Biker's Rites


By Musclebuff

The eighth day (in fact, most of the next two weeks)

That night many relationships were made and re-affirmed. We heard that they had all cum at much the same time; apparently the output of cum had been extreme - and extremely satisfying.

We emerged on to the kiva's high terrace as the sun was rising, reborn with the new day. We marveled as we looked at each other. We were all the same height and all, in our own way, had the same massive build. Shaman was enjoying feeling himself and comparing his new muscle with Rod's; I couldn't keep my hands off NoChecks' glorious thickness of body. His shoulders were a mile wide, his waist still a mere thirty inches, a measurement easily beaten by the huge size of his quads.

He was He-man times ten, shining golden as the rising sun. When he flexed his new biceps, they separated into amazing shapes, muscle on top of the muscle. His pecs, clearly separated into many bands of swollen fibers, were as thick as mine and I couldn't resist bouncing mine against his a few times. Muscle seemed to call to muscle, our dicks rose as high as the bottom of our pecs and we crushed them together as we embraced.

Shaman and Rod had to pry us apart. "We must climb to the Sacred Hogan to purify ourselves. It will be waiting for us."

We lay together, the four of us, in the vanishing hogan, sweating ourselves clean. This was the first act for all of us since we had become lovers. We lay there, still, willing ourselves to be calm, thanking the gods for the Spirit of the Mighty Buffalo that had brought us all together in a new life.

After the appointed time - including the sleep from which we awoke to find the hogan had once again vanished - we dipped ourselves in the high, cold tarn, first giving the Shaman and NoChecks a chance to see their new selves in the still water before we disturbed their mirror.

As for me, it was days before I could take my eyes off the most handsome, the strongest, most remarkable. Most arousing, and most compatible god-being I had ever encountered. Will I ever get used to it? I doubt it, especially as he feels the same about me.

A week or so passed and we were all still there, imprisoned perhaps by the lack of leathers and anything else we could wear off the reservation, but still intoxicated by all that had happened.

The women of the tribe reappeared to look after us. It was immediately clear that each had a mate, or a father or brother, among the guys that had been our companions - some, not surprisingly, were even pregnant. They presented each of us with a short, embroidered breechclout, an amazing, horny-making garment of the softest leather. A thong was tied around our rapidly thickening dicks which were thus lifted and pushed forward to present a giant package in side the garment when it was eventually wrapped round our loins and tied off. Very comfortable, but very libido-raising.

The "measuring" session was also a time of giggles and thickening dicks. Courtesy of the Old Man, Mr. S of San Francisco tailored chaps, jeans, tanks, jackets to fit our new extra-extra-extra large size. They were brought to the reservation by the faithful James who was so astonished at our transformations that he allowed himself to undress and be pleasured by several of those present. There was even a huge pair of lace-ups for NicePants. Really nice of the softest glove leather. He climbed into them, laced them up tight, and came on the spot.

Now we were equipped to leave, and the bikes had been serviced and polished, the time had come for just that, the bitter sweet moments of goodbyes.

But there's always a tomorrow, and always the joy and sorrow that comes with it. Friendships had been made and broken, made again. They were all on fire about finding other guys and bringing them to the pueblo to change their lives, determined to comb the gyms, the bike gangs, the competitions for others who would accept not only new bodies, but also the responsibilities that came with them.

One way or another, they all eventually made their ways home, fulfilled and determined.

Leader and Buzzcut spent a week of luxury with the old man at Tanglewood Hall before they went back East. Buck and Shades had both found (unattached) boyfriends on the reservation and went off with them to work on a ranch only about fifty miles away.

Josh and Red (a real difficult leave-taking for me and Josh) flew themselves and Josh's bike back to Boston where Red pursued his career as a lawyer and Josh made a fortune running his gym.

It was even harder to say goodbye to NicePants, and he found it very hard to leave NoChecks and me. To cement our triple friendship for all time we spent one more amazing night of man-muscle-sex together before he finally left with Rays, promising to see us next year. He did. That promise has never been broken since.

As for NoChecks and me (now we were both off the game for good; one day we'd have to find him a new name). We had lots of reasons to stay on the Reservation. With the pueblo as base we roamed around the West on a protracted honeymoon. He and I, Rod and the Shaman, all of us had a great deal of talking to do, and some very special relationships to build between us. It was a long, long time before any of us left the pueblo. Perhaps some of us never did... •

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