“Yeah, no problem,” JP answered with a smile. Why did I even ask, Matt thought to himself as the teen-god rested the heavy boxes against his massive chest and shoulders, his biceps jumping to enormous peaks as he steadied them in his arms. “You can hold the door for me, though,” JP suggested.

“Oh, yeah,” Matt snapped out of his daze and rushed to the door, propping it open with his foot. It was late August and the two boys were at Baldwin-Wallace moving Matt into his dorm at Kohler Hall, the building next door to the Conservatory that was reserved exclusively for music majors. JP squeezed inside, his huge pecs brushing up against Matt’s chest as he did. Their eyes met and Matt had to fight from kissing him right then and there. JP grinned; he knew what he was thinking. Actually, they were both thinking the same thing. Matt followed his boyfriend up the stairs, JP’s butt staring him straight in the face. He bit his lip as he felt his cock twitch. God, his ass was so gorgeous; he could literally see the two perfect half-globes of steel stretching out the seat of his shorts. Shit, he wanted so badly to…

“Can you hold this box for me?” JP interrupted his thoughts, standing in front of the dorm. “I won’t be able to make it through the door.”

“Uh, yeah,” Matt responded distantly, carefully taking one of the boxes from JP’s arms. Jesus Christ, the thing was heavy! How the hell did he carry two of them up a full flight of stairs? Matt could barely hold one in both of his hands, standing still.

“Alright,” JP said nonchalantly, “I can take it from you now.” Matt eagerly passed the box back to his boyfriend, staring in awe at how easily he lifted it in one arm and plopped it down onto the bed. It was as if it was filled with feathers! JP looked at him and laughed. “You gotta start working out again,” he remarked cheerfully. Matt could feel his face turn red. JP came over to him, gently taking his shoulders in his strong hands. Instantly, a complete sense of calm came over Matt’s body…as it always did.

“Then will I look like you?” he asked serenely. JP peered into him with his beautiful blue eyes.

“You’ll look better than me,” he answered almost at a whisper. Matt sighed, lost in his boyfriend’s gaze. He leaned into JP, wrapping his hands around his trim waist and kissed him passionately on the lips. Everything around him disappeared; there was only him and JP. His hands moved up JP’s shirt, his fingers fondling the rock-hard abs. God, this felt so good!

Suddenly, they heard a key jiggle in the door and immediately pushed away from each other just as Ben walked into the room. Ben Gericault, a musical theater major, had lived next door to Matt in the freshman dorms and was now his roommate. He was a tall, lanky guy with straggly red hair and bright green eyes…eyes that stared at JP in utter amazement the second he saw him. Matt smiled, recognizing the reaction everyone always had the first time they laid eyes on his boyfriend. At 230 pounds of pure beef, with muscles bursting out all over and killer good looks, JP was definitely a sight to behold.

“Ben, this is JP,” he introduced them. “JP, this is Ben, my roommate.” Ben blinked a couple of times, completely at a loss for words. That’s when JP decided to take the first step.

“Hey, Ben,” he greeted him, coming forward to shake his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Um, hi,” Ben squeaked, taking JP’s hand nervously. He gulped at the Adonis’ gigantic forearm, wrapped in veins and three times the size of his own. “You, uh, you’re a lot bigger than I thought you’d be,” he said. JP grinned.

“Well,” Matt spoke up from behind, “he did put on a little size over the summer.”

“Wow,” Ben breathed. He obviously had never seen a guy as big – or as beautiful – as JP. “Well, um, it, it was nice to, uh, meet you,” he stammered, stumbling clumsily to his desk. “I gotta go practice for an audition…uh, Pippin, we’re doing this semester.” He grabbed his iPod and made his way toward the door again. “I’ll see you later,” he said to Matt before ducking into the hallway.

“Is he always like that?” JP remarked once Ben was gone. Matt shook his head.

“He’s a sweet guy,” Matt shrugged, laughing to himself. He had known Ben since orientation last year and they had hit if off immediately, especially since they both were gay. And despite an obvious crush on Matt, Ben had helped him through the time he was split with JP. Matt really owed a lot to him. JP turned toward his boyfriend again, narrowing his eyes seductively.

“When will we have time alone?” he asked, his voice sending shivers down Matt’s spine.

“How ‘bout right now?” he replied, moving toward the door to close it.

“Matthew!” his mom suddenly called from down the hall. Matt rolled his eyes; the woman had perfect timing as usual.

“Hey, mom,” he deadpanned as JP fought from laughing out loud.

“I just got back from talking to your trumpet professor,” she began, “and he expects you to make the orchestra this year.”

“Sure, mom.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dorm room, “did you finish getting everything up here?”

“Yes, we did, Mrs. Andersson,” JP chimed.

“Oh, hello JP,” Matt’s mom greeted him. “Thanks for helping. It’s always good to have some extra muscle around with all the junk he’s got.” She grabbed hold of JP’s massive right arm, breathing in with shocking delight. “Oo, wow, that’s hard!” Matt felt his face turn red with embarrassment.

“Thanks, mom,” he said, not-so-subtly implying for her to leave.

“Well, I’ll be on my way,” she sang, giving Matt a quick goodbye hug. “Good luck this semester…and have a safe trip back to Columbus, JP,” she called before disappearing out the door.

“I will, Mrs. Andersson,” he answered after her, practically bursting at the seams with laughter. “Your mom’s a trip,” he said, shaking his head.

“Shut up,” Matt scolded, slapping him lightly on his wide back. Matt knew his mom always put on airs, sometimes coming across as a dumb blond. It was probably left over from her flight attendant days. But in reality, she was wickedly smart and amazingly resourceful. After all, she had figured out on her own that JP and her son were dating and while she wasn’t crazy about it, she accepted their love for each other. Anyway, she adored JP and always stated how happy she was that her son had found him. “I think we have the dorm to ourselves now,” Matt suggested. JP grinned devilishly.

“Actually,” he suddenly changed his tone, “I’m getting kinda hungry. You wanna grab a bite?”

“Oh, you little jerk,” Matt whined, laughing. He punched his boyfriend in the stomach. Ow, that hurt! He sighed dramatically. “Well, I guess if it will make the sex better later.” JP raised one eyebrow in way that made Matt shudder. “Just as long as they have enough food at the Student Union,” he added, smiling. JP grinned. He leaned over and whispered into his ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save some room for you.” Matt bit his lip. Damn, why did he always do that?

Ian’s alarm clock rang shrilly through his bedroom, waking him up from his dream. He couldn’t remember, but it had something to do with him smashing the hell out of Nick on the wrestling mat while simultaneously banging a group of the hottest swimsuit models he could imagine. Nick was begging for mercy, but Ian wasn’t paying attention; the sound of the models’ orgasmic screaming resounded through his head.

BAM! Ian’s hand whammed against his bedside table, knocking the clock to the floor, enough to stop it from beeping. He slowly opened his eyes, smiling as a cool breeze blew across his bare chest from the open window. Shit, that was a great dream. He yawned and stretched his arms, watching his biceps as they balled up into rock-hard peaks of muscle. Hey babies, he mentally said to them. Ian looked down his broad pecs at the growing tent in his sheets. Smirking to himself, he drifted one hand down to meet his cock, stroking it as he groped his chest and abs with his other hand. God, he was so hot! His body writhed as he worshipped himself, feeling all that hard, warm muscle underneath his skin.

FUCK! Ian jumped, suddenly remembering that today was the first day of football camp. Man, he couldn’t wait to see the face on Coach Palmer when he saw how big and strong Ian Antoncelli was – not to mention the look on Nick’s face. The guy was going to be floored when he saw the distances the great Ian Antoncelli could throw. Yeah, Ian was certainly big and fast enough to be a wide receiver or a running back, but he wanted the attention that the starting quarterback always got. Plus, he and Nick had always dreamed since they were little that they’d be making the big plays in the big games.

Proudly, Ian climbed out of bed, admiring how each of his muscles moved as he did – how his quads shifted in his legs, how his obliques crunched together, how his thick cock dangled. Yep, he slept naked – he liked the feeling of the sheets against his bare skin. That, and he had once heard from someone – was it Luke, maybe? – that sleeping nude made the muscles grow faster overnight. Mindlessly scratching his balls, he stepped around the dumbbells that were strewn all over his floor and headed for the bathroom. Immediately, he stepped on the scale – 199 pounds. Damn, Ian had hoped he’d hit 200 by football camp, but hey, that weight on a 14-year-old, 5 foot 11 body was a helluva lot of muscle. He glanced at himself in the mirror and squeezed his pecs.

“BAM!” he grunted out loud. He raised his arms and flexed his tremendous biceps. “BAM!” he shouted again. He lowered them and then just leaned backward on one leg, smirking at the mirror like he was hitting on some hot chick, subtly tensing his chiseled abs. “Yeeeah,” he sneered.

After a hot shower – and another jack-off session – Ian put on football shorts and went downstairs into the kitchen. He opened up the cabinet above the stove which was filled with every supplement imaginable – he no longer hid his stash from his parents; they were actually proud of his amazing physique. But the good stuff – the illegal stuff – was still hidden in his closet. He’d grab those later. Ian expertly mixed all the powders into drinks, laid out the vitamins and sat down to the breakfast of steak and eggs his mom had left for him on the cupboard. Ever since she had noticed him getting bigger by the day, she volunteered to make him wholesome stuff to eat – that was something she never did when he was scrawny.

Yeah, life was so much better now for Ian since he hit the weights. Before, no one – not even his parents – ever noticed him. But now, people couldn’t help but notice him. I mean, he was a beast…and he was still only 14 years old. Girls stared at him wherever he went, guys asked him how much he could bench – 370, he would tell them…even though that was kind of an exaggeration. Once he had wolfed down his food, Ian grabbed his gym bag and started toward the door. Passing the front hall mirror, he stopped to check himself out one more time. Wait, something wasn’t right. Oh yeah! With a tug on his shorts, the top of Ian’s crotch and butt-cheeks became visible above the waistband. A little somethin’ for the ladies! Now, he was ready!

“Alright, men!” Coach Palmer shouted in his infamous drill sergeant-esque voice. “Line up! We’re doin’ push-up drills!” A few of the guys gave audible groans, but all Nick felt was the blood surging through his body. So far, the first day of football camp was a cinch…at least compared to the workouts Mr. Jones put him through every day. It was as if Brandon and his dad had conditioned him for the hot, grueling days of training camp. From the moment he stepped onto the field, he felt the excitement of finally being a Central High School Spartan…and that feeling never left him for a moment. Of course, he sweat – he had stripped his shirt long ago, his huge, ripped body glistening in the sun – but with every move, every drill, every play, his body craved more. And of all the receivers, Nick was by far the strongest, fastest, most agile one. It was no contest he would be picked for the top starting position.

Nick joined his teammates as they lined up in pairs with one player starting in a push-up position and the other to his side. The object was to quickly get to your feet and go to the opposite side of your partner while he tried to prevent you from doing so, acquainting the player with being knocked down and having to get back up quickly to do whatever it was they had to do. And Nick loved this one; very few of the guys – only some of the linesmen, in fact – could keep him down. This time around, Peter Evans, the sophomore kicker was his partner – a pairing that just seemed ridiculous since Evans weighed at least 40 pounds less than Nick. He’d push through him like a freight train through a haystack.

“No, that’s not gonna do,” Coach Palmer announced gruffly, walking over to the two boys. “Evans, match up with Stevens.” The kid quickly obeyed him and Palmer stood over Nick with a broad smile on his face. “You seem to be pretty good at this one, Angelakis. So why don’t you try me?” Nick looked up grinning at his coach. As big as Nick was, Coach Palmer was easily twice – maybe three times – his size. Facing him in a push-up drill would have made most freshmen pee in their pants, but all Nick could think was, “Bring it on!” Without warning, Nick pounced toward Palmer with tremendous speed, but Nick had no chance against the bulk of the man and immediately fell on his side. Quickly, he regained his composure and tried righting himself again. But Palmer managed to hold him down.

“Come on, son,” he bellowed. “I know you have more strength in you than that.” With all his might, Nick struggled against Palmer’s massive limbs for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the coach let go…causing Nick to flip face-first into the grass. There were a few sniggers from the team – who by this time had gathered around to watch – but most of them were silent. “Good job,” Palmer said proudly to him, helping him to his feet. Wiping the blades of grass off his pecs and abs, Nick looked up at his coach. What was he talking about? Nick had gotten nowhere. “You didn’t give up,” Palmer stated sincerely…and then turned away. It was only four little words, but Nick knew what the man meant. Most guys would’ve realized how hopeless their plight was against the monster that was Coach Palmer, but Nick had shown him that he was no regular guy. “Ok, gentleman,” he roared. “Hit the showers!” Instantly, the entire team began jogging toward the building, Nick included, but Palmer tapped his shoulder to get his attention. “Meet me in my office when you’re done,” he stated seriously. Nick could do nothing but obey him.

“Jesus, man,” Brandon exclaimed. “Did you see how Nick pushed against Coach? I thought for a second that he was going to get past him.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed. “The dude’s a diesel! I’m 30 pounds more than him and I don’t think I’d be able to do that.” The two boys were heading to the showers, their heads still spinning at their friend’s remarkable show of strength and determination. Sweating profusely, Billy tugged his practice jersey over his head, airing out his massive torso.

“Dang, Billy Boy!” Brandon let out. “You’re the biggest the freshman I’ve ever seen.” Billy looked over at him, his face turning crimson. Billy Freeman really was a wonder. The guy was so wide and so thick for his age; his arms were gigantic, his chest was full and round and his legs were like powerful pistons. He had a considerable amount of fat, but there had to be tons of muscle underneath it all.

“I try,” he muttered, shrugging his huge shoulders and making his bulky traps squeeze into his neck. As the two continued toward the school, they passed by the field where the JV cheerleaders were practicing. Immediately, a few of them started looking their way, obviously checking out their heavily muscled bodies.

“Hey, Billy,” Brandon stage-whispered to his friend, eyeing one particular cheerleader who was strikingly attractive. “See that one blond with the curls?” Billy nodded, his eyes as big as saucers. Brandon had to laugh to himself; as invincible as he was, he always collapsed when it came to the opposite sex. “I think she’s into you.”

“Really?” Brandon asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice.

“Why don’t you—”

“Hey girls!” Ian suddenly swaggered brashly up toward the same group of cheerleaders. Brandon rolled his eyes. While a good athlete, Ian was a pain in the ass; he thought very highly of himself and didn’t hide that fact. But Brandon knew the signs when he saw them – the constantly pumped veins, the faint stretch marks around his armpits, the slight distension of his abs – Ian was obviously juicing.

“Hey, Ian!” the blond cheerleader sang, strolling toward him in a trance.

“You wanna meet up later,” Ian drawled, subtly tensing his abs and bouncing his meaty pecs – making the girl practically swoon, “you know, grab a bite to eat?”

“Sure, like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ian went on preening, “maybe a nice, juicy Italian sausage…” The girl giggled as he slowly thrust forward his hips. Brandon had had enough of this.

“Don’t worry,” he called over to the girl, “it’s small enough to fit in your mouth!” The girls burst out laughing. Ian growled softly, pissed that he had broken his mojo and stormed off to the showers. “I’ll see you later, girls,” Brandon added, giving them his trademark eye-twinkle-and-half-grin that always left every female debilitated. Instantly, the cheerleaders sighed in lust. Worked every time, especially here – the girls just loved his southern Indiana twang, not to mention his crushing good looks and phenomenal body.

“How do you talk to girls so easily like that?” Billy asked in awe. Brandon grinned at him.

“You hafta be subtle and tease them a little,” he explained, “not blow your load all over them at once.” Billy’s eyebrows flinched.

“Wow,” he breathed, as if he were in the presence of a master. Brandon shook his head.

“Billy Boy,” he said, placing his hands of the larger boy’s broad shoulders, “stick with me and by Christmas, you’ll be roping ‘em in by the dozen.”

Coach Palmer filed his playbook into the cabinet and closed it. Today went extremely well – better than he ever expected. Billy Freeman was really shaping up to be a great defenseman – with a little more practice, he’d make Varsity for sure. The new kid, Brandon Jones, was a natural quarterback with a brilliant head and a fantastic arm. Ian Antoncelli had really grown up over the summer – at least physically; he basically could play any position and play it well. And then there was Nick Angelakis – potentially the greatest athlete in Central High School history. For a freshman, Palmer had never seen such sheer strength, such blinding speed and such lighting-fast agility. The kid was going to be exciting to watch.

The only disappointment might have been Rick Stevens. Pegged last season as an up-and-coming quarterback, he actually weighed in ten pounds lighter than last year. I guess he was going to have to stay on the JV team. He would never be able to stand up to opponents like Lake Braddock and Robinson.

“Coach, you wanted to see me?” Nick asked, standing in the office doorway. Palmer motioned him in and told him to take a seat. The kid obeyed quietly. Palmer looked into his eyes; it was amazing how much respect and maturity emanated from them. Nick was a born leader – a future team captain for sure.

“As you may know,” Palmer began, sitting down in his chair on the opposite side of his desk from the young athlete, “the Varsity quarterback position is still vacant, but there are a couple of very qualified candidates.” Palmer loved talking about his team like they were Congress or something – it made them feel more important. “And as the starting wide receiver, you will be the main collaborator with him.” He leaned forward onto the desk, staring Nick right in the eyes – Nick stared back unblinkingly.

“That’s why I would like you to pick the position.” Palmer searched the boy’s visage for any signs of wavering – there was none, but it was obvious his mind was racing. “Communication between the two of you is vital to this team’s success, but I’m positive that you will make the best decision. You don’t have to decide right away, but I’d like to know by the end of the week.”

“Who are the guys you were looking at, sir?” Nick asked.

“I thought you’d know by now,” Palmer answered. “Ian Antoncelli and Brandon Jones.” Finally, there was a flinch in Nick’s eyes. It would be a tough decision, Palmer knew, but if any kid could do it, it would be Nick Angelakis.

“Is that all, sir?” Nick asked calmly. Palmer nodded and the boy got up and quietly left the room. Palmer smiled; any football program would be proud to have an asset like Nick. That’s why he trusted him with such an important thing like this. He stood up and cleared the papers – mainly recruitment notices – off his desk, realizing that this was the happiest he had been in a long time. At least since that injury that ended his NFL career.

“Good afternoon, Coach,” a velvety voice spoke from the doorway. He knew it immediately.

“Diane,” he said, turning around to see the face of his girlfriend standing there, smiling pleasantly. “What are you doing here?” She started toward him, her long, slender legs moving swiftly and quietly. She was quite a woman; he had met her over ten years ago and was completely blown away by her.

“I just came to tell you that the papers went through,” she went on. “I now have my massage therapist license renewed.”

“That’s good,” Palmer replied, his voice absent of his usual roughness; only Diane could bring that out in him. “My boys will be happy to hear that.” For the last ten seasons, she had given massages to the entire football team; she offered them at a special discount and the players loved it, of course.

“Turn around,” she mouthed. Palmer gazed into her round, blue eyes. God, they were so beautiful! He couldn’t help but obey her. Gently, she clutched his wide traps and began slowly massaging them.

“Wow,” he breathed, “that feel’s amazing.” Her fingers on his shoulders released any tension he had from the day’s activities and he began to feel at ease.

“You’re quite amazing yourself…Coach.” The way she said those words sent chills down his spine. No woman in his life could ever do that the way she did. “I love you, Daniel Palmer,” she whispered.

“I love you, too…Diane Andersson.” •