Teen Transform: The College Years 8
by AKA
Christmas Night
The walk back to the campus was very cold, and very dark. Jeremy held his coat around his small body as the winter winds tried to steal it away. Charles walked with a sort of proud, strutting stride, though perhaps his long legs created his gait. His hips swayed with a fairly pronounced sexuality, and it made the globes of his ass flex and bulge in a most uncomfortable fashion for Jeremy's taste. His jeans were too tight for him to slip his hands into his pockets, so they swung easily at his sides, far out from his body because of the width of his shoulders and lats. Jeremy was a big glad for the darkness, because it concealed the bulge from the huge and amazing appendage pushing forward with such determination from his roommate’s crotch.
Charles was almost a full head taller than the smaller boy, and was about twice as wide, even with Jeremy's thick winter coat taken into account. He supposed they made a very odd pair, moving along the abandoned roads and lanes, making their way up the foothills and back to the dorm.
They had not spoken a word. Charles seemed distracted and distant, which Jeremy attributed to his own rude entrance into his roommate's privacy. He was probably pissed off, and his odd offer and awkward apology did little to dissuade Jeremy of that opinion.
A thought occurred to Jeremy, though its origins were mysterious to him when he found himself opening his mouth and words started coming out of nowhere. “How do you...” was all he managed to say before his brain thought better of what his libido wanted to know.
Charles let the unasked question hang in the cold air for a couple of strides, and then he observed, “You do that a lot.” His strong, clear voice seemed very loud in the silence of the darkness.
“Do what?”
“Not ask questions,” Charles said. “You know that, right?”
“I don’t....”
“You do,” Charles said, with finality. “It doesn’t really bother me, I’m used to it. And I think I understand why. But you should know you do it, and it can be... frustrating.”
Jeremy didn’t have an immediate response, so Charles continued. “You should just ask your question, whatever it is. If you’re afraid of the answer, that’s probably a good thing. That means you don’t know the answer, and the question should probably be asked.” He looked over. His smile was bright on his whiskered face. “If you already know the answer, then there’s no need asking. Right?”
Jeremy shrugged, embarrassed into silence.
Charles said, “So?”
“So what?”
“You asked, ‘How do you’, and then you stopped. I assume you wanted to ask me something, rather than asking yourself a question. How do I what?”
Jeremy’s heartbeat sped up. He didn’t really want to pursue this line of questioning, and was trying to think of something besides the thing he was going to ask Charles. And into the intervening silence, Charles said, “You’re not very good at this. Perhaps you should practice.”
“Good at what?”
“Just ask your question.”
“How... how do you manage with... that thing?”
“Thing?”
“Your... penis.”
“My cock,” Charles corrected. “I think you can make that distinction. When you’re talking to another guy about their cock, you should use ‘cock.’ Unless you’re a doctor, and then penis is probably more appropriate.”
“Your cock,” Jeremy corrected, but he provided a bit too much emphasis on the word, again, and it felt awkward to say it.
“Better,” Charles said. “Did you have a specific situation in mind, or just generally speaking?”
Jeremy shrugged. This was weirder than he imagined it being. “Dunno,” he answered. Charles huffed a soft laugh out of his nostrils, and Jeremy demanded, “What?”
“You’re really not very good at this.”
“This what?”
“Flirting.”
The single word made Jeremy’s body heat up and he could feel the flush of red coming to his pale skin. “What?!?” He said it more loudly and with more emphasis than he intended.
“Try again,” Charles advised.
“I’m not flirting!”
“Not very well,” Charles agreed.
“I’m not!” he protested again.
“Call it what you like, Jeremy, but when one guy asks another guy about his cock, that’s flirting.” He paused. "It's probably more than flirting, whatever that is. Propositioning, maybe."
“You said cock! I said penis!”
“Tomato, tomahto.” He walked on a few strides, then said again, “So?”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
Charles ignored the objection. He reached down toward his crotch and grabbed hold of himself. His palm pressed against the thick shaft of his equipment and pushed the head toward his hip. His jeans were nearly bursting from the press of his full basket. “You get used to it,” he said. “People stare, sometimes, but why wouldn’t they? It’s huge. Probably the biggest one they’ve ever encountered. And there’s something rude about it, just because it’s so overt - so big. Frankly I don’t think too much about it - certainly not as much as others seem to do.” Jeremy felt himself flush with embarrassment again. “Does that answer your question?”
He gulped. “I... was thinking more about...”
“Sex?” Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I have to admit that sometimes that’s problematic. I mean, I can make it work. But it can be off-putting, if that’s the right word. People see it like this, like now, you know, behind a wall of denim or cupped inside a pair of underwear, and it only suggests its size. Looks impressive, probably infers a sense of eroticism, just the size of it, the outline, the... impression of sex. But when they actually see it, like you did, when its full extents are openly bared, so to speak, then this look of trepidation occurs, like, ‘wow, can I really take all of that on? is it going to hurt?’” He let the question hang there for a few strides, then he added, “It doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It always feels good.”
“How do you know?”
“Mostly from the intense moans of pleasure and the occasional exclamations like ‘holy fuck, this feels good.’” He looked over. “But they’re usually screaming that. I just didn’t want to alarm the neighbors.”
“How... big...”
“See, now, I don’t care who you are - that’s flirting, Jeremy.”
“Shut up,” he said, sullenly.
“I haven’t measured it. Do you measure yours?”
“I’ve never really thought....”
“I mean, it’s kind of ludicrous to worry about that, right? You can see how big it is. How would its actual measurements matter?”
“I was just... wondering.”
“Uh huh,” Charles said, growling like a bear.
“I am not flirting with you!”
“What would you call asking another guy how big his cock is?”
“Curiosity.”
“Oh, I see. Like, ‘what do you do for a living?’ Or, ‘what’s your favorite dessert?’ Or, ‘exactly how big is your cock?’ I trust you see my point. Doesn’t routinely come up in conversation. Unless I am hanging out with the wrong crowd, because your friends sound a lot more interesting.” He shrugged. “It’s just you and me, Jeremy. Ask me whatever you want to ask me. I don’t mind flirting. I actually really enjoy it, usually. But you need a lot more training if you’re planning on being effective at it.”
“I wish you’d stop talking about me like I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. You’re far from stupid. But you’re inexperienced. You’re shy. And you’re scared.” He slowed down and stopped. “You don’t ever need to be scared of me, Jeremy. Ever. Do you understand?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay.” Charles said.
Street lamps were few and far between, and the moonless, glowering sky made him feel a bit fearful, even given the fact that the guy beside him could probably bench press a semi truck with its trailer attached. He didn't know these neighborhoods, or their occupants, and most of the buildings and homes they passed were also dark. Probably filled with ghosts of Christmases past, rattling their chains and bringing nightmares to all the guilty misers.
"Guilty," he said softly.
"Pardon?" The word was like a soft rumble from the muscular beast beside him.
"Guilty," he repeated.
"Who's guilty?"
"Sorry, I was just... I was thinking about Dickens."
"Dickens who?"
"Charles Dickens. 'A Christmas Carol' and ghosts. All these dark houses, kind of gives me the creeps."
"You don't need to be afraid," Charles said. "Nothing can hurt you while I'm around."
"I suppose you could just flash your dick at them and scare them away." The same instant that he finished saying it, Jeremy regretted saying it, so he said, "Sorry," rather meekly after.
Charles laughed softly. "You're probably right, assuming I could whip it out fast enough."
"You could just beat the shit out of them," he suggested.
"I couldn't do that," Charles said, seriously.
"Why not?"
"I couldn't," was all he said.
They walked on. Passing beneath a light cast their shadows on the ground, and emphasized for Jeremy the differences in their bodies. Even Charles’s shadow was huge.
The wind picked up with a sudden gust, and Jeremy tugged his coat closer. Charles asked, “Are you cold?”
“Aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose so,” he answered.
“Are you...?” The big man looked over. His green eyes seemed alight in the night’s darkness. “Are you pissed at me?”
“Why would I be pissed at you?” he asked.
It was Jeremy’s turn to shrug. “You seem like you’re pissed at me.”
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before, only I was the one asking you that question.”
“I just...”
“I’m not pissed at you, Jeremy. I’m... thinking.”
“What about?”
Charles looked over, pausing as if considering his answer. “Secrets,” he said at last.
“Oh,” he answered, not wishing to pry further.
“That’s it?”
“What’s it?”
“‘Oh.’ I’m thinking about secrets and your response is ‘Oh.’”
“Well, they’re secrets. Secrets are... secret.” He felt immediately dumb saying that.
“Wow. You’re not very good at this, either.”
“This what?”
“People. Conversation. Talking.”
But Charles’s response made Jeremy feel a pang of anger. “I told you, I’m....”
“Shy. Yes, you told me. And that’s understandable. So I’m going to let you in on another secret. It’s not one of the secrets I was thinking about, but it’s one you need to hear. It’s something you’d learn eventually, anyway, but I think you’ll find it very handy - even as young as you are.”
“Oh, and you’re all old and wise, is that it?”
They were walking slower as they talked, now. The line of houses started to fall behind as the hill’s angle increased. There were fewer street lights, and the trees were dancing in the cold night winds. “Sometimes, when two people are talking, and one person wants to tell the other something important - or ask them something important... and by important I mean important to that person. They don’t know what the other person feels about it, because they haven’t told them. So there’s a fear, there. You know? The greatest fear there is, Jeremy. Do you know what that is?”
His brow wrinkled and he swallowed hard. “Death?”
“Sort of. It’s sort of the same thing.” He paused, looking at his small roommate. “No, it’s fear of the unknown. When you don’t know what will happen, or what someone else will think, or say, or do. Sometimes, that fear is thrilling, like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes it’s dreadful, like when you have a secret to tell, something you feel shame about, or something you did wrong and you know it.”
“Is that what your secrets are?”
“We’re not quite there, yet, Jeremy. I still haven’t told you the first secret. The one about people, and conversations, and talking.” Charles slowed to a stop, and turned to face his smaller friend. “Sometimes, when one person wants to let the other person in, they leave an opening. An opening is, like, a clue, or maybe a hint, but it’s more than nothing, and often it’s very small.”
“A small opening.”
“Yes.”
“And did you leave me a small opening?”
“I did.” he said it openly, not softly, not as if he was ashamed of something. “But you weren’t listening. And that’s not your fault. No one listens. Or very few people do. Because people are so concerned with what others think, they tend to spend around 90% of their concentration on themselves. Protecting themselves, picking the right words, or no words at all.”
“So... secrets...?”
“Secrets. That was an opening. That was me inviting you in. I could have responded like you do, and said ‘nothing.’” He tried to imitate Jeremy’s voice, but it sounded rather childish. “Nothing is bothering me. Nothing is happening. I’m not letting you in. And the more you push, the tighter I’ll close the opening.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does. Because it’s scary inviting someone in. You never know what they’ll say, or do. So it’s easier to pretend that nothing is wrong, and you’re better off alone, and life will just magically get better.” He sighed a small breath through his nose. “Anyway, now you know. And maybe you’ll practice listening. And waiting for small openings.”
He turned and started walking slowly up the hill. Jeremy stood there for a couple of heartbeats, wondering what he was supposed to do, now. “What do I do now?” he called.
Charles stopped and gently laughed. He turned around and said, “Now you come through the opening.”
“I... I don’t know how!”
“You do,” Charles advised him. “Shall I try it again?”
“From over there?”
“If you’d rather. If this is less intimidating.” Charles looked like the Incredible Hulk, but there was nothing very intimidating about him. “Did you want me to shout my secrets at you from here?”
Jeremy approached him on the dark, lonely sidewalk. “Ok.”
“You’re ready?”
“I think I’m ready.”
They stood looking at each other. Charles said, “Well?”
“Well what?”
“You have to start. I can’t start. I wouldn’t just blurt out ‘secrets’ for no reason.”
“Oh. Sorry. Still new at this.” Charles nodded, and waited. “I... I don’t remember what I asked you.”
Then Charles laughed gently. “You asked me what I was thinking about.”
“Oh, right. Because I was all ‘you’re pissed at me,’ and you were all, ‘no I’m not,’ and....”
“Jeremy.”
“Sorry. Charles,” he said rather formally, “what are you thinking about?”
“Secrets,” he replied, with a hint of mystery.
Jeremy stood his ground and thought about his response. Finally, he said, “Secrets?”
Charles smiled. “Yes,” he verified.
“Whose secrets?”
“Mine,” he answered.
“Oh,” Jeremy said again. He looked into Charles’s eyes. “Did I walk through the opening?”
“You sort of nudged it with your foot, but that’s a good start.”
“Now what?”
Charles started walking toward the campus again, and Jeremy followed. “Are you sure you want to know? Because if you start going through the openings, you’ll start making friends, and meeting people, and... I’m afraid there’s just no way to avoid it... having sex.”
“What’s sex got to do with anything?”
“I’m sure you’ve met someone you’re interested in.”
“I’m interested in a lot of people.”
“You know what I mean,” Charles said.
Jeremy was thankful that the darkness concealed his blushing face. “I still don’t see what...”
“The biggest fear of all, because it’s the biggest unknown of all, is being with someone else because you like them - or love them. Because that’s putting it all out there. That’s baring your heart and soul. And you’re handing someone else the keys... or, some kind of metaphor. I was gonna say you’re handing them the shoe to stomp all over your heart, but that just sounds weird. Handing someone a shoe? I mean, honestly, who does that?”
“I think you’re veering off course just a bit.”
“Oh, right. Anyway, secrets are one thing. Friends share secrets. They entrust them to each other. Or family, sometimes. But lovers... lovers are in a category all to themselves. And I don’t mean someone you just fuck for fun. Nothing against that, believe me. Fucking for the sake of fucking.” Jeremy was silent - he had nothing to add to this line of conversation. He had no experience to share. So Charles went on. “But when you meet someone to want to be with, and to share everything with them - not just physically naked but emotionally naked, stripped bare of everything, down to the real you - what’s scarier than that?”
“I still don’t see what one thing has to do with the other.”
“It all starts with a small opening. Maybe it’s a confession. Maybe it’s a question, a seemingly innocent question that’s overloaded with baggage. ‘Do you like me?’ Or, ‘Can I kiss you?’ And then you nudge your foot in.”
Jeremy had a strong urge to nudge more than his foot in, and to say ‘Yes, I like you. Yes, you can kiss me. You can fucking well do whatever you want to with me, Charles.’ He felt hot and his heart was beating fast and his mouth went dry. My God, he thought, Charles was right. This is the biggest fear of them all. “Okay,” he said, but his voice trembled slightly.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Charles asked.
‘Fucking yes!’ Jeremy wanted to scream. He wanted to shout it out. But instead he only nodded, and Charles placed his large, warm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“You’ll be fine,” Charles told him. “Just be brave.”
Jeremy sighed as the moment passed. His whole small body was trembling, washed with a rush of emotion and adrenaline, all trying to compensate for what was happening on the cold, dark sidewalk. And then Charles took his hand away, and they were walking again. “Do you want to hear my secrets?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Jeremy confessed. “That was an awful lot of drama to take in, and I haven’t even heard anything good, yet.”
Charles huffed a laugh from his nose, raising a fog bank before his chiseled features. “True enough,” Charles admitted. “It’s unlike me to be so dramatic. Maybe you bring the drama queen out in me. You’re always so serious.” Charles’s face reflected a comic ‘serious’ mask, pursing his full lips and furrowing his brow.
They walked a few paces, and then Jeremy said, “Secrets.”
“Mmm,” Charles moaned. “Secrets.” He stretched his neck, as if preparing for battle. “Okay, so... you’ve remarked more than once that I’m odd.”
“Everyone is odd,” Jeremy replied.
“Now who’s taking words out of someone else’s mouth?”
Jeremy remembered Charles telling him the exact same thing in the library. “But it’s true,” he added.
“It’s true,” Charles agreed. Then he sighed. “Anyway... so....”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Jeremy volunteered.
“I want to,” Charles answered. “I find that I need to share this with someone, but it’s a big secret.” He looked sideways at his small companion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I’m just... concerned.”
“Concerned,” Jeremy repeated.
“Yes,” Charles verified. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t...”
“You’re gay,” Jeremy said.
“That’s a label. I’m not anything. I’m Chu... Charles.”
Jeremy stopped dead. “You’re gay?”
Charles stopped, too. “I suppose, technically, by human standards, I’m gay.”
“Human standards?” There he goes, being weird again, Jeremy thought.
Charles slowly sighed. “I’m truman,” he said, simply.
Jeremy’s face showed his confusion. “Get the fuck out of here.” Charles shrugged in response. “You’re not truman.” Charles nodded. “Trumans are huge! I mean, yeah, you’re big, but trumans are... they’re... but...”
“What do you think you know about trumans?”
“They’re, like, twelve feet tall or something, and always naked, and they’re super-strong and super-big, impossibly beautiful, physically perfect, kind of mythical if you ask me, since no one's seen one around for a couple of years....”
“Well, I don’t know about perfect,” he said, modestly.
“And two dicks and they can fucking fly and....”
“Pretty much all true,” Charles verified. “But we’re not twelve feet tall.”
“Well, I kind of thought that was...”
“More like eighteen feet.”
Jeremy’s face contorted with confusion and disbelief. “Well, I hate to be the one to point this out, Charles, but you’re not eighteen feet tall. You’re very tall. Nothing against you. But eighteen feet? If trumans were eighteen feet tall wouldn’t we kind of notice them wandering about?”
“We’re not always eighteen feet tall.”
“Well, obviously! I mean, look at you! You’re not even seven feet tall, so trumans must be able to shut themselves up like Alice in Wonderland, getting bigger and smaller with a cookie or something.”
“It’s not a cookie. I’m not sure what it is, honestly. But that’s not...”
“Charles, why... why would you do that to me? Why would you lie to me? After all that build up about openings and honesty and friendship, and then you say something that is obviously not true.”
“So you want proof.”
“I’m sorry if that offends you, but yeah. Kinda. I mean, you’re a good looking guy and all. And, y’know, that is one impressive hunk of meat in your pants. But trumans are... they’re... well, let’s just say that you’re not a truman.”
“You sure you want proof?”
“What are you gonna do, Charles? Fly?”
It was dark, and hard to see. The cold wind was blowing. The nearby trees were whispering in their branches. There was a ripping sound. A tearing sound. Material being rent by force. Charles’s silhouette was swelling outward, as if it was consuming the darkness to grow itself. The size of him, of his dark shape, was expanding outward in all directions. It was growing taller and wider in a slow, steady progression, as if he were stepping closer to Jeremy, but Jeremy knew that Charles wasn’t moving.
His scent was suddenly strong, the unmistakably sexy smell of Charles was everywhere. And his heat. A palpable heat, but also a sense of heat, of the heat of sex. Something fell from his body. The ripping noises stopped. His inflation stopped. And then he stood there, bigger than before.
Charles was suddenly two feet taller. His clothes were ripped cleanly from his body, torn at the seams and shredded into tatters that fell about his huge feet. Everything on his body amplified all at once. His muscles expanded, his shoulders widened, his chest pushed forward, his arms swelled with brawn.
And his cock - which had already been an impressive specimen - now hung like a fat salami between his powerfully muscled thighs, dangling several inches beyond the one-foot mark and fucking thick as a tree limb. “Obviously not true?” Charles asked, crossing his incredibly-muscled arms across his thickly-muscled chest.
“Fuck,” Jeremy summarized.
“Well, yes.” He just stood there in the darkness, naked and unashamed, over eight feet tall and covered in thick, heavy plates and cables of raw, perfect brawn.
Jeremy no longer felt cold. He felt very warm, both inside and out. His cock pulsed and throbbed. He felt a trickle of sweat down his spine. His mouth went dry. He was dumbfounded. This was too much. “But...”
“Sure,” Charles said, turning around to display his perfect ass. His voice was profoundly masculine. A deep, thrumming sensation like the earth moving. “I’ve been told I look better from this angle, anyway.”
“No, but...”
“No butt? No problem.” He pivoted again, displaying his perfect eight-pack abs and his perfect massive pecs and his perfect, lengthy, thick as Jeremy’s arm prick. “I can get bigger, if you need further proof.”
“You’re....”
“I am,” Charles verified. “So, shall I get bigger? Do you want me to perform some more tricks? Maybe fly around a little or something?”
“But....”
“You’ve already seen that, and though it is impressive... how about the twins? Want to see a guy with two dicks?” He glanced down his body and Jeremy followed his eyes. And there, between his powerful legs, there were now, as if by magic, two fat cocks, each the other’s twin, both fat and firm and beautiful. “Voila,” he said, rather unimpressively.
He reached down and took one into each of his large hands. They easily spilled beyond his grips, dangling forward inches longer than before. Jeremy’s jaw fell open. “I know, I’m overwhelming. I’m amazing.” He said it matter-of-factly, but not without condescension. Was he teasing Jeremy, or making fun of himself? “Should I tone it down?”
“It?” Jeremy could hardly think.
“Yes, I think I’d better.” The heat - the sense of it, the feeling of sex - mitigated. “I don’t have a good sense of how much is too much. I thought, with us being outdoors like this and in a breeze, that might lessen the effect. Sorry about that.”
“Too much,” Jeremy said softly.
“Yeah, it’s something that happens. I just give it off. Like sweating. Only it makes other guys feel... rather nice.” He shrugged. It looked like mountains shifting. “I can turn it off if that helps. I kind of don’t even notice it, anymore.”
“You can turn it off?”
“Or I can just be Charles again.” Then he was. Just like that. Only naked, and with the usual number of dicks. “Better?”
“How can you...?”
He took a step forward. He was beautiful. He was magnificent. Naked and perfect. “Not entirely human anymore. That’s how I can. Changed, and then changed some more, and then changed even more. And so on, like that, for months and months - years, even.” He was speaking softly, almost tenderly, as if explaining something complicated to a small child. “It’s a long, sordid, impossible story, and much too dull to tell again. But there are complications to be faced, and situations to avoid, and people who shouldn’t know about me.”
“Why...?” Jeremy couldn’t seem to get his brain working right, again. His body was overheated, and his cock was sucking all the blood into itself, swelling enormously in his pants.
“I’ve shocked you again. Twice in one night.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at Jeremy with his penetrating green gaze. “Are you all right?”
“You’re a truman.”
“It’s always the dicks that gets them.” He smiled and winked.
“How do you...?”
“All part of the package. It’s just a very... big package.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”
“You’re naked.”
“Am I?” He looked down at his magnificent body. “So I am.” He glanced down at his shredded clothing and bent to scoop up the torn cloth, holding it in his hands. “It’s going to be hard to get back into these.” He dropped them again. “Do you mind if I meet you back at the room? It’ll be hard to explain why I’m walking back there with you naked. I mean, what will people think?” He smiled, though, indicating his poor joke.
“How will you get back without...?”
“Like you said, Jeremy. Trumans can fly.”
He was there, and then he wasn’t. He crouched, slightly, and tilted his head up, and launched off the sidewalk in eerie silence. No whoosh of wind, no rushing sound. He was just gone, up into the night skies, naked and perfect and, apparently, flying.
Jeremy’s head was spinning. His heart was pounding. He was short of breath and dry-mouthed. There was no sign at all that Charles had ever actually been beside him. He picked up the remnants of his clothes and disappeared, upwards. The sky was grey and soft flakes were swirling, dancing on the cold winds. Somewhere up there, Charles was dancing with them.
As Jeremy ran back to the college, his mind started processing the things he knew - or he thought he knew - about trumans. By now, there was a fairly strong belief that the whole thing had been nothing but a huge trick. There was certainly something odd about their secrecy, and about their sudden disappearance. Some people thought it was just elaborate computer-generated imaging that created them, and all the photos were just Photoshopped manipulations. That certainly didn’t explain it all, but it made more sense than what was supposedly true.
He imagined the images he’d seen himself online, and fantasized about ever since. The massively muscled torsos, the incredibly handsome and hyper-masculine faces, the - there was no other word for it - monstrous cocks. They were shown striding the street dressed in almost nothing at all. They were shown inviting men to their gyms, promising them the same bodies with the same huge muscular development and incredible beauty. For months they were seemingly everywhere - and then they were nowhere. Just... gone.
Images that had been online were gone. Videos erased. Wikipedia articles disappeared. People still remembered them, of course, but there was no supporting information anywhere. They seemed to disappear as suddenly as they appeared.
Then the usual claims of conspiracy and government secrets and hallucinogens in the water and who knew what all. The government did seem to go suspiciously quiet about all of it - not that they were overly anxious to be involved in the whole thing in the first place. But who else would be going about trying to erase it all, and pretend it never happened? And where had they all gone? No one just evaporates! No one just goes invisible!
And now this guy, this Charles, claimed he was one of them. And to all appearances, it was true. He did, after all, just fly away.
He flew! He fucking... just... flew!
Barry was bathed in a wash of cream. It clung to the fur across the muscular plates of his impressive pectoral muscles in pearlescent droplets. It swam into the valleys between his egg-carton six-pack abdominals. It flowed into the dark forest of pubic curls that crowned the majesty of his fat, throbbing cock. Runnels of cream drained down from the mouth of his upright snake, coating his grip like icing. His other arm was raised as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. Sweat glittered like crystals in the moist pit of his arm and made his skin glisten. He could smell the rank, earthy tang of his ass on his fingers where he had been pushing them into his hole while he stroked another thick load from his balls. He had an urge to pull them into his mouth, to taste his own butthole, to see what that was like, but he resisted that urge while his roommate was watching him.
Because he wasn’t gay. But his roommate was.
Tim was sprawled on his own bed next to Barry, separated by a three-foot wide space. He could smell his roommate’s sexy funk distinctly. Smell his sweat and his cum and his ass. Smell his skin and his hair and his fur. Smell the scent of Barry like the smell of home cooking. God, he smelled good.
Tim wasn’t coated in cream. His body was different, and whatever splatters and puddles of cum from his massive, foot-high prick that landed on his skin, his body drank it inside like water on a parched dessert. Cum was Tim’s food of choice, the essence of his power and the most delicious item on the menu. He had pointed the nozzle of his cock at his own handsome face and jetted fat ropes of warm cream into his open mouth with practiced ease. It bathed his tongue and teeth in a salty tang of masculine power and he swallowed it all down greedily.
His legs were sprawled apart, one foot perched on the bed and the other on the floor. His heavy balls hung off the edge of the mattress, two farm-fresh eggs still swollen with seed. His body glistened with sweat, making his smooth, beautiful skin shine like pale metal. He had a smile on his full lips as he licked them clean.
Now he was enveloped in an afterglow of the power of his own essence, feeling it inside his body like a kind of milk that made him feel whole and complete. He moaned with a blissful satisfaction and heard his roommate’s throaty laugh.
“Fuck, dude,” Barry said. “That was amazing.”
Without opening his eyes, Tim nodded and said, “Agreed.”
Barry looked over. Tim’s eyes were still closed. His chest rose and fell as he slowly breathed. He was bigger than ever, bigger than any bodybuilder Barry had ever seen. Muscle was packed onto his long, powerful body. It was bulging with wedges and balls and plates of brawn, all arranged in perfect harmony across his naked frame. His dick was still hard, still a foot high, still swarmed with veins pulsing with hard, dull throbs. The head was pushed free of its usual cowl of foreskin and glistened with cum and spit.
Barry tentatively pulled his butt-juiced fingers toward his mouth and pushed his tongue toward them, smelling his ass on his touch. He licked the tip of his tongue gingerly against the stink and tasted sweetness. “Fuck,” he said softly.
“Indeed,” Tim agreed, looking at him as he pulled his fingers away from his tongue. He was smiling. “You sure you’re not gay, Barry?”
“What? What the fuck?” He sat up quickly, shocked that he had been caught.
“Because that seems pretty gay to me.”
“I wasn’t doing any....”
Tim nudged aside his huge ball sack with the heel of his hand and rubbed his middle finger against the warm, moist lips of his own asshole. He circled the pucker a couple of time and then pushed the finger inside, to the second knuckle, before withdrawing it and observing the wetness clinging to the skin. His smell was strong and funky. Then he brought the digit up to his mouth and pushed it inside, sucking noisily and sighing with contentment. “Fuck yeah, dude. Lick that shit up!”
“I did not just do that.”
Tim laughed. “I’m just fucking with you.” Then he pivoted on his bed and spread his legs wide and lifted them up with alarming ease and flexibility as his bed groaned to support his weight. He exposed his tight, rosy pink hole toward his roommate. “Dive in, bro! I haven’t had a good rimming in weeks!”
Barry threw up his hands to shield his eyes. “Put that shit away! Damn, that’s nasty!”
“You sure? It’s definitely a full meal!” He rubbed his fingers against his pucker again and stuck them to his nostrils, pulling in a deep breath of his own funk.
“Fuck you, Tim! Shut your fucking legs! No one wants to see your asshole!”
Tim was laughing as he lowered his feet to the bed and sat looking at his handsome roommate. Barry had grown again only an hour or two ago. Everything was bigger. And everything was in working order, judging from the wealth of sticky cum that coated his muscled body. “You need another shower, dude,” he advised. “But you might want to refrain from pushing that magical butt button of yours.” Tim was teasing Barry, knowing full well that there was no magic button, and it was Tim’s own growing and unwieldy powers that were slowly turning his roommate into a bulky bodybuilder. “You get any bigger, you’re not going to fit through the doorway.”
“Look who’s talking, Mr. Incredible Hulk.”
“Yeah, but I’m fully adjustable, remember?” He was already shrinking in size, reducing his impossibly muscular body to one that was on the verge of believable beauty. “You don’t have that advantage.”
“That is just too fucking weird.”
“Your face is too fucking weird.”
“That’s a stupid comeback.”
“Your face is a stupid comeback.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Barry said. But he was laughing at the same time. “Jesus dude, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You, like, just did the fucking splits and threw your feet over your head like that.”
“I’m very talented,” he replied. “You’d be surprised at what I can do if given a chance - or an opening.”
“Would I, now?” Barry’s eyebrows wiggled.
“Your face would... never mind.”
Barry licked his lips. He could still taste his ass on them. Sweet and earthy. “Does... does it always taste like that?”
Tim asked, “Does what always taste like what?”
“Ass,” he answered.
“There’s a simple way to find out, but you were all ‘no, stop, put your ass away,’ so..” He shrugged, smiling lasciviously. “Your tongue never slipped south when you were going down on Stacy?”
Barry shook his head. “Gross, dude.”
“Yeah, but now that you know....”
“She’d freak.”
“How do you know?”
“Anyone would freak.”
“Would you freak if she made the offer?”
“To what? Lick my ass?”
“Rim you. Yeah.”
“I’m... not sure.”
“Still?”
His eyebrow rose. “Meaning that since I’m not opposed to fingering my own hole, I’m automatically not opposed to someone else doing it?”
Tim shrugged. “Just seems logical.”
“It’s one thing for me to start playing around down there, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing to have someone else... you know.”
He licked his lips. “How do you know until you try?”
“No, dude.”
“No, what?”
“No way you’re gonna lick my hole.”
“Did I offer?”
“I know where this ends up.”
“Ha. ‘Ends up.’ You made a funny.”
“I’m not joking dude.”
Tim shrugged. he was still absently rubbing his own warm, moist hole with his finger, up and down, below his foot-high hard-on. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t want to find out what it feels like to have someone’s tongue bathing your butt hole in sweet, warm wetness and pushing inside, licking your rim, sending you into shivering spasms of ecstatic bliss, who am I to judge you?”
“I suppose you’re an expert.”
He glanced at Barry’s ass. “Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“I bet you have.”
“You’d win that bet.” He smiled and tilted his head. “If you expect me to be ashamed of enjoying giving someone else pleasure by rimming their butt hole - not to mention enjoying the sensation of doing it - you’re going to be disappointed.” He sat up a little, and again moved the finger from his ass to his nostrils, pulling in a long whiff of ass. “Fuck, dude, if you’re ignoring your ass, you’re giving up on half the fun. And I am a serious ass aficionado.”
Barry felt his hole tingle and throb. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack, dude.” He sat up, causing his cock to flail and bob against his perfect six-pack abs, painting a swath of sticky precum on his tanned flesh. “Offer’s on the table. Ready willing and able to do it for you. Anxious, even.”
“Fuck, dude.”
“Not quite that far,” he said, and thought, ‘at least, not yet,’ “but it might feel like it. I have a... fairly talented tongue.”
“I’m not sure we want to go there.”
“That’s fair.” He sat there, looking all kinds of perfect. “But I can go there, no problem.”
“Seriously, dude?”
“Seriously, dude.”
It was a tempting and exciting offer. Barry really was curious about it. And the idea that they could do it and no one would know about it but them was.... “Okay,” he said.
“Really?”
“Just, y’know, to see what it’s like.”
Tim smiled. “Of course.”
“How do I...?”
“As long as I get access, it’s all good. How do you want to do it?”
“What are my options?”
“Do you want to watch me do it, or do you want me to come in from behind?”
“So... like....?”
“So, like you’re either on all fours and I pry you open and dig in, or you lay back and open wide and watch me dive in.” He narrowed his eyes. “I kinda like it when the other guy watches. I like seeing the expressions on his face when I’m eating him out. Helps me know when I’m hitting the sweet spot.”
“The sweet spot?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He stood up, towering over Barry, and looked down at him. “And if my mouth kinda...explores...I assume that’ll be okay with you?”
“Explores?”
“Taint. Balls. Lick the crack. Possibly I could slip a bit north and kiss your dick. I assume you’d deal with that if it happened.” He licked his lips again, eyeing the wealth of manly equipment just waiting for his lips, tongue and teeth to explore. “Well?”
“Um, I guess...” He scooted his butt forward and lay on his back, bending his knees slightly.
“Oh, no, no, no, dude. There’s no halfway here. It’s either the whole enchilada or nothing. The Timebomb doesn’t do anything halfway.” Barry’s brow furrowed. “Open wide... and say ‘ahhhhhh yeah.’”
Chuck flew. He liked flying. It was peaceful and allowed him to think about things and be completely alone for a while - which was not something he regularly sought, being a man who liked people and liked being around and with and fucking them. Night flying was even better, because it allowed him to assume his uncompressed, unfettered, unnaturally immense and uncommonly beautiful physical self, hidden by darkness and without the need to disguise his true nature to blend in with anyone else’s preconceptions.
As his powerful legs thrust him into the night, his body expanding in every direction, growing wider by the foot and taller by the yard. His muscles seemed to bloom and unfold along his limbs, inflating to full glory, and once again two mighty cocks hung between his gargantuan thighs, the surest symbol that he was no longer merely human.
A god flew in the sky, more beautiful by far than any man had a right to be, more powerful than any man had ever dreamed of being, and hornier than any thousand men put together.
He was truman, and that meant so much more than any non-truman could conceive of. He had been truman for so long, now, that it was getting hard to remember what being human had been like. But being amongst them, and especially being with Jeremy and all his fears and curiously quaint ideas about sex and power and what it meant to be a man.
Chuck twisted in the winds and swooped and dived like a fish in his native waters. The currents and funnels and walls of thick wind that he used to maneuver his incredibly flexible and powerful body higher and higher into the sky appeared to his enhanced senses, and he swam through them and pushed against them and felt them caress his naked skin. He wished that Frazz was with him, so that they could fly-fuck as they had done so often. There was simply nothing like it, the sensation of falling and flying and fucking all at the same time, the utter freedom and intense eroticism of the act knew no equal.
The small town’s lights shrunk to pinpoints and sparkled like tiny diamonds before he was surrounded by clouds thick with snow. It clung to him and melted instantly, and his flesh tingled as if being licked by thousands of tiny tongues. The ice turned to warm water on his skin, and he was soon glistening and slick with it, making him look as if he were made of copper.
Flying gave him time to consider what he intended to do. Typically for Chuck, nothing was planned and everything was possible. Was telling Jeremy prudent? Maybe not. Should he just go into Tim’s room and reveal himself with a grand ‘ta-da!’ moment? Possibly, but where was the fun in that? Besides, you know, the usual naked fun that they would no doubt start to have.
Mmm, naked fun. The thought made Chuck’s bountiful loins tingle and throb. Naked fun was a great idea. He was certainly in need of it. Hell, maybe his self-imposed exile from his comrade trumans was half the reason that whatever Tim had done had effected him at all. He was severely horned up. Like, dangerously so. Sure, he could keep the lock on his libido, he had absolute control over every aspect of his physical form, including the drives that might otherwise overwhelm him.
But there were always emotions and desires that came into play. Brain chemistry and dopamine levels were one thing, but when his imagination started acting up (as it so often did) and he was mentally undressing some dude just walking down the street, imagining what his ass would look like outside of those jeans, and what his hole would taste like as he stroked his hard-on and licked his butt and wrapped him up in his heavily-muscled arms.... well, that was the kind of thing that was hard to ignore.
Chuck sucked in a cold draught of winter sky, cooling his libido as well as his body - even though both of them always ran hot. Being a truman was most challenging when there were no other trumans around.
And that made him think about the brotherhood, and his lovers and companions and friends. Thousands of them, all over the globe. And the burden they each had to bare.
“Bare,” he said softly. Naked. Skin. Flesh. Hair. Muscle. Cock. Suck. Lick. Fuck. “Steady on, Chuck,” he advised himself. He twisted left and under a thick column of air, catching hold of it and launching against the heavy winds, pushing himself higher.