Brandon had to restrain himself from taking the drug right away. He let his office know he'd be out for a few days and made sure to keep his lawyer in the loop. If there was one thing Brandon Whyte coveted more than his body it was his wealth. With that done, he packed up a suitcase and drove out to his lake house, a large sprawling affair where he spent his few vacations. A couple other large houses dotted the area around the lake, dense forested land between them. It was the perfect bit of privacy he needed. The sun was setting as he pulled up into the garage, and night fallen by the time he had unpacked.
A little warning ahead to people in the area had had the place cleaned up and freshly stocked with food. It would be the perfect place to go through his treatment. He got out the vial and the injector and set it on the coffee table. He prided himself on decisiveness and action, he had never been afraid of anything in his life, but he had to admit deep down, this made him nervous. Walking over to the bar on one side of the living room, he poured himself a glass of scotch. One sip for courage and he headed to the couch and sat.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he peeled it back, then removed his undershirt to strip to the waist. Even over fifty, he was a specimen to be envied. His pectorals were large a meaty, and his stomach flat. Even with steroids he could no longer maintain enough definition for a six pack, but his stomach was rock hard, the only hair on his abdomen being a dark trail down from his navel that vanished under the waistband of his pants. He was never a hairy guy, and he considered his only failing at manhood the ability to grow a decent beard, but his strong jaw and cleft chin looked better cleanly shaven anyway,
He took up the injector, inserted the vial, and flexed his other arm to make the bicep pop. With no further hesitation he pressed the injector against his bulging arm muscle and pulled the trigger. A light pinch and he watched as the serum emptied from the vial into his arm. He sighed. It was done. He set down the spent injector and picked up his scotch, draining the rest and standing up to get a refill.
That night he found himself finding any excuse to peer at his reflection, passing a window, a trip to the bathroom, even in the chromed surface of his fridge as he made himself dinner. Was anything different? His hair darker? Some of those fine lines lessened? The dyes and plastic surgery made it hard to tell, but he didn't think so. It was probably going to take time to work.
He put on a game to watch as he ate dinner and soon started to feel tired, he didn't even have time to drag himself up to bed before he nodded of on the couch. His dreams where bright and vivid, he was back in his college glory days, a starter on the football team, a different girl every night, every other student vying to win his favor. Drinking with his frat brothers, stripping down to take a swim in the pool, his lips meeting with another frat bro's mouth as another set of lips closed around his cock under the water...
Brandon sat bolt upright, startled out of his own dream which was already beginning to fade. But he could still remember just a little of the tail end. "Fuck was that?" He muttered to himself, squinting against the sunlight now streaming in through the windows and glittering off the lake outside. His cock was rock hard in his pants, harder than he remembered waking up to in a couple of decades. There was even a small damp spot where the head of his cock strained the fabric of his slacks.
He got up off the couch and headed up to the master suite. He peeled himself out of his shoes and pants, his shirt still absent from the night before, and headed into the bathroom. Cock still sticking out like a rod of steel in front of him, he wasn't going to be able to piss until he took care of this. He turned on the shower and stepped under the water with a sigh. He wouldn't admit it, but age had caught up with him, he was used to waking up with aches and pains, but this morning felt different. He should feel awful having spent the night on the couch, but he felt less aches than he had waking up in bed the morning before.
He reached down and grabbed his cock. He had been blessed there, too. He wasn't the biggest, but a solid eight inches and thick enough he had trouble getting his fingers to close around his shaft was still impressive. He cupped his balls and felt the first little shock. They felt fuller and heavier than they had in a while. Steroids had taken their toll. He considered it a fair trade off for muscle. But now they were almost back to how they were in his prime. Fondling his heavier orbs got him even more worked up as he started pumping his shaft, head rolling back as he let the water roll down his face.
The last moments of his dream came back to him, drifting lazily in a pull of half-dressed or naked college hunks and he felt the familiar shudder of an orgasm pass through him. His cock shot once, twice, three times, and kept going, splashing load after load of cum on the tile wall of the shower. Seven times before it subsided, softening a little but still somewhat chubbed.
Brandon gritted his teeth. He needed to get that dream out of his head. He didn't even know what prompted it. That had never happened, his cock had never been anywhere inside anyone who wasn't a hot, sexy woman. He grabbed the soap as if to clean himself of the thoughts, but almost dropped it when he looked down to lather up. He hadn't noticed before, the water must have made it more noticeable, but a patch of dark hair was between his pectorals, just a small somewhat sparse diamond right in the middle.. no.. there was some more around his nipples. The water having darkened and flattened the hairs against his skin.
Quickly he checked his arms and legs, and noticed his hair was darker and a little thicker there as well. Even a check of his pits showed the lighter brown hair that had been there was a bit darker and thicker. He turned off the shower and without even bothering to grad a towel walked right over to the sink to peer at his reflection in the mirror.
For the first time in Brandon Whyte's life he was shocked speechless. He pushed back his wet hair from his forehead, showing black roots under the light brown dye. But that was only a mild shock compared to his face. He carefully reached up and pushed his finger against his cheek only to see his reflection do the same. Other than the dark hair, he looked like he did back in his thirties. Those little fine lines even surgery couldn't handle were fainter, the skin under his jaw was taut, and even his lips looked fuller. But that wasn't the only change, his brows looked thicker and darker, and there was a faint shadow along his jaw, just a touch of stubble.
There must have been something in the mix that pumped up all this hair growth, but it was doing what it was supposed to and reversing time. That bastard Jannes had done it.
Drying off, Brandon got dressed in a tank top and shorts just intending to spend the day lounging around the house. He watched TV, went into the gym and exercised with more energy and vigor than he had felt in years, which lead to another shower jack off session, though this time he forced himself to think of old girlfriends. It took a bit to get to climax but he still did.
The changes progressed throughout the day as well, and by the time the sun was setting he had shifted to the other side of thirty, or so he guessed he was in his late twenties. He had lost some of his bulk, but it was obviously most of his artificial steroid mass. He was still muscular, but was more shredded now. He had nearly shouted for joy when passing the mirror and lifting his shirt he noticed a hard and well-defined six pack below his solid pectorals. The fuzzy dark hair covering them was new, and the bit in the center of his chest had begun to completely spread across his pectorals, enough that he could see it covering his chest by the scoop neck of his tank top. It didn't hide the definition of his muscles and in fact even seemed to accentuate it, so he didn't care. Eventually he stripped his shirt off completely, he kept finding himself running his fingers through his new chest hair, he liked how that felt. Had he really missed that feeling this whole time? His hairline had creeped forward, too, the hair on his head growing in fuller and thicker. The dye that had been close to his original natural brown seemed to have vanished as his hair became pitch black.
He watched the darkening night sky from the back deck of his house, cool beer in hand as he leaned on the railing, just as his doorbell rang. He had the biggest craving for pizza. As he aged he had to watch what he ate more and more, but he figured now that he was back in his twenties he could afford to splurge on an extra large with peperoni. He headed to the front door and opened it up to a young man pulling a pizza out of the warming bag he carried it in.
Brandon found himself staring at the pizza guy, he must have been in his early twenties, maybe still in college. His shaggy blond hair hung around a bright youthful face. The polo shirt he wore wasn't the most attractive thing, especially in the pizza chain's bright clashing colors, but it did hug a well muscled body, skinny jeans covering toned legs. Leaner than Brandon had been at that age, but fit. He felt his cock suddenly springing to attention in his mesh shorts. He quickly took the pizza in hand.
"That'll be $18.95."
Brandon blinked stupidly, his mind coming back. Had he just been checking this guy out.. "Uh, right!" He patted his pocket only to find it empty. "Wallet's inside, one sec. C'mon in." What was he doing? This kid could wait at the door, but he lt him inside and shut the door before heading into the kitchen, still casting backwards glances over his shoulder.
He set the pizza box down on the counter and grabbed his wallet from where it sat next to the charging phone. He opened it and turned around to find the kid has followed him in... and was looking down at Brandon's crotch. Brandon's crotch that currently stood tented out to full attention, and the kid was smirking.
"Got a problem?" Brandon snapped. And the kid shook his head. Even though he probably only looked a few years older than the kid he couldn't think of him as anything else, he felt the heat of anger going up his neck. Who was this kid to be checking him out like that.
"No.." The kid said with a smile. "But I think you do." Brandon recognized that cockiness, it was the same show he put on when he knew he was getting attention from a woman. Brandon leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest, just arching an eye brow. It was a pose he used often at work, a play trying to express dominance. The delivery guy moved closer and put his hand over Brandon's bulge. "I can't leave until I get payment."
It was like some stupid, cheap porno.. stupid, cheap, gay porno. Brandon reached out and pulled the guy in closer, letting his mouth meet the other guy's, just like the last sweet moments of his dream. What the fuck was he doing?! He wanted to stop, to push the other guy away, to punch him in the face, but when he lifted his hand he instead pressed it against the delivery guys chest, massaging his pectoral through the rough fabric of the polo shirt.
The delivery guy reached down and pushed down Brandon's shorts, freeing his cock. Once the waistband slipped over the curve of his ass the shorts fell to the floor. The delivery guy knelt down in front of him and took his cock into his mouth. Brandon's fingers tangled in the young man's hair as he began to get sucked off. It was one of the best blow jobs of his life, and he had had many. But this guy.. he knew what he was doing, he knew exactly where all the best spots along his cock were and teased every last one.
The voice screaming obscenities and protests in his head got smaller and quieter. Brandon pinched his own nipples with his other hand as he got his shaft worked on. Tongue lapping around his glans, head bobbing back and forth, his balls being teased and tugged. Horny and worked up as he had been all day, he didn't last long, but the guy lapped up every last drop. When he stood up there was another kiss, salty from Brandon's own cum. He never let women kiss him after a blowjob, but this time, he eagerly met those lips.
When the kiss broke, the kid pulled out a pen from his pocket and leaned over to scribble something on the pizza box. 'Jake' and a phone number. "I gotta get back to work, but you're kind of cute. Wouldn't mind having a little more time to fool around when I'm not on the clock. Call me."
Brandon balled up one fist, the sudden urge to hit Jake coming over him. Who did this little shit think he was? Brandon Whyte was no fucking faggot. Brandon Whyte could have any woman he wanted. Brandon Whyte pulled a fifty out of his wallet and handed it over with a smile. "I might just do that. Keep the change."
Jake smiled as he pocketed the cash and adjusted the bulge that had formed in his jeans. With a smile he left, walking out the front door and closing it behind him. Brandon stood in his kitchen naked. Cute? He had never been called cute. Rugged? Handsome? Sure.. but cute? He reached over and grabbed a piece of pizza to chew on while he thought. Just seeing Jake's name made him think about going for a roll with the kid, pushing him down on the bed, straddling him and riding that cock like a.. Brandon coughed as he nearly choked on the pizza and threw the slice down on the counter, now that the hazy of horniness was gone and he was thinking clearly.
"Jannes.. it has to be.. that fucker dosed me with something." He walked over to grab his phone and held it up for the facial unlock. It didn't work. The phone just sat there dormant. Angrily he punched in the code and a snapshot came up. 'This individual attempted to access your phone.' And there was a photo of a face he barely recognized. It was a kid. Well.. a kid by his standards. Probably just over twenty. His hair was dark and wavy, thick brows sat above bright blue eyes, and a day or two worth of stubble graced his firm jaw. But he could see why the phone freaked out. The little nips and tucks from his plastic surgery were undone. His face was back to being what it was back in his college days, though hairier. Well.. maybe not exactly. He didn't think his cheekbones were that strong, or his lips quite that full, and his nose did look a little less strong. Most of all was the smoothness of youth that eased his harsher features.
With worry, he finally stopped to take stock of his naked body. He was a bit smaller, some more of his bulk having vanished. But that was the bulk he put on in his late twenties. He was still strong and cut, but his body was youthful in it leanness. Some of his newly grown body hair had even thinned out as he lost years, probably to grow back as he aged naturally once more.. if he even was done winding back the clock.
Jannes.. he needed to call the doctor.. Something must be wrong..