More Like This

• Latest update: 5 October. Next update: 26 October. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest post: Saturday Flashback: Rated M for Mature.

• Latest from BRK: “Tell me about my boner”, Parts 1‑2.

 

Billy Titus looked out over his huge classroom and the array of young male muscular perfection on display. He shook his head slightly and smiled, thinking that in his wildest dreams, he never would have imagined that this would be his profession, or that he would be put in charge of so many willing pupils all looking back at him in relative quiet, save for the creak of chairs protesting the weight they were being forced to support.

Everywhere he looked in the auditorium, all he saw was masculine beauty in its many varied forms, but uniformly cast in bodies of overwhelming physical size and strength, with fat, firm, powerful muscular development bulging from every inch. Skin colors ran the gamut from pale pink to coffee brown, but it was all coated in a silken sheen of health, almost glowing with it in fact. Heads were covered in shaggy manes of thick shoulder-length waves or even longer, or shorn clean with softly sparkling skullcaps of bristles. Some of the young men were shirtless, broadcasting the inches-thick cleavage that separated one heavy pectoral shelf from the other, their dark, luscious nipples hanging off the edges of all that meat, as inviting as pacifiers to a baby’s sucking mouth. Some of those broad, virile chests we forested with heavy carpets of manly fur, while others had just a dusting, and still others were bare and gleaming as if polished.

The eyes that cast their anxious glances toward him were bright and clear and alive, a rainbow of blues and greens, browns and blacks, even gold and ice. They stared out from faces that were of a level of masculine beauty that would be hard to believe, were they not all sitting and standing and kneeling and lying there looking back at him, each one carved by the gods of male perfection with jutting chins and heavy brows and thick, kissable lips. Again, some wore heavy beards, others shaven, some with goatees and some with sideburns. All seemed perfectly designed to compliment each young, handsome, abundantly sensual visage.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said with his deep and powerful voice, for he, too, was changed as they were. He was a towering figure, nearly eight feet tall, and every inch of his body was overwhelmed with bronze-skinned brawn. Heavy biceps bulged from upper arms. His chest was so large, he had to stretch to see his own feet, though he would have no trouble at all seeing the pronounced basket bulging between his legs, filled with not one but two meaty cocks, each one thick and long and incredibly sensitive mounted over a ball sack constantly churning to produce an overflowing flood of rich, tangy, delicious and powerful cum.

Unlike most of his students, Billy wore a shirt over his upper body, though one so tightly constructed in its stretchy material that it clung to him like a second skin. Like all of his students, he wore a pair of loose sweatpants that allowed a semblance of public decency on a body that didn’t have anything remotely subtle about it. He wore a pair of flip-flops on his size-16 feet and that was all. He didn’t feel naked, though he wanted to be fairly badly, and he was acutely aware of each formidable heavy prick lying semi-rigid against his sensitive skin, each one hot and hard and hungry.

He kept his job by the thinnest of margins. It was evident that something had occurred between him and a student or students effected by the current epidemic of muscular and sexual development running rampant in the school’s hallways and classrooms, but it had been judged “accidental” and he had signed an affidavit testifying to a promise that he would not have sexual contact with any students under his tutelage.

That was easier said than done. And not something, truth be told, that he had been able to altogether adhere to.


Only two days ago, Billy Titus was standing in his rather small shower in his rather small apartment in the rather small town where he taught at a rather small high school, and he was looking down his rather huge body at two rather amazing cocks hanging fat and juicy from between his rather muscular legs, arching outward rather proudly and dripping heavy gobs of precum because he was, as usual, as horny as a fucking navy ship full of seamen denied leave for six months.

He pursed his lips and reached over to turn the hot water up. The cascades of warmth felt good, and as he leaned toward the wall of the shower and peered down at those two fat appendages, both tipped with flaring mushroom caps housed in tight cowls of foreskin, each drooling steady drizzles of precum and throbbing with restrained sexual need, all he could think about was Carl Stanton.

Both dicks pulsed and hardened and arched their long necks, pumping out fresh strands of warm honey at the vision of Carl in Billy’s head. There he was again, naked, poised at the edge of Billy’s desk, all 350 pounds of him, sweaty from his recent fuckfest and ready for more. That shit-eating grin on his kissable mouth, that spark of lust and masculine confidence in his eyes, a scruff of rough whiskers shining across the sculpted planes of his jawline. His arms were bulging with brawn, his chest was rising and falling as he breathed, those fat little nipples stretching forth from each pec like a tiny dick waiting to be sucked on and licked. Only one cock, then, but what a cock is was. Pink and long and slick with ass juice, fat as a beer can and covered in throbbing veins. He could smell Carl even now, as if he were standing right next to him in this rather small shower, rubbing their muscles together and dropping to his knees to suck Billy’s twins inside his warm, wet, wonderfully talented mouth and—

Billy came. He came hard. Both cannons suddenly arched up, their heads pushing free of their collars of pliable foreskin and flaring wide, and they went off without a touch, shooting gobs of white cream toward the ceiling and the wall and Billy’s own hard, furry body. It splattered louder than the shower and Billy felt his wet load splash hot on his skin. He came again, and again, over and over, releasing the endless tide of cum his balls wanted to pump up his pricks with joyous and endless abandon. He bent his head and opened his mouth and managed to shoot several thick, sticky streams onto his long tongue, and he swallowed to satiate a new hunger that seemed to always be there.

He came hard. Harder than ever. Fuck, it felt amazing. So good, every time. And every time, he seemed to come harder.

He was larger today than yesterday, and larger yesterday than the day before. His body continued to grow muscle. His cocks continued to swell larger in his grips. He could sometimes actually feel them growing bigger, swelling fatter and longer as he stroked their already hard shafts and kissed and licked and sucked their helmets. He wondered if he stared at his reflection long enough, he could see his body swelling with muscular power, too.

Carl Stanton. Beautiful, amazing, frustrating little cocksucker. Blue eyes. Buzzed scalp. Honey colored curls spreading across that huge chest. An ass created by the god of perfect asses. High, round, firm and deep. Billy wanted to bury his face inside and eat him raw, then slick him up with several dozen laps of his tongue before backing up and shoving both his huge, hungry, unstoppable cocks so far inside that he’d never come back out.

But only seventeen. Damn it. Not legally an adult, no matter what he looked like, or how full his beard was, or how big his dicks were, or how fully and fantastically he could fuck.

Billy’s cocks stopped fountaining his latest load and he turned the faucets off and stood in the quiet bathroom, dripping water and cum from his body. The cum, he knew, would soon disappear. Another odd new body function, along with the twin pricks and the overwhelming strength and size and the unbelievable flexibility he was now afforded. His body, his skin, drank cum. Or at least, the cum of any other man who was now like he was, transformed into something more than human, and perhaps better than human.

Trumans, they called themselves. Transformed humans. And maybe he was something else, now. Not quite human, and no longer limited by the same rules of etiquette and decency. God knew it was hard to clothe this body, and a shame to hide any of its assets and beauty under a pair of pants or a shirt. He hadn’t set foot outside his apartment in the two days since that afternoon, and hadn’t even tried to put anything on from his closet of teacher’s shirts and ugly shoes.

He pushed the shower curtain aside and stepped wet onto the bathroom tiles. He glanced up at his reflection and was slightly surprised, even now, at his own visage.

Straightening, the top of his head stretched beyond the top of the mirror. Before, his face was almost centered in its frame. His eyes moved along the fat muscle and deep cuts and perfect symmetry of his body. He raised a hand and set his warm, soft palm against his chest. It was hard, hard as steel, and coated with a fine forest of dark curls. He touched each of his mountainous pectoral mounds and dug his fingertips into his fur. Everything felt good. Every touch, no matter how innocent, sent his libido soaring. He closed his eyes and inched his touch toward his left nipple. He knew what that would do, and he wanted it. Even after the shower of cum he had given himself, and emptying his balls for the fourth time that morning, he wanted more.

He moved his fingertip to his nipple and softly, gently, carefully circled the dark rubbery nub. Hot tingling shocks of sex erupted from his touch and sent orders to grow to his groin. His cocks throbbed and twitched and began to spill forward, extending and swelling easily. He mouthed a soft, “fuck,” and bit his lower lip. Opening his eyes, he watched himself pleasure his new body. He watched his new body react to his touch in the mirror. He watched his cocks plump and move. He watched his muscles flex and bulge. He watched himself becoming aroused by himself, and he liked it.

And then there was someone at his door, ringing his bell, and his hand fell away and his cocks calmed down and he was reaching for a towel to cover up his beautiful, perfect, muscular body. Even his towels looked small, now, but his waist was narrow enough that he could fit it around him, though his twins tented the terrycloth and wagged and swayed as he strode toward his front door.

Whoever was there was knocking, now, as well as ringing the bell. Billy bent down to peer through the peep hole and saw a familiar giant blue “S” staring back at him.

S for Superman. S for Stanton.

Carl Stanton.

“Teach?” Carl’s powerful voice sent chills through Billy and went straight for his groin, causing both pricks to throb and swell. “C’mon, Teach, I know you’re there.” His voice dropped a few decibels and he leaned in to add, “I can smell you.”

“What do you want, Carl?”

“Open the door, Mr. Titus. This is stupid.”

“I just stepped out of the shower, Carl, I’m not dressed.”

“Fuckin’ A, Teach! That’s just how I like you!”

Billy could hear the young man’s grin in his voice. “Hold on a second, let me pull something on.”

“Whatever, Teach. But don’t go to any trouble on my account.”

Billy suppressed both his panic and his desire. He could smell Carl, too. It was weird, how that worked. The scent of another man was now as recognizable to him as the look of him. Even having just showered, Billy’s own scent was evidently strong enough that Carl could smell him through the fucking door. “Probably shouldn’t’ve played with my nipple,” he said to himself as he retreated to his bedroom to try to find something to fit his 7-foot, 9-inch, 468 lbs. frame.

He let the towel fall to the floor and opened the sliding door of his closet. There they all were, his teacher’s uniforms. White and blue button-down shirts. Gray, navy and brown trousers. All lined up, neat as a pin. He reached in and pulled out a sky-blue Oxford, holding it across his bronzed, naked torso, and realized it was laughably small. No way the pants would fit, either.

Fuck! He could not greet Carl in his birthday suit. There was just no way he would be able to keep his hands off him, or his cocks. He needed some false armor, something to at least pretend a semblance of normality in this situation.

Carl called, “Mr. Titus? It’s very lonely out here!” And he was knocking gently on the door again. “I might have to take off all my clothes to get some attention. I’m just sayin’” Not sure how your neighbors would feel about that.”

Billy pulled open his drawers and found a forgotten white tanktop made of stretchy ribbed cotton, and a pair of old biking shorts from his short-lived fantasy of becoming Lance Armstrong a few years back. He pulled the tank top over his head and it barely covered anything at all, but at least it was covering something. The arm holes, already big, ripped a bit when encountering his thick lats, and the material succeeded in caressing his sensitive nipples to an uncomfortable degree.

The biking shorts were 100% latex, bright blue and more than skin tight. He managed, somehow, to force them up his thickly muscled legs and made an attempt to arrange the overwhelming amount of meat now dangling from his groin inside the tight basket, and the feeling of restriction only made him hornier.

He checked himself in the full-length mirror mounted on his bedroom door and he looked, frankly, ludicrous. The top looked like he had attempted to fit a child’s shirt not his massive body, and it was slowly tearing itself apart as a result. The shorts were, if anything, accentuating the fact that he owen two massive cocks. Each helmet pressed against the material quite clearly, and the bulge at his groin was so pronounced that it was obscene.

The doorbell rang again, and he heard Carl say, somewhat loudly, “These pants sure are uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll just strip out of them. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea, Mr. Titus?”

Billy grimaced and decided that the towel offered more cover-up than the weird, tight outfit, so he spent another minute stripping off the shorts and simply ripped the tank top off his torso, wrapped the towel around his waist and said to his reflection, “Well, let’s do this.”

He paused at the door and sucked in a slow, cooling breath, attempting to tame his eager beasts, but careful not to set his touch to them, and they seemed to understand his need and throbbed a bit less urgently under the cotton towel.

He reached for the handle and opened the door. A thick wave of Carl’s intoxicating scent was carried into the room with the door’s passage, and then there he was again, in all his consummate perfection and masculine glory. “Hi, Teach,” he said. His blue, blue eyes instantly fell along Billy’s body, scanning every inch of him like a starving man seeing his first meal in weeks. “Looking good,” he said, smiling, and the burgeoning tent in his sweatpants testified more loudly than words that he was very happy to see Mr. Titus again.

They stood there looking at each other for a few heartbeats, each man sorely tempted by the other, but both held back for different reasons. The sexual tension was palpable, like a raging heat between them, or an electrical charge. Carl was huge, but his body made the small Superman T-shirt look like it belonged there, hugging his giant chest muscles and stretched to its limits, and the now-familiar sweatpants hung loosely on his narrow hips, appearing to be held up only by the prominent bulge of his full basket in front and the shelf of muscle that composed his bubble butt in back. The waistline dipped in front low enough to expose a good deal of his stiff, blonde pubic bush, and it made Billy want to shove his hand down there, haul out one of his mammoth cocks and start sucking on him until he exploded with hot cream.

The young man’s face, a collection of hard angles and soft curves, with the usual closely-shorn peachfuzz of gold across his scalp and jawline, made him look both handsome and cute, and his smile was making Billy’s cocks throb hotly. “Can I come in?” he asked, smirking slightly.

“Sorry, yes, sure… certainly… c’mon in, Carl.” Billy stood aside and allowed room for Carl’s muscled bulk to enter. He found himself pulling as much of Carl’s masculine stink into his nose as he could get, inhaling the essence of Carl’s overwhelming presence into his lungs and into his head, where it poised like a caged lion pushing at its bars for release.

“Nice place,” Carl said lightly. Even his voice made Billy swoon.

“Sorry about the mess,” Billy apologized. Though there wasn’t one, really, because he had been spending most of his time stroking his twins in bed, or on the couch, or in the shower. The place smelled strongly of sex and of him, as if his naked form had been leaving scented trails of itself on every surface.

For Carl, it was like entering heaven. God, he loved that smell. The smell of Mr. Titus. Of Billy. Billy who had given him ownership of another cock to stroke and worship. Billy who was sweet and kind and fucked like a house on fire. Billy who whispered filth into his ears and licked his neck and pushed himself so far up Carl’s butt that he could feel those fucking cocks next to his own heart, throbbing in time to its beats. Billy who was standing three feet behind him, who was staring right now at his ass, and who was somehow managing not to attack him and lick his moist, warm hole and drive him batshit with pleasure. “Looks okay to me,” he answered. “Smells good, too,” he added.

Carl’s shirt was stretched absurdly tightly across his back. It was little more than threads and rags, but he insisted on wearing it like a signature. Superman, that’s who and what he was, now. A worn S across his massive chest to tell the world. He was wearing those sweatpants that all the other Club members wore, like a uniform. Billy could see the upper arch of each beautiful butt cheek and an inch of the dark crevasse that lead to Carl’s tight, delicious pucker. His lower back was a network of thick pylons of power that stretched out into heavy bulges across his upper back and shoulders. His neck was as wide as his head, rising proudly from deltoids so thick that Billy doubted his grip could encompass them.

He sucked another calming breath through his nostrils and asked, “You want something to drink?”

Carl turned around and was looking directly at Billy’s crotch. “Yes,” he answered, his pink tongue slowly emerging and wetting his lips suggestively, “I most definitely do.”

“Carl—”

The young man held up his hand. “ I know what you’re going to say.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s not obvious?” He smiled and opened his hands, gesturing toward the swelling tent growing in his pants. A wet spot was also growing there, and his cocks were soon arching up and threatening to expose themselves without the slightest touch. “I miss you, Teach. I miss your voice, and your touch, and your smell. I miss feeling you inside me, fucking me, fucking my—”

“Please stop.”

“Fucking my ass. Remember, Teach? Kissing me, pushing your cocks inside me, whispering how you were going to fuck me so hard, and so good, and how I’d always feel you there?”

“Carl—”

“And you were right, Teach. I can feel you inside me right now. I can feel you plowing my ass, in and out, deeper and deeper, and the warm wet rush of cream in my guts when you came, over and over, came so hard that it gushed out and then you bent down—”

“Please—”

“You bent down and lapped it all up. Every drop. Licking and slurping against my hole. Fuck, it felt so good. No one feels as good as you do, Teach.” He set his hand to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Nobody.” He slipped his thumbs into the waist of his sweatpants and started to strip them off.

Maybe Billy had forgotten how beautiful Carl was, but was that even possible? It seemed like he was all Billy had been thinking of, and dreaming of, and fantasizing about. Or had he gotten even more beautiful in the intervening days? Bigger, broader, more muscled and more perfectly, inhumanly masculine? He was growing, like Billy was growing. Something was unlocked. Some key had been turned and now they were both slowly getting bigger and bigger, maybe every minute, maybe right now.

Billy watched his ex-pupil strip naked in his Living Room. He did not stop him. He was afraid to touch him. He felt like he would burst into flames or erupt rivers of hot cum or surrender to something too strong to control. Fuck, he was beautiful.

“Hi,” Carl said, standing in Billy’s apartment totally naked. His cocks were already drooling and arching upward. Billy watched the egg carton of muscles on his stomach swell and flex with each breath. He watched Carl’s massive chest heave and bulge. Carl was opening and closing his hands, maybe it was an impatient gesture, maybe it was due to his obvious and aggressive sexual posture, but it made the muscles lining his arms twist and grow distinct, pushing outward under his silken skin. A fine network of veins pulsed across his forearms, and a finger-thick vein throbbed across the high arch of each biceps. The hair on his head, cropped close to his scalp, was shining like golden threads, and it spread down and met the rough growth of whiskers, shorn equally close, on his chin and cheeks. His eyes were narrowed and his brows arched downward, giving his handsome face an almost evil cast.

A silver strand of precum began to drool from the bottom of his balls, because his cocks were continually pumping a rich flow of his lubricating honey from each eye. It was clinging to the huge wedges of muscle that lined his thighs, muscles so thick that they kissed each other under his equipment, and traversed the deep cuts like a river through the mountains, slowly making its way down his legs. His scent now mingled strongly with Billy’s own, as if he was consciously pumping it into the room to heighten both men’s sexual heat. It was spicy, almost peppery, with overtones of earthy musk and butter and wood. It made Billy want to eat him alive.

He took a step toward Billy, grinning with obvious intent and desire, and said, softly, and deeply, “Fuck me, Teach. Fuck me hard. Fuck me good.”

“You’re not very subtle, are you?” Billy’s heart was pumping fast, sending hot blood to his cocks.

“When I look like this,” he stated, lifting his arm into a mind-blowing, nut-busting double-bi shocker that sent his chest rising and plumping and his shoulders bulging and each fat muscle atop his arms to swell into softballs of deeply defined muscular perfection, “and I’m gifted with two dicks, each one the size of a baseball bat and pumping cum by the bucket,” he added, winking confidently as both pricks arched upward into swollen glory, thick and shiny and lickable, “subtlety isn’t very important anymore.” He admired himself for a moment before allowing his collection of brawn to relax.

“Besides, I can see you want me as much as I want you.” He raised his hand to his chin and rubbed the scruffy edge with playful drama, arching his eyebrow as his gaze fell south. “That’s just judging by how quickly I can see your boys growing of course.” He grinned and raised one of his thickly muscled arms, scrubbing his hand across his scalp. A sudden hot wave of his stink emerged from the deep, damp pit under his arm and his bicep swelled again into an enormous and powerful ball of brawn, the head splitting down the center and rising almost to touch his forearm. “As you can see, I’m more than ready, willing and able to take you on, Teach.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” Billy said. “I’m not your teacher anymore.”

“It’s the nickname the Club gave you. Kinda obvious, I guess, but they’re all sort of stupid. Trigger and L2 and yours truly.”

“Fuzzy.”

Carl actually blushed. “Yeah. I guess it’s ‘cause of this,” he explained, lifting his hand to his scalp and running his large paw over his head, “but I kinda prefer to think that it’s ‘cause of these.” He let his hand drop to his crotch, and he hefted up his balls, as large as peaches and covered in soft fur. “I guess it ain’t so bad, Teach.”

“I’ll make you a deal. Don’t call me Teach, and I won’t call you Fuzzy.”

“Mr. Titus, then?”

“Just Billy.”

Carl’s grin grew into a bright smile. “Cool, Billy. Let’s fuck.” Carl took his massive erections in each hand and stroked them meaningfully.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can. I’ve seen you. I’ve felt you. Hell, I’ve swallowed enough of your spunk to get pregnant a dozen times over—and that was just one afternoon.” He stepped closer still, slowly stroking his hard-ons to ever larger dimensions. “You want me to drive?”

“Are you old enough?” Billy joked.

“I’m old enough.” Another step. Now nearly chest to chest, Billy could feel the heat pouring off Carl’s monsters. He couldn’t smell anything but Carl’s delicious scent, now. It filled his head and travelled straight to his groin.

Billy glanced down and said, “You’re dripping on my wood floors.”

“Want to watch me lick it up?” He raised one hand to his face and did just that, slurping the gleaming wealth of his own precum off his fingers and sucking them inside his mouth. “Or did you want to do that yourself?” He offered his other hand, covered in a thick glistening coat of his juices.

Billy turned and walked away, sucking in calming breaths and closing his eyes. “Carl, you know I can’t.”

“Okay. The slow route. I can do that.” Billy heard Carl’s heavy bulk moving away from him and settling into the couch. “I don’t enjoy it as much, but I can do it.” Billy heard him sniffing loudly. “You’ve been spending a lot of time here. Fuck, Billy, I can smell you all over this thing. What’ve you been doing, fucking your sofa?”

Billy laughed and shook his head, turning around to face his accuser. “Nearly,” he admitted. He watched Carl stroking his cocks on his couch. They reached to his chest. He could easily bend forward and suck the bulbous head of each of them into his own mouth and give himself head. Billy knew what that would feel like. He’d done it himself. “Did you want to be alone?”

“I want you to watch,” he answered. “To see what you’re missing.”

“I know what I’m missing.”

“Are you sure?” Carl sat deeper into the cushions and leisurely jerked his joints. “It’s been a couple of days. A couple of very busy days. Lots happening outside your door, Billy. Life goes on, as they say.”

“As who says?”

Carl shrugged and looked at the drooling tips of his pricks. They were streaming thickly now. A steady flow that dripped down the tall shafts like candle wax. He dipped a fingertip into the drooling eye of one of his twins and drew away a warm dollop of pre, leaving a glistening filament to drag along his body. He sucked his finger into his mouth and drew the salty tang off noisily. “Me, I guess.” He grinned and leaned forward, doing what Billy had imagined him doing, pulling his left cock inside his mouth and sucking in earnest. His cheeks collapsed as he pulled his own precum from the mammoth erection, then he traded for the other one and drank from its fount before sitting back and licking his lips. “Fuck, Billy, you sure you don’t want any? I got plenty.”

“I know,” he said, because he did. “How long are you—”

“Fifteen inches.” Carl grinned. “Or, how long am I gonna jerk off?” He considered his cocks for a moment before sucking on them again, raising his eyes to watch Billy’s reaction as he fellated each shiny bulb and licked the ridges. “Why don’t you join me? Couldn’t be any harm in that. I won’t even touch you, if you don’t want me to.” He scooted sideways and plopped his ass on only one of the seat cushions, his pricks wagging like unmoored loading dock cranes. “C’mon, Teach. Show me how it’s done. Seems like you’ve been practicing a lot in here. Show me what you learned. And maybe I can teach the teacher a few tricks.”

Billy’s cocks ached. They were throbbing dully and eager to rise. They wanted handling. Fuck, they wanted manhandling. They wanted some fucking abuse. He sighed and loosened the towel from his waist and let it fall to the floor. Each of his cocks sprang to erection immediately and started to drool copious streams, rising in wavering throbs as if in time to some silent music until they stood erect and proud, thick and beautiful. He took one in each hand and strode toward the sofa, sitting next to Carl’s massive body, feeling his heat and smelling his scent intimately.

Carl smiled and nodded. “There you go, Teach. Nothing to it.” He looked longingly at Billy’s two dicks and licked his lips theatrically. “Fuck, you smell amazing.” Carl watched Billy jerking off as he did so himself, stroke for stroke, then he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Feel good?” Billy grunted an affirmative, seemingly in a trance. “Yeah, feels fucking amazing. I don’t know if I ever said thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me this other big cock.” He slapped it toward Billy with the back of his hand, sending a shower of his warm precum onto Billy’s naked body. “I mean, the one was really great, but when you think about it… two hands, two cocks. Just makes sense, don’t it?”

Billy huffed a laugh out his nostrils. “I guess so.”

“Fuck yeah, bro. Makes me wish I had two mouths, too.” He laughed at the idea of it and then reconsidered, “Though I guess I like having your mouth on ‘em. I kinda feel sorry for dudes that still only have one little peter in their pants. I mean, I know, like, it’s not something anyone ever really hopes for. Like, ‘Dear god, please give me another dick so I can stroke one in each hand. Oh, and while you’re at it, could you make ‘em produce this extra slippery precum that slicks ‘em up like they were oiled at Jiffy Lube? And then, just one more thing, if they could both be fucking huge and fucking sensitive and fucking ready for action at any time, night or day, firing off like fucking cum cannons, that would be extra special, Lord.”

Billy’s voice was strained. He was close. He looked over, but his attention was drawn to Carl’s thick, red pricks, streaming precum. “You always talk this much?”

Carl shrugged nonchalantly. “I can shut up if it distracts you.”

Billy admitted, in the throes of passion and the edge of orgasm, his voice harsh and soft, “I like the sound of your voice.”

Carl leaned over, placing his lips next to Billy’s ear. His breath was warm as he said, “Do you, Teach? How about these sounds—” And then Carl was moaning low in his throat like a bear. Leaning over, his dicks were drooling warmth all over Billy’s legs. Carl groaned and grunted, and then he said, “ooooh, yeah, that feels sooo good. Right there, uhhhhh, fuck yeah. Remember being inside me? The tight, warm, wet, perfection of my ass, squeezing your dicks, squeezing them hard, so hard, and sucking the cum right out of your balls? Ohhhh, fuuuuuck yeeeaaahhhh—”

Carl could feel Billy’s body tense up. His muscles were bunching and flexing, growing rock hard, and his skin was turning ruddy. From the sounds he was making, the slow moans and the quick suctions of breath, Carl knew what Billy was feeling. “You close, bro?”

Billy’s head collapsed back on the couch. He could feel his load about to burst free. It wanted out. He wanted to cum hard and fast and thick. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Oh, man, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard. I’m gonna blow a fucking hole through the god damned wall.”

Carl sat back and smiled. He loved when Teach talked dirty. “Okay, dude, first lesson. Ready? Can you hear me, Billy?” He nodded. He was very, very close. “Dude, don’t cum.”

“Whuh… huh..?”

“It’s something you can do. You can control it. You can control everything.”

“I don’t… I’m not—”

“Just don’t cum. Okay? Don’t cum.”

“But—”

“Don’t. Cum.”

“I have to.”

“You don’t. Watch me Billy. Open your eyes and look at me.”

He did. Carl was sitting there with his arms folded across his chest. His two pricks were still standing at full attention. In fact, each of them was as red as an apple and as shiny as glass, the skin stretched to its max, and the mouths of each cobra were open as if gulping in air. They were throbbing dully, hard as iron, hot as fire, and clearly more than ready to erupt. “See, dude? Just don’t cum.”

“I don’t understand.”

Carl looked at the two majestic and ready-to-burst cocks 15 inches high in front of his eyes. “Me neither, dude. It was Derek who discovered it. Read it online or something. Us Muscle Club guys? And the trumans? We can control ourselves. Like, not just control when we eat or when we sleep or whatever, but fucking everything.” He set his hands to the glistening cockheads throbbing in front of him. “It feels the same, bro. Feels exactly the fucking same. I can feel these babies throbbing with so much sexual heat and tension that everything is screaming to let it fly. I’m right at the fucking edge, dude. Right there looking over the fucking edge, but I’m not cumming. Because I don’t want to.”

Carl started stroking his pricks in earnest. He buffed the helmets and stroked the shafts. He rubbed his thumbs beneath the flaring edges of their heads and squeezed them so hard, fat veins stood out starkly on his arms and his pricks. He pulled them into his mouth and slathered them with spit, winding his tongue around and around them, sucking, kissing, licking and generally worshiping them with his mouth. Then he released them and they sprang back up to attention, looking harder, redder and more ready to bust a nut than ever. “The fuck?” Billy said, softly.

Carl laughed. “I know, dude! It’s fucking amazing! I mean, who knew? I can fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck with these things. Better than that, I can cum and cum and fuck and fuck and cum and cum and cum! Dude! You wanna cum, you fucking cum! Not in spurts and pumps, but in these orgasmic extended streams that feel like… well, they feel fucking amazing. All I gotta do is want it. These boys will just inflate in a flash and grow hot and hard and start pumping ropes of cream. Weirdest fucking thing ever.” He looked at Billy’s pricks and said, “See? You’re doing it.”

He was—or rather, he wasn’t. His pricks stood there in his hands, thick as a man’s arm, emanating heat and flushed with sex and power, and there they stood, awaiting his command. Ready to go off like rockets, or to sit like dogs awaiting the master’s order. “Fuck,” he said again.

Carl reached over and started to stroke one of Billy’s pricks. He did so almost tenderly, with devotion, as if in worship of it. “Fucking beautiful, bro.” He leaned close and kissed one. “Gimme some pre, bro. Just let it flow.” And Billy did. He found he could turn it on and off like a faucet. And control how much was flowing, and he produced more and more and more until he was practically cumming with precum. Carl swallowed his salty juices and leaned back, wiping his chin, and said, “Awesome, dude.”

“This is amazing!” Billy was in heaven. He felt a sense of relief that he could control this constant state of arousal, even to the point of summoning it at will.

“Don’t you get it, Teach? Who we are, now? What we are? You’re all worried about fucking some underaged ass when I’m trying to tell you that those rules don’t apply to us anymore. Fucking look at us! Muscle out the ying-yang, twin monsters hanging between our legs, buckets of cream produced for as long as we want it! We’re not exactly human anymore. We’re better.” He offered Billy his hand and said, “C’mere for a minute.” When Billy hesitated, Carl said, “Dude, I’m not gonna fuck you. Not until you say I can. Deal?” Billy pulled in a long breath. “A little fucking trust would be nice, dude. Jeez, you’re so much more fun when you’re on top of me with your cocks up my ass.”

Billy allowed Carl to take his hand—it was warm and soft and it felt as if some kind of sexual current was passing between them. “Where’s a mirror?”

Billy motioned to his bedroom and Carl lead the way, pausing at the doorway and inhaling dramatically. “Fuuuuuuck, dude, I can smell you in here even stronger.” He turned around and tweaked Billy’s nipple playfully. “Bet you been cumming on the walls in here, huh, big guy?”

“I’ve had my moments.”

“Smells like you’ve had your fucking hours, dude.” He turned around, grinning, and added, “Not that I’m complaining, you understand. If I could live inside your stink for the rest of my life, I’d be a happy farmer. Fuck, dude, just smelling you makes me harder than granite and ready to fucking pump some cream.”

“Steady your horses, boy, and show me what you want to show me.”

Carl closed his eyes and sighed dramatically, trying to gather himself again, and then he grabbed hold of Billy’s shoulders and marched him to the mirror.

There they were, the both of them, handsome as fuck, muscled as hell, hung like Clydesdales and naked as the day they were born. Standing together, now, Billy could see how different they actually were, even though both had been utterly transformed.

Carl’s body seemed broader, everywhere, with almost exaggerated shoulders and pecs that jutted out wide and thick and massive. His neck was a tree trunk, thick and tall, and his body, even in the dim bedroom light, seemed to shimmer because of the closely shorn golden fur that covered him. His cocks were also absurdly thick, with very fat shafts leading down to plump, suckable helmets. Those two Cobras hung over a set of balls almost too large to be believed. Billy only wished he could see Carl’s beautiful bubble butt, because of all his amazing assets, that one was by far Billy’s favorite.

Then he shifted his gaze to his own reflection again, marveling that his new body appeared perfectly symmetrical in its muscular build. Where Carl’s chest was composed of two massive, round globes, Billy had plates of brawn built onto each other in layers. He had insane definition of form, and his skin was a dark bronze color to Carl’s pale cream. His cocks looked every bit as huge and awesome as Carl’s but his cock heads were bigger and his shafts weren’t as thick, and thick veins wound down them where Carl’s were somewhat smooth. “Wow.”

“Wow is right, Teach. Are we a pair of fucking studs, or what?” Carl struck a few poses of his muscular majesty, making his bulges thicken and expand to mind-blowing proportions. He was clearly very comfortable in his new body and reveled in its size, strength and overt sexuality.

“What did you want to show me?”

“Us, bro. Just look at us.” There they stood in the mirror, monstrous muscle studs with twin hanging pricks and fat bulging balls filled with cream. “What do you see?”

“I’m not sure I under—”

“Dude. Look at us. Look at what we are, now. You have to get over your whole scared routine, bro, and realize that you and me, we’re not the same dudes anymore. And we don’t have to follow the same rules.” There eyes met in the mirror. “Do you want me?”

“I can’t—”

Carl shook his head. “Not the question, dude. Not can or can’t. Do you want me?”

He had to admit it. He had to be truthful. “I want you.” He stepped closer. “I want your fuzzy butt and I want your thick, massive cocks and I want your balls pumping streams of hot cream into my mouth. I want to suck on you and kiss you and lick you and fuck your ass hard and deep and full. I want to fill your guts with my spunk and nibble your ear and rub your scalp and feel every fucking inch of your amazing hard body crushing mine.”

Carl’s pricks were given mute evidence to his happiness. “Well, fuckin’ a, bro. I want you, too. And you can have me right now, and tomorrow, and forever. Let’s just fucking do this and not tell anyone. I’m good with that! I just… I just want your fine, fat pricks fucking my tight, hot butt. And there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No,” Billy agreed.

“All right then.” And Carl grabbed Billy’s ass and planted a deep, passionate kiss on Billy’s lips.


Carl was sitting in the front row, as usual. He was looking very good, as usual, and Billy could see in his eyes that his mind wasn’t going to be able to focus on any of the lessons that Billy was hoping to impart today.

It was always a struggle to get these boys to think about much of anything besides sex. It was hard to get them to pay attention to him rather than to each other, but the school and the parents judged that it was better for the rest of the school if the boys “infected” by this muscular development were kept apart, in hopes that the unusual plague could also be kept in check.

The issue of control was one that they all were learning to varying degrees. The fact that they could control themselves was something they knew, but had a hard time wanting to do. So many of his lessons had to do with self-control, and philosophical questions of right and wrong, personal responsibility in society, and the rights of the individual. History, social studies and even biology proved to be very popular. Math and english, not so much.

And then there was Physical Education.

“Good morning, Mr. Titus,” they said, sounding a bit like an earthquake.

Billy grinned. Fuck, he loved his job. “I see we have a couple new students in class this morning. Would you gentlemen like to introduce yourselves to our students who have yet to experience the benefits of your friendship?” That was just a thinly veiled way of saying, ‘tell anyone you haven’t fucked what your name is, so they know who to thank when you have.’

A dark-skinned young god stood up and smiled. He had a bald head with a regal demeanor, and wore nothing from the waist up, showing off a huge pair of pectoral muscles and a finely detailed 8-pack with a widely flaring and deeply defined Apollo’s belt. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, and a pair of fat, lickable nipples were practically jumping off the lower edge of the globes of muscle mounted on his chest. “My name’s Julius. Just transferred in from East. Hey, dudes.” He tilted his chin in greeting and rubbed his crotch, making his serpents arch and swell.

Billy said, “Welcome, Julius.” Then he looked across the auditorium at another new face. “Bradley?”

The other young man stood. He was daylight to Julius’s night, with a body carved from alabaster and a head sprouting red-blonde curls. He had a beard of similar hue winding across his squared jaw, and wide shoulders and thickly muscled arms bulging with fat lobes of brawn. He wore a white cotton tanktop that exposed his midriff and the gray sweatpants on his hips rode so low that a good inch or two of his red pubic bush was jutting over the band. “Brad Mackenzie, and everyone calls me Mac. I, uh, well, Raul kind of invited me to join, and who could resist an invitation like that?” he asked, gesturing at the supremely beautiful Latino god lounging near him. “I’m told that I’m very good at sucking cock.”

“He is!” Raul verified. “Very, very good.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Billy said, cutting off that particular line of discussion. “And welcome to the Academy. We have a few ground rules that we try to observe while class is in session. Number one, sexual activity is allowed during class in the back of the auditorium, only, please. And no more than three to a group, otherwise it tends to get too noisy for the rest of us. You can jerk off in your seat, of course, and try to curtail firing your weapons at your neighbors, if at all possible. Total nudity is perfectly acceptable but the school’s official policy requires clothing, for obvious reasons. Nudity tends to make it hard to concentrate—or harder, I should say.”

“I’m harder, already!” someone shouted, to general laughter.

Billy laughed despite himself. “I know the feeling,” he agreed. “Any questions or observations to share before we get started?”

This was the time, usually, when newcomers could ask the questions of the group rather than just the guy who invited them in—a guy who may just have received his own invitation and was not very informed about the ramifications and responsibilities of Muscle Club membership. Things like public behavior, places to go when the urge was overwhelming, and if there were were rules concerning who they could approach, and how, and when, if they were so inclined.

“Soooo… we can fuck each other here? Right in class?”

“Yes, but only here. You may find yourself tempted to relieve some of your natural pent-up energies out on the quad or on the field or in the john, but the school will only allow you to enjoy conjugal visitation rights here in this classroom.”

“Is… can we—”

“Partnering is entirely up to each individual. I am the only person in this room who is officially off limits.” Carl smiled but said nothing.

“Why are you off limits? You look just like us. You must have the same—”

“It’s a matter of legalities, not preference. As I said, officially, in this room, I am off limits.” There were some small groans of disappointment, but Billy said, “I’m sure you will find a willing playmate or two among your classmates. You’ll have no problem keeping yourself… occupied.” He saw a hand go up and he said, “We’re generally not as formal as that, Mr. Mackenzie. Feel free to just ask your questions.”

“Oh. Um, so… I notice that some of the other guys are… bigger? I was under the impression that we were all supposed to be… more or less… the same size.”

“I think you’ll find you’ll catch up quickly. There is an aspect of… well, have you heard the phrase ‘strength in numbers?’ In our case, you should take that as a literal instruction. I think you’ll find that the more… enjoyment you undertake, the more you’ll come to realize your full potential.”

“But what about you, Mr. Titus? You don’t look very scrawny, but you claim that you don’t fuck anyone in Muscle Club.”

“That is my claim, and that’s all I will say on that subject. Are there any more questions before we begin today’s lessons?” A silence greeted his question, and an air of tightly restrained sexual anticipation was so heavy in the air that it practically had a scent. “Very good. Then let’s begin.”

There was sudden tumult of noise, composed of seats scratching the tiled floor, clothing being ripped apart, and a general low rumble of grunts, moans, sighs, heavy breathing and various promises in low voices usually involving the words ‘fuck’, ‘suck’, ‘lick’, ‘twist’, ‘kiss’, ‘stroke’ and ‘swallow.’

Billy was smiling as he watched his students at recess. There were naked muscular bodies everywhere, moving to some silent mutual rhythm, taking each other in rough or tender embraces and generally exploring their boundaries—personal, sexual, muscular, emotional and otherwise. Some of them paired off in the usual sets, two young men who found each other and wanted no one else—for the moment. Some moved freely from partner to partner, gifting each with their special talents or fulfilling one or more desires with their capable and overwhelming bodies. The room was practically throbbing with sexual heat, but this was the time, each morning, when the steam was let out of the pressure cookers and everyone got off.

Everyone, of course, but Billy.

He watched Carl strip off his Superman T-shirt to reveal the glorious muscular body he was so familiar with, now. He’d explored every inch of that body with his hands and his lips and his tongue, touching, tasting and lapping up the delicious tastes and aromas that defined Carl in his head. He heard his deep voice in his ear, and felt his warm breath on his neck, and felt his rough grip on his cocks as if they were together right there in that place, free and eager to express their need for each other. Carl shrugged slightly as they met each other’s eye and then he plunged headlong into the sea of naked flesh, allowing his hunger to be satisfied if only for a few minutes.

Billy sat down on the edge of his desk and watched the proceedings with interest and lust. His body was no different than any of theirs, now. Its hunger and capability for passion, sensuality and erotic release was every bit as powerful and manifested in the same ways. He had two dicks—he’d given that to them all, in a way. But he knew he had a balance to maintain if he was to keep control over them, in even the tiniest amount.

Heads rose from the orgiastic tangle and eyes repeatedly cast their lustful gaze in his direction. He could smell every boy in the room, even identify their individual scents. He could, in some way, even tell what it was they were thinking about him, what they wanted from him, and what they wanted to do to him. His asshole and nipples tingled with lust and his cocks throbbed angrily at him. They wanted release. They wanted in there, with all that spit and cum and sweat, the groping hands, the open mouths, the sucking lips. But he retained control of himself. He caged the beast inside him and maintained his distance.

Because he had to, not because he wanted to.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and said, loudly, “Five minutes, gentlemen,” announcing that recess was about to end, and if they needed release or were waiting for the right moment, time was running out.

As if on cue, and like fireworks, eruptions of white cream suddenly sprang up everywhere. Cocks were shooting their loads in thick, creamy ropes that rained down on naked flesh in splattering showers. Young men stood up, a cock in each hand, and unleashed torrents of cum on their partners, spraying fat arcs of hot white cream on their chests and faces and bellies. Others took their own pricks into their mouths and sucked down the plentiful cum, feeling its warmth and power spread through their muscular bodies. Groans, gasps and sighs of contentment and satisfaction mingled with the sound of twin-cocked giants unleashing their floods of powerful cream, shoving fountains of powerful, muscle-building cum from their balls. And they were slurping it all up as quickly as it appeared, swallowing down the rich, delicious fluid like mother’s milk, feeling it enrich and empower their huge forms like nothing else could.

Some of them were stretching their huge frames, some few of them appeared to be growing, developing fresh muscle and stretching their bodies higher and wider to compensate for the inches of fresh brawn swelling across their limbs and torsos. Everyone was smiling, and there were many kisses exchanged, some more passionate than others, as the last pumps of cream splattered out.

“Time, gentlemen,” Billy said. “Please return to your seats and open your books to page 167.”

He knew that most of them would remain in this naked state for the duration of class. They would pleasure each other with strokes and kisses and gentle caresses until the next break, when another round of fucking and sucking would take place.

It was just another day at Muscle Academy.


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