Introduction
This is my first attempt at writing a story for anyone else to read, even though I am a longtime reader and lurker.
Please be truthful but kind in your comments and feedback. It starts out slow but builds as it goes.
This is a fantasy story in two senses of the word. Not only is it an erotic fantasy of two young men, but it is also a story of magic and the fantastic. It's not non-consensual even though it has strong authoritarian themes. It's the story of one young man who doesn't understand what he wants and what he needs. It's also the story of another young man with much more experience who is not only confident in his own needs but is able to see what his roommate needs and to help him find it. I have already written seven chapters (and still haven't gotten past the second day). If I publish one chapter each week, I should be able to stay ahead of my readers.
I am using an anonymous name and an alternate email because some of the themes and situations in this story could easily be misconstrued if the reader didn't understand that this is a fantasy. For this reason, it may take a while to respond to any feedback, but I will get to it when I can. I welcome suggestions from readers, but remember that this is, at its heart, a love story. Whatever happens, Kieran and Jason are in love.
I may publish ancillary stories to expand on some of the other characters in this story, but I want to keep this story focused on Kieran and Jason. So far, it has been written entirely from Kieran's perspective. He's the one who can't see where their journey is headed.
Please remember that NIFTY is a free site that provides an invaluable resource for men like us. Please consider donating to help ensure that site remains available for everyone.
My Roommate the Alchemist chapter 1 (Meeting My Roommate)
My name is Kieran Morgan. I'm an American boy from the rural
Midwest and this is the story of how my life changed when I went to college. My
grades were good. I'd earned a scholarship that covered about half of my
tuition. I was able to get grants and loans to pay for housing, books, and the
remainder of the tuition. I would have to get a part time job if I was going to
have any spending money. But I felt good about my prospects.
My home life hadn't been the best. My parents had been
killed in an automobile collision when I was 12, and I had been forced to move
in with my uncle Craig and his family. He was a fire and brimstone preacher and
an obnoxious bully. His kids were no better. They had resented me because of my
grades, my looks (I was much better looking than them) and my athletic
achievements (I was on the swim team and the diving team). My cousins slacked
their ways through school and pursued no extracurricular activities aside from
drinking, smoking dope and bullying anyone not in their circle of friends.
One of my grants was from a foundation that sponsored a "college
success" program. I had to show up two weeks early and attend special classes
taught by their own instructors. We learned some useful things, like the
importance of turning work in on time, studying hard and maintaining our
academic focus, but most of the time was spent teaching us the evils of
drinking, the perils of being indoctrinated by the "liberal secular
establishment" and how to avoid the evil homosexuals who would work hard to
recruit us. "If only they knew," I thought. I had known that I was gay
since I first began getting erection around other boys. I'd kept it to myself, however,
since I lived in a small, rural town that had no other gay people that I knew
of. I'd channeled all my energy into academic and sports.
We had to memorize the location of the local churches and the
numbers of various help and prayer lines. We were also given a list of clubs
and events that we could join to help us survive our freshman year. Once the
two weeks were up, I cheerfully threw all their materials away and never looked
back. I tried to forget the program, but I wasn't completely successful. There'd
been one instructor, a beefy man with a strongly handsome face and black hair
that was just beginning to turn gray. He would always touch me on the shoulders
and rub my back, and he'd say things like, "You need to be especially careful. The
fags will be all over you."
He'd made me uncomfortable and aroused at the same time. One
moment it would seem like he was coming on to me "in front of God and everybody"
as they say. The next moment he was going off on homophobic rants that really
scared me. I don't know what was wrong with me, but I spent many nights lying
in my bed, furiously beating my meat while I imagined him touching me and calling
me names.
Because of the program, I had been in my dorm room for two
weeks before my roommate arrived on campus. I had been very careful to keep to
my half of the room. I hadn't brought a lot of stuff with me. I had a few
clothes, enough to fill half my dresser, my textbooks, and the old laptop I'd
purchased second hand from money I'd saved from my salary working at my uncle's
church. Since I'd purchased the laptop from them when they were upgrading to
better computers, it was almost like I'd worked every weekend of my senior year
in exchange for an old computer. I'd made more money than that, but my uncle
had required me to tithe 10% to the church and made me buy all my own clothes
and cover the fees for my academic activities from my own pocket.
When my roommate first arrived, I was surfing the internet,
looking for clubs and activities on campus. I heard him before I saw him. He
was struggling with the door while carrying a backpack and a suitcase. I jumped
up to help him. "Thanks," he said, as he shouldered his way through the now
open door and put his stuff on the empty bed. "There's more down in my car if
you don't mind helping me."
I should probably describe my new roommate and myself at
this point. Like me, he was six feet tall and had an athletic build. But that's
where the similarities ended.
My ancestry is Scottish-American. My skin is white–very
white–with only a few freckles to mar my skin, a present from my Celtic
heritage. My eyes are pale blue, almost gray. My hair is midway between copper
and strawberry blonde. I wore it kind of short, no more than a couple of inches
long, because I didn't like the curls it had when it was longer. I knew that they
were cute. All my parents' friends have raved about them when I was little.
When I showed up at my uncle's house, however, he'd ranted that I "looked like
a goddam girl" when he saw them. He'd made my aunt take me to the barber that
day, while I was still crying and sniffling about my parents' deaths.
My roommate, on the other hand was about as different as
could be. He looked exotic to me. I don't mean that in a bad or demeaning way. It
was just that I had never had any interaction with people who weren't white. I
hadn't really seen any Asian people except on television. I thought he was beautiful.
He had light brown skin, the color of honey. His straight black hair hung down
to the color of his expensive looking shirt. His eyes were deep brown, shaped
like almonds. His lashes were long and dark. He looked like he may be part Chinese.
"No problem," I replied, extending my hand. "My name is
Kieran Morgan." I swallowed hard and felt my dick getting hard.
He took my hand in a firm grip and said, "Jason Lee". When
he smiled at me, I felt warm inside. I thought to myself, "This can work. He
seems friendly enough. But if I'm not careful, I'm going to expose myself.
I may as well be jumping up and down holding a sign that says look at the gay
boy!"
We walked down to the parking lot. His car was a new model
SUV of some kind with a black exterior. It was more expensive than anything I
could afford, probably more expensive than anything Uncle Craig could afford. In
the back were several more boxes. We divided them between us and carried them
into the room. We took the elevator because we were laden with boxes. We carried
them into the room and put them on the bed. "Do you need help putting them
away?" I asked.
He looked at the boxes and seemed to think about it for a
minute. "You unpack my clothes and put them away; I'll sort out my books." In
my eagerness to make friends with my roommate, I didn't notice that he hadn't
asked me; he had given me an order. I took his suitcase and opened it. All his
clothes were folded and packed neatly. They looked very expensive.
I began with his underwear since they were on top. He was a
lot more daring than I was. All my own underwear were boring boxer briefs. His
were boxers, soft and silky, in bold patterns of deep purple, gold and fuchsia.
The most intriguing thing about them wasn't the fact that they could be balled
up to fit in one hand; it was their smell. As I moved them about, a musky aroma
arose around me. It was like an expensive cologne, but I didn't recognize it. I
felt my face flush as my groin began to more than it already had. This was a
weird experience. I would say it was an unwelcome experience, but it wasn't. I
felt my nostrils expand, and I drew in a deep breath, making my dick tingle. I
barely caught myself before lifting his boxers to my face and inhaling deeply.
My ears were burning.
I was a little numb, and my skin tingled as I finished
unpacking his clothes. My dick stiffened uncomfortably in my jeans. The aroma seemed
less concentrated on his pants and shirts, but it was still there. I glanced
over my shoulder to make sure that Jason wasn't watching me, and I quickly
thrust my hand down my pants to adjust my cock. I've got six inches down there,
not a lot for a porn star, or the for a character in an online story, but it
couldn't be called little. My erection was less obvious now that it was
standing upright, pressed against the buttons of my Levi 501 jeans. I was glad
that the fabric was thick enough to provide some cover.
I had to push past Jason to get to the garment bag on his
bed. I took a deep breath, almost against my will. The same aroma was coming
from Jason. It was less intense than it was in his underwear, but better
somehow. The aroma coming from him was different, like it was mixed with his
own body's scent. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was different. It had a more
powerful effect on me. I was pretty sure he hadn't heard that little whining moan
I made. God! I sounded like a little bitch in heat.
Inside the garment bag was a collection of expensive looking
button-down shirts and dress pants. There were even two suit jackets. My
fingers trembled as I removed them and hung them in the closet. They were of a
light material, probably silk. That enticing aroma was much less concentrated
on the dress clothes than they had been on his underwear and t-shirts, but I
was also standing next to Jason, and he seemed to be the source of the scent.
I didn't know what was happening to me. I had been a jock
all my life. I had been around boys in locker rooms. I showered with the other
boys and had never had a reaction like this. Sure, I'd noticed their bodies. I'd
be lying if I said that I hadn't enjoyed looking. I'd never acted on those
thoughts; it was too dangerous in the town I grew up. Hell, it was even more
dangerous in the house I'd grown up in. In all my life, my body had never
reacted this strongly to another male, nor to any female. It was disturbing and
arousing at the same time. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through
this year without revealing myself to my roommate.
"Kieran!" I heard Jason's voice and the snap of his fingers
at the same time. He was smiling at me. "You were lost," he said. "Take these
boxes down to the trash. When you get back, we're going out to get some
dinner."
I hesitated for a moment, shaking my head to clear the
cobwebs from my mind. Jason looked into my eyes and smiled knowingly.
"Chop-chop," he said, "I'm getting hungry."
I picked up the boxes and carried them down to the
dumpsters. A huge pile of empty boxes had been thrown near the dumpsters. With
everyone moving in this weekend, the dumpsters were already full. My head was a
jumble of thoughts and emotions. Was Jason just playing around me? I
realized that he'd ordered me to take out the trash and that he had made plans
that included me without even asking if I was available. I decided not to make
a big deal out of it. If it continued, I would have a talk with him later.
I took the stairs two at a time back up to the third floor
of the dorm. When I entered the room, I saw Jason wearing a black silk robe
with dragons embroidered on it in red and gold thread. It came down to his
knees. He was wearing shower shoes and holding a towel and a toiletry kit. "I'm
going to shower. I'll back in few minutes; then we'll go out," he said and then
he opened the door to the bathroom we shared with our suitemates. When he went
inside and closed the door, I sighed a deep, longing sigh.
I was going to have to have that talk with him. I wasn't his
servant, and I resented him talking to me that way even if it did make my dick
twitch. While I was fuming, I glanced at his bed and noticed the dirty clothes
he'd thrown on them. I walked over. I reached down and picked up his silken
boxers. I pulled them to my face and inhaled deeply. The scent was
overwhelming. My erection had died down while I was carrying out the trash. Now
it came back, harder, and more painful than before. It felt like my cock was
going to explode. I quickly undid the buttons on the fly of my Levi 501s and
dropped them down around my ankles. I pulled my boxer briefs down to my knees
and grabbed my rigid cock. I pushed my face into Jason's boxers and stroked my
cock. It should have been the least satisfying orgasm of my life. It was the
fastest orgasm I'd ever had, but it was also the most powerful of my life. With
only a few strokes, my knees went weak, my breath caught in my throat, my anus clenched,
and my cock tightened. When my cock exploded, I barely had time to move Jason's
underwear and wrap it around the shaft. I shuddered and I felt wave after wave
of pleasure so intense that it was almost painful. Six times my cock shot, six
times I let out a whimpering cry.
It seemed like an eternity, but it must have been only a
minute or so. My ears grew hot, and I knew that I was blushing. What had I done?
I could have easily been caught. What if Jason had forgotten something and had come
into the room while I was sniffing his underwear and masturbating? I looked at
the boxers in my hand. They were covered in my spunk. I looked around the room
panicking. I didn't know what to do with them. Jason would see the cum and
immediately know what I had done. The answer hit me in the head like a line drive
to the face. There was only one solution. I lifted the boxers back to my face.
I stuck out my tongue tentatively and touched the semen. I'd never tasted semen
before, not even my own. It wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be. I lapped it
up.
The smell hit me hard again and my cock began to swell even
though I had just experienced the most powerful orgasm of my 18 years. But it
wasn't just the smell. I could taste that same musky scent on my tongue. I
sucked on the boxers with all my effort, trying to take Jason's essence into my
body. When I no longer tasted any cum on the fabric, I stopped and looked at
them. They were wet from own saliva. My cock twitched again. I looked down and
saw that I was raging hard and a bead of precum was hanging from the tip. I
pulled my boxer briefs up and then my jeans. I was just buttoning the fly when
I heard Jason messing with the bathroom door. I shoved his boxers into my
pocket. (They were light and silky enough to fit in one pocket, but they made
an obvious bulge.) As the door was opening, I grabbed Jason's jeans and shirt
off the bed and threw them into the clothes hamper. I pulled my own shirt off
and threw it in as well, so that I was standing near the hamper with no shirt
on when Jason came into the room. His skin was moist, and his hair was damp.
I stammered out a quick, "I hope you don't mind me using
your hamper. I haven't picked one up yet." Jason gave me a funny look and
replied, "Not at all. You can do the laundry tomorrow and it will be even."
"Yes, sir!" I said. I hoped he would be able to read the
sarcasm in my voice and figure out that I didn't appreciate him treating me
like a servant.
"Good," he replied. "We can also discuss the division of
chores tomorrow." Obviously, he got a different message from what I'd intended.
I noticed that he was giving me a funny look as he walked past me to his
closet. I looked down and noticed a glob of cum on my jeans. While his back was
turned to me, I wiped it up with my finger and popped it in my mouth.
I pulled another t-shirt out of my drawer and slipped it
over my head. I noticed that Jason had hung his robe on the back of the door
and was walking naked to the closet. He had a very light coating of hair on his
muscular chest, lower arms, and legs. There was a thin treasure trail running
from his navel to his trimmed pubic bush. Unlike mine, his cock was a shower,
not a grower. It looked about 8 inches long and was wider than my own. Unlike
me, he was uncircumcised.
I tried not to look but couldn't seem to help myself. I hoped
that I had looked away too quickly for him to notice that I'd been staring. He finished
laying out a pair of pants and a nice button-down shirt. He really seemed fond
of black, red and purple. The pants he laid out were black, and the shirt was
deep purple.
"Kieran," he said. "Get me a pair of boxers, a pair of sox
and the red t-shirt from my drawers." Then he turned to the mirror and began to
mess with his hair. I should have told him right then that I was tired of his
attitude, but I was feeling guilty about sniffing his underwear and masturbating
on them, so I just jumped up and went to do as he asked. I could feel him
watching me in the mirror as I followed his instructions. I put the clothes
he'd asked for out on his bed and went back to sit on my own bed and wait. I
watched him get dressed. It was like he was putting on a show for me. He slowly
drew his boxers up his legs and over his round, muscular ass. Then sat down on
the bed to put on his socks. His t-shirt came next, then his pants. Finally, he
pulled on his shoes.
"We can go now," he said as he gestured towards the door. I
was opening it, when I heard him say, "You can put that pair of boxers you have
in your pocket into the hamper and wash them when you do laundry tomorrow." My
heart stopped. I had forgotten that I'd shoved the silky boxers into my pocket.
I froze, unsure what to say. I could feel my face flush and my ears grow hot. I
knew from experience that my whole body was turning red.
"Do it now," he added.
I pulled them out guiltily and dropped them into the hamper.
"Good boy," he said. As we went into the hallway, he threw
an arm around my shoulder in a comradely fashion. We were the same height, so
it was a little awkward. "Don't worry," he said. "We're going to get along just
fine this year."