You know your time is limited. A stampede of colossi are about to come bursting through the door,
stomping around without care for what may be underneath their grubby boots. You have to get off
the floor as a priority. You notice the grey sleeve of a hoodie hanging down from a bench ahead
of you, which you realise you could climb up. You jog over, the cold hard floor slapping against
your bear feet. You can't tell who's hoodie it is when you get there, nor do you recognise the
pair of ratty sneakers tucked away to the side. You can ask questions later, you think, starting
the ascent up the fabric wall. Using the folds and loose threads you find it surprisingly easy to
work your way up, reaching the open hood layed over the bench in only a few seconds. There are a
few articles of clothing hanging above you and a bag containing the owners books. The door behind
you swings open and the guys start pouring in; it seems you managed to climb up just in time. You
take a close look at the bag and notice a journal with a name written on the front in bold,
capital letters: Joel.
Joel. This puts you in two situations. Either Joel will be completely disinterested in you and
fail to give you even a word before he moves on, or he'll find far too much interest in you and
have you serving his ravenous ego. However, his ego isn't the only thing of Joel's you would want
to serve, he is the hottest guy in the college afterall. You can only hope he will be interested
in a little bit of 'exploration', but then again he could just crush you flat. You marvel as the
countless giants file past, towering above you like great cliffs sculpted into olympean figures,
their knees and arms scratched and muddied, their hair matted to their sweaty foreheads, and all
of them chatting, undressing as they walk right by you oblivious to your presence. All but one.
Joel.
He's standing infront of you, his jersey is hung over his right shoulder revealing his smooth,
toned chest that radiates in the light. You're eye level is at the end of his shorts, boasting
half of his meaty thighs, and just above that their confluence into the slight bulge of his jock
strap hidden underneath. You crane your neck up to his face, his bright blue eyes wide and open
in curiosity, his cheeks flushed and his mouth in a wry smile. His short brown hair, unlike many
of the other guys, remains waxed up slightly, making his face seem larger and more domineering.
Without saying a word he lowers his hand to you and opens it flat on the bench. His face shifts
to a grave solemnity, as if your next move is to determine your life. You know what he is asking
of you, and, complying, you haul yourself onto the moist palm of the giant and let the rough
fingers slide around you.
His motion causes your vision to blur and your stomach to lurch. The drop beneath you is
terrifying, the fear amplified by the continually adjusting grip, Joel clearly not being certain
of how hard to handle you. He ducks into a toilet cubical and lowers the lid of the seat before
parking himself upon it. He takes a moment before opening his fist, leaving you laying on your
back in the palm of his hand. He seems to be thinking as his eyebrows twitch ever so slightly as
he watches you. He slowly raises you to his face, the faint grey shadow on his chin focusing into
individual stubs of shaven hair. You feel his soft, warm breath flow around you, spilling from
his pale lips.
"I don't know why you came to me", he started, his voice was almost a whisper but seemed to carry
a secret hidden volume which added tremendous weight to his words, "But i know what is going to
happen now, and you do too. I'm gonna' humiliate you. I'm gonna' use you. I'm gonna' make you my
personal little body slave for the rest of your little life. You're gonna' get to know every bit
of my body, both outside and in, and everyday i'll remind you of how a guy works, from dawn to
dusk. There ain't gonna' be a moment in your life from now on where you aren't thinking of me,
and not a moment where you aren't going to be subjected to the most disgusting treatment i can
think for you. But, and this is why i think you came to me, is that you're gonna' love every
second of it, but not as much as i will. Should there come a time where i'm bored of you, then
you had better count on you're final moments being somewhere dying inside me. Now," He stood up
with you still laying infront of his face. "I'm gonna' head home. I'm gonna' give you the choice
on how you want to spend your first hour living with me. I won't always give you a choice, in
fact i probably won't ever give you a choice again, so make it count. You're gonna' go in my
boxers, that much i've decided for you, but you're either gonna' take the home trip laying in my
ass, or take it bunking with my cock."
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