The Meek Shall Inherit Part 1

By amogaditano -
published March 31, 2018

Bullied, nerdy college freshman finds a way to get back at his jocky roommate after a strange encounter in the campus library

College was not going well for me.

It wasn’t so much the school work, or anything academic. I got over that quick. It was mostly the social aspect. Aside from the fact that I was 3000 miles away from anything I cared about or knew, settling in with a complete stranger wasn’t helping.

His name was Mateo, but everyone called him Matt, and he was my assigned roommate for the year.

Besides the casual e-mail during the summer, deciding who would bring what, we hadn’t really talked much. It wasn’t until we finally met that I understood that we were not going to get along.

Matt was a generic jock, coasting through college on looks and athletics, with no real goal or ambition, besides getting drunk and having sex. But Matt was also pampered from his politician daddy, with an easy flow of cash able to buy off any problem, giving little wonder how he managed to get into university.

I myself was chasing after scholarships, hoping to scrape through the next four years without going into the red. WIth scrawny physique and terrible financial standings, academics were my only chance.

It wasn’t that he was a bad person, not really. Well, kind of. He was kind of a dick for sure. The terrible combination of hyper masculinity and short sightedness was off-putting, but nothing condemning. The real problem was how we just weren’t compatible. We shared no interests, no classes, and not even a similar sleep schedule.

When I first met Matt, we were both civil enough. He brought the fridge, and I the microwave. We discussed the subject of boundaries, exchanged phone numbers, and all other basics of roommate etiquette.

I knew from the instant I saw him we were going to have a problem. It wasn’t just his boorish jock personality, as much as the fact that I found him insanely attractive.

He was big and bulky, with muscles that swelled like fruit in the summertime. He was a good foot taller than me, with at least 100 pounds heavier. His hair was black, with scruff covering his lower jaw. His face was handsome and pronounced, with large eyes and flattened nose. His skin was a dark shade of caramel, giving obvious clues to his Hispanic origins. Sports and junk food gave him a bulky shape, giving him a thick waist and beefy ass, so inviting and impossibly far.

It was that corny stereotype from any daytime movies about gay kids: the nerd lusting after the straight jock in unreciprocated feelings, except I already knew the ending.

He was straight. He assured me plenty of times, given he knew I was one of those “homos” as he called it. I overheard him call me his “faggot roommate” sometimes when I was asleep while talking with friends. I wasn’t about to start a fight over that, but it still bothered me. In hindsight, I probably should’ve said something. Assert myself. But I wasn’t that bothered. Besides, it wasn’t like he was hitting me, so why start a fuss?

But also, probably a big reason I went easy on him was because I found my roommate to be so damn sexy. Just being in close proximity was enough to get my motors running.

But he was still my very straight roommate. To make any “move” on him would’ve been pointless, and possibly dangerous. Besides, even in some alternate reality where Matt was gay and I had the guts to ask him out, I doubt he would make a good boyfriend. He was so selfish and obnoxious, not hesitating a moment to brag loudly over the phone of his latest notch in the headboard.

Still, that didn’t stop me from daydreaming.

We didn’t see each other all that much in the first month of school. Matt spent most of his time out in class and football practice. Any free time he got, he usually spent working out in the gym, or partying out in some frat house. Yeah he was a bit of a dick, and a homophobic one at that, but it wasn’t all that bad.

Strangely enough, I was happiest he was my roommate when he’d come home drunk after midnight. He’d strip sloppily and pass out on top of his bedcovers in nothing but his underwear. Those were the nights I’d jack off watching him, just imagining the vivid scenes of debauchery I’d go through using that body.

It was even hotter when he’d sleep on his stomach, giving me a perfect view of his ass. Underneath the thin nylon fabric, they were sticking out like two melons, perfectly smooth and inviting for a snack.

I’d never go beyond just looking though. To actually touch him was unthinkable, giving me second-hand guilt. Best case scenario, he wakes up for grateful spontaneous sex. Worst case scenario, the goliath wakes up and kills me.

I didn’t like my chances.

So without the balls to do anything, I pined. And because Matt had a lot of drunken nights passed out half-naked, I pined a lot.

Yet still, we functioned. A bit cold, a bit distant, but certainly nothing unfriendly. He went his way, and I went mine.

It wasn’t until early october that things really took a turn.

That’s when I discovered the computer.

In the beginning, I didn’t think it would work. Who would? The very concept was ludicrous, breaking reality as it were.

But also very exciting.

To keep everything in suspense, I’ll start from the beginning.

One night, a Friday night specifically, Matt had come back to the dorm completely drunk. But this time, he was not alone.

The girl slung around his arm was giggling furiously, obviously drunk. As they ripped off clothing from each other, there was little mystery to what was going to happen next. Their noisy arrival had woken me up, and then I was in that terrible limbo of indecision, wondering whether I should get out now or try to wait it out.

Based on the rate they were going, there was no way I could get out fast enough. I tensed up, knowing that I had to remain silent until they were finished, lest they know I had committed the sin of being there.

Thankfully, our room curved into an L. My bed was in the corner of that L, my body facing the wall. Underneath my comforter I was somewhat hidden from view. For a while anyway.

But I really wouldn’t be talking about this if it all worked out, right? Right.

Their little makeout session continued on, for a while, with Matt and his chosen one night stand repeating “oh baby” into each others’ mouths.

But then, and very Suddenly the moans and wet smacks stopped.

With quick and hurried stumbles of clothes, the girl started yelling, calling Matt a sick voyeur pervert, trying to sex her up so his friend could watch in the background, her words slurring into incomprehensible squeals. Matt started yelling back, defaulting to calling her a bitch or a tease, giving him blue balls and the like.

Soon, after the door slammed with her departure, Matt turned his drunken anger towards me in full jock-rage mode.

I kept on trying to say that I was already there when he got in, but he wouldn’t have any of that. Pretty soon, this beefy jock had lifted me out of my bed, calling me a faggot perv, trying to stroke off while he got off. I seized up in panic, thinking maybe he wasn’t so asleep all those times I masturbated.

It wasn’t the case that time, which I was clearly not at fault, but that didn’t seem to matter against drunken logic.

He had shoved me out the door, calling me faggot one last time. Bastard didn’t even let me grab my keys.

I was in my flip-flops and my PJ’s in the middle of the dorm hall without any way to get back in. Wanting some immediate retribution, I decided to bang on my RA’s door, hoping he would have a solution for this.

Now, from what I could say about my RA Paulie is that he doesn’t like me, and I had a pretty good guess as to why.

He knew I was gay. Or at least, that’s about as much as I could assume. Probably from the demographic survey we filled out during the first week, or maybe he was guessing. All I knew was that he did not approve. He told me during orientation week of how to be sure not to get carried away and start perving on guys in the shower, of how I had to control myself. He tried to play it off as a joke, but he didn’t even try to be convincing.

From that moment, I just tried to stay away. Probably could’ve reported him or something, but considering the strong Christian presence on campus, it was probably for the best to limit my exposure on campus.

But that night, I needed an immediate solution. When I knocked on his door, he seemed hesitant when he saw it was me. When I explained to him what had happened, he remained impassive, not even the part of Matt being drunk phasing him. He told me that personal conflicts between roommates were best resolved face-to-face, and maybe next time, I would try and not go all predatory on other guys’ sex lives. Then he closed the door.

He didn’t even try and offer to open my room for me. What a dick.

The front desk was closed, so I didn’t have many choices. I decided to head towards the library. It was the only place on campus that was open this late at night, seeing as the hallways and lobbies were off limit to drifters.

I made my way down across campus. It was early October, the autumn air sharp and biting. I really wished I had socks. For that matter, I really wished I hadn’t been kicked out of my own room.

When I reached the library, I decided just to find some book and hole up for the night in one of those private study booths until I got comfortable enough to sleep in a sitting position. It was an all-night library, and although the librarians didn’t care for students drooling on the desks, they wouldn’t say anything.

I picked up some random novel off the shelf, the title I don’t even recall. I didn’t really concentrate on the words, everything off the page coming off as one uninteresting blurb.

In that moment, I was really hating Matt. Like, genuine, pure, syrupy hate. The kind of hate that doesn’t stop after an hour. Why did he have to be such a dick? It wasn’t my fault that I was sleeping while he decided to try to have sex in our SHARED room, without even checking or asking. The fact that he was so hot only made it worse.

Anger and lust combined together are very dangerous. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I had to have been. I remember being back in my dorm room with Matt, kneeling before me, holding . Scenes played out of Matt being completely submissive to me, seeking absolution for his rude behavior. I was there to administer his punishment in an assortment of kinky methods.

I remember in my dream, he was acting like a dog, leather mittens and tail-plug included. He was in a begging position, his tongue sticking out and panting, whining. I knew what he wanted, and I gave it to him slowly. I pushed my dick towards his wiggling tongue, placing the tip just in contact. He lapped enthusiastically, his tongue stroking my hard dick in a series of sloppy kisses, sending a million volts from my spine to my toes. It was amazing.

What happened next is something I can’t explain.

I remember waking at the desk with a hard-on. I was unbelievably horny, more than I’ve ever felt before. I’m surprised I didn’t cream my pants during the dream, but I knew I had to find relief. I went off in search of a bathroom to jack off in, hoping no one was around to notice my erection bulging from my flannel pajama bottoms.

I didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been late. There was nobody around, yet the lights were still on.

As I made my through the library, my erection seemed to be getting harder, starting to hurt- like a steel rod was inside needing to get out.

When I finally reached the bathroom door, I pushed inward viciously. But inside, there was no bathroom.

Instead, in there, it was dark. It was strange. There were no discernable objects anywhere in the shadows, let alone walls. It was warm inside, like breath. In the center, the only place there was light, was a desk with a computer monitor, the screen glowing.

I realized I was still dreaming. Nothing this weird could be real.

Normally I would be creeped out by the ominous computer beckoning me forward, but because it was a dream, there was no real consequences.

So I approached the computer.

There was a chair, and so I sat down, though I don’t remember a chair being there when I walked in, but there it was. The air was warm and welcoming, like breath. Like skin.

The screen was blank, entirely white, the light blinding and pure.

I remember sitting there for a while, my erection still there, but somehow, I no longer felt the pain or need for release.

It was strange. And somehow, peaceful. It was if my erection became an extension of me.

When I looked at the screen again, there was a message:

What is your Desire?

Then there was a keyboard. I didn’t see one before, but it had to be there, because it was in front of the computer now, each tile pristine and shiny - unused.

The answer seemed very obvious at the time- revenge against Matt or Tony. Those bastards were the reason I was kicked out of my room, making me sleep in a library in flip-flops. I thought of them having crabs, or giving them hemorrhoids.

But then I thought, no.

This should be something clever, something useful, something lasting…

Well, I thought, it’s a dream. There’s no real harm in what I write, so I decided to write what came to mind - what I’d been wanting for so long. Something darker than I wanted to admit. Something I could never have.

I typed for a while, making sure I had thought of each and every detail. I read it over twice, checking for any errors or loopholes, making sure it was all ironclad.

Then I pressed enter.

Nothing happened for a few moments, until a second message popped up.

Your wish has been granted.

The next thing I remember, I was being woken up by a librarian.

My head was on top the private study desk, the novel I picked up still open and next to me. She told me kindly that I wasn’t allowed to sleep in the library. I gave a drowsy apology and stumbled my way out of the quiet library. It was late morning, so the front desk at the dorm hall would be open to give me a spare key.

I was still tired and groggy, completely unprepared of what to say when I saw Matt again. After that night, I was angry. I wanted to confront him, to scream and shout, call him out on his bullshit.

But first, I needed to put on real pants.

I opened the door slowly, hoping Matt would either be out or still passed out.

Unfortunately, Matt was still there and awake, dressed in only his undies. The room smelt like piss and BO… and something more musky. Jizz probably. After a long night of drunken blue balls, he’d more than likely finish himself before passing out.

Anyway, when I came into the room, he was near my bed, tossing stuff into some cardboard boxes from move-in day.

When I looked closer, I noticed it was my stuff he was packing.

I stomped over, asking what the hell he was doing. He turned around, his steps unsteady and slow. He told me in a drunken slur that we couldn’t be roommates any longer. He started complaining about how I didn’t let him live the way he want, how I was ruining his college experience, chasing out his dates.Therefore, it was my fault for being gay, so I should be the one to move out.

He let out a belch smelling like cheap rum, and turned around to my bed, cramming some shirts and textbooks into a too-small box.

That was it. That was the last straw.

I felt my jaw tighten and a cold fury move over me. Like hell I was going to listen to the drunken bitching of this drunk, spoiled jock.

I was not going to move out. No, it was time I started moving in.

I grabbed the box from the bed, ripping it away from his lazy grip, telling him to get off and stop packing. I was not going to move out just because I made him uncomfortable. If he had a problem, he should take it somewhere else.

He frowned at that point, like he didn’t understand. He then raised a fist, like he was trying to read something written on the knuckles. I tensed. I should’ve backed away at that point, but I was being stupid and brave.

Then he punched me. Right in the eye.

I didn’t even understand what had happened until I crashed against the wall and floor, slamming both my head and ass simultaneously. He had knocked me across the room.

My eye was burning with the sudden pain of blunt-force trauma, and I felt the tears dripping uncontrollably from the punched eye. I pressed my hand against it, hoping the pressure would ease the throbbing.

Matt was just standing there, shoving my tupperware into a new box, like nothing had happened at all.

He had hit me. He actually hit me! Sure he was a bit of an asshole before, but this was criminal!

Sure I could’ve chalked it up to drunken antics, and roll with the punches, so to say. He probably wouldn’t even remember what had happened when he sobered up.

But I was not in the forgiving mood. I wanted vengeance and I wanted it right away.

With my eye socket now pounding against the bone, I thought of plans. I could go through a lawsuit or even have him expelled. But legal and official was so boring and dry. Too unsatisfying.

I could try and swing back at him, but starting a fight against the drunk musclehead would not end in my favor.

So, what could I do? What could possibly make this right?

Then I heard it.

The Dream.

I remembered. That’s when I remembered it all. Of the computer. My wish.

No, remember isn’t the right word. It was like a sudden click inside my head. Like an epiphany.

I stood up, my eye still pulsing with waves of pain, walking right up to Matt’s back. He didn’t pay attention, let alone notice. He really was drunk.

At that moment, I was running on adrenaline and unstable confidence. I was being irrational, acting on this delusion.

But Matt had already thrown the first punch. There was no longer any pretense of being civil roommates, so there was nothing left to lose. Still, I couldn’t help but feel silly at what I was planning.

Like destiny was guiding my hand, I grabbed Matt by the cleft of his beefy posterior.

Then something same over me. Something strange, and overwhelming. An incredible heat and pressure, beyond anything I’ve felt before. Like my entire head was filled with boiling water without anywhere to spill over.

Then something clicked. Something happened, and I can’t explain what. A thousand burning pebbles filled my body, clogging every pore, touching every nerve. Beyond pain, beyond sensation, beyond thought. It was orgasmic and painful. Like being born.

It was like a miracle.

“You’re mine now.”

Suddenly Matt stopped packing.I was still cupping his ass, but he wasn’t moving.

At first, I thought it was just the shock, and soon Matt would deck me again once he realized my hand was on his ass.

But after a few fearful seconds, Matt had not moved. My hand was still cupping his ass, but Matt was not responding. He remained still, his arms still holding onto the box of tupperware.

“Matt?” I asked tenaciously, unsure how he’d respond.

“Yes?” He responded swiftly, his voice flat and dead.

“Matt, turn around.”

He did, slowly and unsteady. He was less than a foot in front of me. His muscles were slack, his eyes far away, though that could’ve been the alcohol.

Regardless, he was obeying me. It was surreal. My gut was wrenched in fear and wonder. The possibilities came spilling into my mind in a stream of revenge, mostly involving sex.

But I still had my doubts. This could be all a joke, a ruse to trick me and take me out when I most vulnerable. I needed to make sure.

“Matt, I want you to kneel.”

Clumsily, he did. He was now at eye level with my bellybutton.

At that moment, I was delirious. Dark fantasies were gratified all in that moment. And I wanted to make immediate use of it.

“Now look up.”

He did. I noticed a small drop of drool coming from the corner of his mouth, his pupils dilated. It was like he was drugged.

“Now say you’re sorry for being an asshole.”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

Suiting, but unfulfilling. I decided to have fun instead.

“Tell me you’re a dirty slut that deserves to be punished.”

“I’m a dirty slut that deserves to be punished.”

I laughed at the ridiculous extremes I was pushing him, but it wasn’t enough.

“Tell me you’re a disgusting, dick-loving whore who loves getting fucked in the ass.”

“I’m a disgusting, dick-loving whore who loves getting fucked in the ass.”

It was fantastic. But I wanted to take it further, faster.

“Tell me you want to want to make it up by sucking my cock.”

“I want to make it up to you by sucking your cock.”

I laughed again, almost hysterical. There was a giant man kneeling before in nothing but his boxer briefs, telling me with a straight face he wanted dick.

My dick.

There was no hesitation in his words. No resistance. It was so hot.

Hysterical, I pulled down my pants, and then my own underwear, my hardon springing out like a snake snapping at its prey. Matt had no reaction, his eyes still focused on mine.

“Matt, open your mouth and lick my dick.”

Quickly, Matt obeyed.

If there was any doubt that Matt was lying, it disappeared the moment his tongue touched my cockhead.

His tongue flicked back and forth, like a dog trying to lap up water. While endearing and enjoyable for the first minute or two, he was taking instruction a little too literally.

“Matt, give me a blowjob.”

Matt dives forward, taking my meat in his mouth like a hotdog. I enjoy the warm enclosure of his mouth, already in disbelief for my good fortune. It was exquisite, despite the bad form. But I wanted better.

“Come on, Matt. Put some effort - suck, swirl your tongue. Just imagine what girls were doing when they gave you one - and try to imitate that here.”

Matt, as tentative as possible, started bobbing his head and moving his tongue along the shaft.

“Good boy,” I moaned as he slurped eagerly. He bobbed his head up and down in a careless style, moving his tongue in an irregular rhythm. It was amateur, sure, but it was certainly better.

After a few more minutes of his oral performance, I pulled out, and decided to see what other games we could play.

“Turn around, Mattie.”

Robotically, Matt obeyed.

“Now bend over on the bed.”

Before me, those round cheeks strained against the white fabric of his compression shorts, beckoning someone to come forward and claim them.

I couldn’t resist. I gave them a smack, watching them give away to a jiggle. God, it was hot.

Slowly, I peeled them back down to his knees, revealing the prize that I longed for.

Sweaty, with the crack filled with black curlies, they were glorious. I couldn’t believe that they were now mine. Unbelieving, I gave them another open hand smack, watching the jiggle of all that beef. Fantastic.

Sticking my fingers into his mouth, I got a good coating of saliva and prepare for the next step.

I pulled one cheek away, revealing that tight little sphincter hiding in the nest of hairs. Slowly, I stuck my index finger, going for that tiny little center of wrinkles, tensing up at my touch.

I press and tease against his little squint of an anus, until I could just about two fingers, making wonderful schlepping sounds.

Reaching forward, I stuck the ass fingers back into Matt’s mouth and told him to lick them up. He did, gagging at the foul flavor.

Spitting down at my throbbing dick, it was time for the main attraction.

Grabbing reign of his hips, I pressed myself against the beefy posterior until managing to reach against the ring. Slowly, I squeezed inside.

It was a little painful at first; Matt was definitely a virgin back there, with his insides clamping down on my dick like a blood pressure cuff. Eventually, after a few minutes of coaxing, I managed to break into a steady rhythm.

I remember moaning; the slippery, fatty bliss of Matt’s ass was breathtaking, and the thought that it now belonged to me was overwhelming. I gave him more smacks as I humped him harder and faster.

“You’re my slave, Matt. Say it!”

“I’m your slave.”

“More than a slave, you’re my bitch”

“I’m your bitch.”

“You’re my dog.”

“I’m your dog.”

“Dogs don’t speak. Bark; bark like a dog!”

At that point my head was swimming in the power trip and impending orgasm. I gave him another smack, using the other hand to pull back on his hair as he barked.

This was what I wanted.

Suddenly, I felt the walls breaking, the torrents flooding, the world dissolving.

I was coming inside my roommate’s ass.

His beautiful, beefy ass.

While he was barking like a dog.

It was fantastic. Everything I wanted for the last two months. Humiliating him, fucking him, and just…claiming him.

It probably would’ve been wise to use a condom or even something more efficient than spit-lube, but I wanted to seize the opportunity, or ass, as it presented itself before Matt came back to his senses and knocked me out.

Matt was still barking, so I told him to shut it. He obeyed, frozen with his ass up and leaking my cum.

The very same day, I made plans.

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