Chapter 5: At Least Try
Dawn bled pale pink and gold across the Caribbean, painting streaks on the cabin ceiling. Will snapped awake, the dream still clinging wet and visceral: the smooth curve of Ash’s hip beneath his hand, the startling, plump softness pressed against his palm during the massage. Heat pooled low in his belly, insistent and undeniable. God, not again. He glanced quickly at the bottom bunk. Ash was a motionless lump under the thin blanket, breathing slow and deep. Relief warred with a fresh surge of that confusing heat. He couldn’t stay here.
He slid out of his bunk, the metal frame creaking softly. Ash didn’t stir. Will padded silently across the cool laminate floor, the morning air sharp with salt. He needed the bathroom. Now. Needed the cold water, the solitude, the chance to wrestle this… thing… back into its box. He reached the small ensuite door, hand already fumbling for the handle.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Three sharp, deliberate knocks on the cabin door. Will froze, heart hammering against his ribs. No. Not now.
The knocking came again, louder. Insistent. Ash groaned, shifting under the blanket. "Mmphf… door?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Will cursed under his breath, the urgent need in his groin momentarily eclipsed by annoyance. He yanked open the cabin door. Susan Cruz stood framed in the corridor, impeccably dressed in her crisp white cruise director uniform, a tablet held casually at her side. Her expression was a mask of polished efficiency, but her eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered over him – his rumpled sleep shorts, the tension in his shoulders. A knowing smirk barely touched her lips.
"Good morning, William," she chirped, her voice bright and intrusive in the quiet cabin. "Ashley." Her gaze drifted past Will to Ash, who was now blearily pushing himself up on one elbow, his shaggy brown hair a tangled mess, the blanket slipping to reveal smooth shoulders. "Sleep well? Ready for a truly engaging day?"
"What is it, Susan?" Will asked, his voice tighter than he intended. He subtly shifted his stance, trying to ease the persistent ache. Ash rubbed his eyes, looking utterly bewildered.
"It's come to my attention," Susan began, her tone shifting to one of gentle authority, "that while you two have been… socializing… you haven't fully embraced the core 'couples bonding' experiences this cruise is renowned for. The structured bonding." She tapped her tablet. "Mandatory participation. Three specific couple-focused activities before we reach port in four days. Non-negotiable."
Ash blinked. "Mandatory? Couples activities? But we're not… I mean…" He trailed off, flushing slightly.
"Exactly," Susan said smoothly, her eyes glinting. "The program is designed to foster connection, regardless of the initial pairing. Think of it as… relationship cross-training." She flashed another smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Your choices are limited today: Sunset Salsa on the Lido Deck at five, or the Couples Deep Tissue Massage Workshop in the Serenity Spa at three. You must choose one. The third activity will be assigned later."
"Massage?" Ash squeaked, the memory of yesterday's intensely personal session with Will flooding back, making his cheeks burn hotter. "No! No, salsa. Salsa sounds… lively." He practically leapt at the less intimate option.
Will just stared at Susan, the throbbing frustration in his body momentarily eclipsed by a wave of cold suspicion. Her timing felt predatory. "Fine. Salsa," he ground out.
"Excellent!" Susan beamed. "Five o'clock sharp. Don't be late." Her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on Ash, a flicker of something calculating in their depths, before she turned and click-clacked efficiently down the corridor.
Will slammed the door harder than necessary, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. The arousal had faded, replaced by a simmering anger and a deep, unsettling dread. Ash sank back onto his bunk, pulling the blanket up to his chin like a shield. "Why is she like this?" he whispered.
"Because she gets off on it," Will muttered, pushing off the door and striding towards the bathroom. He needed that cold shower more than ever.
The Lido Deck pulsed with forced merriment as the sun dipped towards the horizon, casting long, orange shadows. A small band pumped out infectious, rhythmic salsa music, and a handful of actual couples swayed and spun with varying degrees of competence. Ash stood rooted near a potted palm, looking like he’d rather be walking the plank. He’d swapped his sweats for slightly-too-baggy chinos and a plain blue t-shirt that hung loosely, hiding the subtle shifts Susan had initiated. Will, in dark jeans and a fitted black tee, looked equally out of place, his usual confident demeanor replaced by wary tension.
A flamboyant instructor clapped his hands. "Alright, lovers and… friends! Grab your partners! Ladies, your right hand in his left… no, his left, darling! Connection is key! Feel the music, feel each other!"
Ash flinched as Will hesitantly stepped closer. Their hands met – Ash’s smooth, slightly smaller hand in Will’s larger, calloused one. Will’s other hand settled gingerly on Ash’s back, just below the shoulder blade. The contact sent a jolt through both of them. Ash’s floral scent, subtly amplified by Susan’s pheromone boost, wrapped around Will. The instructor positioned Will’s right hand lower, firmly on Ash’s waist. Ash gasped at the intimate pressure. "Relax, Ashley!" the instructor trilled. "Let him lead! Hips loose! Like water!"
"Ash," Ash corrected weakly, but the instructor was already moving on.
The music started. Will tried to focus on the basic steps: forward, back, side, close. Simple. But Ash felt different. Awkward, yes, but beneath the baggy clothes, Will’s hand on Ash’s waist registered a definite, soft curve flaring out from the narrowness above. His hand slid lower almost involuntarily as he guided Ash into a turn, grazing the top of Ash’s hip. The curve was more pronounced there, a definite swell beneath the chino fabric. Ash stumbled, his face crimson. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's… fine," Will said, his voice thick. He tried to keep his gaze fixed over Ash’s shoulder, but it kept dropping. Ash’s movements, while clumsy, had an unconscious fluidity now. When he stepped back, his hips swayed slightly. When he turned, the fabric of his chinos tightened across his backside, revealing the unmistakable, rounded shape Will had felt the day before. Plump. Soft-looking. Real. Susan’s interference was undeniable now, sculpting Ash as they danced. Will felt a confusing mix of anger at her manipulation and a hot, unwanted pull low in his own body. He tightened his grip on Ash’s hand, trying to anchor himself in the steps, not the shape beneath his other hand. Ash winced. "Easy," he whispered. Ash’s lower half was definitely fatter, plumper. As fat pools into his ass and sides. Will notices this change but the pheromones Ash is putting out makes him accept it. As it always being there. As for Ash, the acceptance drug made him not care about the change or even notice it.
The Serenity Spa was an oasis of hushed tones, soft lighting, and the overwhelming scent of eucalyptus and lavender. Ash had practically begged for the massage workshop after the salsa ordeal, reasoning that at least here they’d be horizontal and relatively still. Now, lying face down on adjacent massage tables, clad only in thin spa wraps, he wasn't so sure. The initial soothing music felt oppressive. Will lay rigidly beside him, staring at the floor.
The instructor, a serene woman named Anya, moved between them. "Deep tissue focuses on releasing chronic tension," she murmured. "Partners, you'll work on each other's upper back and shoulders today. Communicate pressure. William, start with Ashley. Find the trapezius… yes, there. Use your knuckles, firm but controlled."
Will’s hands, slick with warm oil, descended onto Ash’s bare shoulders. The skin was incredibly smooth, hairless. Ash tensed instantly. "Relax," Will commanded, his voice low. He pressed his knuckles into the tight muscle, feeling knots unravel. Ash groaned, a sound that vibrated through the table and straight into Will’s gut. He focused fiercely on the anatomy: Trapezius. Rhomboids. Just muscle.
Anya moved to Ash’s side. "Excellent, William. Now, Ashley, your turn. Focus on William’s scapula area." She guided Ash’s oiled hands onto Will’s broad back. Ash’s touch was hesitant, surprisingly gentle. Will closed his eyes, the unfamiliar sensation of those smooth fingers working into his knotted shoulders strangely pleasant. Too pleasant.
"Good," Anya encouraged Ash. "Now, remember posture, Ashley. Shoulders back, chest open for better leverage. Don’t hunch."
Ash instinctively adjusted, pushing his shoulders back slightly. The movement caused the loose spa wrap across his chest to gap. Will, turning his head slightly to adjust his arm, caught a glimpse in the dim light. Not flat. Not anymore. A distinct, soft swell pressed against the terrycloth, small but undeniable. Breasts. Budding, but unmistakably there.
Will froze. Ash, oblivious, continued working on Will’s back, his brow furrowed in concentration. Will snapped his head back around, staring blindly at the floor tiles, his own back muscles locking tight. The image burned behind his eyes: smooth skin, a gentle, feminine curve where flat muscle used to be. Susan wasn't just playing with hips and posture. She was rebuilding Ash from the outside in. Fury warred with a horrifying fascination. Ash paused. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.
"No," Will choked out. "Just… tight." He couldn't breathe. He needed this to end.
Anya clapped her hands softly. "Time to switch! Ashley, onto your back. William, you'll work on the pectorals and anterior shoulders." Ash tensed. Will felt sick. Pectorals. He’d be touching Ash’s chest.
This would be an opportunity for Will to see if he was imagining things or if Ash’s chest was budding.
The instructor’s instruction hung in the heavily scented air. Ash’s knuckles whitened where he gripped the edge of the massage table. Onto his back? With Will massaging his chest? The salsa-induced flush felt like ice now. "Anya," he stammered, "maybe just the shoulders again? Or the neck? Chest seems… unnecessary."
Anya’s serene smile didn’t waver. "The pectoral muscles hold significant tension, Ashley. Especially from poor posture or stress. Deep release here improves breathing, overall alignment. Lie back, please." Her tone brooked no argument. It was clinical. Mandatory.
Will felt a cold sweat prickle his own neck. He watched Ash, jaw clenched tight, slowly roll onto his back. The thin spa wrap pulled taut across Ash’s torso. Will’s gaze, against his will, flickered downwards. It wasn't his imagination. Beneath the terrycloth, distinct, soft mounds pushed against the fabric, the peaks faintly visible. Budding. Undeniable. Susan’s handiwork, accelerating. Ash kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, face crimson, chest rising and falling too fast. The overwhelming floral scent pouring off him intensified, thick as syrup in the humid spa air. It flooded Will’s senses, a sweet, cloying fog.
"Palms, William," Anya guided, placing Will’s oiled hands firmly on Ash’s upper chest, just below the collarbones. "Broad strokes outward. Cover the pectoralis major."
Will’s hands made contact. Smooth, hairless skin. Warm. And beneath his palms, distinct, yielding fullness. He pressed down, initiating the stroke. The flesh felt alive, pliable. Firm muscle layered with new, soft tissue. The floral scent surged, wrapping around Will’s brain, smothering logic, muting alarm. A profound sense of rightness washed over him. This shape. This softness under his hands. It belonged. It was simply… Ash. He focused entirely on the feel of the muscle beneath the softness, the knots dissolving under his touch. Ash gasped as Will’s thumbs dug near his sternum. "Too much?"
"Just… intense," Ash breathed, his voice unsteady, eyes still glued upwards. He felt the pressure, the warmth of Will’s hands, the unfamiliar sensitivity of his own skin. It felt good, almost embarrassingly so, the deep ache in his pecs easing. He didn't question the new contours beneath Will’s palms; the acceptance drug blurred the edges, whispering normal. The floral scent, his own, cocooned him too.
Will worked methodically, kneading, pressing. His hands cupped the outer curves. He felt them shift, swell beneath his fingers. They weren't just buds anymore. They were filling out, rounding, becoming heavier, more defined. Soft flesh spilled slightly over the edges of Will’s hands as he massaged upwards towards Ash’s shoulders. DD-cup. The thought drifted through the scent-hazed fog in his mind, detached, observational. Nice shape. He traced the swell where breast met ribcage, his thumb brushing the sensitive underside. Ash shuddered, a small sound escaping his lips. Will paused, the sound cutting through the floral mist for a split second. Concern flickered. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Ash whispered, his voice tight. "Fine. Keep going." He felt exposed, hyper-aware, yet the relief from the deep tissue work was undeniable. Good pain. Necessary. The scent was everywhere. Will resumed, his touch sliding over the smooth, full curves, the new weight a palpable reality under his slick palms. Anya watched silently, her expression unchanging, noting the speed of the transformation, the lack of resistance in either man.
"Beautiful connection," Anya murmured eventually. "Now, Ashley. Your turn. Onto William’s table. Position yourself astride his hips for leverage on the pectorals. Deep tissue requires weight behind it."
Will froze mid-stroke. Astride? Ash went rigid. "Sitting on him?" Ash squeaked. "Is that… standard?"
"Optimal biomechanics for accessing the chest musculature effectively," Anya stated, her tone leaving no room for debate. "Straddle his waist, Ashley. Knees on the table. It provides stability."
Ash looked like he might bolt. Will lay perfectly still, the image of Ash perched on top of him, their positions reversed, burning into his mind. The floral scent seemed to pulse. He saw Ash swallow hard, then slowly, awkwardly, slide off his own table. Ash hesitated, then climbed onto Will’s table, knees sinking into the padding on either side of Will’s hips. Will felt the warmth of Ash’s legs bracketing his body, the slight dip of the table under his weight. Ash carefully lowered himself, settling his weight firmly onto Will’s lower abdomen, just above his pelvis. The contact was electric, intimate. Ash’s smooth thighs pressed against Will’s sides. The overwhelming floral scent enveloped Will completely, emanating from the body now perched above him.
Ash’s hands, slick with fresh oil, hovered nervously over Will’s broad, defined chest. He could feel the heat radiating from Will’s skin, the solid muscle beneath. He could also feel the hard ridge of Will’s erection pressing against his inner thigh, trapped beneath the thin spa wrap. Ash’s breath hitched. He kept his eyes fixed on Will’s collarbone. The floral scent filled his own nostrils too, a dizzying blanket. Will’s jaw was clenched tight, a muscle ticking in his temple. His eyes were wide, fixed on the ceiling with fierce concentration. Anya placed Ash’s hands firmly on Will’s pectorals. "Deep circles," she instructed. "Use your body weight. Lean into it."
Ash pressed down. Will grunted, a low sound of discomfort mixed with something else. Ash felt the powerful muscles beneath his palms, so different from his own newly soft contours. He worked, leaning forward slightly, his shifting weight causing friction against Will’s lap. Will’s breath hissed out between clenched teeth. The floral scent was narcotic, primal. Ash’s proximity, his touch, the impossible softness he’d just felt moments ago now replaced by this awkward, overwhelming intimacy… it short-circuited Will’s higher functions. He could only feel – the pressure on his chest, the heat between his legs, the intoxicating perfume, and the confusing, undeniable attraction coiling tight in his gut. Ash focused on the knots in Will’s pecs, trying to ignore the hard length beneath him, the tension radiating from the man like a live wire. The scent made everything feel hazy, distant. He pressed harder. Will arched his back slightly, a strangled groan escaping him. Ash flinched. "Too much?"
"You're… fine," Will ground out, his voice thick, strained. "Just… work." His eyes squeezed shut. The combination of pain and intense, unwanted arousal was agonizing. The world narrowed to the weight on his hips, the hands on his chest, and the suffocating, beautiful smell of flowers that made him want to both flee and pull Ash down. Ash continued, his movements tentative, his new breasts jiggled back and forth, acutely aware of every shift, every point of contact. He could feel the tautness in Will’s abdomen beneath him, the rigid proof of Will’s reaction. His own face burned. The massage felt endless, charged with a silent, potent energy neither understood but both felt vibrantly. The music seemed to fade, replaced by their harsh breathing and the slick slide of oil on skin. Anya observed, a ghost of satisfaction in her serene expression. The third activity, she knew, would cement everything. Alright you two. That'll be it for the messages. Go ahead and get dressed. Susan will be waiting in the next room.
Ash started to get up, but "Will grabbed his wrist. Wait Ash. Stay there just a sec longer please."
Will’s grip on Ash’s wrist was firm, unexpected. Ash froze, half-risen, one knee still nestled beside Will’s hip, the other foot dangling towards the floor. Will’s other hand remained pressed flat against his own forehead, eyes squeezed shut as if fighting a headache. The silence stretched, thick with the lingering scent of eucalyptus, lavender, and Ash’s own potent, inexplicable floral perfume. Beneath Ash, Will felt unnervingly solid, unnervingly warm. He could feel the frantic thud of Will’s heart against his own shin.
"Just… need a minute," Will rasped, his voice gravelly. He didn’t release Ash’s wrist. "Feels like… like the room’s spinning after that."
Ash slowly lowered himself back down, settling his weight fully onto Will’s abdomen again. It was a conscious choice, a surrender to the strange inertia holding them both captive. The hard ridge pressing against his inner thigh hadn’t subsided. If anything, the shift seemed to intensify the contact. Ash swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet room. He focused on the damp, oil-slicked skin of Will’s chest beneath his own palms. "Yeah," Ash managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was… intense." He couldn’t bring himself to mention the obvious physical reaction beneath him, trapped beneath the thin terrycloth. The acceptance drug hummed in his veins, blurring the shock into a hazy acceptance. Everyone gets turned on sometimes. It’s fine. Just biology.
Will finally opened his eyes, staring straight up past Ash’s face at the dimly lit ceiling. He still gripped Ash’s wrist, an anchor. "That scent," he murmured, nostrils flaring slightly. "Your… floral thing. It’s stronger. After she touched you." He didn’t need to specify she. Susan’s invisible hand felt omnipresent. "Makes everything… fuzzy." His voice was low, strained, confessional. The pheromone cocktail flooding his system made the warm weight on his lap, the soft curves Ash now undeniably possessed, feel less like an imposition and more like a gravitational pull. Irresistible.
Ash instinctively glanced down at his own chest, the spa wrap slightly askew, revealing more of the smooth swell. He pulled the fabric tighter with his free hand, a flush creeping up his neck. He hadn’t consciously registered the scent amplification. "Dunno," he mumbled, shifting slightly, causing another involuntary friction that made Will inhale sharply. "Maybe Anya uses floral oils? Or the heat?" Even as he said it, the excuse felt flimsy. The scent felt like him. Like it was emanating from his own skin, intensified a hundredfold since Susan’s "mandatory activities" began.
Will’s hand slid from Ash’s wrist, his fingers drifting hesitantly up Ash’s forearm. The touch was tentative, exploratory. His gaze finally dropped from the ceiling, skimming over Ash’s collarbone, the line of his jaw, then locking onto his wide, startled green eyes. The piercing blue was clouded, conflicted, swimming in the fog of manipulated desire. "You feel… different," Will breathed. "Not bad. Just… different. Since the salsa. Since…" He trailed off, his fingers tracing a light path up to Ash’s bicep, feeling the unfamiliar softness beneath the smooth skin. "These hips…" His other hand, still resting on Ash’s thigh, slid back slightly, his thumb brushing the pronounced curve where Ash’s waist dipped in before flaring out into the new, plump swell of his hip. "They weren’t like this before. Were they?" The question was hushed, half-lost in the floral haze. He wasn’t asking Ash; he was asking the impossible reality.
Ash shivered at the touch, the contact sending jolts through his oversensitive skin. He wanted to pull away, bolt for the door. The rational part of his mind screamed this is insane. But the drug, the pheromones, the sheer exhaustion of fighting the cruise’s relentless weirdness… it all combined into a heavy lethargy. He stayed put. "Everything’s felt weird," Ash admitted, his voice thin. "The aches. The tiredness. Clothes fitting wrong." He looked down at Will’s hand resting high on his thigh, dangerously close to the swell of his rear beneath the wrap. "Maybe… maybe it’s the buffet. Too many mangoes?" The weak joke fell flat. He knew it wasn’t the mangoes. He just didn’t have the energy, or the chemical freedom, to confront what it actually was. The fatigue settled deeper, a bone-weariness that made staying right where he was, perched awkwardly on Will, feel like the only possible course of action.
Will’s thumb moved in a slow, absent circle on Ash’s hipbone. The floral scent was a velvet rope around his senses. "Doesn’t smell like mango," he murmured, his gaze still locked on Ash’s. It drifted lower, lingering on the visible swell of Ash’s breasts beneath the terrycloth. "Looks… good, though." The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, propelled by the chemical soup in his bloodstream. He looked instantly horrified at his own admission, his hand freezing on Ash’s hip. "Shit. Ash, I didn’t mean—"
Before Ash could process the startling compliment or Will’s panicked retraction, a sharp, authoritative knock shattered the fragile bubble of their suspended reality. Rap. Rap. Rap.
It came from the door leading back to the spa’s main reception area, not the one they’d entered through. Ash flinched violently, scrambling off Will’s lap as if electrocuted. He nearly slipped on the oil-slicked floor in his haste, grabbing the edge of the massage table to steady himself. Will jerked upright, hastily yanking the edges of his own wrap tighter around his waist, his face a mask of mingled panic, residual arousal, and dawning anger. The brief, impossible moment of connection evaporated, replaced by cold dread. The door handle turned.
Susan Cruz stood framed in the doorway, her sleek uniform pristine, her expression one of cool appraisal. Her sharp eyes swept over them – Ash flushed and disheveled, clutching his wrap, Will tense and defensive, the air thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and overpowering flowers. Her knowing smirk was barely concealed. "Finished bonding, gentlemen?" she asked, her voice laced with faux sweetness that dripped like venom. "Excellent timing. Your third and final mandatory activity is ready. It requires… privacy." She stepped fully into the room, her gaze lingering pointedly on Ash’s chest, then flicking to Will’s still-flushed face. "And a certain degree of openness. Follow me." She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and clicking down the corridor, expecting compliance. The door to whatever came next yawned open before them.
Will snapped his head around, his eyes shooting daggers at Susan’s retreating back. She didn’t acknowledge his glare, her heels clicking confidently down the hallway. Ash hesitated, taking a moment to pull his wrap tighter around himself before shuffling after her, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.
Will followed, his body a study in taut lines, his jaw set in a hard line. He could feel the acceptance drug still humming in his system, but the anger and frustration were overriding everything else.
Susan led the two to a private room. They each looked at one another wondering what activity this would be.
They knew there's no turning back as they step through the door into the private room. Susan stood in the middle of the room with a concealed smile.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Susan said, her voice smooth and professional. "This room is equipped with an advanced medical machine designed to enhance your relationship. It’s non-invasive and completely safe." She gestured to a large, sleek machine in the center of the room. It hummed softly, lights blinking in a steady rhythm.
"What does it do?" Ash asked, stepping closer to the machine, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Oh you'll see." She said as she put on a re-breather and pressed a button that released a powerful aphrodisiac and acceptance drug. "I will give you to some much need privacy." She added with a wink then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small device. She pressed a button on it and as she walked out the door, gas canisters concealed within the walls of the room hissed, filling the space with a thick, invisible vapor. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and a lock engaged with an audible thud. Panic began to rise within both of them as they realized they were now trapped.
"What the hell is happening?" Ash demanded, his eyes wide with fear as he looked around the suddenly fog-filled room. The gas made his vision swim and his chest tighten, as if his body was struggling to process the sudden influx of stimulants. The machine hummed louder, its blinking lights now a kaleidoscope of unsettling colors that seemed to twist and shift before his eyes.
Ash’s chest tightened more, each breath feeling like a struggle against invisible hands. The fog was thick, a tangible presence that seemed to cling to his skin, seeping into his pores. Beside him, Will staggered, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Ash…" Will rasped, his voice barely audible over the machine’s increasing hum. His eyes were wild, darting from the machine to Ash, then back again. "Something’s happening…"
Susan watched from the other room, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she tapped another button on her tablet. The machine's display flickered, indicating that the process had begun. She could see the two men through the one-way glass, their bodies wracked by invisible forces, and she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of triumph.
The gas was potent, laced with pheromones that triggered primal, insatiable desires, and acceptance drugs that stripped away resistance, fear, and doubt. Listening to the machine's hum escalate, she knew exactly what they were feeling – the gas tightening around their bodies, constricting breath, heightening every nerve ending.
As Ash staggered backwards, the room spinning around him, he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to touch something, anything. His hands sought purchase on the hard, sleek surface of the machine, his fingers raking over cool metal. The touch sent electric jolts through his system, and he gasped, his eyes falling on Will standing just a few feet away. Will’s body was rigid, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps, his eyes wide and wild.
The activity lasted another 30 minutes. And then the gas disappeared clearing the room. Susan walked back in and asked how the rejuvenation gas felt. Thats what she was calling it, but it was an aphrodisiac to get them aroused and accepting.
Ash staggered away from the machine, his body trembling, heart pounding. "Felt like… like someone was squeezing my… chest," he panted, his voice thick with disorientation. "And… and I couldn’t breathe." He looked at Will, eyes wide, fear and confusion warring in his gaze. "Did… did you feel that?"
Will was slumped against the wall, breath still coming in ragged gasps. He nodded slowly, his eyes glassy, pupils dilated. His hand pressed against his own chest, rubbing in a circular motion as if trying to soothe away the memory of the squeezing sensation. "Yeah," he rasped.
"Like… like a vice. And the… the colors. Fucking colors everywhere." He looked around the room, blinking rapidly, as if trying to chase away the lingering phantom lights.
Susan watched them both, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Rejuvenation gas," she explained, her voice casual, as if she were discussing the weather. "A proprietary blend of our own design. Clears the mind, heightens the senses, stimulates the body. You two are going to feel like new men."
"New men?" Ash echoed, his voice trembling slightly.
"Yss Mr. Thorne. I suggest you too get dressed and head back to your cabin. I've supplied new clothing for you two. Seeing who you two left you clothes at the spa." Susan presented two bags with fresh clothes. "Put these on."
Ash and Will exchanged a glance. The fog was still thick in their heads, desire still pulsing through their veins. But Susan's brisk tone brooked no argument. They quickly dressed, the silence of the room heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Ash felt different. He could feel the changes, the subtle shifts in his body. The curves were more pronounced, the weight in his chest noticeably heavier. He touched his nipples tentatively, a jolt of sensation shooting through him. The floral scent clung to his skin, intensifying with every movement.
Ash’s eyes widened as he pulled out the clothes from the bag Susan had provided. His fingers brushed against the soft, silky fabric of a camisole, the lace trim tickling his sensitive palms. He looked up, meeting Will’s gaze. The same confusion and disorientation mirrored back at him. Ash swallowed hard, glancing at the sports bra tucked underneath. It was pale pink with subtle white stripes, a stark contrast to the black t-shirts they had arrived in. He hesitated, then shrugged, slipping off the spa wrap and slipping on the camisole and sports bra, fastening the hooks at the back with practiced ease. The feel of the fabric against his new curves was alien yet oddly comforting. Beside him, Will pulled on a simple black t-shirt, the fabric stretching taut over his broad chest.
He watched Ash, his eyes tracing the line of Ash’s back, the curve of his newly full hips swaying gently as he stepped into the fresh pants. The motion was hypnotic, the new feminine shape a stark contrast to the awkward, gangly man he’d first met. Will felt a tug in his gut, a primal, unfamiliar ache that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of the rejuvenation gas. He looked away quickly, focusing on fastening the buttons of his own shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly.
Ash turned, facing Will, and the air between them shifted. The room was silent except for the steady hum of the machine behind them, the only reminder of what had just transpired. They stood there for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken questions and the lingering scent of flowers.
Finally, Ash took a deep breath, steeling himself, and turned towards the door. "Come on, let's get back to our cabin," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. He stepped out into the hallway, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Will hesitated for a moment, watching Ash's retreating back, before following him out of the room.
Ash walked quickly, his steps determined, his body aching with the strange new sensations coursing through him. He could feel the camisole and sports bra shifting against his skin, the fabric soft and unfamiliar. He clutched the bag with his fresh clothes tightly in one hand, his other hand trailing along the wall for balance. He didn't look back at Will, but he could feel the other man's gaze on him, heavy and intense.
Ash hurried down the corridor, his steps echoing in the quiet hallway. He had to move, to escape the lingering haze and the memories of the room they'd just left. His cabin was mercifully close, and he fumbled with the key card, finally managing to slide it through the reader and push open the door. He stepped inside, the cool air a welcome relief against his overheated skin. He didn't think, just stripped off the new clothes and stepped into the shower, cranking the water as hot as it would go.
It was a relief to stand under the scalding water, the steam filling the stall like a cocoon. He leaned against the tile wall, the heat seeping into his bones, trying to wash away the residual effects of the gas. Behind him, he could hear the door to the cabin swing shut, then the soft pad of footsteps on the carpet. As will made his way into the Bathroom. As if ash was finished. Will turns to leave but Ash stopped him. "Hey... if you'd... um like you can... umm... join me." He said with a blush.
"I mean, if you want...?" Ash asked, turning to face Will, his cheeks flushed from the hot water. Will hesitated, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion, desire, and lingering discomfort. But as he looked at Ash standing there, water streaming down his body, the new curves of his hips and the soft, inviting swell of his breasts, he felt an undeniable pull. He thought about it, just for a moment, then made his decision. He stepped into the shower, the steam enveloping him like a warm embrace. The space was small, intimate, the air thick with the scent of soap and the lingering remnants of the floral gas. Ash moved back slightly, giving Will room to join him under the pounding spray. The water cascaded over them both, the heat soothing the aches and tensions that had built up throughout the day.
No words were said for a few minutes. But then Ash asked. "Would you mind getting my back and butt?" Handing him a soap bar.
"I can't reach it properly."
Will hesitated for a moment, then took the soap from Ash's outstretched hand. He lathered up his hands, his eyes avoiding Ash's as he tried to focus on the task at hand. He reached out cautiously, his soapy hands gliding over Ash's smooth, damp skin. He started at Ash's lower back, the sensation of the soft, new curves different from what he remembered. The water sluiced over them, the heat making it hard to think straight.
Will moved his soapy hands in slow circles over Ash's lower back, feeling the new contours beneath his fingertips. Ash shivered slightly, not from cold, but from the unfamiliar sensation of hands other than his own exploring his body.
"You're so... soft," Will murmured, his voice barely audible over the hiss of the water. He felt like he was in a dream, a disorienting, surreal haze that was both erotic and unsettling. He worked the soap into a lather, his fingers tracing the line of Ash's spine, then sliding lower, towards the curve of his backside. "Yeah. It feels good too. Will." Ash said. "Say, I dont think I washed my front properly. Would you mind." Asked Ash as he turned to face Will and pointing to his chest.
His eyes softened, and he sounded surprisingly vulnerable. Will hesitated, his hands hovering near Ash’s hips. The new softness under his touch felt so different, a stark contrast to the lean, wiry man he'd met earlier. He drew in a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling visibly. Now, standing this close, he couldn’t deny the changes. The scent of flowers was overwhelming, clinging to Ash’s skin and hair, wrapping around Will like a sensual fog. He'd experienced the effects of the rejuvenation gas, but this was something else entirely. Something primal and undeniable.
He met Ash’s gaze, saw the vulnerability, the need. He made his decision. His soapy hands slid around Ash’s waist, gently cupping the soft, new shapes. They were fuller, rounder, the nipples hardening under the soapy lather. Ash gasped, his eyes widening, then fluttering shut as Will began to massage, his movements slow and deliberate.
Ash’s breath hitched, his body tensing under Will’s touch. The sensation was overwhelming, unlike anything he’d ever felt.
This went on for a few more minutes. Until Ash started to weird himself out. He got out and dried off in a hurry. Then fell asleep before Will was finished washing himself.
Will stood under the shower for a while, the water now cold, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He stepped out, toweling off quickly, his mind racing. He found Ash curled up on his side, the sheets tangled around his legs, the room filled with the scent of flowers and soap.
Will sat on the other bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the shower. About the changes he'd felt in Ash's body, the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his own body had responded to the touch. He was confused, aroused, scared.