Date: Sun, 20 Feb 2005 19:53:41 -0600
From: Tyler StJames <tylerstjames@msn.com>
Subject: The Freshman Five

This story is, of course, a work of fiction.  Any and all sex is between two
(or more, heh heh) consensual, of-age males.  If male/male sexual relations
offend you, you must be on the wrong website.

The Freshman Five

Chapter One -- Moving in

Clark strapped his large duffle bag across his broad, muscular chest and
carried his two heavily laden powder blue suitcases in his hands as he
unloaded his neighbor's truck.  His mother sat in the passenger's seat, her
eyes brimming with tears of pride.

"Pa would have been so proud Clark," she said, brushing a string of her
silver hair from her weeping eyes.  Clark embraced his mother in his strong
arms and rubbed her back, assuring her that he'd call regularly and write
when he got the chance.

"I'm sure you'll be busy son, just reach me when you can," she said, patting
his bear sized hands.

"I love you ma," Clark said as he pecked her on the cheek.  Ma took one last
look at her boy.  He'd grown up to be so handsome: strong jaw and chin,
thick dark hair and those eyes; the sweetest most honest eyes she'd ever
seen, their piercing blue able to take the very breath from your chest.  She
stroked his smooth face and wiped the hint of a tear away from his eye.

"I love you too, son," she said.  They waved goodbye as the pick up truck
hurried her back to the farm.  Clark breathed deeply.  The air wasn't as
clean in Pacific Park, but it had a good smell all its own.  It smelled like
freedom and new beginnings and a little like motor oil.  Clark made a face.
"He needs to get that pick-up fixed," Clark thought.

He turned around to drink in the beauty of the school at which he'd arrived.
  Stern University had an amazing campus.  The grounds were lush and green
and very well maintained.  The trees were vibrant and healthy, their
blossoms littering the ground.  Everywhere you looked there was a
cobblestone path and the school itself was something to behold.  Boasting
the largest school grounds on the west coast, Stern's school buildings alone
spanned a square mile, not to mention the residence halls and fitness
centers.  Clark had been warned about the incredible amount of time it took
sometimes to get from one class to another.  Luckily, the school had
shuttles, underground paths and sky bridges to cut down on tardiness
problems in the school.  Not that he'd have a problem with that.  The layout
was more or less a gigantic `U' with several smaller buildings in the
center.  The buildings were all the same construction typical of a
University: orange brick with marble pillars and concrete steps.  There was
a clock tower at the top of "Franklin Hall" (which housed the School of
Sciences) and was, in configuration, the bottom horizontal part of the "U"
formation.  According to Clark's map, the building to the left of Franklin
Hall was "Jefferson Hall" (School Fine and Performing Arts) and the building
to the right of Franklin Hall was "Washington Hall" (School of Sports and
Medicine).  They weren't original names for halls, to be sure, but Clark had
never had to name a hall and wasn't sure that he'd do any better a job at
it.

Clark re-read his instruction sheet, which had been nearly torn in two from
the constant reading and folding of the thing.  Clark had committed it to
memory, but held on to it more for comfort sake that anything else.  He was
to report to the main office, which was a rotunda just north of Franklin
Hall and receive his room key and building pass.  There was, as was
expected, a VERY long line, but Clark made the most of it by reading his
book list over and seeing what he'd need to pick up before classes started
the next week.  He was glad not to have to worry about money now.  Things
had been so hard on he and his mother ever since his father'd had that heart
attack and passed away.  Since then, he had made it a goal to get to a good
university using the only thing he knew: football.  Clark had been towel boy
for much of his high school career until one day, after clearing up the
team's equipment; Clark kicked the football and cleared the goal post from
100 yards.  Clark remembered hearing a thunk and spun around him to see his
coach on the ground in a spread eagle, passed completely out.  From that day
on, Clark was on the team, and upon their defeat of the Jansen High
Buckaroos for State his senior year, Clark was finally an equal.

"Name?" said the young man at the assistant's desk.  His voice jerked Clark
out of his reverie.

"Oh, sorry about that...Kent," Clark replied.

"No worries.  Ok, I need to verify some information: you are here on
football scholarship, correct?" Clark nodded.

"And will you be paying for housing yourself?" he asked.  Clark's mind went
blank.  Money, he didn't have any money.  How was he supposed to pay for
rent?

"I-isn't that covered by my scholarship?" Clark asked, his voice trembling.
He thought he would be sick.

"Well, not exactly.  You see here..." the young man turned the screen toward
Clark, inviting him to get a closer look.  As Clark leaned in he could have
sworn the raven-haired boy had blown in his ear, which tickled and gave him
goose bumps.  "Maybe it was an accident," Clark thought.  How strange, maybe
that's how people behaved out here.  His ear had certainly never been blown
in before, so it was safe to assume, he thought, that it was merely some
accident and that he'd just imagined it.

"This shows that the scholarship covers all of your tuition and books, but
not housing.  Now if you've signed up for financial aid then that'll come in
within the next couple of weeks and it's nothing to worry about..." the
assistant looked up at Clark, whose eyes were welling with tears.  He
CLEARLY had never been far from home and had no idea what financial aid was
by the confused look on his face.

"Look, why don't you come back here?  We've got a computer you can use and
we'll try to straighten this all out..." he offered.  Really no one was
supposed to be behind the desk that wasn't an employee, but he was willing
to make an exception.  Clark didn't say anything, just nodded and the
assistant directed Clark to the side of the office, where he let him in.
That was the first time Dick Grayson saw all of Clark Kent.  Like something
out of a GI Joe catalogue, Clark was built to an almost scientific
perfection.  6'2", broad shouldered, huge chest, with biceps that looked
like his shoulders had swallowed footballs and a waist like a 16 year old.
The only way Dick could describe him was that he seemed freakishly
beautiful.  As they shook hands, Dick noticed a real warmth and gentleness
about Clark.  Something in Clark's eyes, much brighter blue than his own
seemed well...very honest.  While Dick looked up to see if Clark had perhaps
been signed up for financial aid by a high school counselor, Clark looked on
eagerly.

"Almost there Clark," Dick said.  Clark looked at the assistant closely.
The boy's eyes were a lovely sapphire color, framed with long, thick
eyelashes.  There was a sadness there as well, but Clark couldn't figure out
what.  Dick noticed Clark looking and blushed.  Was GI Clark checking him
out?  Clark seemed to have no inhibitions at all and stared openly at Dick
as he kept typing.

It turned out that there had been no financial aid set up for Clark for the
term and so they set about looking for other options.  The housing office
agreed to postpone Clark's rent payment until the following month.  However
Clark couldn't help but feel distraught.  He hated money, hated the thought
of it.  He had never been particularly any good at handling money, but since
her never had a whole lot of it, he never really worried about it.  Ma had
always taken care of that kind of stuff.  He felt so alone and abandoned.
Why had this happened?  If he couldn't come up with the money would he be
sent home?  Clark started shaking and his eyes misted over again.  Dick
noticed this and closed his aid window, taking Clark into the back room and
closing the door.  Clark started weeping and Dick, though almost a full six
inches shorter and smaller in stature, patted Clark on the back, reassuring
him that things would work out.  Much to Dick's surprise, Clark took him
into a bear hug and squeezed him and sobbed into his shoulder.  Dick let him
cry for a while and held him there until he stopped.  As Dick's hands rubbed
Clark's back he noticed that Clark was more built than he'd thought.  It
seemed that Mr. Kent had muscles ON muscles back there.  Where was this guy
from?  Eventually Clark stopped.  Dick walked over to the sink and got a
napkin and a glass of water.  Clark drank it thankfully and wiped his face
off.
Dick put his hand on Clark's shoulder.

"You know Clark, it really is going to be fine.  We'll figure out
something," Dick offered.  Clark smiled.  This young man was being so kind
and thoughtful and Clark didn't even know his name.

"What's your name?" Clark asked.  Dick was shocked.  Hadn't they gone over
this?

"Um, I'm Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick," he gave Clark his hand.
"Nice to meet you Dick, I'm Clark," Clark shook Dick's hand heartily.

"Oh, that's awful." Dick said, making a face.  Dick and Clark, Dick Clark,
bleah.

"What?  You of all people shouldn't be criticizing names, Dick," Clark said
defensively.

"No, it's not that.  It's Dick...Clark?  Dick Clark, you know...?"

Insert cricket sound effect here.  Clark must not get out much...or ever...since
the advent of televised New Year's parties at least.

Dick rolled his eyes.

"Never mind Clark.  I like your name just fine," Dick explained then
continued. "So, since you'll be living in the med and sport dorm AKA
"Madison Hall", I'll be seeing you around.  I've got to work still for
another hour, but let me see if I can't find someone to take you there now.
It's kind of maze-like inside, so it's best if you go with someone the first
time.  Dick reopened his window and leaned out on the counter, his pert,
muscular bubble-butt in the air.  Clark blushed as he thought of things he'd
like to alone with Dick.

"AC!"  Dick yelled out the window.  Soon, a young man came padding over, his
blonde hair all spiked and wet, drying it as he went with a towel.  He was
dressed in loose fitting green university-issue sweat pants and a white
hoodie with big yellow letters across his chest spelling STERN SPORT.  AC
and Dick exchanged some looks before he made it to Dick's window.

"AC this is Clark Kent here on football scholarship, Clark this is AC Orin
the fastest swimmer this side of the continent," Clark and AC shook hands
and AC smiled warmly up at Clark drinking him in.

"AC would you mind showing Clark to his room?  It's the same as yours only
on the 16th floor.  Clark, AC lives on the 17th.  It gets noisy up there
sometimes but I'm sure you'll live with it," Dick said, smirking.  As AC and
Clark turned to leave Dick whimpered slightly at the sight of Clark's
perfect twin mounds trapped as they were in the denim fabric of his jeans,
pressing for escape, each one bulging in turn as he walked away.  AC heard
it and turned and looked at Dick who nodded his head towards Clark's rear
end and made grabbing motions with his hands.  AC looked at Clark's backside
and then looked back at Dick mouthing the words "Oh my God!"

Clark was happy that everyone seemed so eager to help him here.  He followed
AC to his dorm and, upon finding that the elevators were broken (apparently
a common occurrence in Madison) he followed AC up the stairs to his room.
On the way up, Clark enjoyed the view of AC's firm buttocks filling the back
of his sweats as they climbed and climbed.  AC began to slow down around the
fifteenth floor. Clark thought "Man, if only he knew, I could fly him up two
floors and carry him to his apartment," but there were things, Clark
realized that no one could know.  Not about his amazing strength and ability
to fly and definitely not about his fantasies.  Fantasies he'd had since he
was old enough to realize that touching himself felt wonderful.  Fantasies
that filled his head with images of men, strapping and strong, covering his
body with their tongues, of orgies and massages and oral pleasures.  As was
customary, Clark started to feel his temperature rising and his blood start
to race as his thoughts turned to sexual images.  The images of his fellow
teammates in and out of their clothes, in the showers, with the coach: his
muscular, manly chest and stomach covered with that thick pelt of dark fur.
He thought about how they all had been discovered by the assistant gym coach
together in a big, soapy, grinding heap and the coach he'd loved for so many
years had been sent away.  Not to jail, just...away.  That's why he couldn't
tell. He didn't want to be sent away.  Remembering the feelings he'd had for
his coach and teammates and the intimate moments they'd had together,
exercising together, building their bodies together, Clark started
absentmindedly rubbing his hands up and down his eight-pack.

As they reached Clark's door, AC cursed his decision not to wear a strap or
something under the unresisting fabric of his sweatpants.  Briefs would do
nothing to hide the tumescent member now threatening to breach the waistline
of his unders.  Clark couldn't keep doing things like that, or he'd have
everyone on the upper floors crazy and leaking cock honey like he was.
Trembling, AC let Clark into his room, whom it would seem, was caught up in
a distant memory which distracted him enough for AC to adjust himself as not
to be too obviously erect in Clark's presence.  The room was what they liked
to refer to as a "shoebox".  It was beige and rectangle and...beige.  Did I
mention beige?  Everything about the room was boring: basic twin bed, desk,
chair, mini-fridge, sink, closet, dresser and window.  Blah.

"There aren't a lot of frills here Clark, it's pretty basic."

"What are you talking about? This is awesome!"

"Awesome?" AC thought.  "Damn!  `Awesome'=straight guy.  Ah well, there're
always those communal showers at the gym..."

Clark bounded over to the window to look out.

"My God look at this view!  It's so beautiful!  Look at the hills and the
trees and the houses!"

AC smiled.  Clark was so disarmingly sweet and so real, like a big puppy; a
big, hot puppy that he wanted to get it on with.  Dick was right, that was
some kind of nice ass he had on him.

"Clark, I've gotta go.  You gonna be alright up here?" AC asked, adjusting
himself again.  Clark didn't respond.

"Clark!" AC yelled.  Clark turned around.

"Wha...?"

"Are you going to be all right up here?" AC said, punctuating each word.

"Oh yeah, I'll be fine.  This is all my stuff, so..."

"Alright bud.  I'm gonna be up in 1722 so come by and say hi sometime,
okay?"

Clark smiled and nodded and then waved as AC closed his door.

"Tongue's on the floor AC, " he heard behind him.  AC whirled around to see
Bruce there.  Bruce was a kind of broody/moody type. Med/Science double
major. He was moderately cute with big, expressive eyes and long black hair
that he topped off with some kind of black, crocheted skullcap.  Bruce's
nose was in a book as he walked down the hall, his long black waistcoat
flapping dramatically behind him.

"Shutup Bruce," AC said harshly.  If there was anything AC didn't need it
was snide remarks from a social outcast like Bruce Wayne.

"Bitchass," AC mumbled under his breath as he made his way up to his room.
As was customary for AC, he stripped to nothing as soon as he was inside his
apartment.  His lithe, firm body was something to behold.  He was 6', 195
lbs of lean muscle with legs for miles and a thick member to be proud of.
He checked out his body in the half, mirror he had.  He was a swimmer, and
his body reflected this.  But he was much more than just any swimmer.  AC
had been born of noble blood to a race of oceanic exiles that lived on an
island under the water...Atlantis.  As an Atlantean, AC would have been privy
to many things including kingship.  However, due to a less than royal birth
and his "unlucky" golden blonde hair, he had been cast out of the kingdom as
a baby.  He was fine now though, able to get through school with the help of
his surrogate father.  He was ridiculously fast in the water and had to hold
back from beating his opponents too quickly or he'd come under suspicion for
using "performance enhancing drugs". He didn`t know of any performance
enhancing drugs that let you talk to dolphins and pick up ocean liners, but
he was careful just the same.  AC's body was taught and muscled, not like
Dick's was muscled.  Dick's body was more the voluptuous peasant stock of
east block Europe.  Big, and bulging and muscles sticking out everywhere,
pronounced but softer.  AC's were hard, rigid plates of muscle, almost flat
to his body; a body more like Bruce Lee's than the Abercrombie boys that
Dick's body represented.  AC worked out everyday in the pool, sometimes
twice.  He always felt safer and stronger in the water, more alive and
virile.  AC's mind wandered as his hand slid down his flat stomach to his
dark blonde pubic hair, trimmed nicely above his fat 7" penis.  AC had seen
his share of cock; most recently he'd been seeing a LOT of Dick Grayson's
cock.  AC's was almost an inch bigger in circumference, though Dick's piece
was about an inch longer.  AC imagined Dick there now, kissing him, sucking
his perky, soft, pink nipples, licking his plum sized balls as he stroked
AC's stomach.  AC pounded his fist down on his cock, jerking it, the veins
turning an angry purple as volumes of cock juice flowed over the head of his
uncut penis.  He pulled back the foreskin and rubbed the juice around,
moaning at the pleasure it sent through his body.  He could feel the orgasm
mounting in his balls, the head of his penis overflowing with precum.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

END CHAPTER 1

Let me know what you think! tylerstjames@msn.com  Good, bad, ugly, all
critiques welcome.

These characters are property of DC Comics and affiliates.