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“[i]FUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!![/i]”

Ray’s scream ripped through the gym, that of a man in pain. Bursting in the middle of it was an explosive clang of steel striking the floor. Several people jumped at the sound, but nobody moved from whatever they were doing. Those more used to the outburst continued with their workouts without flinching. The newer folk were the ones who jolted and snapped their heads towards the source. They saw Ray sitting up at the weight machine with the massive bar he’d just deadlifted on the floor in front of his legs. Replacing his scream were the hoots and hollers of his buddies who’d gathered around him to witness his raw strength. They pummeled him with heavy slaps on the back while he waddled away from the equipment with a proud smile on his face.

It was a common scene at that gym, one Ray and his cohorts performed regularly. Those used to it knew better than to report it to staff. They weren’t going to do anything about it. Ray, the lumbering wolf whose explosive muscles defined all his frame, was friends with the owner. Normally an enforcer of gym etiquette, he turned a blind eye when Ray and his friends would burst into a row of histrionics. Ray looked as boisterous as he acted, sporting a set of colorful fur that came in a unique pattern across his body. Though most of his torso and legs were black, it was connected to a navy blue that covered his arms and head. Neon orange covered his shoulders like pads. His fingers were the same color, leaving the black of his paws to resemble fingerless gloves; many people who met him for the first time thought he was wearing them. A pair of long, fluffy wolf tails hung from his back. They were that dark shade of navy blue except for an orange tip from which it was separated by a ring of black. It made an eye-catching design. He often boasted how it was all natural, nothing dyed whatsoever.

But that’s not what mattered to him. What mattered to Ray was being the biggest, strongest, toughest son of a bitch in all the gym, something he accomplished via a vigorous workout regimen that left no part of him untrained to the fullest. The body was a tool to be honed, sharpened, hardened, never left to rust or atrophy. Hours spent lifting weights and doing pull ups meant he cut the exact image he wanted to, that of the manliest man anyone there knew. Those who didn’t work out enough to keep themselves fit were weak, and he did nothing short of letting them know that. One was not fit for his presence, let alone his friendship, if they did not meet his rigid requirement of being a muscly stud. He surrounded himself with likeminded fellows who all worked hard, but never harder than him lest he be upstaged. Thus, he roared the loudest whenever his sets were complete, let his weights slam into the floor, and took his shirt off more than anyone else, and he did it all with impunity. Nobody could touch him. Nobody had the balls.

He was wiping the sweat off his face while his buddies formed a circle around him to kiss ass. “That was awesome!”, “Hell yeah!”, “I’m tryin’ to do that!” It was their ticket to act obnoxious in the gym so that the owner wouldn’t bother them. Part of Ray knew that, but he didn’t really give a shit, not when it fed a morbidly obese ego. It helped with the severe burn in his legs. He’d be walking on rubber all day thanks to how hard he’d blasted them. Some bone broth would take care of the ache tomorrow when he’d come back and set a torch to his chest and arms. “No pecs, no sex” was one saying of his, among others.

“Yeah, that was a good one,” he said with a dose of false modesty. “Think I could’ve done better. It’s whatever.” He rolled his shoulders around. They were sore from holding up the steel bar which he’d bent from how much weight he’d stacked on them. [i]Think I’ll go home and see how many matches I got on Tinder. That’ll soothe things out for me.[/i] If there wasn’t any luck on that end, he might hit up one of his former girls, though that was not optimal. Old tail didn’t add to your body count. At 47, he estimated he’d hit fifty by April. “But yeah, I’m gonna hit the shower and peace out. You guys-“

He was interrupted by the sight of a coyote standing in the same aisle as his buddies. A blonde, scrawny fellow, he looked absolutely tiny in his oversized white tank top and baggy gym shorts. Looking awkward and out of place, he cradled a water bottle in his paws as if to hold the gang of muscle-heads at bay. Not helping his effeminate disposition were rosy pink eyes and soft, combed hair. The other guys noticed him at the same time Ray did. Silence befell that part of the gym, a void that spread once people noticed Ray and his gang had stopped making noise.

“Hey,” said Ray.

“H-hi,” the coyote said back, even offering a tiny wave.

“You need something?” Ray asked.

“No. Well, yeah. Sorry. I was going to use that equipment if you guys were done with it.”

“We are. What are you gonna do?” Ray had trouble picturing such a scrawny welp trying to squat as much as a naked bar, let alone anything with some real weight on it.

“I was going to do some squats,” the coyote said meekly.

Some snickers among the gang. “Oh yeah? You look like you need it with toothpick legs like those.” He pointed at them as if the coyote didn’t know about them already. More laughs from the guys. The coyote clutched his bottle more tightly.

“I know. That’s why I want to work on my legs.”

“Yeah? Well, you better get a different bar. I bent this one right here,” Ray said proudly, patting the warped steel pole. He’d yet to take the weights off, another tick on a lengthy rap sheet of poor etiquette.

The coyote thought he’d point that out. “Right, um… You know you aren’t supposed to stack weights that will warp the bar, right? And you still haven’t taken it off.”

All smiles the gang had vanished immediately. Those who’d heard the coyote’s gall groaned to themselves. Others prayed. The rest simply turned the volume up on their headphones and continued working out; they did not want to witness whatever was about to unfold. Ray frowned at the hapless coyote. “Oh yeah? What’s your name?”

It took a moment for him to answer. “Benny,” he said finally.

“OK, Benny,” he said with exaggerated disgust. “Listen here.” He stepped up to him until he was close enough for Benny to cringe at the smell of his sweat, a great deal of which was dripping from the spiked points of his fur and down the slopes of his muscles. He stabbed one finger into Benny’s chest, enough to send the puny coyote back an inch. Weakling. “I don’t fuckin’ care what you think the rules are. I’m minding my own fucking business. You oughtta mind yours too. How long have you been coming to this gym?”

Benny shook in his sneakers. He tried, and failed, to look unintimidated. “It’s my first day.”

Chuckles from Ray’s friends. Ray remained serious. “Yeah, I could tell. In that case you should know that I do whatever the fuck I please around here because this is my gym. Bitch about the bar or the weights all you want. I don’t give a [i]fuck.[/i] Stay in your fucking lane and there won’t be any problems. Alright?” Silence from Benny. “[i]Alright?[/i]”

“Alright,” stammered Benny.

“Alright.” Ray turned his back on him and gestured to the equipment. “Do me a favor and take them weights off. Clean the bar too. After that…” He scoffed. “I don’t give a shit. Do whatever.” His buddies shared a laugh before dispersing, leaving Benny there to simmer in his rage, alone.

Ray had already forgotten about Benny by the time he got to the showers. Wimps like that guy weren’t worth anymore thought than they were worth. With an empty locker room he had his pick of the showers. The handicap stall was his favorite with how spacious it was. He had no qualms with using it, not when he didn’t think any person in a wheelchair would ever use the gym anyway. He closed the white curtain and turned the water on (he liked it frigid cold) before stripping his clothes. Off came his jockstrap to reveal not one but two sheathes sprouting from his loins side by side. Coated in black fuzz, they both harbored a fully functioning, fully huge penis. What would be a source of shame for many, Ray took pride in his double dicks. Each was already large on their own, sporting a knot like a grapefruit when burst and a set of balls to match. Combined they could please two women at once, or one woman in two holes. He could experience what was effectively two orgasms at once. Though he could synchronize them perfectly, his favorite technique was to follow one right after the other, forming something like a perpetual climax. Girls, once they’d adjusted to the oddity, learned to adore his capabilities. More often than not, they begged for more.

Ray planned on giving one lucky lady some of his love tonight, but first he had to pump himself up for the unforgiving freeze that was pouring out of the shower. After a few hops on his feet and a shake of the hands he leapt into the spray. No matter how many times he’d taken such freezing showers, he could never stop the deep gasp that would suck through his maw on reflex. He made things quick, rapidly scrubbing his fur with soap while shivering his ass off so badly that his teeth audibly chattered. Being able to suffer through such miserable showers was just another reason for him to be proud of himself. Sometimes he would spend time shadowboxing, each jab accompanied with a hoot of air through his lips.

He didn’t wait any longer than he needed to. The second he was done rinsing he cut the water off and all but ran for the towel hanging on the rod. While he rubbed himself dry he heard someone open a locker and then close it. Just a few seconds later he heard the door open and shut. He snickered to himself. [i]Their loss.[/i] Ray flipped the towel over his shoulder and strode out into the locker room completely naked, his swollen junk hanging from his loins heavily. Nobody was in the locker room, which bothered him more than if there was anyone. A body like his deserved admiration, twin wangs and all. He made it to his locker and set his clothes on the bench. He twisted the dial so he could get to his gym bag, all while he wondered if he’d sleep with a new girl that night or resort to an old one. [i]I wonder how Sarah’s doing,[/i] he thought as he clicked the door open. [i]Or is she still mad at me for-[/i]

[i]Shoomp![/i]

He was hit in the throat. Head whipped backwards, he stumbled backwards and hit the back of his legs on the bench, toppling him ass over tea kettle. His upper back landed on the tile floor where he was bent at the waist with his legs hanging over his head. They came flopping back down on the bench, leaving the shocked wolf lying on the moist, locker room floor, a completely dazed look on his face.

[i]What the fuck?[/i] It felt like someone had shot him in the throat with a slingshot. He grabbed at his neck to see if it was OK. No injury there, and he could breathe, but something just as alarming met his touch. A collar or a strap was wrapped around his neck. Something was hanging from it, something metal, cold to the touch. “What the fuck?” he said aloud this time. “Wha- What happened?”

Ray looked down to see what had attached to his neck. The most he could see of it was the blood red color of whatever metal thing was hanging from it, but that’s not all there was. Flashing him were two gay, pink ribbons tied to both his wrists. They included fanciful bows like he would see in a little girl’s hair. He held his arms above his face and darted his eyes between the two girly accessories, hardly able to believe they were even there. “What the fuck? [i]What the fuck?[/i]”

Ray scurried his legs off the bench to stand up. Doing so he heard and felt an unsuspected [i]clop-clop[/i] of shoes on his feet. The ribbons and the collar were still not all. Attached to him were frilly dance shoes the same color as the ribbons on his wrists. They were tied on by thin ribbons that went around his ankles, also featuring cute little bows. But that was not the worst of it. Around Ray’s waist was a skimpy lingerie skirt, nowhere near long enough to cover his two sheathes and balls. More terrible than just its matching pink color was what was embroidered around the waistband multiple times in bold, white font: [b]SISSY SISSY SISSY.[/b]

“No, nonono! [i]What the fuck!?[/i]” Ray pulled at the skirt to get it off, resulting in a sharp tug on the skin of his beltline. He had to let go when it started to hurt. “Come on, goddammit!” he growled on the second attempt which only resulted in similar fashion. He barked out a loud “FUCK!” before going after the ribbons on his wrists. He could not so much as dig his claws between the fabric and his skin just to pull it off. It didn’t slide or bend. Just like the skirt, it might as well have been superglued to him; it very well could have been. He didn’t try getting rid of the shoes or the collar, knowing damn well they were equally stuck.

With his panic growing into terror, he ran over to the sinks where the mirror was, his gay little dance shoes clopping with every step. Walking was awkward, both because of the shoes and the skirt which he didn’t want touching his thighs any more than was necessary. His walk to the mirror was more of a waddle, his legs opened at a weird gate so as not to rub each other and make him feel like a queer.

He came to the mirror and gasped at his reflection. The collar around his neck was pink like everything else which was no surprise. Hanging from it, however, was a bright red pendant in a heart shape. It swung and shook whenever he moved, its glossy metal surface glinting in the fluorescent bathroom light. Ray cringed as he lifted his head and held the tiny heart in his fingertips. The look of terrified discomfort on his own face unsettled him almost as badly as the girly clothes that had been forced upon him without warning or reason. And then there were the people in the gym to worry about. The mirror was right next to the locker room entrance. If anyone came in the first thing they would see was a mostly-naked Ray wearing the gayest outfit imaginable. [i]I gotta hide. Nobody can see me in th-[/i]

[i]Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-![/i]

The air was sucked into Ray’s lungs by pure reflex, his body having been struck by an abrupt surge of energy. It was in his loins, his chest, and deep in his bum. The twin tails behind him puffed out dramatically and began to rise in excitement behind him. Gooseprickles made his nipples go hard. A terrible weight befell his balls like he’d been edging for an hour. The rim of his sheathes crowned around his two golden cock tips as blood surged into them both. His jaw was gaped, gasping sharply as a wonderful pleasure, bold and white-hot, beset his most private areas.

“[i]Ha! Ha! Ha! Ahhh! What-?[/i]” His whole body started to shake. He knocked his knees and clenched his butt where he could feel his boy spot being shaken. Crystal delight trickled across his nipples while precum oozed from his two growing cocks. He was paralyzed, unable to take so much as a step in any direction with such muscle-numbing delight clawing at his intimates. He could look down at least and see the two proud erections that had sprouted from his loins. They were a bright gold color, long and thick to go with his theme of overt masculinity. Right now, however, they were proving to be an absolute bane with how hard and obnoxious they had become. If anyone saw them, he would really be in some deep shit.

Whimpering as if he was in pain, he waddled his way towards the showers to hide himself. It was an achievement just to move his legs one step, his every movement scraping that epic pleasure into his privates. Most afflicted was his bum where it was like the fattest plug had been ensconced and set to the highest buzz setting. Every grind of his cheeks would grind it against his boy buzzer, earning a surge of precum from his two cocks and a girly moan from out his mouth.

“[i]Huhhh… Huhhh… Fuck… Oh my God… Mmmm…[/i]” He waddled his way closer to the showers, but his progress proved asymptotic. The pleasure was growing, robbing him of all the strength necessary to carry his colossal body to privacy. His legs shook harder. A double trail of precum followed him from the mirrors and was growing thicker by the second. More was coming out, and his pace was slowing. An orgasm like he’d never even fathomed before was upon him, and it wasn’t going to happen within the safety of the shower.

[i]Fuck. I gotta cum. I’m not gonna make it.[/i] With no more options, he put a stop to his pathetic wobbling and grabbed both cocks with his paws and jerked them violently. [i]Fup fup fup fup fup.[/i] He unclenched his jaw and let out a long groan. “[i]Hahhhhhhh…[/i]” His eyes crossed and his tongue lolled. Two climaxes were on the approach, ready to explode in unison. Forget one after the other; poor Ray couldn’t wait long enough for that. He humped his hips into his rapid strokes, the flaps of his skirt swaying in the air just above his dimpling butt cheeks. His legs shook violently. The pitch of his moans started to rise, each one hitting a note higher than the last. “[i]Ahh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhhhh-![/i]”

[i]STOP![/i]

Ray’s paws were ripped from his crotch at the very apex of his fruition. Tugged by the ribbons on his wrists, they were jerked only an inch away, leaving the wolf to stand there gobsmacked within the ruins of his orgasm. A choked gasp of shock stuttered into him. “[i]Huh! Huh! Huh![/i]” Chest heaving, hips humping, the weight of his body proved too much for his numbed legs and he came tumbling to his knees on the locker room floor. Crushing weight befell his balls, that of a clamp chewing on the root of his scrotum and pulling them down into the skin. Within a breath of the summit, he came plummeting down the face and crashing into misery.

Only when the pleasure was totally gone did the pull on his wrists relent. His body was trembling violently. Thickish threads of glassy cock water bled from his two cock tips, but no cum. All of it was still in his balls, parting on him such terrible discomfort. “Wha- wha- What?” [i]I just wanted to cum. Why can’t I cum?[/i] He tried reaching for his penises. The ribbons on his wrists pulled at him again, keeping his fingers within inches of his shafts. They would come no closer. The harder he pushed the harder they pulled. A sob sucked into him. “[i]Why? Oh fuck… Why?[/i]”

He would wallow in anguish for only a few moments longer before the buzzing was back, growing gradually this time into the body-quaking high it had been when he started masturbating. His mien contorted, and with it were the moans of a man being fucked. He bit them back and gritted his teeth. “[i]No…[/i]” he grunted. [i]Can’t let anyone hear this. Can’t let anyone see this.[/i] He considered making a second attempt for the shower but knew better given the disastrous previous attempt. The most he could do was huddle where he knelt and try his best not to make too much noise. [i]Please, God, at least let me touch myself.[/i] He found that he could, but what little relief it brought. With his grip came pleasure, and with pleasure was the knowledge that it would be denied a proper finish. Common sense demanded he let go, but the claws of arousal were clutched at him too tightly. His fists pumped away, desperate to drill out the lode of cum waiting to gush.

[i]STOP![/i]

His paws were pulled away again. Another reversal just short of the peak, the watery aftermath of which was purged from his cocks and dribbled to the tiles. “[i]Nooooo…[/i]” whimpered Ray, now fully on the brink of tears. The vice on his balls tightened. His toes curled and his hamstrings shook. Gone was the buzzing, replaced in full by the suffocating bog of denial.

Then came the music. It emanated from the gym floor where the speakers were tuned into a pop music station the owner thought most people could enjoy. It had thrummed in the background throughout Ray’s ordeal until suddenly it changed tune. Wafting into the locker room, it was at first muffled, then sharper, then clear as a bell. It was Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, in the middle of its second movement, Allegretto. Ray had never heard it in his life, or at least had never sat down and listened to it, let alone appreciated it. Shit like that was for nerds. No way he would’ve recognized it in any capacity.

But his body did, and the reaction was violent.

Ray’s shins pivoted out from beneath his thighs in a swift movement. In a move he’d never even practiced before, he gathered his footing and propelled himself into a standing position, leaning his torso back to provide balance. A look of shock rode his face the whole way and continued as he stood at attention. [i]I didn’t do that.[/i] Indeed, his body was moving under the control of his outfit. The shoes pulled on his feet, the ribbons on his paws, and the skirt on his hips. Nothing from the collar below was under his control, inserting him into an uptight position without any of his input.

Ray stood at attention, ankles together, fists at his sides. Abject panic was on him again as he looked down at his uncooperative body. “Wait! Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The long, somber tune of Beethoven’s work grew even louder in his ears, and Ray began to move. One leg rose at an awkward tilt with his body, and he began to pivot on one toe. His arms were out at his sides for balance, waving and wobbling to the jerk of his ribbons. The locker room swung around him, coming still when he saw the exit door. Then he started to step towards it.

“No! No! Hold on! Stop!” he barked loudly. His clothes did not listen to him, only to the long, mournful key of the 7th’s second movement. His shoes struck the floor in crude tempo with the song, each footfall coinciding with another long note. Once at the door he stopped only to give it a gay push with one of his paws. He let out one loud protest. “[i]NO![/i]” Again, he was ignored, and the locker room door flew open with a conspicuous [i]whoooosh![/i]

Only those who were closest to him noticed immediately. Those further away and minding their own business would’ve kept doing so if not for the terrified shriek that ripped through the gym when one woman saw the monstrosity dancing its way onto the floor. Heads everywhere turned to witness Ray, the toughest son of a bitch in the gym, dancing and prancing his way through the gym in the gayest outfit they had ever seen, his two fat cocks leading the way. More gasps and shouts as people stopped working out. There were loud [i]clangs[/i] of metal when people dropped their weights. Dropped jaws all around, curses and guffaws. All eyes were on the blushing wolf wagging his ass around like he wanted the world to see.

But Ray did not. The look of misery on his deeply blushing face would’ve given that away if anyone saw it. Nobody did, not when those enormous two dicks swayed along with his gay twirls, flinging strings of cock drool wherever he went. Those closest quickly retreated while those who had their phones pulled them out to record. “STOP!” he roared. “[i]I can’t help it![/i]”

No one listened, least of all his mates who finally revealed their true loyalties. They pointed and laughed at him. “Nice outfit, Ray!” “Didn’t know you swung that way, bro!” “Hey, this a new workout you got going?” All of them had their phones and recorded him. A couple wore a look of titillation, their gaze firmly locked on his arrogant dicks and powerful glutes.

“No… Stop,” he groaned, defeat hung on his tone. The second movement ended, and for a moment so did the dancing. He was allowed no respite before the third movement, Presto, blared on the speakers. He went into an even more spritely jig, leaping and bounding through the aisles, sending folks scattering from their seats. “[i]The music![/i]” he said. “[i]Please, for the love of God, TURN OFF THE MUSIC![/i]”

But the music still rang. His audience laughed and jeered, his misery captured for them to watch, share, and arouse themselves with. That buzzing returned with the climax of the song. Ray moaned, and the folks around him laughed. They laughed and laughed, his ecstatic torment for their enjoyment. Out there in the din of giggles and insults he heard a coyote cackling, his scrawny yellow paws pulling on the strings and turning up the dial. Tears flowed down Ray’s face, joining the flow of fluids that would drain from him as long as he danced. He belonged to the clothes, the clothes that made him dance, dance, and dance.

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]