Temptations left behind

This time, however, Jesse opened the door to be nearly bowled over by a Cynthia considerably more dressed than usual. No form-fitting yoga pants and bra-less crop top today. Instead, she was wearing a fashionable and alluring red dress, still trying to fasten a dangly earring while rushing through the doorway.

"Oh… You…" Was the distracted-sounding reaction the girl provided, upon nearly stomping poor Jesse into the carpet.

"Sorry hun… I forgot you were coming. I've got a date with a salon owner tonight! If I fuck him well enough I might be able to win myself an apprenticeship!"

She turned to look back into the bedroom, seeming genuinely sorry to be letting her own would-be apprentice down.

"Hey, Lazy-bones… let the little fuckmeat give you a massage for an hour. He could use a bit of solo-practice anyway!"

The girl didn't wait for an answer before turning back to Jesse, the nervousness and excitement for her evening's challenge clear in her.

"There you go… It'll do you some good to try a session without me telling you what to do all the time. Anyway, got to run!"

And with that, she was gone. Nothing but heels clicking down the corridor. Leaving Jesse on the threshold… to an hour alone with George. A rush of blood shot straight to the sissy’s head. A roaring in his ears as he felt suddenly faint. He had wandered calmly into rooms full of waiting cocks all primed and paid for… but this… This was different…

Jesse poked his head through the doorway and was greeted by the sight of a young man already mostly undressed. George was lounging on his bed shirtless, flicking across pages on a flexitab. For the second time that evening, Jesse bore witness to the new, muscular form of his friend through so many years of general education. The guy had always been handsome… no-one would deny that. But in the last year or so, presumably since the Algorithm had concluded he was going to be a piece of eye candy on the arm of rich, older ladies… Those features had grown ever more carved and magnificent.

Jesse expected there was a similar degree of specialised diet and accompanying hormone treatments to his own involved… though with a considerable amount more mandatory gym-time. He had seen the glass-fronted 'display cases' in various shopping centres on trips with John and Miranda. Where specimens such as George were conveniently expected to work through their assigned routines in hot, sweaty boxes full of equipment sponsored by whichever clothing store or cafe they formed the walls of. The sissy had guessed it was probably decidedly uncomfortable to be so claustrophobically trapped in full view. Panting for air as you tried to complete your required exercise while also trying to ignore all the middle-aged shoppers ogling you.

Still, the sissy himself couldn't help feeling his leotard tighten a little at memories of Miranda drawing him into giggling appreciation and discussion of such views while they shared a coffee. Nor at the sight of what all that physical activity had now laid out before him. He didn’t want to think of George as just another hunk of meat to be leered at. He knew the other young man was anything but a preening, narcissistic lump of muscle… Yet something in the swirling mix of chemical aphrodisiacs and submissive tendencies that was his body simply ached at the sight. After all, at the end of the day, he was just a walking receptacle for cock, wasn’t he? And here was an equally-sculpted provider of such wares.

Surely it was only natural for them to… help each other fulfil those designations.