The Perfect Guy, Chapter Two

By Erick S. Read Part 1 now

Mr. Anthony Dodds shook his head as Andrew Jenkins sauntered out of his classroom. There was something different about that student lately, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Kids,” he muttered under his breath.

He picked the folded piece of paper that Andrew had left behind and went to toss it in the trash can at the front of the room underneath his desk. He must have missed the trashcan, because the note ended up sliding right into the front pocket of his briefcase.

When he got home that evening, he laid his briefcase down on the kitchen table just like he always did, and saw a corner of the paper peeking out from the pocket. Out of curiosity, he removed the note from his briefcase and unfolded it as he stood over the table.

At first glance, it looked like any other old note that got passed around his classroom. Some sort of little quiz that some student had come up with. Yes, he knew that mathematics wasn’t the most interesting subject for a lot of these kids, but was his class really that boring that someone had time to come up with an entire twenty-question quiz to pass around?

There was a short message at the top of the note:

To my new friend,

You had a long day dealing with all of those students. Here's a game to amuse yourself into. Have fun! I know I did!

From,

Your new friend.

Mr. Dodds found it strange that the note referenced his day at school dealing with students. There weren’t any other instructions other than to answer the questions as truthfully as possible, and that “something bad” would happen if he didn’t complete the entire thing tonight. He chuckled when he read the title of the quiz.

"If You Were The Perfect Guy... Questionnaire."

“What will these kids think of next?” he said to himself.

Still, being a lonely bachelor at home on a Monday night with no other plans, he found himself cracking open a beer and sitting down at the kitchen table with a pen in hand

Question 1: If you were the perfect guy... what would your handwriting be like?

As a heterosexual male, Mr. Dodds didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about the “perfect guy.” This was probably written up by one of the boy-crazy girls in his class, he figured. Still, at 46 years old, he was becoming more and more aware of some changes he wished he could make to himself. He’d been a straight-laced math geek his entire life, and where had that gotten him? Teaching math to a bunch of kids who could care less, living alone in a one-bedroom apartment, and filling out some dumb quiz.

“I think my handwriting would be a little bit more relaxed,” he wrote, “Everything about me would be more relaxed.”

As he finished writing the sentence, he felt himself easing into his chair a little bit, and loosening his grip on the pen.

Question 2: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of music would you listen to?

Mr. Dodds’ current music collection was mostly made up of bands like Chicago, Foreigner, Def Leppard, and AC/DC. All the good stuff from when he was in college. Ah, college. Those were the good ol’ days. Even if he had been a math geek the whole way through, and never really experienced much of college outside of the Mathematics building, at least he’d felt like he still had the future ahead of him.

“I’d listen to whatever college kids are listening to these days,” he wrote, ashamed that he didn’t actually know any specific band names off the top of his head.

Regardless, in the other room, his collection of CDs and records was slowly fading away. The giant stereo he’d had since he’d first moved out of the dorms was going away, too. In its place, there would be a Bluetooth speaker and an iPad loaded with mostly EDM and indie rock.

Question 3: If you were the perfect guy… what would your favorite color be?

With college on his mind, Mr. Dodds didn’t hesitate to write down his alma mater’s colors, red and black. He still had a few “Proud Alumni” t-shirts hanging up in the back of his closet, but those would soon be replaced with red and black “Class of 2014” shirts. He went to scratch his ring finger, and was momentarily surprised to find a heavy class ring wrapped around it. “Wrestling State Champions 2014.” He twisted the ring a bit, taking pride in the way the red jewel in the center sparkled, even under the dim kitchen lights.

Question 4: If you were the perfect guy… would your hair be long or short?

“I’d like to have hair!” Mr. Dodds laughed to himself, running his hands over his bald head. Figuring he should be more specific, he wrote down “I’d have nice, thick, hair in a short style. And I wouldn’t ever go bald.”

Across the top of his head, follicles that had long been barren began to spring to life, and soon Mr. Dodds had a full head of hair. He’d never have to worry about bald spots or receding hairlines again.

Question 5: If you were the perfect guy... what color would your hair be?

Now that he had hair, Mr. Dodds was free to imagine that is was a dark brown, almost black color. He guessed his idea of the “perfect guy” must be the tall, dark and handsome sort, now that he thought about it. Although he’d been born with mousy brown hair, which had started to gray before he started losing it altogether, it was now darkening and giving him a much more youthful look. Even his eyebrows seemed bolder and more masculine with their new color.

Question 6: If you were the perfect guy... what color would your eyes be?

Mr. Dodds thought that his naturally brown eyes would look good with his new hair, so he decided that he wouldn’t change the color of them. He simply wrote down, “They would stay brown.”

He wondered, though, if this would be the right place to write down that he would no longer need the thick glasses he’d worn since he was a child.

“But I would no longer require glasses,” he wrote, “I would have perfect 20/20 vision that would never lessen.”

Things were very blurry for a moment as his glasses disappeared from his face, and then everything came back into perfect focus as he glanced back down at the questionnaire.

“What the hell kind of quiz is this?” Mr. Dodds said to himself, rubbing his eyes.

He looked up from the paper and across the room to the clock on the wall. He didn’t even have to squint to see that he’d spent over 30 minutes so far filling this thing out, and he wasn’t even halfway done yet. He got up from the table to grab himself another beer. He momentarily thought about abandoning the questionnaire at that point. He wondered why he was putting so much effort into something so silly. But somehow, he found himself back at the kitchen table, pen in hand, and focused on completing all of the questions.

Question 7: If you were the perfect guy… what would your complexion be like?

“My skin would have a darker hue to it,” he wrote, trying to think of a better way to describe what he was thinking of, “A naturally olive tone. Mediterranean.”

Now, instead of looking like a pale old guy who’d spent his life inside math classrooms, Mr. Dodds seemed to be glowing with youthful confidence.

Question 8: If you were the perfect guy… how much body hair would you have?

Mr. Dodds had a pretty pathetic patch of chest hair, but not much else other than that. Truthfully, he’d be happier with a smooth chest, so that’s what he wrote down. But he liked how his new dark hair looked on his arms. Maybe that could be a little bit thicker, as well as the hair on his legs. He wrote down that he’d have very hairy legs. He also had the strange thought that maybe he’d like to have a hairier dick and ass. Something that would indicate on the outside his innate masculinity.

“What the hell,” he thought as he wrote those things down.

Not only did the hair on his arms and legs become thicker and more pronounced, hairs began to swirl around the base of his dick and across his ass as his testosterone levels increased.

Question 9: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any facial hair?

“I’d always have a 5 o’clock shadow,” he wrote down. He was really getting into this idea of increasing his body hair. It made him feel so… virile, “Impossible to stay clean-shaven. I’d have thick beard if I went without shaving for more than a few days.”

He scratched his chin as prickly stubble pushed its way out around his jaw and upper lip. He’d love getting used to than sensation.

Question 10: If you were the perfect guy... what would your voice be like?

With testosterone flowing through him now, Anthony didn’t hesitate to write down, “My voice would be deep and commanding.”

He cleared his throat, and even that sent rumbles through his chest.

“Hello?” he said out loud.

In the silence of his one-bedroom apartment, his voice seemed to bounce off of the walls.

“Hello,” he said again, this time much more deliberately. Even speaking quietly to himself, he could tell that it was the kind of voice that would be sure get the attention of anyone he was speaking to.

“Perfect for the team captain of the wrestling team,” Anthony thought to himself.

For the first time, he realized that he was thinking of Malcolm Marinello the entire time he’d been filling out the questionnaire. He’d only really run into Malcolm once or twice during the time they’d both been in college, but apparently those few times had made quite an impact. His masculinity, his reputation around campus as an all-star, the sheer power and strength in his body. He was all of the things that nerdy Anthony Dodds would probably never achieve. Well, maybe never.

Question 11: If you were the perfect guy.... what would your body type be? Choose one: Ectomorph, endomorph, or mesomorph.

With a very clear image in his mind now, Anthony wrote down “mesomorph.”

“Greater than average muscular development. Square head, thick neck, broad chest and shoulders, heavily muscled arms and legs, and minimal body fat. And the ability to develop muscle with minimal effort.”

Anthony had to push his chair further away from the kitchen table as his body erupted with strong, perfectly-proportioned muscle, His love handles melted away around his stomach as a strong core revealed itself in the form of a washboard abdomen. As his body fat decreased all across his body, his new musculature shined through in thick, defined shapes. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of the oxford shirt he’d worn to school that day. His chest nearly exploded out of it.

Question 12: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of clothes would you wear?

Anthony was on a roll now. He knew exactly what he wanted to look like and who he wanted to become.

“I would have a closet full of wrestling singlets and wrestling gear. All top-end stuff, worthy of an all-star team captain. For when I’m not wrestling, I’d have clothes that could easily be worn over my singlets. Loose athletic shorts and t-shirts.”

He unbuttoned his collar a few more buttons, revealing the skin-tight wrestling singlet that he was wearing underneath. As he sat there enjoying the feeling of the spandex against his muscles, he thought of the one time he’d seen Malcolm Marinello in the school paper all dressed up in a suit for a scholarship banquet.

“And I’d clean up well, if the occasion called for it,” he wrote.

Question 13: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any piercings?

“No piercings,” Anthony firmly answered. If he was going to become the college wrestling star that he was thinking of, he knew that there would be very strict policies against piercings of any sort during both practices and matches.

Question 14: If you were the perfect guy… would you have any tattoos?

Anthony wasn’t against tattoos, per se, but he didn’t really see himself having any of his own.

“I might get a few to mark really special events or occasions, but nothing that would be draw focus from my performance on the mat. I want people to focus on my Olympics-level wrestling skills without being preoccupied by my choices of body art.”

Question 15: If you were the perfect guy… how big would your penis be?

“Damn,” Anthony thought. Even sitting alone in his kitchen, he was caught off-guard by such a personal question.

He sat back in his chair for a moment, thinking about how to answer the question. He’d of course want his dick to be big enough to make a noticeable bulge in his new collection of wrestling singlets, but he didn’t want anything that would be distracting, or that would hold him back as an athlete. He decided the best compromise would be to increase his size just a little bit when soft, but allow himself to grow to a solid, veiny nine inches when erect.

“What’s the phrase?” he thought to himself before writing down, “Grower, not a shower.”

He grinned thinking about how many girls he’d be able to surprise with his new member. He was sure they’d all be checking it out under his singlet, but they’d never imagine its absolute size and power once he was on top of them. Just thinking about it was giving him a chubby. He found himself unlatching the belt he’d worn all day and slipping his khakis down over his muscular, hairy thighs. While he was at it, he finished unbuttoning his shirt and threw it aside. He was sitting there now in only his singlet. Felt right. Felt natural.

He stood up from the table to grab himself another beer, feeling the power in his new legs for the first time. When he opened the fridge, there was no beer to be found. Just an entire fridge full of already-prepared meals for the week. Grilled chicken, brown rice, and organic veggies. On top of the fridge, there were huge tubs of low-carb protein powder, creatine, and a couple different pre-workout supplements. Coach didn’t really approve of all that stuff, but Anthony figured it couldn’t hurt in his constant quest to gain size and strength against his fellow wrestlers.

Regardless, there wasn’t any beer, and Anthony knew he really shouldn’t be drinking with wrestling season just around the corner anyway, so he found himself scooping some triple chocolate whey protein into a Blender Bottle and shaking it up as he sat back down at the table.

Question 16: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of underwear would you wear?

“Jockstraps or commando on non-practice or match days,” he wrote, “Compression shorts under my singlets. And a few old-school hard groin cups to humor Coach.”

Since there was no practice today, and it wasn’t a match day, commando it was. His dick looked nice resting there in the singlet. “Perfect size,” he thought to himself, echoing the words of the many, many chicks he’d bedded since he’d first joined the wrestling team as a freshman in high school.

Question 17: If you were the perfect guy… would you be into girls or other guys?

Well, this one was a no-brainer for Anthony, especially given his current state of mind. He was into girls, and girls only. He was sure a few of the guys on his team were gay or maybe bi, and that was OK, but why waste his new body on other dudes, when he’d be able to get all the girls he’d missed the first time he was in college?

Question 18: If you were the perfect guy… what would your sex life be like?

With his improved musculature, athleticism, and growing confidence, Anthony had already laid the groundwork for becoming a total sex god. So why not go all the way?

“I’d be able to get any girl I wanted,” he wrote with a handsome sneer, “And I’d be able to give them the best, most memorable sex of their lives. I’d be able to cum an unlimited number of times every day, and my dick would stay hard until I didn’t want it to be hard any more. I’d have total control over it, and I’d be able to use it to give ultimate pleasure to any girl I’m with.”

Anthony couldn’t have known how much that answer was about to increase his sex drive, and how much it would drive him to constantly be seeking sex partners to give “ultimate pleasure” to. Hell, even though he’d written down that he would be totally heterosexual, his new libido wouldn’t stop him from letting some of the junior members of his team give him the occasional hand job in the locker rooms after practice.

His confidence was reaching new levels now, knowing that he was becoming a masculine, muscular wrestler who could get any girl he wanted. Memories of being a shy math nerd who couldn’t get up the nerve to even talk to a girl he liked were fading very far away into the back of his mind. He wouldn’t be alone in that one-bedroom apartment for very much longer. Just one night out at the local college’s sports bar, and he’d have his pick of who to take home.

Question 19: If you were the perfect guy... what would your intelligence be? One being stupid and ten being high enough to drive the class nerd up the wall.

Anthony had been top-of-his class for his entire life, and again he had to look back on where exactly that had gotten him. What good was it that he could ramble off any random mathematical formula or theory? If that knowledge hadn’t gotten him ahead this far in life, then why did he need it any more? Besides, didn’t he say that he wanted to be “more relaxed” when he’d first started answering all of these questions? Figuring himself to be closer to a “10” at the current moment, Anthony hesitated a second before he wrote down “6.”

“Just slightly above average,” he thought, hoping that he wouldn’t regret it.

But before all of his intelligence was drained, he had the quick thought to write down that his knowledge of sports, especially wrestling, would be a “10.” Decades of Mathematics study was wiped away, replaced by current standings and statistics of all major collegiate and professional sports teams. His knowledge of wrestling in particular forced its way to the forefront of his mind. He now had the brain to command and control his new brawn.

Question 20: If you were the perfect guy… how old would you be, how tall would you be without shoes and what would you weigh without clothes?

Anthony sat back in his chair, throwing his meaty arms behind his head and feeling, for the first time in a long time, truly relaxed and comfortable in his skin. Of course, was it really his skin any more? Was he still Anthony Dodds after all these changes?

“Fuck, dude,” he chuckled to himself with a deep resonance, “That shit’s way too hard to think about.”

He re-read Question 20 and scratched his head. If he was going to be a senior in college, how old would that make him? He found himself counting his fingers trying to figure it out.

“Fuck,” he said again, “Fuck math.”

He finally figured that he would be about 22 years old. Twenty-two seemed too young. He decided on 24. Maybe he’d taken his time through college, focusing more on wrestling than the actual coursework. Sure, made sense.

As for height and weight, he wrote down “5’10’, 185lbs,” after quite a lot of deliberation. Being a wrestler, he knew he’d have to have a lot of control over his weight, but he thought those measurements would put him right where he needed to be, and he was right.

From his previous height of 5’7”, Anthony stretched out a few noticeable inches in his chair, while maintaining the athletic build the questionnaire had already helped him to achieve. 185lbs proved to be the perfect weight for his new height, giving him an excellent distribution of his musculature across his new frame.

At the same time, the years were dissolving away from Anthony’s age. His wrinkles erased themselves from his face, and his skin tightened across his full, youthful muscles, making them look even fuller and more defined. He gave his chest a cocky flex underneath his singlet, loving the way the spandex stretched to its limits against his pecs.

Last Question: If you were the perfect guy…  what would your name be?

All this time, the new college wrestler had been thinking that “Anthony” didn’t really fit him any more. And he sure as hell wasn’t “Mr. Dodds.” He was more of a Tony now, he thought. As for his last name, Anthony thought again of Malcolm Marinello, that perfect guy he’d run into those one or two times back in college. He smiled in appreciation.

“Tony Marinello,” he signed his name with a bold, confident signature.

He sat the pen down on the table and looked over the questionnaire he’d just filled out.

“Shit,” he said to himself, “That shit was intense. I gotta tell the boys about this.”

He leaned back in his chair, again putting his thick arms behind his head. He caught a whiff of his pits and buried his nose deep inside. He was ripe from practice that afternoon. He’d been with a few kinky chicks who were into that shit. “Ooh, baby. I love the way you smell,” they would coo as he fucked them, “Like a real man.”

Still, he figured he should take a shower. He’d agreed to get in an early workout with one of the new freshman the next morning. He could only imagine how much the kid would grow to idolize him. He flexed his bicep. He’d teach the kid to appreciate the strength and the dedication it took to keep his body in prime condition at all times.

He stood up from the table, deciding to get in his evening routine of bodyweight exercises before taking a shower and hitting the sack. Before he did, though, he picked the questionnaire up and looked over it once again. As he scanned the page, the answers he’d written seemed to vanish right before his eyes.

“Fuckin’ weird,” he said, shaking his head.

He folded the questionnaire up and thought he would throw it out. On second thought, he stuffed it in the gym bag that had previously been his briefcase. That thing was kind of creepy. He didn’t want to keep that shit around in his house. He’d get rid of it at the gym tomorrow.

Slipping the shoulders of his wrestling singlet down around his waist, Tony Marinello made his way to his bedroom, running over the next 24 hours in his head. Workout before bed, workout in the morning, three student coaching sessions during the day, wrestling practice in the evening after classes. It was hard work being the perfect guy, but Tony couldn’t imagine life any other way.