Remodel

By BRK  Patreon Contact Page Twitter
2 parts
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• Latest update: 19 September. Next update: 3 October. (Submissions welcome.)

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• Latest from BRK: “Return of the cocksucking fleshsock”; “Jocktaur pledge”; “Remodel”, Part 2.

Part 1

Reese hurried out of the tiny rented house he was staying in, barely managing to remember to stuff his phone in his jazzy board shorts and lock the door behind him. It was a ten-minute walk through the dense Brazilian scrub to the falls if he booked it. He’d still get to the shoot a good fifteen minutes ahead of everyone else. If it hadn’t been for his pre-shoot wank getting a little… involved, it might have been a half-hour. Well, he’d been feeling extra randy this whole trip, and it was part of his job to make sure he stayed presentable during the gig, right? No untoward boners was definitely a tacit part of the deal.

He bent and cinched the laces on his Vans, then headed off into the trees at a trot. He knew he didn’t really have to get places early. If he wanted, he could arrive half an hour late and still get away with it, because the truth was that everyone loved Reese. People always tended to think of him as their grinning, messy-haired, totally guileless kid brother, albeit a sexy kid brother with a shockingly tight, exquisitely muscled body that he spent half his time meticulously perfecting and the other half flaunting for cameras.

He shook his head at himself as he hurried down the trail. He’d never traded on the simple affection he seemed to bring out in others, and he wasn’t about to start now.

After a sudden bend in the path, Reese was assaulted with the pleasant smell of ripe, tangy fruit. He blinked as he jogged past, slowing to a stop as he gazed down the trail before him. It was a whole stretch of enormous, seven-foot-tall, dark-leaved bushes laden all along with—well, they looked exactly like blackberries, only they were pretty darn huge next to the ones in the little pint boxes at the store. These clusters were almost the size of his fist, and the aroma they were giving off was downright heavenly. His empty stomach grumbled at him.

Reese grinned. He loved blackberries.

Eight minutes later, gorged on his impromptu wild breakfast and pleasantly warmed by his little hike, he arrived at the roaring falls. He beamed up at them. In the perfect spring weather, under a bright sun and a vivid blue sky, the frothing white falls looked magnificent and majestic against the dark, tawny cliff face. Being a fitness model was sometimes exhausting, but he’d never get tired of moments like this. He licked his lips, tasting the last of the blackberries, as lush excitement sparked within him. This was what he had come early for.

In a series of swift, practiced moves he got naked—he’d have to change for the shoot anyway, and his manager and the photographer they were working with on this two-week “primeval vistas” international tour had seen him in the buff so much it was probably more of a shock when he wore clothes. Plus he needed just a half a shade more on his carefully managed, warm-honey-colored all-over tan before the heavy-duty sunscreen went on. Setting his clothes carefully aside, he ran along the edge of the roiling pool, dousing himself as he went in the cool spray being violently tossed up by the relentless cascade, until finally he was standing on a natural stone shelf right in the flow of the waterfall itself.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the force of the torrent he was standing in—or for how cold it was. He braced his hard, tight body against both and let his soul sing upwards through the deafening deluge, letting it wash away all his worries and leave him clean and new, mentally and physically. The battering on his skin made him feel slightly numb, like his body was in a more basic, isolated state where the world beyond this moment did not exist.

A slow, subtle glow seemed to suffuse him, starting in his taut belly and then spreading, stealing gradually through his torso and into his perfect pecs, down his long arms and legs, until he was feeling it all over, like a low, sweet buzz that seemed to resonate naturally with the almost intolerable force of the deluge pummeling him from above. His muscles felt suddenly tight, then slowly loosened, like his joints and sinews were opening themselves up. It felt weirdly great, and Reese laughed, closing his eyes and letting himself feel. He flexed his shoulders and then reached his arms straight up over his head into the blast, straining and stretching his torso—and, wow, it really did seem to stretch, like he was pulling more torso out of himself. Delighted at the sensation, he stretched harder, pulling his shoulders up and he reached his arms as high as he could into the powerful flow. At the same time, he tried straining his legs in the same way, slowly adjusting his stance wider so he had a more solid stance. It felt just as good in his legs as it did in his arms and shoulders, and with the river thundering down on him he felt like he had discovered an entirely new form of pleasure. People had to try this, he thought. Maybe he could do a video—waterfall yoga. He kept the pose, straining, stretching his torso and legs more and more until a pleasant ache seeped through his arms, shoulders and chest, and through his legs and ass, too.

Grinning, ready to leave the waterfall, he slowly lowered his arms, only to feel… more arms.

He opened his eyes in shock, only to be momentarily blinded by a massive amount of cold water falling directly into them. He lowered his head, blinking madly to try to clear his vision, all the while trying to make sense of what he was feeling. His hands were clasping tightly onto… his own forearms. He could feel his hands gripping, and he could also feel his forearms being gripped. Had he turned into some Escher-boy? But his body was already telling him the answer.

He really had stretched himself. He’d stretched a whole new extra set of shoulders right out of his torso—and a new set of arms to go with them.

Still blinking to try to clear his eyes, he unclasped his right hand—one of his right hands—and lifted it to see what he could feel. It slid up his compact six pack, up onto his beautiful, shirt-pushing pecs… then, his hand progressed further, onto another set of equally amazing pecs.

Reese panted, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His body—it had been in flux. It had fluxed. Was he still… pliable? Was there still a chance to—

His vision cleared at last. His lungs were heaving in the vaporous air, the full force of the river was beating down on his back and new shoulders, his upper right hand was still groping his newly formed extra pecs, but all of that fell away as he saw something totally unexpected. Below him, in a wide, steady stance that was keeping him firmly upright on the stone shelf, were three of Reese’s handsome, hairless, warm-honey-tanned feet, wriggling each in turn as his frantic mind tested them, struggling to understand that this was really himself he was looking at.

All at once his knees seemed to weaken. Before he could steady himself the force of the waterfall finally seemed to assert itself, and with a yelp Reese slipped off the shelf and, barely managing to avoid slamming his head on the lip of the shelf he’d just been standing on, he tumbled into the deep, cold, churning pool below the waterfall.

He managed to get his head above water a moment later. Gasping for air, he looked around the pool, spotted the nearest bank, and made for it, trying not to think about how he was naturally using all four arms and all three legs to propel himself across the water. He got to the stone edge and hauled himself out, climbing to his one-too-many feet, and stood there, dripping, his gaze meeting the stunned stare of the photographer, Raùl, and the withering glare of his manager, Jared.

Reese’s gut tightened. If he took a step backwards he could fall back into the roiling pool, and maybe escape that way… but no, it was too late for that.

Jared took a step toward him, hands on his hips. He was just as handsome as Reese, more so in fact, having been a high-priced fashion model briefly before deciding he liked the business side better. His eyes were green, the planes of his always lightly stubbled face were classically ideal; and his body was perfect for his former line of work, tall and limber with bumps and bulges in all the right places even dressed as he was in a simple tee shirt and khaki shorts. Reese had been progressively developing a serious crush on him, helped along by occasional wry flirting, and lately he’d wondering if something could happen between them. Now this. Talk about a wrench in the works! Reese stared back at him, steeling himself for the horrified explosion he was sure to receive.

Instead Jared just looked him over, shaking his head, and tsked. “Reese, honey,” he said, “what have you done to yourself?”

Reese frowned. Jared didn’t sound shocked or appalled, just exasperated. He had the same look on his face he’d had wheen Reese had got his dark-golden hair cut and shaped all spiky right before a gym workout shoot where, unknown to Reese, the client had specifically requested Reese keep his hair long.

The silence stretched between them. At a loss, Reese tried the same approach he had then. “Um… you like it?” he tried, spreading his arms a little as if to display his new configuration.

Jared was still looking him over, his mouth scrunched to one side, but now his steely gaze leapt up to meet Reese’s. “You know there’s a ‘no body modifications’ clause in your contract,” he said in a tone of mild reproof.

Reese gaped at him. “It’s not a tattoo, Jared,” he said incredulously. “I grew extra arms! And an extra leg!” Even as he recited his new inventory, Reese became aware that he’d developed an extra something else, too. But the fact of his having two sets of bait and tackle he had to block right out of his mind, because the possibility of an erection now—no, two erections—!

“That’s just as bad,” Jared was saying, though he sounded distracted. “Still…” he said, then commanded, “Turn around.”

“What?” Reese said, not tracking Jared’s shifting reaction.

Jared was looking him over again. “Turn around,” he repeated. Reese turned in a slow three-sixty, as Jared moved closer, eyeing him critically from every angle. “There are some new possibilities,” Jared mused, half to himself, as he moved around him. “This gives us some platforms for a few unique selling points. A chest routine shoot would get a lot of attention. Rotating through curls… leg presses…”

“You look at me like that much longer, you’re going to have to buy me dinner first,” Reese said, his stomach fluttering.

Jared glanced up, his lips quirking. “Maybe later,” he said, and Reese’s pulse suddenly picked up. Jared smiled, and, as if unable to help himself, he messed his wet hair a bit. Then he stepped back, hands on his hips again, and sighed. “Only you could grow a third leg and still have a waist that tight,” he said.

“Jealous?” Reese teased.

“Not hardly,” Jared replied. “I’m not the one who’ll have to get his clothes specially made from now on.”

“Oh, shit,” Reese said. He hadn’t even thought about clothes. “Uh, I guess that means we can’t do today’s shoot.”

“Not as planned,” Jared said. He’d pulled out his phone and was noodling on the screen. “The consul mentioned a tailor in town who could help us if we needed it,” he said. “I guess we need it. We’ll have to come back when we can make you…”—he aimed a wry look Reese’s way—”reasonably decent.” He lifted the phone to his ear to make a call, pretending to turn slightly away, but sneaking looks at Reese the whole time. Reese’s heart soared.

Beaming, he called over to the still-stunned photographer. “Hey, earth to Raùl!” Raùl seemed to focus on him at last. “Since we didn’t bring any three-legged gym shorts for the shoot,” Reese said cheerily, “you want to do some nudes instead?”

Raùl blinked, then gave him a wicked smile. “Fuck, yeah,” he said, and began setting up his equipment.

Reese smiled, stretching his arms out and basking in the sun and spray. It was going to be a great shoot after all.

Part 2

Reece lay in bed in his little rented house. He had his knees drawn up: a strange trio he couldn’t help staring at. His two big erections tapped wetly on his taut, flat belly, but he was more or less ignoring them. They were big enough he could test out using all his mitts this time and really work them, but honestly it felt so nice just to relax with the hands of his upper arms clasped behind his head and his lower arms sprawled on the sheet next to him. Cool tropical air slipped through the huge open windows and lovingly caressed his naked form, as though all his fans were exerting their desperation to touch him through the very winds of the earth. The thought made him blush a little—Reece wasn’t cocky about his beauty but he did like being appreciated, both for what came naturally and what resulted from a punishing but immensely gratifying gym routine. He knew where they were coming from, and when he looked in the mirror, especially a full-body mirror, it was tough sometimes to look away. He didn’t even worry about whether his followers, agencies, and business partners would love his new body or not. If they didn’t, he was okay with it—he loved his new body. Though if Raúl’s gushing enthusiasm and raging hard-on during his nude photo shoot were any indication, not to mention Jared’s heated stare through the whole thing, Reece could be confident there wasn’t much cause for concern.

Reece smiled. He wondered how soon it would be before the nude shots of him “accidentally” leaked to the internet. Would it would be the result of Raúl’s eagerness to share with his buddies, like the last time Reece’s nudes had gone viral, six months back)? Or Jared’s calculated decision to test the waters about Reece’s new… configuration? His phone, currently charging across the room on the desk, was probably blowing up already. He’d have fun scrolling through the reactions later.

He needed to do something physical. There were no gyms nearby. He could definitely yoga, though. As he always said when asked about it, he was pretty sure that his daily hour of strategic stretching and posing was as much a part of his success and perceived attractiveness as all the iron he pumped and the diligent care that went into his skin, smile, and hair. He was frankly excited to explore how to go about adapting his usual repertoire of moves to his new situation.

Having made his decision, Reece sat up on the side of the bed. His twin erections, as hard as iron bars trying to poke him, smeared clear precum along his abs as he sat. Though he felt more flushed with arousal than he could remember ever feeling, and his hands itched to do something about his demanding, relentless hard-ons, Reece continued to stubbornly ignore them. He was getting a sense he’d be boned a lot more now that he was like this, and he might as well get used to it. Instead, he chose to focus his senses on the incomparable feel of his three feet hitting the soft carpet at the same time. Fuck, he thought, just the feet alone would be enough to keep him hard 24/7, let alone the rest of it.

He stood. Though his perspective didn’t seem that different he was aware of being taller, and not just because of his newly stacked chest. Apparently he had actually stretched himself a few inches in overall stature in the waterfall on top of gaining the additional row of pecs, though it had taken standing next to Jared and realizing he was looking up at him (with a cute little line of annoyance at having to do so between his celebrated dark brows) for Reece to notice.

He moved across the room, his iron-stiff boners barely moving a millimeter as he walked. Ignoring his phone, he grabbed his rolled-up yoga mat from were it stood next to the desk. He could do his poses here on the carpet, sure, but for him routine mattered. The rhythms of daily exercise were both relaxing and stimulating, whether he was working with weights or his own body.

He unrolled the mat in the center of the room where he could feel the warmth of the sun better, and knelt, liking how the press of three knees to the mat was novel and familiar at the same time. He spent a few moments regulating his breathing and clearing his mind. His obstinate erections resisted being shunted completely from his awareness, of course. But Reece had done yoga hard before, and he strongly suspected it would be pretty normal going forward, too.

Reece moved to a push-up position, letting himself feel the way his weight was resting on the palms of his four hands, close together on either side, and on the balls of his three feet. If there was anything to that idea of bringing in Earth-energy through your palms and feet during yoga, he thought with amusement, he was one fortunate body-bender. Steadily, he raised his hips directly upward as he straightened his arms and rolled back onto the flats of his feet, until his body was bent in an almost perfect triangle. In this position he couldn’t keep equal weight on all four hands, so he relaxed his lower arms and let his upper arms do the work for ten slow breaths, then shifted his weight to his lower arms and held the pose for another slow ten.

He was preparing himself to transition to the high lunge when he heard a voice behind him going, “Reece, that tailor we talked—oh, fuck, ass.”

Reece smiled. He hadn’t knowingly arranged his mat so his naked buttcheeks would be facing the door, but he was more than aware that he had a very mischievous subconscious. “Be with you in a second, Jare,” he said calmly.

“Take your time,” Jared drawled.

Reece slowly and fluidly unbent himself, returning to the push-up position before climbing easily to his feet. He turned and stood before Jared, tanned, muscled, extra-limbed, and boned. He was only a little self-conscious about the latter two, and in both cases less and less so with each passing hour. And Jared had seen Reece’s body plenty of times—heck, Reece’s body was Jared’s business and meal ticket. If anyone had a right to scope him out in the buff, it was him, even if Jared was being a little thorough about it just now. With the arched brow it was kind of weird, and kind of hot.

And the wide-eyed, skull-shaved Brazilian hottie standing behind his manager? Well, Reece might as well get used to surprising people with his new look, naked or not. “Hi,” he said to the guy, aiming his million-dollar smile at him. “Meu nome é Reece.”

The stranger had been eyeing him up and down, but not he met Reece’s gaze with a hot, intense stare. He was breathing somewhat shallowly. “Você … você é linda,” he managed. It sounded like the words had sprung out of him, almost involuntarily, like he couldn’t help but profess such abject adulation.

Reece beamed at him, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. “Obrigrato,” he said. “Você é muito gentil.” Reece did shoots in Brazil often enough he had learned enough Portuguese to be polite in situations like this, though he wouldn’t exactly be able to discuss politics, or the latest season of Chicago Fire.

Jared came to his rescue. “This is João,” he said, stepping aside so the two men faced each other. “The emergency tailor the consul recommended. João, this is my friend, Reece.”

João blinked and seemed to realize where he was. He met Reece’s gaze and said, “Sorry, I speak English. It is good to meet you. You need to be…” His eyes dropped back to Reece’s red and tan erections, and he gulped audibly. “…measured?”

Reece wanted to laugh, but it was so normal for guys to get distracted by him that he was finding João’s reaction oddly… reassuring in the present circumstances. He tried putting his hands on his hips in a classic Sears catalog pose, which usually amused people and set them at ease. It didn’t quite work, though, what with his elbows getting in each other’s way, so he just let his gym-perfect arms hang normally again. He’d have to practice that move later in front of a mirror to get it right.

“What my friend needs,” Jared explained for him, “is, yes, a full set of measurements for future reference, plus a couple pairs of shorts, a pair of slacks, a couple shirts—”

“Eh,” Reece broke in with a grin, just to see how Jared would react to Reece pretending to have sworn off upper-body attire.

“—A couple shirts,” Jared repeated undeterred, with a quick admonishing glance his way. “Maybe just a short-sleeve and a simple tee. And… what else? Underwear?” He looked over at Reece.

“What about it?” Reece asked innocently.

Jared turned back to João. “We can skip underwear for now,” he said dryly. “Got all that?”

João nodded, not having looked away from Reese the whole time. “Measurements, two shorts, slacks, short-sleeve, tee shirt, no underwear,” the tailor repeated. He was starting to look a little less overwhelmed, and the “no underwear” part was repeated with a slight quirk of his stubble-framed lips. He was pretty good-looking, Reece decided, with nice cheekbones and a sharp, bristle-smudged jaw. His body was very fit and defined under a loose, semi-sheer white top and knock-around jeans. He could definitely get a few gigs with those looks—Reece’s cocks certainly liked him better than the surly, pallid douchecanoe with the Bob Dylan hair that Reece had done the shoot just before this in Rio with.

Jared, always the unflappable bastard, gestured toward Reece as if to say “all yours”, and João cleared his throat and got to work. From one pocket he pulled a rolled-up measuring tape (subtly adjusting himself as he did so). From the other came a pad and pencil, which he handed to Jared before approaching Reece with the tape with a professional expression, as if he hadn’t just been ogling him like a teenaged fan. The tailor then set about taking careful measurements, starting with Reece’s neck, calling out numbers in centimeters as he did so. When he got to Reece’s upper arms Reece and Jared shared a look—the numbers were just under a centimeter larger than his last measurements only a month ago. Jared tsked as if peeved at Reece’s slight, unauthorized swole and jotted down the number, and Reece tried not to laugh.

“Don’t worry,” he told his manager fondly. “I’m still firmly in ‘Insta-boy’ territory.”

“Not a lot of ‘Insta-boys’ like you,” Jared muttered. His eyes were back on João, who had knelt in front on Reece and was looking at his waist, hesitating. Reece remembered that, in addition to his big cocks being crazy hard, his famously taut abs were currently smeared and swashed with thick layers of precum, and for the first time he felt slightly abashed.

João, however, was staring right at his dual, extra-large erections. “Should I measure the waist with… these? Included?” João asked hoarsely. He looked up to meet Reece’s gaze, and his eyes were a little wide again. They were also dark with hunger.

“No,” Jared barked. “Yes,” Reece answered at the same time.

Jared frowned at him. “I feel like they’re gong to be in the way like this a lot,” Reece explained to his manager. “Might as well be able to tuck ‘em behind my waistband, right?”

Jared grimaced but said nothing, letting his eyes drop to the cocks in question. Reece suppressed a grin. If there was anything he loved more than goading his tall, dark, and very sexy crush of a manager, it was knowing how much Jared loved Reece doing exactly that.

Carefully, João pulled the measuring tape around Reece’s tight waist, bringing the end to meet the rest of the tape in his left hand near the side of Reece’s hip. “Now, cinch it tight,” Reece instructed. “Gotta be able to hold ‘em in place.”

João complied, tightening the tape so that Reece’s cocks were pressed firmy against his groin muscles and lower abs. Reece sucked in a long breath through his teeth, and João swallowed. He called out a number, his voice a little shaky, and let the end of the tape go. They watched the slack tape ribbon slide off Reece’s hip and triple ass before falling to the floor. Reece’s cocks sprang forward again lightly, pumping out a little more clear liquid.

João panted once, then looked up at Reece again. “I feel that—that we should also measure without the… obstructions,” he suggested.

“Fair enough,” Reece agreed. “But there’s only one way that’s going to be possible. Actually,” he added, correcting himself with a smirk, “I take that back. There are lots of ways we could make that happen.”

João smiled, his dark red lips parting slightly in a way that made Reece like this idea more and more. “There is a way I would prefer,” he said, his need-darkened eyes full of sex and mischief. Oh, this guy is a keeper, Reece thought. Especially if he’s as good as those eyes are promising. And those lips.

“I think I’d prefer it too,” Reece said softly.

João happened to kneeling a little more in front of Reece’s left-hand cock, so he pointed at the leaking, girder-hard erection in question. “This one?” he asked, so recovered enough from his earlier awe that his tone was now dry and a little teasing.

“Please,” Reece confirmed, smiling happily down at him.

João looked down again and licked his lips, focusing all his attention on what Reece could say without a trace narcissistic hubris was, objectively and with the endorsement of all who had seen it, an exceptionally beautiful cock.

While João was doing this, Reece looked over at Jared. “Room for one more,” he said with a wink.

Jared eyed him narrowly. “You’re loving this.”

“I am.”

Jared heaved a sigh and set the pad and pencil down on a nearby table. “If it’ll help speed this along,” he said, as if it were an imposition he was willing to bear for the sake of his favorite client.

“Get down here, you dope,” Reece said, and Jared smiled crookedly as he knelt next to João.

“Fine,” Jared said, “but afterwards I’m going to kiss you with a cummy mouth.” He made it sound like a threat.

João looked up, surprised. “Can I do that, too?” he asked, eyes wide again.

Reece grinned down at both of them. “Bring it on.”

Jared and João exchanged a look, and then, as if in a single, practiced movement, they opened their mouths wide and engulfed all of Reece’s big, hard cocks completely into their hot mouths. They took both cocks all the way into their throats, and Reece let out a moan so deep and shivered with so much pleasure he very nearly came right then.

But he held back. Despite being flooded with hot, roiling ecstacy he wrenched himself back from the edge, even as Jared and João, having moved past their shock overture, proceeded to a symphony of cock-sucking in their own distinctive and, as it turned out, unexpectedly complementary techniques: Jared pistoned while João power-sucked, João mouthed the shaft while Jared suckled the head, and so on. It had never occurred to Reece that the thrill of having two cocks sucked at once would be surpassed by the shuddering ecstasy of having them sucked in two different ways, and the exhilarating awesomeness of the experience was as intense and as totally consuming as standing in midst of the pounding waterfall had been only the day before.

He looked down only once, but the sight of his big dicks disappearing into João’s and Jared’s mouths while they both flogged their own cocks—Jared’s long and bent, João’s startlingly thick and clublike—was too much. Instead Reece threw his head back and rode the edge, then pulled himself back, over and over, as the competing sensations tore through him. He was going to hold out—he was determined to experience the two best blowjobs he had ever had in his life for as long as they could all stand it. He was going to make João and Jared earn those cummy kisses.


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