Crack the Code, ch. 5: You Get What You Give

Dylan’s lean frame practically vibrated with excitement.  It was taking every ounce of his carefully cultivated charm to keep himself under control, to not let on that anything out of the ordinary was about to happen.  Not that Billy could have possibly guessed, even if the auburn-haired hunk suspected that he was up to something.  Dylan still didn’t fully believe it himself, even after the demonstration he’d received during his meeting with the Code Breaker.  The very idea that the world could be rewritten in such a dramatic fashion was still hard for him to wrap his head around, but if it meant he could finally get the upper hand on Billy he was content with his limited understanding.

The process didn’t interest him nearly as much as the outcome.  After years of watching his sculpted friend get all the attention while he was relegated to sidekick, Dylan had finally reached his limit.  He couldn’t stomach another day of pretending to be the sweet, charming, non-threatening one while Billy basked in the spotlight.  Such an arrangement didn’t make any more sense to him than what was about to happen.  His friend may have had bigger arms and a better chest, but Dylan knew he was every bit as handsome, if not moreso.  Billy was a dime-a-dozen jock, a human version of a Golden Retriever.  He was square-jawed, broad-shouldered, and sculpted, his short, reddish-brown hair completing his generic appearance.  The athletic stud was good looking, there was absolutely no doubt about that, but Dylan couldn’t understand his friend’s magnetic appeal.  Billy was a borderline meathead.  The quick smile and easy going attitude weren’t a conscious decision on the other man’s part; they were both due to his limited intelligence and equally limited attention span.  He was so good at lifting weights and fucking because he could only think with his body, not his brain.

Compared to himself, Dylan was entirely certain that a mistake of cosmic proportions had already occurred, and all he was doing with the Code Breaker was setting things right.  After all, his own boy-next-door face was marked by plump lips and razor cheekbones, both offset by a sandy, wavy mop instead of a thoughtless, frat boy crop.  His body wasn’t as bulky and lumbering as Billy’s, but his whipcord frame was covered in an impressive amount of lean, shredded muscle.  He was even better hung, and had a better ass, which made the current status quo all the more frustrating.

Dylan worked hard to make sure that frustration never showed.  He projected a constant attitude of being the Nice Guy, the charming runner up for everyone who struck out with Billy.  Few people knew the truth of his nature, of the conniving darkness that lurked at his core.  Had he been capable of more self reflection, the sandy-haired young man might have realized that people could sense the discrepancy between his attitude and appearance, that they could see the sometimes predatory glint in his bright brown eyes.  But Dylan didn’t see it that way.  When he took advantage of someone, when he raided a bank account or stole a credit card number from an unsuspecting partner, all he saw himself doing was correcting that cosmic mistake, bit-by-bit.

That same logic prevented him from worrying over exactly how he’d paid for the Code Breaker’s services.  After learning about the supposed miracle worker, it had taken months of waiting until the right person came along, an aspiring young woman whose average body didn’t match her very above-average bank account.  She hadn’t quite been able to land Billy’s attention, but fortunately for Jackie, Dylan had been there to swoop in.  And, after a few weeks of careful planning he’d been able to secure the financial access he needed for her to unknowingly fund his friend’s altered future.  He told himself it was okay, that she’d probably have been willing anyway after getting ignored by the handsome himbo, but ultimately it didn’t matter.  He finally had the funds he needed and his rightful future was within reach; he didn’t care what anyone else wanted.  Nor did he think the Code Breaker would really care where the money came from.  Someone who went around rewriting people’s lives for cash probably didn’t have a strict moral compass, Dylan thought, so as long as he paid the bill everything should be fine.  He’d watched the money transfer during the meeting, and there hadn’t been any fallout in the week since, so as far as he was concerned it was a done deal.

All he had to do was wait, and even that had finally come to an end.  Dylan had thought about arranging things so that the changes happened in public as some grand spectacle, but he’d ultimately opted for a more private scenario.  He wanted to savor the experience, to have it all to himself before introducing the new version of his friend to the world.  So instead of being out at a bustling bar on a Friday night, Billy had come over on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday to spend the evening hanging out and watching a movie.  It was a routine they’d started in college and one they’d continued in the few years since graduating, but Dylan wondered if that would change going forward.

He looked over at his unsuspecting friend on the couch, his heart racing in anticipation.  “Want another beer?”  Dylan hopped to his feet as he asked, his nerves requiring that he get up and move around.  But Billy didn’t respond.  The brawny hunk sat unmoving, staring at the TV with glassy eyes.  Dylan bit down on a triumphant cry, not wanting to give up the act until he was entirely sure.  He watched and waited for Billy’s loose tank-top and board shorts to vanish, but the clothing remained frustratingly in place as the seconds stretched on like hours.

“Sorry to interrupt your evening.”  Dylan jumped at the unexpectedly familiar voice and turned to see the Code Breaker’s astonishingly handsome face smiling at him from the TV.  He’d forgotten just how striking the other man was, his chiseled features and strawberry blonde hair making both himself and Billy seem ugly by comparison.  It occurred to him at that moment just how many details about the ominous man and their meeting had slipped his mind, but he had more pressing concerns.  “I applaud your…creativity…in how you paid for our services.  These things can be cost-prohibitive for so many, and while I truly wish I could share our gifts with everyone, there are rules that have to be followed.  It’s not about the money, Dylan. It’s about the sacrifice.  The System can’t give you what you seek without getting something from you in return.  The simplest way to achieve that goal for most is with a monetary transaction, though other options are available if you’d only asked.”  The Code Breaker sighed and shook his head, an expression of faux-sympathy draping itself across his statuesque features.  “But you didn’t ask.  You tried to game the system, and the System doesn’t appreciate that.  I’ve refunded Jackie’s money, but unfortunately Billy’s program has already been written.  And since the necessary sacrifice wasn’t made, that string of code has nowhere else to go but back to you.  Speaking of which…”  He paused again, grinning as he looked at something off-screen.  “These are quite the specifications you’ve requested.  I’d tell you to let this be a lesson, but it looks like that’s about to be a moot point.”

Dylan’s stomach dropped when the Code Breaker’s face vanished and the movie returned.  He’d been trying to interject the whole time, to sputter out some kind of excuse or apology, but he’d been as frozen as Billy.  He remembered the Code Breaker asking him to verify that the funds were indeed his during their meeting, and while he hadn’t thought anything of lying about it at the time, now Dylan understood why.

But it was too late for him to do anything other than gasp at the rush of air that suddenly wafted against his skin.  Dylan didn’t want to look down, he already knew what he’d find, but his head tilted reflexively, giving him a view of his bare, defined frame.  The t-shirt and cotton shorts he’d been wearing had vanished along with the face on the TV, but more alarming than the pointlessly small thong that had replaced them was the uninterrupted tan coating his naturally smooth, shredded build.  The implications were obvious, even if Dylan hadn’t been the one to request them, and the panicked young man tried desperately to remember what wearing clothes felt like.  He knew on a logical level that he’d spent the previous twenty five years more or less fully covered, but the actual experience had fled.  Thongs, bikinis, jockstraps, skimpy briefs; he could easily recall wearing all of those even though he’d always worn boxers or boxer briefs.  It was the items that should have gone on top that had vanished.  Shirts, shorts and pants had suddenly never touched his skin, and Dylan knew they never would.

“Yeah, I’ll take another.”  Billy’s deep voice shook Dylan out of his stunned shock, and the scantily clad young man scampered into the kitchen without looking back at his friend.  He was too busy dreading the way his plump, exposed cheeks bounced in the open air, and the way his girthy package threatened to spill from the emerald pouch.  Hard, Dylan’s thick rod topped out at just over eight inches, but even while soft it maintained an impressive mass that looked even larger against his tight frame, just like the heavy, churning balls that currently hung exposed through the sides of the straining material.  The heavy hose pulled the waist down so low that his trimmed bush was fully on display, and Dylan was mortified at the thought of walking around in public wearing nothing but the skimpy green underwear.

Though that concern quickly became secondary when he strutted back into the living room with Billy’s beer.  A cloud of butterflies lifted his stomach from the floor as soon as he laid eyes on the other man, a punch of lust pulsing through him.  The aching throb entered through Dylan’s hungry gaze and rocketed down his spine before attempting to exit through the flustered young hunk’s surging cock, though it only succeeded in rocketing the hefty organ to its full, rigid length.  The thick rod immediately slipped from the pointless thong, but the nearly-naked young man could do nothing to cover himself.

“Both of those for me,” Billy asked with a grin as he reached out and took the beer.

Dylan felt like a passenger in his own body as he returned the smile and shrugged.  “Can’t help it,” he said, his head spinning at how natural it all felt.  He knew that was the point, but he was quickly learning that knowing something and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things.

“I know,” Billy said, patting the spot on the sofa next to him.  “I just like fuckin’ with you.”

“I’d hope so,” Dylan purred as he dropped down next to his friend instead of taking up his usual spot at the far end.  He trembled when a heavy arm was thrown over his shoulders, feeling like he should be embarrassed at the way his bulbous log started oozing.  A bead of clear liquid formed almost as soon as Billy’s arm made contact, eventually forming a stream that spilled down the fleshy spire.  The toned young man’s heart was a jackhammer in his chest as he watched Billy watching the growing waterfall, but he couldn’t do anything other than lean into his friend’s embrace.

“Dude…I friggin’ love how hot you are for me,” Billy finally said, tousling Dylan’s hair.  “I mean, I know you’re hot for most guys, but I’m flattered at how fast I can get the lil’ guy goin’ just by sitting here.”

Dylan wanted to panic when he looked down.  He wanted to throw himself off the couch and call the Code Breaker to beg and apologize, but all he could do was blink at the barely three-inch poker that stood petite and proud between his hairy, muscled thighs.  Dylan now understood why the thong seemed so small, and his existing dread at walking around on display was further compounded by the knowledge that his altered wardrobe would cause him to flaunt exactly what he’d lost.  If he was this small while so turned on, the diminished hunk knew he’d be sporting nothing but a tiny nub while soft, though he was well aware that such a state would be a rare occurrence going forward.

They were all the things he’d wanted for his friend.  Since Billy was so proud of his body, Dylan thought he’d be happy to show it off.  And since he’d had plenty of experience with women, the wiry young man thought his friend could give the alternative a shot, with himself sitting at the top of the other man’s list.  The reduced endowment was just thrown in for fun, as were the rest of the impending changes that Dylan now deeply regretted.

“And you’re just going to let him sit there?” the stripped stud pouted as he looked down at the miniscule cock, stunned that the words actually came from his own mouth.

“What’s your hurry,” Billy asked.  He rolled his eyes when he looked over and saw his friend sticking out a plump lower lip.  “Fine…something to tide you over.”

“Hu…huuuhh…hoooohhhhh…” Dylan could only give a series of short, embarrassing gasps when the burly man reached over and began tweaking his shrunken cock between a pair of fingers.  This hadn’t been part of the plan.  He’d wanted Billy to be infatuated with him, and while he’d have been happy to let the other man blow him, or to fuck the sculpted stud senseless, he’d never had any intention to reciprocate.  Yet there Billy was, in the role he should have held, working his former girder without complaint.  Dylan didn’t know if it was just because of his newfound desires, but he started to wonder if he’d been wrong all along.  Billy didn’t have to help him out, nor did he have to cuddle with the horned up exhibitionist, but he did it anyway because he was a good guy and a good friend.  The revelation hit in conjunction with Dylan’s howling orgasm, the eager stump erupting after only a few seconds.

“Feel better, bud,” Billy asked, his hand lifting from Dylan’s cock and returning to the other man’s shoulders.  “That was a big load for the little guy.”

Dylan hated the way his stomach fluttered at his friend’s condescending tone, only to realize that it wasn’t condescending at all.  Billy wasn’t mocking him the way he would have mocked the other man; he was simply stating a fact.  “Like you said…you get me goin’,” Dylan panted.

“Guess that deserves a reward,” Billy winked before peeling out of his tank-top.

Dylan whimpered at the sight of his friend’s perfect, tapering torso, his mouth watering at the ruddy dusting that coated Billy’s prominent pecs.  He’d literally never seen anything more attractive or arousing in his life, and his growing guilt was furthered at the way his friend so readily gave him access to it.  He moved without thinking, his lips finding their way to one of the perky little nipples while his hand reached out to grope and knead its sibling.  He relished the sound of Billy’s quiet sigh as he lapped at the other man’s granite chest, his hand eventually slipping down into his friend’s shorts.  Dylan knew the twitching cock that filled his hand would top out at an average six inches, smaller than his previous endowment, now gigantic by comparison, but the size truly didn’t matter as much as who it was connected to.

“Well, we made it a whole twenty minutes into the movie this time.  Might be a record,” Billy laughed as he lifted himself off the couch just enough for the other man to tug his board shorts and briefs free.

Dylan barely heard him.  As soon as Billy’s half-hard cock flopped free, the only thing that mattered was getting it in his mouth.  And once inside, the only thing that mattered was keeping it there.  Dylan was well aware of how he must look, how his carefully styled hair was messy first from Billy’s tousling, and now from the way he quickly bobbed up and down into the other man’s lap.  He could hear his slurps and grunts between the occasional whimper, and he felt the odd absence of his rigid girder as he squirmed and leaned over into position, but none of it mattered.  None of it could, not when Billy’s strong fingers gently stroked through his hair while his friend grunted encouragingly.

“Fuuuuuuuck, dude…you still…do this…better than anyone…else…” the chiseled jock sighed.  “How the fuck…did I…get so lucky…to have…a friend like...you around…”

Dylan wanted to crawl under a rock, and not just because he had another man’s cock in his mouth.  All the years he’d spent silently resenting Billy suddenly seemed like such a waste.  “You?  I’d say I’m the lucky one,” Dylan purred when he took a break to lick his way around his friend’s churning balls.  “Letting me have this hot, meathead dick whenever I want it…”

“Oh, I’M the meathead?  Since when, bro,” Billy laughed.

Dylan felt the growth as he heard his friend’s laughter, his body rapidly expanding.  Since Billy always talked about bulking up, he thought he’d give his friend what he wanted, inflating his athletic jock frame to massive, bodybuilder proportions.  Gone would be the sculpted pretty-boy, and in his place would be the beefy slab of muscle Dylan had just become.  The expanding brute lifted his head from Billy’s lap and sat up, his eyes going wide at the jutting, juicy mountains that were his new muscle tits.  He couldn’t yet see the way his broadened shoulders swallowed his neck, but he could feel it, just as he could feel his oversized, piston arms rubbing against the sides of his cresting muscle gut while his tree-trunk thighs rubbed together.  His pitiful cock was barely even visible as it wedged between them, and it occurred to Dylan that he wouldn’t even be able to see it when standing. “I mean…you’re gettin’ there,” the inflated hulk said in his deep new rumble.  That exaggerated bass was necessary for what came next.  “You ARE gettin’ there, aren’t you,” he asked, giving Billy’s oozing cock another lick.

“Just waitin’ on you, big guy,” the grinning jock said, giving Dylan’s thigh a loud slap.  The budding bodybuilder was on the floor in a flash, wagging the oversized pumpkins that had become his ass towards his friend.  “Right here on the floor?  You ARE worked up tonight.”

Dylan looked back over a cannonball shoulder as best he could, the muscular ridges of his upper back looking like a mountain range as he flexed and writhed on all fours.  “Unless you want to go into the studio and finally do this on camera,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Billy laughed again and shook his head.  “Answer’s still no, bud.  Some of us have real jobs’n shit…can’t get caught out there fuckin’ a dude on the internet.”  He dropped his voice as he lurched off the couch and draped himself across Dylan’s expansive frame, lining himself up.  “This’ll just have to be our thing.”

Dylan’s deep voice shook the walls like a foghorn when Billy slowly worked himself inside.  He was overcome by how small the other man’s athletic body seemed, the jarring sensation making him realize just how large he’d become.  Dylan could have fit three of his old bodies inside his new one, yet at the moment the only thing he wanted inside was Billy.  He’d heard himself ask about doing this on camera and he knew exactly what that meant, but as long as it happened somewhere he didn’t care.  Not that he ever cared about stripping, flexing and fucking for an audience.  It was just that when Billy was around, everything else dimmed. Dylan couldn’t believe that such a gorgeous, strapping specimen would even want to hang around with a naked, lumbering, micro-dicked meathead like himself, let alone actually get him off, but that’s just how the handsome jock operated.  He thought with his body more than his brain, and as long as it felt good then Billy didn’t worry about what other people thought any more than Dylan did.  “Oh fuck…oh fuck…give it…give it to me…” the thickened young man begged, his shrunken cock an afterthought.  Like everything else, the fact that his days on top had become a thing of the past didn’t matter at all compared to the bliss his friend’s devastating dick brought him.

“What do you…think I’m…doing…” Billy laughed, hammering into the whimpering goliath.  “Love how hard…you can…take it…” he grunted, flexing his sculpted arms behind his head as he rolled his hips like they were steam-driven.  “Love…how those…tits and ass…bounce…fuuuuuuck…feels…so good…”

Dylan felt Billy tense and he braced himself for the coming eruption.  His own cock sputtered out a meager splash when the other man’s warm load spilled into him, and it wasn’t until they’d collapsed in each other’s arms that the full weight of it all started to sink in.  On top of his constant exposure, non-existent endowment and craving for cock, Dylan knew this was how he spent the majority of his time, his bloated bulk taking load after load from man after man, sometimes on film, sometimes on stage, and sometimes just for fun.  But sometimes he took it from Billy, and those times were better than all of the others combined.  Dylan suspected that the unconditional love he felt towards his friend was a result of the changes, but he was surprised at how little that seemed to matter.  The origin didn’t matter as much as the impact, a realization that drove home just how trapped Dylan had become.  Now, he wouldn't change anything back even if he could.

He cradled the now-smaller jock against him, loving how willing his friend was to linger in his arms.  A lot of the guys he fooled around with wouldn’t cross that line, wanting to use him as nothing more than an overly-muscled fleshlight.  But not Billy.  “So do we want to finish the movie,” he finally asked, stroking his friend’s hair.

“I mean…we could,” the spent jock said, shrugging.  “Or we could go make one.”  He rolled over to look his friend in the eyes, putting a hand on Dylan’s heaping chest.  “But absolutely none of my face makes it on screen, got it?  Strictly neck-down.”

Dylan shot to his feet with surprising speed given his size, pulling Billy up behind him.  “No offense, but if you work that dick the way you just did, no one’s going to be interested in your face anyway.”