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|Gasping for breath, I dropped the last box onto the floor. Finally!
I had brought all of my meager belongings into the room I would call
home for the next nine months. Nine months of freshman year at Poly
State. I glanced one last time at the names on the door - "Brad
Thompson" - hey that's me, luckily they spelled it correctly. And the
other name, "Clay Grant". Well, whoever he is, he's not here, I
thought as I glanced around the bare room. Too tired to think
anymore, I stripped quickly and hopped into bed. It was already 1am..
and there's freshman orientation at 8am, fuck that's early. I closed
my eyes and dozed off to the sound of crickets.
Where the hell was I? I opened one eye as I fought off the heavy warmth of morning grogginess. Immediately, I noticed that I wasn't alone - someone's arm was curled around my lower chest, holding me tight to his - or her? - body. Wait..... that's not a girl behind me - I could feel a chest pressing tightly against my back. Not any chest, don't get me wrong here. I could feel two fuckin' solid mounds of pecs pressing against my back!
Not daring to wake him up, I glanced down to look at his arm and froze. Holy shit! My brain told me it was a forearm, but my eyes were simply awestruck. I had never seen such developed forearms on anyone in real life. Of course, I had seen my fair share of bodybuilders' arms on the net and in magazines, but here was the real thing. I marveled at the thickness, the bowling-pin shape the muscle took as it bulged away from his wrists. On top of that, there were popping veins that broke off in forks and rivulets along the surface of his skin. No doubt, this guy was fuckin' ripped and into some serious bodybuilding! Most strikingly, I noticed how ridiculous it looked next to my own forearm. At 5'6 and 150 pounds, I had a good, firm body, but nothing I had could compare to this guy's development.
Suddenly, my thoughts were taken away as he mumbled incoherently and curled his arm even tighter around me. I could barely breathe as it was, so I instinctively reached up to grab his wrist. Not surprisingly, my fingers couldn't find even a good three-fourths grip around his wrist - it was just solid and thick, like his forearm development demanded! Without my conscious decision, my hand moved up his forearm to feel the muscle underneath.
In response to my touch, he groaned and lifted his head up behind me. "Rrgg... oh hey... good mornin' Brad. Fuck, is it morning already?" Then his head dropped back onto the pillow as he removed his arm around my torso and stretched it overhead.
For the second time that morning, I was shocked. How'd he know my name? Now's my chance, I thought. I quickly positioned my feet and whipped my body around to face him. Next thing I knew, I was staring into deep blue eyes and saw a handsome smile set on a heavy and broad jaw. "Wha..? Who are you?"
The stud only smiled even broader. "Hey bro, I'm Clay. You were sleeping like a rock when I got in late last night, so I just crashed out here. My bed ain't ready yet.." He cocked his head towards his bare bed. "Plus... you've got a damn fine ass.. heh heh."
My mouth opened slightly at the last comment as I realized I was wearing only my boxers. I quickly scanned down his body to see what he was wearing. He had only boxers on as well, but there was such an overwhelming amount of bulging, smooth muscle everywhere, I didn't know where to look! My eyes somehow ended up focusing on his pecs, which were perfectly shaped upper butterfly wings that jutted out proudly from his torso. Obviously, this guy worked out a ton, and could probably lift a ton just as well.
"You like what you see?" His eyes had been following mine! I felt my face redden as I looked away toward the wall. His voice was deep and rough, probably because he had just woken up. "Oh... hey, I'm just playin' with ya, no worries, aight?" He sounded so sincere, I turned back to look at him. All I could notice was how handsome his face was. Perfect complexion and strongly outlined jawbones, tight lips, buzzed light brown hair... the complete jock.
Caught in an awkward moment, I got up from the bed and turned to grab a shirt lying on the floor. As I looked back at his immense form - damn was he huge! - I started to put on the shirt. Too late I realized it was a sleeveless shirt - Clay's shirt. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a shirt with no sleeves. It hung loosely over my shoulders and extended sloppily over my waist and covered half of my thighs.
With a sudden movement, the stud jumped out of bed and chuckled, not unkindly. "Seems like you found one of my shirts." In one stride he was suddenly smack in front of me. It was then I realized that my eye level was right at Clay's pecs. I drank in the sight of his ripped torso - everything I had seen in my favorite bodybuilding mags was here: shredded six-pack abs with deep shadows along the ridges, intercostials bulging and sweeping along his ribs, pecs so big and developed they hung from his ribcage over his upper abs. I could sense their weight just by looking at them! To my amazement, I heard myself whispering, "Fuck..." Where was my restraint? But there was no restraint – I could feel myself getting hard as a board under my boxers.
"You like this muscle, eh? You some kind of queer?" He cocked his head and put on a game-face: mouth in a tight, straight line, jaw muscles tense, and an almost taunting expression on his face that read, "You wanna fuckin' mess with this?" As I looked up at the menacing visage, I felt afraid - did I piss him off? He held the face for a few seconds but then dropped it without warning and smiled brightly. "Just kiddin' dude!! I get looks all the time... so don't sweat it." At that, he looked away slightly and seemed almost embarrassed.
I couldn't believe it. My roommate was built and ripped like a serious bodybuilder at age 19 or so, and here he was, standing in his boxers, looking like he could simply flex his way out of anything. Yet right at that moment, he was as sheepish as a naked twelve-year old girl.
Clay looked around and walked over to a clock on the dresser - it was 7:34 AM. "Aight, almost eight o'clock... perfect. I gotta shower and get ready for practice."
"Practice?" I was brought back to reality by the schedule I had laid out for the day. "Don't we have orientation at eight?"
Clay nodded and turned his shoulders to look at me. Damn, he was thick! His side profile was equally impressive, as I could see the breathtaking difference between the width of his pecs plus his mountainous back and his ripped, tiny midsection. His abs must be damn strong to support that massive upper body. I kept fazing in and out of reality - was he for real? The conversation kept me from thinking too long though. Clay continued as he opened a bag and rummaged around some clothes. "Yeah, football practice! I'm stoked for this year, man. I hope coach puts me in for a game or two. Real college ball this time…" His right hand closed into a fist and his eyes seemed to become more alive. "But it looks like ball practice takes precedence over orientation, eh?"
"Football…" I mumbled to myself as my brain said, "Yes, dumbass. Football. Take another look at his body!" I felt another stirring in my crotch. Then my brain said, "Precedence? This guy isn't your typical jock…"
Clay didn't give me long to think about his education. "Oh yeah, that's probably why you're so confused about me moving in so late and all. See, during the summer and preseason the team stays in a dorm together, then when school starts, we gotta move back into our assigned dorms. Well… I just got lazy and didn't get my stuff out of my old room yet!" And he shook his head while he laughed at himself. As he did so, I watched the muscles in his neck writhe and bulge – I couldn't imagine how thick his neck could be. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty inches?
"Hey bro, you mind helping me out with this?" Clay asked as he grabbed something from his bag.
As I stared at his over-pumped physique, insane desire took over me. His body was so densely packed with muscle, I just had to feel it. I had restrained myself for about five minutes, but now I couldn't stop thinking about anything except feeling his body. Not thinking about any consequences (like getting beat up, my parents finding out about my sexuality, ruining any chances of friendship with Clay), I ran over to him and grabbed his upper right arm with both of my hands.
The sensation was like feeling solid, hard rock that had been heated by the sun all afternoon. My hands nervously squeezed and groped, but my grip proved too weak to even budge his muscles – again, it was as difficult as squeezing a damned rock. With my right hand, I could feel the thick major vein that rode the top of his biceps – it protruded so far out from the skin, it felt like someone put a straw under my hand. With my left hand, I tried to fathom the size of his triceps, as their girth far exceeded the width of my grip. My hands were so far apart, I didn't even try to bring them together... meaning his arms were probably a good eighteen inches or more around. It was mind-blowing.
In that one instant, those few seconds, I felt so hot, like never before. It was as if someone had taken all of those fantasies and imaginations of bodybuilders, muscles, veins, weights, gyms, grunts, flexing, jocks, absolute male power and dominance… and merged them all into what I felt through Clay's arm.
Before I knew what was happening, the muscle underneath my hands began to harden even more and I lost my grip from both hands as Clay curled his arm toward his chest into a bicep flex. When flexed, his biceps formed a monstrous peak that commanded strength which I could only dream of obtaining. Shadowed veins weaved and wound around the swelled muscle, spreading forks up the suitably matching forearm that had been around my waist only minutes before.
I looked up at Clay's face and saw him staring down at me with an intensity I thought he'd reserve only for those football practices. Slowly, without a word, he turned those blue eyes towards his left arm as he curled it towards his chest to mirror his right arm. From my bodybuilding knowledge, I knew he was going into a most muscular pose. Then he turned his gaze back to me and gestured downwards with a slight motion of his head. He had an expressionless face, and all I could hear was his heavy breathing as he endured the flexing.
Wondering what was going to happen, I let go of his right arm and moved so I was directly in front of his chest and inside of his arms. Again, I was face-to-face with his beastly pecs. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I tried to wrap them around his back – but it was nearly impossible to get a grip anywhere. Since he was doing a most muscular, his lats were fanned out and formed a solid wall of pure muscle. As I tried to reach around his sheer width, Clay closed his massive arms around me and picked me up into a bearhug.
The muscle hug was more powerful than I had expected. With just one arm, he squeezed me tightly to his absurdly huge chest while his other hand groped and felt my ass. My body was completely surrounded by thick, pumped muscle, and the feeling was so hot I finished right there in my boxers as Clay held me in the air.
"That's my boy," Clay said softly, almost reassuringly as he leaned towards me and kissed me. His unshaved scruff on his jaw scratched my face, but it felt too good to complain. Besides, I couldn't move away if I had wanted to – I was helpless in Clay's strong hold.
Clay lowered me gently to the ground and smiled, a half-grin half-smirk smile that so befitted his lantern-like jaw and buzzed hair. It was then I noticed his boxers were tented, and I knew what I had to do.
I stepped towards the stud, but he held out a meaty hand. "Use this," he said as he placed a small plastic cylinder of what looked like clear gel in my hand. "It's time for me to grow."
Puzzled, I took the gel and put some in my hand.
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