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From the Archives: Curse of the Magenta Eyes - Best In Town
🕑 Added 2023-05-19 19:00:02 +0000 UTC*** From 2020 this time. ***
“Well isn’t this just lovely!” Simon grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, relishing the sight of Bruce’s disheveled state. The normally well-put-together man was half undressed, his brawny pecs spilling out of his sloppily buttoned shirt while his paisley boxers showed through the open fly of his slacks. The salt-and-pepper hair he always kept immaculately in place was messy and wild, and there was a crazed look in his glowing, magenta eyes. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Simon said, cocking his head to the side as he looked the rugged man up and down.
“Simon...please...I don’t have anywhere else to go…” Bruce pleaded. The middle-aged hunk was nearly twice as broad as the lean man in the doorway and could have easily picked Simon up and moved him, but instead he stood on the stoop and begged.
Simon ran a hand over his bald scalp and sighed, casually looking up and down the street to see how many of his neighbors were watching Bruce’s pathetic display. “Fine, but only because you’re making a scene,” he said, stepping aside and closing the door behind him when Bruce scurried in. “Looks like you’re having a rough day.”
“This isn’t funny!” Bruce barked, shaking his head. “It’s all gone! My life...my career...just like that…”
Simon’s expression was flat as his eyes traced along the exposed trail of hair on Bruce’s muscled gut, following it until it disappeared into the other man’s underwear. “You mean the career you spent demonizing people like me?”
“Oh, come on! That’s just politics. You know how this works,” Bruce snapped. “What’d you think would happen once you were in office?”
“I didn’t think one of my colleagues in the House would sink so low as to try and blackmail me over a spending bill. How big was that kickback you got? I mean, not that it really matters now, does it,” Simon said with a short laugh. “I know how that curse works, too. You brought this fully on yourself, Bruce. You want me to feel sorry for you because your shitty behavior is finally biting you in the ass? Not going to happen.”
“If it wasn’t me, someone else would’ve done it. You can’t live that kind of lifestyle and think it won’t be used against you.” Bruce shook his head, forcing himself to look away from the lean man. He couldn’t let himself have the thoughts that were starting to creep in at the edges of his mind. He was a staunch conservative who ran on a pro-military, family values platform. He billed himself as All-American and Old Fashioned, playing on people’s fear of change while lining his pockets with their taxpayer dollars. The prestige and authority that came with politics played to his dominant, aggressive nature, but really it was all about taking as much as he could. At the end of the day, he didn’t really care about his constituents or what people did; he just knew what to say to keep the money flowing his direction.
Simon loved the look of conflict in Bruce’s glowing eyes as the rugged man kept stealing glances in his direction. “And what kind of lifestyle is that, exactly? I never even hid the fact that I’m gay! What? I’m not allowed to go on dates? What about you, Mr. Family Values...how many times have you cheated on your wife? Or, I guess I should say ex-wife at this point, shouldn’t I?” Simon leaned against the back of the couch, his defined arms going solid as they held his wiry frame upright. He did it on purpose, knowing full well that his thin t-shirt would cling to each of his toned muscles. Like a schoolyard bully, Bruce had always tried to throw his bulkier build around whenever they’d been working with each other, but now the brawny man was practically drooling. Simon knew it was because of the curse, but he wasn’t above enjoying the power he held in this situation. “Did Sheila know what you were up to? In AND out of the office?”
“Of course she did,” Bruce scoffed. “Hell, she encouraged it. More money than she knew what to do with and a husband who was never home? You think I’m the only one who fucked around? The only thing she’s going to miss about me is my dick.”
“But it’s the gays that are bad for families?” Simon rolled his eyes. “And what are you going to miss about her?”
“Nothing. Can’t stand her...never could. She made a good show piece for rallies and fundraisers ‘cause of her looks…she WAS a good fuck...” Bruce trailed off, his brow furrowing as he thought about his former wife while his eyes were glued to Simon.
“How do you feel about those looks now that you’re...” Simon paused for dramatic effect, drawing out the sentence and waving his hands like he was telling a ghost story, “...one of us?”
“Fuck you!” Bruce roared. “I’m not! I’m not some pansy freak! I’m a real man, goddamnit. I’m Bruce Fucking Addington. I’m the best there is in this shithole city, and no curse is going to change that.”
Simon gave an appreciative nod at the other man’s outburst, trying not to smile at how ridiculous he looked. “Then why are you standing in my house of all places looking like you forgot how to dress yourself?”
“I just...I just need to lie low for a bit and get my head together…” Bruce said, rubbing his temples. “This is a lot to process…”
“Especially for you,” Simon laughed. “But you still haven’t told me why I would ever want to help you,” he continued before Bruce could question the first part of his statement.
“What? Do you want me to say it? Fine. Because you’re a better person? I’m the asshole, not you?” Bruce’s broad shoulders slumped, his anger fading as his confusion grew. “Isn’t that...isn’t that what you’re always talking about? How we have to take care of each other?”
“You’re not wrong, but I don’t think that’s it at all,” Simon said, fixing the addled man with his shrewd eyes. He tapped a finger against his pointed chin, a wry grin on his face as Bruce squirmed. “Be honest or you can turn around and walk right back out that door.” Simon watched the other man’s rugged face go bright red while the front of his boxers started to twitch.
Bruce’s expression was pained as he opened and shut his mouth several times before finding the words. “I thought...with you being...and what’s happening to me...that you’d want to…” he stammered.
“So you thought you’d show up flashing those big pecs of yours and I’d just fall over myself to help you out? Because of your looks?” Simon raised an eyebrow and nodded at the tent pushing Bruce’s boxers through the open fly of his pants. “Then how come you’re the hard one right now?” Bruce’s eyes went wide as he looked down at his rigid organ. He clenched and unclenched his meaty fists, but made no attempt at covering himself. “I don’t think you’re interested in what I want at all,” Simon shrugged.
“Simon...please...I’m desperate,” Bruce begged. “I don’t know what’s happening. My head is…” he paused, his expression falling. “You want to know why I look like this? Because the last thing I did before running out of my office was start jerking off in front of one of my interns. College kid named Chad. Reminded me a lot of myself when I was his age. Built like a brick wall and cute as hell, with an ass so thick you can feel it bouncing down the hall. I was in the middle of giving him an assignment, and next thing I know my shirt’s open and I’m tugging on my dick while going on about how he should let me fuck him.”
“Like you are now?”
“Wha…?!” Bruce gasped when he looked down and saw one hand massaging away at his chest while the other had slipped inside his underwear. He hadn’t unbuttoned his shirt, he’d simply torn it open, and his pants were on the verge of dropping to his ankles. “Oh...oh god…” he muttered, finally registering what he’d said about his intern. He didn’t know what was worse, that he’d openly admitted to wanting another man, or the painful longing he still felt at the thought.
“So the real reason you’re here...” Simon began, stepping forward. He guided Bruce’s shirt over his broad shoulders and sturdy arms and gave his pants a push, sending them to the floor. “...is because YOU want to fuck ME.” The strapping hunk looked mortified as he stood with his muscled frame exposed, still jerking himself off while Simon watched. He ran one hand through the wiry hairy on his pecs and down his solid stomach, his ample cheeks and meaty thighs flexing as he pumped into the other. “Who could’ve seen it coming...big strong Bruce, getting naked and jerking himself off in a desperate attempt at convincing another man to let him fuck them,” Simon laughed. “It makes sense...all dick and no brains. Have to show people what they’re getting.”
Bruce shook his head, gritting his teeth. “No...no, that’s not right! I’m not stupid...I’ve...I’ve got brains,” he hissed.
“Of course you do, big guy,” Simon said, his tone condescending as he patted Bruce’s chest. The magenta glow was starting to brighten, spilling out from the other man’s eyes to encompass them both. “That’s why everyone loves you. For the conversation.”
“And this dick!” Bruce said proudly, a confused look on his handsome face as he forgot what argument he was trying to make.
“That goes without saying,” Simon laughed, finally pulling down Bruce’s boxers. The brawny stud had a squat six inches and a set of heavy balls, but as he kept pumping the stout organ began to inflate, topping out as a wide, nine-inch club with an accompanying set of oranges. Though Simon was well aware of the changes Bruce seemed oblivious, as if the massive cock had always been that size. He reached out and wrapped a hand around it, the contact between them completing the circuit. Bruce flashed a dull grin as the pink glow flared, swallowing the other man in his arms.
“Don’t know how fuckin’ lucky you are,” the bigger man grunted, tearing Simon’s shirt free. He ran his hands up and down the other man’s lean, defined torso, batting his club of a cock against Simon’s abs. “You’re cute for a little guy, but you see this?” Bruce stepped back and broke into a double-bicep pose. “Best goddamn body in this city. Tan as hell and ripped to shit. You see anyone else around here with abs like these?” As he boasted, the oblivious Bruce’s body changed to match. He was showered in a golden tan, covering his increasingly chiseled frame from head to toe. Where before Bruce had been thick and beefy, now the middle-aged hulk was a walking Adonis, with a tight, tapering waist and a shredded set of abs. He reached out and tore Simon’s pants open, pulling them and the other man’s underwear down in a single tug before leaning in for a rough kiss. He ground their solid cocks together, his thick monster dwarfing Simon’s, and ran his hands over the other man’s bald scalp. “Bet you wish you had hair this thick and blonde,” Bruce smirked when he broke off the kiss, stepping back to reveal a full head of platinum waves where his salt-and-pepper fade used to be.
“You’re right...you’re the best,” Simon sighed. His tone would have made it clear to anyone else that he was humoring the altered stud, but Bruce took it as a genuine compliment. The now-blonde meathead wasn’t good at picking up on things like sarcasm or detecting when he was being made fun of, but Simon knew that was probably for the best. It was easier to let Bruce inflate his own ego than to try and ground the other man in the reality of his situation. Despite his impressive physique the boastful stud was mostly harmless, and without someone like Simon around to take care of him he could barely dress himself in the morning. “Feel like proving it?”
“What? You don’t believe me?” Bruce scooped Simon up and carried him through the other man’s townhouse, never stopping to wonder how he knew the way to the bedroom. In his mind he’d lived there for years.
Simon still remembered the former Bruce, but now he also remembered the politician whose career had been blown by scandal and the subsequent fall from grace. There’d been the loss of his fortune, the failed attempt at celebrity, the work he’d then had done to try and market his body, and finally the frying of his brain on drugs. The Bruce who’d shown up, the straight, conservative congressman, was no more, and in his place was a middle-aged rent-boy with delusions of grandeur. In his mind, Bruce still thought of himself as a big shot, but the only thing he was known around town for anymore was his big cock. It was an open secret that closeted folks with enough money on the Hill could pay for Bruce’s services, but those funds went to Simon, not to the blonde himbo. Since he was the one who had taken Bruce in, Simon thought it was only fair, but that was just one of the perks to their new arrangement.
“Fuckin’ show you,” Bruce grunted as he dropped Simon onto the bed, towering over the wiry man. The platinum, middle-aged meathead groped at his slab of a chest, toying absently with his nubby nipples while the other man watched. “Best dick in this town. No one fucks like me. I’m a genius at fucking,” he sneered, rolling Simon over. “I own that ass...own all the asses around here…”
“FFFfffffuuuuuuuuuuck,” Simon groaned when Bruce held him down and plunged inside. He’d been afraid of the other man’s colossal size for a moment, but he was relieved to find that the curse had affected him as well. Simon clutched at the sheets, his body lighting up like never before while the dim blonde hammered into him, his body accepting the massive organ with ease. It was immediately clear that Bruce wasn’t just boasting about his skill. There was a reason the other man commanded such a high price, and Simon was suddenly glad he hadn’t turned Bruce away earlier. He yelped when Bruce pulled out and flipped him over, the other man seeming huge as he hefted his legs onto the broad shoulders and a set of large, rough hands pressed into his toned chest. Normally the sight of the other man’s arrogant grin was infuriating, but at the moment, looking at it against the ridiculous blonde hair, and knowing Bruce’s real position in town as nothing more than a walking sex toy, Simon couldn’t get enough of it. He wondered how much of the old Bruce was still inside the chiseled prison, and whether the once-rugged hunk had ever made his ex-wife cum as much as he was about to. “Bru...Bruce...oh fuck...fuuuhh...gonna cum...gooouuuuhhh!” Simon tried to arch his back off the bed as he erupted, but Bruce’s meaty hands still had him pinned. He writhed and spasmed against the shredded pistons, his cock spraying all over his chest and stomach while Bruce kept pumping.
“See? What’d I tell you? You love this dick as much as I love that ass,” Bruce beamed, an exaggerated look of pride on his face.
Simon gave a breathless laugh and folded his hands behind his head while Bruce kept pumping into him. “Be...best dick in town,” he panted.
