Off The Page

My internet pen name is ‘Richard Shaft’. Maybe you’ve read some of my erotica. I’ve got a good little niche, writing stories about straight guys who get transformed into oversexed gay muscle jocks.

I’m won’t tell you my real name – I keep my real life separate. I’ve got a good career as an accountant. It’s not exactly exciting, but it’s a reliable nine-to-five.

The story I’m about to tell you isn’t one of my usual yarns. Most of the time I’m making the whole thing up. This story is completely true. This story happened to me.

It all started in my attic. The previous owners used it as a guest room, but I’ve transformed it into my ‘erotica office'. The stairs are behind a locked door and there aren’t any windows. I’m always paranoid that someone’s gonna figure out my kinky little secret, so I like to keep everything hidden away.

It’s got everything you’d expect from a typical writer’s office – a desk, a decent chair, a comfortable couch. It’s also got pinup posters of my favourite porn stars, the kind of stuff I’d never be brave enough to hang where a visitor might see it. And I’ve got a whole shelf of erotica books from my favourite authors.

It’s the one space I let my fantasy life breathe. I do all my writing there on an old iMac – the colourful kind. It’s retro, but I like it.

It was Saturday night and I’d been pounding away at a new story all afternoon.

Pete, my protagonist, was a hot twunk in college who could transform other guys into gay muscle jocks by making them swallow his cum. Original? Who cares – it gets me off, and my fans love it too.

Sometimes, when you’re a writer, every word is a struggle. Lucky for me, this story was FLOWING. Sometimes a character just comes alive on the page and tells you what’s happening. Pete was doing the writing, I was just his stenographer.

I was about halfway through writing the story – Pete had just dosed his roommate’s protein shake with his cum. His roommate was transforming into a horny rugby player, big and beefy and ready to fuck.

I love this feeling, when the character takes over. All I had to do was keep my fingers moving. It doesn’t even feel like writing, it just feels like channeling the muse. Whenever this happens, I know it’s going to be a great story.

Unfortunately for the muse, it was late and my coffee was empty. I pushed away from my desk and went downstairs. I needed a refill.

It was thundering outside. The storm had been going hard for hours, though I could barely hear it in the insulated attic – it’s cozy up there. Down in the kitchen I could see ominous flashes of lighting. My quiet suburban street looked like something out of a horror movie.

I set a fresh cup brewing and stared out the window. I was feeling great. When a character comes alive, it’s the biggest high I know.

That’s when a bolt of lightning hit the power line outside my house. I saw sparks fly and the whole house was plunged into darkness. I felt my stomach clench – did I remember to save? I didn’t know, the last time I remembered saving was last night.

The power flickered on and the coffee pot resumed its soft gurgle. I ignored it and hurried up to the attic.

My computer was rebooting, the ancient hard disk churning as it loaded the operating system. It seemed to take forever. I always felt kind of retro, writing on an older computer, but now I was wishing I used my tablet.

It loaded, eventually. I clicked through my carefully organized folders, waiting as the drive churned each time, finally double-clicking on my story.

The file was wiped clean.

Completely blank.

It felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Everything was gone, even my draft notes.

“No,” I moaned to the empty room. “No, no, no....”

Dammit. Pete was a great character. He dominated every scene he was in. He took what he wanted and used people like toys. He was young, hot, and powerful – basically my antipode. Even if I rewrote the story... I’d never get him exactly the same.

Was it even worth trying?

I put my head on the desk and moaned.

Another moan answered me.

“Uhhhnnnnn...” I heard from across the room. A low moan from behind the couch. I jerked my head up and spun in my chair. Someone was in the room with me. In my sanctuary.

What the hell?

My heart was racing. Had someone broken into my house? A coworker who’d figured out my secret? A deranged fan?

My stomach unclenched when I caught a glimpse of him. There was an attractive young man behind the couch, unconscious and just starting to come around – he didn’t look like much of a threat. He moaned and winced at my concerned face.

“Whaaa?” he asked, his voice youthful and light.

He struggled to sit up. The guy was young, maybe twenty or twenty-one. I missed that age, where you could be hot without even trying.  But this guy clearly worked out – he was wearing a sporty blue tanktop and a pair of track pants. His rounded muscle was clearly visible. Shaggy brown hair over manic eyes. Peaked eyebrows. Tan skin.

“What happened?” he moaned, struggling to sit up. He gave me an uncertain smile. Perfect teeth and plump lips.

It couldn’t be...

Athletic. Handsome. Young. That was exactly how I’d described Pete.

“Are you alright?” I asked, kneeling down and steadying him.

“Uh... yeah?” he said, his eyes darting around the room. He was looking at the pin up posters. I could see his eyes grow curious. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my house,” I said.

“Oh...” he said with a confused expression. “I’m Pete. Did... did the magic go wrong?”

“What magic?” I asked. This was impossible. Pete was just a story...

“Nothing,” Pete said dismissively. “Forget it.”

I took a deep breath.

“Did you trick your roommate into swallowing your magic cum?” I asked.

“How did you know that?”

“And now Chaz is a gay rugby bro?” I asked.

“Seriously dude,” Pete said, backing away a bit. “How do you know that?”

“Okay,” I said. “This is gonna sound insane but... I was just writing a story about you. There’s a lighting storm outside and... something happened. And now you’re here.”

“Huh?”

“Holy shit,” I said, the full weight hitting me. “You’re actually here.”

“You wrote a story? And I was in it?” Pete asked with confusion. “Are you like... God or whatever?”

“No, I’m just an author,” I promised. “I don’t know how or why... but you came alive. Holy fuck... you came alive.”

“So where am I?” Pete asked. “Where’s Chaz?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But you’re in my house. You’re in the real world.”

“Shit...” Pete laughed. “This can’t be real. My magic must have gone wrong.”

“But magic isn’t real,” I said. “At least... not in my world. It only works in stories.”

“Even my cum?” Pete asked with alarm. “Dude... my cum’s still magic, right?”

I helped Pete up and sat him on the couch.

“I don’t know,” I said, sitting down across from him. “I mean... I doubt it. There isn’t any magic here. You can’t just transform people, that’s not real. It’s just a shortcut, something that happens in stories. Like your story...”

“But you’re the author,” Pete pointed out. “You’ve been writing it, so you’ve got the magic. You make it happen.”

“Yeah... on the page. But I can’t do shit in the real world.”

“Please?”

“I’m not... look, I’m sorry Pete,” I winced. “It’s just not possible here.”

“You don’t wanna try?” Pete begged. “Maybe you swallow a load, we see if it still works. Worst case, you get to suck me off. Best case...”

“No,” I interrupted. “Pete, I swear man... it’s not possible.”

“Fine,” Pete spat with a pissed off look. “If my magic doesn’t work in this world, then I don’t wanna be here. This is screwed up. I wanna go back to my dorm.”

I bit my lip and glanced at the computer. The cursor blinked at the top of an empty document.

“I don’t know how,” I confessed. “Like I said, this was all an accident. I don’t know how you got here. And I don’t know how to send you home.”

“C’mon bro,” Pete urged me. “Maybe you don’t know... but there’s gotta be someone who can figure it out. Like, at my college, there’s always a professor who knows how to answer your questions, no matter how wild they get. Isn’t there someone here....?”

“I don’t....” I said cautiously. He didn’t get it. Life’s not a story, there isn’t always a character ready to help.

Was there?

The kid just wanted to go home.

“Maybe...” I said with caution. “I’m gonna call my buddy Ken. He’s an electric engineer, and he writes erotica too. I can ask him about this. But Pete – I don’t think this is in the textbook.”

“Whatever,” Pete said eagerly. “Let’s talk to him. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe.”

I took Pete downstairs. I felt weird letting him see the rest of my house, but I couldn’t keep him locked in the attic forever. We sat at the kitchen table while I called Ken.

Ken didn’t believe me – honestly, he thought it was some kind of role play thing. I couldn’t blame him, that’s what I’d think too. He didn’t want to drive in the storm, but I wore him down until he finally agreed to come.

I poured my coffee and sipped it while Ken drove over. It was surprisingly awkward, chatting casually with an erotic fantasy while we waited. Pete was sexually overcharged and no matter what we chatted about it always turned to flirting. Thank god the bell finally rang.

Ken was soaked from the storm.

“Seriously, this better be good,” he complained. He was dripping all over my entranceway, but I didn’t care, I just went to grab him a towel.

When I came back he was standing at the kitchen door, staring at Pete.

“You seriously hired an escort for this?” he asked.

“He’s not an escort,” I said. “He’s a character from my newest story. Except the file is blank now, and he’s real.”

“For real bro,” Pete nodded. “This is weird for me too.”

“So you weren’t lying?” Ken asked.

“Pinky-swear,” I promised.

I took Ken and Pete up the attic stairs to my office. Ken and I met up every couple of months – he’s the only ‘real life’ friend I’ve got from the erotica community – but I’d never let him go upstairs before. We usually hung out in the kitchen and swapped story ideas. Once we tried to hook up, but it turns out we’re both committed bottoms.

“So this is where you write,” Ken smiled, glancing around at the pinups. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

“This is the file?” Ken asked, looking at the empty screen.

I nodded and glanced at Pete.

“Hey, I don’t know anything,” Pete protested. “One second, I’m about to fuck my roommate, then suddenly I woke up in Narnia.”

“Okay,” Ken chuckled. “This is gonna take a while, and there are no guarantees.” He glanced at the coffee in my hand. “Any chance you’ve got another cup?” he asked.

“I’ll get it!” Pete said quickly. “Sorry, I just... I wanna be useful for something.”

“Cups are above the sink,” I smiled. Ken and I both took a moment to watch Pete turn and walk down the stairs. We’re both well established professionals. It’s been a long time since I checked out a college guy’s ass.

“Look, Richard,” Ken said, calling me by my nom de plume. “I gotta admit, I don’t know if this is even possible to reverse. An hour ago I woulda said the whole thing was insane. But nobody is that good of an actor... at least not in porn,” he shrugged.

“Erotica,” I corrected absentmindedly. We’d spent plenty of hours arguing about terminology.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ken said. “So he came from your story. Which means the power surge through the computer did something to create him.”

“I created him.”

“Okay. The power surge... downloaded him. Into our world.”

“So what’s the fix?”

“This isn’t Star Trek,” Ken sighed. “We can’t just reverse the polarity on... hmm...”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up a second.”

Ken stuck out his tongue and started to sketch out a diagram on my notepad. I recognized a lot of the symbols from science class in high school, but I really didn’t remember what they meant. After a few minutes he bit his lip and took a deep breath.

“Okay...” he said. “Maybe I have an idea. We don’t know how this happened, but maybe we can run it in reverse. Upload him back to the computer.”

“You think?”

“It’s just a guess. Do you have wire cutters?”

“I’m an accountant...” I chucked.

“How about a knife?”

Ken worked quickly, sending me around the house to fetch little bits of electronics to be sacrificed. Pretty soon my erotica office looked more like a science lab.

“Hey,” Pete said, finally showing up with the coffee. “Here you go. Any luck?”

“Making progress,” Ken muttered as he twisted two wires together. “Mmm... this is really good. I guess you finally stopped drinking instant,” he joked.

I stayed quiet and let him work. It took maybe half an hour, but eventually Ken had wired up my computer chair to a control panel and had given everything a final check.

“Okay,” Ken said, taking a long sip of his cold coffee. “Here’s the deal, if Pete sits in the chair and flips this switch, then maybe... and I mean maybe... maybe he’s return to –“

Ken’s cup hit the ground and shattered.

A second later Ken thudded down next to it, his body seizing and convulsing.

“Ken!” I shouted, crouching down and trying to hold him still. His muscles were twitching and his eyes were open, his gaze disturbingly unfocussed. “Get my phone,” I yelled toward Pete. “We gotta call an ambulance!”

“Wait,” Pete grinned. “I spiked his coffee with my cum bro. This is it.”

“You did what?!”

“Magic’s real bro,” Pete said giddily. “Told you so.”

I stared down at Ken. He was getting bigger as I watched, his average body swelling with huge amounts of growth. His skin was stretching across his bulging muscle and glowing with an orange tan. His beer belly was vanishing, replaced by a powerful core. His messy grey hair got shorter, forming itself into a tight grey wedge.

“This is impossible,” I gasped.

Ken’s clothing was fading away, revealing a totally smooth body. He looked powerful and vital. It only took a few seconds, but my middle-aged friend had been transformed from an average schlub into a bodybuilder wearing nothing but a neon orange posing strap.

“Nah bro,” Pete laughed behind me. “Nothing’s impossible, not now.”

“Whoa...” Ken rumbled in a deep bass. His hazy blue eyes landed on me and he gave me a carefree grin. I got hard just looking at him. “Bro... that was like, totally fucked,” Ken laughed.

“What did you do?” I grimaced, glancing back at Pete.

“I made him into a slutty bodybuilder,” Pete laughed. “C’mon Richard, you wrote me dude. You know what I can do.”

“That’s just fiction!”

“Not anymore,” Pete grinned.

“What’s wrong?” the new Ken said, standing and stretching his neck. “Dude, you’re like... totally freaking out.”

“This is impossible,” I said bluntly.

“And you’re denying reality,” Pete shrugged. “If it happens, it’s not impossible.”

“Ken, are you okay?” I asked, struggling to focus on my friend. Struggling to comprehend that the massive stud in front of me was the same man.

“Mmmm... I’m horny,” Ken said, groping at his cock through the thin fabric of his poser. He stuck out his tongue and laughed.

“Good,” Pete grinned. “I like my boys horny.”

“Hey, let’s slow this down,” I said. “Let’s just sit down and talk about what happened.”

“Fuck that,” Ken said, glancing at Pete with a hungry look. “Dude, let’s hit the bedroom and fuck, huh?”

“Sit down,” I said, pointing at the couch.

“C’mon dude, I want your cock in me so bad...,” Ken laughed easily. He stepped forward and squeezed my hard cock through the fabric of my slacks. “Besides dude, you want my ass, don’t pretend like you don’t.”

“Oh yeah,” Pete laughed behind me. “Still got it.”

“Slow it the fuck down,” I said, backing away from Ken’s grip. “I’m not gonna fuck you.”

“Aw dude, don’t be a spoilsport,” Ken rumbled. “I’m horny. I wanna fuck. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Maybe Richard needs to taste my cum,” Pete said. I glanced at him. He had a devilish look in his eye. “What do you think Richard? Wanna be a horny muscle slut like Ken?”

“Oh man!” Ken clapped excitedly. “Do it! Do it! Do it!” he cheered, pumping both fists in the air.

“Look at that,” Pete chuckled. “Don’t you want to join your friend?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I think we all just need to take a deep breath and –“

“C’mon Richard,” Pete pressed. “You know you want it. Why would you have written all those stories if you didn’t want to be a jock, huh Richard?”

“I... I... it’s just fantasy,” I insisted.

“Sure,” Pete shrugged theatrically. “It’s your fantasy of being a wrestler, or a football player, or a porn star...” he said, pointing at the pinup posters around the room.

“It’s just fantasy!” I choked. “I write erotica, okay? I like to pretend, I like to imagine, but... I don’t wanna be some stupid jock, okay?”

“Do it!” Ken cheered, feeling up his massive thighs. “C’mon brah, we could lift together!!!”

“Mmm... that’s boring,” Pete said, giving Ken a soft scratch on the head. “I like some variety in my men. Ooooh....” he said, looking at a cluster of pinups on the wall. “Looks like someone’s fantasized about being a gymnast, huh?”

“No!” I insisted. “I don’t wanna be some stock character!”

“That’s a nice thought,” Pete said sympathetically. “But once a story comes alive, do you really have a choice? I’m sorry Richard, but I’m the one in control now.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat, edging towards the stairway.

“Oh be nice,” Pete said. His voice was dripping with condescension. “One way or another, Richard, you’re going to taste my cum. Why not enjoy it? Suck off a hottie. Build some muscle. Take up a new sport. What’s there to lose?”

“I wrote you!” I argued. “I know what happens. Your cum isn’t some portion that adds a little muscle and makes me good at cartwheels. The guys who taste your cum... they’re rewritten into caricatures.”

“Yeah,” Pete admitted with a grin. “Cause that’s how you wrote it.”

“I don’t want it,” I insisted. “I like my boring little life. I don’t want my personality wiped out. I don’t want to be replaced!”

“Bro... it’s not like... I’m not wiped out,” Ken said with an empty grin. He laughed vacantly. The deep sound was terrifying as it echoed through my attic.

“Do you even remember your old life?” I asked the bodybuilder, searching his hazy eyes for some hint of the man I knew.

“Dude, I totally remember,” Ken laughed again. “It fuckin’ sucked!”

“This is getting boring,” Pete said, turning to face me. “Ken, grab him!”

I bolted for the door. My reactions were quick, but Ken’s were quicker, and I found myself restrained by a pair of powerful hands. Fuck... he was so strong.

“Relax brah,” Ken said as I struggled against him. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Fuck you!” I shouted back.

“Anytime you want,” Ken laughed happily.

“Get on your knees,” Pete ordered. He groped at his cock through his track pants. I could see he was hard and ready to go. How was he ready? The guy had cum what.... an hour ago? I guess that’s how I wrote him.

“I’m not gonna suck you off,” I said, trying to sound defiant.

“Yeah, whatever,” Pete laughed. “Ken, get him on his knees.”

Ken knocked me over from behind and shoved me to the floor. I tried to wrest myself away, but I couldn’t escape his tight grip. Before I knew it, Pete had dropped his track pants around his ankles and was slapping my face with his cock.

“Isn’t this special?” he teased. “You’re the author. I’m the editor. I could have just dosed you, but I wanted you to know. I wanted you to participate in the creative process.”

Ken forced my mouth open and Pete jammed his cock in my mouth.

I tried to spit it out, but he was too big. His cock was huge... just the way I’d written it. Choking me and making me gag. I could smell his bush, thick and sweaty, pressed up against my nose.

A drop of precum spread across my tongue. Salty and delicious.

Oh god... it was so delicious. My brain short circuited, trying to resist that amazing taste. Trying to avoid the intoxicating smell that rose from his balls.

I felt my tongue flick across his cock, eagerly gathering more drops of precum. I couldn’t resist, could I?

I didn’t want to resist... did I?

I tried to stop myself, but I just sucked harder. Every breath I took, I wanted to breath his scent more. Every drop I tasted, I wanted two more.

Soon I was sucking frantically on his cock, desperate to get at Pete’s salty cum.

Oh god... it was going to happen. Pete was going to transform me with his magic cum, just like he’d transformed Ken. Just like he’d transformed his roommate Chaz.

It was just a story. Just a story. Even if I swallowed his cum, it wasn’t real!

But I could feel Ken’s strong hands holding me in place. Ken’s eager cock pressed against the back of my head.

Pete’s cock throbbed in my mouth and I felt a gob of sticky cum slide down my throat.

“It isn’t real...” I repeated to myself. “It isn’t real...”

Ken’s hands dropped away as I felt to the ground, shaking and spasming. Pete’s cock dropped from my mouth, even as my tongue licked my lips, frantic for just one more drop.

“Bro, check it out!” Ken laughed above me. “He’s gettin’ little! Whoa!”

My bones were on fire, and I could feel them squeezing and compressing all my joints. The floor tugged against my sweaty skin. My flesh shifted and compressed. It only took a few seconds for my bones to shift, leaving me shorter and a little bit wider.

Oh god... was it real? I used to measure 6’1”, but that felt wrong now. I was 5’4”, wasn’t I?

Of course I was short... good gymnasts always are. I remembered starting out when I was a kid, summersaults and barrel rolls and jumping on the trampoline. Then I was a teenager, training really hard... I wanted to make the Olympic team, though I never quite got there. Hours every day, before and after school.

I trained mostly on rings and floor. A little bit of vault, but I was never that good at it. I remember how proud I was when I did my first muscle up. My first iron cross. Building my muscle molecule by molecule until I looked like a brick wall. Extra hours in the weight room to fix my problem spots.

Had I trained my whole life for this? Earning it one rep at a time. Long hours getting each move perfect. Or was it magic, a lifetime full of false memories starting to crowd out the real ones. I couldn’t tell.

Graduating college. Getting a job at the firm. Twenty years of work as an accountant?

Or getting a job coaching. Twenty years helping young people fulfill their potential.

Numbers were fuckin’ boring. The only numbers I give a shit about are how many reps I can do and how big of a dick I got.

My dick. My giant fuckin’ dick, especially on a little guy like me. Big juicy balls. I have to duck into the bathroom like three or four times a day to blow a load. It’s like... the only way I can focus on my training.

Yeah, that’s who Pete made me. A musclebound gymnast. A slutty jock. A horny fuckboy.

Pete made me...

I opened my eyes. Pete was staring down at me, giving me a big grin. Ken was there too, grabbing his cock and staring lustfully.

“So what do you think Richie?” Pete asked, grabbing my hand and hauling me off the floor.

“I’m so fuckin’ horny!” I laughed. I had an idiotic laugh and I knew it. Guys tell me all the time, I sound like such a dumb jock. I look like one too.

That’s cause I am.

I reached down into my shorts and adjusted my dripping cock. I usually workout shirtless. And walk around the house shirtless. And dance at the club shirtless... I fuckin’ hate shirts.

“Good man,” Pete laughed, grabbing me by my shoulders and giving my pumped delts a squeeze.

I owed him everything. I wanted to pay him back... somehow.

“Do you remember your old life?” Ken asked mischievously.

“I dunno stud,” I laughed, making my pecs dance while I talked. “I guess like... kinda. It was so stupid and boring. This is waaaaay hotter!”

“Damn right,” Ken said, reaching out and playing with my rounded pecs. I didn’t need ‘em big for the sport, but I still bench extra heavy. I just love having muscle tits.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Pete said in a singsong voice. “Talk about what’s happened?”

“Nah bro,” I laughed. “I just wanna fuck.”

“Fuck me!” Ken offered enthusiastically.

“Hell yeah,” I grinned, stepping close enough that our cocks were rubbing through our clothes. “I wanna tag your ass so hard....” I wrapped my arms around Ken and grabbed big meaty handfuls of his beautiful glutes.

I faintly remembered being a bottom... but that was the old me. Pete made me into a total top. I’m a short king and I know it.

“You like this better?” Pete asked.

“Huh?” I said. What was he talkin’ about? I was too horny to think.

“Your new life,” Pete reminded me. “Isn’t this better than being some boring old accountant?”

I let out another one of my idiot laughs.

“Yeah, I love it,” I grinned, grinding up against Ken. “Thanks bro!”

“Can we fuck now?” Ken begged me.

“Why don’t you two start with some kissing,” Pete suggested. “Get warmed up.”

I reached up and pulled Ken down to my level, planting my lips on his forcefully and making sure he understood – I might be shorter than him, but I’m all top, you got that?

Ken melted. He understood, that’s for sure. I lost track of time, making out with Ken and groping his hot body. Pretty soon Pete joined in and the three of us made out as a group.

I love teamwork.

“Mmmm,” I said, working my way down Pete’s neck. “This is so fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” Pete laughed. “The two of you are gonna be good together. Call it... a new chapter of your lives.”

He laughed like it was a joke. Ken kinda laughed too. It made me feel dumb... but I’ll be real, I kinda like feeling dumb.

“Ken, bend over that couch,” Pete pointed. “Richie, you’re gonna fuck him, okay?”

I didn’t need to hear that twice. Ken’s hot bodybuilder ass was like... all I wanted. I ripped Ken’s posers down his legs, then plunged my dick right in.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Ken screamed. His face was pure joy. I love a vocal bottom. Lucky me – Ken can’t stay quiet. He grunted and moaned with that deep voice as I jackhammered him with my thick cock.

Oh yeah... why had I ever been a bottom? Yeah... I’d always loved topping, especially topping another jock.

The two of us were in sweaty ecstasy when Pete reached out and touched something on the desk. The lights flickered but I barely noticed... I was so close to shooting my load.

“Fuck me bro!” Ken screamed over and over. “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

One final thrust and I flooded his ass with cum. That seemed to trigger him. A second later his cock was spraying all over. He collapsed onto our couch, the furniture creaking as it took his weight.

“Holy fuck...” I gasped as I landed beside him. “Pete, buddy... thank you! That was so...”

But Pete was gone. It was just me and Ken in the room, and a computer screen with a bunch of words on it. Ken reached his arm around me and I melted into him, forgetting about Pete for the moment and relaxing in the warm afterglow.

“Bro, what’s with all those wires and shit,” Ken finally asked, staring at the mess by my computer.

I opened my eyes and looked. I struggled to remember...

“I dunno...” I shrugged, climbing up on Ken’s lap and leaning in for a kiss. “Who cares? I just wanna workout and fuck... that science shit is for nerds.”

Ken kissed me back, then stood up and set me down gently. That always get me hot.

“You wanna take a shower?” I asked playfully. I was hoping he’d be up for another fuck soon.

“Nah bro,” Ken said with a shake of his head. “It’s almost eight. I gotta get to bed.”

“Spoilsport,” I joked.

“Sleepyhead,” Ken shot back. It’s true – I don’t train til 6, so Ken’s always up earlier than me.

I turned off the computer and left the mess of wires behind. Whatever was going on there... who cared? I wanted to fall asleep with my man. I wanted him to hold me tight all night.

It’s a good life. Sucking. Fucking. Flexing.

The world’s full of magic.