He explored his developing body in the bathroom, and had to admit he was gorgeous. Who could resist him? He could barely resist himself. His cell phone rang, displaying Owen’s number, and he answered it with a “What’s up?”

Owen began to laugh. “It has been such a good day, man. Wanna meet me downtown?” Logan felt a chill go down his spine. This didn’t sound like Owen at all, but he was too curious to dwell on that fact. “Sure, I’ll meet you at Barry’s Deli. I’m starving.” “’kay. See you in an hour?” “Sounds good.”

Logan tossed the phone on his dresser and opened up the drawers, pulling out the tightest jeans he could find and a white Abercrombie t-shirt that clung to his new, slightly-defined pecs. A hemp necklace and K-Swiss shoes completed his look. He reviewed himself. He never would have worn this outfit in his old body, but he looked pretty hot. The blonde hair was kinda cool too…

His mind snapped. No! This wasn’t what he wanted to be, he was better than this. He excused his preppy look because all of his clothes were like this, and what else was he going to wear?

He parked next to Owen’s Escalade – he knew this because of the license plate, “QUARTERO,” and walked inside the deli, spotting Owen immediately.

The first thing Logan noticed was that now, compared to Owen, he was nothing. Owen was a perfect male specimen, with almost two-hundred pounds of rock-solid muscle and nearly six-three. His clothing clung tightly to his pectorals; his nipples and cobblestone abs clearly delineated on his tight tank top. His khaki cargo shorts barely hid his huge package, and his calves were the size of the footballs he was so good at throwing. His delts and lats rippled with gym-raised authenticity, and his huge, developed guns and hands were bursting with veins.

All Logan could focus on was Owen, and for the first time he could remember, was jealous of him. Logan had been avoiding the changes, and now he wanted them more than ever, because he wanted to be as good as Owen.

They grabbed right hands, pulling each other in close and slapping the opposite back with their left. Owen had already gotten both of them a beer. Everyone in town knew they were only eighteen, but laws didn’t apply to state football stars like Logan McBride and Owen Evans.

Logan sipped his beer and an awkward silence followed. Owen raised an eyebrow, staring at Logan intently. Finally, he inquired, “Something wrong, man?”

“Nah…I’m just going through some issues, that’s all.” Owen ran his fingers over his chiseled face. “Mmm, stuff with Mal?” “Huh?” Logan’s ears pricked up. Owen seemed confused. “Uhhh…your girlfriend? Mallory? Ring any bells?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” Logan lied. Owen reached over and flicked his friend’s forehead. “Dude, you’re seriously hung over today. What did you do last night, anyway?” Logan rolled his eyes. If only Owen knew. Instead of saying anything, though, he just responded “What did you do last night?” Owen grinned wickedly. “Brittany. Twice.” What a chauvinistic thing to say, Logan thought. Owen was a completely different person. Well, duh, he laughed inside, just look at him. He’s magnificent, just look at that chest. And his huge hands, able to easily palm basketballs, with a class ring on one ring finger and the state championship ring on the other… Suddenly, Logan realized Owen was staring at him with a puzzled expression. “Dude, what is up with you today?” “Nothin’, nothin’, dude. I…I should go.” Logan tossed a five dollar bill on the table and hurried out of the restaurant, and was climbing into his Porsche when he felt a vice-like grip on his bicep. Owen was genuinely concerned. “Don’t OD on anything, you hear me?” “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just…lost a good friend of mine. Well, two good friends of mine.” Owen tried to be sympathetic. “You did? But I know all of your friends. Who?” “You wouldn’t know them. I’ll be okay.” Logan slid into the driver’s seat and roared off, leaving Owen standing by himself.

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Logan whipped into his driveway and surveyed his new house. It was in the same location as his old one, but his family was obviously much richer and the house itself was now more like a mansion. The windows were larger, the yard was better kept, the cars gleamed in the driveway. A perfect American family.

He walked in the house, caught sight of a man’s jacket he didn’t recognize sitting on the chair, and heard giggles emanating from the living room. Slowly rounding the corner, he saw his mother being groped and kissed by a man who was certainly not his father. Logan was nearly speechless, but managed to combine all his emotions of horror, despair, and shock into five words:

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

His Mom whipped around, the man looked up, and the room went totally silent. Mrs. McBride faked a smile. “Logan! Honey…uh, you knew about Michael and me, remember?” Logan could feel the stillness in the room, attacking him from all sides. “I did?” “Yes! You said you wouldn’t tell your father. Remember?” “I…uh…this is wrong, this is all so wrong…” “Why is it wrong? I know what you were doing last week over at Mallory’s house, even though you’re going out with Sarah. Why wasn’t it wrong then? Hm, Logan?” His eyes filled with tears, and Mrs. McBride could only watch as her Abercrombie model of a son broke down in sobs before her. He gripped the furniture, the room started spinning, he heard his Mom cry out, and then all went black.

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All Logan felt was intense heat. His hands gripped bed sheets before he opened his eyes, and when he did, he finally saw his room – now with Carmen Electra posters and football trophies galore, with the unmistakable scent of a well-hung male permeating every corner.

He remembered that his mother was cheating on his father, but it didn’t seem that big a deal anymore – after all, that’d been going on since he was still some skating nerd. Man, that was embarrassing, the knowledge he’d once been obsessed with the half-pipe. Hopefully people didn’t associate him and Owen with that anymore.

He rubbed his throbbing dick, and felt his flat, undefined stomach. He needed to gain some weight, start pumping iron a little bit more. The heat in the room started to rise. He hadn’t screwed anything in a week, and he needed sex like he needed air. He grabbed his erect dick, feeling the veins in it throbbing. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, his mouth dropped open, and he moaned softly. His hands worked, slowly gaining pressure and speed, until they were vigorously rubbing his wood.

He began to moan loudly, gritting his teeth and panting like a whore. Images of Owen danced through his head. Tan, tall, muscular, perfect Owen, who one day would be second to Logan. He wanted to be faster than Owen, taller than Owen, hotter than Owen, busier, and not in the corporate way, than Owen, smarter than…well, not smarter than Owen. Brains didn’t matter, they were both getting football scholarships anyway.

His legs whipped about under the sheets, his body spinning back and forth as he screamed with pleasure. His hands were being forced apart by the growth of his now-fully mature cock, but soon they grew huge too, palming it easily. He was on fire, the blood rushing through his veins, the sweat evaporating off his body. He roared like a caged animal. His shirt was tighter than ever before, to the point of discomfort, causing him to tear it off and massage his developing chest. His ecstasy doubled, tripled, until the final rush of joy. He screamed enough to alert the whole neighborhood.

He lay his head on the pillow, panting from exhaustion, then shut his eyes again. The sounds of the world slowly disappeared until he was surrounded only by silence, and he drifted to sleep.

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He was awakened by the feeling of soft lips kissing his cheek and a finger on his nipple. “Morning, baby.”

He heard a deep voice say good morning back, a voice that he didn’t recognize until he realized it was coming from him. His eyelids slowly rolled open to see Mallory’s big green eyes staring into his matching pair. She kissed him on the lips this time, slowly licking them, an erotic sensation he loved. She giggled. “You two sure know how to satisfy a girl.”

Logan was too exhausted to remember anything, but man, he felt good. He reached over and put his hand on her cheek, brushing the hair out of it. The hand was large, bulging with veins, practically the size of her candy-apple face. “What do you mean, ‘you two’, Mal?”

She smiled, her lips cracking open to reveal straight, white teeth. “You don’t remember?”

A large, totally masculine figure sat up behind her, stretching his muscular limbs. Owen cocked his head, like a puppy, then seductively raised an eyebrow. “Mornin’, Logan.” •