Teen Transform: The College Years 7
by AKA
Read previous partChristmas
“Seriously, dude?”
“What?”
Tim was standing in the open doorway to his dorm room. His roommate, Barry, was laying sprawled on his own bed, completely naked, with his hard cock in his hand. His broad, thickly muscle chest and deeply defined six-pack abs were sheened with sweat, making his smooth, pale skin look almost metallic. Pearls of thick cream hung in the dark forest of curls that coated his pecs, and more long strings of it were splattered over his cobblestone belly. The eye of his monstrous erection was slowly drooling a fat runnel of cum over his grip, and it trailed down the several thick inches of his veiny shaft, finally coating his overburdened ball sack with his warm seed.
Barry’s neck, chin and lips were shiny with cum. He’d shot far and heavy, as usual.
It wasn’t that Tim was shocked by the sight, or even the fact that this was probably Barry’s third ‘release’ that day, after a wake-up wank and another just before he left the room to find some lunch. It wasn’t that Tim was naked and the room was probably around fifty-five degrees, though there was a palpable and strong current of heat coming from the direction of his bed. It wasn’t even that he was still hard, and evidently still stroking his load from his balls, even after exploding a fountain of cream that was copious enough for two men.
No, it was that he had done all this with the door to their room wide open, moaning and groaning with obvious pleasure, loud enough for Tim to hear his satisfied grunting and low, guttural declarations of “fuck yeah” and “fuck, so fucking good” all the way from the front door to the Men’s Dormitory, three floors down and several hundred feet away.
Tim just shook his blonde, handsome head and tried to look disapproving. “At least shut the door,” he said.
“Oh, fuck, dude,” Barry said, sitting up and taking his grip from his impressive hard-on, “there’s no one fucking here anyway. And what the fuck do I care who wanders by, or wanders in? Hell, they can take a seat and join me for all I care.” He looked down at his throbbing wonder and ran the tip of his index finger around and across its drooling mouth. “Shit that felt good.” He looked up, but did not stop giving attention to his cock’s swollen head. “Feel free to take a load off, Timebomb. I bet you’re hornier than I am - and I’m pretty fucking horned up.” He grinned. “I could go again, for sure.”
That was worrisome. Barry’s sexual fireworks were becoming overwhelming. He probably could stroke out another fat load, by the looks of his erection. It remained upright and shiny, swollen thick enough to stretch the skin to red glass. “Maybe later,” he said. Then he lifted his arm and tossed a Walgreens bag towards Barry’s large feet. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
Barry’s eyes lit up and a smile came to his lips. He licked them, trying to suck the clinging cream from them, and moved forward to grab the bag. His cock wavered and swung with heaviness, casting droplets of its creamy river onto his muscled thighs, though it lost none of its hardness as he sat back against the wall to look inside the plastic bag. “T-shirts?”
“I though you could use something to wear besides the usual.” Tim moved into the room - not closing the door - and sat on his bed, making it sag under his bulk. “I’m kind of tired of seeing you walking around campus like you just stepped out of an Undergear catalog.”
“A what now?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He watched Barry tear the plastic from the shirts. “I think they’ll fit. If they don’t, we don’t have a lot of options. Extra large is as large as they go.”
Barry shrugged his shoulders. “Used to wear mediums, and I can’t think I’ve gotten that much bigger.”
“Uh, have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Barry smirked. “Only when I can fit myself into the bathroom and stoop down to see.” He started to hold one of the shirts to his torso, then saw the wealth of his creamy load spread everywhere. “Probably should clean up first. Wouldn’t want to get cum stains all over my new Christmas outfit!”
“Maybe you’d better,” Tim agreed.
Barry set the bag and its contents aside and stood up. His cock remained at attention, pointing toward the ceiling and standing a good seven or eight inches long. His balls, heavy and fat, drooped in their sack as he grabbed onto his mammoth hard-on and stroked it once, from base to tip, and then brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm. He looked at Tim’s wondering visage and said, “Couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, if I swallowed your cum I’d get even bigger - maybe mine works the same way.”
“You want to get bigger?” Tim asked. “I thought you were having second thoughts.”
“There’s bigger,” he said, lifting his arm and swelling the muscle into flexed glory. “And then there’s bigger,” and he grabbed his huge erection and wagged it at Tim.
“You mean bigger down there?”
“Of course! Gotta keep up with you, don’t I?” He continued stroking himself as he wandered naked from the room toward the showers at the end of the hallway, the slick, wet sounds of his hand as it pleasured his cock accompanying the loud thud of his barefooted tread along the wood. “Aw, fuck,” he said, loudly - and probably for Tim’s benefit.
He had to smile. At least his roommate - his friend - wasn’t mad anymore. And wasn’t every guy a horndog, really? Maybe it wasn’t entirely normal to be stroking one off so often, but maybe that was just a phase. A kind of side effect from whatever had happened. Maybe it would fade as Barry became used to his new form. Maybe everything would turn out all right, and maybe no one would get hurt or come to regret anything at all.
But that was a lot of maybes.
The Men’s Dormitory showers were also a leftover from years gone by. No privacy was afforded anyone inside - since, logically, there was no reason for one naked man to be looking at another naked man - and once past the scratched and dented stainless steel sinks, there was just a large, tiled room with four shower heads pointing at the floor. No walls, no curtains, nothing but a single drain in the center of the floor.
Since no one else was in the dorms at present, Barry decided it might be fun to turn on all the shower heads at the same time and give himself an all-over clean. The shower stall was small enough that the sprays would interfere with each other, at least neat the floor, and the idea of being surrounded by hot water splashing against his naked skin was very...enticing.
He twisted the knobs under each of the four heads and waited for the water to heat, standing in the center of the showers.
The room smelled like sex. The lingering scent of Barry’s business and his sweaty body hung in the air, and it made Tim’s skin tingle and his heavy cock throb. But he pulled in a calming breath and went to the window, opening it a crack to let the winter wind inside. It was frigid and a bit shocking, but his body quickly compensated. The breeze fluttered the sheets on Barry’s unmade bed and drew Tim’s attention to a wet spot where, he assumed, some of Barry’s abundant flood had undoubtedly come to rest.
He eyed the open door and listened for a sign of anyone outside. Then he bent to one knee and moved his nose in toward the dark patch, wanting to bring a stronger sample of Barry’s unique scent and the smell of sex into his senses, while no one was looking.
There was still some of Barry’s cum on the sheet, a small pearlescent puddle at the center of the dark stain. Tim extended his tongue and touched it to Barry’s seed.
The water made Barry feel really good. Not that he wasn’t already feeling really good, of course. The orgasmic release was still running through his body like a strummed guitar string, but the water reinvigorated him, warmed him, and felt really good on his naked flesh.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the flow. He adjusted the levels until the shower was steaming. With no one left in the dorms, at least there was plenty of hot water. His skin felt super sensitive. He could feel the droplets splashing against his shoulders and chest, and against his calves and ankles. He could feel the water running down his strong, wide back, gathering along his spine and draining over the mounds of his muscular butt. He tensed his muscles and stretched his body and felt the brawn bunch and bulge. It made his cock pulse and a thrill of sex ran through his body.
He reached down toward the core of his pleasure and ran his hand along its length. His cock was limp, but thick and heavy, a six-inch snake with a mushroom head. A quicksilver tingle of bliss accompanied his easy stroke, and a soft groan left his lips.
From somewhere, an idea - or a curiosity - sprang into his head. What was it about gay guys and butt sex? Like, really, what was that all about. This, this stroking, having your cock sucked - even sticking it inside an ass - now that he could understand. But what about from the other side? Did it really feel that great? Having something pushing inside your butt?
With one hand propping him against the tiled wall, his other circled beneath his cock and cupped his balls. Jesus, they were big. He gently squeezed them, feeling each one’s size. He looked down, over his broad chest and rippled belly toward his cock and balls. He hefted the eggs up. The sack had grown slack in the warm water, and his balls moved inside, two hen’s eggs producing thick, warm cream that shot up his long prick.
He sucked in a slow, shuddering breath and licked his lips. His hand moved under his hairy scrotum. With his middle finger, he gently stroked his taint, the smooth, soft flesh between his balls and his asshole. He rubbed it softly, tentatively, feeling his balls against the palm of his hand. A lingering sexual thrill surrounded his prick, sending sparks down its heavy shaft and making the head tingle.
It was… interesting. He’d scratched many an itch there, for sure, but he’d never explored it like this.
He moved the finger back, altering his stance, opening his ass, pushing his fingertip curiously against his hole, discovering its softness. He rubbed it, and then gently pushed against it, moving just the tip of his middle finger - his Fuck You finger - into his butt hole.
Instinctively, he tensed against the intrusion. He looked down at where his hand disappeared under his balls. The muscles of his forearm twisted beneath his pale skin. A fat vein bulged along the muscle. He nudged and prodded, pushing inside as he learned to control that muscle, too. To relax against intrusion. To welcome the pressure inside.
It was a bit difficult, standing up, to wedge his finger inside his butt. he checked the shower entrance and turned around, seating himself on the warm tile floor with the showers all splattering hot water on his naked flesh. Leaning his broad back against the wall, he lifted his right leg, bent at the knee, and slid his left wide, opening himself to further exploration.
He circled his hole with his fingertip, again. He wanted to tense against the touch, but forced himself to relax. Then he pushed inside again, very gently, probing with his touch.
He moved his finger into his asshole, to the first knuckle. It felt - similar to what Tim had tried to do with his sex juice. That feeling of something inside him. But this was real. This was him. He was curious, and excited, and scared, and thrilled. His cock began to bulge and throb.
He withdrew his finger, rubbed the tip along his taint again, as if calming an animal unused to being touched. Then pushed back inside. It felt… good.
A sudden flash of heat accompanied the taste of Barry’s cum. A tingling sensation that expanded into a flow of sexual potency. It was a sensation that Tim recognized instantly and that his body responded to with hunger and desire.
It was Muscle Club, for sure - but that was no surprise, because what else could it be? He tasted his brothers in Barry’s cum, he tasted their beauty and their power and their overwhelming masculinity. Had he forgotten that taste, or had it simply been so long that he could not remember there was one?
And Barry’s was Barry, his distillate and his purity and his power. Even so small a drop of his essential substance - the seed of his loins, the fundament of his strength, the concentrate of his masculine core - produced a recognition in Tim’s senses that was staggering.
He licked his lips and looked down at the bed and used his index finger to wipe up whatever he could of Barry’s powerful juice.
A small moan left Barry’s lips. He was slowly moving the single digit into and out of his asshole, sliding its slim hardness inside, feeling it intently. It was a new sensation, and not a bad one at all.
Did this make him gay? Did this mean he was turning gay?
Nah, this wasn’t gay. Gay guys - gay guys liked having sex with other guys. This was just Barry, exploring his body. Trying something new. Seeing what the fuck was up with all that talk about asses.
He tried to picture Tim naked, just as an experiment. He saw him on his bed, all his muscle, his perfect muscular development, and that huge prick. He slowly fucked his own ass with his finger while picturing Tim in his head and he felt...stupid. Why the fuck was he doing this?
But the finger in his butt didn’t feel bad. So maybe…
He pictured Jane, instead. Jane had big, luscious tits. Jane had those red, red lips, and that long, dark hair. He pictured her slim waist, her little navel, where he put his tongue, her tight little butt, which he grabbed with gusto. He pictured his cock poised at her moist, warm, inviting pussy, her lying on her back before him in all her beautiful naked glory. He pictured his hand on his cock, guiding himself into her, kissing her mouth, sucking her breasts, biting the fat nubs of her dark, dark nipples. The feel of her skin, the smell of her neck, the sensation as she welcomed his hugeness inside her and made her squeal and giggle and writhe in complete ecstasy.
Now this was more like it. His cock bulged and throbbed harder. He pushed the finger inside, moving it gently, feeling a new thrill, a different sexual sensation, and one that was not at all gay.
Maybe there was, like, a button inside. Like a G-spot. Girls had that. He’d hit it before, or thought he did, and they’d moan and go apeshit when he did it. Maybe he had one, too. Maybe everyone did, and it was just a case of finding it.
The water felt good. It splashed on his naked body. It ran over the muscled plates mounted on his wide, powerful chest. He tried to add a second finger. A sudden heat erupted, a deeply sexual burst from inside, and he gasped and felt his cock rise. God, he was getting close. He hadn’t even touched his prick and he could feel it growing harder, and throbbing insistently, and starting to tingle along every inch of its thickness. “Aw, fuck, yeah,” he whispered.
Then he rubbed something. Something slightly hard, but also soft. He pushed against it and felt a familiar sensation. Kind of like he had to pee, but he didn’t have to pee. A sudden thrilling tingle erupted up his prick. He felt like he was pre-cumming, but it was hard to tell with the water everywhere. The room was hot and steamy. The water was loud. He adjusted his posture and pushed in further, groaning with pleasure and breathing in short, harsh breaths.
So, so close.
Tim brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it inside, pulling every bit of Barry’s sticky seed off his skin with his tongue and suction and swallowing it down like warm, sweet chocolate.
There was a beast inside him, though. A beast who had not been fed in a very long time. A beast who was more familiar with what the taste on his tongue was, and what it meant, and how much it wanted that. And the beast was strong, and the beast was hungry.
Too much. It was too much. Something snapped with sudden speed. Something inside that he didn’t know was there, some need or requirement, some undeniable power that had been aching for this sensation - the food of the gods, the pure essence of man.
The time bomb went off. It exploded out of Tim just as before. A wave of sex and muscle and male power, hot and intense. Where it came from, he didn’t know, but it swelled like an invisible balloon and he could feel it leave as if a dam inside had burst its banks.
Barry gasped. His cock was suddenly as hard as steel. He felt himself grow incredibly, intensely, inhumanly hard. His cock felt hot, and it swelled as if trying to burst from its skin.
He closed his eyes and gasped for air, his fingers thrust up his ass, probing his prostate, filling him up like a hard cock, lost in a fog of sex and power and masculine perfection. Something had changed. Something was happening.
Opening his eyes, he looked down and watched his cock growing, could actually see it lengthening and thickening, watch the shaft growing slowly fatter and the head crawling up his belly. His cock was growing! Veins wound up it like snakes crawling up a tree. The head bloomed, turning red and then purple and then he was cumming, shooting a fountain of pure white sex toward his chest and face and mouth.
Then he realized something else.
More muscle. Growing again. The two mountains of his chest swelled slowly outward as his cream settled onto his wet fur like pearls. His pecs shoved against each other at the center, deepening the cleavage between them. His tingling, throbbing nipples were being pushed down as the muscle swelled.
His arms looked like rolling waves as the growth manifested, visibly increasing their thickness. He licked his lips, tasting a salty tang, and he dipped his fingers into the warm goo that his prick was pumping and sucked it off, tasting his own salty sweetness.
His chest was massive. His arms were suffused with veins that throbbed and pumped blood into his new muscle, feeding his strength and size.
His cock was bigger than ever. He pushed his finger deep inside his ass - the mounds of his buttocks were fuller against his fingers - and he forced another fat stream of hot cum from his balls, pushing it up every inch of cock and watching it emerge in a long, beautiful, viscous rope that splattered on his face and neck.
He had not even touched his cock as it exploded, but now he grabbed onto the base with his free hand and aimed the spigot at his mouth, hoping to increase its presumed effects and make himself get bigger and bigger. Gouts of thick cream splattered on his chest and neck, and then he was cumming directly into his open mouth and swallowing eagerly.
Tim came instantly. His cock literally tore through the rough denim of his jeans and swelled to magnificence, pushing fat streams of cum from his balls that splattered across the wall and Barry’s bed, unloosed and wild like a firehose. He threw back his head in orgasmic bliss and roared a sexual shout of intense pleasure and he exploded with hot, thick, sticky cream, shoved free from the massive inches of his huge prick.
He came hard and he came full. Fat ropy streams of hot cream came from his cock and arched high and hit the wall hard. He was shoving it out of his balls as if someone were squeezing them like an udder, milking him for every drop of cum he had.
He grabbed on and tried to point the mammoth appendage at his mouth, hoping to limit the damage. The cream splattered on his shirt and neck and lips and he opened his mouth and bent forward and pulled the fat bulb of his prick inside his warm, wet mouth, sucking and guzzling down the streams of cum.
It warmed him and made him feel very alive and very horny. He started to fuck his own mouth, pistoning his hips and shooting creamy streams down his own throat.
Barry felt giddy and sexy and powerful and fucking horny. His chest was swelling. His arms were swelling. Everything was swelling. His muscles had grown fully pumped, and pressed against his skin. He was shooting cum towards his mouth and trying to swallow it all, thinking it would increase and hasten his growth, feeling his body gaining pounds of rock-hard brawn as he came.
Tim sucked hard, but it was hardly necessary. He was pumping cream without stopping, his massive hard-on releasing a torrent that fed him with its pure masculine power.
It was over in moments, but it felt much longer. Tim was looking at the artwork he had just painted all over the walls and Barry’s bed, long, sticky strings of white cream. He could smell sex in the room, again, and he could still smell Barry. He could smell him even more keenly. “Fuck,” he said.
He looked down at his ruined jeans and the massive shank of meat still drooling from its tip. He looked up at the wall next to Barry’s bed, which was now plastered with a thick coat of cum, sprayed in wide arcs like some Jackson Pollack painting. More was on his roommate’s sheets. He had to get this cleaned the fuck up!
With his hard-on growing limp and the heat of embarrassment and shame coursing through his giant body, Tim ripped the sheets off Barry’s bed and used them to try to wipe his cream from the walls, mopping up his copious load with the thin cotton.
Barry sat in the hot steam and the pounding shower of water breathing hard. He’d never come that hard in his life. He’d managed to blast several thick fountains of cream straight up and it was dripping down slowly, or sticking in fat gobs to the tile. He’d managed to come without ever even touching his cock, just by moving his finger into his ass. He decided that maybe there was something to getting butt fucked after all.
He was definitely bigger. Holy fuck, he was bigger! He moved his hands onto his chest and measured the width of his pecs. He plucked at his bigger nipples with his bigger thumbs. He wasn’t sure how much bigger he was, but he was sure that he was definitely bigger.
And his cock! It was bigger too! That was fantastic!
He grabbed a bar of soap and started to wash down the wall, trying to clean up his mess.
“Holy fuck,” Barry’s voice announced as he approached their room. “It worked!”
Tim was on his own bed, naked, with his cock in his hand. He looked up, pretending that nothing at all weird was going on - just another wank session, like every other evening in the dorms. He was a magnificent specimen of man, with his haystack of dirty blonde hair on his noble head, scruffy golden whiskers sparkling on his chiseled jaw and surrounding his full, sensuous lip, a broad, incredible chest with two fat globes of power mounted on its width, arms overwhelmed with bulging muscle, legs stretching far and overstuffed with more muscle, yet, and a huge prick in his large grip, glossy and red and ready to pop.
Barry stood in the doorway, dripping. Barry was bigger. Barry was noticeably bigger. Maybe not as dramatically bigger as before, but he was definitely bigger, particularly his chest and his cock. “Shit,” Tim said.
Barry was shaking his head in disbelief, moving into the room, exploring his own bigger body with his hands. His skin was steaming in the cold air. Water drained off his beautiful skin, making him appear sleek and metallic. His cock was partially erect, arcing forward and drooping at least nine inches between his thighs. “Dude. Okay, this is gonna sound weird but… I fucking made myself grow! I fucking did it!” Then his brow creased and he asked, “Why’s my bed stripped?”
“Oh, I… I just pulled off the sheet. They were kind of a mess with your cum, so I…”
Barry nodded and said, “Yeah, dude, whatever. But fucking look at me!” He started to pose, to show off his growth, and his muscles, and his new size. He was an amateur at this kind of thing, trying to mimic the classic bodybuilder poses without the control and finesse of someone who knows how, but it was still an impressive display.
He seemed to inflate as he did it, pumping blood into his new muscle and making it swell beneath his wet skin. His arms were like his chest, somewhat out of balance with the rest of him, as if he’d stuck a muscle pump into them and inflated them separately. They were amazing, with huge balls of swollen meat that sprang up as he flexed them. ‘Eighteen inches,’ thought Tim. ‘Barry has eighteen-inch arms.’
“Not to mention this fucking thing,” he said, proudly lifting his cock into his hand with something like reverence and wagging at his roommate. “This is a fucking choker! This is gonna make Jane fucking cream her fucking panties just looking at it! I mean, come on!”
It was, indeed, an impressive tool that Barry was shoving into his roommate’s face. Even now, showered clean, Tim could smell Barry’s funky, masculine musk, as if his cock was a gun shooting his stink into the air. He could almost taste him again on his tongue, and his own cock throbbed and pulsed thickly with recognition in his grip. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “That’s pretty amazing.”
“Oh, dude, sorry, you’re totally stroking…” He dropped his prick and it slapped against his bigger thigh muscles. It looked like he was also hairier, but it was difficult to be sure because he was wet. He turned and flopped down onto his mattress, propping himself against the wall and looking at Tim as if this were the most natural situation in the world. His face did not appear to have changed, at least to the extent of his first metamorphosis. Perhaps his chin was slightly stronger, or his eyes sparkled more purely, but he was so fucking handsome - and so fucking naked - that it was hard to judge any distinctions. He was absently rubbing his limp cock with the back of his hand. It lay along his leg, long and fat, pointing its mouth at Tim. “You okay?”
“Huh?”
“It’s not like you haven’t stroked one out with me here,” he said. Then he looked pointedly at Tim’s hand which was not at all stroking his hard-on.
“I’m… sorry, I’m kind of… are you okay with this?”
“This?”
“Your… growing? Again?”
Tim smiled and nodded vigorously. “Oh, hells yes! This is awesome! I feel fucking great, I have a huge fucking cock. What’s not to like?”
“But… if it keeps happening?”
“Oh, I know what did it, and I can, like, not do that.” His handsome face twisted up in self-doubt. “At least, I think I can not do that.”
“You know?”
“Yeah.”
Tim just stared, waiting for an answer. When it was clear that none was forthcoming, he said, “And…?”
“Oh, it’s my butt.”
“Your butt.”
“Yeah.”
“What about your butt?” Tim was, unfortunately, picturing his roommate’s rather prodigious and muscular backside as he said it.
Barry’s face colored and he shifted on his bed uncomfortably. “I was… experimenting with something in the shower. You know, out of curiosity. Just fucking around and I discovered… something.”
Again, a long pause. “And…?”
“And, there’s a thing in my butt that makes me grow.”
Tim nearly laughed out loud, but he pursed his lips and held it in. “There’s a thing in your butt….”
“That makes me grow,” he finished, saying it as if everyone had one.
“How did you discover this thing?”
He shrugged. “Experimenting. I told you.”
“In the shower.”
“Yeah.”
“What sort of experimenting?”
“Just...experimenting.”
“With your butt.” Again, a sudden picture appeared in his mind: Barry’s amazing ass, tightly clad in denim, walking away from him, its two prominent and meaty globes shifting and bulging.
Barry sighed dramatically. “Okay, I stuck my finger up my ass and there’s this, like, thing inside and when I touched it….” Then shrugged and went silent.
“I see.” Barry finger-fucked himself. That was interesting. Or maybe it wasn’t. At this point on their relationship, it was hard to tell.
“Yeah.”
“So you have something like a magical muscle growth button inside your ass.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Barry answered seriously. He tilted his handsome head slightly and eyed Tim’s still-throbbing tool. “You wanna stroke one off, together?”
Tim looked down at his cock, too. It was definitely ready for something. Barry’s heady scent was everywhere, again. Maybe he was pumping it out freshly just having grown again. Maybe his scent had grown in power with his muscle and his dick. Maybe Barry knew what he was doing and was making his sexy, funky, male stink fill the room. “I guess so,” he said. “You’re still…?”
“I’m horny as fuck, bro. No shit, I could stick this thing in a meat tenderizer and it wouldn’t grow a bit less hard.” He sat up and grabbed hold of his cock, and sure enough it started to respond to his attentions with immediate and noticeable effect, lengthening and thickening with alarming speed until it was rising to kiss its mouth to one of his dark, jutting nipples. He spat in his hand and slowly stroked himself, closing his eyes in the throes of evident sexual bliss. “Aw, fuck,” he moaned. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
His voice was deep, like a growl from an animal - a very large, very dangerous animal sitting three feet away from Tim, stroking his nine-inch high prick in one hand while lifting his other arm and sticking his nose into his armpit, flaring his nostrils as he pulled the scent of himself deeply inside, breathing in what Tim was already breathing.
“Did you feel something?”
“What, like a disturbance in the Force, Obi Wan?”
Charles was treating Jeremy to Christmas dinner at a small Chinese restaurant on the main drag. It was about the only thing open this night, and they had a few plates of food laid out between them on the table. Charles was looking through the front windows, his chin up, looking like a dog sniffing the air. Jeremy’s face was a mask of amusement and confusion, watching the handsome young man’s suddenly odd behavior.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Charles was always slightly odd. This was just a bit odder.
“You didn’t feel anything?”
“Are you trying to be funny? Did you fart or something?”
“I...what?”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”
Charles had a concerned look on his face and was suddenly distracted. He hadn’t eaten much at all - more like moving the food around on the plate to make it appear that he had been eating. Which was odd, too, considering how big he was. Jeremy assumed that the guy had ordered all that food just for him. After all, a guy couldn’t get that big without some serious protein intake and hours at the gym.
Which was also odd, since Charles never seemed to go to the gym. Or if he did, he didn’t have any gym clothes, or a gym bag, or any of the other paraphernalia that usually accompanies the gym-going guy. “What was it?” Jeremy asked.
“Probably just my imagination,” Charles answered. He was looking directly into Jeremy’s eyes when he answered. He had an unusually penetrating gaze, and it was hard not to look back into those green, green orbs and start to fall inside them. “How’s your dinner?”
Jeremy shrugged. “S’okay.”
“But it’s not turkey.”
“Well, no, it’s not. I still appreciate the gesture, Charles.” He tilted his head slightly. “Does anyone ever call you Chuck?”
“Some people do. What do you ask?”
“You look more like a Chuck.”
“I prefer Charles.”
“Okay, just wondering.”
Charles pursed his lips slightly. “Is your mom a good cook?” He voice was so deep. Such an ordinary question seemed to take on additional meaning.
“She’s all right. Makes a mean apple pie, though.”
“Not pumpkin?”
He shook his head. “Apple.”
“We always had pumpkin.” This was the first time that Jeremy could remember Charles ever even mentioning his family.
“What about your mom?”
“My mom? She’s dead.”
“Oh, Jeez, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
“She died when you were a kid?”
“No, she… I mean, yeah.” He blew air between his lips and shoved a stray lock of blue-black hair back amongst its brothers. It made his biceps swell enormously and exposed a patch of dank, sweaty curls in his armpit. A wash of that spicy, sexy smell of his travelled across the table and wrapped around Jeremy. Charles left his hand at the nape of his neck, stretching slightly and showing off some of his pulchritudinous beauty as he asked, “What do you want to do, now?” He had changed the subject, again. He did that a lot.
“How come you don’t talk about yourself?”
His head tilted and one elegant eyebrow arched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been roommates for a few weeks, now, and I don’t know anything about you.”
“Not much to tell,” he answered, enigmatically. He lowered his arm and his hand went beneath the table. “I’m nothing special.”
Like hell, Jeremy thought. No one looks like you do, gets as big as you do, acts as weird as you do, and ends up being ‘nothing special.’ “Any other family?”
Charles’s signature lopsided smile came to his lips. “I have a lot of brothers.”
“How many?”
“Lots.”
“Like, five?”
“Like five,” he answered.
“And do these five brothers have names?”
“They all have names.” Jeremy was staring at him. “Oh, you want to know their names?”
“If that’s not too personal,” he replied with obvious sarcasm.
“Um, so, Todd. Todd’s the oldest. And then Carlo... Carl. Carl is younger than me. Michael, who is kind of like Carl’s twin brother. They’re pretty much inseparable. And finally, there’s Adam. The youngest, though by no means the smallest.”
“They’re all big like you?”
“You could say that,” he answered, grinning. His arm was moving rhythmically now, accompanied by the sound of rubbing denim.
“Okay. And no sisters?”
“No sisters. Only brothers.”
“And your father?”
“Also dead.”
“I keep going there, don’t I?” Charles shrugged. Jeremy noticed that the muscles lining the arm with the hand hidden under the table were flexing and stretching, as if Charles was clenching his hand into a fist or grabbing something. “You okay?”
“I’m gonna… hit the powder room,” he explained. Then he stood, and it was hard for Jeremy - or anyone else within eyeshot for that matter - to miss the fact that Charles was sporting a huge hard-on in his jeans. His erection was so prominent that Jeremy could easily make out whether or not Charles was circumcised, and could practically count the veins stretching along the fat shaft that was snaking towards his hip. Jeremy’s mouth fell open in mute wonder at the sheer size of the thing, and he hardly noticed as Charles left a few bills on the table to “take care of the check,” before he walked away with rather uncomfortable gait.
When he’d passed behind the men’s room door, Jeremy’s mouth finally closed and he let out a disbelieving huff. “Jesus,” he said softly. Then he looked toward the restroom again, as a very naughty thought sprang to life in his head.
Well, suppose I had to go to the powder room too, he reasoned. There’s no earthly reason why only one of us would have to relieve themselves after a meal. And, after all, he could use the toilet if Charles was at the urinal or something. It didn’t mean that he was in there to watch Charles...do...anything. Did it?
He looked for the waiter and saw him standing near the register, looking disinterested. Jeremy grabbed the cash in his hand and walked over, saying “keep the change,” before pivoting on his feet and facing the men’s room door.
The Men’s Room. Fuckin’ A it was.
Jeremy crossed the floor and set his hand to the handle, turning it - but it was locked. A deep, resounding voice from inside said, “Occupado.”
“It’s Jeremy,” Jeremy said.
“I’m… almost done.”
“I really gotta go.”
“One second?”
Jeremy bit his lip. He could see Charles’s monster pushing against his denim covered groin in his mind’s eye. “I really, really gotta go.”
There was a silent pause. “Okay,” Charles said. Then the handle unlocked and Jeremy turned the handle.
It was a small restroom. Really just a bathroom, with a single toilet and a sink. A small, dirty window was half-open above the tank, and there was a wooden stairway outside.
As Jeremy entered, Charles had his back to the door. His jeans were around his ankles - as usual, he hadn’t worn any underwear. His ass was magnificent. Two clenched orbs, round and smooth, with a hairy crack between. His legs were tree trunks, wrapped in slabs of muscle, and coated in a fine forest of dark curls. Jeremy asked, “What are you doing?” and stared at that perfect, powerful ass.
“What am I doing?” His voice was gruff and deep. A slick, wet noise was coming from the front of him, and one arm was slowly moving.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m doing really good, as a matter of fact.” Charles slowly turned around - it was difficult with the pants tying his ankles, but he managed. And as he turned, it became quickly apparent that he was holding onto the biggest hard-on arching up from between his thickly muscled legs that Jeremy had ever seen.
He was grinning - smiling really - with one hand grasping the middle of the shaft of his erection as the other was at his side, clenched into a fist. The fucking thing looked like it could handle at least two more hands! The tip was glistening with a drop of pre, and the whole of his hard-on was shining as if he’d managed to lube it all up with spit. “Feel free,” he said, nodding toward the toilet. “I’m… satisfying a different need at the moment.” He stroked himself slowly, moving his grip all the way up the inches of his erection and rubbing the head as if polishing an apple.
“Jesus, Charles!” Jeremy closed the door behind them. It was a very tight squeeze.
His roommate looked down at his incredible and outlandish hard-on and said. “Yeah, um, kind of big, huh?”
“Jesus,” Jeremy repeated, staring at the thing. “‘Big’ doesn’t quite describe it!”
Charles laughed slightly. He was slowly stroking the mammoth hard-on with a wet, slick sound. “So?”
Jeremy looked up, into those green, green eyes. “So?”
“You said you had to pee.” His eyebrows rose on his handsome face. His full lips curled into a smile. “So… pee.”
“What about…?”
“Well, I can’t very well walk out there with this in my hand, can I?”
There was a kind of logic there, but still. “I guess not.”
“And I can tell you that it ain’t going anywhere until I take care of it.”
“Right.”
“So?”
“Suddenly, I don’t have to pee anymore.”
“Really?” He continued stroking himself, slowly moving his meaty grip up and down the thick inches of rock-hard cock protruding from his loins. “Do you mind if I finish up, then?” Jeremy was mesmerized by the sight. It was a mammoth prick. So thick and shiny and huge. The head was like a plum. It was a foot long if it was an inch. He knew Charles was gifted with a monster, but this was ridiculous. “Unless you want to watch?”
“Watch?”
“Did you want to watch?” He lowered his chin, looking at Jeremy with a kind of feral need.
The shock of the offer - and the invitation - and his sudden strong desire to say yes - all drove Jeremy to fumble with the handle to escape the small room, shutting the door behind him and breathing hard. “I’ll be just a minute,” Charles explained from the other side of the door.
Jeremy looked over at the waiter, who was eyeing him back curiously. He smiled tentatively and half-waved at him, then felt completely stupid and went back to the table to wait.
Alone in the bathroom, his hand on his boner, Chuck said, “Oops.”
He shook his head and let out a soft huff of a laugh. Poor guy, he thought. Wants it so badly, but so scared of what he wants. “Then again,” he said aloud, looking down at his monster cock, “you’re an awful lot to take on for a first time.”
He started stroking himself again, sending deep ripples of sexual bliss into his entire enhanced body as he considered what had happened. It was rare for him to lose control like that, but something had definitely occurred in the direction of the college, and it had to involve Tim.
Whatever it was, it felt like his body had been splashed with hot water, and then it all coalesced on his crotch, and suddenly his dick was throbbing and swelling and feeling quite agreeably ready to rock and roll. It took a bit more of the self-control he was always manifesting over his physical form to keep his dick from ripping its way out of its denim cage, and his secondary cock was almost ready to bulge into the open, too.
Perhaps, if he had really tried, he could have kept everything in check - but it just felt so damned good that he kind of didn’t want to. He may be one of the most beautiful creatures walking the planet and he was certainly gifted with powers and abilities far beyond what anyone had a right to, but inside that super-human shell there was still a human soul and a human heart and, it must be said, a human hard-on waiting to happen.
In a sense, Chuck was 100% hard-on. And he’d been keeping his volume turned way, way down for weeks, now. Wasn’t it time for just a little recreation?
Plus, Chuck was Chuck. He would always be Chuck. And if there was one thing Chuck liked more than anything else, it was the art of pleasure. And he was a true genius of that art, and could appreciate another genius’s work.
Aw fuck, this felt good. Fuck, yeah.
He probably shouldn’t have displayed himself so wantonly for Jeremy. Being that close to a foot-long wonder like he was showing off would make anyone in his inexperienced roommate’s place want to run. Not only was it intimidating from a comparison point of view - whose dick, besides maybe Tim’s, could even hope to measure up to it? But imagine dreaming about sucking on some handsome guy’s tool, and then come face to face with this monster!
But, Chuck was Chuck. Why do something halfway when you could be past the finish line and be back at the bar with a beer - or a dick - in your hand in half the time? So rather than turn around holding something a bit more... manageable, he’d shown off like he always did and brought out the big guns too early.
He could have shown the poor guy a fourteen-incher with a shaft so fat that it resembled a third leg and a bulbous purple head dripping cream in a puddle on the floor. A simple ten-incher slick with spit seemed almost within the realms of propriety by contrast.
“Yeah,” he growled aloud, as if speaking to his cobra. “Ten ain’t so bad, right? I mean what if I showed him this.” He watched his cock extend, growing longer like a telescope, swelling in his hand to a full twelve inches. “Or this?” His sideways grin slid onto his full, sensuous lips and his cock grew again, with sudden and magical speed, swelling another two inches longer. “Or, like, this?” Now he unleashed it, and it grew all the way across the small room, rubbing its drooling tip against the door. Chuck grinned and stroked it, easily amused at his odd sense of humor.
At least Jeremy was showing determination. Coming into the bathroom with him - that was a step in the right direction. Probably inviting him to watch was the bridge too far, as it were, but what the hell? Chuck liked it when someone watched.
Or watching someone.
Or fucking someone.
Or being fucked by someone.
Or, hopefully, all at the same time.
But back to the matter at hand - quite literally - Chuck allowed himself to manifest a nice, strong orgasmic release, making his balls swell to bursting with cream and then shoving it up his cock, feeling every millimeter of the push with a truman’s intensity. It felt good, just as it always did.
He sat down on the toilet with his hard-on arching up between his heavily-muscled thighs. Then he bent his head and opened his mouth, allowing his augmented dick to arch upward and stretch its long, long neck toward him.
He felt the head of his cock push between his jaws and into his warm, wet mouth, moaning with intense pleasure and sending deep vibrations along his shaft. He sucked blissfully against his own cock, feeling its hardness and heat shoving against the back of his throat. The head swelled and he started pumping a steady, hard stream of powerful, satisfying cream that filled him up as no other food could.
He grabbed hold of his mammoth tool with both hands and shoved a gallon of cum inside himself, swallowing greedily and feelings its powers enhance and satisfy him utterly, drowning in the power of Transform.
After he had sated himself, he pulled his cock from his mouth with a wet pop and sat back, slowly stroking it as it relaxed again - and he thought about Tim.
He’d been treading very carefully, so far. Maybe too carefully, in light of recent events. He was trying to use his transformed powers to discover what he could about the young man and what he could do, what he had become, without tipping his hand. It was agreed by the others that whatever this was, it was safer for events to work themselves out without truman interference. If this was a new strain - a different strain - what would it become on its own?
It was a delicate balancing act that required a kind of finesse that was unusual for Chuck, whose methods more often resembled a bull in a china shop, shoving enough transforming power at a lucky dude to make him split his seams in a heartbeat and start fountaining his own transforming cream before he knew what hit him.
Tim certainly showed all the signs, and having sampled just a bit of his cream at the abandoned T Gym, it was clear that whatever he was - he was some part truman. And that part was still growing in power and capability. Though it seemed unfair not to help Tim through this, he was coping all right so far, and it had been his decision to take this path. Interfering might make things better - or they might make things worse.
Jeremy was another matter, and not one Chuck had counted on.
He recognized the innocent young man for what and who he was, and quickly realized that it was a second situation that would test his resolve and his patience. He was feeling fatherly about the young man, though fatherly in an uncommon way, being that this father would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful little son over and fucking him silly.
Maybe ‘fatherly’ was the wrong term. Mentor! He was a mentor. A mentor who would feel no compunction about flopping his beautiful pupil over and so on and so forth and orgasm.
It was curious that Jeremy had felt nothing - or reported feeling nothing. Chuck was quite familiar with all the enhancements that a truman should acquire, and though he partly understood that Tim was not quite there, yet, it was unusual that whatever just happened seemed only to affect Chuck. Or perhaps it was just that the affect was so muted by distance or power that it took a truman’s enhanced... well... everything to feel it.
Hopefully, that meant that it hadn’t affected anyone else, either. Because whatever it was, that shit was strong enough to cause a being in total control of their physical self to spring a boner in a public restaurant.
Jeremy was so fucking cute. There were no two ways about that. And smart, Chuck liked those things, and especially when they went together.
It was evident from the way he talked about Tim in such disparaging - but constant - terms that he liked him and was interested in him but afraid at the same time. The old “I hate him/I love him” routine. Though maybe in this case it was more like “I hate the way he makes me feel.”
Admittedly, Tim was an awful lot of man for a first love, or even a first fuck. Jeremy was probably misguided about a great many things and undoubtedly a virgin. Chuck felt that he wasn’t the right man for that job - probably someone thoughtful like Carlos, or someone almost as innocent like Adam would be far more suitable - but, damn it, he liked Jeremy. He wanted Jeremy to be happy. And he wanted Jeremy to be happy on his own terms. Could Chuck help it if he was just too irresistibly sexy?
He felt like he had toned himself down pretty far. After all, this was a guy who could literally think a man to an orgasm. He could grant a man bulging muscles - or a monster prick - with a mere touch of his hand. He could turn a man on so completely just with his voice that he’d cream inside his skivvies before he knew what hit him. Chuck was made of sex. It oozed from his pores and traveled in his scent and tingled from the tip of every shining hair on his muscular body. He was the bottled essence of perfect manhood, a ticking bomb of orgasmic lust, a being so perfectly attuned to the unending well of sexual power manifested inside him that he could walk into a room full of men and have every one of them naked, erect and worshipping his body before the door closed behind his amazing, dick-sucking ass.
So it was a kind of two-pronged test for Chuck. Guiding a young truman without complicating his path, and taking the hand of a scared, confused young man who desperately ached to feel another man’s arms around him, without scaring him the fuck away.
Finally, he allowed himself to deflate to more believable dimensions, stood up, pulled up his jeans, tucked himself back inside the tight crotch, zipped himself up, checked his reflection in the dirty mirror (looking mighty fine, Chuckster!) and exited the restroom.
Jeremy was at the table, sitting with his back to the bathroom door. Chuck - or, Charles - put his hand on his small roommate’s shoulder, causing him to jump reflexively, and said, in the best double entendre voice he could manage, “It’s all yours.”
Jeremy got up without looking at him and went toward the bathroom. He still didn’t need to take a piss, but he was damned if he was going to give Charles the satisfaction.
Shutting the door, again, the singular scent that screamed Charles at him was everywhere in the small room. He tried to pry open the window, but it wouldn’t budge.
Jesus. Jesus! That cock! That huge, awesome, fat, long, massive, amazing, mouth-watering cock! It was... it was... Jeremy didn’t even know what that was! No one owned something that big! No one in any porn video he ever sneaked a look at on his computer, not any of the hidden pictures in his naked man stash - even morphed fantasy images on Deviant Art of fantastic muscular hunks with giant cocks would have a hard time measuring up to what Charles had tucked away in his tight blue jeans!
Fuck! Hell! God damn! What a cock!
Who the hell was that guy?
Jeremy splashed water on his face and washed his hands. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of the man, picturing his perfect ass and that incredible dick and steadied his nerves. They were going to walk back to the dorm room now. They would walk back there, and be alone together, in the room, with their beds, and Charles’s body, and Charles’s ass, and Charles’s cock.
Charles would get naked, because that’s what Charles did, and then he’d lie there, next to him, pumping out that fucking sexy smell, with his cock lying across his muscled thigh, breathing slowly, looking at him, those green eyes, that kissable mouth, that powerful voice.
Fuck. Fuck!
Jeremy was scared shitless.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked so small, and so timid, and so nothing. Life sucked. Everything sucked. He closed his eyes and leaned on the sink and suddenly felt hot and tired.
Then there was a knock at the door, and Charles asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, weakly.
“Are you sure? Because I think I probably shocked you, and that was a pretty dick move on my part, and I wanted to apologize to you for that.”
Jeremy looked into the mirror again. “No, it’s all right.”
“You’re sure?” Charles voice was so deep, it nearly shook the door from its hinges.
“I’ll be out in a second,” Jeremy answered, without answering. “I’m taking a piss.”
After a pause, Charles said. “Okay. Sorry about that, Jeremy. It was a dick move.”
A dick move.
A dick that moved.
One hell of a dick.
Jeremy felt like it was going to be a very long night.