YEAR ONE September
It seemed like a long way, but it was only two flights of stairs to get to Barry’s new dorm room on campus. Starting college was both an opportunity for excitement and trepidation. Eighteen years old and out of the house for the first time. He wondered if he’d like being so far from home, but was looking forward to the freedom and the chance to discover himself without his parents or his old group of friend’s preconceptions and expectations.
He had an overstuffed backpack on his shoulders, and two large suitcases followed behind him as he pulled them up the stairs one at a time. He wasn’t a small dude, but he wasn’t some scholarship-toting football hero, either. Six-feet tall in his stocking feet, lanky from a summer spent doing yard work around the neighborhood to help pay off the student loan that granted him access to this college, Barry had what was referred to by some as a ‘swimmer’s build,’ though nowhere near as streamlined as a certain pot-smoking Olympian. He was drenched with sweat as he reached his floor, his thin GAP T-shirt clinging tenaciously to his torso, and he danced around the other trunks, duffels and suitcases of everyone else moving in at the same time that lined the slender hallway.
It was an old college, and not exactly swimming in money. They still had separate dormitories for the boys and the girls, and these were quite full. Barry would be doubling up with someone for the year, and he was also split about his feelings on that subject. Would he be stuck with some lead-headed juice monkey or maybe a semi-braindead trust fund baby just killing time until daddy handed over the reins to the family fortune?
And why was he always thinking the worst about people? Maybe his roommate would be totally cool, like he was, and totally into 30 Rock and Doctor Who and the Final Four and watching movies so bad they’re good. Maybe they’d get along fine and become best friends and share homework and shit like that? Why did he always immediately think everyone else was such a jerk?
His room was ludicrously small. There was barely room for two beds, let alone two occupants and all their stuff. He knew it was a bad idea packing so much shit. Half his junk would probably never even make it out of the suitcase! He pushed through the doorway and dragged his luggage inside, shoving it around behind the door before he collapsed in a sweaty, tired heap on one of the beds.
The building was echoing with the sounds of his new male classmates all shoving their own collections of junk around, greeting each other, making new friends, bargaining for beds and figuring out that the in-room bathrooms did not include showers, which were communal and located at the end of each floor. It was a bit like living in a YMCA, only with more walls and less religion. Still, a contented smile wound across his lips and he sighed.
He was here. In college. At last.
He was overcome with a sudden tiredness and wondered if he could just lie there and take a short catnap before dealing with unpacking when he could feel the bed shake under his body. In fact, it seemed as if the entire floor was shaking, if not the entire building. It was a subtle, constant thudding, like the steady pounding of of some equipment shoving pylons into the ground. Then it abated somewhat and fell to a duller thud.
It grew a bit stronger as he lay there, his eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation and wondering what the hell it was when he almost-siesta was interrupted by a voice asking, “Is this 302?”
The voice was absurdly resounding, like the rumble of a bear awoken from a winter’s sleep and none too happy about it. Low, deep and powerful, it was a voice that comes from a man, not a college-bound boy, and it made Barry’s eyes snap open and he sat up quickly, as if called to attention.
In the doorway—in fact, blocking the entire space and then some—stood the largest person that Barry had ever met with. The man’s shoulders stretched so wide that he was turned slightly sideways just to fit. He was ducking his head, because he looked like he was approaching seven feet in height. And everything about him, from every angle and every inch of his huge, wide, thick body was bulging outward as if he had been inflated, but the man was not fat by any means. It was perfectly clear from the way his clothes gripped his body that it was all muscle.
Barry felt his heart beat faster, though whether it was from fear or excitement was hard to judge. He looked up the immense body toward the face, and was a bit staggered to see such a youthful, handsome visage mounted on that brutal musclebound frame. The face had a smile on its lips, and its eyes were bright blue. A scruff of beard, maybe a two- or three-day’s growth, dusted his strong jaw and chin, and an unkempt shock of straw-blonde hair erupted on his head like the sun’s rays. “Is this 302?” he asked again. He was holding a piece of paper in one hand. The other gripped the strap of a nylon duffle slung over one of his massive shoulders.
“Yeah,” Barry said softly.
The hulk moved into the room, nearly fully occupying what was not already occupied, stuck the piece of paper between his teeth—white as chalk and perfectly straight—and pushed his hand forward in greeting. “Mtm,” he said.
Barry wrinkled his brow and looked at the broad, huge paw. It lead up to a ham-sized forearm with more muscles than Barry thought there were in an entire body, and a network of thick veins like a river’s tributaries over a mountain range. Further up the arm, the dude’s biceps and triceps erupted like boulders on a landscape of bronze. The dude reached back to take the paper from between his lips and repeated, “I’m Tim. I think I’m your new roommate.”
“Oh,” Barry said. “I’m Barry.”
“Cool,” Tim answered. “That the bed you want?”
“I didn’t really—”
“‘Cause you kind of sweated all over it,” Tim observed. “Not that I care, but it seems kind of like you’ve already marked your territory.” His smile increased in wattage, creating dimples in his sculpted cheeks and crow’s feet next to his blue eyes. His beard, made of the same golden hair that topped his regal head, seemed almost to sparkle is it adjusted itself across the squared contours of his masculine countenance.
“I wasn’t… I didn’t… no, no, if you want this one, I mean, I wouldn’t….”
“No sweat,” Tim answered, “if you’ll pardon the pun.” He hefted the duffle off his shoulder and casually tossed it onto the other bed. “Small, huh?” Barry looked down at himself. “Small room,” Tim clarified. “You look just fine.”
“Not big on conversation, huh? That’s okay. I usually talk enough for two people, anyway. At least, that’s what my friends used to say.” He suddenly stuck one hand behind his head and stretched his entire frame, arching his back and pushing his prominent and awesome pectoral shelf forward. It made the tight shirt he wore ride up his torso and exposed a 4-pack of his 6-pack, which looked about as well-developed and deeply defined as any that Barry had ever seen. What did this guy do, live at the gym? “That the head?”
Barry’s eyes had been drawn to Tim’s mid-section, but now they went back up the man’s incredible body to find his face again. Tim nodded to the left and asked, “Bathroom?”
Tim grinned and reached down, unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans open. “Gotta take care of some business,” he said. “Long trip, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Barry said, “sure.”
“Um, are you gonna stick around?” Tim was pulling each button of his fly open with a slow obviousness, as if illustrating some point. It drew Barry’s attention back down the other man’s body and he realized that Tim not only wasn’t wearing any underwear, he also owned what could be described as a fucking beast of a dick that was insistently pushing against the overburdened basket of his jeans.
Pop! went another button. The glistening crown of golden pubes emerged. Pop! The sleek, sweaty shank of Tim’s shaft could be seen. His cock adjusted itself, extending along his hip. “What?” Barry asked, mesmerized by the sheer size of the other man’s equipment.
“Could you watch my stuff?”
“Watch?” Pop! Another button undone. His shaft was thick and crimson and fat.
“My stuff,” Time explained. Then he waved his hand at Barry’s face to get his attention again, and gestured at the duffel bag on the other bed. “While I relieve myself.”
“Sure,” Barry answered.
Tim’s pants were pulled open. His cock was still lodged inside, so long that it extended inches along his hip. His pelvis was flat and his pubic bush was thick. Just how fucking big was he? “Thanks, I’ll only be a few minutes. Sometimes takes a little while to, you know, drain the snake.” Then he turned—holy shit, even his butt looked like it was made of muscle—and retreated into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Only then did Barry’s head clear, and he noticed a particular and peculiar scent in the room. It was rank and slightly musky, reminding him mostly of a locker room or, weirdly, the smell of a sweaty jockstrap. He hand’t noticed it until Tim was no longer in sight, but now that he was gone the smell was distinct.
The big man’s movements as he did whatever he had to do in the little bathroom sounded a bit like a bull trying to maneuver inside a closet. Hard thumps and deep crunches, accompanied by grunts and moans, exited the bathroom. Then everything fell silent for a few heartbeats and Barry waited for the familiar sound of water splashing into water as his new roommate ‘relieved himself.’
At first there was no sound at all. The smell in the room was growing subtly stronger, though, and Barry realized that it was getting hotter, now, which was odd considering his shirt was still cool against his skin with his sweat, and he’d had a chance to calm down from his stair climbing. But it was growing perceptibly warmer, and oddly it felt not like the room was growing hotter, but that Barry’s skin was.
He swallowed into a dry throat and felt the shorthairs on the back of his neck tingle. His hands were clammy and his upper lip began to sweat. A familiar but surprising sense of sexual throbbing erupted in his cock and spread outward, pushing up the length of his prick and licking the head. He felt his balls move and his cock started growing hard and thick in his jeans. He reached down to adjust himself and realized his was growing erect, though he wasn’t sure why.
Now some new sounds were coming from the bathroom. Slick, wet, stroking sounds, accompanied by Tim’s low, powerful voice whispering or moaning something unintelligible, though it sounded like ‘yeah’ or ‘god yeah’ or ‘fuck yeah.’
“Are…are you okay?” Barry asked. He was uncomfortably warm, himself, and his cock was now pushing with painful urgency against his zipper. He had an almost overwhelming desire to pull it out and start jerking off, even with the dorm room door standing open and a parade of dorm occupants streaming by. “Are you…are you hot?”
There was a pause in the noise from inside the bathroom. “Hot?” Tim asked.
“It feels… it feels hot for some reason.”
Another pause. “Well…it is still summer.”
“Yeah,” Barry answered. “Not that kind of hot.”
“Oh,” Tim replied. “Um, just a minute, I’m nearly ther…done.”
“No problem,” Barry said, rubbing his palm across the hard contour of his hard-on. “Fuck,” he whispered. He’d never felt so horny for no known reason in his life. His whole body felt good. And his cock was rock-hard.
More slick noises from the bathroom. The heat grew stronger, still. Barry was sweating again, this time without having to haul any luggage up any stairs. His cock was huge in his pants, a thick shank of sex meat that needed attention. Tim’s voice grew silent as the heat continued to increase. Barry felt a surging release of precum erupt up the length of his prick and tickle the tip with its wet warmth.
Suddenly, Tim groaned with evident satisfaction and the wet stroking sound turned into something more like licking or lapping, as if he had an ice cream cone in there and was trying desperately to finish it all. At the same moment, Barry’s sense of sexual overload peaked and he arched his head and let out a soft moan and found himself achieving orgasm without ever having even touched himself. A sudden cascade of wet warmth accompanied the exquisite orgasmic release inside his pants, and the heat of sex turned into the heat of embarrassment.
His cock jerked a half-dozen times and he could feel the warm, sticky load in his pants bathe his hard-on and his balls before draining over his taint and dripping around his asshole. It grew cooler as it travelled, and he was only slightly relieved when he saw that there was no outward evidence that he had just now, somehow, spontaneously cum inside his jeans.
Now that he had achieved orgasm, the heat was dissipating and his cock was growing mercifully limp once again. He could hear movement inside the bathroom and he pivoted quickly on the bed so that his back was to the door when it opened, and he could feel the looming presence of his new gargantuan roommate as he re-entered the room. “Sorry about that,” he said with his powerful voice. “I guess I wasn’t quite as prepared as I thought I was.”
Hearing his name sent a tingle of excitement and fear through Tim’s huge, muscular form. He was grinning foolishly as he stepped up to the podium where Mr. Titus stood, a diploma in one hand and the other offered openly, waiting to shake one of his graduating student’s hands. Tim, like the other members of Mr. Titus’s rather unusual class, wore no robes or miter. None of them had been allowed to participate in the usual graduation ceremony, for obvious but unfair reasons, so they elected to wear their customary school uniform—being no clothing at all.
The entire graduating class of The Muscle Club, some two dozen naked young men with bodies overwhelmed with bulging masses of brawn, some with thick carpets of fur, others bare, but every one of them gifted with a set of sexual equipment that would put any porn star to shame, stood within the converted gymnasium that had become their home away from home. It was here where they had received their educations after their bodies had changed so dramatically—growing as huge and as strong as their unstoppable and constant libidos—and it was here where they were going to leave their high school behind and start their adult lives.
Mr. Titus was wearing a dapper suit of navy blue that almost fit his own well-muscled form, perhaps out of deference to his position as teacher, or perhaps in an attempt to hide the way in which his own body mirrored the superhuman levels of muscular and sexual development of his students. The collar of his shirt was open, and his tie was only loosely tied around his gargantuan neck. The other buttons of the dress shirt only barely hung on, stretched to their limit by the sheer thickness and width of his massive pectoral shelf.
Tim reached forward with both hands, accepting the certificate of high school graduation in one and Mr. Titus’s firm, warm, welcoming grip in the other. “Congratulations,” his teacher said, the man’s voice a deep and powerful rumble like the movement of the earth. Tim’s face broke into a wide and beautiful smile and he shook the other man’s hand with pride.
“Thanks!” He said it, and he meant it. Without Mr. Titus, none of them would be here today. No other teacher even bothered with them, anymore. And none seemed to give a damn except this man, whose pride of his students was shining on his handsome face.
Tim performed a small bow of his head and stepped away from the podium, accompanied by the applause and cat calls of his fellow graduates. “Go, Timebomb!”
“Woohoo! It’s the bomb!”
“Fuckin’ A, Timebomb!” It would take hours—maybe even days—before Tim’s foolish grin left his face.
If the ceremony itself had not been the sedate affair that the other graduates had enjoyed, the graduation celebration that followed was even less so. There were only a couple dozen of the members of Muscle Club present, but they made the best of their final hours together. Certainly, they had the entire summer to enjoy, but there would be less opportunity for them all to be together like this.
The orgy that manifested was epic. Though these super-muscled, super-sexed and super-handsome young men had very little in the way of personal walls to be breached in the form of sexual congress in the first place, all and any of those walls came crashing down as they thrust, sucked, rasped, licked, jerked, kissed, fingered and fucked their way to a form of sexual nirvana that would be remembered for a long time—or at least until the next graduating class. It was a wonder that the gymnasium itself didn’t melt as the heat of passion and sex filled it to overflowing, and the grunts and moans and shouts of orgasmic bliss echoed from it until dawn.
Some weeks later, and Tim was ready to leave the small town where he had lived all his life so far, venturing to the college a few states away where he had been accepted. Luckily for him, the college knew nothing about his unique physical attributes or the unusual education he had received in high school. They only cared about his transcripts and the tuition he was paying them, and had no idea what they were bringing into their campus.
“Are you sure about this?” Mr. Titus asked, one last time. “I’m not entirely certain that going off alone is a good idea.”
Tim shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s where I’ve wanted to go—even before I joined The Club. I… I think I can handle it.”
‘Handle it’ meant being away from the support of his brother in Muscle Club, support that was not only emotional and sexual, but the kind of support that he wouldn’t have at all on his own. His body now craved the constant physical attentions that only the other young men in The Club could understand—and perform. His body was an overheated sexual machine, capable of constant erections and non-stop orgasmic pleasure.
How could he survive the onslaught of his libido and his body’s constant need without the support of his brothers? And could he somehow curtail himself and his desires when thrust into an environment where there were so many worthy targets of his lust and his abilities to transform other young men into a being like himself?
“I’m sure you can,” Billy Titus said, and if he was feeling any doubt, he did not let it into his voice. “I’d feel better, though, if there was another Muscle Club member to accompany you.”
Tim shrugged again. Most of the graduating class was staying put, unwilling or unable to part with the support and attention of the other guys. Only a few of them had elected to leave, and Tim would be the only Muscle Club graduate venturing off alone into the world. “I’ll come back as much as I can,” he said. “You know I can’t stay away from the guys for too long.”
Billy nodded. “I do know,” he said. Then, uncharacteristically and quite surprisingly, Billy leaned forward and kissed Tim on the mouth quite passionately. Tim was shocked at first—Mr. Titus was always very careful not to engage in any type of shenanigans with his students, much to their disappointment and constant harassment. But Tim wasn’t his student anymore, and Billy kissed him with eager and unabated passion.
It was a very good kiss. Tim could feel it to his toes. It was an open ‘secret’ that Billy and another of his students, the buzz-cut blonde named Carl, were engaged in an on-going tryst, and Tim suddenly felt a strong pang of jealousy toward the dude if this was the kind of passion that smoldered so deeply inside the teacher. Fuck, if he had to curtail his own lusts, he supposed his kisses would feel like this, too.
He kissed him back, feeling a growing sense of urgency and passion building within him, but the kiss ended and Billy slapped his ass hard. “Something to remember me by,” he said with a wink.
“Holy fuck,” Tim whispered. “That was intense.”
Regret crept into his head as he looked at the other man, but then Billy Titus smiled and walked away, leaving Tim standing at the bus stop with a monster hard-on throbbing in his jeans.
“Sorry about that,” Tim said, “I guess I wasn’t quite as prepared as I thought I was.”
“No problem,” Barry answered. “I…uh…are you done? ‘Cause I kind of have to use the john myself.”
“Yeah,” Tim answered. “I’m done.” Barry felt a hand grip his shoulder and squeeze slightly. “How about you? Are you done?”
“Am I done what?”
“I didn’t tell you my nickname, did I?”
“We all get nicknames in the Club. Sometimes it’s based on what you look like, or something you do. My nickname is Timebomb. Kind of a joke on my name—Tim Balmer. But it’s also because…could you turn around, Barry? Feels kind of weird talking to the back of your head.”
“I’d rather not,” Barry admitted.
“It’s okay,” Tim said, soothingly. “I think I know what happened.”
“If we’re going to be roommates, it’s become suddenly clear that I have to be a lot more honest with you than I intended.” His hand disappeared from Barry’s shoulder. He was closing the dorm room door and the sound of his bulk sitting on the bed echoed through the otherwise quiet room. “I was kind of hoping that some of this wouldn’t come up, that I could keep it a secret or something, but I guess when you’re going to spending time this close to me I should probably be honest with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Club. And me. And the timebomb.”
“I thought you were the timebomb.”
“Both,” Tim admitted. “You felt it, right?”
“What do you mean.”
“Can you turn around, Barry? Really, this is pretty weird talking to you like this.”
“I really want to go to the bathroom first.”
“Because you just came in your pants.” Barry blushed a fierce red. Tim could even see it on his neck. “Yeah, I kind of knew that. And it’s my fault.”
“How could it be—?”
“The timebomb. The reason I’m called that. It because when I go off, everyone feels it.” The hand was back, gentle but insistent. “Really, Barry, turn around. This is important if you and me are gonna be friends. And I hope we can be friends, because I have a feeling I’m going to need some really quickly.”
Barry pivoted on the bed.
Tim was shirtless. Tim was a god. Tim’s body was beyond perfect, beyond powerful, beyond anything Barry expected or conceived. Muscle everywhere. Thick plates, fat bulges, keenly defined and powerfully huge. Tim looked like some comic book superhero in the flesh. His pecs were like broad pillows of power mounted on his wide upper body. Lobes of muscle stood out starkly on his shoulders. He owned a belly of incredible cobblestones—not a six-pack but an eight-pack, with every thick bulge of muscle in perfect alignment. His cock had been repositioned inside his pants, but it crawled down one leg nearly to his knee. It stood up like a tube of thick muscle all on its own. And if the man owned an ounce of fat, it was nowhere to be seen.
“This is me. I’m kind of…special.”
“You’re a truman?”
He shook his head. “Something else. Not sure what I am, but I’m not one of those guys. I’m not super-human. Can’t fly. Can’t do all that other crazy shit. I’m just…big.”
“Everywhere,” Barry said, eyeing the other man’s enormous prick.
Tim smiled. “Yeah, well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, owning something that big. But the other part is the thing you felt just now. The timebomb.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tim shrugged. His whole collection of awesome brawn shifted and flexed as if to display the size and shape of every individual and perfectly developed muscle. “Me neither. Believe me, if I knew how to control it I would. And when I was back home, and hanging out with the other guys, it didn’t seem to be a problem. But I guess—” His blue gaze shifted south and he bit his bottom lip. “I guess it is.”
Barry swallowed. The load in his pants was growing increasingly cold and sticky. “I… I guess I understand, sort of. I mean, I know about the truman—who doesn’t? But, honestly, I’d really like to clean myself up.”
“I…okay. I understand.”
Barry stood up and walked gingerly over to his suitcase to retrieve a fresh pair of underwear and another pair of jeans. “Does this happen every time you—?”
“Every time I come? Yeah, pretty much. Trouble is, I…um…so, what do you know about trumans?”
“They’re big, like you are. Huge, in fact. Bigger than you, I guess. And like you said, supposedly they can fly, have super-strength, all these other powers. They used to run some gyms but now those are all gone, too. You can find pictures and videos of some of ’em online, occasionally someone sees one of them in person, but they mostly keep to themselves and try to stay out of the limelight. Not sure why or what happened. One day they’re everywhere, next day they’re nowhere. Like they all just disappeared.”
“Right, and that’s all I know too.” As Tim spoke, Barry went into the bathroom to change. “But the guys who started this thing I’m in, those guys weren’t trumans. They said they found something online and used that, said it was probably related to the trumans but they never really explained it. And then those two guys invited some other guys to share the discovery and they started growing muscle, too. And then things just kind of snowballed from there. Back in my hometown, there are probably a few dozen of us now. And—” He paused when Barry reappeared. “And that’s about all there is to it.”
“Not all there is.”
“Oh. Well, I think that’s just me. Something I can do. Or, I guess, something that happens. I mean, the other guys, they can do something similar but it takes a bit of concentration. Whatever happens when I…get excited…that’s just me.”
“And you can’t control it?”
“I thought I was,” he complained. His voice was a low rumble. His face looked honestly disturbed and apologetic. “I guess with the other guys, they were immune, or maybe I’m toning it down but I can’t turn it off. Honestly, Barry, I’m really sorry about that. I really didn’t think anything would happen.”
“Well, I mean, truthfully it isn’t the worst feeling. It was just…kind of…shocking.”
Tim nodded, looking abashed and embarrassed. The expression was in sharp contrast to his body, which still insisted on looking incredibly powerful and perfectly developed. Barry had never seen a chest that big. Or arms that thick. Or shoulders that wide. “So it happens every time you—?”
Tim nodded. “Well,” he started, slowly looking up, “um, really? I can do that any time I want to. It’s just that when I’m jerking off or…whatever…it seems to happen whether I want it to or not.”
“You can make it happen any time you want to?” Tim nodded slowly. “To anyone?”
“Any guy,” he said. “Only guys.”
“So, I’m just sitting here, and you can do that?” Tim nodded again. “Like the first time?”
Tim smiled and shook his head. “A lot better,” he said, almost proudly. “And a lot stronger.”
“Stronger than that?”
“A lot stronger.”
“But you were in another room and I couldn’t even see you and I came in my Levi’s.”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “A lot stronger.”
Barry’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”
Tim looked askance. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”
“You said you could do it any time you wanted to, to any other guy.” Tim nodded again. “Okay, do it to me, now. I just came, I am not feeling horny at all,” which was a lie, because there was definitely something about Tim which was making him feel really rather horny, “and you said you could make anyone—”
“How hard what?”
“How hard do you want to come?”
“How hard can you make me come?”
“Let’s say on a scale of 1 to 10, when I was in there and suppressing the timebomb and you were out here creaming your jeans, that was a 2.”
“Fuck me,” Barry said. “You’re lying.”
Tim tilted his head. “Did you want to ruin those pants, too?”
“You’re gonna do it?”
“If you want me to, why should I refuse?” He leaned back on his elbows as the bed complained with sharp creaks. The muscles along his belly stretched out and his chest spread as wide as the prairie. “You gonna take off your pants or not?”
Barry stood up. What the fuck, right? Two guys in their dorm room. They were gonna see each other naked anyway. And he’d already pretty much seen everything Tim had to offer. And he was never much of a prude, anyway. He unzipped and shoved his pants and underwear off in one plunge. “Shirt, too,” Tim advised.
“You’re gonna have a five, right?” Barry nodded. “Shirt, too.” He stripped it off. Tim’s eyes scanned the naked form before him. “Do you want it fast or slow?”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that I can make you explode right now like a rocket going off and I just pushed the button, or I can percolate you until you can’t stop yourself and you go off like a volcano with too much lava in your tube.”
“Slow? I guess?”
“Excellent answer. I like doing it slow. It helps me…finesse the results.”
“And what does that—”
Tim interrupted the question. “Every guy is different. Some guys need a lot of stroking, other guys not so much. Some guys need to be pushed pretty hard, and some guys are already standing on the edge of the cliff with one foot over the edge. Doing it slow means I can ramp up the power. If I do it fast, my idea of a five might be your idea of a nine, and that could be messy.”
“What’s a ten?”
Tim smiled again, narrowing his eyes. “Not everyone can handle a ten. My buds back home can, of course. Fuck, some of them guys probably need a twelve or a fifteen or something. But a ten is, well, it takes some personal hands-on. I can do up to a seven easy, just sitting here. Anything more than that means that you and I would need to be a lot better acquainted than we are now, me over here and you over there.”
“Oh. So, a five is good then.”
“Five is excellent. Believe me, you’ll be more than satisfied with a five.”
“When does it start?”
“Already has,” he said.
“Should I…do something?”
“Do whatever you feel like doing. But no, you don’t have to do anything. I can do it all.”
“You can get me off just by—” He suddenly went silent, because the heat was back on his skin, and the smell was back in his nostrils. It felt almost as if something else had entered the room with them, something invisible that surrounded Barry’s naked flesh and slipped its arms around his body.
“Yeah,” Tim said softly. “we’re on our way.”
Barry swallowed and kept his eyes on Tim, looking for any physical changes and if the guy was gonna do something to him. But Tim was just lying there, half-naked on his bed, lounging on the covers as his eyes traveled around Barry’s body.
It felt…good. Whatever was happening, it felt warm and comfortable. “Is that it?”
Tim shook his head. “You said do it slowly. I’m doing it slowly.” He licked his lips. “You want it faster?”
“I guess? I mean, it feels good but…oh, shit.” A sudden hard pulse struck him all at once, coating his body in heat. His cock involuntarily jerked and throbbed. The feeling of something embracing him in its strong arms increased. He felt something on his neck. He felt something on his legs, stroking the skin. The sensation crawled up higher and higher and circled around and approached his ass. “Oh, fuck,” he said softly, smiling as he looked at Tim.
“Yeah,” the other young man said, “it only gets better from here. Tell me, Barry, do you have any…sort of…walls I should know about?”
“What…oh, fuck, yeah—what kind of walls?”
“Like, if I did this—” Barry sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and went up on the balls of his feet. A distinct sensation was lapping at his asshole. Something hot and wet was there. Something fleshy and supple and talented was lapping at his butthole. “…would that be okay?” Barry nodded that it would. “And if this happened,” Tim explained, as shocks of intense sexual pleasure erupted from both of Barry’s nipples simultaneously, deep, hard throbs of electric sex that traveled through his naked body and emerged into his prick, inflating it with a shocking suddenness that made the skin grow taught and the heat surrounding it swell. “Would that put you off at all?”
“N-n-no,” Barry admitted. His hands balled into fists. Sweat trickled down his back and found its way to the crack of his ass. It seemed to sizzle as it licked his asshole, as if whatever was already there was waiting for its arrival.
“Are you having fun, Barry?” Tim’s deep voice asked.
He nodded, unable to speak. Everything felt good. His cock was at half-mast. His balls throbbed and swelled. The tingles of sex at his nipples shocked like electric sockets. The hot, wet tongue lapping at his asshole pushed for entry.
“Good. We’re at a three now. This is what three feels like.” It felt very, very good. “Are you ready to go to four?” Barry nodded. He felt a quick surge of precum in his cock. “Okay, Barry.”
Another sudden surge hit him hard. His cock inflated with painful suddenness. He almost came. A shuddering breath entered his overheated body. The tongue he could feel between his ass cheeks turned firmer and wetter and plunged into his ass. Cascades of sexual bliss showered his body like hot water. “Hmm, not sure we can go to five, Barry. You’re looking very primed right now.”
Barry opened his mouth and said, “Please.” Fuck, he felt good. He stood there, naked, with no one touching him at all, and it was already the best sex he ever felt.
“No need to beg, Barry. I’m more than happy to do this.”
Barry opened his eyes and looked at the form that lay prone across the other bed. Tim had pulled open his pants again and extracted the monster cock he owned. It towered up from between his legs, easily a foot high and probably longer than that. It was overwhelmed with veins and shiny. The head was as big as a plum and the shaft was hard and thick. He was rubbing the helmet as if calling forth a genie. A gushing flow of clear honey was draining along the crimson shank, but Tim was looking at Barry, not at the majesty of his own mammoth prick.
“This feels good, doesn’t it Barry?” A sudden thick cascade of bliss melted over Barry’s body. “And this?” The firm, wet, warm tongue pushed into his asshole, nudging his prostate with gorgeous perfect pleasure. “And this?” A throbbing, incandescent heat enveloped his cock, like the tightest, wettest, most perfect pussy in the world. “That’s both of us, Barry. Me giving it to you. You giving it back. Then both of us sharing.”
“Watch, Barry. Watch this.” His cock began growing. The shaft expanded. The tip stretched taller. The head bloomed. “Aw, fuck, Barry. Yeah. This feels amazing. You want to go to five? You want to go there together? Are you ready, Barry, my man?”
He nodded, watching Tim’s cock grow, watching the other man pleasure himself, feeling a perfect state of sexual bliss enveloping his naked body.
“Here it comes, Barry. I hope you’re ready for it. There’s no going back now.”
Tim closed his eyes. He arched his head back. He opened his mouth, his full, supple lips, and his mammoth, muscular chest rose and spread as he pulled a deep breath into his gorgeous and perfect body. Then he moved his hand down the biggest prick Barry had ever seen and released a deep, resounding growl of sexual power.
Barry came. He came hard. His whole body seemed to want to pass through his cock. His balls seized up and his lungs emptied and he was thrust into an oven of sex, a sensation so strong that it overwhelmed everything else and he grabbed his hard, massive, monster cock and shoved out thick ropes of cream over and over. He gasped and groaned and nearly blacked out from the sheer intensity of his orgasm.
It felt like he came for minutes. It felt like his cock was exploding with pure sexual power. It felt like his whole body was passing through some ideal expression of ultimate masculine perfection. He was powerful and awesome, a god striding the peak of his own making, coming gallons of hot, beautiful cream like a fountain.
He fell backwards onto his bed and felt the hot, wet splatters of his own eruption. He could hear himself cum—or maybe that was Tim. Was Tim coming too? Were they coming together? Was that his cream all over his belly and his chest and his neck and his lips? Was that Tim’s copious creamy flood released from the dam and splashing all over his naked body?
He didn’t care. Good god it felt good. So good. So good and perfect and powerful.
He was breathing hard and the room was spinning and his cock was throbbing and his body was hot and wet with cum and sweat. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. Thick ropes of cream coated his skin.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Tim growled. “Oh, Barry,” he said.
Barry sat up and looked at his roommate. What was happening—it was miraculous and awesome and weird as shit. The dude was cumming, and he was shooting like a fucking fountain. Wherever the other dude’s thick ropes of cream landed, his body seemed to soak it up like a sponge. The cream splattered against his muscled form, spreading into the creases between each thickly developed muscle, and then it disappeared, growing thinner and thinner until it simply wasn’t there anymore.
He came and he came. There was so much of it! How was this even possible?
The heat in the room and the scent of raw male sex was still strong. Barry’s spent cock was still hard and throbbing. He felt like if he could still cum more cream, he would. But his balls ached and his body was worn out. He simply couldn’t keep up with his new roommate’s insatiable sexual power.
Barry watched the display of male sexual power until it finally abated. Perhaps the well was dry, or perhaps he was simply done. Tim somehow managed to cum almost continually, shoving full, wet, hot splatters of cream all over his prone, naked body. Every fountain was thick and full and strong. And his immense body drank up every single drop of it.
Tim lay back on his bed, his immense chest rising and falling as he breathed, the eight-pack on his muscled belly expanding and contracting, and then he groaned with a kind of feral power that shook Barry’s body as if he had taken him physically. “Aw, fuck,” he moaned. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
He sat up, his belly firming into a, eye-popping display of abdominal power, and wiped the sweat from his brow. His scent hit Barry in a strong wave from his moist, uncovered armpit. The ball of his biceps was huge—as big as a football—entwined in veins that stil throbbed with power. “Sorry about that,” he said, looking at the other naked young man. “I… I tried to kind of haul it in but, you know, you’re pretty Goddamn amazing.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Tim growled. “I only do half the magic, dude. You supply the rest. And the feedback I got from you was… well, you’re pretty Goddamn amazing.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Barry retorted, though his cock was still stiff and throbbing and he could feel the sexual heat in the room like a palpable thing.
“You did enough,” Tim responded. “Fuck.” He looked down at his half-naked form and laughed slightly. “Well,” he concluded, “so much for being inconspicuous.” Sitting up, he started trying to shove his gargantuan prick back into his jeans, with little success. “Fuck,” he said again.
Barry started to laugh. The situation was absurd. “I… I gotta get cleaned up.” His own body was coated in thick, sticky slicks of cum, while Tim’s was sweaty, but completely clean of his own fat ropes of cream. “How did you do that?” he asked.
“Which?” Tim asked.
“Your body. You kind of… soaked up—?”
“Oh.” He shrugged. It made the mountains of his shoulders bunch and his enormous chest stretch and flex. “Dunno exactly. Just happens.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “Feels fucking amazing, though.”
“What… what does it—?”
“Weren’t you going to get cleaned up?”
“Oh, yeah,” Barry said. He stood up and looked down at his body, and at his stiff prick. “Is this going to go away?”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. That’s me.”
The sexual heat that had been embracing Barry’s naked flesh abated suddenly, and his cock finally started to grow limp and sink between his legs. “Jesus,” he said, realizing only now that he hand’t been fully in control since his new roommate had entered the small room with him. “You’re going to have to learn to control that.”
Tim nodded and looked a bit sheepish. “I know.”
“I mean, not that I mind, entirely. But it could get to be a bit…inconvenient.”
“Right.” he looked up. “I can try to find another roommate, if this is going to be too weird.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Barry responded.
Tim grinned. It almost made Barry’s cock start to throb all over again.
YEAR ONE September
Jeremy Meeks always thought that God had a vicious sense of humor. Why else would he be walking around in a body that was barely five and a half feet tall and weighed 120 pounds soaking wet? The name “Meeks” seemed like the cherry on his cake, and if there was one thing Jeremy Meeks was not looking forward to, it was college.
Jeremy had spent most of his educational career trying hard not to be noticed. It wasn’t a particularly difficult maneuver, and sometimes he wondered if his small stature was a direct result of his wishes to remain ignored and anonymous. He had picked a small college on purpose, though the fact that he would be boarding with a building filled with nothing but other guys—not to mention a communal shower at the end of the hall—made him feel slightly sick to his stomach.
Because what if he got hard? What if, just by accident, he was in the shower with the others and he had an erection? He had very carefully avoided showering with the other guys in high school after gym for just that reason.
He wasn’t gay! He told himself that every night. He wasn’t gay. He just…hadn’t found the right girl, yet. And maybe…maybe every guy had these feelings for a while. It was just a phase—a really, really long phase. He hadn’t met a girl—yet—that turned him on.
But, god forgive him, he’d encountered literally dozens of guys that did.
It was torture, that’s what it was. Pure torture. He could look but not touch. He had never touched anyone—well, except himself. He’d touched himself plenty! But he was still a virgin as he entered college, and for some reason that seemed worse than the chance that he was gay.
Because didn’t the one thing mean the other? Wasn’t everyone else having sex all the time? It was all they ever talked about! It was all there was on TV and in the movies and on the web. And, sure, he’d…looked…at some porn online once or twice. Or hundreds of times. Pictures of naked men. Videos of naked men. Pictures and videos of naked men having sex. With each other.
But that didn’t make him gay!
He often prayed to take the temptations away. He would fill up a folder on his hard drive with pictures, then delete everything the next week—only to start all over again in a matter of days. It was like a sickness, this liking guys instead of girls, and there had to be a cure for it.
It was a very hot day in September when Jeremy moved into the third floor dorm room at the far end of the hall. Other guys were already there, and he had been told that he’d be sharing his room with another boy—a thought that made his stomach flip. What if the guy was cute? What if he was, like, a jock or something? What if…what if Jeremy got a hard-on looking at him and they were there in the room and the other guy beat him up for being a fag? What if someone called him one? What would he do?
Those were the thoughts that haunted him as he mounted the stairs, but they all flew from his head as he came to his floor and bore witness to the scene that was taking place at that moment at the other end of the hall.
A naked man was walking toward him. He was holding a towel and using it to scrub his head, probably drying his hair from the showers. he did not even try to cover himself up, but then why would he? The naked man walking with measured steps directly toward Jeremy was the biggest, the most muscular, the most beautiful specimen of male flesh that Jeremy—even with all his perusal of naked male flesh—had ever seen.
His body was a marvel of perfectly—and incredibly—developed brawn. His skin was still slick and shiny from the showers, making him look a bit like he was made of liquid copper. Muscle, tons and tons of muscle, bulged from every inch of his colossal frame. Was he seven feet tall? Taller than that? And his shoulders filled the hallway.
As huge as he was, and as powerful as he looked, Jeremy’s eye was still drawn to the immense tube of flesh swinging ponderously between his ridiculously bulging thighs. “Hung like a horse” sprang to Jeremy’s head as he beheld the fat shank, with its low dangling head and two fat balls. A crown of damp golden curls spread above it, and water dripped along its inches and hung in heavy drops from the tip.
Then the man stopped dead in the hallway, and Jeremy’s gaze moved up his huge form and their eyes met.
“Hi,” the tall, broad, perfect, muscular god said. He was holding the towel in his hand, letting it dangle at his side, standing there totally naked and beautiful and unashamed.
“Huh…hello,” Jeremy answered.
“Moving in?” the man asked, his handsome head tilting slightly. He had a rough set of whiskers on his squared jaw, and even in the dim light of the hallway the deep blue of his eyes sparkled like jewels.
The huge giant cast his gaze around him, tossing the towel over one immense shoulder and then hiked his thumb over the other one. The ball of his biceps swelled enormously, and half of his colossal chest spread and lifted, making evident the fibers and cables of muscle beneath his tanned skin. “You’re right here,” he said. His voice was deep and soft. “You need a hand with that?” He nodded toward Jeremy’s feet, but for a moment the smaller boy though he was asking about the hard-on that was starting to throb dangerously inside his pants.
Jeremy looked down at his suitcase. “No,” he squeaked, “I can handle it.”
“You sure?” the god asked. “It’s no problem.” He folded his arms across his chest. Everything on his upper body collided with each other, shoving the muscle into fat bulges, displaying the deep divides between each thick lobe of brawny power. His cock was fat and thick and heavy, shifting in slow arcs as he moved, displaying its own heft and girth in the process.
“I got it,” Jeremy said, bending his knees to lift the heavy case and trying not to look like he was at all tested by its weight.
The big man smiled a sideways grin and one thick eyebrow arched on his noble brow. “Okay,” he said. Then he stood to one side of the hall, though his enormity still seemed to occupy most of it, anyway.
“Thanks,” Jeremy said, slightly winded.
“Don’t mention it. I’m Tim, by the way. Room 302.”
“Jeremy,” he answered.
“Nice to meet you, Jerry.”
“It’s—” He paused, sucking in a breath. Fuck, what was in this suitcase, a dead body? “It’s Jeremy.”
“Okay, Jeremy.” He pulled the towel off his shoulder and started wiping his skin off again, rubbing the white terrycloth across his rippled belly and across the wide, cabled expanse of his pectorals. “Well, if you need anything….”
“Thanks,” he said. His cock was throbbing and he made sure he kept his back to the god, so he wouldn’t see the tent rising in his pants. “But I think I got it.”
The god might have chuckled, or maybe he just cleared his throat. “Tim.”
“My name’s Tim.”
“I… I know.”
“Okay. But if you need anything, I’m in 302.”
Why was he making so sure that Jeremy knew all that? Wasn’t it embarrassing enough to be standing there towering over the little shrimp struggling with his suitcase? Didn’t he own any fucking clothes? Was this going to be a thing? This dude wandering around naked all the time torturing him? “302,” he said. “Got it.”
“Cool,” Tim answered. “Well…I guess I’ll see you later, Jeremy.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Sure.” There was a pause as the muscled jock stood there stark naked and Jeremy pulled his suitcase into room 318. Finally, done with the chore and standing in the empty dorm room, Jeremy stood up—making sure not to turn around and display the embarrassing hard-on that was threatening to become an award-winner in his jeans—and asked, “Was there something else?”
“Just…you remind me of someone.”
“Who would that be?”
“Me,” he answered. Then with a series of heavy thumps, Tim walked down the hallway toward his room and disappeared from sight, leaving Jeremy standing in his new home with an erection in his pants, dozens of questions in his head, and a sinking feeling that college was going to be a lot worse than high school ever was.
Tim could not not look at the two of them. Those two Muscle Club guys, just standing there, not really doing anything at all, talking softly to each other, standing so close together, as if everything was a secret between them.
It wasn’t unusual to see them anymore. At first it was shocking, particularly when someone he knew or went to class with showed up one day looking…like that. So huge, so different. How it kept happening, no one seemed to know—or seemed to want to say. Then again, it was super weird to see it happening and he felt completely awkward and self conscious in front of one of them.
Then, his friend Daniel showed up, and Daniel was now…not Daniel anymore. At least, not the Daniel he was so used to talking to and shooting the shit with. And even Daniel seemed to know it, but how could he not?
Tim was very curious about the whole situation. He was not a big dude in any sense. In fact, he was kind of tiny. Always had been. He’d been told he would get a growth spurt “any day now,” and hear stories from adults about how they started school being small and ended that grade several inches taller and all filled out. But here he was, nearing graduation, and still nothing. Nearly eighteen years old, and barely taller than five feet.
These huge guys—they were incredible! So big, and so…confident. Especially Daniel! Tim could hardly even look at his old friend anymore without feeling weird. Daniel used to be small like he was, and Daniel used to be shy like he was, and Daniel used to be a loner—but at least they were loners together.
Now Daniel was hanging out with these huge dudes, and wearing clothes that showed off…everything! And he was smiling and cocky and, like, oozed a sort of power that was almost like some weird heat he was putting out. Something Tim could literally feel when Daniel was around.
Now, it was just awkward. Daniel was different. Daniel was changed. Daniel was in Muscle Club, and guys in Muscle Club hung out together, and if you weren’t in Muscle Club than you weren’t in.
If they were shooting up something to get that big, Tim didn’t want any part of it. That shit messes you up, no matter how good you look on the outside. And he’d asked Daniel about it—back when they were still on speaking terms—but Daniel sort of danced around an answer and wouldn’t tell him anything.
“But… what happened to you?”
“I’m in Muscle Club,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Right, but, like, yesterday you weren’t. Yesterday I could, you know, look you in the eye and now I’m staring at your chest and you’re fucking huge, Daniel! What the fuck?”
Daniel smirked and shrugged and said, “Muscle Club.” Then he lifted his right arm and tensed the muscle into bulging power and they both watched the biceps and triceps swell outward thicker and thicker and thicker until he was literally bursting the sleeve on his shirt. Then he lifted the other arm and did it again. Thick wings spread beneath his arms. His shoulders piled higher and higher, nearly kissing his earlobes. His neck was as thick as his head. And he still had Daniel’s face, but it was…changed. It was different. It was, like, better looking. No pimples, no blemishes, nothing but smooth, clear, perfect skin and fucking whiskers growing on his face where there were no fucking whiskers yesterday.
Not to mention that he had gained several inches—well over a foot—in height! He was tall and wide and handsome and muscular, and it had all happened literally overnight.
Daniel let his arms settle back to his sides. His chest heaved forward and the two thick globes of his pecs filled in his shirt, pushing the points of his nipples against the material. He was grinning and looking at Tim, as if expecting some question or reaction.
But Tim could feel something else happening, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. He was…excited. The show of muscle, of Daniel’s new alpha status, had Tim’s heart racing and he felt weirdly hot and his mouth was dry. He could smell Daniel’s body. He could smell him, and he smelled good. “I gotta go,” he said.
“Do you?” Daniel’s handsome face tilted. His green eyes narrowed.
Tim nodded. “I’ll see you around, Daniel.”
“I hope so,” he answered. “See you later, Timster.”
Then they parted, and Tim had been avoiding Daniel ever since. Avoiding the discomfort and awkwardness, and avoiding those weird feelings he was having about his old friend.
Now he was outside, between classes, lingering near the old gymnasium. Curiosity had drawn him here again, because it was where they hung out, and where he could watch them while pretending not to watch them, and to…smell them. Smell that enticing, funky, curious, attractive scent that they all had. The smell that made him feel strangely good, and made his imagination flare and his balls tingle.
They were looking at him, now. He was sitting on the edge of a tree planter, under the shade, pretending to be reading his history textbook. He could almost feel their eyes on him, as if they were like Superman and had heat vision. Two huge guys in matching clothes, both wearing blue jeans and Polo shirts, stretched so tightly across their muscles that he could tell what they looked like naked.
He turned the page, though he had no idea what he was reading. The words were words that refused to gather into sentences. His attention and his senses were focused elsewhere. His heart was beating quickly. His pits were damp with sweat. A drop of it was crawling down his spine and creeping into his ass crack. His scalp tingled. And then one of them said, “Hey!”
He ignored them, pretending that they weren’t talking to him. Then they both started moving toward him, their huge thighs moving around each other, their massive arms swinging from the ponderous muscle hanging off them, their large feet bringing them closer by the second.
Then he could smell them. Each of them. He could tell one from the other just by their smell. It was weird and confusing and…awesome. “Hey,” one of them said, again. His voice was very deep, and now he spoke softly, and directly to Tim.
He looked up. They were so huge, especially this close, and particularly because he was sitting and they were standing. “You’re Tim, right?” He nodded, feeling both overwhelmed and scared, as if ferocious animals were near him. “Daniel mentioned you.”
The other one spoke, now. “Yeah.” He nodded again. “He’s a cool dude.”
“He said you were a cool dude, too,” the first one said, then he added, “I’m Chris.” He smiled. He has perfect teeth, and deep dimple in his chin. He had very dark hair, nearly black, that hung loose on his head. He was clean-shaven, with sun-tanned skin and dark brown eyes.
The other one said, “Paul,” and he nodded at Daniel. Paul had a shock of red-blonde hair that stood nearly straight up on his head, gathered into a faux-hawk on his head. He had an unusually thick beard and mustache, particularly for a high school guy, and freckles on his face. He had green eyes, a narrow nose and thin eyebrows that arched in a manner that made his expression look constantly curious.
The bell rang suddenly, and Tim almost jumped out of his seat. Chris raised an eyebrow and Paul’s full, pillowy lips pouted outward. “You okay? You seem kind of…nervous,” Chris observed.
“No,” Tim answered. “I’m okay.”
“Daniel said you were avoiding him,” Paul said.
“We’re kind of intimidating,” Chris offered, “but that’s only on the outside.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “On the inside, we’re pussycats.”
“I gotta go,” Tim said. But he didn’t move.
“You should talk to Daniel,” Chris offered. “He’s a nice guy.”
“He misses you,” Paul added. Tim closed his book. “You ever…wanted to join Muscle Club?”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “We’re always looking for new members.”
“No big deal—but…you know, if you ever wanted to, just come by here.”
Paul was nodding. “I think you’d fit in really well.” His eyes, so green, were moving up and down Tim’s small form. “I think you’d have a good time, for sure.”
“It’s fun,” Chris said. “Great group of guys.”
“But… isn’t it… don’t I have to… take… something?”
Chris’s brow furrowed. “Take what?”
“To get… big?”
Then Chris smiled. “Ooooh. Okay. ‘Take something.’” He made air quotes around the phrase. It made the muscles on his arms bunch up and swell with thick brawn. “No, you don’t take anything.”
“Well,” Paul said, looking at his companion, “that’s not entirely true, Chris. It’s probably not the right way to put it, but you definitely need to, um, enjoy something, sort of …unusual. Right?”
“I guess you could put it that way,” Chris agreed. “But we can’t divulge everything unless you’re serious about joining. Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Serious? About joining?”
“I never said—”
“Then what are you doing sitting here, pretending to read that book?”
“I’m not pretending—”
“What were you just reading, Tim? What was the chapter about?”
“You’re being a dick, Chris,” Paul said. “We’re already intimidating enough. If Tim wants to join, he knows how to do it.” Paul then looked at the small young man and said, “Just talk to Daniel. He’s your friend. He won’t steer you wrong.”
“But,” Chris started.
“The bell rang,” Paul said. “We’re late for class.” The faux-hawk god looked at Tim and winked. “Talk to Daniel, Tim. Okay? Even if you don’t want to join. He’s a nice guy, and he misses you.” He nudged his friend with his muscled shoulder and said, “C’mon or we’re gonna miss recess.”
Chris’s face lit up and he said, “Fuck yeah! Recess!” Then they high-fived and turned around, walking their tight, muscular butts and inhumanly widely tapered backs toward the gym, and disappeared inside.
Tim realized that his dick was hard, and he could feel a cold wetness in his shorts. His skin was still hot and the smell of the two young muscle freaks lingered in his nostrils, reminding him of something but he wasn’t sure what it was. He was breathing hard and his mouth was dry. It was altogether weird and uncomfortable, but he wanted more of it, whatever it was.
He had to get to class. He knew that. He wasn’t a rule-breaker. But he sat there, under the tree, watching the closed doors of the gymnasium, waiting for Daniel to appear.
But he didn’t. Maybe he was at recess, whatever that was. Sounded ridiculous, something you did in elementary school, where you just played with your friends and threw balls around. Yet another secret code between Muscle Club members. What the hell were they really doing in there?
That afternoon, as Tim was sitting at his computer, a chat window opened up.
It was Daniel. With his usual greeting. Tim sat there looking at the window for a few heartbeats before responding, because it was obvious that he was online and available.
> Not much
There was a long pause. He figured Daniel was sussing out his mood. Then:
> I hear you met Chris and Paul
> We ok?
Tim looked at the simple question. Two words but filled with meaning. He pulled in a slow breath, then sighed it out before typing.
> I guess so
> That doesn’t sound very promising
> Are you mad at me?
> Are we still friends?
It felt weird, this chat session. Without having Daniel’s new huge body there, and his new mature face and his new deep voice, it felt like it did before. Daniel, little Daniel, was at the other end of the chat, and he was sad and confused and wondering why his friend hated him, now.
> It feels like you’re mad at me
> I’m not mad
> Maybe, but you haven’t typed more than three words, and that usually means you’re mad
That was true. Tim had a tendency to shut down, and Daniel was his best friend, and Daniel knew him better than anyone. Then:
> I miss hanging out with you
Tim looked at the words. He only saw the first two and the last one. His heart felt heavy in his small chest and his palms went sweaty.
> You still there?
> Can I come over?
Can he come over? Can Daniel come over to his house, and can it be like it was before, playing video games and goofing around online and watching dumb videos on YouTube? Can Daniel come over?
> It’s ok if you don’t want to see me. I understand. It’s weird.
> It is weird.
> I’m weird.
> You’re not weird. You’re just different.
> But that’s weird.
> It is.
> And I understand that. And I just wanted to talk to you about it. Because I’ve changed but I’m still Daniel, if that makes sense.
It certainly sounded like Daniel, at least in the chat window. Then Daniel tried a different tack:
> You played the new Halo, yet?
> Yes. It’s ok.
> Right? It’s good, but it feels too samey. They really need to change it and stop making the same game over and over.
> I liked it. It had some good parts. And the online is killer.
> As usual.
Tim smiled. He and Daniel had spent too many hours fragging each other on their Xboxes.
> I’m coming over
Then he signed off. And Tim stared at the window and felt his whole body heat up and his mouth go dry. He felt simultaneously excited and scared and curious and frozen. Daniel was coming over to his house. Daniel had been there hundred of times. The old Daniel. The little Daniel. His friend Daniel.
He was still his friend Daniel. He looked at the words on the screen. They were from Daniel. The old Daniel. He was still the old Daniel.
The minutes that passed while he waited seemed very long. He sat on the couch in the living room sweating, glancing at the clock, pacing the floor and feeling a bit sick to his stomach. This was weird! Why was he so nervous? What did expect to happen?
When the knock on the door finally came, it shocked Tim so hard that he fell off the couch. Then he heard a deep, masculine, Daniel-like voice say, “Hello?”
Tim got up and looked through the peephole. Of course he saw Daniel’s eye looking right back at him—just like he always did. “Tim?”
He opened the door.
“Not seeing it.”
“You and Jeremy.”
“Why not, me and Jeremy?”
“Well, for starters, you’d squish him.”
Tim frowned as he looked at his roommate. “Would not,” he protested. At the moment, they were both naked inside the dorm room, each lying on their own beds, the scent and heat of the timebomb still draining from the air. Tim’s massive muscular form was coated in a glistening slick of sweat, leaning to one side to look at Barry, his fat prick finally growing limp and lying majestically across his hip and dangling onto the mattress, a fat shank of sex meat constantly primed. Barry, lying on his back, was covered in another heavy dousing of his own cum, and was feeling both content and blissful after another Tim-inspired super-orgasm had shaken him to his core.
“There’s a definite chance you would, unless you were on bottom—and you don’t strike me as an ‘on bottom’ type of guy.”
“How would you know?”
Tim had never told Barry outright that he was gay, but it was obvious after only a couple of days. Tim attracted the attention of women by just walking into a room. Of course, Tim attracted everyone’s attention by walking in a room, but he attracted a certain kind of attention among the females present. Barry was quick to note that all eyes turned his way and was hoping to catch the castoffs that Tim didn’t want—until it turned out that Tim didn’t want any of them at all.
At first, it seemed like Tim wasn’t interested in anyone. He kept to himself as much as he could, sat in the back of his classes, didn’t join Barry or anyone else at lunch, never even left campus, and stayed cooped up in his dorm room whenever he wasn’t attending classes.
There were the nightly timebombs, of course, and they stayed as powerful and energetic as that first one. Barry was a bit afraid that Tim’s timebombs were going to have a detrimental effect on his sperm production, since he was going off with a frequency and power that seemed ludicrous if not impossible. Maybe the timebomb was doing more than just amping up his sex drive, but he wasn’t complaining.
He made it clear to his roommate, though, that his own drives went in another direction. “I like tits,” he said bluntly. “And vagina.”
Tim laughed. “Most guys do.”
“Just… wanted to be clear about that.”
“I mean, what you do—and who you do it with—that’s your own business.”
“And I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy, you know, the time you and I spend together.”
“Out of necessity!”
“But I just wanted to let you know.”
“And now I know.”
But Barry was getting a bit concerned about his new friend. Spending that much time alone couldn’t be good for him, and the dude had nothing to be fucking shy about! There had to be lots of gay dudes out there on campus who’d be tickled fucking pink to have someone like Tim to… do… that with. So he asked who Tim liked, what was his ‘type,’ and if there was anyone he’d seen on campus that interested him “in that way.” But Tim’s answer not only surprised him, it made him a little bit angry.
“Why not Jeremy? He’s cute!”
“You’re… funny weird. He’s just… odd weird.”
“He reminds me of me.”
“What? You’re insane.”
“Take a look in my wallet.”
“Look at my driver’s license.” Barry pulled himself up and walked over to where Tim’s jeans were hanging over the dorm room’s single chair, fishing inside the back pocket and pulling out a black leather billfold. He flipped it open and looked at the picture. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he laughed, then he held it out to Tim’s eyes. “This is you?”
“That was me,” Tim verified. “The 98 pound weakling.”
Barry turned it around and looked at it again, flicking his gaze back and forth between the man on the bed and the boy in the photo. There was a definite facial resemblance, in the eyes and the nose and the mouth, but the huge, muscular form sprawled out on the mattress bore little physical similarity to the picture anymore.
He set the wallet down and looked at the man on the bed. The huge muscles, the thick and massive cock, the sheer bulk of him making the poor bed sink. The change was more than dramatic, it was impossible.
“Jesus,” he said softly. “How the fuck did it happen?”
Daniel was bigger than Tim remembered. He looked bigger than Chris or Paul looked, but maybe that was because Tim still remembered little Daniel, and big Daniel was just…unbelievably big. “Hi,” he said back.
“Can I come in?” He was just standing there. he wasn’t doing anything, but his entire body seemed to be flexing with suppressed power. Tim opened the door wider—then he stepped aside, because it was evident that Daniel needed all the room he could get just to fit through the front door. Then he closed it behind him, and stood there looking at his best friend as his best friend looked back at him. “Well,” he said in his new, lower, more resonant voice, “this is fucking weird.”
Tim sighed out a breath. “I’m glad you said it first.”
He shrugged. It made his shoulders pile higher and the two massive tectonic plates mounted on his chest heave and lift and his shirt stretch itself to the breaking point. He was wearing the same thing as Chris and Paul; a too-tight Polo shirt and a pair of navy blue jeans that seemed suctioned onto his lower body. He wore flip-flops on his massive feet. A shock of muddy brown hair was sticking up from his head, as usual, and his jawline was dusted with short whiskers, which was unusual. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and the whites of his eyes were very clear. He licked his lips—fuller, maybe, and…softer—and then sighed, too. “You’re pissed at me,” he concluded.
“I’m not,” Tim said.
Daniel nodded. “No, you’re pissed off, and I understand it. I go off one day looking like I did, I come back the next day with… all of this.” He held out his well-developed arms, palms up, and it was almost like his whole body inflated. Muscle everywhere. Thick, fat, hard, bulging masses of power swelling outward on every inch of his taller frame. “You freaked out. I get that.”
“Can you blame me?”
He took a step forward. “That’s just it! I don’t blame you at all! I blame me! I… I didn’t think about… everything. I just… did it.”
A wash of a thick, masculine scent washed over Tim as Daniel stepped toward him. At first, it reminded him of Chris and Paul, again, but then, like a light flickering on in his head, he knew that it was the scent of Daniel, multiplied by a hundred. He recognized it and it brought with it a flood of memories when he had smelled it before, but hadn’t known it at the time. It made his skin feel warm and his cock twitched and his balls tingled. He swallowed uncomfortably, but breathed in his friend’s scent deeply. “What did you do?”
“I can’t… I’m not supposed to say. Only Muscle Club—” His face was still Daniel’s, and Tim recognized confusion and embarrassment on his features.
“Only Muscle Club,” Tim echoed. “Yeah, I know that part.”
“No, Tim. You don’t know anything at all. This… this changes everything.” His face, handsome and grown-up, shifted into serious mode. He sometimes got that way. A pang of recognition and loss sprang up in Tim. There he was. There was Daniel.
“Well, duh,” he answered, more softly than he intended.
Daniel didn’t seem to notice. “I’m not joking. It’s not just what I look like, now. It’s everything. I mean, there are things, crazy things, I can do. And I’m not sure that I understood what it would mean, joining Muscle Club.” Daniel stopped and took a breath. “Whoa. Sorry. I didn’t mean… can we sit down?”
Tim nodded and they both took seats, Big Daniel on the couch and Tim in a chair opposite him. The way Daniel’s body moved now was oddly fascinating. Watching the muscles—every muscle—bunch and flex and bulge under his clothes. Watching his huge form bend and sit, watching his thighs separate into distinct lobes and wedges of brawn, and the way the muscles on his arms bulged and moved beneath the skin. His skin was so thin, and so tight! It looked elastic, but smooth and soft like silk or velvet.
As he passed, a cloud of his scent washed over Tim and inundated his senses. He closed his eyes and sucked it into his lungs when Daniel wasn’t looking. It made his cock feel heavy and thick. It made the hairs on his arms bristle. It made a taste, a salty tang, familiar and delicious, leap into his mouth, and he licked his lips as his heart began to race.
“Are you all right?” Daniel asked him.
Tim opened his eyes, embarrassed to have been caught, and a sense of anger washed over him for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, testily. Then he sighed and looked at his friend, who seemed genuinely concerned. The familiarity of the situation again calmed him down, and he asked, “What about you?”
“I’m fucking amazing,” he reported, offering a wide smile filled with straight, white, perfect teeth. Cords of power stretched along his thick neck. The buttons on his Polo were being pulled apart by the size of his muscular chest. His nipples, fat things with thick points, pushed at the fabric low on the two massive globes.
“What? Oh, yeah. I forgot about them. Nope, no more glasses. And my teeth are straight. And my acne cleared up. And… just fucking everything. I mean, you have no idea what this feels like. No fucking clue.” He looked down at his hands—his huge hands—flexing the long, strong fingers. The muscles along his forearms stretched and bulged incredibly. “It’s amazing, Tim. It’s unbelievable, except it’s happening.”
He was sitting forward, on the edge of the couch. Their knees almost touched. Daniel’s leg was huge. A thick collection of wedges assembled into a thigh at least as big as Tim’s waist. His calf spread out and stretched his jeans tightly over its flaring mass. And the dude had a huge fucking basket. It was ludicrous. No one honestly had a set of equipment that big! It looked like he was smuggling a salami and two eggs in his jeans! Tim was staring at it without realizing, picturing the cock and balls that made up that bulge. Eight inches? Nine? How big was the fucking thing when Daniel got hard? “You want to see it?” Daniel asked.
Tim felt a cold wash of shame coat him at his friend’s words. “What? No! Of course I don’t want to see it!”
Daniel smiled. “It’s just that you were staring at my junk, so I thought….”
“I couldn’t care less about your junk, asshole,” he said, heatedly.
Daniel held up his hands to placate his friend, exposing his armpits. Another sudden wave of his strong, familiar smell entered Tim’s nostrils, and he pulled in the scent eagerly. His own cock throbbed. His nipples sent tingles of excitement through his small body. He swallowed drily and looked, again, at the massive meat caged inside Daniel’s jeans. He bit his lip and asked, “How big?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to see….”
“I didn’t say I wanted to see it! I asked how big it was!”
“Okay, okay.” He lowered his hands and the strength of his scent dimmed. “I haven’t measured, if you want to know. I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Doing what?” Having fucking sex with your new fucking friends, Tim thought, sullenly.
“Stuff,” Daniel answered. “Getting used to this new body. And what it can do. What I can do. Being with the other guys in the Club.” He paused, and Tim looked at him. Then Daniel said, “Having lots of sex.”
“I fucking knew it!”
Daniel just shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s just sex.”
“It’s not ‘just sex,’ you moron!”
“How would you know?” He said it before thinking, and a look of regret washed over Daniel’s handsome face instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean….”
“I can’t believe you did this!”
“You go off and get all—like that! You leave me behind! You don’t even tell me! You don’t even ask me! And then you show up and expect everything to be just like it was, and… and….” His rant trailed off. He was standing up now. He’d been yelling at Daniel, who was sitting on the couch, his eyebrows arched, his full lips arranged in a silent ‘O’ as he watched his best friend lose it.
“What the fuck?” he asked. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”
“I don’t know what you’re….”
“You’re mad because I did it and didn’t take you with me?”
“Well, duh, shit head! Look at you! Look at your body! Look at your face! You’re fucking… you look like… that smell… your muscles… your cock… Fuck!”
Daniel huffed out a laugh and was shaking his shaggy head. “You’re an idiot,” he concluded.
“Am not,” Tim protested.
“Dude,” he said, sitting back on the couch and spreading his thickly muscled arms along its back. They stretched the entire length of the sofa. The heavy globes of his chest rose and separated into fat cables of muscle. The wings of his lats opened under his arms.
And that smell. That delicious, enticing, masculine muck that screamed Daniel! as loud as it could at Tim’s senses came forth in a thick cloud.
“What?” Tim asked. He was looking at Daniel like he was a feast on display for a starving man.
“All you have to do is ask. Don’t you know that?”
“I’m not sure….”
“Not sure about what? Not sure you want to look like me? Not sure you want the muscle? All this muscle? All this power? Not sure you want a fucking massive dick?” He moved one hand down and rested his palm on the shank of his cock. He moved his hand along its length. His hand had to move a long way. “What’s there not to be sure about?”
“You know what I mean,” he protested.
Daniel shook his head. “I really don’t dude.” He was still massaging his prick. It was swelling thicker with head-spinning speed. Tim could see the snake creeping down Daniel’s thigh, the shaft rising like dough.
“The… gay stuff.”
Daniel shrugged. “What about it?”
“I’m not gay!”
“Neither am I.”
“I’m not gay. I’m not anything.”
“You fuck guys!”
He nodded, then shrugged again. “I fuck Muscle Club guys. It’s not exactly the same thing.”
“Gay is gay, Daniel.”
“First, so what? What the fuck do you care? Second, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Tim opened his mouth, but Daniel tilted his head and asked, “So, you’ve been fucking a lot of girls over the past few weeks, have you?”
“Then what’s the big deal?” He licked his lips. “Oh, I get it. You’re worried about what someone else is going to think.”
“No, I’m n—”
“You’re scared that you’ll walk around school and people will be all, ‘Hey, faggot!’ or ,’Here comes gay Tim,’ or something like that.”
“It’s not like th…..”
“Why do you still give a flying bloody fuck what anyone thinks about you?”
“Easy for you to say!”
He nodded. “Fuckin’ A. Easy for me to say. Fucking look at me, Tim. You think I care what anyone else thinks? I like myself. I like my friends. I’m having a good time. I fuck guys. Guys fuck me.” He shrugged again. “Call me gay if you want to, Tim. I don’t care.”
“I don’t care,” Daniel repeated. “That was always the difference between you and me. I don’t care. You care too much. What I think. What other people think.” He narrowed his clear brown eyes and smiled. “Do you want to see, Tim? Do you just want to see what I look like now?”
“I can see that already.”
“No you can’t.” He stood up. “You only imagine it.” He put his hands to his shirt and pulled the hem from his pants. “I’m covered up.” He pulled the shirt up his torso, revealing an ungodly eight-pack coated in flawless bronzed skin. Two fat nipples plucked at the shirt before they revealed themselves, like chocolate kisses on his skin. He lifted the shirt above his head. His hairy armpits were wet with perspiration. A thick tang of his smell erupted, stronger than ever.
He towered over his friend. His muscle was thick, wide, heavy, massive. He had trouble removing the shirt entirely, it didn’t want to let his arms go. Then it was off him, and he dropped it to the carpet.
“When you see me as I am now,” he said, putting his fingers to the button fly of his jeans and pulling them open, “maybe you’ll understand.” Pop! Pop! Pop! Each button pulled open, revealing a flat pelvis and a thick forest of dark curls. Daniel shoved his thumbs into the waistband at his hips and started pushing his tight pants from his body.
Tim watched with unvarnished fascination. He had never seen a body as perfect before. Never seen an act as sensual and nakedly sexual. His friend stripped in front of him, pulling the covering from his new, improved body in his living room, removing all the clothing from his massive muscular form until he stood there, three feet in front of him, six feet and eight inches of superhuman male perfection.
His cock was huge. Beyond huge. Fat and shiny. It was rising with throbbing beats, his heart shoving hot blood into his shank, the head blooming and expanding, the whole of it rising higher and higher.
He began to stretch his enormous frame. Tim could see every single muscle on his incredible body as he did so. Watch how they married together perfectly. How massive they were. How beautiful.
Then he stood straight, arms at his side, feet shoulder width apart, as his massive prick rose between them.
“This is me, Tim. This is what I am.”
Time was rendered speechless. His friend was beautiful. Perfect. Powerful. Daniel’s scent was now overwhelming everything else. It coated Tim’s flesh in sex. It warmed and excited him. It made his whole body tremble and throb. It shuddered with power and the essence of masculine dominance and perfect sexual potency.
“If you want this, all you have to do is ask me, Tim.” He smiled. His cock was pushing its helmet toward the deep valley between his massive pecs. The eye was drooling a flow of clear precum. His balls were moving, two fat eggs in a hairless sack, pumping cream endlessly. “I can give it all to you. Just ask.”
Tim was dumbstruck. He wanted it. He wanted it all. All the muscle. All the power. All the strength and size and perfect male beauty that his best friend possessed. He nodded slowly.
Daniel smiled. “It’s easy Tim,” he said, moving his hands onto his colossal hard-on and pointing his nozzle at his small friend’s body. His cock grew red and shiny in his large, firm grip, swelling outward as it grew even longer, reaching toward Tim like a snake.
Tim was mesmerized. His friend seemed to be swelling with muscle. It was growing beneath his smooth, perfect flesh. Fibers appearing, cables expanding, what was already thick was growing thicker. His chest swelled forward and each huge pec was inflating with brawn. His head was moving closer to the ceiling. His shoulders stretched wider and wider. And every moment, every second that he grew bigger and more powerful, his cock was stretching thicker and longer in his grip.
“What should I do,” he whispered.
Daniel’s face was inhumanly handsome. “All you have to do is stand there.”
“It’s a long story,” Tim told Barry.
“I’ll bet,” Barry agreed. “But, is it like a shot, or something?”
“No,” he answered.
“No,” he said again.
“It’s in my cum,” he explained.
“My cum. It’s in my cum.”
There was a long pause as the two naked men, their bodies nearly touching in the small room, looked at each other. “It’s in your cum.”
“So if I get any cum in you—any cum at all—you’ll start to change.”
He nodded. “If you drink it, if you get some on your lips and swallow any, you’ll start to change completely.”
“Why would I drink—?”
“Exactly,” Tim said. “But, you know, better safe than sorry.”
“Hold on. So, any other guy who—” Tim was already nodding his head. “So if I—” More nodding. “And if Jeremy….” Nod, nod, nod. “So you had to….”
“I did,” Tim verified, “have to.”
“Did you want to?”
Without a pause, he answered, “I did.”
Tim shrugged his massive muscular shoulders. A reticent smirk wound across his full, kissable lips. He moved his hand along the thick inches of his massive prick, looking down at his tool with reverence and pride, rubbing the tip of his finger on the eye of his snake. “New Tim,” he reported.
“Just like that?”
He drew his hand away and snapped his fingers, saying, “Just like that.”
“Did it hurt?”
He sighed. “If you keep asking questions about it, I’m going to start to think you want to—”
Barry held up his hands, saying, “No, no, no, no, no. I was just asking.” He swallowed hard and looked at his naked roommate. “So when we’re—” Again, Tim nodded. “And I’m—” Nod. “And if you—” Eye roll. “So…we need to be a bit more careful about….”
“I’m being careful, Barry. I’m trying to be very, very careful. We can stop if you’re worried, or I can go back into the bathroom and you can stay clear…or I can try to find a new roommate.”
“It’s up to you. I should’ve said something a lot earlier, but….”
“Yeah, um, probably that would be a good idea.” Barry sighed, looking down at his cum-shellacked body. “I need to take a shower.”
“You already did! Oh, you mean—”
“Oh, ha ha ha, funny man. Make me fountain up a gallon of cum all over my skin and then make jokes about it.” But Barry was grinning. “Look, no need to run away just yet. Now that I know, we can continue doing…whatever the fuck it is we’re doing. Mutual admiration. Whatever. Just don’t, you know….”
“I know,” Tim answered.
“You going to get dressed or are you going to go down the hall and knock on his door looking like that?”
He sat up, causing his collection of abs to bulge and pop, and threw up a double-bi, sending the muscles on his arms into spasms of swollen power. “I thought I might try it looking like this, first.” He shifted his arms down into a most muscular, and the two halves of his chest crashed into each other like colliding planets. Bands of power erupted up beneath his flawless skin and a wave of his intense, earthy tang washed over Barry. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to send him running off to mommy, that’s what I think.” Barry was impressed, though. The man was definitely a handsome subject and those muscles were unstoppable. “Put on some pants, at least. If the guy gets a look at that hose between your legs, he’ll be too scared to do much of anything.”
Tim grinned proudly, moving the back of his hand along its lengthy girth. “It’s my best feature,” he said.
“One of many,” Barry agreed.
“Flirt,” Tim said, his deep voice lowering to an animalistic growl. Then Barry wiggled his butt at his roommate before wrapping a towel around his slim form and heading toward the communal showers.
Tim stood up and stretched his large frame, looking down at the massive shank of sex meat arching proudly between his legs. “He’s probably right,” he said, speaking to his own prick. “You’re kind of overkill in the cock department. And there’s no sense in going overboard on the first date, right?”
He pulled on his customary attire of jeans and Polo shirt, slipped his size 14 feet into a pair of flip flops and wandered down the hallway toward Jeremy’s room, pausing at the door to check out his breath before rapping on the wood with his knuckles.
It was a very large building, probably a warehouse once but now it was nothing at all. Just a big building with a very large sign hanging on it that didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Because now the building was empty and abandoned, with locks on the doors and windows filled with darkness.
Tim stood outside looking up at the facade. There was no one else around in this area of town. The only thing in the parking lot was weeds poking up through the asphalt cracks, and a warm, late summer wind. He could hear a train whistle somewhere, but otherwise everything was quiet.
It was hot outside. He was sweating. His pent-up libido was screaming at him, and his prick and balls felt like they weighed a ton. He licked his lips and wiped his brow, smelling his own masculine ripeness. He wondered if the other guys smelled him the same way, or did he smell different to them? He shaded his eyes and looked up.
The sign mounted on this side of the building said TRANSFORM GYM in large, sturdy letters. They looked like military type, or something on the back of a collegiate letterman jacket. Everyone had come to call it simply T Gym. Or even The T. He’d never seen one before, but he knew there was one here and he determined to himself that he’d pay it a visit, the very first thing, even if there was no one there to greet his arrival.
This was his first stop after exiting the bus. He’d get to college soon enough, and face everything that little challenge would be providing, but for now he was sating a deep curiosity about himself and what was happening to his body, and whether or not there were any answers inside—even if there were no trumans around to offer them.
They seemed to have disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared. They were seemingly everywhere for a time, making videos, appearing at gym openings, parading their impossible bodies around in impossibly revealing clothing, even marketing it to men who wanted to belong to their gyms and their lifestyles, whatever they were.
Even though a lot was known about them, probably just as much was unknown—and chiefly, where did they go? Rumors ran rampant, of course, but then like anything else, from wars to injustices to financial collapse, people simply grew bored with them and moved on to the next awful celebrity meltdown. You could still find pictures of them online, though a lot of them had been removed or disappeared just as mysteriously as the trumans themselves. Maybe it was because the trumans became very protective of their images and likenesses, and maybe someone was still out there, filtering their history and presence out of the world.
That was weird, too.
At first, it seemed like you couldn’t turn on a TV or open a magazine or visit a web site without a mention or a new picture or video that contained another impossibly beautiful man with an impossibly developed set of muscles and an impossibly overburdened pair of shorts trying hard to contain what was obviously a very prodigious and impressive set of sexual equipment. They seemed to be trying as hard as they could to test the social boundaries of male exposure. Always shirtless—and often pantsless—the trumans flaunted their physical properties with all the modesty of porn stars.
Then, suddenly, nothing. Gyms shut down. Truman magazines gone. Truman videos wiped. It was like a dream that you couldn’t quite remember.
Except for Tim and his fellow Muscle Club members, of course, whose own sudden, accelerated and massive muscular development had to be related to whatever made a truman a truman.
He stood at the gym’s twin doors and looked at the thick chains and padlock, twisting his lips into a grimace as he considered his options. Probably, by now, there was nothing inside anyway. But then, why the locks? And the chains? He lifted them into one hand. They were heavy, and very thick. Not the sort of things one puts on a door unless one means business.
Setting his duffel bag down, he placed both hands on the iron and pulled. As usual, his own strength surprised and shocked him, as his arms swelled with brawn and he pulled the links open as if they were made of bread dough. The chains fell apart and clattered to the concrete, and Tim jumped back automatically to avoid the mass of metal from hitting his feet, clad only in rubber flip-flops.
Reaching forward, he turned the handle and pushed the doors open.
A subtle smell erupted from the huge, empty building. Dust, certainly, and rust, possibly, but also something funkier and more… human. A smell that made his nostrils flare and his balls tingle and his cock throb.
The smell of men. Strong, thick, earthy and masculine. Like a fog made of testosterone and sweat. He closed his eyes and sucked it into his lungs and let it bathe his skin. It reminded him strongly of the unique and powerful smell that lived in the Muscle Club schoolroom, but even deeper and curiously penetrating. How long had the building been unoccupied, now—and still that scent lingered.
“Fuck,” he said, meaningfully and with surprise. He had not expected this. The surviving afterglow of what had been happening inside the building was still existent, and quite apparent. His body started reacting to it almost immediately, and in a most agreeable fashion. Swallowing into a dry throat, he retrieved his bag and pushed both doors open, stepping inside this deserted church of muscle and man.
The room before him stretched out like a football field—possibly two. The gym equipment, consisting of the usual machines and pulleys and free weights, were all still here but were oddly pushed to the periphery, leaving the majority of the floor empty and open. There were rubber mats covering every inch of the space, some of them pushed about and others still connected.
The windows mounted high up around the whole building were closed, but sunlight poured down in angles creating squares of light on the floor. A kind of catwalk clung to the walls, probably a remnant of whatever the building had previously been, and a sort of enclosed office was high up the wall on the opposite side.
Walking further inside, Tim called out a tentative, “Hello!” just in case someone was still in here after all. There was no answer except his own deep and resounding echo in the cavernous space. He walked to the center of the floor and stood there, absorbing a weird kind of energy that seemed to live in the huge room, though it was probably just his imagination. The smell grew stronger here, perhaps captured and contained into the center like some invisible bubble.
He sucked the scent deeply inside, and his whole body heated up like a sexual lightbulb whose socket had been turned on, making the hairs on his flesh tingle and his skin feel suddenly hot. He closed his eyes and his secondary cock pushed for emergence with anxious need, though he had determined not to let the twins out if he could help it. Still, he was all alone here, so he allowed himself some leeway and, after undoing the button fly on his jeans and pulling his meat free, he allowed the other prick to push forward and bloom to its full stature, standing within the center of this strange and awesome power and feeling it to pour over and energize him.
With his thickly muscled arms hanging at his side and his hands balled into fists, his cocks throbbed and plumped and drooled with conspicuous pleasure. They stretched their long necks into swollen, vein-covered stalks and raised their plump heads, rising higher and higher, charmed by the energy held inside this place. He could feel his balls churn and swell with cream, and a warm trail of precum, like honey, erupted from each eye and travelled down the thick inches of each shaft.
Tim licked his lips and opened his mouth and sucked in a deep breath of the oddly scented air, his chest expanding as he filled his lungs with its essential power. His whole body grew hotter, still, and his cocks swelled to ultimate glorious tumescence with immediate eager bliss. He swooned with lust and felt his knees go weak. With a suddenness and power that nearly staggered him, he came hard, throwing back his head, pushing his chest forward, shoving thick ropes of cream from both cannons that arched high overhead and splattered against the rubber mats in thick puddles.
It felt incredibly satisfying and significant, as if he were somehow blessing the area or offering his own essence as a way of joining the invisible, absent brotherhood. He roared his pleasure and opened his eyes and watched his massive cocks spitting hot cream in long ropey cascades, shoving the pent-up abundance of his over-productive balls across the gym in thick, audible streams.
Fuck, it felt good. It felt perfect. Could he really curtail this sensation? Back home, he was sure his fellow Club members were all fucking each other right now, shoving their stiff cocks into warm, tight, muscular butts. Here, in his new home, he had no fellowship of similarly gifted men to share with. But he’d managed a 6-hour-plus bus trip without even touching himself, and now that he was allowing his twins to spit their load all over the floor inside this edifice to men and muscle, it just felt good.
Tim moved his hands before his twin founts, splattering messy loads into his cupped palms and bringing delicious mouthfuls of cream to his lips, sucking them inside. He moaned with pleasure, a deep and feral sound, because nothing was as satisfying as this was to him now. He wanted the moment to linger on and on, creaming freely and swallowing his warm power, but he had places to go and things to do—neither of which were likely to take what he was doing right now in stride.
With resignation and more than a little disappointment, he slowed the fountains of cum and forced his happy and eager pricks to deflate, pulling one of the twins inside his magical body and shoving the other one back inside his jeans, allowing it to shrink to a more manageable, though still abundant, eight inches. The smell of his copious flow joined with the earthy tang in the room, as if he had participated in whatever had happened here before him. It smelled right, somehow—not competing or overwhelming the masculine scent, but augmenting and mingling with it. He loved that smell, and hoped it would stay lodged in his nostrils after he left.
Pulling in a cooling breath and sighing it out, he observed the copious flood of his production and clicked his tongue. “Fuck,” he said again, marveling at the volume and power of his shots, splattered before him in thick puddles of creamy cum. He must’ve gone off like a rocket—no, twin rockets. It sure felt like it!
Shaking his head in wonder, still unaccustomed and surprised by his body’s abilities, he looked up at the catwalk and the office suspended above the floor. If there were going to be any clues about what they had been doing here and where they had gone, it was likely to be up there.
Looking around, he saw that the stairway leading upwards had collapsed or broken. There were no steps at the ground, only the upper stairs remained, probably 20 feet above him. Walking closer, he stood beneath them and tilted his head. “Gotta be taller,” he said to himself. Then he smiled and began to strip his clothing off, so that his body could assume its natural size and bring him closer to the stairs.
This felt good, too. Growing and allowing himself to unshackle his frame and his muscles so that they could bloom to their full size and enormity. His head moved upwards as his body expanded in all directions, gaining inches of thick brawn all over as his skeleton stretched and lengthened. It took only seconds, and anyone observing the feat would have been flabbergasted to witness the young man’s metamorphosis from mere bodybuilder to godlike being.
Tim stood at his full height, towering eight and a half feet tall. He was still growing. He grew a little more every day—every hour—every minute. He could hide it to some degree, but when he could remove his self-imposed restraints and swell to his actual size, he was an impossible being to behold.
He squatted and then pushed his weight from the floor as hard as he could, reaching over his head to grab the broken stairway—and then shocked and amazed himself as his powerful legs pushed him well beyond the 20-foot height and he was in mid-air, high above the floor, peddling his legs like a swimming dog. He pivoted his giant, powerful form and made a grab for the railing, just catching it with his fingers and making the whole catwalk shake and shudder under his weight. He felt giddy and a little turned on at his own power, realizing he hadn’t ever actually jumped since joining Muscle Club, at least, not with full velocity.
He pulled himself up easily and looked down. He was very high up, but he had managed to jump even higher than this. How high had he jumped, and just from a standing start? 40 feet high? 50? He was aiming for the stairway, so how high could he have gone if he had been aiming for the roof?
His head was dizzy at the prospect. Just how strong was he? He knew the legs and glutes were the biggest muscles on anyone’s body, and now he had an idea of how powerful his were. “Fuck,” he said softly. Then he shook his head and shrugged before heading along the catwalk toward the office.
The huge, naked, muscle-bound man approached walked along the side of the building. The scent of men was less noticeable up here, but it was also hotter and his skin was quickly glazed in a glistening coat of sweat. He looked like some superhuman metal sculpture come to life, striding like a colossus in the sky.
He stood at the door—locked, of course—and realized he was too big to fit through it. He didn’t want to shrink himself back down, he was really enjoying being so huge and feeling so powerful, but business is business. He assumed his less miraculous dimensions, shrinking back to a height of just under six-and-a-half feet, and turned the locked handle.
The metal twisted and collapsed in his powerful grip, but it certainly did the trick. The door opened and he went into the darkened room.
It was mostly empty, too. A couple of desks with drawers half-opened, some chairs, a filing cabinet. The usual office things arranged against the four walls with another locked door against the opposite side of the room. There were no papers with elaborate goodbyes from the trumans, no envelope with his name mysteriously printed on it, nothing at all that would yield any more information about the disappearance of the race of supermen.
He walked across the office to the other door and forced it open as well, thinking “that’s three charges of breaking and entering so far—plus whatever I’d be charged with for the cum shower downstairs. Malicious creaming?” He smiled at his lame joke as he entered the next room.
It was dark. Very dark. Unlike the office space, this room had no windows and did not front the huge gym floor.
The scent in here was quite strong, but different as well. Not the mingled smell of hundreds of men, but the concentrated scent of just one. How he knew the difference he couldn’t say, but he was sure of it. This office had been occupied by a single man—or a single truman—and his scent was still here, and quite engaging.
Tim closed his eyes and breathed the man inside. Jesus, he smelled good. He’d never smelled anyone like him before, even amongst his brothers in the Club or Mr. Titus. It smelled of power and strength and domination and command.
He could not name each of the scents that made up the man’s unique smell. Leather, maybe. Loam and burning cedar. Ozone. Sweat. Jockstrap. Ball sack. Ass. Muscle. Power.
It was the pure scent of masculine supremacy, the most potent Alpha Dog of all. It left him feeling slightly dazed and immensely horny. His cock was swelling toward its fullness again as if the owner were still here, stroking and licking and sucking on his prick, pulling him quickly to the edge of an explosion. The scent of the man was like a drug, a narcotic, a stimulant that bathed him in the owner’s powerful ascendancy. It was a fog of pure masculine perfection, distilled within the walls of the room like perfume in a bottle.
His cock was leaking copiously as he stepped into the darkness. A soft, deep moan escaped his throat. He wanted to drink that scent into his massive, powerful form. He wanted to feel it flow over his skin, wind around his balls, lick the hole of his tight, muscled ass.
Whose room was this? Who had been in here? How could their scent have lingered so strongly—or was this only a whisper of whatever the man actually smelled like? Was this just a taste of his full, gorgeous power?
And where the fuck was he now?
Tim tested the light switch but the power was dead. “Hello?” he said, tentatively, his own deep bass filling the silence. But no one answered back. There was no one here, and nothing but the powerfully aromatic aftermath of the owner’s occupancy.
He breathed it in. Sucking the magnificent splendor of pure male sex inside his lungs, feeling it on his skin like a thick fog, tasting on his tongue like musk and smoke. He could almost feel the other man’s power, as if they were standing chest to chest, cock to cock, rubbing against each other’s hyper masculine forms.
He came again. He came because he couldn’t help it. He came because he wanted to. His cock rose up and the head bloomed and the shaft turned glassy and red and a fat, full stream of rich, powerful cream erupted from the eye and sailed into the darkness. He heard it splatter and he came again and again, shoving a form of reverence for the owner’s unbridled masculine power into the absent man’s lair.
He raised his arm beside his head and breathed in his own heavy musk. He pushed his tongue against the firm, round surface of his arm and licked his own biceps. He groaned and came and let his hands explore the muscled contours of his own body, his cobblestone abs, his massive, ponderous pectorals, his full, round, beautiful ass, worshiping himself as he would worship the man who had been here, worshiping masculine beauty and muscular strength and perfect, virile dominion.
He emptied his copious balls and stood there, his erection throbbing and dripping, staring into the darkness. “I… My name is Tim Balmer,” he announced to no one. “I want to talk to you. I want to meet you. I…I’ll be at the local college. I don’t know what’s happening to me, or how big I’ll get. I don’t even know….” His voice trailed off. He suddenly felt absurd talking to the darkness. He gathered up the pearly drop of cum clinging to the tip of his raging hard-on and sucked it off his finger, feeling it coat his tongue with its salty tang. It melted into him, like it always did, and warmed his muscles.
“I’m Tim,” he said again.
There was no answer.
Tim pivoted around and walked back through the main office, pausing outside the door and looking across the cavernous space. He could see his footprints in the dust below, and the splattered wetness of his first fountain of cum, resulting just from being within the lingering masculine power of the place. He could still smell the occupant from the back room on his skin, like a cologne of muscle and male energy suffusing his flesh. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It made his deflating prick throb eagerly and his asshole tingled as if licked.
Whatever had happened inside these walls, the effects lingered even months later. And whomever had occupied that dark space back there, his power was so strong and overwhelming that it could make a man come just by opening the door on an empty room.
Tim sighed and hopped over the railing, dropping 30 feet to the ground and rolling to a stop, his flawless, sun-kissed skin coated in dust. He rose to his feet, brushed himself off, and walked toward the pile of his clothing near the broken stairway, a beautiful god striding the halls of Valhalla in all his naked perfection.
He didn’t want to get dressed. He liked being naked. His body liked it. But one couldn’t just wander onto campus in the altogether, could one? He was certain his presence would be noticed one way or another. He was kind of hard to ignore.
He hiked the jeans up his muscled legs and squeezed his prick along his hip. After fastening the buttons against his bulging crotch, he pulled the Polo shirt over his head and wrestled his shoulders and arms into the sleeves before pulling the cotton across his mammoth pectoral shelf. His nipples sent shocks of bliss toward his groin as the material dragged across their sensitive caps, and then he stepped into his flip-flops and heaved his nylon duffel over one shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said to no one in general. “I needed that.”
He took a last look around and pulled in a long, satisfying inhalation of the scent that permeated everything in the huge space. The scent of men. The scent of power. Then he headed for the exit.
Standing outside again, he shouted, “Sorry about the locks!” to no one, and closed the doors.
The interior space fell silent and still. Tim’s copious load was splattered in a fan across the floor. More of it lacquered the walls of a darkened room upstairs.
In a far corner of the space, a slight shimmering occurred as if the wall of brick were turning insubstantial or melting. The shimmering coalesced and solidified into a recognizable shape. A shape with two arms and two legs. A shape towering nearly eighteen feet high, and eight feet across.
A face formed, a man’s face, inhumanly handsome, godlike in fact.
The figure stepped free of the wall and became flesh, a towering man of impossible proportions, with muscle swelling outward in thick folds and hard bulges. A carpet of dark fur crawled across his chest, broken only by two fat nipples like chocolate kisses on his pectoral globes. More fur lined his legs and arm, less dense and perfectly arranged, and a thick forest of pubes erupted above the twin monsters hanging in lush abundance between his monstrous thigh.
His full, moist lips pursed into a kind of pout. His green eyes, shadowed under a heavy brow, sparkled like gems. He was completely naked—absolutely naked—awesomely naked.
He strode toward the pools of Tim’s cooling cream and bent down, placing a huge hand into the sticky goo and watching his skin absorb it completely. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if listening to something. After he had pulled every drop of the smaller god’s essence inside him, he looked at his palm and rubbed his fingers together, feeling an odd tingling there, and an uncustomary sensation of cooling warmth, like mint inside his mouth.
“Different,” he said softly, though his size and power augmented and amplified his voice in the space. He stood again, a towering god, and looked toward the double doors, one eyebrow arched and a sideways grin on his sexy mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Barry answered a bit guiltily.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Tim observed, closing the dorm room door behind him.
Barry was lying on his own bed, naked as the day he was born. His eyes had been closed and his hand was resting on his half-erect dick, though he was not stroking himself when his hugely muscled and sexually powerful roommate entered their shared room. He was breathing slowly, his slim belly rising and falling and his chest expanding with every inhalation. “I was… Did you know that you’re leaking?”
Tim’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed. He looked down at his thickly bulging body, overwhelmed with hard curves and swelling muscular mounds, only vaguely camouflaged by his necessarily tight clothing. “Leaking?”
“Not literally. But… I could feel you coming.”
“Feel me coming?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
“I’m just going to repeat everything you say,” he answered. “Until you say something that makes sense.”
Barry sat forward. His half-hard cock wavered as he let loose of it, and a shadow of a six-pack appeared on his otherwise smooth stomach. “We need to get you someone,” Barry answered. “I don’t think this is working anymore.”
“This? Which this?”
“You and me, in this little room, stroking off.”
“Why do you say—?”
“You’re leaking. The…whatever it is that you do. Or have. Or make. That sensation of sex that throbs from you like radio signals. They’re getting stronger. And I can feel them, like, all the time, now.”
“All the time?”
His roommate nodded. “All the time. They get stronger the closer you get. I could feel you approaching. I could feel you coming up the stairs and down the hall. So I was lying here kind of enjoying the sensation of you. I was wondering how closely I could follow you around, just by feeling your effect on me.”
“Does anyone else—?”
Barry’s face looked doubtful for a moment, as if he was holding something back. “Dunno. But I do.” He narrowed his gaze. “You didn’t know, did you?”
Tim shook his handsome head. “No,” he answered, sounding a bit sheepish. “How strong—?”
“I’m not coming, am I? So it’s not like I’m springing a boner as you walk towards me. But it’s definitely palpable.” He tilted his head. “I’d say on a scale of one to ten, with ten being you and me in here going off like fucking fountains as usual, you’re at a five just standing there right now. You were at three when you came in downstairs. And I can sort of always feel you at stage one no matter where you are.”
He nodded. “It’s like a nice beer buzz. You know, feeling relatively good, kind of floaty. But instead of being drunk, I’m just horny.”
“But you’re always horny,” Tim protested.
“Agreed, but I can tell the difference. It’s like…like you’re an added flavor. A nice one. But definitely different.” He saw his roommate growing concerned and sat up. “Look, I’m not bitching about this. It’s not bad. It’s kind of nice, actually. I would have said something about it but to be honest, I kind of like it. Having you buzzing around my libido like a bee. It feels good.”
“Does anyone else—?”
He shrugged again. “Maybe? Probably? Isn’t this, like, normal for you?”
“I don’t know what normal is. Me and my friends back home, we were all like this,” he said, indicating his hugely muscled frame and the major bulge in his always full basket. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. Maybe it’s just you, because you and me are always… you know.”
“I know,” Barry answered, laughingly. “Look, don’t get bent out of shape about this. Like I said, I don’t mind it.”
“It’s not you,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No, I mean, it’s not just you. I’m worried that others are feeling it. I’m worried that maybe I’m losing control of it. I mean, what happens if it keeps getting stronger? What happens when I’m just, like, walking down the street and everyone is popping woodies because I’m—”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that, dude. Like I said, it feels nice. I’m not complaining.”
He shrugged. “Whatevs.” He looked down at his half-hard dick and then back up at his roommate. “I’m feeling kinda horny. Did you want to release the kraken?”
Tim opened his mouth to respond, but there was an unexpected knock at the door. Barry pulled a sheet across his naked body as Tim opened the door. “Uh, hello.”
“Hi, I’m Mike.”
“Hello, Mike.” Tim turned to look at Barry with a quizzical expression, one eyebrow arched and his lips twisted into an odd smirk. Then he turned back. “I’m Tim,” he said.
“Yeah,” Mike answered, smiling, “I know. Barry’s told me all about you.”
“Has he now?” He looked at his roommate again.
Barry pulled the sheet off and stood up, coming behind Tim’s massive frame. “Yeah, um, I was mentioning to Mike about you and he really wanted to meet you.”
“I see. Well, uh, Mike… you should come in.”
“Thanks!” He did so, squeezing his lanky body between Tim’s towering mass of muscle and the door frame.
They traded places for a moment as Tim watched the other dude go inside. Then he said, “Could I have a word with you out here, please, Barry?”
“In the hallway?”
“Wouldn’t you rather come in and—?”
“I’d rather have a word with you outside. Please.”
Barry looked at Mike, then shrugged. “Make yourself homely,” he told the other young man, and then Tim and Barry stepped into the small hallway and Tim closed the dorm room door. “What did you want to talk about?” Barry asked, innocently.
Tim crossed his meaty arms over the two powerful globes of brawn mounted on his chest. Barry could practically hear the muscle compress. “What goes on?” Tim asked, darkly.
Barry tried to continue to look innocent. “What?”
Tim nodded toward the door. “Who’s Mike?”
Barry shrugged. “Just a friend. Guy I met in class. Nice guy!”
“Uh huh.” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “And what is Mr. Nice Guy doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Barry,” Tim said, tilting his head, “I’m sure it didn’t escape your attention that Mr. Nice Guy isn’t wearing any clothes.”
“He isn’t?” Barry’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Well, hell, I didn’t even notice!”
“So—should I ask again, or are you going to tell me….”
Barry held up his hands, placatingly. “Okay, okay, look. You’re wearing me the fuck out.”
“I’m wearing you….”
“The fuck out. I mean, I don’t want to complain, but how much raw spunk is an ordinary guy like me expected to produce?”
“So you just thought….”
“I just thought, like, maybe if there was more than one target of your….you know. That, like, I could give my balls a bit of a rest and….sorry, excuse us,” Barry interjected, moving aside so one of their dorm buddies could pass. He only gave them a cursory glance—everyone was used to Tim’s appearance and size by now, and seeing some naked guy wandering around in the dorms wasn’t so unusual, either, given the on-going heat, the all-male nature of the place and the communal showers at the end of every floor. “I just thought maybe if we…diluted…that thing you do, that I could get a little relief.”
“Regardless of his cool, I don’t know him. How much did you share about our little entertainments?”
“He…he kind of knew about it.”
“How could he know—?”
“He lives in the room under ours. Like I said, you’re leaking.”
“He could feel it?”
Barry nodded. “Oh, he could feel it. He’s been feeling it for a couple of weeks, now.”
Tim swallowed, experiencing a sinking feeling in his belly. “Well, shit.”
“He’s not mad or anything! Just…curious. And, I think, a bit excited.”
“Why’s he naked?”
He shrugged, but looked slightly guilty. “It wasn’t intentional. Or maybe it was. But I was like ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ and he was all, ‘yeah, sure, why?’ and I said, ‘it’s kind of gay’…because, c’mon, it kind of is.” Tim’s grimace darkened, but he said nothing. “And then he was all, ‘yeah, I’m totally into it’ and I said, ‘do you have any problem jerking off with another guy?’ and he stood up and starts stripping off his gear and I’m like, whoa whoa whoa, cool your jets and he was all ‘but my jets are always warm,’ so…” He shrugged, letting the scene play itself out in Tim’s head.
“Is Mike gay?”
“I’m not gay,” the third man said loudly, from behind the closed door. “I’m bi.”
“He’s bi,” Barry repeated.
The door opened, and he was standing there, still naked. “I like girls and guys. I like sex. A lot.” He already had a raging boner throbbing down there. “Are we gonna do this or what?”
Tim had to admit that Mike had a nice body. A little thin, but well muscled. He had a long, elegant neck and wide shoulders. His arms could use some toning and he had no chest to speak of, but he’d somehow managed to build himself a nice six-pack and his legs were filled out nicely. “You a runner?” Tim asked.
He nodded. “Track and field,” he answered.
“Look, Mike, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all but this is kind of….”
“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he answered, cutting off the huge man’s words. “I’m really excited about this!”
Tim glanced down at his hard-as-a-rock erection, throbbing between Mike’s legs with evident eagerness and he said, “Obviously.”
“I really want to do it! I mean, I’ve been doing it, but I’d like to be in the same room for a change.”
“Let’s get inside. One naked dude in the hallway is one thing, but two naked dudes and a boner is something else.” Tim gestured inside and they all went back into the small dorm room. Between the three of them and the furniture, there was barely enough room.
“Shit, you’re big,” Mike observed.
“You have no idea,” Barry agreed, suggestively.
“Okay, if we’re going to do this, there needs to be some ground rules.” Mike nodded as Barry sat his butt down on his unmade bed. “Number one, and most importantly, no one gets my spunk on them but me, understand?” Barry nodded immediately, but Mike’s brow furrowed. “I mean it, Mike.”
“Well, it wasn’t something I was aspiring to, anyway.” He looked at Barry and added, “I like guys and all, but I ain’t looking for a pearl necklace.”
“Number two,” Tim said loudly. “It’s just us, right? I don’t want this to become some sort of weird club.”
“Even if Jeremy knocks on the door?”
“That’s between me and Jeremy.”
“There’s nothing between you and Jeremy,” Barry said.
“Who’s Jeremy?” Mike asked, suddenly interested.
“Just a guy,” Tim answered. “It’s just us.” He glanced between the other two smaller men who both nodded agreements. “Third, we do it in here. In this room.”
““But what if—?”
“We do it here or nowhere,” he said.
“Okay,” Mike agreed, “but if we did it in the showers there’s a lot more room and—”
“We do it here or nowhere,” Tim repeated.
Mike nodded. “Okay. So, how does it work? I mean, downstairs, it feels like someone is—”
“It feels like someone is all over your body, sucking your cock while licking your asshole while pinching your nipples while stroking your skin while sticking their tongue in your mouth,” Barry answered.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “It feels like that. Very…physical.”
Tim said, “It’s just something I can do.”
“You a truman?”
“No,” he answered.
“But you’re like a truman.”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t know?”
“Do you want to talk about me or do you want to start having the ultimate orgasms?”
“The latter,” he answered without having to think about it. “Sorry.”
Tim shrugged. “I, uh, need to get attuned to you,” he said, looking at the other man intently.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means,” Barry answered, smiling, “that he’s now going to offer you a few alternatives about what you like, and then he’s going to fucking give it to you all at once, and turned up to eleven.” He looked at the huge man, “Ain’t that right?”
“That about sums it up,” he answered. “Just tell me if this feels good.”
Tim was just standing there. He didn’t move closer. He never touched Mike or seemed to take any physical action at all, but suddenly Mike could feel—actually feel—a long, wet, warm tongue licking his butthole. He sucked in a sudden, shocked breath and went up on his toes. His cock twitched and his hands tightened into fists. “Holy shit,” he whispered.
“Is that a yes?” Tim asked. Mike nodded. “What if we go a bit deeper?” The tongue suddenly seemed to harden and thicken, and it began to push inside his ass and move into his body, pointing its way unerringly toward his prostate where it nudged and thrust and massaged it with an expert touch. Mike was nearly drooling. “Okay,” Tim said. He was smiling.
“What did you do?” Barry asked.
“You know that thing that you say kind of freaks you out?” Barry nodded. “It doesn’t seem to freak him out at all.”
“Oh,” Barry answered, looking at Mike.
“Just a few more preliminaries before we get going,” Tim said, as he began to strip the clothes from his amazing and massive body, carefully undoing the buttons on the shirt that seemed designed to caress every swollen mass of strength before shrugging it from his thick shoulders. “It’s kind of a given that you like some things, but there are some others that are a bit more…of a personal taste.”
“Do… do it,” Mike whispered. He was already pre-cumming.
“Cool,” Tim answered, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them aside. “How about if I just lay them all out for you?”
“Jesus, you are huge!” He was staring at Tim’s colossal prick, his mouth agape.
Tim lifted his tool into his large grip. “What, this old thing?” Even limp, it easily stretched beyond his palm, the fat plum of the head dangling forward, plump and juicy. “I’m called Tiny Tim back home. You should see some of what my friends are packing.”
“Thank you, I guess,” he said. “Now then, why don’t we get this party started.”
“Oh—” was all Mike could manage to enunciate before he felt something odd. Something familiar but not in these circumstances. It was a subtle but insistent sensation, and he realized that someone was kissing his neck. He reached up to feel the person, but there was no one there.
A second sensation. More intimate. A warmth surrounding his balls, as if someone was cupping them. Then a gentle massage, fingers rubbing near his taint, a gentle tugging, wetness, maybe. His balls were being played with quite expertly. Looking down, again, there was no one there.
He looked up at Tim’s face. The other young man who was smiling. An eyebrow on his majestic head slowly rose, arching with some inner knowledge, and then a third sensation. Pressure on his cock. A hand on his shaft. Squeezing him. Warmth on the tip of his eager dick. Then rubbing. A thumb, on his cock head. Fingers gripping his shaft. Tighter and tighter. Squeezing a fat dollop of pre from the eye. He sucked in a shuddering breath. His body warmed up. There was a pause, and then…
He could feel it all as it happened, and it was all happening simultaneously. A tongue in his ear. A finger up his butt. A hand on his cock. A tongue at his asshole. Someone sucking a nipple. And pinching it. And rubbing it. Hands on his neck. Kisses there, too. Someone kneading his buttock. Someone slapping the other one. A mouth surrounding his balls, sucking on them, warming them, wetting them, cooling them with breath. A gentle tugging. Licking his taint. Kissing his mouth. Fucking his ass.
It was everywhere, and building in intensity. Kisses, licking, sucking, stroking, squeezing, fucking. His body was being treated to simultaneous and constant attention of the most intimate and satisfying type. He felt hot and wanted to cum, but he didn’t or couldn’t. Someone else was in control. Someone else was bringing him to the edge of complete ecstasy and holding him there, kissing and sucking and stroking and fucking him, coating his skin in bliss and thrusting deep inside him where everything felt good.
He was in the throes of a passion and ecstasy that he almost could not bear. Everything felt good. Hands everywhere. Mouths everywhere. Tongues everywhere. An assault of sexual bliss so complete that literally no inch of his naked body was left untouched.
Then it ceased, as quickly as it came, and he stood there, eyes closed, breathing hard, his prick pounding a beat against his pelvis and leaking copious streams of clear honey. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.
“Well,” Barry said, watching the other man squirm and writhe and moan, obviously undergoing something so blissful that he could not speak, “that was something.”
“I wanted to make sure he understood what he was in for,” Tim answered.
“Looks like he understands now,” Barry answered, “if his prick is any indication.”
“Holy fuck,” Mike said again, opening his eyes and looking at Tim, now naked and majestic and overwhelmingly beautiful. “How—?”
He shrugged. “Just something I can do,” he answered enigmatically.
Mike looked at Barry, asking, “Every night?”
Barry nodded. “Now you see what I’m talking about.”
“I guess you ladies have done quite a lot of talking about me,” Tim said. “I trust it was all good.”
“Nothing—” Mike struggled to catch his breath. “Nothing could prepare anyone for that.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Barry asked.
Tim looked over and said, “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, my little pimp.” Again, there was no movement, no change of expression, no indication that he did anything at all, but Barry’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a shuddering breath and his cock inflated to instant hardness. Tim showered his roommate with a kind of sensual assault that turned him inside out. He bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut and his muscles tightened as Tim’s expert and now finely-tuned mental acrobatics delivered a stream of intense and incredible sexual sensations both inside and outside of Barry’s body.
He moaned and groaned and writhed in evident orgasmic bliss. His cock turned beet red and swelled to glassy enormity. He broke into a sweat that coated his skin with a glistening varnish and his breathing became shallow and insistent.
Mike looked at the other boy on the bed in wonder and curiosity. “What’s happening?” he asked quietly.
“Just giving someone his reward,” Tim answered.
Barry swallowed drily. “More,” he said softly.
“You sure, Bud?” Tim asked. Barry nodded, biting his bottom lip.
Tim looked at Mike and said, “Did you want in on this or what?”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready for that,” he admitted.
Tim smiled. “Say when.”
It struck Mike again, and all at once. Sucking, stroking, kissing, licking, fucking. His body was being pleasured with an inhuman and supernatural intensity from every angle all at once. “Aw, fuck me,” he nearly shouted.
Tim sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that I can’t do.”
He watched the other two young men fall into the deep well of his masculine power, sending the sexual vibrations that he produced into their brains, and making their bodies heat up to overload with pleasure. He could control the sensations now quite easily, pinpointing both men’s pleasure points and stroking them with expert finesse. He didn’t know how or why he could do this, he wasn’t really even conscious of the act. It was innate to him, like breathing. He could feel the men inside his head, feel their sex and power and need, and he could feed them what they wanted in seemingly limitless supply—just by thinking it.
The sound of their moans of pure ecstatic bliss filled the room. Their cocks were rock hard and leaking streams of pre-cum. Their naked bodies glistened with sweat and they were standing the the verge of perfect orgasmic release. Tim kept them there, allowing them to swim in his sea of pleasure, and he smiled with satisfaction.
He began to stroke his own tool and release the unfettered flow of transform-influenced sex that his brain could not contain. He grew hard instantly, his own mammoth cock swelling fat and long, a majestic idol to sex. It sprang up and slapped his abs, slicking his darkly tanned flesh with a trail of honey.
“Feel good?” he asked them. They could not speak, but Mike nodded as he literally drooled with pleasure, and Barry could only moan louder in reply. “Yeah,” he said, smiling, “me, too.”
He pulled in a long, deep breath as he placed his hand on his monster and felt the electric shock of intense sexual pleasure shake his body. He closed his eyes to fully experience the overwhelming bliss his body delivered so effortlessly, and allowed a thin stream of his transform-powered gratification to travel to the two men prostrate before him, like worshipers before their god.
Mike came instantly. He arched his back and sucked air inside his chest and his eyes popped open. He had never felt anything so intense in his life. Nothing had prepared him for it. His cock exploded all over his naked flesh, bathing him in warm cream.
Barry’s body was more accustomed to Tim’s overwhelming sexual power, and he didn’t cum all at once. He felt the pulse enter and he grew much hotter and felt like his dick was swelling with size and weight. He felt something in his body twist or bend or break, as if a wall had been breached, and he gasped and sighed.
Tim opened his eyes and looked at Mike, smiling to himself. Licking his lips, stroking his massive fount, he pushed a little harder and made him cum again, watching the young man’s dick swell and redden and spit a thick stream of sticky white cum across his skin. “Nice,” he said gently. “Want some more?”
Mike nodded, still stroking, lost in orgasmic perfection. Tim pushed at him again, tickling his pleasure centers, stroking his sex drive, providing the sensation of being fucked and sucked and kissed and rimmed and caressed all at the same time. Mike pulled in a shuddering breath and arched again and sprayed a thick fountain that shot so hard, it struck the wall behind the bed.
Tim looked at Barry, twisting his lips into a smirk. “Holding out on me, Barry?” His roommate opened his eyes and smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, that just won’t do. Here, lemme help you along.”
Tim shoved a hard pulse of sex at his friend. He watched it take effect, but Barry still didn’t come. Tim allowed a slight look of surprise to show on his handsome face and he doubled his effort, shoving himself virtually at Barry, pushing inside, allowing the weight and strength and power of Transform to deliver a thicker, broader, harder throb of sex to Barry’s body.
He gasped. He grinned. His muscles tensed and he grabbed his cock hard and squeezed it. The head bulged and grew purple and glassy.
“Resisting me, are we?” Tim asked. He looked at Mike. “Watch this,” he said. Then he turned up the volume, taking things to the next level on Barry’s naked form. “Let’s turn it up a few notches, Barry. What do you say?”
“Bri… bring it on,” he gasped.
“A challenge. Very nice,” Tim admitted. “I like a challenge.” He smiled. “But one should always be careful what one wishes for.”
“Do it,” Barry responded. “I…I want…it all.”
Tim shrugged. “You asked for it.”
He’d never done this before, unleash the full power of what he could do on someone who wasn’t in Muscle Club. He was stroking his own huge tool, feeling the throbbing sensation of sexual bliss traveling from his touch down his thick shank and spreading throughout his massive body. He gathered himself for the delivery, taking off the filters and removing any of the limits he had placed on himself, intending to open the firehose and allow Barry to feel exactly what it was like to be in Muscle Club.
He closed his eyes. He stretched his thickly muscled arms out from his body. His chest swelled up magnificently. His shoulders piled high with fat lobes of brawn. His belly was a cobblestone road. His cock throbbed and swelled and lengthened. Concentrating hard, moving all his attention and mental effort toward the task, he brought his hands together and opened his eyes in one, fast, strong gesture.
There was a loud, resounding clap.
He unleashed his bomb.
Like ripples in a pond, his explosion of masculine sexual power resounded outward, centralized on Barry but too strong, too powerful to be so easily focused. Those nearest to the dorm room where the three naked young men were felt it strongest. Some came spontaneously in their shorts, their cocks swelling with sudden urgency and releasing a torrent of hot, thick cream. Further out, there were still orgasmic releases, but not as strongly. Going further away from the center of the explosion, boys’ pricks throbbed and swelled, their balls seized up, the hairs on the back of their necks and their arms stood on end, nipples tingled with sudden delight, or a trickle of unaccountable sweat found its way between the cheeks of their asses and licked their holes.
In one way or another, and to varying degrees, every man—young and old and in-between—within a quarter-mile radius could feel Tim’s sudden surge of pent-up sexual power.
Tim realized he’d done something he shouldn’t have when he watched his roommate’s body swell in size with sudden speed. He had not touched Barry, either physically or with any sperm. Tim hadn’t even cum, yet, though he could feel his load like an overwhelming burden wanting release. His balls felt like they were made of lead, and they throbbed with unusual discomfort.
Barry didn’t inflate to Muscle Club size. Instead, as his cock finally succumbed to Tim’s onslaught and fountained a thick load of cream in s sudden, steady flow, Barry’s muscles swelled everywhere and all at once, gaining size and definition that was clearly visible and remarkable, but he wasn’t blowing up like some steroid-pumped bodybuilder. No secondary cock made an appearance, and his body didn’t seem to be gaining any height.
Instead, all his muscles, every single one, increased from average to pronounced. Tim watched the definition of every lobe, cable and ball of muscle inflate under his skin. He moaned and writhed in evident bliss as his body changed in a matter of seconds, all his muscles increasing in size so that he was definitely bigger than before.
Tim looked at Mike, who was still lost in the aftermath of Tim’s explosion. Although Tim didn’t witness any changes, Mike looked a bit more developed, too. Not as much as Barry, but there was a definite six-pack and a set of smooth pectorals where there wasn’t before.
Something happened. Something Tim did had physically altered these two dudes. And he didn’t have to cum on them at all!
Shit! Barry was still cumming! He had his grip on his erection and it was spouting like a geyser! A shower of cum was splattering adjacent his skin, and his newly-grown muscle. Even Mike came again, though where his balls had obtained any more cream was beyond Tim’s understanding.
Tim whispered, “shit,” but there was no time at the present to do anything. His balls were filled, too, and his cock was beating a rhythm against his belly, ready to set off another explosion that—if he wasn’t careful—really would induct both these guys into Muscle Club whether they wanted it or not!
He went into the bathroom and shut the door. He could still hear Barry’s moans of pleasure, deeply masculine sounds that got into his head and made him hornier, still, so he grabbed on to his foot-high hard-on and let ‘er rip, sending thick ropes of cream toward the ceiling and plastering his own body with the copious streams of hot, wet sex.
With his orgasm unleashed, and as powerful as it was, he inadvertently sent out another, smaller detonation of his masculine sex bomb. The ripples were smaller and didn’t travel as far, but anyone within the dorms felt another hot rush of sex into his body, and those closest to Tim’s room were rewarded with a second, less intense bout of orgasmic perfection.
Outside the bathroom door, Barry gasped and opened his eyes and felt his body swell. His cock squirted a load that splattered over his belly and chest, and he watched the white cream gathering into crevasses and folds between mounds of muscle that weren’t there only a minute ago.
Finally registering what had happened, he sat up quickly and his hands flew to the muscled mounds of his chest, cupping the firm brawn that was growing there. He could feel himself getting bigger, feel his muscles develop, blooming with size and power. “Holy fuck,” he said. “I’m fucking growing!”
The words registered to Tim’s ears and he stopped himself and asked, “What?”
Barry answered, “What the fuck did you do? I’m fucking growing!”
“Shit,” Mike said, looking at himself. “Me, too!”
“Jesus!” Barry moved his hand onto his new six-pack. “Jesus!” he said again. Then further down to his prick, wrapping his hand around it and realizing at once that it was now bigger, as well. “Fuck!” A grin came to his lips and he gazed now on all the new muscle that had swelled up under his skin, stretching it tighter against his body, giving him incredible definition and making his new muscle look even bigger.
He lifted his arm and watched the biceps grow. He could see individual cables and fibers beneath the skin. He put his other hand on his muscle and squeezed against it, feeling how hard and firm it was. “What…what did you fucking do?”
“Hold on a sec,” Tim answered, “I’m kind of in the middle of something in here.”
“Well, I’m kind of in the fucking middle of something, too!” He plucked at the new growth of curls sprouting between his heavy pecs. He pinched the fat nub of a nipple perched on the edge of the muscle. His grin turned into a broad smile as a fresh rush of sexual excitement made a beeline for his cock.
Mike’s body was not as thickly muscled as Barry’s, but his new size was equally apparent. His formerly smooth frame was now gifted with a flat, tight stomach and stronger, more prominent pectoral plates. Veins had appeared on his arms, and there were definite biceps and triceps now, slim but prominent bulges where there were only suggestions of muscle. His legs had new definition, too, and everything was in perfect, symmetrical development. He was fucking ripped! Then he looked at his prick, and his eyes went wide.
The bathroom door opened and Tim stood there looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.”
Barry sprang from his bed and wrapped his arms around the huge young man. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he said, nearly dancing with joy.
“You’re… not mad?”
Barry backed away and spread his arms out. “Do I look like I’m fucking angry? This is fucking….amazing! I mean…look at me!” He started to pose, sending his new collection of brawn into spasms of hard beauty.
Now that he was on his feet, Tim realized that Barry was remarkably bigger, having gained maybe 30 pounds of muscle on his formerly slim form. He was no taller than he had been, but the muscle made him look huge, now. Thick pecs, a prominent six-pack, arms swollen with firm mounds and legs thick with wedges of power. He was big everywhere—not to mention that his cock looked longer and thicker, too. “Whoa,” Tim said, looking at the thicker shank of sex meat hanging between Barry’s heavy legs.
His roommate grabbed his new cock and waged it at Tim. “I know, right? I’m fucking hung!”
“No fucking shit,” another voice said. They both looked over and there was Mike, sitting up, his back against the wall, his legs splayed before him. He was certainly bigger too, more muscular and, somehow, handsomer. He had his hands behind his head and he was looking down toward his crotch, where sat an amazing and lip-smacking sight for Tim.
Mike’s prick was huge! Bigger, even, than Barry’s! He’d certainly also gained muscular size, but that was nothing compared to the fat snake that was laying all the way across his hip. It had to be nine inches lone—easily twice its original length—and thick enough to choke all but the most seasoned and eager cocksuckers. The skin of his cock was darker than the rest of him, and Tim realized now, for the first time, and Mike was at least partially Latino. It was in his dark, liquid eyes and the slight kink of his hair and most definitely in that gag-inducing shank of meat!
“Fuck!” Barry said. “Jesus!”
“Whoa,” Tim said again.
Mike just smiled and moved one hand onto the beauty and stroked it with obvious devotion. “Fuck is right. I wonder what this beauty looks like at full strength.”
“No way it gets bigger than that.”
Mike met Barry’s eyes and just smiled.
“What the fuck happened?” It was Tim who asked the question that was on all of their minds.
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like this ever happened before.” Then he looked at Barry and corrected himself. “Well, something like this has happened before, but never without my cum.”
“Your cum?” Mike asked.
Tim and Barry both nodded. “But I never even touched you. And I never even came—at least, not until I was out of the room.”
“But you did something.”
“Just the… you know… the sex vibes or whatever.” He was watching Mike pet his snake, watching it start to swell and harder, stretching along his hip and arching upwards.
“Well, I’m not complaining, bro.” He placed his fingertips on his new prominent six-pack and gingerly felt each bulge of power. “This is sweet!”
Mike asked, “Can you go back to the ‘not without my cum’ part, again?”
Tim sighed. “It’s a long story.” Then he looked at Mike’s burgeoning boner. “Are you fucking getting hard?” Mike grinned slyly. “Already?” Mike shrugged. “But….but you just came a bucket of cream! You shouldn’t… you can’t….”
“Alls I know is that I am horny as a fucking unicorn. It feels like I got a load and a half in my balls and my dick is getting hard as steel.” He tilted his head and added. “It doesn’t help that you’re standing there naked looking all kinds of amazing, and that Barry has suddenly put on on much muscle that he looks like he could bench press a fucking semi.”
“I told you, Tim. I’m bisexual. I like it any way I can get it. And looking at you two super studs in the all-together has my engines revving at full throttle.” He was solely stroking his now semi-hard dick as it continued to grow towards erection and asked, “About that cum part?”
“He’s a muscle making machine,” Barry answered. Was his voice also slightly lower in register, now? “Take a look at this bruiser.” He swelled his right arm into massive power.
“Oh, I am,” Mike answered. His cock pulsed as if verifying the claim, and the head bloomed forward by another inch.
“Yeah, well… Tim and his friends are like the trumans. You’ve heard of them, of course.” Mike nodded. “Something happened to them, something…. Well, why don’t you tell it? It’s your story!”
“So, long story short, these two guys back at my high school found something online. I didn’t see it, but they said it was a truman jacking off and sucking his own dick.” Mike’s dick pulsed again. He swallowed drily as he imagined the scene of someone who looked like Tim sucking his own cock. “So, one thing leads to another and at some point on this video, the guy cums, right? Then he reaches forward and touches the screen and all hell breaks lose.”
“Define all hell.”
“The one guy discovers that by watching the video over and over, he starts getting bigger.”
Tim nodded. “So he says. So he watches it a lot, maybe for a weekend or something, and keeps getting bigger. More muscle, anyway. Probably more dick, too. I mean, based on…. Anyway, his friend comes over and sees him and goes bat shit and wonders what the fuck happened. So he sits his friend down and makes him watch it, too. But it only has a little effect on a guy—except that the other guy—”
“The bigger guy.”
“Right, the bigger guy—he knows that if a truman cums on you, you become a truman too.”
“Yeah, I remember something like that. That was the story.”
“It’s true!” Barry interjected. “He can do it, too!”
“You’ve seen him do it?”
“Not me, no. But, I mean, look at this fucker! He’s huge!”
“But that doesn’t explain what happened here just now,” Tim said, doubtfully. “I sure didn’t—”
“You said the first guy got big from watching a video. He didn’t get anyone’s cum on him.”
“True, but it took a really long time and he had to watch it over and over and—”
“But,” Mike said, still stroking his fat cock, “we have the benefit of being in the room with you. You’re not a video. So maybe whatever that first thing was that the video guy delivered, you’ve had that all along, too.”
“But this has never happened before!”
“Have you ever tried it before?”
“I wasn’t trying anything this time!”
“Yes, you were. Barry here issued a challenge.” Barry was still checking himself out, running his hands over the new bulges and mounds of brawn that bulged from every inch of his body, but he looked up when he heard his name. “You used to just let the vibes flow, right?” Tim nodded. “But this time you really let him have it. You did something different.”
“I guess so.”
“Fucking right, you did!” Barry agreed. “It was fucking awesome!”
“And whatever that difference was—” He let it trail off, but his looked down at the massive, shiny, beautiful, perfect cock standing at attention between his legs. At full mast, the thing was huge! Easily approaching twelve inches in length, and fat as an over-inflated bicycle inner tube. Veins pulsed along the shaft and the head was glossy with precum.
“You’re both taking this pretty calmly.”
“I’m fucking stoked!” Barry reported.
“I’m pretty pleased myself,” Mike agreed. “Though, now that I see myself at full power, so to speak, I’m kind of wondering how I’m going to fit this thing in Sherry’s pussy.” It was, in fact, an overabundance of cock.
Tim’s eyebrow raised. “Sherry? Your girlfriend?”
“Nah, just someone I mess around with. Weird goth chick, but she’s cool, and she likes to do some random stuff.” He considered his new, massive sex meat. “Come to think of it, this’ll probably turn her on even more than usual.” He brought his hand to his mouth and spat on his palm before moving it back to his raging hard-on and continuing to stroke himself. “Fuck me, but I think this thing is more sensitive, now, too.”
“More inches means more fun,” Barry reported. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by a knock on their door. “One sec!” he called out, then he looked back and forth between the other two. “Now what?”
Tim shrugged. “Open the door.”
“But…but I’m…I’m huge!”
“Were you planning on spending the rest of the year in here?”
“I was thinking about it.”
“Well, go into the bathroom then. We’ll figure it out later. Get you some oversized clothes or something until you ‘grow into them.’” Tim made air-quotes around the phrase. Then he looked at Mike. “What about you?”
He took his hands off his massive shank and folded them behind his head, grinning from ear to ear as his erection throbbed before him. “What the fuck have I got to be shy about?”
The knock came again, and Tim opened the door. “Hey, Jonesy.”
“What the hell are you guys doing in here?” Maxwell Jones lived in the next dorm room over, near the stairs. His pants were sodden and his face was flush and sweaty. “I just came in my fucking pants!”
“Why would we have anything—?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Barry! Yo! Tell Mr. Sex Brain here to tone it down. I just let loose with a flood in my shorts!” He looked at Tim, and shook his head. “Look, I don’t mind the occasional hard-on or whatever, but try to tone it down some! These are my favorite pants!” His eyes traveled up and down Tim’s naked body and he blew a breath out his cheeks. “Okay, well, just… you know….”
Tim shut the door as Jonesy turned to leave. “Barry? Could I have another word with you. please?” The bathroom door opened and Barry emerged, looking abashed. Tim was still not used to seeing his roommate’s new body and all its muscular beauty, and felt a bit of a sexual rush at seeing his new naked perfection. “Am I right in assuming that it’s not just Mike that knows what goes on in here?”
Barry shrugged. “Well, I mean, he lives right next door! And if Mike could feel it one floor down, then—”
“Fucking everybody knows,” Mike volunteered. “But if anyone’s to blame, it’s you, not Barry.”
Tim turned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You strut around the dorms in the all-together. You’re built like the Incredible Hulk. And every time that door shuts, you’re sending out those fucking sex vibes. We’re all in college, dummy, we’re not stupid. Just horny.”
Mike’s deeper voice took on a pleading quality. “I didn’t mean to tell anyone! But, like, everyone was asking, and you were leaking, and what was I supposed to say?”
Mike answered for Barry. “Not everyone, and not everything. But some people know some things. You’re the most obvious suspect, Tim. I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re kind of…noticeable.”
“Dude! It makes things easier!”
“How does this make things easier, Barry? Everybody thinks I’m a freak, now!”
“Nobody fucking cares. You really think we’re all, like, ‘oh, noes, Tim’s back and now I have to feel all sexy and horny and shit.’ No, we’re all, ‘Tim’s back! Cool! Time for the best wank session this side of online porn!’”
“Jonesy didn’t look pleased to me.”
“You just made him cream his jeans, bro. He’s pissed off about that, not about the fact that you can give the guy a boner and the most satisfying orgasm and you’re not even in the same room. Get some perspective, dude. This is a good thing!”
“But what about that?” he asked, pointing at Mike’s giant cock. “And that?” He pointed a thumb towards Barry’s new, incredible body. “How do I explain—?”
“Don’t explain. And don’t worry. Neither of us is pissed off, right, Barry?”
“Oh, hell no!” He grinned, and brought up his arms and bulged the muscle into impressive relief under his smooth skin. “This is fucking awesome!” He brought them down into a crab pose. Everything inflated to crazy defined brawn.
“No buts, dude. This. Is. Awesome.” He wrapped his roommate in a bear hug, again. Tim could feel every muscle on his body pressing against his own. It reminded him of Muscle Club, and his libido started heating up again, so he pushed Barry away—gently—and said, “No problem.”
“Sounds like you’re having a change of thought about hiding your new body,” Mike observed.
Barry shrugged. “Maybe.” He looked down at himself. “Seems a shame to hide all this beauty from the world.”
“And the chicks,” Mike added.
“Goes without saying,” Barry agreed.
Tim looked at his roommate. “So… you’re not feeling any… um… how should I put this?”
“To be blunt.”
“No more gay than I was. I mean, yeah, you’re all right looking for a dude, but, like, I kinda need tits to, you know, keep my attention.”
“Interesting,” Tim observed.
“You mean that you weren’t gay and then you were?” Mike asked.
“I was gay before,” he reported, “but not every guy in Muscle Club was before, but they most definitely were after. It’s one of the signs.”
“What are the other signs?”
He shrugged, and counted them off on his fingers like everyone would know them. “Get giant. Get hung. Get another cock. Constantly horny. Get gay.” He left off the part about changing his appearance at will. No need to freak them out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a couple. Did you just say ‘get another cock’?”
He smiled slyly. “Did I?”
Mike looked pointedly at his crotch. “From all appearances, then, you weren’t fully indoctrinated.”
“We… can hide it if we need to.”
“Hide it?” He looked dubious.
“Wanna see it?”
“You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity,” Mike answered.
Tim shrugged. “Okay,” he said simply. Then he looked down and allowed his secondary prick to swell into magnificence. One moment there was only one, and the next, its brother had pushed out and swelled to its glorious extents, hanging heavily next to its twin, each cock a mirror of the other, both equally thick, long, fat and luscious. “There she blows,” he said, simply, as if anyone could do it.
“What the fuck!” Barry was dumbfounded. “You’ve had that all along and you never—?”
“A guy’s gotta have some secrets.”
“Some? You’ve cornered the market!” He reached out and grabbed his twins in his new, stronger hands. “This must be fucking amazing! Two cocks! Shit!” He stroked his friends pricks, and felt them instantly harden in his hands. “Fuck! These things are already hard!” He met Tim’s eyes. “Are you always horny?”
“I thought I made that clear a long time ago.” He allowed himself to harden to full power. His cocks swelled into massive towers, easily outgrowing Barry’s hands. “Those things go off, you know.”
“Fuck,” he said, softly. “I mean… holy fuck!” He looked up again, almost in worship of the huge young man and his overwhelming sexuality.
“Maybe you should stop.”
Barry smiled. “Should I?”
Tim closed his eyes. It felt really, really good. He hadn’t had actual sex with anyone for months. “You really should stop,” he growled.
But there was something about having this power over the huge man that Barry was finding quite interesting. “Seems like you like it,” he said. “Seems like you like it a lot.”
He opened his eyes. “You know what’ll happen to you.” His cocks started drooling onto Barry’s hands.
His handsome roommate nodded. “I’ll get bigger.”
“Do you know how big?”
“As big as you.”
“Maybe bigger,” he responded. “And what else?”
“I’ll have two cocks,” he answered. He continued slowly stroking Tim’s twins. Up and down. Up and down. Feeling the heat increase. Feeling them swelling, throbbing, moving in his hands. Like animals, filled up with sex.
He nodded, a smile coming to his full, sensuous lips. “And what else?”
“I’ll turn gay.”
He nodded again. “A fucking faggot. Is that what you want?”
Mike was watching with curiosity and growing arousal. Tim seemed to be swelling with muscle. Was he growing bigger? Inflating with power? There was a scent in the room, now. Faint but growing stronger. The smell of need and desire and sex.
Barry’s eyes traveled up the beautiful male perfection towering above him. His gaze moved across the masses of muscle, the heavy pectoral globes and their dark, fat nipples poking up above the wealth of the man’s curling fur, the awesome 8-pack abs, swelling and receding as he breathed, the smooth-as-silk skin that practically glowed with health. Veins wound down his thickly muscled arms like rivers over mountains. A thicker vein pulsed in his neck. He could smell his roommate strongly. Smell the strong scent of sex from his ass and his balls and his innate masculine power. His own cock throbbed and sizzled, practically erupting as he knelt before this young god. His hands stroked two fat, thick, long, hard-as-steel cocks that oozed warm honey over his grips. Is that what you want? Do you want all this?
Barry swallowed hard. Then he looked into Tim’s eyes, and nodded once.
“You’re sure, Barry?” he asked. His voice was deep and powerful, resonant with male potency. “Because there’s no going back.”
He opened his mouth. “I want it,” he answered. “I want it all.”
“I know it’s a big word, Frazz, but you can handle it.”
“Why the hell would we ever in a million years want to do that?”
The other man shrugged. “For a laugh?” He was grinning as he said it. “Because it would be fun?” He licked his bottom lip as he watched his friend and lover stare back at him unblinkingly. “Because I’m fucking bored.”
“Now that I can understand,” the dark-skinned man answered. “But…college?”
“At least it’s not high school,” he added, hopefully.
“No way I could do that again, no matter how incognito we were.” He pulled a slow breath into his lungs and looked up at the high beams criss-crossing the ceiling overhead. “Kind of a waste,” he observed. His strong voice echoed off the walls of the abandoned Transform Gym, and he breathed in the innate sense of the masculine power that lingered here like mist on a lake.
His friend looked up, too. “Had to be big,” he said.
“Well, obviously,” Frazz agreed. “Still doesn’t make it any less of a waste.”
Chuck sighed. “Do you miss it?”
“How can you miss something that never goes away?”
“You know what I mean.”
“There are definitely things I miss about those days, and things I don’t miss.”
“Nice to be physical again, isn’t it?”
Frazz looked over at his old friend. He was unequivocally beautiful. Almost blindingly so. His features were perfected to a state of godlike magnificence. His body was developed to a flawless and consummate muscular ideal. His skin was as soft as silk, every follicle of hair on his body was shiny, soft, warm. It was hard to find a singular imperfection anywhere on his immaculate form. “It has its advantages.”
Chuck’s grin turned sideways. “You’re staring,” he observed.
“It’s hard not to.” He approached his lover and placed his hands behind Chuck’s strong neck, looking into his sea green eyes and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again,” he admitted, then he kissed his furry friend’s full, soft lips.
Chuck wrapped his arms around Frazz’s dark-skinned muscles and pulled him close, locking lips with him and pushing his tongue into the other man’s warm, wet mouth. He could feel Frazz growing quickly aroused, and the other man’s strong, intense scent began to manifest. He smiled despite himself and started to chuckle. “Damn,” he growled, “you’re so fucking hot.”
Frazz smiled too, pulling his lips off Chuck’s mouth and looking into his eyes. “You say that like you’ve forgotten.”
The other man shrugged his gigantic shoulders. “I kinda did.”
“Well then, let me remind you how hot I can get,” Frazz answered, pushing Chuck’s body around and forcing him to the floor. A cloud of dust rose around them as his huge form struck the floor, the sheer tonnage of muscle making the floor complain. “You need fucking,” he announced.
Chuck wiggled his perfect ass. “Think you’re the man to do the job?” he teased.
Rather than answer, Frazz pushed himself inside his lover’s tight, perfect hole and proceeded to show him that he was exactly the perfect man for this job.
The sex was insane. Each of them released months and years of pent-up energy, unleashing their unlimited and unending supply of masculine and sexual power on each other’s bodies. The huge room shook as they threw themselves—literally as well as figuratively—into the coupling. The sex was rough, and tender, and hard, and soft. They came onto and into each other, releasing tides and fountains and showers of warm, powerful cream from their bulging balls. Each had evolved into the ultimate expression of a transformed man, with bottomless sexual wells to draw from, and massive muscular power to use on each other.
They wrestled and kissed, they forced each other into submission and then relented, pushing their huge cocks into each other’s asses and mouths, sucking and fucking with complete and utter abandon of any rules, roles or expectations.
It was the release of months of pent-up sexual tension and power. Neither man knew that he needed it so badly until both were fully engaged in the action. Then, the gloves came off and the cocks inflated to full glorious power and they used each other’s body however they could imagine.
Hours went by. Day darkened to nighttime. The gym was a wreck of broken wood and bent steel. They’d thrown themselves and each other into the action, laughing and clawing and fucking and wrestling with their huge, limitlessly powerful and perfectly developed bodies.
At around midnight, after nearly eight full hours of doing nothing but having the most incredible and fulfilling sexual escapades imaginable—and the kind that only two men so radically transformed could even attempt—they were lying on the floor of the gym, their sweat slick bodies coated in dirt and smelling of each other’s pure masculine scents, their cocks still hard and pulsing with need, their muscles singing and thick from exertion, and their faces lit by bright, beautiful smiles of complete satisfaction.
“Well,” Chuck said, his huge chest rising and falling, looking like a meaty mountain range covered in a dark forest of soft, wet curls, “that was nice.”
“That was fucking incredible,” Frazz agreed. “You’ve still got it, sir.”
Chuck laughed softly. “You don’t have to keep calling me sir, Frazz. That was just for effect.”
“I know,” his friend said, “but I rather enjoy the effect. Sir.” He pulled himself up and leaned onto his side as he looked at the other huge man. “Tell me again why we stopped doing this.”
Chuck was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling high overhead. “If I remember correctly, it was damage control.”
Frazz looked around. The room was, indeed, left a shambles. It looked like a war had been fought in the gym, using some very heavy equipment and armaments. He could see indentations where one of them had struck the walls high up, probably while they had been fuck-flying. The beams holding up the roof were bent in places. There were two deep wells in the floor from some hard landings, and signs of their coupling were everywhere. “Ah, yes.”
Chuck laughed again. It was a warm, rich sound and it made Frazz’s cocks throb. “No, I mean things were getting out of hand, again. Public perceptions. Problems with the press. Too much attention paid to the wrong things. We had to disappear, and the easiest way to disappear is—”
“Is to disappear.” Frazz’s tone was resigned. “Pity,” he summarized.
Chuck leaned onto his side, too. His pricks had calmed themselves and they flopped toward the floor. His upper body was amazing, so thick at the top with his massive chest and shoulders, narrowing to an impossibly compact waist, and then widening again so that his hips could support the masses of asstacular muscle bulging from his backside. “Which is why I think we should go back to college.”
“This guy you saw….”
“Really beautiful, Frazz. I mean… seriously handsome guy.”
“Right, right, I got all that. And he’s one of the new ones, from that high school or whatever?”
Chuck nodded. “I’ve been… watching them. You know, just to keep tabs on things. And they have a really great guy in charge, takes a strong hand with the men, tries to keep things in control.”
Chuck shook his head. “Name’s Billy Titus. He’d be a very interesting addition to our little club.”
“Then why haven’t you—?”
“He’s got a job to do. We’d just add more….”
“Complications.” Frazz pursed his lips.
“We tend to do that.”
“And you’re not afraid that if we go back to college, as you put it, we’re just going to end up complicating things for this guy, too?”
“Think about it, Frazz. What if you were the only transformed guy in a whole college dorm of dudes. With what you feel inside right now. Wouldn’t things get complicated pretty quickly, anyhow?”
“So you see this as an act of mercy?” Frazz asked, incredulously.
Chuck smiled, recognizing the other man’s tone. “Something like that.”
“You’re just horny,” Frazz accused.
Chuck looked at Frazz’s slowly throbbing cocks. “Why, hello Pot! My name’s Kettle!” he teased.
“But, he’s not really Transformed, is he?”
“He’s… different. Not sure why or how. But he’s definitely—”
“Different,” Frazz said. Chuck nodded. “Different how?”
Chuck started to get to his feet, offering his hand to help Frazz up as he answered. “Not sure how. Just different. Maybe it’s how he was made. Maybe it’s just him. I don’t know how, but it’ll be interesting finding out.”
Frazz sighed. “College huh?” Chuck grinned his sideways smile, know that he had convinced his friend to join the adventure. “What do you propose, that we just show up like this and….”
“Well, not like this, obviously,” he said, holding out his thickly muscled arms and displaying the perfection of his massive body.
“Disguises?” He made a face. Frazz disliked disguises.
“Masquerades,” Chuck finessed. “Like the old days.”
“I was hoping we were done with the need for pretending to be something we aren’t.”
“Look, I know how you feel. We’re supposed to be out of the closet, so to speak. We’re supposed to be able to just walk around like this and everything’s hunky dory. But you and I both know that’s a fantasy. It’s just not how the world works. It may never be how the world works. But… but this guy… I think he needs our help.”
“Our ‘help’?” He grabbed one of his lengthy and impressive dicks and wagged it at his comrade.
Chuck sighed. “I know I’m not the most compassionate guy in the world, but I don’t always think with my cock.”
“Not always,” Frazz agreed. “Just 98% of the time.” Chuck made a pouty face. “But that’s part of your charm, my man.” He gazed down and raised his eyebrows. “A very, very big part.” He sighed. “Let’s just be honest, here. You and I both know what will happen.” Chuck started to object, but Frazz held up his hands. “We’ll show up determined to be all helpful and shit, but by the time we leave they’ll have a college full of flying supermen with unhinged sex drives and the magical ability to infect every other guy they meet. It’s just how we are. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but I am saying that it’s inevitable.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Doesn’t it?” He placed his hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “It’s one of the reasons we disappeared, Chuck. We just can’t help ourselves.”
“It could be different this time,” he admitted.
“This time, as opposed to all the other times.” He shook his shaven head and twisted his full, sensuous lips into a slight grimace. “Of all of us, you should know better than to think that.”
“You’re saying I’m to blame for….”
“I’m saying that you’re probably the sexiest motherfucker of us all. I’m saying that even if you could stay your hand, the temptations would be too much for them.” He gestured toward the doors, lending meaning to his words by indicating the world outside. “I’m saying that when they beg you to be transformed, when they’re on their knees before you, worshiping you, pleasuring you, offering anything and everything to be with you—you won’t say no.” He shrugged. “And who could blame you for being you?”
Chuck sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” He met his lover’s dark-eyed gaze and smiled. “It was just a dream.”
Frazz placed his hand on Chuck’s massive shoulder. “But a nice dream,” he offered. “It’s just too late for us. We’re too….”
“Different,” Chuck finished. And Frazz nodded. “Okay, I see your point. And I appreciate your meeting me here.”
“We should do it again some time,” Frazz offered.
“Definitely,” Chuck agreed. “You… you going back?”
“I am,” the dark man said, with finality. “You?”
He shrugged. “Probably. But I think I want to hang around for a while. I like feeling physical.”
Frazz laughed. “That’s because you’re so good at it.”
Chuck laughed too, a deep rumble inside his massive chest. “See you around, lover.”
Frazz nodded. “You, too.” Then the dark-skinned giant turned around and walked toward the far wall, his massive muscular frame receding into the shadows and the rubble of their love-making before his body seemed to shimmer and dissolve into the very air.
Chuck stood in the empty space for a few moments, just listening to the silence. He was breathing slowly, his eyes closed, existing in his physical form and enjoying its size and weight and power. The other way had its benefits, for sure. The sex was good. Maybe better in some ways, existing in parallel with your lover, experiencing the situation from both sides, sinking so deeply into the sensations that you become lost.
But there was much to be said for the old way. The purely physical confrontation. The give and take. The hard breathing, the sweat, the power, the sensation of feeling your balls tingle, your cock throbbing, your body welcoming the intrusion of another, the sensation of being filled up and then of emptying. Kissing, stroking, sucking. So raw that it makes your heart pound in your chest and stars to flash in your eyes.
He opened his eyes. “Different,” he said into the emptiness. “Well, fuck that.”
“You’re very late,” the small woman behind the desk reported. “We’re nearly halfway through the first….”
“I know,” the young man on the other side of the desk answered. “I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped.” He smiled. He had a beautiful smile. he had a beautiful everything.
“Your transcripts are in order, though….” She was leafing through his papers, frowning slightly.
“Oh, nothing. It just seems like some of these grades are so….good.”
His youthful, handsome visage took on a worried look. It did not diminish his beauty. “Too good?”
She waved him off with a fluttering hand. “Oh, no! And clearly you have a lot of athletic promise. But generally someone like you ends up at Harvard, Stanford, Michigan or one of the bigger….”
“It’s a….money thing.”
She pressed him, allowing her gaze to linger on his beauty and the impressive size of his chest and shoulders. “But, surely there would be scholarships for someone so….”
He shrugged, and his shirt nearly tore. “Timing was never my strong suit,” he reported. “Plus, you have some unique curricula that interests me very much.”
“And I see that you’ve requested the old male dorm in particular?”
“I….heard it has some historical significance.”
“History major?” she asked? He shrugged and smiled. “That’s commendable. Usually, someone with your physical… that is to say, athletic talents—?” He shrugged again, and offered an even more beautiful smile. “There’s only one bed left in the dorms.”
“I only need one,” he reported.
“Of course.” She finished up with his student record on the computer and started to print out his welcoming papers, detailing the college rules, the campus map, extra-curricular activities, and so forth. “Do you go by Charles or Chuck or—?”
“Charles,” he said. “I used to go by Chuck, but I prefer Charles, now.”
“More grown-up,” she said, a bit condescendingly.
“Something like that,” he answered.
She rose from her chair and went to the printer, gathering up the sheaths of paper and placing them into a manilla envelope. “We usually have a more formal welcoming kit, but I hope this….”
He stood up. He was…quite tall. “Don’t give it a thought. This is great.” He reached out his hand, opening it palm up, stretching it from his sleeve. His arm was quite keenly muscled, almost ludicrously so. The biceps and triceps were easily discerned and very large. Thick veins wound along his forearm, and heavy cables of brawn showed up distinctly under his sun-tanned skin.
She was staring at his arm. She had never seen one so intensely muscular before. “My,” she said, softly, “that’s quite something.”
His smooth brow wrinkled. “Beg pardon?” He looked down at his arm and a grimace crept across his lips. “Oh. I’ve been….working out. A lot. Lately.”
“It shows,” she said. Then she placed the envelope in his hand and looked up.
He was certainly handsome. There would be no debate about that. Perhaps the most handsome young man she had ever personally encountered. Classically handsome, in fact, as if he were some Roman statue of a god who had decided to step down off his pedestal. He owned a square jaw, a strong nose, high cheek bones, piercing green eyes and a lop-sided grin that leant his face a very inviting demeanor. She wondered, for an instant, what it would feel like to kiss those full, sensuous lips. To feel the evidently strong arms wrapped around her body. What the sensation of his chest pressed against hers would be. She could easily fall into his embrace and see herself carried away, like some princess in the caring arms of her Prince Charming.
He lifted his free hand and pushed the stray locks of jet black hair from those sea-green eyes. He had bushy, masculine eyebrows beneath, on a smooth, youthful, masculine brow. His neck was as heavily veined as his forearm, and she wished fervently that somehow, in some magical fashion, the shirt that so tenaciously clung to the heavy bulges of muscle on his upper body would just melt away, revealing his male beauty to her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked. Even his voice oozed masculine prowess.
“Of course,” she said. “If you want to get settled in, your dorm room is….”
He smiled and she melted. “I can find it. Thanks very much!”
Charles turned, picked up an empty-seeming backpack and left her office. She watched his ass, encased so perfectly in a pair of navy bluejeans, bob and flex as he walked down the hallway and out of the administration building.
His lop-sided smile was on his lips as he left the building. He paused at the steps leading down to the open square, surrounded by the college library, the science building, and some other white stone edifices with large glass windows.
He looked down at himself and pulled a long breath into his lungs through his nostrils. He watched the two great plates of his pectoral muscles shove against the material. He felt his nipples drag against the cotton, sending deep sexual thrills through his highly-compressed frame. His visible cock swelled and throbbed with need inside his jeans, but he restrained its power. He could still smell his lover on his body like a musk, and in his scent he experienced the dark man’s power and beauty. Holding himself back was proving harder than he remembered. “Might need to tone things down a notch,” he said to himself. “I keep forgetting how irresistible I am.”
He pulled out the map of the grounds and set off for the Men’s Dormitories, with anticipation and excitement on his mind.
“One sec!” Jeremy called. He sighed the sigh of the set-upon and long-suffering, though he was neither, and pulled himself up from his studies. He wished, again, that there was a peephole in his dorm door so he could tell who was there before he opened it. Tim had stopped coming, thankfully, so he didn’t ordinarily have to keep making excuses about his time.
He didn’t dislike Tim, but there was something about him that made him decidedly uncomfortable. By now, it was clear to him that Tim was most certainly gay, but rather than make things easier, it just made things harder.
And it made some things very much harder. Embarrassingly harder.
It was like the guy gave off sex or something. Like Jeremy could feel it pouring off his huge body. But he knew that was only his head trying to fuck with his body. Tim was incredibly sexy, that was all there was to that. And that made him incredibly threatening to someone both ashamed and frightened by their own desires.
The knock came again just as he was twisting the knob. Then his gaze fell onto a striped V-neck T-shirt that was straining mightily to hold the chest of the man standing on his threshold inside. “Hi!” he said. His voice was deep, and also musical. It swam into Jeremy’s ear and tickled it like a wet tongue. “I’m your new roommate!”
Jeremy looked up. The face of the young man was smiling down at him. It was a face that made Jeremy feel a bit weak in the knees and made his breath catch. It was the kind of face he would sometimes encounter in magazines, pasted on half-naked underwear models, smiling back at him because they knew he wanted to look at them. It was the kind of face that didn’t really exist in real life, because no one actually looked that good. “Huh…hello.”
The incredible face tilted slightly. “Can I come in?”
“In? Me? There? Roommate?” His voice was now inside Jeremy’s head, licking his libido, wrapping itself around his sex drive and squeezing with evident experience.
“Oh, sorry. I, uh, I don’t have a roommate.”
“I’m afraid you do,” he answered, pulling a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Jeremy followed the young man’s actions with his eyes, and he gulped at the heavy basket jutting forward so prominently from his crotch. There was a hint of dark curls erupting above his waistband, below the hem of his very small T-shirt. The young man unfolded the paper—Jesus! Jesus, the muscles on his arms! They’re like snakes!—and he held it up to the room numbers on the door. “See?”
Jeremy looked over. Indeed, both the door and the freshman’s room assignment showed the identical number. 318. “But the semester….”
“Yep, very true, roomie. But here I am anyway.” He re-folded the paper and stuffed it back into his back pocket. “So, uh, can I come in? Or do you have someone in there already?”
“I can come back if you’re busy with something… or someone.” He winked and smiled. It made him look even more gorgeous.
“No, I… No, come in.”
As he passed, Jeremy smelled him. It was a rank and raw and delicious smell. Body odor, surely. No fragrance smelled like that. Only dudes smelled like that. But it didn’t smell bad. On the contrary, the guy smelled really, really good. Like… like the way a dude is supposed to smell, or something like that. Purely natural. Purely masculine. “I’m—”
The dude turned. He was still smiling. “Yeah?” he asked.
“I’m using that bed,” Jeremy said, indicating the one on the right. Both were made up, so it was hard to tell whether anyone was using either of them.
“Cool,” the guy said, dropping his backback on the other bed and offering his hand in a liquid, natural fashion. “I’m Charles.”
“Jeremy,” said Jeremy. He took his new roommate’s hand in his. Charles’s handshake was warm, firm, strong, commanding, powerful, masculine, sexy. It was everything his roommate was, held in his palm.
“Jeremy,” Charles repeated. He said it as if memorizing it. He said it with that fucking beautiful smile on his fucking beautiful lips, and his words reached down into Jeremy’s pants and stroked his prick. “That’s a nice name,” he said, and Jeremy felt that he meant it.
He swallowed drily. He was suddenly in a shitload of trouble. “I was….” he started, but the words caught in his throat when Charles lifted up the front of his shirt and rubbed his belly. The dark curls that appeared above his waist band moved up toward his navel. He owned a cobblestone 6-pack, and the skin moved across his muscles like water over rocks in a river.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked, absently. “I’m kinda hungry.”
“There’s a couple of snack machines in the foyer,” Jeremy explained, “and I have some Fritos.” He indicated the small open bag lying next to his text book.
“Oh, dude, I can get something for myself.” Charles turned toward the door. The bubble of his high, perfect ass stuck out at least a foot. Each globe was perfectly formed, with lickable dimples and a deep crevasse between. “Can I get you something?”
Jeremy, his face flushing red, looked up quickly. “I’m okay!” he said, a bit too strongly.
Charles didn’t seem to notice Jeremy looking at his ass, or if he did, he didn’t seem to mind. “Cool,” he said. “Be right back.”
He left the room and Jeremy sat on his bed, remembering to breathe at last. “Shit,” he said softly. “Shit, fuck, damn, hell, shit.” He felt like the room was spinning. He felt dizzy and out of breath. His cock was pulsing with every beat of his heart, shoving inside his pants for room to grow. “Shit,” he said again. This was very, very, very bad.
Charles stood at the end of the hallway. His cock was hard. He was stroking it through his jeans. It tingled and throbbed and felt like it weighed a good forty pounds. “Well, fuck,” he said to himself. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: No muscle growth in this chapter. No sex, either. Weird, right?
Tim didn’t leave campus very often, but now that the college was on Christmas break, and almost entirely deserted, it was easy to grow bored and lonely. The place was a collection of empty buildings and silent courtyards, with only a few students and instructors left on campus. The sky had been threatening snow for days, now, and the gray stillness made him feel sad.
Tim wanted to go home, too, but he was afraid that if he did—if he went back to be with his friends in Muscle Club and the endless sex and wanton physical release afforded by being surrounded by all the other men who were just like him, he wouldn’t want to come back here.
And maybe he shouldn’t. After all, what was there here to keep him? Even his roommate was mad at him, now, for simply refusing to do to him what had been done to Tim.
There they both were, in their room, with the other guy, Mike, sitting naked on Tim’s bed, holding his newly-augmented dick in his hands. Mike had been physically changed and Tim hadn’t even touched him, hadn’t intended to do anything, just give a couple of guys a little bit of pleasure and allow himself to get off, finally releasing a bit of the overwhelming pent-up sexual energy his body was pumping through him like blood. And then Barry got it into his system to challenge Tim, make him work a little harder, make him reach deeper into that well of unending male sexuality that radiated from him like electricity and push him harder than he’d ever pushed anyone.
And then something happened. Something unintended and impossible. Something he couldn’t take back. And Mike owned a monster cock, swollen several inches longer and thicker, rising from between his legs like a cobra, spitting cream from its eye. And Barry was….
Bigger. A lot bigger. Everywhere.
And then they were both overcome by the moment. And Barry sank to his knees before Tim’s two pricks, a hand on each, stroking him reverently like a worshiper before his god, and asking for Tim to complete the circuit, bringing Barry into the membership rolls of Muscle Club, granting him everything that Tim had to give—including the burden of what he was going through every minute of his college life.
And he paused, and he shook his head, and he denied his friend what he wanted. And then there were words, and accusations, and a fight. And Barry stormed out, half-naked and bulging with new muscular brawn, and refusing to speak to Tim like some petulant child denied a toy.
Tim pulled in a long, slow breath and sighed it back out through his parted lips. He rubbed his eyes and felt suddenly tired and old. Fuck, why was everything so fucking hard?
Then he laughed at himself. “Poor you,” he said, looking down at his massive muscular body. “Cursed with all this muscle and beauty. Poor you.”
The nearby town—not nearly large enough to be called a city—wasn’t much to speak of. One main thoroughfare downtown, a 4-lane road lined with stores, many of them closed and deserted as a result of the town’s economic downturn and the loss of so many industrial jobs, and some tree-lined avenues with large houses owned by families that have lived here forever. Following the highway to the west side, one would find apartments, strip malls and movieplexes. South of town was literally the other side of the tracks, where low income families lived in run-down houses with overgrown yards and too many dogs. Heading east and up the foothills, the college’s columned buildings and concrete dormitories sat astride a series of low cliffs overlooking the dirty, meandering river that used to support barges and boats traveling toward the port cities.
The college survived because of its athletics and business school. It was a large campus and relatively wealthy due to its longevity and generosity of a few of its more successful graduates.
Tim was wandering the empty downtown streets. The sky was grey and still threatened snow. The air was brisk but, as usual, Tim’s body was providing an unusual warmth that precluded the need for a coat, or even a light jacket. Oddly, his body seemed to regulate itself, generating warmth when it was cold, but remaining cool when the summer sun was blazing, as if it had been designed to do so. Then again, hadn’t he spent most of the past summer completely naked?
He was wearing his usual outfit; a pair of tight jeans, a body-hugging Polo shirt and a pair of rubber flip-flops on his size fourteen-and-a-half feet. If any of the few people he encountered thought it odd that someone should be wandering around in December wearing only jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and sandals, no one said a thing.
He’d found the comic book store next to a record store, wondering how they stayed in business given the digital access of everything print and audio. The stores were both empty, save for the lone employee in each, both shaggy-haired young men smelling of weed.
The clerk in the comics place remarked on Tim’s resemblance to the blonde-headed Thor, only with less hair. “Dude,” he said, “all you need is a fucking Mjölnir and a golden helmet and you’d be set!” Tim only thanked him and said that was a bit of an overstatement. (It wasn’t.)
The guy in the record store openly ogled him as he browsed the bins, sending a thrill of sexual excitement through his huge body. Tim could almost feel the man’s eyes as they caressed his muscles and ass. He considered trying his luck on the dude to see if his interest was more than curiosity, but his fear of doing something he didn’t intend to—again—held him back. They shared eye contact a couple times, and the guy even smiled at him. But Tim thought about Barry and left without buying anything, even when the clerk issued an enthusiastic, “Come back soon!”
He thought about Barry as he walked slowly down the frigid sidewalk, seeing his own reflection in the empty storefront windows. At one point he stopped and turned to look at himself, trying to see his old self somewhere inside the huge, muscular, handsome man staring back at him.
“Jesus,” he said softly, “who the fuck are you?” He lifted his right arm, bending it at the elbow and swelling the muscles lining the limb to bulging glory. They mounded up and made the tanned, copper skin grow thin and shiny, pushing his sleeve toward his shoulder to make room for the biceps and triceps swelling outward with such authority.
“You’re Tim,” an equally masculine voice answered. Then another figure stood beside him in the window, slightly shorter, less muscular, but otherwise every bit as handsome and powerfully built.
“I thought you were going home for Christmas,” Tim said, lowering his arm.
The brawny figure beside him shrugged a pair of thickly powerful shoulders. “I think I need a few more weeks before I show up at home looking like this,” Barry answered. “I told the family a friend needed me to stick around and help him through some stuff.”
Tim raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Only a few more weeks? You put on something like forty pounds of muscle.”
“Not to mention four inches in height.”
“In a few weeks?”
Barry huffed through his nostrils like a bull, releasing steam into the air. “Okay, maybe a few months.”
Tim turned towards his roommate. “You still pissed at me?”
“Yes,” he answered, not turning. Then, “No. I mean, I am, but I’m not.”
“Well, thanks for clearing that up.”
“I think I understand why you did it…or, I mean, why you didn’t do it.”
“What changed your mind?”
He shrugged again. There was a snapping sound as the threads on his shirt released, no longer able to withstand the size of his shoulders. He wore an oxford button-down, sky blue, with the shirt open nearly to his navel, revealing his now massive pectoral globes and the dusting of dark curls that were growing across his muscled chest. His prominent nipples pushed against the tight cotton material, and the first four bulges of his deeply defined abdominal wall were easily defined. “Dude in the record store was practically drooling on me. Creeped me out. So I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was to, you know.”
“Go all the way?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He seemed to suddenly remember that the man standing next to him was gay, and he said, “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, I don’t particularly want to be straight, either.” He made a face. “Vaginas are weird.” Tim looked back at their reflection. “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know how you fucking do it, man. I’m so fucking horny I could fuck a donut.” Tim laughed softly. “When did you get used to this?”
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten that I get so horny that I can make other men grow bigger cocks and muscles. So, uh, I’ll let you know when I get used to it.”
Barry joined him in looking at the two of them. They were encased in skin-tight clothing. They had the muscular frames of professional bodybuilders. Tim was six-and-a-half feet tall, and Barry was now six-two. Tim’s incredibly handsome face would make any of the women he’d been with cream their jeans, and Barry thought his new, more masculine face could make her pretty fucking wet. He reached his thickly muscled arm across the width of Tim’s mountainous shoulders. “Weird.”
“Which part,” Tim asked.
“Being big, I mean. It’s weird.” Tim nodded an agreement. “I keep forgetting how much more of me there is to fit through doors and under things. I’ve bumped my head a few times. It’s kind of liking driving a new car, and you don’t know where the fenders are when you’re parallel parking. So you keep scraping things. Only when I scrape things, rub up against someone, I get this sexual thrill that drives straight to my groin. So….”
“Yeah,” Tim said, remembering his own sudden growth. “Weird.” He looked over again, allowing his eyes to gaze on Barry’s almost-there wardrobe. “I like the look you’re going for. Kind of porn-star stripper weightlifter.”
Barry’s handsome mouth twisted sideways. “Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do?” He plucked at his collar. “These clothes were all new when I got here in September. The parents outfitted me and spent a fortune making sure I’d look nice. All collegiate and shit. Can’t afford to buy a whole new set of clothes myself, and I can’t phone ’em up and say, gee, I’m about twice the size I used to be when I left home. Can you send me a few hundred so I can replace everything you just bought?” He shrugged, and a few more threads snapped. “Besides, I don’t feel cold.”
“Well, yeah, a little, but since I can’t pull my coat over these arms, anyway, I figure….” He let the thought drop as he examined his thick and powerful limbs, lined with bulging masses of raw power. He twisted his arms and watched the muscle move, giving Tim a thrill of unintended sexual excitement. “Why aren’t you heading home?”
“I….I just decided not to.”
“You don’t want to see all your friends? Get your swerve on?”
“I’m all about feeling sorry for myself, these days,” he explained. Then he smiled. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Is it because of me? Of what happened?” Tim opened his mouth, but Barry interrupted him. “Look, man, I’m okay. Really. I mean, I was pissed there for a while, but I think I understand better now. Especially having lived in this body for a little while. I mean, there are certainly advantages. Big, huge, amazing, fucking sexy advantages.”
“Yeah, I kind of noticed.” Barry had been fucking every girl he had his eye on, and some of whom had never given him a moment’s notice before.
“Yeah, not just that. I mean, yeah, that. The fucking is amazing! I’ve never had so much pussy so often in my life! And it’s just non-stop!” The overburdened crotch of his tight pants started to display his excitement. Just talking about it, his cock started to stretch and plump with visible results. “Fuck, I’m horny,” he explained, reaching down to adjust his ample package.
“Well, there’s always the record store dude.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“You ever ass fuck anyone?”
“Well, once. A girl! I mean, she was a girl, not a guy.”
“Yes, I get that part.”
“But not since… I mean, would it even fit?”
Tim shrugged. “You’d be surprised at what you can do,” he said. Then his forehead wrinkled. “Although, come to think of it, I’ve only been with other… I’ve never done it with someone who wasn’t—”
“Extra large like you.”
“Uh, yeah.” He pursed his lips.
“And, you told me one time that you take it up the….”
“Careful, roomie,” Tim suggested, “unless you’re really prepared to make good on any ideas that are suddenly brewing in that dirty mind of yours.”
“What, fuck you? I’d be afraid you’d clamp down and snap the damned thing off!” He laughed. “No worries there, bro. I don’t want to fuck you.”
“Too bad,” Tim said, lightly. “I’m told I’m an excellent fuck.”
Barry looked over and up at Tim’s face. “Really, dude? You just went there?”
“Are you picturing my ass now?” His full lips quirked into a smile.
Barry rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I’m not. I appreciate that you’re an ok-looking guy, Tim, don’t get me wrong, but when I get hard I’m not picturing your hard muscles and massive cock. I’m picturing Cindy’s tits, or Carrie’s lips, or Lisa’s amazingly tight pussy.” He swallowed hard and pushed at his growing erection with the heel of his hand. “God damn, I’m horny,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tim repeated, for the millionth time. “So, why aren’t you with Cindy or Carrie or Lisa’s amazing pussy right now?”
“Gone home,” he reported. “So have Wendy and Monica and Betty and Lavonda and Jennifer One and Jennifer Two and….”
“I get the picture,” Tim said. “I trust you’re being careful. Dipping your oar into so many different lakes can result in some nasty bugs, you know.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, genius. I’m buying Magnums by the fucking truckload. I’m practically keeping Trojan in business by this point.” He adjusted himself again. “Damn,” he moaned. “This thing is fucking hungry.”
“There’s always the record store dude.”
“Any mouth in a storm, you mean?”
“If you think he can handle you,” Tim added, casting his gaze down at the impressive outline of his roommate’s burgeoning hard-on. “Is that thing bigger?”
Barry looked down. “Don’t think so.” Then he looked up. “Why, is it supposed to keep growing?”
Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did. So I don’t know what’ll happen.” He met Barry’s gaze. “Would it matter?”
“If I got bigger? Fuck, I’m bottoming out as it is. I might start poking holes out the backside if it grows any longer.”
“Maybe it’s just those jeans,” Tim said.
Barry outlined his eight-incher with his hands, framing the swollen shaft and bloated head of his cock. “Yeah, not bad, huh?”
“I’d blow you,” Tim said, only half-joking.
“Well, somebody is going to have to. If I don’t care of this guy soon, he’s gonna blow all by himself.” He looked toward the record store. “You really think that guy’d suck me off?”
“No harm in asking,” Tim answered. “And if he won’t, I’ll be back in the room in an hour.” He winked.
“Don’t even joke,” Barry responded. “I’m about to fucking pop.”
“Who’s joking?” Tim answered. Then he laughed. “Have fun, Barry,” he said.
Barry nodded and slapped Tim’s rock-hard ass. “I’ll let you know how it goes.” Then he clapped his hands together and looked down at his dick. “Okay, big fella, let’s go make a new friend!”
Tim watched his roommate saunter back towards the record store. His hips moved like they were oiled, and the two muscled mounds of his denim-encased ass shifted in a most agreeable—and slightly disturbing—fashion. Barry’s lats were stretching the material of his shirt to the tearing point, and his shoulders were a mile across.
Now it was Tim’s turn to adjust his equipment. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at his roommate like that. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about what it would feel like to have Barry’s enhanced dick shoving deep into his hole, prodding his prostate and making his eyes roll up inside their sockets. He wasn’t supposed to be imagining what Barry’s balls smelled like, or tasted like, or felt like as he sucked them into his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to be licking his lips as he thought about Barry’s lips pressed against his, and Barry’s tongue pushing into his mouth, and Barry’s arms wrapped around his body.
He lowered his gaze and closed his eyes, trying to chase those fantasies away. But there he was again, Barry, kneeling before him, the lobes of his muscular shoulders flexing and straining, the two heavy globes of his chest arching forward, his fat cock throbbing and drooling pre, his square-jawed visage staring up at him, asking to be bathed in his warm, creamy spunk.
“Fuck,” he said softly.
Jeremy had become very familiar with the library. He was intimately familiar with the particular corner where he was sitting, because it was well hidden from view. No one was likely to come back here to find him, or really for any reason at all.
He had his laptop open and a book beside it as he typed up a term paper that wasn’t due for weeks. Everyone else was gone home for the holidays. And why not? That was what holidays were for. In fact, there was very little reason for him to be sitting in his accustomed chair at his accustomed table in his accustomed corner because there was almost no one around to be looking for him anyway and no one he should need to hide from.
Except, of course, for the very two students that he had the most reason to be hiding from.
There was Charles, of course. Charles the mighty. Charles the handsome. Charles the supremely weird.
The guy didn’t even own a cell phone! Or a computer! And he only seemed to own, like, four shirts and one pair of pants and some flip-flops. Like, who wears flip-flops in the middle of December? And not a single pair of underwear? That had to be uncomfortable, especially considering how much… equipment… he had to contend with.
And, naturally, the guy had to sleep in the nude. And, naturally, he had to sleep over the covers! In the winter! Who does that?
It was hard enough getting to sleep with him lying there only a few feet away. With that smell he gave off, like, all the time! And he showered and everything, it wasn’t like the guy was a pig or something! So, why did he always smell like that? So… male. And… sexy.
No! Not sexy! He smelled…. he smelled… dirty. Yeah, he smelled dirty. He smelled like… like….
Oh, fuck. Just thinking about his smell, just imagining it over in the other bed, making his sheets smell like that, leaving the intense scent of his body on that side of the room, made Jeremy’s dick start to swell. Fuck! Stop it! Stop doing that! Stupid dick!
He pulled in a slow, calming breath. Don’t think about Charles. Don’t think about him lying naked in the room. Don’t think about his body, and his furry chest, and those huge dark nipples situated at the lower edge of each amazing, swollen pectoral plate. Don’t think about his skin, all bronzed, every inch of it, looking as smooth as silk. Don’t think about his back, and the strong wedges of brawn bulging from it. Or his impossibly narrow waist, and that fucking stupid six-pack of perfect abs.
And don’t, don’t, don’t, do not whatever you do think about his ass. His perfect ass. The two perfect globes of perfectly muscular butt meat, like smooth round bowls attached to his backside. And the deep shadowed crevasse between. And his smell. The smell of him.
Fuck! Stop it!
Jeremy looked up. “Fuck!” he said.
“Sorry,” the huge, beautiful young man apologized.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked innocently.
“Just, like, appear like that? Like, out of nowhere?”
Charles tilted his head, shrugged his enormous shoulders and smiled that fucking beautiful sideways smile of his. That infuriatingly perfect smile of perfect handsomeness. “What are you doing here?” he said, avoiding the question.
He pulled out a chair and spun it around, sitting splay-legged in it facing Jeremy. All Jeremy could think about at that moment was how Charles’s huge prick was pushing against the crotch of his jeans, making that huge bulging basket that spilled forward with such pornographic obviousness. “Why aren’t you doing this back in the room? There’s no one else in the dorms, anyway, and there’s a perfectly good desk there.”
“I was….” Jeremy groped for a good excuse.
As if reading his mind, Charles’s strong brow furrowed. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“What?” A cold chill shot through Jeremy’s whole body.
Charles asked again, “Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was deep, resonant and sexy.
“I’m not avoiding you,” he answered.
Charles smiled and clicked his tongue. “Now, see, you say that but even you don’t believe it.” He scooted the chair even closer. His arms are hung across the back of the chair. Jeremy could easily discern every individual muscle beneath his copper skin. “So?”
“Did I do something?”
“You didn’t do anything….”
“Did I say something?”
“I used to think that you were just shy,” he said. “But it’s been a couple of weeks and now you’re actively avoiding me.” He sat up. It made his magnificent chest rear into view. Those two fat nipples were pressing against the thin material. Didn’t he own a jacket, either? “Just tell me what it is, and I’ll stop doing it.”
“It isn’t anything,” Jeremy protested.
“Do you act this way with everyone?”
Everyone like you. Everyone I like like I like you, I do. “Seriously, Charles, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Charles held up his fist and started counting off the offenses on his raised fingers. “You’re never around when I wake up. You don’t say anything to me when we accidentally cross paths, which isn’t so accidental since you’re avoiding me. Even when you do talk to me, you studiously avoid eye contact.” He refolded his arms across the chair back and rested his strong chin on his meaty muscle. “Does that sound like something someone who likes you would do?”
“I just…. I’m…. I….” Charles just sat there, allowing Jeremy to dig his own grave. “I’m… I am shy.”
“You’re sure that’s all there is?” Charles asked doubtfully.
He nodded. “Shy,” he repeated. “I… I’m this way with everyone.” He swallowed drily. The handsome face before him was making his dick hard. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of friends.”
“I noticed,” he answered. “Don’t you want to have friends?”
“Can we be friends, Jeremy?” He sat up scooted even closer. The thick globes of his chest were enormous and beautiful. The darkness of his nipples pressed against the thin material of his shirt. “I’m a nice guy. Honest.”
“You… you make me nervous.”
“Me?” He seemed genuinely confused. “I may look kinda big and brutal, but I’m just a sweetheart. All soft and gooey inside, even if my outside looks hard.”
“Hard candy shell, rich chewy nougat inside.”
“Yeah. Yeah! I’m like candy. And who doesn’t like candy?” He stood up suddenly, towering over Jeremy. The action made a cloud of his intense and spicily masculine scent swirl around Jeremy like pollen. His nostrils stung from the strong, delicious tang of Charles’s familiar smell. It was like he was giving it off on purpose, designed to entrance Jeremy like a poisonous flower. “Friends?” Charles asked, offering his hand.
“I… I never said we weren’t friends.” Jeremy was looking up, into the beautiful youth’s green eyes. He felt like swooning, like he could faint dead away, looking into those eyes. The young man’s broad, strong hand was held out toward him. The nails looked like glass. Even his nails were perfect. “We don’t need to shake on it,” he said quietly.
Charles wrinkled his brow again. “No?” He looked at his hand. Then he lowered it and shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Okay,” he said, apparently satisfied. “So does this mean you’ll look at me when we talk?”
“And you won’t run away or disappear when I get to our room?”
Another, slighter shrug.
“You don’t seem very convincing, Jeremy.”
Charles’s voice, saying his name, brought tingles to his spine and made his cock throb. “Sorry,” he said.
Charles sat back down. “Are you okay? Are you sure that something else about me isn’t bothering you?”
Besides you being so close, you mean? And the smell of you making my dick hard? And that just looking at you makes me want to kiss you? “College is…a lot more challenging than I imagined.”
“No shit,” Charles agreed. “I forgot how much fucking work it is.”
Charles’s face looked slightly panicked for a second. “Compared to high school,” he said. “You know, you take a summer off and you think your senior year was such a drag and….”
“A ‘drag’?” Jeremy’s eyebrow arched. “Were you home-schooled by any chance?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Sometimes you sound just like my father.” He narrowed his eyes. “And home-schooled kids are…weird.”
Charles laughed slightly. “I don’t doubt that.” He scrubbed his hand through his wealth of shiny black locks, pushing them from his green gaze. His biceps swelled enormously, squeezed by the action. There was a thick vein that wound over the top of the muscle, and as the skin stretched, it revealed every cable, fiber and bulge of the awesome brawn beneath. “No, I just went to regular high school. I guess I watch too many old movies or something,” he explained. Then he shrugged. His shoulders were like animals wrestling under his shirt.
Charles peered at Jeremy’s computer. “What are you working on?”
The smaller boy turned. “Computer science,” he said. “I’m studying to be an engineer. Make something cool, you know, then sell it to Google and retire to someplace far away.”
“Far away from what?”
“Need any help?”
“From you?” he asked, incredulously. What the hell would an over-pumped juicer who spends every waking hour at the gym looking at himself in the mirror know about comp sci?
“I’m smarter than I look,” Charles volunteered. “You stuck on something?”
Oh, what the hell? “I’m working some C++ and this won’t compile. I can’t find the bug.”
“Mind if I take a look?” He rounded the table and sat down next to Jeremy. He was giving off a palpable heat! No wonder he wasn’t wearing a jacket, the dude must’ve just come from a big workout session and his whole, giant body was throbbing with power. And there was his scent again, stronger than ever. It was all coming off him in waves.
Jeremy’s heart was beating fast. His dick was throbbing hard and growing uncomfortably thick. He had no spit in his mouth. “It’s… it’s this,” he said, indicating the problem code.
Charles looked at it and scrolled up and down very quickly. “Can I—?” he asked, floating his meaty hands over the keyboard.
“Be my guest,” Jeremy answered, growing almost as curious as he was turned on.
Charles executed a flurry of typing, his hands moving very quickly as he cut and pasted, replaced some phrases outright, removed others and hit the compile icon. “I think that should help,” he said, his voice rumbling deeply beside Jeremy’s small frame.
They both watched the progress bar and then everything came up green. “You… you fixed it.”
Charles smiled over at him. “Told you I was smarter than I looked.” He winked and tapped his forehead. “It’s almost like I have a whole university full of really intelligent men up here.”
“Wow,” Jeremy said, admittedly impressed. “That was…. thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” Charles said, simply. “If there’s ever anything else I can help you out with, just ask me. Anything at all, Jeremy. I’m remarkably agreeable to almost any suggestions. And I think you’ll find my talents can extend….to quite an amazing length.”
“I’m also incredibly subtle.”
“Just wanted to throw that in there.”
“No problem.” He stood up. “You… coming back to the dorm, then?”
“In a little while. I’m going to finish some stuff here where it’s quiet.”
Charles nodded and gazed around the empty library space. “It is that,” he agreed. “You hungry?”
He smiled that fucking sideways smile again, the one that made something inside Jeremy melt like butter over a hot flame. “Yeah, hungry.”
“I… guess so.”
“Wanna grab something to eat? With me?”
Charles’s handsome face tilted and his green eyes narrowed. “Yeah, Jeremy, eat something. Put something in your mouth.”
Charles reached forward, placing his finger on Jeremy’s upper lip and encircling his mouth. “In here,” he offered. His touch was warm, too. And unexpectedly soft.
Jeremy shrank back. “What are you do—?”
“C’mon Jeremy, let’s go get some food.” Charles acted as though he had done nothing odd at all. He placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently, reaching with his other hand toward the laptop and slowly closing the lid. “It’ll do you good.”
Left with little choice, and feeling decidedly weird, Jeremy stood up and started putting his computer in his backpack. “What do you feel like?”
“I want whatever you want,” Charles said, “I’m easy.” Muscle bulged from every inch of his body. His face was achingly handsome. His groin was over-burdened by the sheer volume of his sexual equipment. His clothes fit him like a glove, hugging every perfect mound of brawn piled so deeply on his tall frame. He was smiling his sideways smile, dimples in one cheek, the other smooth and dusted with whiskers. His green eyes sparkled like gems, and his jet back hair was shining like spun glass.
“Do you—?” He didn’t finish the question.
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Do I—?”
Charles’s smile increased in wattage, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Whatever you wanted to know, chances are I do.” He lowered his chin slightly. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
Charles shrugged, “Whatever it was you wanted to know if I did.”
“I’m… not sure.”
“That’s fair. But can I offer some advice?” Jeremy slung the pack over his slim shoulder and nodded, looking at his beautiful, taller, broader, very imposing roommate. Charles’s voice was smooth and deep, seductive in its grace and power. “Whatever it is, give it a try. I find it’s not very smart to judge things—or people—without giving them a chance. You may be surprised at what you’ll enjoy doing.”
“Maybe,” Jeremy admitted. “But what if….”
“What if what?”
“What if other people….”
“Fuck them. Fuck those people.”
“But what if—?”
Charles shook his head. “Fuck them. Those people aren’t worth your time or consideration. You can’t worry what the other people think. You need to do what makes you happy—what makes you feel good. What makes you feel good about yourself.”
“Do you want to hurt someone?”
Jeremy looked shocked. “No!”
“Do you want to make someone feel bad? Or make them hate themselves?”
Charles shrugged. “Then fuck those other people. Do what you want to do. Feel good. Have fun.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jeremy protested.
“It is exactly that simple,” Charles said, softly.
Jeremy sighed. “You don’t know,” he said.
“Then tell me,” Charles answered, “so I do know.”
Charles smiled. “Okay. That’s okay. But when you want to tell someone, I hope you tell me. I like you, Jeremy. And I want you to know that. I really like you.” Jeremy didn’t meet Charles’s emerald gaze, keeping his eyes down. “You want me to shut up?”
Yes, Jeremy thought. I want you to shut up, so the sound of your voice doesn’t make me think about kissing you, and your body against mine, and you naked, and me naked, and both of us together. But he just nodded slightly, and blushed. “Let’s go,” he said, finally.
“Yes,” Charles said, “let’s.”
Tim was standing in the open doorway to his dorm room. His roommate, Barry, was laying sprawled on his own bed, completely naked, with his hard cock in his hand. His broad, thickly muscle chest and deeply defined six-pack abs were sheened with sweat, making his smooth, pale skin look almost metallic. Pearls of thick cream hung in the dark forest of curls that coated his pecs, and more long strings of it were splattered over his cobblestone belly. The eye of his monstrous erection was slowly drooling a fat runnel of cum over his grip, and it trailed down the several thick inches of his veiny shaft, finally coating his overburdened ball sack with his warm seed.
Barry’s neck, chin and lips were shiny with cum. He’d shot far and heavy, as usual.
It wasn’t that Tim was shocked by the sight, or even the fact that this was probably Barry’s third ‘release’ that day, after a wake-up wank and another just before he left the room to find some lunch. It wasn’t that Tim was naked and the room was probably around fifty-five degrees, though there was a palpable and strong current of heat coming from the direction of his bed. It wasn’t even that he was still hard, and evidently still stroking his load from his balls, even after exploding a fountain of cream that was copious enough for two men.
No, it was that he had done all this with the door to their room wide open, moaning and groaning with obvious pleasure, loud enough for Tim to hear his satisfied grunting and low, guttural declarations of “fuck yeah” and “fuck, so fucking good” all the way from the front door to the Men’s Dormitory, three floors down and several hundred feet away.
Tim just shook his blonde, handsome head and tried to look disapproving. “At least shut the door,” he said.
“Oh, fuck, dude,” Barry said, sitting up and taking his grip from his impressive hard-on, “there’s no one fucking here anyway. And what the fuck do I care who wanders by, or wanders in? Hell, they can take a seat and join me for all I care.” He looked down at his throbbing wonder and ran the tip of his index finger around and across its drooling mouth. “Shit that felt good.” He looked up, but did not stop giving attention to his cock’s swollen head. “Feel free to take a load off, Timebomb. I bet you’re hornier than I am—and I’m pretty fucking horned up.” He grinned. “I could go again, for sure.”
That was worrisome. Barry’s sexual fireworks were becoming overwhelming. He probably could stroke out another fat load, by the looks of his erection. It remained upright and shiny, swollen thick enough to stretch the skin to red glass. “Maybe later,” he said. Then he lifted his arm and tossed a Walgreens bag towards Barry’s large feet. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
Barry’s eyes lit up and a smile came to his lips. He licked them, trying to suck the clinging cream from them, and moved forward to grab the bag. His cock wavered and swung with heaviness, casting droplets of its creamy river onto his muscled thighs, though it lost none of its hardness as he sat back against the wall to look inside the plastic bag. “T-shirts?”
“I though you could use something to wear besides the usual.” Tim moved into the room—not closing the door—and sat on his bed, making it sag under his bulk. “I’m kind of tired of seeing you walking around campus like you just stepped out of an Undergear catalog.”
“A what now?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He watched Barry tear the plastic from the shirts. “I think they’ll fit. If they don’t, we don’t have a lot of options. Extra large is as large as they go.”
Barry shrugged his shoulders. “Used to wear mediums, and I can’t think I’ve gotten that much bigger.”
“Uh, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Barry smirked. “Only when I can fit myself into the bathroom and stoop down to see.” He started to hold one of the shirts to his torso, then saw the wealth of his creamy load spread everywhere. “Probably should clean up first. Wouldn’t want to get cum stains all over my new Christmas outfit!”
“Maybe you’d better,” Tim agreed.
Barry set the bag and its contents aside and stood up. His cock remained at attention, pointing toward the ceiling and standing a good seven or eight inches long. His balls, heavy and fat, drooped in their sack as he grabbed onto his mammoth hard-on and stroked it once, from base to tip, and then brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm. He looked at Tim’s wondering visage and said, “Couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, if I swallowed your cum I’d get even bigger—maybe mine works the same way.”
“You want to get bigger?” Tim asked. “I thought you were having second thoughts.”
“There’s bigger,” he said, lifting his arm and swelling the muscle into flexed glory. “And then there’s bigger,” and he grabbed his huge erection and wagged it at Tim.
“You mean bigger down there?”
“Of course! Gotta keep up with you, don’t I?” He continued stroking himself as he wandered naked from the room toward the showers at the end of the hallway, the slick, wet sounds of his hand as it pleasured his cock accompanying the loud thud of his barefooted tread along the wood. “Aw, fuck,” he said, loudly—and probably for Tim’s benefit.
He had to smile. At least his roommate—his friend—wasn’t mad anymore. And wasn’t every guy a horndog, really? Maybe it wasn’t entirely normal to be stroking one off so often, but maybe that was just a phase. A kind of side effect from whatever had happened. Maybe it would fade as Barry became used to his new form. Maybe everything would turn out all right, and maybe no one would get hurt or come to regret anything at all.
But that was a lot of maybes.
The Men’s Dormitory showers were also a leftover from years gone by. No privacy was afforded anyone inside—since, logically, there was no reason for one naked man to be looking at another naked man—and once past the scratched and dented stainless steel sinks, there was just a large, tiled room with four shower heads pointing at the floor. No walls, no curtains, nothing but a single drain in the center of the floor.
Since no one else was in the dorms at present, Barry decided it might be fun to turn on all the shower heads at the same time and give himself an all-over clean. The shower stall was small enough that the sprays would interfere with each other, at least neat the floor, and the idea of being surrounded by hot water splashing against his naked skin was very…enticing.
He twisted the knobs under each of the four heads and waited for the water to heat, standing in the center of the showers.
The room smelled like sex. The lingering scent of Barry’s business and his sweaty body hung in the air, and it made Tim’s skin tingle and his heavy cock throb. But he pulled in a calming breath and went to the window, opening it a crack to let the winter wind inside. It was frigid and a bit shocking, but his body quickly compensated. The breeze fluttered the sheets on Barry’s unmade bed and drew Tim’s attention to a wet spot where, he assumed, some of Barry’s abundant flood had undoubtedly come to rest.
He eyed the open door and listened for a sign of anyone outside. Then he bent to one knee and moved his nose in toward the dark patch, wanting to bring a stronger sample of Barry’s unique scent and the smell of sex into his senses, while no one was looking.
There was still some of Barry’s cum on the sheet, a small pearlescent puddle at the center of the dark stain. Tim extended his tongue and touched it to Barry’s seed.
The water made Barry feel really good. Not that he wasn’t already feeling really good, of course. The orgasmic release was still running through his body like a strummed guitar string, but the water reinvigorated him, warmed him, and felt really good on his naked flesh.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the flow. He adjusted the levels until the shower was steaming. With no one left in the dorms, at least there was plenty of hot water. His skin felt super sensitive. He could feel the droplets splashing against his shoulders and chest, and against his calves and ankles. He could feel the water running down his strong, wide back, gathering along his spine and draining over the mounds of his muscular butt. He tensed his muscles and stretched his body and felt the brawn bunch and bulge. It made his cock pulse and a thrill of sex ran through his body.
He reached down toward the core of his pleasure and ran his hand along its length. His cock was limp, but thick and heavy, a six-inch snake with a mushroom head. A quicksilver tingle of bliss accompanied his easy stroke, and a soft groan left his lips.
From somewhere, an idea—or a curiosity—sprang into his head. What was it about gay guys and butt sex? Like, really, what was that all about. This, this stroking, having your cock sucked—even sticking it inside an ass—now that he could understand. But what about from the other side? Did it really feel that great? Having something pushing inside your butt?
With one hand propping him against the tiled wall, his other circled beneath his cock and cupped his balls. Jesus, they were big. He gently squeezed them, feeling each one’s size. He looked down, over his broad chest and rippled belly toward his cock and balls. He hefted the eggs up. The sack had grown slack in the warm water, and his balls moved inside, two hen’s eggs producing thick, warm cream that shot up his long prick.
He sucked in a slow, shuddering breath and licked his lips. His hand moved under his hairy scrotum. With his middle finger, he gently stroked his taint, the smooth, soft flesh between his balls and his asshole. He rubbed it softly, tentatively, feeling his balls against the palm of his hand. A lingering sexual thrill surrounded his prick, sending sparks down its heavy shaft and making the head tingle.
It was… interesting. He’d scratched many an itch there, for sure, but he’d never explored it like this.
He moved the finger back, altering his stance, opening his ass, pushing his fingertip curiously against his hole, discovering its softness. He rubbed it, and then gently pushed against it, moving just the tip of his middle finger—his Fuck You finger—into his butt hole.
Instinctively, he tensed against the intrusion. He looked down at where his hand disappeared under his balls. The muscles of his forearm twisted beneath his pale skin. A fat vein bulged along the muscle. He nudged and prodded, pushing inside as he learned to control that muscle, too. To relax against intrusion. To welcome the pressure inside.
It was a bit difficult, standing up, to wedge his finger inside his butt. he checked the shower entrance and turned around, seating himself on the warm tile floor with the showers all splattering hot water on his naked flesh. Leaning his broad back against the wall, he lifted his right leg, bent at the knee, and slid his left wide, opening himself to further exploration.
He circled his hole with his fingertip, again. He wanted to tense against the touch, but forced himself to relax. Then he pushed inside again, very gently, probing with his touch.
He moved his finger into his asshole, to the first knuckle. It felt—similar to what Tim had tried to do with his sex juice. That feeling of something inside him. But this was real. This was him. He was curious, and excited, and scared, and thrilled. His cock began to bulge and throb.
He withdrew his finger, rubbed the tip along his taint again, as if calming an animal unused to being touched. Then pushed back inside. It felt… good.
A sudden flash of heat accompanied the taste of Barry’s cum. A tingling sensation that expanded into a flow of sexual potency. It was a sensation that Tim recognized instantly and that his body responded to with hunger and desire.
It was Muscle Club, for sure—but that was no surprise, because what else could it be? He tasted his brothers in Barry’s cum, he tasted their beauty and their power and their overwhelming masculinity. Had he forgotten that taste, or had it simply been so long that he could not remember there was one?
And Barry’s was Barry, his distillate and his purity and his power. Even so small a drop of his essential substance—the seed of his loins, the fundament of his strength, the concentrate of his masculine core—produced a recognition in Tim’s senses that was staggering.
He licked his lips and looked down at the bed and used his index finger to wipe up whatever he could of Barry’s powerful juice.
A small moan left Barry’s lips. He was slowly moving the single digit into and out of his asshole, sliding its slim hardness inside, feeling it intently. It was a new sensation, and not a bad one at all.
Did this make him gay? Did this mean he was turning gay?
Nah, this wasn’t gay. Gay guys—gay guys liked having sex with other guys. This was just Barry, exploring his body. Trying something new. Seeing what the fuck was up with all that talk about asses.
He tried to picture Tim naked, just as an experiment. He saw him on his bed, all his muscle, his perfect muscular development, and that huge prick. He slowly fucked his own ass with his finger while picturing Tim in his head and he felt…stupid. Why the fuck was he doing this?
But the finger in his butt didn’t feel bad. So maybe—
He pictured Jane, instead. Jane had big, luscious tits. Jane had those red, red lips, and that long, dark hair. He pictured her slim waist, her little navel, where he put his tongue, her tight little butt, which he grabbed with gusto. He pictured his cock poised at her moist, warm, inviting pussy, her lying on her back before him in all her beautiful naked glory. He pictured his hand on his cock, guiding himself into her, kissing her mouth, sucking her breasts, biting the fat nubs of her dark, dark nipples. The feel of her skin, the smell of her neck, the sensation as she welcomed his hugeness inside her and made her squeal and giggle and writhe in complete ecstasy.
Now this was more like it. His cock bulged and throbbed harder. He pushed the finger inside, moving it gently, feeling a new thrill, a different sexual sensation, and one that was not at all gay.
Maybe there was, like, a button inside. Like a G-spot. Girls had that. He’d hit it before, or thought he did, and they’d moan and go apeshit when he did it. Maybe he had one, too. Maybe everyone did, and it was just a case of finding it.
The water felt good. It splashed on his naked body. It ran over the muscled plates mounted on his wide, powerful chest. He tried to add a second finger. A sudden heat erupted, a deeply sexual burst from inside, and he gasped and felt his cock rise. God, he was getting close. He hadn’t even touched his prick and he could feel it growing harder, and throbbing insistently, and starting to tingle along every inch of its thickness. “Aw, fuck, yeah,” he whispered.
Then he rubbed something. Something slightly hard, but also soft. He pushed against it and felt a familiar sensation. Kind of like he had to pee, but he didn’t have to pee. A sudden thrilling tingle erupted up his prick. He felt like he was pre-cumming, but it was hard to tell with the water everywhere. The room was hot and steamy. The water was loud. He adjusted his posture and pushed in further, groaning with pleasure and breathing in short, harsh breaths.
So, so close.
Tim brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it inside, pulling every bit of Barry’s sticky seed off his skin with his tongue and suction and swallowing it down like warm, sweet chocolate.
There was a beast inside him, though. A beast who had not been fed in a very long time. A beast who was more familiar with what the taste on his tongue was, and what it meant, and how much it wanted that. And the beast was strong, and the beast was hungry.
Too much. It was too much. Something snapped with sudden speed. Something inside that he didn’t know was there, some need or requirement, some undeniable power that had been aching for this sensation'the food of the gods, the pure essence of man.
The time bomb went off. It exploded out of Tim just as before. A wave of sex and muscle and male power, hot and intense. Where it came from, he didn’t know, but it swelled like an invisible balloon and he could feel it leave as if a dam inside had burst its banks.
Barry gasped. His cock was suddenly as hard as steel. He felt himself grow incredibly, intensely, inhumanly hard. His cock felt hot, and it swelled as if trying to burst from its skin.
He closed his eyes and gasped for air, his fingers thrust up his ass, probing his prostate, filling him up like a hard cock, lost in a fog of sex and power and masculine perfection. Something had changed. Something was happening.
Opening his eyes, he looked down and watched his cock growing, could actually see it lengthening and thickening, watch the shaft growing slowly fatter and the head crawling up his belly. His cock was growing! Veins wound up it like snakes crawling up a tree. The head bloomed, turning red and then purple and then he was cumming, shooting a fountain of pure white sex toward his chest and face and mouth.
Then he realized something else.
More muscle. Growing again. The two mountains of his chest swelled slowly outward as his cream settled onto his wet fur like pearls. His pecs shoved against each other at the center, deepening the cleavage between them. His tingling, throbbing nipples were being pushed down as the muscle swelled.
His arms looked like rolling waves as the growth manifested, visibly increasing their thickness. He licked his lips, tasting a salty tang, and he dipped his fingers into the warm goo that his prick was pumping and sucked it off, tasting his own salty sweetness.
His chest was massive. His arms were suffused with veins that throbbed and pumped blood into his new muscle, feeding his strength and size.
His cock was bigger than ever. He pushed his finger deep inside his ass—the mounds of his buttocks were fuller against his fingers—and he forced another fat stream of hot cum from his balls, pushing it up every inch of cock and watching it emerge in a long, beautiful, viscous rope that splattered on his face and neck.
He had not even touched his cock as it exploded, but now he grabbed onto the base with his free hand and aimed the spigot at his mouth, hoping to increase its presumed effects and make himself get bigger and bigger. Gouts of thick cream splattered on his chest and neck, and then he was cumming directly into his open mouth and swallowing eagerly.
Tim came instantly. His cock literally tore through the rough denim of his jeans and swelled to magnificence, pushing fat streams of cum from his balls that splattered across the wall and Barry’s bed, unloosed and wild like a firehose. He threw back his head in orgasmic bliss and roared a sexual shout of intense pleasure and he exploded with hot, thick, sticky cream, shoved free from the massive inches of his huge prick.
He came hard and he came full. Fat ropy streams of hot cream came from his cock and arched high and hit the wall hard. He was shoving it out of his balls as if someone were squeezing them like an udder, milking him for every drop of cum he had.
He grabbed on and tried to point the mammoth appendage at his mouth, hoping to limit the damage. The cream splattered on his shirt and neck and lips and he opened his mouth and bent forward and pulled the fat bulb of his prick inside his warm, wet mouth, sucking and guzzling down the streams of cum.
It warmed him and made him feel very alive and very horny. He started to fuck his own mouth, pistoning his hips and shooting creamy streams down his own throat.
Barry felt giddy and sexy and powerful and fucking horny. His chest was swelling. His arms were swelling. Everything was swelling. His muscles had grown fully pumped, and pressed against his skin. He was shooting cum towards his mouth and trying to swallow it all, thinking it would increase and hasten his growth, feeling his body gaining pounds of rock-hard brawn as he came.
Tim sucked hard, but it was hardly necessary. He was pumping cream without stopping, his massive hard-on releasing a torrent that fed him with its pure masculine power.
It was over in moments, but it felt much longer. Tim was looking at the artwork he had just painted all over the walls and Barry’s bed, long, sticky strings of white cream. He could smell sex in the room, again, and he could still smell Barry. He could smell him even more keenly. “Fuck,” he said.
He looked down at his ruined jeans and the massive shank of meat still drooling from its tip. He looked up at the wall next to Barry’s bed, which was now plastered with a thick coat of cum, sprayed in wide arcs like some Jackson Pollack painting. More was on his roommate’s sheets. He had to get this cleaned the fuck up!
With his hard-on growing limp and the heat of embarrassment and shame coursing through his giant body, Tim ripped the sheets off Barry’s bed and used them to try to wipe his cream from the walls, mopping up his copious load with the thin cotton.
Barry sat in the hot steam and the pounding shower of water breathing hard. He’d never come that hard in his life. He’d managed to blast several thick fountains of cream straight up and it was dripping down slowly, or sticking in fat gobs to the tile. He’d managed to come without ever even touching his cock, just by moving his finger into his ass. He decided that maybe there was something to getting butt fucked after all.
He was definitely bigger. Holy fuck, he was bigger! He moved his hands onto his chest and measured the width of his pecs. He plucked at his bigger nipples with his bigger thumbs. He wasn’t sure how much bigger he was, but he was sure that he was definitely bigger.
And his cock! It was bigger too! That was fantastic!
He grabbed a bar of soap and started to wash down the wall, trying to clean up his mess.
“Holy fuck,” Barry’s voice announced as he approached their room. “It worked!”
Tim was on his own bed, naked, with his cock in his hand. He looked up, pretending that nothing at all weird was going on—just another wank session, like every other evening in the dorms. He was a magnificent specimen of man, with his haystack of dirty blonde hair on his noble head, scruffy golden whiskers sparkling on his chiseled jaw and surrounding his full, sensuous lip, a broad, incredible chest with two fat globes of power mounted on its width, arms overwhelmed with bulging muscle, legs stretching far and overstuffed with more muscle, yet, and a huge prick in his large grip, glossy and red and ready to pop.
Barry stood in the doorway, dripping. Barry was bigger. Barry was noticeably bigger. Maybe not as dramatically bigger as before, but he was definitely bigger, particularly his chest and his cock. “Shit,” Tim said.
Barry was shaking his head in disbelief, moving into the room, exploring his own bigger body with his hands. His skin was steaming in the cold air. Water drained off his beautiful skin, making him appear sleek and metallic. His cock was partially erect, arcing forward and drooping at least nine inches between his thighs. “Dude. Okay, this is gonna sound weird but… I fucking made myself grow! I fucking did it!” Then his brow creased and he asked, “Why’s my bed stripped?”
“Oh, I… I just pulled off the sheet. They were kind of a mess with your cum, so I—”
Barry nodded and said, “Yeah, dude, whatever. But fucking look at me!” He started to pose, to show off his growth, and his muscles, and his new size. He was an amateur at this kind of thing, trying to mimic the classic bodybuilder poses without the control and finesse of someone who knows how, but it was still an impressive display.
He seemed to inflate as he did it, pumping blood into his new muscle and making it swell beneath his wet skin. His arms were like his chest, somewhat out of balance with the rest of him, as if he’d stuck a muscle pump into them and inflated them separately. They were amazing, with huge balls of swollen meat that sprang up as he flexed them. ‘Eighteen inches,’ thought Tim. ‘Barry has eighteen-inch arms.’
“Not to mention this fucking thing,” he said, proudly lifting his cock into his hand with something like reverence and wagging at his roommate. “This is a fucking choker! This is gonna make Jane fucking cream her fucking panties just looking at it! I mean, come on!”
It was, indeed, an impressive tool that Barry was shoving into his roommate’s face. Even now, showered clean, Tim could smell Barry’s funky, masculine musk, as if his cock was a gun shooting his stink into the air. He could almost taste him again on his tongue, and his own cock throbbed and pulsed thickly with recognition in his grip. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “That’s pretty amazing.”
“Oh, dude, sorry, you’re totally stroking—” He dropped his prick and it slapped against his bigger thigh muscles. It looked like he was also hairier, but it was difficult to be sure because he was wet. He turned and flopped down onto his mattress, propping himself against the wall and looking at Tim as if this were the most natural situation in the world. His face did not appear to have changed, at least to the extent of his first metamorphosis. Perhaps his chin was slightly stronger, or his eyes sparkled more purely, but he was so fucking handsome—and so fucking naked—that it was hard to judge any distinctions. He was absently rubbing his limp cock with the back of his hand. It lay along his leg, long and fat, pointing its mouth at Tim. “You okay?”
“It’s not like you haven’t stroked one out with me here,” he said. Then he looked pointedly at Tim’s hand which was not at all stroking his hard-on.
“I’m… sorry, I’m kind of… are you okay with this?”
“Your… growing? Again?”
Tim smiled and nodded vigorously. “Oh, hells yes! This is awesome! I feel fucking great, I have a huge fucking cock. What’s not to like?”
“But… if it keeps happening?”
“Oh, I know what did it, and I can, like, not do that.” His handsome face twisted up in self-doubt. “At least, I think I can not do that.”
Tim just stared, waiting for an answer. When it was clear that none was forthcoming, he said, “And—?”
“Oh, it’s my butt.”
“What about your butt?” Tim was, unfortunately, picturing his roommate’s rather prodigious and muscular backside as he said it.
Barry’s face colored and he shifted on his bed uncomfortably. “I was… experimenting with something in the shower. You know, out of curiosity. Just fucking around and I discovered… something.”
Again, a long pause. “And—?”
“And, there’s a thing in my butt that makes me grow.”
Tim nearly laughed out loud, but he pursed his lips and held it in. “There’s a thing in your butt….”
“That makes me grow,” he finished, saying it as if everyone had one.
“How did you discover this thing?”
He shrugged. “Experimenting. I told you.”
“In the shower.”
“What sort of experimenting?”
“With your butt.” Again, a sudden picture appeared in his mind: Barry’s amazing ass, tightly clad in denim, walking away from him, its two prominent and meaty globes shifting and bulging.
Barry sighed dramatically. “Okay, I stuck my finger up my ass and there’s this, like, thing inside and when I touched it….” Then shrugged and went silent.
“I see.” Barry finger-fucked himself. That was interesting. Or maybe it wasn’t. At this point on their relationship, it was hard to tell.
“So you have something like a magical muscle growth button inside your ass.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Barry answered seriously. He tilted his handsome head slightly and eyed Tim’s still-throbbing tool. “You wanna stroke one off, together?”
Tim looked down at his cock, too. It was definitely ready for something. Barry’s heady scent was everywhere, again. Maybe he was pumping it out freshly just having grown again. Maybe his scent had grown in power with his muscle and his dick. Maybe Barry knew what he was doing and was making his sexy, funky, male stink fill the room. “I guess so,” he said. “You’re still—?”
“I’m horny as fuck, bro. No shit, I could stick this thing in a meat tenderizer and it wouldn’t grow a bit less hard.” He sat up and grabbed hold of his cock, and sure enough it started to respond to his attentions with immediate and noticeable effect, lengthening and thickening with alarming speed until it was rising to kiss its mouth to one of his dark, jutting nipples. He spat in his hand and slowly stroked himself, closing his eyes in the throes of evident sexual bliss. “Aw, fuck,” he moaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
His voice was deep, like a growl from an animal—a very large, very dangerous animal sitting three feet away from Tim, stroking his nine-inch high prick in one hand while lifting his other arm and sticking his nose into his armpit, flaring his nostrils as he pulled the scent of himself deeply inside, breathing in what Tim was already breathing.
“Did you feel something?”
“What, like a disturbance in the Force, Obi Wan?”
Charles was treating Jeremy to Christmas dinner at a small Chinese restaurant on the main drag. It was about the only thing open this night, and they had a few plates of food laid out between them on the table. Charles was looking through the front windows, his chin up, looking like a dog sniffing the air. Jeremy’s face was a mask of amusement and confusion, watching the handsome young man’s suddenly odd behavior.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Charles was always slightly odd. This was just a bit odder.
“You didn’t feel anything?”
“Are you trying to be funny? Did you fart or something?”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”
Charles had a concerned look on his face and was suddenly distracted. He hadn’t eaten much at all—more like moving the food around on the plate to make it appear that he had been eating. Which was odd, too, considering how big he was. Jeremy assumed that the guy had ordered all that food just for him. After all, a guy couldn’t get that big without some serious protein intake and hours at the gym.
Which was also odd, since Charles never seemed to go to the gym. Or if he did, he didn’t have any gym clothes, or a gym bag, or any of the other paraphernalia that usually accompanies the gym-going guy. “What was it?” Jeremy asked.
“Probably just my imagination,” Charles answered. He was looking directly into Jeremy’s eyes when he answered. He had an unusually penetrating gaze, and it was hard not to look back into those green, green orbs and start to fall inside them. “How’s your dinner?”
Jeremy shrugged. “S’okay.”
“But it’s not turkey.”
“Well, no, it’s not. I still appreciate the gesture, Charles.” He tilted his head slightly. “Does anyone ever call you Chuck?”
“Some people do. What do you ask?”
“You look more like a Chuck.”
“I prefer Charles.”
“Okay, just wondering.”
Charles pursed his lips slightly. “Is your mom a good cook?” He voice was so deep. Such an ordinary question seemed to take on additional meaning.
“She’s all right. Makes a mean apple pie, though.”
He shook his head. “Apple.”
“We always had pumpkin.” This was the first time that Jeremy could remember Charles ever even mentioning his family.
“What about your mom?”
“My mom? She’s dead.”
“Oh, Jeez, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
“She died when you were a kid?”
“No, she… I mean, yeah.” He blew air between his lips and shoved a stray lock of blue-black hair back amongst its brothers. It made his biceps swell enormously and exposed a patch of dank, sweaty curls in his armpit. A wash of that spicy, sexy smell of his travelled across the table and wrapped around Jeremy. Charles left his hand at the nape of his neck, stretching slightly and showing off some of his pulchritudinous beauty as he asked, “What do you want to do, now?” He had changed the subject, again. He did that a lot.
“How come you don’t talk about yourself?”
His head tilted and one elegant eyebrow arched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been roommates for a few weeks, now, and I don’t know anything about you.”
“Not much to tell,” he answered, enigmatically. He lowered his arm and his hand went beneath the table. “I’m nothing special.”
Like hell, Jeremy thought. No one looks like you do, gets as big as you do, acts as weird as you do, and ends up being ‘nothing special.’ “Any other family?”
Charles’s signature lopsided smile came to his lips. “I have a lot of brothers.”
“Like five,” he answered.
“And do these five brothers have names?”
“They all have names.” Jeremy was staring at him. “Oh, you want to know their names?”
“If that’s not too personal,” he replied with obvious sarcasm.
“Um, so, Todd. Todd’s the oldest. And then Carlo… Carl. Carl is younger than me. Michael, who is kind of like Carl’s twin brother. They’re pretty much inseparable. And finally, there’s Adam. The youngest, though by no means the smallest.”
“They’re all big like you?”
“You could say that,” he answered, grinning. His arm was moving rhythmically now, accompanied by the sound of rubbing denim.
“Okay. And no sisters?”
“No sisters. Only brothers.”
“And your father?”
“I keep going there, don’t I?” Charles shrugged. Jeremy noticed that the muscles lining the arm with the hand hidden under the table were flexing and stretching, as if Charles was clenching his hand into a fist or grabbing something. “You okay?”
“I’m gonna… hit the powder room,” he explained. Then he stood, and it was hard for Jeremy—or anyone else within eyeshot for that matter—to miss the fact that Charles was sporting a huge hard-on in his jeans. His erection was so prominent that Jeremy could easily make out whether or not Charles was circumcised, and could practically count the veins stretching along the fat shaft that was snaking towards his hip. Jeremy’s mouth fell open in mute wonder at the sheer size of the thing, and he hardly noticed as Charles left a few bills on the table to “take care of the check,” before he walked away with rather uncomfortable gait.
When he’d passed behind the men’s room door, Jeremy’s mouth finally closed and he let out a disbelieving huff. “Jesus,” he said softly. Then he looked toward the restroom again, as a very naughty thought sprang to life in his head.
Well, suppose I had to go to the powder room too, he reasoned. There’s no earthly reason why only one of us would have to relieve themselves after a meal. And, after all, he could use the toilet if Charles was at the urinal or something. It didn’t mean that he was in there to watch Charles…do…anything. Did it?
He looked for the waiter and saw him standing near the register, looking disinterested. Jeremy grabbed the cash in his hand and walked over, saying “keep the change,” before pivoting on his feet and facing the men’s room door.
The Men’s Room. Fuckin’ A it was.
Jeremy crossed the floor and set his hand to the handle, turning it—but it was locked. A deep, resounding voice from inside said, “Occupado.”
“It’s Jeremy,” Jeremy said.
“I’m… almost done.”
“I really gotta go.”
Jeremy bit his lip. He could see Charles’s monster pushing against his denim covered groin in his mind’s eye. “I really, really gotta go.”
There was a silent pause. “Okay,” Charles said. Then the handle unlocked and Jeremy turned the handle.
It was a small restroom. Really just a bathroom, with a single toilet and a sink. A small, dirty window was half-open above the tank, and there was a wooden stairway outside.
As Jeremy entered, Charles had his back to the door. His jeans were around his ankles—as usual, he hadn’t worn any underwear. His ass was magnificent. Two clenched orbs, round and smooth, with a hairy crack between. His legs were tree trunks, wrapped in slabs of muscle, and coated in a fine forest of dark curls. Jeremy asked, “What are you doing?” and stared at that perfect, powerful ass.
“What am I doing?” His voice was gruff and deep. A slick, wet noise was coming from the front of him, and one arm was slowly moving.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m doing really good, as a matter of fact.” Charles slowly turned around—it was difficult with the pants tying his ankles, but he managed. And as he turned, it became quickly apparent that he was holding onto the biggest hard-on arching up from between his thickly muscled legs that Jeremy had ever seen.
He was grinning—smiling really—with one hand grasping the middle of the shaft of his erection as the other was at his side, clenched into a fist. The fucking thing looked like it could handle at least two more hands! The tip was glistening with a drop of pre, and the whole of his hard-on was shining as if he’d managed to lube it all up with spit. “Feel free,” he said, nodding toward the toilet. “I’m… satisfying a different need at the moment.” He stroked himself slowly, moving his grip all the way up the inches of his erection and rubbing the head as if polishing an apple.
“Jesus, Charles!” Jeremy closed the door behind them. It was a very tight squeeze.
His roommate looked down at his incredible and outlandish hard-on and said. “Yeah, um, kind of big, huh?”
“Jesus,” Jeremy repeated, staring at the thing. “‘Big’ doesn’t quite describe it!”
Charles laughed slightly. He was slowly stroking the mammoth hard-on with a wet, slick sound. “So?”
Jeremy looked up, into those green, green eyes. “So?”
“You said you had to pee.” His eyebrows rose on his handsome face. His full lips curled into a smile. “So… pee.”
“Well, I can’t very well walk out there with this in my hand, can I?”
There was a kind of logic there, but still. “I guess not.”
“And I can tell you that it ain’t going anywhere until I take care of it.”
“Suddenly, I don’t have to pee anymore.”
“Really?” He continued stroking himself, slowly moving his meaty grip up and down the thick inches of rock-hard cock protruding from his loins. “Do you mind if I finish up, then?” Jeremy was mesmerized by the sight. It was a mammoth prick. So thick and shiny and huge. The head was like a plum. It was a foot long if it was an inch. He knew Charles was gifted with a monster, but this was ridiculous. “Unless you want to watch?”
“Did you want to watch?” He lowered his chin, looking at Jeremy with a kind of feral need.
The shock of the offer—and the invitation—and his sudden strong desire to say yes—all drove Jeremy to fumble with the handle to escape the small room, shutting the door behind him and breathing hard. “I’ll be just a minute,” Charles explained from the other side of the door.
Jeremy looked over at the waiter, who was eyeing him back curiously. He smiled tentatively and half-waved at him, then felt completely stupid and went back to the table to wait.
Alone in the bathroom, his hand on his boner, Chuck said, “Oops.”
He shook his head and let out a soft huff of a laugh. Poor guy, he thought. Wants it so badly, but so scared of what he wants. “Then again,” he said aloud, looking down at his monster cock, “you’re an awful lot to take on for a first time.”
He started stroking himself again, sending deep ripples of sexual bliss into his entire enhanced body as he considered what had happened. It was rare for him to lose control like that, but something had definitely occurred in the direction of the college, and it had to involve Tim.
Whatever it was, it felt like his body had been splashed with hot water, and then it all coalesced on his crotch, and suddenly his dick was throbbing and swelling and feeling quite agreeably ready to rock and roll. It took a bit more of the self-control he was always manifesting over his physical form to keep his dick from ripping its way out of its denim cage, and his secondary cock was almost ready to bulge into the open, too.
Perhaps, if he had really tried, he could have kept everything in check—but it just felt so damned good that he kind of didn’t want to. He may be one of the most beautiful creatures walking the planet and he was certainly gifted with powers and abilities far beyond what anyone had a right to, but inside that super-human shell there was still a human soul and a human heart and, it must be said, a human hard-on waiting to happen.
In a sense, Chuck was 100% hard-on. And he’d been keeping his volume turned way, way down for weeks, now. Wasn’t it time for just a little recreation?
Plus, Chuck was Chuck. He would always be Chuck. And if there was one thing Chuck liked more than anything else, it was the art of pleasure. And he was a true genius of that art, and could appreciate another genius’s work.
Aw fuck, this felt good. Fuck, yeah.
He probably shouldn’t have displayed himself so wantonly for Jeremy. Being that close to a foot-long wonder like he was showing off would make anyone in his inexperienced roommate’s place want to run. Not only was it intimidating from a comparison point of view—whose dick, besides maybe Tim’s, could even hope to measure up to it? But imagine dreaming about sucking on some handsome guy’s tool, and then come face to face with this monster!
But, Chuck was Chuck. Why do something halfway when you could be past the finish line and be back at the bar with a beer—or a dick—in your hand in half the time? So rather than turn around holding something a bit more… manageable, he’d shown off like he always did and brought out the big guns too early.
He could have shown the poor guy a fourteen-incher with a shaft so fat that it resembled a third leg and a bulbous purple head dripping cream in a puddle on the floor. A simple ten-incher slick with spit seemed almost within the realms of propriety by contrast.
“Yeah,” he growled aloud, as if speaking to his cobra. “Ten ain’t so bad, right? I mean what if I showed him this.” He watched his cock extend, growing longer like a telescope, swelling in his hand to a full twelve inches. “Or this?” His sideways grin slid onto his full, sensuous lips and his cock grew again, with sudden and magical speed, swelling another two inches longer. “Or, like, this?” Now he unleashed it, and it grew all the way across the small room, rubbing its drooling tip against the door. Chuck grinned and stroked it, easily amused at his odd sense of humor.
At least Jeremy was showing determination. Coming into the bathroom with him—that was a step in the right direction. Probably inviting him to watch was the bridge too far, as it were, but what the hell? Chuck liked it when someone watched.
Or watching someone.
Or fucking someone.
Or being fucked by someone.
Or, hopefully, all at the same time.
But back to the matter at hand—quite literally—Chuck allowed himself to manifest a nice, strong orgasmic release, making his balls swell to bursting with cream and then shoving it up his cock, feeling every millimeter of the push with a truman’s intensity. It felt good, just as it always did.
He sat down on the toilet with his hard-on arching up between his heavily-muscled thighs. Then he bent his head and opened his mouth, allowing his augmented dick to arch upward and stretch its long, long neck toward him.
He felt the head of his cock push between his jaws and into his warm, wet mouth, moaning with intense pleasure and sending deep vibrations along his shaft. He sucked blissfully against his own cock, feeling its hardness and heat shoving against the back of his throat. The head swelled and he started pumping a steady, hard stream of powerful, satisfying cream that filled him up as no other food could.
He grabbed hold of his mammoth tool with both hands and shoved a gallon of cum inside himself, swallowing greedily and feelings its powers enhance and satisfy him utterly, drowning in the power of Transform.
After he had sated himself, he pulled his cock from his mouth with a wet pop and sat back, slowly stroking it as it relaxed again—and he thought about Tim.
He’d been treading very carefully, so far. Maybe too carefully, in light of recent events. He was trying to use his transformed powers to discover what he could about the young man and what he could do, what he had become, without tipping his hand. It was agreed by the others that whatever this was, it was safer for events to work themselves out without truman interference. If this was a new strain—a different strain—what would it become on its own?
It was a delicate balancing act that required a kind of finesse that was unusual for Chuck, whose methods more often resembled a bull in a china shop, shoving enough transforming power at a lucky dude to make him split his seams in a heartbeat and start fountaining his own transforming cream before he knew what hit him.
Tim certainly showed all the signs, and having sampled just a bit of his cream at the abandoned T Gym, it was clear that whatever he was—he was some part truman. And that part was still growing in power and capability. Though it seemed unfair not to help Tim through this, he was coping all right so far, and it had been his decision to take this path. Interfering might make things better—or they might make things worse.
Jeremy was another matter, and not one Chuck had counted on.
He recognized the innocent young man for what and who he was, and quickly realized that it was a second situation that would test his resolve and his patience. He was feeling fatherly about the young man, though fatherly in an uncommon way, being that this father would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful little son over and fucking him silly.
Maybe ‘fatherly’ was the wrong term. Mentor! He was a mentor. A mentor who would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful pupil over and so on and so forth and orgasm.
It was curious that Jeremy had felt nothing—or reported feeling nothing. Chuck was quite familiar with all the enhancements that a truman should acquire, and though he partly understood that Tim was not quite there, yet, it was unusual that whatever just happened seemed only to affect Chuck. Or perhaps it was just that the affect was so muted by distance or power that it took a truman’s enhanced… well… everything to feel it.
Hopefully, that meant that it hadn’t affected anyone else, either. Because whatever it was, that shit was strong enough to cause a being in total control of their physical self to spring a boner in a public restaurant.
Jeremy was so fucking cute. There were no two ways about that. And smart, Chuck liked those things, and especially when they went together.
It was evident from the way he talked about Tim in such disparaging—but constant—terms that he liked him and was interested in him but afraid at the same time. The old “I hate him/I love him” routine. Though maybe in this case it was more like “I hate the way he makes me feel.”
Admittedly, Tim was an awful lot of man for a first love, or even a first fuck. Jeremy was probably misguided about a great many things and undoubtedly a virgin. Chuck felt that he wasn’t the right man for that job—probably someone thoughtful like Carlos, or someone almost as innocent like Adam would be far more suitable—but, damn it, he liked Jeremy. He wanted Jeremy to be happy. And he wanted Jeremy to be happy on his own terms. Could Chuck help it if he was just too irresistibly sexy?
He felt like he had toned himself down pretty far. After all, this was a guy who could literally think a man to an orgasm. He could grant a man bulging muscles—or a monster prick—with a mere touch of his hand. He could turn a man on so completely just with his voice that he’d cream inside his skivvies before he knew what hit him. Chuck was made of sex. It oozed from his pores and traveled in his scent and tingled from the tip of every shining hair on his muscular body. He was the bottled essence of perfect manhood, a ticking bomb of orgasmic lust, a being so perfectly attuned to the unending well of sexual power manifested inside him that he could walk into a room full of men and have every one of them naked, erect and worshipping his body before the door closed behind his amazing, dick-sucking ass.
So it was a kind of two-pronged test for Chuck. Guiding a young truman without complicating his path, and taking the hand of a scared, confused young man who desperately ached to feel another man’s arms around him, without scaring him the fuck away.
Finally, he allowed himself to deflate to more believable dimensions, stood up, pulled up his jeans, tucked himself back inside the tight crotch, zipped himself up, checked his reflection in the dirty mirror (looking mighty fine, Chuckster!) and exited the restroom.
Jeremy was at the table, sitting with his back to the bathroom door. Chuck—or, Charles—put his hand on his small roommate’s shoulder, causing him to jump reflexively, and said, in the best double entendre voice he could manage, “It’s all yours.”
Jeremy got up without looking at him and went toward the bathroom. He still didn’t need to take a piss, but he was damned if he was going to give Charles the satisfaction.
Shutting the door, again, the singular scent that screamed Charles at him was everywhere in the small room. He tried to pry open the window, but it wouldn’t budge.
Jesus. Jesus! That cock! That huge, awesome, fat, long, massive, amazing, mouth-watering cock! It was… it was… Jeremy didn’t even know what that was! No one owned something that big! No one in any porn video he ever sneaked a look at on his computer, not any of the hidden pictures in his naked man stash—even morphed fantasy images on Deviant Art of fantastic muscular hunks with giant cocks would have a hard time measuring up to what Charles had tucked away in his tight blue jeans!
Fuck! Hell! God damn! What a cock!
Who the hell was that guy?
Jeremy splashed water on his face and washed his hands. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of the man, picturing his perfect ass and that incredible dick and steadied his nerves. They were going to walk back to the dorm room now. They would walk back there, and be alone together, in the room, with their beds, and Charles’s body, and Charles’s ass, and Charles’s cock.
Charles would get naked, because that’s what Charles did, and then he’d lie there, next to him, pumping out that fucking sexy smell, with his cock lying across his muscled thigh, breathing slowly, looking at him, those green eyes, that kissable mouth, that powerful voice.
Jeremy was scared shitless.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked so small, and so timid, and so nothing. Life sucked. Everything sucked. He closed his eyes and leaned on the sink and suddenly felt hot and tired.
Then there was a knock at the door, and Charles asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, weakly.
“Are you sure? Because I think I probably shocked you, and that was a pretty dick move on my part, and I wanted to apologize to you for that.”
Jeremy looked into the mirror again. “No, it’s all right.”
“You’re sure?” Charles voice was so deep, it nearly shook the door from its hinges.
“I’ll be out in a second,” Jeremy answered, without answering. “I’m taking a piss.”
After a pause, Charles said. “Okay. Sorry about that, Jeremy. It was a dick move.”
A dick move.
A dick that moved.
One hell of a dick.
Jeremy felt like it was going to be a very long night.
The walk back to the campus was very cold, and very dark. Jeremy held his coat around his small body as the winter winds tried to steal it away. Charles walked with a sort of proud, strutting stride, though perhaps his long legs created his gait. His hips swayed with a fairly pronounced sexuality, and it made the globes of his ass flex and bulge in a most uncomfortable fashion for Jeremy’s taste. His jeans were too tight for him to slip his hands into his pockets, so they swung easily at his sides, far out from his body because of the width of his shoulders and lats. Jeremy was a big glad for the darkness, because it concealed the bulge from the huge and amazing appendage pushing forward with such determination from his roommate’s crotch.
Charles was almost a full head taller than the smaller boy, and was about twice as wide, even with Jeremy’s thick winter coat taken into account. He supposed they made a very odd pair, moving along the abandoned roads and lanes, making their way up the foothills and back to the dorm.
They had not spoken a word. Charles seemed distracted and distant, which Jeremy attributed to his own rude entrance into his roommate’s privacy. He was probably pissed off, and his odd offer and awkward apology did little to dissuade Jeremy of that opinion.
A thought occurred to Jeremy, though its origins were mysterious to him when he found himself opening his mouth and words started coming out of nowhere. “How do you…” was all he managed to say before his brain thought better of what his libido wanted to know.
Charles let the unasked question hang in the cold air for a couple of strides, and then he observed, “You do that a lot.” His strong, clear voice seemed very loud in the silence of the darkness.
“Not ask questions,” Charles said. “You know that, right?”
“You do,” Charles said, with finality. “It doesn’t really bother me, I’m used to it. And I think I understand why. But you should know you do it, and it can be… frustrating.”
Jeremy didn’t have an immediate response, so Charles continued. “You should just ask your question, whatever it is. If you’re afraid of the answer, that’s probably a good thing. That means you don’t know the answer, and the question should probably be asked.” He looked over. His smile was bright on his whiskered face. “If you already know the answer, then there’s no need asking. Right?”
Jeremy shrugged, embarrassed into silence.
Charles said, “So?”
“You asked, ‘How do you’, and then you stopped. I assume you wanted to ask me something, rather than asking yourself a question. How do I what?”
Jeremy’s heartbeat sped up. He didn’t really want to pursue this line of questioning, and was trying to think of something besides the thing he was going to ask Charles. And into the intervening silence, Charles said, “You’re not very good at this. Perhaps you should practice.”
“Good at what?”
“Just ask your question.”
“How… how do you manage with… that thing?”
“My cock,” Charles corrected. “I think you can make that distinction. When you’re talking to another guy about their cock, you should use ‘cock.’ Unless you’re a doctor, and then penis is probably more appropriate.”
“Your cock,” Jeremy corrected, but he provided a bit too much emphasis on the word, again, and it felt awkward to say it.
“Better,” Charles said. “Did you have a specific situation in mind, or just generally speaking?”
Jeremy shrugged. This was weirder than he imagined it being. “Dunno,” he answered. Charles huffed a soft laugh out of his nostrils, and Jeremy demanded, “What?”
“You’re really not very good at this.”
The single word made Jeremy’s body heat up and he could feel the flush of red coming to his pale skin. “What?!?” He said it more loudly and with more emphasis than he intended.
“Try again,” Charles advised.
“I’m not flirting!”
“Not very well,” Charles agreed.
“I’m not!” he protested again.
“Call it what you like, Jeremy, but when one guy asks another guy about his cock, that’s flirting.” He paused. “It’s probably more than flirting, whatever that is. Propositioning, maybe.”
“You said cock! I said penis!”
“Tomato, tomahto.” He walked on a few strides, then said again, “So?”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
Charles ignored the objection. He reached down toward his crotch and grabbed hold of himself. His palm pressed against the thick shaft of his equipment and pushed the head toward his hip. His jeans were nearly bursting from the press of his full basket. “You get used to it,” he said. “People stare, sometimes, but why wouldn’t they? It’s huge. Probably the biggest one they’ve ever encountered. And there’s something rude about it, just because it’s so overt—so big. Frankly I don’t think too much about it—certainly not as much as others seem to do.” Jeremy felt himself flush with embarrassment again. “Does that answer your question?”
He gulped. “I… was thinking more about…”
“Sex?” Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I have to admit that sometimes that’s problematic. I mean, I can make it work. But it can be off-putting, if that’s the right word. People see it like this, like now, you know, behind a wall of denim or cupped inside a pair of underwear, and it only suggests its size. Looks impressive, probably infers a sense of eroticism, just the size of it, the outline, the… impression of sex. But when they actually see it, like you did, when its full extents are openly bared, so to speak, then this look of trepidation occurs, like, ‘wow, can I really take all of that on? is it going to hurt?’” He let the question hang there for a few strides, then he added, “It doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It always feels good.”
“How do you know?”
“Mostly from the intense moans of pleasure and the occasional exclamations like ‘holy fuck, this feels good.’” He looked over. “But they’re usually screaming that. I just didn’t want to alarm the neighbors.”
“See, now, I don’t care who you are—that’s flirting, Jeremy.”
“Shut up,” he said, sullenly.
“I haven’t measured it. Do you measure yours?”
“I’ve never really thought….”
“I mean, it’s kind of ludicrous to worry about that, right? You can see how big it is. How would its actual measurements matter?”
“I was just… wondering.”
“Uh huh,” Charles said, growling like a bear.
“I am not flirting with you!”
“What would you call asking another guy how big his cock is?”
“Oh, I see. Like, ‘what do you do for a living?’ Or, ‘what’s your favorite dessert?’ Or, ‘exactly how big is your cock?’ I trust you see my point. Doesn’t routinely come up in conversation. Unless I am hanging out with the wrong crowd, because your friends sound a lot more interesting.” He shrugged. “It’s just you and me, Jeremy. Ask me whatever you want to ask me. I don’t mind flirting. I actually really enjoy it, usually. But you need a lot more training if you’re planning on being effective at it.”
“I wish you’d stop talking about me like I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re far from stupid. But you’re inexperienced. You’re shy. And you’re scared.” He slowed down and stopped. “You don’t ever need to be scared of me, Jeremy. Ever. Do you understand?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay.” Charles said.
Street lamps were few and far between, and the moonless, glowering sky made him feel a bit fearful, even given the fact that the guy beside him could probably bench press a semi truck with its trailer attached. He didn’t know these neighborhoods, or their occupants, and most of the buildings and homes they passed were also dark. Probably filled with ghosts of Christmases past, rattling their chains and bringing nightmares to all the guilty misers.
“Guilty,” he said softly.
“Pardon?” The word was like a soft rumble from the muscular beast beside him.
“Guilty,” he repeated.
“Sorry, I was just… I was thinking about Dickens.”
“Charles Dickens. ‘A Christmas Carol’ and ghosts. All these dark houses, kind of gives me the creeps.”
“You don’t need to be afraid,” Charles said. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m around.”
“I suppose you could just flash your dick at them and scare them away.” The same instant that he finished saying it, Jeremy regretted saying it, so he said, “Sorry,” rather meekly after.
Charles laughed softly. “You’re probably right, assuming I could whip it out fast enough.”
“You could just beat the shit out of them,” he suggested.
“I couldn’t do that,” Charles said, seriously.
“I couldn’t,” was all he said.
They walked on. Passing beneath a light cast their shadows on the ground, and emphasized for Jeremy the differences in their bodies. Even Charles’s shadow was huge.
The wind picked up with a sudden gust, and Jeremy tugged his coat closer. Charles asked, “Are you cold?”
He shrugged. “I suppose so,” he answered.
“Are you…?” The big man looked over. His green eyes seemed alight in the night’s darkness. “Are you pissed at me?”
“Why would I be pissed at you?” he asked.
It was Jeremy’s turn to shrug. “You seem like you’re pissed at me.”
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before, only I was the one asking you that question.”
“I’m not pissed at you, Jeremy. I’m… thinking.”
Charles looked over, pausing as if considering his answer. “Secrets,” he said at last.
“Oh,” he answered, not wishing to pry further.
“‘Oh.’ I’m thinking about secrets and your response is ‘Oh.’”
“Well, they’re secrets. Secrets are… secret.” He felt immediately dumb saying that.
“Wow. You’re not very good at this, either.”
“People. Conversation. Talking.”
But Charles’s response made Jeremy feel a pang of anger. “I told you, I’m….”
“Shy. Yes, you told me. And that’s understandable. So I’m going to let you in on another secret. It’s not one of the secrets I was thinking about, but it’s one you need to hear. It’s something you’d learn eventually, anyway, but I think you’ll find it very handy—even as young as you are.”
“Oh, and you’re all old and wise, is that it?”
They were walking slower as they talked, now. The line of houses started to fall behind as the hill’s angle increased. There were fewer street lights, and the trees were dancing in the cold night winds. “Sometimes, when two people are talking, and one person wants to tell the other something important—or ask them something important… and by important I mean important to that person. They don’t know what the other person feels about it, because they haven’t told them. So there’s a fear, there. You know? The greatest fear there is, Jeremy. Do you know what that is?”
His brow wrinkled and he swallowed hard. “Death?”
“Sort of. It’s sort of the same thing.” He paused, looking at his small roommate. “No, it’s fear of the unknown. When you don’t know what will happen, or what someone else will think, or say, or do. Sometimes, that fear is thrilling, like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes it’s dreadful, like when you have a secret to tell, something you feel shame about, or something you did wrong and you know it.”
“Is that what your secrets are?”
“We’re not quite there, yet, Jeremy. I still haven’t told you the first secret. The one about people, and conversations, and talking.” Charles slowed to a stop, and turned to face his smaller friend. “Sometimes, when one person wants to let the other person in, they leave an opening. An opening is, like, a clue, or maybe a hint, but it’s more than nothing, and often it’s very small.”
“A small opening.”
“And did you leave me a small opening?”
“I did.” he said it openly, not softly, not as if he was ashamed of something. “But you weren’t listening. And that’s not your fault. No one listens. Or very few people do. Because people are so concerned with what others think, they tend to spend around 90% of their concentration on themselves. Protecting themselves, picking the right words, or no words at all.”
“Secrets. That was an opening. That was me inviting you in. I could have responded like you do, and said ‘nothing.’” He tried to imitate Jeremy’s voice, but it sounded rather childish. “Nothing is bothering me. Nothing is happening. I’m not letting you in. And the more you push, the tighter I’ll close the opening.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does. Because it’s scary inviting someone in. You never know what they’ll say, or do. So it’s easier to pretend that nothing is wrong, and you’re better off alone, and life will just magically get better.” He sighed a small breath through his nose. “Anyway, now you know. And maybe you’ll practice listening. And waiting for small openings.”
He turned and started walking slowly up the hill. Jeremy stood there for a couple of heartbeats, wondering what he was supposed to do, now. “What do I do now?” he called.
Charles stopped and gently laughed. He turned around and said, “Now you come through the opening.”
“I… I don’t know how!”
“You do,” Charles advised him. “Shall I try it again?”
“From over there?”
“If you’d rather. If this is less intimidating.” Charles looked like the Incredible Hulk, but there was nothing very intimidating about him. “Did you want me to shout my secrets at you from here?”
Jeremy approached him on the dark, lonely sidewalk. “Ok.”
“I think I’m ready.”
They stood looking at each other. Charles said, “Well?”
“You have to start. I can’t start. I wouldn’t just blurt out ‘secrets’ for no reason.”
“Oh. Sorry. Still new at this.” Charles nodded, and waited. “I… I don’t remember what I asked you.”
Then Charles laughed gently. “You asked me what I was thinking about.”
“Oh, right. Because I was all ‘you’re pissed at me,’ and you were all, ‘no I’m not,’ and….”
“Sorry. Charles,” he said rather formally, “what are you thinking about?”
“Secrets,” he replied, with a hint of mystery.
Jeremy stood his ground and thought about his response. Finally, he said, “Secrets?”
Charles smiled. “Yes,” he verified.
“Mine,” he answered.
“Oh,” Jeremy said again. He looked into Charles’s eyes. “Did I walk through the opening?”
“You sort of nudged it with your foot, but that’s a good start.”
Charles started walking toward the campus again, and Jeremy followed. “Are you sure you want to know? Because if you start going through the openings, you’ll start making friends, and meeting people, and… I’m afraid there’s just no way to avoid it… having sex.”
“What’s sex got to do with anything?”
“I’m sure you’ve met someone you’re interested in.”
“I’m interested in a lot of people.”
“You know what I mean,” Charles said.
Jeremy was thankful that the darkness concealed his blushing face. “I still don’t see what…”
“The biggest fear of all, because it’s the biggest unknown of all, is being with someone else because you like them—or love them. Because that’s putting it all out there. That’s baring your heart and soul. And you’re handing someone else the keys… or, some kind of metaphor. I was gonna say you’re handing them the shoe to stomp all over your heart, but that just sounds weird. Handing someone a shoe? I mean, honestly, who does that?”
“I think you’re veering off course just a bit.”
“Oh, right. Anyway, secrets are one thing. Friends share secrets. They entrust them to each other. Or family, sometimes. But lovers… lovers are in a category all to themselves. And I don’t mean someone you just fuck for fun. Nothing against that, believe me. Fucking for the sake of fucking.” Jeremy was silent—he had nothing to add to this line of conversation. He had no experience to share. So Charles went on. “But when you meet someone to want to be with, and to share everything with them—not just physically naked but emotionally naked, stripped bare of everything, down to the real you—what’s scarier than that?”
“I still don’t see what one thing has to do with the other.”
“It all starts with a small opening. Maybe it’s a confession. Maybe it’s a question, a seemingly innocent question that’s overloaded with baggage. ‘Do you like me?’ Or, ‘Can I kiss you?’ And then you nudge your foot in.”
Jeremy had a strong urge to nudge more than his foot in, and to say ‘Yes, I like you. Yes, you can kiss me. You can fucking well do whatever you want to with me, Charles.’ He felt hot and his heart was beating fast and his mouth went dry. My God, he thought, Charles was right. This is the biggest fear of them all. “Okay,” he said, but his voice trembled slightly.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Charles asked.
‘Fucking yes!’ Jeremy wanted to scream. He wanted to shout it out. But instead he only nodded, and Charles placed his large, warm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“You’ll be fine,” Charles told him. “Just be brave.”
Jeremy sighed as the moment passed. His whole small body was trembling, washed with a rush of emotion and adrenaline, all trying to compensate for what was happening on the cold, dark sidewalk. And then Charles took his hand away, and they were walking again. “Do you want to hear my secrets?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Jeremy confessed. “That was an awful lot of drama to take in, and I haven’t even heard anything good, yet.”
Charles huffed a laugh from his nose, raising a fog bank before his chiseled features. “True enough,” Charles admitted. “It’s unlike me to be so dramatic. Maybe you bring the drama queen out in me. You’re always so serious.” Charles’s face reflected a comic ‘serious’ mask, pursing his full lips and furrowing his brow.
They walked a few paces, and then Jeremy said, “Secrets.”
“Mmm,” Charles moaned. “Secrets.” He stretched his neck, as if preparing for battle. “Okay, so… you’ve remarked more than once that I’m odd.”
“Everyone is odd,” Jeremy replied.
“Now who’s taking words out of someone else’s mouth?”
Jeremy remembered Charles telling him the exact same thing in the library. “But it’s true,” he added.
“It’s true,” Charles agreed. Then he sighed. “Anyway… so….”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Jeremy volunteered.
“I want to,” Charles answered. “I find that I need to share this with someone, but it’s a big secret.” He looked sideways at his small companion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just… concerned.”
“Concerned,” Jeremy repeated.
“Yes,” Charles verified. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t…”
“You’re gay,” Jeremy said.
“That’s a label. I’m not anything. I’m Chu… Charles.”
Jeremy stopped dead. “You’re gay?”
Charles stopped, too. “I suppose, technically, by human standards, I’m gay.”
“Human standards?” There he goes, being weird again, Jeremy thought.
Charles slowly sighed. “I’m truman,” he said, simply.
Jeremy’s face showed his confusion. “Get the fuck out of here.” Charles shrugged in response. “You’re not truman.” Charles nodded. “Trumans are huge! I mean, yeah, you’re big, but trumans are… they’re… but…”
“What do you think you know about trumans?”
“They’re, like, twelve feet tall or something, and always naked, and they’re super-strong and super-big, impossibly beautiful, physically perfect, kind of mythical if you ask me, since no one’s seen one around for a couple of years….”
“Well, I don’t know about perfect,” he said, modestly.
“And two dicks and they can fucking fly and….”
“Pretty much all true,” Charles verified. “But we’re not twelve feet tall.”
“Well, I kind of thought that was…”
“More like eighteen feet.”
Jeremy’s face contorted with confusion and disbelief. “Well, I hate to be the one to point this out, Charles, but you’re not eighteen feet tall. You’re very tall. Nothing against you. But eighteen feet? If trumans were eighteen feet tall wouldn’t we kind of notice them wandering about?”
“We’re not always eighteen feet tall.”
“Well, obviously! I mean, look at you! You’re not even seven feet tall, so trumans must be able to shut themselves up like Alice in Wonderland, getting bigger and smaller with a cookie or something.”
“It’s not a cookie. I’m not sure what it is, honestly. But that’s not…”
“Charles, why… why would you do that to me? Why would you lie to me? After all that build up about openings and honesty and friendship, and then you say something that is obviously not true.”
“So you want proof.”
“I’m sorry if that offends you, but yeah. Kinda. I mean, you’re a good looking guy and all. And, y’know, that is one impressive hunk of meat in your pants. But trumans are… they’re… well, let’s just say that you’re not a truman.”
“You sure you want proof?”
“What are you gonna do, Charles? Fly?”
It was dark, and hard to see. The cold wind was blowing. The nearby trees were whispering in their branches. There was a ripping sound. A tearing sound. Material being rent by force. Charles’s silhouette was swelling outward, as if it was consuming the darkness to grow itself. The size of him, of his dark shape, was expanding outward in all directions. It was growing taller and wider in a slow, steady progression, as if he were stepping closer to Jeremy, but Jeremy knew that Charles wasn’t moving.
His scent was suddenly strong, the unmistakably sexy smell of Charles was everywhere. And his heat. A palpable heat, but also a sense of heat, of the heat of sex. Something fell from his body. The ripping noises stopped. His inflation stopped. And then he stood there, bigger than before.
Charles was suddenly two feet taller. His clothes were ripped cleanly from his body, torn at the seams and shredded into tatters that fell about his huge feet. Everything on his body amplified all at once. His muscles expanded, his shoulders widened, his chest pushed forward, his arms swelled with brawn.
And his cock—which had already been an impressive specimen—now hung like a fat salami between his powerfully muscled thighs, dangling several inches beyond the one-foot mark and fucking thick as a tree limb. “Obviously not true?” Charles asked, crossing his incredibly-muscled arms across his thickly-muscled chest.
“Fuck,” Jeremy summarized.
“Well, yes.” He just stood there in the darkness, naked and unashamed, over eight feet tall and covered in thick, heavy plates and cables of raw, perfect brawn.
Jeremy no longer felt cold. He felt very warm, both inside and out. His cock pulsed and throbbed. He felt a trickle of sweat down his spine. His mouth went dry. He was dumbfounded. This was too much. “But…”
“Sure,” Charles said, turning around to display his perfect ass. His voice was profoundly masculine. A deep, thrumming sensation like the earth moving. “I’ve been told I look better from this angle, anyway.”
“No butt? No problem.” He pivoted again, displaying his perfect eight-pack abs and his perfect massive pecs and his perfect, lengthy, thick as Jeremy’s arm prick. “I can get bigger, if you need further proof.”
“I am,” Charles verified. “So, shall I get bigger? Do you want me to perform some more tricks? Maybe fly around a little or something?”
“You’ve already seen that, and though it is impressive… how about the twins? Want to see a guy with two dicks?” He glanced down his body and Jeremy followed his eyes. And there, between his powerful legs, there were now, as if by magic, two fat cocks, each the other’s twin, both fat and firm and beautiful. “Voila,” he said, rather unimpressively.
He reached down and took one into each of his large hands. They easily spilled beyond his grips, dangling forward inches longer than before. Jeremy’s jaw fell open. “I know, I’m overwhelming. I’m amazing.” He said it matter-of-factly, but not without condescension. Was he teasing Jeremy, or making fun of himself? “Should I tone it down?”
“It?” Jeremy could hardly think.
“Yes, I think I’d better.” The heat—the sense of it, the feeling of sex—mitigated. “I don’t have a good sense of how much is too much. I thought, with us being outdoors like this and in a breeze, that might lessen the effect. Sorry about that.”
“Too much,” Jeremy said softly.
“Yeah, it’s something that happens. I just give it off. Like sweating. Only it makes other guys feel… rather nice.” He shrugged. It looked like mountains shifting. “I can turn it off if that helps. I kind of don’t even notice it, anymore.”
“You can turn it off?”
“Or I can just be Charles again.” Then he was. Just like that. Only naked, and with the usual number of dicks. “Better?”
“How can you…?”
He took a step forward. He was beautiful. He was magnificent. Naked and perfect. “Not entirely human anymore. That’s how I can. Changed, and then changed some more, and then changed even more. And so on, like that, for months and months—years, even.” He was speaking softly, almost tenderly, as if explaining something complicated to a small child. “It’s a long, sordid, impossible story, and much too dull to tell again. But there are complications to be faced, and situations to avoid, and people who shouldn’t know about me.”
“Why…?” Jeremy couldn’t seem to get his brain working right, again. His body was overheated, and his cock was sucking all the blood into itself, swelling enormously in his pants.
“I’ve shocked you again. Twice in one night.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Jeremy with his penetrating green gaze. “Are you all right?”
“You’re a truman.”
“It’s always the dicks that gets them.” He smiled and winked.
“How do you…?”
“All part of the package. It’s just a very… big package.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”
“Am I?” He looked down at his magnificent body. “So I am.” He glanced down at his shredded clothing and bent to scoop up the torn cloth, holding it in his hands. “It’s going to be hard to get back into these.” He dropped them again. “Do you mind if I meet you back at the room? It’ll be hard to explain why I’m walking back there with you naked. I mean, what will people think?” He smiled, though, indicating his poor joke.
“How will you get back without…?”
“Like you said, Jeremy. Trumans can fly.”
He was there, and then he wasn’t. He crouched, slightly, and tilted his head up, and launched off the sidewalk in eerie silence. No whoosh of wind, no rushing sound. He was just gone, up into the night skies, naked and perfect and, apparently, flying.
Jeremy’s head was spinning. His heart was pounding. He was short of breath and dry-mouthed. There was no sign at all that Charles had ever actually been beside him. He picked up the remnants of his clothes and disappeared, upwards. The sky was grey and soft flakes were swirling, dancing on the cold winds. Somewhere up there, Charles was dancing with them.
As Jeremy ran back to the college, his mind started processing the things he knew—or he thought he knew—about trumans. By now, there was a fairly strong belief that the whole thing had been nothing but a huge trick. There was certainly something odd about their secrecy, and about their sudden disappearance. Some people thought it was just elaborate computer-generated imaging that created them, and all the photos were just Photoshopped manipulations. That certainly didn’t explain it all, but it made more sense than what was supposedly true.
He imagined the images he’d seen himself online, and fantasized about ever since. The massively muscled torsos, the incredibly handsome and hyper-masculine faces, the—there was no other word for it—monstrous cocks. They were shown striding the street dressed in almost nothing at all. They were shown inviting men to their gyms, promising them the same bodies with the same huge muscular development and incredible beauty. For months they were seemingly everywhere—and then they were nowhere. Just… gone.
Images that had been online were gone. Videos erased. Wikipedia articles disappeared. People still remembered them, of course, but there was no supporting information anywhere. They seemed to disappear as suddenly as they appeared.
Then the usual claims of conspiracy and government secrets and hallucinogens in the water and who knew what all. The government did seem to go suspiciously quiet about all of it—not that they were overly anxious to be involved in the whole thing in the first place. But who else would be going about trying to erase it all, and pretend it never happened? And where had they all gone? No one just evaporates! No one just goes invisible!
And now this guy, this Charles, claimed he was one of them. And to all appearances, it was true. He did, after all, just fly away.
He flew! He fucking… just… flew!
Barry was bathed in a wash of cream. It clung to the fur across the muscular plates of his impressive pectoral muscles in pearlescent droplets. It swam into the valleys between his egg-carton six-pack abdominals. It flowed into the dark forest of pubic curls that crowned the majesty of his fat, throbbing cock. Runnels of cream drained down from the mouth of his upright snake, coating his grip like icing. His other arm was raised as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. Sweat glittered like crystals in the moist pit of his arm and made his skin glisten. He could smell the rank, earthy tang of his ass on his fingers where he had been pushing them into his hole while he stroked another thick load from his balls. He had an urge to pull them into his mouth, to taste his own butthole, to see what that was like, but he resisted that urge while his roommate was watching him.
Because he wasn’t gay. But his roommate was.
Tim was sprawled on his own bed next to Barry, separated by a three-foot wide space. He could smell his roommate’s sexy funk distinctly. Smell his sweat and his cum and his ass. Smell his skin and his hair and his fur. Smell the scent of Barry like the smell of home cooking. God, he smelled good.
Tim wasn’t coated in cream. His body was different, and whatever splatters and puddles of cum from his massive, foot-high prick that landed on his skin, his body drank it inside like water on a parched dessert. Cum was Tim’s food of choice, the essence of his power and the most delicious item on the menu. He had pointed the nozzle of his cock at his own handsome face and jetted fat ropes of warm cream into his open mouth with practiced ease. It bathed his tongue and teeth in a salty tang of masculine power and he swallowed it all down greedily.
His legs were sprawled apart, one foot perched on the bed and the other on the floor. His heavy balls hung off the edge of the mattress, two farm-fresh eggs still swollen with seed. His body glistened with sweat, making his smooth, beautiful skin shine like pale metal. He had a smile on his full lips as he licked them clean.
Now he was enveloped in an afterglow of the power of his own essence, feeling it inside his body like a kind of milk that made him feel whole and complete. He moaned with a blissful satisfaction and heard his roommate’s throaty laugh.
“Fuck, dude,” Barry said. “That was amazing.”
Without opening his eyes, Tim nodded and said, “Agreed.”
Barry looked over. Tim’s eyes were still closed. His chest rose and fell as he slowly breathed. He was bigger than ever, bigger than any bodybuilder Barry had ever seen. Muscle was packed onto his long, powerful body. It was bulging with wedges and balls and plates of brawn, all arranged in perfect harmony across his naked frame. His dick was still hard, still a foot high, still swarmed with veins pulsing with hard, dull throbs. The head was pushed free of its usual cowl of foreskin and glistened with cum and spit.
Barry tentatively pulled his butt-juiced fingers toward his mouth and pushed his tongue toward them, smelling his ass on his touch. He licked the tip of his tongue gingerly against the stink and tasted sweetness. “Fuck,” he said softly.
“Indeed,” Tim agreed, looking at him as he pulled his fingers away from his tongue. He was smiling. “You sure you’re not gay, Barry?”
“What? What the fuck?” He sat up quickly, shocked that he had been caught.
“Because that seems pretty gay to me.”
“I wasn’t doing any….”
Tim nudged aside his huge ball sack with the heel of his hand and rubbed his middle finger against the warm, moist lips of his own asshole. He circled the pucker a couple of time and then pushed the finger inside, to the second knuckle, before withdrawing it and observing the wetness clinging to the skin. His smell was strong and funky. Then he brought the digit up to his mouth and pushed it inside, sucking noisily and sighing with contentment. “Fuck yeah, dude. Lick that shit up!”
“I did not just do that.”
Tim laughed. “I’m just fucking with you.” Then he pivoted on his bed and spread his legs wide and lifted them up with alarming ease and flexibility as his bed groaned to support his weight. He exposed his tight, rosy pink hole toward his roommate. “Dive in, bro! I haven’t had a good rimming in weeks!”
Barry threw up his hands to shield his eyes. “Put that shit away! Damn, that’s nasty!”
“You sure? It’s definitely a full meal!” He rubbed his fingers against his pucker again and stuck them to his nostrils, pulling in a deep breath of his own funk.
“Fuck you, Tim! Shut your fucking legs! No one wants to see your asshole!”
Tim was laughing as he lowered his feet to the bed and sat looking at his handsome roommate. Barry had grown again only an hour or two ago. Everything was bigger. And everything was in working order, judging from the wealth of sticky cum that coated his muscled body. “You need another shower, dude,” he advised. “But you might want to refrain from pushing that magical butt button of yours.” Tim was teasing Barry, knowing full well that there was no magic button, and it was Tim’s own growing and unwieldy powers that were slowly turning his roommate into a bulky bodybuilder. “You get any bigger, you’re not going to fit through the doorway.”
“Look who’s talking, Mr. Incredible Hulk.”
“Yeah, but I’m fully adjustable, remember?” He was already shrinking in size, reducing his impossibly muscular body to one that was on the verge of believable beauty. “You don’t have that advantage.”
“That is just too fucking weird.”
“Your face is too fucking weird.”
“That’s a stupid comeback.”
“Your face is a stupid comeback.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Barry said. But he was laughing at the same time. “Jesus dude, how do you do that?”
“You, like, just did the fucking splits and threw your feet over your head like that.”
“I’m very talented,” he replied. “You’d be surprised at what I can do if given a chance—or an opening.”
“Would I, now?” Barry’s eyebrows wiggled.
“Your face would… never mind.”
Barry licked his lips. He could still taste his ass on them. Sweet and earthy. “Does… does it always taste like that?”
Tim asked, “Does what always taste like what?”
“Ass,” he answered.
“There’s a simple way to find out, but you were all ‘no, stop, put your ass away,’ so..” He shrugged, smiling lasciviously. “Your tongue never slipped south when you were going down on Stacy?”
Barry shook his head. “Gross, dude.”
“Yeah, but now that you know….”
“How do you know?”
“Anyone would freak.”
“Would you freak if she made the offer?”
“To what? Lick my ass?”
“Rim you. Yeah.”
“I’m… not sure.”
His eyebrow rose. “Meaning that since I’m not opposed to fingering my own hole, I’m automatically not opposed to someone else doing it?”
Tim shrugged. “Just seems logical.”
“It’s one thing for me to start playing around down there, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing to have someone else… you know.”
He licked his lips. “How do you know until you try?”
“No way you’re gonna lick my hole.”
“Did I offer?”
“I know where this ends up.”
“Ha. ‘Ends up.’ You made a funny.”
“I’m not joking dude.”
Tim shrugged. he was still absently rubbing his own warm, moist hole with his finger, up and down, below his foot-high hard-on. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t want to find out what it feels like to have someone’s tongue bathing your butt hole in sweet, warm wetness and pushing inside, licking your rim, sending you into shivering spasms of ecstatic bliss, who am I to judge you?”
“I suppose you’re an expert.”
He glanced at Barry’s ass. “Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“I bet you have.”
“You’d win that bet.” He smiled and tilted his head. “If you expect me to be ashamed of enjoying giving someone else pleasure by rimming their butt hole—not to mention enjoying the sensation of doing it—you’re going to be disappointed.” He sat up a little, and again moved the finger from his ass to his nostrils, pulling in a long whiff of ass. “Fuck, dude, if you’re ignoring your ass, you’re giving up on half the fun. And I am a serious ass aficionado.”
Barry felt his hole tingle and throb. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack, dude.” He sat up, causing his cock to flail and bob against his perfect six-pack abs, painting a swath of sticky precum on his tanned flesh. “Offer’s on the table. Ready willing and able to do it for you. Anxious, even.”
“Not quite that far,” he said, and thought, ‘at least, not yet,’ “but it might feel like it. I have a… fairly talented tongue.”
“I’m not sure we want to go there.”
“That’s fair.” He sat there, looking all kinds of perfect. “But I can go there, no problem.”
It was a tempting and exciting offer. Barry really was curious about it. And the idea that they could do it and no one would know about it but them was…. “Okay,” he said.
“Just, y’know, to see what it’s like.”
Tim smiled. “Of course.”
“How do I…?”
“As long as I get access, it’s all good. How do you want to do it?”
“What are my options?”
“Do you want to watch me do it, or do you want me to come in from behind?”
“So, like you’re either on all fours and I pry you open and dig in, or you lay back and open wide and watch me dive in.” He narrowed his eyes. “I kinda like it when the other guy watches. I like seeing the expressions on his face when I’m eating him out. Helps me know when I’m hitting the sweet spot.”
“The sweet spot?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He stood up, towering over Barry, and looked down at him. “And if my mouth kinda…explores…I assume that’ll be okay with you?”
“Taint. Balls. Lick the crack. Possibly I could slip a bit north and kiss your dick. I assume you’d deal with that if it happened.” He licked his lips again, eyeing the wealth of manly equipment just waiting for his lips, tongue and teeth to explore. “Well?”
“Um, I guess…” He scooted his butt forward and lay on his back, bending his knees slightly.
“Oh, no, no, no, dude. There’s no halfway here. It’s either the whole enchilada or nothing. The Timebomb doesn’t do anything halfway.” Barry’s brow furrowed. “Open wide… and say ‘ahhhhhh yeah.’”
Chuck flew. He liked flying. It was peaceful and allowed him to think about things and be completely alone for a while—which was not something he regularly sought, being a man who liked people and liked being around and with and fucking them. Night flying was even better, because it allowed him to assume his uncompressed, unfettered, unnaturally immense and uncommonly beautiful physical self, hidden by darkness and without the need to disguise his true nature to blend in with anyone else’s preconceptions.
As his powerful legs thrust him into the night, his body expanding in every direction, growing wider by the foot and taller by the yard. His muscles seemed to bloom and unfold along his limbs, inflating to full glory, and once again two mighty cocks hung between his gargantuan thighs, the surest symbol that he was no longer merely human.
A god flew in the sky, more beautiful by far than any man had a right to be, more powerful than any man had ever dreamed of being, and hornier than any thousand men put together.
He was truman, and that meant so much more than any non-truman could conceive of. He had been truman for so long, now, that it was getting hard to remember what being human had been like. But being amongst them, and especially being with Jeremy and all his fears and curiously quaint ideas about sex and power and what it meant to be a man.
Chuck twisted in the winds and swooped and dived like a fish in his native waters. The currents and funnels and walls of thick wind that he used to maneuver his incredibly flexible and powerful body higher and higher into the sky appeared to his enhanced senses, and he swam through them and pushed against them and felt them caress his naked skin. He wished that Frazz was with him, so that they could fly-fuck as they had done so often. There was simply nothing like it, the sensation of falling and flying and fucking all at the same time, the utter freedom and intense eroticism of the act knew no equal.
The small town’s lights shrunk to pinpoints and sparkled like tiny diamonds before he was surrounded by clouds thick with snow. It clung to him and melted instantly, and his flesh tingled as if being licked by thousands of tiny tongues. The ice turned to warm water on his skin, and he was soon glistening and slick with it, making him look as if he were made of copper.
Flying gave him time to consider what he intended to do. Typically for Chuck, nothing was planned and everything was possible. Was telling Jeremy prudent? Maybe not. Should he just go into Tim’s room and reveal himself with a grand ‘ta-da!’ moment? Possibly, but where was the fun in that? Besides, you know, the usual naked fun that they would no doubt start to have.
Mmm, naked fun. The thought made Chuck’s bountiful loins tingle and throb. Naked fun was a great idea. He was certainly in need of it. Hell, maybe his self-imposed exile from his comrade trumans was half the reason that whatever Tim had done had effected him at all. He was severely horned up. Like, dangerously so. Sure, he could keep the lock on his libido, he had absolute control over every aspect of his physical form, including the drives that might otherwise overwhelm him.
But there were always emotions and desires that came into play. Brain chemistry and dopamine levels were one thing, but when his imagination started acting up (as it so often did) and he was mentally undressing some dude just walking down the street, imagining what his ass would look like outside of those jeans, and what his hole would taste like as he stroked his hard-on and licked his butt and wrapped him up in his heavily-muscled arms…. well, that was the kind of thing that was hard to ignore.
Chuck sucked in a cold draught of winter sky, cooling his libido as well as his body—even though both of them always ran hot. Being a truman was most challenging when there were no other trumans around.
And that made him think about the brotherhood, and his lovers and companions and friends. Thousands of them, all over the globe. And the burden they each had to bare.
“Bare,” he said softly. Naked. Skin. Flesh. Hair. Muscle. Cock. Suck. Lick. Fuck. “Steady on, Chuck,” he advised himself. He twisted left and under a thick column of air, catching hold of it and launching against the heavy winds, pushing himself higher.
The campus was dark and deserted. Snow was falling steadily, now, and an odd silence blanketed everything along with the flakes. The buildings were mostly dark, and the trees were mostly bare. Even the dorms looked evacuated, with not a single light in a single window lit from this side.
Jeremy opened the door and dashed up the stairs two at a time. His room was on the third floor, dorm 318, the last room at the west end on the north side of the building. nearest the shower and farthest from the stairs. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else except his ultimate destination, and his roommate waiting there.
He ran along the third floor hallway and didn’t notice anything odd, though the door on the same side as his own, the one nearest the stairs, the one where Tim and Barry camped out, was slightly open and there were sounds of movement and low noises, moaning or something, coming from within. But blood was beating hard in his ears and he was making too much noise himself to pay attention to anything except the door to his own room at the far end of the hallway.
He paused at the closed door to room 318. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, his brow sweaty, and his whole body hot and wet. He licked his lips, pulled in a calming breath and took hold of the cold metal handle, opening the door to his dorm room.
Charles was standing at the open window. He was naked, of course—his natural state. The room was still dark, but even in silhouette the guy’s broad back and narrow waist were absurdly tapered. Mountains were piled on his shoulders. And his scent—that smell of Charles—was everywhere.
As Jeremy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the swell and beauty of the two muscular globes of Charles’s amazing and inhumanly powerful butt became clear. He had an incredible ass, there were no two ways about it. Just… incredible. Like a person could dive in there between the two perfect mounds and get lost inside for days. And Charles needed that ass to carry around the masses of muscle that packed his wide, flaring back.
He simply stood there in the darkness, like a statue of a perfect god, the god of sex and power and beauty. Muscle bulged from every millimeter of his tall, wide, thick form, and the mounds and indentations were mind-blowing. “So. How much do you know?” His voice was soft, but deep and powerful.
“Know?” Jeremy asked.
“About trumans.” Charles didn’t turn around as he spoke. Jeremy could see a slight reflection of his face in the window, but it looks slightly odd, or different. It was hard to say how. “About me.”
“I guess… I guess just the usual stuff. You were there, and then you weren’t. Pictures, videos, magazines, you were everywhere. You did that TV thing where that guy was naked for a second. Really big deal about that, and then the gyms were opening up, and…”
“And then we were gone,” Charles said. “How much do you want to know?”
“I guess… I guess that depends.”
“Always a safe answer,” Charles said. Jeremy watched the reflection of the man’s face in the dark window. It looked older, there, but also more handsome. As if Charles’s face had lost something, some sort of soft mask, and now Jeremy could see what he really looked like. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Jeremy, because I’m going to ask you for something in return. You can say no, of course, but I hope that after you hear the story, maybe…” He sighed. “Anyway,” he said, as a kind of universal preamble.
Then he turned around.
Then Jeremy spontaneously creamed his jeans.
Charles was perfect. There was no other more perfect word to describe him. Absolute masculine perfection. From his noble, regal, brow to his broad, large feet, the man standing before Jeremy in his dorm room was absolute male beauty made flesh.
His face made an ache start to flame in Jeremy’s chest. He had the chiseled features of a movie star, or a model, or a porn actor. Or all three. Jeremy thought that if the lights came on right now, exposing the man before him in unshadowed glory, he would faint dead away. Those green eyes, clear and intense, sparkled like emeralds. His teeth were white and perfect. He had a broad, manly nose and his strong, angled chin and jaw were shadowed with whiskers in perfect decoration of masculinity.
His body was beyond incredible. Simply breathtaking. Massive bulges of muscles covered his tall frame, but they were all—each—in perfect proportion to each other. He could see every single muscle group on the man’s body, and every single muscle of every single group. His skin, dark and ruddy, shone like silk in the soft light, rippling over the expanses of brawn as if painted on.
Fuck, he was beautiful. Beyond handsome. Beyond sexy. Just… perfect. “My friends call me Chuck,” he said.
Jeremy swallowed and his mouth fell open. He could find no words at all inside his head. Nothing came to his tongue. He was spellbound and dumbfounded by the sheer perfection on display before him.
Chuck said, “Close the door.” Jeremy reached behind him and did so. “Turn on the light.”
“I’m afraid,” Jeremy said.
Chuck seemed to find the reaction surprising and amusing. “Of what?”
“You came in your shorts.” His voice was deep and rich and powerful. It resonated in Jeremy’s balls, tugging at them, and sent tingles along his cock. “I suppose it would be immodest to say that I have that effect on others. So I’m not surprised.” He smiled again, and Jeremy wanted to cum again. “You want to get changed?”
“Ok. Do you want me to turn around?”
Jeremy nodded again.
Chuck turned around. “Should I keep talking while you clean up?”
“I… guess… so.”
“I hope you’ll excuse me for doing that,” he said as he pivoted to face the window again. “I’d tell you that I don’t mean to do it, but that would be a lie. I love doing that. I love that I made you cum. I don’t mean that I love that I embarrassed you, but I love when a man cums. I love making a man cum. No matter how I do it. And I know a lot of ways to do it—but just turning around? That’s kind of a special gratification, so I want to thank you for that, Jeremy.”
“Um, you’re welcome?” He was opening a drawer and pulling out a fresh pair of underwear. He glanced toward the window and saw Chuck’s green gaze on him. “You’re watching me.”
Chuck laughed slightly and shrugged. “Can’t help myself. I love watching beautiful men getting naked.”
“Stop right there before you say something stupid. When I pay a compliment, I’m not being nice and I’m not lying. You’re a beautiful man.”
Jeremy still didn’t believe it, but all he said was, “Could you, like, close your eyes or something?”
“Intimidated might be a better word.”
“Oh. Right. I forget that part.” Jeremy supposed that Chuck was never intimidated. What the hell would he ever be intimidated by? “Okay, eyes closed,” he said.
Jeremy checked, and Chuck’s green orbs were hidden behind thick-lashed eyelids. He was still smiling, though. “Should I start?”
“Telling you about me? About us? And why I need your help?”
“I guess so,” Jeremy answered, dubiously. What the hell could Jeremy offer anyone that powerful?
“I’ll start with the basics, then.” He paused, and Jeremy heard him inhale through his nostrils. “Damn, you smell nice.”
Jeremy felt a chill run up his spine. He’d just stripped himself naked from the waist down. His soggy, cream-filled shorts were discarded on the floor. He could only smell Chuck’s intense and erotic scent in the room. “Thanks?”
“Don’t mention it,” Chuck replied. “Can I open my eyes?”
“Almost.” Jeremy pulled on his fresh underwear and tugged his jeans up his legs. “Okay,” he reported.
Chuck opened his eyes. “I’m going to turn around now.”
“Just thought I’d warn you,” he said. Then he held up his arms and added, “Kidding! I’m just kidding.” He turned around and Jeremy was surprised that he had to remember to breathe all over again. The man was just… too beautiful. “Better?”
“Cleaner,” he answered.
“So… not better.” He laughed. “I’m not usually this filthy-minded,” he lied.
Not that Jeremy believed him, anyway. “You were saying?”
“About us,” Chuck said, nodding. “Well, the government—that’s our government, the good ol’ US of A—had decided that they wanted a… what? Tribe? Of super soldiers.”
“Like Captain America?”
His eyes narrowed and he nodded slightly. “Very much like Captain America. So they assigned two scientists to the task, and they… do you know this part already?”
“No. No one ever said where the trumen originated.”
“Cool.” He leaned back against the window sill, setting his perfect butt against it and folding his arms over his chest, gesturing with one hand now and again as he spoke. He was mostly in shadow, helping Jeremy cope with the man’s superhuman beauty, but just watching all his muscles moving was an exercise in sensuality and masculine power. “These two smart guys—Carlos and Jerry, by name—set about breaking down the genome of the human body, mapping all its extents and connections, what did what, what affected what, all that shit, and they came up with a little syringe of something magic they called Transform.
“Now, what was in there, I can’t tell you. Enzymes and shit. Some sort of enhancements and DNA doohickeys and who the fuck knows what, but the end result was that they shot it into a civilian volunteer who happened to be my next-door neighbor and about twelve hours later, all hell started breaking loose.
“What they didn’t know was that they had managed to unleash a kind of monster. A monster that fed on power and growth and muscle. And another thing they didn’t know—because no one had ever done this before, so how could they—was that there were men in the world who acted like triggers, and when they were exposed to this shit, super weirdness started happening.”
“LIke… like tremendous growth. Insane muscular development. Everything they planned on happening, only much more accelerated than anyone anticipated. Like, insanely quick development, and then just insane shit like physical morphing, super flexibility, super strength. Insane super weird-ass shit.”
Chuck shrugged his mountain ranges. “The long and the short of it is, Transform got into the essential genetic structure of whomever it infected. Though I think ‘infected’ is probably technically incorrect, it works. It acted like a viral agent, swarming the body and the genes and cells and DNA of whomever it entered and altering them utterly and forever. Once inside you, there was no going back.
“Looking at me, you could say that there seems like there was no downside, right? I mean, I’m a passingly good looking guy.”
“Just barely passingly,” Jeremy agreed, glancing at his cum-sodden shorts.
“But the side effects, initially, included unhinged growth and muscular development—which is probably fine for a super soldier but not quite a boon for average Joe Six-pack living in a small apartment in Nowheresville. And I have to admit that my own transformation wasn’t my idea at all. It just sort of… happened.”
“How does something like that just sort of happen? Couldn’t you say ‘no thank you, I don’t want the needle in my butt?’”
“Oh, see, I forgot an important development. After Transform was introduced into Todd’s body—Todd was my neighbor—it mutated. Again, these two scientist guys were smart, but they didn’t exactly know what they were doing, what all the ramifications were going to be. Because… so… um… okay, so one of the things they decided to alter on purpose was sexuality.”
“Couple of reasons. One was that the super soldiers would all be male. I guess that makes a kind of sense—males are more disposed to muscular development and size, after all. That in itself wasn’t as important as the type of operations these soldiers would be asked to perform. Often, they’d be on their own, in situations where having weapons would be difficult and where they would need to rely solely on themselves and their comrades. Being attractive would help because psychologically, people are more open with attractive people, more willing to be, like, sharing things like secrets and where that atomic bomb is—shit like that.”
“Sure,” Jeremy agreed, his head swimming.
“These operations could last for weeks or months in isolation, and it turns out one of the… difficulties about that is that guys get horny. Really horny. Especially guys with over-developed growth patterns and highly active testosterone. And when guys get horny, they get stupid, and mistakes get made, and things fall apart.”
“So, someone said, ‘why not make them gay? Then they can use each other to… relieve these drives and get on with the important shit.’”
“Someone said that.”
“Right. So, it turns you gay.”
“So, you weren’t gay before…?”
“Wasn’t.” He shrugged. “Anyway….”
“And, you were okay with that?”
He considered the question for only a moment. “There were too many benefits to worry about it, I guess. Frankly, there was a lot of shit going down in the first few hours and days after I was transformed. Things got out of hand pretty fucking fast, because another part of this change is that when you change someone else…”
“With a needle?”
“Oh, right. No, the change is through anything from my body. I can make another man into a truman, now, just by breathing on him. But not unless I want to, and not unless he wants me to. Like I said, things got out of hand quickly. Todd and me, we were making new transformed men faster than you can say ‘fuck me, Freddy!’ And it seemed like with every new member of our little tribe, we were gaining more power, more size and new abilities.”
“Like flying. Only we don’t really fly. It’s more like air-swimming, I guess. And then we discovered that we had total—and I mean absolute total—control of our physical forms, and every manifestation of them.”
“So, not just how you look?”
“How I everything. That’s how I can or can’t transform someone else. I can—I can place transform into the transforming agent at will. Whether that’s sweat or spit or pheromone or cum, I can take aim at someone and only transform them.”
“Or not. But at the beginning, there was no ‘or not.’ We were too fucking horned up on power to stop ourselves. Plus, it seemed like every other day, something new happened and we kept getting bigger, stronger… like I said. I mean, imagine that feeling. Kissing a guy, watching him sprout muscles, grow more handsome, shoot up by the foot, grow another dick, and then all he wants is to be with you, fuck you, kiss you, suck you. It was a never-ending orgy of muscle and sex and love and beauty. It was kind of an addiction, and it just never stopped.”
“But then it did.”
He nodded. “The government was… unhappy with these developments. Their super soldiers turned out to be nothing but super muscle sluts. I mean, we could not get enough. Insatiable only hints at our sex drive, and then pile on the fact that we can go non-stop, and keep getting stronger, and bigger, and everything else. They wanted their toys back, and they wanted to stop what was happening.”
“I haven’t emphasized the whole growth thing enough, apparently. Jeremy, I’m fucking huge. Like, motherfucking huge. You think I’m intimidating like this? Try me at three stories tall.”
“And then spraying my never-ending supply of transforming cum out my double-barreled cum cannon and..”
“I get the idea,” Jeremy answered. “They were scared.”
“In a word, shitless. We had them rightly shaking in their boots, and they also realized what they’d done wrong and they wanted to correct it.”
“What did they do?”
“As you would expect, Transform wasn’t the only weapon in their arsenal. Not to mention that other governments were doing the same thing. The Russians. The Chinese. Probably right now there’s some lab somewhere cooking up another strain of some formula designed to perfect the human male into the perfect fighting machine in order to destroy someone else’s perfect fighting machine.
“So in order to protect ourselves—just to fucking survive—we went on the offensive. We brought the fight home. Over and over. Infiltrating, investigating, and trying to stop them from doing it again, and from destroying what we had become, and from trying to do it right this time. Because if there is one thing we are not, that’s an unstoppable army.”
“I told you about our libido. Well, that’s what we do with all that pent-up masculine energy. All that testosterone and male hormonal juice constantly pumping through our veins? We don’t fight. We can’t. We can only fuck. And that’s what they never seem to understand. We don’t want to make war, we want to make love. Literally.”
“The reason you’re so horned up and made so many others is because….”
“Because that’s all we can do. We can’t fight. Oh, it’s not that we have no survival instinct or don’t know how. I’ve seen some of my brothers rip open walls and toss helicopters from the sky and deflect fucking missiles.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re kind of… indestructible.”
He shrugged. “Far as we know. Nothing can hurt us. The muscle is super dense. The skin is super elastic. We heal almost immediately, regenerating skin or organs or whatever we need. I mean, we were built this way. It’s what we are.”
“Instead of the X-Men, you’re the Sex-Men.”
Chuck smiled and Jeremy melted. “Someone actually suggested we call ourselves that, but ‘truman’ finally won out.”
“For ‘transformed human,’” Jeremy said.
Chuck nodded. “Things were like that for a while. Seems like we went from one bad situation to another, even as our numbers swelled almost as large as our cocks.” His face grew serious and he said, “But now we really are in trouble, and this time it’s our own fault.”
If Barry could think straight, he’d most likely be thinking, “Holy fuck, this feels good.” Fortunately, he was too far gone into the throes of utter sexual bliss because he had an ass aficionado going down on his hole so fully and so eagerly and so joyously that all he could think of was, “Holy fuck, oh God, oh Christ, holy fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
In fact, that was what he was managing to enunciate, as well, which only drove Tim to dive deeper into his ass.
It felt like a dozen mouths were on his nether regions. How could one man possibly be doing so much to everything down there? His ass felt amazing. His balls tingled and throbbed when they weren’t being tugged and sucked. His cock was licked and kissed and stroked and soaked in spit, warm and wet and slick, and strong hands squeezed and teased and stroked him for all he was worth.
Holy fuck, this felt good.
Better than fucking good.
He moaned. It was a deep and satisfying noise. His sphincter tightened and he felt wet fingers pushing into him and then something slick and slippery and a tongue was inside him and he opened up and gasped and rolled his eyes into his head.
Fuck, he wanted to cum. He wanted to cum very badly. Everything felt so fucking good. Why had he ever had second thoughts about this? What the hell was he scared of? Tim was fucking amazing!
And Tim—he was in heaven.
At first, Barry hadn’t seemed into it. He was clenched and uptight and wouldn’t even look at him. Tim kept glancing up to see how he was doing, and whether Barry was having as much fun as he was, but the dude’s face was all grimaced and pinched and it looked like he was in pain. So Tim brought out the big guns early and fucking went to town on his ass, and his taint, and his ball sack. He lubed it all up and kept it all hot and wet and hard. He stretched his hands along Barry’s legs, all the way out, feeling the other man’s muscle as he went, and then he grasped his ankles and fucking opened him up.
There he was. His beautiful tight little hole. Surrounded in soft curls and slightly damp with sweat and cum. He smelled delicious and it made Tim’s cock instantly hard, almost painfully so. He licked at it and kissed it and smelled its funk and tasted its earthy tang. He pushed Barry’s legs open and opened his hole, pushing his tongue inside and rimming the fuck out of his roommate.
Suddenly it was all hands on deck and Barry was open to anything. It was almost laughable how easily his walls were broached once he felt how good it was going to be with Tim in the driver’s seat and all that ass and cock and balls at his disposal.
He was going to give Barry the ride of his fucking life.
And he knew how to do it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Barry moaned, as Tim did something particularly pleasing with his lips and tongue. Tim stroked Barry’s hard-on and then surrounded the swollen head in wet heat, bathing his dick in spit and sucking against his slit. Barry felt a surge of cum and, as if feeling it too, Tim squeezed his shaft hard and pushed it back.
“I’m not done yet,” he growled. Then his mouth was back in action, sucking on Barry’s balls and rubbing his chin against Barry’s smooth taint.
“Stop,” Barry said. “I’m gonna fucking pop.”
“Not yet,” Tim said again. “Almost there.”
“Gotta fucking cum.”
“I know you do, buddy. I know you do.”
“Fuck,” he moaned.
Tim stroked Barry’s long, hard dick with a slow, steady hand. “But hold on, okay?”
“Hold on, because it’s about to get a lot better.”
“Fuck, dude, I can’t.”
Tim stood up. His dick was steel hard and leaking a stream of honey. It drained along his veiny shaft and gathered on his huge balls. “Can I fuck you?” he asked.
Barry looked down at Tim’s hugeness. “Fuck, dude.”
“I promise it’s gonna feel amazing.”
“Dude, I… I dunno…”
“Man, I gotta. I gotta fuck you. You have an amazing ass. I want… I gotta be inside.”
“It’s gonna feel amazing,” Tim promised, kissing the hot tip of his meaty poker against Barry’s pucker, wrapping his grip around his shaft and squeezing against its hardness. “You’re wet and hot and ready, Barry. I promise, it’s going to feel amazing.”
“Something else happened about, oh, I guess a year or so ago.”
“Before you disappeared.”
“Well, I didn’t disappear, obviously, because here I am. But, yeah. It happened before we appeared, too, before the TV special and the videos and magazines and porn. This happened the last time they tried to stop us. Some asshole was put in charge, and let me tell you this guy was a real peach. Had a whole busload of high schoolers killed. Had a few of us put into prisons. Had his own men situated in a booby-trapped underground building that would kill everyone inside if we started anything.”
“Not really,” Jeremy said, doubtfully.
Chuck crossed his heart with his finger, scribing an X across the thick meat of his massive chest. “If I’m lying I’m dying.” He sighed. “Anyway, one of his guys, this other scientist, he was kind of giving himself injections on the side—sampling his own goods, as it were. They were trying it again, some new formula, slower acting, trying to keep things contained, but then we come along and fuck it all up.”
“Backfired, as usual. Whatever it was they made, it wasn’t good. The guy started swelling into this kind of mutated Frankenstein’s monster, with bulging muscle everywhere and he was just a mess, really. Not all pretty like us. So, anyway, it ends up—okay, this part gets weird.”
“I’m just preparing you, no need to get rude.” But Chuck laughed anyway, at the absurdity of it all.
“So, this dude is all swollen and rampaging and the whole building is coming down around us and…”
“The whole building?”
“Booby traps. Yeah, big fucking mess. Anyway, along comes this other dude, young guy, probably younger than you, and he goes up to the blubbery mess of muscle and they kind of… melt… together.”
“Sorry. Again, I don’t know the hows and whys, I can only report the whats. These two guys somehow combined themselves into one guy. So that transform transformed the other guy, but in the process it also swallowed whatever the other guy’s stuff was trying to do. And the result of all that was that suddenly, this guy could literally walk through walls.”
“I know! It’s total bullshit! But there it was, and there he was, and there’s the building threatening to crush everyone, so this new guy just sort of scoops everyone up and the power of transform takes over again and suddenly everyone’s doing it.”
He sighed, as if preparing for a long argument. “Controlling their very atomic structure. Not just cellular or genetic, now, but down to the atoms. To the very essence of what we’re all made of!”
“Said the young man talking to the flying dude.” He smiled. “I can show you if you like, though you won’t actually see anything.” He straightened, lifting himself off the window sill and stood to his full height. His body seemed to stretch to fill the space, though Jeremy assumed that was just an illusion of shadow. “You might want to turn on the lights, now. That will make it a bit easier to see—or, I guess, not see.”
Jeremy wasn’t sure what that meant. “Okay,” he said, turning to flip the switch on the wall. The darkness was washed away by the overhead light, and when he turned back, Jeremy again experienced the overwhelming sensation that the floor was dropping away and the air was being sucked from his lungs and there was a fire in the room with him and all he wanted to do was cream his pants very completely.
He wasn’t fully prepared for Chuck. Maybe there was no way anyone could be. The man was simply overwhelmingly beautiful. He was just standing there, looking back at his roommate, arms at his sides, legs shoulder-width apart, head upright, shoulders back, chest out. He had a military bearing, but looked more like the most gorgeous and muscle-bound porn star in the world.
His hair was a shock of blue-black locks not so much arranged on his head as sprouting in an unorderly fashion, making him look like he’d just crawled from the bed where he’d left his partner worn-out from sex. His eyes sparkled with jewel-like tones and his skin, everywhere, had a silken sheen as if he had been polished. Thick, soft, dark fur coated his massive chest, forearms, legs and ran through the deep crevasses around his eight-pack. A forest of dark curls crowned his thick and lengthy cock, that dangled easily a foot long between his tree-trunk legs.
Jeremy caught his breath and released a shuddering exhale as he tried to adjust to the reality of the most perfect and beautiful man in the world standing four feet away, completely and unashamedly naked. He had thought that a truman would look like some kind of cross between a bodybuilder and the Michelin Man, someone so overwhelmed with muscle that he was little more than a pumped-up balloon animal with huge fat bulges everywhere, but Chuck was more—and less—than that. His physical form—his body, his face, his muscles, his fur, his cock and balls, his skin, his arms and legs and hands and feet—everything was perfect. He was almost too beautiful to look at. “Wow,” he said, softly.
Chuck grinned. “Still?” He looked down at himself and shrugged. “Thanks, Jeremy. I sometimes forget.”
“Everything.” He brought his hands up and clapped them together, rubbing his palms as if preparing for a magic trick. It made the muscles all along both arms bulge and jump, illustrating that no matter how big he looked, there was still more muscle on reserve ready to plump into power. “Okay, so, are you ready?”
“I guess so,” he answered, unsure of what he was supposed to be ready for.
Chuck was just standing there. Then he became unfocused. That was the word that jumped into Jeremy’s head. Everything around him seemed to come into sharper focus, because his form was shifting, growing indistinct, and then transparent. It was like he was made of water and he was slowly evaporating.
It happened quickly. Chuck grew more indistinct, more transparent, things behind him became clear and then… he was no longer there. He had simply vanished.
“Charles?” Jeremy was startled and little bit scared. “Charles?” He stepped forward and waved his hand through the space where his roommate had been. “Chuck?” he repeated.
Then the air started to waver like a heat haze, and that unique and tantalizing scent started to sting his nostrils, and he could start to see something forming, some ghostlike presence, where he had been waving his hand.
A face, and a body, pale and soft but coalescing and becoming more distinct.
He was watching Chuck rematerialize. He came from nowhere into here, his beautiful body seeming to gather itself together and regain focus and form and after a few seconds, he was there again, as solid and handsome and perfect as ever.
Jeremy was now standing very close to him. He could feel the heat of the other man’s body grow in intensity as he regained his physical form. Chuck looked at Jeremy and shrugged. “Presto,” he said. “The vanishing act is complete.”
“I didn’t go anywhere, but I sort of went everywhere. Basic physics, really. We’re all made up of the same stuff. Everything is. It’s simply a matter of arranging it. But what I can do is rearrange it, or unarrange it. Break it down to its basic components. Become vapor and then air and then,” he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, “poof! I’m gone.”
“But… gone where?”
“That, my friend, is the problem.”
“Not everyone comes back.”
Barry squirmed. He gasped and moaned. His cock hurt and wanted to pop. His balls were filled and swollen. But he could not cum. He couldn’t.
Until Tim said he could.
The huge, naked man pushed the end of his monster against Barry’s tight, wet hole, positioning himself for his first honest fuck in many moons. His body was practically shaking with demand. His muscles were pushing out as if his entire form were a giant dick inflating to erection. Sweat coated his skin, and his eyes flashed with feral need. “Fuck, Barry, you’re burning hot.”
It was no lie. Barry’s body was overheated with desire. Tim was releasing a steady fog of his funky pheromones and pumping thick sex vibes into the room. Nobody could withstand him, and especially nobody with his legs in the air and Tim’s cock poised for entry.
Barry gasped. “Gotta….”
Tim closed his eyes, shifted his hips and pushed inside.
Barry felt a sudden flood of perfect sexual bliss. It entered him and exploded outward and suffused his body and his bones and his brain. He was drowning in a deep ocean of sex, floating in a sky of sex, buried beneath a mountain of perfect, absolute, uncompromising, masterful sex.
Tim could no longer control himself, and the bomb went off. An explosion of intense transforming power radiated outward from him, centered entirely on the target of his cock and filling the man with absolute masculine power.
Barry started to grow and grew so quickly that anyone watching would not have seen the changes manifesting. He was the old, impressive Barry one moment, and in the next he was…something else. Something huge, and powerful, and swollen with muscle.
Barry came, a fat rope that shot so hard it impacted the wall behind him and shot clean through it. He came again, a fat load of cream that splattered all over his new body and was quickly absorbed.
And he got bigger.
Tim fucked him hard and deep and pushed a flood of hot cream inside his body and watched Barry becoming a new man, a better man, a bigger man, whose body was powerful enough to crush a building to dust and whose cock could poke a hole in steel and whose face would cause an observer to go batshit insane with desire.
Tim smiled as he transformed his roommate into the newest member of a very exclusive club, and he watched Barry continue to grow as he flooded his body with magic.
The Timebomb went off, and in a very big way.
Jeremy came again, instantly, struck by Tim’s radiating sexual explosion. He did not have time to wonder how his balls could even produce more cum, or how his cock had inflated so hard and so quickly, growing painfully erect in the space between one heartbeat and the next and pushing a thick volley of hot cream into his pants again.
He doubled over and stifled a shout of perfect overpowering bliss as his small, ordinary body was struck by the radiating power of the silent and invisible explosion of absolute sexual dominance. It washed over him in its passage, like ripples on an ocean, and his body began to slowly swell.
He had been close to the detonations before, but this time its strength and speed was overwhelming.
He was breathing hard and fast, and the sensation of growth felt a bit as if he were being inflated.
He felt it in his arms first, as his biceps and triceps grew, pushing against the seams of his shirt until they began to split. His back rippled and bulged. His thighs were expanding with raw brawn. His calves bloomed with power. His whole body began to grow slightly taller, making his bones creak and snap and his teeth to grate inside his head.
Chuck was not wholly immune to the radiating power of the young man’s mighty storm of masculine energy, amplified and supplemented by the version of Transform that had been evolving along a different thread than his own super-strong strain. He felt Tim’s sudden release wash over his body and try very hard to enter him and pump him fuller with muscle.
He sucked in a small breath at the sheer potency of the young man’s power, feeling his cocks inflating to erection and sensing a swelling erotic tide building inside him that was not of his own making. “Shit,” he whispered softly. Then he looked down at Jeremy huddled on the floor and watched his body swelling with muscle.
Jeremy was still breathing hard, sucking in air to cool his overheated body. His clothes were splitting like a butterfly’s cocoon, rending at the seams or ripping open where there were no seams. He had been a small boy to begin with and it was difficult to tell what final impact Tim’s magic powers were having as he remained bent over with one hand on the floor steadying him.
As quickly as it began, it was over. Jeremy’s harsh breathing was the only sound in the room. He could feel his newly developed chest pressing against his shirt, the buttons straining against his hard body to hold the meat inside. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked, looking up at the inhumanly beautiful naked man standing in his room.
Chuck raised a dark eyebrow, glanced toward where Tim was now watching Barry grow into his own overwhelming muscle beast, and answered, “I’m afraid we may need to accelerate the plan.”
Jeremy struggled to his feet, his crotch sodden and his small body suddenly less small than before. He had changed dramatically in a matter of seconds. His face had matured, his body had taken on the well-defined and thickly muscled semblance of an Abercrombie model and his clothes were in tatters. Chuck found himself even more strongly drawn to him. “Wha…what plan?”
Chuck looked at Jeremy, the side of his mouth quirking into a familiar half-smile. “It’s a long story.”
ONE YEAR AGO
“We should not intervene,” the handsome Hispanic scientist with the muscles of a superweight bodybuilder and the cock of a highly-paid porn star said, seriously. He was standing with his back to the room (his ass was a thing to make men weep) looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the walls of the Manhattan apartment he shared with his lover and partner.
That man, whom anyone looking at would have to agree was easily among the most beautiful men they had ever encountered, narrowed his gaze and started to speak, opening his full, sensuous lips and inhaling. But before he could get a word out, Carlos said it again.
“We should not intervene.”
Michael’s brow furrowed. “What if they—?”
“I know what you’re thinking Michael,” Carlos said, turning, “but it might do more harm than good.”
“Might?” another voice said. A rich, deep bass that resounded like a bear’s growl. “It ‘might’ do more harm?”
Carlos nodded at Chuck. “It might.” He shrugged, shifting his dramatically mountainous shoulders and making the cascade of straight, dark hair flow off and drape down his wide back.
“‘Might’ doesn’t mean ‘will,’” Chuck protested.
“They are not developing along the same path as we did.” He paused. “As we do.”
“We don’t know how they’re developing.”
“What happened…is happening is the result of an anomaly. It wasn’t part of our natural development.”
Chuck didn’t need to ask Carlos how he knew that, because they all had seen it happen, played out for them through the Transformed men’s ability to share thoughts and emotions. Sherman Tipton had witnessed the evolution, and Scott Maddox and Wolf and “Self-Suck” Robbie had seen its culmination. (See Transform: New Blood Parts 38—40) “I get that,” he admitted.
“Then you should understand why it might be a good idea to….”
“You said ‘might’, again.”
“It is not a good idea to involve them. They have their own path to find.”
“Paths sometimes intersect,” Chuck observed.
“We don’t know that they’re gone,” Carlos said.
“Then where are they? Where did they go?”
“Perhaps they have evolved again, in that state.”
“So, what, they’re all just wisps in the wind? Scattered bits of atoms floating around having a grand old time?” Carlos shrugged again. “Yeah, well, fuck that shit.”
“I think,” Michael said, “that we should listen to Carlos.”
“Wow, color me shocked,” Chuck said.
“Carlos has years of scientific experience. Carlos has….”
“Do I really need to remind you that Carlos’s years of scientific experience resulted in all of the men standing in this room with muscles out to yay and twin pricks and the ability to fly and read minds and…shall I go on?”
“We all make mistakes,” Carlos admitted.
“Look, I’m not calling any of us mistakes. I fucking love being me. I fucking love the things I can do, the power that’s coursing through these muscles, the ability to practically look at another guy and make him swell with the same power that I have. I’m saying these are good things.” Carlos opened his mouth, but Chuck held up his hand, “and that’s why I can’t imagine that any of our brothers would want to give all that up to exist as a cloud of atoms floating in space! I mean…is that what you believe?”
“You think Adam wanted that?”
Carlos closed his mouth. Michael looked stung. Chuck knew where to push the knife in for the dearest damage. “Of all of us, Adam? Adam would want to stop being Adam? Stop loving us all as he did? Stop wanting us all to be in love as much as he loved us? Adam?”
“We cannot know….”
“That’s bullshit. Something happened to him. Something that stopped him from coming back.” Chuck paused, looking down, and then he put his fingertips to his temple and said, “I miss hearing him in here. I miss his voice, and his laugh, and his love.” He closed his eyes. “God damn that man could love.”
“I don’t think….”
Chuck looked up. “You’re going to stand there and tell me honestly that you believe that Adam didn’t want to be around anymore?”
Michael sighed. “You know what it feels like,” he said. “You know.”
He did. They all did. Assuming an incorporeal state was absolute freedom. It felt like heaven. Leaving all earthly ties behind and existing invisibly was what God must feel like.
But then you wanted someone to touch you again. You wanted to touch someone. To hear someone’s voice. To feel—alive. “It’s not the same as this,” Chuck said, and he suddenly wrapped Michael in his arms and kissed him quite deeply, and with a passion that said they might never kiss again.
The deep warmth of love swept Michael into Chuck’s passionate kiss. What, indeed, felt better than this? As their lips parted, Michael sighed and said, “You certainly know how to make a persuasive argument.”
Chuck grinned. “We can’t abandon them.”
Michael asked, “How many?”
“At least a hundred. Probably twice that many. Not everyone keeps in touch like we do. And when Adam wasn’t…when he….”
“I know,” Michael said. “I miss him, too.”
Carlos spoke again. “We have to wait,” he said. “What’s happening in that high school, in that town, to those young men and…boys, really. It’s something different. Something new. If we introduce ourselves into that environment, it’s likely we would overwhelm and supersede whatever is developing there.”
“They’re just like us,” Chuck argued.
“No,” Carlos said, “they aren’t.”
Chuck tilted his head. “You’ve been watching them.”
“Observation is a scientific principal,” he answered. “If we’re to learn anything at all….”
“You’re going there and watching them? You’re invisible?”
He nodded. “From time to time.”
“As I said, they are developing differently. In some ways, they are more limited, which is to be expected, I suppose, given the smaller sample group from which the strain is pulling in new genetic material. We had a much larger pool of human genetic samples, and we were unrestrained as we grew in number. They are existing in a relatively closed environment, involving men of the same general age, and in some cases those men are not fully matured.”
“I have to admit,” Chuck said, “I fucking love it when he gets like this.”
“Like this?” Carlos asked, genuinely interested.
“All science talky. Keep going, you’re giving me a stiffy.”
“Like that’s a challenge,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.
“Shut up, Adonis,” Chuck advised him. “Keep going Carlos, I like to hear your voice.” He was stroking himself and rising to the occasion.
Carlos looked down at Chuck’s majestic and beautiful cock. “Well, um, so…where was I?”
Chuck grinned his half-smile. “Some shit about gene pools and not fully matured males.”
“Oh. Yes. Um. Many—if not most—of the young men in the so-called Muscle Club are under seventeen years of age, which is generally considered when one leaves adolescence and puberty ceases. So the gene pool is unsettled, in a sense, and still developing.”
Chuck’s cock was throbbing and drooling. “Go on. You have my undivided attention.”
“In addition, their initial exposure was to a fairly undiluted version of Transform that Robbie offered on that video he created before we met him.”
“Ah, yes. I still have a soft spot for that video.” Chuck looked down. “Though maybe ‘soft’ isn’t what I actually feel watching it.”
“So that,” Carlos said, rather louder than intended, “coupled with the restrained genetic pool and the immature nature of the bodies involved means that Transform is mutating is pure ways that we could not anticipate.”
“Developing new capabilities and offering new powers, such as those we now share—but of an entirely different nature.”
“Such as?” Chuck’s cock was nearing record-breaking dimensions and leaking a steady stream of honey.
“It appears that branches of Transform are occurring, offering some of them, for example, a different manner of development.”
“Some are growing at a steady pace, such as we do, but others…explode with growth in a sudden, almost violent outburst. But, interestingly, this is not a shared trait.”
“Which means?” Chuck closed his eyes, holding back his explosion of cream.
“Which means that it is likely that they will continue to branch and develop into distinct types that will, of their own accord, develop traits and abilities we have not.”
Michael was watching Chuck’s fat hard-on swell and throb. “So if we interfere—”
“If we interfere, it is likely we’ll countermand those new priorities and perhaps prevent new, powerful, unforeseen capabilities from appearing.”
“Oh, fuck,” Chuck said. And then his cock spewed a thick fountain of cream that shot up in a fine arc and splattered everywhere. “I love talking about getting stronger.”
ONE YEAR LATER
“So you see why it would be bad—potentially bad—for me to meet Tim.”
“Then why—?” Jeremy was sitting on his bed wearing only a pair of underwear, having stripped himself of his too-small clothing and finding nothing else to fit his new, larger body. He looked as if he had packed on a good twenty pounds of muscle, and it was all bulging from his short frame in beautiful perfected symmetry.
He had been thin before, and now he had a gymnast’s build with some serious guns on his arms and a heavy shank of sex meat in his shorts worthy of a porn star. True to the power of transform, the young man also looked like he had gained a couple of years in age as well. His almost childish face now had a very strong chin and a serious cast to its brow, and his formerly smooth chest—now replaced by two squared-off muscular hemispheres and a set of dark, lickable nipples—had the beginnings of a bird’s nest sprouting in the valley between his burgeoning pecks.
All in all, Tim’s effect on Jeremy had upgraded him in the space of a few seconds from a small, shy, somewhat ordinary lad into a muscular, handsome, very sexy young man who could easily break a few hearts and cause a few boners the next time he showed up in class.
He sat across from Chuck, who still looked like the fucking sexiest man who ever walked the face of the planet, facing him as the brutally beautiful man finished his tale.
“I was curious,” he explained, shrugging his mountain range. “It’s part of my charm. I like people. A lot.” His tremendous cock throbbed distinctly and his eyes scanned Jeremy up and down. “I just happened to bump into Tim at one of the closed T Gyms near here.”
“Just happened to?”
“Why, I don’t know what you’re implying!” Chuck said with feigned shock. “Anyway, I tasted him and I discovered….”
“You tasted him?”
Chuck shrugged. “It’s…a thing we do. Or have. Every one of us tastes differently.”
“How did you taste him without—?”
“Tim had a rather…energetic reaction to the Gym.” When Jeremy’s heavier brow arched, Chuck clarified. “Tim exploded with about a gallon of cum. We also tend to leave traces of ourselves behind for others of our kind to…enjoy.” He shrugged again. “Anyway, I could taste his power, sense that he had something unique and potentially interesting. Something that needed some prodding.”
“So it turns out.” He leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows. It thrust his huge prick forward and made his abdominal wall pop with a perfect collection of cobblestones. “And then I discovered someone else interesting. Someone with a power I had never encountered before. Someone who had something I thought was impossible.”
“You, of course.”
“What have I got?”
“Something very special.”
“I don’t have anything,” Jeremy protested. “Look at me! I’m just…me.” He looked down. “Well, more of me.”
Chuck smiled. “Exactly.”
Chuck tilted his handsome head and narrowed his eyes. “What just happened?”
He nodded in the direction of room 318. “In there. With Tim and his roommate.”
“Tim…went off.” Jeremy was absently rubbing his hard-on. Strong tingles of sexual bliss were erupting from it and cascading through his body. He’d never felt anything as wonderful before.
“Indeed. And in a very powerful fashion.” Chuck raised an eyebrow and applied one of his certified half-grins to his lips, realizing that Jeremy was starting to discover one of the better benefits of Transform.
“I’ve felt it before,” Jeremy reported. He swallowed hard. His right hand was now kneading his hard dick rather overtly.
“Probably several times before,” he agreed. “And every time it happens, what happens to the guys in this building? What happens to you?”
“Me?” he asked, slightly embarrassed. Realizing what he was doing, he covered his crotch with his hands.
Chuck observed the movement and his smile wattage increased. “No need for embarrassment, Jeremy. Look at me, do I appear embarrassed by anything?”
Jeremy swallowed hard as he looked at the huge, beautiful, perfectly-defined, hugely-muscled, overly-well-endowed superman lounging naked on the other bed. Indeed, he looked anything but embarrassed. “No.”
“Okay then,” he said, looking pointedly at Jeremy’s crotch. The smaller young man slowly pulled his hand away. His newly grown prick had blossomed into another impressive hard-on tenting his boxers. A wet patch was darkening the material as he began to release what was undoubtedly a growing reserve of warm, lubricating honey from his swollen balls. “You’ll probably need to get used to that happening more often. It’s one of the more prevalent side effects.” He laughed slightly. “And yours appears to be more prevalent that most.” He smiled, then. “Thanks, by the way, Jeremy. I never get tired of seeing that happen when I’m with another guy.”
“You’re…welcome? I guess?”
“I could…help you with that,” Chuck said tentatively. “I mean, if you wanted some help with it.”
Chuck shrugged. “You know. Just some friendly help.”
Jeremy looked down at his throbbing member. “You mean—?”
Chuck nodded. “I’d be happy to suck you into heaven, Jeremy. Just, you know, to relieve the pressure.”
“You want to—?”
“Oh, fuck, Jeremy, I always want to. It’s not a question of me wanting to, it’s a question of you wanting me to.” He eyed the glorious and freshly developed cock still hidden under the thin layer of cotton. “So? Mother, may I?”
Jeremy couldn’t think of a good reason not to allow this handsome, sexy, beautiful man to suck his cock, so he reached down, peeled open the fly on his boxers and allowed his thick, hot, slowly pulsing erection into the open. The eye was weeping a steady stream of clear, thick pre, and the thing had to be at least nine inches tall. “Help yourself,” he offered.
“Don’t mind if I do, Jeremy.” And Chuck, with the obvious talent of a truly experienced cocksucker, swallowed him whole, deep throating him with an ease borne of many, many, many eager blow jobs and went to town.
Jeremy was already nearly popping his load just sitting there, so when Chuck’s warm wetness surrounded him and the tingles of sex exploded into orgasmic bombs. Chuck set his hand to Jeremy’s chest, found his nipple within moments and added some truly inspiring nipple play to the mix. Then he was stroking and sucking, moaning in utter delight, and within seconds Jeremy rewarded Chuck with a truly amazing gush of thick cream which the man gulped and guzzled with deep need.
Jeremy’s hands balled into fists and his eyes rolled up in their sockets and his sphincter tightened to diamond hardness from the overwhelming sexual release. He had never in his life felt anything as pure and immense and completely satisfying as that first explosion of cum delivered from his new, over-productive balls and highly sensitized cock. He nearly screamed with utter joy.
Then Chuck was slowly, lovingly caressing his chest and licking up the last drops of cream, being sure to suck every drop of Jeremy’s delicious richness into his mouth.
“Thank you, my friend,” Chuck growled. “I sincerely needed that.”
“So—,” Jeremy gasped “so did I.” His cock was wet and shiny with Chuck’s spit, cooling in the air and slowly deflating from it’s nine-and-a-half-inch high glory. He could still feel the other man’s mouth surrounding him, feel his fingers teasing his sensitive nipples, feel the comforting warmth of his huge body against his own naked skin.
Then he sat up again and looked Jeremy in the eyes. “Where were we?”
“Fuck if I can remember,” Jeremy admitted.
Chuck moved his muscled bulk back to the adjoining bed, looked at Jeremy’s nearly naked body with its new muscles and his new more handsome features and the monster cock with which he had been gifted and he snapped his finger. “Surely you’ve noticed something unusual about the other men in your dorm?”
“Honestly, no,” he lied.
Chuck wrinkled his brow and scanned Jeremy’s newly grown body. “Nothing regarding their muscles?”
“Or their size?”
“Or the fact that they seemed to be growing increasingly handsome and appearing more masculine nearly every time you looked at them?”
“I never really noticed.”
Chuck glanced at Jeremy’s exposed cock again. It appeared to be regaining some of its vigor quite insistently. “Of course you didn’t.”
He covered it with his hand, and it pulsed quite visibly. “Anyway, what has that got to do with—?”
“You’re immune to me, Jeremy.”
“Immune?” He looked down at his cock again. It was already halfway to hard. “I don’t think so.”
“Your body. It doesn’t react.”
“It fucking does,” he replied, thinking how he had come so hard twice already tonight, and how Chuck had made him feel.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Chuck explained. “But that’s a brain thing. Not a body thing.”
“A brain thing.”
Chuck nodded. “But your body hasn’t changed. Not until we both experienced what our friend Tim is able to do. When our friendly neighborhood Timebomb sent out a wave of transforming energy so powerful that it nearly made me come, and believe me when I tell you that it takes a fuckload of energy to make me lose control.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Chuck sighed. “I can’t approach Tim. There’s that theory that a man a lot smarter than me has that says my version of the stuff that makes me look like this will take over from the stuff that makes Tim look like Tim.” His eyes drifted sideways as he thought aloud, “though given what I just experienced, I have a hard time believing that.”
“I need you to be my go-between. I need someone I can’t transform,” Chuck stated.
“But, didn’t I just—?”
“Someone I can’t transform.”
“But, I just….”
“Jeremy, every time you’ve had a reaction around me, that wasn’t just coincidence. I mean, I know I’m charming and irresistible, but frankly I’ve been pushing you pretty hard over the past few days and…you’re immune to me.”
Chuck nodded. “I started out slowly, just to see. I knew there was something different about you. I could…smell it.”
“Like you could taste Tim?”
“Sort of. I have some very strong and interesting capabilities when it comes to the male of the species. I’m kind of…attuned.”
“And I can’t transform you.”
A look of disappointment crossed Jeremy’s face. “You can’t—?” Chuck shook his head. “Well, maybe you just haven’t been trying hard enough?” He shook his handsome head again. “Maybe if you….”
Chuck rose to his feet, fell to his knees, took Jeremy’s face in his strong hands and kissed him passionately. Chuck poured every ounce of Transform he could control into the kiss. Any other man—any ordinary man—would now be swelling so quickly and so large that his new body would be knocking out the walls. His head would be pressed against the ceiling. His cock would be shoving itself to superhuman extents and exploding with gallons of hot cream, and would be quickly joined by a secondary prick that was in every inch a twin of its brother. His body would mature into the most perfect, most beautiful version of himself, and he would be able to, with the same force and speed, transform any other man he met into another muscular giant.
But that didn’t happen. Jeremy’s reaction was what one might expect when one is gay and one is being kissed by a gorgeous naked man with the body of a god, the cock of a porn star, the face of an angel and the sexual talent of a very accomplished prostitute educated in all the ways that pleasure can be conveyed. His new larger cock, courtesy of Tim, inflated to full glory again, pushing its fat head up its nearly ten inch stalk and he came again with sudden and unyielding force, splattering a wealth of hot cream all over Chuck’s incredible chest.
Chuck started to laugh as he broke the kiss, then he was dipping his large fingers into Jeremy’s physical expression of joy and licking the cream from them. “You taste good,” he said. Then he kissed the smaller man to offer a sample of his own cream back to him.
“What was that for?”
“This first kiss or the second one?” Chuck asked, standing again and leaving Jeremy face-to-cock with the largest and most beautiful expressions of pure male sex that he’s ever seen.
Chuck licked his lips. “You’re a great kisser, if you didn’t already know that.” He grinned. “The first one was to shut you up about how I know that I can’t transform you. If that had worked as it usually does—as it never fails to do—you’d be about three times your size and this building would be having some serious problems holding itself together. You’d be strong enough to rip this place apart with your bare hands, though honestly you’d be more apt to want to rip me apart and fuck me because I’m a very, very good fucker.”
“I think I get the picture,” Jeremy said dryly, though he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to move all over Chuck’s amazing and incredible body with a newfound hunger.
“You’d be like me, and let me tell you that I’ve been a truman long enough by now and I was shoving enough transforn at you that you’d be one of the strongest and probably one of the most beautiful men on the planet.” He tilted his head. “The second was because you’re so fucking cute that I couldn’t help myself.”
“And nothing. You’re immune to me.”
‘Not altogether,’ Jeremy thought. Instead, he said, “But?”
“But not, apparently, to Tim.”
He looked down at himself, unable to deny that fact. “So?”
“So I need someone who can inherit Tim’s ability. I need someone like Tim in his present, original, powerful state. But I can’t waltz in there and go, ‘hey, Timebomb, baby, what say you come with me and help a friend out with a little invisible truman problem?’”
“Because I fear that if we get together, the…desire to really get together will be too strong. And I’ll overwhelm him.”
“What makes you think he won’t overwhelm you?”
Chuck smirked. “Have you seen me?” He then proceeded to show himself off, inflating his muscles to new power and striking a few poses that had Jeremy’s cock throbbing hard all over again. “No, I know I’m too powerful. I’m the original. One way or the other, I’d screw him up, and I need him just the way he is.”
“But where do I come in?”
“I want you to be Tim’s friend. I need you to become like Tim. You, in particular. Because I can’t transform you, and if I get closer to Tim, I’m afraid of what might happen, what I might not be able to stop myself from doing.”
“Transforming him.” Chuck nodded. “But…why?”
“Because I think if a Timebomb goes off in a particular place, and at a particular time, and at a particular magnitude—You can bring my friends back.”
“Tim doesn’t even know I exist,” Jeremy protested.
“Oh, Tim knows you exist. He’s been coming to your door every week since you got here. He’s been after your ass since you two met in the hallway.”
Jeremy was shocked. “You…you weren’t even around then!”
“True. But you forget that I can go invisible, too. And I hear things.”
“You’ve been spying on us!”
“Just a little.” He grinned. “What, are you hiding something you’re afraid I’ll find out? Something besides you’re gay and you have the hots for me and the hots for Tim?” Jeremy looked hurt, but Chuck said, “Jeremy, everyone has the hots for me. They sort of can’t help it. Plus I’ve been practically bathing you in my secret sauce ever since we met so it’s not altogether unusual that you find me irresistible.”
“Let’s not get out of hand, here. I’d hardly call you irresistible.”
Chuck laughed. “See? That’s why I like you, Jeremy. You keep me grounded.”
Jeremy laughed slightly, too, then his eyes narrowed. “Tim…likes me?”
“Oh, yeah. Tim likes you. A lot.”
“Then why are him and Barry—?”
“You thought him and Barry? Him and Barry exist because Barry is a slut and Tim can’t help himself.” Jeremy smiled when Chuck called Barry a slute, but Chuck said, “Oh, don’t get me wrong here, Jeremy. I like sluts. Most—all—of my best friends are sluts. Hell, I’m the biggest slut you’ll ever meet. I admire Barry in a way. He’s not gay—at least, not before meeting the Timebomb. But he was open to adventure and having a little unconventional fun. Barry’s my kind of guy.”
Then Jeremy looked hurt, again.
“You’re my type of guy, too.”
“Is everyone your type of guy?”
“I just said I was a slut, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy admitted.
“Your trouble is that you have a very narrow view of love and sex, my young friend. I can’t blame you, of course. You haven’t had much opportunity to learn. But take it from me when I tell you that I can fuck a lot of people, and I can love a lot of people, and I don’t judge anyone. It’s entirely possible to love everyone, Jeremy. I love you and I love Barry. I just love you in different ways.”
“How many different ways are there?”
Chuck smiled. “As many different ways as there are different people in the world.”
“Of course! I love you very much.”
“It’s easy if you allow it to be. Just stop limiting yourself and stop comparing everyone. Love people for who they are, not who you want them to be. I love you for who you are, Jeremy. If you change—and you will—I’ll still love you.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged. “Love is easy.” This seemed to boggle Jeremy’s mind, but Chuck pressed on. “You understand what I’m asking you to do?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“And you also understand that I can’t ask you to do it?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I need to want to do it.”
“And do you, Jeremy?”
He looked into Chuck’s eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything as badly in the whole world.”
“Oof,” Barry said.
“Don’t you mean, ‘woof’?”
The newest member of Muscle Club grinned lasciviously at the equally muscled man opposite him in their shared and suddenly much-too-small dorm room. “That was fun,” he said. His voice had lowered somewhat as his body and all its parts had grown several sizes larger. He said, “Fun,” again, just to hear the new timbre and sexy growl he’d acquired. “Fun.” His smile increased in wattage.
“That’s one word for it,” Tim agreed. “You want to go again?”
Barry considered it for only a moment as he looked at his super sexy roommate and then said, “I wouldn’t say no.”
“So,” Tim asked, leaning forward, “that’s a ‘yes’, then?”
Barry looked down at his twin cocks. “How do you guys handle all this?”
“I find the usual method works fine,” Tim explained, and then he sucked one of his roommate’s majestic pricks inside his mouth while he grabbed the other and started stroking, and his efforts were immediately rewarded by a sudden flow of precum that drooled out of the mouth of Barry’s cobra and drizzled down its sides, lubing up Tim’s strokes with warm, thick honey.
Barry started pumping cream inside Tim’s mouth with one cock as the other throbbed and pulsed and streamed its constant flow. Barry could easily control what each cock was doing! He smiled as he released his overwhelming cargo of rich, thick cream down his roommate’s throat as his other cock was simply happy sending thick electrical shocks of sexual bliss all through his massive frame. “That works,” Barry agreed, breathlessly.
Tim looked up into Barry’s handsome face, nodding a slight agreement without missing a single blast from Barry’s prick. He drank it all down like a starving man, which wasn’t far from the truth. This was his first meal of transformed cream in months, and his body was practically shaking from delight.
Tim sent a sudden, hard shock of sex into Barry’s head, tugging him hard and, without missing a stroke, he managed to simultaneously point his own cock nozzle towards Barry’s chest.
He went off like a rocket, fountaining another rich gush of white cream that splattered all over his roomate’s body before he soaked it inside as only a Transformed man could, welcoming the richly sustaining cum like a desert welcomes rain. Barry gasped and groaned and allowed his secondary prick to fucking shoot, sending thick jets of cum all over himself and his own mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled wetly. “Jesus fucking Christ, how do you stand it?”
Tim released Barry’s raging hard-on from his mouth and asked, “Stand what?”
Barry reached down and placed his hand behind Tim’s thick neck. “Not fucking doing this all the fucking time?” He kissed him soundly, tasting the sweet richness of his own cream on Tim’s tongue.
“I like it when you talk dirty,” Tim admitted, now stroking both dicks in his hands.
“Fuck you,” Barry said.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Tim answered.
And that was how it ended up that Jeremy found himself knocking on the door of Room 318 while Barry was balls deep inside Tim’s welcoming hole, fucking his roommate with his twins and squirting thick jets of cream inside his guts from his overloaded balls.
“Hello?” Jeremy said.
He was answered by grunts and groans and loud pounding noises.
“Um, so, hi. I’m Jeremy? From down the hall?”
“Uh. uh. uh. uh. uh. ooh. ooooooh.”
“Yeah. Um, so, when you have a moment, I need to speak to someone about something that happened? Tonight?”
“Huh, huh, uh, uh….”
“And me gaining about 25 pounds of muscle?”
“Did you say you—?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well, I haven’t actually weighed myself, so that’s just a rough estimate.”
“Fuck dude, don’t stop!”
“Sorry, Barry, but I need to talk to Jeremy.”
There was some other movements from inside the room, then, sounding a bit like two grizzlies wrestling. The whole building seemed to shake a couple of times as something—or somethings—weighing a ton or two bumped against the walls. Jeremy heard Barry’s voice—at least, he thought it sounded like Barry only a lot deeper—say, “Dude, you gotta show me that trick.”
Tim’s more familiar but muffled voice answered, “It’s not a trick you just…do it.”
“I just…do it.”
“Yeah. You just…do it.”
“I just fucking grow smaller like I’m a fucking telescope.”
“Well. Yeah. Sort of.” There was a pause and no more wrestling, and then; “There ya go.”
“That is…fucking weird, bro.”
“Whatever, dude.” Then the handle was turning and the door was opening. “Hi, Jeremy.”
Tim was naked. Absolutely, completely, gloriously, fantastically naked. His tremendous and massively muscled frame was coated in a sheen of sweat. His hair was agreeably tousled. His cock was agreeably huge and slick with spit or cum. He was grinning as he leaned against the door. Jeremy found himself going speechless, and his jaw opened but nothing came out.
Then another face—and body—appeared behind him. Barry was no longer Barry. He’d been growing increasingly muscular over the past weeks at a dizzying rate, but now he was nothing short of massive. As massive as Tim. As handsome as Tim. A shaggy bear of a man with a brutality to his new body that made him appear a bit menacing, as if at any moment he would tear something apart. Muscle bulged everywhere, hard as stone and heavy as steel, and he was as naked as his roommate. “What up, Jer?” he asked, jutting his chin and smiling. “Whoa, dude, you should put some clothes on. What will people say?” Of course, Barry said this as he scratched an itch at his crotch, making his huge and pendulous cock wag and jump.
“I—” Jeremy said, seemingly mesmerized by the two hulking hunks of raw, perfect muscle squeezed into the small room.
“You?” Barry said.
“Shut up a minute, Barry, and let him talk,” Tim advised over his shoulder. Barry shrugged and stared at Jeremy, his incredibly handsome face quirking into a waiting grin. “Are you all right?” Tim asked.
Jeremy shifted his gaze back at Tim’s familiar face. His blue eyes sparkled. His jaw was dusted with a growth of whiskers. He looked fucking sexy. “I think something happened.”
Barry laughed. “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?” He was lifting one arm and watching his own newly developed brawn swell bigger and bigger under his gleaming skin.
“Shut the fuck up, Barry! Seriously!”
“Fine. I’ll leave you loverboys to your spat and go over there and jerk off some more.” He tapped his roommate on his shoulder and said, “I’m up for round three whenever you are.” Then he looked at Jeremy and added, “Unless you want to take a ride on the Barry Machine, Jeremy?” he grabbed hold of an ungodly length of fat prick and shook it at the smaller boy. Jeremy’s expression must have answered for him, because Barry just shrugged and disappeared into the small room, flopping on a bed that was out of Jeremy’s line of site and, apparently, masturbating.
“Maybe we should go to your room, Jeremy,” Tim suggested.
“Did you—want to put some clothes on?”
“Did you want me to?”
“I’m good if you’re good.” Tim closed the door behind him and followed Jeremy to his room. “Where’s your roomie? Charles? Is it?”
“Chuck,” Jeremy corrected. “He’s…around.”
“He’s a bit…odd.”
Tim shrugged. “For a guy that looks like he looks, he certainly isn’t very…friendly. Kind of a dick, actually.”
“He’s pretty cool,” Jeremy said, “once you get to know him.”
“Sort of.” He gestured to Chuck’s bed and said, “Do you want to sit down?”
Tim started to, then he inhaled deeply and said, “Is this his bed?” Jeremy nodded. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“Smells like…never mind.” He paused, and then said, “I’m avoiding the elephant in the room.”
“Is that me or you?” Jeremy said, looking pointedly at Tim’s trunk-like length of thick and meaty cock, hanging forward and arching over his two heavy balls, looking more like eggs in a low-hanging sack.
“I’d say you’re doing a good job of catching up,” Tim noticed, eyeing the prominent bulge in the much smaller man’s boxers.
Jeremy blushed, which made Tim’s pulse quicken and his exposed cock to twitch. “Yeah, well, someone gave me a little help in that department.”
“Hello, elephant,” Tim said, grimacing a bit. “Yeah, so…yeah. If I knew you were around I wouldn’t have…you know.”
“Set off the timebomb?”
“You know about that?”
“Tim, everyone knows about that.” He gestured to Chuck’s bed again. “You really can sit down.”
Tim smiled at Jeremy’s manners, which were in direct contrast to Barry’s rather overt rudeness. He sat on Chuck’s mattress, his size making him look like a grown man trying to fit onto a child’s bed. His large legs spread open to allow his wealth of sexual equipment to spill forward and down, framing the tremendous size and beauty of his cock and balls. “So, I guess I should apologize,” he said, holding his hands out.
Jeremy sat down opposite him, shrugging slightly. “Like you said, you didn’t mean it.” He looked down at himself, “And I don’t think it’s necessarily fair of me to complain about growing more muscles and getting taller and, well, this.” He cupped his newly grown wealth of cock meat, rubbing it slightly and feeling that tingling sensation of sexual delight that had grown larger, too.
“And your face,” Tim offered. “I mean….”
Jeremy smiled back and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Yeah, I guess that changed, too.”
Tim nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said warmly, “it did.”
“Better?” Jeremy asked.
“Different,” Tim answered.
“So, not better.”
“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it in the first place.”
Jeremy blushed again, causing Tim’s heart to skip a beat. “Thanks,” the small young man said.
Tim cleared his throat. “Awkward, though,” he said. “And now you’ll need excuses for your friends and….”
“I don’t have any friends,” Jeremy said. “Well, except for Chuck.”
“You’ve got friends,” Tim said, lowering his head. “Whether you know it or not.”
There was a protracted silence, and then Jeremy said, “Well, um, I just…I guess I just wanted to let you know that I’m not mad or anything, in case you saw me later and realized what happened.”
Tim looked up, meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “You’re not mad?”
“Well, I am a bit…shocked. And surprised. But I’m not mad at you, Tim.”
The huge man sighed with a long exhale. “I am sorry, though. Really, I am. I wish I could stop it from happening but I don’t know how…or why—or….”
“It’s part of you,” Jeremy said. “That’s not something you should ever feel bad about.”
Jeremy reached forward and touched Tim’s hand. “Never feel badly about who you are. A friend taught me that.”
Jeremy nodded. “Like I said, he’s pretty cool.”
“Once you get to know him.” Tim looked down at Jeremy’s hand. “Are you two—?”
“Us? Oh, god, no. I mean, he’s nice and he’s cool and he’s….”
“Extremely good looking.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Now it was Tim’s turn to blush. “Anyway,” he said, and then the words drifted off and he stood up. “I’m glad you’re not mad,” he said.
Jeremy looked up and up and up at the huge young man. “I’m not, Tim.”
“Okay,” he said.
Jeremy stood back up, too. “Barry’s probably waiting.”
“I’ll see you around then.”
“I hope so,” Tim said quietly. And then he left, while Jeremy watched his perfect ass bob and flex.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” Chuck said. He was suddenly standing near the window, again, naked and perfect.
Chuck smiled. “Wow,” he observed, “you’re really not very good at this.”
“You want to know the secret?”
“To being good at this.”
He looked at the sexy man in his room. What did he know of secrets? All he had to do was smile and anyone would be his, would do whatever he wanted, be with him forever. “I guess so.”
“Stop giving a rat’s ass about what anyone else thinks.”
“You do. You very much do. You worry what someone will think, let alone what they might say. You worry that they won’t like you, or they’ll judge you. And they will, Jeremy, my friend. My very good friend. They will do that. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop them, or make them think something else. That’s why it isn’t—or shouldn’t be—the least bit important to you. Instead, be the best person you know how to be, and treat people with kindness, and compassion, and loyalty. Those people worthy of you, the people who love you, they’ll stick by you and be there when you need them.” Chuck looked at his young friend gravely. “And those people are the only ones that matter.”
“That sounds simple.”
“It is simple.”
Chuck shook his handsome head. “No buts about it, Jeremy. When you finally accept yourself, and stop giving a fuck about what other people who don’t matter at all think about you, life gets easy. Friends and lovers appear. And when you talk to someone else you care about, you’ll start to know the ones who care about you.”
Jeremy quirked a frown, and Chuck seemed to read his mind. “You think because I look the way I look, or do the things I can do, that I can’t understand what it’s like.” Jeremy started to answer in the affirmative, but Chuck cut him off. “Fair enough. I admit I have a few…unfair advantages.”
“Okay, a lot.” He grinned his sideways grin that always managed to put Jeremy at ease. “Just try it some time. The next time. The next time Barry makes you feel small or insignificant, remember that his opinion has about as much weight as a fruit fly. He’s not your friend.”
“Barry’s not your friend. At least not yet. Things change. People change. He’s about to change in a dozen ways he can’t possibly imagine. So be nice to him. But don’t give a fuck about what he thinks of you…until he becomes a friend.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.”
“Stranger things have happened. Believe me, I watched them.” He moved his perfect body towards his bed and sat down. “Tim,” he said.
“What about him?”
“I can smell him. Smell his power.” He closed his eyes for a moment and stroked himself, pulling in a long, slow breath that made his mammoth chest expand. “So much power.” He opened his smoldering eyes again. “That young man is holding a lot back, and he’s going to need your assistance.”
“Our assitance, you mean.”
Chuck shook his shaggy head again. “I can’t do anything. Only you can.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thanks. That’s really helpful.”
“My pleasure,” he answered with a grin. “But you’re willing to try?”
Jeremy sighed. “I… guess so.”
“He likes you a lot, you know.”
“He likes everyone,” Jeremy said.
“He likes you a lot.”
“What was up with small fry?” Barry asked, looking up as Tim re-entered the room.
“He’s not that small,” Tim corrected.
“Nope, that much is crystal clear.” He licked his lips and scanned Tim’s naked body with obvious lust. “So…what do you want to do now?” He grabbed his cock and wagged it in the large man’s direction.
Tim looked over. “Do you think he likes me?”
“Who? Jeremy?” Tim nodded. Barry shrugged. “I thought he was hanging with that weird Charles guy.” Barry paused, and narrowed his eyes. “Though, now that I think about it, that Charles guy is pretty fucking hot.”
“He said he’s not.”
“He’s not hot?”
“No, dummy, that he and Charles are….”
“You asked him?” Tim nodded. “Whoa.”
“That’s just sad.”
“What?” he repeated more strongly.
“Here you are, the biggest baddest strongest dog in, like, the county and you’re all in heat for some little bitch down the hall.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“I was just jok….”
“Do not call him that. Ever.”
“Dude. Chill out. I’m just yanking your chain. If you want him, go down there and get him.”
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then?” Tim looked at Barry with a scowl. “No, I’m serious here, dude. I mean, what the fuck? Are you in love or something?”
“How could I be in love with someone who never even looks at me?” His face took on a sad expression and there was a bit of a lament in his deep voice.
“Oh, fuck, dude.”
Barry smiled broadly. “You are in love.”
He shook his head. “Dude, that’s just sad.”
“Do you have a tender bone in your body, Barry?”
He grinned as he looked down at himself. “Everything’s rock hard at the moment, dude.” He leaned up and held out his hand, “which I’d be happy to demonstrate if you’re in the mood for some more Barry time.”
“Seriously?” Tim leaned against the doorframe.
“What happened to you, bro? A minute ago you were riding me like a fucking stallion, and now all I see is Mr. Puppy Love and his limp dick.”
“There’s nothing complicated about it, dude. Just turn that sorry, handsome ass of yours around and get back down the hall and tell the little bro what you feel.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What’s not simple about it?”
“You’ve never what. After what we just did I have a hard time believing there’s something you’ve never done.” His brow arched and he tilted his head. “Wait. Are you telling me…. Seriously, dude? Never?”
“You’ve never been in love?”
“I’m not in love.”
“Dude, you so are.” He sat up, and a different demeanor came over him. “Dude, I’m sorry about before. Bro, this is some serious shit.”
“Dude,” he said. Then, more seriously, “Dude.”
Tim sighed. “I know.”
“Shut up, Barry, I know!”
“You don’t know how fucking lucky you are, dude.”
“And why am I so fucking lucky?”
“Because, dude, you just happen to be rooming with The King of Love.” Tim rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. “Dude! I’m serious as a heart attack!”
“You’re the king of love.” The disbelief and sarcasm in Tim’s voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“I’m not just a pretty face, Timster. I’ll have you know I’ve been in love dozens of times.”
“Half a dozen.” Tim crossed his arms over his gargantuan chest. “A couple. But I was totally good at it!”
“Somehow I don’t see you as the romantic type.”
“Dude, that’s just because all we do is fuck.”
“Well, you are good at that.”
“Shit yeah, I’m good at that. And I’m totally better at the whole love thing.” He stood up from the bed and crossed the short space between them, placing his new, large hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Dude, you and me? We are so going to make that guy fall in love with you.”
Tim rolled his eyes again.
“Love,” said Barry, “is all about the other person.” He was lying sprawled on his bed on his side of the dorm room. His new, improved, over-sexed and powerfully muscled body was naked, as usual. He now understood quite intimately why it was that Tim, his roommate, was naked so often. In this new larger body, overheated by sexual need and power and constantly reminding him of its size, strength and hunger, wearing anything felt constricting and unnatural. His thick and powerful legs stretched forward, his huge feet planted on the floor, his wide back pressed against the wall. He was, for once, not stroking one (or both) of his twin pricks but they were both exposed, jutting forth proudly and lying splayed across each thick leg like fat snakes. His arms were folded across his massive chest and his head was slightly tilted as he spoke.
“Yeah, that much I know,” Tim agreed, wrinkling his brow. He was standing in the room, because with the both of them present, there was hardly any space as it was. They were, for the moment, between bouts of sex. He had changed his friendly roommate into another member of Muscle Club, and now they were two gigantic muscular specimens bulging against each other for every inch within their shared room.
Tim was still feeling confused. In one sense, he felt enormously guilty for having changed his roommate and, now, friend in such a dramatic and life-changing way, no matter how many times Barry tried to convince him that everything was okay.
On the other hand, he finally had someone else around with whom he could unleash his pent-up and powerful sexual needs and capacities—someone who owned the same amplified libido and over-charged double dicks and could give as good as he got.
And he had to admit, Barry was a very, very talented and eager partner.
They had been having sex nearly non-stop. Every time they came to pause in the activity, one man would catch the other man’s eye, something unsaid (and not needing to be said) would pass between them and they’d instantly reunite for another extended round of naked, sweaty, powerful, cum-blasting sex.
The room was saturated in the smell of the two young men and their bodies’ new pheromonal production of intense sexual muskiness. Though it was still winter and cold as a witch’s tit outside (to paraphrase Barry) they had the window open to both cool down the overheated space and bring in some fresh air to clear out some of their mutual sex funk, which would otherwise drive each other crazy with desire in the confined space.
The beds were, for the moment, shoved back against the walls, but they were looking much the worse for wear. Or wear and tear. These were two very strong, very heavy, very athletic and very flexible young men. They may have even invented one or two new ways to fuck, they weren’t entirely certain.
Barry wrinkled his brow in a comical imitation of his roommate and lover. “No, it’s more than that. It’s—deeper.” He sat up a bit and dropped his hands to the bed. His cocks flopped about and he absently pushed one hand beneath them to pull his tremendous balls out from under. They were plump eggs. “Haven’t you ever felt like you’d do anything—literally anything for someone else?”
“Sure.” He considered the question a bit deeper, leaning his broad, beautiful bulk against the bathroom doorframe. “I love my mom. I love my dad. But I don’t….”
“You don’t want to fuck them, which is good to hear.”
“Barry, eeeyoo, gross. That wasn’t at all what I was going to say.”
“But that’s the distinction that’s important,” he said, holding up a finger. “You can love someone a hell of a lot and not want to fuck them. And you can fuck someone a hell of a lot and not truly love them.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, rookie?”
Barry huffed through his nostrils. “If you’re asking me whether I love you, I can answer that one easily. Yes, I love you. You’re my bro and my friend and I’ll do whatever I can to help you, which is why we’re having this conversation right now, because I love you—but I don’t love-love you.”
“Loads,” Barry agreed.
“So—what’s the difference?”
“The difference is how you feel about me and how you feel about Jeremy.”
“I haven’t fucked Jeremy.”
Barry paused and then shrugged, repeating, “Why? Why haven’t you fucked Jeremy? He’s got a cute ass.”
Barry watched Tim’s naked body blush red. “I never noticed.”
“Riiiiight.” He sighed. “Look, what I’m saying is the way you feel about Jeremy, the way you feel right now when I say his name, the way you feel in your heart—that thing inside your chest beating really hard right now and making your whole body feel hot—that’s a different kind of love. A special kind. The kind worth pursuing.”
“You love me,” Tim said, doubtfully.
“Yeah, bro, I love you. That’s why I want to help.” He tilted his head again. “Wait—have you—have you ever told anyone you loved them?”
“Of course,” Tim answered a bit quietly.
“Yeah, but you have to love them, don’t you? I mean have you ever said it to someone not your parents?”
Tim considered his answer carefully and was suddenly looking everywhere around the room except at Barry. “I mean, sure, I’ve said it and….”
“To who?” Barry pressed.
“To whom,” Tim corrected.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’ve said it,” he repeated.
“This isn’t a test, Timmy. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or embarrassed or anything. But if you’ve never even said it….”
“Look, okay, love—that word—it’s hard for me to say it.”
“It just—is.” Tim shrugged and looked abashed. “I dunno why. I think—I just think it’s important. It’s not something you say to everyone.”
“It’s—hard for me, okay? I think love is—love is huge, and it doesn’t happen a lot, and when you say it you have to mean it. Like, really, really mean it.”
“What do you feel when I say it to you?”
“Yeah, do you think I don’t really love you? That it’s just words? Or that it’s something I say to everybody I meet?”
“I dunno,” Tim answered.
Barry shook his head a little. “Can you say it to me?”
“Can I say it—?”
“That’s assuming you feel anything for your roomie of course. And you don’t have to. And I’m certainly not looking for a commitment here. I’m just asking if you can say it.” He moved to stand up, lifting his muscled bulk off the small bed and standing now eye-to-eye with Tim. “I love you, Timmy. You’re my bro. I’ll do anything for you, because I love you.”
“I….” Barry half-smiled and narrowed his eyes. “I….”
“Whoa, dude,” Barry said, placing his hand on his roommate’s shoulder, “we have a lot of work to do.”
“I’m not prying,” Chuck said, “or I am prying but I don’t mean to be prying.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Jeremy said. He was sitting on his bed, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the floor. Chuck was standing at the window, his naked ass facing the campus for everyone to see, if anyone bothered looking up. “And besides he’s got Barry and Barry and him are always together and why would he want to see me when Barry….”
“So you’re convinced that Tim and Barry are a thing, and there’s no room for you in there?”
“In where?” He looked up at his amazing and superhuman roommate.
Chuck dropped to a crouch and pressed his finger against Jeremy’s meaty chest. “In there,” he said quietly.
Jeremy shrugged slightly.
Chuck stood back up, placing his cock at Jeremy’s eye level which was always more than a bit distracting for the college freshman. Chuck owned—a perfect cock. There was just no denying that. Chuck, himself, was perfect. “This might be a bull-by-the-horns situation,” Chuck stated. His deep, powerful, sexy voice said the words with conviction.
“What bull, and who’s horns?” Jeremy looked up his roommate’s massive and beautiful body, past the bulging 8-pack abs and the two twin globes of heavy pectoral power and into his green eyes.
“Figure of speech,” Chuck said. “Though in this case, the bull and the horns are both named Barry.”
“I’m not gonna kiss you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“We kiss plenty,” Barry answered, and that was certainly true. “But I know what you mean.”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re going to be able to tell me anything about love,” Tim said.
“Don’t get all defensive and try to insult me, bro. This isn’t about me, right now, it’s about you. Now, I happen to know a hell of a lot about love, and I happen to know a hell of a lot about dudes in love, and I happen to know that you’re a dude in love with that other scrawny dude at the end of the hall and I want to help you out with him, even if I think he’s kind of a loser.”
“Shut up,” Tim said warningly.
Barry smiled. “Yeah, I guess if you want to waste your time with someone like that, who am I to….”
“I said shut up,” Tim repeated, with a bit more menace in his tone.
“I’m just saying you could find someone else who’s so much better than Jer….”
“Jeremy is sweet and kind and polite and amazing. Jeremy is beautiful and handsome. Jeremy is so much better and more of a man than you’ll ever be that I can only guess that your so jealous of him that… what? What? Why are you laughing? Stop laughing, Barry!”
“Love Lesson number one, dude: When you’re in love, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
“But….that’s not fair! You… he….”
“And Love Lesson number two: When you’re in love, you need to tell the person you’re in love with.”
“Like, right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it sounds like our friend Barry needs some distracting if you’re going to start to get any attention from Tim.” He smiled and winked. “Lucky for you, I’m very distracting.”
That much, at least, was certain. “But, what if—?”
“What if instead of Barry that Tim sees what a big juicy hunk of beautiful I am and decides to fall in love with me?”
“Don’t tell me you read minds, too?”
Chuck shook his head. “Not so much, although I can make you come just by thinking.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
“Yeah, bad joke I guess.” His smile said otherwise.
“No, really, the ‘big juicy hunk of beautiful’ was spot on.”
“I know my audience,” Chuck said with a shrug.
“But what if—?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, whatever that bridge is. I have a strong feeling that Barry’s going to be very—amenable to any sort of proposition I might have for him. If all you need is a little less Barry for there to be a lot more Jeremy in the picture, I’m more than happy to put my talents to good use.” He smiled his filthy sideways smile that always made Jeremy’s cock twitch. “Besides, something tells me that Barry thinks he’s God Gift, and I’m just the guy to show him exactly what God intended when he started putting presents under the tree.”
Jeremy’s gaze wandered over his roommate’s incredible and awesome body and he had to agree. If there was one man on the planet capable of drawing someone’s attentions away from someone as gorgeous and perfect as Tim—it was the impossible man standing naked before him.
“Yeah, this is gonna be fun,” Chuck said.
“You need to dress yourself up nice and go down to that little dude’s door—”
“He’s not little,”
“—and get this party started, dude. I love when we’re fucking away and having some nice, nasty naked time, but all this moping around like some lovesick puppy grates on my sensitive emotional state.”
“What sensitive emotional—?”
Barry slapped Tim’s ass hard. “Now go get some clothes on. You’re going to have a date with the man of your dreams if it kills you.”
“A date!” Tim looked shocked. A date? Muscle Club dudes don’t date. Muscle Club dudes fuck! And have fun! And fuck some more! And he said as much.
“Whatever, dude. This ain’t high school and Jeremy ain’t some piece of Muscle Club ass you want to just plug yourself into and go. And don’t argue with me here, I’m right and you’re wrong. If you want to get somewhere with that one, it’s going to take more than a little slap and tickle. You’re going to have to commit.”
“Everything, dude! Jesus, didn’t anyone ever teach you anything about relationships?” Barry shook his head. “Look, I mean, what we have, this is fine. This is fun. It’s fucking great, and it’s great fucking. But love is….love—oh, Jesus, love is everything!”
“But what if—?”
“But what if he rejects you? What if he hurts you? What if you go pour your mighty heart out all over the rug and he looks at it and laughs?”
“Sort of,” Tim said with a shrug, though Barry had just voiced every hidden fear in his heart.
“Dude, it doesn’t matter. You have to do it, because love is worth all of it. All the heartache and all the fucking anger and fear and sorrow and yeah, you’ll feel all that too. But then you’re in love, and you remember why you’re and love, and so does she—erm, he. And you look at her—him, and you feel your heart swelling like a balloon and you feel your feet coming up off the floor and you feel hot and sick and wonderful.”
“Because you’re in love!”
“I don’t want—!” Tim’s argument was quieted by a knock on their dorm room door, and Barry tucked one of his dicks up like he was born to it and walked naked to their small, overcrowded room’s entrance and turned the knob.
A man was standing outside in the hallway. A man unlike any man that Barry (or Tim) had ever seen. A man of such physical beauty and perfect muscular development that it was difficult, at first, to look at him. Barry blinked and swallowed into a dry throat and allowed his eyes to travel up and down the man’s incredible—and incredibly naked—body before resting at last on his sea green gaze. He knew this dude, but all of the sudden he was seeing him for the first time. How had he never noticed how… how… how perfect he was? How beautiful? How powerful? How fucking sexy?
“Hello,” the man said. Barry felt his cock swell and sizzle as the simple greeting licked his ear and dropped inside his head and started stroking his over-amped libido. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced. My name is Charles. I live down the hall.” He was simply standing there. He was shorter than Barry was now, smaller in stature, but for some reason Barry felt physically overwhelmed by the man.
“Heh—hello,” Barry managed to say.
Chuck smiled. His body was perfect. His muscles were hard and bulging. His thick forests of warm, soft fur swarmed over his collection of brawn in beautiful patterns, swimming into the deep crevasses between the swollen muscles. He had a rough, handsome beard on his chiseled features and his eyes were the color of emeralds. Fat, lickable nipples pushed up from the two massive globes of his chest, and a palpable heat was emanating from his tall, wide, massive frame. His huge, beautiful, thick, long cock poured over his balls inches long, a fat pipe of pure sex that was almost glowing with power.
Barry’s cock started arching upwards and his balls were inflating with cream. He was releasing a thick cloud of intense masculine pheromones and his dark, heavy nipples tingled. Chuck smiled and said, “I was just wondering if you wanted to fuck.”
Chuck licked his lips and parted them slowly. “Fuck,” he said. He looked back towards his room and then locked eyes with Barry again. “My roommate, Jeremy, is out at the moment. Went down to the library or something.” He said this sentence rather louder than necessary. “I’m all alone down there and horny as hell. Jeremy is much too polite to—engage me, much as I’d like to. Can you imagine that? Someone turning me down?” Chuck was subtly amplifying his already brain-spinning collection of brawn and beauty. Who, indeed, could deny this man anything? “Besides, he only has eyes for somebody else.” He reached down and moved his fingers around his fat shank of meat, rubbing the skin with his thumb. He pulled in a slow, long breath and let it escape in a deep, animal growl. “So—do you wanna fuck?”
“Do I want to—?”
Chuck nodded. Then he reached forward and grasped Barry’s dick in his grip, sending a cascade of The Touch though the connection, lighting up Barry’s sex drive like a dozen wet tongues all licking his hard-on and rubbing the head and sucking the tip until he was dry. “Let’s fuck,” Chuck stated. He allowed his magical cock to start lengthening and thickening, swelling longer and heavier as he stood there.
“Um, Timmy? Bro? I’m gonna go out for a few minutes—”
“Hours,” Chuck said quietly.
“Oh my God,” Barry replied.
“God? No. I’m no God.” He squeezed Barry’s dick and sent another hard, heavy jolt of pure sex into his body. “But let’s see how close we can get to heaven.”
Chuck pulled the young man out into the hallway by his dick and closed the door behind him, leaving a dumbstruck Tim standing alone in the dorm room with only one idea in his head.
Get. To. The. Library.
Jeremy was trying to look busy, but his heart was beating very quickly in his chest and he kept needlessly rearranging his books and laptop to make it appear that he was doing—something. He tried not to glance at the door, but every sound in the library made his heart jump and his breath catch.
He had never been so nervous in his life. Chuck’s instructions were still echoing in his ears: “Just be yourself.”
“But what if he—?”
Then Chuck shook his head and turned him around and shoved him out the door. “Just be yourself. He’ll like you. You’re very likable.”
He put on a plain white crew neck t-shirt and his favorite sweater, a sky-blue knit which stretched itself across the new, larger contours of his body in a weird but not unattractive manner, and squeezed himself into a pair of jeans (why was his butt so big? why did he need such a big butt anyway?) and shoved his fatter cock into the crotch (which, annoyingly, only made it want to bulge even larger once he’d managed to button the fly up and it started to rub in a most distracting way) and slipped his feet—which, thankfully, hadn’t grown larger with the rest of him—into his winter boots and gathered up his backpack and headed to the library.
“The library?” he’d asked Chuck, after given some odd instructions.
“It’s perfect,” he said, “because it’s neutral ground and you’ll be in your element.”
“That’s my element?”
“You have to admit that you spend an inordinate amount of time there.” A smile crossed Jeremy’s lips and Chuck asked, “What’s that for?”
“‘Inordinate,’” he repeated. “Sometimes I forget that there’s a brain inside that amazing body of yours.”
“It’s my best feature,” Chuck said with a bit of pride.
“And that’s saying something,” Jeremy chided, giving his impossibly beautiful roommate an appraising once-over.
When Jeremy walked past Tim and Barry’s room, he could hear their deep voices rumbling like boulders. The word “love” kept coming up distinctly, and it made Jeremy’s heart collapse a little.
The library was practically abandoned, as he had hoped it would be. Nearly everyone had gone home for winter break, and who was going to be spending time in the library anyway?
Would Tim even show up? What was Chuck going to do, anyway? How was he going to convince Barry to let Tim come to the library—or convince Tim to leave Barry’s arms—when they’d been cooped up together for the whole weekend without a glimpse of either of them? And what were they doing in there all this time? Did they even come out to eat?
Making out, probably. Yeah. Kissing and stuff. Jeremy pictured the two of them kissing each other and he gagged a little. But then he found himself inserted in Barry’s place, and there’s was Tim’s handsome face, so close to his own, and Tim’s soft, warm lips (he imagined that they had to be very soft and very warm) and then Tim was leaning in close, and he could smell Tim and feel his heat and then Tim was pressing his lips to Jeremy’s and he could feel Tim’s wet, hot tongue pushing inside his mouth and….
Startled, Jeremy shoved his hand under the table to hide his hard-on. Dammit! Why did that keep happening? His clothes were now very tight on his body and he turned slightly, trying to simultaneously look up at whomever was there and not rip the seams of another undershirt again.
There was a dude standing behind him who looked decidedly not like Tim. He wasn’t a bad looking sort of dude. He was, in fact, Jeremy had to admit, rather cute. Not handsome, but cute, with bright blue eyes, blonde hair, a prominent chin and a decent if not exactly amazing (on a Tim level) body. “Hi,” Jeremy said.
“I’m Jeff. Jefferson Crawley.”
“What’s up, Jeremy?” His blue eyes scanned Jeremy’s face, and traveled along his wide shoulders and newly developed chest. “You stuck here over the holiday?” Jeremy nodded, glancing at the library entrance and any sign of Tim. “Me, too,” Jeff answered. Jeremy looked up at him again as Jeff was looking at his books and computer screen. “So, doing a little extra studying?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
Jeff’s brow wrinkled. “Looks like you’re studying—everything.” He smiled, though. He did not have an unattractive smile. “I haven’t seen you around campus,” he observed.
“I’ve been around,” Jeremy answered.
“Funny. I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed a guy who looks like you do,” Jeff said. Then he smiled again.
“Oh. I—I guess I do look….”
“You here on a scholarship?”
Jeff nodded, as his eyes traveled across Jeremy’s chest and shoulders, then returned to his face. “Wrestling?”
“No? Football, then?”
“I’m not on a scholarship,” he said. “I’m an English major.”
Jeff’s eyebrows arched quite high. “An English major?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy replied, feeling a little irritated.
“Sorry, it’s just that—you don’t look like an English major.”
“What do I look like?”
“You look like a wrestler. Maybe it’s the way you fit into that sweater.” Jeremy looked down and plucked at the knitwear. “Don’t get me wrong, you look—really good in that sweater.”
He looked back up. “Thanks?”
“Really good.” Jeremy frowned. What the hell was this guy on, anyway? “Um, so, do you—wanna—get some coffee? Or something?”
“Or something?” Jeff’s eyes moved to his chest again. “Accent on the something?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—it’s just that usually my ‘dar is excellent and I was very definitely getting a vibe off of you.”
“My gaydar.” Jeremy instantly blushed and felt his body heat up. “But it’s cool,” Jeff said quickly, “I didn’t mean….”
“Wait. You want to go get coffee?” Jeff smiled and nodded. “With me?” He nodded again. “And by ‘coffee’ you mean….”
“Anything you want it to mean,” Jeff answered. He placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “My room’s empty. We could—go have coffee there. If you were up for it.”
There was movement over Jeff’s shoulder and Jeremy’s attention was drawn to it. The library door opened and a very large, very broad, very tall, very handsome figure moved inside the brightly lit building. “I—um….”
Jeff noticed Jeremy’s distraction and turned around, looking for what Jeremy was looking at. It would have been very hard to miss Tim. “Oh, fuck,” he said.
Tim managed to reduce his bulk enough to fit into a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. He was still growing. He was always growing. And probably his recent gift of the Muscle Club magic to Barry and then Barry’s recent gift of nearly nonstop sex and the usual unending flood of warm, salty muscle-powered spunk from his swollen ball sack meant that Tim was now even larger than only two days ago.
He hadn’t counted on that, and wasn’t even considering it before he tried to put some clothes back on and discovered that he was once again bigger. Bigger everywhere.
The shirt was a bit ridiculous. Why was his growth always so pronounced in his shoulders and chest? His arms, too, were now thicker with muscle, and the tiny sleeves had rolled up his arms to allow his biceps and triceps room. The woven cotton rubbed across his fat nipples and stimulated his already over-eager sex drive, making it harder than ever to control the size and hunger of his cock.
Of course, that—or those—too were bigger. He’d barely been able to shove the wealth of meat into his jeans and zip himself inside. The bulge produced by his mass of cock and those fat balls was comical, as if he was smuggling tennis balls in his crotch.
The shirt rode high on his belly and his jeans rode low on his hips (taller, too, then) exposing a couple of inches of his midriff from above his navel to where his forest of curly pubes erupted on his pelvis. All in all, he thought he looked purely ridiculous, but there was no other course for him unless he just slipped on a jockstrap and wandered around campus bare-assed with the over-burdened pouch stretched to its limits.
No one was around, anyway, so he strode with purpose and determination over to the library.
Love, huh? Barry was such an expert. But he said it to just about anyone, didn’t he? Barry even said he loved Tim! How could he love so many people so easily? Love isn’t like that! Love is—love is hard! It’s—meaningful! It means something! You can’t just tell everyone you love them!
The library was glowing with light on the deserted campus. Tim stalked towards it with purpose and intent. He was gonna tell Jeremy—something. Or, ask him something? How does one start this business, anyway?
“Hey, Jeremy, I really like you and I was wondering if you like me too?”
“Hey, Jeremy, really sorry about making you grow muscles and get even more amazingly handsome. Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it? While I stare at your face and dream about making out with you?”
There was always the direct, Charles-like approach. “Hey, Jeremy, wanna fuck?”
No, Jeremy wasn’t like Barry. Not at all. Jeremy was—beautiful. And amazing. And sweet. And awesome. And—
Sitting over there with some other dude with his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.
“Oh, fuck,” Jeremy echoed.
Jeff looked back at Jeremy. “You know that dude?”
“Yes. No. Sort of.”
Jeff looked back towards Tim. “Jesus. I’ve seen him around but—Jesus. Why’s he dressed like that?”
“I don’t think he has a choice.”
Jeff could see Tim’s over-burdened crotch. “I see what you mean.” He looked up. “He’s looking over here.”
“Yeah,” agreed Jeremy.
“Are you sure you don’t know him? Because he looks like he knows you.”
Tim stopped at the doors and just stood there, looking at Jeremy and some blonde dude talking. He swallowed and felt his mouth go dry and suddenly all his words and plans were vanishing away. He hadn’t counted on this. Some other dude. Some other dude with his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and sporting a hard-on in his jeans and practically salivating all over Jeremy’s body.
“He’s coming over,” Jeff observed.
“He does seem to be,” Jeremy agreed.
Tim walked toward the couple and stopped. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Jeff said.
“Hi,” Jeremy said.
Then nobody said anything as they all stared at each other. The awkward silence threatened to overwhelm everything. Finally Jeff stuck his hand out and said, “I’m Jeff.”
Tim looked at the hand and then took it with some irritation. “Tim,” he said, and they shook hands in introduction.
“This is Jeremy,” Jeff said.
“I know,” Tim said.
Jeremy said, “Hi, Tim.”
“Hi,” he answered.
Then there was another long silence.
After some moments, Jeremy said, “Jeff was asking if I wanted to have some coffee with him.”
Tim looked at Jeff. “Is that so?”
Jeff nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” he said again.
“Well—yeah,” he said yet again, arching an eyebrow. “Wait a second, are you guys—?”
Tim and Jeremy both looked startled, and then started saying, “No, oh no, no, we’re not, no,” and so forth at the same time.
Jeff was looking back and forth between them, a smile growing on his face. “I see,” he said. Then he clapped his hands and looked at Jeremy. “I’m just gonna….go. I think. And—if you ever want to—get some coffee with me, I’m in room 302 in building C.” Then he looked at Tim meaningfully.
“Okay,” Jeremy said quietly. Then he blushed again.
Jeff exchanged looks with the two other men, said, “Yeeeaaaahhh,” very slowly and then moved away from them, grinning wickedly.
They both watched him go until he disappeared around a group of bookshelves. “He seems nice,” Tim observed, still looking at the empty space where the blonde had gone.
“I guess so,” Jeremy answered.
Tim looked down at Jeremy, and his heart seemed to flip over in his chest. Jeremy looked—really, really good. Like—REALLY good. The sweater he was wearing matched his eyes perfectly. It fit him like a glove, making his new bulk appear even larger than he knew it was. Jeremy had gained some pounds and inches on his slight frame, and probably he was a bit taller too. But something about him in that sweater, sitting there surrounded by books, looking both physically powerful and all brainy—it made Tim’s cock bulge.
Jeremy looked up Tim’s broad, bulging, beautifully developed contours—it really was a ludicrous outfit he had on, but there was something undeniably sexy about the fact that he was now too large to even fit inside his own clothes, plus seeing so much skin in this public place made Jeremy’s whole body tingle alarmingly—and his eyebrow arched. Tiem seemed…powerful. And dangerous. And something about that made Jeremy alarmingly attracted to him. “So,” he said, “you’ve been—busy.”
“In your room,” he said. “Busy.”
“Oh,” he said, “yeah.”
“Did you want something?” he asked.
“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” He was still looking to where Jeff had gone.
“Yeah, he’s nice looking, isn’t he?”
Tim rounded on Jeremy suddenly. “That guy?” he asked, rather loudly.
“Yeah,” Jeremy answered calmly. “That guy.”
“He’s a jackass.”
“You know him?”
“Never met him in my life,” Tim answered.
Jeremy smiled. “So….” Tim looked at Jeremy again and his brain went blank. God, the dude was SO. CUTE. “Here for some light reading?”
“Taking a break from all that physical activity?”
“You? And Barry?”
“Me and Barry what?”
Jeremy sighed dramatically and turned towards his hoard of books. “Never mind,” he said shortly.
“What did he want?” Tim asked.
“That Jeff guy.”
“I told you, he wanted to go out for coffee.”
“What’s your problem? Don’t like coffee?”
“Listen, Jeremy, guys like that—he doesn’t want to have coffee with you.”
“Guys like that?”
“You have to be careful.”
“I have to—what are you, my mother?”
“I just mean….”
“Why do you care?”
“Why do you care?”
Chuck pulled Barry inside Jeremy’s dorm room and closed the door behind them. He tugged the large man around by his dick and moved his hand behind Barry’s neck and pulled their lips together, giving Barry a passionate kiss as he stroked his cock and sent deep shocks of pure bliss through his body.
Chuck was a fully transformed man, gifted with the full set of powers and all of them pumped up to their fullest potential and capacity. As far as sexual pleasure goes, there was nothing—no act, no request, no desire, no fantasy—that he was incapable of fulfilling.
He pulled their two muscular bodies together and the heat in the room swelled. He pushed his tongue inside Barry’s mouth and they wrestled for dominance, as Barry lost control of his body and his secondary cock sprang forth and inflated to full power.
Chuck pulled his lips from Barry’s and looked down. “Thanks for the compliment,” he said. “I haven’t managed to do that to another guy for quite some time.”
Barry’s handsome young face twisted into confusion. “That happens to you a lot, does it? You kiss some guy and they spring a second boner?”
“You’d be surprised what happens to me,” he answered. Then he kissed him again, harder and deeper, and pressed his body against Barry. Chuck began to swell larger with muscle. Barry could feel him growing, feel their skin rubbing against each other as his companion started gaining inches and pounds of hard brawn everywhere on his body.
“Fuck,” Barry whispered, “you’re just chock full of surprises.”
“And we’re just getting started,” Chuck answered. “How much experience do you have with those things?”
“What, these little boys?” Barry asked, reaching down and grabbing both his dicks in his large grip. “I can handle myself if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What I’m asking,” Chuck said, “is whether or not you’re going to be able to lift me into a screaming orgasmic explosion of superhuman pleasure, delivering so much fucking amazing fucking that I will burn the memory of you and me into my brain with searing sexual fire and regret every other fuck from this moment on.”
“Oh,” Barry said. “So—the usual, then?”
Chuck smiled. “You,” he said, “I like.”
“I tend to have that effect on people,” Barry answered.
Jeremy twisted around in his seat and looked up at the tightly clothed college freshman standing over him. “You? You what?”
“You care,” Jeremy repeated. Tim nodded, slightly dumbfounded. “Why?”
“Why do you care? Tell me why you care, Tim.”
“Right.” Jeremy had no idea why he was angry in that moment. He didn’t have time to consider the reasons, he only had time to feel it. “Right. Fine. You ‘just do.’”
“Yeah,” Tim said, confused by what was happening and unable to sort out his own feelings. This was not going at all the way he had imagined it. Not at all.
“And what about Barry?”
“Yes, Barry. That guy you spend all your time with? That guy who lives with you? That guy who you turned into another huge muscle stud and whenever I happen by your room you’re both naked and sweaty and all I hear from behind your closed door is the sounds of grunting and moaning? Barry?”
“But, Barry and me, we’re just….”
“Do you love him?”
“Do you love him?”
“I—guess I do, but I mean he said….”
“Fine,” Jeremy answered. “Great. Perfect. Okay.” Jeremy stood and started shoving his books inside his backpack, muttering, “Fine. Great. Just perfect. Amazing. Yeah. Whatever.”
“Jeremy, what’s—what’d I do?”
The smaller boy turned and locked eyes on Tim’s handsome, bewildered features. “You just have no clue at all, do you? Not the slightest inclination. You’re entirely baffled by this whole thing.”
Tim nodded. That was an excellent summary of his feelings at the moment.
Jeremy exhaled hard. “Fine. Good. Okay.” He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder. There was a slight ripping sound as his t-shirt started to give way. “I wonder if Jeff is still around,” he asked, looking directly at Tim.
“Jeff?” Tim’s voice sounded hurt and angry at the same time.
“Yeah. At least Jeff knows what he wants.” He stared at Tim for a heartbeat. “That’s it, then? Nothing else to say?”
“I don’t understand,” Tim said, half to himself. What was happening? Why was it happening? How was it happening? “I don’t understand.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Well, I can’t go back to my room. Maybe I’ll go see if someone wants to have some coffee.”
“What? What do you want? What?”
Tim looked at Jeremy’s angry expression. There was nothing of love in it. Nothing of caring. Nothing of concern. “Nothing.”
“Exactly,” Jeremy concluded, and he stalked off in the direction of Jeff’s departure.
Tim stood in the emptiness for some time, trying to work through what had just happened in his head, trying to figure where things went wrong, and what he should do, and how he should feel.
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