Beefcake Is My Speedo Bitch
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Beefcake! Beefcake! free porn video
Beefcake! Beefcake!
By Rosie
Roger:
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. Well, not just my chest, but it
seems that my whole body is pulsating with the rhythm of my heart. Even
though my eyes have long accustomed to the dimly lit anteroom, I don't even
notice Erin beside me anymore. My eyes, my nerves, my mind are all fixed on
the door and the moment that Martha will pull it open, starting the great
entrance. I don't even mind wearing Erin's clothes anymore, all I want to do
is to walk in and show myself. Show my progress.
Suddenly, it happens. The door cracks open and before I know it, I am
walking, blinded by the bright light, into the room. There are gasps of
amazement and I have to do my best fighting the urge to flex my muscles
right here and now. But Martha, who I suddenly regard once again as my
future mother-in-law, not just my personal trainer, was very clear about
that. As my eyes are starting to recognize the silhouettes of the people in
the room, I walk as I've been instructed, all the way to the end of the
room, turn around and walk back to the center of the room, where Erin has
stopped, to face the silhouettes. It is indeed a select audience, as Martha
has promised, there's only my mother and my sister Karen. Well, and Erin's
sister Stephanie, but she sees me regularly, so he doesn't really count.
Erin and I stand side by side for a minute, then I take off my blazer to
reveal the muscles on my arm.
Martha:
It's more than a wee pang of pride that I feel as I watch Roger's mother and
sister stare at him in amazement. My future son-in-law is standing before
them half the size than he was before I took him in my weight loss program.
He is wearing a pair of my daughter's old black dress pants, and a her
matching tailored blazer that makes his hips flare out below his now
waspishly thin waist. There is no way Erin could put it on anymore, but it
fits Roger's thin arms quite snugly. When Roger finally takes it off, there
is another gasp of amazement as he reveals his black satin halter top that
tautens invitingly over his now flat belly with every breath he takes, but
more importantly, it displays his thin, though shapely arms. There is
definitely tone and shape to his muscles, all joints are beautifully
rounded, but the muscles, just like the skin that enwraps them, are
deliciously soft. Even as I look at him, I'm having a hard time believing
that I have managed to turn the shapeless fat fuck he once was into this
lithe, slim creature.
Behind him, Erin is also sleeveless in her red satin dress. Even though her
fianc? is standing right in front of her, she is fully visible behind his
thin silhouette which, rather than conceals, only emphasizes her powerful
figure. Erin steps forward and hugs Roger from behind, displaying the
bulging muscles on her arms and I feel another not-so-wee pang of pride to
see my daughter all developed like that. Of course, she lacks the hourglass
figure of the man she is about to marry, but that's nothing that can't be
fixed by a wide, patent black belt and a full skirt that flares out at her
hips.
It was Erin that wanted to lose weight in the first place, and I was only
too happy to help her. Of course I wanted my daughter to feel beautiful on
her big day, and I wanted her to be healthy, but beside that, as a co-owner
of one of the busiest gym's in town, and a fitness instructor, it was bad
publicity for my daughter to go about neglected like that.
I figured that I could use her slimming down to lure more women into my gym,
but it soon turned out that Erin wouldn't give me the before and after
pictures I was hoping for. Just like me, she got the weight fever soon
enough and was all about gaining weight, rather than losing it. She did take
off a lot of her body fat, mind you, though it has been evident that that
wasn't her primary goal. Roger, on the other hand, was a completely
different story. I soon found out that he was pliable enough that I could
get him not only to do the exercises I wanted, but also follow a strict diet
and take any supplement I wanted him to without a question. Once I started
feeding him doses of estrogen he became even more trustful of my decisions.
As his tearful outbursts of emotions started, he agreed that it would make
more sense to carry out his training in the privacy of my own working out
space in the basement of my house, rather than in full view of everybody in
the gym. Shortly thereafter, Roger moved in with me, and was spending his
days doing my housework and working on what he believed was a high intensity
body building regime. When he lost enough fat that traces of hardly existent
muscles began appearing under his skin, I managed to convince him that he
was making great progress, just I had managed to convince him that the shiny
leotards I had him wear were regular men's gym clothes. When the day that he
was ready to be shown to the world finally came, he didn't think it strange
that Stephanie put his hair up in rollers until it was a mass of tight, jet
black curls, that she filed his nails and covered them with a clear varnish,
nor that she plucked his eyebrows into thin arches. When I gave him Erin's
old clothes to wear he trustingly accepted the explanation that I had
realized that none of his old clothes fit him too late to get him new ones
in time for the show.
Roger:
We stand together like that, with Erin's arms around me, for a minute, then
my mother gets off her chair and I feel Erin step back.
"My, you've grown," she says to me.
"Actually, mom," I smile awkwardly, "I'm wearing high heels."
I pull the left leg of my pants to reveal my black, four inch heeled pump.
Martha gave me these shoes so that they would bring out the muscles on my
thighs and calves, and also because we realized too late that my pants were
a bit too long.
"It wasn't your height I was talking about," mom says, then drops her eyes
to my chest.
I feel a surge of pride and I push my chest forward.
"Oh, God," she breaths, "Are they real?"
Before I can answer, her hand is on my pecs.
I can't help it, I know Martha will be mad at me, but I simply have to do
it. Just like Martha has trained me to do for dozens of times, I pump my
arms in toward the center of my chest, then I bring my shoulders in toward
the center of my chest. I should have done a quick series of push-ups
before, to get the blood flowing, but as it is, all I can do is to clench my
hands together, hoping to flex my pecs as much as I can.
Before I succeed to, my mother's hand moves to my left triceps.
"So soft," she whispers.
"Just give me a minute," I say, fighting tears of shame. It's not fair, not
only I hadn't done any pre-warm exercises, but she's not even feeling the
muscle group I'm flexing.
"I meant your skin," she says, "It's so soft."
"Oh," I say, "Well, I'm oiled up a bit."
"I see," she mutters, then her hand is back on my pectorals.
Martha:
"Yes, yes," Diane says, as she fondles her son's budding breasts, "They're
definitely getting harder."
Roger proudly juts his chest forward again, exposing his swollen nipples
through the black satin.
"I'm glad to hear something does," Erin mutters, just loud enough for me to
hear her.
"Erin!" I hiss at her and she shrugs apologetically.
"Sorry," she whispers back, but I can't really blame her. The heavy hormone
treatment does take its toll, I suppose.
"You guys said you had something for me," Erin turns to Diane and Karen.
"About that..." Diane says, then turns to Karen.
"No, we don't," she says to Erin, "Sorry. I know we said we did, but it
turns out we screwed up, so..."
"Oh," Erin says, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.
"Oh dear," Diane sighs.
"This is embarrassing," she says, "We asked your mother for your
measurements, because we wanted to have a wedding dress made for you. She
gave us the measurements of both of you, and we mixed them up."
"It was an honest mistake," Karen says defensively.
"Karen!" Diane hisses at her.
"Well, it was," she pouts.
"Anyhow," Diane turns back to Erin and me, "We had the wedding dress made in
Roger's size, not yours. Never mind, we'll take it back."
"Hold on," I say, "Let us see it, first."
Karen pulls out the dress from a black garment bag and it's Erin's turn and
mine to gasp in astonishment this time. It really is a wonderful gown.
"It would be such a shame if no one wore that dress," I say.
"Well, there's no way Erin can put it on," Karen says.
"It's not what I meant," I say.
"I wonder..." Diane mutters and as if on cue, Stephanie takes the dress in one
hand, grabs Roger with the other and leads him out of the room.
"Actually, Martha?" Diane says, "I really don't think this is such a good
idea..."
"Why not?" I say, looking her in the eyes.
"In fact," she begins, then pauses as I lean closer towards her, "I think
it's time Roger moved back to my house..."
"That's up to Roger, of course," I say, "But let him try on the wedding gown
first."
Martha:
"I hope you don't mind if I take some pictures," Stephanie says to Roger as
she leads him back to the room, dressed in the bridal gown, "This will be
good publicity for my beauty salon, and I don't get to do too many bridal
makeup jobs."
Posing for Stephanie, Roger looks as if he's floating on a cloud of white
satin, chiffon and lace. Even with the full makeup, his face strangely
doesn't look much different than before. When Stephanie puts her camera
down, he gives his mother an accusing glare.
"Oh, Roger," Diane moans out loud, "I swear, this was honestly the furthest
from our intentions."
"Don't worry about it too much," I say to Diane, feeling her shiver as I
place my palm on her nylon-clad knee, "I don't think he was really that
comfortable in Erin's old pants before."
"Actually, Martha," Roger speaks out in his soft voice, "I would prefer to
be back in Erin's pants after all."
I flash him a kind, but dismissive smile, then turn back to Diane.
"He does look lovely, though," I say to her.
"Seriously, though," he says again, "Stephanie promised me I wouldn't have
to wear this dress longer than just to see if it fits."
Slowly, I turn to face him again, though I don't take off my hand of Diane's
knee.
"And?" I say, "Does it fit?"
"To a T, mummy," Stephanie says happily.
"Well then, I guess it's best if you help him take it off," I say, "But
Roger, it really is time you stopped wearing Erin's old pants."
"Erin, honey?" I say, "Why don't you take Karen and see if you can find a
dress of yours that will fit Roger?"
With a quick nod of her head, Erin takes Karen by her hand and leads her out
of the room, leaving me alone with Diane.
"Well," I say, sliding my hand up her thigh, "Looks like you won't have to
take the dress back, after all."
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