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The Bull's Bucket The sun was rising over Mathew Acres farm as John, a shy and slim 20 year old horse, walked up to the barn for his first day of work. John had been hired to go into the farm every morning at sunrise and milk a bull named “Fulbon.” John had no idea how you could even milk a bull, but he was told the instructions were in the barn. All he knows for a fact is that he was told to wear clothes that can get messy, because it was a messy job. He knew he would be working in a barn, so he expected the standard barn mess, but he wondered why the messy part was pointed out. He assumed the farmer was just being cautious and continued walking to the barn. The barn was an average looking barn, basically what you imagine when you hear the word, but the smell was a bit different. It didn't smell like a barn… it smelled like a gym locker room. He smelled the same musky manly smell he used to smell in the high school locker room. Every time the wind blew, his nose felt like it was dug deep in football uniforms. The smell of musk got stronger as John opened the barn doors. On the left was a door labeled “closet” with a row of large stables next to it. He noticed one stable had leather hanging from it, the leather looked like the arm assist used in a gym to hold your arms as you did pull ups. On the right was another set of stalls the same size as the ones on the left. Only the right stalls had no leather hanging down. It was only the one stall on the left that had the arm rests. John walked in and looked for the stall labeled “Fulbon.” The stall he was looking for was the stall with the arm rest hanging down. The leather arm rests hung about ¼ of the way from the roof of the barn to the floor. He wondered why they were there as he walked up to the stall. The bull was sleeping in the right corner under a large black comforter type blanket found on the top of beds in hotels. The blanket was bulky and covered the bull’s body well. As John approached the door of the stall, he noticed a defining curve in the center of the bull’s body curving up out of the blanket. John assumed this was a casual pillow or awkward fold in the blanket. John looked around the barn and couldn’t find any clue as to what to do. He leaned over the stall door and looked for some sign of instructions. As he leaned in, the door moved an inch forward quickly and loudly. The bull under the blanket woke up to the banging door. John stepped back, worried about what the bull would say. “Are you the new milker,” the bull asked in an intimidating voice filled with frustration. John quietly nooded. “Thank GOD!” the bull smiled and said “the last one was terrible!” “I’m sorry about that,” John said, being polite. “He would always jerk me around like I did something to him... he just wanted to finish and go. Jokes on him though I never gave him all I could anyway.” John stared at Fulbon. “You,” he asked him. Fulbon raised his eyebrow to John and asked him “what did you think you were doing here?” “I thought I would be looking for a bull named Filbon who was going to help me with the milking, maybe he would relax the cows I was milking, I’m not sure.” Fulbon moved the blanket off of himself and stood up. “You’re milking me,” Fulbon said. John looked down at the bull’s male parts that created the bulge he thought was a wrinkle in the blanket. The testicals hung down just above his knees like ripe fruit from a tree, the shaft of the bull looked like a tree limb curving out of his body and down with a head just above where the balls hung. “What?” John knew what the bull said, but internally he wanted the bull to say he was kidding. “Every day I need my seed to be drained so that the seed I make stays as fresh as possible. I need someone to make sure everything is flowing smoothly and to make sure they get everything they can.” John stood there and felt a small blush of excitement. The bull’s male parts looked extremely smooth and soothing, and he could already imagine the wet girth in his hands. “You want me to make you cum,” John asked just to be sure the bull was being serious. “Until I tell you I’m dry, yes. Your job is to fill up the bucket until I tell you I’m all dried up.” John looked around for the bucket but didn’t see anything. “Check the closet,” Fulbon said as he stretched his body trying to wake himself up. John walked over to the closet door and opened it to see a normal looking closet of barn equipment. He looked around the closet until he saw the only bucket in the back corner, which looked like the white paint was peeling off. He grabbed it and walked back to Fulbon’s stall. “Is this it,” he asked. “The one soaked in dry seamen, yes” he told John. “This is all you,” John asked, fascinated that the bull in front of him could make that much liquid. “I’m impressed,” John said, opening the stall door. “It's what bulls do” Fulbon told him, shaking his balls around with his left hand. John set the bucket down in front of Fulbon and asked; ‘What now?” Fulbon put his elbows in the arm rest and flexed his cock to signal that it was time for the milking. John stared at Fulbon’s body, looking over his tone legs and stomach like an art exhibit. John got down on both knees to the side of the bull cock and grabbed it on the end. John started running his hands from the bottom of his cock to about half way, applying just enough pressure to make a soft sloping noise. “Not bad,” Fulbon told him. John smiled as he continued his rubbing motions. He stood there on his knees watching this beautiful cock spring to life in his hands. He could feel the blood dripping in through the thick tendons of Fulbon. For several moments John caressed the warm log in his hands, paying close attention to remain calm both internally and externally. Fulbon didn’t want to admit it this early, but he was honestly enjoying John’s hands. He felt his meat cramp up as John rubbed the bottom half of his cock with such gentleness that Fulbon felt like he was getting a special treatment. Fulbon wanted to mean, he wanted to let go of the pleasure building up in his voice. He also didn’t want John to hear the groans and get arrogant and change what he was doing. Before John came along, he was used to his cock being thrown around like a frisbee in the hands of his previous milker. The only reason he ever climaxed before was to give the milker something to work with. He gave the previous milker as little as possible to encourage the milker to quit. That tactic finally worked when John showed up. Now that John’s soothing hands were caring for his cock, Fulbon thought he would have a true climax today. He was willing to give John everything he could brew if John kept milking him like this. “How’s this,” John asked him without ever losing concentration. When Fulbon opened his mouth to talk, the moan he was holding back belted out all at once. John didn’t jump at all. John simply paused his caresing for a moment and looked up to ask “to much?” “Actually that’s perfect, I don’t remember the last time my shaft was loved by hands this gentle.” John looked back down at the meat in front of his face and said; “I just want you to spill as much seed as possible, and I want you to enjoy it too. Plus, I’m extracting your seed the same way I extract my own seed.” Fulbon laughed and asked “and how do you do that?” “I don’t force the seamen out… I rub myself calmly as I think about another man being in bed with me and the cum just naturally flows out.” Fulbon grinned and said; “Smart. I can see you have a lot of experience with tending to meat.” John tightened his grip but kept the same speed and said “I guess so. I’ve seen a million ways to tend to meat and i've tried them all… by myself at least. I’ve never laid down with anyone.” John felt a brief moment of jealousy and loneliness as he rubbed the bull’s meat. The first time he touched another man’s cock was for a job. He thought about what this meat in his hands would look like spread out on his bed. Fulbon could see the sinking spirits of John and felt bad for him. John was a decent guy who was hard working and knew how to operate another man’s machine. “I’ll tell you what,” Fulbon said. John slowed his rubbing down and looked up at Fulbon. “You’re a cool guy and you’ve never been with anyone else. I’ve been with countless lovers before, and all of them were too violent to enjoy or wouldn’t stop talking, usually both were true. Even outside this milking stand my lovers have been a pain to deal with. You’re the first one I’ve enjoyed… or even respected for that matter. If you tell the farmer you need to come back tonight to try milking me again, because you couldn’t get much out of me today, he’ll let you come back anytime after dark. Just warn him you’re coming so you don’t spook him and you can walk right up here. I’ll be waiting.” John blushed and asked “what about the milk from right now? Won’t he know you’ve already given me your milk today?” “Good point,” Fulbon answered. He then suggested “only fill it up a fraction of the way. Hand him the bucket of what I gave you and tell him this was everything, then say you want to try again at sunset.” “Good idea,” John said as he picked up his movements where he left off. He continued the same movements for a few more strokes then said “let’s try something else.” john took his hands off of the shaft stood up to stretch his legs and arms. As he did that, Fulbon stared at the horse who supprised him with how good he was at his new job. As Fulbon looked at John, he noticed a curve crawling down his left leg. Fulbon felt bad for John because he thought John was hard as a rock and secretly needed release. Fulbon didn’t know how to bring it up, but he didn;t want to be the only one enjoying himself. “Enjoying this,” he asked John. John continued stretching and said “Absolutely! I can’t believe you haven’t cum yet.” “I’m getting there. I takes bigger loads longer to come out.” John nodded in agreement and blushed again. Fulbon then looked back down at the curve in John’s pants and said “speaking of loads coming out, you can loosen up that grip on your pants. I actually find it hotter when the milker’s cock is out too. Plus it feels less awkward.” “You’re sure?” as much as John was enjoying it, he only saw this as a job, and was worried about looking unprofessional. “Don’t worry,” Fulbon assured him, “the farmer never comes up here during the milking, and no one else ever comes either. Until the farmer sees you with that bucket, he stays far away, he doesn't want to risk seeing the process. John trusted Fulbon’s words and took off his shirt. He threw the shirt to the back corner of the barn and took off his shoes and socks, throwing them in the same pile. “I’ve heard a lot about horses,” Fulbon said watching John unzip his pants. As the zipper slid down, John’s long bump in his pants grew a little longer, then popped out of the pant leg and straight out infront of him. “I want to see if it’s true!” “I’ll let you decide.” John put his pants in the same pile and turned back to Fulbon who was still as hard as he’s been all day. John slid the underwear down, kneeling as he did so. When the underwear was at his feet, John stood up and put his hands on either side of his hips. Fulbon knew John was no athlete, which was made obvious by his thin body, but Fulbon was still shocked to see that John's cock was only a few inches shorter with about the same girth. “It’s not true,” Fulbon sarcastically said. Before John could say anything back, Fulbon said “you’re even bigger than I expected. I’m really going to need a taste later.” “Don’t have to tell me twice,” John admitted. He got back down on his knees, but this time he was directly in front of the bull’s shaft. The tube in the center of the bull cock was staring him right in the face like a one eyed snake. John reached his arms out and grabbed one of Fulbon’s testicals in each hand. He played with the thick and round fruit of the bull and shoved his face into the round head. He stuck his tongue out inside of the cock and licked his innerer tube. Fulbon couldn’t help himself any more. This wasn’t just the first time this move was being done on him, but he was doing it so well too. Fulbon groaned and told John “I’m really close.” John didn’t say anything, mostly because his mouth was suffocated against a bull’s meat. John heard Fulbon, and started squeezing the seedful fruit harder. He tossed them around in his grip as if he were trying to shake something out of them. Thanks to his strong grip, John could feel the cramping in his testicles. The sensation of feeling a bull’s seamen about to erupt made him drip cum a little himself. His hands were nowhere near his own seed sack, yet his sperm were starting to swim out anyway. John, lost in the moment, pulled his mouth out of the cock tube and started licking the head like candy. John was still licking the head and teasing the balls when the first squirt hit him in the face. The small load of cum splattered on his right cheek. When John felt this, he moved to the side of Fulbon where he first started and continued using both hands to shake the bull’s fruit. This method produced a few squirts of pre into the bucket, but he knew this wasn’t all his balls were holding. John then experimented with a new strategy and treated Fulbon’s testicals like an udder and squeezed them up and down. One white river lasting two seconds gracefully fell into the bucket. John watched the stream as he squeezed Fulbon’s balls, hypnotized by the shiny and white flow coming out of the other end. John slowed his squeezing and paid close attention to the folds of skin and veins in his hands. This method released a few more rivers of seamen into the bucket. “Keep going!” Fulbon clenched his teeth and opened his legs, trying to get the biggest possible load he could make. “I can still feel more down there!” John kept his hands squeezing the bull’s testicals and moved his head up against the lower curve of the sack. He started licking the curves between the testicals and pressed his tongue in the valley between the two balls. Fulbon and his seamen both felt John’s tongue exploring the underside of his balls. The intense pleasure was enough to send his climax over the edge. Fulbon sprayed a highly pressured stream with more force than his other two cum rivers combined. The white waterfall made a straight line with no slack directly into the bucket. He stood there and sprayed like a can of violent silly string. This agressive ejeculation lasted for a little over a minute. The entire minute, John was underneath Fulbon stimulating the seed as much as he could. The cum river faded into a few drops as the remaining sperm dripped out of his cock. Finally, he couldn’t feel any more milk in his sack. Fulbon looked down to see the bucket of his milk only centimeters away from the top. “I’m done,” Fulbon told John. John got out from under Fulbon’s testicals and looked at the nearly full bucket. The site of the collection of cum made John dump a few loads of cum himself. The site of another man’s seed made his seed want a taste.
The angry and menacing look on Big Boss’ face is enough to show his displeasure at a worker’s fuck up at the job. Big Boss called him for a stern warning “one more fuck up and you’re out!” And that’s just what happened The employee fucked up again and so the big boss crushed the life outta him right on the loading dock for all other workers to see. Trapping him up against the wall the angry boss held him in place with no escape as the worker pleaded for another chance. “Too late you been warned” was the response. And with a sudden and rapid inhale Boss’ belly expanded enormously pushing all the air out of the worker till he was crushed and dead. OSHA got word of yet another work place accident so this time they sent in an observer to snoop around for a week. Big boss resented having such an intrusion on his facility. He was furious, his big chest and belly heaving with rage. His longtime shop foreman tried to calm the big boss fearing that the plant would be shut down for good if anything happened. “Big boss please don’t hurt this guy we all need our jobs” rubbing and kissing his belly trying to appease the mammoth man. With one arm big boss shoved him aside slamming him into the wall. “if that pencil neck bureaucrat shows his face around here today snooping around my plant it will not go well for him”. Sure enough the gvt inspector came once again asking questions of the workers and observing operations. But once big boss got word of him on site he exploded. His business shirt could no longer contain his bulk as he was heaving and tensing so heavily. The sound of ripped fabric and popped buttons could be heard as he stormed out his office to find the bureaucrat. And there he was inside the loading dock. Big boss angrily grabbed the nearest thing to him, a forklift with driver seated inside and with little effort he lifted it clear over head and hurled across the warehouse smashing a work table and crushing two workers. “What are you crazy!!” Screamed the inspector. “I warned you you little punk I own this factory and no one intrudes upon my way of doing business not even OSHA” And with surprising speed big boss was upon the poor man and had him within his clenches. Effortlessly he held the man in a one arm bearhug. Raising his fist with the other arm and flexing his massive bicep. Big boss put on an incredible show of power his employees stood awe struck and fearful. Big boss heaved his massive belly once more thereby crushing the inspector’s ribs and with a final bearhug squeeze the man was limp and lifeless. Big boss let the inspector’s dead body lie on the shop floor for several hours to bring home the message of his abilities to anyone who dare defy him. Afterwards he called a meeting of his employees and instructed them to secretly dispose of the bodies, the inspector as well as the two employees crushed under the forklift. He instructed them when questioned by authorities to say that the inspector never showed up that day to conduct his investigation. Likewise the two employees never reported for work. Big boss inhaled deeply and his belly once again expanded to ridiculous proportions. “Do I make myself clear!” he boomed. The employees were shaken with fear knowing what pain and mortal peril their boss could inflict upon anyone of them who failed to tow the line. “Yes Sir” they all exclaimed. And with that he ordered them all back to work. The employees had trouble retrieving the dead corpses under the forklift as it became wedged so forcefully into the concrete floor. Despite all the male workers attempts they could not budge it. The foreman informed big boss who later arrived and rolled up his sleeves. His forearms were like muscular ham hocks writhing with sinew under a thick coat of hair. Again he heaved deeply and grabbed the strongest ends of the forklift and with a mighty heave hoe he broke the machinery free where he set it aside to be dismantled later. Lifting heavy machinery like this and crushing people always made big boss horny and he began to eye his foreman who knew exactly what his boss wanted. The two headed back to Boss’ office alone for a closed door “meeting”.
Remmy stared into the night sky, wondering what the giant ball of colors looming over the mountain was. He reached out to hold it in his palm, strangely craving to taste the hues that mingled and danced within the lustrous orb. At first it’d been very small and glimmered only softly, but in time it became a giant amalgam of vibrant tones in both green and blue. It glistened, beckoning him to seek it. His fingers could not reach far enough across the horizon and he quickly gave up. Before he could sigh in despair, the star burst, crashing into the ground and spreading out in a dangerous wave of fire. Remmy stepped backward in panic, unable to find shelter quickly enough to avoid the crushing flames. He gasped awake. Remmy’s skin dripped again as he slowly got up from his dorm room cot and sat in front of his computer. His roommate was a ghost- they’d only spoken a few times (those of which were short and sweet) and he barely ever stayed to sleep. Some said Remmy’s roommate was a lecherous frat boy but Remmy didn’t give him much credit in that respect. He simply enjoyed the solitude available. His hand clicked a few tabs open as he began searching for pornography. Remmy searched his favorite keywords recently: ‘muscle pec play’. He quickly began sifting through videos he’d already found. Good ones were hard to come by and Remmy wasn’t particularly proud of his fetish. He began jacking off as a young, hot, white college boy began tugging on his nipples and verbally directing his arousal to the camera. Remmy held onto his cock and went to town, imagining being such a sexy muscle boy on cam somewhere. Something about that aesthetic excited him… The visibility in a physique defining virility, power, and health turned him on. Remmy was nowhere near describable as such but he wished often for a defined abdomen and arms that would widen his silhouette. His cock wasn’t that bad (a lengthy seven inches) and yet he always found himself alone in bed. The hot boys in class worked out, and he simply didn’t. He desired the sculpting of a trained man’s body and he craved certain aspects much more than others. He found himself drifting off porn after he’d cleaned off his stomach of cum. He meandered around the internet looking at pictures of sensually posed fitness models and stopped whenever he found a good set of pectorals on his screen. Remmy was a sucker for pecs (figuratively, guys never spoke to him) above all other muscles on a man and he sometimes stumbled upon photo-manipulations (dubbed ‘morphs’ by fans of such media) of muscular men with inflated chests. These made Remmy shamefully aroused. He knew it wasn’t very natural and tip-toed around the delicate intricacies of sex and gender. Regardless he found himself often sifting the web for the biggest pecs around. If Remmy were to have a beautiful physique, he’d want his chest to be extra beefy to show off. The college boy began preparing himself to climb back in bed when a blip on his computer’s chat application resounded. Sparrow had messaged him. They had known each other through a multiplayer-online game that had long been shut down years ago; they kept in touch and often shared tidbits of their very gay interests with themselves. Sparrow was into some pretty strange shit but knew where to find the best morphs as soon as they were posted. Sparrow also never judged Remmy. Remmy opened the chat wondering how anyone except him could be up at such an hour. Remmy’s own screen name, Crabby, flickered on as an ad for ice cream attacked him. He squinted at the bright colors and shut it down, reading his new correspondence. SPARROW: dude, you know how you study at Walcott, right? CRABBY: I mean, yeah, I’ve been going to class for a few weeks now. SPARROW: Fuck SPARROW: That’s where people have sighted the Cavalier SPARROW: That’s fucking hot, bro Remmy stared at the screen for a bit, yawning. CRABBY: What’s the Cavalier? Sparrow responded by forwarding Remmy an image of what looked like a sketch for a comic book. The sketch was from a ‘strange urban stories’ forum and apparently, the character depicted was some sort of vigilante with superpowers. Remmy didn’t recognize the character (he knew the common canon but didn’t read comics often) but felt interested by the very specific anatomy and costume of this ‘Cavalier’. He bore horns (for some reason?), a skin-tight wrestling singlet covered in convenient holes, and a few plates of armor. Remmy wasn’t quite sure what to think of the art but liked how big-chested the artist had depicted him. CRABBY: Is this a new comic? Is it gay? Sparrow then sent Remmy a link to the original post where the author claimed being saved somewhere in the city. Not much checked out; the original poster didn’t give out information of their identity. The original poster claimed that not only a gang of thugs had physically assaulted them- monsters did too. The scantily clad hunk in a mask appeared just in time to save them, however. CRABBY: Well that’s weird. SPARROW: Dude read some of the details! A dangerous gang had lived in the city for years, known as the bulldogs. The original poster claimed being inebriated, stumbling home when he walked into a pack. They attempted to harm the original poster, when one of them completely wigged out. This bulldog looked sickly and went so far as wanting to murder the poster. The way the original poster described it, this bulldog looked ‘beyond’ sickly. The vigilante in copper garb appeared and kicked their asses, only to have the sickly one vomit up a Lovecraftian nightmare. Remmy yawned again, reading up on this ‘cavalier’s’ wit and charm. It seems that the original poster shivered in the cold, only to be given a memento by the cavalier to keep him warm: a scarf embroidered in Remmy’s class year and school logo! The cavalier had mentioned having two and disappeared into the night, letting the original poster find his way home safely. Walcott University always gave each incoming freshman a scarf designed by someone within the previous graduating class- it was tradition. Remmy owned one of the same scarves photographed in the forum, hanging on the dorm room’s closet hook. He glanced back to the screen as Sparrow impatiently inquired of his opinion. SPARROW: Did you see?! CRABBY: So, what, there’s a superhero in my freshman class? How does he have two scarves? CRABBY: Wait, no, this is dumb, I’m not humoring your gay superhero fantasies. You know I’m not into that. SPARROW: Damn, I was hoping you were the superhero but that would be too easy lmao CRABBY: We both know I don’t have that kind of body. SPARROW: Yeah, but you could! I think you’re pretty hot! CRABBY: Shut up. I’m not discussing this. It’s just some weird tale someone came up with. SPARROW: bro wait look what I found though CRABBY: It’s 3:36 am, Keith. Like an idiot, Remmy waited for a response to argue with. After the third minute of silence, Remmy grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, ready to turn off the computer. A newspaper link appeared on Remmy’s screen. Remmy imagined Sparrow’s smug face as he read the headline. SPARROW: “12 GANG MEMBERS ARRESTED: CLAIMING VIGILANTE HERO AND MONSTERS TO BLAME” Clicking on the article link led to the newspaper that would be coming out later this morning. CRABBY: That’s a long headline. SPARROW: DUDE IT’S A GAY MUSCLE SUPERHERO CRABBY: I’m going to sleep. You’re an idiot. SPARROW: It’s just a theory! You should be excited, Remmy! CRABBY: And why should I be? SPARROW: The OP mentioned something REALLY important. Didn’t you see? CRABBY: He was super strong or whatever. SPARROW: Remmy no, he wasn’t just super strong! He could Sparrow owned a smut blog somewhere in the recesses of the muscle-fetish web. He was a mediocre artist, at best. A sketch of what the Cavalier might look like appeared on Remmy’s screen, depicting the hero in many different outfits and silhouettes based on the description in the strange-story article. Sparrow left Remmy one more message, explaining that these weren’t necessarily different interpretations… SPARROW: Fighting those monster things made him grow bigger, especially his pecs. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Four picturesque desserts sat on the old wooden table. Two of them were simple cups of ‘spicy’ nougat-stuffed ice cream- decorated neatly inside a small container like a fancy street-snack, seeming more like a pretty trinket than food. The third item was a frozen mousse made of pistachios and mint, drizzled in Italian liqueur-based chocolate syrup. The fourth was a new confection the college cafe had recently developed for the fitness crowd on campus; a protein stuffed brownie partially melted and topped with fat-free whip. The locale was rather expensive but it seemed that the people (mostly students) around Whitcomb University had an incessant sweet tooth ready to pay a premium on luxury snacks. Remmy slowly pressed his spoon into the parfait, his group sitting with him at their weekly class ‘meeting’. The four freshmen had been performing this ritual for a few weeks now and although they worked hard on whatever project their honor’s program gave, they’d recently accustomed to meandering around for entertainment rather than marketing research. Remmy found himself interacting with these people often now, albeit still as awkwardly as he was with strangers. The group made him a bit less nervous, sometimes. Emilio was a sharp-tongued city boy in dark hair sitting to Remmy’s left. He was very blunt and hanged with Lynn for the most part. She (Lynn) was a distant acquaintance of Remmy’s from his hometown; although they’d not known each other very well before they had a similar demeanor that harmonized well at orientation. ‘Reconnecting’ helped them survive the first few weeks of college. She sat to Remmy’s right. The outlier of the group was Chet, a young bodybuilding SmileTube star that so happened to end up in their group by assignment only. You either loved or hated him, especially when you noticed how easy life always seemed for him. He paid bills with the funds of his many online fitness, fashion, and celebrity videos AND got a stipend from his wealthy parents for any sideline expenses. The blond bombshell never apologized for his vanity and seemingly enjoyed the attention a set of massive pectorals brought him whenever wearing risque clothing. Emilio had grown up with Chet and watched him develop from a privileged pretty boy in middle school to a privileged beefcake in college. As annoying as these details were, Chet never hurt anyone and actively hung out with the group. As time went on the young men of the group gritted teeth knowing they might have made some bad assumptions (or Chet was simply that charming in person). “It’s settled, then. We’ll develop a new product for a fast-casual dining food chain,” Lynn said, typing up notes and tasting a spoonful of nougat ice cream. She smiled softly as she savored the garnish almonds of the dessert. Her laptop made a kitten-noise as it sent a weekly report to the professor. “Well, we could probably pick the restaurant now, then,” Chet said, tilting his head as he tried finding the best angle for his brownie’s photo. He’d gotten multi-colored almonds to make the dessert look more vibrant. This photo alone, along with Chet’s many followers, would change the menu. The owner would bump up the price gleefully and run with the publicity. Remmy hadn’t caught himself observing Chet, again. The tiny neon-blue tank barely fit the muscle-boy’s thick chest as it jutted outward for what seemed like miles. You could almost hear Remmy’s breath shorten whenever one of the meaty pecs flexed naturally during the mini-photoshoot. “We could do someone without a breakfast menu? Make an introductory menu, instead of just an item.” Emilio commented before scowling at Lynn for following Chet’s behavior. She certainly had a smaller following on social media but she loved taking pictures of cute things- herself included! He attempted to backstroke towards Remmy, a sea of phones clicking as per usual in the cafe. Remmy was too busy fumbling a spoon as Chet jumped over to Lynn to flex his massive biceps in her phone’s sight. Lynn was beautiful enough that the two practically belonged in a fashion catalog. Moving away from Remmy’s drool, Emilio drowned with an audible sigh of disbelief. “You guys are absolutely the worst.” He clamored. Whitcomb was a Midwestern college town, tugged at the sides so it’d stretch itself over a flat landscape for miles. Points of interest were always a bit far away but it seemed that tax cuts were helping it develop as a strong city these last few decades. Still, it was underdeveloped in many locations and the four scholars had to hike over great breaks in the sidewalk as they headed to their next goals for the day. Still, Remmy did not complain as Lynn asked him about the snack he’d gotten. He explained his affinity for mint, and how he’d heard about sorbet before but lacked the experience of tasting it. The other two college boys had been arguing about the quality of campus-created television without paying Remmy attention. Lynn listened with interest. Remmy didn’t often talk unless Lynn pulled him into the conversation. “What about Whitcomb Strange Tales? The T-Com students on that show have some creepy stories to tell! Although, they used a sketch for their most recent post,” Chet joked as Emilio complained about the lack of horror fiction on campus. Chet pulled up an image of an exotic dancer punching robbers in the face. Remmy swallowed his heart in surprise, recognizing the distinct features he’d heard about. Chet smiled wide, “I think this story will be a big one even if it’s not scary. They’re calling it ‘Power Paladin: Whitcomb’s own super hero?” “Chet, that’s a terrible show! I’m disgusted!” Emilio yelled. Chet flipped through social-media forecasting software and continue to bombard Emilio with mediocre entertainment. Emilio glowered and whispered, “You’ve got to share that pic with Remmy and me, though…” “I like the costume! I think they changed it a bit for the blog, though. He looks more like an armored wrestler now, when I hear he was more like a sexy knight or something.” Chet chuckled as the group walked through frat row. Remmy shivered with anxiety as Lynn giggled. They got a little quieter as they passed Theta Heorot Theta. “Everyone’s a little spooked by that mansion more than anything Strange Tales has…” Lynn said, her golden bangs blowing in the summer wind. It felt chillier here. “You think they’ll cut that huge dead tree sometime soon? I think it doesn’t help their image.” Emilio commented, Chet pulling out a shaker bottle to head to the gym soon. Remmy looked back the at the incredibly thick curtains of the fraternity house. “They’re too busy rushing, still. They used to have guys begging to get in.” Lynn responded, turning to Remmy. “Your older brother was in that fraternity, right?” “W-Well. Yeah. Usually you must be a certain type of guy to get in. He… fit the look.” Remmy responded, quietly. “Ah, but you need an affluent lineage too, most of the time.” Emilio rasped, looking at Chet and nudging his arm as he drank something sweet. “Oh, do you think you’ll be joining a fraternity, Chet? You seem like the type.” Emilio added. “THT invited me over for a few events along with the other fraternities, but I just don’t want them using my name much or pretending like they are progressive for inviting in a gay guy.” Chet responded, finishing his preworkout. “What was it THT was caught for most recently?” “I heard it was a drug bust… but that was the most reasonable of the rumors…” Remmy managed to say, almost in question as he stopped at the bus station. He needed to get supplies for his art class and it was already late for the store to be on the other side of town. “Do you need a ride, Remus? My car’s close by, I left it at a friend’s and I’m heading to the gym.” Chet asked, knowing the other two were simply heading back to campus. Remmy was very quiet with him. “N-no. I’m fine. Thank you.” He managed to say. Remmy fumbled a few phrases in his mind but it only came out as an awkward pair of thumbs pointing upward, clumsily gestured to Chet. Chet simply laughed and returned a thumbs-up. Lynn observed and Emilio simply moved forward. “Text me when you want, Remmy. If it gets too late you shouldn’t be out alone, I can come get you.” Lynn added as the group distanced from the bus stop. “Yeah, we’d hate to hear you walked into a pack of bulldogs!” Emilio yelled, speaking out of turn. Lynn nudged him but by then they were out of earshot. “Fuck off,” Remmy said to himself, wishing Emilio was there to hear it. Not genuinely -of course- but Emilio had teased him hard when a spider crawled onto the study table a few weeks back. Like a coward, Remmy had jumped out of the chair and ever since Emilio had used his cowardice as the butt of jokes all the time. Getting on the bus, Remmy wondered if masculine guys like Chet were bothered by those kind of traits (cowardice). His steps felt slow as he found his seat, not noticing the multicolored glimmer at the end of the bus. His eyes came up for a second to see everything was fine and so he stared out to the streets of the small city. The feed on his phone moved quickly. With nobody around, Remmy started flipping through blogs to see muscular men flexing, posing, and fondling themselves sensually on the screen. Each man exuded sensuality and power no matter what features and silhouette they had. They all seemed to have one thing in common: a monstrous cock and a monstrous body. Remmy lost his breath, suddenly, when he saw a picture of a buck-naked Chet on his phone. Remmy’s own cock jumped up, pushing through his pants as he stared, bewildered. Chet looked positively monstrous here- unreal! Sure, he was huge in real life, but here… holy shit. His back looked wider than a regular house’s door and his lats spanned so far, his tiny waist looked like it shouldn’t have the ability to keep him from tipping over. Chet’s abdomen looked mesmerizing, decorated in veins reaching down to his monstrous, swollen cock head. It was dripping a giant glob of precum within the capture, Chet teasing the viewer with a bite of his lip and his massive cannons popped upward in a perfect double bi. Still, thick thighs twisted into a perfect crossing pose, emphasizing their sheer length. Remmy finally calmed down as he recognized the photo-manipulation’s watermark from an artist he followed- Chet’s big, juicy pecs pumped with incredibly thick nipples as a definitive give away. In the photo, they were even pierced and ready to be toyed with unlike Chet’s real chest (Remmy had stolen glances prior). Remmy audibly huffed, saving the picture for later when in private. Remmy then flipped to the real Chet- where he’d posted a (still very sexy) picture of him flexing for shoulder day. Remmy himself matched Chet’s height but was much thinner- lankier. A dog with technicolor fur flicked his tail next to Remmy as he continued to self-loathe, turning its head to see the seen setting on the city. Remmy had completely lost track of time. For now, all he could ponder was life without debility and diffidence… The young man’s hands sifted through veils, watching men much like him battle weakness like his own. He watched their bodies change with perseverance. Some of them did it slowly; others stepped right into this new power. All of them, however, reveled as they became powerful. All of them also found themselves enveloped by swarms of demons threatening to punish them for breaking the status quo of disparity. Remus continued to walk, the veils becoming leaden as he watched many drown. He stopped to watch a glowing light pierce an amoeba of wretchedness, a thick hand blasting through to escape. A beast of a man tore his way through the swarm with his bare arms, roaring as his body swelled thicker and THICKER with vigor. It was hard to define more than a silhouette but eyes full of fire drew a halo atop the man’s thick neck, letting him banish the fiends and gasp in a prostrate victory. Remmy fell backwards the moment the beastly man caught eyes with him; he sunk through the darkness drowning in his own contempt. “You are just as powerful, Remus! I believe you can- and so do many others!” said the technicolor dog. Its tail flicked as the creature tried reaching the drowning Remus. “Just reach out and take it!” rang Remmy’s ears. His eyes opened, burning inside the ooze. A glowing orb flickered, changing composition as it bounced through possibilities. Remmy reached out, then hesitated. He felt his weakness crushing him like an enveloping serpent. It was going to kill him. His mouth opened and began swallowing the poisons enveloping him, sealing his doom. Then Remmy jolted awake, gasping with an awful taste in his mouth. “Last stop!” yelled the driver as he got out, not even looking towards the college boy at the end of the bus. The door left ajar, Remmy slowly stepped out. A clock’s hand pointed at twelve-before-midnight, smacking Remmy for being so irresponsible. An ominous chill passed the area, telling Remmy he should get home quickly. He had no time for strange dreams and wiped the sweat from his forehead. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (So, this is a new story I've been working on, and I posted part III on my blog because I know how lengthy posts can get here in the forum. If you liked what you see so far, here's the link to the next part. Ah, also, thank you very much for reading what you've read thus far!) Here's Part III