Guy lines and tent poles

by BRK   

Jacob and Luke’s camping getaway to rekindle their college bromance gets a tent stake in the works when Jacob invites along a dweeby coworker with a secret stash of very powerful weed.

Jacob’s sturdy blue-and-white vintage Bronco pulled carefully off the state highway and onto the gravel forest road that led to the campgrounds. The tents and miscellaneous cargo stowed in the back—mostly beer—shifted minutely with the turn. From the passenger seat, Luke watched as his old college buddy and fellow 6-foot-4 ex-BMOC jockboy checked the rearview mirror to make sure the car following them made the turnoff. Twisting to look back, Luke saw that Darrell was indeed right behind them, waving goofily at them through the windshield of his late-model Slurpee-red Honda Civic hatchback.

Luke turned back and gave his buddy an unimpressed look. “Tell me again why we’re inviting Dweeby McNerdguy?”

Jacob smirked. He hadn’t shaved that day, and his blond stubble looked coarse and stubbly. His beard is like sandpaper compared to mine, Luke thought distractedly.

“Because,” Jacob explained as they crawled down the backwoods road to the camp, “our dweeby comic-book-collecting coworker has the best stash.”

Falling on the heels of his musings about Jacob’s facial hair, this remark had Luke instantly confused. He glanced back over his shoulder to stare at Darrell, who waved cheerily at him again, then turned back to Jacob. “What are you talking about? I don’t think he even shaves, bro.” He probably doesn’t have a follicle of body hair on him. Not like us, he couldn’t help adding.

He let his eyes drop briefly to Jacob’s tight white tee shirt, which was thin enough to show off both a ton of bristly chest and ab hair and the fact that Jacob’s waist was as trim as ever five years out of school. For his part, Luke’s once-chiseled six-pack and eye-catchingly thick chest were a notch softer now, though they remained just as matted with short jet-black curls. One very boozy night with the guys there’d been a contest, and Luke had wound up with the hard-fought title of Mr. Body Hair. Jacob was dubbed Mr. Crotch Thatch, not that any of the inebriated participants could pronounce the moniker once it was bestowed. And Mr. Meat, which was easier to articulate, and had been, many times, that night and afterward.

Jacob chuckled. “No, numbnuts. The best stash. He has the most mind-blowing weed, I promise you. Gets it shipped in mail order from some place in Colorado.”

“Uh huh.” Luke frowned and turned to watch the road, listening to the reassuring crunch of gravel under the tires. The sun had been low and red in the late afternoon sky by the time they’d got to the turnoff, and here in the woods it was getting hard to see. Jacob flipped on the headlights.

“Lukey, I promise you, it’s good stuff,” Jacob insisted. Luke wondered how many times Jacob and Darrell had shared a few joints already, just the two of them, and felt unaccountably annoyed. “He told me he just got a shipment of this new premium blend he hasn’t even had a chance to try yet,” Jacob went on. “Primo, primo stuff. Put hair on your chest,” he joked, glancing over at Luke. Without looking, Luke knew those gray eyes were sharp and arresting even in the dim light.

“It’s just, I thought it would be us, you know?” Luke said, eyes ahead. He scratched between his furry pecs through his yellow pocket tee. “Like the old days. A chance to, you know… get comfortable.” Luke and Jacob didn’t talk much about the snuggling they’d used to do on camping outings and in motels on road trips. The mutual handies, the muscle appreciation, the rare gentle smooches (if they were really marinated), face-to-face in a tent under the stars or in a Super 8 halfway to Six Flags, seemed like boyish gamboling now, replaced by team meetings and backyard barbecues. (They both worked in sales for Sweetmeat Pharma where Darrell was the company’s demographic trendmaster, crystal ball wizard, and accidental PicThread totally-harmless spokes-cutiepie.)

When Jacob had suggested a trip to the woods for old times’ sake after overlapping business travel had meant the two still-steamy ex-jocks hadn’t seen each other in two months, Luke had felt an unexpected rush. He’d been nonplussed at the last-minute addition of—well, if this were a date, Darrell would be the third wheel for sure. Not that this was anything like that.

“Dude, there’s two tents,” Jacob said in a rumbly, amused voice. “No worries, okay?” With a glance over at Luke he added, “I miss it too, okay?”

Luke smiled, relieved, and they shared a look before Jacob turned back to the road. Their reserved campsite was just coming up ahead on their right, the night ahead already starting to unfold.

Two hours later the tents were up, the fire was crackling, and the boys were well-fed on chili dogs and PBRs. They sat on thick logs spaced around the blazing fire pit, sparks wafting straight upwards into the air as though fated to join the stars emerging from the inky celestial sea above the tall, silhouetted trees. No other campsites were nearby; it was like they had the whole darkening forest to themselves. Just like the old days.

Well, not quite, Luke thought. Gamely, he turned to Darrell. Their undersized omega-wolf coworker was wearing a heavy-looking red and white plaid shirt, despite the warm spring night, along with his hiking boots and jeans, in comical contrast to Luke and Jacob’s tees, sweats, and tennies. A few dots of sweat had appeared at his temples above his short brown sideburns. “So, Darrell,” he said, “I hear you brought something special to share.”

The cute statcruncher lit up. “Oh yeah!” he said, jumping up to grab a bag from his tent (Jacob’s spare two-man A-frame, on loan owing to Darrell’s lacking equipment of his own). He emerged a second later, dropping a tote bag next to his log. Before sitting down, he impulsively whipped off the heavy overshirt, leaving him in just a snug, brick-red tank top.

Luke blinked at him as he sat down and dove into the tote bag. The shirt-doffing, to his surprise, had revealed a wiry, well-defined torso Luke hadn’t known was there at all. Luke was amazed—Darrell had to have at least 15 pounds more muscle on his 5-foot-8 frame than he would ever have guessed, and more color than expected for someone he’d assumed was pasty white from neck to soles. He turned to Jacob and did a quick flex of his own considerably more impressive biceps with a grin, as if to say, Dude, nerdboy has some beef on him. Jacob grinned and winked, which Luke took as, I know, right?

“Here we go,” Darrell said, and Luke realized he was being passed a very fat joint. Darrell lit it with a Zippo and Luke took a long toke—something told him this was the kind of weed you partook of fully or not at all.

The effect as he held in the smoke was shockingly powerful and almost immediate. All around him the sharp edges of the world seemed not so much to blur as to melt, like every corner was gooey, hinting at an intrinsic motive capacity to shift and transmogrify under the right circumstances and provocation. He seemed to sink into himself, as though he were falling into a deeper layer of his existence, and it seemed eminently right and good that he had done this.

He grinned, letting out the smoke in a long upward stream and passing to Jacob. “Duuuuuude,” he said, which he thought pretty much covered everything.

Jacob laughed and took the super-strong joint, eyeing his buddy. “Bro, you’re like insta-stoned,” he chuckled. He took a pull of the smoke and held it in.

“More like insta-boned!” Darrell blurted out unexpectedly, letting a giggle escape before suppressing his mirth. To an objective observer he would have sounded a little high already, though he hadn’t had any of the premium cannabis he was passing around. Mostly he was just naturally exuberant.

“I am!” Luke said, staring down at the large and obvious log-like bulge in his navy-blue sweats. “I’m so big!” he marveled. “Not like Mr. Meat though,” he added, pointing at Jacob.

Jacob coughed, letting out his smoke prematurely with a laugh. “No fair, you two!” he said. Defiantly, he took a second toke, then leaned forward and passed the joint back to Darrell.

Luke watched happily as the pot took hold of his hunky, hairy-chested buddy. To his amazement he felt a weird kind of connection gradually form between them, as though Jacob had within him a node that Luke could touch and play with. Like a nipple, he thought. A hard, sensitive, masculine nipple. A rebel base within the chest-hair forest, there to be… raided.

“Dude, I can feeeel you,” he whispered. They were closer, closer than made sense with the logs and the little fire pit. “I can totally feel your insides.”

Jacob grinned brilliantly at him, making Luke want to swoon inside. “That’s later,” he purred. Luke realized they were both hard. Their throbbing seemed synchronized, like two motorbikes revving in unison at a red light, waiting to tear loose.

Darrell giggled, somehow managing to do so without letting out any air. “You two are so horny-sexy,” he squeaked, valiantly keeping the smoke in his lungs as long as possible. Luke grinned—just Darrell saying it made it feel like a wave of horniness flooded through him. He felt completely malleable, like everything about his body and life was mutable and subject to whim and desire.

“You shouldn’t wait for later,” Darrell urged with the last of his no-exhalation voice, then released his stream of smoke with another giggle. “You should touch each other now,” he commanded giddily.

Jacob snorted happily. The moment swam for Luke, and Jacob was on Luke’s log now, or he was on Jacob’s log. It didn’t matter. Jacob’s arm was around Luke’s broad back, but his attention was still on Darrell. “You want to watch, huh?” he teased. “Perv!”

Darrell laughed. “You should see what I make my action figures do to each other,” he said, and the others snickered. A sudden look of awe came over him. “Guys, your cocks are sooo big,” he said.

Luke gaped at him, realizing he felt a connection with cute, sexy Darrell, too, only the node that was inside Darrell was more dominant, as though something in Darrell meant that he was innately more adept at shaping the red-hot sex energy Luke could feel flowing between them like an endless, tricornered river of sweet, mind-melting cannabis power connecting their blunted brains and fluid realities.

Darrell was looking down at their cocks, eyes wide and hungry. “So big,” he whispered. Luke looked down and felt his pulse start to pound. Their sweatpants were gone—tee shirts too—leaving them bareassed in their tennies with straining cocks the size of forearms. Luke’s was bigger than anything he’d ever seen, but his new monster tool had nothing on Jacob’s long, chest-high log of pick, veiny flesh. The glans, redder than the rest, nestled in its pink turtleneck, like it was waiting to fill the folds of snug foreskin with slick, messy precum. Luke’s vision filled with the sight, and the only word he could form in his mind was delicious.

He looked up at Jacob to see eyes full of heat. He was waiting for his buddy. He’d been waiting this whole time.

“It has to be sucked,” Darrell nudged. He was closer than before, on the next log, and still dressed, though he looked very aroused and, while not exactly hotter than before, he seemed more… radiant. Luke wanted to turn him on. No, not just that. He wanted to make Darrell cum.

“It has to be sucked,” Darrell repeated as they made eye contact. Darrell had pretty eyes. “Jacob’s cock needs to be in your mouth. Look at it.” Luke obediently turned to appreciate Jacob’s chest-high tool. “It needs to be sucked. Sucked hard.”

Luke’s floaty mind seized on a problem. He looked up into Jacob’s bright gray eyes. “What if I suck too hard?” he asked his big-dicked bud. “What if I suck really hard and it makes it bigger? Would you get smaller?”

Jacob smiled fondly. His cock squeezed at the idea, letting a pearl of that prized precum emerge and trickle down along the rim of the foreskin. “I could be a little smaller,” he said equably.

Luke’s jaw dropped. “Nooo!” he said, stroking a hand over Jacob’s granite delts and sexy upper arms. “All the beautiful size you worked for! Where would it go?” he asked, forgetting that it was ostensibly being pulled into Jacob’s growing cock thanks to the suction of his blowjob.

“Don’t worry,” Darrell said. “I’ll look after it.”

Luke grinned at Darrell—their Darrell, with the strong, nurturing, dominant presence, then looked at Jacob. “And… will you do me, too? Bro?” he asked, almost plaintively.

“Bro, we’re doing each other,” Jacob vowed, “tonight and from now on.”

“Sweet,” Darrell said. “I am going to enjoy you guys so much.”

Luke and Jacob fell into a kiss, but the urgency of their cocks’ need to blow the first of many loads pulled their mouths straight down onto each other’s cocks. They caressed each other’s hairy musclebods as the effect of the pot seemed to build inside them. Luke sucked hard, just like Jacob did, and their cocks seemed the swell and lengthen ever so slightly. At the same time, Luke was thinking, Jacob’s lats felt like they just ebbed a little—did it go into his dick and balls?

“Oh fuck yeah,” they heard Darrell moan. His voice sounded funny, like it was slightly deeper than before. He’s stroking, Luke thought proudly. Stroking his long cock just to us. Orgasm welled up in him, except they were all connected and he felt it welling up in all of them—three massive orgasms hitting them all at once.

It hit like a truck, slamming through them with more pleasure than they could handle. He swallowed as much of Jacob’s cum as he could, and felt Jacob gulping down his hot seed, too, like a thirsty man finding a wellspring in the desert. Both of them shared in Darrell’s orgasm too, loving the way his straight, narrow, footlong dick was spraying cum directly up into his open mouth. They were all moaning and swooning, Darrell next to the boys now, hands on their diminished forms.

Luke felt woozy, wondering where that concept of “diminished” had come from. The world seemed to settle, and he grinned at his buddy—the same 5-foot-10, hairy, trim-muscled hottie with the mouth-high, irresistibly delicious monster dick he’d always been.

“Time for another toke,” their taller, exquisitely built, supercute coworker said, reveling like Jacob and Luke in the lake’s worth of hot, gooey pleasure sloshing around between them. “I’m not stopping this anytime soon.” Jacob and Luke were too busy making out to argue—not that they would have objected in the slightest.

It wasn’t until he got home and in his bedroom, ducking under the doorjamb and closing the door behind him, that Darrell let his two favorite toys out of the specially made breadbox-sized plastic carrier, with the airholes and top that opened like a toolchest. Pulling off the too-tight tank top and tossing it into the hamper—his clothes had kept pace with the size and muscle he’d borrowed from the boys, mostly, but the last retcon hadn’t quite caught up with his growth spurt to 7-foot-something, ripped, and (unexpectedly) kinda hairy. Not as hairy as his guys, though.

He went back to the box he’d set on his neatly made bed (now an extra-long king—more retcons) and opened the top of the carrier. Jacob and Luke looked up at him, startled. The foot-tall men were wrapped around each other, making out like fiends, but when they looked up at Darrell they were grinning. They were his. Whatever the retcons had done with their identities he wasn’t sure, except that when he’d woken up in the (single) tent with his li’l guys, he’d discovered everything distinctly Jacob’s and Luke’s no longer existed—and the Bronco was now Darrell’s, the Civic having remained in his garage the whole weekend. Weird.

He was kind of looking forward to going into work on Monday, knowing he was the only one who knew that when it came to Sweetmeat Pharma the name “Darrell” hadn’t always meant “tall, hot, and built”.

“Master!” Luke said, beaming needily up at him. “Will you suck our cocks?”

“Please?” Jacob begged.

Darrell laughed. Jacob and Luke were facially the same and still fuzzed with hair, but their bodies were now long and lanky instead of heavy and stuffed with muscle. Like fitness models just starting out, Darrell thought, getting their first layer of definition. The things that separated them from normal body proportions were their 13-inch cocks, bigger than they were and too thick for either man to swallow, and the nearly proportionate balls beneath. They could get each other off—fuck, there was a pool of spunk in the far corner of the carrier, and their tools were obviously messy—but they needed Darrell to give them a proper blowjob. Darrell was more than happy to provide this service, and others as well.

“Absolutely,” Darrell agreed.

Luke seemed to catch the glint in Darrell’s eyes and gave him an amused, suspicious look. “You’re not going to be dressing us up as the Mandalorian again are you?”

“Those costumes kinda chafe, Master,” Jacob added, stroking his giant dick idly, though Darrell knew thanks to their bond that Jacob and Luke liked the action figure cosplay part just as much as Darrell did.

“Naw,” Darrell said, picking them up, one in each hand. They were heavy, and the gigantic disproportionate dicks made their centers of gravity feel off and unpredictable. “I just got in some new extra-comfy Sasuke and Naruto slashfic duds in exactly—” He licked the damp, salty head of Jacob’s dick, making the blond mini-guy moan. “—your—” He did the same to Luke, eliciting a matching sound from him. “—size.” He took both cockheads in his mouth, gently tonguing the two cockheads.

“Fuck,” Jacob and Luke rasped, their pleasure flowing through the three of them across their bond. He pulled them free past his lips with a pop, and they lolled happily in his grips as if they’d just cum.

Luke’s eyes fluttered, and he looked up at Darrell with an excited expression. “Master,” he said, “if I’m cosplaying Naruto, will I be able to do the shadow clone thing he does?”

Darrell smiled, thinking of the still three-quarters-full bag of Thad’s Hashery premium weed that had made their new lives possible, currently stowed away in his camping bag. It might be a lot of fun to add actual character powers to the cosplay he did with his mini-men.

“I dunno,” he told them, his giant, stretched-up hunky frame brimming with true nerd curiosity. “Let’s find out!”

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