Teen Transform: The College Years
by AKA
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.”
“I… uh…”
“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?”
“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?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
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.”
June
“Timothy Balmer.”
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.
September
“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?”
“No.”
“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.”
“Nothing 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.”
“Yeah, all….”
“The timebomb?”
“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?”
“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.
“My shirt?”
“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.”
“How…?”
“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.”
“Me?!?”
“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.