The Three MUSKeteers

Pink Fairy, I live with loud douchebag jocks that are smelly and messy. Honestly, I don’t mind that. In fact, I wish that they would stop talking about banging girls so much and focus their attention on me.

Hell, I love my guys big and a bit dirty and perverted. But they’re all so fucking straight that it feels like my only college experience will be with my left hand. So I wish that my three messy roommates will become massive body builders with a dirty crush on me.

Alpha Patron Request by @welan
(Source: @mancrushmania)

You wake up one day and you just know that your life is going to be different from now on. You don’t know how it will be different. You don’t know how you know. You just do. And while the thought fills you with a faint sense of apprehension, the truth is that you can’t help but feel a little bit excited. So much so that you chew on your lower lip as you reach down between your legs, your fingers wrapping around your hot, hard, throbbing cock. It isn’t much later when you spray cum all over yourself and the headboard of your bed from an intense orgasm, imagining your three roommates running their hands all over your body.

The changes are so gradual at first that you don’t notice. The jocks have always been pretty particular about their diet. In fact, you’re a little bit thankful for it. They’ve forced you to eat a bit healthier since they don’t want the temptation of a bad diet hanging around them. And truth be told you haven’t felt quite as good as you have since living here, and it wasn’t just because of the hot guys that surrounded you.

As each day passes the jocks talk less and less about the girls that they’ve managed to bed and what they like to do with their numerous female sexual partners. At first, you don’t notice at all. When you finally do notice, it’s when you think back and realize that they haven’t talked about going on dates or fucking anyone for a while. It’s the strangest thing, but you’re glad for it. You do happen to ask them about it once, and they just brush you off with an unsatisfactory answer. Needless to say, you don’t push it. You don’t want to look like you’re complaining at all.

When the protein shakes start becoming bigger and thicker, you definitely notice before too long. Because the jock smell in the apartment gets even more pronounced. At some points, especially on hot days, it feels like you’re breathing in vaporized gym sweat. It makes you so aroused it’s hard to hide your erections from the guys. Not that they’re around much anymore. You would think that they’re avoiding you, but you know exactly where they’re spending more and more of their time. At the gym. And you could swear that every time they get back they’ve grown just a little bit bigger. And a little bit bigger.

You don’t notice the changes in yourself until it’s too late. Maybe it’s spending so much time in the presence of so much manly musk, but you notice that your body is beginning to bulk up a little bit as well. It’s almost like you’re going to the gym vicariously through your three jock roommates. And it feels good. Your body feels powerful. Strong. Filled with energy. You feel unconquerable, like you can do anything. The only problem is that you don’t quite feel like it.

At first you think that your renewed energy could be put to use in studying, which you’ve always found a bit boring, but you just can’t seem to focus. It’s like with each breath you take of the intoxicating musk that dominates your apartment these days, you lose yourself more and more to it. Your cock is pretty much perpetually hard now, and you don’t bother hiding it around your roommates. They don’t mind. In fact they’ve started walking around with boners, too.

But even as your mind goes fuzzier and fuzzier and your body continues to get bigger and bigger, you notice the changes in your roommates’ attitudes. It’s not enough that they stopped talking about women. Nowadays you catch them talking about their favorite bodybuilders in hushed, reverent tones. Shows about supermodels have been replaced with bodybuilding competitions. They don’t even care about the football games anymore, instead arguing with one another about which of the players is the most "jacked."

When they start going around shirtless, the intoxicating aroma of pure masculinity in the apartment intensifies even further. It’s addictive. You sometimes catch yourself just staring out into empty space breathing it in, stroking your hard on through your shorts. Faintly you recall that you’re in university and that you should be studying or going to class, but you find it difficult to care. You find it difficult to even think about why you should care. So you just don’t. It’s so much easier to just not care. So much easier to just not think.

Now that the question of university is on your mind, though, you recall that you don’t remember the last time your roommates actually attended classes. You don’t remember when you attended classes last. You realize you don’t care. You don’t mind staying at home all the time. Studies make your head hurt anyway. When you ask one of your roommates about it, they slap you on the back and tell you that they understand. Studying makes their heads hurt, too.

And so it goes, you losing more and more of yourself to the scent of manliness in the room, your roommates getting bigger and dumber and hotter with every passing day. Eventually you notice the way that they eye you up. It’s almost flirtatious, even. So you flirt back. They start walking around in posers. You start walking around in jock straps. They flex at every opportunity. You feel like bending over to pick things up more.

Things eventually reach a tipping point. One of your roommates grabs you by the waist and bends you over the couch. He tells you of all the dirty thoughts that he’s been having of you. Of how much he’s wanted to have you under him all these months. All you can do is moan. The feeling of his hard cock pressing up into your crack makes thinking of anything but his cock nigh impossible.

The other two join you soon after. Before long you find your nose buried in a hairy armpit, your roommates encouraging you to drink in their musk right from the source. You feel your cock twitch and spray cum all over the floor.

They spend the night fucking you. Down your throat. Up your ass. They cover you with spit, sweat, and cum. By the time that they’re done, you smell of their musk. You reek of it. And you would have it no other way. Besides. You know that you have to hold them to the promises they made to you as they whispered all of their dirty, perverted fantasies in your ear while coring out your hole.

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