Basso profundo

by BRK

 Andrew hates how puberty had been a lot kinder to his studly, alpha male jock roommates. Even his voice is higher. All that changes with a belated puberty upgrade—especially the part about his voice.

Added: Jan 2021 2,030 words 17,239 views 4.7 stars (18 votes) This story was commissioned via Patreon Vignette Party.


Andrew flinched as his suitemate banged on the bathroom door, making it shake in its frame. “Hurry up, Squeak! I gotta get in there and shower!”

Andrew stared into the mirror and sighed. It was bad enough his roomies this year had all ended up looking like they’d been visited by the puberty fairy twice—did he have to look like he’d been skipped completely? He was all of nineteen years old but he looked a good four years younger. Nothing about him said “manly” at all. He barely had an adam’s apple, his pale yellow tee shirt just hung there like it was on a hangar, and even his height (a full six feet—all right, 5’11” and change, but close enough) only made him look more ridiculously skinny than he already was. He’d thought growing his reddish hair out this semester would at least make him look a little less like a nerd, but the only measurable consequence so far was a noticeable uptick in people thinking he was a girl from the back. And sometimes from the front.

Ryan—the studliest of his suitemates despite being the youngest at eighteen—was pounding on the door again. “Squeak!” he bellowed impatiently. Two months into the semester, and not once had he called Ryan by his actual name, always using belittling nicknames like Pipsqueak and Toothpick. He didn’t seem to hate Andrew or anything; he just looked down on him for his perceived shortage or virility.

“Suck my dick!” Andrew called out as usual, his high tenor making a comical contrast with Ryan’s low, rough baritone.

“You wish!” Ryan said, also as usual. “Come on, I’m all sweaty!”

Andrew sighed again and washed his hands, drying them with the hand towel. He checked the mirror again, hoping it wasn’t obvious he was feeling off. Being sick, or whatever was happening to him, would only add their perception of him as weak and pathetic. He looked pale, but to them he probably always looked pale. Squaring his narrow shoulders, he went to the door and unlocked it. Immediately Ryan, half-naked and supremely sweaty from his run, pushed open the door and brushed rudely past him, drenching his arms with Ryan-sweat as he did so.

“Yecch,” Andrew said, reacting more to the circumstances than to the idea of Ryan’s musky perspiration rubbing off on him. His eyes fixed automatically on Ryan’s dramatically tapered, sweat-slick back and the tight, hard ass rounding out his half-drenched electric blue running shorts as his roommate started the shower going. Steam started to billow from the shower cubicle—Ryan liked his showers obscenely hot.

“Thanks,” Ryan said pointedly without turning around as he tested the water. “You can leave now.”

Right. Adjusting his quick-response, already half-hard dick in his ironically-not-skinny jeans, Andrew withdrew from the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He wandered into the main living area, glad none of the others were around. Maybe it was the sweat or the steam, but he was definitely feeling woozy and light-headed. He dropped onto the sofa more or less right in the middle, despite Ryan having claimed the middle spot has his months ago, and let the room spin a little before closing his eyes and rolling his head roll back onto the back of the couch, waiting out the attack of whatever the fuck this was. Prickly heat washed over him, and he was glad his senses were askew because his muscles ached and his throat hurt bad—not like a sore throat or the tonsilitis he’d had as a kid (“ice cream!”), but right in the center of his neck in the front, like his stupid adam’s apple was punching itself in the face, over and over again.

After a while he heard the shower cut off. Things were quiet for a while, and Andrew thought he was recovering his equilibrium again just as he heard a voice from directly in front of him. “Get up,” Ryan ordered him. “I want to watch SportsCenter.”

Without opening his eyes, Andrew opened his mouth and let his usual response spill out. “Suuuuuuuck… myyyyyy… diiiiiiiick,” he intoned, in a voice so low it seemed to vibrate the very air in the room. Fuck, he must be sick. He’d never heard his voice go that low—or anyone’s voice, for that matter.

There was no sign of the usual retort, Andrew realized as he lay there in the quiet room, his eyes still closed. Just as he was thinking how odd that was, he felt strong hands unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down his zipper.

He lifted his head, a little too quickly, and opened his eyes to stare at Ryan as his beautifully-muscled, dark-haired, towel-clad roommate crouched in front of him, dutifully fishing Andrew’s long, rapidly hardening prick out through the fly of his boxers. He had the thickening stiffie all the way out and in his hand and was bending over, preparing to suck, before Andrew managed to ask, “Whaat aare yooou dooing?

Once again, his voice sounded impossibly low, deep and sepulchral, and its power filled the room like a maxed-out sixty-inch subwoofer. Ryan looked up at him, still gripping Andrew’s now-extremely-rigid cock, and Andrew was shocked to see his roomie’s pale blue eyes were round with awe. “Anything,” Ryan said. His deep baritone now seemed high compared to Andrew’s suddenly ultra-deep voice.

Andrew glanced down Ryan’s super-athletic, freshly showered body and saw to his amazement that Ryan’s towel was tenting from what was apparently a massive boner. “You’re hard,” he blurted in his cavernous, room-shivering voice, looking back up into Ryan’s still-round eyes. “Why are you hard?

Maybe it was a superfluous question, given that being buffeted with the waves of Andrew’s deep, rumbling voice seemed to be causing Ryan physical pleasure. Ryan looked down at the shape of his raging boner, then up again at Andrew. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding dazed. “You’re so…” He slid his eyes over Andrew’s sprawled form, raking deliberately down, then up again. “…manly,” he finished. Then doubt crept into his still-wide eyes. “You like manly men. Am I… manly enough for you?” He sounded like it would crush him if Andrew said no, but he would accept utterly whatever Andrew pronounced.

Andrew couldn’t wrap his head around any of what Ryan was saying. “You all are,” he responded reflexively. “You, Gage, and Corbin are the manliest, most irresistible men I can imagine.” Any man would see that, he thought—certainly compared to me, he added derisively. Except… when he looked down at himself, expecting to demonstrate Ryan’s self-evident manliness compared to his own, what he saw was not the boyish Toothpick he was used the seeing, but a broad-shouldered, elegantly muscled masculine form—not huge, but intensely, almost glowingly fit and athletic, with long, powerful-looking arms and legs, a chest that actually pushed out his tee shirt, and thick, russet-red hair dusting up his forearms and escaping from his newly taut ring collar.

Baffled, he looked over at the crouching form of his roommate, only to watch in astonishment as he seemed to harden and thicken in real time. His shoulders, chest, neck, and arms all swelled perceptibly before his eyes, as did the tent in his towel. Dark hair was sprouting across his pecs and arms like a desert springing to life after a rainstorm. His close-cropped head hair looked longer and thicker, too. His face was becoming more handsome, his jawline firmer and his eyebrows darker, and as Andrew looked closer he could actually see the bristles along Ryan’s jaws and cheeks pushing slowly but visibly out of Ryan’s skin.

He leaned forward a little, amazed. “Your beard,” he gasped, his voice seeming even deeper as he marveled at what he saw. “It’s growing!

Even as he said the words, the space of Ryan’s beard growth accelerated, with new hairs emerging and crowding in with the others, until in mere seconds Ryan had a full, perfectly trimmed, thick dark brown beard that suited him extremely well. Stunned, he let his eyes fall back to shoulders and saw that they were still getting rounder and heavier, and his pecs were jutting out just a little more, accreting slightly more muscle with every second that passed…

No. It was too much. “STOP!” he cried, jumping to his feet. His long, hard dick, still sticking out of his fly, wobbled ridiculously in front of him, flinging a few drops of precum out onto the carpet in long, curving arcs. He didn’t care. He looked down at Ryan kneeling before him and shouted, “Just stop!” His fathomless voice seemed to sink deep into everything in the room, himself and Ryan included.

Ryan stilled and stared up at him with round, scared eyes. “Stop what?” he asked, sounding like barely dared to speak but could not bear not knowing Andrew’s exact need.

Andrew’s stomach fluttered, and he swallowed hard. “Just… your body. It needs to stop changing.

Ryan looked relieved. “Okay,” he agreed. His let his gaze slide slowly down Andrew’s newly godlike torso to his cock, which was now inches from Ryan’s face. “Can I suck it now? Like you said to?” he pleaded.

Andrew was going to say no. But something about Ryan—his adoring eyes, his hyper-masculine beauty, the intensity of his presence—made it impossible. Holding Ryan’s gaze, he mutely pushed his cock in the direction of Ryan’s newly bearded, luscious-looking mouth.

Ryan grinned in blissful gratitude, before leaning forward to do exactly as he’d been told.

Meanwhile, as they stood talking in the hallway outside a class that had just ended, Gage noticed that his two-girlfriends-at-once soccer fiend suitemate, Corbin, had slid his arms surreptitiously around Gage’s swim-hardened torso. He was about to ask his friend what he was doing, except Gage had somehow got his arms around Corbin’s slim waist, too. He also realized was looking into Corbin’s green eyes like they couldn’t get enough of each other. They drew each other closer almost unconsciously, so that their huge hard-ons were pressing gently but firmly against each other through their jeans.

“You’re growing a beard,” he said, a little startled.

Corbin, meanwhile, was looking at him with profound lust. “You’re growing everywhere,” he said, and he sounded both impressed and pleased. Gage thought he might be right—his shirt was feeling taut all of a sudden in the shoulders and across the chest; his jeans too, especially in the ass and crotch. Corbin was apparently experiencing something similar, the tight-bodied jock’s hard muscles pushing against him a little bit more with every heartbeat.

They tightened their embrace even closer, somehow unable to hold back from each other.

As they stared at each other, feeling each other’s strength and power, another student appeared next to them, a tall, well-proportioned blond cutie with rakishly dark eyebrows who looked like he could easily melt any heart with a smile. “Hi, I’m Damon,” he announced boldly. “I just had to tell you how hot you two are together and how turned on we all are. Can we watch while you guys kiss? Please?”

Gage looked around. Sure enough, there was a small cluster of decent-to-better-than-decent-looking guys gathered around them, as though he and Corbin had become in the space of a few moments the epitome of what was manly and attractive to other men. A few women were mixed into the crowd, too, but it was the guys who seemed most appreciative of Corbin and Gage’s utter virility.

Gage met his buddy’s pretty eyes again and felt a fierce rush of raw, invigorating arousal. Corbin licked his lips, his skin palpably warm, and Gage grinned. “Sounds good to us,” he said. And then they were kissing, because there was no way either of them could resist each other’s overpowering, ultimate masculine beauty.


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