You dreamer

by Josh Dugan

Dream, and it might come true.

Doug was a pillow-hugger. No one slept as well as he; it was his gift. Probably his clean conscience, I would joke with him.

We shared a room in the giant fraternity house, full of athletes, with a large contingent of swimmers; Doug was the bodybuilder of the house, and famous for his beautiful body's deep, deep sleep.

There wasn't any part of his body that wasn't to die for, and, thanks to his workouts, there was a lot of his body. I loved his intelligent, boyish face, his powerful neck, his beautiful shoulders and arms and wide, thickly muscled back and chest, and I loved his lavishly muscled ass and legs, right down to the arches of his powerful, beautifully shaped male feet.

He loved it when I joked once that the only thing more beautiful than his legs and feet would be for him to have four of them. “Fine,” he laughed, “I'd grow four legs for you, and I'd even have feet on my wrists so I could touch you all over with them.” We both laughed, but I was totally boned at the thought of it. Would he really want to be that way for me?

But I checked my own tendency to premature conclusions, and let it go as just his friendly handling of my joke, because I didn't think he'd realize that behind the joke was a fantasy I had about him that I liked to indulge because it drove me wild.

Besides, as it was, his body was awesome. And every evening, to have all of his generously muscled, beautifully proportioned male body profoundly relaxed and trustingly asleep in my arms, well, I loved Doug for it. I loved sharing his bed, his love, and, even while he was asleep, his amazing body.

His body lived his dreams while he himself was far, far away in sleep. If he was dreaming of running, I could feel slight twitches in the muscular globes of his glutes as his heavily-muscled body slept in heavy repose against me. If he dreamt of working out, his dormant body would break a slight sheen of sweat as his breathing deepened, and the heavy muscles of his arms, back and chest would warm and swell slightly, growing as he dreamed of pumping them.

No matter how far away he was in sleep, his body was my big, beautifully male friend, comfortable against me, snuggling warmly against me even as it warmed and cooled, sweated and swelled with muscle as Doug deeply lived his serious workouts in his vivid dream life.

As his hugely muscled, beautiful body slowly sprawled and turned in sleep, it would always find, touch or hold me, the slightest of smiles forming on Doug's beautiful, slumbering face as his massive pectorals gently rose and fell with his warm, sweet breathing.

It was a total turn-on. And Doug's dreams seemed to influence more than just his own body.

For example, our frat house was by far the friendliest and handsomest of any I had ever heard of, largely helped, I believe, by Doug's dreams. He would have nice dreams about how well we all got along, he would tell me, and later, although he didn't seem to notice, I would definitely notice how well all the normally competitive, powerfully athletic guys were getting along really well.

But I checked myself, trying to reason with myself that guys get along better over time naturally, as they get to know one another.

Another time, Doug had a dream that we were all male models, and I later began to notice over time that indeed, there wasn't a bad-looking guy in the house. In fact, I noticed that, to the man, they were all total knockouts.

But, I told myself, it couldn't be related to the dream Doug told me about, because Doug himself didn't notice, or if he did, didn't say anything. Of course, I reasoned with myself, any improvement in the looks of our frathouse members had to be related to their athleticism, which makes any guy look his best.

I found myself musing about the seeming relation between Doug's dreams and their later realization in reality. It couldn't be true, for one thing.

I was just setting up expectations in my mind when he told me of his dreams, and then I was probably subconsciously filtering everything I experience after that to pick out the things that seemed to prove his dream. It's commonly known to work, like the car games kids play where they try to see who can spot the most blue cars, and suddenly the roads seem full of blue cars.

On the other hand, even though it couldn't be true, of course, my mind thought up a way to exploit this, if it was true. I felt wicked for evening coming up with the thought, but I wondered if I could influence his dreams. I felt guilty and horrible for such disrespect of his gift and his privacy.

But, weeks later, the thought was still tempting me, worse than ever. Finally, I couldn't resist trying some sort of suggestion that might result in something that was my idea. And, believe it or not, it worked.

“Mmmm, heavy workout…” I would gently say into his ear as I nuzzled his sleeping form, so heavy and muscular against me. The smile would slowly light his beautiful lips as his shoulders and arms warmed and swelled, as they lay there heavily, slowly becoming pumped as Doug dreamed of a wonderful, serious workout with heavy weights, far away in his dreams.

How I loved the added weight of his enormous laterals and shoulders as they sweated and gradually swelled, Doug's chest expanding even as my arms wrapped around him. I could feel his generous trapezoids coloring and growing beneath my chin as I rested it against him, loving the fresh tang of his sweat as his beautiful body warmed to Doug's dreamed workout.

“Mmmmm, such powerful lunges and squats …” I cooed warmly into his ear. His body warmed against me as it took a gentle deep breath, and my legs thrilled to the feel of his legs against them, as his legs slowly warmed and swelled, from his calves to his thighs to his hardening, protuberant glutes.

The next morning, I awoke to find myself sleeping comfortably wrapped around him, his body still hugely muscled from his dream.

As I felt his body awaken, I couldn't resist squeezing it with my arms and legs. He felt hard as a rock. And, to my surprise, so did I.

He'd dreamed about the wonderful workout, but there was more to it than I had suggested to him; in his dream, our frat house was its own gym, and more than just working out alone in his dream, he had dreamed that all of our fraternity guys were working out with him.

It was a hot dream, he said, because with the physiques everyone developed, our frat guys were so good-looking they began to feel comfortable skinny dipping with each other in the frathouse pool and even going with little or no clothes in the frathouse.

I wondered if my own sudden physique improvement was a result of his dream. He didn't seem to notice that I was bigger everywhere, but I sure did.

But I wouldn't let myself believe his dream had done it. It couldn't have. I was a swimmer and athlete, like the guys in our frathouse. I was just in a little better shape because I'd worked out harder, I told myself.

But I couldn't remember doing anything different in my workouts. Still, I thought, the body develops on its own, and genetics plays a role.

Whatever the reasons for my own body's sudden muscularity, I imagined that there could have been all kinds of reasons for the new muscles spangling the awesome model's bodies of my brother fraternity members. I couldn't think of any, aside from the possibility that I was basically looking for and finding blue cars on the roadway.

But there were the handsomely fleshed, muscular bodies as testimonial to whatever it was.

And unlike the previous changes like the newly intimate camaraderie or the drop-dead model's good looks of the fraternity brothers, this change wasn't that gradual.

It seemed that if it were Doug's dreams doing this, they were working faster than before.

I wondered if Doug's dream about the guys going clothing-optional had anything to do with all the skin I was seeing now at our place. Naturally, most athletes are pretty much relaxed about going shirtless or naked at home.

But I definitely noticed an increase in the amount of male nakedness and comfortable, muscular nudity in the house. In fact, everyone in the house was almost always naked, and buff as bucks.

But Doug, while he was as comfortable naked now as before, didn't seem to notice that all the guys were nearly always half or fully nude in the house, and in our frat house pool. The general feeling of mutual attraction was, of course, very high. A houseful of friendly, muscular male models with bodies to die for who are happy hanging out with each other nude is a pretty erotic place, to me, and so it seemed, to everyone.

It showed itself in subtle ways.

For example, instead of wearing towels around their waists going to and from the shower or pool, the guys were now just hanging their towels over their large erections, which bobbed slowly under the load when they walked their naked bodies past each other in the hallway or on the stairs or when groups of them headed to or came back from the pool, squeezing each others' shoulders or smacking each others' tight asses.

And guys sat or lay together everywhere, on the lawn, two or three together on the pool lounges sleeping in the sun, or piled together on the couch in the TV room, massaging each others' shoulders or chests or legs or feet.

Another subtle example was a kind of sexy joke that started recurring in the house among the naked guys. They would pretend to meet each other for the first time, and say how do you do and shake hands, or just have a good handshake as they smiled at each other as they passed each others' nude bodies in the halls.

But the joke was that instead of shaking hands, they'd casually shake each other's boners as if they were shaking hands, as if it were the most off-hand, ordinary thing in the world. It was funny, but as often as it made them laugh, it made them often almost pass out at the mutual arousal.

It seemed to make their boners bigger than ever when they “shook hands,” as they stumbled past each other spasming with near-ejaculations, although many shot their loads all over the place and all over each other right then and there. So, of course, guys were doing it all the time.

Doug and I certainly liked doing that. In fact, we'd “shake hands” before going to bed and when waking up in the morning.

Still, he didn't seem to notice all the changes in everyone's bodies and behavior, that were boner-boinging obvious to me.

One time, when we had “shaken hands” going to bed hours earlier, I awoke in the middle of the night, my newly more-muscular arms wrapped around Doug's sweating, swelling physique. He was obviously dreaming of working out. His ass was slowly pulsing as its muscles flexed and grew, and my legs could feel Doug's thighs and calves twitching and growing as he dreamed of working them out.

An arousing thought occured to me, about planting the suggestion in his dream, the suggestion that I didn't dare plant. I shouldn't. There would be consequences. My mind was racing and I was totally boned at the thought.

Contrary arguments presented themselves to my fantasy-crazed mind. He'd seemed to like the idea. But he was only joking. How could I know if my suggestions affected his dreams, and if his dreams actually changed things. I'm sure they had no effect, so it wouldn't hurt to try, because nothing would happen.

I felt majorly aroused and even nervous as I craned my newly well-muscled neck to bring my lips to Doug's ear as he slept.

“Mmmm, these legs feel so good when I work them out, these feet feel so strong… I want to work out with four of them… mmmm, four legs … these four feet are so big and strong … nice big feet even on my wrists … so easy to do my pushups with wristfeet …”

Had Doug heard me, far away in his dreams? I didn't know.

He sighed and smiled in his sleep, and stretched his body and shifted position, rolling back toward me with his thickly muscled back heavily against me. My heart was still pounding, and I was a little afraid of what I had done.

But, to my relief, nothing had happened. I inwardly laughed at myself and nuzzled Doug, drifting into a sweet, deep sleep.

The next morning we woke up late.

It was past noon. I could hear the guys laughing and splashing each other in the fraternity house's backyard pool, and I could hear the sound of what sounded like herds of barefooted footsteps in the hallways, and the sound of voices talking in the rooms and downstairs. I woke up still wrapped around Doug's workout-pumped body.

I reached down to “shake hands” with him, and found his beautiful long boner, its head and shaft warm along the length of my reach, which felt longer than before. I could feel his penis's length, so much of it at once, from his balls and all along his shaft to the warmth and firmness of the head of his penis.

And with a sudden pang of guilt and fear, I began to remember what I'd suggested to him as he'd dreamt in my arms last night.

It was then that I became afraid with the realization that as we lay there, I was feeling his boner with a foot—a large foot growing from my wrist . I could wriggle its smooth, strong toes, there at the end of my arm. I could feel the warmth of Doug's huge boner through the sole and arch of my wristfoot.

It was real. What had I done? It was like waking up hung over and realizing with dread the horrible things you wish you hadn't done the night before. I began to shake with worry and fear. I would lose Doug. Oh somebody help me please, I thought.

As if he could read my mind, it happened then. Doug's hugely muscled body shifted against me as he awoke, and he turned his head to smile at me, and kissed me.

My heart was racing with fear, but there was something in his voice that seemed to take extra care in telling me about this new dream he'd had. Something in me caught the almost knowing tone in his voice, and I put my fear on hold for the moment. He'd had, he said the craziest, sexiest dream, he said, probably from that joke I'd told him about how I'd love having him with four legs, and his return joke about growing feet from his wrists to touch me all over with.

He'd dreamt the entire frathouse had become four-legged and wristfooted as a powerful fraternal male-bonding ritual, the way some frathouses shave their heads.

He'd dreamt that we were all having a hazing party and making each other do pushups with our new wristfeet.

In his dream, he had been riding me around on his four legs, holding my wristfeet against his huge boner with his wristfeet, as our fraternity brothers cheered partied on their four legs and giving each other wristfoot high fives.

He'd dreamt that the guys loved it, and were fascinated by their four legs and wristfeet. In his dream, he'd gone downstairs and found the guys had been up for hours, and were all gathered together all over the house showing each other their four legs and their wristfeet, touching each other with them and talking about them.

It was an amazing dream that turned me on, I told him. Inwardly, I was relieved. It was ok with him. I hugged him, really turned on that he was so into a dream like that, a dream that he had dreamed for me. Doug turned his face to mine and smiled at me, and I felt a couple of large, warm wristfeet, his wristfeet, clasp my wristfeet together against his boner.

It was so odd, yet so cool. My wristfeet felt so huge and heavy there at the end of my arms as I lay there against Doug's body. I wiggled both my wrists, buried beneath the blankets as they were on the far side of Doug's body, and I could feel them warm and heavy between his huge, gentle wristfeet and his powerful, huge hardon. How cool to feel it with them, so large and heavy and smooth against it and against Doug's wristfeet.

He kissed me again, and I squeezed his legs with mine—I could feel I had four of them, and he did, too. His were four massive copies of his beautifully sculpted bodybuilder's legs. I could feet my four feet lost among his four muscular legs—four legs that were at once beautifully muscular and sweetly gentle, just like my godlike Doug. Again it hit me—he had dreamed it for me!

But again, there was more than I had asked for. I hadn't anticipated this, but I could feel myself growing a major boner between my hind legs, just as my original boner was growing between my front legs. And both of them swelled to full size as he introduced me to his huge, beautiful bodybuilder's wristfeet.

“I want to touch you all over with these,” he smiled, sliding his four massive legs out from among mine and turning to face me. I felt shivers. His wristfeet were so sweet, beautiful, and male, the graceful, shapely feet of a powerful young male god. They were duplicates of his four strong feet, far too big and heavy for even his muscular wrists.

I could see he was having some trouble maneuvering them, trying not to slap my body with them accidentally as we lay there so close to each other in bed, but he gently placed them on my newly huge pectorals and shoulders and kissed me again. I found my wristfeet had rested on his huge chest as well; I managed to be almost graceful with my own wristfeet, smaller than his but still far too large and heavy for my wrists.

We both laughed, aroused, because as beautiful as our new wristfeet were, they were too clumsy for words. But they were perfect for kissing and pressing against each other's cheeks; I gathered Doug's beautiful wristfeet between mine and kissed their beautiful toes, the handsomely sculpted tops of the wristfeet, the wrists, and then turned them to kiss the beautifully rounded pads and the long, deep arches.

I loved feeling Doug's muscular body with my own large, comically clumsy wristfeet—I could feel so much of him at once because my wristfeet were so large! And handsome, I was pleased to notice, just like my four new legs and four new feet.

And my new muscles twitched with pleasure involuntarily when Doug's huge, gentle wristfeet touched them—I loved how he gently planted them all over me. I wanted to faint even though I was already lying down.

I was lying there in a half swoon when I felt the bed heave slightly as Doug turned his back to me and got his hind ass under my four legs again. I wrapped my arms around him, my wristfeet toes finding his nipples, and pulled my chest against his huge back, kissing the nape of his neck. I felt Doug's arms reach around behind me, his muscular wristfeet pressing the small of my back, holding my torso firmly against his.

“Hold on,” Doug said, turning his head and giving me another kiss, and then rousing his muscular body with a twist that pulled me along with him as I held on with my four new legs. In my half swoon I felt like I was riding a very sexy mechanical bull, but I loved this sexy feeling and with my new muscles held on with pleasure; my four muscular legs easily held onto his.

My quadruple leg lock was so strong that I could relax my arms; I placed my heavy wristfeet on Doug's shoulders, my wrist foot arches warming from the bulges of his powerful shoulder muscles.

He kind of crawled on his four knees, using his wristfeet for support, as I held onto his waist and hind legs with my four legs, all the way to the edge of the large bed, where he gathered his four legs under him to put his four feet on the floor. With muscular grace, he stood up on all four of them, with me riding his hindquarters, just like in his dream.

My four muscular legs dangled warmly against the muscled swell of Doug's four legs. I leaned my cheek on the nape of his neck as he gave my heavily muscled, four legged body a ride downstairs, one of his wristfeet sliding along the stair railing for balance, and both of my wristfooted arms lovingly wrapped around his powerful torso.

I loved the feeling of my muscular body being relaxed against his, my four legs relaxed and dangling against his four powerfully muscled legs as they smoothly carried us down the stairs. My front and hind penises loved the jostling of his four muscular hips under me as his four legs gracefully worked to carry us down the steep, long winding flight of stairs.

And that's were we saw what else Doug's dream had brought about.

Just like in his dream, the place was full of the guys sitting around on the floor and on the couches, muscular and naked as always, and now looking even more extremely handsome in their new four legs.

All the long, muscular arms were now extra sleek with large, beautiful, shapely male wristfeet. The guys were smiling as they discovered how clumsy their beautiful, heavy new wristfeet were—they were still not used to the added weight of the wristfeet, which were quite a new burden on their wrists. You could tell by the clumsy way the guys accidentally smacked themselves and each other with their huge new wristfeet, although the clumsiness made them laugh.

It was also quite arousing; guys liked being touched by wristfeet, and many guys seemed lost in arousal, appearing to meditate on the beauty of their powerful, smooth new male wristfeet and those of their friends.

For example, Chad and Kyle were sitting side by side on the floor, comfortably naked and seated on their foursomes of crossed legs, exploring each other's sleek, beautiful wristfeet. Chad, with his wristfeet soles upraised, held the soles of Kyle's wristfeet, checking their shape and comparing their size to his.

Kyle's lips were slightly parted, and you could tell he was obviously turned on just from his flushed, alert expression, and, of course, from the major boner that stood at attention, reaching up his abs and almost touching Chad's two wristfeet.

Kyle lifted his wristfeet soles from Chad's and turned his two new, outsized wristfeet slowly in front of him, examining the perfectly smooth sculpted row of toes, the full sweet shape of the soles' pads and arches and the length of the handsome wristfeet all the way down to the smooth heel, at the wrist where the heavy foot weighed down the end of his arm.

Since his wristfeet were the same size and beautiful shape as his four big feet, they seemed way out of proportion there as they weighed down his strong wrists—you could see how Kyle's forearm muscles flexed as he slowly turned his wristfeet to examine them. Even his nicely developed biceps were flexed a little more than usual to hold the heavier weight of his new wristfeet.

Chad and Kyle placed their wristfeet sole to sole against each other—Kyle's were slightly larger.

Both of them were majorly boned and looking aroused and flushed. Chad took one of Kyle's wristfeet in one of his, and with his other wrist foot, traced its big toe along the soft divide between the toes and forefoot of Kyle's large wristfoot.

Chad gently traced his big toe over the full pads of the balls of Kyle's wristfoot and coursed it down the deep arch and circled the heel slowly, then kissed the arch, burying his lips in the beautiful wristfoot, and then in both of them as Kyle shyly smiled, Kyle's boner a deep, aching red.

You could see his second, hind boner crowding his frontal boner, as the huge hind boner reached up from between Kyle's hind legs, which were crosslegged below his crosslegged front legs.

Lots of the naked, muscular guys found it quite comfortable to sit with their four legs in the crosslegged position. It looked cool, too, with four handsome feet hanging out the sides of all that smoothly bulging leg muscle. Sometimes a top leg would slide lazily off the fourlegged pile, its foot lying on the floor next to its hind leg partner.

Most of the attention seemed to be guys getting into each other's really attractive, sexy new wristfeet. Obviously, a number of the guys were turned on by the sexy wristfeet to where they had trouble keeping their train of thought as the wristfeet weighted down their wrists and aroused them with their awesome, heavy feel handsome shape.

Some of the couples weren't quite so aroused as Chad and Kyle, but held each other's wristfeet nonetheless as they talked about them, or talked about things in general.

Others just let their wristfeet rest heavily on their crossed or outstretched four legs, and still others seemed to momentarily forget that they had wristfeet at all, talking to each other about all manner of things and gesturing as they spoke.

The difference was that they were now dealing with the added weight and size of their handsome wristfeet as they gestured conversationally.

It was funny and sexy to see the weight of the wristfeet turn simple conversational emphasis into clumsy, outsized, almost drunken-looking gestures.

Some guys had to laugh and for the moment give up trying to gesticulate with their big, shapely new wristfeet.

As more and more put down their arms with their heavy wristfeet to take the load off their wrists, soon the room seemed littered with the beautiful, clumsy wristfeet as they came to rest in laps, on foursomes of legs, on the floor, or in mid-air, hanging heavily from their wrists as guys threw their wristfoot-weighted arms around each others' shoulders.

A few of the large wristfeet waved clumsily at Doug and I as he set us down together on the floor, where the guys were talking about their new wristfeet and comparing them, and talking about being four-legged, checking out each others' handsome foursomes of legs.

The room was amazingly full of big, beautiful male feet, I couldn't help notice, my new front and hind boners growing hard with the realization: four handsome bare feet for each one of these beautifully muscled, nude young guys, plus two handsome wristfeet, duplicates of the large, perfectly shaped feet of which each guy had four. Four beautiful male feet.

The room was full of them, each foursome of male feet more beautiful than the last. I'd never seen such a beautiful, sexy population of male feet, and clearly all the guys in the room were finding themselves in stunned amazement over all the beautiful male feet everywhere.

Naturally, it followed that large, erect pairs of penises were everywhere in sight, as guys became aroused at the sight of each other four-legged, with sleek wristfeet heavily dangling at the ends of their overloaded wrists.

Or sleek, beautiful wristfeet that moved slowly, stupidly, clumsily while the guys tried gesturing with them at the ends of their long-muscled arms as they tried to talk to each other in spite of their growing sexual arousal at all the beautiful male feet everywhere in the room.

The guys who hadn't given up trying to gesture with their heavy new wristfeet were fully boned between their front legs and their new hind legs, but kept trying to gesture and point with their new, heavy wristfeet.

You'd keep hearing the occasional slap or thud and the laughter as a wristfoot accidentally slapped against a naked male body or a piece of furniture as the guys tried to talk to each other with them.

Naturally, there was generally high sexual tension in the room because guys liked their wristfeet and were touching each other with them, which was cool to see.

Or, they would throw their arms around each other, the huge wristfeet hanging heavily in midair as they weighed down the wrists of the handsomely athletic, newly four-legged male models.

Everyone was looking flushed and aroused. The guys definitely liked the wristfeet and all the foursomes of feet, because more and more, all eyes were on the beautiful male feet everywhere.

I finally was able to pull out of my reverie over the plethora of handsome feet in the room. There was a conversation going on nearby, and I found myself able to follow it, finally.

“We're turned on all the time,” Nate was saying, rubbing his huge front hardon with his wristfoot to illustrate the point.

“It takes some getting used to.”

He settled his wristfoot on the four legs of Nick, who was seated with his four legs crossed, next to him.

“I thought about that,” Matt said, who was sitting on the floor with his bare back against Nate, who was having another wristfoot conversation with Stu.

Matt's long-muscled arms were around Brad, who was leaning naked against him. Matt began to give Brad a light shoulder massage with his large wristfeet, smoothing his wristfoot toes along Brad's broad shoulders.

“But,” Matt smiled, “I like being wristfooted,”

He paused his wristfoot massage of Brad's shoulders and slid his forearms over them, letting his wristfeet hang heavily in midair in front of Brad. They really were large and good-looking.

Brad appeared lost in contemplation of them, his own handsome, heavy wristfeet resting on Matt's four legs as he leaned back into Matt's chest.

“They seem bigger, longer,” Brad said, feeling Matt's heavy wristfeet with his own. He looked around the room at all the bare feet and at all the large, beautiful wristfeet.

“Does having wristfeet make your feet bigger?”

Wayne and Jeff were in a corner, where they had been rolling playfully, their foursomes of legs and feet tumbling together as they wrestled nude with each other, being careful not to accidently hit or slap each other with their clumsy, large wristfeet.

In answer to Brad's question, Wayne pinned Jeff's arms with his wristfeet, kneeling, locking Jeff's four legs with his own four shins and feet.

“Jeff's wristfeet are a little bigger than mine,” Wayne said, placing one of his wristfeet against Jeff's, comparing them.

He brought one of Jeff's four muscular legs up, holding the sole of his wristfoot against Jeff's foot.

“His feet are bigger than my wristfeet, too.”

He put Jeff's leg down and reached back to place his wristfoot against the sole of his own foot.

“My own feet and wristfeet are all the same size,” he said.

“But they're definitely bigger than my feet used to be, and stronger and smoother. I won't wear shoes anymore, because for one, I don't have four of everything and two because my four feet are too big for them now.”

“I never thought about that,” Tom said, sitting with his arms wrapped around his four gathered knees. He then dropped his wristfeet down to rest his wristfoot soles against the tops of his four bare feet.

“I don't like wearing shoes because I like being barefoot, especially with four feet,” he said.

“Also, because I like having all six of my feet—my four feet and my wristfeet—out where I can see them. Let's face it, they're hot!” he laughed, as those around him laughed in agreement.

“I did try my flip-flops, and my four feet spill out over the edges of them now.”

“You have four flip-flops?” Eric asked, trying to hold up four toes of his huge, sleek wristfoot, using his other huge wristfoot to hold down the fifth toe.

“No,” laughed Tom. “I have too many feet to give them all flip-flops.”

“We should have an adopt-a-foot program,” Chad said.

“If you have too many feet to take care of, we'll adopt them and take care of them for you.”

“I've adopted Brian's,” Miles laughed, his lap full with all four of Brian's big, handsome feet, which Miles gently massaged with his own big wristfeet.

“They're yours,” Brian laughed, nudging Brian's genitals with a hind foot.

“I'm thinking of some adoptions as well.”

“We should call this place the House of Feet,” Sean laughed. “We've got forty good-looking guys with 240 good-looking feet.

“How'd you get 240 feet?” Dave asked. “Forty guys with four feet is 160 feet, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Sean answered, “but I'm counting wristfeet as feet. Two wristfeet per guy times forty is 80 more feet, and 160 plus 80 is 240.”

“That's a lot of feet,” Tom smiled, sitting crosslegged and counting his own four feet with a wristfoot, finally each wristfoot counting the other.

“One, two, three, four, five six,” he smiled.

Something about the way he did that boned me, and most of the guys.

“If you want to see a lot of feet, everybody put his four feet in each other's lap,” Jeff said.

“Wayne and I were doing it with the guys in the TV room upstairs, and it was like foot heaven.”

To demonstrate, he and Wayne turned and sat on the floor facing each other, giving each other their four legs, taking each other's four feet in their laps.

Clumsily and slowly, as they worked their new foursomes of legs, the whole roomful of nude, muscular guys did the same, facing each other with each other's four beautiful feet in their laps, positions which took up almost all the floor space.

Sure enough, it seemed like a lot more feet, with each guy having four large, sleek bare feet in his lap plus his own two large, sleek wristfeet touching the four big feet in his lap. Pairs of boners were sprouting everywhere in the room.

I gradually had been becoming aware of a sound like a muffled stampede coming from the porch.

A crowd of naked four-legged, wristfooted guys came thudding on their multiple feet up the wooden porch steps outside, coming up from where they had been skinny dipping in the pool. There was a soft padding sound on the screen door as Mark tried knocking on it with the soles of his wristfeet.

“Just come in,” Dan said, looking up from his large wristfeet and the four beautiful feet of Roberto's in his lap that he had been he was massaging with his wristfeet. The screen door opened as guys tried to swing their four naked legs out of its way.

“Yeah, but we can't hardly get through,” Jeremy laughed as he and the other naked swimmers, still fresh with the slight sent of chlorine, tried to step their four dripping feet over all the feet in the guys' laps.

The towels the swimmers had draped over their huge front penises were slipping off as they awkwardly twisted and turned, trying to lift their four legs high enough one by one to step their four big feet over the pairs of guys. The four-footed swimmers picked their way across the room, among all the feet, planting their own four feet carefully and using their wristfeet to balance themselves on the shoulders of all the guys seated facing each other, their laps full of feet.

“Damn, there's a lot of handsome feet in here, and all these legs and hardons,” Shane said, still partly dripping from skinnydipping, popping major hardons himself between his front and hind legs as he tried not to step his four feet on any of the legs, feet and wristfeet in the crowded room.

A couple of the naked four-legged swimmers couldn't help but lose their balance, landing thankfully on the handsome bodies of their fellow fraternity brothers or falling almost romantically into their muscular, wristfooted arms.

It was too arousing for most of them and for the fourlegged boys who tried to let them pass. The wristfooted swimmers became enormously turned on trying to manipulate their four naked legs through the handsome crowd of wristfooted guys with all their foursomes of legs and feet.

Even when the guys tried to help them by offering their own wristfeet to help the naked swimmers balance, wristfoot sole to wristfoot sole, it was too sexy and funny as the poor aroused swimmers tried to balance and get their massive frontal and hind penises past the shoulders of the boys.

There were simply too many heavily aroused penises among too many clumsy naked legs and too many extended wristfeet, and guys were laughing, helplessly aroused among all the beautiful feet. More and more penises became too huge and too aroused, and nobody could deal with it anymore as we laughed and came and came.

It went on for some time, and I realized I was being smothered with Doug's kisses as we soaked each other with come. “You dreamer,” I said, wrestling him down as he laughed and screamed with ejaculations along with everyone else in the room.

Eventually, it was the pool towels that had slipped off the swimmers' frontal hardons that saved the day.

Guys were passing the swimmer's towels around, and using the towels and their wristfeet to wipe up the steaming gallons of come that glazed everyone.

It was hot to have the come wiped off you by a pair of big wristfeet buried in a towel.

Guys were getting turned on again, having fun drying each other's four legs off, dabbing come off each other's pairs of penises, and enjoying having all these beautiful wristfeet industriously all over their fourlegged bodies. A second wave of mating naturally ensued.

It was a while before he told me to hold on again, so again I did my mechanical-bull-riding imitation and locked my four legs again around Doug, as he pulled both of us up on his four powerful legs, riding me carefully across the roomful of mating fraternity brothers, planting his four feet carefully among all the foursomes of legs and all the randomly sprawled legs, feet, arms and wristfeet.

I was becoming turned on again as my four legs and my two hardons warmed to the hot muscles of Doug's four hips, which worked his four legs to carry us on his four bare feet back up the steep flight of stairs.

On the way back to our room, we paused as Doug looked in on Ron and Jack, who were sprawled on their bed, Jack lying on his stomach, Ron seated on Jack's hind ass, with his four legs straddling Jack's four legs, Ron giving Jack's muscular back a massage with Ron's large wristfeet. With Ron's four large wristfeet.

“So I had a dream about Ron and Jack,” Doug said to me later as I gave him a quizzical look.

“Cool,” I thought.

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