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The Heros Return
|“Damn, have you seen JP?”
“Yeah, the guy is freakin’ jacked!”
All anyone talked about once band camp started in late August was JP and how much muscle he had put on since last year. He was the main topic of conversation in almost every circle. And the girls were beside themselves, drool practically dripping from their mouths. They would sneak glances at him all the time and some of them would even look down at the bulge in his khaki shorts, wanting what only I had ever had – a monstrous cock over 9 inches long and 7 inches around. It made me cum on sight, it was so beautiful.
“Man, he is so much hotter than his brother.”
“JP has a brother?”
It was hard to believe, but people were already beginning to forget what legacy Ryan had left behind. JP had blasted by his brother so fast, becoming more irresistible and more beautiful than the former god of the school could ever have imagined, it was as if Ryan had never existed. Tipping the scales at a meaty 194 pounds, he was already bigger at the start of his junior than his brother was at the start of his senior year! Central High School had a new ruler and you only needed one look at him to understand why.
His gorgeous eyes melted the heart of every girl who met his gaze and his huge muscles sent shivers down the back of every guy who even thought about getting in his way. JP Maloney had zoomed to the top of the highest echelon of high school society, whether he was ready for it or not. He was the most popular guy in the school, but there he was, sitting next to me in my car, staring placidly out the window, his tremendous body filling the seat. All this new-found attention hadn’t affected him a bit; he was still as modest and down-to-earth as ever. And he still loved me more than anything in the world.
As usual, we both arrived together, even though JP was finally old enough to drive now. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with me, so we took turns driving to school that year. We didn’t plan it, but we almost looked like twins, both wearing sleeveless shirts, showing off our newly-buffed arms – or in JP’s case, really-buffed arms. His was black and looked amazing on him. His steel biceps bulged out of his skin and made him look hot. I wore a white shirt that JP said displayed my “powerful” shoulders really well.
“Like they’re anywhere near as powerful as yours,” I told him at this compliment. He just shrugged and blushed.
Obviously, we promised each other not to be intimate in public since both of us were still in the closet, so we had to be careful of what we said to each other and what we did. Believe me, at times, it was very tough to hold back.
This was the first time since June that many people had seen us, so more than a few jaws dropped when we came through the door, especially when they saw JP. We walked into the band room and headed over to where the other trumpet players were congregated. Hunter, who had been appointed the other section leader again, came over and greeted me. I nearly fell over when I saw him. He had lost a ton of weight since June and he looked…well, fantastic. Nearly all of his excess fat had been shed and he even seemed to have added a bit of muscle. He was still a large guy, but he looked much more in shape.
“Dude! What’s up!” he said. He hadn’t seen me all summer either since we had kind of drifted apart from each other over the last year. “You look big,” he continued, glancing at my arms. “You been working out?”
“Yeah,” I answered humbly, shrugging my shoulders. “JP and I got busy this summer.” I had to laugh at the implications of that statement, but Hunter wouldn’t pick up on it. I’m sure the last thing on his mind was what JP and I did besides lifting weights. “You look pretty good yourself,” I complimented.
Hunter beamed, puffing out his chest. “Thanks! 40 pounds, man, I lost 40 pounds this summer!” I genuinely was impressed. Of all the years that I had known him, Hunter could never seem to get rid of his flab, no matter how hard he tried. I was happy for him now that he finally did.
Hunter looked over his shoulder toward JP, who was by now naturally surrounded by girls. “Shit,” he replied. “That kid’s gotten fuckin’ huge.” I hinted a bit of respect in his voice that had never been there before…and that’s when I realized what had happened. It should come as no surprise that JP had a powerful influence on those around him and no doubt, the arm-wrestling match in Florida last spring had been the wake-up call Hunter needed. It made him realize that he wasn’t all he thought he was.
“You wouldn’t believe how much he could bench now,” I said.
“I’d say at least 300,” he guessed.
“Try 390,” I reported, hardly believing the statistic myself.
Hunter’s eyes practically flew out of his head. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah,” I continued. “The kid‘s a beast – hey, JP!” I shouted over to my boyfriend. He looked over at me and I lifted my arm as if to flex it. He caught my message and flexed his left bicep. A huge mountain of muscle suddenly exploded out of his skin, leaving the girls there in awe.
“Damn,” Hunter gasped. A couple of the girls were brave enough to feel the hard 18 inches of muscle JP’s arm held. His face displayed the smile that I loved so much; his eyes shimmered like stars and his perfect white teeth gleamed. The girls were going crazy over him and he soaked in the attention with an air of confidence. He was playing the part of the Ladies’ Man pretty well for someone who was gay. “You should be a model or something, man,” Hunter commented. JP scrunched his face and shook his head.
“Ok, band,” our band director announced before the conversation could go any further. “Everyone get out onto the field.”
The first week was spent solely on drill, the forms that are made on the field. We got a lot of work done, but it had to have been the hottest week of the year. The asphalt parking lot on which we practiced was blazingly hot. It was the kind of heat where you felt like you were sweating as soon as you stepped outside. Naturally, every guy went shirtless and every girl stripped down to as much as was allowed. I admit I received a few glances when I took my shirt off, but I was vastly overshadowed by JP.
There were only a few other guys that had any amount of noticeable muscle on their bodies, but none of them compared even closely to JP’s. His skin was deeply tanned and glistening with sweat; the warm sun shone off of him with an angelic glow. His shredded torso was carved to perfection, every curve and contour highlighted spectacularly, his sculpted arms forced away from his chest by his thick lats. His ridiculously narrow waist kept his shorts low on his hips, his obliques and the top of his firm, sexy bubble butt peeking out from underneath the waistband. He was a 16-year-old god among boys – some older than he only in age. No one, not even someone like me who had seen this display nearly every day over the summer, could keep from staring at that mouth-watering body.
The color guard instructor picked up the bullhorn and called through it, “Maloney, will you please put on a shirt. You’re distracting my color guard.” With that, everyone laughed out loud and JP blushed, biting his lip. Then, he obediently ran to the sideline – his juicy pecs bouncing up and down as he did – and slipped on a white wife-beater. It fit him like a second skin, barely covering his massive chest and straining to hold in his broad lats. And after an hour in the hot sun, his sweat practically made the shirt transparent, making every cut and etch of his abs and serratus muscles clearly visible.
In the afternoons, we would take refuge from the heat by going indoors to work on music. Each section was instructed to work on their part themselves in an assigned classroom. As the two section leaders, Hunter and I were in charge, but JP made it known that he could’ve been in control if he wanted to.
There were two little freshmen in the trumpet section. I almost laughed at the expression on their faces the first time they saw the three of us. They were completely intimidated. JP and I knew right away that we’d have them eating out of our hands in no time. I’m sure Hunter realized it too. By the end of the first week, JP had not surprisingly gotten to know them very well. He’d beat up on them – not seriously, just for fun – and they adored him. It didn’t take a genius to see that they looked up to him like crazy – just like everyone who met him. JP had such a way with people. He had that perfect charm that just made everybody like him, plus having someone with his strength and muscularity on your side, especially as a freshman, was always a good thing. He would flex his arms for them and let them feel all that hard muscle.
One particularly hot day, JP nonchalantly peeled his shirt off during sectionals and the freshmen’s eyes bulged out. Hunter rolled his eyes and I shook my head in disbelief. They had never seen anyone as cut as JP. He couldn’t help but taunt them a little, hinting at his old cocky days before he came out to me.
“Go ahead,” he said, pointing his head at one of them. “Punch me as hard as you can in my stomach.” He stood there, half flexing his rock-hard abs. The bigger of the two freshmen hesitantly walked up to him and thrust his fist against the six bricks. I winced as a load smack reverberated through the room. The freshman yelped and shook his hand in pain. “I’m still waiting,” JP chimed, smiling. The punch hadn’t fazed him at all. He had barely felt it.
“Oh, you’re going to hurt his hand,” Chrissy spoke up in a mock-motherly tone. Being also a senior – and still the only female in the trumpet section – she took the role of “trumpet mommy,” making sure the new freshmen settled in well. It may sound kind of silly, but as Hunter always said, you can’t have a good section if everyone doesn’t get along. Chrissy smiled teasingly at JP who blushed back.
“I bet those aren’t real muscles,” a voice mumbled behind me. I turned around and realized the words had come from Travis Plummer, a sophomore transfer student from California. No one really knew all the details of his story, but what we had learned was enough – growing up in a rough neighborhood near Los Angeles, his parents not exactly being ideal parents, his life threatening to end with him living on the street. Somehow, Travis and his little sister were sent away to live with their grandparents in Virginia, but by that time it was too late for Travis.
True, he did have a better opportunity for a more successful life here, but the move didn’t do anything to his attitude except make it worse. He was notorious for constantly talking back to everyone, even his teachers, and he never seemed motivated to do anything. He just sat by himself, defying his grandmother’s encouragement to make new friends.
“What did you say?” Hunter asked, a little startled.
“I said,” Travis boldly spoke louder, “I bet those aren’t real muscles.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Hunter stood up and slowly sauntered over toward the kid, making full use of his still-imposing bulk. Frankly, Travis wouldn’t have had a prayer against a guy like Hunter, but we all knew full well that despite his thin, rail-like physique, he was one tough kid, probably a lot stronger than he looked. He didn’t seem intimidated one bit.
“All you rich, suburban kids think you can go to the gym for an hour and lift a few weights and you get big, strong muscles.” Even though Hunter was standing right in front of him, Travis had already planted his cold, hard stare past the section leader and on JP, as if he was baiting him. I looked over at my boyfriend. He was staring back stoically, trying not to fuel Travis’ growing rage. He knew exactly what was happening. “You think all your pretty boy looks can get you anything you want,” he continued, his voice becoming louder by the second. He had the attention he wanted. “You think all you have to do is flex one of those fuckin’ muscles of yours and the whole world will kneel at your feet.”
Hunter tried restraining the boy, but he was immediately pushed aside. Travis aimed his direction right at JP and continued his rant. Everyone was stunned silent, completely taken aback by what was happening.
“You just want everyone to love you,” he went on. “You want to use everyone to get what you want, but I see right through you…you fucking fag.”
Then, it was as if something had snapped inside JP. In barely a second, he was on the kid, throwing him to the ground. It happened so fast that no one – not even Hunter nor I – realized what was going on. All I can remember is that Travis’ body somehow ended up between JP’s massive thighs and the younger kid was gasping for air.
“What did you call me?” JP hissed in Travis’ face, his eyes more intense than I had ever seen them before. My mouth dropped open – this was the first time that I had ever seen JP become seriously violent toward someone and I didn’t know how to respond.
“I…I,” Travis wheezed, pushing hopelessly at the two pylons of steel that held his thin body in an immovable vice.
“You think these muscles are real now?” JP demanded, pulling the boy by the collar even closer to his face so that they were practically touching noses. “Do you?” With that, he applied even more pressure, making Travis panic for his life. His face was beyond bright red, almost blue. That’s when it finally occurred to me that JP was killing him.
“JP, stop,” I yelled, rushing to him. Not even thinking, I wedged my arm between the two, pushing with all my strength on my boyfriend’s broad, round shoulders. I don’t know how it happened, but I was able to push him off, forcing his thighs at last to release their prisoner. Travis immediately began coughing fiercely, his face slowly returning to its normal color.
Hunter stooped down to help the poor boy up. “Take JP outside,” he commanded me, still a little astounded, “I’ll take care of Travis.” I heeded his suggestion and led my boyfriend out into the hallway and pushed him up against the wall right next to the door. His face was flush and his skin was extremely hot to the touch. I looked up into his eyes and without a single word passing between us, he began to slow his heavy breathing down and return to his usual self.
Once he had calmed down, I brushed my fingers through the locks of his light brown hair that was matted down against his forehead. His deep, blue eyes grew softer, as if he was about to cry. JP quickly looked down and opened his mouth to speak.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he whimpered, obviously trying very hard not to lose it. I had never seen him full-out cry and I knew he didn’t want it to happen now. “I’m sorry.”
“JP,” I comforted him. “That kid is a jackass. He had it coming.”
JP shook his head. “No,” he said adamantly, “there was no reason for me to attack him like that.” I knew what he was saying was bullshit. Travis was the one who attacked him first in a way. He should have known that JP could seriously hurt him if he wanted to. He must’ve been testing him or something – seeing where JP’s limits were.
But then, there was another thing. I couldn’t understand why JP would attack him as suddenly as he did. One minute, he seemed in complete control…and the next, he had lost it. There was no way…unless…No, it couldn’t be.
“JP,” I said, looking at him sternly. “Was it because he said –”
“Is he ok?” I hadn’t noticed Hunter exit into the hallway until he spoke. I abruptly turned to him and nodded solemnly.
“He’s a little jolted,” I informed, “but he’ll be fine. How’s Travis?”
Hunter smirked awkwardly. “Probably a few bruises, but it sounds like he’s quitting band.” He seemed relieved by the news. Well, I did, too. All Travis did since he arrived was talk back to us and make our jobs harder.
Then, Hunter turned his attention to JP. “Don’t feel bad, dude,” he said, expressing an empathy I had never heard come from him before. “He deserved it.” JP side-glanced him and immediately turned away again. Hunter leaned in a little closer. “Look, I have a lot of respect for you – everyone does. I can’t think of anyone else who deserves more respect than you do. Don’t let that twerp get to you.” With that, he patted him on the shoulder and walked back into the room.
I smiled to myself, thinking that Hunter had completely missed the mark, but at least he cared about JP. The guy had changed a lot…and JP was the reason. I decided to remind him of that.
“Did you hear that?” I prodded, leaning my forehead against my boyfriend’s. “Does that sound like the old Hunter Brayson?”
JP shook his head slightly, his shoulders already beginning to relax under my touch.
“You know who did that?” His eyes looked up from the floor in question, though I had a feeling he knew what I was going to say. “You did. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve made Hunter decide to become a better person. He’s lost weight, become a more caring guy.” I almost felt tears coming to my own eyes as I continued speaking. At first, I didn’t know what I was saying, but it slowly began to dawn on me where my point was.
“It’s the same thing you’ve done to me, but you just needed to do it differently. Hunter needed it forced into him. Maybe Travis did, too.”
JP slowly straightened his body as if some new-found strength was gradually being filled into him. He looked at me warmly and my mouth dropped open. I hadn’t realized it as I said it, but I had just given my boyfriend the answer to his question.
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