#theuniversity

how are they gonna spend so much damn time in the gym, pumpin' up all that muscle, and then bitch and moan about being too sore to move? collapsing in the hallway and trapping other guys under them... so ridiculous!

+ new kink enters the arena! Renny note at the bottom of the post! :)

The rumblings and rumors surrounding the wrestling team and the players at various stages of physiques all faded as it became so habitual and normal to be taking photos of the team and their interactions on campus. It was just something for everyone to enjoy non-stop.

Most assuredly, it was encouraged that the players keep clothing simple, ready to display, because a camera could be pulled out at any moment. Polaroids were a favorite, as people in their dorms would begin holding competitions of how filled their polaroid walls were with wrestling team members interacting with them for a photo op. Students and faculty were also beginning to notice that, while there were members joining the team that weren't hulking, lumbering beasts over 10 feet tall, they were seeming to specialize in certain areas... like the four gentlemen below that were such professionals at weight shifting and pinning opponents down. The sight was something to behold, and photos with these specialists were especially coveted.

The practice was a fun competition that was always enjoyable for people to reminisce on as they laid on their beds. Evenings would be spent staring at the array of pictures, eyes surfing across all of them hung on the wall... remembering the heat from their bodies... their dominant statures... their smiles, so bright and cute, in such stark contrast to their hulking mass that so effortlessly moved at their command.

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and for the reveal, because it'll probably be more present in other posts and schemes I come up with--multiarm. For some reason, it's really resonating with me and I think it's just here to stay at this point. Some offshoots that generated with this prompt had to have affected things and gotten it to this point, and honestly, couldn't be happier. LOL

The man of the hour. The massive man of the hour.

Whatever you wanted to call him... the star athlete, the pack alpha, the leader of the jocks... all the names shared one same concept: Trevor was the biggest and the best of them all, and if he wanted attention, he got attention.

It was easy to tell when he was coming--his enormity always announced his approach. At almost 14 feet tall and easily over 1100 pounds of raw, unadulterated beef, his massive 29-inch-long, size 68 feet, powered forward by his thick, monstrous legs, would slap loudly against the linoleum hall floors, leaving heat footprints that'd make Sasquatch shake. You'd hear the slamming of metal, indentations in the door frames from where Trevor simply didn't care about one of his huge shoulders colliding with the frame as he ducked through.

Clothing might as well have been randomly generated, because Trevor always picked out some clothes in the morning, and depending on just how insane of a pump he got to that day, or if he just grew period, whatever ripped off of him wouldn't be replaced. If you had a nickel for every time Trevor walked into a class completely naked, his unrealistically gigantic python and cantaloupe-sized balls slapping against his thighs as he ripped a bench out from the hallway and slammed it down in the classroom to have somewhere to sit... if you're being honest, you'd have 37 nickels, because you're keeping count in your journal along with all your polaroid pictures you snap. Trevor doesn't just love the attention--he expects it. You've become a kind of record-keeper for his progresses.

You're starting your first year of university varsity basketball, in the locker rooms while you overhear the second and third-years talking on the other side of this row of lockers. "Yeah, if you check the staff registry, Coach Brick's down as Professor Tevis. It's probably 'cus he's got this bodybuilding and physical exercise shit down to a science, but holy hell, the guy's built like a brick shit-house, which I guess is where the nickname comes from."

"Every single dude that ended up on his teams would always bitch about how tough everything was, but they quit their yappin' pretty soon after, since they all started gettin' built up like nothin' you'd ever seen." "Yeah, man, there's just somethin' about your over-800-pound coach tellin' ya what to do that makes ya wanna do it, I guess." Your eyes widen. 800 pounds? Are they serious? ...Who is this guy? You were warned beforehand that there'd always be that buffer of a couple weeks where the new players on the team would get absolutely wrecked and bruised from practices because they couldn't stop staring at Coach Brick... but to think this is the reason, and not just because he's hot...

"Yeah, man... last year's professor sucked ass. Didn't learn anythin', bro. This makes it so easy!"

Administrators were curious as to why the physiology and anatomy curriculum for the university were suddenly being so well-received and end-of-semester scores jumped up nearly 30 points within a single year. They had only recently brought on Dr. Reynolds, as he had such tremendous experience in the medical and surgical fields and wanted to shift his attention to teaching, not thinking anything of his exceptional build (often, doctors will be rather well-built due to using exercise as a stress-relief or habit reinforcement technique, so they just attributed it to his genetics). He was one of the first... 'muscly' professors they brought onto the team.

However, that lack of understanding quickly had light shed on it as one of the more progressive administrators was passing by his classroom, hearing students 'wow'ing and 'aaah'ing, peeking through the glass to see Dr. Reynolds propped up on pushed-together desks, the class groping and feeling his musculature. He could faintly hear the doctor speaking on the muscle groups being felt, encouraging the students to dig their fingers in and feel the muscle groups, learning the contours, as the next test would be their best attempt at redrawing human musculature on a skeleton.

There were some under-the-table conversations regarding the university's ability to continue to fund such varying sports projects and teams, especially with everyone being privy to and witnessing just how much upkeep the prize athletes of the school take, what with supplements, sustenance, housing... repairs... but no one was necessarily prepared for the reveal of the new-and-improved wrestling team and the photoshoot they prepared with the star soccer team.

Everyone was obviously used to the jocks and their antics by now, but to see such up-front revealing photos, let alone those promoted and published by the school themselves, the student body definitely knew something was afoot--but no one had any complaints. Some of them recognised a couple of the wrestlers from the year prior, having been around the same build if not a bit thicker than the soccer players they were now posing with.

As society progresses, people would subtly begin to garner just how much the government of Adonis was impacting and influencing every facet of the people's lives. However, by the time people were privy to it... they wanted it. It was desired. It was expected. For now, the student body of the university were happy to fill the gym to the brim to watch these absolute monoliths slicked with sweat giving their utmost to dominate the other, twisting, squeaking on the floor, slipping, grabbing at the string and a prayer they call their practice garments.

DC N4L Mobile Application

Young: New Team Member yall. She bad af!

Daniel: How bad?

Young: She badder than the ex-girl, standing with the next girl...

Daniel: Okay, fake ass Drake.

Young: Naw but seriously she’s stunning.

Russ: Man you fall in love with anything.

Young: Anything?

Russ: Anyone, rather...

Cass: Shall we list?

Young: Shall I? I’m Significant, mostly every chick I hit becomes a trophy.

Cass: All your chicks aint bad nigga...

Young: True, but my baddest is better than all your baddest put together.

Herb: Feeling yourself?

Young: Naw but y’all are... Why yall hating? What have I done to any of you?

Daniel: 215...

Young: That wasn’t my fault.

Daniel: Tell my bank statement that bitch.

Cass: Bro, yall gotta chill. 4real. This is not that serious. Pussy is only pussy. Enjoy. Pass. Enjoy. Pass.

Young: When was the last time you passed us anything?

Cass: What?

Young: You get em. Keep em. Hold em. This aint poker nigga.

Herb: Young, I fuck with you, but you come at BMT wrong again... I’m fucking you up.

Young: Shiii, I’ll be at the Dorm after practice. Come chop it up nigga.

Herb: Fuck you nigga.

Cass: Keep talking that hot shit and we gonna have to humble you.