Extra-Credit for Professor Kenneth

[Long-form commission!]

Once, Kenneth had a freshman student who regularly stopped into his office to read sloppily written poetry. Outside of that, Kenneth's office hours had always been a peaceful time to catch up on grading or to read a book. He had grown to like the solitude.

There were only fifteen minutes left of his office hours--usually, a time for him to lament the fact that he’d have to return to the drudgery of guiding college students through proper MLA citation specifications once again. But since he was cancelling his last class of the day, and it was Friday, that meant he was almost free. He happened to glance at the clock as the minute hand clunked forward. Fourteen minutes.

Normally Kenneth’s office smelled like his cinnamon Yankee Candle, but for just a moment it was overcome by another scent--strange, but familiar. He raised an eyebrow as he tried to identify it: thick and musky, like a man’s sweat mixed with the humidity of a nearby shower. It was like a locker room. And normally he smelled it in his 9 AM class. He felt a chill as the smell grew stronger. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Then a fist pounded the door so hard he thought it might blast free from the wall and crash down on his desk. Kenneth struggled to compose himself--holy shit, was he hard? From a smell?--before weakly shouting, “Come in!”

He identified the smell just before he saw the men it belonged to: Clay and Derek, football players from his Intro to Composition class. Clay was so tall he had to stoop a bit to get in the room. Derek’s freakishly broad shoulders meant he had to turn sideways a bit to slide in. Clay tossed a duffel bag to the ground as if this were his hotel room. Kenneth heard his bookshelves rattle with each of the large men’s footsteps.

“U-uh hello, ahem… gentlemen,” Kenneth said, rolling his chair underneath the desk to hide the bulge in his pants. Clay ran a thick hand through his short black hair. Derek shook his silky blonde man and licked his lips. Kenneth couldn’t escape the idea that the moves were intentional--”bait” was the word that kept entering his mind, although he wasn’t sure what the bait would be for. Sadly, the disheveled professor had to admit that he was willing to take whatever bait these men were offering. “I’m assuming you’re both,” he continued, barely maintaining composure, “uh… dropping off your essays?”

The two young men flashed a look at each other as Kenneth found himself trying to remember what position each of them played--he didn’t know football, but Clay was an “end” of some sort. He was pretty sure Derek was a tackle. He couldn’t keep his eyes off their tight shirts. Clay’s t-shirt looked like it would burst any moment, spilling out his smooth, bulging muscles. Derek’s jersey looked a decade old, and only hung down just to his naval, revealing an inch of his cobbled abdomen. Kenneth tried not to look.

“Here’s the thing,” Clay said in his smooth deep voice. He sat on the corner of Kenneth’s desk, which loudly creaked under the man’s weight. “We didn’t do our essays.”

“That’s what we’re here to talk about,” Derek said, throwing his meaty hands on the desk and leaning over. The way his jersey hung, Kenneth found himself staring into it at his deep pec cleavage.

“Uh, I’m, um… very sorry…” Kenneth couldn’t keep his voice from cracking. He knew his face was flushed (the office felt twenty degrees hotter all of a sudden) but he resisted the urge to fan himself in front of these two infuriatingly handsome studs. “But today was the absolute latest day I could accept those essays. They’re already two weeks late!”

Clay shook his head slowly. His eyes twinkled as he smiled. There was no air of menace in either of the men, but both still seemed incredibly intimidating. “See that’s the thing, Professor Connors,” Clay said. “If we fail this class, our average is going to dip too low for us to play football.”

“And professor,” Derek said, casually lifting the bottom of his jersey as if it were a perfectly natural action. Kenneth stared at Derek’s thick, rippling abdomen. A single bead of sweat slid down each row of abs, one by one. “The thing is, we’re both kinesiology majors. So writing a three point essay isn’t really that necessary for our careers.”

Kenneth heard the jingle of Clay’s belt buckle. By the time he had turned, the athlete’s pants were sliding over his thick quads. Kenneth’s eyes went wide at the tight boxer briefs beneath--and the huge mound in Clay’s crotch.

“Uh, Clay, that isn’t… uh…” What the hell was the word Kenneth was trying to think of? He took short ragged breaths as he stared at Clay’s flexing leg muscles. Clay turned suddenly, making each of his big glutes bounce. Kenneth was shaking.

Suddenly Derek’s jersey hit Kenneth in the face. It was a light toss but it nearly knocked him right out of his seat. The professor sat there, the lightly sweaty (and still warm!) cloth draped over his head, and breathed the thick musky scent of the musclebound athlete. He wished he could get a Yankee Candle of “Derek’s Sweaty Pits”--he’d burn it every day.

It was all so overwhelming that Kenneth felt like he was afraid to move. But he didn’t have to: Clay plucked the shirt from his head. Kenneth was stunned to see each of them men completely nude, their clothes in a carefully folded pile on his desk. Derek’s dick hung soft, swinging halfway down his massive thighs in front of two pendulous balls the size of lemons. Clay’s dick was hard, arcing toward the ceiling, and starting to drool milky white precum.

Clay swiped a bit of the cum from his cock with two fingers and held it in front of Kenneth’s face. “You hungry, prof?” he said, shoving the two fingers into Kenneth’s mouth. The professor slurped at the thick digits happily, overcome by a euphoria that overrode his higher brain functions. Then Clay’s other hand cradled Kenneth’s face. The professor couldn’t believe how huge the man’s hand was--it seemed to swallow his whole head! Kenneth felt powerless as Clay effortlessly turned him around, pulling his head in.

Kenneth’s face seemed to fit perfectly in the crook of Clay’s bulging arm, but the professor’s mind nearly shut down when the mass of warm muscle flexed, gripping his head in place. Kenneth’s mouth was open, his tongue tasting the warm, musky muscle as the rock hard meat flexed him in place. He was helpless to the scent of Clay’s nearby pit, hitting him with a thick masculine fog.

Kenneth could have stayed forever in that huge arm, but Clay released him and he collapsed back into his chair, his tongue smacking for more of the flavor of Clay's veiny biceps. His blinked his bleary eyes, still in shock from the display of muscle before him--and the memory of it pressed up against the face. It felt like warm granite, and he wanted to feel it again.

“So can I submit this bicep as my essay?” Clay said, bouncing the huge, round muscle and winking as Kenneth resisted the urge to leap forward and press his face back into it.

“Well, I… um…” A thought hung like a fog over his desire for the muscular football player--a final gasp from his rational brain: he couldn’t pass them because they seduced him! If he were to submit to this, they could blackmail him forever--and ruin his professional career, all for a few moments of satisfying his own flesh. “Gentlemen, I can’t…” Kenneth couldn’t believe he was actually trying to take the moral high ground as he wiped drool from his lips.

“Oh, his biceps aren’t good enough?” Derek said in a deep growl. “How about these big pecs?” Kenneth turned to face the man and found two huge pectoral muscles coming toward him. Before Kenneth could react, Derek had grabbed him and pulled his face into the warm plump muscles. Kenneth couldn’t get over how smooth the skin of these two huge masses was, how much heat the muscle gave off--or how hard they pecs got when they flexed, trapping his face in their cleavage. Kenneth wasn’t unhappy about being trapped, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of his body. Reflexively, his hands grabbed the sides of the huge pecs and gripped them like handlebars as Derek bounced the huge muscles alternately and together. Kenneth’s tongue found a warm river of sweat pouring down through the muscle’s cleavage.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you looking at us,” Clay said--although Kenneth was so lost in Derek’s juicy chest muscles that he almost couldn’t hear his voice. “We started wearing tighter and tighter clothes to class to distract you.”

“All those days I purposely didn’t wear deodorant,” Derek said, releasing Kenneth from his pecs and jamming the professors face into his deep, hairy armpit. “I wanted you to memorize this smell, buddy. I bet you could track me through the woods by now, right?” Kenneth’s response was muffled by the dense convergence of shoulder, pec and arm muscle the professor’s face was pressed into.

Kenneth’s will was almost shattered as he felt strong hands yanking his own pants off. He tried to pull away from Derek to see what was going on, but the athlete’s strong grip was inescapable. Suddenly, a set of warm, plump lips locked onto Kenneth’s rock-hard (but shamefully undersized, next to these studs) cock. Clay’s chin stubble tickled Kenneth’s balls as the athlete slurped on Kenneth’s dick.

“We figured, you could grade us based on our mouths, if not our bodies,” Derek said, pulling the professor into a kiss. Kenneth nearly blacked out from the pleasure of the football player’s tongue darting around his mouth as Clay sucked desperately on his cock. Kenneth felt himself lifted up, suspended over his desk by the two muscle studs. Derek alternated between licking Kenneth’s face, pressing the professor into his bouncing pecs, and kissing him hard and deep. Meanwhile, Clay slurped and suckled on Kenneth’s hard dick, rubbing a thumb roughly up and down the professor’s crack.

Kenneth’s conscious brain was nearly shattered by the assault on his senses. He felt his impending orgasm hurtling like a steam engine. There was nothing he could do to stop it so he let it happen, pulled back and forth between the needy studs as he groped at their bulging bodies as best he could.

He groaned, mid-kiss, into Derek’s mouth as he came, his body going rigid, then turning to taffy as the two athletes set him down. He could barely open his eyes as the sensation faded, his cum still pouring out of Clay’s mouth. Everything looked strange--grey, no… white!--as a growing light overwhelmed Kenneth’s sight. He shielded his eyes as he collapsed, pantsless, into his chair, the two studs looming over him.

*

The office smelled different--like ozone. Static on a dry winter day. Kenneth blinked and looked down. His old worn, wooden desk was replaced with a metal one. He stared at a brand new laptop where his briefcase had been. The warm light of his office was now harsh fluorescents. Kenneth was still out of breath, unbelieving of what had just happened, as his eyes started to focus.

He was shocked to look down and find that, instead of his sweater vest, he now wore a short-sleeve white buttondown with pens in the shirt pocket. He looked down to find his beat-up old desk chair replaced by an expensive ergonomic wonder, curved plastic that conformed to his posture and supported his lumbar in a way he was unfamiliar.

His office in the English building had coimpletely changed. It looked like something from the technology center! But most overwhelming were Clay and Derek. Two men were there--but Kenneth didn’t recognize them… at first. The bodies had seemingly doubled in size and stature, but their faces were the same--he could just about make out Clay and Derek’s features on each of their blocky heads.

Kenneth had to turn his head just to take all of them in. These two massive mountains of muscle were far too huge to play football! They wouldn’t even be able to pull helmets down with those thick, bulging necks in the way. And Kenneth had to back up just to see all of them. They had to be at least 6’6” tall each! They were each at least half a man wider than they’d been just moments before, with tight spandex seemingly shrink-wrapped around their torsos and neon compression tights--orange for Clay, purple for Derek--showing off every bulge, vein and overdeveloped stabilizer muscle in their legs, especially the massive bulges up front. Kenneth had never seen such obscenely massive cocks before, and the tight lycra showed off every detail without shame.

Each of the men had to weigh nearly 300 pounds each, with barely an ounce of visible fat on their freakishly roided-up bodies. Kenneth felt like he was staring into a space heater as he basked in the waves of bodyheat pouring off the two men before him.

“Here’s the thing,” Clay said as he reached forward and grabbed the desk, effortlessly lifting it up and over his head. He set it down to his right like it was nothing, and the two massive brutes advanced on the professor. “As you know, each of us just busted our asses for three months to win our bodybuilding competitions.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Derek said, kneading his left palm with his right fist, an action that made his right pec crunch and bounce. “Especially with our full course-load. We took every upper-level computer science class this semester.”

“And when we graduate early,” Clay said, a veiny paw reaching down to adjust his spandex-clad bulge, “we’ll be getting full-rides for the most prestigious MBA program in the country.”

Derek strutted forward and squatted down to put his face closer to that of the professor. Kenneth couldn’t help but stare as the huge quad muscles splayed out on either side of him. “But that only happens if we have a 4.0 GPA, you know.”

Kenneth heard tiny rips and tears and suddenly realized that the thickness of Derek’s thigh muscles was shredding his paper-thin spandex pants. The professor struggled to take in the details of this new world: he was a computer science professor, not English. The men before him were bodybuilders, not football players. The memory of cold winter mornings trying to teach the three-point essay to the men in their sweaty jerseys was replaced by the image of a sterile computer lab, the two men in neon singlets eating chicken and rice out of tupperware containers as they typed with lifting gloves on.

“But we don’t have a 4.0 if you mark down our coding projects for being a day late,” Clay explained. He turned around, put his fists on his hips, and flexed his lats. His back seemed to double in size, the muscles spreading out like wings unfurling. Kenneth’s eyes popped open as he stared at a rippling back wide enough to project a movie on. Suddenly the spandex top burst on the right side, his muscles spilling out.

Derek stood up and walked over to his buddy. “Lemme help you with that,” he said, pulling away the shredded spandex like he was peeling an orange. Meanwhile Clay reached down and tore at Derek’s tights. They tore away like paper, revealing Derek’s tree-trunk legs--and letting his huge cock spring free.

“I feel silly being the only one nude,” the bull rumbled, and Derek reached down to pull away handfuls of Clay’s tights as well. In moments the two brick walls of solid meat were naked and throwing fistfulls of tattered spandex, ripe with their manly scent, into Kenneth’s lap.

“Well, you see,” Kenneth started to explain, intoxicated by the display before him but aware that he had to uphold the department’s rigid standards, especially in high level computer science classes. “Your absence wasn’t excused. Just because your competitions were on the same day as the project was due… doesn’t mean…”

Clay grabbed Kenneth with one hand and tossed him over his shoulder. He massaged Kenneth’s ass with his big hands as Kenneth stared down at Clay’s monstrous glutes, the warm, rippling back muscles beneath him undulating like a pile of cobras. Kenneth tried to right himself, pressing against the wall of sweaty muscles, but when his hands touched Clay’s traps, he found himself squeezing and massaging the impossibly thick muscle. There was no way this could be real, he thought as he examined the huge mass--but it was! And it bulged and flexed every time Clay moved.

“Is he hard?” Derek growled, rubbing a thick pinky up and down Kenneth’s crack.

Clay spun him around, holding him by his waist like he was a doll. Kenneth found himself looking into the insanely wide expanse of Derek’s pecs. The two balloons of muscle crunched up, solid rows of corded flex, and Derek ran a fat finger up and down the crevice of them. “Pretty sure that cute little dick isn’t going to fit in my ass,” Derek explained, “so how about you fuck these big muscle titties? I want you to cum between my jugs.”

Clay easily twisted Kenneth’s body so the professor’s cock threaded between the two flexed pecs. In a moment Kenneth was fucking the two enormous melons. Clay did all the work; Kenneth just lay there and moan. A moment later, Clay got Kenneth in a gentle headlock, flexing a huge grapefruit-sized bicep in his face as the two silky smooth pectoral muscles clenched, squeezed, and flexed around Kenneth’s rock hard dick.

Oh, there was no way Kenneth could hold up against this assault--especially not while he felt the two men’s vast amount of flesh pressing in at all sides, their cocks rubbing against each other and slapping against his back, spattering him with warm precum. Kenneth just moaned and let it take over him. He would let these two have whatever he wanted--if they had asked him if they could splatter him into a stain on thew all, he would have gladly obliged. He was powerless against all that strength, those inhuman bodies pulsating all around him.

As the professor came, he felt overcome with white light again. He felt his load spurt up and over Derek’s sweat soaked pecs, felt both of the men explode underneath him, blasting him with torrents of their hot seed. But as they set him down on the ground in a pile of their mixing spunk, Kenneth felt the white light overcome his vision. He lost sight of the enormous bodybuilders.

And the smell of the room changed again; from ozone, to sweat and steel.

Kenneth looked around, bewildered, to find himself lying on a foam rubber floor, staring up into the open metal rafters of a warehouse. His jaw dropped as he looked around, expecting to find the tech center office (or, failing that, the book-lined shelves of his office in the English building) but instead, he found himself in a gym. A barbell extended over his waist, threaded through two forty-five pound plates on either side of him.

His white button down was gone, replaced by a tank top and tight shorts. Most shocking was his body: his doughy English professor physique was now lean and cut, and while nowhere near as large as a bodybuilder’s, he looked like he could turn heads while modeling underwear.

A massive shoe stomped down next to him. Kenneth started, then followed the rippling, veiny calf that followed up to a mind-blowingly wide set of legs.

The bodybuilders he had pec-fucked just moments ago were nothing compared to this absolute mass monster. His eyes scanned up to see a man nearly 6’10” tall wearing an old-timey leopard-print “strongman” singlet, several sizes too small, that extended over one shoulder. A cock larger than Kenneth’s arm stood straight up inside the tight material. Kenneth followed it up to a deep pec-shelf there was no way this man could see past. Above it all was--after moments of squinting, Kenneth finally saw it--Clay’s face.

“Doing some barbell bridges?” roared voice so deep Kenneth felt it in his chest. As Clay stomped away, to a fully loaded squat rack, Kenneth felt the ground shake.

Kenneth looked in the other direction to see Derek curling 180 pound dumbbells. He wore a tiny pair of purple posing trunks; even so, his massive cock refused to be contained, stretching the waistband of the trunks several inches from his rock-hard body. He was just as absurdly huge as Clay. Kenneth felt like a tiny slip next to these freaky giants. No man in the world was as big as these men--easily 500 pounds each, Kenneth estimated.

As Clay stood under the bar, so loaded with plates that it bent over his rippling traps, and lifted it from the rack (holy shit, Kenneth counted--over 800 pounds that he was squatting like it was nothing!), Derek tossed his dumbbells to the ground. They each landed with a massive crash.

“Thing is, prof,” Derek said, licking his lips as his leg-sized arms pulsed with veins the size of fuel-lines snaking through them, “we weren’t entirely honest about our reasons for being in your class.”

Kenneth knew he had to finish his workout--he had class again in twenty minutes and he still had to shower--but when these giant muscle gods were around, he felt powerless, even when they weren’t touching him. Watching the dumptruck-sized Clay move weight that would kill Kenneth twice over made him feel even more immobile.

“Yeah, see, we noticed you on campus,” Clay said, blasting out five more reps before putting the weight back on the rack. It hit the metal with the sound of a thunderclap that echoed throughout the empty gym. “And we wanted to find out more about you. You’re a good teacher, but more than that, you’re a hard worker.”

“In the gym,” Derek continued, approaching Kenneth. With his foot, Derek rolled the barbell out of the way. “And out.”

New memories poured in, washing out those of Kenneth the computer science teacher: he was a kinesiology professor. He had heard about the two bodybuilding students whose cloud computing startup had achieved astronomical success, but he’d always admired them much more for their genetic potential. Despite seeming to work day and night on their startup, each of them men poured massive effort into the gym, and their bodies swelled with the effort.

Wait--weren’t these men football players? No, the two of them were bigger than the entire offensive line! No football gear in the world would fit these beautiful freaks. Even the biggest man in the NFL would be staring these guys in their thick abdomens, staring down the barrel of their giant dicks.

“So that said,” Clay said, reaching down and ripping off his singlet with one giant hand. His big dick sprung free, bobbing like a redwood in a hurricane as he walked around. He stomped up to the squat rack and unsheathed the weight on his shoulders again. The whole room shook as he approached Kenneth with the bar curling over his shoulders, 18 metal plates bouncing like they were nothing. “We have a job to offer you.”

Derek yanked down Kenneth’s shorts with ease. His own hard dick popped out.

“What we’re doing right now isn’t the job,” Derek said, easily pinning Kenneth down with one hand (not like he wanted to resist at all). “We want you to run the gym in our worldwide headquarters for our startup.” With one thick pinky finger he pulled his posing trunks to their limit, snapping them off like a broken rubber band.

“No, this isn’t the job,” Clay said, positioning himself over Kenneth’s rock hard dick as he prepared to squat over 800 pounds again. “This is the interview. But relax. You come highly recommended.”

“How are my glutes?” Derek said, dropping down to huge masses of muscle that clamped around Kenneth’s face. He got a mouthful of Derek’s delicious funk as Clay, plus all the weight on his back, slowly sat down on his dick, then growled, and stood back up again. “You think I should do more glute work?” Derek said as he flexed them. Kenneth felt every wide, ribbed row of muscle bulge up and squeeze against his face. He thought he would suffocate there, but Derek finally stood up again.

Sweat poured off CLay’s body, raining down on the floor around Kenneth. It felt like a gentle warm rain--and as Kenneth looked down, he saw that Clay’s dick was adding to it, burping up precum with every incredible rep.

“I’m told,” Derek said, placing a swollen bicep up against Kenneth’s face for approval, “that you can feel my pulse in my veins. Think you can take my pulse--with your tongue/” Kenneth couldn’t control himself. His tongue immediately burst out, tracing the throbbing veins in Derek’s massive arms. Fuck, they were bigger than his waist! “And honestly, I think I could pick you right up off the floor with my pecs,” he said, bending forward and smothering the professor in an avalanche of muscle--Kenneth couldn’t tell where it began or ended, only that he was lost in it, as Clay completed another rep.

God, Kenneth was so close--the way Clay furiously roared, the way he grunted when his ass was full of Kenneth’s cock with nearly a half ton on his back, had Kenneth hitting levels of pleasure he’d never reached before.

“Ever choked on a mouthful of lat?” Derek teased, leaning so his wide back muscle came down and pressed against Kenneth’s face. He flexed it and Kenneth licked up and down the thick muscle, lost in ecstasy. Derek reached down and grabbed Kenneth’s hands, guiding them up to his abs. “I want you to trace the crevices in these abs,” Derek purred, and Kenneth did as he was told. The separations between each striated muscle were so deep he could have lost a quarter in there--and as Derek flexed he thought he might pop off the tips of his fingers as well.

He was soaked in these monsters’ sweat and precum, overwhelmed as Derek loomed over him and started doing pushups that swallowed Kenneth’s head in flexed pec meat. Kenneth was barely coherent, only vaguely aware that Clay was puffing in air for one final rep. The immense beast dropped down, his massive glutes swallowing Kenneth’s dick as two warm pecs smothered his face. Through the muffling mass of Derek’s chest, Kenneth heard Clay roar--he never finished that final rep. Instead, Clay hurled the barbell into the air, sending it sailing. It left a massive dent in the floor where it landed--but Clay stayed squatted as Kenneth came, blasting nearly a gallon of cum up his eager hole. Clay’s own dick erupted as well, spraying up and over all of them, as Derek completed the triangle, firing out his load over Kenneth’s face like an end-of-race shower. Kenneth lay there as all three of them gasped for breath.

“Looks like you got the job,” Derek said, licking his own load off Kenneth’s face, his tongue tracing all the way down Kenneth’s neck to his shoulders.

“Great negotiation,” Clay said, fingers massaging his own pleasantly punished hole as he licked Kenneth’s load from the other hand. “You got the job.”