Better Than Before—Part 1

By DylanTyler - dylanerictyler@gmail.com
published July 25, 2019
5227 words
Summary

Tyler starts his freshman year of college, worried that he’s going to continue being an outcast, but his Dad left him with a gift to help

Better Than Before–Part One


Everything will be different this year.

That’s what dad told me, when he dropped me off.

A bit cliché, isn’t it?

And I’m kicking myself a little because I’m giving up on college. And we’re about two hours in. Dad would never give up. He never gives up at anything.

But! It’s so easy for him to be confident AND humble AND brave because he’s a walking statue. I don’t have that luxury. Somehow I wasn’t blessed with those wide shoulders or sharp cheekbones or…kinesthetic ability.

I’m like a sickly child comparatively. Short, still, for my age (the growth spurt is never coming, dad.) I think I’m barely 5’2” but I put 5’4” on every form that’s not medical. I have this mousy brown hair, brown eyes, and an average face with passable features. If I had a nickel for every “cute kid” I’ve received…well, I’d be the same but at least I could maybe dress a little better.

I mostly wear polos, because it’s easy and they don’t make me look quite as short as most other shirts. But there’s no hiding the fact that my body is basically concave, I’m so skinny. You will never catch me in a pair of shorts, no matter how hot the summer, because it’s like putting a pair of broomsticks on display.

I guess I’m a quintessential nerd. I don’t want to be, but that’s where I am. AP classes through high school, and I got into a good school, but now that I’m here I’m realizing that it’s exactly the same this time around.

Two hours ago, my dad hugged me goodbye, I turned away from him, and I instantly felt the same way I did when high school started. Like an absolute outcast. It was a pit in my stomach.

I don’t want to do this all over again.

As I’m sitting curled up on my newly made bed in the corner of the room, I glance down at my arms curled around my knees and check out the bracelet my dad gave me as a going away present. Nondescript, really, just a black band with some symbols etched in the side.

My dad is super into self-empowerment, and try as he might, I think I’ve always been a bit of a failure on that front for him. I try, sincerely I do, but it’s hard to live up to his expectations for me. I try to feel proud of my intelligence, but whenever I get close, it seems like it’s my biggest weakness, too. It makes me…the way I am.

Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off.

I close my eyes and wish that I could just fit in, and I mean really fit in. That whoever fills this empty bed across from me will like me for who I am and that I’ll be able to meet new people without having a panic attack—I wish really, really hard.

And I open my eyes, and expect for something to change, just for a moment. Maybe it’s some of my dad’s optimism that rubbed off on me, who knows. But nothing is different. It’s a stale room, with stark grey walls and a stark grey me.

Every time I let myself have these little hopes, it hurts a bit more.

And just then, there’s a knock at the door and my stomach drops. Here we go.

I never know what to do in these situations. It’s just like being in a stall in a restroom and having someone knock. Like, go away?…

But they don’t. The knob turns and the door opens and my worst nightmares are confirmed. This Adonis, straight out of my wet dreams and into the room, brings this sweeping fresh, autumn air to my skin. My brain begins tearing him apart, mercilessly.

He looks like a jock. He’s going to make my life miserable. I bet he’s here on a full ride for sports, and he’s never had to actually work at anything because he’s so pretty. I bet he’d make my dad proud. He’s—

“Hey!” He smiles at me and my brain’s working overdrive in the other direction.

I take in this whole man.

He’s wearing this pastel yellow tee stretched to its limit across his pecs. And it’s not even hiding his nipples a little bit, so I’m nervous I’m getting hard just looking at him. His shirt is falling in that special, secret way, where you know he has fucking amazing abs without really being able to see all of the abs. And then he’s got on these jeans shorts that make his butt look incredible. But his butt probably just already looks that incredible. The shorts are held up by these thighs that are each probably thicker than the entirety of me. And his (I’d guess size 14) feet are covered with a worn pair of converse. His skin is this stunning, summer-tanned warm gold and his face—

His features aren’t impossibly beautiful, but simply beautiful. Like he could be a model for sure, but one whose intent was never to model. His face just happened that way. Carefully cut dirty blonde hair with short sides. And his eyes. His eyes are these gorgeous pools of cerulean and they’re doing that smiley thing where they curve a bit and now he’s looking at me sort of weird and—oh God, I forgot to sp—

“Hey! Hey, hi, how are you!” Smooth… “Uhm, my name is Tyler! Sorry.”

“Evan! Nice to meet you.” He turns to grab two large bags he left behind at the door, and he effortlessly carries them over to his bed. His biceps flex while he’s doing this and I can’t help but wonder if his arms are in the zip code as the rest of him.

And I’m sort of waiting for more faces to come through the door, but they don’t.

“Is your family carrying stuff up?” I ask.

And then his beauty gets quiet for a second. I feel like I asked the wrong question. But he comes back with a smaller smile.

“They, uh, couldn’t make it with me today, actually.” His eyes are making a path on the floor. “But I guess I don’t need to hit the gym now, right?”

The gym? Oh. Oh. OH he’s making a joke! I force out a laugh that sounds like an angry weasel. “Right, the gym.”

“Yeah,” he continues. “Just kidding, though. I can’t skip a day, they’ll murder me at practice.”

“Oh, totally.” I totally know how that goes. Practice. For the sport.

“You should come with me! It could be fun!” He speaks these words, without a trace of irony, and I don’t know how to react.

“Uhmmmm…the gym is…the gym and I…we’re not—“

“No I get it, man. I was really skinny, though, beginning of high school. Working out really helped with my confidence. So that’s why I like going.”

I blush and he starts backtracking.

“Not like I’m saying you’re skinny or anything. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with being skinny.”

“It’s okay,” I manage. “It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. And it is a problem, honestly.”

“Hey no, look, all body types are amazing. And you! You look like you belong at this school. Probably totally genius, too. I feel like people look at me and assume I couldn’t spell my name if I tried. Or that I just played my way into the school.”

I feel bad, now. And then he continues. “‘Cause it’s not true, you know. I was second in my class. I worked really hard to get here. And you did too, I’m sure. So anyway, I guess all I’m saying is, don’t hate me?…”

I feel like I’m living in some alternate reality where nerds rule the food chain and this guy is looking for acceptance from me. Definitely dreaming. But he’s still looking to me, so—

“Deal,” I say, with a grin. “To be honest, I was kind of nervous. I’ve never been great at making friends, and high school was kind of rough for me.”

“Well, let’s leave that behind then.” He’s so earnest it’s almost unnatural. “Hey, come with me. To the gym. After I get all my stuff put away. It’ll be fun, I promise! I can show you what I love to do and maybe you’ll find something you like in it, too.”

No no no no no no no no—

“But I don’t—I don’t have anything to wear!”

“You can borrow my stuff!”

HA. Ha. Hahahahahaha, right. I’m laughing in my head, but also out loud because that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. But he doesn’t seem to get the joke.

“Evan, I’m like, seven sizes smaller than you.”

He looks me up and down for a second.

“Oh. Well, I’ve got a tank top you can wear, anyway. And just wear any of your pants. No one will bother us, I’ve worked out here a bunch already. Grab whatever top you want. It’s all in the bag by the wall. I’ll be right back.”

And with that, he darts out of the room excitedly to get the rest of his things. I can’t believe I’m really about to do this. My heart is racing and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m totally head-over-heels in love with my roommate or because I’m thinking about physical activity.

The gym. I haven’t been to the gym since my dad thought it’d be a good idea for me to build some confidence. Evan and my dad are a lot alike, actually. It’s kind of comforting having met someone else here like him. A little piece of home.

And I open the bag by the wall to find a bunch of shirts meticulously organized, which is surprising. And then. I find myself feeling bad for judging this guy before I knew anything about him.

I pull out this t-shirt that’s black, it says:

‘call me butter ‘cause I’m on a roll’

Oh my god, he’s a dork. Maybe we have a little bit in common. I check the size and it says “L” but I’m guessing there won’t be much smaller than that.

I throw it on and look in the mirror that was provided on the back of the door. I look like I’m wearing my dad’s clothes. I feel pathetic. And just when my self-doubt is creeping back up my throat, the door opens again.

“Hey man, you look great.”

“Thanks,” I mutter ironically.

“No, really. You work hard enough today and maybe you’ll grow out of my clothes before I do.”

And in that moment I realize he has the same uncanny ability as my dad to make me feel better about myself. So I’m going to the gym with him. I’m on a roll.

As we’re walking toward the fitness building, he comments on my bracelet. I forgot it was on my arm.

“I really like that, man. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, I probably should’ve taken this off. My dad gave it to me. It’s—“ I start to say it’s lame, but then I make a decision to stop apologizing for myself today. Thanks, Dad.

“Well, it’s super cool. Do you mind if I…?” He nods his head at my arm. He wants to look at it.

“Of course.”

And then everything happens all at once. He holds my arm in one of his hands and fingers the bracelet with the other when this electric pulse shoots through my body and the bracelet starts to hum.

“Whoa! What the fuck?!” He shouts, but doesn’t let go. He’s inspecting it. And my focus is tied to both him and the bracelet. I didn’t know the bracelet did anything but I don’t want to act like I didn’t know the bracelet did anything. What the fuck did my dad give me? And why did it shock me?

“Tyler, look at this, the little markings, they’re glowing.” And they are.

“Yeah,” I force out. “Cool, isn’t it?” He’s totally not buying it.

“Yeah,” he says, and then looks to me. I catch those beautiful blue eyes and it’s like I’m looking at them, but I’m also looking into a mirror at myself. It feels like time has stopped because neither of us are moving. Everything is just those eyes and I’m seeing them and seeing through them. And I feel this pressure building up within me and then finally a jolt.

“Ow.” He says, and pulls his hand away. He’s laughing. “Must have a faulty wire or something, whatever it is.”

I have to shake my head to get my bearings back. “Yeah. Faulty…wire.”

We head into the fitness center and I’m trying to piece together what just happened. “Do you mind if I run to the bathroom quick?”

“Nah, of course. Meet me over by the weight benches. We’ll work on form.”

I duck into the bathroom, take off my glasses and run some water over my face at the sink. What a weird bracelet. My arm is still sore but I don’t want to touch it again to take it off. When I pick my face up, rubbing my eyes, I scream at the mirror.

“What! What the—“ I’m grabbing at my face looking as closely as possible into the mirror at these deep, cerulean eyes where my boring, brown nothings used to sit. “What on earth is going on.” And I don’t know what to do, but some huge guys come into the bathroom and I scurry out to avoid a conversation.

I don’t think this is something I can bring up to Evan. How do I even explain it without sounding crazy? Hi my eyes were boring but now I think they’re your eyes so…

I find him at the weight bench and he looks ready to get to work when he sees how frantic I am.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I…” I’m holding his gaze. He just looks expectant. Does he really not notice anything is different? Maybe he just didn’t really pay attention to my eye color. “I’m ready.”

And we go through this workout routine. He shows me the form for all of these scary lifts and I’m super distracted by his body to the point where I almost forget the part where my EYES FUCKING CHANGED COLORS. I mean, brown to hazel is one thing. Brown to bright blue! Come on…

Anyway, he’s looking amazing at all of this and I’m fumbling through it but he seems to really enjoy teaching me. And it’s cool getting to know him. Classes don’t start until next week so if I can have a friend already, this is a godsend.

We finish up and he tells me he’s going to go through his workout, and that I’m welcome to follow or do some cardio or whatever, and so I hop on a treadmill. I figure it’s something I know how to do.

I’m running and running when all of a sudden the power on my treadmill goes out. “What the…”

And then the power everywhere goes out. And there are no windows in here so it is pitch black. There is some chatter from other machines of other people complaining about the lights, but I figure I don’t want to be on the treadmill when they turn on, so I step off.

“Evan?” I say. No response. “Evan?”

Oof. I bump into somebody and grab their arm to stop from falling. It’s huge. And I grabbed right on their bicep, how embarrassing. “Sorry!” I offer. But all I get is a grunt back. I turn around and put my arms in front of me to guide me while I walk, and accidentally collide with someone else’s solid chest. Jesus, their pecs must be huge. I should just stop now. “I’m really sorry. I can’t see.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Great. Great great great. At least nobody can see me. Makes this less awkward. I take another few steps when I think the way is clear and trip over a weight bench. I put my arms out to catch myself and accidentally grab onto a pair of shorts and they come down with me as I graze this poor person’s legs and, finally, feet.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck!” I scramble up and backwards, my eyes catching my bracelet glowing all the while. And it’s buzzing again.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t—I didn’t mean to.”

“Just fuck off!” He says.

So I do. I step back until I gently hit a wall, thank goodness. Except the…the wall is breathing and I put my arms behind me and I’m pretty sure I mistakenly graze somebody’s dick. I don’t even give this one time to react I just duck down and crawl in the other direction. I find what I hope is a corner and sit and wait. That buzzing is still going and I can feel this electric pulsing through my entire body. In fact, it’s starting to feel warm. Fuck, it’s hot.

“Agh.” I feel like my body is burning up from the inside. I’m screaming now and someone I can’t see tries to put their hands on me to calm me down. I can’t control myself anymore though so I flail with my hands and and make contact with their face, their hair.

“Ow, fuck, dude, I was just trying to help!”

“Aghhhhh!!” I can’t feel anything but this intense, searing pain all throughout my body. Everything is on fire, and the pain is so much that I almost pass out.

But then it subsides. Instantly.

And I open my eyes and the lights in the gym are on.

And the gym is empty.

“Hello?” I say, to no audience. “Evan?”

Nothing.

I get up and walk the short distance to the front desk. But then I catch someone out of the corner of my eye, so I stop and say “What just happened?”

But he doesn’t respond. In fact, he says it with me. And then I step toward him and he steps toward me and I realize I’m looking into a fucking mirror.

Which wouldn’t be so weird, except for the fact that the man looking back at me is, in fact, a man. He’s probably 6’2”. He has this black, curly hair, olive skin and bright blue eyes. His arms are hanging at an angle from his body because they’re that fucking huge. And his body. His body is this insanely perfect V shape. It’s like he’s lived in a gym for as long as he can remember. His massive pecs are heaving with each deep, panicked breath, and they protrude so far from his body that his strained T-shirt is splitting by the armpit. His torso tapers down to this impossibly small waist, and his pants are in tatters over these tree trunk legs. I mean tree trunks. This guy has never skipped leg day in his life. Fuck. And his feet are bare, gargantuan things. Definitely bigger than Evan’s.

And some chest hair is spilling over the collar of the shirt. Which looks fucking sexy. He has this amazingly sculpted beard, which suits his face and gives him this mature, brooding look. He looks about 22. His cheekbones are sharp, his nose is model-esque, and he has an inherently masculine quality about him. Testosterone is oozing from his pores.

He doesn’t look familiar at all. Except those eyes. Evan’s blue eyes are sitting right in the middle, cutting through this whole stranger’s facade. But as I lift my arms in disbelief, the stranger does too, and it settles into my consciousness that I am this fucking stranger.

“Holy shit.”

I race to the locker room and tear off the shirt, which only needs a gentle suggestion to fall to pieces. ‘Call me butter’ lies in pieces on the ground. I almost trip over myself as I race to the bathroom mirrors and stare dumbfounded at this reflection in the mirror.

“Oh my god I’m dreaming oh my god I’m dreaming oh my god,” I keep repeating over and over again as I paw my new features. I look like a Mediterranean God. My shoulders are so broad I must rival my Dad, and I am instantly hard at the sight of my bare pecs. I flex them both and I can feel the individual muscles working which is the most insanely fucking awesome feeling in the world. And they’re covered in this sexy coat of black hair. And that hair goes all the way down across my eight pack of cobblestones and beyond. I strike what I feel like a double bicep is from my years of watching muscly porn stars and suddenly my cock explodes in my white briefs.

“Unghhhhh fuuuuuuck…”

This is incredible. My mind is reeling at this powerful orgasm and I feel so fucking strong. I’m a fucking sex beast.

I look down.

But not in this underwear.

I pull them down and out falls this gorgeous, UNCUT Greek cock. Losing its hard-on and still at least nine inches. And thick! I almost cum again at the sight.

And so I’m standing here, naked, in this locker room, and I’m not in a correct state of mind. I’m slowly losing my identity and I am overcome by this wash of incredible horniness that has me in this animalistic state. I’m practically salivating. And just looking myself up and down in the mirror. I feel that same buzzing as before and my bracelet is still glowing and my mind is reeling. It’s horniness, but that’s not all. It’s also this feeling of soaring confidence. It’s this new mentality I can only describe as power. As Alpha. I feel in control in a way I never have before while simultaneously not being able to control anything.

“Hey, did you—woah,” I hear from behind me. I turn to see a hot, built, bearded redhead standing in the middle of the locker room, wearing a lifeguard shirt and swim trunks. He’s stuck on my cock, which is at least ten inches and completely hard now. “Uhm, dude…there was, a uh…an evacuation.”

I can’t speak. I don’t have any words left in this moment. I just look him straight in the eyes with this longing and this knowing confidence that I’ve never had before.

He’s staring at me, mouth agape, and I take a step closer to him, watching his chest move up and down. I take another step, and another, letting him take everything in.

I’m right in front of him and I can feel his breath. It’s warm. My senses are in overdrive and even his nearness is giving me pins and needles.

The lights shift over us to the worklights for the locker room. This red wash that makes us look even more like animals.

And I get as close as I can to his lips, feeling his heartbeat race without touch him. And just before our lips collide, I pause, again, knowing.

And I feel the magnetism I’ve built between us pull him past the point of no return. I’ve got him. He leans all the way in, tongue first, searching through my mouth for salvation. I reciprocate, and then with incredible control, feeling each new muscle in my body, I move my arms to his sides, learning this person’s shape.

I kiss him and squeeze his meaty bicep. He grabs for mine. I lift the hem of his shirt and he welcomes it, following my lead. My hands graze over his abs and feel new hairs growing in where he must like to keep it smooth. I start creating a story for this person as I move my hands across him.

His pecs are heavy, like mine. Covered in this same new hair. I think he’s a bodybuilder. Working as a lifeguard to make some money during school. When I reach his nipples he gasps, and I pinch them, toying. His breathing is shallow and sporadic, neck arched back, waiting to be told what to do.

He likes to be told what to do.

I kiss his neck and pinch harder, eliciting a grunt from this man. This man with curly red hair and an auburn beard. My arms start to work to lift the shirt off of him. It peels slowly from his body, this hard worked body. This pulsing body.

His arms fall through the holes and I toss the shirt on the ground. He stands there, waiting for me.

I nod my head down, since he’s waiting for a command.

He falls to his knees, all at once, and looks up to me with these full, green eyes. Forests, alive.

And then he gets to work.

He picks up my cock gingerly, with the fingers on his right hand, and takes it into his mouth. Just the end at first, and I wonder if it might be too big for him, but then he flicks his eyes up and takes all ten inches down his throat.

My head rolls back. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

He’s working it now. He knows how to suck this cock. I keep crafting this story of a man, and I can’t tell if I’m creating him or finding ideas for this new me. This boy has a job as a lifeguard to make side money and he meets all the hung gym guys, offers to give them private lessons and then blows them in the locker room.

And he’s fucking good at it.

But you know what I think? I think he’s a fucking great bottom, too.

Almost sensing my thoughts, he works my cock faster and faster. Honestly, I don’t know how he’s taking all of it. This guy sucks off all the gym studs and then fucking takes their cocks in the locker room before going back out to finish his shift. A fucking cockslut.

I pull my cock out of his mouth and he leans for it like he needs more. Precum is dripping down his face.

I pull him up by his shoulder and push him up against a row of lockers. He wants it. I turn him around, almost roughly, and he knows exactly what to do.

His back is naturally arched, his ass facing me and I take it in for a second. It’s a perfect ass. Bubbly and muscled and I want it. And I have this new feeling like I can have it, too.

So I spit on my massive cock and then a bit more in my hand and work a finger up into his ass. And it’s tight, but ready. He takes it so well. A fucking pro. He works his ass back onto my finger and begins moaning.

But I’m in charge here, and I’m gonna give him what he really wants.

I pull my finger out and line up my cock to his asshole. I focus on his ass, this intense focus that reminds me of the moment with Evan, earlier.

And just like that, I sink my cock into him. And he’s moaning out of control now. Supporting himself with his huge arms against the lockers. Such a fucking sexy muscle bottom. And as I’m fucking him, I feel that same fire from before, but it’s in my ass now. And I reach one of my arms back behind me and feel it stretch into a perfect muscle ass.

“Unghhhhhhh, yessssss.” I moan. I am such a fucking stud. An alpha stud. Taking this ass because it’s mine to take. And he’s loving it, backing his ass up to take as much of my cock as he possibly can.

And this feeling of power is getting to me, and I’m pounding him harder. I feel so strong, so masculine.

And I’m holding him with both arms now, fucking him like crazy, when I feel myself getting ready to cum.

As if right on cue, he manages to get out “I want your cum in me.” And I am more than happy to oblige.

I build and build in tempo and power until my body and all its new muscle tense and my cock erupts, filling him up with what feels like gallons of cum. The orgasm just keeps going and going, I’m sending ropes and ropes into him.

And then it’s over.

But I still feel just as powerful.

And as I’m pulling my cock out of this guy and he’s collapsing on the floor in a puddle of his own cum, I catch something out of the corner of my eye and turn my head.

“Tyler?!” Evan is staring at me in disbelief, holding what’s left of my pants.

I should feel shame, I think, but mostly I just feel disoriented, so I sort of stare back at him, waiting for something to happen.

He manages a laugh. “What is this, the fourth time this week? C’mon stud, let’s get back to the room.” He turns his gaze. “Hey Christian.”

Christian waves.

I’m so confused.

“You promised! Pizza and call of duty!” Evan says.

“Right,” I say, as a host of memories comes flooding to me. That I’m a junior here and Evan and I have been friends forever before he started school here this year. “Sorry man, I’ve just been out of it today.” I turn to Christian. “Thanks, sexy.”

And then Evan and I head back to our dorm, and we play COD and eat pizza and get a little high and I try to brush off this weird day.

And as I’m kicking his ass I notice my bracelet fade back to black. “Huh,” I think. Weird bracelet.

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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