Howdy, y'all. Just a heads-up: This is only a fun story, not meant for wanking or anything. Despite the narration, it is completely fictional. Have fun!
Chapter 1: Chad
I might as well admit that most of my stories here have been inspired by my college roommates. Especially the one I'll call... oh, I don't know....
Chad
.
In superficial ways he was maybe a little above average. Maybe a little taller than average but he had such an upright posture that you tended to overestimate his height. He worked out every single day but to look at him you'd guess he worked out maybe a couple times a week.
A lot of people at Hardwood come from rich families, but Chad was a scholarship kid from a trailer park just outside Birthwort, Texas. He arrived at college on an old motorcycle with clothes from Pallmart stuffed in the saddlebags and a guitar on his back. He said he'd tried to do the entire thirty-hour ride in one go but he had to stop to sleep for a few hours on a picnic table at a rest area.
He didn't have any great talents. He played his guitar well enough but his singing voice was not quite average. You loved seeing him dance because he was so bad at it but he enjoyed it so much that you couldn't help feeling good. Like watching a little kid.
That was Chad. He woke up laughing, laughed all day, went to bed laughing, and sometimes he even laughed in his sleep.
He wasn't much better-looking than average. Not like a model or anything. If fifteen or twenty guys were around, he'd be about the sixth best-looking one. But he'd be the happiest and most confident and most outgoing, so people who didn't look carefully would've said he was the third or fourth best-looking and a lot of girls would've shrugged and said something like, sure, maybe some of the other guys looked better but Chad was the most attractive. I once heard a girl say, apparently without irony, that Chad was handsomer than he looked.
Everyone liked him because he liked them first. He liked me too. He was the most popular guy on campus and I got to be his roommate.
And the ladies, y'all. The ladies loved him.
I mean
loved
him.
Chapter 2: Richard
In the other room of my freshman-year suite (the four of us originally shared two bedrooms and a common room) lived a really nice kid named Blake.
And Blake's roommate was a humongous cave troll. His parents supposedly called him Richard Harvey Hardman but the rest of us called him Big Dick.
For several reasons.
He was huge--the tallest and strongest offensive tackle on the Hardwood football team and a powerlifter with Olympic aspirations--and his name was Richard. The first time you saw him, you had to look several times, trying not to get caught, blinking with disbelief. Too big to be real. Most of us have never seen a bigger man. With a wide, flat face, cauliflower ears, a crew cut, a USMC tattoo--everything like that.
Hence, Big Dick.
I wish I had never seen it with my own eyes but he walked around naked all the time so I have to testify that he swung an actual fucking hammer between his thighs. Which was of course the reason he walked around naked. He would go, "Look at this motherfucker!
Look at it! Look! At! It!
Is your dick this big? Fuck no, bitch. Shut the fuck up. But this is fucking nothing. You should see it when it gets hard. It actually fucking hurts bitches when I fuck them. It gets swollen up and it's too fucking big for them."
Hence, Big Dick.
I doubt any of us have ever known a ruder person. He was the kind of guy that, for example, if he overheard a girl wishing she had a boyfriend, would say something like, "That's because you're fat, bitch. Lose some fucking weight and you could fit into some nice clothes. You wouldn't have to dress like someone's grandmother."
The worse thing to do was try to stop him. If someone tried to stop him, he'd keep going.
"No, you shut up. You know what? You should smile more often, too. Look likable for a fucking change. Every time I look at you, resting bitch face. Like a fucking nightmare. But even your smile would look better if you'd fix your fucking teeth. And why don't you put on some fucking makeup? You have horrible skin. In bright light you look like a fucking corpse. You think you can catch a man looking like that? You could get a guy to fuck you or a desperately lonely guy to pretend to love you but no one would ever actually love you. And even if you could fix your appearance you'd still be a fucking feminist cunt so you'll have to settle for some kind of loser who doesn't fucking respect himself. Why are you crying, bitch? It's just the truth. You know it's the fucking truth so don't blame me for your fucking problems. Jesus, bitch."
I can't actually reproduce the kinds of things he said because this site wouldn't allow it. No word or phrase was too horrible for Big Dick.
Hence, Big Dick.
The ladies did not love Big Dick. No one did.
Chapter 3: Chad the Lover
On move-in day freshman year, as soon as my parents finally left, Chad clapped me on the back.
"Hey, handsome," he laughed. "Let's go find some pretty girls."
"Pretty girls don't come to Hardwood," Big Dick growled. "Except on the slut bus from Honeywell."
Besides being huge, he had one of the deepest voices I've ever heard, and still he hurt his throat trying to sound even deeper. Manspreading on our futon, he pretty much filled our entire common room. He had a map of campus on our coffee table so he could plan the routes he would take between classes. He'd warned us to stay out of his way if we saw him because he didn't have time to fuck around.
"I've already seen dozens of hot girls," Chad laughed, looking at Big Dick like he was crazy. Then back to me. "Come on. You ready? Let's go. I want to hook up with a hot girl tonight."
"Not here," Big Dick barked. "I've got practice early in the morning and I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night tonight hearing you fuck some fat ugly slut. I won't fucking tolerate it. We're here to study, not to fuck whores."
"What's wrong with you, Big Dick?" Chad laughed.
"I'm not fucking kidding. I'll kick your fucking ass, dumbass."
Chad just laughed and signaled for me to follow him outside onto Hardwood's Old Yard.
"He's crazy," Chad explained, laughing. "Most Hardwood girls are hot. And I'll bet lots of them are virgins, too. Good little girls who got here because they've always studied hard and obeyed all the rules. Or nearly virgins, which is even better. It's always flattering if you're a girl's first but it's more fun later, when they've relaxed a little. But good girls are always the best in bed. Bad girls try too hard but good girls like to do what they're told. You know what I mean, playa. Look at you! Dressed all preppy like that! You know what the ladies like."
I pretended to know what he meant, but as a good little boy who'd gotten into Hardwood because I'd always studied hard and obeyed all the rules, I was in fact also a virgin. If there's a female version of Chad out there somewhere, I wish she'd found me. I didn't consider myself an incel or anything; I knew I'd get laid someday if I kept studying hard and obeying all the rules.
I followed him around campus admiring his routine. Gradually more people joined us. Soon we were his entourage. I held high status because I was supposedly closer to Chad than other people were.
He'd saunter up to a group of five or ten students and people would stop talking for a moment and immediately he would address the hottest girl in the group.
"Hi, there! I noticed how pretty you are so I wanted to meet you. I'm Chad."
I'd never realized guys were allowed to just walk up to a girl--especially the kind of girls that go to Hardwood--and say things like that.
Some of them did roll their eyes and tell him to get lost or something. He'd apologize, laughing, and shrug. But almost all of them responded very well to it.
It was a lesson for me. Apparently girls liked being told they're pretty. Who knew?
That's not all, though. Observing him carefully because I thought maybe I could do something like that someday, I noticed that when he said "how pretty you are" his male gaze would flicker down their bodies. Not too quick to notice, but just for a moment, as if to indicate what he was talking about, the way you might look at the cat if you said something about the cat. The rest of the time he looked steadily into their eyes, like they had some wonderful mystery hidden in there that he wanted to know.
Most of the girls would say something like, "Oh, gosh! Thank you! Are you serious?"
And he'd laugh and say, "Of course I am. Look at you! You're gorgeous!" And having brazenly checked her out again, he'd ask her where she was from or something, and pretty soon laughing about something she'd said he'd touch her forearm or even her lower back. She'd lower her chin and brush some hair behind her ear.
Sometimes he'd eventually turn to one of the other girls in the group.
"Oh my god, you're hot too! Damn, no wonder this is the most prestigious college in the world. Look at you ladies! I'm Chad."
He'd introduce himself to the guys as well. Something like this:
"Patel? Pleased to meet you, Patel. Warren? Pleased to meet you, Warren. Ivan? I'm Chad. Pleased to meet you, Ivan."
But he looked right into everyone's eyes with a big smile and everyone felt that he genuinely was pleased to meet them.
He did that over and over. And then an hour or so later we'd be walking along somewhere and we'd see someone we'd met earlier in the evening and I'd try to remember who they were but Chad would roar a cheerful, "Hey! It's Patel and Warren! What happened to Ivan? How's the night treating you gentlemen?"
So we met literally hundreds of people and got invited to dozens of mini-parties in dorms all over campus.
Chad would walk into the room ahead of me and immediately one of the girls would gush something like, "Chad! Guys, this is Chad! The one we were telling you about!"
And while she hugged him Chad would joke something like, "Aw, shucks, Janine, were you talking about me?"
And she'd be like, "I'm Keira."
And he'd look horrified. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Keira! I should've remembered!"
He'd laugh at himself for making such a stupid mistake, but he would keep his arm around her waist, and she'd laugh to forgive him and move closer to pout something like, "I heard you told lots of girls you wanted to meet them because they're pretty. I thought I was special."
And he'd object, "That's not true! I only told the absolute prettiest girls anything like that. So you
are
special, Keira."
Another girl, wanting a share of Chad's cheerful attention, might say, "Did you mean Janine Alba? I went to Sexeter with her. She's in Lee Hall. It was her? Oh, she is
definitely
hot. And Kiera looks a little like her."
It might sound like that girl considered Janine Alba even hotter than Kiera, but Chad would look at Keira and say something like, "So see? You are special. One of the hottest ones." And then he'd turn back to the girl who'd helped him out and say, "You're not bad either. You're rocking that outfit. I'm Chad."
About ten minutes later we'd leave because Chad had other parties to go to. All the girls would hug him and since I was with him they'd hug me too, and if they'd been drinking they'd even hug me with their breasts.
