Devin Meets his coach

Coach steered Devin into the next room, revealing a massive table of food. The jock’s gut rocked side to side with each step, so heavy he couldn’t move as quickly as his greedy urge to gorge demanded. The mere sight of the food, piled high, stretching the entire length of the training table, made Devin’s mouth water, made his belly rumble with unstoppable need. He was a charging bull in slow motion, all weighty, ponderous, fixated motion, driven to devour everything in sight. The base of his gut slammed against the table’s edge, the blimped up jock unaccustomed to how far out it jutted. 

He grunted to a stop, eyes locked on the chow. He felt the warm hands once again on his belly, steering him. Coach hoisted his belly up, nudged Devin forward, and then let the ball of gluttony land on the end of the table with a huge thud. The table creaked threateningly. The platters of food rattled at the impact. It made Devin’s head swim with deepening greed. He needed to eat until his belly covered that table. His mouth opened on reflex. 

“Ah ah. Not yet.” Confused at being held back. Devin turned, eyes still locked on the mountain of food. 

“This first!” A giant bottle, how many gallons. 

“This time you chug it straight.” 

Oh, the concoction from before. Devin’s greed busted through its last defense. He snatched the bottle with both hands, threw his head back, pounding every drop of it as fast as he could swallow. With the last swallow and a belch, his hunger raged beyond his control. His ball of gluttony gurgled with a newfound greedy, desperate need to feed.

He steadied himself like a powerlifter bracing for squats. Coach was at his side, with a platter of food balanced on top of his gut. He opened up. Coach rammed the food in. Mercilessly. The Fat Jock pushed to keep pace, feeling his belly ballooning, rounding, tightening. He grunted as he gulped down each cheek busting mouthful. Coach was equally entranced, unrelenting. Devin closed his eyes, focused on opening his throat, feeling the bulging base of his gut tightening, inching across the table, shoving the now emptied plates back. He thought of his belly swelling to cover the entire table. So did Coach. They got lost in the feeding, pure animal instinct burst free. The Fat Jock felt like he'd been fed a massive ball, and it was gushing full of concrete, bulging out tight as a drum, a strained sphere fighting to balloon up, almost creaking to swell enough to hold the obscene amounts of food he was gobbling down. Devin’s belly was exploding to its fattest, hardest, hugest, roundest potential. He gorged for hours without relief. His belly was eclipsing his muscled beefy body. As thick as he was, the enormous size of that gut dwarfed him. He felt like a helpless intake valve, open mouth and throat now there to feed the ball. He stretched his arms out to grasp his belly, felt it shoving out of reach. Unable to comprehend its size, he was both adoringly rubbing it and holding onto it as if he could keep it from rupturing with his strong grip. He blew up tighter, harder, rounder, and rounder, and ROUNDER. He wondered if he’d blow inside out. The table groaned from the mounting pressure.

Coach was unrelenting. He fed harder, and harder, and HARDER. Devin heard and felt his gut thumped like a timpani. So huge it was like an object of its own now, a planet of overblown hard fat. Coach kept testing the pressure, and the feeding frenzy intensified in rhythm with Devin’s gulping. The gluttonous trance went on and on as the stud’s gut inched rounder like a ticking bomb. 

They were oblivious to the cracking sound, the splintering of the wood, the table no longer able to withstand the mounting tonnage. With yet another greedy gulp of gut busting food, there was a huge crash. Devin felt himself lurching forward. The crashing eruption – was it him? Did he explode?? He felt more pressure on his belly. Blurrily looking out from his force-fed daze, he realized he had crushed the table. He thought he was still standing, but he was spread eagle, feet lifted off the floor, his muscled body limply dropped atop his massive gut’s spherical, overblown mass - a spent man rolled onto a giant ball, stranded. Coach and massively fattened jock throbbed into focus and gasped in unison.

Yet all Devin could utter was . . . “more!

The end.