Enhancement program
From Metabods
Contents |
Part 1
Brandon hesitated in front of the unfamiliar door, for a reckless moment contemplated fleeing, then steeled himself and reluctantly knocked. Confidence, he told himself firmly. You have to grow some confidence.
A muffled voice called for him to come in. Surprised, he tried the knob: the door was unlocked. He turned it and opened the door.
Inside was an unexpected sight: lounging at Professor Warren’s desk, sneaker-clad feet up on the desk as if he owned the place, was a cute-faced, long-haired boytaur jock in a red four-armed musclehugging Underarmour shirt and loose navy four-legged gym shorts. He didn’t look a day over 16.
Brandon stared, acutely aware of his monster cock, which had been hard anyway (of course) and was now twitching under his tee shirt. Was this guy a student? He was almost unbearably sexy to look at. The prof’s TA? His son? Brandon, aware of the vision’s piercing blue eyes settling on him, found his voice. "Sorry, I was looking for Professor Winters." He started to withdraw in confusion.
The incredibly hot boytaur took his four oversized sneaks off the desk and planted them on the ground. "What can I do for you?" he said amiably.
Brandon didn’t know how to react. He stepped into the room almost involuntarily, allowing the door to close behind him. Outside it was blustery autumn, and the office was pleasantly warm and sunlit. "Um – oh. I, uh, assumed he would be – I mean you would be – um – "
"Older?" said the mesmerizing hunk. "I’m actually 47." He cocked his head shrewdly at the oversized boner thrumming under Brandon’s shirt. "And you must be a freshman."
"Yes sir," Brandon said miserably, aware that this boy – this professor boy! – was keen;y aware of the effect he was having on him. He wanted to touch his cock badly. Very badly.
The boytaur prof shook his head, causing his long dishwater-blond hair to brush his bulging shoulders. "I told the Magic Department that offering new matriculants six extra inches of cock this year was overkill," he said conversationally as he gestured Brandon into a chair. "But the provost loved the idea, and now all you boys have too much cock and no idea how to get it soft. Right?"
Brandon nodded. He pulled his knapsack off his shoulder and set it down next to his own big feet (size 13). "I’ve tried everything," he said. He lowered his voice, even though there was no one else around. "I jack it, I – I suck it, I – "
"Blow you wad," the prof interposed politely.
"Quarts of it! And it’s still – " Brandon gestured frustratedly.
"Don’t worry," the boytaur prof said. "You’ll figure out how to get it soft."
Brandon blinked. "You won’t tell me?" he asked, almost pleading.
"No."
"Because all the guys touch it in the hallways," he added. "Me and all the other freshmen. It’s – I mean, it’s kind of awesome, but – " Brandon trailed off.
"Yeah, that seems to be the tradition that’s developing," the prof said abstractly, crossing his upper pair of legs. "Any visible boner is fair game. For other students," he added slowly, clearly having thought about that addendum carefully. "You must have been pretty big already," he mused, staring at the chest-high shape in Brandon’s tee shirt.
"My nickname back in Milwaukee was Trigger," Brandon said glumly.
The prof raised an eyebrow. "Why’d you come here, if you were already too big?"
Brandon shrugged. "You’ve got the best biology program in the country."
The prof nodded, scratching absently with a seven-fingered right hand under his soccer ball pecs, which were stretching the Underarmour mercilessly. "So what brings you here today, Brandon?"
"Well I – wait, I didn’t tell you my name!"
The prof grinned, causing his boyish, teen heartthrob face to become even more handsome. "Recognition augment," he said, tapping his temple. "Best enhancement I ever got. Drives the slackers in my classes nuts."
Brandon grinned unexpectedly. He liked seeing lazy students get theirs. Why go to school if not to make yourself better? Although this school seemed intent on making their students a lot better. "Um, I’m also on the school paper, and my editor assigned me to write up the ten-year anniversary of the Enhancements Program. And since you’re on the committee –"
"I see," the prof said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. After a moment he said, "Well, it’s not like it was rolled out as any kind of consistent program or anything. It wasn’t planned. Heck, it started with the Chess Club, and no one even knew about it at first."
Brandon was surprised, and also instantly wary. He’d been on the Chess Club back in high school in Wisconsin, and he knew that mentioning such an entity was likely to be followed by abuse.
"Not that there’s anything wrong with Chess Club," added the prof idly, coincidentally or shrewdly responding to Brandon’s thoughts. "I was in one myself, back when I – well, when I actually was as old as I look. But anyway," he added, then paused. "You’d better start with the memos." The prof stood up for the first time, revealing he was close to seven feet tall.
Brandon caught himself staring at the prof’s four thick, gorgeous legs as he turned and walked over to the file cabinet by the window. Brandon suddenly felt his balls churning and, staring at the prof’s lusciously muscled hind ass as his rifled through the top cabinet drawer, he desperately pulled his shirt collar down to expose his swollen cock and reached his head down, just in time to swallow his fourth quart of cum today. God, it tastes amazing, he thought again, his mind, body, and oversized cock exploding with pleasure.
It subsided too late for him to hide his obscene appendage in time for the prof to turn around. But the boytaur prof judiciously said nothing, pretending to be immersed in the stack of files he’d retrieved from the drawer until Brandon could finish cumming and shamefacedly put pulled his cum-damp shirt collar back up over his enormous cock.
"So, er, look through these," the prof said, handing him the stack as if nothing had happened, "and then come see me for an interview."
Brandon nodded, taking the papers with a shaking hand. He stuffed them in his backpack and bolted.
