvin despite the insistence of that small voice in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be enjoying this. His cock jumped particularly hard as John’s fingers reached up to his chest and tweaked his nipples, rubbing reverently up and down the chiseled musculature that he’d spent so long nurturing.

With a groan and a wet pop, John pulled off Alvin’s cock. He wiped the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand and licked his lips. "Fuck, bro. You taste so good… Now I want a piece of that cake."

Despite being bigger by far than John, Alvin felt powerless to stop him. John grabbed Alvin’s legs by the backs of the knees and pushed them into the air. The cool draft made Alvin’s hole twitch, but it was quickly replaced by John’s warm breath ghosting over his crack.

No. No. No, no, no. Alvin couldn’t believe this was happening but however much he willed his body to leave, he was stuck there. He’d even grabbed his own legs. He was pulling them apart to give John as much access as he could.

A low, needy moan escaped Alvin as John’s tongue swirled around his sensitive, virgin pucker. The feeling of that hot, wet muscle sliding across his most private place sent electric shocks of pleasure up his spine and pulled a glob of pre-cum out of his cock.

John masterfully tongue-fucked Alvin’s hole for a few minutes, leaving him a panting, gasping mess at the end of it. "Please," he said, breathlessly, his body eager for more even as his mind rebelled against the very notion. "Please…" Alvin’s body begged. "More!"

If he could have, Alvin would have screamed as he felt John’s cock against his hole. It was nowhere as big as his, but it was just as hard. He didn’t want this. This was the ultimate humiliation. He didn’t want to be unmanned and yet it seemed that he would be powerless to stop it.

With nary a word of warning, John slipped inside of Alvin’s twitching fuckhole and buried himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The intensity of the sensation sent pleasure exploding across every nerve of Alvin’s body and for a moment, he lost himself in the rapture of it all.

Alvin had scarcely recovered when John pulled most of the way out, leaving just the head in. His scattered thoughts were beginning to pull back together, and then, John snapped his hips forward and the world went white yet again.

The pleasure was such that Alvin regained control of his body five minutes into the fuck but didn’t realize. He took John’s cock like a man and bucked his hips into the thrusts when he wasn’t satisfied with their depth or power. It felt good, so good. He didn’t realize, until it was over, that he was fucking himself on another man’s cock of his own accord.

---

It had been months since the day that Alvin first lost control of his body. It hadn’t gotten better, only worse. These days, he only had control of himself at best half an hour before bed at night, and only when he wasn’t getting fucked to sleep.

Alvin used to have a tight, chiseled form, akin to Michelangelo’s David, but he’d grown a fair bit since the first time he got his muscle ass fucked. The fags at the gym loved how big he was. His muscles were obscene, swollen to the point that they wouldn’t fit properly in any standard clothing.

Whatever resistance Alvin had, in the beginning, had since faded. It was just easier to give in to all of it. He didn’t even consider himself straight anymore, because it was clear that his body had turned him into an exhibitionist muscle fag. He knew in the back of his head he would have much rather been with women, but there was no point. There was no escape.

Alvin still had his bad days. His mind was still intact, even after months. He felt as if he was in a hell of his own making, and there was nothing he could do about it. His body got him through those days. Had he been in control, he probably would have just curled up in a corner.

It was so much easier for Alvin to not think about it. It was easier not to think pretty much at all. At least getting fucked felt good. He was actually starting to enjoy it. Given enough time, Alvin hoped, his mind would change to fit what his body had become. He had never thought it would get to this at the start, but now he was praying that whatever god had inflicted this curse on him would just go the whole way and turn him into the sloppy muscle fag that his body had already become.