A billionaire ropes a lowly accountant into going on a mysterious mission to Mr. Lee’s notorious shop.
The man lying face down on the bed heard the words but wasn’t initially aware they were directed at him. A beefy hand shook his shoulder, so he turned drowsily and looked up at an older guy with dark curly hair seated beside him on the bed. He might not know the old guy, but the old guy sure seemed to know him.
“How are you feeling this morning, Hunter?” the old guy asked.
Hunter—for that, apparently, was his name—gave it some thought and realized he felt extremely good. He turned over, propping his back against his pillow. The silk sheets felt nice around his naked body and started to tent over his growing erection. He self-consciously repositioned his leg to hide his boner from the old guy, thinking it’d be embarrassing to have a hard-on in front of his dad…if that’s who this guy was.
The old guy noticed the hard-on and smiled, placing his hand on Hunter’s knee. “The sheets feel nice, don’t they?” Hunter nodded. The old man moved his hand so it rested over Hunter’s engorged cock, still hidden under the sheet. “And this feels very nice, doesn’t it?” Hunter nodded emphatically, really hoping this guy wasn’t his dad.
The old man stood up, continuing to speak to the young man gently, as if he were giving instructions to a five-year-old. “I have to go to work, Hunter, but you can just stay here and enjoy the house. All of your clothes are in the closet over there.” He gestured to a walk-in closet with a full-length mirror on its door. “The swimming pool is just outside those doors.” He pointed to the south-facing windows where the morning sun was already beaming through. “And if you get hungry or thirsty or if there’s anything else you need, just ask one of the servants, okay?”
That all sounded good to Hunter, who nodded and said, “Thank you, sir.”
The old man looked down with disappointment. “‘Sir’? You know my name is Gavin, babe.”
The old man leaned down and kissed Hunter on the lips. Hunter was surprised at first, but realized it felt right. He kissed back and felt hungry for more when the old man, Gavin, turned and left the room.
Hunter stretched his arms and yawned. It seemed like he had been asleep for a very long time, but he felt well-rested and invigorated. He hopped out of bed energetically and curled his toes in the lush carpeting. He caught his reflection in the mirror on the closet door. Strange that his own reflection seemed so unfamiliar to him, but he wasn’t going to complain about what he saw. His cock stuck out from his waistline, parallel to the floor, and he couldn’t resist stroking it as he walked through the spacious bedroom to the closet.
Clothes lined two walls of the so-called closet, which looked big enough to have been someone’s bedroom at one time. A three-way mirror stood at the far end, giving Hunter multiple views of himself. He positioned himself by the three-way mirror and checked out the ample curvature of his dimpled glutes. No tan lines interrupted the brown-sugar hue of his skin. He spotted a wallet atop a chest of drawers and flipped it open. Sure enough, there was a driver’s license for Hunter J. Davis, and a picture where his eyes were halfway closed and his lips were curled as if in mid-sneeze. Funny how your driver’s license picture never looks exactly like you.
Sliding open a drawer, he discovered an array of colorful thongs, jockstraps and silk bikini briefs, although his instinct was to go without any underwear. Nothing on the racks seemed familiar to him, but as he began to try on clothes, they were all precisely his size. He knew he ought to put on something, if only to avoid shocking the servants. He slid into a bright red Speedo, which strained mightily to contain his hard cock, and stepped into some flip-flops, then headed outside to the swimming pool. He kicked off the footwear and dove in, his powerful muscles propelling him swiftly through the water. The sun cut through the clouds, shining upon the pool, and Hunter felt rejuvenated, reborn.
Gavin was more than pleased with the way Mr. Lee had refurbished Aaron. He had not yet noticed an imperfection, and finding the mistakes of others was Gavin’s primary mission in life. He considered sending Mr. Lee some sort of gift to show his appreciation, but previous attempts to do so had always been politely declined. Mr. Lee said he was just living up to their deal and he would feel guilty receiving any additional gifts from Gavin. From Gavin’s point of view, it was probably wise to limit his interactions with Mr. Lee, to preserve the secrecy of their business arrangement. After Gavin had initially limited his visits to off hours, he eventually ceased going in person at all unless he needed changes to his own body. Otherwise, he would just send his sealed confidential instructions with an understanding that Mr. Lee would destroy them once the modifications had been done.
Gavin’s final instruction to Mr. Lee yesterday was that he put Aaron into a taxi that would deposit the dazed young man on a bus bench outside Gavin’s mansion. Servants were then sent to retrieve him and deposit him in Gavin’s bed. That night as Aaron slumbered, recuperating from the trauma of undergoing so many changes at once, Gavin slipped a pair of headphones onto Aaron’s ears. All night long, a continuous loop informed Aaron of the details of his new identity: his name was Hunter Davis, he was the lover of Gavin Scott, they had been together for four years, they lived in a mansion in Pacific Heights and, most importantly, Hunter was agoraphobic. The very notion of leaving their comfortable home without Gavin at his side to comfort him would cause Hunter to suffer violent panic attacks. That was the final crucial detail Gavin had realized was missing in his previous relationships: eventually the other man would grow tired of dealing with Gavin’s moods and his possessiveness and take off. At last, Gavin was constructing a partner to correspond to his needs, and this one would become ill at the very thought of being anywhere in public without Gavin to protect and calm him.
Hunter was lying face down on an inflatable chaise in the pool, toes and fingers dangling in the topaz-blue water. Fearing a tan line, he had ditched the Speedo after all, wadding it into a soggy ball that was now drying in the sun. A homely woman in her sixties walked alongside the pool, carrying a freshly blended smoothie. “I have your lunch for you, Mr. Hunter,” she said, placing the glass on the edge of the pool.
Hunter lifted his head and took a look at her. “Thank you, uh…what is your name?”
Hunter nodded, somehow feeling that he should have known her, even though she looked utterly unfamiliar.
“It is good to have you back, Mr. Hunter,” she said before returning inside.
Hunter paddled over to poolside and grabbed his drink, slurping it down so quickly he got a sharp pain behind the eyes. He leaned back on the chaise, his cock and balls bobbing on the surface of the water and admired the view of the city around him. He knew he and Gavin had been together for four years, but the details were vague. What had he done to deserve all this?
That evening, Carlotta served the men squab. Hunter picked at it, frankly more in the mood for Kentucky Fried Chicken, but Gavin was attempting to get Hunter to broaden his horizons. Hunter shrugged and wished the squab had at least been coated in eleven herbs and spices.
“How did we meet?” Hunter asked.
“You don’t remember?” Hunter shrugged apologetically. Gavin set down his knife and fork and told about their meeting at the summer Olympics four years ago. Gavin had donated a considerable amount of money to fund the men’s swim team, and he had been seated next to Hunter at a charity fundraising dinner. Gavin took an immediate shine to Hunter, although he couldn’t imagine that the virile young swimmer would ever reciprocate those feelings for someone like Gavin, especially after Hunter won two silver medals and a bronze. “Like a pathetic old man, I tried to buy your love. I started to give you things. I bought you clothes. I took you on vacations. And eventually, I guess I wore down your resistance. I was the one person with the money and resources to protect you from the fame and the crowds that so frightened you. I brought you here, and we’ve had four years of happiness together.”
It all sounded wonderful to Hunter, but he still found no evidence of it in his own memory. Gavin sensed Hunter’s skepticism, so he walked to a bookshelf and retrieved a scrapbook of clippings. Sure enough, there was Hunter, or someone who looked damn like him, on the starting blocks. Hunter on the medal stand beside Ryan Lochte. Hunter and Gavin together at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Gavin led Hunter into the den where his three Olympic medals hung in a frame above the fireplace. Hunter was amazed to learn what a glorious life he had lived.
“I’m sorry I’m so stupid that I don’t remember any of this,” Hunter said, draping his arms over Gavin’s shoulders and starting to weep.
Gavin patted Hunter’s back gently. “There, there. You’re not stupid, Hunter. Why would I want to spend time with a stupid person?”
Hunter leaned back and wiped away his tears, saying, “Because I’ve got a huge cock?”
Gavin laughed. “Well, that doesn’t hurt.” He hugged Hunter again. “Actually, sometimes it does.” Hunter finally laughed.
Indeed, it was true that Gavin did not want to spend his time around a stupid person. One of the reasons he chose Aaron for this transformation was that he was intelligent, although far from an intellectual. He wanted a pupil he could mold, he could educate, he could bring to appreciate the finer things in life. Far more important, however, was Aaron’s utter isolation from anyone who cared for him. Of all the employees within Gavin’s organization, Aaron was the one whose absence was least likely to be noticed by the rest of the world. The only drawback to wiping away Aaron’s personality was that he would never be aware of just how profoundly Gavin had changed his life for the better and would never be able to thank Gavin properly for rescuing him from the life of Aaron Weiskopf.
That night, Gavin sent the servants home, and he and Hunter fucked in every room of the house. It was a seventeen-room house. Their last stop was the bedroom where Hunter collapsed, exhausted. Gavin could barely move either, but he managed to slip headphones onto Hunter and start a loop of messages which reminded Hunter how much he loved and could trust Gavin, and how he would never think of leaving.
After several weeks refining Hunter’s tastes and instructing him how to behave outside of the house, Gavin felt it was time for Hunter to return to the public eye. Thanks to Gavin’s subliminal message campaign, Hunter was spooked by the idea, but Gavin assured him it would be fine because Gavin would be beside him the whole time. Gavin was being saluted at a charity ball for his generous donations to health-care initiatives in the Bay Area, and it would not be proper for him to show up without his man-candy on his arm. Despite Hunter’s closet full of clothes, Gavin wanted Hunter to wear something new to the gala. He took Hunter after-hours to a tailor where Gavin specified what he wanted so exactly that the tailor became more of a stenographer.
When the big night arrived, Gavin stepped out of the limo and was blasted by a seizure-inducing flurry of camera flashes. He reached back into the limo and took Hunter’s hand. The lanky athlete stepped out in a silver lame suit contoured to emphasize every perfect curve of his magnificent body. Under the suit, he did not wear a shirt, but rather a black Fastskin body suit just like the one Hunter had worn in the pool at the Olympics. It was a bold unconventional look that was the talk of the evening and caused a frenzy in the press. Hunter’s biggest complaint was that it made taking a leak a major hassle. At least in the pool, he could just piss himself and no one would be any the wiser.
Hunter survived the evening without a panic attack, which he attributed to having Gavin close by the entire night, holding his hand. When they got home, Hunter shed his suit, extracted himself from the Lycra swimming unitard and let Gavin fuck him raw. At long last, Gavin felt like he had won life. He was rich, he was respected, he was feared, and now he had someone who loved him unconditionally.
The following morning, as Mr. Lee was pouring himself a cup of tea, a man in a trenchcoat and a baseball cap ducked quickly into his shop. The man had long scraggly hair and a full unkempt beard. He looked and smelled homeless and was clutching a crumpled newspaper in his hand. He walked over to the counter where Mr. Lee backed up, fearing he was about to be robbed.
“I have no money. Please don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t hurt you. I need your help.” His voice was raspy with an asthmatic wheeze. He removed his grimy A’s baseball cap and pulled back his greasy blond hair so Mr. Lee could get a clear look at his deep brown eyes. “Do I look familiar to you?”
Mr. Lee studied the man. His features did seem familiar, but he could not say for certain. “I see many people here. I cannot remember them all.”
“How about if I told you I was sent here by Gavin Scott?”
That narrowed it down a bit, but still…
“What if I told you my name was Hunter Davis?”
Mr. Lee nodded, although the Hunter Davis he remembered was immaculately dressed, clean-shaven and smelled of chlorine and not B.O. “I do remember you. Maybe four years ago?”
“That’s right,” said the shabby-looking man. He slapped the newspaper onto the counter and pointed to a photo of Gavin Scott arriving at the gala with his tall blond companion. “So do you mind telling me who this is?”
Gavin treated himself to a rare Sunday off, refusing to take any business calls as he sat in a lounge chair by his pool and watched Hunter swim. By “no business calls”, Gavin of course meant “some business calls”. When you owned so many different operations in so many different corners of the world, it was impossible to disconnect for a day, but he was trying his best to relax a little and enjoy the fruits of his labors. At the moment, his favorite fruit was the peach, as it reminded him of the two tanned cheeks bobbing through the water as Hunter did his laps in the buff. Gavin was wearing a black Speedo and, despite the remarkably good shape he was in for a man of his age (courtesy of Mr. Lee’s magic), he was far too bulky for the Speedo to look flattering. But, hey, you try telling Gavin Scott that he’s wrong. Hunter had attempted to steer him toward something a little more becoming, but Gavin wasn’t having it.
In the distance, Gavin could hear the front door chimes. He should have known not to send the staff home today. He considered ignoring the bell, but he figured he should at least find out who it was. He pulled on a plush robe and sandals and made his way downstairs.
He peeked through the stained-glass window in the front door and saw a female officer in full uniform standing stiffly on his steps. She could see the movement of Gavin’s shadow inside. “Mr. Scott?”
Gavin called through the closed door. “Yes. Is this something that can wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. Could you open the door please?”
Upstanding citizen that he made every effort to appear to be, Gavin did not want to gain a reputation for refusing to cooperate with law enforcement. He swung open the door and the officer removed her hat, revealing long red hair pinned up in a bun. “I’m Officer Rebecca O’Hara. I’m following up on a missing persons complaint on one of your employees.”
Alarm bells went off in Gavin’s head, but he maintained a poker face. “Certainly. I’ll help if I can, but you do realize that I have tens of thousands of employees scattered worldwide.”
“Yes, of course, sir, but this was someone from your office here in San Francisco. One of your accountants. An…” She checked her notepad. “…Aaron Weiskopf.”
Gavin made a convincing show of straining his memory, before shaking his head. “Can’t say that it rings a bell. Sorry.”
He attempted to close the door, but O’Hara stepped inside. “The thing is, sir, we think you may have played some role in his disappearance.”
“Whose disappearance?” Hunter was asking from the staircase, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist. Gavin and the officer turned toward him. Officer O’Hara was amazed to see the athlete standing there, looking just as he had in the Olympics four years ago, only with some of his features more refined, improved, perfected.
O’Hara repeated, “Aaron Weiskopf. One of Mr. Scott’s employees.”
Somewhere deep inside Hunter’s head, the name Aaron Weiskopf resonated, but he had no idea why. Maybe he’d heard Gavin mention him.
“Don’t worry, we don’t suspect you of anything, Mr. Davis. But we do have a bit of evidence that connects Mr. Scott here to the disappearance.” From the back pocket of her uniform, Officer O’Hara produced an envelope from Mr. Scott’s office, with “Mr. Lee” and an address written across the front. “Is this your handwriting, Mr. Scott?”
Gavin stared at the envelope, monitoring his reactions carefully. “I don’t know. It does look like my writing, but someone could have forged it.”
O’Hara replied, “Yeah, that’s what we thought too, down at the station. So we dusted for fingerprints. There are only two sets on it. Mr. Weiskopf’s and yours.” She studied Gavin’s face for any response. “It’s not so easy to forge fingerprints, Mr. Scott.”
Gavin stared down the officer, whose green eyes glared back just as insistently. “I understand you’re just doing your duty, Miss O’Hara.”
“Yes, and on a Sunday too, so you’re to be commended for putting in the extra effort, but as you can see, I’m not exactly dressed for a police interrogation. Perhaps you could come to my office tomorrow and we could discuss this in more detail? With my attorney present?”
O’Hara studied Gavin’s face, trying to figure out his next move. She nodded and told him that would be fine. “Sorry for interrupting your…fun, gentlemen.” She stepped outside and Gavin closed the door.
Gavin stomped his way up the stairs, passing a confused Hunter. “Who is this Aaron Weiskopf she mentioned?”
Gavin waved him off as he entered the bedroom. “Just somebody. A nobody. No one you should think about.”
“I could swear I heard his name somewhere before.” Hunter leaned against the doorway, legs crossed at the ankle as he watched Gavin getting dressed hurriedly. “Is he an old boyfriend of yours?”
Gavin refused to turn and look at Hunter as he answered, “Aaron Weiskopf is not an old boyfriend.”
“Then maybe he’s somebody you fucked.”
Gavin stopped, his pants pulled up to his waist but unbuckled. He turned to Hunter and asked, “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that I’m stuck here all day while you’re out in the world, meeting important people, while I just sit here and swim back and forth and back and forth. I get jealous that you might meet someone you like better than me.”
Gavin walked over and cradled Hunter’s face in his hands. “Are you kidding, babe? Why would I cheat on you? You were made for me.”
Hunter snorted back his tears and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Gavin told him, “I need to go out for a bit. You just sit tight, okay?” Gavin ruffled Hunter’s damp blond hair.
Hair tucked under a Giants cap, Gavin ducked out the back of the mansion, making sure that Officer O’Hara was not still lurking in the vicinity. He took a circuitous route, ducking through restaurants, even hopping onto a cable car for a couple of stops, in hopes of shaking anyone that might be trailing him. Eventually, he reached the back door of Mr. Lee’s shop and knocked the agreed-upon secret signal. He had made enough unannounced visits to Mr. Lee’s shop over the years to know that the old man never seemed to leave the place, even at night or on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon like this.
Through the door, Gavin heard the sound of slippers shuffling on old linoleum. The door cracked open and Mr. Lee squinted to see who was bothering him. “It’s me, Lee,” snapped Gavin. “Who else does the ‘shave and a haircut’ knock?”
Mr. Lee swung open the door and Gavin barged in, walking past the walls lined with clothes left behind from previous transformations and entering the main shop. “A policewoman came to my house this afternoon. I don’t suppose you can tell me how that happened.”
Mr. Lee said, “Perhaps she came in a car.”
Gavin laughed bitterly. “Very amusing, Mr. Lee. It’s a good thing I like you, because otherwise I’d kill you.”
“I do not need to be liked by you. I only need to do what you ask me to do.”
“That’s right,” Gavin shouted. “And didn’t I ask that you always destroy my instructions to you?”
“I do destroy instructions.”
“Then how did the cops find my fingerprints on the envelope?”
“You only said to destroy instructions. Never said to destroy envelope instructions came in.”
Gavin fumed. Some very racist thoughts flooded his mind, but he tried his best to seem outwardly rational. Mr. Lee walked over to a hotplate and took a teapot of boiling water off the burner. “Have some tea. It will calm you down.”
Mr. Lee poured two teacups, letting Gavin choose which one he wanted. Gavin reached for one, then hesitated and fixed his eyes on Mr. Lee. “Oh, no. I’m onto you, Lee. What did you put in there? Some truth serum? Or I take a sip and, boom, I’m a twelve-year-old girl? No, you’ve messed with the wrong person, Lee. This little shop of yours is finished. I’m gonna bulldoze this old firetrap and put up condos, and you’ll be on the street in Chinatown selling motherfucking trinkets made in New Jersey!”
Gavin heard a familiar voice from the back room. “Ah, that’s the kind of pillow talk I’ve missed.”
Gavin’s eyes widened. “Hunter? I thought I told you to stay at home.”
The door to the back room swung open, revealing Hunter Davis. Shaggy haired and malnourished, but clearly the Olympic medalist, although at the moment he was wearing an ill-fitting San Francisco Police Department uniform. “Oh, I’m not THAT Hunter, although I must say Mr. Lee did an amazing job following your specifications, but then you’ve always been pretty meticulous when it comes to blueprints. Even the voice was pretty close, although I can see why you didn’t let him talk in public much. If I didn’t know I was me, I would be positive he was me.”
Now Gavin understood why Hunter was wearing that uniform. Just to drive it home, Hunter snapped shut a couple of metal bracelets that had been hanging loosely around his wrist. He braced himself as his body underwent convulsions before morphing into the red-haired woman who had paid a visit to Gavin earlier. “Sure ‘n begorrah, it’s Ah-fficer O’Hara, don’tcha know.” He—well, she—smiled cunningly before unsnapping the bracelets and reverting to being Hunter. He handed the bracelets across the counter to Mr. Lee.
“It was bad enough that you kept sending me to poor Mr. Lee to fix what you saw as my imperfections. Always sending me over here for a pointier nose, a bigger cock, a squarer jaw, an even bigger cock…”
Gavin stared at Hunter with what seemed like genuine hurt in his eyes. “I only wanted you to be the best person you could be.”
“I’m an Olympic fucking medalist! I’ve spent my whole life training to be the best person I could be. I was pretty damn awesome when you met me. Most people would be happy with that. I’ll admit you swept me away at first. I’d never met anyone who was willing to treat me so lavishly, to take me anywhere in the world on a second’s notice. I put up with a lot of your shit to live that lifestyle. But, Gavin, baby, you are a control freak. Emphasis on control and freak.”
“Okay, so I’m an asshole. You didn’t have to leave me like you did, in the middle of the night with no warning.”
“That was the only way to get away from you! For an entire year, I’ve been on the run, hiding from your hired goons, afraid that someone would recognize me for who I really was, and that you’d have me killed or, worse, dragged back here to keep on living with you. But I guess when it finally hit you that you couldn’t have me any more, you decided to find some schlub with no life and make HIM into your ideal version of me.”
“Why did you come back? Why couldn’t you leave me in peace? I had a new lover. I was happy.”
“You don’t want a lover, you want a puppy. Someone who will sit up and beg and roll over whenever you bark. But I wasn’t willing to play dead for you any longer.”
Gavin saw no point in staying here any longer where Hunter and Mr. Lee controlled the playing field, so he bolted toward the front door. Flinging it open, he ran down the sidewalk. Looking back to see if Hunter was pursuing him, he plowed directly into Hunter.
The other Hunter.
“What are you doing here?”, Gavin asked. “Aren’t you afraid to be out in public like this?”
“Yeah, but I was more afraid to be left alone at home without you, so I followed you to see where you were going. A couple of times I thought I lost you, but then I saw this store and I could swear I was here once before.”
“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” Gavin whispered, but Hunter was staring down the sidewalk at…himself. Wearing a woman’s police uniform for some unknown reason, but otherwise it could be his identical twin. Hunter (the one who used to be Aaron) held tight onto Gavin’s arm and walked toward the other Hunter (the one who had always been Hunter).
Aaron/Hunter looked at Gavin and said, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Gavin broke free and ran down the sidewalk where Mr. Lee was waiting for him. He blew some of his potent gray powder into Gavin’s face. Gavin reeled back in shock and collapsed onto the sidewalk. At Mr. Lee’s urging, one Hunter took Gavin’s shoulder, the other Hunter grabbed Gavin’s feet, and they carried him inside the shop.
While Aaron/Hunter watched over Gavin’s motionless body like a loyal St. Bernard, Hunter/Hunter huddled with Mr. Lee by the counter, discussing what to do next. Now that the gray powder was in Gavin’s system, they would be able to reprogram him in any way they wished. Hunter’s suggestions tended to be more malicious and vindictive, like wanting to turn Gavin into a totally submissive bottom or, perhaps, like Gavin had suggested, a twelve-year-old girl. Mr. Lee felt the fewer changes they made, the better. If someone as famous as Gavin Scott began to act uncharacteristically or vanished entirely, it could lead to an investigation, which might direct suspicions to Mr. Lee and jeopardize the future of the shop.
Mr. Lee’s solution was to undo the promises he had made to Gavin all those years ago. They needed to make Gavin forget that he ever knew about the shop, that he ever had Mr. Lee do procedures for him and that he had ever signed an agreement allowing Mr. Lee to stay here as long as he wished. The contract would still exist, but because Gavin had scrupulously kept his name off of any of the paperwork, he would never be reminded that the deal had ever happened. Mr. Lee could continue his charitable works without the cloud of Gavin’s demands hanging over him.
That all sounded fine to Hunter, but he still believed Gavin needed a major personality revamp. After Gavin had spent so much effort trying to create the perfect Hunter, it only made sense that Hunter should now have the chance to design the ideal Gavin. It wasn’t that Gavin was an entirely awful person. Hunter could never have survived with him for three years if he hadn’t had some endearing qualities. However much his insistence on always being right and his lack of fear may have helped him in the business world, they made him a sour human being to live with. Mr. Lee nodded, realizing that his initial potion to rid Gavin of his fears may have led to all of his subsequent relationship problems. He vowed to undo it.
Mr. Lee asked, “Anything else?”
Hunter considered the question, then said, “I want my Olympic medals back.” Mr. Lee nodded.
Hunter’s attention turned to his doppelganger still hovering over Gavin. “Now what do we do about him?”
The next day, Gavin Scott issued a press release, announcing his retirement from day-to-day management of Scott Global and its affiliates. “It has been an amazing run, but it is now time for me to retire, allowing me to travel the world with my beloved partner in life and future husband, Hunter Davis.” Gavin was also immediately donating half of his fortune to various charities, with the bulk of the rest to be donated upon his eventual death.
The press release included a photograph of Gavin and Hunter together. Based on the photograph, it was universally believed that Gavin Scott had “had a lot of work done”. But whoever had done it was a wizard, because Gavin looked fucking amazing. His body was trim. His face had a youthful glow. He could easily have passed for a man in his thirties. If anything, it was Hunter who had gotten some unfortunate adjustments, as his nose was too pointy, his jaw artificially square and…well, that bulge in his pants was too massive to be believed.
The new Gavin’s personality was essentially the old Gavin minus the competitive drive, envy and spite, and his body was a work of art courtesy of Mr. Lee. And if anything about Gavin started to get on Hunter’s nerves, Hunter had a lifetime pass to bring Gavin back into the shop for adjustments.
When they weren’t globe-trotting or do-gooding, Hunter and Gavin remained involved with the men’s Olympic swim team. Hunter paid particular attention to mentoring one unlikely swimmer who seemed to have emerged from nowhere. He was tall and handsome with a brown buzz cut and a body that was similar to Hunter’s at its peak. Many even thought this new kid was better than Hunter had ever been, with a real chance at Olympic gold. As the next summer games approached, women and gay men across the USA were rooting for Aaron Weiskopf.
And whenever Gavin showed a bit too much interest in Aaron’s progress, Hunter felt jealous.