Second Prime - Part 2 (Patreon)

The following morning, Logan woke up before the alarm, which never happened anymore. For a moment, he didn’t move, only lay on his back under the sheets, blinking slowly. It seemed to be a regular morning, but something about the moment felt off.

Normally, his mornings started with a faint, dull resistance inside his body. His joints would complain when he shifted even the slightest. His shoulders would feel stiff, like someone had poured sand into the hinges overnight. Even breathing deeply in the morning sometimes came with an odd heaviness under his ribs.

It always made him feel a little tired before the day had even begun.

But on this particular morning, Logan realized that feeling wasn’t there. He drew in a slow breath, testing it without thinking. His chest expanded beneath the sheets. The air filled his lungs without effort, and when he let it out again, nothing felt tight or sluggish. His back rested comfortably against the mattress instead of protesting.

Logan frowned slightly, still half asleep. “That’s different,” he whispered.

He didn’t move, paying attention to the small details the way he sometimes did when something in his body felt unusual. His limbs felt lighter—not smaller nor as if he had suddenly lost weight, but as if the internal drag he’d grown used to wasn’t there. His arms were comfortable at his sides instead of feeling heavy. Even his heartbeat seemed steadier.

Curious now, Logan stretched a little under the sheets, rolling his shoulders and extending one leg. And he immediately noticed the unexpected pressure beneath the covers. He looked downward, focusing on the obvious way the sheet had tented.

Logan blinked once, then twice, before a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, admiring the shape of his morning wood.

The erection pushing up beneath the covers was strong enough that the sheet lifted noticeably, forming a very distinct ridge over his crotch. His 8-inch hard cock wasn’t only straining his pajamas but also shaping the sheets. It had been a long time since he’d woken up like that. It wasn’t an impossible sight, but it was rare enough to catch his attention.

Logan lifted his head slightly to get a better look and chuckled under his breath. “Now, that’s impressive,” he said softly. “What a way to start the day,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing a hand across his face.

Pushing the sheets down, he sat up a little, looking toward the obvious strain in his pajama pants. The shape of his cock was clear even under the fabric, and Logan couldn’t help but stare in excitement. It wasn’t only the firmness of his shaft that caught his attention. Somehow, it looked bigger and thicker than usual, which made no sense at all, but that was the impression he got as he studied it.

He leaned forward slightly and rested his hand against the front of his pants, brushing his fingers over the stretched fabric. The contact made him gasp. Beneath the cloth, his cock pulsed with a slow throb that he could feel even through the thin cotton. As his hand moved across the tented shape, he could trace the rounded outline of the thick mushroom head, the faint ridges, and the veins that stood out just enough to make the shape look impressive.

Logan smiled as his hand stayed there, moving slowly, almost absentmindedly, as if trying to convince himself it was real. Each small movement drew another throb through the shaft as the sensitive flesh responded to the pressure of his touch.

He shifted slightly on the mattress and adjusted himself through the pants, cupping the firm length more fully. The weight surprised him. Even through the cloth, it felt heavier in his hand than he expected. When he repositioned himself again, his balls shifted as well, and he noticed they felt fuller, a little heavier in the loose cradle of the fabric. There was a faint tightness there, subtle but noticeable, as if they had swollen overnight.

For a moment, he considered giving in to his body’s needs. The morning was quiet, he was alone, and the way his body responded made it tempting to let the sensation take over. His hand was still resting against the front of his pants as he weighed the idea, feeling another throb press against his hand. But after a moment, he exhaled and let his hand relax, pulling it back.

As tempting as it was to sink into that kind of distraction, he didn’t want to lose himself in pleasure first thing in the morning. Not today. So he lay there for another minute, still half convinced that his morning wood was just a coincidence or the result of a random dream he couldn’t remember. But his cock seemed to demand attention the more he stayed there.

Eventually, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his body as he stood up. Even the stretch felt different—his spine lengthened smoothly, and his limbs moved more naturally than they used to.

He walked toward the bathroom, scratching absently at the back of his neck. Something about the way he moved felt different. His posture settled a little straighter. Logan noticed it, but he didn’t dwell on it yet.

Inside the bathroom, Logan paused for a moment, tugging his pajama pants down, stepping out of them, and tossing them casually toward the laundry basket. His morning wood remained, now throbbing more insistently without the restraint of pants. 

“Hmm, I thought it would just go away,” he whispered.

He stood there for a second, letting his lower body settle naturally now that the fabric wasn’t pressing against him. His cock stood tall, hard as steel, even after standing and walking around. Its weight pulled slightly forward in a way that felt unusually pronounced. His balls also felt heavier—resting lower than they normally did against his thighs.

Logan frowned a little and reached down instinctively, cupping them in his hand to check if he was imagining things. They filled his hand more than he expected as he shifted them slightly, testing the weight with a curious squeeze. He rolled them gently between his fingers for a moment, more puzzled than anything else, before letting out a breath through his nose.

“Alright, maybe I’m just paying too much attention this morning,” he said, though he gave his balls one more thoughtful fondle before letting his hand drop again.

Logan shook his head again, still smiling, before getting into the shower. The water warmed quickly, and when he stood under the spray, the heat hit across his shoulders and chest so nicely that he let out a soft groan. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the water run down his neck and back while his muscles slowly loosened.

His mind drifted back to the formula he had taken the night before. He tried not to jump to conclusions because all the half-understood medical articles he had read had taught him that real hormonal changes didn’t happen overnight. Bodies didn’t simply flip a switch because someone wanted them to. Even so, the idea remained in the back of his mind while he reached for the bottle of body wash.

He squeezed a generous amount into his hands and rubbed them together until the soap turned slick and foamy. His hands moved across his chest first, spreading the soap over the broad surface of his pecs while the hot water ran over him. He noticed that something felt different beneath his touch—the firmness was unmistakable. His chest felt tighter, more responsive under his hands than it had the night before.

Logan pressed his hand lightly against one side of his chest and flexed without thinking about it, watching the muscle tighten beneath the skin. The pec rose more solidly than he expected, and the movement seemed firmer and quicker than what he had grown used to over the past few years.

He blinked down at himself with a faint frown and flexed again. The muscle responded easily, swelling against his hand with a density that made him raise one eyebrow. “Well… that’s new,” he said quietly, more curious than alarmed.

He continued washing, sliding his hands down across his abdomen while the soap spread across his torso. His midsection still looked the same—broad, slightly pushing forward when he relaxed—but the muscle beneath it felt more awake somehow. When his hands moved to his arms out of habit, the difference became even more noticeable. His biceps pushed back against his touch with a firmness that caught his attention.

Logan lifted one arm and studied it. The bicep rose more distinctly when he tightened it. He couldn’t tell it was larger in any obvious way, but the muscle felt packed tighter under the skin. When he ran his fingers along his forearm, he noticed the veins there standing out more clearly than usual. They weren’t that pronounced, but they were visible enough that Logan tilted his arm back and forth to confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

“Okay… that’s a little weird,” he said to himself, in obvious fascination.

He shook his head and continued washing, moving across his shoulders and down his sides while the water rinsed the soap away in thin white streams. Even his skin felt more sensitive than usual. When the hot spray struck the center of his chest, his nipples tightened instantly, sending little sparks of sensation outward across his pecs that made him gasp.

Logan chuckled softly at himself. “Alright, relax,” he said.

Eventually, his hands moved lower as he worked the soap down across his middle, sliding the lather along his hips and toward his groin. The hot water poured over his shoulders and chest as he looked down again, still fascinated by how everything felt that morning. His cock was still hard, standing firm and throbbing as the warm water ran over it. Even after getting out of bed and moving around, it hadn’t softened at all.

Logan wrapped his soapy hand around the shaft almost absentmindedly, letting the slick lather coat his fingers as he slowly worked it along the length. The heat of the water rinsed over his knuckles while his grip moved downward, and the sensation made him moan before he even realized it. His hips bucked forward instinctively, reacting to the sudden sensitivity.

“Oh, fuck,” he said softly, almost overwhelmed. “You won’t go away, don’t you?”

He couldn’t help smiling at himself as his hand tightened around his 8-inch-long cock. His grip moved again, stroking more firmly this time as the soap made every motion smooth, and his hand slid up and down the shaft. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the veins pulsing under his skin, and each movement sent another shiver through his body. The peaceful morning was suddenly interrupted by his soft moans getting louder.

A small part of him tried to remind himself he should stop. He had work to get ready for, a full day ahead, and jerking off wasn’t exactly how he had planned to start the morning. But the skyrocketing horniness leading his actions made it impossible to think about anything else. The need to cum was insistent, demanding his attention until it was impossible to ignore it. His focus narrowed until the only thing that mattered was busting a nut.

A soft groan escaped his lips as his other hand moved lower, sliding beneath his cock to cup his balls while he continued stroking. The spheres settled into his hand, heavier than he was used to, and the skin was drawn tight around them. He rolled them in his hand, feeling the fullness shift beneath his fingers. The sensation sent a shiver through him, and he lifted them slightly, testing the feeling with a squeeze that made another moan come out of his mouth.

The combination of motions worked better than he expected. With one hand stroking his cock and the other holding and squeezing his balls, the pressure building within intensified quickly. His breathing grew heavier as the tension increased, and his body responded faster with each movement. Precum began leaking from the tip in steady streams, more than he was used to. The slick fluid mixed with the soap and warm water as it ran down his fingers.

Then something deep inside him seemed to snap all at once. His cock jerked in his hand as the first wave hit him, and suddenly he was cumming far harder than he anticipated. Logan trembled as thick globs of cum shot from him, splattering against the shower tiles while his body shuddered under the intensity. The sensation hit his whole body intensely. Each shot was stronger than the last, traveling up from his balls and through the length of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed between heavy pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His knees felt weak, shaking slightly as the orgasm kept going longer than he expected. The climax felt almost endless, and each shot sent another rush of sensation through him while his body struggled to catch up with it. He didn’t even know it was possible to cum that intensely or to shoot that much at once, but the overwhelming pleasure kept him frozen in place.

Even as the strongest shots began to fade, his hands were still moving instinctively, still working along his cock and squeezing his balls as if trying to drain the last bit of cum from them. Gradually, the intensity softened, leaving him breathing hard as he leaned slightly against the wall. For a while, he stood under the water, trying to steady his breathing.

“Maybe I just slept well,” he said once he had caught his breath.

Even to his ears, the explanation sounded thin. Still, he finished rinsing the soap away, watching the last of the suds slide down his body and spiral toward the drain while the hot water continued pouring over his shoulders.

“It must be a placebo,” he added, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. “That has to be it.” His brain was probably reacting to the idea that something might be changing. Anticipation alone could make a person feel stronger or more alert for a while.

Even so, Logan couldn’t ignore the sense that something inside his body had started moving again, like a long-idle engine slowly turning over.

Getting dressed was unexpectedly satisfying after such an intense moment in the bathroom. Logan pulled on his underwear, then his jeans, noticing how the fabric settled against his body. The fit hadn’t changed much, but the way the clothes sat on him felt different. His chest seemed to fill his shirt a little more firmly, stretching the fabric slightly across his pecs instead of hanging loosely the way it had been starting to.

He buttoned the shirt and glanced at himself in the mirror. “Alright,” he said, rolling his shoulders and adjusting the collar. “I’ll take it.”

The rest of the morning moved faster than usual. Logan made coffee, ate breakfast, and headed out the door feeling strangely energized. 

By the time he arrived at the construction site, the crew had already started working across the property, so Logan let the job take his mind away from his odd morning. A couple of men spotted Logan as he walked in and called out greetings over the noise.

“Morning, boss,” one of them shouted from a ladder, while another waved a rolled blueprint in the air and called, “Logan, you got a second?” A third voice came from deeper inside the structure, saying that they needed him to check the alignment on one of the beams before they secured it.

Logan answered them the way he always did, slipping back into the role he had lived in for decades. He walked through the skeleton of the building with authority, checking measurements, reviewing diagrams, and listening to explanations while the crew worked around him. Normally, it took his body a while to catch up with these activities in the mornings, but everything felt different this time.

Not long after arriving, they needed to move a pallet of lumber sitting too close to the walkway so the forklift could pass through. Logan crouched down and slid his hands under the rough boards, gripping the edges like he had thousands of times before. Usually, he would take a moment to set his stance and brace himself for the lift to avoid injuries, but this time the motion happened instinctively.

When he straightened up, the weight didn’t feel as heavy as he expected. The boards rose smoothly as he lifted them, carrying them a few steps before setting them down where the crew needed them. He paused for a second afterward, resting his hands on his hips while his mind caught up with the moment. The difference was small, but it was unmistakable to someone who knew his body as well as he did.

One of the workers nearby noticed the pause and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You good, boss?” he asked casually.

“Yeah,” Logan replied, smiling proudly. “Better than ever.”

The job kept moving after that. By mid-morning, one of the younger guys leaning against the railing on the second level started laughing as Logan climbed the steps toward him. “Boss,” he said with a grin, shaking his head as if he’d just noticed something amusing.

Logan looked up from the blueprint he was reviewing. “What?”

The worker gestured vaguely toward Logan’s chest and arms. “You look pumped today.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. “Pumped?”

“Yeah,” the guy replied with a shrug. “Like you just walked out of the gym or something. Whatever you’re doing, keep going,” he added, and a couple of the other men nearby chuckled, glancing over with curiosity as if they were trying to see what he meant.

Logan chuckled and waved them off, though a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Quit staring at your boss and get back to work.”

The crew laughed and went back to their tasks, but the comment remained in Logan’s mind longer than he expected. Nothing about the changes was obvious. If anything, they were subtle. But the difference followed him through every movement he made, in the way his arms responded when he lifted something, or the way his legs pushed him forward across the uneven floor without hesitation.

Logan exhaled slowly through his nose as he stepped out into the open sunlight near the trailer. “Well,” he said to himself, “maybe that stuff’s really doing something.”

He stopped there, shaking his head as if refusing to chase the thought any further. He wasn’t ready to believe that yet. But as the workday continued, it became harder to ignore the realization settling in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long while, he felt genuinely good in his body again, and it was very likely thanks to Dr. Wright’s formula.

The memory of the kitchen the night before kept replaying in his mind in strange little fragments—the thick white liquid sliding slowly into the glass, the unusual scent that had hit his nose the moment he opened the jar, and the faint salty sweetness that had surprised him when he tasted it. Most of all, he remembered how his body had responded afterward, as if something deep inside him had woken up after a long sleep.

The rest of the afternoon kept him busy enough that the thought faded out of focus while the work continued. But by the time the workday finally wound down, and the crew started packing up tools for the evening, Logan was strangely eager to get home. The drive back to his house felt shorter than usual as his thoughts drifted back to the jar of formula waiting for him.

When he pulled into the driveway and stepped inside, Logan kicked off his boots by the door and headed straight for the kitchen almost without thinking about it. The jar was exactly where he had left it. For a moment, Logan stood there staring at it, and he could hear Dr. Wright’s voice in his head as clearly as if the man were standing beside him—one cup a day.

Logan pulled the jar out and settled it on the counter. He leaned back against the fridge, rubbing his jaw while he thought about it. His mind drifted back to the appointment. The image of the doctor’s broad chest stretching the buttons of his shirt pushed through Logan’s mind before he shook it away with a chuckle.

“It’s probably just a recommendation,” he said to himself, reaching for a glass.

The thick liquid inside the jar shifted slowly when he tilted the container, clinging to the sides before sliding toward the opening. He poured a serving into the glass and watched the dense white mixture settle heavily at the bottom. Within a few seconds, the glass was empty, and a satisfied sigh escaped Logan’s mouth. The taste was as oddly good as the day before, so he couldn’t help but think about taking some more.

For a moment, he hesitated, studying the jar the way he had the night before. Then he shrugged and tipped the jar again, filling the glass a second time. “A double dose will just speed up results, I guess,” he said, smiling.

Logan lifted the glass and drank it down, swallowing steadily while the strange salty sweetness spread across his tongue again. By the time he set the empty glass back on the counter, the strange energy he had been feeling was spreading through his body. It wasn’t his imagination this time. He could feel it clearly—something deep inside his body stirring again.

He looked down at the empty glass, then toward the jar, and a broad smile spread on his lips. For the first time in years, the thought of tomorrow didn’t feel predictable; it was exciting.

...

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PS: AI Generated image only meant to illustrate the scene.