Diary of a wimpy roommate, PART 2

[biceps_licker]

PART 1
PART 3

Here it is you guys, the second episode. I've just written it, haven't thought about it much, just wanted to publish it ASAP. Please let me know what do you think!

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Day Two

I can't remember when was the last time I was awake till dawn. I left drinking and partying days far away in the past. Jonas and I led quiet, simple lives. We used to have a lot of anal sex when we met. Our room was sort of a sexual laboratory where not a single wild idea was frowned upon. We were explorers, we were fearless. But those days are long gone. Now our idea of good time is cuddling after watching a good movie. Occasional jerk offs and wet kisses became a rarity. I wouldn't dare saying the passion was gone. What does that even mean? I guess we just entered a normal, more mature phase of our relationship.

But here I am. Awake in the dawn, after years of well organized and quiet life. I almost didn't sleep last nigt. My eyes feel full of sand. And this heavyweight beast sleeps in my bed so peacefully, like he's been sleeping there his whole life. The snow hasn't stopped falling. The light of dawn reflects upon its white surface, bringing dreamlike greyish light into the room. His torso is still exposed. His skin is light, and the weird light makes it look... Non-human?

But you can see his skin is still young, soft. You can se he is very young guy, a freshman. I breathe silently, fixated on his mouth. They are rosy, full, childish, innocent. But that illusion of innocence disappears easily when you realize these tender lips are sorrounded by his heavy, dark, lumberjack beard. That beard must be so abbrasive. If a guy with that kind of beard kissed me, I'm sure that will leave red scratches all over my tender white face. I glance over to his dark pits, nestled between his supermeaty pec and biceps . I felt it yesterday. It is a soft fur that...

OMG, what's wrong with me?! I am so exhausted I don't know what I'm talking about. This guy disrespected me. I must talk with my counselor first thing in the morning. He will help me.

I must get out of the bed, wash my face and take a quick shower. I must...

The beefy freshman is moving in his sleep! His eyes are now open. I close mine instantly. I must pretend I'm sleeping. Fear is flowing through my
veins. I must disappear.

He got up. He is stretching now, I can hear. My eyes are shut. I hear him going to the bathroom. I open my eyes. I glance the v-taper fit for a barbarian who killed his father in his teens and ate his flesh to make his muscles even more lethal. I see he is wearing wide pajama trousers.I hear him brushing his teeth. The minty scent of toothpaste reaches my nostrills, only to remind me of the dominant smell of this room. It smells like the cave where the wild beasts mate.

He exits the bathroom. Turns his back towards me. I summon my courage and open my eyes again. I see him reaching into his bag and putting steel plates they use in the gym in his backpack. I don't know exactly how many plates he put in, but I know that backpack looks like it's about to burst. Much like its owner.

He puts the backpack on his back and leaves the room.

Much to my sourprise, I approach the window, instead of going to the bathroom. The street is unbelievably white, stacked with tons of virgin snow. But then, I see a fast dark silhouette tarnishing the soft snow. My roommate, or whatever the hell he is, is running in the snow three feet deep, weighted by his backpack. His speed is unbelievable. Reminds me of the vampires form the Twilight movies Jonas and I liked to watch.

It's too early to find my counselor, but I dont wanna be here when freshman returns. I don't wanna be here period. Maybe I should ask the counselor to give me another room. And he can stay here. Or go back to hell, where he came from in the first place. I know nothing about him. Not even his name.

His silhouette disappeared in the whitnenes few minutes ago. I sit down on my bed. I lay down just for a moment. I must collect my thoughts. It will all be over soon.

***
Why do I smell warm milk? And bacon? I open my eyes. He is eating. I close them quickly.

"Hey."

He knows I'm awake. Now I must say something.

"Hey."

That was a very original reply. I jump out of my bed, as if escaping a burning ship. I almost run to the bathroom and reach the door handle.

"Sorry about yesterday."

Sorry? Sorry?! I didn't know barbarians have that word in their vocabulary. I thought it was replaced by a word "bitch". Now you will hear what I have to say to you. I feel the sudden surge of power. I feel the drive for revenge within me...

"Well..."

Well? That is all I am able to say? Can I even call my self a man right now?

"Coach gave me some new hormone stuff. Causes these rages. I lift, you know."

Oh, no shit. I thought you were just doing pilates. Gosh, I am so witty in my head. Instead of saying a thing, I turn and enter the bathroom. I guess I started crying in the shower, or maybe it's this new shampoo I use. I let the water wash me. I pray he won't be there when I get out. But he is. Still eating.

And there is another plastic plate with eggs, bacon and some grilled chicken.

"Eat something."

When was the last time I ate? I guess yesterday morning. I sit beside him and start looking for a fork. I get up and reach for plastic cutlery Jonas and I have ready for when we order take out.

"Eat with your fingers."

I don't listen to him. I start eating with my plastic fork. He reaches for the fork, grabs it and... puts it down on the table. I thought he was gonna crush it. I thought he was gonna crush me next.

"Eat with your fingers. It's more fun, you'll see."

Hot bacon is melting in my mouth, it tastes sooo good. I lick my fingers and then grease them up again with bacon and eggs.

"You went running in the snow. With a backpack?"

Oh, look at me, I am able to start a casual conversation during the breakfast. I would be such a cool guy if I weren't a damn pussy, dripping with pussy juices, dressed in pussified lace lingerie. What you call a full blown pussy who doesn't know to stand up for herself. Himself, that is.

"Yeah. Gotta keep fit. I run with weights."

"How heavy?"

Oh look at me. The little lady is courious.

"One an a half times my bodyweight. I run with weights since I was 13."

"How much do you weigh?"

"240."

"How many miles did you do this morning?"

What am I going to do with all these numbers? What do I care about his stats? The only number I need to know is the number of my new dorm room.

"9."

"Wow."

Wow it is. There is no food on my plate anymore. I guess casual conversation makes you stop noticing how much you ate.

He eats his last piece of chicken and stands up not wiping his fingers. Looks at me. Almost like he looked at me yesterday, drenched in mood changing hormones. He wears a plain white t-shirt, made look not so plain by his bulging blocks of muscle. His biceps are not even flexed, yet they stretch the sleeve mercilessly. The shirt is so tight around the shoulders, yet hangs freely around the abdomen. His waist is so narrow, hugged thightly by the elastic of his green pants.

They are still wet from running in the snow.He reaches for the pants and they scroll to the floor. The legs are exposed, covered with dark hair. Almost all of the legs are covered by light skin, except the part between his legs. The skin changed because two of his thigs rubbed against each other. That skin is darker, less soft I guess. I bet he can grind wheat seeds into flour if he wanted.

The thigs look like gargantuan stones guarding the entrance to the most sacred cave. Nobody can move them. Not even Hercules. They are not so
defined, but are as wide as his lats. Hourglass figure, I think to myself.

The quads hang heavy above the knees, like a tidal wave about to cover the land no god can help. His calves look like hearts. Made of steel. Forged in fire hotter than the Sun.

He starts moving his right leg. He relaxes muscles and the enormous mass starts to move around. His leg moves faster. Faster. Faster. Then stops. Seemingly soft tissue suddenly hardens, exposing all the leg muscles in all their glory. His muscles look like some alloy from another planet. Elastic, soft, white, yet hard a monent later. Is it even real? Is it some metal from an asteroid? Is NASA looking for it? Is it...

"Grease it."

"What?"

"Touch it with your greasy hands."

I feel lost. God, what is about to happen?!

"No way."

Good. It finaly seems I grew a spine. And a pair. What will I do with my lace panties now?

"Hehe, you act like you have a choice, lil' senior."

He raises his arm. I back up. He comes close. Starts breathing in my face. I feel his smell like never before. He is sweatty from all that running. I feel like I'm in a cloud of his feromones. I feel like...

I feel his thighs. My greasy fingers slide over the rock hard surface. They are boiling, pumped up by that weighted running in the snow. No polar ship is even near this guys power. Alhough he has a bit of bodyfat his veins can be seen from the moon. They spiral down, all the way to the ankles, hugging thick slabs of animal meat. I could almost hear his blood flowing like the Amazon.

"You'll learn."

"Learn what?"

"Coach told me I need a worshipper to help me grow. I guess good worship raises testo levels or something."

"But I don't... Not me, dude."

"Do you see anyone else in this room?"

I feel like I am in some wicked fucked up parallel universe. As if when Jonas closed the door behind him, another door to this freaky place opened. This brawny beast bends space, time and logic. I need to get back to reality. I must fight for myself.

"You called me a pussy! I won't be your roommate, let alone worshipper, whatever that is!"

"Aren't you a pussy?"

"Fuck it, I will tell my counselor!"

Veins start popping on my neck, and that dude is still cool as ice. He starts waving his leg again, looking through me.

"I mean look at you, look at me. Be honest man. If we were wild animals, you would be nothing but an easy prey. You have to be happy with your status here."

He raises his hand in the air. Laughs when he sees me tremble. Wipes his greasy hands on his tighs. Pulls the pants up. Approaches the room door.

"Just the heads up. The coach will give me that shit again today."

The door slams. Out of all the things in the world, the lace panties come to mind. At least I have my humor left. But humor can't erase the dark premonition that starts haunting me. The premonition of yet another sleepless night.

[xboy]

I lke that, but the first chapter was more intense and the big guy was more cool. I like the idea of the steroids, GH or other anoboilc things, is great, and is great if the musclemboy became more bigger, but not a stupid giant please, btw i would like to see some show of of his streght, more dominance and at hte end maybe the little boy became a friendly and more athletic like a perfect boyfriend of the bigboy. that's my suggeestions, but the story is great like that uh

[emsgdh]

I think you know exactly what you're doing, particularly your way of observing and describing muscles. It is the soul of muscle worship.

This story is superb in every way. Please just keep on as the spirit moves you.

[mlbjock]

Now that's what I call a run!

[thebestflex]

This is going to be an amazing series.....keep posting ... please!!!

[biceps_licker]

Wow guys, thanks for all the kind words and suggestions. I will keep posting for sure because this muscle beast turns me on soooo much

[biceps_licker]

Here's the third part you guys! The stuff got out of hand: PART 3