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A Six-Pack of Sweetbeer
| The first legal booze purchase my boyfriend Kyle made when he turned twenty-one was a six-pack of Sweetbeer. I should probably explain something: Kyle and I had come out to each other about the gainer/encourager thing six months after we'd started dating. It had been scary for both of us, but also kind of a relief to discover that we weren't each the only person in the world like that. In the two years we'd been together since, we'd both made attempts at gaining, and had had some hot pig-out sessions, but even when one of us managed to add five pounds, it always seemed to melt off as soon as we'd gotten used to our pants getting tight. We'd heard about Sweetbeer from a buddy of ours who was on the football team. He said it had helped the entire offensive line put on a minimum of fifty or sixty pounds. He'd never been skinny, but after three months of training, he'd grown an immense ball-belly, and you could see that some time at the gym had added a good amount of mass onto his arms and chest as well. We'd been looking around for Sweetbeer ever since. However the football team's trainer had gotten his hands on it, we didn't know. Neither of us had a fake ID, so we weren't quite sure what we'd do if we'd found a store that carried it. Thankfully, Kyle's birthday coincided with us finding a store that carried it two towns away, so he set off from our apartment the afternoon of his birthday, while I stayed behind and worked on his birthday cake. Truthfully, if the Sweetbeer worked half as well as we'd heard, neither of us would care about the cake. ** I don't know what I was expecting it to look like, but when Kyle set the six-pack on the kitchen table, all I saw was the same kind of beer bottles that I would have seen on a six-pack of Bud. Okay, so they were a bit bigger around than normal beer bottles, and when I looked closely, the Sweetbeer logo did appear to be vaguely like a guy with a pretty solid beer gut. “How do we do this?” I asked. “I'm not even entirely sure,” he answered. “I guess one of us has to be brave enough to take the first sip.” “Birthday boy first,” I said, a naughty smile on my face. He grinned back. He grabbed the sixer, and then flopped down on our living room couch, gesturing me over. I took my usual place, and he snuggled up against me. He pulled a bottle from the pack, twisted the cap off, and then stopped and stared at the lip of the bottle. “Do you honestly think something is going to happen?” “I think the only way we're going to find out is if we start drinking.” He took a deep breath, raised the bottle to his lips, and took a tentative sip. He must have liked it pretty well, because before I could even believe it was happening, he'd trained the whole bottle and was reaching for a second. “Dude, that was amazing. I'm going to drink another one, and then you can have two, and then we'll have the last two together at the same time.” The second bottle went down his throat even faster than the first. After he finished it, he lazily rubbed a hand across his midriff and snuggled into me more closely. The Sweetbeer had to be really strong stuff, because he already seemed pretty tipsy. “Feel this,” he said, guiding one of my hands across his abdomen. His stomach felt warm, and a little bloated. I could feel the Sweetbeer sloshing around slowly inside his stomach. As Kyle started nuzzling my neck, the heat of his stomach got even hotter. And then, though I couldn't quite believe it, I felt his belly start to curve out under my hand. He had a look of sheer rapture on his face. His expanding gut quickly became far to large for his button-down shirt. No time to spare, it was quickly sacrificed to his bulging belly. Buttons popped off one after another, flying across the room with astonishing force. “Dude,” he said. “I'm huge!” I rubbed my hands over my boyfriend's round belly, amazed, and more than a little aroused at the hard, smooth skin. “This is so incredibly hot,” I said, glad I was sitting, because I could tell my knees were weak. Kyle reached for the sixer, and pulled out another bottle. “This one's for you, baby. I can't be the only big guy in this house.” He didn't need to tell me twice. I twisted the top off the Sweetbeer, and raised it to my lips. It had the most amazing taste, thick, and sweet like honey, but finishing off like actual beer. I downed the entire bottle in a single gulp, and before I realized what I was doing, I'd finished my second bottle as well. Time seems to start running really slowly. I felt light-headed, not really drunk, but far from sober. “Hold on, baby,” I said, “I need to see something.” I made for the bathroom as quickly as I could, feeling the Sweetbeer warming up my stomach. I hopped on the scale quickly, and saw the numbers flash the same 165 that I'd seen that morning. I got down, puzzled, when a wave of pure ecstasy wash over me. I saw my own belly swell, pushing outward quickly, and saw the hem of my t-shirt creep further and further up, too small to contain my growing gut. When things seemed like they were about finished, I pulled my way-too-small for my belly t-shirt off, and got back on the scale. 205 pounds. Damn. “Hey, baby,” I called out, “Are you ready to meet Big Dave?” I followed my heavy, hairy gut back into the living room. Kyle's eyes were about to pop out of his head. He'd taken the opportunity to get out of his pants that were clearly too small for his big belly, and he stood there, wearing nothing but his gut, a smile, and a pair of boxer-briefs that were struggling to contain a massive erection. With some effort, I stepped out of my own pants, and realized that down underneath my gut, my cock was just as hard as Kyle's. “Baby,” he said, “This is so hot.” He walked over and bumped his gut into mine, and then gave me a big, sloppy kiss. “Happy birthday, big man.” He reached down and grabbed the last two bottles of Sweetbeer. He handed me one, and kept the other for himself. We twisted the caps off, and clinked the bottles together in a toast.” “To our continued quest to expand our horizons,” he said. “I'll drink to that,” I replied, before chugging the beer and sending it down into my big belly. Source: http://www.beefyfrat.com/Library.cfm | |
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