It was college. He was about my height, maybe a little shorter. At first glance he appeared to be on the skinny side, but with a cute face and short curly brown hair that never seemed combed.

But when you looked at him a couple of things stood out. First, for a skinny guy, he had a big chest. His pecs were big enough to raise his T-shirts off his stomach. Second, it was clear that he spent a lot of time in the gym doing bench presses: for a skinny guy, his triceps were really big, out of proportion, really, to his biceps. And, third, he had a lovely, round, bubble butt that was large for a guy with his build, again just slightly out of proportion to the rest of his physique.

The first time I saw him is ingrained in my memory. I was walking to class up 13th Street, not really in a hurry for whatever reason, and he passed me, walking faster. I only caught a glimpse of his chest, but it registered in my brain. And I noticed his ass. Both were so remarkable, I started walking faster in order to keep up with him.

You could say he looked wiry. He was wearing a pair of tan, narrow wale corduroy pants, that hugged his strong glutes and fit nicely, not tightly, around his thighs and calves. He was also wearing an old worn white T-shirt with red bands at the collar and at the "cuffs" of the short sleeves. He was wearing his book bag like back-pack and the straps of the pack settled in to the valley between his pecs and shoulder accentuating the unusual size of his chest.

I started getting an erection at the site of him as I followed him up the street. Although we were about the same height, his legs were longer or something because I really couldn't keep up with him as he cut in and out between people in his rush to get to wherever he was going. I finally lost site of him bounding up the stairs into the Vulcanology building.

That was only the first time I saw and followed him. Corduroy's and old T-shirts were his uniform. When it got cold, he'd add a battered sweater. When it got wet, he wore a yellow rain jacket that hid his form. I only saw him in his rain slicker once. The clouds had parted and he was walking toward me in the sun. The wind was blowing the jacket open. The wind was also blowing his T-shirt against his chest and torso allowing me to see the full form of his big, bouncing, muscular chest and his rippling abs.

He became an object of my desire, to coin a phrase. Whenever I was out, I'd be scanning the streets to see if he was out too. I followed him around campus several times. I don't know if he ever noticed me; this was before I started working out and I was fairly anonymous looking, I guess.

Every time our paths crossed, my heart would skip a beat and muscle lust would take over my brain. I'd think nothing of following him across campus, even if that meant I'd be late for my own class in the other direction.

The other thing that was remarkable about his physique was that he looked skinny, but he wasn't. He was lean. His frame was "small boned" and his muscles were long. His arms looked firm and hard, but not "muscular". His triceps were out of proportion to his biceps yes, but he didn't look like a jock or a gym bunny. When he flexed though, to pick up his book bag or supporting the weight of his torso when he was riding his bike, his muscles seemed to explode in size in front of your eyes.

When he picked up his book bag, loaded with text books and notebooks, his biceps would leap up forming the most surprisingly large, hard and vascular ball of muscle! His flexed biceps looked like they belonged on a gymnast, not this skinny guy. When his arms were relaxed, his shirtsleeves fit normally, but when tested even by normal activities, his arms would swell to fill the shirtsleeves so much that the seams looked in danger of bursting. And the time I saw him on his bike, I couldn't believe how big the horseshoe of his triceps was. You could actually see the ridges of each bundle of muscle as they supported his weight.

I can't remember now if he was around for one or two years. But I do remember that his chest got bigger over the span of time our paths continued to cross. It was really something. The rest of him didn't seem to get any bigger, but his chest grew.

Through the drape of his thin T-shirts, I could see that his back was also nicely muscled, but he had no "V" taper to speak of. From the front though, you could see his pecs widening and deepening. His T- shirts seemed to get smaller, but of course it was the opposite: his chest was getting bigger. I remember seeing him one day and his shirt was so tight around his pecs, it was now clearly too small for him, but it billowed and fluttered in the wind around his waist.

The first time I saw him, his pecs were big, but not so big that you could make out their shape and form under his clothes. But his chest got bigger and bigger. His pecs developed mass and thickness. They broadened and he developed an impressive shelf. The last few times I saw him, you could see his massive pecs bounce when he walked.

His shirts always seemed to be made of the thinnest and cheapest cotton, thank heavens. The bigger his chest got, the tighter his shirts got and the clearer you could make out the shape of each growing plate of muscle; the easier it got to see that his nipples seemed to be spreading apart and beginning to point downward. His pecs really did become muscular man tits!

I've wondered about him (and fantasized about him) ever since. His physique was remarkable in so many different ways. I've never seen another guy who seemed to be working his chest so single-mindedly. His chest, and to a lesser degree his triceps too, was way out of proportion to the rest of his body. But I thought it was incredible. It was beautiful.

I don't believe in regrets. But now, oh, how I wish I could have seen him without his clothes on! I wish I'd been able to feel his hard muscles. I wonder what it would have been like to cup and support those mammoth pecs. I wonder if he kept up his training and I wonder how big those meaty, muscle beauties become? •