Suggestion 1

I had just moved in to her place when Tracy spoke up. We were christening her bed. I won’t go into those kinds of details, but I will mention how compatible we were in the sack.

I love old euphemisms like “in the sack.” Being an English major drew me to words. But before you criticize me for a useless major, I am also getting a business major.

So, Tracy spoke up. “Robbie, can I make a suggestion?”

I was in that lull, thinking about closing my eyes, when her hand returned between my legs. Yes, dear readers, she had my attention. “Of course, you can. I am open to any suggestions you have.”

“You have an unpleasant odor about you.”

I panicked. “Really, what do you suggest?”

She smiled and squeezed her hand lovingly around my genitals. “Well, your clothes could use a good cleaning. It’s good that we have a washer right here. But I think it’s in your body hair, too.” She leaned in and smelled my chest, wrinkling her nose.

I’d never heard that one. “Sure, we can run all my stuff through the washing machine. But how do I remove my body scent? Isn’t that about my chemistry and what I eat?”

Tracy was busy pleasing me. “Well, probably. But if we removed your body hair, that smell wouldn’t linger. A nice shower each day would make you smell better.”

I couldn’t argue with the beautiful woman who gave me so much. And that’s when I went down to her favorite salon and learned about waxing. Danger, Danger, Will Robinson! Danger, Danger!

Ouch. I emerged hairless, seriously hairless, and presented myself to my love. She wholeheartedly approved and pushed me into the shower. When I emerged, she covered my body with moisturizer, rubbing me down and especially soothing the places where hair had been ripped from my flesh.

I have to say, I was rewarded. As an eighteen-year-old college freshman, I thought this life was the best thing ever. I never understood what a twenty-five-year-old professional woman saw in me, but who was I to question?

“Now, we need to work on your body chemistry. Swallow a couple of these each day, and it should help clear out all that toxicity your body wants to produce.”

“Huh?” I did swallow the pills.

“Sure. Those sweat glands are full of toxic masculinity. Your sweat smells sour.”

“But that’s me. I’m at school on a track scholarship, which means I work out and run with the team every day.”

“Oh, Robby. I know. Your lean frame caught my eye. You’ve got a runner’s body, with muscular thighs, a firm buttock, and not an ounce of fat on you.”

“I just hope those pills don’t mess up my times. We’re all about running Cross Country right now, and I’m competing with Juniors and Seniors. I want to beat their times.”

“You know, I want you to read up on a vegetarian diet and how that will make you a better athlete. I’ll send you some links to look at. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be happily changed.”

Time passed. I did read up on vegetables and long strand protiens. I did start changing my eating habits and kept taking Tracy’s pills. And I kept my clothes washed and scrubbed with Tracy’s body wash and shampoo.

One evening, after we made wonderful love, Tracy kissed me and whispered, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure. Everything I do is to please you.”

“Will you get a sexy haircut for me? And get your ears pierced?”

Neither of those requests was out of line. I needed a haircut, and I noticed that a lot of the jocks’ ears were pierced. “Sure.”

And that’s how I ended up back at her salon. I gotta say, being fussed over by sexy beauticians was a pleasure. I thought the cut was a little dramatic, and bleaching the ends blonde seemed a little weird, but it did look nice with the small hoops they stuck in my lobes.

No one at practice said a word. And my times were getting better. The coach pulled me aside. He stared at my hair and face. Then he told me that my times were really improving and I’d be competing at the first meet with the Varsity.

It was weird how no one said a word about my hairless body or new haircut. But everyone was impressed with my times. Our school ran a six-mile track through the woods around the school, and I was completing and beating some of the Seniors.

On Wednesday, Coach handed out new team equipment. We got tops and bottoms in the black and gold team colors. The equipment manager rummaged through and tossed me a complete uniform.

After I showered and moisturized, I tried on my uniform. As I pulled everything on, I thought they’d made a mistake. Everything was too small and tight.

When Tracy came home, she insisted I model everything for her. After dressing, I held up my arms. “See, it’s all the wrong size! Look how big my butt looks, and you can see my junk.”

She came up close and touched me all over. “I love it. You look like the god Mercury. All you need are wings on your feet, and you could fly! And as far as your genitals go, you need better support. Maybe I have something for you.”

I stood there in front of the mirror. I looked at my arms and shoulders. They looked smaller. Well, my muscles looked smaller, more compacted. And my ass did look bigger. All the long-distance running had rounded it out.

When Tracy returned, she was spinning a small bit of cloth around her index finger. “Strip off those pants and ill-fitting jockey shorts.”

I did what she asked, and she tossed me that bit of cloth. When I held it up, I realized it was her thong. I stared at her as she motioned me to put it on. It was tight, and my junk was held firmly against my body. And when I put on my shorts, well, no bulges, and no lines across my butt. I found myself staring in the mirror.

“You look good, Robbie. Are you still taking your pills each day?”

I nodded.

“And you’ve given up animal flesh?”

I nodded again.

“And you’ve gotten faster.”

I smiled. “Because of you.”