College Finals 3

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I never imagined that two weeks time could take so long to pass. Only ten days into the time I'd given Troy to gain 15lbs of muscle and write a paper about it, and I felt like I was losing my mind. Basically, all I could do was think about him...working out, flexing, eating. I had told him that he didn't have to come to class, but now, when he didn't show up, the seat he usually sat in was like a vast empty space commandeering all my attention. Sometimes I would stop talking and stare at it, until the students started to titter, or someone would say,"Professor, are you alright?" Since we were reviewing for the final, I would just say I was thinking about how hard I was going to make the exam. That shut them up.

It was worse in the evenings, as I actually did try to come up with a final exam. I'd sit there daydreaming of Troy's growing size and strength. One night, I finally came up with a distraction, by putting in a dvd I had of Branch Warren working out. The guy was such a beast in the gym, so focused, and so thickly muscled, I could bust one out every time I watched it. His muscle density was so unreal, and I had this one fantasy where Branch was the much stronger cousin to Hercules, and whenever there was a family gathering on Mt Olympus, Hercules would secretly hope that Branch wouldn't show up, but he almost always did. And then Branch would waddle in and use his vastly superior strength to wrestle Hercules in front of all the other gods, either pinning him in under 3 seconds, or toying with him for hours, applying hold after hold, mocking Hercules with his ever-increasing muscularity and power, holding his face down in the dirt. If I waited for the part in the dvd where Branch drapes this real thick chain, like one they'd use to anchor a ship, around his bull neck, and then do dips, and then think of him tossing the chain off his monstrous traps so he could go manhandling Hercules, I could get myself to cum without actually touching myself.

On this night, I was fantasizing Troy's face on Branch's body, and in one scene, where Branch is doing sets on the pec deck, his huge pecs swell together as he brings the pads together, and his striated chest muscle basically swell forward so far that they swallow the front of the tank top he's wearing. The cloth practically disappears inside his sweaty pecs. As I pictured Troy doing the same thing, I busted in like 2 seconds, BOOM, ball game over. Shot a huge load, cleaned up, turned off the dvd player, then got back to work on the final, somewhat sated, at least for an hour or so.

By day 14, I was all jittery and sweaty, like a crackhead waiting for his fix. Then I got the textmessage.

"doc, troy here, need 1 more wk, u wont regret, will hit 310"

"How'd u get my #?" I answered.

"ur sec, shes sweet, and hot 4 me. 1 mor wk cool?"

"np" I answered. Way 2 b stern, I thought to myself, as I felt the adrenaline draining out of my body, and the hope for the English language as we know it draining out of my head.

As it turned out, the next week went pretty quickly. I had a lot of things to get done before the end of the semester. I tried to focus on those duties, rather than my obsession, which I did my best to keep in check, and which did abate as the week went on. I didn't want to build my anticipation up to such a frenzied pitch only to have Troy ask for more time.

By Friday afternoon, I finished up what I had to on campus, and went home to the house I was renting, which was actually a guest house behind an old mansion in town, set on a large, wooded piece of property. It was a beautiful afternoon, so I decided to get some yard work done, which I'd fallen behind on, and which I got a much lower rent for doing. After about an hour of spreading mulch with a wheelbarrow and a shovel, I heard a deep voice from behind me.

"Need any help with that?"

Startled, I turned around and saw Troy in the driveway. He was wearing a white button-down dress shirt and new jeans, and carrying a duffel bag that said "Powerhouse Gym" on it. He was enormous. He had grown so much, I could have thought he was his own bigger brother. "Holy shit," I stuttered.

"Yeah," he said, dropping his duffel bag, and hoisting his shoulders back to highlight his size. "I just came from a job interview, but I hit 313lbs today and had to show you," he said with a big grin.

"You gained 33lbs in less that 3 weeks??"

"Yeah, I know, it's crazy, but I'm growing like a weed. Crazy strong, too"

"What kind of job interview?" I asked.

"I went for the bouncer job at that strip club right outside of town."

"Let me guess, you got the job."

Troy chuckled, and said, "Yep. Boss man took one look at this and hired me on the spot," he said, bouncing his huge pecs. "Here, let me help you with that." He went over to the wheelbarrow, which was overfilled with mulch.

"That's ok, Troy, you're in good clothes..." but before I could stop him, he leaned over to grab the handles of the wheelbarrow. As he brought his big arms in toward the handles, his lats flared out, and his dress shirt started tearing up the back.

"Darn it," he said, "that's the second shirt I've done that to. Kind feels good though," and he flared his lats out even more, and the cotton shirt ripped up the back like a cheap paper towel. "Oh yeh," he said. "Check this out too..." and he flexed his arms upward and the sleeves tightened around his biceps. "You can see the veins right thru the shirt." And he was right, the sleeve was stretched so thin, I could see the vascularity of his arms. "And remember that biceps split, Doc?" He got down on one knee and put his right arm in front of me. "See it?"

"Yeah, I see it," I said, awestruck.

"Ceps are 26 inches now, Doc. Touch it." I put my hand on his peak. "You feel it, Doc, you feel that split?" I could feel it alright. Felt like it was a quarter of an inch deep. Troy scooted closer to me. "Bam," he whispered at me, and he flexed his arm harder, and the big peak ripped thru the top of the sleeve. "26 and growing, Doc. You ever feel an arm that big?" I shook my head no. I don't think I'd ever felt a thigh that big. "Rip the sleeve up to my delts, Doc, I wanna show you something." I tore the sleeve up toward his soccer ball-sized deltoid. "Watch this," he said, and he flexed his big shoulder muscles. "See how I got those three heads bulging out like crazy?" And the three deltoid heads did indeed rise up like mountains, forming a little indentation in the middle of his delt, like a valley surrounded by muscle, a valley I wanted to move into, and live there, like a hobbit, surrounded by Grand Tetons of power and mass.

Suddenly, Troy stood up, and ripped his shirt down the middle, sending the buttons flying. "This shirt is trashed anyway," he said. "Here, help me out of it," and he leaned over so I could pull the shirt up and over his big back and arms. "Guess I'm getting a little musclebound," he said with a grin, as he stood upright, "but you gotta see my chest." His upper torso seemed to expand and expand as he stood there. Despite his growth, I could see the striations on his huge pecs even without him flexing. "Bench 950 today with these hogs...That's triple my bodyweight. Coach had never seen anything like it," Troy said proudly. "Got a few strength marks on the top now, but I kinda like them. Makes me look mean. I think Coach is a little afraid of me now too." I saw the stretch marks he was talking about, three craggy lines of red skin under each delt, where it merged with his swollen pectorals. They were kind of mean looking. "You got anyone you want me to beat up?" he said with a smirk. I shuddered at the thought. The kid looked like he could flip over a tank. Then I had an evil vision of him busting down the door of the head of the English department, and tossing the stodgy ole dean around the room for a little bit. Troy laughed. "You're thinking about it, aren't ya, Doc? Kinda stirs you up, doesn't it?" When I didn't answer, he said, "Yeah, me too." He put his big hand on his groin and adjusted himself.

"Hey," Troy said, "What are these trees marked with orange spray paint for?"

"Oh," I said, happy to change the topic, "the owner wants those torn out, they're too close to the driveway."

"I'll do it for ya," he said. They weren't huge trees, maybe 3 feet around at the trunk, and I was going to need an ax to cut them down. Troy went over to one, squatted next to it, and wrapped his big hands around the trunk. He gripped the trunk so hard, I could hear the bark crushing. His back muscles mounded and thickened, pushing against his skin like his biceps had pushed against his sleeves. Veins pulsed out on his thick bull neck and heavy traps.

"Troy," I said, as the tree began to shake from his strength. He started pushing up with his big legs, his jeans so tight they looked like stretch pants. He grunted as he pulled and strained. Suddenly, there was a big tearing sound, as Troy's swelling glutes ripped out the seam of his pants.

"Ah, man," he groaned. "Stupid tree!" He let go of the trunk, got closer to the tree, and wrapped his huge arms around it. He started to tug and tug and tug. It looked like he was humping the tree. Then, with one giant grunting roar, he pulled the roots of the tree up and out of the ground, ripping the earth and half of the blacktop in the driveway as they came up. He shoved the tree with his chest and it toppled onto the lawn with a big thud. "There," he huffed, brushing off his hand.

"Maybe I should do the next one," I said, as I surveyed the damage to the driveway. "Why don't we go inside, and I'll see if I can fix your pants."

"You can sew?" he said to me, as he felt where his big musclebutt had shredded the seam of his jeans, looking like a young, dopey Paul Bunyon, rippling with every movement he made.

"Yes, I can sew a little. Come on."

"Cool. Hey, I could use a shower, that be OK?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, my head spinning.

"You could use one too, Doc, you're all dirty. Maybe we could scrub each other's backs." With that one, my knees almost gave out. Troy picked up his duffel bag and said, "Plus, I brought a pair of posers. I thought maybe you could help me with my routine." I had to lean against the surviving tree for a second. "Plus, I need someone to shave the back of my legs. I can't reach back there anymore." Dear lord. "Oh, and I brought the paper you asked me to write. I hope it helps bring up my grade."

"I think we'll be able to work something out," I managed to get out, as I focused on putting one foot in front of the other toward the house.

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