Description Jax comes back from vacation extremely jazzed about something that happened to him, leading to a very strange conversation with his buddy Brent about how all the guys on campus seem to be changing lately.
|Updated||27 Apr 2018|
Brent walked up to the front of the train station just off campus, looking around a little anxiously for his friend. He could a feel a frown forming on his face as he found a bench and settled onto it, his eyes still scanning the milling crowd of fellow State U jocks, nerds, and misfits as the college town repopulated after spring break. He was a little worried about Jax.
First there was the weird, breathless call halfway through break, babbling to Brent about something “wild and fucking unbelievable” having happened to him during an unguided hike into the jungle near his guesthouse in Belize. Both the risky hike and the bizarre phone call hadn’t been like Jax at all.
And then—nothing. He hadn’t come back to school the day before break ended as planned and hadn’t answered his phone or texts or email in three days. Brent had been ready to call out the National Guard, or whatever you did when your college roommate was AWOL in the Central American jungle, when suddenly Jax had called early that morning, the first day of classes, and breezily asked for a 10 a.m. meet-up at the train station.
And so here Brent was, waiting for Jax, as usual, he mused. He glanced down at the soft, form-fitting cobalt blue polo shirt he was wearing and wondered why he was wearing something so tight. Sure, it was comfortable, but he didn’t like people snarking that he thought his hard-fought gymnast’s bod was something pretty just for display. Sure, Jax had suggested he wear his cobalt polo over the phone, but Brent usually ignored Jax whenever he tried to butt into Brent’s life—both on general principles of being independent and thinking for himself, and because Jax’s ideas were often spectacularly misguided. He sighed. At least it was warm enough to wear a polo shirt now that March was finally over.
As Brent’s eyes passed from the back toward the doors again he spotted Jax sliding through the crowd and waved to him, standing up from the bench. Jax headed straight for Brent and seemed to dive sideways into Brent’s personal space, grinning at Brent with a toothy smile that nicely complemented his cafe-au-lait tan, dark curls, and shining brown eyes. He was visibly brimming over with something, only just barely containing his excitement.
“Hey buddy,” Brent said, half taken aback, half amused. “Welcome back.” He took in Jax’s cute, boyish face and his mop of curly black hair, which had grown out a little on his trip, and silently thought Jax looked pretty good for his time off. He wouldn’t voice that thought aloud, though, because Jax didn’t know that his supposedly straight roommate Brent had been starting to feel … stirrings of curiosity about his openly gay buddy.
Jax’s eyes sparkled. “What, no kiss?” he said impishly. “We always smooch when we see each other, right?”
Brent gasped slightly. “Yeah, but—” He glanced around the crowded sidewalk, noticing some of their friends, a couple of whom were nodding hello at him as their eyes met. Sure, he and Jax kissed hello on the mouth all the time, but normally they weren’t quite so public about it.
Jax waved a dismissive hand. “Pfft, no one minds,” he said. “C’mon, you know you love it.” He leaned toward him, his chestnut eyes dancing, and Brent—who did love it, and had missed this little ritual while Jax was gone—moved toward him and closed the distance, covering Jax’s lips with his own. Jax pushed into the kiss and opened his lips just enough for Brent’s tongue to touch Jax’s, the tips lapping at each other, as if their warm, excited tongues were having their own private reunion after the two-week separation. Brent felt a thrill shoot through his whole body as if, contrary to what he knew to be true, this were the first time and he and Jax had never actually “smooched” before, and his above-average cock jumped in his loose slacks even as Jax pulled away from the kiss beaming like a million-dollar lottery winner.
“That’s the stuff,” Jax said contentedly, pulling back gently, looking like he wanted to lace his hands behind his head and gloat over his impossible awesomeness. Instead he sat down on the bench and smiled up at the warm March sun, obviously in no hurry to head back to the dorms behind them. Brent sat down next to him. The bench wasn’t very wide, so Brent’s broad shoulders were brushing Jax’s. “Nice shirt, by the way,” he added smugly, eyeing the polo knowingly. Even as Brent narrowed his eyes at this outrageous behavior Jax moved his left hand to his crotch and blatantly adjusted his meat. Brent, shocked at the gesture, covered by rolling his eyes and looking away. When he looked back Jax was eyeing him intently, as if he were sizing up a sheep for how much wool he’d get off of it.
Brent grimaced as if in disapproval, but in fact he was incredibly intrigued. “Want to tell me why you’re acting more pleased with yourself than usual tonight?”
“Nope!” said Jax cheerily. Then he cocked his head, seemingly reconsidering. “Well, maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
“Uh huh. So you’re just going to be insufferable for the foreseeable future.”
“Yes,” Jax agreed easily. “But the foreseeable future’s going to be amazing.”
“Is it.” Brent felt an unaccountable urge to adjust his own cock, which was plump and restless in his slacks. He refrained and instead let his gaze wander over the crowd.
After sitting there restlessly for a moment Jax suddenly turned to Brent and said, “I have something I want to ask you. Actually, I have a lot of things I want to ask you. But just one for now.”
Brent shrugged, glancing at him sideways but not turning toward him. He nodded for Jax to continue.
Jax leaned forward as if to speak confidentially. “So. We both know,” he said, in a measured voice, “that you can see through people’s clothes as if they weren’t there.”
After a beat Brent nodded warily. This was not something he talked about, partly because Brent didn’t want to be constantly peppered with questions about what so-and-so looked like naked—though he remembered he’d felt the need to confess his gift to his roommate when he moved in, so Brent wouldn’t have to worry that the guy had a false sense of privacy.
In fact Brent realized that he hadn’t let himself see clothes on Jax in a while. The sight of Jax walking toward him, apparently buck naked, long bare feet slapping on the concrete, cock shifting side to side, as he’d come out of the train station was still in Brent’s mind. Even now, Jax was sitting next to him, buck naked to Brent’s eyes, the square shoulders and chest of his tight, well-proportioned but not really gym-hard body looking nicely burnished in Jax’s new soft-brown tan.
He imagined Jax sitting on the train naked, earbuds in his ears, watching videos on his phone. Naked on the plane from Central America, accepting a Coke from the cabin steward. Brent’s heavy meat twitched some more.
“So,” Jax went on as leaned forward a bit more and said conspiratorially, “Have you noticed everyone’s cocks around here have been getting bigger lately?”
Brent’s eyes bugged out and he rounded on Jax, who was watching him closely, his buff naked body held still and tense, waiting for Brent’s somehow all-important response. Brent was about to protest, with perfect truth, that he tried not to look at guys’ cocks despite his gift, but first he had to swallow the spit that had suddenly welled up in his mouth.
Before he could speak Jax nodded sagely and said, “You have noticed.”
“I try not to look at guys’ cocks,” Brent was now able to say a little shamefacedly, having gotten his mouth clear of spit, but Jax seemed to know it was a lie. Brent felt his pale face was burning.
“You look at guys’ cocks all the time,” Jax said knowingly. With a start Brent realized Jax must have caught him looking at Jax’s cock, even when they were both (ostensibly) clothed and in public. “So you’ve noticed,” Jax went on mercilessly. Brent felt himself actually blush a little more deeply and glanced down, then hurriedly away from where their crotches were, unable to look at Jax. He gave a quick nod.
“They have been getting bigger,” Jax said solemnly.
Brent looked up with sudden realization. “How did you notice?”
Jax blinked in surprise, but his wicked smile resurfaced almost immediately. “C’mon, you know how everyone walks around naked inside the dorms,” he said casually, as if the answer to Brent’s query were self-evident.
Abashed, Brent gave him a crooked smile. “It’s actually kind of hard for me to notice something like that,” he said.
“Well, I have,” Jax said. Then he added with another wicked grin, “Thank god we’re all really fit, right?” Then he winced. “Shit, focus on one thing, Jax,” he said to himself softly.
Brent said nothing. He looked away again, out into the milling crowd of naked, buff college guys. This was a weird conversation, and one that was making him very aware of his own half-hard meat heating up his crotch, out of sight, blessedly, of Jax; and, oddly, of his own tight shirt, unaccustomedly showing off his heavy, hard-won pecs, consciously built up bigger than he’d imagined when he first started lifting in high school, to give him an edge on a campus where all the guys seemed to have tight, well-defined bods, as he, especially, knew only too well.
Brent sighed, knowing he was in for a speech from Jax on the joys of appreciating the male form and how lucky they were to live in unofficially clothing-optional dorms full of hot jocks, and he glanced down at Jax’s exceptionally well-defined torso, and then back up toward the train station. A stray thought in the back of Brent’s mind pondered whether he could train himself to see through walls as well as clothes. After all, the seeing-through-clothes thing had come along slowly, around puberty, and—
“Anyway,” Jax was saying, reclaiming his attention, “I was getting out of the shower just before I left and I noticed, uh,” he seemed to pause for a second, almost as if he were picking someone at random, “Jeremy Park, brushing his teeth as I was toweling off. And as I was standing there, checking him out, thinking how jealous I was of you for being able to check all these hot tight-waisted guys like him out whenever you want, instead of just in the hallways—”
Brent felt a need to break in. He shifted to face Jax on the bench. “You do remember I’m straight, right?” he objected.
“And yet, you love kissing me, and you love looking at cock,” Jax said witheringly. Brent frowned sourly but said nothing. “And you—well, anyway, one thing at a time. That’s my new motto, or I’ll get everything screwed up and jumbled. Where was I?”
“Jeremy Park,” Brent said, trying not to sound curious.
“Right. So I’m looking at him and I realize he’s packing. And yet he wasn’t that big when everyone first got a look at him when he moved in. He was bigger—longer, thicker, everything. He must have gained, a couple inches since the first time we saw him. A couple inches soft.”
Brent felt Jax watching him, knowing he had to reply. He thought about what he’d seen of Jeremy Park. “I think you’re right,” Brent said slowly. He’d thought he’d noticed Jeremy’s growth, but hadn’t known what to think about it other than that he might have been imagining it—that maybe his gift was playing tricks on him as he started enjoying the sight of cock more and more. He’d also noticed Jax had been getting bigger, but, feeling like Jax was too much of a temptation, he vowed not to look at Jax’s cock. At least for the rest of this conversation.
“And I started thinking,” Jax said excitedly. “Everyone else I’ve seen in the dorms is bigger too since September. They’re all growing like Jeremy, though no one seems to have noticed except us, and we only noticed it now.”
“Sep—but wait, Jeremy moved in in mid-January,” Brent said, brows furrowed. “He transferred in for the spring.” Jax’s brows went up—he’d obviously forgotten that. Both of them lets their mouths fall open a little, leaning toward each other. “So the rate of growth—shit, it’s like an inch a month,” Brent breathed.
Jax gasped. “Since September,” he whispered. “And that’s just for when you’re soft.” Jax’s eyes dropped in the direction of Brent’s crotch, though he couldn’t see it from where he sat. Brent followed his gaze, looking down at the mound of flesh in his pants. The truth was, he’d been starting to worry about what he’d do with all this cock. People had been starting to stare. And more than stare. Even people who couldn’t see through clothes.
“And you were so big to start with,” Jax whispered in something like awe, his eyes fixed on Brent’s bulging crotch. “Bigger than anything I’d ever seen…” he trailed off, his gaze a little unfocused.
Brent reddened, feeling a sudden surge of powerful memories, years of having had a monstrously long, ponderously massive organ hanging from his groin.
Coming to college had only intensified his problem. Those first days, before he’d gotten used to everyone being casually, unself-consciously naked in the halls, he’d been so embarrassed about walking around with the head of his dick kissing first one knee, then the other. He was still a little self-conscious, for that matter, even after having had six months to get used to it. And lately he was intensely aware it had been growing all this time, and even the knowledge that everyone else’s cocks were slowly getting bigger the same way his was had been not much consolation. He’d be dragging his dick on the floor should whatever was going on continue indefinitely.
His oversized meat flexed in his trousers, and Brent felt the cloth tighten around them—they were baggy, except where his unnaturally large meat hugged against his left leg—at the visual that suddenly filled his mind, standing in the middle of his dorm room, naked, impossibly burdened with a floor-dragging cock. He could almost feel it, a dick so big, so heavy, so enormously and relentlessly enlarged that its head lay obscene and supine on the dark tile floor of his room, turned just a shade in on itself, as if it were trying to coil, to accumulate still more length. Shit, Brent thought. Do I actually want to be that big?
Jax’s eyes had widened and refocused, jumping up from the monster that could be discerned in Brent’s extra-baggy slacks, hugging Brent’s left leg, without too much difficulty. He seemed to suddenly realize what he’d said.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, “I guess I’ve seen some big ones.”
Both of Jax’s hands were in his lap, and Brent looked away, unexpectedly embarrassed for all they were talking openly about cock. He was adjusting something big and awkward. “Good thing,” Jax grunted, “you can totally control when you get hard.” Something seemed to free up and he relaxed a little. “Unlike me,” he added.
Brent was scanning around the plaza nervously to see if anyone was watching Jax adjust his boner, but all he could see was buff naked guys with oversized soft cocks walking past or clustered in groups, talking on their phones or texting or chatting with each other. His eyes paused on the perfect, round, hard ass of a short, narrow-waisted gym bunny gesturing with his hands as he told his hunky naked friends a story. Geez, when had he started noticing dude’s asses? His monster cock gave another squeeze in the sleeve that was his loose pants-leg, slightly less loose now, and he knew just how right Jax was that he was very lucky he could control his boners.
If only he could curb the steady flow of warm, thin precum his “third leg” drooled half the time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to walk around with two dry sneakers.
When he glanced back at Jax he was shocked to see that Jax’s wide, rock-hard boner could no longer be ignored, as it was sticking straight up out of his groin and curving back to press hard against his naturally square pecs. “Fuck, Jax!” he gasped, then looked around again quickly and modulated his voice to a hoarse, urgent whisper. “You can’t—geez, put that thing away!”
Jax rolled his eyes. “It is away, moron,” Jax said calmly. “It’s behind my shirt.” He frowned. “Can’t you tell when someone’s wearing clothes anymore?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Brent sighed, falling back against the back of the booth, his eyes fixed on the sternum-high boner. “If I concentrate,” he said distractedly. “Jax, uh—when did you get—so—?” He was still staring at the stiff, unmoving, bone-hard cock.
“We all grew six inches soft, dude,” Jax said with a sudden, brilliant grin. His satisfaction seemed to drive him to further arousal, and his mouth opened, his breathing becoming a bit heavy.
“Yeah,” Brent frowned, not sure what wasn’t quite adding up about all of this (apart from the inches, which were obviously adding up all over the place). “But,” he said, “I would have noticed you were that, um, big, right? I knew you were getting bigger soft, but…” He trailed off. “I guess I haven’t seen you hard recently. And yeah, you’ve always been a ‘grower’—that I do remember.”
Jax seemed flushed, his eyes bright and filled with arousal. “Yeah, I’m a grower,” he panted, and Brent watched as a pearl of precum welled on the top of Jax’s wide cockhead. He reached jerkily for his bottle of diet soda and drank a big swig.
“Everyone thinks I’m a ‘shower’ because of my big bulge,” Jax went on, staring intensely at Brent with a smile. “But you could see right away when we met it was because I had two of these big, bad-boy growers!” Jax glanced down and, his breath huffing thickly, joined Brent in staring at his two wide iron-hard cocks jutting up out of his groin and shoving against his chest.
Brent was now barely aware of anything else but Jax’s mesmerizing cocks. Some corner of his brain was thanking every deity he could think of that he couldn’t see Jax’s shirt. “Not to mention two big sets of balls,” Brent said, barely aware he’d said anything.
Jax gasped. They both ogled Jax’s cocks as they started burbling small precum fountains. “Shit,” Jax whispered down at his cocks. “I’m fucking out of control.” He looked up sharply at Brent, his gaze now clear and tinged with alarm. Brent stared at him, wondering at his distress.
“Dude,” Jax said, apparently with some effort, “you gotta get me back to the dorm and calm me the fuck down before I—!”
But at that moment they were interrupted. “Jax!” an angry voice barked, and their heads snapped up to see Jax’s ex-boyfriend from the summer before, Michael, looming over them. As far as Brent could tell he was not only naked but the ideal male nude, a seven-foot-tall Adonis—though Adonis was not normally represented with a Snapple-bottle-thick cock that hung massively from a taut, strong, hair-dusted groin down to where the startlingly thick shaft bottomed out at a swaying head the size of a prize grapefruit at a point just above his hairy ankles.
The owner of the mutant equipment was glaring down at Jax, who met his eyes with visible dismay.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Michael growled.
Brent stared up at Michael, faintly aware of how his mouth was hanging open at the sight of Jax’s improbably handsome, perfectly built and monstrously endowed ex, as exposed to his garment-penetrating gaze as if he’d strode up to them buck naked, his arm-thick, ankle-length cock slopping around like having heavy equipment that size was as mundane and unremarkable as Michael’s dark buzz cut or the tribal tattoo snaking tight, scythe-like curves around his sun-browned, firmly rounded left shoulder. Brent’s own fat cock throbbed long the length of his thigh, his unruly flesh eager to swell and harden to its awkwardly huge maximum proportions, and it took all his willpower to control his physical response and rein in the massively pleasurable erection straining for release.
His breathing quickened as he sat there, taking the man in. What was wrong with him? He realized his stare was slowly drifting down the length of Michael’s unlikely endowment and he closed his eyes tight, fighting to make sense of his own reaction. He’d thought he was straight, sort of by default—he’d never been with anyone, not even in high school, and he’d come from a pretty insular and conservative town; Jax was the first openly gay guy he’d really gotten to know. But Jax was right. He did like looking at dick. A lot. And lately all the dicks around him—including his own—had been growing, getting thicker, and fatter, and so delicious-looking…
Ungh, his dick so wanted to get hard. It was taking a lot of effort just to keep it soft, and even so the side of his shin and calves was wet inside his heavy, dark, loose-legged chinos with the constant, trickling steam of warm precum issuing ceaselessly from where his fat cockhead lay along his left knee. God, cock turned him on. Big cock, growing cock, massive cock. It was like he hadn’t really been fully, totally aware of it until Michael had marched up to them with a cock so huge it was almost like a third leg. The ultimate tool, the hugest, the heaviest, a vein-mapped, palm-wide, almost floor-dragging prick. Brent had been paying more and more attention to guys’ equipment in recent months and he’d never seen anything like this. He’d only recognized Michael from asking about pics on Jax’s phone, and none of them showed any sign of his whale-sized endowment. Seeing it, being exposed to its full glory thanks to his uncanny see-through vision, did something unalterable to Brent. In that moment something had tripped in him. Everything he’d been feeling the last few months without really owning up to it, his love—no, damn it, his passion—for dick multiplying within him as all the dicks around him grew with it, was suddenly all in his face.
In his face. Fuck, that was the problem. The struggle to restrain his erection was getting intense. He wanted to get hard because he wanted his cock in his mouth, though lately it was almost too big to do that. It didn’t matter. He wanted his hot, red, slick-spurting head jerking against his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, both hands stroking its length as he licked and mouthed everything he could reach. Fuck, he wanted it bigger. Hadn’t he just been wondering what it would be like to have a floor-dragging cock? The prospect was scary, and yet the very idea had lit a fire in him somewhere, like a fantasy he’d had no idea he was allowed to even imagine. And now, here it was. It had walked right up to them, and all Brent could think was, Fuck, if I was that big… just to let myself get huge and hard, squeezing my gorgeous, warm, rigid, quivering shaft against my sweaty, flushed torso, my arms wrapped around its wonderful, pre-slick girth…
“Dude, are you okay?” Jax’s voice sifted through his thoughts, and Brent opened his eyes reluctantly to look over at Jax sitting next to him on the bench in the little train-station plaza. His cute friend and roommate was looking up at him in mild concern, head slightly tilted. In the first rush of meeting after his long trip he’d seemed flighty and excitable, but he seemed to have calmed a little, and his attention was now focused intently on Brent. A few of his coal-dark curls had tumbled across his brow, threatening to obscure one of his chocolate-brown eyes. “You look a little… flushed,” he said.
Brent drew an unsteady breath, and his cock surged, fighting once again to swell to its full size and hardness. The ex’s sudden intrusion had so swamped him with the presence of his godly proportions and impossibly prodigious organ that he’d lost track of how seconds before he’d been verging on losing his shit over his sweet, cocky, tightly muscled, double-hung and very obscenely erect roommate. His own dick felt like a heat-sink against his leg, accumulating energy and portent. It felt like the thing might find a way to wrest an erection from him no matter how strong his willpower through sheer erotic cussedness. He forced himself to focus on Jax’s face, trying to ignore the way those brown eyes seemed brighter and more knowing than they’d been before his excursion to Belize and whatever adventures had befallen him there.
Jax was still looking at him inquiringly, dark eyebrows slightly lifted. Brent tossed him a weak smile. “Just because I can control it,” he managed at last in a low, quiet voice, “doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“I’ll bet,” Jax said, in the same soft tone. He was looking at Brent fondly, as if charmed by the way Brent shied away from words like “cock” or even “boner”. Oddly enough, Jax’s way of acknowledging Brent’s downstairs situation helped steady him a little. He realized he’d been careening around in his emotional responses, as if his head had come unmoored. But focusing on Jax sitting next to him being all composed and self-possessed, for once, gave Brent room to draw a breath. For the first time since he’d caught sight of the wildly hot spectacle provided by the rigid, weeping hard-ons drooling onto Jax’s well-developed chest (under the notional shirt that Brent had all but conditioned himself not to see any more), he felt like there was a chance his own obstreperous jumbo-sized cock wouldn’t rip its way out of his pants in the next five minutes like an ICBM bursting through the jammed doors of its silo.
“Damn it, Jax, are you fucking ignoring me?” Michael barked. His thick, unexpectedly elegant eyebrows were drawn low over flinty, steel-gray eyes. Riled and glowering like that, the corded muscle of his arms and shoulders flexing with tension, Jax’s ex looked like one of those short-tempered superheroes who were constantly ignoring the advice of his long-suffering secondary characters on subjects like anger management and collateral damage. Michael’s hands were squeezed into fists, and Brent could see, even if no one else could, that even the seven-foot jock’s stone-carved eight-pack abs were rippling in sympathy with his suppressed anger.
The crowds had mostly thinned, but this little plaza area in front of the station lay along one of the major streets leading into campus, and there were plenty of well-muscled, nicely hung guys strolling past, and though they were effectively naked as far as Brent was concerned he knew their junk was properly concealed with all the usual propriety. Michael’s equipment, on the other hand, must have been incredibly obvious even despite whatever loose-fitting sweats or other form of concealment into one leg of which he’d managed to shove that thick, ankle-length whopper, and Brent noticed it catch the occasional astonished glance among the various, only apparently naked passers-by.
Michael fixed Jax with his implacable glare. “Explain!” he demanded again.
Jax glanced up at him, squinting as Michael’s position put the bright March sun directly behind him. He sighed and said, “I’m wearing my sunglasses.”
Michael blinked at the non-sequitur. “So?!” he responded incredulously, looming forward a little in frustration. Brent felt amusement edging into his overwhelming arousal. For Michael, Jax probably ranged from irritating to infuriating, especially since their breakup before the start of the fall semester ensured there were no more sexy times between them to mitigate things.
Don’t think about Jax and Michael together, he coached himself. Don’t even think about it.
Jax faced down Michael’s continued glare, adjusting his smoky, dark-tinted Wayfarers. “Explain what?” he asked calmly, with all the appearance of someone being accosted over something he had no knowledge of—though Brent saw the corners of Jax’s mouth were twitching.
“This!!” Michael bellowed, gesturing impatiently at his enormous, ankle-kissing schlong.
Jax shrugged innocently. “What about it?” he asked.
“What about it?” Michael parroted. “Look at it!”
Jax’s lips curled just enough for his dimples to emerge in a mild smirk. “I’m looking,” he said agreeably. He made good on his words by casting a long, lingering glance up and down the mighty appendage.
“Me too,” Brent couldn’t help but add. Michael ignored him.
“You did this to me!” Michael all but shrieked, gesturing again. His face was reddening, as if he might lose patience and just throttle the smaller man, his curly mop flailing around his face as he shook the life out of him.
Brent frowned, wondering how Jax was supposed to have accomplished that, but Jax only asked, “What do you mean, Michael?”
Jax’s bland insouciance only edged up Michael’s banked fury. “You sent me that gunk from Belize,” he snapped. “I got it yesterday. You sent me that stuff, and now—look at me!” he repeated.
Brent looked at Jax inquiringly. “Dick-growing lube,” Jax explained with a wink. “Straight from the Mayan jungles!”
Brent burst out laughing, his struggles with his own equipment momentarily forgotten. “Dude!” Brent said, looking up at Michael. “How much did you use?” This got Jax laughing, too. Michael was turning red for certain now, his fury mixed with embarrassment. “What, did you spend all night whacking off?”
“I only did it once!” Michael shot back. “Okay, three times. Who that fuck are you, anyway?”
“Brent Morgan,” Brent answered. He thought about offering his hand but doubted Michael would take it. Instead he tilted his head toward Jax next to him on the bench and added, “Best friend.”
Jax beamed at Brent. Then he aimed a wicked grin at Michael. “What’s the problem, then?” he said reasonably. “Looks like it worked!”
“Jax…” Michael growled warningly.
But Jax went on, “Come on, you were all self-conscious about… what you had down there, and now you totally don’t have to be! You might even stop being a dick and start being nice to people.”
“And there’s definitely no chance of you breaking up with someone now out of a crippling sense of inad—”
“Jax!!” Michael’s cheeks were now bright red, his steel-gray eyes ablaze with angry mortification.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Jax asked, breaking off his playful teasing. He didn’t raise his voice, though—he asked like he truly wanted to know.
“It’s… your… fault,” Michael gritted out. Brent shook his head. He didn’t get it. He would trade with Michael in a heartbeat. Now that he knew that his recently acknowledged fantasies of having a floor-dragging cock were actually attainable, Brent felt a kind of crazed disbelief that Jax’s ex was reacting to this sublime gift with nothing but aggravation and hair-triggered hostility. The very thrill of this potential reality made Brent’s dick twitch again in a new and eager bid for full-blown erection.
It occurred to Brent that there were two separate cock-growing phenomena going on around him. That was… more than strange, and the coincidence suddenly seemed improbable. He and Jax had only just been talking about how the guys on campus were all experiencing meat expansion at the startling rate of an extra inch a month, and now here was Jax’s ex, sporting a new dick that had gone from inadequate to mammoth in the space of a few wanks, thanks somehow to a package Jax had sent up from Belize within only the last few days. Was it possible that Jax also had something to do with what was happening on campus, to him and all of the other dudes experiencing steady, incremental growth?
Brent mentally shook his head. Jax had only found the “gunk” just now, during his Spring Break Central American hijinks. Whereas the inch-a-month thing had been happening steadily since… well, they’d worked out that it seemed to have started back at the start of the fall semester, seven or more months back. Jax’s secret Mayan lube may be responsible for Michael’s sudden transformation, but there was no way it could have anything to do with the other thing. Not that Brent would say no, necessarily, if Jax had brought up any special gunk for him…
Brent looked over Michael’s prolonged tackle and saw another point of contrast between the two strands of junk adjustment. From what had happened to the big, muscular ex it was clear that the “gunk’s” potency was several orders of magnitude ahead of whatever was happening to Brent and his fellow students, reversing to an almost ridiculous extreme a condition that had clearly been an issue for Michael. In the course of whatever had happened in the Mayan jungles, Jax had discovered something that could actually address Michael’s problem and decided to make use of it. Not because he wanted Michael back—Brent was pretty sure he didn’t—but so that someone he cared about could feel better about himself, while (and clearly this was part of the intent) simultaneously pranking an ex.
Maybe Jax had thought about his shy roommate as well, Brent thought to himself, while he was down there off the grid and evidently sorting through the arcane, secret detritus of a mysterious, long-gone civilization. If only he’d found some anti-shyness gunk along with the dick-growth lube, he mused wryly to himself. Brent paused to consider this objectively. The truth was that while he thought of himself as shy and reticent, this ability he’d somehow fostered and honed of being able to see through people’s clothes had meant that for a long time now he hadn’t been nearly as bashful as most of the rest of his family, or as he himself had once been as a kid. When everybody was literally laid bare to you, you gained a weird kind of confidence from always being in possession of the kind of knowledge no one else had. Or at least, that was the way he’d started thinking about his gift back in high school, when he’d realized he had a choice of believing in himself, or internalizing what the jerks said about anyone who wasn’t one of them. So maybe he was better off on the whole shyness thing than he might have been otherwise.
His ability, and his interest in cock, were his two biggest secrets, closely linked to each other. He’d never told anyone he could see through clothes, not until the roommate situation had prompted him to do right by Jax and come clean about his ability. Well… that wasn’t quite true. He remembered a band trip involving a long early morning bus ride where he’d finally nerved himself to sit next to a boy he’d had a crush on, a fellow trombone-player named Fisher with sandy hair and wide hazel eyes. Fisher was medium height and slender, but he had a tight, defined body Brent enjoyed looking at for reasons he wasn’t entirely clear on, and he also possessed the biggest, fattest cock he’d ever seen apart from his own. Unlike his, though, which was as round and tubular as a thick, tightly packed sausage, Fisher’s was wide but kind of flat as it lay, mostly soft, against his hip. As the miles rolled by in the dawn-lit bus most of the passengers dozed or immersed themselves in the phones, but Brent and Fisher sat next to each other almost unmoving, progressively more aware of each other. Fisher stared out the window, but Brent’s eyes fell to Fisher’s lap and he couldn’t wrest them away, and as if in response Fisher’s cock had started to swell and inflate under the thick, obfuscating denim of his jeans, the signs of his arousal hidden from all eyes but Brent’s. Brent, for all he did not think of himself as gay, was fascinated. He wondered if feeling it in his hand, hard and wide and flat and altogether huge, would feel as good as grasping his own.
At length Fisher lowered his chin and muttered, as if half to himself, “You’re staring.”
“Sorry,” Brent replied, just loud enough to be audible.
A second passed. “It’s okay,” he breathed finally. “It’s… it’s almost like you can see it.”
“I can.” It was barely a whisper.
Fisher had looked up then, his wide eyes meeting Brent’s for a long moment before abruptly looking away.
The rest of the ride they kept an awkward, side-by-side distance from each other, Brent looking anywhere but at his seatmate. The next day at school Fisher had pulled him into a quiet corner. “I can’t be gay,” he said miserably. “I wish I could.” Then he was gone. Brent watched him go thinking he wasn’t gay, either. He just wanted to know what Fisher’s wide, impressive meat felt like in his hands, heated by the rush of Fisher’s burgeoning, cresting arousal. He’d only been able to see it and watch it grow… but then, that was more than any other boy could do. He did indeed have a wonderful gift.
Michael, meanwhile, had a gift of an entirely different nature. Brent focused on him again, and could not help but stare at his endowment with undisguised awe, much as he had done on that long morning bus ride with Fisher. His bandmate, of course, had had only a well-above-average cock with some very pleasing-to-look-at extra width added in for good measure whereas Michael… Brent blinked at it, stunned anew by its beauty and magnitude. Its owner’s simmering annoyance utterly perplexed him. “Dude,” he said finally, unable to help himself, “doesn’t it… doesn’t it feel good? Doesn’t it feel amazing?”
Michael shifted his steely gaze to Brent, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It feels too good,” he admitted brusquely. “Too amazing. The moment I… let it get hard, what I feel…” He blew out a breath and went on in a low voice, “It’s almost too much pleasure.”
Brent gaped at him.
Jax was gazing up at Michael consideringly through his sunglasses. “Look, I get it,” he said agreeably. “I get why you’re mad. It was a joke, and it got out of hand.” Brent snorted in surprise, and Jax smiled ruefully. “Sorry, that was unintentional. But it really was kind of a joke,” he told his ex. “I mean, sure, when I… found it, I figured the salve might bump you up a size or two, but I didn’t realize it was quite that… powerful when I sent it.” He glanced over at Brent. “I’ve been in a weird place since what happened down there,” he explained to his friend. “Kind of giddy, all full of too many possibilities. Distracted. Like my brain was going fractal. Some of it was just having fun. God, you have no idea. And some of it was, you know, wanting to… fix things,” he admitted, with a sidelong glance at Michael.
Brent thought about this. Clearly Jax was thinking about a breakup motivated by an ex’s achingly intimate shame. Jax’s allusion to his mysterious adventure, though, was what really grabbed his attention. “What did happen to you?” Brent asked, glad of the chance to finally ask.
“I… fell off a cliff and died,” Jax said evasively. “Long story.”
“You fell off a cliff?” Brent echoed.
“And died?” Michael added.
“Drowned, actually,” Jax said negligently. “There was an earthquake, some ancient Mayan god turning over in his sleep I guess, and the guy I was hiking with from the hostel started to go over the edge, so I pushed him back and fell instead, and it was like a hundred foot fall into this, like, bottomless sacred pool, and so I died, probably because the water was so fucking cold, but anyway the whole thing woke up the Mayan god and apparently he and his kind have this, like, ‘inviolable law’”—Jax made sarcastic air quotes—”where they’re compelled to, you know, reward people who died under certain circumstances on hallowed primeval land, yadda yadda yadda.” He brushed the story aside and addressed himself to Michael. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. You know Emilio Rios, right? He totally has a thing for you.”
“What?” Michael said, like Brent caught off-guard by the abrupt change in topic. Brent tried to refocus on what Jax was telling Michael. He had plenty of time later to ferret out more of the story, not that Jax seemed to want to talk about it. This Emilio thing, though—maybe that wasn’t as out of left field as it sounded. He knew Emilio from a couple of his science-track courses. He was a tall, good-looking hunk, somewhere between Jax’s boyish cuteness and Michael’s forbidding alpha beauty. He was one of the stars of the State U rowing team, well-built and nicely hung, in comparison with anyone other than the three of them, at least, and was prone to walking around with a wide, genuine smile that tended to perk you up when you saw it. To Brent he’d always seemed lonely but kind of hopeful, like he was waiting patiently for the right guy to wander along.
Michael seemed skeptical. “He’s into you,” Jax insisted to his ex. “And he’s also into giant cock. I’ve caught him checking out Brent, here. He probably would have done something about it if he’d realized Brent was gay.” Brent was surprised by this assertion about Emilio’s interest in him, but he thought back to his classes with Emilio and realized there were a few occasions he’d caught the man gazing wistfully at his package, piquing in turn a curiosity Brent had almost acted on. “And Brent’s not nearly at your level. No offense,” Jax added to Brent with a wink.
“None taken,” Brent said honestly. “I’m totally not anywhere near in league with…” His eyes drifted to Michael’s massive tool, which was twitching a little under all the attention even if only Brent could see its full glory exposed before him. “… with something that huge and awesome,” he finished distractedly, only half-aware of what he was saying. Then he realized what he’d said and felt his cheeks rapidly start to warm. Jax grinned.
Michael blinked at Brent, unaccustomed to this kind of praise. “Okay, but…” he began doubtfully, looking at them both in turn.
“And I know you’re totally into him, too,” Jax persisted, eyes twinkling as he pursued his matchmaking. “Admit it.”
Michael swallowed and looked down at Jax with his brows furrowed. “Okay, but…” he said again, though this time there was a different tenor to it, conceding to Jax’s points while underlining a problem still unaddressed. “Jax, man, I wasn’t kidding about the crazy amount of pleasure this thing puts out,” he said pleadingly. “What if, with someone, it’s too much? Like, way too much?”
“It won’t be,” Jax said reassuringly. “With two people, it’s like the pleasure is shared. Trust me,” he said when Michael’s dubious expression remained in place.
“Do you really think it’s like that?” Michael asked cautiously at last. “How do you know?”
Jax smiled wide and tapped his temple. “Ancient Mayan secret,” he said.
Michael’s brows lifted, but his doubt seemed to clear at last. Nonetheless he still regarded Jax with a slightly pinched expression. “You’d better be right,” he said.
“I am,” he said airily. Then with a sigh he added, “Look, Mike, I’ll make you a deal. I brought up another ‘gunk’, as you call it. One that reverses the… extent of your problem. Try it my way first, and if it doesn’t work it’s all yours.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “You have stuff that would make it smaller?” he said, and despite his earlier complaints about his new size he seemed not at all taken by the idea.
Jax nodded sagely. “If it doesn’t work out with Emilio, you can have the whole jar.”
Michael actually took a step back, as if the idea repelled him. “That’s—that’s okay,” he stammered, raising a hand with the palm out. “I think… I think I’ll go see if I can find Rios.” He took another step backward, then turned and started walking away, his pace increasing. Brent didn’t mind—the act of turning around exposed Michael’s firm, round, and very fine ass, and he could still see his massive appendage, trapped against one leg by whatever he was wearing below the waist, as he started to hurry away.
“Okay, then,” Jax called after him cheerily. “Let me know!” Michael waved over his shoulder and then was gone, passing into the pedestrian traffic heading into the university campus. As soon as he was gone he turned grinning to Brent. “I thought he’d never leave,” he said, and without warning he reached up and slid a hand around Brent’s neck and drew him in for a deep, languid, and very arousing kiss.
When they broke the kiss they were both breathing hard. Jax’s eyes were twinkling and seemed drill deep into soul. Brent felt like the world was simplifying, and he wondered if Jax felt the same way. “Is your brain still growing fractal?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve got lots of things going on in there,” Jax said. “But at the moment they’re all about you.”
Brent’s thumping heart seemed to skip a beat. “Like what?” he said.
“Like… how much I love your tongue,” Jax whispered. “It’s so long. The perfect length for making out. It feels so good inside me.”
“Yeah,” Brent huffed. “It does.” He liked how his sensitive, almost-too-long tongue felt in Jax’s mouth. He liked it a lot. Way too much for their current situation. Jax dimpled and moved in for a new kiss, but Brent stopped him. “Wait,” he said, his voice rough. “This kissing thing we do, I like it. I like it a lot.”
“Me too,” Jax said, his eyes and smile full of arousal, affection, and so much promise.
“A fuckton of a lot,” Brent agreed. They smiled, and he rested his forehead against Jax’s. “But dude, I’m going to rip through my pants any second if we keep this up,” he admitted, only half joking. “Can we… go somewhere?”
Oh, how those eyes made his pulse speed up when they danced with mischief like that. “And what?” Jax teased.
Brent bit his lip. “Kiss,” he said.
“And?” Jax pressed.
Brent smiled, feeling his cheeks burn. “Other stuff,” he said, only a little bashfully.
“Yeah?” Jax said. Fuck, those dimples.
“Yeah.” He kept his eyes on Jax’s as he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how… how good it would feel to wrap my hands around someone else’s dick. A lot longer than you know,” he added, because it felt important Jax understand this wasn’t a new or impermanent thing. Jax nodded, his forehead dipping against Brent’s. “But right now,” he made himself say, “I want something new.”
“Yeah?” Jax said, sounding breathless.
“Yeah,” Brent said. “Your mouth… around my cock. Driving me crazy. Making me cum.” He drew in a ragged breath. “That’s what I want.”
Jax’s eyes were locked on his. “Is that all you want?” he asked.
It was Brent’s turn to grin wickedly at Jax. “Not even close.”