An After-School Lesson in Human Anatomy
by P_Grazy
It was nearly 3:30, and the last class of the day....Life Science with Mr. Porter. Nick sat near the front of
the class. Wearing a white tank top, the mounds of pure muscle that were his pecs pressed outward against his shirt, casting a
shadow beneath them. The tight shirt was pasted against his abs, leaving no doubt as to how well-defined and hard they were.
Not even his baggy sweatpants could conceal how thick and powerful his legs were. The eyes of the girl seated behind him were
transfixed on his broad backside, the muscles stretching out to the curved rim of his thick lats. Her mouth was half open, a
glazed look in her eyes; she was so turned on, she wanted to rub her hands along the pounds of muscle that sat relaxed before
her, kiss his arms, lick his thighs and dick. Nick knew she was watching him, hell, he knew all the girls were. He grinned for
a moment, then slowly raised his arms into the air, crossed them behind his bull neck, clasped his wrist with one hand, waited
a moment, then, bam!, flexed his biceps, the balls of muscle nearly exploding through the skin. She couldn’t believe the sheer
size of them, and equally so, how muscled his forearms were! The girl's eyes went wide, and she suddenly moaned out loud. Her
face flushed with embarrassment and she looked down at her desk. Nick grinned and brought his arms back to his desk, which wasn't
wide enough to fully accommodate such awesome limbs.
“Is there a problem here, Jennifer?” Mr. Porter asked.
The girl kept here eyes on the desk and shook her head.
“Alright...” Mr. Porter looked satisfied, but before turning back to the blackboard he quickly let his eyes
sweep down Nick’s chest, down the muscled torso straight to the hefty bulge in the muscle-stud's sweatpants. Mr. Porter always
did these quick, fleeting little glances. Nick always noticed them. Sometimes he wanted to stand up, walk up to an open-mouthed
Mr. Porter, grab his head and drive it straight through the wall (which he easily could’ve done). Other times, he liked to toy
with the teacher, such as asking him about a homework assignment after class (not that he really gave a shit) and as Mr. Porter
would try to explain something, Nick would make his pecs dance, or flex his arms and wink. The poor man never knew what to say.
He's lose his train of thought, stumble over his words, start to sweat and no matter how he tried, he was never able to keep his
eyes off Nick's body. As soon as the bell would ring, he would always throw his materials into his briefcase, run off to the men’s
room, whip out his dick and begin to jack-off with furious abandon.
Mr. Porter continued to drone on and on about the workings of the human skeletal system, something that interested
Nick enormously, but not in an academic manner. Nick looked ahead at the kid in the seated before him. A skinny, gangly kid named
Chris who had deep, painful bruises on his backside where Nick’s fists had landed earlier that day. Nick had caught him talking
shit about him to a bunch of his friends; all the typical bodybuilder-bashing about steroids and shrunken nuts that pussyboys like
claim as truth to conceal their own weakness and impress others as just pathetic as them. Chris also like to think he was hot shit
because he took a karate class or two, and liked to mimic what few moves he'd seen. Nick gritted his teeth as he thought of how
much he hated this little shit. He studied the kid’s puny body with disgust, and begin to fantasize about beating the kid into
lifelessness. Nick got so lost in his thoughts he could practically hear the fleshy slap of his fists pounding into Chris’ soft
body and could feel his bones breaking in his palms. Nick’s cock began to stiffen and expand with hot blood. Yeah, this punk was
high on Nick’s “shitlist”, and he was waiting for just the right opportunity to show this pussyboy that the stereotypes about the
size of a bodybuilder’s cock were way, way off.
Just for fun, Nick jabbed a finger into Chris’s backside, right where he’d pounded him earlier. “OW!!” Chris shrieked.
Mr. Porter turned around. “Chris, what’s the matter?”
Chris’s face was grimaced into an expression of pure pain. “Nothing…it’s just…nothing.”
Mr. Porter looked up at Nick, who just smiled and shrugged his massive shoulders. The teacher, lost in his lustful
thoughts, stared at the muscle-god a moment, before nodding his head, as if to say 'I think I know what’s going on.'
The bell rung and within five seconds, everyone had their books and backpacks in hand and rushed the door. Mr. Porter
leaned against his desk with his head down. “Just a moment Nick. I’d like to speak with you. Chris, you too.”
Chris’s eyes moved nervously between his teacher and his tormentor as he moved off to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to know what’s going on here” Mr. Porter said, trying to act serious and authoritative. Nick saw the man
glance quickly at his muscled arms. Nick realized his teacher didn’t give a shit about Chris, but was just using this as an excuse,
would use any excuse, to spend a few precious seconds close to a young muscle-god.
“Ain’t nothing going on Mr. Porter.” Nick said, consciously crossing his arms, letting one hand press the bicep of
the other arm out. “Honestly, between you and me, I think Chris over here has just got his period.”
“Hey!” Chris shouted, “Screw you man!”
“Guys, quiet down.” Mr. Porter looked thoughtful for a moment. Nick could see the outline of a raging hardon beneath
the man’s slacks. “Chris, what did Nick do to you?”
“He’s keeps hittin’me!” Chris squealed, “He hit me in the back today and he keeps doing it in class!” he looked
anguished for a moment, “Everyone knows it! You know it, but no one ever does anything to stop him. He’s nuts! He’s dangerous!”
Nick almost growled, “Yeah, you bet I-”
Mr. Porter chimed in, “Er, Chris. What do you mean? Dangerous?”
“That kid that died on the football field, that wasn’t no accident. This freak killed him on purpose! I heard him
talking to his friend Tony about it. No one believes me. This kids a psycho!”
Nick snorted with contempt.
Mr. Porter chuckled and waved his hand, “Aw come on Chris. I think it’s safe to say-”
“Hey.” Nick said, glancing outside the window as he watched the final school bus, loaded with the last departing
students, pull away. “Pussyboy here is right.”
Mr. Porter looked confused, “What was that?”
Nick closed his eyes for a moment and then began, “Let me tell you. During that entire game that night, I kept
gunning for that quarterback. I figured I’d tackle him with all I got and break a few bones or two. Couldn’t wait to see him carried
off the field on a stretcher, crying his little heart out. I knew his parents were there, him being a big star and all. I couldn't
wait to see the looks on their faces. But when I landed on top of him, I couldn’t help myself.” Nick unfolded his arms, held his
out as if he was holding something, “I took that guy’s head in my hands, and twisted! SNAP!” Nick violently twisted his hands, relaxed
them, then moved real, real close to Mr. Porter, so close the man could here the teenager breathing, so close Nick’s pecs pressed into
his face, “Hearing that sound....” Nick closed his eyes and slowly ran a hand down his abs to his crotch, “Made my dick so fucking hard,
Mr. Porter.”
The teacher’s eyes were glazed, his mouth half open, “Did…did it, Nick?”
“Oh yeah.” Nick moaned. “But not as hard as with Randy Fettelman.”
“Rand...Randy Fettelman”, Mr. Porter looked perplexed again. “The kid who.... disappeared?”
“That’s right, Mr Porter. I fucked the shit out of that little bitch, and then, for fun, I broke his arm” Nick clenched
and twisted his hands, “SNAP! Then the other one. SNAP! Then his legs. Then his pelvis. Then his ribs. Then his neck. With these...” Nick
curled his arm forward and flexed it, the solid rock bicep an inch from the man’s face. “I can kill any man I want with these. No one stands
a chance.” He unflexed his arm and rested his hands on his hips. Mr. Porter looked drugged with excitement, almost drooling on Nick’s shirt,
and had his hands deep in his pockets, rubbing the lining against his dick.
"Me and Tony- You know Tony don't you? It's kind of like...our hobby. Snuffing little shits like Randy. Oh, Mr. Porter, I
can't tell you what it's like to fucking cum right at the moment when you break some guy's spine and end his life. Or..." Nick gently
placed his hands on the man's head, "or, the feel of crushing someone’s skull with your own bare hands. To know all the work I put into
my body has paid off. To show any little fuck that crosses my path who's got the power. It's such a fucking rush, I wish you could feel it."
Mr. Porter's eyes were glazed over and he was breathing hard, “Could, could you do that for me Nick? Could you do that
to someone for me? I want…I want to watch you do it.”
“I don’t know…who do you want me to break?” Nick shrugged his shoulders.
Mr. Porter’s eyes moved to the left, right at Chris.
Chris’ eyes went wide, “What the fuck is going on-”
Nick’s enormous fist shot through the air and slammed straight into the boy’s face, throwing him back several feet
into the blackboard.. The punk’s eyes went crossed and blood ran freely from his nose as he slowly slid down the wall to the floor.
“Oh my God!” Mr. Porter cried, “Is…is he dead already?”
“Nope.” Nick shook his head, “I’m just getting started. Shut the blinds on the windows.
Nick made his way over to the door to make sure it was locked.
Mr. Porter was almost childlike in his excitement, “Thank you soooo much for this, Nick. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I promise I won’t fail you this semester. I want-”
“Shut the fuck up. Just make sure those blinds are down.”
"Yes, sir." Mr. Porter said quickly, shutting the blinds, "Hey, If anyone catches us, will you kill them too...please?"
Nick looked furious, grabbed a handful of the man's shirt and swiftly lifted the 200 pound man up, his feet dangling
above the floor. The power of Nick's arms almost made the teacher cum in his pants, "Oh wow! I'm sorry sir! I'll be quiet. Oh no! Look!
He's getting away!"
Chris was on his hands and knees, slowly crawling over to the door. Nick dropped the teacher, who fell straight on
his ass. The muscle-god swaggered over to Chris, put his foot on the kid's backside, pressed him to the ground, grabbed a handful of
his t-shirt and tore it clean off his body. He then twirled the shirt tight, and wrapped it around the punk’s head, gagging the mouth,
just as the punk began to cry out "Mr. Porter, help me, PPLEEEASE!!! Help me!!!". Nick lifted the punk up into his arms, got his footing
and then with all his strength, threw the kid across the room, sending the flailing punk crashing into several desks and tumbling to the floor.
"It's showtime!" Nick grinned and stripped off his shirt. The sight of so much power embodied in muscle, so much
sculptured perfection, was almost too much for Mr. Porter. The young muscle-god was almost dancing like a boxer before his helpless
prey, so exciting was the promise of the kill. The bloodied punk staggered to his feet, then tried feebly to assume a karate stance,
but the look in his eyes was of absolute hopelessness. He kicked at Nick, who swiftly grabbed the kid's foot, smiled and twisted hard.
SNAP! Chris' scream was muffled by the gag as he hopped in agony on one foot. Nick continued to wrench the broken ankle, tearing tendons
and tissue from their bearings, twisting slowly, twisting until the foot was completely backwards. Nick held the ankle even as the punk
fell to the ground. The muscle-god looked down at his prey, adjusted his stance and grip, grinned viciously, and yanked the entire leg out
and twisted hard. The structure that was Chris' knee shook and struggled heroically for several seconds before surrendering with a grinding
CRUNCH! that filled the room. The punk's entire body spasmed with pain and his screams would've been piercing if not for the gag.
"How do you like that karate-boy? Huh? Go ahead...kick me now! C'mon bitch!!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Beat him up! Please! Break his arms! HIS ARMS! Break everything!" Mr. Porter was trembling, his fingers
absently tried to unbutton his slacks, desperately tried to get to his cock.
Chris was trying to untie his gag when his felt two powerful hands grip his wrists. Right then and there, he screamed again,
cause, he knew he was fucked and whatever was coming next would hurt like hell. And it did. Nick stomped one foot down on the punk's backside,
slamming him to the ground and with tremendous force yanked the skinny arms toward him. Mr. Porter heard the arms pop from their sockets. The
punk squirmed like a dying bug, his good leg flailing and knocking against the ground.
"You! Come here!" Nick ordered the teacher, who already held his excited cock in one hand. His pants down to his ankles, the
man shuffled over to object of his worship. Nick let go of one of Chris' arms. He then wrapped both his huge palms in a close-grip fashion
around Chris' skinny left forearm. Nick looked up at his teacher. "Put your hands on top of mine. I want you to feel this." Mr. Porter obeyed,
the feel of the muscle-god's hands, their hugeness, made him shiver with pleasure. Nick grinned and slowly, slowly began to bend the forearm,
methodically tweaking the pressure, each little tweak causing the boy to yelp, bending it just to the point where he could hear the bones begin
to crackle, before relaxing the pressure and then starting over again, moving his palms up and down the forearm. Nick’s eyes rolled up in near
ecstasy each time he heard that splintering sound. "Yo! Teach! You’re a smart guy. What bones am I breaking?" Mr. Porter eyes were transfixed on
Nick's hands, his thoughts lost in the shaking pressure and strength of such powerful weapons about to effortlessly snap human bones. "The
Radius and Ulna...." The teacher said. Nick laughed. "Not anymore they ain't!" Chris’ arm suddenly went SNAP!, bending in two and allowing
a cleaved bit of bone to pierce the skin. Nick let the arm flop to the ground, and then pulled his sweatpants and underwear down to his ankles
and shook his quads out. His legs were like a meat rack, pounds of muscle just hanging there, enveloped in smooth young skin. Mr. Porter was
speechless at the scale of the muscle-stud's hardon, which was as big as everything else about him. The teacher moved toward it, but Nick
placed a palm on his forehead, and forced the man back so forcefully he almost landed on his ass. "You don't fuck me, I fuck you!". Nick
bent down, yanked the boy's jeans down to his ankles, grabbed at the elastic band of underwear and ripped it away completely from the boy's
ass. He grabbed the punk's neck and swiftly hoisted him to his feet, encircling one arm around the punk's belly to support the weight the broken
body could not. Nick grinned and nodded to his admirer, "Yo, teach..." the muscle-stud cupped one hand under the punk's chin. "Wanna see me snap
his neck? Huh? Hey, what's the right name for that, teach?". The teacher began to stroke his cock, "Cervical dislocation....Yes,, pleeeaaase,
break it." Nick thrust his dick into the boy's ass. "AAAAAIIEEE!!" the punk cried as the powerful muscle thrust violently into the tender
anus. Nick began to work his hips, and Mr. Porter moved up behind him, his hands began to caress the solid pack of muscle that was his ass,
running his hands along the thick, tree-trunk thighs as they sweated and slapped against the punk. The teacher pressed himself against the
wide spread of his backside, and tried to squeeze the deltoids and biceps but they were like solid rock. Nick's fucking increased with ferocity,
his hips pumping mindlessly, his breathing wild, his eyes clenched, as he held the wriggling, sobbing boy off the ground with one hand. Nick
felt his excitement begin to evolve into orgasm deep within his cock, quickly building and rising, about to fire straight into the punk. Nick
got the punk's head into position, turning it a little to the left, readying it for the powerful twist he had in store for it. The teacher's
hands ran without thought along the muscled arms, overwhelmed by the feel and smell of sweat, sex and lethal musclepower. "Oh shit! Here
it comes!" Nick shouted, his body working full-force, and then, bam! his orgasm burst, and with an unstoppably powerful twist, Nick wrenched
the head hard to the right. *CRACK!!* "UH!-" the punk moaned, his soft body stopped struggling and went limp. Nick's cock slowly wound down,
pumping cum into the boy, as he savored the final moments of sexual pleasure and the feeling of the dead boy's spastic twitches. "That's good
stuff..." he mumbled to himself. He unwrapped his arm and the boy flopped to the floor, his arms, legs and head all pointing in the wrong directions.
Mr. Porter had an almost wild look in his eyes, as if this was too much excitement, too much fantasy come true, for his heart
to actually handle. Nick smiled, "You just watch, I want to show you one last bit!" Nick got to his knees, pulled the punk close to him, and
cupped his palms on either side of the head. "Come over here. Feel this shit. Feel my fucking power!" The teacher placed his hands over Nick's
hands again and could feel them begin to apply pressure, could see his muscles flex and tense, could see the sweat begin to build and glisten
on his chest, his arms, his entire physique. His deltoids and triceps began to swell and channel a deadly, muscle-driven force down his arms,
all of the destructive energy flowing straight into Chris's skull. Nick's face flushed with concentration as he kneaded and worked his palms
deeper into the skull which began to crackle and pop. "C'mon....break!" Mr. Porter took his hands away and began to jack-off with everything
he had. Nick grunted "C’MON YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!" The skull shook violently, as the jawbone broke and unhinged itself. The plates of the skull
began to buckle and break apart and then suddenly the whole fucking head imploded between his clenched hands with a sudden upwelling of blood,
skull fragments and brain matter. The sounds of blood and Mr. Porter's cum spilling onto the floor intermingled.
They waited a bit, making sure everyone had left the building, before Mr. Porter unlocked the door and furtively made his way
down the hall to the administrative offices, where he lifted the key to the janitorial closet and appropriated some hefty garbage bags, several
rolls of paper towels, a bottle of heavy-duty cleaner, a mop and bucket. Within an hour he had the mess tidied away. Nick bent the punk's body
in two, snapping the spine, so it could fit it neatly into a garbage bag. They loaded the corpse into the trunk of Nick's Camaro, and drove
off to the woods, where Mr. Porter, who was never in good shape to begin with, spent an eternity burying the body. The older man was dead tired
and seemed unable to comprehend all that had just happened. "Done. Please, can I go home now?" Mr. Porter said exhaustedly, leaning on his
shovel. "Nah-nah." Nick shook his head "I can still see his fucking fingers sticking through he dirt. Finish it right!!" and with that Nick
punched the man deep in the belly.
As they drove back later that night, Nick looked over at the nearly asleep and very weary Mr. Porter. Nick began to think
that Tony would be pissed that he wasn't invited to tonight's fuck and snuff. There was a way to make it up to him though. Mr. Porter
would make an ideal gift.
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