DEVIN MEETS HIS COACH (Patreon)

Devin took a deep breath and shivered from the wintry walk to the remote doorway. Opening the bar door quietly, just as far as necessary to let his beefy bulk slip through sideways, he stepped into the shadows against the wall as his eyes adjusted to the dim room. Phew, he thought. The place was mostly empty. He had nervously walked around the block four times before finally screwing up the nerve to come in. A mixture of aroused eagerness and nervous apprehension fought for dominance. He scanned the men he could make out in the low light of the bar. None looked like the pictures. Holding his breath without realizing, Devin wondered if he would show.

Striving to calm his nerves and look relaxed, he shifted his bulk and leaned against the wall. He was not yet ready to take off his coat and expose his beefed-up build. He had never once gone to a bar dressed to show off anything but his thickly muscled, rigorously dieted body. When his ex had taken him out to show him off, it was always after insisting he wear a tank top that exposed the bare bulges of his biceps, triceps and forearms, and grabbed at his mounded pecs. A slightly loose pair of jeans would always show off his powerful glutes and legs and seemingly narrow waist compared to the sharp V of his powerful back. His entire body rippled with compact, beefy muscles on his 5-10, 215 pounds of cut muscle. Not an ounce of fat showed on him - then. His ex nagged and nagged him to make sure that was always true, pushing him hard at the gym for years, blocking his true appetites at the table even more fiercely. Devin loved the bulk he grew. He had always felt small and wanted to be bigger – and bigger – oh – and bigger. He loved being admired for his growing mass, but it secretly made him want more yet, and he fucking hated being forced to eat nothing but vegetables and carefully selected proteins, never once allowed a second helping, or god forbid a bowl of ice cream in reward for the hours of pumping iron. In fact, he was barely permitted beer, even when being paraded around the bars like the muscled show piece he was.

 Not tonight, though. Devin had already chugged four beers before leaving the house. He needed them for courage. He knew damn well what he wanted, had known it for years, but he sure as hell needed something to take the edge off the tinged anticipation of facing into it even more boldly tonight. The faint buzz helped now, helped him to relax and enjoy feeling the snug grip of his clothes under his winter coat, to give into what he came to explore.

He had split form his ex a few months ago. The minute the sting of the breakup eased, he let his urges come to the surface. No one was making him deny they existed anymore. He liked being pushed physically, but now he wanted nothing more than to be pushed to match what he imagined for years. It was too deep a part of him to remain buried. It had always come to mind, but he never dared share his darkest thoughts. He had packed on 40# of muscle over the years, hoping to satisfy his urge through bodybuilding, but that just never quite did it. He had to be bigger. He let his ex think that meant wanting ever more muscle, but that wasn’t enough to Devin. He wanted something so much more extreme. Someone would understand that, right? He couldn’t be the only one. 

Then it happened, almost out of the blue, as if in direct response to his hopes. Devin lazily scanned various profiles of seemingly typical bulk admiring guys. Then this one screen name piqued his interest. His profile couldn’t mean what he read into it, could it? Devin read and reread the profile, and then tentatively said hello, afraid to do more than give the most obtuse hints as to what made him send his first message. They started to chat more. This guy slowly made Devin relax, peeled away each layer of defense hiding his most intense urges, prompted him to confess bit by bit what he most wanted. Devin was dumbfounded. This guy understood. They began an intense correspondence. Devin never felt so excited, so able to talk about what most deeply aroused him. The animal connection between their respective urges was like nothing he had ever felt. Just the sight of his awaiting emails made him aroused – and hungry. He thought about their conversations all day long. The messages he got told him his Coach was doing the same. Devin would catch his breath every time he revealed a bit more, stunned that this man would predict exactly what the next deepest part of his urge would be. You want to be bigger Devin, don’t you? You love someone pushing you to grow, don’t you? You love getting huge. No one else’s definition of huge has been enough for you, has it? You want to grow way bigger, any way possible? So, so, so much bigger. To his shock, this guy described in exact detail his ideal body, the one Devin had pictured intently but never dared voice to a soul. Devin was riveted. His new “Coach” hit all the right nerves.

Little did he know just how electrified his mentor was in return - how very pleased he was that his newfound trainee followed suggestions so eagerly, reveled in being allowed – no - pushed to let loose and indulge freely – pushed to eat all he could after his workouts with the determination previously reserved for extra reps. Devin cut loose for a several weeks, eating like a moose. In fact, his eating eclipsed his workouts. He felt liberated, in full rebellion against his ex’s dietetic slave driving. This routine made him crazily turned on. He pumped iron, but not as hard as the past few years, and not as many days a week, suddenly thinking of it only as something to rush and complete so that he could go home and eat. His new diet orders came, written emails telling Devin to push for six meals a day – a routine not uncommon for a body builder – but totally unique in their calls for him to eat calorie laden meals, each of them larger, pushing him to feed himself until he felt like a stuffed pig. Devin was shocked at how much he loved this. He had fantasized about being allowed to do this for years – for his entire adult life. His coach was pleased at how well his new stud took to his instructions. His eagerness brought on bigger challenges. 

Devin charged ahead, happy as a rutting pig, eating everything he used to be forbidden until bang; one day his pants burst open. He knew he had packed on some fast weight, knew he had blown past his last gym weigh-in of 234# at least three weeks ago. That number had shocked him then, aroused him like nothing else, made him susceptible to Coach’s orders to increase his eating. He hadn’t dared weigh himself the day he split his pants. But he sure as hell indulged a look in the mirror, hard on raging at the sight of his belly bulging firmly over his pushed down waistband, a round swell that tightened his pants as much as the bulbous swell of his fattened ass. He loved feeling big enough to strain his clothes this tight. He wanted to bust the seams more, but he absolutely had to tear off his pants and release his wound-up energy all over the floor in front of him. As he beat off, he was unable to tear his eyes off his newly bulging build or to stop picturing himself growing fatter and fatter and fatter.

 He forced himself to cut back, though, jarred by the reality of being barely able to wear anything he owned, still awaiting the chance to meet this Coach who had captured his every appetite. He forced himself, despite all intense urges, to cut back just enough to be able to button up his jeans again. Any further, he vowed, would have to wait until they met. It was hard to hold back.

To be continued.