1 – Back to "Normal"
Tank’s alarm blared at 6:30 AM, shaking him from a deep, dreamless sleep. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his body still thrumming from the weekend’s events.
He stretched, rolling his shoulders, the weight of the pendant pressing against his chest. Even through the fabric of his t-shirt, it was warm—like a living thing, a steady anchor keeping something greater contained.
Sunday with Jason had been a test.
He’d learned he could control it, that the lust and pull could be focused, restrained.
But now?
Now he had to prove he could keep it locked down for an entire day.
Because today was Monday.
And Monday meant work.
The world didn’t stop just because he had changed.
And Tank? Tank still had a business to run.
---
2 – The Line Outside
Tank owned Steel & Stag Barbershop, a staple in the local bear scene. It was the kind of place that catered to big, bearded men, a spot where regulars came in for a trim, a fade, or a straight razor shave while bullshitting about work, gym routines, and who was crushing on who at The Den.
It was his space, one of the only places in the world where he felt completely in control.
But when he turned the corner onto his street, coffee in hand, he stopped in his tracks.
There was a line.
Not just any line.
A line of men from Bear Bash.
Tank’s stomach tightened.
They stood outside his shop, leaning against walls, scrolling on their phones, shifting their weight like they’d been waiting a long time.
And then—
They saw him.
A ripple passed through them. Some straightened, eyes lighting up with undeniable hunger. Others flushed, avoiding his gaze but still waiting.
Tank exhaled sharply.
Not now. Not here.
He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and focused.
Pushed everything down.
No lust.
No pull.
No worship.
Just Tank the barber, starting his Monday shift.
He walked past them, unlocked the door, and flipped the sign to OPEN.
“Morning, gentlemen,” he said, keeping his tone steady, normal.
They filed in slowly, some moving too stiffly, as if resisting the urge to press closer.
Tank clenched his jaw.
It was going to be a long fucking day.
---
3 – Hands on Them
Tank kept the morning calm.
He greeted each client like nothing had changed, like they hadn’t spent Saturday night moaning his name.
But the moment he touched them?
It was like a shockwave rippled through their bodies.
The first guy, Eddie, a thick cub with a salt-and-pepper beard, nearly shivered when Tank ran the clippers along the side of his head.
“You good?” Tank asked, keeping his voice neutral.
Eddie cleared his throat, gripping the armrest. “Y-Yeah. Just… felt a chill.”
Tank forced himself to pull back.
He wasn’t trying to send anything out.
He was keeping it locked down.
But still, the energy lingered.
Every client reacted—some subtly, some not-so-subtly.
A guy named Brandon—one of the more aggressive ones from Saturday—groaned when Tank brushed his fingers along his neck while lining up his beard.
Tank’s grip on the clippers tightened.
“Dude,” he muttered under his breath.
Brandon swallowed hard, knuckles white on the chair’s armrests. “Sorry,” he panted. “I—fuck.”
Tank exhaled slowly.
This is going to take every ounce of control I have.
---
4 – The Midday Battle
By noon, things started to shift.
The men who had come in that morning—flushed, dazed, wanting—left looking more normal.
More like themselves again.
The more Tank kept himself locked down, the less they seemed to cling to his presence.
It was working.
By lunchtime, Jason showed up, leaning against the counter with a smirk.
“Quite the crowd you had outside,” he said.
Tank rolled his eyes, wiping down his tools. “Yeah, well. They’re getting back to normal.”
Jason hummed. “Are they? Or is it just because you’re not feeding them anymore?”
Tank stiffened.
Jason’s smirk widened. “You are keeping it contained, right?”
Tank shot him a look. “Yes.”
Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Because you still need to be a functional member of society, not some… sex demon hairdresser.”
Tank laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll manage.”
Jason leaned in, lowering his voice. “But just so we’re clear—you could make them all drop to their knees right now if you wanted to, huh?”
Tank’s stomach tightened.
He didn’t answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
---
5 – The Exhaustion Sets In
By the time the last client left, Tank was wiped out.
Not physically.
Not even from working on his feet all day.
But from the mental effort of keeping himself caged.
He slumped into his chair, rubbing his face, the pendant warm against his chest.
It had done its job.
No one left drooling after him. No one collapsed into worship.
He had kept it under wraps.
For now.
Jason locked the front door, stretching. “So? Think you can keep this up?”
Tank chuckled, voice rough. “I have to, don’t I?”
Jason gave him a look. “I mean, technically? No. You could just let go and see what happens.”
Tank exhaled slowly. “Yeah. And then my shop turns into a den of sin.”
Jason snorted. “Like The Den already isn’t?”
Tank smirked but didn’t answer.
Because the truth was there, pressing at the edges of his mind.
If he wanted to—if he let himself go—
This wouldn’t just be a barbershop anymore.
It would be an altar.
A throne.
And every man who walked through those doors would leave changed.
The thought thrilled him.
And terrified him.
---
6 – Preparing for the Week Ahead
After Jason left, Tank locked up the shop and headed home.
He showered, the hot water soothing his overworked mind.
This was his new reality now.
Balancing his normal life with the power curling inside him.
The week ahead was full of clients, gym sessions, business as usual.
But beneath it all—
There was the whisper of something more.
Something waiting.
Because Atlas was coming back.
And when he did?
Tank knew he’d have to decide.
Would he keep fighting to stay normal?
Or would he finally let go?
He dried off, exhaling slowly.
For now, he just had to survive the week.
But deep down?
He already knew how this story was going to end.
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