Accidental Weight Gain, The Sequel
The dorm door clicked shut behind them with a soft thud, and Tom exhaled, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor. It felt strange being back after the summer—familiar, but charged with a new kind of energy. The air in the small room was heavy and warm, thick with the heat of late August, and sweat was already prickling at Tom’s temples.
Ricky tossed his own bag onto his bed, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “God, it’s like an oven in here,” he muttered, already peeling it off. His muscles flexed with the movement, smooth dark skin gleaming in the light from the single dusty window.
Tom followed suit, dragging his own T-shirt up and over his head. The fabric caught briefly on his chest before coming free, and Ricky’s eyes snapped to him immediately.
Tom had gained twenty-five more pounds over the summer, and it showed everywhere. His belly rounded out gloriously, heavy and soft, hanging over the waistband of his shorts. His pecs were thicker too, fuller. His arms looked beefier, his thighs monstrous, but the thing Ricky couldn’t look away from—the thing that had him staring like a starving man—was Tom’s ass. Even through the shorts, it was impossible to miss: two huge, round globes, straining the seams, swaying faintly with every step.
“Damn,” Ricky breathed. “You ate good this summer.”
Tom flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I might’ve gone a little overboard.”
Ricky stepped closer and kissed Tom. “You’re perfect.”
They unpacked in near silence, except for the sound of bags rustling and clothes being shoved into drawers. Every time Tom bent over, Ricky’s eyes were on him, locked to the way his ass crack and his briefs peeked over his shorts, to the faint line of sweat glistening down the curve of his spine.
By the time they were done, both of them were slick with sweat. Tom sighed. “It’s too hot.”
“Then take the rest of your clothes off,” Ricky said smoothly, already hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts.
They stripped without hesitation, until the only thing either of them wore were their white briefs. Tom’s XXL clung tightly to his new weight, the waistband digging into his soft hips, his belly rounding out over the elastic. His thick thighs pushed the fabric to its limits, and his ass looked almost obscene now, the briefs riding high, hugging every curve.
Ricky drank in the sight with something close to reverence.
“Fuck,” he said softly, stepping forward until he was right in front of him, hands already on him.
Ricky started at Tom’s shoulders, big hands tracing over the thick new bulk of his upper arms. “Bigger here,” Ricky murmured, squeezing the firm flesh. His palms slid down over Tom’s chest, cupping the heavy weight of his pecs, thumbs brushing teasingly over Tom’s dark nipples, making him gasp. “These… God, these are perfect. Soft, heavy, just begging for my hands.”
Tom shivered, his cock already thickening against the tight fabric of his briefs.
Ricky moved lower, fingers trailing down Tom’s round belly, stroking it like he was worshiping it. “And this… This belly…” He gave it a gentle squeeze, watching it ripple under his touch. “It's so heavy now. I can feel every pound you’ve gained, and it’s driving me crazy. You’re mine, big guy. Every inch of you.”
He crouched slightly, hands sliding to Tom’s hips, fingers digging into the soft love handles that spilled over the waistband. “Look at this. These weren’t so massive before the summer. I love them.” He pressed his face briefly against Tom’s belly, kissing the curve before his hands moved even lower.
And then he was behind Tom.
Tom felt Ricky’s hands on his ass, gripping the massive globes through the thin briefs. “And this,” Ricky growled, voice husky, almost desperate. “This ass. Jesus, Tom. It’s… it’s incredible.” He squeezed hard, pulling Tom back against him, making the thick cheeks jiggle and spill over his fingers. “You feel how hard you’re making me? You feel what this ass does to me?”
Tom could feel it—Ricky’s big cock was pressing against his backside, straining against his briefs. He let out a shaky laugh.
Ricky gave his ass another hard squeeze, groaning under his breath. “I’d worship this body every damn day if you let me.”
Tom turned then, face flushed. “Let me worship yours too.”
He stepped closer, hands sliding up Ricky’s chest, over the smooth, hard muscles. Ricky’s body was the opposite of his—cut, defined, powerful—but Tom loved it. His fingers traced every ridge of Ricky’s abs, up to his broad pecs, his thumbs rubbing over Ricky’s tight nipples, making Ricky grunt softly.
“Your chest,” Tom said low, almost possessive. “It’s perfect. I love how hard it feels under my hands.” His fingers slid down Ricky’s sides, tracing the V of his hips. “And these… God, these hips, the way they’re built…”
Finally, his hand slid lower, brushing against the straining outline of Ricky’s cock.
“And this,” Tom said, voice dropping even lower. His hand wrapped around it through the briefs, feeling the sheer size of it, the heat. Ricky groaned, his hips jerking slightly into Tom’s grip. “This cock… I swear, Ricky, I think about it all the time.”
Tom dropped to his knees without thinking, pressing his cheek against Ricky’s hip, his hand stroking him through the briefs. “You have no idea how much I love it,” Tom whispered.
Ricky’s breathing was getting ragged, his cock twitching in Tom’s grip. “Do whatever you want with it.”
Tom didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled Ricky’s briefs down just enough to free him, and Ricky’s cock sprang out, heavy and proud. Tom wrapped one big hand around it, stroking slowly, his other hand slipping under his own waistband to grab his hard, leaking cock.
The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, their moans, the soft wet sounds of Tom’s hand pumping Ricky’s huge shaft while his other hand worked himself desperately. Tom’s belly bounced faintly with every movement, sweat dripping down his chest, and Ricky was staring down at him like he was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
“God, Tom,” Ricky groaned, hips twitching. “You’re so fucking hot like this. Look at you… You’re gonna make me…”
That was all it took. Ricky’s cock twitched hard in Tom’s grip, and with a guttural groan, he came, thick ropes spilling across Tom’s chest and belly. The sight of it—the heat, the smell, Ricky’s face contorted with pleasure—was enough to push Tom over too. With a loud moan, he came hard, spilling into his own hand, his whole body shuddering.
When it was over, Tom slumped back onto his heels, breathing heavily, covered in sweat and cum. Ricky reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up, pressing a deep, slow kiss to his lips.
“Welcome back to campus, big guy,” Ricky murmured against his mouth.
Tom grinned, still breathless. “It’s gonna be a good year.”
The sun was brutal that afternoon, blazing down on the field, making the turf shimmer with heat. Sweat rolled off every player, soaking through jerseys, plastering fabric to skin. But none of that compared to the heat that spread through Coach O’Toole’s chest the moment his eyes landed on Tom.
The man actually froze for a second, whistle dangling forgotten between his fingers.
Tom jogged onto the field, helmet tucked under one thick arm, and for a moment Coach looked like he’d seen a ghost—or a fantasy come to life. Tom had gained more weight over the summer. His jersey clung desperately to his body, riding up over the soft curve of his belly with every stride. His ass—huge, round and bouncing with each step—strained the fabric of his padded pants almost indecently.
And Coach O’Toole was staring like a man hypnotized.
Tom noticed immediately, of course. He jogged past, grinning to himself, and shot a quick glance at Ricky, who was stretching on the sidelines.
“Jesus,” Ricky muttered with a smirk. “Coach is about to blow a fuse just looking at you.”
Tom chuckled low. “Think he notices I put on more weight?”
Ricky’s eyes swept down Tom’s body, slow and hungry. “Hell yeah. He’s about two seconds from pitching a tent in those track pants.”
They both snickered quietly, but Ricky’s grin turned sly, wicked. He leaned closer, voice dropping low so no one else could hear.
“You know what would kill him? Strip down. Say it’s too hot. Play the whole practice in just your jockstrap.”
Tom’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Ricky…”
“Do it,” Ricky grinned wider. “You wanna see how bad he wants you? Give him a real show. Besides…” His voice dipped into something thicker, filthier. “I wanna see him try to keep it together watching you run drills with that fat ass bouncing free.”
Tom flushed, cock twitching faintly in his jock just from the idea. He bit his lip. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” Ricky smirked. “But you love it.”
And he did. God help him, he loved it.
It only took ten minutes for Tom to make his move.
The heat was unbearable, sweat soaking through every inch of his jersey, making it cling tight to his chest and belly. During a water break, Tom tugged at the hem, panting for effect.
“Shit, Coach,” Tom called loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It’s way too hot for all this gear.”
Before anyone could react, Tom peeled his jersey over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the grass. The air hit his sweat-slicked torso, and he stood there grinning, hands on his hips, letting everyone stare. His belly—full and round—glistened in the sun, soft rolls shifting with every breath. His thick chest rose and fell heavily, nipples flushed and sensitive.
A few teammates hooted and laughed, but Tom wasn’t done.
He kicked off his padded pants too, revealing just his snug white jockstrap stretched tight around his hips. The straps bit into the sides of his huge ass, lifting and framing it perfectly, leaving his massive cheeks bare and bouncing with every move.
“Better,” Tom said casually, wiping sweat from his brow.
For a second, the field went quiet. Even the other guys were staring—some laughing, some clearly impressed.
But Coach—Coach looked wrecked. His face flushed red, eyes locked helplessly on Tom’s body. His jaw clenched like he was fighting for control, but his gaze kept darting downward, to the heavy swing of Tom’s ass as he shifted his weight from one thick thigh to the other.
Tom caught Ricky’s eye across the field. Ricky was grinning like the devil himself, mouthing, “Good boy.”
Drills started again, and Tom made sure every movement was exaggerated, deliberate. Sprinting down the field made his belly bounce and his pecs sway. Quick cuts and turns made his ass jiggle wildly, the jockstrap barely containing it.
And Coach O’Toole couldn’t stop watching. His whistle hung uselessly around his neck, his hands tight on his hips like he was physically restraining himself. Every time Tom bent over to catch his breath, the round swell of his ass pointed directly at Coach, and Ricky, ever the instigator, kept elbowing Tom, whispering, “He’s losing it.”
Finally, during a break, Tom trotted back toward the sideline where Coach was standing. Sweat dripped down his chest, tracing over his round belly before soaking into the waistband of his jock. He stopped just a few feet away, leaning forward slightly, hands on his knees, giving Coach the perfect view.
Tom drank some water, letting his hand drag casually over his belly, fingers brushing just under the waistband. “I was so thirsty.”
Coach’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t tell him to get dressed. He didn’t even look away. His nostrils flared slightly as his gaze lingered, and Tom swore he saw a stain in Coach’s sweatpants.
When Tom jogged back to join the next drill, Ricky slapped his ass hard as he passed. “You’re evil,” Ricky whispered, grinning, “and I fucking love you for it.”
The campus cafeteria hummed with chatter, the clatter of trays and utensils echoing against the high ceilings. The football team had claimed an entire table near the windows, all of them spread out with overflowing plates, laughing loud enough to turn heads.
All the boys had returned from summer break bigger than ever. Blake’s belly pressed tight against his T-shirt, forming a soft mound over his jeans. Miguel’s thighs and ass were thicker, stretching his shorts to their limits, and Jin’s plush chest practically spilled over his tray as he leaned forward to grab his drink.
But no one was bigger than Tom.
He sat wedged between Ricky and Blake, his tray piled high with food. Even in a loose T-shirt, his size was undeniable—his belly pushed forward proudly against the table edge, thighs spread wide to make room for their thickness. Every movement made his shirt ride up, revealing glimpses of soft, dark skin.
The meal was loud, full of teasing and stories, until it was time for dessert: thick slices of rich chocolate cake topped with glossy icing.
Tom picked up his fork. The sweetness hit his tongue, melting in his mouth, and before he realized it, he let out a soft, unconscious groan.
“Mmmm…” he sighed, licking a bit of icing from his fork.
The table went dead silent for a half-second—then erupted in laughter.
“Jesus, Tom!” Blake howled, slapping the table. “You sound like you’re about to marry that cake!”
“Listen to him!” Jin snickered, mimicking Tom’s moan. “Mmmm, ohhh, chocolate, yes…”
Even Miguel joined in, grinning wide. “No wonder you’ve gotten so fat, bro!”
Tom couldn’t help laughing along, his belly jiggling with every chuckle. “Shut up,” he muttered, taking another bite anyway.
Blake leaned back, eyeing him with a teasing grin. “Nah, for real though, you're getting huge, Tom. Look at you!”
“Yeah,” Javier added, “big guy probably put on, what, fifteen pounds this summer?”
“Twenty-five,” Tom corrected automatically—and immediately regretted it, because the table roared even louder.
“Twenty-five?!” Jin cackled. “Holy shit, he’s keeping track of his gains like a powerlifter—except it’s all fat.”
Tom just shook his head, cheeks warm, but there was no hiding the way his chest swelled with something like pride.
That’s when Ricky spoke up.
He smirked, sliding his untouched plate of cake toward Tom. “Hey, if it’s that good… eat mine too. Go on.”
Tom’s eyes widened slightly, but Ricky’s tone—low, warm, encouraging—made his heart skip.
“Absolutely,” Ricky said, leaning close enough that only Tom could hear the next words. “Show them what a pig you are.”
Something about the way Ricky said it, deep and possessive, made Tom’s cock stir under the table. He nodded, grabbed the plate, and started eating the second slice with no hesitation.
That’s when Blake shoved his plate over. “Hell, take mine too!”
Javier followed, laughing. Then Jin, grinning wide. One by one, every teammate pushed their chocolate cake toward Tom.
Tom dug in, bite after rich, heavy bite. The guys jeered playfully every time he moaned again, some of them chanting, “One more! One more!”
By the last bite, Tom was leaning back in his seat, belly tight and round, the hem of his T-shirt riding all the way up to reveal his deep navel.
“Holy shit, look at him,” Javier said, shaking his head. “Dude’s gonna burst.”
“He is,” Blake laughed, reaching over to give Tom’s belly a teasing pat.
The guys stood to leave. On their way out, each gave Tom a playful slap or squeeze—some on his belly, others on his big ass.
Soon, the cafeteria emptied, leaving just Tom and Ricky sitting side by side at the table.
Ricky stayed silent for a moment, just staring at Tom—at the way his belly rose and fell with heavy breaths, at how his cheeks were flushed, his body warm and stuffed full. Then Ricky leaned in, voice low, hot, just for Tom.
“You’re so hot,” Ricky murmured, hand sliding under the table to press gently against Tom’s swollen belly. “I love you like this, Tom. Stuffed. Round. You’re theirs to cheer on, but you’re mine to keep feeding.”
Tom swallowed, his heart pounding, his cock leaking precum.
The locker room was quiet when Tom and Ricky finally stepped inside, the smell of soap and steam lingering from their teammates who had already showered and left. Their cleats clattered as they crossed the tiled floor, both of them laughing about how long it had taken to pick up all the practice equipment. Neither of them noticed that Coach O’Toole was still in his office, the door cracked open just enough for him to hear them.
Tom stripped first, peeling off his sweat-soaked jersey, his wide chest and thick belly glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights. Ricky stopped mid-step, watching him with that hungry, familiar stare.
“Look at you,” Ricky murmured, voice low and thick. His eyes swept over Tom’s massive body—the stretch of his sweat-darkened undershirt over those huge pecs, the waistband of his pants cutting into the plush curve of his waist.
Tom grinned, cocky despite the sweat dripping down his face. “You’re drooling already.”
Ricky snorted, but his eyes stayed locked on Tom’s ass as Tom bent over to tug off his pants. His jockstrap strained tight across the massive twin globes, digging into the deep crease between them.
“And look at that ass,” Ricky said, stepping closer, his voice hoarse now.
Tom straightened, smirking, and let his pants drop fully, standing there in nothing but his jockstrap. He gave his ass a teasing shake, feeling the heavy flesh bounce. “Do you love it?”
“Fuck yeah, I do,” Ricky growled, yanking his own shirt off in one motion, muscles flexing under his dark skin. His cock was already swelling in his jockstrap, pushing hard against the tight fabric. “Get in the showers before I lose it right here.”
Tom laughed but obeyed, getting naked and sauntering toward the showers. Ricky followed, stripping as he went, until they were both under the hot spray, water streaming over their bodies. The room filled with steam, and the sound of the water hitting tile mixed with their low, ragged breathing.
Ricky stepped behind Tom, hands sliding over his wet belly, his thick thighs, then grabbing his ass with both hands, kneading the soft, hot flesh. “God, you’re perfect. All of you. This ass—” he gave it a sharp squeeze, making Tom grunt—“made for me.”
Tom bit his lip, trying not to groan too loud, but his cock throbbed hard. He reached back, sliding his wet hands over Ricky’s abs, feeling the hard muscle, then lower, wrapping a hand around Ricky’s cock. It was thick, pulsing.
“Mmm,” Tom murmured, stroking him slowly. “I love your big cock.”
Ricky groaned low in his throat, pressing closer, his manhood grinding against Tom’s ass. “Keep talking like that, big guy…”
Tom turned his head slightly, teasing, “What? You gonna fuck me right here?”
Before Ricky could answer, a deep voice cut through the steam.
They turned—and there, just a few feet away, stood Coach O’Toole. He was leaning against the tiled wall, arms crossed, eyes dark and locked on them. His gaze lingered on Tom’s ass, on Ricky’s cock pressing against it… there was no hiding the hunger.
“Coach…” Ricky said, half-surprised, half-thrilled.
Coach stepped closer, voice rough, low. “You heard me, Ricky. Fuck him.”
For a moment, the three of them just stared at each other, the sound of the showers pounding around them. Tom’s heart hammered so hard he thought his chest might burst. Then Ricky grinned—a sharp, wicked grin—and turned Tom fully toward the wall.
“You heard the man,” Ricky murmured into Tom’s ear, gripping his hips tight. “Guess you’re getting fucked.”
Tom shuddered, pressing his wet forehead to the tiles, his ass pushing back instinctively against Ricky.
“Yeah,” Coach muttered under his breath, stepping closer. His hand was already pressing against the crotch of his shorts, rubbing slowly.
Ricky spit into his hand, stroking his cock, then pressed the thick head against Tom, sliding teasingly. Tom groaned, arching his back, his ass shaking with need.
“Fuck him real good,” Coach growled, his voice rougher now.
And Ricky did. He pushed in slow but deep, his hands gripping Tom’s fat hips tight, his body pressing close. Tom cried out, forehead against the tiles, the sound echoing in the steam. Ricky set a rhythm, hard and hungry, Tom’s ass bouncing back with every thrust, his big belly slapping against the wet tiles.
Coach didn’t move for a second, just watching, breathing hard. Then he gave in. He yanked his shorts and underwear down, freeing his cock—thick, veined, rock-hard. His other hand came up to his chest, squeezing one nipple through his shirt as he wrapped his fist around himself and started stroking, eyes locked on Tom’s shaking, dripping body.
Tom glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Coach jerking off, his face tight with need. “Coach,” Tom moaned, voice breaking. “You like this, huh? You like watching Ricky fuck me?”
Coach’s breath hitched, his strokes faster now. “I do. Look at you… so fat, Tom.”
Ricky grunted, slamming into Tom harder, sweat and water mixing on their bodies, his muscles straining as he pounded into him.
Tom couldn’t stop himself, words spilling out between moans. “Feels so good… fuck, Ricky… harder—oh God—Coach, don’t stop watching.”
The room filled with wet slaps, groans, and Coach’s low curses. Ricky thrust harder, Tom’s body shaking, his belly bouncing, his ass rippling with every deep push. Tom reached down, jerking himself furiously, his cock swollen and dripping, and he locked eyes with Coach, who was watching him like a man possessed.
“Cum for me, Tom,” Coach ordered, voice guttural.
That was all it took. Tom’s whole body tensed, his cock spurting thick, hot ropes against the tile as he cried out, shuddering.
Just then, Ricky groaned loud, slamming in one last time, his own orgasm hitting hard, filling Tom as his hips jerked erratically.
Coach’s breath hitched, his eyes locked on them both as his cock twitched in his fist. With a strangled groan, he came too, spurting thick streams onto the wet tile, his other hand still pinching his nipple hard.
For a long moment, the only sounds were heavy breathing and the pounding showers.
Tom’s phone buzzed early Sunday morning. He was still half-asleep, sprawled in bed with Ricky, when he blinked at the screen.
Coach O’Toole: “My office. Ricky and you. Now.”
The walk to Coach’s office was quiet, electric with anticipation. When they finally opened the office door, they couldn't believe their eyes.
The entire desk was covered—burgers stacked high, greasy boxes of pizza, cartons of fries, thick milkshakes dripping condensation, donuts piled like a mountain. The smell was intoxicating. Tom’s belly growled loud enough for Ricky to laugh under his breath.
Coach was standing behind the desk, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable.
“Close the door,” Coach said. His voice was low, commanding. “ This year I'm gonna make you grow at least a hundred pounds, Tom. And Ricky—” his gaze flicked to him, lingering—“you’re going to help me.”
Tom swallowed hard. “You’re serious?”
Coach’s lips twitched into a dark smile. “Dead serious. And we’re starting now. Strip. Both of you.”
For a second, they just stared. Then Ricky grinned and tugged his shirt off first. Tom followed, pulling his shirt over his head, his heavy chest and soft belly spilling free. Coach watched them like a predator, his breath getting heavier as Tom wiggled out of his shorts, leaving only his straining briefs.
They stripped fully, standing naked in front of Coach, their cocks half-hard with anticipation. Tom’s belly hung heavy, his thighs thick, his ass wide and bouncing slightly as he shifted. Ricky looked at him like he wanted to devour him right there.
Then, Coach got naked too. “Sit,” he ordered.
Tom sank into Coach’s big leather chair, his wide thighs spreading instinctively, his belly softening and hanging heavy against them. His cock rested against his stomach, already twitching. He shifted uncomfortably as he realized both Coach and Ricky were staring at him like they were starving.
“Comfortable, big boy? You better be. We’re not letting you up for hours.”
Tom groaned softly, almost embarrassed by how turned on he already was. “Hours?”
“Hours,” Coach said firmly, grabbing the first burger. “You’re not just going to eat, Tom. You’re going to be fed. You’re going to take everything we give you.”
Coach held the burger to Tom’s lips. “Open.”
Tom obeyed, taking a big bite. Grease coated his lips, and a little dripped down his chin.
“God, that’s hot,” Ricky murmured.
Tom swallowed, groaning softly at the taste. Ricky grabbed a fry, dipping it into some melted cheese from the pizza box before slipping it into Tom’s mouth.
The two of them took turns—Coach feeding him thick, meaty bites of burger, Ricky slipping him fries, pizza and pieces of donut, alternating salty and sweet. Tom moaned softly with each bite, not even realizing at first how loud he was being.
“You love this” Coach said roughly, unwrapping another burger.
Tom flushed hot but didn’t deny it. He just opened his mouth for another bite, obedient.
A while later, Tom’s belly was visibly swelling, rounder, tighter. His breathing had grown heavier, and Ricky couldn’t keep his hands off him.
While Coach kept feeding him—bite after bite—Ricky’s hands roamed freely. He squeezed Tom’s big pecs, rolled his sensitive nipples between his fingers, making Tom gasp. His other hand slid down to knead his belly, pushing into the growing fullness.
“Look at you,” Ricky murmured, almost reverent. “So fucking big, and you’re only getting bigger.”
Coach’s free hand brushed his own hard cock briefly.
When Ricky pushed Tom’s belly gently, watching it jiggle and settle heavily between his thighs, Coach growled low.
“Touching yourself, Coach?” Tom teased, grinning. “You can’t help it, can you?”
Coach ignored him. “Another bite, Tom.”
He obeyed, opening his mouth wide as Coach stuffed a huge bite in. Grease slicked his face.
Tom groaned loudly, his cock leaking steadily now onto his belly. He tried to reach for it instinctively, but Coach’s voice stopped him.
“Not yet,” Coach ordered. “You don’t get to cum until I say.”
After a couple of hours, the desk was a mess of empty wrappers and half-eaten pizzas. Tom’s belly was huge now, tight and swollen, resting heavy on his thighs, almost pushing his cock downward against it.
“Fuck, you’re so close, aren’t you?” Ricky murmured in his ear. “You wanna cum so bad.”
“Not yet,” Coach repeated firmly, though his own strokes on his cock were getting faster now. His eyes roved over Tom’s body.
“Drink,” Coach ordered, handing Tom one of the milkshakes. “You’re not done.”
Tom obeyed, swallowing slowly.
Ricky pinched one of Tom’s nipples hard, making him arch slightly. “Look at him, Coach. He’s so fucking close just from sitting here eating for us.”
Coach growled low, his strokes faster, precum slicking his hand. “He’s going to be enormous. We’re going to make him even fatter than this, Ricky.”
Ricky kissed Tom’s flushed cheek, whispering, “You hear that? Coach and I are gonna make you so fucking huge. You want that, don’t you?”
Tom moaned, nodding, his breathing ragged, hips jerking slightly as if trying to get off with just the motion.
But Coach barked again, “Not yet. Drink another shake.”
The three of them were rock-hard, desperate, edging together—and it was only getting more intense.
