The viral video

by NBCK99

After a video titled “Four-Armed Ballet Guy” goes viral, Viraj can’t get the dancer off his mind.

After that video went viral, I got kind of obsessed. I couldn’t stop watching. I looked for more follow up videos. Sometimes I watched just to be mesmerized. Sometimes I used it to jack off. I started fantasizing about the guy, wanting to meet him, wanting to know who he was in his regular life. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about “Four-Armed Ballet Guy.”

Every so often, one of those dance videos goes viral. A particularly talented and beautiful person or duo, usually dancing to a popular song, really feeling the music and just looking generally stunning. On the surface, this video was basically that. The video started with Four-Armed Ballet Guy in a large dance studio, clad in gray tights and ballet shoes and nothing else, pacing around and doing a couple stretches before getting into his starting pose. God, I could watch just that part all day. Just the way his legs moved when he walked was hypnotizing. He was relatively lean the way ballet dancers are, but he had the powerful quads and calves of someone truly dedicated to their training, and you could see every movement of those powerful legs through the thin tights.

He also had luxurious blond hair that cascaded over his bare shoulders. I don’t know how many times I rewatched as he tied it back into a neat ponytail, shaking his head a little to make it fall behind his neck. I imagined running my fingers through that hair, tying it back myself, and straightening it out so it fell perfectly between his wide shoulders. After his hair was tied back, his otherworldly face was more clearly visible. He was truly beautiful. Everything from his light eyes to his angular nose and round lips was just perfectly shaped and aligned. I don’t know how many times I paused the video just to stare at that face.

Once the dance started, the music was almost inconsequential. I mean, he had great timing, and he obviously felt connected to the song, but what could matter more than that body? His four arms were relatively lean but unbelievably defined, just like his legs. He had perfect control over their movement. In every step, he was equal parts grace and power, extending those four arms in all directions, reaching out like he could touch the edges of the earth. Some commenters were amazed he could balance so well with four arms swinging around. Some commented on how good his technique was while the rest of us just assumed they knew what they were talking about. Some commented on how hot he was. A few even said he should do a nude dance video.

I knew there was something a little unreal about Four-Armed Ballet Guy. I mean, who even has four arms? That’s not normal, right? When I first saw the video, my instinct was to say it was a manipulated video or he was some kind of mutant, but somehow those thoughts were quieted and I started to take it for granted that he both had four arms and was perfectly normal. If I even tried to question it, my brain just told me to watch the video again and remember how much it turned me on. Of course I still didn’t quite see him as normal, though. He was the only person in the world with four arms, and he was also one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. He was different, a step above the average man. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I had to meet him.

I don’t know exactly how or why I hatched my plan to meet Four-Armed Ballet Guy in person. I just know the thought of seeing him in person wouldn’t leave me. Of course by the time I got to hatching this plan, I had already obsessively learned as much as I could about him. He didn’t really have that much social media presence for someone with a viral video. He had a couple other videos, but they all had elements of the viral video. Some just showed him walking around and doing stretches with that stunning hair hanging loose and falling over his bare shoulders. Others were clips of solos, apparently videos of him rehearsing for upcoming performances. But where was he performing? I tried finding what company he performed for, but he couldn’t be professional yet. Any savvy company would take advantage of having a performer with a viral video, but no company had claimed him.

So was he still in college? Maybe an elite conservatory? He apparently wasn’t in the habit of sharing information about himself, but if someone like him was going to a college or conservatory, surely they would want to show him off. I found myself looking up colleges with top dance programs. Okay, so I was definitely going into stalker mode, but I couldn’t help myself. Finally I found something. Unbelievably, it was a college not far from me. “Central Valley Conservatory senior goes viral!” That was the banner on the arts school’s website. Upon reading the short article, I learned that Four-Armed Ballet Guy did in fact have a name—Elijah Hale.

All right, I’d found him. Now what? Was I just going to go there, find the building with the dance studios, and wait for him to appear? Was I really doing this? But I already knew the answer. I was too far in. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And somehow it seemed right. Just like him having four arms. No one had four arms, but it was natural for him. And traveling to find him was natural for me. He wouldn’t be mad or weirded out—I was sure of it.

So I went. I drove to Central Valley University and found the Conservatory. There was a grand entrance with a couple wide steps up to the main doors. I couldn’t bring myself to go in. I wanted to find the dance studio where he’d recorded his videos, maybe even see him dance, but I couldn’t. I had to wait for him.

I started to wonder what Four-Armed Ballet Guy—Elijah—would think of me when he saw me. We looked nothing alike. I’d been told I was very cute, but I definitely wasn’t on his level. Who was? He was a tall pale blond—I wasn’t sure quite how tall he was because he only performed alone in his videos, but he looked so long that I figured he had to be well above average height. I was a small brown guy. I worked out a bit. The one part of my body I was really proud of was the one place Elijah wasn’t very endowed—my chest. I had pretty thick pecs that really stood out on my shorter body. I’d worn a blue tank top that really accentuated the size of my pecs. What would a long, lean dancer like him think of a short, stocky guy like me? I couldn’t stop running my hand through my shaggy hair. I was starting to feel ridiculous. Why had I come out here?

And then the doors opened, and he was there. A gaggle of dancers, mostly tall, lean, beautiful men, stepped through the doorway. The men all wore tank tops or incredibly tight shirts that showed off their tight yet defined torsos. All of them except Elijah Hale. Four-Armed Ballet Guy stood in the middle of the group, and all eyes looked up at him. And they really looked up. He was a full head taller than any other guy in the group. His hair hung down over his shoulders. His bare shoulders. Even outside the dance studio, Elijah wore no shirt. At first I thought it was because of his four arms, but he could have easily worn a larger version of the tank tops that his friends were wearing. I suddenly imagined him in an extra long version of the blue tank top I was wearing. The image was almost as hot as the image of his naked chest.

Elijah wrapped two of his arms around his friends while using a third to hold his bag. Everything he did was perfectly balanced and graceful. I could watch him do mundane things all day just to see how he moved. The guys walked down the steps, the moment ended, and they started walking their separate ways. Elijah waved to his friends—god, just watching him wave in different directions with three arms got me going—and then he turned to face me.

At first I was paralyzed. Four-Armed Ballet Guy was here in the flesh, looking at me. Elijah was just wearing a pair of sandals and faded jeans that were slung low across his hips. His four arms hung at his sides. I was getting turned on, so I looked away from his body. But oh god, my gaze landed on his face, and that was just as bad, maybe worse. I wanted to kiss those lips. I wanted to rub my face in his chest. I wanted to wrap my arms around his narrow waist and slip my fingers under the waistband of those jeans. At that thought, my eyes dipped down to his waist where those jeans sat, seemingly barely staying up. God, he wasn’t even wearing underwear, was he?

Elijah smiled at me, and it broke the spell. I could breathe again. He stepped forward and held out one of his right hands. “I’m Elijah Hale,” he said, “but you already knew that.” Even his voice was beautiful.

I stepped forward too, feeling like I was in a dream. “Viraj. Viraj Dhawan.” I shook his hand, and mine felt so small compared to his. His fingers were so long. God, I barely came up to his chest.

“Viraj,” he repeated. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? What do you mean?”

He didn’t respond to my question. Instead he asked, “Want to see me dance?”

I almost wondered if that was a euphemism for something, but he turned and started heading back toward the conservatory building. I followed as if in a trance. As we walked, I continued to marvel at his body. His ass really filled out those jeans in the back, and his powerful legs looked amazing even under the denim. His back was a perfect V, so narrow at the waist but so broad at the top where his shoulders branched out into four arms. And those arms. They swung in tandem, creating such a sense of balance. How did he manage all of them at once? How were they each so perfectly proportioned, perfectly defined, perfectly powerful and beautiful and graceful?

Before I knew it, we were standing at the doorway of a dance studio I recognized. This was it, the place where he recorded his videos. Elijah took off his sandals and glanced at my feet. I took off my shoes before walking into the spacious studio.

“I’ve gotten plenty of requests to dance nude,” Elijah told me, “but I knew I had to wait for the right time. And the right audience.” With that, he unzipped his jeans and slipped them off right there in the dance studio. I was getting seriously chubbed. His cock was naturally perfectly proportioned like the rest of him. It wasn’t huge compared to his seven foot frame, but it had to be at least four inches soft, and it was very thick.

He began to pace, periodically stopping to stretch, just like he did in his videos. I knew what was coming next, but he surprised me by sitting down. He sat cross-legged, facing away from me. I remembered one of my recurring fantasies, and I knew what to do. As I approached, Elijah slipped a hair band off of his front left wrist and handed it to me. Even sitting down, his head came up to the bottom of my ribs. I reached down and stroked his broad shoulders a few times. Then I began to stroke his hair, gradually gathering it all up, pulling every loose strand off his shoulders. Once I had it tied up, I gently laid the ponytail down between his shoulder blades.

I backed away toward the mirror and sat down to enjoy the show. I had to take a moment to adjust myself as I sat down because I had gotten painfully hard. My thick cock stretched toward my hip, very noticeable under my pants. I expected Elijah to get up, but he instead got into a starting pose on the floor. With no music, he began to dance. The beauty and intensity of his videos was nothing compared to seeing him in person. His bare legs and feet accentuated every pose and movement. His four arms moved in perfect harmony. And his cock swung around with every move, turning me on more and more. He danced and danced, moving effortlessly across the room. And then he moved toward me.

Elijah was still dancing. Every movement was as graceful as the last, but now there was a feral quality, a sexiness to his movements as well. His eyes latched onto mine as he danced, moving slowly but deliberately toward me. At last he was on the floor again directly in front of me, two hands on the ground and two hands holding onto my shoulders. He took a few deep breaths—all that dancing had clearly left him winded. And then he kissed me.

We kissed for a long time. He moved closer to me and hugged me with all four arms. He grabbed my waist with two hands while he pulled my shirt off with the others. I felt up his chest and his ass, and I gave his cock a few rubs and squeezes as it got hard. We rolled around, me on top of him, him kneeling over me. We kissed lightly, we made out hungrily, our tongues dancing. We kissed each other’s necks and cheeks and chest. At some point he unbuttoned my pants and grabbed my throbbing boner, freeing it from its confines in my underwear. We kissed for a very long time right there on the floor of the dance studio.

At some point I came out of the haze that had surrounded me. We were having a quiet moment, just giving each other a few pecks and staring at the other’s body. “What did you mean when you said you were waiting for me?” I asked.

“You’re the whole reason I started making videos,” Elijah told me. “I knew you were out there, but I didn’t know how to find you. This is going to sound cocky, but I’ve always been sort of above normal people.” I didn’t think it was cocky at all. It was simple fact. “But I knew one day I would meet my match.”

My eyebrows rose as far as they could. His match? If he was so beyond normal, how could I measure up to that? I expressed my thoughts to him.

“Viraj Dhawan,” Elijah said. It was strange, but I felt like there was power in those words when he said my name. “You are special in ways you can’t imagine. That’s why you need me, and it’s why I need you.” He sounded so serious, and his words echoed with such resonance that I had no choice but to believe him.

Elijah stood up, and I did the same. He turned to face the mirror, and he pulled me close to him. We were an odd couple for sure. I was a mere 5’3” while he towered over me. I was pretty sure he might be a full two feet taller than I was. I was slightly stocky with thick, hairy pecs, but otherwise I didn’t think my body was that remarkable. His body was long, perfectly defined, perfectly balanced, like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man but with only two legs. My face was cute, his was utterly beautiful. At least my dick was something to be proud of. Despite our extreme difference in size, mine was about as long and thick as his. My nearly eight inch rod was jutting out of my unbuttoned pants, dominating my small form. Besides my thick pecs, it had also been my biggest point of pride. I’d been told I really knew how to use it, too.

As I processed all these things, Elijah started describing my body out loud. Except his description seemed a little odd. “Your face is so handsome,” he told me. I had been called handsome plenty of times. “You look so manly with your black stubble, and your lips look so kissable.” Now that seemed strange. My beard came in kind of patchy, so I always stayed clean-shaven. No wait, that wasn’t right. My facial hair came in so thick that it was a pain to stay clean-shaven. My friends joked that my hair grew so fast I had a 2 o’clock shadow. And guys did have a tendency of staring at my face and licking their lips. A few straight guys hadn’t been able to help themselves and had given me a quick peck on the lips just to see what kissing a guy felt like.

Elijah continued, “I love the juxtaposition of how I’m tall and lean while you’re short and wide. Your muscles are so thick all over. Especially those extra round, extra hairy pecs.” Well, my pecs were my favorite attribute. I shifted my tree trunk thighs and my massive arms. I loved my pecs even if it was hard to see over them when I looked down. At that moment I could barely see the head of my thick cock past the huge furry mounds. Elijah absentmindedly ran his fingers through my forest of chest hair, and it sent shivers up my spine.

“And you know how I really know we were meant to find each other?” he asked. “We have to be the only two guys in the world who never wear sh—” He stopped suddenly. I couldn’t tell if he was lost in thought or if he had lost his train of thought completely. Obviously he was about to say shirts—I couldn’t possibly cover my massive chest with clothing, not because it wouldn’t fit but because it would be a crime against my beautiful body. But something felt off. He wasn’t about to say that at all, was he? It was as if we were in flux. I could feel the room vibrating. Maybe reality itself was in flux.

Elijah suddenly came back to himself. “We have to be the only two guys in the world who don’t wear clothes except on special occasions,” he said. And of course he was right. I hadn’t even worn underwear on the regular since I was in high school. And Four-Armed Nude Ballet Guy had naturally gone viral despite a couple half-hearted attempts to remove the nude video from social media. One of Elijah’s videos had shown him wearing the tiniest pair of spandex shorts, and I couldn’t imagine him wearing more than that.

I used the mirror to inspect my own nude body since my massive pecs impeded my vision. My shoulders were much wider than Elijah’s despite the fact that his supported four arms. Each of my shoulders supported an arm that was nearly as thick as one of his legs. My arms hung at a bit of an angle from my body due to the sheer width of my lats. I kept a wide stance due to my huge hairy thighs. My proud eight inch dick stuck out straight in front of me, leading the way.

Elijah looked down fondly at me. “I always knew I would find my other half,” he told me. “Someone with extra parts just like me.” My body tingled. I didn’t have any extra parts, but I almost imagined that if Elijah said so it would come true. “I have my two extra arms,” he said, “And you have your two—”

Time slowed down. Everything was in flux again. I felt like I had to say something to pull Elijah back. “You’re right,” I told him. “I can feel that I’m your other half. We each have everything the other wants and needs. Like how I need to be with a guy who’s nearly twice my height.” I looked up and up at the nearly ten foot tall man beside me. “And how I always wanted to be able to play with a boyfriend’s ridiculously long, silky hair.” He reached up and undid his ponytail, allowing his hair to flow all the way down his back, nearly to his bare ass. “And how I needed a partner who’s permanently, beautifully nude, just like me.”

Elijah turned from the mirror and knelt down in front of me so he could look me in the eyes. He was back in the present moment, completely clear-headed. “We really do each have what the other needs most,” he said. “I have my four long arms, and you have your four foot-long cocks. One for every hand.”

And as we kissed passionately, he proceeded to demonstrate exactly what four graceful, powerful arms could do for four oversized, needy, incredibly hard cocks.

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