Brad stood before his reflection, judging it - evaluating it - for the first time really seeing what had become of him. And Brad was almost horrified but still feeling a heady erotic sensation coursing through him, enough that he couldn't bring himself to really vocalize any discontent. He just stood there and looked at his sunkissed skin and the spread of his incredible muscles across his body. He dragged with an uneasy hand fingers across his abdomen and pectorals, swearing under his breath as he felt his fingers brush against his nipple.
"Haah...ahh...ohh yes!" He gripped his boulder-like shoulders and gave himself "fuck me" eyes, cock bobbing from the sheer weight of the look. He almost felt like moaning, almost like screaming. What he managed to do was neither.
He dove into the shower to try to clear his head, setting the water for cold and near immediately screaming in rage at how it felt upon connection with his errant, still hard meat, "Motherfucker!!" He dove his head under the harsh cold water and let it soak into his scalp and rinse through his sweat tinged blond hair. He felt the sensate madness be driven out of his consciousness for now, but even as he washed and meticulously cared for his form, he wondered what brought that wave of sensuality on.
His thoughts went to that Native American bitch from the protest. His mind's eye pictured her again, and even though she'd socked his dick and was nothing if not rude to him...he still felt himself erect a little bit again. Not as overwhelmingly strong as earlier, but it was something. Brad gave his body another rinse and then stepped out of the shower, seeing in the mirror once again his muscled countenance with its new tanned look.
Without the sweat and stains from the workout, it seemed things had evened out a bit, settling into a mostly Mediterranean tan that he did not remember having. Brad remembered fucking a number of Greek studs, and always envying how their muscles looked in combination with their tan. He cupped his chin, thinking. Much as this was unwelcome and needed to have a solution found, Brad was feeling bored with his typical sexual adventures.
Maybe---
No. No, he told himself. This needed to be answered and dealt with, not indulged and played with. At least, he tried to tell himself, as he thought back to that Native girl from the protest. Much as she enraged him, she also quite fascinated him. No woman or man had ever brought out that kind of engagement if only for how her defiance and uncompromising nature-loving stance brought out ire in him. It was an unhealthy desire brought forth, and he loved it.
Brad decided - let the doctors figure out what was going on.
The preppy young man stepped into the bathroom and picked up his phone, taking some pictures from the mirror of him nude, and then turned to get a picture of his ass. Much as he disliked this sudden tan, he did admit it made his ass positively amazing looking. So with those as "daily photos" to use for the doctors, not even thinking back to the cheeky and coy nature of the photos and their implicit sexual content, Brad decided it was time to indulge.
Taking up his laptop, the preppy started looking at local stores that offered fake tan. He almost made several errors in his typing from this odd pit of over-eagerness that had formed in his consciousness. Some reason was compelling him toward deeply anticipating this kind of indulgence. He wanted it. He needed it...!
He wasn't even aware his free hand was jerking himself off until Brad looked at the mirror and saw it, prying his hand off of himself.
Brad finally located a good store, and put on some new clothes - a button up white top with some wide seams for his wide muscles, a jockstrap to defend his masculine organ (and also because he thought it looked hot), Tommy Hilfiger boxers, dress pants suited for his bum and strong legs, and all capped off by a sharp pair of black boots. Brad loved how his tan and muscles looked with these clothes in spite of himself, and almost thrust at the air at the sight of himself.
Was this some kind of fetish forming, Brad asked himself.
Finding himself walking quickly out and down to one of his cars in the basement garage, Brad took the distinct and yet quiet approach of driving one of his sportier cars. He drove on out, biting his lip as he looked around, seeing the hints - increased traffic in some areas and people walking toward the location - of the protest from earlier. And that brought his thoughts back to that bitch. What he wouldn't do, he thought in the heat of the moment, to fuck her while some Greek stud fucked him...!
Brad realized he was pistoning his hips up and down in his seat, making a racket in the car and looking odd to anyone watching him. He sighed and quit it. Since when, he pondered, was he so hormonal? It was like his teenage years returned in terms of his eagerness, but he remained a masculine, powerful, tall adult.
He barely remembered much of the ride except his occasional thoughts about how others might perceive this tanned hunk driving in this big expensive car. Maybe they'd think Brad was some kind of lascivious Hollywood Hunk. Maybe he should play into that. He locked up the car and strode into the store, shoulders and back giving him a powerful impression upon so much as entrance.
The man at the counter, an elderly Indian man who seemed to be checking something from behind the counter, immediately greeted him, "Ah, hello sir, can I help you with anything?"
"I'm looking..." Brad said, starting, pausing, and working up the nerve, "For---For the tanning cream...like, the tanning lotion. Just...tanning stuff."
"I...see." The counter man said with a contemplative tone, "Bodybuilder?"
Brad certainly did not think of himself as a bodybuilder, but he saw no reason in the moment to say no, it would certainly make the anxiety and unease go away. "Yeah...Yeah. I've uh, got a competition coming up." Just the thought of being up there on stage in a little slip of a costume made Brad sweat and his dick pulse.
The man cupped his chin and pointed to an aisle, "Aisle five has all of that kind of thing. Thank you for coming here---"
Brad ignored him from there as he continued to babble about the virtues of his store over the competition, including some big names. But he saw a brand name in there in the aisle that he at least recognized. He wasn't exactly big into fake tan stuff, but he did know a number of famous companies. Picking up "Luxa-Tan", Brad carried six whole bottles of it to the front, a beaming smile on his face.
The preppy happened to head outside at the same time as another bodybuilder, who looked to have some Native ancestry, was heading inside for his own purchase. The guy looked at Brad and then the rich scion felt a sharp sting in his glutes as the man slapped him back there, producing a combination of a yelp and a moan from Brad.
Looking back over his shoulder, Brad cursed at him, "Mmmmmotherfucker, you just fucking slapped my ass!"
"You liked it!" The man teased, smirking with the same sort of sordid overconfidence Brad usually wore, "Name's Tony. Helps you have a lot of good muscle back there. Nice!"
Fucking Tony, Brad thought and felt like making some remark, but he just said, "You're uh...welcome, man. You got a nice ass too."
But they both had somewhere they needed to be. So Brad and Tony went their separate ways - Brad to his car and Tony to the store. The muscled rich boy thought about that exchange as he drove home, wondering why it thrilled him so much, and why these people kept coming up. Maybe...maybe it was a new thing for him. Brad found the rest of the ride home much more boring, and so he was relieved when he got home and could finally do what he set out to do.
The way the sun cast its rays down later in the day upon his return home really made him appreciate his power and the ability to live in a big, wealthy and shiny place like this. Brad decided to patronize the weight room there instead of venturing out tomorrow.
He hurried up to his room with his selection of Luxa-Tan, almost quivering with excitement. He hurried up stairs, took elevators, and finally when he arrived outright began stripping naked just as soon as his door was locked behind him.
Before long his clothes littered the floor and he stood in his bathroom in front of the mirror, breath shallow and harsh as he looked at the fake tan bottle, thinking about this. How much he'd, despite himself, looked forward to this. Definitely a fetish, he told himself, it's normal for guys like me to get these new fetishes every now and then. Plus nothing it seemed could detract from how good he looked.
Brad started slow, and then built up - applying the fake tan across his nude form, watching with shallow breath as he slowly tanned up his body. Watching himself depart for the time being from the look of the privileged, white stud he was, and enter a look that seemed bronzed and intense. He gasped suddenly and looked at himself, his bright blond hair looking starkly out of place on the muscled specimen he saw before him.
It was all Brad could do not to cum at the very sight and feel of himself. Feeling his tight, strong, bulky muscles as he flexed and posed and enjoyed the sights, felt the peaks and ridges of his body. This was all his, this customized, muscled form. But there was so much he could do, he thought, to further indulge. Brad had some inkling idea that going forward with this was risky somehow, but he didn't care in the moment.
All he cared about was getting to have a really fulfilling, amazing experience of this.
He opened up his laptop as he laid ass up on his bed - this time he went directly to Amazon. Of course Brad had an elite, same day delivery package on his Amazon membership. Why wouldn't he? He was rich, well to do, and when he needed something, he needed it NOW. So he looked through the items and menus, searching for what he wanted. Then before long he saw it, pumping his hips once into his bed and leaking a bit of precum from his agitated erection.
A Native American tribal outfit - just enough appropriation to satiate Brad's new desires, and not too much of the "cringe" stuff that would detract from his engagement.
He hurriedly hit order, not even paying attention to the price tag associated with this. Brad knew he could afford it. He was after all Brad Follton. He lived the green life. With that order made, he tossed and turned over to wait for his costume to arrive. For some reason he was so excited to indulge in such a simple game of dress up.