College Finals 2

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At 2:55 pm, I was at my desk grading a paper. I was clicking my pen nervously, as I awaited the arrival of my big musclejock student Troy. I hadn't turn a page of the paper I was looking at, I simply read the same line over and over again absently. My armpits were wet with flop sweat, as I tried to figure out what to say to Troy when he got here. He wanted a way to raise his grade, but I didn't really have any extra credit project for him to do. Extracurricular, I could come up with a variety of things, but that wasn't really the goal.

Three o'clock came and went, and no Troy. At 3:20, I began to beat up on myself for being such a pushover for a big hulk. I began grading papers again, viciously circling every dangling participle I could find with red ink, sometimes tearing the paper. As 3:30 passed, I began to finalize Troy's grade in my head...F, a big fucking F. How's that jockboy? Awww, no football for you next season? Too fucking bad. Suck it up, meathead.

At 3:40, my office door opened, and Troy stuck his head in.

"Hey, Doc," he said, "I'm so sorry for being late, you still have time?" He had a baseball cap on backwards and a bead of sweat dripped off his nose. All my anger melted away like an Icelandic glacier under a molten volcano of muscle lust. I mean, after all, he had shown up.

"Sure, no problem, come on in," I answered, feeling stupid for having gotten so upset.

Troy opened the door wide, and stepped in. Standing in the doorway like that made me realize that I had underestimated his size. He had to weigh 275lbs. His head nearly hit the top of the doorway, and his shoulders hit the sides of the opening. He was wearing sweatpants and a blue sleeveless UnderArmour muscle shirt that clung to his torso so tightly, it made him look half Na'vi. I could see his stomach muscles heaving thru the shirt. A dark sweat stain ran under his pecs and down the middle of his abs. It looked like a big Celtic "T".

"I ran all the way over here from the gym. I was thinking about how you were gonna help me out, and it got me all jacked up. I was hitting the weights like a psycho. Coach came in and said 'Save some of that for next season, son,' and that's when I realized what time it was. Sure got me pumped though, especially after the run here."

Pumped was certainly a fitting adjective. Troy's forearms looked like they were made of oak, if oak had veins. His upper arms had the veins showing too, and the skin was stretched so tight over his biceps, it looked like I could see them throbbing. Troy reached up and pulled his cap off. His hair was matted down with sweat, and he ran his other hand thru it, tousling his thick blond hair. When he did that, it made his arm muscle bunch up and mound, the belly of his biceps jutting about 3 inches over his triceps. His pits were deep and his blond pit hair was wet with sweat.

"Have a seat," I stammered out, and he plunked himself down into the chair across from my desk. I heard the chair creak under his weight. "Man, you are big," I blurted out.

Troy grinned. "Yeah, thanks."

"Do you want to get even bigger?"

"Oh, yeah, Doc, I got no limits with that. I wanna get huge. Been working real hard at it this semester too, I wanna do my first show in June, after school's out."

"Your first show?" I asked.

"Yeah, a bodybuilding show. I gotta lose some more body fat. I'm under 10% now, at 280lbs bodyweight, and my striations are already starting to pop. See?" he said, and he raised his right arm into a flex. The muscle swelled to about the size of my thigh. "See that split along the top of my biceps, Doc?" he said. "That only starts to show up when I start to lean up." He ran his finger along it, then he pushed his skin back and forth across it. His skin appeared to be about as thin as cellophane stretched tight across his huge arm. "You should feel it, Doc, 23 inches and growing, with a quarter inch deep split."
"That's OK," I said, bracing myself on my desk even though I was sitting down. "Uh, is it hot in here or is it just me?" I asked, getting up to open my office window.

"Don't ask me, Doc, I was born hot. I sweat at the drop of a hat, and once it starts, I sweat like a hog in August."

How my knees didn't buckle, I don't know, but I made it to the window. The English department was relegated to one of the oldest buildings on campus, and although I had a nice view of the quad, my window was next to impossible to budge open. I managed to get it about a quarter inch up, which was the best I'd ever done.

"Here, let me help," said Troy, standing up and coming around my desk. He put his big thick hands on the lower pane and pushed. The window opened up fully, as if the gliders were coated with Teflon. "There," he said. I was staring at his triceps, the size and hardness of a Clydesdale's horseshoe.

"My god," I said.

Troy grinned down at me again. "Yeah, I'm kinda crazy strong. Always have been, even as a kid. And I swear I get stronger every workout." Troy walked back to the other side of my desk. "You should see me pushing the blocking sled up and down the field. Even with four guys pushing back, I can go about 200 yards. Coach makes me stop because we damage the sod so bad. You should see how it bloats up my quads though. I mean, they pump up crazy easy as it is, and I've got ridiculous leg strength. Even just my run over here got them jacked......Look," he said. and he pulled down his sweats. I was unprepared for what I saw. He had on a pair of white Unico briefs, the pouch of which was straining to hold in what was obviously an over-endowed package. The baggie shorts he had worn to class during the semester had done a very good job of hiding the size of his legs. His thighs were monstrous, with ropey muscle rippling out all over them. Silky golden hair covered them, curling softly from sweat. And the veins, my god, the veins, some thick as my index finger, branching out all up and down, disappearing into impossibly thick leg muscles. I leaned up against the wall, lightheaded.

"Troy," I said.

"Yeah, crazy, right?" he said. "And so strong. I love feeling the strength in them. Watch." He stepped up to my desk, leaned his thunder thighs into it, and started muscling my desk back toward me. He pinned my legs to the wall with my desk. "See?" he said.

"Troy," I said, my head reeling.

"You feel it, Doc? Feel the strength?" He pushed a little harder. "You like that, Doc?" he asked me. He was pinning me so hard I couldn't move, and the wooden edge of the desk was causing considerable pain.

But I did like it. He had to see that, as my hardon was pup-tenting the front of my pants right onto the top edge of my desk. "Yes," I stammered

"Yeah, I like it too." That was pretty obvious also, as his tight cotton Unico pouch swelled against his goods. "I could probably crush your legs like twigs if I pushed a little harder," he said.

The feel of his extreme strength was nearly overwhelming. Part of me ached to feel him crush my legs with my own desk. To feel that kind of ridiculous, bone-crushing strength. To be crushed like a twig by him. Pre-cum was staining thru the front of my pants. Pre-cum was also darkening the front of Troy's white briefs, and I could see his big helmet-shaped cockhead swelling and muscling around in the cotton.

Suddenly, he let up on the desk, and then grabbed it with his hands and pulled it back, unpinning me. I put my hands on the desktop to support myself.

"Whoa," I sighed.

"Yeah, right?" Troy said. "You're pretty cool, Doc. The other professors aren't like you. It's like they're angry at having to waste their time teaching a big dumb jock like me. Mostly they just look right thru me."

"I know the feeling," I said, as I rubbed feeling back into my thighs.


"I know the feeling of being looked right thru. Big dumb jocks have been doing that to me my whole life."

Troy laughed, but he said, "Geez, that's hard to believe. Kinda turns me on, how smart you are. Sometimes, in class, listening to you get all worked up over some poem or novel, I get a little chubbed up, even if I got no idea what you're talking about."

"Speaking of that," I said, sitting back down at my desk. "What are we going to do about your grade?"

"Gosh, Doc, I don't know," Troy said, pulling up his sweats, sitting down, and leaning onto my desk. "Can you help me out?"

It was hard for me not to stare at his huge delts, which were each about the size of my head. I could see the muscle fiber rippling in them as he leaned onto his elbows. Then I had an idea. Maybe a bad idea. Maybe even an unethical idea. But I couldn't help myself.

"Troy, I tell you what...and this has to stay just between you and me...if you can gain 10lbs of muscle in the next 2 weeks, I'll raise you up a grade."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. You don't even have to come to my class if you don't want. Use that time to train. But here's the catch: you have to write a paper on what it's like. I want to read about your training, the weights you use, the pain you experience, the time you put in, what it's like to flex in the mirror as you grow, how it feels after you've eaten prodigious amounts of food, how it feels when you are pumped beyond anything that a normal mortal can even imagine...all of it. You up for that?"

Troy got a big grin on his face and sat back. "Let's make it 15lbs," he said.

"You can do that?" I asked, feeling my hardon rise again.

"Watch me," he said, with a cocky, jocky, competitive edge to his tone, flexing his big slab pecs at me. "I weigh 280 now, so I'll be 295 next time you see me. You got me stoked for it, and I am gonna rock your world, Doc."

"You do that, I'll raise you up 2 grades." Then I stood up and put my hand out. "Deal?"

"Deal," said Troy, standing up and shaking my hand, his infectious grin now emboldened with a goal.
"I'll see you in two weeks then," I said.

After Troy left my office, I stood up and went to my open window. Soon, I saw him as he crossed the quad. About halfway across, he stopped and turned back. He looked up and grinned, then gave me a big salute before turning to walk on. I felt myself breaking another rule I had made when I became a teacher. Something I had promised myself never to do. I was falling in love with a student.

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