Chapter 1 - Campus Kings
The sun hung high over the sprawling campus of Westfield University, casting a golden glow on the manicured lawns and the throngs of students milling about between classes. It was one of those perfect autumn days in the American Midwest, where the air carried a crisp edge that invigorated the body and sharpened the mind. Amid the sea of backpacks and hurried footsteps, five figures stood out like gods among mortals. They were the kings of the campus, the elite athletes whose physiques turned heads and sparked whispers wherever they went. Jake, Ryan, Tyler, Alex, and Brad; each one a specimen of peak male fitness, their bodies honed by relentless training and blessed by genetics that made them the envy of every guy and the fantasy of every girl.
Jake Thompson led the pack, quite literally, as the star quarterback of the Westfield Wolverines football team. At twenty-one, he stood six-foot-three, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, his chest a slab of muscle that strained against the fabric of his team jersey. His arms were thick cords of power, veins bulging from hours spent in the weight room, and his thighs were like tree trunks, capable of powering him through defensive lines with ease. Jake’s face was the stuff of magazine covers: square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and a mop of tousled blond hair that he ran his fingers through absentmindedly. But it was what lay beneath his shorts that really set him apart, a rumour that had circulated through the sororities like wildfire. Girls whispered about his impressive endowment, thick and long, a tool that he wielded with the confidence of a man who knew he was unmatched.
That morning, Jake sauntered across the quad, his backpack slung over one shoulder, chatting with a couple of cheerleaders who had flanked him like eager satellites. “So, ladies, you coming to the game this weekend?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth, flashing that trademark grin that revealed perfect white teeth. One of the girls, a petite brunette named Sarah, giggled and touched his arm, her fingers lingering on the swell of his bicep. “Wouldn’t miss it, Jake. Especially not after last time.” Her eyes flicked downward suggestively, and Jake chuckled, knowing exactly what she meant. Just last week, after a victory party, he’d taken her back to his dorm, stripping her down and pounding her with that massive cock of his until she was screaming his name. He could still feel the way her walls clenched around him, milking him dry as he exploded inside her. Straight as an arrow, Jake lived for these conquests, each one affirming his status as the alpha male on campus.
Not far behind, Ryan Keller cut through the crowd like a shark through water. The university’s top swimmer, Ryan was built for speed and endurance, his body a lean, sculpted masterpiece at six-foot-one. His shoulders were wide from countless laps in the pool, his back a V-shaped expanse of rippling muscle that flexed with every step. Abs like chiselled marble defined his torso, leading down to slim hips and powerful legs that propelled him to record-breaking times in the freestyle. Ryan’s skin was perpetually tanned from outdoor training, and his dark hair was cropped short, accentuating his sharp green eyes and full lips that curved into a mischievous smile. But it was his package that drew the most covert glances in the locker room; even flaccid, it hung heavy and promising, a girth that filled out his swim briefs obscenely during meets.
Ryan was heading to the aquatic centre for morning practice, but not before stopping at the campus café for a quick flirt. There, he spotted Lisa, a volleyball player with legs that went on forever. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, leaning against the counter, his tight tank top clinging to his sweat-dampened chest. She blushed, her eyes tracing the outline of his pecs. “Ryan, you look… wet already.” He laughed, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “Just thinking about you does that to me.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; Ryan’s libido was as insatiable as his drive in the pool. Last night, he’d hooked up with a freshman at a dorm party, bending her over the sink in the bathroom and thrusting into her with long, deliberate strokes. His cock, veiny and unyielding, had stretched her to her limits, and he’d pulled out just in time to paint her back with thick ropes of cum. Ryan loved the control, the way women begged for more, their bodies yielding to his superior form.
Tyler Ramirez was the brute force of the group, the wrestling champion who dominated the mats with sheer power. At five-foot-eleven, he was a compact powerhouse, every inch packed with muscle. His chest was barrel-like, heaving with each breath, and his arms were like pythons, capable of pinning opponents in seconds. Tyler’s core was a fortress of abs, eight-pack visible even through his hoodie, and his legs were squat-built for explosive takedowns. Dark skin glowed under the sun, his black hair buzzed short, and his brown eyes held a fierce intensity that intimidated and aroused in equal measure. In the showers after practice, his teammates couldn’t help but steal glances at his thick, meaty cock, hanging low between thighs like carved oak.
Tyler was lounging on the steps of the gym, scrolling through his phone, when a group of sorority sisters walked by. One, a curvy blonde named Megan, slowed down and waved. “Tyler, you were amazing at the last match. Those muscles…” She bit her lip, and he stood up, towering over her despite his height, pulling her into a hug that pressed her against his hard body. “Thanks, babe. Want a private demonstration?” His voice was gravelly, laced with promise. Megan had experienced it firsthand a month ago, when he’d wrestled her playfully onto his bed, stripping her clothes off and burying his face between her legs before flipping her over and slamming into her from behind. His girth had filled her completely, his hips pistoning like a machine until he flooded her with his seed. Tyler was all about dominance, straight conquests that left women limp and satisfied, his body a weapon of pure masculine pleasure.
Alex Hayes, the track star, was a blur of motion as he jogged across the field, his lithe form cutting through the air with effortless grace. At six-foot-even, Alex was built for speed: long, lean muscles that rippled under smooth skin, his legs a symphony of quads and calves that powered him to sprint victories. His chest was defined but not bulky, abs etched like a washboard, and his arms swung with precise rhythm. With sandy brown hair flopping over hazel eyes and a boyish smile that belied his twenty years, Alex looked approachable, but his body screamed elite athlete. In the locker room, his cock was a sleek, impressive length, curving slightly upward when hard, a tool that had earned him a reputation for stamina.
Alex paused his run to chat with Emily, a fellow runner who’d been eyeing him during team practices. “You’re fast, Alex, but I bet I could keep up,” she teased, her hand brushing his forearm. He smirked, feeling the familiar stir in his shorts. “Prove it tonight?” Later that evening, he planned to take her back to his room, where he’d strip her slowly, teasing her with kisses down her body before sliding into her wetness. His thrusts were rhythmic, like his strides on the track, building to a crescendo that left her gasping as he unloaded deep inside. Alex thrived on the chase, the straight pursuit of pleasure that came from his athletic prowess, each encounter a medal in his collection.
Finally, there was Brad Mitchell, the basketball hunk who owned the courts. Towering at six-foot-seven, Brad was a giant among men, his frame long and muscular, with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. His chest and back were etched with power from endless drills, abs a ladder of perfection leading to a V-cut that disappeared into his low-slung jeans. Legs like pillars supported him, and his hands, massive and skilled, were as deadly on the ball as they were in the bedroom. Brad’s face was handsome in a rugged way: strong jaw, grey eyes, and short black hair. But it was his endowment that was legendary; hung like a horse, thick and veiny, it swung heavily when he moved, a promise of overwhelming pleasure.
Brad was shooting hoops in the outdoor court, his tank top soaked with sweat, clinging to every ridge of muscle. A fan, a redhead named Katie from the dance team, approached with a water bottle. “You’re on fire today, Brad.” He took the bottle, his fingers brushing hers, and pulled her close. “Come over later, and I’ll show you real heat.” Katie had been there before, weeks ago, when he’d lifted her effortlessly against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he impaled her on his massive length. Pounding relentlessly, he’d made her cum twice before filling her up, his balls churning out load after load. Brad was the ultimate straight stud, his conquests as numerous as his points on the board, each one a testament to his physical dominance.
As the day wore on, the five friends converged at the student union for lunch, their laughter booming across the room. Jake slapped Tyler on the back, recounting his latest hookup. “Man, Sarah was wild last night. That ass…” Tyler grinned, flexing his arms. “Yeah? Megan couldn’t get enough of this.” Ryan chimed in, describing his bathroom escapade, while Alex and Brad shared knowing nods about their own plans. They were unbreakable, these campus kings, their bodies temples of strength and virility, their lives a whirlwind of sports, studies, and endless sexual triumphs. Little did they know, as they joked about the frat party that night, that eyes were watching them from afar. Hidden in the shadows of the campus, a figure noted their every move, their impressive forms catalogued for a purpose far darker than any game or conquest. The harvest was about to begin, and these straight athletes, with their incredible physiques and potent seed, were the perfect crop.
The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the quad. Jake tossed a football casually to Brad, who caught it one-handed, his biceps bulging. “Party tonight, boys. Let’s make it legendary.” They all agreed, fist-bumping, their muscles flexing in unison. Ryan stretched, his abs popping into view as his shirt rode up. Tyler cracked his knuckles, Alex bounced on his toes, ready for anything. They were at the peak of their youth, their bodies primed and powerful, cocks that had conquered countless women now resting heavy in their pants, unaware of the machines that awaited them. The air hummed with possibility, but beneath it lurked something sinister, a pull towards a fate that would strip them bare and extract every drop of their essence.
As classes resumed, the group split up, each heading to their respective lectures or practices. Jake hit the field for drills, his cleats digging into the turf, sweat beading on his forehead as he launched perfect spirals. Ryan dove into the pool, his body slicing through the water, every stroke a display of fluid power. Tyler grappled with a sparring partner in the wrestling room, pinning him down with ease, his thighs clamping like vices. Alex sprinted laps on the track, wind whipping through his hair, his legs a blur. Brad dominated the gym court, dunking with thunderous force, the rim shaking under his grip.
By evening, as the campus lights flickered on, they reconvened at the frat house, beers in hand, surrounded by adoring fans. Girls pressed close, hands wandering over their muscular frames, whispers of promised nights. Jake pulled Sarah onto his lap, feeling her grind against his thickening cock. Ryan cornered Lisa in the kitchen, his hand slipping under her shirt. Tyler had Megan against the wall, his body pinning hers. Alex danced with Emily, their hips syncing. Brad towered over Katie, his presence alone making her knees weak.
The night was young, filled with laughter and lust, these straight college athletes reveling in their prime. But in a van parked discreetly nearby, plans were finalised. Dr. Harlan reviewed his notes, images of their bodies flashing on his screen: Jake’s broad chest, Ryan’s lean abs, Tyler’s powerful arms, Alex’s speedy legs, Brad’s towering form. And below, estimates of their yields, their sperm production potential off the charts. “Perfect,” he murmured. “The harvest begins tonight.”
Unaware, the jocks partied on, their bodies on full display, cocks stirring with anticipation of the conquests to come. Little did they suspect that soon, those same bodies would be bound, stripped, and milked relentlessly, their straight worlds shattered by machines that hungered for their seed.
