The Transformation

I have to admit that I am totally taken by the transformation in Patrick. As he lies next to me in bed, both of us naked and covered with sweat, with me feeling Patrick’s cum seeping out of my hole and onto my thighs and the sheets under me, I bring back the time when I met him.

That was two months ago. Tonight was the first time that we had sex. Oh, I know, that’s a long time of courting for two guys. At first, I had thought that Patrick was too nerdy for me. He stood at 2 meters with a slender body that could not have weighed more than 60 kilograms. I first spotted him as I was sitting on a bench in the park near my apartment, reading a book, one of the Harry Potter series. What drew my attention were his eyeglasses, round, black-rimmed, just like Harry Potter.

He was sitting on a bench across from mine, some 6 or 7 meters away. As I watched him, he looked towards me and our eyes met. It wasn’t that my heart fluttered or my stomach churned or my head got dizzy. Nothing like that. A normal kind of dude, young, lanky, nerdy looking, not exactly what I looked for in a partner.

The minute I closed my book and rose, this guy also rose. We met in the middle of the gravel walkway, and since we had been staring at each other, it felt normal that we greeted each other, with no special interest on my part.

 “I noticed that you were totally engrossed by your book,” he started, giving me a smile and extending his hand. “I’m Patrick.”

“Ed,” I retorted giving his offered hand a shake and quickly going over his body.

The guy was really thin, or perhaps his height accentuated his slender body. To me he looked as if he were walking on sticks. He was wearing a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans. For the first time I noticed that he was carrying a book with him also.

“Oh,” I said glancing down at the book in my hand, “Harry Potter,” I confessed, apologetically. I pointed at his book and continued, “You read also,” biting my tongue the second I heard myself uttering such banality.

He laughed, well, sort of snickered, really. “Game of Thrones,” he raised the book in his hand.

We broke out laughing at the same time. I had to admit, then, that Patrick had a sexy laugh. But I still didn’t think of him in that sense. I’m not into the nerdy type.

“I was thinking that your glasses look very much like those that Harry Potter wears,” I admitted.

“Oh. That’s why you were staring at me.”

“I was? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I wondered…” He left his statement open, floating in the air as we both fell silent, neither of us making a move to leave.

On the spur of the moment, I blurted out, “I can make it up for you by buying you a cup of coffee?”

He smiled and nodded. As we sat at one of those small, round, rickety tables at a sidewalk café, sipping our coffee, mine black, his full with cream and two cubes of sugar, we started talking about the books that we were reading and comparing them. He had seen one of the Harry Potter movies and I had watched a few episodes of Game of Thrones so our conversation was pretty much academic.

We parted some thirty minutes later. I wasn’t impressed by Patrick’s physique, but the more I looked at him the more I was struck by the smartness imparted through the eyes behind the glasses, as well as his sense of humor. We swapped phone numbers and I sauntered back to my place.

Two days later, I received a voice mail from Patrick. At first, I didn’t realize who it was from.

“If you have time, I’d like to return the invite. Call me if you feel up to it.”

The invite? What invite? And then suddenly I remembered. The guy from the park. The Harry Potter eyeglasses. Game of Thrones. What was the guy’s name? Phil? Fuck, I am so bad in remembering names. Patrick. Yes, it was Patrick. I called him and we spent some time on nothings until he asked me if we could get together for a drink or something.

“Yes, that would be nice,” I said. I did enjoy our coffee talk the other day, so why not a drink? I must admit that I didn’t seem too excited over the phone and he must have sensed it.

“But if you are too busy…” he hesitated.

“No, Patrick, it’s fine. Great. Pick the place,” I tried my best to sound interested. Was the guy offering for us to date? Ridiculous, I thought. A couple of coffees and a drink don’t make a date, especially when the conversations centered around books and stuff.

“Oh, I was thinking, this bar? ‘The White’?”

I took in a deep breath. ‘The White’ wasn’t exactly a gay bar, but many gay students from the nearby college campus frequented it. Was Patrick gay? Was he coming onto me? I wasn’t really interested in sexing the guy. True, he was admittedly nice, but in a normal, average kind of way. I needed a hunk. I hadn’t had sex for a while. But what I really wanted was hot, wild sex, with a stud burying himself in me.  I was going through this phase in my gay life when I needed to bottom for a stud instead of me doing all the topping, so to speak. Patrick didn’t fit the bill. Tall, yes, but too slender, too bookish, especially in those eyeglasses. He probably had a tiny dick!

“Sure,” I said after a couple of seconds pause. “ ‘The White’ it is.”

“Tonight good for you?”

Oh boy, the kid is definitely anxious. I had to put a check on that. I couldn’t lead him on.

“Tonight is not good for me, Patrick. How about next week? Say Friday?” I put it off as far as I could without actually insulting him.

We met at the bar that Friday. We had our drinks. Our conversation was quite interesting and again I was impressed by Patrick’s quick wit. We watched a couple of guys dance but neither of us made any comments. We finished our drinks, I thanked him, and we parted.

Two weeks later, Patrick and I met in the park, almost in the same place that we had initially met. Again, we had an interesting conversation. Together, we strolled over to the sidewalk café for coffee. I watched Patrick’s glasses steam as he sipped the hot coffee. Cute!

“You know, Ed,” Patrick said placing the coffee mug on the table. “I have really enjoyed our conversations. We seem to mesh on some kind of level.”

Oh God, I thought, the guy was coming onto me. Would I? Go to bed with him? I studied his face and for the first time I looked at him as a potential sex partner. I was surprised to realize that Patrick was not as bad looking as I took him to be so far. Actually, he had sexy lips, and his eyes were very expressive, green, which I hadn’t noticed before. I’m a sucker for green eyes. His light beard accentuated some masculinity in spite of the slender physique.

Slowly, I placed my hand on top of his and squeezed lightly.

“Same here,” I said.

That was all. I let it go at that. I had thought that perhaps I was misinterpreting the signs and that I my sex-starved brain was imagining things. It was only until last night, after many coffees and conversations over the two-month period that I suggested that Patrick come up to my apartment. We lounged for a while. I had prepared a salad and some cheese and crackers. We ate and drank some wine. Afterwards, we moved over to the couch and resumed our conversation, which for the life of me I can’t remember what it was about.

Patrick grew on me, gradually, steadily. When our knees touched and as if pressing a button, we fell into each other’s arms, our mouths glued, our moaning audible, our tongues probing.

Then the transformation started. This nerd, this skinny, awkwardly tall young guy started to turn into a hot, sexy stud. To my surprise, he held me with startling power. I could actually feel his arm biceps swelling. I had never thought he had any muscles, just bones. But when he held me and we kissed, I felt that I was being held by a man. He wasn’t violent but he was fervent.

“I have been aching for this ever since we met, Ed,” Patrick broke the kiss but kept the hug. He held my eyes and his stare was so intense that I trembled under it. Then he grabbed me to him and tongued my mouth in a way that made my whole being desire his sex. This “kid” was transforming into a stud right before my eyes, right inside his manly embrace, pressing me to him as if I were his life-long lover.

Right then, I knew that I had irrevocably, desperately, hopelessly fallen for Patrick. My cock almost burst through my pants, my balls were on fire and my ass was twitching crazily as Patrick made love to my face with his tongue, his kisses, his hands. I felt like putty, like jelly.

I fumbled with his shirt buttons and gazed at his bare chest. What I had envisaged as scrawny and boney was then revealed to me, taking me by further surprise. Patrick’s naked chest was the most beautiful man chest I had ever seen. I don’t go much for muscles. I like my guy to be toned, and Patrick was toned to perfection. Sparsely haired, with wisps around his nipples and a light patch in the middle, Patrick’s otherwise smooth chest was ribbed and defined like a model’s. How had all this been hidden to me? Perhaps it was because of my initial opinion of him being a tall, skinny nerd?

I ran my hands up and down Patrick’s naked chest, reveling in its manliness and its flawless beauty as he licked the side of my neck and lightly bit my ear lobe setting me on fire. I was dying to see the rest of him, fully exposed. If his chest was so sexy, so manly, what would the rest of him be like? My hand slid down to his crotch and I froze. What I felt through his pants was a hard rod. I traced it. No! This couldn’t be. There was no end to it. It couldn’t be a dick. Extending all the way to his waist. When I traced his cock, Patrick grunted and pulled me closer, tighter, to him, as if he wanted me to melt into him. By then, I was totally out of breath.

“You’re sexy, Ed,” I heard him mumble into my mouth as if from miles away. I shook like a leaf.

Let me confess, here. I’ve been sexually active with men for at least seven or eight years, ever since the first time I sucked my cousin’s dick in our downstairs bathroom. I had known since then that I was gay and my desire for man cock was intense and certain. I have had no doubts and I came out to my family without hesitation or fear or embarrassment. I am who I am. Since then, my desire for a man in my bed has never waned. In actual fact, it has intensified as I became more experienced and sex became more enjoyable. I love sucking dick and I love fucking a firm tight man ass. Reciprocity for me is not necessary but if my partner desires it, then I can also enjoy going passive and getting a hard ass pounding.

This was why when Patrick embraced me the way he did, and when I started to experience how he really looked and what he was packing, my whole body tingled. I could feel the tingling all the way down to my toes.

With trembling fingers, I managed to undo his belt and his pants buttons and zipper. Sliding my hand into his crotch, I grabbed the hardness, and once again I was amazed by the size. Patrick was hung!

When he felt me gripping his erection, Patrick stood up, lifting me off my feet, and laid me on my back on the couch. He started to undress me and for the first time I was able to have a clear look at how his body was formed: the model naked torso which I had thought was just ribs and bones, the huge bulge in the white jockeys which I had thought was tiny, the sparsely hairy thighs which I had thought were spindly.

Patrick tore off my clothes and I lay on my back with my legs spread and my own dick pointing straight up. He licked up and down my hairy chest, teasing my nipples, to my armpits, down to my trail and then further to my crotch, avoiding my cock but licking and slurping inside my thighs and under my balls.

I groaned and squirmed under him and with each lick and slobber I felt that I was going to lose my load, to shoot high up in the air, hit the ceiling maybe. And when he straightened and pulled down his jockeys I almost fainted. The cock staring at me was at least 22-23 centimeters long.  I reached over and grabbed it. It throbbed in my hand. I pulled back the skin and the pink head was exposed with a wide slit that was already glistening with nectar-like precum. His bush was thick, ending a beautifully formed trail starting at his navel. His balls hung low under his amazing shaft, fuzzy and promising. Ever so slowly, I took in the first taste of the real, transformed Patrick.

Electricity flowed throughout my body as my tongue touched the cock knob. I licked around it, down to ridge, fisting the incredibly long shaft. My lips wrapped around it and I looked up. The intense look in the green eyes almost killed me, and like a crazy animal, I attacked his cock with my mouth, wanting every hard centimeter of it, down my throat, to my stomach, to the back of my skull. Patrick let me have my way with his dick for a few minutes, and then he carried me, yes, he actually lifted me up in his arms and carried me over to the bed. Then he topped me.

Patrick took me in every position imaginable. He laid me on my back, spread my legs wide, and entered me. He flipped me over on my belly, pushed my thighs sideways with his knees, and entered me again. He turned me on fours, gripped my hips tightly, and pounded me. He laid me sideways, lifted one leg up in the air, and plowed my exposed ass. He made me ride his cock, facing him, and then with my back to him. He pulled me down onto him as he thrust up into my ass making me feel his heaving chest against my back. Patrick filled me in whatever position he lusted for. I felt like a toy in his arms. His cock kept entering my body, centimeter after centimeter, interminably, as if it were a mile long, reaching and massaging and rubbing and pressing on each and every square millimeter of my burning body. He found my spot with his beautifully long cock and worked it. Damn it, he found all my spots, spots I never knew existed, and worked them with his cock, turning my body into a clump of screaming nerves.

My ass shrieked with soreness as he plowed it relentlessly, never tiring, his smooth ribbed chest glistening with beads of sweat, his green eyes glued onto mine, studying every expression. I moaned and groaned. I thrashed and squirmed. I cried and screamed, begged for more, begged to stop, begged to be seeded. My dick dribbled with I don’t know what, whether it was just precum or actual ejaculation. And he kept on and on, thrusting, man fucking, like no stud I have ever been with or ever even imagined.

The transformation was uncanny. From nerd to stud.

I am studying Patrick as he lies next to me, gorgeously naked, on his back, an arm under my neck, the hand gripping my shoulder, breathing deeply, sound asleep. I can smell him. Turning my face towards him, I inhale his hairy armpit, taking in the man scent of sweat and soap and deodorant. I am dizzy with lust for this man, his thighs and legs, unbelievingly long, partially spread, his snake-like dick hanging over his balls, his chest still glistening with sweat.

I feel my ass on fire, so used, so deliciously used, his seed drying on the back of my thighs, my cock rock hard and throbbing. I press on his hip and gently hump him. All it takes me is a few minutes to shoot a huge load on his hot hip, spraying him with squirt after squirt as he lay so gorgeously next to me.

Am I in love with this guy? Yes. I am. Certainly. No questions asked. This nerd-turned-stud is my man. Slowly, I drift into blissful sleep with my head resting on his arm, my leg over his thigh almost touching the tip of his cock, my arm across his heaving chest. I will dream. He will wake up in the middle of the night and fuck me again. And then in the morning and fuck me, and after breakfast, and before lunch, and forever.