This is a short piece to initiate what I hope to ultimately be a long series. It's little rough and definitely/mostly a teaser, but I hope you all find the tale enjoyable. Comments appreciated!
It is my freshman year at Ralley University, and the first two months have already sped by. Easy enough classes and independence have supplied me with the free time to finally indulge in some end of summer “causal observing”, or more appropriately, ogling.
For the first time, I am surrounded by the hunky human specimens I have always secretly worshipped, and it is with relative sadness that the cold weather ushers back shirts and jeans to their sun beat bodies. Luckily, there is one last opportunity for some visual stimulation coming up. Yes, it is the week of Halloween. That means two days from now, I imagine some of my classes will be filled with scantily clad jocks, every collegiate costume picked to showcase the hot young body to full effect. Me? Well, let's just say I wouldn't have much to show off even if I did get an invite. My name is Nick Whitter, and today, my eighteenth birthday, I find myself as scrawny and weak as the day I entered high school; no, scratch that, I’m actually a bit chubbier. So, chubby and weak, and not doing much to fix it. I look at myself in the mirror and frown at my naked torso. There isn't anything particularly wrong with me; my slightly paunchy stomach could definitely lose the beginning flab and my pipe thin limbs don’t indicate that any effort has gone to them, but I’m not “ugly”. Just.. not hot. The only thing I have going for me is my slightly above-average face and full head of hair, attractive enough to make it by, but not be mistaken for an A-lister. The locker room I am in is empty, as I always make sure to use the communal bathroom before dawn to avoid showering with anyone else. The floor to ceiling mirror I’m standing in front of shows the wall of lockers to either side of me. About 20 feet behind, in the middle of the opposite wall, there is a mid sized sauna which can hold about three people; on the left is the entrance to the showers, and on the right, the door leading to the gym, which is opening… And Holy Fucking Shit, does my heart stop! Walking in, completely swole from what must have been a gruesome workout, is this school’s number one jock, and my own (as well as every other guy who has ever seen him) personally favorite thing to jerk off to, James Adams. With a strong angled face and beach blond buzz cut above a muscle-packed frame like some descendant of Hercules; if I say this guy is undoubtedly the world’s biggest, sexiest musclegod, I’m not being hyperbolic. As the door shuts and he looks in my direction, I see through the mirror his perfect face, glistening with sweat, is first at rest, before his sensuous lips turn up into a knowing smirk. His neck, thick like a marble column, twitches slightly as he begins to speak. “Well what do we have here?” His baritone voice drips sex appeal; I gulp and go wide eyed, turning from the mirror to watch this 6’4” titan confidently swagger into the row of lockers, making where I stand feel ever tighter, my eyes ever wider; my cock begin it's inevitable rise inside my towel. I mean, how could it not?, at the sight of this pumped-up bodybuilder in a chest tight string tank top, trunk like thighs rolling around each other as he approaches, nearly exploding the threadbare shorts he is wearing. Well, threadbare everywhere but the top part, where they are instead quite loose, given ample space around his tight waist; the material is, however, pulled down and away by the salami sized equipment he is sporting soft before him. The overall effect is the exposed base of his cock being displayed slightly below the bottom of the shirt, like some sort of genie’s lamp waiting to be rubbed and released. He has stopped his saunter and is now standing a couple feet before me, his massive legs straddling the bench that divides the row of lockers. “If it isn’t little ol’ Nick Whit. Standing awfully close to the mirror, let me guess: can’t see yourself if you step back? What are you even doing standing in the MEN’s room, huh? You really don’t qualify to be here, do you?” His left arm moves forward, and he grabs the towel I hold around my waist, snatching it away, revealing my chicken legs and 1” soft penis atop a tiny sack. My immediate instinct is to cover them up with both hands and blush. James snorts in derision. “You really are as tiny as you look. But you do just barely make the cut. Me on the other hand,” he gestures with his massive hand to his equally massive hose, “I’m not really ever questioned.” He proceeds to pat the exposed root, sending a shock and shiver along the length of his cock, bouncing it slightly in its tight enclosure. I drop my jaw at the sight. “Hehe”, he chuckles deeply, sending another wave of blood down my own diminished endowment. “Look at you man, you can’t believe how little you compare to me. I mean, I’m looking over your head right now in the mirror, and you know what, you’re not wrong to be in awe. Close your eyes and turn around,” he commands, and I immediately follow. I don’t know what is happening, but I have this feeling that I am experiencing something that is once in a lifetime, and I don’t want to miss out. I suddenly feel a slight pressure on my lower back, and hear above me, “open your eyes,” which again, I immediately follow. And instantly, I feel my cock leap upwards to full attention, a mere 4”, for the sight was something out of a wet dream. I was tiny, 5’10” and boyish looking, and standing 6” above me and 6” behind me was my fantasy realized. James Adams, up as fucking close and personal as possible. My entire torso filled just his midsection up to the bottom of his mostly exposed chest; his shoulders flaring widely like melons above my own shoulders, with nicely rounded traps leading up to his bull neck squarely behind my head; Jesus, it was so thick, it almost was visible in the reflection! “I’m literally head and shoulders above you, squirt. Honestly, it’s almost wrong to let you be in here, when there’s a bar to reach like me,” he brags, moving his arms up into a double-bi, his fists clenched powerfully on bowling pin thick wrists and forearms, and what easily pass as 24” guns. I feel an ever approaching orgasm without touching myself, gaping stupidly at this mesmerizing site, committing every single image to permanent memory. “Yeah, there’s definitely a bit of a size difference here. But that doesn’t have to be bad; I mean, it would be a waste to be packing what I’m packing, and not have some shrimpy dweeb suck me off when the need calls.” His words coincided with a slight increase in pressure behind me, as well as my realization at what he indicated: it couldn’t be possible.... My gaze shifts to his mirrored face right above my own, that all-knowing, uber masculine smile below eyes which meet mine. He moves his arms back to his sides as I slowly turn from the mirror, a small shuffle for every three beats of my wildly paced heart. I have to move away slightly as my shoulder presses on his shelf like pec muscle; my shoulder’s bony surface actually brushes his nipple and causes him to exhale shortly with another steady pulse through his member, and my heart skips a bit. When I am finished rotating the complete 180 degrees, I am not prepared for what I see; it is… it is… Everything. Everything I have ever wanted, there, right in front of me. A wide expanse of glistening and pumped meat not a foot from my face. The smell is just like I’d hoped; having never been this close to real muscle before, I am glad to discover that James’ scent is, while quite overpowering, also intoxicating. Like huffing gas without the after burn. I want every breathe I take from then on out to be filled with it. In my peripherals I notice the tightly pulled strings of his tank top, which is dark with sweat along and down to his midsection. All I want to do is stand here forever and never let this sight go, when a far better offer comes my way… “Let’s get this shirt off”