The Cave Shorts: Professor Maddox meets Xaq

Sito School of the Creative Arts. Los Angeles CA.

“Professor!” 

Ugh. I don’t even look up. “Please come back during office hours.”

“No. I need to talk to you now.”

Me, Professor Maddox

I sigh. Even though it’s my first year as a fashion design instructor at one of the top creative schools in the country, I’ve already cultivated a reputation for being strict. I got burned out designing streetwear, so at just 30-years-old, I sold my brand for a ton of money and decided to teach for a break. I was hired for a fresher perspective, which gives me credibility with my students and some leeway to be 'unique' with administration.

All right. Which of my students is risking my wrath by banging on my door?

Oh. It’s him. The cocky muscleboy. 

Xaq is taking my Foundations of American Design course. I know him. Everyone knows him. Not only because of his incredible body, which he shows off in tight clothes, but also for his single-minded vision. He’s a dedicated and talented craftsman, working with very challenging fabrics, but he’s earned a reputation for being difficult to teach. As I suspect I’m about to discover.

The handsome, muscular 20-year-old comes into my cramped office uninvited. He looks around. Not that there’s a lot to see. I’ve painted the walls of my windowless box black and gray, the metal legs and frames of my desk, two guest chairs, filing cabinet, and bookshelf a brilliant red to try to bring something to the space beyond ‘junior professor broom closet.” I had plans for a mural, but maybe next year.

Xaq is distracted by one of the framed classic movie posters I’ve hung on my limited wall space. I wait. Normally, I would be more assertive, but he’s a special case. Other professors warned me that he’s unable or unwilling to compromise on his vision. However, unlike them, I built my brand on youthful passion. It has been my entire inspiration for my streetwear designs. And I’ve been called difficult, too, so I’m going to give him a chance. Maybe we're kindred spirits.

The muscleboy is staring at my lobby poster of Spartacus, a classic and an Oscar winner for Best Costume Design. I’m getting impatient but enjoying the view. He’s in a tight red t-shirt, sleeveless black hoodie, black jeans, wide white belt, and sneakers. He shakes his head, seemingly in disgust and finally turns to me. He casually places his skateboard on the nearest chair and tosses his backpack onto the other one. The bodybuilder stays standing, looking down upon me. 

“Professor Maddox, I need to talk to you about my project.”

I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back. I’m going to give him a chance, but not let him walk all over me. “Fine, but that’s why I have office hours.”

“I can’t wait until Monday. I need to work on my assignment this weekend. My work takes time to do.”

I sigh, “Please take a seat.”

“No, thanks.” Xaq stays standing, looking down on me. “You didn’t approve my project.” I wait. He doesn’t continue. We just stare at each other.

I break the silence, “And?”

“And I don’t get why.”

“Because your proposal was …” I rise to my full 6'3" height, preferring that I'm looking down at him. “… inappropriate for the assignment.”

“Yeah, you wrote that. That’s what I don’t get. Why?”

“Xaq. I believe that you’re a talented young man.”

“Of course you do.”

Hm, this boy might be more challenging than I thought. I take a long drink of water before explaining, “I appreciate that you have a vision. But what you presented? No one could, would, or should wear. At least not in public.”

Xaq gives me a condescending look. "Okay, I get that you're new to teaching, so let me help you out. When the school's best student comes to you to explain why you're wrong, you should listen to him. You just need to trust me and let me do my thing."

What? I calm myself. Youthful passion. I throw him a bone, “Use it for Mr. Hopkins avant-garde class. But the assignment I gave you is about designing for today’s America using historical inspiration. It is specifically fashion for everyday settings. Your project failed on that measure.”

“Work's an everyday setting, right?” I nod. Xaq says, “That’s why I don’t get it. I combined two uniquely American design inspirations and I’d wear what I’ve designed at work. Or school. Or shopping.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? You’d wear brightly colored straps of leather and spandex at work?” The thought of him in the ridiculous costume he presented on paper has my mouth dry again. I’m feeling slightly … tingly at the thought.

Xaq confidently says, “Yeah.”

“And where the fu- … heck do you work?”

“I’m a superhero pro wrestler.”

I sit back down, unsure how to respond to that, except to say, “What?”

“What what? That’s one of the ways I make money.” When I don’t reply, he says, “You're not getting it. I'll help you out. I like you and I'd hate for you to be remembered as the man who stood in the way of the future of design." My mouth drops. He ignores my reaction. "Let me show you something I think will help you.”

Xaq circles around my desk, invading my personal space. He leans over me and types a URL. It’s blocked. He curses. I try to lean away. Not because I feel in danger, but because his shirt sleeves have risen above his biceps. From shoulder to fingertips, this young man’s arms are breathtaking. And they’re not even flexed or pumped. This is just him. I feel the urge to touch them, which I need to resist.

Oh, and he smells great, too.

The young bodybuilder with the impossibly chiseled arms picks up my office phone. He stands up and I’m eye-level with his midsection. I keep my eyes above the front of his jeans, but his flat stomach is just as captivating. I bet it’s as sculpted as his arms. I look at the phone. He’s calling someone in I.T. What on earth? 

I eavesdrop, only hearing his side of the conversation.

“Chris.”

“No, it’s Xaq. I’m just in his office.” 

“Really?”

Xaq looks me up and down.

"I don’t know. Aging twink?"

He moves his head back-and-forth, checking me out.

“Well, I guess he would to a guy like you.”
“Look, I need to show him The Cave, but it’s blocked.”
“It’s wrestling.”
“A little.”
“What’s the big deal?”

“We’re an art school. There are nudes all over this place.”

“The future of fashion could be riding on this.”

“You want to set fashion back decades.”
“That’s better. So, can you help me?”

“No. I’m not doing that.”
“The screen is too small for the effect I need.”
“No. The screen is too small.”

“I'm staring at a giant ass computer screen sitting on his desk. I want to use that.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“No, I don't want to learn how to do that.”
“Just unblock The Cave.”
“Unblock it.”
More forcefully, “Chris! Un. Block. It.”
“Weren't you just asking me for a favor?”
“I don’t know now.”
“Depends.”
“Is The Cave unblocked?”
More forcefully, “Is The Cave unblocked?”
“Yeah? Okay then I’ll be there.”
Xaq looks at me again, “Oh, and he can’t get in any trouble, right?”
“Yeah. If this works, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I got some other guys coming, too.”
“You'll see when I get there.”
“When I get there.”
“Chris. I’m done with you. Bye.”

When he hangs up, the bodybuilder says, “Okay, we only got access for ten minutes, but that’s all we need.” He types in again. What pops up on my beautiful 32" 6K retina display is an adult content warning and images of mostly nude men. “Here we go. Let me login so we can see all the best pics.”

“What are you doing? Is this a pornography site? On my work computer?”

"You aren't getting my proposal, so this is really on you." Xaq looks at me, "You agree that sex work is work, right?"

I just nod as I instinctively put my hand on his forearm to stop him. It’s like grabbing granite. I sputter out, “What I believe doesn't matter. I could get fired for this.”

“Oh? Is that your problem? No, Chris’ll fix it or I won’t show up at his stupid party. If you wanna go, I can send you the details. He thinks you're hot, so you could score, if you want. Always good to have the computer guys on your side."

"I don't think you're really listening to me."

"I am. 'Waahh, I’m scared. Waahh, I might get fired.' Look, if anything happens, I’ll take the heat. I'll tell them you weren't even here. Let the fuckers try to expel their hottest student.” I relax a little but keep my hand on his arm. Xaq doesn’t seem to notice. He says, “See, this is me. In my first identity: Spartan. Kind of like that old out-of-shape dude on your poster over there, except I'm hot and ripped.”

I look at the screen. Oh. My. God. Nearly naked Xaq is beautiful. Dressed in a skimpy leather gladiator outfit, I’m stunned. And more than a little aroused. He shows me some action images and GIFs. I get flushed. He points out the details of his costume. I lean in, like I’m actually looking at that and not his body as it’s bent, twisted, and contorted by his gorgeous opponents. I grab more water.

Xaq points over at the Spartacus poster, “Did you see that movie in the theater when you were a kid? Is that why you put it up there?”

“It’s from 1960.” The cocky muscleboy just stares at me. I feel compelled to add, “I’m 30.”

“Huh, and that's why you retired from designing. Got it. My boss turns 30 in a few months. He’s about to retire, too. Getting a little too old to run around in briefs. Well, I guess I don't have to tell you.” Xaq pulls up another profile. "This is him. The Bat." Oh. He’s stunning. And his trunks. Fuck. They’re packed, aren’t they? “We wrestled in this match, but I’m his partner now.” 

“He's your ... partner?”

Xaq laughs, “In The Cave! Not like dating shit. He's 30. We just train together. Yeah, we’ve fucked a few times, but only when he thinks I need it. You know how it is. When someone's coaching you, you have to let them think they're in charge sometimes. And he's got a great dick, so I don't mind taking it.”

My eyes go wide with how casually he says all this. This boy has no filter.

The muscleboy types again, “See, I’m Bird Boy, too. They call us Bird Boy and The Bat. I get top billing, of course. Spartan is my villain identity and this is my hero identity. Oh, here, I kicked this guy’s ass. This guy cheated or I would've kicked his ass. Oh, here’s a tag match I did but my partner sucked so we lost.”

I see a young man with incredible pecs and the best ass I’ve seen. “Who’s that?”

“Him? That was my tag partner. SuperStar. You can ignore him. Everyone who bought the match did.”

Oh my god. Spartan. Bird Boy. The Bat. SuperStar. This Cave place. How did I never know about gay wrestling porn? I love it. So fun. And sexy. And the costumes are well-designed. Xaq closes out and moves back across the desk. I look up at him, unsure what to say. Despite how crazy this is, he’s technically following the rules. Technically. There is a rich American design history in superheroes and wrestling. If he keeps down the porn angle, it might be interesting to see.

But I can’t really allow him to go ahead with these ridiculous designs, can I?

Xaq can tell I’m not sold but I’m wavering. He closes the door. I point, “No, no, no. Door stays open at all times when a student is present. School rules.”

“Fuck the rules. What? Are you going to attack me?” Xaq laughs a little too much at the idea as he lifts his biceps and flexes. “I’ve already surfed porn on your computer. What’s one more rule? Besides, it’d be worse for you if the door was open.” What does that mean?

Before I can ask, Xaq slides off his hoodie. He starts taking off his shirt. I sit back in shock. I’m going to be fired. This is the end of my teaching - oh. Wow. Wow. That body. Those broad shoulders. Imagine holding on to those while you pound him from behind? I've worked with models but they were grungy, tattooed, skinny. None of them were built like Xaq. I want to grab those pecs, too. Suck those nipples. And those abs. How is it even possible to walk around looking like this everyday, with no makeup and in this lighting? No wonder he sees me as an aging twink. 

Why is he kicking off his shoes? And now peeling off his socks. He’s not - he is. The jeans are sliding down. I grab the sides of my head in shock. I want to stop him, but what can I do? And I don’t really want to stop him. He’s only in a thong. Fuck. I’m getting hard in my pants now. This is exhilarating and terrifying and insane all at once. Oh god, the thong is coming off!

Xaq stands naked before me. He smirks, knowing how impressive he is. Knowing how much I want to do to him what it looks like all his Cave opponents did. I clear my throat and start to speak, unsure what I’m going to say, but I have to say something professorial. Not, ‘get on my dick you gorgeous muscle freak’. That would be wrong. I hold up one finger, "Xaq - uh ..."

However, the freakishly chiseled muscleboy doesn’t wait to hear whatever I think I should say. He bends over, sticking his ass out over my desk. Xaq digs in his bag, searching for something. Clothes, I hope, because I'm starting to think this guy is worth losing my job over. He pulls out a pair of green tights. Phew. Thank god. At least they’ll cover his oh-so enticing junk and his incredibly fuckable ass.

When they’re on, I realize there’s a problem. They’re designed with a hole at the crotch. Not a fly. A hole. He fishes his cock and balls through it. This is no better! He pulls out a red codpiece, attaching it in front with gold snaps. It looks fantastic and he's covered up, finally. He slides green bands around his wrists. 

Xaq pauses, “You remember how I'm the number one superhero in all wrestling, right? Bird Boy's the inspiration for this design, but this is for work, not for your project. My final designs would include cooler colors when it's done. Oh, wait. Can you imagine this same approach in different colors and patterns?”

"I'm a very successful designer, Xaq."

The arrogant muscleboy just stares back at me, waiting for me to answer.

I sigh, "Yes, I am capable of visualizing fabrics in different colors than the ones in front of me." 

"Okay. As long as you're sure."

Next, he pulls out colorful straps. A shiny harness. When it’s on, red straps stretch down to where they attached to the trunks, framing his abs. Red straps form an ‘X’, cutting across his sculpted chest and over his magnificent shoulders. He slides on a yellow shoulder jacket with green trim over his biceps and it hangs down his back, inspired by superhero capes. He adds a loose black utility belt around his perfect waist.

The handsome muscleboy says, "Are you getting it now? I can put on the boots, but I figured this gives you an idea of what I’m talking about. I could wear this around." He spins. "Shopping. Lunch. Class." I nod at that last idea, imagining him sitting in class everyday like this. My mouth goes as dry as the Sahara. "It's not even just for perfect physical specimens like me. Even an older, skinny guy like you could wear some of my designs with the right level of confidence."

I let that hang, still thinking about him.

The muscleboy asks the big question, "So, are you finally getting it?"

I nod.

Xaq confirms, "I can go ahead with my project. Superhero-wrestling inspired street wear.” I nod again. He pushes me, “Exactly as I proposed.” I nod. “Cool. Thanks. See, it wasn't that hard to understand.”

Xaq treats me to another strip show, this time in reverse. Clothed once more, he opens the door. There’s no one in the hall. I just had the most inappropriate meeting possible with a student. And nothing bad happened. I breathe. I gulp down the last of the water in my metal water bottle. The muscleboy grabs his backpack and skateboard. The cocky muscleboy takes one more look at the Spartacus poster, shaking his head.

“Gladiator? Man, old folks believed anything.” 

I raise one finger and say, “Xaq.” He waits. “Thank you for explaining your vision. And in such detail. I love your ... passion. However, this could still go wrong during creation. I would like regular updates on your progress. To avoid embarrassment for both of us, I insist on taking a more … hands-on approach if you continue down this ... unconventional path.”

The muscleboy smirks at me, “As long as I get my way, professor, you can put your big hands wherever you want. Want to touch my forearm again?”

I blush and shake my head, unable to respond.

“Have a great weekend, if I don't see you at Chris' party.” He adds, “Oh, I'll be bringing a few Cave guys with me. And we'll all wearing some of my sexiest designs. The kind of shit I wouldn't wear to class.” I gulp. He nods, “Yeah, okay, you’ll be there.”

When he’s gone, I stand up, hunched over from my throbbing cock uncomfortably trapped in my pants. I manage to close and lock the door without being seen. I’m warm. I unbutton my shirt, exposing my torso. I sit back, my hand resting on my stomach. I don’t dare touch myself any lower. I don't need cleaning staff finding any signs of ... well, you know. I relax and focus, calming myself down.  

My personal phone rests on my desk. I grab it. For privacy, I disconnect from Wi-Fi, going just on 5G. What was the name of that place? Oh yeah.

The Cave.

I have some shopping to do before that party tomorrow night.

THE END.

Set your calendars. The Cave continues posting on the 1st and 15th of each month through the rest of 2023.

Up next … The Road to El Paso 2 on March 1, 2023.