by Zoey Hayes
PUSHING NAUGHTY BUTTONS
By Zoey Hayes
Copyright 2014 Zoey Hayes
Smashwords Edition
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If you’re under 18, you really shouldn’t be reading this book. Seriously. This book contains lots of adult stuff that isn’t appropriate for younger readers. I wrote this story and I alone have the copyright. It is licensed for your personal use only. Please don’t re-sell it to someone else or post it anywhere else. Thank you for checking out my work and enjoy the ride!
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Mercifully, 18-year-old Rod Young’s first year of college had ended, bringing to a close a season on the cross-country team that had fallen well short of expectations. He’d been fast in high school, but his new teammates were relentless, and his training turned into a fight for survival. His best time of the year was just barely faster than that of the quickest member of the female team, and a pulled groin in the regional championships nearly ended his season altogether.
Going home for the summer had done much to lift Rod’s spirits, especially sleeping in his own bed and eating properly-cooked food. But what he enjoyed most were his ten-mile runs down the back roads from his home to the Pleasant View Gym.
The gym was the most popular spot in town. On the ground floor, men in sweaty black sleeveless shirts and baggy shorts ruled the weight room like restless animals in a zoo. Their groans and grunts filled the sweat-heavy air, spotters urging their beastly shapes through rep after rep. The sound would build to a clamor until, at last, the steel bars crashed down onto metal supports, freeing calloused hands for high-fives.
Upstairs, women ruled the row of whirring treadmills, breasts of all sizes fighting to bounce free of constrictive sports bras, buttocks cinched down beneath tight spandex shorts. Driven by the beat of the music pumping through their tiny white earbuds, their strong legs thrust them forward on their grueling run to nowhere. None of them made eye contact with each other, all of them focused on an indeterminate spot on the wall in front of them.
All the gym’s members were restless spirits, all of them preparing for something, but few certain of their purpose. All of them, that is, except Rod.
On an early Tuesday morning in mid-June, Rod sprinted the final half-mile to the gym’s main entrance. He felt like he was falling apart. The pain in his groin returned, and each deep breath burned the inside of his painfully-dry throat. He’d run out of water three miles back, and already his tongue was so sticky that it kept trying to glue itself to the roof of his mouth. But a glance at the stopwatch hung around his neck told him he couldn’t give up now.
At last, the sidewalk turned into a driveway, and at the entrance, he tapped the watch’s button with his thumb. Staggering along the front of the building, Rod smiled as he coughed, then pulled the wet sweatband from his forehead. He’d beaten his personal best by thirty-three seconds. At last, he was getting faster.
It was quiet outside the gym - much more than usual. So quiet that he couldn’t hear the din of traffic on the distant freeway. It then occurred to Rod that he actually hadn’t seen a car on the road since he’d left. He didn’t mind this at first, but then wondered if breezing through stoplights was the only reason his time had improved.
Rod shook his head and walked into the building. Inside, there was more stillness. The lights were on and, mercifully, so was the air conditioning. But no one was at the front counter. No clattering of weights in the gym, nor any whirring of treadmills from above. Only a strange smell. A smell that grew stronger with every step. It was a bitter, pungent scent, as if the gym had fallen behind on their laundry. Still, music continued to play over the loudspeakers.
Wake me up before you go-go—
“Hello?” called Rod. There was no answer but the rest of the chorus. He thought about leaving, but then scoffed at the thought. After all, he thought to himself, I’m only here to use the shower. He put his membership card back in his pocket, then took a drink from the water fountain. Somehow, it tasted better than usual.
There were towels, still fresh and folded on the counter, so Rod grabbed one. When he did, something squished beneath his right sneaker. He looked down and saw he was in the middle of a large dark stain on the carpet.
“Dammit,” he muttered to himself. With the smell as strong as it was, he didn’t care to look at the bottom of his shoe. He just hopped off it, then shuffled the dampness off his sneakers on the way to the men’s locker room, toward the sound of water spraying from the showers inside.
Once Rod crossed the threshold, his shoes began to stick to the tile floor. The sound echoed through still another empty room. Here, at least, the smell was more familiar. Nothing could overwhelm the musk of his fellow members.
When he finally reached Locker #946, Rod began to undress. He pulled his baggy white shirt over the top of his head, feeling its sweat-filled fabric suck off his skin before it splattered onto the floor. His sticky shoes and soaked socks came next. His shorts and underwear came off last, and the air rising from the pile tickled his freshly-shaved balls.
Rod remembered how shy he was in high school, how he didn’t like to get naked in front of other guys. He got over it quickly when they found out how big his cock was compared to theirs. Even with no one else there, the thrill was the same. He couldn’t help but pose for a moment, chest out with hands on his hips, his seven inches on full display.
Rod stooped down to pick up his clothes, then turned his musky, hairless body toward the locker. He pulled open the combination lock and pushed aside the fresh clothes he’d left there the previous day. Behind them were a pair of plastic bags, and into one went his soaked clothes. The other contained a bottle of body wash. He carried the towel in one hand, the wash in the other, and walked proudly toward the sound of running water.
When Rod recognized the profile of the naked man showering in the fourth of the eight open stalls, he shrank behind a partition and peeked around the edge.
It was Tim.
Tim was a new personal trainer at the gym and an amateur bodybuilder. He was about a head taller than Rod, ten years older, and much more handsome. But Tim was shy, which was surprising given his work. He always seemed distracted by something, just as he looked now as he stared into his showerhead as if counting the nozzles.
Until now, Rod had never seen him in the shower, never once seen his naked body. But he’d thought about it plenty. In stolen moments by the gym’s juice bar, Rod always sat facing the squat bar, watching Tim from behind as he spotted one of his many students. On every downward motion, Tim’s skin-tight spandex shorts pulled tighter still as his massive buttocks parted, then flexed together on the way back up, sweat oozing down the backs of his amazing calves.
After a few reps, Rod would excuse himself to the bathroom for a wank, two fingers shoved inside his ass, imagining Tim’s ass flexing that same way as he entered him. Rod always left the door to his stall unlocked when he did this, hoping against hope that Tim would catch him in the act and take him as his own.
That was the only way Rod dared express his true self, his actual motivation for going to the gym. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his parents, much less Tim. But Tim was the only man Rod felt he could trust with his body, his secret. Tim’s mystery had that much power over him. And now, here he was, here they were, alone and naked - together. And Tim was even more beautiful than he’d imagined.
His skin un-obscured by lather, Tim’s light brown muscles glistened in the light shimmering off the surrounding white tiles. His shoulder-length black hair glued itself to the back of his neck, revealing his stern face littered with black stubble. He was a hairy man, but not too much
so. As Tim’s hands slid up and down his sides, Rod caught a glimpse of a small patch of black chest hair between his vein-riddled pecs, one that tapered into a narrow line of hair that stopped above his navel and pointed at his crotch. And when Rod’s eyes moved down to that point, he gasped as Tim’s cock began to grow.
Tim was about the same length he was, a grow-er, not a show-er. But when his dark shaft stirred itself awake from its bed of flattened black pubes, he revealed himself to be much bigger around. His cock just grew fat on his blood, filling out the deliberate curve that now bucked from his loins. The base of his dark purple tip flared out as it was hoisted upward, the point of his wedge seemingly sharpened by the pressure rising from beneath.
By the time Tim reached down to caress its tender underside with his big fingers, Rod felt his own grip tighten around his throbbing seven inches. The student gripped the partition with his free hand, then began to rub himself.
Despite their shared stimulation, Rod still felt distant from the experience. The longer Tim ignored him, the more Rod felt like he was in a control room witnessing it on camera - or worse, dreaming - not standing there firsthand. He suddenly felt more daring, emboldened as if he were invisible. Before he knew it, he was standing in full view, masturbating in front of a man with whom he’d shared just five words in thirteen months.
Rod knew he had to say something. This chance would never come again. He wanted him to see him cum.
“Oh, Tim—” Rod moaned.
Tim looked at him. Rod felt his loins tighten, then a tug on his balls. But nothing came out.
Instead, every orgasmic pulse brought a stab of pain.
“AUGH!” Rod cried, grabbing at the wall to his right. “AH-AAAAH!”
Reluctantly, Rod looked down between his legs. Staring through the tears as the orgasm finally subsided, it looked like his cock was changing.
The head of his cock was growing wider, stretching out four inches in diameter. His hard shaft remained unchanged, making his genitals look like a large toadstool. The larger his tip grew, the darker its color became, shifting from pink into bright red. Terrified, Rod reached out at the shape, but his hands jumped back when he discovered how much more sensitive it was. He reached for it again, but missed the mark. His shaft was beginning to retreat into his body, lowering the large head down to skin level.
He watched dumbfounded as a shiny steel ring rose around the base of his cock, one that matched perfectly the diameter of the red dome his cock had become. When the base of his tip met the metal, it rattled and tingled, and the tip of his cock turned inward into a gentle concave curve. The tug on his cock stopped, and the compressed had that remained felt hollow and hard.
Then something oozed out of his crotch and into the shape. It felt like he was urinating, but still, nothing came out of him. Instead, the red shape turned translucent, revealing a swirling liquid inside. When the sensation stopped, he ran his fingers across the indented curve. The sensitivity was gone. The hole was no longer there. Hard plastic was all he felt. At last, Rod figured it out.
Somehow, his genitals had been replaced by a large red button. But why?
Rod was frightened, but at the same time, intrigued. He heard Tim walking toward him, wanted to look into his eyes once more, but he couldn’t stop examining it. The light of the shower room illuminated the translucent plastic, and inside he could see the fluid inside roll and boil, dark trails illuminating each undulation. His hands slid down to the spot, but he stopped for a second.
If this is a button, he thought to himself, what the hell does it do?
The fear returned, but an equal amount of curiosity kept it at bay. He reached a compromise. He would touch the button, but stop short of pushing it. Maybe once he did that, he could figure out a way to get his cock back.
His right hand took the lead, offering its middle three fingers to the task. As the fingertips lowered down to the button, Rod braced himself for another shock of pain. But when he touched it, he only felt plastic. Warm plastic. The liquid beneath the shell tingled against his fingertips, and when he lifted them, the sensation took a few seconds to subside. Curious, he rubbed his finger over the button, then turned the button clockwise in its cradle. The tingling returned, and this time simmered through his loins, moving lower until the tiny hairs on his buttocks twitched.
“Mmmm,” Rod hummed, sliding his other hand up his thigh. He looked up and saw Tim standing right in front of him, his cock so close to his body that he could feel its heat. “Tim, what’s h-happening to me?” Tim didn’t answer. The more Rod looked at him, the more he noticed Tim’s skin was stained with something dark that was dripping down the front of him and swirling about his feet.
It looked red - like blood.
Now drunk with pleasure from his button, Rod didn’t have time to react. The trainer extended his dark right hand, then gently placed his palm against the back of Rod’s neck. The skin felt rough and calloused, the hairs on his neck trembling against Tim’s rocky flesh. As Tim’s arm warmed Rod’s left shoulder, more redness dripped from Tim’s forearm and down Rod’s chest like pencil-thin suspenders. Tim’s other hand clasped Rod’s jaw and tilted it upward. Rod gasped as Tim’s face descended into his.
Tim kissed him, long and deep.
Rod tasted copper in Tim’s mouth, but he didn’t care anymore. He kissed him back, then thrust his tongue inside. Tim’s hand released his chin, then reached behind him. When he squeezed Rod’s right buttock, their two lips parted. Rod moaned, then lowered his head, kissing Tim’s right nipple. Tim hissed, then slid his hands back up to Rod’s shoulders. As Tim pressed Rod down, letting more red trails drip down his body, he began to turn his button even faster, releasing even more pleasure. The more he did, the harder Tim pressed, and Rod found himself on his knees, face-to-face with the angry head of Tim’s throbbing cock.
A few rotations later, Rod’s button stopped spinning. Suddenly determined to keep the sensation going, Rod’s wet fingers moved left, then right, then finally found the most sensitive spot near the middle. His heart raced when his fingers rubbed the spot faster and faster, the button becoming hotter and hotter to his touch.
With his free hand, Rod grabbed Tim’s shaft in earnest, then guided the tip into his mouth. His mouth wide open, tongue circumnavigating the trainer’s tip, Rod rubbed himself harder. Tim tasted delicious. He was glad Tim wasn’t using any soap. The copper of the blood mixed perfectly with his musk. He couldn’t stop himself from sucking down all five inches. Rod released his button for a moment and set to work teasing Tim’s massive testicles in his grip, kneading his swaying sack between his fingers. He could feel the trainer’s own heartbeat throb through his hands, and as he continued to suck him off, Tim’s hands were now tugging the hair on the back of his head.
Something about the pleasures made his free hand grab his chest, and his palm felt another heaviness, another cold metal crater rising around the bounds of his left nipple. In time, the other nipple followed suit, and the flesh at the center of each grew into smaller red plastic buttons. He released Tim’s balls to take the left button between his thumb and forefinger and found it just as sensitive as its larger counterpart between his legs. He twisted it clockwise, then counterclockwise, and rubbed its curve.
The button on his right nipple locked-up much faster than the one between his legs. He didn’t even know he pushed it until he felt it spring back up again.
Slowly, gently, something new filled his chest, expanding the tight skin beneath so that it started to swell and squish around his fingers. As the growth fattened into the supple curves of a large breast, the button’s spring stiffened, pressing the plastic into Rod’s palm. The cradle reverted into pink flesh and was now starting to shrink around the button, coaxing it into fading pink as well. The button then began to compress under mounting pressure as the surrounding force twisted it and its density increased.
When Rod’s fingers pinched the fleshy nub that remained, the spike of pleasure made him b
ring his other hand to the button between his legs. His wet fingers pushed it down.
This button did not spring back, but rather felt like it was melting beneath his fingertips. The sensitive center melted first, collapsing into a groove along the button’s diameter, and a slick dampness started to coat his digits. The plastic button then started to stretch wider, reverting to flesh much quicker than its smaller counterpart. As the groove lengthened, Rod’s scrotum swiftly melted into nothingness. He felt nothing more than the sensation of putting on a tight pair of briefs.