Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

As Jack squeezed his bottle of Axe body wash, he heard nothing but a flatulent sputter. 



He shook the bottle but could only dislodge a few last dribs of soap from the container. Water gushing onto his face, he blindly grabbed for something else in the rack below the shower head. He felt an unfamiliar tube and flipped open the cap. He couldn't place the scent exactly -- pineapple and coconut, maybe, or something more exotic. He usually went for something more musky, something that better fit his nickname of Squatch (short for Sasquatch), bestowed on him way back as a high-school freshman due to his height, stockiness and, even then, abundant body hair. Now, as a collegiate wrestler, he found it helped his odds if he stank a bit during matches, but he didn't need to reek the rest of the time. Whatever this stuff was, it ought to do the job for today.

Jack squirted a hefty portion of the goo into his palm, kneaded it into his hair and scrubbed his scalp, quickly working up a healthy head of lather. The smell was potent, nearly knocking him off his feet, but he couldn't say he disliked it. In fact, it was so intoxicating, he was starting to feel light-headed, like he'd just smoked a bowl. He smiled eagerly as he squeezed out another shot and began rubbing it across the thick curls that carpeted his broad chest and cobblestone abs. The hot shower water mixed with the creamy substance sent another aromatic wave wafting toward his nose, and this stuff seemed to be seeping into his pores and stimulating them.

Jack figured this had to be shampoo that his roommate Trey had left behind. He was still furious with and confused by Trey's recent flake out. Jack and Trey had bonded right away when they met at their first college wrestling practice. They were two big guys who liked drinking beer, chasing chicks and raising hell, as long as none of the above interfered with their wrestling. Trey was a few inches shorter than Jack but stocky by nature, and he always had trouble making his weight, but that still didn't explain why Trey would just split before their meet three days ago without any warning or explanation. Just a couple of cryptic text messages to Jack and the coach and, since then, silence. As a result, the team had to forfeit in Trey's weight class and lost the meet. It was highly uncharacteristic, because Trey was by far the more responsible of the two buddies. In fact, Jack likely would be off the team or even out of the college if it weren't for Trey tutoring Jack and generally acting as Jack's conscience when Jack's usual tendency was to slack off.

Jack rubbed his lathered fingers through his thick pubes and around his heavy ball sack, feeling in the mood to jack off -- an activity Jack already did so often, he referred to it as "me-ing off". He really shouldn't, he knew that. He had no time. His first class of the day started in just fifteen minutes. Maybe if Trey had been around to force him out the door. But this shower was making him so relaxed. The water had reached the perfect point of steaminess, and the pungent smell of the suds coating his body was making him delirious. But no, he told himself as he scrubbed a soapy towel down his shins and around his calves, I must be responsible. 



I must get to class. 



I must get...off.

He slammed his back against the wet wall, pressed his toes against the side of the tub and began to stroke his dick. Even for an accomplished cocksman like Jack, there was something extra-stimulating today. He wondered if this stuff had some special ingredient that made his skin more sensitive, because it wasn't just his penis that seemed particularly responsive to his touch. His whole body felt fresh, new and alive. He cracked open his eyes and looked down dreamily. Jack was shocked by what he saw.

Hair.

Lots of it.

Everywhere.

Except on him.

Jack was standing ankle deep in foamy water intermingled with all of his body hair that had washed off his body, while every square-inch of skin that he could see had been denuded, leaving him pink and vulnerable. He immediately stopped stroking himself, although the cock continued to surge on auto-pilot as it barraged the shower curtain with a 21-cum salute.

In a panic, Jack grabbed the top of his head and was relieved to discover that at least he still had hair there. In fact, it felt considerably thicker than his usual buzz cut. What kind of product could make your hair more lush on one part of the body and strip it completely away everywhere else? He snatched up the bright blue bottle he'd been using and examined it for clues. He'd never heard of the brand name -- Twink, with a gold star dotting the "i" -- and the other information was minimal. The front of the tube said it was the "Advanced Formula" and the back gave the simplistic usage instructions: "Lather, Rinse, Repeat."

I will NOT be repeating this shit, thank you very much, Jack thought. He angled the shower head to spray his jizz off the shower curtain and wash his hair sheddings down the drain. He then shut off the shower and stepped onto the bath mat, toweling himself dry before giving himself a full inspection in the mirror. His hairdo did indeed have more body, and his eyebrows still looked as heavy if not even bushier than always. His face still looked rugged, but his chin and cheeks were smooth as a baby's, even though they'd been hidden under a couple of days' growth before he stepped into the shower. Most days, Jack had five-o'clock shadow by about eleven a.m., so he had rarely seen himself looking this clean-shaven. From the neck down, it was if he'd been given a total body wax, albeit one with mercifully no pain involved. He could now see why pro bodybuilders and even some of the other wrestlers on his team shaved their bodies, because his bountiful muscles were now standing out in dramatic relief. Jack felt a strong desire to continue staring at himself admiringly, but he really should make an attempt to get to class. He pulled on a white tee and blue jeans, followed by his wrestling team hoodie, and headed out the door.

As Jack jogged across campus, woefully late for his first class and knowing he hadn't finished his assignment, he grew angrier and angrier at Trey. If Trey had been around to remind him to do his homework, Jack would have something to hand in. And he wouldn't be (so) late if he hadn't accidentally used Trey's Twink shit. Why would Trey have even bought some crazy shit like that in the first place?

Jack stopped running abruptly as if he had just slammed on his body's brakes. Could this weird goop have had anything to do with why Trey bolted so unexpectedly? Could he have lost all of his body hair and felt too embarrassed to show up at the meet because of it? That didn't seem like Trey, who was always pretty level-headed. Besides, Trey didn't have thick wall-to-wall body carpeting like Jack did (or, more accurately, used to). In fact, Jack could even admit that he kind of envied Trey for looking less simian than Jack, with a decent amount of hair on his arms and legs but only a small amount around his navel snaking down to his crotch. Nah, just losing his hair didn't seem like enough reason for Trey to go all zero dark thirty. There had to be another explanation.


By this point, Jack realized it made little sense to show up half an hour late to class in order to NOT hand in his assignment, so he decided to ditch it entirely. He booked on over to the union and, while his fellow students were still getting their French toast and breakfast burritos, Jack bought himself a nice cold beer. He was usually worried about gaining weight during wrestling season (although never as fanatical about it as Trey), but Jack figured he had lost a pound or two of hair down the drain today, so he had a little leeway. Jack took his Solo cup of beer and nabbed a stool near the windows where he could check out the other students strolling around campus. 



Everyone's assumption when Trey hadn't shown up for the meet was that he hadn't made his weight and was afraid to face the coach, but that wasn't like Trey either. He never shirked his duties and always took responsibility for his mistakes. It was one of the things he loved about Trey. Well, not loved, thought Jack, but deeply respected.

The beer was only reinforcing the mellow mood that had suffused Jack since his shower. He was pretty well blissed out when he felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see a slight-looking guy with bleached blond hair and purple-framed glasses standing beside him. "Is this stool taken?", he asked, pointing to the one beside Jack. Jack shook his head and the little guy smiled back, straining to hoist the heavy wooden stool.

"You need help with that?", Jack asked.

"No, I got it," said the blond guy, clearly struggling. He finally lowered the stool back to the floor and, with a loud scrape, dragged it to a table where several other artsy-looking students were seated. The blond sniffed the air curiously and asked Jack, "Hey, that scent. Is that you?"

Jack sniffed and realized he could still detect a trace of the shampoo on his hair. "Yeah. You like it?"

The guy smiled and nodded. "Mmm-hmm. Mind telling me what it's called?"

"It's called Twink."

The blond could barely contain his laughter. "Twink?" He turned to his friends at the table. "Guys, did you know there's a cologne called Twink?" They cracked up.

Jack wasn't sure why it was that funny. "It's not a cologne. It's like a shampoo."

One of the blond's friends, an even bonier kid with purple-streaked hair and ear gauges, "You hear that, it's like a shampoo. Tell me, is it all white and creamy and slippery and warm?"

"It's not warm, exactly," Jack replied.

"Well, then, you're obviously doing it wrong, honey," said the purple kid before the rest of the group laughed again. The original blond gave a lingering look back at Jack, a bit embarrassed by his uncouth friends. Jack shrugged it off and turned back to his brew, letting his mind wander again.

As he watched couples strolling past on the quad, Jack felt a bit dejected that he was now a senior in college and still hadn't found a steady girlfriend. He wrote it off to a bunch of things, like the huge time commitment that wrestling required and the greater time it took him to do the schoolwork compared to other students. He didn't have a diagnosed learning disability; he just had never been all that smart. Thank God Trey came along and was able to help Jack keep his grades high enough to stay on the wrestling team. He didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have that group of guys to hang with, although the only one he was truly close to was Trey. 



That's why he was so flattered last year when Trey had asked if he wanted to share a house off campus for junior and senior years. They got a little guff from the rest of the team, making jokes about Jack and Trey being a couple and starting a bridal registry at Dick's Sporting Goods, although a bunch of singlet-wearing, nose-in-some-other-guy's-crotch wrestlers making cracks about other people being gay are dancing on some mighty thin ice. Jack knew it was just good-natured ribbing. At least he figured it must be.

Jack's mind was wandering as he gazed out the window. He could still detect the scent of Twink on his body and it was beginning to arouse him again. He fixated on a shapely ass crossing the quad, tightly wrapped in a pair of black Levi's. Jack's cock swelled as his eyes wandered upward, past the slim waist to the broadening back, the wide shoulders and the dirty blond ponytail, then back down to the well-defined triceps, the toned biceps, the muscular chest...

Jack pushed away from his table, nearly toppling backwards on his stool. Shit, he thought, I was checking out a guy! The blond from the next table rushed over to catch Jack's fall, although he was so spindly, he did little besides provide something for Jack to land atop. Fortunately, even a slightly tipsy and sexually baffled Jack still had control over the motor skills that had served him well in wrestling all these years, so he managed not to damage anyone or anything.

"You okay, man?", asked the blond to an obviously shaken Jack, who stumbled to his feet and weaved his way to the men's room.

Jack was relieved to discover the men's room empty. He locked himself in a stall and sat down without lowering his pants, resting his forehead against his palms. Counting high school, Jack had now been wrestling nearly eight years, with his face pressed against the most intimate parts of his opponents' bodies, and he'd never had a single gay thought. Not that he ever had a problem with the few gay people he had met. He was just sure he wasn't one of them. He had never made the kind of "fag" jokes that were common around the locker room, which he was convinced were mainly the result of the jokesters' insecurity, trying to prove that they didn't have gay impulses of their own.

Jack had certainly had moments when he'd been impressed by another athlete's body, or complimented a guy if he noticed their hard work in the gym was paying off. He always made a point of complimenting Trey when he had made weight, or when his shaggy brown hair looked particularly cool. But none of those had ever been accompanied by a hard-on like he'd just experienced. He shook his head to dislodge the image, but he couldn't stop thinking about that sexy dude on the quad, imagining loosening his ponytail... The florid aroma of Twink now seemed permanently lodged inside his nostrils and it was making him both nervous and elated. Part of him wanted to rush home and flush the shit down the crapper, while a bigger part wanted to get right back in that shower and become lost in its spell again.

Having regained a bit of composure, Jack exited the toilet stall and leaned against the sink, splashing water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, brushing his stubby fingers across his still-smooth cheek. Not only did he look less intimidating without facial hair, he practically looked like a kid. A kid's head on a bruiser's body.

The door swung open and a sharply-dressed professorial type entered the men's room. Self-conscious, Jack stopped staring at himself, quickly washed his hands and headed toward the door when the other gentleman asked, "Excuse me, but what is that scent you're wearing?"

Jack fled.

Jack decided to blow off his classes for the rest of the day. He barely raised his eyes on his run home, so afraid that he would be transfixed by another hot ass of the incorrect gender that he nearly got run over by a bus. When he burst in the front door, the scent of Twink now pervaded the house. Jack ran around opening windows, desperately hoping to air the place out. On several occasions, he considered going into the bathroom to grab the mystery goop and throw it away, but he was afraid he would give into his greater impulse and use it again. Maybe it would be safe, he rationalized. If I don't get it on top of my head, it's not like there's any more hair left for it to remove. The more he tried not to think about it, the more intensely he longed to feel its delicious tingle on his supple skin...

He forced himself to stay in the living room watching television, but he wasn't in a SportsCenter head space today and began to channel surf. He usually skipped over any channel that wasn't airing football, basketball or baseball, but his finger hovered over the remote when he spotted a big booty that he knew for sure wasn't a guy's. He put his brain on hold and became semi-comatose watching episode after episode where Kim Kardashian and her annoying family prattled away about nonsense. At least he found it comforting that he was watching a bunch of hot chicks. Hell, he thought, on this show even the dad is kind of a hot chick.

He sat slumped on the couch, letting the mindlessness overtake him until he dozed off. He woke up with a start, a "Sex and the City" episode now filling the screen, when he realized how stupid he had been. He scrambled to pull his phone from his pocket and dialed Trey's number. It kicked into voicemail immediately, so Jack left a message.

"Trey! It's Jack. I don't know where you disappeared to but...I need your help, bro. That stuff you left behind, that Twink stuff, I accidentally used it this morning and...it's messing with me. Bad. PLEASE get back to me, okay? I miss you, dude. Peace." Jack hung up and sent a similar if shorter text to Trey as well.

Jack noticed the clock and realized he was running late for wrestling practice. The thought of being around all those musclebound guys gave him pause, but after Trey's disappearance, it would be strange for Jack to stop showing up too. But Jack didn't want to deal with a bunch of questions about what had happened to his trademark pelt of hair, so he decided to change into his workout gear before leaving the house. He stripped down in the bedroom, unable to resist checking out his naked body in the mirror before pulling on a jockstrap, a long-sleeved sweatshirt and gray sweatpants.

When Jack arrived, he felt like all the other guys were staring at him, even though the only thing that could possibly look different to them was his baby face. Still, he felt much less boisterous than usual and took a seat politely in the bleachers. Gradually, the familiarity of the setting and the camaraderie of the team began to settle Jack's nerves. To his relief, the other guys weren't giving him automatic boners, even though some of them were dressed in their body-hugging singlets and others had tight tank tops and shorts that really emphasized their powerful glutes. And damn, thought Jack, that freshman Tanner must really be putting in the hours in the weight room, because he is looking ripped...

"Squatch?"

Jack was shaken from his thoughts by his coach's raspy voice.

"You with us Squatch?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, totally. What did you want?", Jack said, a strange squeak sneaking into his elevated voice.

Some of the team were chortling by this point, while Coach was bemused. "I was inquiring if you'd like to join us in some wrestling today."

"Oh, yes, that'd be fine," said Jack. The words came strolling out of his mouth politely.

He stepped lightly down the bleachers and moved toward the mat, where he was paired with Bruno, another of the team's heavyweights. Bruno looked into Jack's glassy eyes and sniffed the air. He whispered to Jack, "Squatch, you high?"

"You kidding?", Jack replied. "I'd never come to practice high."

"Well, then, what's that smell?", Bruno asked as he took another deep inhale. "It's fucking awesome."

Before Jack could reply, he and Bruno were down on the mat, getting into position. Jack knelt on all fours and Bruno wrapped his arms about him appropriately. Jack couldn't get Bruno's words out of his head, and couldn't help but notice that Bruno kept sniffing eagerly at Jack's hair and body. Jack's cock started to harden and, although it was packed into his jockstrap under loose sweats, he was terrified by the idea of being caught packing a stiffy. Before the coach could blow his whistle, Jack pried himself away from Bruno and walked over to the coach, sweat coating his forehead and upper lip.

"Sorry, coach, but I'm feeling really...strange today. I'm thinking it's the flu or something."

Coach looked at Jack's pale face and placed the back of his hand on Jack's forehead. "You do feel a little clammy. And your face looks whiter than a Canadian basketball team. Okay, Squatch, you hit me on a good day. Head on home."

"Thanks, Coach," Jack said, impulsively giving the coach a hug. As Jack left the gym and some of his teammates heckled him as a pussy for leaving early, the coach wondered if he had just felt Jack's erection pressing against his leg.

By the time Jack got back to his house, he was short of breath and drenched in sweat. He kicked off his shoes, stripped off his clothes and stood beside the bathtub, holding the Twink container in his hand like a heroin addict contemplating a syringe. Jack flipped open the lid and, as soon as he experienced that aroma again in its undiluted form, he knew he had to have it on his body again. He cranked up the hot water and stepped into the tub.

He shot a massive wad of Twink into his palm and rubbed it lovingly over his massive pecs and down across his rugged abs. The solution grew into a volcano of foam which invigorated his skin and seemed to be seeping through the pores into his flesh. The exhilaration was incredible. He needed more, squirting a white stream of Twink straight from the bottle onto his legs, then rubbing some onto his cock, his balls, his ass cheeks. It felt like his whole body was heating up at its core and turning his muscles into churning lava. He began to scream in ecstasy, faster and faster, the pitch of his voice gradually rising.

Jack leaned against the tiles and stroked his cock, which was hard as granite and felt even larger in his fist than usual. His hand strayed up to his abs, which suddenly felt saggy and squishy. He opened his eyes and was horrified by what he saw.

Cellulite.

Oozing from his pores.

In oily pink globs.

Plopping into the soapy water surrounding his feet.

In a few brief minutes, the impressive results of years of hard work in the gym had been eradicated. Pockets of fat which hadn't already found their way out of his body hung at his waist and his knees, where they slowly seeped out. His hands had become the repository of the excess body fat that drained down from his arms. He squeezed each finger like an engorged cow's udder, milking it free of the pink goop until each finger was slender, on the verge of bony. Jack reached behind him, fearing his ass cheeks would be like balloons ready to burst with the viscous liquid, but discovered that they were nearly unchanged, only more firmly packed. He couldn't tell if his cock had gotten bigger or if it only looked bigger because the rest of him was smaller, but figured he could live with it either way.

Jack shut off the water and stepped onto the bathmat, watching as half of his old weight circled its way down the drain. Bracing himself for what he might see in the mirror, Jack turned and found himself in a staredown with a skinny boy with a lush head of hair on an angular face. He had gone down several inches in height, and not much meat remained between his skin and his bones. But his ass stuck out jauntily, looking spectacular. He took in a deep breath, the thick moist air still saturated with Twink. Whatever process had begun that morning was shuffling the final bits of his new personality into their places. Jack wrapped a long white towel around his slim waist and headed toward the bedroom.

Entering his bedroom, Jack stopped in his tracks when he saw a skinny guy standing in one corner, wearing a white shirt and tie too voluminous for this waif, and a pair of black trousers rolled up at the cuffs. This handsome kid could practically be the brother of the man Jack had now become. The sharp cheekbones were newly prominent, the lips looked plumper than they had on a larger body, and he had somehow discovered hair gel in the past three days, but Jack knew at a glance who this was.

"Well, hello, Trey," Jack said, his voice now a full octave higher than it was that morning. "Or should I say Trey-tor! How could you abandon me, you traitor?"

"Good to see you too, Squatch," smiled Trey, speaking with a newfound delicacy and lack of anxiety. "Got your message. Looks like you stumbled on my secret."

Jack was lost for a second. Never the brightest bulb, he seemed to have dimmed a bit more after this latest shower. "Secret? Oh, you mean Twink?"

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry, but I was freaked out. I didn't mean to leave it behind or for you to use it on yourself," Trey said, evaluating Jack appreciatively from across the room. "Well, maybe Freud would say my subconscious left it behind, hoping you'd use it on yourself. Either way, I must say I approve of the results. Are you happy?"

"Why wouldn't I be?", said Jack, leaping onto the bed and losing the towel in the process. Lying bare-ass-up, he propped his chin in his hands and looked up at Trey with his deep brown eyes. Trey took a seat on the bed and brushed his fingers through Jack's newly lush hairdo. Oh yes, he decided, he preferred this look to Jack's old buzz cut.

Jack brought his face close to Trey's, resisting his strong urge to kiss those succulent lips. He needed answers first. "So how did this happen?"

Trey pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a bare chest now slightly more muscular than Jack's. "Well, you know how much I always sweated -- literally and figuratively -- over not making weight."

"I know, such a drama queen," sighed Jack, placing an index finger on Trey's sternum, tracing downward through his faint six-pack before circling around his belly button. Even Trey's minimal body hair was now gone, and it was making Jack hot. His hips gently humped the bed as his hard-on grew.

"I figured there had to be a better way," Trey explained. "Soooo, I made a friend over in the sports medicine department..."


"Boy-friend or girl-friend?", Jack demanded to know archly.


Looking both amused and annoyed, Trey blushingly replied. "Boy. Now will you let me tell my story? Anyway, this FRIEND told me on the Q.T. about this product that had been designed for quick weight loss. It was meant to be absorbed through the skin and directly into the tissues, which they thought might be safer than other methods that have to go through the other organs. Only problem was, during the testing, they discovered that it worked too well. And that it had other...side effects." At that moment, Trey unbuckled his black pants and pulled out a monster cock that caused Jack to salivate on the bedsheets. Trey smiled, pleased by Jack's reaction.

"Once they found out the first results of the clinical trials, they stopped research immediately, but some of the workers knew there might be a small, very specific market for this product. They smuggled out the formula and began to manufacture it under the name Twink. My friend offered to get me a bottle and...well, here we are."

"So when you used it, you KNEW what it was going to do to you?", asked Jack.

"I knew what he claimed it would do. Sounded kind of bananas to me, but I was so panicked about not getting down to my weight for the last meet, I was willing to try anything. I showered with it once, but all it did was get rid of my body hair."

"Me too!", shouted Jack excitedly, sitting up on his knees, his bubble butt bouncing against his heels, his big cock flopping between his legs.

"Yeah, but I couldn't get that smell out of my head. I just had to experience that rush again. So I went right back and showered again, and that's when the big change happened. That's why the instructions say, 'Lather, Rinse, Repeat'. The key part is 'Repeat', because you need two doses for it to work."

"But that was days ago," said Jack. "It hasn't worn off yet?"

"It never wears off. Two exposures and it's permanent. We couldn't bulk up, even if we wanted to."

Jack made a frowny face. This was all exciting, and he was finding Trey's body sooo sexy, but he also adored guys with big muscles. Plus, with a body this skinny, he pretty much had no shot at staying on the wrestling team. Trey noticed Jack's dejected look and was glad to counteract it.


"On the other hand," Trey said, "we also won't ever look any older than we do right now. You and me, young and skinny and sexy for as long as we live. Isn't that cool?"

Jack liked that news better. If he was always going to look like this, he was sure he could always find a nice muscly man to fuck him. But he wasn't thinking of any other man right now. His cock was pointing straight to the ceiling as his eyes took a long slow tour of Trey's new body. He crawled over and helped extract Trey from his pants, then lowered his lips around the head of Trey's growing cock. Jack had never done this, or even had the urge to do it, but it now came naturally to him, sliding his tongue up and down Trey's shaft and causing it to jolt with elation. While his tongue was busy, Jack kept his hand occupied "me-ing off", stroking gently at first then more rapidly as he could feel Trey building to a climax. When Trey shot his wad into Jack's mouth and down his throat, it could easily have seemed to an observer that Trey's cum had just kept on going, as a similar burst was splattering out of Jack's cock, coating the bedsheets.

They tumbled back naked on Jack's bed, Jack's head nestling in Trey's armpit, Trey's arm comfortingly around Jack's shoulders. Trey was now slightly bigger than Jack, so it felt natural for him to be the more nurturing, mature one of the duo, just as he always had been when he was the smaller of the pair. Jack kissed Trey gently on the nipple and asked, "So you went ahead with using Twink, even though you knew it might make you gay?"

Trey smiled whimsically. "Oh, I wasn't worried about that. I was already gay."

That didn't register with Jack immediately, but when it did, it hit with a wallop. Jack sat up and swatted Trey on the chest. "You were already gay?"

Trey nodded, relieved that Jack no longer had his old strength or else that swat would have really knocked the wind out of him.

"Since when?", Jack demanded to know.

"Since forever. But it didn't matter. The guy I loved wasn't."

"Oh, really," said Jack with his arms crossed, curious. "And who was that?"

Trey just stared at Jack and waited for the answer to coalesce. Trey hadn't expected Jack's brain to take such a hit in the transformation, but he was damn cute now and that would make up for a lot. Finally, Jack's brain pieced it together. "Me? You loved ME?"

Trey nodded. "Still do, Squatch." Now came the dangerous question. "Do you think you could love me?"

Jack's brain needed less time to work on that one. "Well, you're the only person who ever really hung out with me. And you always looked after me whenever I was in trouble. And I always had more fun with you than anyone else I knew. And I missed you desperately when you weren't around any more." He paused to let the conclusion sink in. "So I think I already do love you."

Trey sighed with relief and propped himself up on his elbows, while Jack leaned down to give him a long and very significant kiss. When they parted, Trey stared at Jack's hairless body. "I don't think Squatch works as a nickname anymore. How about just 'Jackie'?" Jack(ie)'s cock jolted upwards and spurted a little. "I think that's a yes," said Trey.

Jackie swung a leg over to straddle Trey's waist. "Can you imagine what the guys on the wrestling team will say?"

"Yes, I can," said Trey. "That's why I ran away. So are you going to run away with me?"

"Of course!", said Jackie. "I was only at college for the chicks and the wrestling anyway, and now I'm not that interested in either."

"Well," said Trey, smiling as he pulled Jackie down to rest upon his chest, "if you ever feel the desperate need to wrestle somebody, I'll be right beside you."

"Or under me!", shouted Jackie, surprising Trey with a deft move that flipped him over and pinned him to the mattress. Jackie maneuvered his erection toward Trey's bulging buttocks. Trey laughed, but soon would be shouting too.

They packed Jackie's few belongings into Trey's car that night, leaving behind his clothes because none of them fit anymore. 



Jackie texted his apologies to the coach and explained he was withdrawing from college. As an addendum, he typed, "BTW TREY SAYS HI."


As they were about ready to leave, Jackie raced back into the house and returned to the car with the half-used bottle of Twink. Jackie grinned at Trey. "Just in case we meet anyone who could stand a shower."


"Or two," Trey added.