CHAPTER 1 - RAMBLASIANS He was negative. His body didn’t look good undressed. “You..Your height!? Your weight!?...” the assistant called out. “6’1” and 138 pounds,” the 25-year-old Spaniard still responded with the tone of “come on” that mesmerizing looks afford one who’s been pretty since birth. Just put me in some designer – cover the ribs and bones. The assistant looked at Diego, “Oh, honey, too scare-crow, no – and who’s he – he’s…” The American sat in jeans and a Diesel ‘T’. He was not willing to lose composure in the backroom chaos. “I’m Samson… Same as Deegs… 140… 6’1”...” “You’re a handsome pair. Oh, Dios. But thin… Take the receipts and come back. If we’re short we’ll use you.”

“Bad news. At least you blame your eating,” Samson drawled. The American dug into his pocket retrieving a tin of Senkekaw Dark. They wandered toward Barcelona’s gay ghetto. Samson critiqued the Armani “Choice” collection they’d seen in a straight-guy way, shooting tobacco onto the sidewalk. Diego cringed at Samson, “Ugh, you’re crude.” He swatted the empty denim of Samson’s seat and pulled the tobacco from Samson’s hand. He handed it back. “Ok, sorry.. just kidding.” He looked at Samson’s face for approval. “I’m goin’ go… goin’ head for the apartment. I’ll be at the house ‘til I come for shift.”

Diego groaned in the apartment. “Si, oh, yes… oh muchachos grandesssssss.” Masturbation felt good and he squirted on the pages. He angled to the mirror and took his fingers from his dick letting its smallness fall. He touched across his ribs and looked into his eyes. “You’ll be one, una dia, Diego…yeah… mmhuh.” Then his face lost the confidence or hope. “ … uh, crap…never.” He scooped the tear outs. His seed lay across them, but mostly on Derek Anthony’s 20-year-old huge muscles and skin-tight poser. He licked Derek’s vein-y legs and the pouch. “You like that, sexy!? You like the tongue bath??” He fluttered and slid the page back in his torn out collection. He bent his arm purposelessly. “Ah, dang, dang, Dang.”

The rush had died, and Samson sprawled across the table from where Diego had come in and sat. Diego’s blond was down his neck and his eyes pooled blue. In contrast, Samson’s Givenchy’s enhanced the green of his eyes; and his soccer features perfected a shaved head. “Are we in for the championships?” Diego asked. “Yes, gon-gayboy… although, last seeds… I don’t know where we train though.” “I’m remembering something – Try manana?” “Ok.”

CHAPTER 2 – MONTJUIC They climbed Montjuic before daylight. “Through this hedge.” “This?… You’re whacked.” The two struggled, snagging. “Si, es esto.” On the terrace, they drifted toward a marble rail. Samson spoke, “Wow, the view is perfect. Look at the Med, how dark it looks.” “En la dia, it looks like la vida itself… blues… sails forever.” Samson turned to the pool. It was algae-stenched and its tiles were cracked. “That’s where? It’s trash, Diego.” “Si, Sammy, si – a Roman bath. I stumbled on it the year you exchanged here. I had that growth… got fast enough to swim with you seniors at last.” “Yeah… Well alright.” They moved to the pool and Diego stripped. He skin-and-boned in an immodesty that failed his gorgeous face – his swimsuit’s waistband drooped across his pubes and his crack showed. The Lycra, good for most guys because it revealed, showed unimpressively since his cock was very small. The hole on his leg also gapped looking girl-like. “I’m going in.” Diego sloshed his toe through the slush wanting to hide in it, but it did look gross. “Come on.” Samson undressed a build in board shorts that also troublingly exposed his thinness. He shivered and realized that the 4” bigger dick he had over Diego was flaccid and cold in his unlined suit. Shit he loved it better when it was at full show. Anyway, he eyed the blackgreen. “It’s crap….” He sneered at the slop. “But whateverfuck.” He opened his body and splatted in.

“Deegs, it pukes me.” “Es bueno, Samson. There’s something…”

They pulled out and strands from the marsh gooped on their torsos – even on their faces. “Ah, damn …what are these strotes… they feel so g’damn prickly – like burn… stinging.” They clawed and difficultly removed them. “I don’t know about that fucking filth, but shit it’s made us horny,” Samson said. Diego’s nexus stiffed but was more embarrassing because of the pathetic nub that sank behind the yellowed clinger. In contrast, Samson projected down his left jamm-leg an impressive outline of a boned 8” member. “Fuck, I’m hot.”

CHAPTER 3 – CAFÉ EURO JAVA They saw Lila coming to pick up Samson at the coffee shop. “Thank god,” said Samson. “I need to… I mean…damn, these ‘nads have paainfully ached since that… that fuck-swim this morning. Deegs, cover while I go.”

In the apartment, she wrapped and breasted him. She stroked his jeans with a smile on her face. “I’m looking forward to theees,” she said. Samson elongated out of the waistband and his helmet rose prong-high. “Oh, Lila, you know this work.” He unbuttoned himself and his hip-bones showed painfully, but his dick planked down. “Stand-fuck me, Stallion.” Samson pushed the pants from his stringy hips and she condomed his boner. “Oh, yeah, la feminina.” He grinned and lifted his mushroom-head to her soft patch. He coaxed her close and pressed into her womanhood. “I’m gonna do you like I haven’t done before,” he said. He thrust and clitted and for some reason understood it would be beautiful for her. Ah, it felt good, so good to do this. He felt tingly through his scarce, lax pounds. “Oh Dios – Mas, Samson, mas,” she breathed. Samson replanted hungrily new, but realized he wasn’t capable of doing what he really desired. He wanted to send her into ecstacy through fucking bones of strength. “You feel it enough, mujer?” he asked and felt his dick nonetheless somehow go bigger in her hole. “Yes, Samson, yes.” She replied. He felt his balls condense on his doll body and start to unbalance his pipe-cleaner legs. He recognized his own weakness, but still felt incredible in his organ as he approached an uparalleled blow. “Ah, fuck,” he exclaimed and his legs jittered and his board pushed deeper. “It should be more.” “AAH,” he groaned, and with final thrusts, he pumped into her with gism hot in the inflating rubber. She shuddered. Samson sat in her pussy, looking drawn as he grimaced at her – his enveloped wedge felt unbearable. His load had been large, larger than any he’d known. Shit, it had been something enervating. He massaged his model boy scalp and looked at her. “Thank you, as always, Lila.” “Pull out – what fricking happened, Samson?” His handsome, wasted smile grew, and he inched back, popping from her. Lila looked at his grunge body and his dick. She touched herself where he had exited and touched his waist where it was at its diet-girl thinnest. “Something got into you – I know I’m not supposed to say this with patients, but that was ‘el mejor’– not many clients do that.” Confidence crept into the split grin he gave her. Something subconscious occupied the usual egoistic cockiness he had. He let his hand rub his body, and then travel to his pisser, packing it in his Hommes. “Maybe,” he thought. He was impressed with the mound that pulled the slinkies even as he buttoned up his scrawny build. “Is Maria Theresa still insisting that this is a good idea?” Lila asked “I don’t know… I’ll let you know.”

Sex lingered unwashed and Diego pressed his nose intimately against Samson’s neck and chest. “How’d it go, stud?” Diego took a deeper sniff. “It smells so good.” “Ah, nice. I wish it had been, M.T not Lila. It would make a difference in my love making with Maria Theresa. I mean I blew Lila’s brains – gave her grade-A man… M.T. would have cum for sure.” “Yeah, right… Ummm-Hmmm,” said Diego.

CHAPTER 4 – LOS ARBOLES CEDROS The sun’s rays lit the trees and Diego dropped his pack. “The cedars look strong, don’t they” said Samson. “Must be a great place to grow or something,” Diego answered. Diego stripped his waffle T. Samson looked, “Did yesterday’s dick-stroking give you flesh there, Diegs? – a whisper?… Ah, I’m being whacked…As if you’d have tissue on that arm-bone of yours.” Diego doubled to his shoulder and looked at his arm. He looked away. “As if…” he agreed. He glanced again at nothing but long, skinny bone.

The scum lashed and gritted their shoulders. They felt like aluminum-brushing was on their skin from their torsos and waists. It felt painful – but the pain was somehow also like pleasure. The hour that passed didn’t feel that way when they were done.

“Diego… look fucking etches.” Samson welted where the strotes again lay on his body and on the complexion of his cover-guy face. But what was different, was across his emaciated stomach, faint lines had suddenly appeared. He looked and admired the long-ish one that traced to his groin. He touched his fingers to fainter ones that angled to his flanks. Samson moved his fingers from a segment to the next. “It’s painted like a ‘pack.” Samson’s dick had hardened its good size. “Now, that could be sexy… sexy as fuck,” Samson put his hand into his shorts.

CHAPTER 5 – MODERNISTOS “Aren’t you looking good.” Their modeling agent, Wally, was sleaze. “A little face work? Haircuts? Finally discovered what a gym is, girls? Gorgeous is a dime a dozen, but you’ve done something – something special for me?” “Cut the crap,” Samson talked back, “What are you even talking about?” Diego was quiet and feared showing tongue. “Ah well, I was going to have nothing for you 2nd tierers this week, but since you’re looking so… so….. well, I might have something anyway. Let me call around and you come back Friday.” “Alright, we’ll be back.” As Samson answered, Wally walked to Diego’s chrome-modern chair, and sat on the arm. He let his wrist rest on Diego’s shoulder and touched the gold lengths of hair. He grin-fucked Samson and then swept his hand to lift Diego’s chin and look at Diego’s narrow, olive face planes and idoled nose, “Am, I gonna get something in return, beauty girl?” “Fuck off, Wally,” Samson finished the meeting rescuing his friend.

“Samson…the pulse through me… I can’t get it from my mind.” Samson looked at Diego and the slop that draped from Diego’s shoulders. He took Diego’s thin measure with his football-field eyes. Something unplaceably different was there, but he said nothing just massaged his own chest. Samson pulled on his warm-ups. “Fuck these. They fit wrong… how do they make ’em so that a wash makes the fit go… – these cost plenty!?” “They look good, Sam,” said Diego, “They’re nice… like they’re pants-pulling-into-your-as… you know…” embarrassment stopped him, “well, just… a bit flagrant, that’s all.”

“Did you eat all the burger?” M.T. looked at him. “Yeah, I did. All of it…” Diego rubbed his belly. He turned red and stopped. “Eating a whole burger – that’s a first – way to go, bird-eater,” Samson said. There was ground beef smeared in Diego’s teeth.

The Sunday stillness was oppressive. “Let’s get into the cesspool,” Samson stripped a pair of biking shorts. Underneath, he wore powder underwear, and, even at 27, because of his absence of build, looked adolescent with his developed pouch against thin legs. “It would have been good to grab our stuff – but I’m glad you let us just straight come,” Diego said. He looked at the scum again. “All brunch, I couldn’t get it… How I wanted to….” He stopped and just fell into the grunge.

Diego had two helpings of the dinner – 4 tacos in the end. Samson hadn’t let the return for seconds go unnoted. Now, he sat at the computer as Samson came from cleaning. “We’re going to an exhibit – one of her painters,” Samson had a hand on his front where the flatness of his nipples were; it was strange how Samson felt a rising and retreating feeling inside. He asked Diego, “You want to third wheel?” and put his hands on the back of Diego’s shoulders. “Naw..” Diego responded. Samson lingered his grasp there and Diego’s shoulders felt different – cord lay somewhere underneath it had to be. “Ok, then, we’ll see you later.”

An hour passed and Diego hunched over the listings still… Aaah, a carved Latin guy, publicly talking about weights… sculpted and already starting to be built up … oh, “hobbies: want to bodybuild”… “want to become a bodybuilder”… Diego got excited. It felt good to go hard. He looked at his small point and stroked lightly a few times. He went back to the profile. This was what he had to try. It made him nervous as shit, shoot. But, he wasn’t going to be intimidated and he had to start being real with his attractions. He started an introduction and then started again. Ahhh. frick… I just can’t. He hit escape and groaned. In the kitchen, he made a sandwich. He layered Samson’s deli meat on the bread, unconsciously. He didn’t realize that it had piled a pound on, yet it shoveled his mouth more satisfyingly than anything he’d ever eaten.

“Can you do twice, Diegs.” Diego pulled a second suit, a thong, and smiled. Samson looked different in the 7am light, his body holding energy that was unfamiliar – something at the next level. Samson hung so beautifully. Diego loved and worshiped Samson’s 8 inches. Samson’s shoulders looked good too. Diego slid past and let his feeble morning boner brush ‘mistakenly’ long on Samson’s butt.

Diego’s friend Pedro was on shift, sporty in a baseball t and shorts. “Be a sub in our game?” Pedro asked. Diego put down the shake – it had 40 protien grams. It had 500 calories. “Pedro!? Anyone ever tell you… you know?... Like, I play like a girl?.”

On the diamond, he connected with the ball only to find it slammed right. He ran and his legs rotated unexpectedly like a high school stud just turning 17. He pounded the bag safe. “Ah, man… this is frickin’ great.”

“I should try speed dating…. – I’d have no out, just forced to….” He talked so that Samson could hear in the bedroom. He hopped on the scale to check the dial… shit…he couldn’t believe… not… it wasn’t 138, but 148. He checked again and his lips lay open – his eyes searched in the mirror. Yes. He came from the bathroom. “Samrod.” He looked at Samson. “Oh frick.” Absently, he massaged where his towel covered his child member. “Sam, it’s like… just…” He smiled and showed teeth that reflected the full effects of a dentist’s whitening technology. “I’m different, stud…” He glowed. “Like…” He let his towel drop and looked down. “I’ve gained ten pounds.”

Wally trespassed his fingers onto Samson’s butt. “Oh sweeties… I think my b-listers are starting something they shouldn’t, aren’t they?” He leaned into Samson’s ear, “grrrrrr” It was girlish in its campiness. “It’s just a little bit fast – don’t you think girls?” Wally licked his lips, “All you girls, waking up one day wanting to go so big… I always know when you start, don’t I girls?” Diego looked down puzzled, and discreetly, no shyly, touched his body. “Calm it, Wally.” Samson stepped away and turned and put his hand straight-arm on the agent’s chest. He looked like a fencer with the extended pose it struck. “You just let us take care of us and our looks –you take care of our work.” “Oh pretty, whatever you’re doing, it’s WORKing – now you’re just lucky to have Wally LOOKing out for you.” “Right,” Samson dismissed the melodrama. “Anyway, I’m getting you into something small…” Wally giggled. “Well not a small gig, but wait ‘til you see what you’ll wear – it’s so small. I worry about the embarrassment you’ll have down there,” Wally brought his hand to his throat and gayly pointed his finger toward Diego’s crotch, “But they can always enhance digitally, can’t they, sweetheart.” “Never mind that, Wal. We’ll take it.” Samson kept things straight and short with the impulse-driven hack.

CHAPTER 6 – LOS MODELOS Diego came out of the slush. “Sam….” Diego gestured down and returned his eyes to what had been developing – it was bizarre to find he had even a rise where he knew all guys dreamed of the thrust of a porn bulge. He looked at his ass. It was surprising to see it curving at the spot where real men hungered for sculptured, chasmed humps. His dick was not as big as average, just, jesus it felt better. “I think I’m...” “Nice, Diegs.” Samson considered Diego for a minute. Diego’s cock was in a way that Samson couldn’t understand given the years he’d seen the small Diegan rod and reel. Diego looked almost sex-possible for once-in-his-life. “Really nice,” Samson grunted, but then turned with preoccupation to his own somehow sinewed body and to his dick that truly filled the wet low-cut beige bather he’d suddenly gone ahead and bought for himself.

The lights didn’t warm the ice floe set, but their bodies seemed insensitive to the a/c’ed air barely dressed as they were in white. “An Expedition ad with penguins and us – fucking unbelievable,” Samson looked down at his thong. “My cock looks fierce though – heavy.” His lips pulled back from his teeth and his jaws flexed a ripple. It was alpha’ed domination that showed briefly and disappeared returning him to the same friendly, well-adjusted guy he always was. “And you look amazing too.” He said to Diego. Diego hip-angled on the plastic raft. His hips were the narrowness of a 18-year-old and he had the bikini of a James Bond wrapping them. Between the two of them, Diego and Samson created the sly, provocative seduction that they knew was perfect for supposed “mass-market”.

Candace came from the production office. She looked Samson over. “Ah, Wal sent a crotch boy this time.” She said. “You’re good too, handsome.” She smiled at the Spaniard. She fiddled film into the camera, “I’d say, flaunt it guys. Let’s click”

CHAPTER 7 – NATATORIUM Samson read French on his bed and Diego lay on his own watching. “I touch my chest, Sam, and my abdominal wall and I feel so alien – so unknown.” Samson looked over. His eyes collected halogen from the night stand and glowed like jewels in a case. He drank in the shape of Diego’s body and recognized a sense of underwear models he knew. “That swimming’s been great for us…. HA!... An amazing new training fad… muck-swimming! It almost makes sense.” “We race tomorrow and I… I feel strong.” “Me too.”

They stood before the stadium crowd and they did feel strong. In their long, ‘nothing’ bodies, turbine-reserves hummed secretly in their sinews.

Samson smiled and Diego hipped his pinked bikini. Neon fabric outlined boners on both friends that only the shyest teen wouldn’t flaunt in the hallway from class home. They couldn’t help stancing and reveling like rams ready to mate.

Samson looked at Diego and admired the black eyebrows painted on Diego’s brown, smooth skin and the blond fall of his hair, “Good luck.”

The gun went and they dove. A voice cried. “Mi hombres. Don’t be last!” Their wakes were slow at first. Others had sprinted from the blocks, but in Diego and Samson, the energy built and a releasing push germinated. They relished the warm unfoldings. They accelerated and an image of manta rays powered by wide and superpowerful wings occupied their minds. A 19-year-old was saucy as they approached, but he flagged and could only watch them arrow by. At the turn, their asses flashed fuck-suggestively and their feet came around. “Oh Dios, show Maria Theresa who are the fish, mis amores!” A National Teamer gripped for the lead powering a big build, but Samson and Diego somehow whirred – no effort in flowing past. They raced each other. Samson’s ¼-length lead gave him the edge until Diego blurred – a torpedo somehow out of a submarine. With unprocessable movement, Diego met the wall before his Kansan friend.

Samson surfaced. “That rocked! That was awesome! So, fucking awesome! Holy CRAP!” He pumped Diego’s fist and twisted Diego’s tit and then made his friend’s heart suddenly strain when he cupped Diego’s bulge in the deep. “We’re packed,” he whispered and tore his eyes away, but the grope lingered before finally letting go. With his hands high, Samson circled in the water finding Maria Theresa. They blew kisses.

Off the medal stands, Maria Theresa met them. “I love you boys – that was fantastic.” The kiss with Samson lingered, until passion drew him down into her.

In the locker room, they pulled on slacks that were DKNY. Straps fastened across the back pockets. Diego buttoned a shirt and then helped Samson with a gauzy tee that clung unexpectedly to Samson’s breast. “Deegs, look at that guy’s rack. Talk to him.” Diego’s eyes turned and fixed. “Sammy… no way…” His mouth opened, “ah shit.” The jock turned a carved, 6’3” physique. Pecs shelved on him and manhood rode in his legs. He gazed at Diego. Diego ducked into the locker. “Nice swim.” “Me!?… thanks.” Diego peeked out. “Yea… Thanks Man,” Samson said, “Deegy, I’ll be with M.T.” He left. “You pushed the pace.” “Oh yeah, thanks.” Diego felt perspiration in his armpits; his cheeks were hot. “Actually, I never saw that before. I’d say it was impossible.” The stud worked a towel over his groin and it was heavy with his scrotum and cock; Diego was glad to be clothed. “Sure...” Diego tried to stand taller and to look in the other’s eyes. “Give me your number – you and I need to train.” The stranger squinted at his arm and measured its balled peak. Behind, he rubbed terry cloth into Honcho-sculpted globes. “Oh yeah.” Sweat dropped under Diego’s shirt. “I have a pen, but no paper.” “Gimme the pen… what is it?” “77 2 9…33…42 5555.” With each digit, the stranger inked over the veins and canal’d cuts of his stripper bi. Diego shifted his legs behind his firming dick and hid his undeveloped build in his designer shirt. His heart beat and he was short of breath. “…Diego.” He managed. “Yea… Alejandro. I’ve been looking… I’ll call you sometime.” “Oh, thanks...” Diego turned out of the lockers clumsily scuffing against a metal can. He spotted Samson and M.T. “Holy crud, Sammy, I gave him my number.” The smile faded, “Not that he’ll call.” “deeegggs!” •