Bro Science

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

When I met my first college roommate, Logan on move-in day, he seemed like every other guy on our floor. Loud, into the gym, always talking about workouts and protein shakes unless he was bragging about getting pussy or some thirst trap social media post he had made where he got "hella dms" from "old hookups." He had blonde hair cut short, and big muscles that made me feel inferior at first sight. I’m average height, but still had a couple inches to grow, and he was probably four inches taller than me. I felt like a little boy next to him.

Over the next couple weeks, college started out kind of slow. I didn’t get laid at new student orientation. My roommate was kind of a knob, just generally douchey, but he was still cool toward me. He even invited me to parties, which made me feel a bit connected and comfortable. But all he talked about was working out, making money and women, which he generally just referred to as “pussy”. At eighteen, he basically had the air of a smug, pre-frat, freshman douche.

I started seeing a girl a couple weeks into the semester. We met at debate club. The first day I brought her back to the dorm, during a two hour stretch that Logan was normally at the gym, we walked into the dorm to a surprise.

Logan was butt naked, doing pushups on the floor between the beds.

“You gonna stand there, or grab a set?” he said between breaths, sweat rolling down his back. His tone was cocky, like I was the weird one. The girl with me turned around and covered her eyes, I just stared in awe at what was happening. The fucking balls on this dude. Not only his weirdly charming bravado, but his actual dick and balls. His low hanging piece of meat was the thickest dick I had ever seen, and he wasn't even hard. His heavy package was squishing against the floor with every downward motion of his pushups. I was staring at his big, bubble butt with the lightest amount of fuzz on it (mine was completely hairless), and felt a pang of jealousy. His balls hung low like a couple kiwi fruits in a sack. I snapped out of my trance when he spoke again.

"So, you wanna work out, dude?" he asked, finishing up his set and sitting back on his heels, letting his big, sweaty package flop around and land on his thigh. His abs were wet and sweaty, red from the intensity of his workout. His chest was hairless. He stretched his arms above his head, and his upper body rippled with muscles.

“Dude, you’re naked,” I said.

He laughed. “Clothes are just resistance. They say winners don’t wait for privacy. I can show you some podcasts.”

I rolled my eyes and suddenly remembered the girl.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," I said to her as I shut the door and started walking down the hall with her, mumbling some excuse about my roommate being insane. We laughed nervously in the hall, but the mood was ruined. I walked her back to her dorm, trying to act like it was no big deal, but I could still see the image of him on the floor, sweaty and naked. Suffice it to say, I did not get laid that day.

I walked away from her dorm alone, telling myself to forget what happened, planning ways to avoid walking in on him again, but the picture of his body wouldn’t leave my head. Then I realized that my laptop was in the dorm, and I wouldn't be able to get any work done without it.

When I got back, I took a deep breath before knocking on the door. No answer.

When I slowly opened up and crept inside, I found Logan again, still naked, this time wearing big headphones over his short, wavy blonde hair. His abs were popping so hard they were literally bulging off his body. He was doing curls with dumbbells, his big cock just floating there between his legs. He appeared to be half hard, even bigger than before. 

This time he was facing me, and gave me a nod as I entered, still showing no shame at the fact that he was naked in our room. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, raising my hands in confusion but also laughing.

He pulled his headphones down to his neck. “What?”

“Why are you working out naked today??” I asked.

“Oh, dude,” he replied, “it’s the coolest thing.”

Logan went on to explain that he had gotten into “alternative workouts”, basically bro science, which he learned from either some youtuber or some podcast, I don’t even remember where he said he learned it. But, apparently, working out naked was the “key to gains-maxing”. He believed that his testosterone levels were higher when he was naked.

He had to work out in the nude, so he had to do it in the dorm instead of the gym, which limited him to calisthenics, dumbbells that he kept under his bed, and stretchy bands.

Over the next few days, I generally left during his afternoon workout period, to avoid being bombarded with his big sweaty dick in the corner of my eye, but his morning workouts were while I was still sleeping. I would often wake up to his nude form somewhere in the room, doing some sort of exercise. Sometimes he wore a white or blue jock strap, but usually it was completely au naturel, balls out and dick swinging. 

The next time I came home at the wrong time, he had a friend in there with him. I was watching two beefy dudes doing squats naked in my room. His friend had jet black hair, pale skin, big pink lips and muscles almost as big as Logan's.

I shook my head, and they both ignored me while they were doing their set, continuing their squats while they held dumbbells to their chests and let their balls drop down like they were practicing teabagging someone. I just started grabbing my stuff from my desk, and finding the clothes I wanted to change into.

“Alright,” Logan said to his friend as he finished, “We got ninety seconds rest.”

“What’s up dude?” he said to me as he sat his sweaty bare ass down on the stool next to our desks.

“The male nudity has gotten wild in here lately,” I said, “I’m not really used to it. I didn’t have brothers or anything like that.”

I started changing my clothes while he talked. If he wasn't worried about nudity, why should I be? I did face away from him when my dick came out though.

“Ah yeah,” he said, “Maybe it’s easier for me because I had brothers and we shared a room. It was a daily sausage party to be honest. But DUDE I swear it works. I can tell my testosterone is through the roof right now. Working out naked is like taking steroids. I could show you those podcasts that would change your life. You’d totally bulk up.”

I chuckled, and glanced down at his big balls resting on his bulky thighs.

“I guess it’s your room too…” I said. I finished changing, grabbed my laptop off my desk and started to head out. 

“You don’t have to leave, dude,” he said as I turned to go. “More males in attendance increases the effect. You should join us actually.”

I smiled at the idea. “That sounds fun, but I’ve got work to do. It’s a bit distracting to have your giant dick in my line of sight.”

I saw his face turn red just before I walked out the door. I heard him say something to his friend just before the door closed. “Do you think it’s really that big?”

Apparently, in the most recent revelation from whatever workout guru he was worshiping, he learned that adding workout partners also increased testosterone. Therefore, to him, the greatest gains would come from working out with another guy, completely naked. I swear, jocks are the gayest straight guys on the planet.

At first, I tried to avoid it. I spent as much time at the library as I could, ducking out during his workout windows, trying not to see his sweaty body bouncing around our tiny room. But avoiding him meant I was always missing something I needed, and eventually the shock wore off. Day by day it became a routine, and I got used to him being a nudist exerciser.

Every evening, he stripped down and went through his routine. Squats, push-ups, curls with his backpack full of books. Naked the whole time. He kept saying stuff like, “If you wait for the perfect moment, you’re already losing.”

It was insane, and honestly, I couldn’t look away. His body was carved up, muscles flexing with every move. I told myself I only stared because it was impossible not to. But my stomach would twist like I knew I was doing something wrong. This dude was such a stud, and he had fucked a girl every night of new student orientation, even if he quit hooking up recently for whatever reason.

Meanwhile, my own love life was a joke. I went out every weekend, chased girls at parties, but hookups never landed for me. I normally just jerked off quietly in bed while he slept, one eye on his bulging, muscular form breathing deeply under his blanket, just to make sure he didn't wake up. He, on the other hand, could have pulled any girl he wanted, even if he had gotten picky at some point.

Then came the explanation for him quitting hookups. One day he bragged that giving up sex was part of his new discipline. “Semen retention, bro. It’s the real secret sauce.”

He said it boosted testosterone and focus. He started lecturing me about it while he stretched, in the nude, balls dangling right in front of me, sometimes a foot from my face. It was weird how he had appeared to have zero concept of personal space. He literally didn't care if his dick brushed against me, even when I flinched from it.

One night, I walked in and he had porn playing on his laptop while he did sit-ups. He didn’t look embarrassed, with his rock hard dong pointing up in the air. My jaw dropped looking at a nine-inch cock that was thicker than my wrist. My sense of inadequacy went into overdrive.

“Science,” he said, nodding at the screen. “You only watch it while working out, so it trains your brain toward goal achievement.”

I rolled my eyes harder than I ever had, but my chest was hot. I sat on my bed, pretending to scroll my phone, but I kept glancing at him and the laptop. His dick was half hard as he crunched up and down, sweat dripping onto the carpet. He caught me looking.

“You should actually join me, bro,” he said, grinning. "You seem like you'd be into it. And you could get a pump going."

I should’ve laughed it off like every other time he had invited me, but instead I nodded. "You really need more dick in this situation right now?" I asked, trying to lighten my nerves.

"Anything for the bulk, bro," he said, then started doing his sit-ups again, the porn blaring as a girl was getting plastered with cum by a bunch of frat dudes. It was a compilation of cumshots.

My throat was dry, but I did it. I stripped my clothes while his eyes stayed on the screen, my erection popping out and pointing upward, and I sat down next to him in the small space between our beds. Soon I was working up a sweat, laying close to him, doing slow sit-ups while he did fast ones, our sweaty hips literally pressed together due to lack of space. I was as hard as I had ever been, and I told myself it was the porn. But, honestly, it was the atmosphere of it. The pure testosterone in the air. I actually felt energetic and strong. Maybe he was right about the bro science. 

He coached me through the rest of the workout, encouraging me to push myself. It actually felt kind of cool. I had worked out, but never had someone with that energy before. Watching a big, giant dick was not how I expected to experience my first fitness training session, but it only added to the energy. That night, as soon as he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, I knocked out a huge load of cum into a sock. I only touched myself for ten seconds before I exploded. 

—[]—

It didn't exactly become a routine, but I did start joining him when he insisted. I had the weirdest mixed feelings about it, inadequacy compared to him, horniness from watching porn and not touching myself during it, my own pent up balls from not getting laid. I even stopped jerking off when he insisted that "pure semen retention is key". I basically became his little bro science buddy in the dorm, and I noticed a lot more tone in my body, from my arms and chest to my abs, butt and legs. I was starting to enjoy it. A lot.

Then one night he said edging was the next step. He explained it like another rule of bro science, that holding back orgasms built more power and drive. At first I laughed, but he looked serious, so I sat on my bed and watched him stroke himself while doing sit-ups. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. My chest was pounding, but I couldn’t look away. He told me to try it too, that it would make me stronger, and I actually did it. At this point, I was in too deep.

I pulled my shorts down and followed along, doing half-assed crunches while my dick throbbed in my hand. We both sweated through it, watching porn on his laptop, not saying much except for little grunts and short encouragements. I felt stupid but turned on as hell.

After a few days of him pushing, I was doing it with him without even questioning it anymore. 

We both sort of transitioned in a weird way. Without speaking about it or explicitly planning it, we would both come back to the dorm about the same time every day, strip naked, and fucking goon. I would copy whatever workout he was doing that day, with whatever dumbbell weight I could hold, but the workouts had changed to only being one arm at a time, so the other hand could hold our dicks. His eyes were always glued to the screen, while mine alternated between the screen and him. We would release little grunts, sometimes from the workout, and sometimes just from the sexual pleasure of it all.

We never came, always stopping before the big finish. I would watch him release a pained groan of self-torture, almost like a zombie wail, and remove his hand from his large, throbbing meat hog as it released huge amounts of pre-cum, soaking his shaft and balls. The clear liquid would mix with his sweat and create the strangest, most masculine aroma imaginable. He was manliness in the flesh, and I was his gooner boy tagalong, simply witness to his alpha energy. I don't know about him, but I started having wet dreams again, which hadn't happened in years. I guess the jizz had to get itself out somehow. My horny dreams were a blur of titties and Logan's giant cock, and I would just try to forget that second part when I would wake up and wipe the jizz off myself.

Then one day, after a set, his dick was aching, throbbing, not just red but purple, veiny and maybe even a bit angry. I was still sitting on my ass on the rug, when his dick wacked me in the chin as he stood up. A string of pre-cum stretched my skin to the heavy head of his monster. The sunset was illuminating him directly through our window, and I looked up past his large, erect manhood, his abs and his bulging pecs, to see his face still watching the screen, focused on the titties and the cumshots. Without him noticing, I stuck out my tongue and licked at the string of pre-cum on my face. I quickly retracted my tongue and tasted the light saltiness. Not bad at all, I thought. I looked again at the monster in front of my face, and my hormonal instincts took over from there. 

I reached out and grabbed the big pole in front of me. He didn't even flinch, like maybe his zombified gooner brain was expecting it. His eyes closed and he tilted his head back, releasing the lightest whimper from his throat. I held it tight in my fist, and found that my fingers didn't even go all the way around it. I just squeezed and watched another glob of pre-cum escape the tip. I stuck out my tongue and licked it off directly. He didn't even open his eyes. I wondered what his bro science podcasts would say about this.

I held it for almost a full minute before he finally whispered something, keeping his eyes closed. "Edge me, bro."

"Don't cum," I said, mimicking the shared lingo we had developed in our taboo rituals.

"Never cum," he replied like it was a mantra. 

I moved my tight fist along his shaft, to the tip, back down to the balls, gripping it firmer with each stroke. I felt it throb with vigor as I gave it the pleasure it needed. His breathing got fast, and I stopped, milking more pre-cum out of it. I scooped it up with my other hand and licked it off my thumb. When he seemed settled, I continued the edging. I pulled his shaft downward so it was pointed directly at me, and opened my mouth underneath it. I milked his pre-cum into my mouth, gooned out and grateful for every drop. I didn't even think about if this was a line we shouldn't cross. It was like physics. It simply had to happen. I had no control over myself. I groaned like a shameless idiot as I stroked him harder and faster, my need for more of his pre-cum in my mouth taking priority over my directive to not let him cum. His hips thrust into my fist as I put my other hand on his balls, rubbing the slimy, sweaty kiwi fruits as he started to convulse.

I paused again, but it was too late. 

"Ummm..." he said, finally opening his eyes and looking down at me. I kept my mouth open and my tongue out as he started pulsing, shooting heavy, white ropes flying onto my face, across my tongue and eyes and cheeks. I started stroking him again, and his body convulsed, like he was having a second orgasm. I swallowed what landed in my mouth, noting the distinct difference from the pre-cum. I leaned forward and kept the tip of it on my tongue as it oozed out its final pulses.

He looked like his soul had left his body. He almost fell over backward, then sat down on his bed. He dropped his head onto his pillow like he was going to pass out. I was sort of stunned that I had just done that. I just watched his big beefcake body start to slowly sleep-breathe, his large cock, finally spent, resting over his balls and touching the sheets beneath his spread legs, as I jerked a quick loud out onto myself, licking the rest of his cum off my face.