Give The People What They Want, pt. 1

Muscle was Mason’s identity. Lifting wasn’t just a hobby to stay healthy; it was his entire personality. He was the guy at the office who ate on the hour, who brought snacks and protein shakes to meetings, who carried a gym bag along with his briefcase. The cabinets above his desk contained a tidy row of bottles, supplements to be consumed at regular intervals, and the chestnut-haired hunk could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually used his chair as opposed to standing all day. And it showed. Mason was a meathead in the classic sense, a square-jawed, broad-shouldered, big-chested slab of muscle whose powerful physique waged a constant battle with the clothing that tried to contain it. The brawny brunette’s arms strained the short sleeves of his polos near to the breaking point, while his heaping pecs made buttoning them an impossibility. The only bits that didn’t cling like a second skin were around his tight waist, the tortured fabric granted a reprieve by his tapering abs. Unfortunately, the same thing couldn’t be said for his chinos, as the khaki material struggled around the young man’s granite globes, thick thighs, and rocky calves.

More than the individual pieces themselves, the tight fit around his appealing proportions was Mason’s uniform, and it was one he wore with pride. A bit too much pride. Whereas some of his peers were happy to encourage others on their fitness journeys with a holistic, non-judgemental approach, Mason viewed the economics of pulchritude as a zero sum game. If someone else garnered praise, that attention didn’t come his way. From his limited viewpoint, there wasn’t enough to go around; it was a competition, and he wanted to win. The end result was an arrogant personality far less sparkling than the shell within which it was contained, a buff, beautiful bully who only had kind words for himself. Mason wasn’t encouraging to struggling newbies at the gym; he was cruel. Instead of a guiding hand, he was a cutting blade, slicing through self esteem whenever the opportunity presented itself. No one was good enough. The smaller people just needed to try harder, the steroid-infused hulks were cheating, and no one in either category came close to possessing his sharp, symmetrical features. Mason was lean, ripped, and all-natural, a hung, handsome hunk who deserved to be both admired and desired.

Had he possessed even a shred of insight the smug stud likely would have identified a few enabling attributes beyond his control, like his genetics, his still-youthful twenty-six years of age, a budget and schedule that allowed for frequent workouts and expensive supplementation. But there wasn’t room in Mason’s life for insight, only arrogance. He plowed through a different woman every night. He talked at, and over, his friends. He insulted strangers. He lorded his looks over everyone.

It was those last two traits that were proving especially problematic at the moment. To Mason, telling the somewhat average man in the locker room to “put some clothes on” because “no one wants to see that” the previous night had been entirely unremarkable. It wasn’t the first time he’d mouthed off to someone in the showers, nor was it the first time that he’d flashed his own sculpted physique with a comment about how it was “what the people really wanted.” What Mason wasn’t used to was a random, vaguely threatening follow up text the next morning.

The message was from a blocked number, reading, “get ready to give the people what they want.” He’d replied, more out of curiosity than any real fear, thinking at most that someone had snapped a few pics of him in the locker room or gotten their hands on some of the dick pics and nudes he’d sent in the past.

Unfortunately, things weren’t anywhere near that simple. Mason had gone down to the break room to mix up his morning protein shake after responding to the message when, without warning, his clothing simply vanished. One moment he’d been clothed in a straining polo and plastered on chinos, the next he was entirely bare save his no-show socks and dressy leather sneakers. It was such a rapid, jarring transition that his first response had been to let out a short laugh until he realized that he actually was, in fact, somehow standing fully nude in the busy break room. Mason’s reflex was that he should try and cover himself but, despite the close proximity of several coworkers, all he could do was go about his business as if everything was entirely normal. He could feel people staring, and the stunned stud began to notice a few murmurs that hadn’t been present before, though the explosive reaction he expected never arrived.

Unable to cover himself, Mason’s next best strategy was to seek the refuge of his cubicle, to grab his car keys and flee the building, but that plan came to a halt as soon as he turned from the counter and saw Mike standing at the coffee machine. It should have been an unremarkable encounter like every other day, nothing more than a polite passing of professional peers. His coworker was shorter, thinner and older, a trifecta of inferiority as far as the now-bare beefcake was concerned. But, as quickly as his clothing vanished, his opinion of the other man took an entirely different direction. Mike wasn’t small and thin; he was tight and toned. Mason had never noticed just how fit and trim the shorter man was, how good he actually looked for someone at the tail end of his forties. His features were sharp and distinguished, accentuated by a stylish, sand-colored crop still uninfested with gray. And while Mike was on the shorter side, that only made his surprisingly round rear standout, the sight of the perky mounds bubbling out below his tight waist making Mason tingle.

Amongst other things. The flustered Adonis didn’t know how to respond when the unexpected wave of desire flowed in, the rising tide causing his twitching cock to float to the surface. Mason felt dizzy as he struggled to process everything that was happening, that he was now standing naked and hard in front of everyone, his fat, rigid cock pointing like an eager arrow at his fully-clothed coworker. He braced himself for the worst as Mike looked him up and down, his stomach fluttering at the shorter man’s cute, awkward smile.

“Well good morning to you, too,” Mike laughed, directly addressing the bare brunette’s cock before lifting his eyes. “You watch the game last night,” he asked, his casual tone a sharp contrast to the naked, erect hunk in the middle of the room.

Mason wanted to panic. He wanted to ask Mike what was happening, why no one was calling security or freaking out the way any of them should have, but the words wouldn’t come. All he did was shrug instead, his voice as calm and collected as the other man’s. “Can you believe it? They call that slop an offense? Guess we know how this season’s gonna go,” he said, cursing himself as he leaned back and took a swig from his protein shake, further emphasizing his aroused, exposed frame. The longer he was around the trim blonde the more turned on he became, the unexpected air wafting over every inch of his unobscured body only adding to his desire. Mason was mortified on a level that he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around, but that crushing humiliation did nothing to quench the raging lust surging through his broad body. He wanted to throw himself at Mike, to peel the other man out of his tight shirt and fitted pants and get his hands on the suddenly-cute rear, or, confusingly, to let his coworker have his way with his own muscled bubble. But he didn’t do any of that. “Have a good one,” he said with a casual nod, taking a final look before just as casually walking back to his desk, his aching cock bobbing in front of him.

Feeling his bare cheeks shifting with each step, Mason still kept hoping he’d wake up and discover that it was all just a dream. The previously unremarkable trek to and from the break room now felt like a walk of shame, with everyone staring as he passed. The same surreal acceptance seemed to follow, but, while no one openly rebelled, there were plenty of whispers:

“It’s so weird how he just walks around naked like that.”

“It’s kind of creepy, right?”

“At least he’s nice to look at. If I had a body like that I wouldn’t wear anything either.”

“They should list that in the benefits package.”

“It’s a little desperate. I mean, how loud can you say ‘look at me’?”

“It’s so awkward how he gets hard whenever he’s around me. I’d be flattered, but it happens whenever he’s around a dude.”  

Mason wanted to stop and shout at the top of his lungs, to demand that someone tell him what they were talking about. He wanted to deny it all, to insist that he didn’t walk around naked all the time and didn’t throw a bone in the mere presence of another man, but he couldn’t. Try as he might to do otherwise, Mason clearly remembered that he no longer wore clothes. There wasn’t a reason for him ditching the habit; he’d just given them up recently. He thought people wanted to see him naked, so that’s what he was. Always. Everywhere. And since he was determined to check out every man that crossed his path, he’d decided that he might as well enjoy it. A comparative inspection and feeling superior was fun, but getting turned on was a thrill. Like a switch being flipped, Mason now understood the joys of focusing on a man’s positive aspects, the only things he really bothered to notice anymore. Thin, heavy, built, lean, short, tall, young, old; the male body had so much to offer that he’d never stopped to appreciate.

As the day blurred by in a haze of humiliating exposure, Mason started to wonder if he hadn’t simply snapped. The way he went through the motions like nothing had changed, casually strutting around either swinging a soft snake or pointing the way with a rigid rod, felt too impossible to be real. The strange, lustful thoughts filling his head whenever he was around another man were out of place and foreign, as was his absent arrogance. The lack of control, along with experiencing everyone’s mixed reactions, had tempered the smug stud’s sense of superiority. As hard as it was for him to believe, the sight of his bare, buff body wasn’t a universally shared desire, and while no one reacted with the socially expected shock and legal actions, it was clear that his exposure, and arousal, were both very much seen as odd and out of place. This left Mason somewhat stuck, as he was still otherwise bound by the regular norms and taboos. He was apparently, grudgingly, allowed to walk around naked and hard, but he couldn’t just start fucking or jerk himself off in public. So, as much as he wanted to go to the bathroom in the middle of the afternoon and relieve his oozing tension, he knew he couldn’t. It was a shared space with multiple stalls for starters, and, given his exposed state, it would be immediately obvious to literally everyone what he’d just done if he walked out with a flushed, spent wrench dangling between his thighs.

But, as jarring as his day at the office was, Mason knew things would only get more awkward when it came to an end. While he hadn’t quite gotten used to the sensation of being naked in front of his coworkers, the office was at least a contained environment. Stepping out onto a bustling sidewalk was another matter entirely. The stares and comments became more aggressive and intense, with people whistling, cat-calling, or hurling insults like “freak” and “pervert” at him. Mason wanted to explain himself, to say that he hadn’t actually done this, but he was too focused on the strange sensation of being fully exposed in the middle of the city. The heat radiating off the buildings and pavement joined with the warm air to caress his smooth, solid frame, while busy sidewalks led to accidental gropings of his shifting, granite globes, broad shoulders, and plump pecs. Mason was mortified whenever he felt his solid log bump into someone, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The same held true when he reached the gym for his standard afternoon workout. Mason knew he should go home and try to figure out what was happening to him, but, as with the rest of the day, he’d been locked into his usual routine, preventing him from acting on any impulse to shy away from his exposed existence. The burly brunette tried not to think about what was coming when he went back to the locker room to slip into his sneakers, turning every head along the way. Mason normally enjoyed the attention as he showed off on the floor, but that was before he’d become a spectacle. Now, as he warmed up on the treadmill, he was painfully aware of the way his heavy pecs bounced, of his rippling cheeks and wildly wagging cock. He was equally aware of the many phones recording him, and how they continued to follow as he went about his leg day. Mason was mortified as he climbed onto the leg press machine, exposing his hole to the entire room as his leaking cock flopped against his washboard.

The ribbing from the regulars was relentless, guys that Mason used to lord his body over but who now made him quiver. And they knew it, too. They teased and taunted the flustered Adonis, flexing and posing and casually peeling out of their sweat-soaked shirts. They went out of their way to brush against him as he spotted them, never openly groping him as that would still cross one of the remaining lines, but stopping just short of it. And all Mason could do was go along with things. Whining about it would only egg them on, as well as sound ridiculous given his naked state, and a big part of him didn’t actually want them to stop. He really did like looking at them. He really did enjoy the skin-to-skin contact. The taunts and cat-calls were humiliating, but they were still signs of attention being directed at him, something that was becoming a top priority. As much as he cringed at the insults, glares, and whispers, Mason relished them, the embarrassment an exquisite ecstasy all its own.

Combined with the novelty of his new longings, the young jock felt almost drunk as he lumbered back into the locker room when his workout was done. He’d never been hornier in his life, as everyone could clearly see, and the rapid attitude adjustment had left him reeling. In that moment, Mason didn’t know who he was anymore or what he wanted. He was quickly realizing that he’d been stripped of far more than his clothes, that he was teetering on the edge of an abyss from which there would be no return.

“Enjoying the new setup?”

Mason’s eyes went wide when he turned, both from the punch of lust at the naked man’s presence, and the shock of coming face-to-face with the person who’d caused all this. It was just like the day before, the average older man strutting naked from the showers, only now the last thing Mason wanted to do was insult him. He didn’t know how he knew, nor did he know how any of it would be possible in the first place, but as soon as he saw the stranger it all just clicked. “You! You did this,” he barked, even as his gaze lingered on the other man’s package.

“Technically you did this to yourself,” the man shrugged, turning to a nearby locker and pulling out a pair of black boxer briefs. “I was just minding my own business yesterday when you decided to go out of your way to get my attention. What’s wrong? I thought you said people wanted to see you,” he grinned, his tone dripping with mock concern.

“But…how?! I know I was out of line, but you can’t just leave me like this,” Mason whimpered, gesturing at his bare frame.

The man took his time responding as he continued getting dressed. “Can and will,” he finally said, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “You clearly need a lesson, and I think we can all agree this is fitting. As for how,” he shrugged again, his eyes flashing solid gold for an instant. “Magic can do all sorts of fun things. Like this conversation, for example. As far as everyone else is concerned, they just heard you propositioning me, and me turning you down. Don’t get me wrong, you look great. But all this,” he said, gesturing to Mason’s exposed body, “is a little too desperate for my tastes. Don’t worry…it looks like the handsome young man behind you is ready to swoop in and pick up the pieces. Have fun,” he winked, giving the younger man’s shoulder a squeeze before turning and leaving the locker room.