The of Hank

Hank

Rattled by his encounter with the gym bro, Hank wandered over to the free weights. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the guy walking back to the lockers.

Whatever. I’m here to lift, not talk.

He picked up a pair of dumbbells and faced the mirror to do some curls. Regardless of the body, this was still something he could count on: the focus, the intensity, the flex, the burn. His concentration was only broken when he started calf raises and felt a pleasant jiggle from his rear when his heels dropped.

Damn, that’s hot, Hank thought as he turned around to check out his backside, prominent and round despite his concealing clothing. A guy can have a nice ass, he rationalized, watching it bounce as he clenched.

Hank proceeded to the bench and noticed he was alone in the gym. Asshole didn’t even re-rack his plates. What makes him think he’s man enough to hit on me? I bet he didn’t get Cam’s number. He tried to think of her tits, but the memory of her hug returned instead.

There was a lot of weight on the bar, but he’d been able to lift as much before. If I can lift this, I’m just as much a man as he is, Hank justified, laying back on the bench. He gripped the bar and grunted, lifting it off the rack. He guided the bar down, then pushed. It should have exploded upwards, but it was stuck, immune to the **** he was exerting. Hank was humiliated by the sight of his arms, smaller than they had been, now trembling as the bar started to descend.

Hank started to panic and was about to abort and twist the bar to the side, when it was caught by a pair of strong, dark hands. He looked up to find a familiar face. Short twists framed a sharply handsome face. Malik had been his backup on the basketball team and probably the closest thing he had had to a friend since he came to college.

Hank flushed, feeling humiliated. Fuck, just perfect. He must think I’m a weakling.

“Looks like I overdid it with these curls, mind spotting me, miss?” Malik joked.

Miss? Hank had braced for ridicule, but somehow the complete lack of recognition was even worse. Am I a ‘miss’ now? In one final blow, the masculinity she was desperately clinging to was ripped away. She had bet her masculinity, her entire identity on one rep, and failed. The universe conspired to show her in every way that she would never be considered a man again.

She tried to distract herself from her internal turmoil by focusing on Malik’s biceps as he helped guide the bar back on the rack. Malik, for his part, had his eyes glued to Hank’s nipples as they stiffly tented her sweatshirt. She realized the man’s crotch must be just above her head, his package so close she could practically smell it. Hank sat upright to hide the stirring in her own cock.

“Thanks, Malik. This is embarrassing. I guess I bit off more than I can chew.” Hank tried to be casual as she turned to position her manhood behind the weights on the bar.

Malik furrowed his brow. “Have we met? You look real familiar, but I don’t know your name. How do you know me?”

“It’s me … it’s Hank,” she stammered.

“Hank? He your cousin or something? Yeah, I can see the resemblance now. What did he say about me?”

A part of Hank was happy at the misunderstanding. “That you pass too much. I bet you’re happy Hank’s off the team now. You’ll be getting more minutes.”

“Hey, I pass because I’m a team player and I don’t care who takes the shot. And no, I’m not happy about Hank. He got minutes because he helped us win. Because of what he did, the team is worse now. He just had to be selfish.” Malik shook his head in disgust.

A hollow feeling started to eat at Hank. “Yeah, he can be a real dick.”

“I texted him to see how he was doing after he got kicked off the team, but … nothing. I got nothing back.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Hank choked the words out. Apologizing felt like speaking a foreign language, but she meant it. “You’re a good friend.”

“Friend? Nah, that’s a two way street. No offense to your cousin, but he’s no friend to me. I don’t know what’s wrong in his brain, but he turns everything into a competition.” Malik’s expression darkened. “There’s this girl I like. When Hank found out, he hooked up with her. The worst part is that he didn’t even want her, he ghosted her after. It didn’t even sound like he enjoyed it, he only did it to ‘win’. To hurt me.”

Shit. I did do that. Why the fuck did I do that?

Malik tried to maintain his composure, but it was obvious the wound was still fresh. “Who the hell does that, you know? It hurts to look at her now. He has no idea, and he wouldn’t care if he did.”

Hank was breaking down, too. No one had ever confided in her and she had no idea how to handle it. Feelings of shame and self-loathing battered her. “That’s so fucked,” she said, her voice breaking. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Malik straightened up. “My bad, I shouldn’t have laid all that on you. It’s not your fault. Did … did he hurt you too?”

Hank could only nod wordlessly. Her body was tense, ready to flee.

“Damn. He’s out here hurting everyone. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“How do I stop him?” Hank whispered.

Malik frowned. “I don’t think you can. He’s not gonna change. It’s hard, but you have to go no contact. If you put him behind you, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Hank couldn’t handle the emotions surging through her. The arousal still simmering in her body surged, colliding with her desperation. She appreciated Malik’s well defined arms, his angular face. But more than the physical, it was the honesty and kindness that was making her wet and hard. Hank’s body wanted to embrace Malik, to be held, but she stopped herself.

No. He would never want me if he knew the truth. Why did ‘Hank’ always have to be such a selfish asshole? It’s like he would only do the exact wrong thing. She struggled to collect herself.

But maybe now, I can do what he couldn’t. What’s the last thing he would do?

She glanced up at Malik, still patiently waiting for her response.

He would only think about himself. So I need to think about Malik, the one he hurt. How can I help him? Hank reconsidered their conversation. His confidence with women is shot, he needs a boost.

Hank gathered her will, quieting her doubts. With a lithe step, she closed the distance between them. She pulled Malik’s head down into an aggressive kiss. She moaned into her former teammate’s mouth when she felt his hands on her hips. Relief bloomed in her chest, this is what we both needed. Hank had to catch her breath after releasing the kiss.

“Thank you. For your honesty, for everything. I’m sorry for what Hank did to you. You’re a good guy and didn’t deserve that. Remember to shoot your shot, you never know what’ll happen.” She took in Malik's stunned smile with pride. I did that. ‘Hank’ could never. She turned on her heel to head back to the lockers, the women’s side this time.

Once inside, she hurriedly started stripping out of her impromptu workout outfit. When she pulled off the pants, her cock sprung free, red and angry. Her nose was assaulted by a bouquet of sweat and feminine arousal. The night had been a string of sensual encounters without release. Malik, Camila, Lily, Craig.

“So, this is all that’s left of you, huh Hank?” She addressed her dick, incongruously jutting out from an otherwise unmistakably female body. She also felt feminine arousal from the rest of her body, but that one part was most insistent. “You better enjoy this because I’m done letting you ruin my life.”

Her hands were clenched at her sides as she gingerly stepped into a shower stall. Her cheeks flushed as the warm water rinsed away the sweat from her workout but did nothing to diminish her arousal. Her body was screaming for attention and shuddered when she grasped her member. The sensation was heavenly, better than anything she had felt as a man. The transformation must have made it more sensitive and she luxuriated in the soft touch. Her cock looked enormous as it throbbed in her smaller hand.

The orgasm blindsided her. A long, high-pitched moan was pulled from her lips as her cock fired stream after stream of pearly cum. The world narrowed to one organ, spasming in ecstasy. Her knees buckled and she had to lean against the stall wall to stay upright.

A pink-flavored warmth suffused her body as she caught her breath. No longer blinded by the need for release, she could appreciate the pleasure radiating from the rest of her new body. Her smooth, hairless skin glistened from the water cascading over her. Turgid nipples ached for the caress of a strong hand. An empty longing deep inside begged to be filled.

I don’t know who or what I am, just that I can’t be Hank anymore. I couldn’t lift the bar, I needed to be saved. I couldn’t flirt, I got hit on instead. She straightened and cupped her breasts, playing with the nipples. What now, Hank? These feel so good, so right. Are you going to stop my heart from fluttering when checking out a handsome guy? Are you going to tell me I can’t fantasize about being filled because it’s gay?

Try to stop me.

A hand traced down her flat belly, lingering briefly on the swell of her hip, before plunging down between her legs. Her breath caught as she teased her feminine entrance. Her cock responded to the stimulation, quickly rising back up to full mast. See, even you can’t deny how right this feels. Being loved tenderly. This is what you denied me. Too scared to let anyone see me, let alone love me. Leaving only pain in your wake.

She cried out in pleasure when a finger entered her passage. She could feel her walls clenching around the intruder, trying to pull it deeper into her molten core. “Fuck!” She gasped. “Fuck you, Hank.” Her lips turned up in a snarl. “This is mine, this is me,” she gasped, starting to pump her finger in and out. Her other hand moved from her breast to her member. “This is mine, too. You get nothing. You are nothing!” An inescapable pressure was quickly building as she pumped the finger inside herself in time with her hand on her cock.

The two sources of pleasure collided, then started to blend within her body. It reached the point where she expected the release of climax, but instead it continued to climb higher. Something terrifyingly powerful continued to build, the intensity reaching the point of pain. The world went white when two orgasms hit simultaneously. Their wake left only impressions of falling and spasming muscles while all conscious thought was carried away.

She woke with her face pressed against the tile floor. She was unsure how much time had passed, but the shower was still running. She robotically cleaned her body of accumulated fluids and wrapped a towel around herself before heading back toward the lockers. The constant arousal that had been fueling her the entire night had finally been sated leaving … nothing.

She caught sight of her reflection in a mirror as she trudged past a row of sinks. Instead of the monument to masculinity she had seen in the mirror her whole life, she only saw a woman: scared and alone. Long, wet hair framed a beautiful face with lifeless green eyes. As she watched, a tear fell, coursing down her cheek. Something shattered inside and the dam broke. There was no more energy to hold it back and years of repressed pain came pouring out.

The mantle of Hank has been stripped off, and she feared there was nothing underneath. Hank had been strong and confident. Hank didn’t have to feel fear or shame. But neither could he feel tenderness, or acceptance, or love. Not even from himself. He never allowed anyone close enough to hurt him and ended up alone.

She felt exposed, as though her chest had been flayed open: her heart laid bare for the world to judge and sneer. But she could no longer allow Hank to cause pain to others, even if it meant opening herself to pain herself.

Unwitnessed in a locker room, an unnamed woman killed Hank, leaving only a pathetic figure hugging her knees like a child. The loud racking sobs echoed in the empty room, a dirge for a dead name.