DEVIN MEETS HIS COACH

 “Good start, my Fatboy. Ready for more, Devin?”

Devin tried to back up, but his Coach was immobile, commandingly but gently holding the jock in place facing forward. His baritone voice rose slightly.

“Barkeep, round two please.”

Another big pitcher was set silently in front of the two men. Coach didn’t move the hand on Devin’s belly as he reached around with the other to refill his glass. He pulled it in close to the stud. He could feel Coach’s warm breath on his neck as he whispered instructions.

“Drink up, Devin. We have lots to do after you finish your beer.”

Devin tried to ask for a minute to rest, which was met with commanding silence and a firmer push into the bar. He obediently picked up the beer and started to sip, then gulp, then chug. 

“Refill it, Devin.”

He grabbed for the pitcher eagerly, resistances fading, ready to do anything at the feel of his Coach’s stocky build pressed into his back and ass. As Devin drank his second glass from this pitcher- or was it the third? – he heard gentle yet directive words of encouragement. “That’s it my Fatboy. Finish off that beer for your Coach. Fill this belly up for him.” He chugged another.

Devin felt hands on his hips. Coach was turning him around at last. A ruggedly handsome face came close to Devin’s handsomely boyish face, their eyes locking. Now Devin’s back was against the bar, his beer-swollen belly pushing out tight and firm into Coach. He felt the rounded sides of his gut being rubbed as he was told to down the next beer. His head swam. He felt so buzzed. The growing drunkenness was as much from the intense arousal at having his fattened body admired. The intensity of their silent meeting made Devin ragingly hard, no matter how much beer he consumed. He tried to ask questions, tell his Coach he looked better in person that he had hoped, that he wanted a minute to rest, but another beer belch blasted from his mouth when he tried to speak. Coach plugged his mouth immediately with the refilled mug. “One more, Fatboy. Then we talk.”

 Devin saw Coach pull a vial from his pocket and dump its contents into the pitcher of beer - the newly filled third pitcher of beer. Shit, he thought, he means one more pitcher! What is that stuff? But Coach had taken hold of Devin’s mug hand, tipping it up to keep his jock drinking. Devin had to gulp hard to keep up. Somehow Coach had a second mug ready and filled. One beer followed the other. Devin lost count. Coach took the Fatboy’s other hand in his and pressed them both firmly across the bulging top of Devin’s belly as he drank like a frat boy challenged to win a contest. He chugged, feeling his stomach swell, push into his hand, shove firmly into his Coach’s torso. With a massive belch that turned a few heads, Devin managed to down his last beer. A grin curled across Coach’s face. He eased slowly back, making Devin realize just how hard he had been pushing into his belly. As he saw his coach inch away, he realized his gut was pushing out to fill the space between them, bulging, feeling full as if with the beer of an entire keg. Devin looked down in amazement. It had to be the booze, but his belly seemed to be jutting out a good eight inches more than when he arrived.

“Let’s go. Now.” Devin was just staring down at his bulging belly, stunned.

To be continued