Brock's Choice, Parts 1 and 2

This story is one I wrote many years ago (and has been published elsewhere), but like a lot of my early work, it was never finished. I have completed it for my Patreon readers, however, so expect the rest of the story and the conclusion over the next few days.

Part 1

First, a little background on our hero.

To most people, Brock Hardt had it all.

Good family? Sure thing. He came from a well-to-do family that resided in San Jose, California. His parents had been married to one another for 25 years while raising Brock and his three sisters. Brock’s father owned an incredibly successful computer company, and none of the kids had wanted for anything during their childhood.

Brains? Yep. Brock was a junior at Stanford University, and he had accumulated a 3.5 GPA during his first three years. He rarely struggled in any of his classes, and when he did have problems, he could usually find some willing person to help tutor him.

Talent? Of course. Brock was the starting quarterback for the Stanford football team, and he had racked up an impressive set of statistics. Most of the scouts figured he would be one of the top NFL draft picks when he graduated next year.

Looks? You bet. Brock was 6’4”, with short blond hair and deep blue eyes. His smooth skin tanned very easily, and his white teeth always gleamed. You would be hard-pressed to find a movie star that looked better than Brock.

Body to die for? Naturally. Brock had been working out regularly since he was 14, and all that time in the gym really paid off. Unlike most quarterbacks, he had an incredibly strong set of bulky muscles that helped him deal with some of the big guys on the field; many of the tacklers struggled to bring this 260-pound Adonis down. Not that Brock was bloated, mind you; his muscles were just very hard and full, and there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat anywhere. In fact, his nickname was “Rock Hard,” derived by removing the first letter of his first name and last letter of his last name. Many of the fans in the stadium could be seen wearing “Rock Hard” t-shirts on game day.

His pick of the ladies? Uh huh! When Brock walked into a room, he commanded attention from every female – his height, bulk, All-American good looks, and status as top quarterback combined to make him the most eligible catch on campus. Every girl wanted him, and many went to sleep at night fantasizing about becoming his girlfriend.

Brock’s current flame was named Heidi, a well-built combination of bubble and dazzle. She was a cheerleader for the football team, and although she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, she did love Brock for his many fine attributes. The added bonus: Heidi’s father was a top agent for NFL players, so if Brock played his cards right, he could end up with a perfect wife and a huge contract netting him millions.

So did Brock really have it all?

Not according to Brock. You see, he had always felt that something was missing in his life. It was hard to put his finger on, but somehow he knew that he wasn’t complete. No matter how much adoration he received from his fans or friends or Heidi, Brock still felt empty inside.

What could he be missing? Perhaps he will find out soon enough.

And now, let’s get out story started. It is the end of the Brock’s junior year, and he has just been called into one of the coach’s office after a workout in the varsity gym.

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Brock sauntered into Coach Brown’s spartan office. Still sweaty from his workout, he opted to stand rather than flop down in the guest chair, as was his usual manner. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

“Yeah, Brock, I have a favor to ask of you.” Brown leaned back in his chair, which caused his gut to ball up on his lap. “What are you doing this summer?”

“Working out and training.”

“No job lined up?”

“Nah, I really want to focus on football.”

“Good. Then maybe you can help me out. You know my brother, Luke, right?

Brock smiled. Luke Brown was a young stud in the world of pro football. He had been the #1 rated collegiate quarterback for the past few years, and last month the Seattle Seahawks selected him as its first draft pick. Come September, industry analysts figured he was going to take Seattle into the playoffs for the first time in years.

“Of course, Coach. Everyone knows who your brother is.” Instantly, Brock regretted the statement. He had to say something to recover. Fast. “I mean, he’s almost as good of a player as you used to be,” he added. “Shit!” though Brock, “that made it sound worse.”

Coach laughed. “Now don’t think I’m all sensitive and gonna cry. It doesn’t bother me that my playing days are behind me.” Brock’s statement was in fact true. Coach Brown had been unmatched as a QB, but a car crash following a night of drinking had broken his leg and greatly diminished his speed during his senior season. The pro teams started looking the other way, and his prospects for fame and fortune dried up. So he went into coaching to pay the bills.

Coach stood up from his chair, and you could tell that he had at one time been a fairly decent jock. Still muscular, with broad shoulders and big arms, but his bloated belly commanded more attention these days. “So anyway, Luke has to spend most of his summer up in Seattle preparing for the fall season. Because he will be the new starting quarterback, he’s not going to have much time to spend down in LA.”

“What’s in LA?”

“His house. He just bought a huge mansion down there, and he’s looking for somebody to watch things for him while he’s gone.”

“You want me to house-sit for your brother?” Brock asked incredulously.

“Well, partly,” the coach replied as he leaned up against his desk. “You see, when Luke bought this house, everything in the neighborhood was perfect. Then last winter, there were some high-profile robberies at some of the ritzier homes. Luke just figured that, if someone were living there, he wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

“Doesn’t he have a security system?”

“It’s coming. He’s working with the top security company in the state. But they’re booked up until late August. That’s why he needs someone to stay there during the summer.”

“Wow! What an amazing opportunity! Thanks, Coach!” said Brock, leaning forward and giving the man a hug. “I’m your man! When do I start?”

“Next week, if you can. But there are some ground rules.”

“Sure. Shoot. Anything.”

“One. You may only have one guest over at any given time. Luke doesn’t want it to turn into a party thing.”

“Coach, you know I don’t drink. That won’t be a problem.”

Two. You are free to use any part of the house you want. He’s got a huge private gym, pool, sauna, and lots of other goodies. But driving his cars will not be allowed for insurance reasons. If you need to go anywhere, the chauffeur will take you.”

“OK.”

“And finally, the staff all leave the house at 7:00pm and don’t return until 7:00 in the morning. He would like you to be there during the nights to make sure nothing goes wrong. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Great. I’ll call him and tell him he can expect you. Get yourself packed, and Luke will fly you down next Monday. There’s an 8:00am flight to LA.”

“Thanks, Coach. I’ll be using that private gym so much, you won’t recognize me when I get back.”

“You better. I don’t want to see you come back here with one of these.” Coach took Brock’s arm by the wrist, and then placed Brock’s hand against his belly and jiggled it a few times.

Brock giggled like a little kid. “No worries, sir. Nothing interferes with my workouts.”

“Good boy. Now hit the showers. You reek!”

Brock hurried out of the room with a big smile. “He’s a good kid,” thought Coach, “if only he would consider….”

His mind wandered for a few seconds, and then he decided it was time to get back to his end-of-year paperwork.

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Brock entered the deserted locker room. He opened his locker and tossed his shoes and socks into his bag. Then he took off his shirt to reveal his smooth, glorious torso, packed with hearty muscle and glimmering from the sweat. Finally, he slid out of his shorts to reveal little Brock – which by the way, wasn’t so little.

Walking over to the showers, he turned on the spray and began to lather up. “Dang,” he thought. “I’ll be living in Luke Brown’s house. I’ll be living like Luke Brown does.” Brock began to picture Luke in his head. Tall and broad-shouldered like his brother, but with no fat on his bones. Luke was in perfect shape, a necessity to be successful in the pros.

“I could be like him within a couple of years,” thought Brock. “Living the high life. Owning a big house and fancy cars. Everything will be perfect then.”

Brock started to soap up in the shower, checking out his body and mentally comparing it to Luke. “I bet my arms as big as his.” He flexed his guns and smiled with pride. “Damn, they gotta be bigger. And my chest is probably bigger, too.” He bounced his pecs a few times, then resumed his lathering.

He started rubbing his body more vigorously, then closed his eyes and daydreamed about Luke. “I wonder if I could take him in a wrestling match. That would be cool to try. I bet I could beat him in a sit-up competition. He probably doesn’t do 500 crunches a day like I do,” Brock thought as he massaged his rock-hard abs, closing his eyes and picturing his idol.

What Brock didn’t realize was that his cock had grown rock-hard from the fantasy session. As he continued to soap his body lower and lower, his hands reached his groin and gently fingered his engorged member. In a flash, his dick sprayed cum all over the shower wall and his body started to spasm

“What the hell?” he thought innocently, not realizing his thoughts of Luke were so strong. “Why did I just shoot my wad? Must be the excitement about moving to LA.” He was right about the excitement, but wrong about the cause of it.

He quickly finished showering and headed back to his locker.

Part 2

After some hasty goodbyes to his family and Heidi, Brock boarded the plane on Monday morning. He had promised Heidi daily calls and lots of texts, but she still seemed upset that he was going. He justified the trip by telling her, “Honey, I’ll get to be working out at the home of a professional football player. I’ll be so much bigger when I get back. There’ll be a lot more muscle for you to love.” That seemed to do the trick; she promised to remain faithful until his return, and she was going to try to arrange a few visits during the summer.

Although the flight to Los Angeles was quick and uneventful, Brock did get to ride in first class. Luke was apparently bringing him down in style. He was glad he had dressed up for the flight, wearing a nice white dress shirt and blue slacks rather than an old t-shirt and shorts.

Once Brock de-planed, he grabbed his carry-on bag and headed for the luggage carousel. Before he hit the escalators, however, he noticed a man holding a sign marked, “Hardt.” Strangely enough, the man was also wearing a similar white dress shirt and blue slacks.

Brock, looking at both of their outfits, smiled and said, “You must be the guy I’m looking for.”

“And you must be the man I have been a-waitin’ for,” the stranger replied in a slight Irish brogue, also smiling at the coincidence.

“Brock Hardt. Nice to meet you,” he said as they shook hands.

“Hello, Brock. Me name is Declan O’Malley. I’ll be drivin’ you to the Brown estate. Shall we go collect your bags and be on our way?”

“Sounds good.”

Declan turned and led the way to the luggage area. He was on the stocky side and walked slowly, so Brock didn’t have to work too hard to keep up. They found Brock’s bags fairly quickly, then headed to the car: a brand-new black Lincoln Town Car. After putting the luggage in the trunk, Declan opened the back door and motioned for Brock to enter.

“Oh, hey, would it be OK if I rode up front with you? I’d feel silly riding in the back by myself.”

“Aye. Whatever you would like.”

“Cool,” said Brock as he hopped in. “So, tell me about yourself, Declan.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

“Anything.”

“OK, well, let’s see. I am 22. I was born and raised in Dublin, and in case you’re wonderin’ about the name, Declan was one of the most important saints in all of Ireland.”

“You didn’t get named Patrick? I thought he was the most important saint there.”

“Twas already taken. I have four older brothers: Patrick, Malachy, Fergus, and Seamus. Me parents had an agreement that me da’ got to name all the boys, and he went all-Irish right down the line.”

“Cool. So is it OK if I call you Deck?”

“ Most people do,” he replied with an impish smile.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Deck?”

“Not right now. We broke up a few months ago. How about you?”

“Yeah. A gal named Heidi. We’ve been together for almost a year now.”

The boys continued their conversation as they wound through the California freeways. They talked about their upbringings, families, hobbies, sports, and all the usual guy things. In the end, both were amazed how easy it was to talk with the other.

As they drove into the gates to the estate, Brock had one last line of questions. “So how did you end up working for Luke Brown?”

“I come from a long line of professional gardeners. Must be somethin’ about comin’ from the Emerald Isle that gives you a green thumb. Anyway, I got me horticulture degree last year from UCLA, and I applied for this job when it came open. Luke was impressed with my ideas, and he basically gave me carte blanche to develop the gardens however I would like.”

“I thought you were the chauffeur?”

“Not exactly,” replied Declan, as he pulled up to the garage and slowed the big car to a stop. “I’m also handy with automobiles and I’ve got a clean drivin’ record, so Luke has asked me in the past to drive him to special events. Mainly, however, he likes to drive his sports cars wherever he needs to go.”

“And this summer? Are you my driver?”

“Aye. He’s paying me extra to drive you around. I went through a full background check before I came to work here, so the insurance company says it’s OK if I drive the cars.”

“How many people are on the staff?” The car was stopped now, and both men exited. Declan went around to the trunk and took out Luke’s luggage.

“Besides me-self, there’s a cook, Alice, and a housekeeper, Magda.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Deck,” Brock said as he took the bags from the driver. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“You’re welcome, Brock. Take care.”

As Declan turned to leave, Brock took a good look at him. The guy was about 5’10” and probably weighed closed to 250 or 260. He had close-cropped red hair and a sprinkling of freckles, which, when combined with his ex-jock build, gave him the appearance of a beefy leprechaun. His outfit was somewhat ill-fitting, suggesting he had gained weight recently and was still trying to shove himself into his old clothes.

But Brock wasn’t really thinking too much about Deck’s appearance. He was thinking how nice it would be to have a friendly face around this summer.

“Hey there, Brock, it’s nice of you to do me this favor,” said a deep voice from behind.

He turned and saw the magnificent Luke Brown walking toward him. Clad in a tight white t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, he was a sight to behold. Little Brock immediately began begging for attention, but Big Brock tried to put those thoughts out of his mind.

“Thanks, Luke. It’s good to meet you.” The two men shook hands, and Brock noted (to his surprise) that Luke seemed to be bigger than he was. Had he gotten even more muscular in the off-season?

“And thanks for the first-class ticket,” he added. “That was very generous of you.”

Luke smiled. “Hey, I know it’s no fun to be stuck in coach when you’re a big guy like us. We need room to stretch out our guns, right, Mr. Rock Hard?” He grabbed Brock’s bicep and gave it a little squeeze.

“Yeah,” Brock giggled. Little Brock had sprung to life and was growing steadily. Big Brock ignored the tingling and looked up at the house. “Sure is a nice place,” he said.

“Let me show you around,” said Luke, walking quickly toward the front door. “Go ahead and leave your bags in the front hallway. Magda will put your things away.”

“OK.” Brock abided and dropped his bags once they entered the mansion. The house was immense, and he figured it would take him a few days to find his way around. In addition to a gigantic kitchen and numerous bedrooms and bathrooms, there was a game room, TV room, gym, spa, library, computer room, and many, many more. Luke obviously got a great deal of money when he signed with the Seahawks.

The outside was also impressive. The backyard had a full-size pool and hot tub surrounded by the well-manicured grounds of which Declan was deservedly proud. The front yard, although smaller than the back, was blocked from the road by a row of tall trees, guaranteeing privacy to anyone inside the gates.

“Well, that’s about everything,” concluded Luke as they walked back toward the pool area. “Deck will drive you anywhere you need to go. Feel free to help yourself to anything you see in the fridge. In addition to the cooking, Alice does the shopping, so she’ll get anything you need. And don’t worry about cleaning up or laundry. Magda will take care of that.”

“Thanks again, Luke, for everything. I promise you’ll find everything the same when you get back.”

Luke smiled, but said nothing.

“So when are you taking off to Seattle?”

“My plane leaves in at 1:00. I have some photo shoots later this week, and I have to meet with some stylists this evening to make sure I look good for them.”

“You look like you’re bigger than last year,” complimented Brock.

“Yeah, I’ve been working with some trainers that have helped beef me up. I was only 240 in college, but I’m up to 270 right now, and all my speeds are up.” To emphasize his point, he peeled off his shirt and gave a quick flex of his pecs. His body was incredible, and Luke felt a slight twinge of jealousy knowing that Luke had gotten so much bigger.

“Care to share any secrets?” By now Little Brock was at full salute. Big Brock hoped to God that Luke didn’t notice.

“Well, I’ve been using a special protein supplement in my food that’s really seemed to help. Just ask Alice. She can put it in your meals, too.”

“Thanks, Luke. I will.”

“A little of that powder, combined with some good hard lifting and running, and you’ll be amazed at the results.” This time Luke flexed his guns to make his point, and then laughed softly. “Hey, I hate to flex and run, but I really gotta jet. Declan’s probably waiting to take me to the airport right now. Magda has all the information of where I’m staying, so ask her if you need to get a hold of me. I’ll be back a couple of times this summer to check up on things.”

“Take care. Have fun in Seattle.”

They shook hands again, and then Luke turned back toward the house. Big Brock was thinking how big he was going to get using the special protein supplement when Little Brock erupted in his pants.