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Gym class hero

By Tigerjay

Description Mason Hatchett, an overweight, out-of-shape, 18-year-old student, ends up in the senior athletics gym class against his will. Mr. Tyler, the athletics coordinator, has a... proposal... for alternative participation that Mason finds it very hard to pass up. All he has to do is test an experimental drug. What could go wrong with that?

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AddedAugust 2009
Updated14 Jul 2017
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2 Parts tap bar to showtap bar to hide

Part 1 (Revised)

Mason?”

I jumped, practically falling out of my seat, when I heard my name. Looking up, I saw Mr. Banks looking down at me, a little worried. “Uh, yeah?” I asked, glancing around. Shit, the classroom was empty.

Mr. Banks, my chem teacher, frowned a little deeper. He straightened up, though, and stepped back from my desk. Normally, the sight of his light blue polo stretching over his chest would have had me chubbing up a little, especially this close, but I was a little distracted. “Class is over, Mason. Time to go.” He hesitated, then added, “Is... everything all right?”

“Uh, I mean... Yeah.” I shrugged, quickly folding the scrap of paper I’d been worrying at and shoving it deep in my pocket. “Yeah, everything’s fine, sorry. Guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” I got up from my desk and grabbed my backpack, offering Mr. Banks a quiet smile. “I’ll make sure to get a good night’s rest tonight.”

Mr. Banks quirked an eyebrow at me before leading the way up to the front of the classroom. “See that you do,” he told me, more than a little dryly, passing me the semester’s chemistry textbook from a pile on his desk. “Read chapter one for Friday. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nodded and muttered something more or less appropriate back, shoving the book in my backpack as I left the room. The hallways were filled with students rushing between classes, and I let myself melt into the crowd, following the current while I tried to avoid thinking about where I was headed: the gym.

My school district had this asinine policy that every student needed at least one credit of phys ed before they could graduate, and I’d spent seven semesters... conveniently forgetting to sign up for one, in the hope that no one would notice and I’d be fine. Okay, like, yeah, it was good to encourage physical activity or whatever, obesity epidemic blah blah, but it was fucking gym class. First semester senior year had been great, and I figured, y’know, I’d finish my last semester, straight As across the board in all these academic courses, and no one would think twice about my lack of a gym credit.

No such luck. When I’d picked up my schedule the day before, it had “PHED 400” printed in the second period box, right where I’d expected to see a free period. Someone, it seemed, had caught on. (Or, well, more likely a computer somewhere noticed it, but right now a maniacally laughing scapegoat was more appealing.) The worst thing was that it wasn’t just any gym class, either, it was Senior Phys Ed, which was officially open to all seniors, but in practice was used by the sports teams as an extra training and workout session. I was fucked, and not in the fun way.

Not that I had much experience with the fun kind of fucking. Or, well, any. A few anonymous blowjobs in the park didn’t really count.

The crowds were starting to thin out as people headed into their classrooms, and I ducked out of the flow at the door to Mr. Tyler’s office. Mr. Tyler was the athletics coordinator for the school; he didn’t coach any teams in particular, but he had a hand in all of them, and he took care of both the junior and senior gym classes, too. Swallowing, trying to clear the lump in my throat, I knocked on the door, and then again a little louder. After a moment, the door swung open, and I was staring straight at Mr. Tyler’s, uh, bountiful chest. “Yeah?” he asked, voice deep and gravelly. “Can I help you?”

I managed to tear my gaze away from his incredible pecs to look him in the face. “Uh, sorry, Mr. Tyler. I’m Mason Hatchett, I think I got put in Senior Phys Ed by mistake?”

Mr. Tyler looked me up and down before stepping back, gesturing me into his office. “I wondered about that name on the class list,” he said. “C’mon in, let’s have a quick chat before class starts.” He sat on the edge of his desk and nodded me towards a chair. The office was bigger than I expected, with enough room for a large desk and a chair behind it, a couple of stackable chairs in front of it, where I sat, and a couple of filing cabinets, without any of it feeling cramped. Behind me, there were curtains in the middle of the wall; they were mostly drawn, but I could see through them a bit at the middle into the guys’ locker room. “I checked up on you when I saw your name on the list,” he explained, “and this basically the only class you can take to graduate on time. From your other classes, I figure you’re headed off to college?” I nodded, and he continued, “Yeah, they seemed like real brainiac classes. Unfortunately, if you want those classes specifically, this is your only option. Nothing else will fit in your schedule.”

“Is there anything else I can do? Anything?” I asked. I winced as the bell rang, signalling the start of the period, and Mr. Tyler chuckled.

“There may be... something. Here, read this.” He picked up a pamphlet from the desk behind him and held it out to me as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He walked past me and through a door on the other side of the office, out into the locker room and, I guessed, out to the gym beyond it.

I glanced down at the pamphlet, which bore the text “An Introduction to the XLR-15 Program.” Frowning, I flipped it open and started reading. When I got to the end, I just stared at it before going back to the beginning and starting again, reading slower and more carefully. “This has to be a joke,” I said, glancing around for, I don’t know, Candid Camera, or something like that? Because what the pamphlet was saying was ridiculous.

The XLR-15 Program, according to the pamphlet, was an initiative in the early stages of human testing. Results on rodents had been promising, and apparently they’d had good test results in livestock, of all things. What it promised was nothing short of a miracle—and something that I knew men, or, well, everyone, had been wanting for a long time. Basically, XLR-15 purported to alter your biochemistry in such a way as to increase muscle growth unstimulated. Pop a pill, grow some pecs and biceps! The results were apparently pretty varied, so there were no solid predictions, but apparently the expected gains were something like fifty to sixty pounds of muscle.

Behind the desk, there was a full-length mirror on the back of another door. Without really thinking about it, I dropped the pamphlet on the chair beside me and stood up, shucking my t-shirt and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t too bad. I mean, I was pretty chubby, let’s be honest, but I’d never be cast to play the Fat Kid or anything like that. I was just... jiggly. Cuddly, even! I watched as I raised my right arm and flexed, and saw... nothing. I shook my arm, and all that nothing just wobbled. Same as it always did. But now I was starting to wonder... what if it didn’t? What would I look like?

I was so lost in imagining what I could look like if the XLR actually worked that I didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear anything until Mr. Tyler laughed and said, “So, what do you think?” His eyes were raking over me again, and I felt vulnerable, exposed, more than just having my shirt off. Like he could see what I was made of. “I mean, I don’t know you all that well yet, but I think you’re probably a pretty good candidate for the program. You’re eighteen already, right? Saw that in your file.” He grinned at me, cockily. “Unless you want to ask your parents first?”

“God, no,” I spat out, without even thinking, but it was true. My mom would probably be confused—I don’t think she’d understand why I’d care—but Dad would flip his lid. He was built a lot like me, and he’d ranted often enough about ‘brainless bodybuilders’ that I just know he wouldn’t want to see me turn into that.

But it wasn’t his decision.

“No, I want this. I definitely want this,” I told Mr. Tyler, looking straight up and meeting his eyes, holding the gaze. His grin widened, growing less cocky and more happy, and he moved past me to his desk.

“There’s some paperwork to take care of first,” Mr. Tyler explained, “mostly just release forms for the trial. They’re not releasing much information on possible side effects at this point, but you need to report everything that changes, got it? No matter how small you think it is.” He handed me a couple of papers and a pen, and I skimmed them quickly before signing. He was right, there wasn’t much information, just references to the introduction pamphlet and a brief outline of the actual trial process. There was a two-stage start to the protocol—the XLR-15 itself, which was a pill, and then an activator enzyme—and then basically you kept going until you wanted to stop, at which point there was an XLR neutraliser that would halt the process.

I handed back the signed papers, and Mr. Tyler pulled a bottle of pills out of the top drawer of his desk. “Here’s the XLR,” he explained, popping the bottle open and handing me one pill from it. “And, if I’m reading you right, you won’t have any issues with how you need to get activator enzyme. Need some water?” he asked, walking by me to lock first the door to the locker room, and then the back across the office to lock the one to the hallway. I shook my head and swallowed the pill dry, a nervous feeling rising in my stomach even before it had left my mouth.

“How—” I started to ask, but stopped, because Mr. Tyler had pulled his shirt over his head and I was left staring at his perfect fucking chest, heavy pecs hanging over his cobblestone abs, nipples like fucking pencil erasers pointing out and down.

“How do you get the activator?” Mr. Tyler asked, and he ran a hand across his chest, tweaking his nipple before dropping his hand to the waistband of his shorts. He kicked off his shoes and grinned down at me. “Straight from the source. See, the activator enzyme needs to... incubate. It can’t survive outside of a human body. So they gave me a little shot that lets me give it to you.” He grabbed my chin with his free hand and tilted my face up, leaning right down into me. I could feel his breath ghosting across my face. “Basically, you need to swallow my load.”

With a groan of delight, I leaned up the last half inch and captured his lips with mine, licking my way into his mouth. I pulled back, and pushed his hand away from his shorts, pulling them down to the floor in the same action that I fell to my knees. “With fucking pleasure,” I told him, before leaning in and licking a stripe up his cock. It was huge, thick, even soft, and at a swinging six inches was bigger than I was at my hardest. It didn’t stay soft for long, though, not when I started tonguing his heavy balls in their sack. “This has got to be a fucking dream,” I said, voice muffled in his skin, “and I don’t fucking care.”

“Leave—oh, god—” Mr. Tyler moaned. “God, you’re good at this. Fuck, you’ve done this before, I knew it.” His cock was swelling up now, and I licked another stripe along its length. It had to be at least, like, nine inches, maybe ten, and as it bobbed in front of him, swollen and hard, a drop of precum swelled from the tip and began to fall to the floor. I caught it on my tongue before it fell very far, and the flavour exploded in my mouth. I swear, it was the best thing I ever tasted, and all I knew in that moment was that I needed more.

I latched onto the head of Mr. Tyler’s cock, one hand coming up to steady it at the base, and dug my tongue in his slit to work out every last bit of precum that I could before I began to work my down. He was by far the biggest cock I’d ever had in my mouth, and I gagged on it before too long, but even that seemed to turn him on further. “Fuck, yeah, god, gag on it, just like that. You want my load? You want it? Fuck, yeah, gonna grow so big, gonna get so swole.” He grabbed the back of my head, holding me on his cock, and started working his hips. They were pretty light thrusts, but given his size it was still a lot to handle and I gagged again, trying to breathe through my nose while he pounded the back of my throat. “Goddammit, boy, you ready for this?” I looked up at him, square in the eye, and nodded without letting his cock out of my mouth. He grinned down at me, pulled my head back until just the head was resting on my tongue, and held me there while he jerked himself off with his other hand. “Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, gonna—you’re gonna get so big, kid.”

If I thought his precum was amazing, the taste that filled my mouth when he started shooting was incredible. I swallowed as fast as I could, wanting—needing—it all inside me, but his load was so big it started spilling down my face. I pulled back a little, shovelling his cum into my mouth with my hands while he was still shooting, desperate to taste every last drop. “Fuck,” I moaned, letting him fall from my mouth as I licked the last few drops from my fingers. “God, fuck, that was incredible. When can we do it again?”

Mr. Tyler laughed through his heaving breath, falling back to lean against his desk as he recovered from what was prety clearly an insanely powerful orgasm. “Let’s wait and see how you react to this before we start thinking about your next dose.” He tossed me a towel. “Clean yourself up, then head to lunch. You’re going to need fuel for this transformation, boy.” He smirked. “Eat lots of protein.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I just did that,” I snarked back, but I was grinning. “So... That means I get another dose, right?”

Laughing harder, Mr. Tyler spun me around and swatted me on the ass. “Tomorrow, Hatchett. We’ll see how this one goes for you, and then... Well. We’ll see what happens.”

I wiped myself down as thoroughly as I could—most of what I hadn’t swallowed was still on my face, but a little had dripped onto my chest—before slipping my shirt back on and grabbing my backpack. “I can’t wait,” I said, grinning up at him. “This is going to be awesome.”

Part 2

There was something buzzing in the back of my head through the rest of the school day—not enough to distract me completely, but I did drift a bit a few times during my afternoon classes. My cock refused to go down, though, and that was almost enough distraction in and of itself. I ducked into the bathroom on the way to lunch and shot my load in the stall within seconds, I had to dash to the bathroom again between third and fourth period, and I almost asked to go to the bathroom during my fourth period class. (It’s Math—it’s not like I would have missed much, I could do that stuff in my sleep.)

By the time I got home after school—the bus dropped me off just before four o’clock, I was usually in my front door by five-after—the buzzing had spread. I swear I could feel my skin... not itching? It wasn’t like that. Almost like I was vibrating, just below the surface. It made jacking off an entirely different experience, that I can tell you; it was like having a vibrator in my ass turned on max, only the vibrator touched me everywhere. Frankly, I don’t know how I had anything else to shoot at this point, but I swear I shot the biggest load of my life that afternoon, even hitting my face with the first shot or two.

Well. The biggest to that point, anyway.

By five o’clock, the buzzing had faded to a much lower level, which meant I could actually function normally enough to keep my parents from noticing anything odd over dinner. They were mostly disinterested in my day—though obviously for different reasons, it seemed their days had been just as busy and distracting as mine—and so talk over dinner that night was sparse. When we finished, we each went our separate ways to relax for the evening before bed. At least, I tried to relax. The two loads I shot before finally going to sleep said something a little different, although I guess I was relaxed afterwards.

When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t remember any of my dreams, but I was once again hard as a rock, even more so than my usual morning wood. At this rate, I mused, I was going to end up rubbing myself raw. Rolling over onto my stomach, I thrust against my bed a few times, enjoying the thrill it sent down my spine. Glancing at my alarm clock, I was surprised to see that it was only quarter past six, although that did explain why I hadn’t woken up to my alarm—it wasn’t set to go off for another fifteen minutes. Time enough, I figured, to jerk off again, so I rolled back over onto my back and reached down under the sheets to grab my cock and give it a stroke.

Except it wasn’t my cock.

Okay, no, I mean, I was alone in bed, yeah, it was definitely attached to me, but let me explain something to you: like most young, red-blooded American males, even before starting this ‘project’ with Mr. Tyler, I had spent more than enough time getting, uh, acquainted with my good friend downstairs, and I knew every curve, every bump, every vein across its surface. What I had in my hand that morning, the first morning after starting the program, was not what I’d been jerking off the day before. It wasn’t, like, a lot different. Probably no one else would notice, if there’d really been anyone else who’d ever really handled my cock. (My experiences in the park were actually pretty one-sided. Not that I was complaining.) But what I had in my hand that morning was... Well. Bigger. Maybe an eighth of an inch longer, and definitely noticeably thicker. The realisation sent a shock through me right to the base of my cock, and I swear it swelled even more in my hand, stretching just a little bit longer. “Fucking hell,” I groaned, giving myself another stroke along my new and improved length, and another, and it felt even better than anything had yesterday. As I started to jerk faster, my other hand started roaming across my body, and I realised that I could feel, beneath the light layer of flab (and less of that than there’d been the day before, I thought), the start of some muscles. My chest, especially—my pecs, I guess—were already feeling firm and a little tighter, and, God, my biceps were starting to actually pop. Jerking with my right hand, I flexed my left arm, staring at it in disbelief. I couldn’t help it: I leaned over and licked along the bulging muscle, and that was it, that was what sent me over the edge. I pushed the sheets down in a rush, just managed to get them past my groin before the first shot rocketed out of my cock, splattering on the wall above my head, and then another beside it, thick ropes of cum laying down across my face and chest before finally I petered out, dribbling the last few pulses out onto my stomach. I licked my lips, and I even tasted different. Sweeter, maybe? And delicious, like the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth—even better than Mr. Tyler had tasted the day before. I knew I wanted more, running my hands down my face and across my chest to gather up as much as I could and suck it off my fingers.

My alarm went off, the harsh beeping cutting through my post-orgasm reverie, and I grinned, giving my fingers one last lick before reaching over and shutting it off. I felt full of energy, that low-level buzzing settling in just beneath my skin again. I jumped up and down a couple of times, bouncing on my feet, my still semi-hard cock flopping around and spraying a last few drops of jizz onto my floor. Whatever was going on, it felt great.

I hurried through my shower, half-afraid that if I let myself explore anymore I’d never get out and make it to school. At breakfast, over the table, my mom gave me an odd look, although she followed it up with a smile. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she took a drink of her coffee. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in ages,” I explained. “Oh, uh, by the way. I’m going to need to grab some new workout clothes. I got stuck in gym class after all.”

“Hmm. We could head to the mall tonight. But don’t you already have gym clothes?” My mom frowned into her coffee. “I could have sworn you got something at your last birthday that’d be okay.”

I laughed a bit, a little ruefully, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, well, they would have been, but the only gym class that actually fit into my schedule was Sports Gym. Mr. Tyler said I need some better gear if I’m going to be in that class.”

Mom’s frown deepened. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay in that class? I thought there was a class offered for, uh, less, uh...”

“Less experienced?” I offered, in an attempt to rescue Mom from her floundering.

“Yes, less experienced students. I just would have thought that this class would be too advanced.”

“It’s this or summer school, unfortunately. But I think Mr. Tyler’s going to spend a little extra time with me to help me get started.” I shrugged, and had to cover a grin at the feel of my shoulders. Everything felt different—and amazing. And I was barely getting started.

Mom shrugged back, turning her attention back to her coffee and toast. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay.” She drank down the last of her coffee and got up from the table. “I’ll actually be running around a bit this afternoon, so if you want, I can just pick you up at school and we can go shopping right from there.”

I nodded and shoved the last bite of my toast into my mouth. God, I was hungry; I was already thinking about stopping for something else on the way to school. Swallowing, I said, “Yeah, that’ll work. Meet you at three?”

“I’ll be over by the side entrance,” Mom said, “so that we’re not stuck in all the crowds.” She grabbed her purse off the counter and her keys from their hook on the wall, and gave me a smile and a wave over her shoulder as she went through the door into the garage. “See you then, hon. Have a great day at school.”

I certainly planned to.


I was lucky that my bus to school actually got there pretty early. The district wasn’t exactly poor, but we weren’t the richest schools around, so there were few enough buses that a couple of them had to do two different runs in the morning, and mine went out again after dropping us all off. This was especially convenient that morning, because it gave me time to jog—holy shit, I jogged, and I wasn’t even out of breath—a couple of streets over to McDonald’s to load up on some extra breakfast.

Sausage McMufffins have never tasted so good. I ate four—with hashbrowns.

Everything still felt kinda buzz-y as I walked back up to the school, and I was pretty sure at this point that it wasn’t going to go away, at least not until I hit the end of this program. I wasn’t really going to complain, though. It had settled down enough that it was kinda pleasant without being distracting, at least most of the time, even if it did leave me feeling like I was constantly on the verge of getting horny. (I mean, let’s be honest: I was an eighteen-year-old guy. That wasn’t exactly anything new.) By the time I got back, I still had about half an hour before school actually started, though, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to head to one of the lesser-used bathrooms on the third floor to get a little... relief.

I was in luck; when I got to the bathroom, it was empty. I quickly locked myself into the last stall, dropped my pants, and began to stroke my cock. I couldn’t hold back a moan, although I tried to keep it quiet. Everything just felt so much stronger than I was used to. In a matter of seconds, I was at full mast, still just as long as I had been when I woke up, every nerve electric under my skin as I pulled back my foreskin, rubbed the head, let it slide back. I moaned again, louder, and despite the fact that I’d already gotten off that morning, I knew I wasn’t going to last long.

Leaning forward, I held myself up against the wall with my free hand while I stroked with the other, doing my best to aim down into the toilet bowl. Given how I’d shot earlier, I wanted to avoid making much of a mess if I could. I was on the edge already, my balls churning with my load as I started bucking my hips. I couldn’t help myself... And then the door opened.

I stopped all motion, listening for some sign that I’d been discovered, but all I heard was someone using the urinal. As they finished, I sat down, keeping my hand away from my cock because one touch and I was sure I’d go off. They took their time at the sinks, though, and I peered through the crack between the door and the partition, wondering who the hell was being so thorough washing their hands. I couldn’t quite tell at first; he was a teacher, definitely, tall and broad and thick. I looked a little to the left, and caught his eye in the mirror.

Mr. Tyler was looking back with a smirk, one eyebrow raised as I swear he stared right at me, although I have no idea how he knew it was me in the stall. He just grinned a little evilly, shook his head ‘no’, and raised one hand to wave me out of the stall. Swallowing hard, I stood up and carefully did my pants up over my straining erection. Luckily, despite being bigger, it was still small enough that it wasn’t too hard to hide, especially when I untucked my shirt and let it hang over my jeans. A little sheepishly, I left the stall. Mr. Tyler was leaning back against the sinks, arms crossed, with a knowing look in his eyes. “Well, now, Hatchett,” he said, laughter in his voice, “it looks like you’ve got a little something you need taken care of there.”

Part of me wanted to shrink into myself, and that is absolutely what I’d have done the day before, but something emboldened me. Maybe it was just how horny I was. “Not as little as it was yesterday,” I said, grinning up at him. “I mean, I’ve still got nothing on you, but this is just day one, right?”

“Aw, hell,” Mr. Tyler swore, and he walked over and flipped the deadbolt on the bathroom door. “I was going to wait until your class later, but it ain’t gonna hurt you to get your dose a little early. First things first, though. Drop ‘em.” He gestured at my pants as he came back in front of me. “Shirt off, too. Let’s see how you’re shaping up so far.” I didn’t even hesitate. In seconds, my pants were around my ankles, and then I was stepping out of them. My shirt followed moments later, leaving me in my boxer briefs, my hard cock straining at them, pushing them out and away from my body. “Mmm, nice,” Mr. Tyler said. “You’re reacting faster than I expected.” He reached up and flicked my nipple, and a bolt of pleasure shot down my spine and straight into my balls. I jerked, right on the edge of orgasm, and he stepped back.

“Please,” I moaned, “can I—Can I touch myself?”

“Not yet, Hatchett,” Mr. Tyler drawled, leaning back against the sinks and groping himself through his gym shorts. He was already starting to tent them when he flipped them down and tucked the band under his balls. “On your knees first. It’s time for your medicine.” He didn’t need to ask me twice. Before he’d even really started to get hard, I had him down my throat, all the way to the base, his thick cock making my throat strain as it swelled and grew harder inside me. “Fuck, you’re good at this. Good thing, too, we don’t have long.”

I pulled back, letting the huge head of his cock rest on my tongue before I popped off and licked around the crown. Precum bubbled up and out onto my tongue, and I lapped it up greedily. “Please, sir, please,” I begged, muffled by his cock against my mouth, “please give me your cum, please let me cum, I fucking need it, sir.” God, I was so horny, the buzzing reaching a crescendo under my skin and driving me crazy with lust.

“Nnngh,” he groaned above me, taking me by the back of the head with one heavy paw, his other hand steadying his straining cock and rubbing the head around my mouth. Precum smeared my lips, and I licked up all that I could. “Yeah, fuck yeah, boy. You want to get big? You want to grow strong?”

“Yeah, yes, please, sir, please.” I moaned against him. “Help me grow.”

With another, way too loud groan, Mr. Tyler exploded, the first shot blasting against my lips and up my face before I slid my mouth back over his cock. He filled my mouth almost faster than I could swallow, but this time I kept up, not spilling a single drop.

“Good—ungh. Good boy, Hatchett,” he said, grinning down at me. He used a thumb to wipe the cum down my face and into my mouth, and I sucked it in and swirled my tongue around it to get every drop. “God damn, you’re good at that. Gonna have to let a couple of the others try you out, too.”

“Others?” I asked, crouching back. My cock was the hardest I could ever remember it being, and swallowing Mr. Tyler’s cum had just made the buzz stronger. I needed to get off. “Will they make me grow, too?” There was a growing wet spot on the front of my boxer briefs, right at the head, where I was leaking precum like a faucet. I squeezed a drop through onto my fingers and sucked it off, the flavour exploding across my tongue, even better than Mr. Tyler’s.

Mr. Tyler picked me up under the arms and brought me up to my feet before falling to his knees himself. “Not yet, Hatchett,” he said, before licking along my cloth-covered cock. My knees went weak and I almost fell back to the ground. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Another lick, this time focusing on the head of my cock as he sucked my precum out of the fabric. “For now... Time for my reward.” He grinned up at me and slid my boxers out and down, freeing my cock with a spray of precum across his face. “God, this is my favorite part.” Mr. Tyler grabbed my at the hips, supporting my weight, and it was a good thing, because when he began slurping my precum from my cock, my knees went weak enough that I would have fallen if he weren’t holding me up. “You ready to shoot, boy? Ready to let me taste your cum?”

“Oh, god, fuck,” I moaned, and that was it. With a wordless cry, I began to shoot, even harder than I had that morning. Mr. Tyler drank down every shot, every drop, no matter how much filled his mouth. Five, six, seven shots, then ten, then twelve, fifteen—it felt like my orgasm would never end. Finally, I petered out, the last few dribbles falling onto Mr. Tyler’s tongue. He grinned up at me again, still holding me up as I caught my breath. He let me collapse as he stood up, cradling me against his chest.

“Hatchett,” he said to me, softly, and I looked up at him as he leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss, the taste of my cum in his mouth overpowering. It was a hot kiss, our tongues working against each other, but sweet, too, slow and intimate, and always with the new, incredible sweetness of my cum.

Finally, we pulled apart, both of us breathing heavy, although I’d recovered enough that I could stand on my own. The buzz was calming down, too, although it definitely wasn’t going away. “Shit, I need to get to class,” I said, all to aware that I still had Mr. Tyler’s jizz on my face. “How much time do we have?”

Mr. Tyler glanced down at his watch just as the first bell rang, giving us five minutes before first period actually started. “... Not much,” he said, laughing a bit. “Uh, here, let me—” He grabbed some paper towel out of the dispenser and wiped at my face, making sure there was nothing left to show what we’d been up to. I practically threw my clothes back on, my underwear still damp around my cock where I’d soaked it with precum, but it would have to do. I hoped it would dry enough during first period—I didn’t want it to be noticeable when I changed for gym class second period. “Here, take a late pass,” Mr. Tyler offered, pulling a bundle of them out of his pocket and slipping one out from the elastic holding them together. “Just tell your teacher you were helping me with something before school and it ran late.”

“And it’s not even a lie,” I said, grinning. Impulse struck and I bounced up, giving Mr. Tyler another kiss before stepping back. “I’ll, uh. See you second period?”

Mr. Tyler gave me a long look, like he all of a sudden wasn’t sure what to make of me, before walking over and undoing the deadbolt. and opened the door to find a janitor holding a key like he’d been about to open it.

“Someone, uh, said the door was locked?” he said, dropping the key back into his pocket. “I guess not.”

Mr. Tyler shrugged. “I didn’t notice anything. Maybe it was stuck.”

The janitor gave Mr. Tyler an odd look, and then looked at me behind him. “Maybe so.” He shrugged and walked off without another word.

Mr. Tyler turned back to me. “Second period, Hatchett. And you’d better have kit today.” He wiped his thumb along his lip as he walked away, and I caught him sucking at it, just a little, before he turned around the corner. I took a deep breath, held it, and let it out, wondering, as I headed the other direction to my first class, what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I was loving it, it was great, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be a little out of my depth.

Description Mason Hatchett, an overweight, out-of-shape, 18-year-old student, ends up in the senior athletics gym class against his will. Mr. Tyler, the athletics coordinator, has a... proposal... for alternative participation that Mason finds it very hard to pass up. All he has to do is test an experimental drug. What could go wrong with that?

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AddedAugust 2009
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