growth Re-Posting: College Finals by BBMikeNJ

[arpeejay]

College Finals

By BBMikeNJ

My first year as assistant professor at a large Midwestern university was coming to an end. Finals were in a few weeks, and things had gone pretty well for me, despite having to teach some remedial-level English courses. I didn't mind teaching to kids who had to struggle with their studies, but the class sized tended to be so large that it was difficult to offer much personal instruction. And because of that, I was worried that some of my students weren't going to pass. One of them was a big football player named Troy.

Troy always sat in the very front row of the auditorium where I taught English 101a. He was the biggest student in the class by far, a strapping presence that was hard to ignore. I tried my hardest to look over him, to avoid his big jock good looks, his blond hair and blue eyes, his ease with his own physical superiority. Not that he seemed arrogant about it at all. Every time I did happen to make eye contact with him, he'd shoot me this big brilliantly white smile. Then he would furrow his brow, as if trying his hardest to concentrate on what I was saying. Seeing him sitting there with his legs spread apart like jocks with big legs tend to do. He tended to make me lose my train of thought, especially as the weather warmed, and he started wearing gym shorts to class. His calves were nearly the size of footballs, and were absurdly vascular. One time he shifted in his seat just as my eyes scanned by his calf. I blinked in awe as it balled up into a fist of thick sinew. I had to lean against my desk for support.

The other day after class, Troy approached me as I gathered my papers from the desk.

"Excuse me, Doc," he said to me, "can I talk to you?" It was a warm spring day, and he was wearing a tank top and football shorts, his hulkish muscularity nearly exploding out of every opening. He walked up so close to me that I could smell his scent, musky with testosterone, but also like fresh cut hay on a fine summer day, with a gentle breeze blowing in my direction. It took everything I had not to flare my nostrils out and breathe him in as deeply as possible.

Although not technically a doc yet, as I was still working on my thesis, I didn't exactly correct him. "You can call me Doug," I said, much to my annoyance, since I had promised myself not to let the students call me by my first name. At 28, I was not much older than most of them, and thought that I should maintain a certain air of distinction. So much for that.

"Ok, Doc," he said, completely ignoring my request. "Do you think there's anything I could do to raise my grade a little? I gotta pass this so I can come back for football this fall." He stood so close to me that I could feel the heat coming off of him. He was about 6" taller than my 5'11, and probably 70lbs heavier than my 180. He had gotten bigger and bigger throughout the semester, so maybe more than 70. And up this close, his hair was even blonder than I'd realized. He was asking me to help him get a better grade, yet he carried no book and had never taken any notes in class. I knew he was failing, and it was unlikely that there was anything I could legitimately do to help him pass. But I heard myself say, "Come up to my office at 3 o'clock, and we'll see what we can do."

"Ah, thanks Doc, I knew you'd come thru for me," he said, as he grabbed my hand and shook it. He put both his hands, big like mitts, around my hand, his fingers thick and calloused, shaking my arm earnestly, grinning at me with teeth that would make snow envy its whiteness. "I'll be there right at 3." Then he turned and walked away. As he walked up the steps of the auditorium, I stared at his big muscle ass, the kind that only football players seem to develop, thick, wide, and high, nearly bursting with power.

I stood leaning against my desk for a few moments after he left. I imagined him stripping off his tank top and tossing it to me, still hot with his sweat. I saw myself burying my face in his tank and breathing in deeply as he stood in front of me shirtless, his thickly muscled torso bulging from weightlifting and football practice. I saw him raise his arms and flex them, and his big grin spreading across his face as he watched me breathe in his musk.

Then I thought about 3 o'clock. I shook my head and pushed myself away from the desk. What had I gotten myself into?

More to cum…

[arpeejay]

Part 2

At 2:55 p.m., I was at my desk grading a paper. I was clicking my pen nervously, as I awaited the arrival of my big muscle-jock student Troy. I hadn't turned 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 hard-on 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.

"What?"

"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 hard-on 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.

More to cum…

[arpeejay]

Part 3

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 15 lbs. 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 Mount 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 three 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 muscles 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 two 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 text message.

"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 313 lbs. today and had to show you," he said with a big grin.

"You gained 33lbs in less than three 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 yeah," 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 muscle-butt had shredded the seam of his jeans, looking like a young, dopey Paul Bunyan, 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.

More to cum…

[arpeejay]

Part 4

I opened the front door to my place and led Troy inside. He looked around and said, "Nice place."

"Thanks," I said, and for the guesthouse of an old estate, it was pretty nice. The owner had redone the place before I moved in, and it was open and airy, with a lot of big windows looking out onto the wooded grounds. I kicked my boots off in the foyer, and when I turned around, Troy dropped his gym bag and started unbuttoning his ripped jeans.

"Whoa!" I said.

Troy looked at me. "Didn't you want to sew these up?"

"Yeah, but would you mind changing in the bathroom?" When he looked at me puzzled, I said, "You are still my student, after all."

"Oh yeah, that," he said. "Hey, how old are you anyway, Doc?"

"I'm 29. Why?"

"My birthday is in two weeks. I'll be 26." Now it was my turn to look puzzled. "I worked construction for a couple years after high school. But if you still wanna do the teacher/student thing, I'm cool with that. Where's the bathroom?"

I pointed down the hallway and watched him waddle by me, his shoulders nearly brushing the walls. He was so heavy with muscle, it was like watching Jay Cutler walking thru my house. When he got to the bathroom, he went inside, but didn't shut the door. A second later, he held his pants out the doorway. "Here ya go," he said. I went down the hall and grabbed his jeans, but he didn't let go when I pulled at them. I turned to look at him in the doorway. The only thing he was wearing was a jockstrap and a shit-eating grin. "You're still gonna scrub my back for me, aren't ya, Teach?" The only thing holding me up was the grip I had on his pants. "Oh, and you gotta shave the back of my legs for me. I can't tell if I'm getting it all off. See?" And he let go of his pants and turned around. I stumbled back against the hallway wall. Troy's shoulders went past the doorjamb on each side. His torso tapered down to his waist, as if pointing the way to the thickly mounded globes of his ass, the size of which was highlighted on each side by the narrow straps of his jock. "See the hair?" he said, and as I looked, he clenched his butt cheeks, and I could see the striations spreading out across his glutes like ropes.

"Jeezus, Troy," I said weakly.

"Is that the shower?" he asked. He walked over to the opening at the right side of the wall. The bathroom to the house was oversized to begin with, and the owner had made the tiled shower so big, that it didn't need a door or shower curtain. You could just walk in, and because the showerhead was so far in, the spray never reached the opening. Troy clicked on the light switch next to the door and stuck his head in. "Wow," he said, "big shower." Then he stepped inside, and I heard the water turn on. "Nice pressure," I heard him say. I pushed myself off the wall of the hallway, dropped his jeans, and stripped down naked and headed toward the shower. I stepped inside just as Troy, facing in my direction, leaned his head back into the water, which poured down his thick neck and big slab pecs, down his abs, and onto his jock, which he was still wearing. I began to realize that big strapping muscle looked inordinately better when it got wet. Maybe it was the way his skin glistened, and tightened up over his huge muscles. Or maybe it was the way the water was making his nipples rise up like two erections on his massive chest. And then, as the jockstrap got soaked thru, it became more transparent, and looked like Troy had shoplifted a kielbasa and stuffed it inside his pouch. When I looked back up at him, Troy had pulled his head out of the water and was looking at me.

"Hey, Teach," he smirked. He grabbed a bottle of liquid bath soap off the shower shelf, popped the top, and poured it onto his big traps and pecs. He sat the bottle down, and began to lather himself up. The suds ran down into his deep pec cleavage, down the middle ridge of his abs, and bunched up at the top of his bulging jock pouch. I realized now that even better than wet massive muscle was soaped up massive muscle. "You ready to scrub my back?" he asked, turning around. He leaned into the shower stream, letting it soak his head, as hot soapy water ran down his enormous back. I grabbed a loofah sponge that I keep in the shower, soaped it up, and walked up to him. The middle of his back had a deep valley where the thick muscle met up along his spine. Water ran down it like a stream. I put the sponge in there and started scrubbing him down like a racehorse. Up and down I went with the scruffy loofah. "Oh yeah, Doc. Harder," he said. He pressed his hands harder against the tile, and his back muscles bulged and rolled. I scrubbed harder, until I could see his skin redden. His big thick traps had a light coating of blond peach fuzz. I scrubbed hard enough that the fuzz began to come off on the sponge. Troy grunted and said, "That's it Doc. Harder." I brought the loofah to his lats , and as he flared them out, I could see why bodybuilders' lats were sometimes referred to as batwings, because Troy's grew out wider and wider, like a bat raising its front limbs, and the wings opening out more and more, only Troy's wings seemed nearly a foot thick with muscle. I scrubbed harder and harder, breathing heavy with exertion, until Troy's back skin was a deep, ruddy red. I stopped for a second, and watch the water run down his beet red skin, rolling over his mounded glutes, and down into his ass crack. It was a mesmerizing sight. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, and buried my face into Troy's ass muscles. I wasn't even much of an ass guy, but Troy's construction worker, football player, bodybuilder squat butt was beyond temptation. I pushed my face deeper into the muscled crack, and felt the hot soapy water running over my nose. I heard Troy grunt, and felt him arch into my face.

I pulled out for a second and said, "That OK?"

"Oh yeah...just go way deeper than that, man."

I sank my face back into Troy's power-butt. My cock throbbed as I ate him out. He groaned out deeply as he braced himself against the shower walls with his huge arms. I felt him flex his ass cheeks against my face cheeks. I had to pull out.

"Dammit, Doc, you got a hot tongue. Why'd you stop?"

"I almost came."

Troy chuckled and turned toward me. "Me too," he said. His big hard-on was pushing his jock out about a foot, stretching the wet fabric till it looked like fish netting. His big jock balls had swung down loose under the jockstrap. "You wanna suck me off thru the jock?"

Holy shit. "You don't want to strip it off?" I asked him.

"Nah. It'd just gag you. And if I cum, I might blow the back of your head off. Try it thru the jock," he said, taking a gently hold on my ears and pulling me into him. I put my hands on his big legs. I could feel the power in those thick thighs as he tensed them up. I put my mouth over the jock and sucked. Again, I almost came as I tasted the hot shower water mixed with Troy's precum. I sucked and sucked and sucked. I looked up at Troy, who has his head tipped back, his big Adam's apple jutting out of his thick neck muscle. He used my ears to pump my head back and forth on his jock-covered mushroom head.

Suddenly, he pulled me off of his jock and let go of my ears. He pulled his big dick out of his jock and stroked it hard. It only took him about ten pumps before his jizz started to fly. The ropes of cum were nearly two feet long, and shot across the shower, hitting the far wall like a paintball. After five shots like that, he grabbed my head again, and put it over his naked cockhead.

"Take the rest, Doc," he said. I complied by sucking on his head till the thick oozing paste stopped flowing.

I pulled my head away. "Whoa," I said.

"Yeah, see, I told you I might blow the back of your head off. I cum so hard sometimes, it scares me. Hey, you ever fucked a man's pecs?"

"No."

"You wanna do mine?" he asked, as he shut off the shower water.

I looked up at the huge mounded power slabs that were his pecs. "Ok," I managed weakly.

"Cool. Let's dry off."

We got out of the shower, and toweled each other off. His big back was still red and hot to the touch. "That didn't hurt?" I asked him, as I rubbed his freak backspread with the towel.

"Heck no, feels awesome. Hey, you have any kinda oil?" I grabbed a bottle of Neutragena sesame oil from the cabinet. Come on," he said eagerly. He led me out to my living room, and then laid down on his back on the rug. "Straddle me," he said. My heart pounded rapidly as I straddled the huge mountain of muscle laying on my living room floor. He took the bottle of oil and poured it all over his chest. "Sit on me and rub it into my pecs." I sat down on his rock-hard body. My cock had never been harder. I rubbed the oil across his broad chest, and he flexed his muscle under my hands. I thought of him bench pressing 900lbs.

"Geezus, Troy," I stuttered.

"Don't cum yet," he said, and he poured the oil directly onto his deep pec valley. "Put your cock in there," he said as he rubbed the oil up and down his crevice. I leaned into him and let my cock slide in between his pecs.

"God," I said, as my hard-on slid along his hot oiled skin, smooth as silk yet hard as granite. He put his hand on my dick and pressed it in deeper, wedging it in even deeper. "Fuckk," I said, almost blind with the pleasure of it.

"Yeah, that's it, man, fuck these hogs."

He put his huge arms out, and I leaned more into him, putting my hands on his big biceps. Then I started grinding my cock against his chest, sliding up and down. I could feel my dick disappearing inside his pec meat.

"You ever seen a set so big, Doc?" he asked.

"God no," I sputtered as I thrust against him.

"They're just gonna get bigger. I want a 75-inch chest, at least. I'll be pressing 1200 soon." I let out a groan. "Don't cum yet," he said. "Sit up a little." I lifted my hands off his arms and sat up. He wrapped his big arms around me and pinned me tight into him. Then he started to stand up, lifting me as he did. I wrapped my legs around his thick torso muscles. He stood up, holding me, my abs against the side of his face. He started humping me up and down, my dick still wedged in his oiled pecs. "Gonna get so huge, doc, and so strong," he grunted as he muscled me up and down. "Gonna make Cutler look like a punk," he said. Then he flexed his pecs hard. "Cum on me Doc, help me grow."

I came till I thought I was going to black out. Came and came, inside his crushing power-chest. He put me down, and I stepped back from him. He looked down at his chest. "Nice load, man. Rub that paste into my pecs, Doc, make me grow." I reached up and started rubbing my cum into him like ointment. "Yeah," he said, "look at these suckers," and he heaved them up and out. "Can rest a beer can on each one of these bad boys. I'll show you sometime. Gonna be 400 lbs. of muscle by the end of summer, you'll see. You wanna see me at 400, Teach?"

"More than anything," I said, as I cupped his massive hog pecs.

His swollen chest felt like it was already growing bigger.

The End?

[arpeejay]

Note to BBMikeNJ: We never did learn what grade Troy received on his paper!