bearstufferstories
patreon
It's a Growing Sport part 5
🕑 Added 2023-02-16 09:05:35 +0000 UTCThe week was filled with much of the same. Eating at the buffet, then lifting and working out at coach's house, eating again, then small exercises, then dinner and home. Each meal I pushed myself, but always found coach out-eating me at every meal. At school I did my best to push my lifting, even went as far as getting those grip strengthening tools. Squeezing them during classes. And every evening, it was back to coach's house for more eating.
As the month ended I noticed two things. One; my muscles were growing larger. Not by a large amount, but enough for me to notice in the mirror. My chest had thickened up and my middle was beginning the curve of a muscle gut. And the second thing I noticed? I hadn't really seen coach work out much since he started helping me. I'm turn, he had gained some weight as well, but it had all collected on his middle, turning his forming extra tire into a full on dad gut. He looked to be about 20 extra pounds heavier in the gut. His face had rounded ever so slightly, his slim figure and muscles stayed about the same. But his middle had begun to bulge enough that when he tucked in his polo shirt his gut noticeably had begun to roll over his belt, and if he raised his arms above his chest, his shirt would become slightly untucked under his gut. Often times coach would go the entire practice without noticing that an inch of his shirt under the curve of his gut had come untucked. It wasn't enough to get a peak of his gut, but it was still pretty hot. Before heading to coach's house I'd hand to spend time jerking off first.
The beginning of the second month was when things started getting interesting. I would catch glimpses of my coach scratching it rubbing his gut rather often. By the first weekend of the month, at the buffet I was nearly matching coach plate for plate, until we finished our fourth and I inevitably had to concede. Coach, however, kept going. He went back for a fifth and sixth as usual, but eventually made me get up and grab him a seventh and, to my surprise, an eighth plate. Thinking that coach should get his fill, I packed extra on both plates. By the end of our breakfast meal coach was so incredibly bloated that his shirt could no longer tuck in at all, and if he stood first I would catch a subtle glimpse of his hairy flesh the fabric attempted to conceal.
Once at his house, during my first lifting session I had to rush off to the restroom twice to jerk off, because while on my back lifting I would have a perfect view up coach's shirt to see his incredibly hairy bloated gut, seeing it drop closer to my face and back up with every squat he did. When I'd come back from the restroom, I would catch coach leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed as he used one hand to rub his gut and stifle a belch. When I asked if he was okay, he'd pull his hand away rapidly and wave it off as being extremely bloated from the buffet and trying to relieve some of the built up gas by belching. I don't know if I believed him or not, but I continued my work out.
When lunch rolled around I felt my hunger restored. I matched coach plate for plate, until the fourth once again. I felt so full, my gut packed tight. I had made it barely half way through my fifth plate before I had to stop. At this point coach was on his sixth. But the moment he saw me lean back and give a groan, he shook his head and came to stand next to me.
"Come on, Fletcher," he said as he grabbed my plate and brought it closer to my mouth. "You can finish this. How else are you going to make it to linebacker? You need to push yourself. Push your limits."
"I don't think I can coach," I groaned, which turned into a belch. "I'm so full."
"Oh really," he said as he stepped behind me and leaned in close enough for me to smell his amazing cologne, which smelled like smoked pine or something similar. He gripped my shoulder and spoke gently in my ear. "Here, let me help you. I'll show you that you can finish it."
He brought the plate to my lips and told me to open my mouth. I couldn't fight it, I wanted him this close to me all the time, as often as possible. So, I opened my mouth. Instantly, he used his fingers to shove food the food into my mouth, giving me just enough that I could chew. While I chewed he reached down and began rubbing my full stomach. I didn't often like having my stomach touched, being that I was rather ticklish. But at this moment I didn't care, it was his hands that were on me. The man that I found so extremely attractive, and had fantasized about on several hundred different occasions. I couldn't help but chew and swallow. Before I knew it, I was sucking coach's fingers clean after I swallowed the last bite of food on my plate.
He set the plate down on the table before he wrapped his arm over my shoulder and across my chest. "There ya go, boy! See, I told ya you could do it. That's five plates. I'm proud of you. You'll be catching up to me before long. Next stop, linebacker."
I gave a belch and weak smile. My cock was dripping in my pants, not from being full and fed, but because coach had just rubbed me down and stuck his fingers in my mouth, while I was inhaling his amazing scent. Of course I excused myself to the bathroom again.
When I came out of the restroom, coach was finishing yet another plate I had lost count at this point, and there was still more food for later. When I walked past him he leaned back and gave a large "UUUUUUURRRRRRRP-OOF!" He then undid his belt and put a hand on his gut.
"Damn boy," he chuckled. "Feeding you that last bit got me hungry again. Can't believe how much I've been eating. I'm turning into a hog." He said as he grabbed his gut with both hands and gave it a bounce. "I better start working this off, and let it fuel my gains, or I'm going to be too big for the upcoming Ironman race."
"Yeah, we don't want that to happen," I said with my own chuckle, and it was a total lie. I liked seeing him this way, seeing his gut expand. Over the last month I had noticed that the more I had started to eat, the more coach would push himself as well, as if he were deliberately trying to keep my victory out of reach. If he wanted me to outeat him then I was going to have to step up my game. Or at least make a plan if he kept denying me.
