“Hey, Matt,” a female voice called. He looked to see who it was: Karla, a vocal major from down the hall.

“Hi,” he answered, flashing a warm smile. She smiled back.

“You look good,” she sighed, eyeing his six-pack longingly. Matt blushed.

“Thanks,” he replied. A lot of girls on campus had crushes on him…and nearly all of them were heartbroken when they found out he was gay. He no longer felt the need to hide it anymore; no one cared. And it was a relief not having to keep that secret like he had all through high school. However, JP was still mostly in the closet. Though Matt wished he’d come out, he knew why his boyfriend had reservations. JP was quickly becoming well known in the collegiate wrestling world. He wrestled heavyweight at Ohio State and all that publicity was enough for him to stay secret about his sexuality. At Baldwin-Wallace, only a handful of people knew that JP and Matt were dating; everyone else merely believed that the two were just old high school buddies. No one could ever guess that hunky JP Maloney could possibly be gay.

Matt smiled to himself as he entered Kohler Hall. Life was perfect: he was succeeding in academics and music – not an easy feat at a Conservatory like Baldwin-Wallace – and he was in the best shape of his life. At a nice 170 pounds, Matt Andersson had entered hunk status, according to many people, but he never admitted it. It just didn’t seem right, especially when JP was 245 pounds of pure muscle – with something like 4% body fat. His boyfriend was in ridiculous shape. Now that was a hunk.

As he approached his door, he heard voices on the other side. One was Ben’s, the other…holy shit! Matt’s hands shook as he turned the doorknob and entered the room. There, standing right in front of him, was JP, his immense musculature filling the polo shirt he was wearing to the max. His massively thick neck took up every inch of space the collar offered and his pecs stretched the fabric so much, they distorted the shirt’s red and white stripes. He had been talking to Ben, but as soon as Matt entered, JP turned and gazed at him with his deep, blue eyes. Instantly, Matt felt weak in the knees and he could do nothing but stare back. Suddenly, he rushed forward, grabbed JP by his cannonball shoulders and began kissing him passionately. JP kissed back with lust, wrapping his huge, muscular arms around his boyfriend.

“Um, guys?” Ben spoke up awkwardly. Matt side-glanced at his roommate and then pulled away from JP, nervously bringing his fingers up to his lips.

“Sorry, man,” he apologized. “I couldn’t help it.” It had been a whole week since he had tasted JP; nothing could’ve stopped him from doing what he had just done.

“No, it’s alright,” Ben replied. “I know what you mean.” He stared wide-eyed at JP who stood in front of him, blushing. Being also gay, Ben knew how attractive JP was – and he had once had a crush on Matt – but now, he respected the two’s relationship. Ben was a scrawny, little redhead with beautiful green eyes and not a bad frame. He knew he wasn’t in JP’s league. “Well, uh, I better go,” he stammered, getting up from the bed. “Good luck in wrestling, JP.” And then, he picked up his backpack and headed out the door. Once the door closed, Matt immediately resumed kissing his boyfriend. He couldn’t keep his hands off of him.

“I was thinking about you the whole time I was driving up here,” JP sighed, gazing once more into Matt’s eyes. Matt almost couldn’t speak. Instead, he leaned forward again and touched his face against JP’s neck and traps, gently massaging his chest. God, it was so hard!

“You must be all muscle again,” he muttered, completely blown away by the dedication that his boyfriend had to have to look the way he did. “How’s wrestling goin’?” JP lifted his head up and grinned. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror…and then at Matt’s reflection behind him.

“Wrestling’s kicking my butt,” he answered, smiling. “Coach wants me to be as ripped as possible.” Matt came up behind JP and wrapped his arms around his narrow waist. Just like the rest of him, it was as hard as stone.

“That’s a piece of cake for you,” he said. He could see JP melting inside at his words.

“Well, it was easy when I was 175,” he laughed, “but I’m 245 now. I have a lot more to carry around.” As he spoke, Matt began gliding his hands up JP’s shirt, feeling the denseness of his abs. Shit, they felt amazing! JP reached behind him and placed his hand around the back of Matt’s neck, his biceps exploding in a ball of pure muscle, stretching the shirt sleeve to its limit. Matt could almost hear the fibers straining. He so badly wanted to have sex…and he could see in his eyes that JP wanted him, too.

“Fuck,” Matt hissed, “I have a rehearsal in 10 minutes.” JP turned around and looked down at him; the disappointment was obvious in his expression. “But I’ll be back in like an hour and half and then I’m free the rest of the night,” he quickly added. JP grinned mischievously.

“By the way,” he said as Matt dug under his bed for his trumpet, “you interested in catching a wrestling match back at home over Christmas?” Matt stood up, heaving the case over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “Isn’t Chrissy’s little brother on the team now?” JP nodded. “What’s he wrestling? 160?” JP smiled and shook his head, a sense of pride on his face.

“No, 215.” Matt nearly dropped his trumpet to the floor.

“215!?” he exclaimed. Nick Angelakis used to be such a little kid…and he was 215 pounds now? Jesus Christ, how things changed!

“Yeah,” JP went on, “he’s a big kid. Chrissy says he trains like a monster.” Matt smirked. “Gee, I wonder where he got that from,” he said. Nick had idolized JP when he was in middle school and now that the kid was in high school, he was apparently following in his mentor’s footsteps. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to see him wrestle.”

“Angelakis! Jones!” Coach Graves, Central High School’s wrestling coach, called over to the two freshmen. Nick and Brandon immediately obeyed the command and jogged across the gym to him. It was the week before the first wrestling tournament and the attitude of the team couldn’t have been better. The media was buzzing about the Spartans’ prospects. With Brandon at 189, Nick at 215, plus junior Kyle Backton at 112, the wrestling team was looking stronger than ever to dominate the district. There was already talk about eclipsing the three individual state championships from the year before.

“What is it, Coach?” Nick asked eagerly, though he already knew from the box that sat in front of Graves’ feet. The team had gotten brand new uniforms. He hadn’t seen them in person, but Nick thought they looked awesome – miles better than the old ones. Supposedly, they were cut to better show off the athlete’s musculature: the neckline and the sides dipped lower, exposing more of the chest and lats, and the state-of-the-art material was such that it would be more comfortable around the crotch and butt crack areas.

“Here,” Graves said, handing the boys their uniforms in plastic, “try these on. I wanna make sure they fit you well before Saturday.” Nick and Brandon grabbed the bags out of his head and rushed into the locker room. They couldn’t wait to put on those singlets. Nick, for one, had been waiting years for this moment. No sooner had they entered the room, they were already stripping off their T-shirts. Nick couldn’t help but give himself a little flex in the mirror. His muscles jumped on command, tensing up impressively. The fibers twitched, his biceps bulged, his pecs rippled, his abs crunched. Two-hundred fourteen and a half pounds, 3% body fat. Nick knew he was a stud. He looked down at the uniform in his hand and then back at his reflection.

Almost two and a half years earlier, he had stood in this same room, putting on a wrestling singlet for the first time. So much had changed since then. Instead of a tiny, little seventh grader – not even 100 pounds – he was now a rock-solid 215-pound muscleteen. Back then, he didn’t have a girlfriend, he had never experienced even his first kiss and he couldn’t have fathomed where his life was going to take him. But then, he looked behind him in the mirror…at where Brandon was undressing…back then, he had yet to meet Brandon Jones. Nick couldn’t keep from staring at his teammate as he pulled down his shorts so that he wore only boxers. Suddenly, Brandon looked up at him…directly into his eyes. And that’s when Nick felt the feeling he had for the last few months been avoiding as hard as he could. His stomach began flipping somersaults, his breathing became more rapid. He turned around and glared at Brandon.

“We can’t,” he said curtly. Brandon knew exactly what he meant. He just stood there speechless. To Nick, his face was like an angel’s, his body like a god’s. Brandon was irresistible. No matter how hard Nick tried, he couldn’t help feeling the way he did about him. But he couldn’t go there. Going down that path was far too dangerous. Brandon swallowed hard as he tried to conjure up words.

“Why don’t we put on the uniforms?” he suggested, speaking awkwardly.

“Right,” Nick replied hoarsely. Then slowly, Brandon started slipping his boxers down his legs. Nick couldn’t take his eyes away from him; he didn’t know why. But then, Nick suddenly felt weak as his heart raced even faster. He gulped as he looked at Brandon Jones standing in front of him, completely nude. Nick knew he should turn away, but he couldn’t. “Oh, my God!” he gulped. Brandon had the biggest, thickest, most beautiful cock Nick had ever seen…and it was totally hard. It was so long, it nearly reached up to his breastbone…and so fat, it practically hid his eight-pack from view.

“I’m sorry,” Brandon said nervously, “I…”

“How…how big is that thing?” Nick stammered. Brandon bit his lip.

“The last time I measured…13 inches?” Nick stook a step forward, staring into Brandon’s eyes. He didn’t know what he was doing and he couldn’t stop himself; it was as if he was in some kind of trance. He felt his own dick throbbing and he distantly began pulling down his own gym shorts. Brandon glanced down at Nick’s crotch as he stripped, subtly licking his lips, his eyes dazed. Nick’s 10-inch cock came unleashed from his boxers with a loud thwap against his hard abs that echoed through the locker room. Brandon took a step closer – the two were inches apart from each other now. They couldn’t stop what was happening.

Then, their lips locked together and their tongues wrestled with each other in the most passionate display of lust Nick had ever experienced. Their concrete pecs were pressed up against one another, his giant cocks crossed below, pulsing visibly. Suddenly, Nick lunged his hand around Brandon’s dick – his fingers barely touched on the other side – and he began stroking it. Brandon groaned in ecstasy and edged himself into further into Nick’s body. Nick could smell nothing but the scent of Brandon, he couldn’t feel anything but the hard muscles – and monster cock – of his teammate. He clutched the back of Brandon’s head, forcing his mouth into his. The two grunted barbarically as they continued kissing, their powerful pelvises humping wildly. Just then, Brandon’s dick erupted in an explosion of jizz, showering both of their bodies and sprinkling all over the lockers. He fell away and collapsed against the wall, his round chest heaving up and down, his tired penis deflating to its flaccid state between his shredded thighs. Nick looked down at his hands, at the thick veins in his forearms. He, too, was heaving , his shoulders shifting heavily, his engorged lats pushing his arms away from the rest of his torso. What had just happened?

“I’m sorry,” Brandon muttered, looking at the floor as if he was afraid to look back into Nick’s eyes. He bent down and picked up his clothes and ran off into the showers, leaving Nick standing stark naked by himself in the middle of the locker room.

Coach Palmer sighed as he read yet another newspaper article stating how the Central High School Spartans let the state football championship slip through their fingers. It had been an extremely disappointing loss and despite all their talent, Palmer had forgotten how young and inexperienced his players were. It had simply showed by the end of the game. And to make matters worse, Ian Antoncelli had nearly beaten Peter Evans unconscious. Ian should have known that missing that field goal wasn’t the only thing that went wrong that night; Ian had been inaccurate on the majority of his passes. Palmer shook his head. The only thing he could do was hope for a better outcome next season.

“Coach,” Ian poked his head into the office, “you wanted to see me.” The kid’s voice was deep and full, almost gruff. Palmer nodded, gesturing for him to enter and sit down. Ian did, moving with that arrogance that he had come to be known for.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Palmer began. He looked straight into the boy’s eyes, trying to see behind the cocky smirk that always seemed to be on his face. He wanted to see if the rumors he had heard were true or not. “I would like you report to the nurse’s office after school tomorrow.” Ian laughed.

“Coach, I’m not sick,” he scoffed, almost condescendingly. “I’m never sick.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Palmer replied, glaring at him – Ian didn’t even take notice. “I would like you to take a drug test. That’s all.” Ian shot a look of scorn his way. People had been beginning to talk – namely several of the opposing teams’ coaches – that Ian may have been juicing illegally. One look at the boy and he definitely looked suspicious: he had packed on an insane amount of muscle in an incredibly short amount of time. Add that to the fact that Ian had been going on violent roid rage-like rampages lately and the accusations were definitely worth looking into. Ian grinned, shaking his head.

“I’m not on anything. I’m clean.”

“I just want to make sure of that fact,” Palmer said calmly. The teen scoffed as he stood up and towered his tremendous bulk above the desk. The kid was big, there was no doubt about it, but was it natural? “I urge you to do it,” he continued. “The last thing we need is for our accolades to be stripped.” He had to give Ian the benefit of the doubt. Palmer never wanted to outright accuse one of his own players of using steroids, but he knew how important it was to play by the book when it came to these things. People never realized how political high school sports could be. If he turned a blind eye and got caught, his career would be over. Without saying another word, Ian turned and headed out of the office, slamming the door behind, rattling the walls in the process. Palmer sighed, silently praying that the test would come up negative.

Ian stormed into the hallway and punched a locker in anger. The fucking asshole wanted him to take a stupid drug test! Couldn’t he see that he was the best player on the team? No one else even came close. Ian Antoncelli was a god among boys at this school. No one could match his strength and power. Maybe that’s why he had to take the test in the first place. Maybe Coach was getting jealous of his athletic prowess; Ian was too good to be a freshman. Yeah, that was it. But the main problem still remained: he would surely fail the test…and then he’d be kicked off the team. There was no way he was going to let that happen. That is, unless he did something to beat it.

“Ian,” Rick called to him as he came down the hallway, “I thought you were going out for wrestling. What happened?”

“I decided not to,” he answered distantly, his mind spinning with plans. “I need to train for track. I don’t have time to cut for wrestling.” Rick looked confused…as usual. “Anyway, I need to ask you something.”

“What?” Ian dug into his backpack and pulled out the old film canister he had kept his steroid pills in – he had long-since abandoned those for the stuff Travis had been selling to him.

“Here, take this and pee into it,” he said abruptly, shoving the canister into Rick’s hand.

“What!?” Rick looked even more perplexed.

“Just do it, dweeb,” he commanded. Rick nodded and stuck the canister into his pocket. He obviously wasn’t juicing, so his sample would be clean. God, I’m brilliant, Ian thought. “Meet me in the gym in an hour,” he went on. “I need to do something first.” And before Rick would reply, he turned and headed outside.

Brandon burst through the front door, dropped his bag onto the living room couch and immediately headed downstairs to the gym. He couldn’t believe he had made out again with Nick. Why couldn’t he stop himself? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Nick? Keep his hands off of him? He knew a relationship between the two of them would never work. It wasn’t the first time he had been with a guy, but it was certainly the first time he had ever felt this way about one. Brandon sat down at the rowing machine and began pounding out rep after rep, trying to let his frustrations out.

“You alright, Brandon?” his dad questioned, sticking his head into the room.

“Yeah,” Brandon grunted. “I’m fine. I just feel like working out.”

“You sure?” his dad repeated. He didn’t answer. How could he tell his own father – a man who had built him into the athlete he was – what was on his mind? He would never understand. He would never accept it. Guys like me are not supposed to be attracted to other guys, he thought. I’m not gay, he kept telling himself, I don’t feel anything for Nick. But the more he repeated it, the more he couldn’t get Nick out of his mind.

“Here,” Travis said, handing yet another package of steroids over to Ian after getting paid. He glanced at the huge biceps that bulged underneath Ian’s shirt. “You look pretty big. The stuff’s working great,” he commented, grinning.

“Yeah,” Ian muttered, eyeing the vials to make sure he wasn’t getting ripped off, “but I’m not big enough. I need more of this shit. This isn’t gonna do crap.” Travis shook his head and smirked; this is exactly what he wanted.

“You wanna double the dose, I’m gonna have to double the price.”

“Whatever,” Ian replied uneasily, “just give it to me.” He looked jittery and uncomfortable…precisely like he should have been.

“I can have it for you in a couple days,” he answered calmly. Ian looked at him with wild eyes. It was obvious he wanted it now.

“I need to be huge by spring,” he hissed.

“No problem,” Travis assured him. “This stuff’ll make you the biggest guy in school, no contest. You’ll be able to take on anyone with one hand tied behind your back.” Ian smiled slightly at the thought of that. And you’ll still keep coming back for more, Travis said to himself.

That was the whole point. Travis Plummer prided himself for giving his clients exactly what they wanted and then some; they usually never knew what he added to keep them coming back again and again. After all, they didn’t call him the Pharmacist for nothing. •