Rock and roll

The field trip to the Smithfield Natural History Museum was the second lamest way to spend a morning I could think of, but since the actual lamest was sitting in class over at Smithfield (MA) Regional High lined up in our desks trying to stay awake as Mrs. Stanwyck wandered through her (quite defective) memories of the principles of secondary school science, I was pretty okay with being here, milling around mutant, malformed rocks in square Plexiglas cages, pretending to be reading the info cards when, in fact, I was stalking Bryan Miller.

Okay, “stalking” is a little strong. All I was really doing was hanging back a few paces from him as we moved circuitously through the mazelike museum, staking out a good corner to watch him from as he stopped and studied the bizarre rocks that some town father had assembled for some reason back before my grandparents had discovered fornication. Yeah, so I wasn't all that into it. But weirdly enough, Bryan was. I mean, I knew he paid attention in Mrs. Stanwyck's class, which is a feat in itself, and he got good grades, but I always figured guys as gorgeous as Bryan weren't the brainy type.

God, he was hot. My dick was half-hard in my boxers just watching him. His face was beautiful, with high cheekbones, and easy smile, and bright blue eyes. His hair was just a bit thick, and he'd been growing it out, so it was falling on the broad shoulders of his thin charcoal hoody. But what had really gotten me going the last few months was that Bryan had discovered that he liked working out. For reasons known only to him he was apparently only working his pecs and shoulders, and his thin hoody was now stretched tight across two heavy mounds that hadn't been there a year ago, while the rest of his tall, lanky body was pretty much the same as before. And you know what? I was okay with that. His pecs were amazing, and his long buff arms and legs were amazing too. And his perfect ass, which his tight jeans showed off nicely.

He straightened up from staring at some fossil or other and moved into one of the other rooms. I followed the perfect ass at a safe distance.

This room was a shade darker than the others, and smaller—I couldn't hide in here. I'd lost track of the others and realized they'd all moved off in other directions. It was just Bryan, engrossed in a gray-purple rock the size of a box turtle in another Plexiglas cage. In the dim light it seemed to sparkle slightly. No, not sparkle—shimmer.

I started to back out, to lurk for him to emerge into a more stalkable room. Then I stopped and hesitated. And I said to myself, fuck it, and crept up beside him.

He glanced up at me and flashed a brilliant smile that made me shiver. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” That was the sum-total of my eloquence in that moment. If called upon to give my own name or describe my bedroom, I think I wouldn't have managed anything more than “Hey.”

He was fascinated by the rock. Which, come to look at it, was pretty cool looking.

“You're in a my algebra class too,” Bryan was saying. God, was he actually talking to me?

“Uh, yeah. And, uh, gym.”

“Right.” And we just looked at the rock a minute, him in earnest, me in confusion.

I was waiting for him to say he'd seen me looking at him, but I was still hung up on him talking to me at all. Where was his entourage? Gorgeous guys like him always had three or four guys clustered around them, talking about cars and tits. “Hey, um, aren't you friends with Jimmy Loftus?”

He shrugged his perfectly wide shoulders. “Why, you know him?”

“No! No, I just, um, figured you guys hung out all the time.”

Bryan moved around to the next side so he could read the info card. “Sometimes. He's not really all that, um—”

“Smart?”

Bryan flashed me another devastating smile. God, I wanted him to smile at me like that all the time. “I was trying to be diplomatic,” he said, still smiling as he returned his attention to the display.

“This rock is probably smarter then he is,” I snorted.

“Heh,” Bryan said. “Well, it does say here that there's a legend this rock grants wishes, so you may be right.”

I knew what I'd wish for. “What kind of wishes?” I said, mostly to keep the conversation going. He was talking to me like we knew each other, like we were friends or something! Or lunchroom mates, anyway.

“Psychomorphic,” he said. When I said nothing he looked up an translated: “Shape transformation.”

“Cool. Well, since you don't need it, can I have it?” I said, jokingly. I thought.

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

I looked at him, scoping him out without even meaning to. Damn, that charcoal hoody was tight across those pecs. “Nothing,” I said. “Just, you know. You've got the whole package.” I said the last as offhandedly as I could, but really there is no way in the universe to tell a dude he's hot.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt my face redden. But he just said, “Huh.” Then: “So suppose I let you have it. What kind of psychomorphic ability would you wish for?”

“Oh, that's easy.” And then, hoping to get a laugh, I said: “Rock, give me the ability to change anyone without anyone noticing or caring!”

Bryan did laugh, and I laughed too, and I actually felt a little giddy. I wobbled just for a second, and he reached out and steadied me.

“Maybe the rock's smarter than you are, too,” Bryan laughed.

“Probably,” I said, half hurt and half amused. “Why?”

“You forgot to exempt yourself!” Bryan thought this was very funny, but he was laughing with me.

“Shit!” I said. “I'd never even know what I'd done!” He was still touching me on the shoulder. “Like I could say you had two dicks, and I'd never even know I'd changed you!”

“Well, yeah,” Bryan said, slightly embarrassed to be talking about his equipment. “But isn't the point to pick something that isn't already true?”

“Well, yeah.” Actually I'd been thinking about his twin dicks all afternoon. I'd only glimpsed them out in the open a couple of times in the locker room, but everybody knew about them, and no one cared. Weird how guys who are different get picked on, but no one had ever picked on Bryan for that. “I forgot to say two huge dicks.”

Bryan was clearly blushing now. “I dunno about huge,” he muttered. But the evidence, as always, was against him—despite the loose slacks he always wore, I could see the swinging heads of his cocks, one down each leg, brushing his perfect thighs just above his kneecap.

“I do.” Man, those cocks were gorgeous. I wanted to see them, but I never had—Bryan was excused from gym class, and everyone knew why. Not that anyone thought twice about it, but for me, it was luscious cock, in quantity, on the school's hottest guy. “Aw, c'mon, it's not like you're cocky or anything.”

“Can we stop talking about my huge cocks?” he said with a bashful grin.

“No.”

“Steve!” he said, punching me playfully.

He knows my name. “Hey, we're friends, right?” I said, because I'd really been feeling something like that between us when we'd talked in the halls between classes every once in a while. It wasn't like we hung out, but he seemed to be okay with me.

“Of course.”

“Buds.”

“Absolutely. We've been hanging out together all this time, haven't we?” He grinned, and I did too. God, we'd hardly spent any time apart. We talked about everything.

“I feel like we know each other really well,” I said. Well, it was true. We did.

Bryan nodded, his beautiful face content.

“So you can tell me—what would you change about yourself?”

He glanced down. “Well, Hans and Frans do really get in the way a lot.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Bryan grinned wickedly at me. “Yeah, I do.” He cocked his head at me. “And so do you,” he added coyly.

I glanced away. “What do you mean?”

“C'mon, Steve, you're my best bud. Of course I can tell you're into my cocks.”

“It's not just your cocks,” I blurted out. I paused for a moment, but I knew our friendship was strong enough to take it. “I—I'm into you.”

He blinked. “Wow. Um—”

“I know I'm not as hot as you,” I broke in. “I wish I were.”

“God, Steve, you're the hottest guy in school!”

“Apart from you.” I grinned luminously.

“Apart from nobody.”

“But I know I'm not—your fantasy.”

Bryan bit his lip. “My fantasy's a bit—weird.”

“Tell me. I know you want to.” Which was a lie—he'd always been secretive about it. But he seemed ready to tell me now.

But still he hesitated. “I do. But—you're going to think it's weird.”

“Naw. If we know each other that well, I bet I already know.”

“You-you do?” Bryan looked suddenly nervous. And I did kind of have an idea. And wow, it was freaky.

But I really cared about Bryan. I touched his buff shoulder. A little lie wouldn't hurt. “And it's fine. I think—I think it's hot.”

Actually not that much of a lie, now I thought about it.

He decided to call my bluff. “All right then,” he said. “Tell me what you think it is. What would you look like if you were my fantasy?”

I glanced down at my superhot jock bod, bulging out of my clothes in all the right places, then glanced up at him and wiggled my eyebrows.