Growing Boys at Umich

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By iciss

I've been writing a lot of muscle growth stories recently, and this is my newest (not yet complete). I haven't posted here before but I've really enjoyed some of the stories I've read, so I figured I'd return the favor. I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but if you like stories with lots of growth, lots of sex, with pretty heavy frat/jock/straight-to-gay themes, my stuff is for you. It's also light on plot, so don't expect much more than a whackathon.

(Oh, and this is part of a longer series that I wrote for myself, so that's why there's no explanation of how the narrator is able to do what he can do. Just go with it. For reference, the narrator is supposed to be a mid-20s guy, good body, prep-jock style, blond hair, green eyes.) (Why UM? I don't know. I didn't go there, but I passed through there once and liked it, and I imagine their boys are as pleasing to look at as any other state school's.) (One more thing...I don't know a lot about muscles and muscle groups, so if I get something wrong, just let me know.)

Hope you enjoy.

It was peak hours at the University of Michigan’s main undergraduate gym. I was here visiting a buddy from college who was going to graduate school, and I’d already changed him and fucked him several times, having turned him from a soft-spoken, kinda cute guy to a jaw-droppingly gorgeous muscle stud with an 11-inch cock and a bulging muscle ass that craved my dick. But tonight, he was off changing some of his friends and fucking them into submission, so I had decided to stop by the gym to see what havoc I could wreak on the hottest parts of the student body.

No sooner had I stepped inside than I realized I’d come to the right place. The kid waiting to take my ID was a handsome frat boy—guy by the name of Mike Caldwell, a 20-year-old junior wearing a blue and yellow UM polo that hung over his thick brown Abercrombie belt and sagged khakis. This guy was very good-looking already, but I knew he’d need a little convincing before I got to play with him.

He was a typical straight frat boy. As I learned afterward, he had a steady girlfriend at the time but played the field anyway, sleeping with one hot sorority sister after another at the frat house. He was well-liked among the guys and known for being able to pound more beers in a minute than anybody else, though as I looked at him right then he looked like a nice enough guy, the kind of guy who was a real softie with one or two friends but who got whipped up into a drunken, oversexed frenzy when he was at the frat.

“What’s up, dude?” I handed him the ID I’d borrowed from my buddy. It didn’t look anything like me, but I knew as our eyes caught each other that it wouldn’t really matter. He didn’t swipe the ID, just kept staring at me for a few seconds before looking down, his handsome face suddenly flush. He palmed his left pec nervously under the blue and yellow polo. Finally, Mike looked back up, his face a mixture of confusion, lust, and strained effort not to show any of it.

“I don’t…” He trailed off right away, staring down to where my well-sized dick was rock hard in my black sweatpants. As I glanced at his crotch, I saw that his own substantial cock was pressing painfully against the fabric of his khakis, straining against the pants as he found himself suddenly turned on by a guy. The brown-haired frat stud didn’t know what to think or say, so I did his thinking and talking for him.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” I said softly, leaning over the narrow counter. “You’re cool.” My lips brushed against his and Mike shivered with pleasure. Despite his years of fucking chicks and total lack of interest in other guys, that did it for him—the straight, built frat boy surged forward and kissed me hard on the lips, wrapping his arms around me. I felt his well-defined biceps and pecs pressing against my own hard torso through the polo. My hands were reaching up to grope his defined back and then down to clench his tight ass under the sagged khakis. Eventually they snaked back around to the front, and I fished into his pants, sliding one hand down past his belt and boxers to slip around the achingly hard 7-inch dick he sported.

“Fuck, dude,” the straight hunk whispered into my lips, feeling me jerk his hard fuckpole. “This is fucking hot, man.” I couldn’t help but agree, especially as the handsome UM stud began to change. I felt his dick swell a little further past total hardness, rising to 8, then 9 thick inches in my hand. His arms were starting to feel a little bigger around my sides, and his pecs pressed a little harder against my own chest. As we continued kissing, his biceps, triceps and delts began to rip the seams of the polo at the shoulders, and eventually as his pecs and traps joined in the growth, layer after layer of solid muscle packing on, I grabbed the shirt at the front and ripped it off completely, leaving Mike bulging into his tight gray undershirt. His neck thickened, and as I ran my hands up under the gray shirt, I felt that his six-pack had tightened into an amazingly carved eight-pack.

I unbuckled Mike’s belt and undid his khakis quickly, wanting to feel the growth for myself. He was groaning with pleasure as I continued jacking his dick and stroking his upper body, feeling his lats and obliques harden into perfection. Finally the straight frat hunk’s dick began to swell again as several drops of precum spilled from its broad tip, lengthening and thickening past 10 inches until it had almost reached an incredible 11. It spilled all over his boxers as I fucked it hard into my hand. Mike’s ass, meanwhile, was hardening into a handsome bubble butt, its two perfect mounds of muscle pressing gently into his khakis. As I looked back up at him, I realized he’d grown more handsome too, his brown hair gelled but mussed up in that hot way college guys manage to do it, and his cheeks and jawline solidified. His green eyes were gorgeous, drawing me into his lustful gaze as I’d drawn him into mine a few minutes earlier.

Mike, who’d transformed into a mega-hung, super-muscled wet dream of a frat boy, was on the verge of explosion when we heard a voice from behind him, sounding alarmed. “Dude! What the fuck?” •


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