DEVIN MEETS HIS COACH

Thoughts of the last three months of correspondence and the tightness of his clothes made him aroused in the corner of the bar. He had dressed, as ordered, to show off his new size. Despite his temporary vow, Devin removed all restraints and ate at a record rate the past week, out to impress his Coach with his potential, to live up to what they had been discussing and doing virtually. Underneath his coat Devin wore a skintight t-shirt and once loose pair of jeans. His shirt was a faded athletic department grey, an old college tee. “Property of State College Athletic Department” curved up and in and out along the rounded mounds of his chest. The sleeves tugged tightly at the widest bulge of his big as ever biceps. His entire upper torso was still obviously muscled, but now read as even more beefy from the beginnings of a fleshier girth. The capsule screened on the center of the shirt with the “XXL” belied its claim to size, distorting with the pressure of the newly rounded belly pushing out under his meaty chest. The shirt grabbed hard, outlining every new curve on the jock’s belly and sides. He looked like someone had fed him at least half a basketball. Devin couldn’t raise his arms if he wanted to keep covered. The hem just barely met the waist of his pants even then. His jeans were well faded from years of wear, but they had always hung loosely. Tonight, though, these jeans dug into his waist, curving down under a new arc of pressure from the base of his forming belly. His thicker legs tugged the denim tight against his thighs, and his rounded ass filled the back to near bursting. Everyone presumed him to be the exclusive top in his muscle poser days. Tonight, he wanted his bubble butt served up as an invitation to be taken. He was sick of always being the muscled top. He wanted to submit to all of this. Maybe. Yes! Maybe.

 He still didn’t see a face matching the pictures they exchanged. With his buzz dangerously close to wearing off, Devin screwed up his nerve to claim a far corner of the bar. Happily, it was not as bright as some other spots. When the bartender came over, he felt this odd scrutiny as he ordered a beer. The bartender gave him a silent nod and came back with a huge mug, so big it seemed to require two hands, even for a muscled stud like Devin. He raised his eyebrows as it was set in front of him. Before Devin could speak, the bartender leaned in. 

“By chance, buddy, are you Devin?”

The jock was shocked. “Uh huh. W-why?”

“Okay, then I have something else for you.” With no explanation, the barkeep walked down the bar and returned with a huge pitcher of beer – and a sealed envelope.

“I was told to give these to Devin when he showed up. Enjoy the beer, bud.” Devin was left alone.

He took a huge swig of his beer, then another, then another, feeling it slide down his throat. He eyed the envelope and scanned the bar again for the guy he came to meet. One more gulp, and then he opened the envelope, trying to read the note inside so that no one could see.

“Devin, my stud,

Coach is eager to meet his Jock at last. You are to follow your instructions as ever, finishing off this beer before I come. The sooner you down it all, the sooner we get going.

Ready and eager to make you a bigger stud,

Coach”

Devin’s dick leapt in his tight pants, and he gulped apprehensively. Here it is, he thought. Am I ready? He looked down the bar again, and the bartender, the only other man in the room who could be in on what was going on, just stared back, eyebrow raised, nodding toward Devin’s pitcher. The jock accepted the stand-in’s orders and drained his beer in nearly one go. He finally felt warmed from the cold. He refilled his beer, checking how much remained in the pitcher. Shit, he thought, it’s going to take about six of these glasses to drain this thing. He drank half of the next beer and decided to open his coat. He drained the rest in one swig. He felt steadily warmer and more relaxed, and he ventured to take his coat off. He dropped it on the bar stool beside him and had to yank his shirt back down over his beer filled belly.

 With a deep breath, he dipped into the next beer, then the next, feeling his shirt yank tighter. He stood closer to the bar, still unsteady about being out in public with such a gut and in such a tight shirt. One more, he thought. Man, he was eager to meet his Coach at last. Head swimming a bit, he forced himself to chug the last beer. He clunked the drained mug on the bar and tried futilely to stifle a deep belch. Mug and pitcher empty, he looked around the bar again, not sure how to expect the appearance. Nothing seemed to happen.

Devin looked around intently, shifting his beer-soaked weight. He felt the wood of the bar rail pressing into his belly, and his gut pushed back firmly, well filled. Then he jolted slightly at the feel of a hand touching the bottom curve of his stomach, a chest pushing into his back, hips pushing into his butt, a mouth at his ear, his belly pushing more firmly into the bar.

To be continued.