Description That story that Who Wants to Be a Boytaur? grows the people that watch it as well as the contestants is probably just an urban legend.
|Updated||01 Jun 2012|
“C’mon, we’re going to be late for Who Wants to Be a Boytaur?—hurry up!” Jeff said, half sprinting up the stairs to his apartment building, two bags of groceries in each of his four strong hands.
“Oh, is that why you were half-hard in the grocery store,” smirked Jay, running easily up the steps behind him and enjoying the view of his best friend’s hind ass above him as Jeff’s luscious glutes shifted around in his tight, threadbare old four-legged jeans. Jay had thought about getting him a new pair, but he didn’t know where boytaurs shopped and, anyway, he liked the view just fine this way.
Jeff had transferred the bag in his front right hand to the back one and was fumbling with apartment keys. “I swear, they’re all like two inches bigger since I started watching,” he said, practically forcing open the apartment door and ducking through the doorway.
“It’s a myth,” Jay said tiredly, following him in. Jeff had dumped the bags on the kitchen table and was ransacking them for fridge and freezer stuff. “I’ll get that, you get the tube.”
Jeff smiled brilliantly and rushed past him into the living room, kissing him quickly on the cheek as he did so. He was gone so quickly that his over-the-shoulder “thanks” seemed to hang in the air behind him. Jay felt a little weak in the knees just from that little kiss and steadied himself on the edge of the counter. He was having a little trouble dealing with just how arousing he had been finding Jeff lately. They’d been friends since grade school. And when they’d gone through puberty and Jeff, as all the firstborn sons in Jeff’s family did, had sprouted arms and legs and started growing muscles all over the way most teens grow zits, it had been no big deal for them. But lately—for some reason—just brushing against Jeff as they got into the car to carpool to work had been giving Jay a serious, unstoppable boner.
Just looking at him, sitting in the passenger seat in the boytaur version of corporate drag, his front legs relaxing on top of his hind legs, filling out his slacks with muscle, four big extra-fingered hands in his lap, occasionally adjusting his tightly packed crotch or his longish blond hair where it tickled his lower neck, his upper arms straining against the fabric of his crisp white dress shirt, was suddenly driving him nuts. Just that morning at their regular Starbucks stop Jay had nearly blown torrents of hot cum in his boxer briefs just standing on line with him watching him put one of his right hands innocently in his pocket.
Jay was not sure what he was going to do, because it felt like sooner or later even gorgeous, sweet, clueless Jeff would notice him getting flushed and boned all the time, and Jay was afraid of fucking up their friendship.
He was hard now, too. Fuck.
He put away the milk and frozen sweet corn and headed reluctantly into the living room, adjusting his thick boner as he sat down close to his bud. Jeff was sitting cross-legged on the sofa (distracting Jay with Jeff’s four big, newly bare six-toed feet lounging in his own lap), looking relaxed but staring raptly at the screen. His four battered sneakers were strewn on the floor before him.
“It’s just starting, we got here in time,” he said. Sure enough, the funky theme music was starting and the animated shirtless hunk was once again suddenly growing into a thick-muscled boytaur like Jeff. “And it’s not a myth,” Jeff was saying, half turning his head. “All my guys are definitely bigger. Everyone who watches the show gets up to a half inch a week. I just wish I hadn’t missed the first five episodes.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been watching right alongside you—” Jay started to say.
“You’re not a boytaur,” Jeff said dismissively. Then he turned and smiled at Jay in a way that made his cock pump a big dose of precum into his briefs. “But who knows? Maybe it’s affected you, too, somehow. You have been looking pretty buff lately,” he added, winking, before turning back to the show.
“I’ve been working out like a fiend so I’m not embarrassed to sit next to you,” Jay said softly, but Jeff barely heard. It was true, Jay had been hitting the gym hard. And he knew inside it was to try to get Jeff to notice him. And he kind of had. But all he got was an offhand, You’re not a boytaur. Jay looked longingly at his oblivious friend, wanting to rip off his clothes, then turned to watch the show as well, brushing a hand against the throbbing extra-wide boner in his jeans.
The handsome boytaur host, Ryan Treborn, was introducing the show. He had a handsome boyish face, dark untamed hair, a hint of stubble, and dark green eyes, and a way of cocking his head that just gave you chills. He was four-armed and four-legged like Jeff, and his muscles (usually outlined in a tight, long-sleeved Abercrombie jersey and slightly looser light-blue jeans) were fitness-model perfect.
“Hello boys and boytaurs,” Ryan was crowing. “And welcome to this week’s show. We’ve got a great challenge this week—and a special prize for everyone watching. If both our new contestants complete today’s challenge, not only will they get a bonus—but all you guys in the audience at home will too!”
“No way!” Jeff shouted. Jay could tell his boytaur buddy was fully hard now in his worn old jeans (actually, in the case of his huge, upward pointing front cocks, he was fully hard in his worn old Green Lantern tee shirt). Jay tried to scoff at this blatant exploitation of the myth, but he was pretty turned on by the idea himself—could they really change Jeff somehow?
The camera pulled back from Ryan to show the big, dark, empty set with the show’s logo hung high above. Standing toward the back partly in the shadows were two guys—obviously buff from the way the shadows showed off their bumps and bulges, but not boytaurs. Jay wondered what the odds were of winning an episode—only a couple guys had gone home from the show with enough points to actually be turned into boytaurs (written up rapturously in the check-out line magazines alongside the lotto winners and the celebrity pregnancies). On the other hand there had been some wicked cool consolation prizes.
As the theme music tore loose again the two guys stepped forward into the light—and Jeff and Jay said together, “No way!”
The guy on the right seemed like a generic gym bunny, but the guy on the left was hot, smokin’ hot. Blond hair, a bit longer than Jeff’s, beautiful hazel eyes, and a beautiful face that Jay immediately recognized, because he’d grown up in and out of Jeff’s house and recognized Jeff’s kid brother as easily as her would his own, even if he was twice as built as the last time he’d seen him.
“What the fuck is Kevin doing up there?” Jeff said.
Jay looked at his friend, realizing he knew something that Jeff didn’t, or hadn’t until now. Jay and Kevin had helped Jeff move to the city, and they’d all gone out for pizza afterwards. After Jeff wandered off to the bathroom, Kevin had confessed to Jay that he was jealous of Jeff’s boytaur body and his athletic accomplishment and brains (an intelligence/creativity bump seems to come with boytaurness in Jeff’s family—Jeff was a brilliant pianist and had already sold a short story).
Kevin was pretty bummed it only happened to the firstborn sons. Jay had tried to commiserate, saying at least now Jeff wouldn’t be around all the time, but Kevin had just smiled and said it would probably make it worse, because at least when Jeff was around he got a vicarious feeling for what it was like.
Jay realized he knew now what Kevin had meant, even though he hadn’t at the time. Sometimes when he was with Jeff and feeling really close to him, it felt like Jeff was being a boytaur for both of them.
And now he might not have to be. Jay glanced at Jeff and saw a profoundly mixed expression on his beautiful face—Jeff loved his kid brother more than anything… but maybe Jeff liked being the only boytaur on the family…