Diverted

Hey guys, I hope everyone had a great holiday.  I spent too much time in airports, so here's a little story inspired by the flight.

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I hate the Calgary airport. The security lineup sucks. I always feel like I’m going to miss my flight. You shouldn’t have to be an olympic athlete to make it to your gate. Our gate was a helpful ten minute sprint away from security.

Brad and I write for Gadgettzz. By boss would say it’s “an online magazine that specializes in consumer electronics.” I’d probably call it a clickbait blog for the latest disposable crap.

We were headed to Van for this weeks expo, yet another bland conference centre packed with garbage tech toys. Our job was to tweet a lot and write about fifteen ‘high engagement headlines’ every day.

My boss should fire me. I wish he’d just do it.

Of course our plane was delayed. They kept calling people up to the gate and shuffling them to other flights. I watched a family of five storm away, the Mom screaming at her kids to keep up. Overbooking – another symptom of the capitalist scourge on society.

“Dude, check out the captain,” Brad said, pulling my attention from my phone. The flight crew was boarding – a pair of buff looking guys who looked like they belonged in the Air Force, not driving planes for NorthJet.

“Shit,” I said, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “I bet they get all the girls.”

“Yeah,” Brad mumbled, already distracted by a notification. We scrolled through our tweets, liking replies at random until the plane was ready to board.

“This is so weird,” Brad said, watching our fellow passengers come aboard. “I think everyone on this flight is a dude. Look, even the fuckin’ stewardesses are dudes. What are the chances?”

“Whatever man,” I mumbled, resting my head against the window. It was an early morning and I didn’t really have the patience for Brad’s bullshit.

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I woke up feeling pretty well rested. The flight was only supposed to be ninety minutes, but my watch said three hours had passed. We probably got stuck on the tarmac again.

“Dude,” I yawned at Brad. “What’s with the delay?”

“Huh?” he asked. Brad was reading a novel. On paper. Like a caveman.

“It’s been like three hours,” I said, glancing out the window and trying to see the ground. “Seriously dude, are we flying over a desert?” Between heavy clouds, I could have sworn I saw a sand dune.

“So?”

“So we should be flying over the rockies. And besides, the flight isn’t supposed to be this long. Was there a big delay or something?”

“Jason, chill,” he said, turning his page. “You’re just seeing snow. And who cares how long the flight is? Drink some coffee and wake up, we’ll be there soon enough.”

There was a chime from the speakers.

“Attention passengers, this is your pilot, Captain Beaumont,” a deep voice said, sounding through the cabin. “Our flight as been diverted by air traffic control due to bad weather, so we’ll be making an unscheduled landing. Please sit tight and we’ll have you all taken care of just as soon as we land.”

I caught the flight attendants glancing at each other. I guess it was news to them too. Brad didn’t seem worried, but something about this hit me wrong.

“Excuse me,” a middle aged man said, flagging down the flight attendant just behind us. “Where are we going?”

“I’m sorry sir,” the attendant said with a practiced tone. “I’m afraid I don’t have the details yet. I’m sure we’ll find out more just as soon as we land.”

“We have a right to know!” an older man said from another couple rows back. I rolled my eyes. Typical boomer, even if he was right.

“I’ll keep you updated as we learn more,” the attendant said.

Another chime rang out.

“Flight attendants prepare for landing,” the captain said before vanishing again.

The two attendants hurried around, insisting that chairs be upright and tray tables be forward. We felt the plane tip forward, descending towards the earth. I looked out my window. Those were definitely sand dunes.

“Brad, seriously man, we’re in the desert,” I said, trying to make him look.

“Yeah, Captain said we got diverted,” Brad shrugged, tucking his book into his backpack. “Look man, just stop worrying, okay?”

The plane touched down on an airstrip surrounded by hot sand. We were only on the ground for a few seconds before the light started to grow dim. We were headed down a ramp, descending into darkness as the desert vanished above us.

“This is how we die,” I said, giving Brad a wry look.

“Whatever bro. It’s a hangar.”

I bit my lip as daylight disappeared behind us.

Another chime.

“Attention all passengers and crew,” the captain said over the loudspeaker. “We will now be exiting the aircraft. Personnel are available on the ramp to guide you. Please leave your baggage behind in the aircraft. Follow all posted instructions and the instructions of the personnel inside the facility.”

“This is ridiculous!” the boomer behind me shouted. “I demand you tell us what’s happening.”

“Is it a new disease outbreak?” a young man asked from halfway down the plane. “Are we being quarantined? I’m a doctor, maybe I can help.”

“Sir, we know exactly the same information as you,” the flight attendant said, checking out the window. “Now, it looks like we’re hooked up to a jetway and I can see several people waiting for us, so if you’ll all just step outside and follow their instructions, I’m sure they’ll be able to give us an update.”

I undid my seatbelt. What the hell was going on?

“What’s happening?” I heard someone complain behind us, even as I followed Brad out of the plane and down the hall.

There were serious looking men spaced along the ramp, carefully watching us to make sure that nobody slipped away. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a disease. Nobody was wearing masks. Maybe we’d been poisoned by something in the plane? Or had there been a terrorist attack? But why us? What made this plane special?

The men guarding us were wearing uniforms, but I didn’t recognize them. We hadn’t been in the air long enough to reach another continent. This was either Canada or the United States, so why didn’t I recognize the uniforms?

At the end of the ramp we found ourselves in a long concrete tunnel. There were grey metal doors lining both sides.

“Are you two travelling together?” one of the guards asked in a southern accent.

“Yes.”

Brad and I were ushered into one room while the rest of the group continued on without us. I heard a buzz as the door closed. I tugged on the handle, unsurprised to find that it was locked.

“Dude, I’ve got no signal,” Brad said, looking at his phone. “Check your bars.”

“Nothing.”

The room was plain concrete. It was dominated by a utilitarian looking bed and a mirror that ran the length of the wall.

“Are we gonna be here long enough to sleep?” Brad asked, glancing around. He poked his head into a side room. “At least there’s a toilet,” he said with relief. “And a shower.”

I gave an exaggerated shrug, making sure the security camera could see my frustration. I gave another shrug to the mirror. It seemed like one-way glass.

“This is like the worlds worst hotel suite,” Brad moaned, flopping down on one side of the bed.

I paced around, wishing I was anywhere else.

Hours later I was still pacing and Brad was getting frustrated too.

“Three fucking hours,” Brad screamed at the mirror. “I’m not your fucking lab rat.”

“Dude, that’s not helping,” I said, finally sitting down on the bed.

“Yeah? Well, neither is this!” Brad shouted, pounding on the glass.

The mirror lit up.

There was a glowing blue line, tracing around Brad’s reflection. He moved a little to the side and the outline followed him, tracing the border of his mirrored image. A cluster of icons showed up next to his outline. A ruler. A scale. A diagram of a man’s body.

“Okay, that’s weird,” he said, suddenly less angry and more intrigued. “It’s some kind of computer.”

“Huh,” I said, stepping over and touching the surface. The same outline sprang up around me with my own set of controls connected. I glanced up and realized there was another set of icons above us, connected to both of our outlines.

“What do you think it is?” I asked. This looked more like what I’d planned on today – some weird new piece of tech, not the basement dungeon of a secret military lab.

“It’s like an avatar creation thing,” Brad said, tapping on icons and playing around with settings. “I can change anything here,” he said. “Height, weight.... dude, there’s sliders for individual muscles.”

Brad moved one slider, watching his right pec get heavy while his left pec stayed small. The mirror image looked like a circus freak compared to Brad’s average body.

“Huh,” I said, carefully looking over the icons. It reminded me of something from a video game. Second Life, if you’re old enough to remember that.

“Bro, check this out,” Brad said, laughing as his avatar stretched two feet in height. The mirror image was so tall that his head almost got cut off.

I was almost ready to make a change when the door clicked open.

“Hello boys,” a man said, walking in casually. He was dressed in a grey suit. His hair was thinning and going white. He made our concrete cell look exciting.

“What’s going on?” I asked, spinning away from my avatar.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long,” the man said absentmindedly studying Brad’s avatar. “I see that you’ve already figured out how to use the interface. That’s good... good, some of your fellow passengers are so technologically illiterate.”

“What’s going on?” I repeated.

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his glasses with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, this is my eighth session today, and none of them have been easy. My name is Mr. Jones, and I’m an assistant director here. You’re at the North American Healthy Lifestyles Test Site. Don’t try to figure out a fun acronym, I assure you, that wasn’t a priority.”

“Okay. Thank you Mr. Jones,” I said, relieved that someone had finally managed to answer a question. “Now, let’s try again. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on? I’m here to walk you through your options.”

“What are you talking about?” Brad said suspiciously.

“Well... after the COVID-19 pandemic resolved a few years ago, we realized that our existing health care system is simply insufficient,” Jones explained. “Of course we’re building more hospitals and training more doctors, but some of us also began research into helping people transition towards healthier lifestyles patterns.”

“So... you want to get us to join a gym or whatever?” I laughed. “Too late. I’ve got a membership.”

“Yes, but you never use it,” Mr. Jones said with a dismissive laugh. “I suppose that’s the point. We want citizens who are more proactive about their health. For that matter, we’re also looking for our citizens to be less critical of authority and better consumers to help the economy recover. After thorough research, the jock archetype was selected for our pilot program.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Brad asked with confusion.

“He thinks the world needs more gym bros,” I said, shaking my head.

“No, not just gym bros, though they certainly play their role,” Mr. Jones clarified. “Athletes of all sorts. Whether it’s tennis players or snowboarders, the more health oriented you are, the better it is for all of us.”

“And you’re here to...”

“I’m here to walk you through your options. You see, our scientists have developed a process that allows us to send specific causality waves back along an individual’s timeline, causing changes to their present. Basically, we can rewrite your past to update your present.”

My stomach dropped.

“Whoa,” I said. “I do not consent.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jones laughed. “Your flight was randomly selected for testing. By the time you leave here, you’ll still be uh.... I’m sorry, what were your names? I just have seat numbers.”

“I’m Brad,” Brad said.

“Jason.”

“Right, you’ll still be Brad, and you’ll still be Jason... you’ll just be the versions of Brad and Jason who are living their best jock lives,” Mr. Jones said calmly. “You’re really quite lucky, once the testing phase is done, this technology will be employed en-masse using statistical algorithms. Anyone who steps through an airport scanner or gets stopped by a police officer will be randomly assigned a new jock life.”

“That’s like... super disturbing,” Brad said, giving Jones a sideways look.

“Yeah... look, whatever weird shit you’re doing, we never agreed to this,” I said shaking my head.

“You didn’t have to agree boys,” Jones said with a smirk. “I’m with the government.”

“Well, how about I kick the shit out of you?” Brad said, finding his breaking point.

“It won’t help you leave,” Mr. Jones shrugged.

“Maybe it’ll just make me feel better.”

“I’m afraid it won’t,” Jones said with a soft grin. “The system will automatically start your transformation before you’re able to cause any serious harm. And as an unfortunate downside, the system won’t use your carefully curated avatar, it’ll just transform you into a default jock. I believe the current default is “football player who peaked in high school”. Wouldn’t you much rather choose the details of your new life?”

“This is super fucked up,” I moaned, taking a seat on the bed.

“Look, I know change is scary, but –“

“Dude! Stop trying to make it sound like we’re the unreasonable ones,” Brad shouted. “We got on a plane to hit up a tech conference. That’s all I want to do, go play with some cool toys and then shill them online.”

“And you can still do that, if that’s what you want after,” Jones said agreeably. “Every person on a plane is coming from their own start and each of them is headed towards their own next step. We’re not looking to dictate what your life is going to be. That’s entirely up to you.”

“That sounds like bullshit,” I pointed out.

“I see you’ve already started making modifications,” Jones said, ignoring me and pointing at Brad’s reflection. In the mirror Brad appeared taller, more muscular, and with a far deeper tan than he did in the fluorescent lights of the room.

“What if we refuse to make changes?” I asked.

“Then you’ll leave here looking the way you already do,” Jones said. “But I promise you boys, by the time you leave this place, you’re going to care about your health and you’re going to feel at home playing on a team. The world needs more of that.”

He pointed up at the third set of controls on the mirror. The ones that connected to both Brad’s outline and mine. “Don’t forget to choose a sport,” he said. “That’s a requirement.”

“Wait... does that mean we have to pick the same sport?” Brad asked, looking at the shared control. “Like, if I pick Hockey, Jason’s gotta pick hockey too.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jones said, happy that Brad was starting to buy into his fucked up idea. “It can be any sport you want, but our policy analysts have run the numbers and we believe that your societal re-integration will be smoother if it’s shared. Let’s say you pick hockey – not only will you and Jason both play hockey in some capacity, but you’ll have a buddy to go to hockey games with or maybe you could join a fantasy league together.”

“What about if someone was travelling alone?” Brad asked, trying to wrap his mind around it.

“Oh, there were four people on the flight by themselves. We’ve grouped them together, just to make things go more smoothly.”

I tapped on the shared control, scared that even looking at it meant that I was buying into Mr. Jones’ bullshit. The icon expanded out, showing me three new icons – a football, a pair of men holding hands, and a rainbow flag.

“Whoa, fuck no,” I said, tapping on the rainbow flag. “Seriously bro, your default settings make us gay?”

The flag expanded out to a menu with all sorts of options. “Straight”, “Bisexual”, “Gay”, “Pansexual”, the list went on... it looked like something from a Tumblr meme. “Gay” was selected and a small lock icon was in place next to it. The other options were all greyed out.

“We’re straight,” I said, tapping on the ‘Straight’ item. But it wouldn’t take – instead the ‘Gay’ item just flashed and re-selected itself.

“What the fuck dude,” Brad said, looking ready to fight.

“Oh, of course,” Mr. Jones said absentmindedly. “This is part of another program, but it got rolled in with ours due to funding constraints. The government is also trying to decrease the birthrate and help ease the housing crisis. As a bonus, we’re also looking to foster LGBTQ+ participation in sports.”

“This is fuckin’ sick,” Brad said, stepping forward and shrinking the menu back into a pride flag icon. He tapped on the two men holding hands – there were all sorts of options to define our relationship. At the moment, it was set to ‘boyfriends’, but at least this menu wasn’t locked.

Brad scrolled down the menu, wincing at the idea of ‘husbands’ or ‘polyamorous life partners’. I reached past him and flicked the menu shut, accidentally selecting ‘fuckbuddies’ as it shrunk back into an icon. Now instead of two men holding hands, the icon was one man bent over while the other man fucked his ass.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to keep us locked in this room forever,” I snarled. “No way are you turning us gay.”

Mr. Jones pressed his lips together and sighed.

“That’s an unfortunately common reaction,” he said, fishing a cell phone from his pocket. Instead of raising the phone to his ear, he tapped the screen a couple of times and put it away.

On the mirror, the gay sex and pride flag icons were flashing in an angry red.

“I’m sending an initial wave through your timelines,” Jones said. “Don’t worry, it’s just standard procedure when a subject displays this sort of reticence. We’re going to start by adapting your sexuality and relationship preferences, along with lowering your inhibitions.

I felt a shock roll through my body. It felt like every cell inside me was buzzing, vibrating to a new frequency.

I glanced over at Brad. He was shivering uncomfortably. Whatever was happening to me, it was hitting his hot ass at the same time.

His hot... what?

His hot ass. Brad’s got such a hot little ass. I just can’t keep my eyes off it.

I remembered when we met at the website, my new boss walking me around the office and introducing me to each member of the team. Brad was there at his cubicle, looking buff in one of those black fitted t’s he likes to wear. He pinged my gaydar hard, and the way he smiled at me... I knew he’d figured me out.

Like I’m hard to figure out. My whole life, nobody had a doubt. I’m gay as fuck.

It only took me a couple days to find an excuse to grab drinks with Brad. Three cocktails each on the company card, then a drunken stumble back to my place where I plowed his tight ass for the first time. Damn, I loved the way he took my dick. Brad’s one of those faggots who takes real joy in riding cock.

I loved the way he screamed while I fucked him.

But Brad never got clingy. Never insisted we had to be exclusive, or that this was even a relationship. It was sex – raw, animal, and whenever I needed it. Sometimes we’d have a few drinks and fuck all night. Sometimes I’d text him and get a sloppy blowjob in the work bathroom. Whatever I needed, Brad was there for me.

He’s a great fuckbuddy. And with our jobs, we get sent to these conferences all across the continent, so we end up sharing a lot of hotel rooms. I’ve fucked him from Vegas to New York, Chicago to Austin, Miami to Edmonton.

So yeah, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Brad’s ass. If this boring ass bureaucrat hadn’t been standing there, I’d probably be fucking Brad to pass the time.

I could feel my cock hard inside my jeans. Yeah, I wanted Mr. Jones to get lost, Brad and I needed some alone time. After a day like this, I deserved a little stress relief, didn’t I? And there’s no better stress relief than Brad...

I looked at the mirror – the pride flag and the fuckbuddy icon had both calmed down, fading from that bright red to any icy blue outline. Whatever happened, those were locked in now. Did that mirror seriously just...?

“Bro... are we gay now?” Brad asked, unconsciously rubbing his hand over his ass. “Did that mirror actually... are we gay?”

I tried to remember before we got to this... wherever we were. Running through the airport this morning, almost late for our plane.

I’d stopped by Brad’s place and found him packed for the flight but dressed in nothing but a jockstrap. It’s a trick he uses when he’s horny – he knows I can’t resist, not once I catch sight of his hole.

Or had I picked up Brad, my straight coworker? The one I liked being paired with cause at least he wasn’t high maintenance like some of the other guys at work. We’d been late for the plane because Brad insisted on stopping for coffee...

We’d been late for the plane cause Brad needed his hole fucked. And I can never resist a needy hole. It’s my biggest fucking weakness.

I groped my cock through my jeans, just thinking about the way Brad’s ass turned me on.

Yeah, that was right. Of course it was right. It was the only thing that felt right.

“Uh yeah dude, we’re gay,” I grinned. “Shut up, you know you love this cock.”

“Yeah I do,” Brad said, relieved to hear me confirm it. His tension melted away and he flexed his ass, making it jump inside his tight slacks. With a single flirty glance, I knew he wanted Jones to leave too. It was time to put that bed to use.

Mr. Jones seemed to read our minds.

“There’ll be plenty of time for sex later,” he said wearily. “But now that you’re a pair of uninhibited gay fuckbuddies, hopefully the rest of this will go a bit more smoothly. It’s time for you to pick out the remainder of your changes.”

I could barely focus on what he was saying. Man, I couldn’t wait to fuck Brad’s hole again.

“So the deal is... we both get to pick like... our perfect bodies? And together we pick a sport. And then you fuck with our past and suddenly we’re like... a pair of hot jocks?” Brad asked, staring at his avatar in the mirror.

“That’s right.”

“Sweet,” Brad said with a wide grin.

“Yeah,” I agreed, tearing my eyes away from Brad’s globes and giving my mirror image a critical look. I was a skinny little tech nerd. Who wouldn’t want to erase that history? Replace it with a new life as a hot jock!

I started taping at the controls, trying to keep my focus, even as I watched Brad build his avatar into a hulking beast next to mine. Brad’s whole idea seemed to be BIG. His avatar was seven feet tall, heavy with thick muscle and a beautifully plump ass. His cock looked small hanging on that body – only nine inches, with a set of plum sized balls.

I decided to go another direction. I adjusted my settings, watching my avatar drop down from 5’11” to 5’5”. I was never gonna feel cramped on an airplane again. Of course, like Brad, I couldn’t resist loading my jock bod up with thick muscle. Where he went for bulk though, I was going for aesthetics. A pair of round pecs that formed a heavy shelf. I dropped my clothes to the floor, eager to get a good view of my striated legs. They seemed to ripple as I turned and posed. I had a muscular ass and arms that would burst out of any tank top.

I looked so good, for a second I forget it was only an avatar. I was almost disappointed when I glanced down and saw my plain boring body, flexing and posing. It seemed ridiculous.

I licked my lips. It wouldn’t be long now... soon Brad and I would transform into our perfect selves. I worked eagerly – I wanted to get this right.

‘What do you think?” I asked Brad. “Ten inch cock?”

“Mmm... I like your cock now,” Brad purred, glancing down at my pole. I’d ditched my underwear to get a look at my dick in the mirror, so now it was just bobbing in the cool air of the room.

“Yeah, but once you’ve got that ass,” I said, giving him a grin.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Jones said behind us. Honestly, I forgot the old man was there. “If you just press the ‘autosize’ button, the system will calculate the perfect length to fit your partner’s ass.”

“Oh! Awesome!” I laughed, hitting the autosize button. My cock ended up at 9.7” long, and a little thicker than before.

I made a few more tweaks. Blond streaks in my hair. Intense blue eyes. The kind of jawline I’d always wished for. The kind of pretty face that would guarantee I’d never go home alone.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, staring at my perfect reflection in the mirror.

“Bro, you look awesome,” Brad grinned. “I’m ready too!”

“I just need you two to select a sport,” Mr. Jones said, pulling out his phone. “Looking at the physiques you’ve both selected, I’m going to suggest weightlifting.”

“Good call,” I said, tapping on the ‘football’ icon and selecting ‘Weightlifting’ from the list. When the interface shrunk down again, the football icon had been replaced with a muscular man doing squats.

“Check that out,” Brad said, giving me a slap on the chest. “That’s gonna be us.”

“Mmm... can’t wait,” I grinned, moving behind him and wrapping my arms around his body. My cock pressed up against his ass, begging me to push inside.

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Jones said from somewhere behind me. “You guys might want to prepare yourselves, this is going to be a big one.”

Brad turned to face me. He reached forward and squeezed my dick roughly.

“Yeah,” he said, giving me an eager grin. “This is gonna be a big one.”

I felt the shock run through me. I’d thought our last wave was intense... it had nothing on this.

It felt like I had stepped on a live wire. Like I’d stepped onto an artillery practice range. Like my body was just a teeming mass of ants.

I remembered being the short kid in school. The one who it seemed like puberty had forgotten. So I started lifting weights everyday, after school in the weight room. It was supposed to be off limits, unless you were on one of the sports teams, but Mr. Tatra saw how much I wanted it and he always let me have the key.

Then puberty brought hormones and my body knew exactly how to use them.

Testosterone flooded through me and I ate like a monster. Everyday I pushed more and more weight, getting stronger and stronger. Sure, my folks claim that I stunted my height, but I wouldn’t trade this physique for anything.

Everything else suffered. My grades, my friendships... I was obsessed with getting ripped and that was it. While all my classmates were getting drunk on the weekend, I was watching my diet and getting eight hours of sleep. When they all went on that big grad trip, I missed it so I could attend my first bodybuilding competition.

I took eleventh place, which isn’t great, but it’s nothing to be ashamed about. You’ve got to be a little taller to make it as a pro, but I still had plenty of admirers. When I turned 19, I got approached by this supplement company – BodyTuff – and I’ve been working for them ever since.

No... that wasn’t right? Didn’t I work for some stupid website?

I guess BodyTuff has a website.

We make all sorts of stuff, but our best seller is a pretty decent protein powder. I spend most of my time touring around the country, going from fitness show to fitness show, setting up the booth, hawking some supplements, then tearing it all down again.

I figured out I was gay early on, but I never really acted on it until BodyTuff hired me. There were always a few guys at every fitness expo, the kinds of guys who can’t take their eyes off my tight polo shirt or the my stringer tank.

They were never built like me, but don’t worry, I’ve got standards. If you don’t squat heavy, I’m not gonna fuck you.

But if you’re decent looking and you’ve got the money to buy me some steaks... yeah, let’s head back to your hotel room. Call me a dumb meathead, I don’t care. You’re the one paying to get plowed.

Yeah, I made guys pay for the privilege. That’s how I funded my cosmetic surgery. This jawline’s not exactly natural. And these piercing blue eyes? I used to use contact lenses, but a few years ago I got it done surgically by this guy in LA. They’re not really supposed to do it as a cosmetic procedure, but I paid enough to make that worry go away.

I dye my hair. I get lip fillers. They inject stuff into my face that I can’t pronounce.

Doesn’t matter. Check me out. I’m so fuckin’ hot.

Brad showed up just after my 23rd birthday. He’s not my boyfriend, but he’s a pretty good fuckbuddy.

Brad’s a powerlifter. A lot of people don’t understand the difference. Sure, we both lift weights, but where I go for aesthetics, Brad is all about strength. He doesn’t care how big and bulky he gets, he just wants to be stronger.

BodyTuff hired him to wear spandex and smirk. He sells a lot more protein powder than me.

We were actually on our way to Vancouver, headed out there for yet another fitness expo when our plane got diverted. I like Van – after work we’ll fuck like beasts, then head out to Davey Street and dance the night away before we head home to fuck again. I love travelling with Brad.

Brad. Fuck, I couldn’t take my eyes off Brad. He’s a foot and a half taller than me, and despite his height, every muscle still looks huge on him. He’s a fucking monster, and I love making that monster scream out for my dick.

That fucker loves to scream.

“You wanna fuck me?” Brad asked, giving me his trademark smirk.

“Get on the bed.”

Height doesn’t matter when we’re lying down.

I heard the door click shut as I rammed my cock into Brad’s waiting hole. Sucks for Jonesy that he’s gotta keep going, me and Brad were going at it like a live-action porno. I hope the guys watching the security feeds were having fun.

Those fuckers better have their dicks out.

I jackhammered Brad’s ass like a pro. Every so often I’d get down real low, just so I could grab a handful of his meaty pecs or give his hair a good pull. He likes that. Makes him scream extra loud.

I bet they could hear us down the hall. Brad was shouting for more... more... fuck him harder bro. I gave him every single inch. His ass is like... a perfect fit for my cock.

Finally I couldn’t hold back anymore. I roared along with him, collapsing against his sweaty muscle as Brad milked my cock for all it was worth.

I don’t know how long we slept. Jonesy came by like... an hour before our flight and told us to get showered.

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They made us leave all our stuff in the plane, so we were wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I’m glad we stripped down before fucking – I hate travelling in sweaty clothes.

I was in tight red sweats and a black muscle-fit tee. Brad was similar – baggy grey sweats and a purple stringer. The dude seriously doesn’t fit in normal clothes. He owns one dress shirt and I think BodyTuff had it custom made. He still pops the top three buttons.

I didn’t remember the plane being so small. BodyTuff pays for premium seats – Brad just doesn’t fit into a normal size – but the place felt even more packed than yesterday. Fill a plane with athletes and I guess that’s what happens. Whether it was the two of us up front, or the pair of retired football players behind us, or even just the four snowboarders headed to Whistler... this place was full of prime beef.

Even our flight attendants looked like they belonged in Tofino.

“Hey dudes, welcome aboard NorthJet Flight 107 with service from Calgary to Vancouver. Sorry for the diversion or whatever, but we’re all good to go now. You’ve got Neil up front here and Eric at the middle of the cabin. Everyone knows the drill, tray tables and seats up, do up that seatbelt, and chill right out.”

“Hey,” Brad said, tapping my elbow to grab my attention. “Whaddaya think? Both tops?”

I glanced at Neil. He was cute with a swimmers build and shaggy blond hair.

“Nah,” I said. “Look at that ass. Neil likes to get fuuuuucked,” I laughed.

“Damn right I do,” Neil teased us as he walked by. He gave his ass a little shake.

Brad caught the look on my face.

“Bro,” he laughed. “You’d split Neil in two.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed. “We should hook Neil up with some free samples though. Get him in the gym... two... three years, I bet he’d muscle up.”

“You gotta stop tryin’ to change people Jay,” Brad laughed. “You wanna know why I sell so much more than you? A skinny kid buys like one jar of protein powder. A real meathead... he’ll buy the fuckin’ subscription. Go for the guys who are already big.”

“Relax, okay?” I said, massaging Brad’s neck lightly. “I just want people to get healthy.”

“This plane’s doin’ good,” Brad pointed out. He was right. No unused gym memberships on this flight.

“Yeah,” I conceded. “But most of the world man... let’s give ‘em a little push.”