ACADEMY OF ALCHEMISTS

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."