By BRK  Patreon Contact Page Twitter
More Like This

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 moved 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.

Site content © 2020 Brian Ramirez Kyle. Authors retain copyright to any stories posted on Metabods.
Submission Guidelines Disclaimers Privacy Policy Site Map