Nothing good in life is free and Coach has decided it’s right about time for you and Ollie to pay back all the free shakes he’s given you.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This story was written as a paid commission. If you are interested in commissioning your own story from me, please see the [Commissions] page for more information!
If you and Ollie were left to your own devices, your dorm room would be a total pigsty. It’s bad enough as it is.
There’s a pair of shorts draped over the workout bench, a piss-stained jockstrap slung over the barbell. The air is thick with the scent of man and the heady musk of sweat and sex.
But Coach doesn’t like big messes. And you can’t afford to piss him off when he’s the only guy that can supply your addiction.
The shakes are your life now. They make your body hot, your cock hard, and your mind numb. A workout with a massive erection and no thoughts running through your thick skull just hits different.
And with every pound of meat you and Ollie put on, you burn through the shakes faster and faster. It’s gotten so bad Coach has to come every day with a fresh batch for you and even then you have to stretch them to last you into the evening.
You and Ollie have gained so much mass it’s starting to get difficult to move about. Your bodies are swollen with so much muscle you have to move through the doors sideways.
It’s not just your muscles that have grown. Your cocks are bigger, too. Thicker. More powerful. Your balls are heavier, heftier, and fuller. Every time you cum, you cum literal buckets.
And it makes the sex so much hotter. Especially in front of a mirror. There’s just something so indescribably arousing about watching your ass clench with every slap of your hips against Ollie’s.
You can never help but strike a couple of power poses. It might be vain but it looks amazing. It just makes you look like such a stud while you’re pounding him into the bed, floor, table, or whatever else you’ve decided to fuck on.
And then, there’s seeing the image of the both of you get completely covered up in sticky, musky white when Ollie cums.
It’s just so goddamn hot.
In fact, the sex is so good you scarcely do anything but fuck. You’re behind on your workouts, even!
Coach hasn’t said anything, though, so you figure it’s probably alright. It’s not like you’ve lost any of your gains; the sex itself is so wild and rough it’s pretty much a workout on its own.
Today is a weird one, though. After dropping off your shakes, Coach said he’d be back in the afternoon. Now, you and Ollie can’t help but wait for him like a pair of eager puppies.
Both of you meatheads jump when the doorbell rings and somehow, you just about beat Ollie to the door. You open it and Coach is outside. "Come in, Coach," you offer, but he shakes his head.
Ollie comes up, his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. "Is something wrong, Coach?"
Coach chuckles. He reaches past the threshold to pat Ollie on a firm, meaty muscle tit. "Nothing that serious, you big lug," he says. "I was just wondering if you boys were still willing to help your ol’ Coach out with the team and everything."
This is it. This is the moment. You look at Ollie and grin. "’Course, Coach!" you say.
Ollie nods, giving Coach his biggest, dumbest grin.
"Right then. C’mon, boys. I know just the place to put you."
"Want us to bring anything, Coach?" you say, pointing over your shoulder with your thumb.
Coach looks past the heft of your body into your not-as-messy-as-it-could-be dorm room and shakes his head. "Nah, boys. You won’t need anything where we’re going. Just make sure you’re looking decent—"
You and Ollie are both in tiny workout shorts. The most they accomplish is covering up your bulging packages. Your thighs are so thick they push the shorts up almost all the way to the waistband and your asses are so fat they hang out the back, the straps of your jockstraps peeking out from underneath.
You head out of the dorm, attracting no few eyes as you do. Dutifully, you flex, showing off your massive biceps and rock-hard muscle guts.
All the attention turns you on, of course. The shorts naturally get tighter. If not for your jockstraps you’d be spilling out of them altogether.
Coach’s tiny beat-up car rocks from side to side as you and Ollie cram yourselves inside. It takes a bit of finagling but eventually you manage. Between the two of you, there isn’t much space left in the back seat.
You might have fared better sitting in the front passenger seat but there’s a big box of shakes there. Oh well. You and Ollie don’t mind being pressed so close together, anyway.
"Feel free to get handsy, boys," says Coach. "But I only have one rule. No cumming unless I say so, got it?"
It’s not like you and Ollie need to be told twice. You’re all over each other as soon as Coach turns his back and starts driving. Well before, even. It’s just a bit of a squeeze.
"Quick stop for a delivery, boys," says Coach, startling you and Ollie from your heavy petting session.
He hops out of the car and picks up the box of shakes. He takes it up to what appears to be another student residence. He’s gone for a few minutes as you and Ollie fondle each other through your shorts.
When he gets back, he seems surprised. "I’m shocked you haven’t taken your cocks out yet, boys," he says, with a quiet laugh. "Go on. Get them out. The more desperate you are to cum, the better you’ll be able to serve the team."
That’s all the excuse you and Ollie need, naturally. You’re jerking each other off before Coach has even climbed into the car.
"Such a good pair of bulls you are," he says, with a laugh. "Right. Off we go to the farm, then."
You and Ollie are too into making out and edging each other in the backseat of Coach’s car you don’t even notice he’s parked until he bangs on the window. "Right, boys! You’ve had your fun. We’re here."
You and Ollie reluctantly pull apart. You grab your cock and stuff it into your shorts—with no small amount of effort—and step out of the car.
You’d thought Coach was talking about the school field or something when he said the farm but apparently, he’s taken the two of you to an actual farm. "Where is this place, Coach?" you say. "And where’s the team?"
Coach laughs. "This is where the shake is made, boys," he says. "And the team’s back home having some R&R before the game tomorrow."
You look around. The farmhouse is nice, you suppose. And there’s a pretty big barn a short distance away. "Then why are we here Coach?" says Ollie. "I thought we were going to be helping the team."
You nod along. You’re curious, too. But you’re also a bit distracted by a faint scent you can’t quite put a finger on.
"Silly boy, that’s exactly what we’re here for. Come on. Let me show you where we make the shakes."
You and Ollie follow Coach toward the barn. As you approach, that scent you picked up on gets stronger. It makes your cock twitch and it’s pretty clear Ollie has picked up on it, too.
You realize it’s the smell of the shakes and your mouth quickly begins to water. Ollie’s practically drooling all over himself and it isn’t hard to imagine why.
The scent just goes straight to your head, making your mind go all fuzzy. It’s like there’s a thick blanket muffling all your thoughts and before long you’re just mindlessly following Coach into the back of the barn.
There’s a large filling station inside. Every couple of seconds or so, a cup comes under the station and is topped off.
There’s an enormous stainless steel tank in the side of the room with a bunch of tubes feeding into the top. There are stairs winding up the side of the tank leading to a small platform for access to a hatch at the top of the tank.
There’s a big pipe feeding into the filling machine but, curiously, there’s another pipe that goes into the ground as well.
Coach grabs a pair of cups fresh off the assembly line and hands them to you and Ollie. As soon as he lets go of the cups, the two of you rip off the plastic lids and guzzle the contents, noisily gulping down mouthfuls of shake as some of it dribbles out of the corners of your mouth and down your neck.
"Such good bulls you are," Coach laughs. "Now come on. Time for you to pay back all the shakes I gave you for free."
Coach is much smaller than you and Ollie. Or is that the two of you have grown taller? You’re not sure. And you pretty much don’t care, anyway.
He places his hand on the small of your back. He does the same for Ollie. He pushes the two of you toward a large set of steel doors leading out into the rest of the barn.
Coach fishes a remote control out of his pocket and points it at the doors. They slide open when he presses a button, revealing rows of stalls that go down the length of the barn.
Overhead is a mess of tubes—some filled with a milky white substance and some empty—that all lead toward the filling machine in the back of the barn. Three tubes dangle into each stall.
"Let’s get you set up first, Ollie," says Coach, leading your roommate to one of the stalls further down the nearest set.
"You, stay here," he tells you.
You wait patiently and obediently. Coach pushes Ollie into the stall and steps in behind him. They’re there for a few minutes. The only sign of activity you can make out is the jostling of the tubes that dangle into the stall.
Just as Coach starts walking back to you, the thickest tube leading into Ollie’s stall begins to fill with that strange milky white fluid. He doesn’t return with Ollie but you don’t even question it. It doesn’t even occur to you to question it.
All you can think about is serving the team, making Coach proud, being, as he said, a "good bull." So you don’t even resist when he places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the stall next to Ollie’s.
The inside of the stall isn’t anything you could have expected. There’s a padded bench inside, but it’s not just any bench. You recognize it from porn. A spanking bench. With places to put your hands and legs. Restraints, too.
"Go on, bull. Climb on," says Coach, gently rubbing the small of your back. "Make Coach proud."
Your nostrils flare, lungs filling with the sweet, musky, delectable scent that’s thick in the air. Your head gets fuzzy. Your thoughts—what little you have at this point—scatter altogether.
You walk into the stall, eyeing the fuck machine set behind the bench. You might have found it concerning, once, but the wariness just slides off your empty mind, failing to find any purchase.
With a broad, dumb grin you clamber onto the spanking bench. You keep still as Coach straps you in, and all you do when he rubs his rough, calloused hand over your ass is to lightly pull against your restraints.
Coach vanishes behind you. Tied down as you are, you can’t look over your shoulder to spy on what he’s doing, but you can hear him humming.
You can also just about make out the noise of him adjusting the position of the fuck machine. It doesn’t take long, either, before you feel the blunt head of the rubber cock at the end of the machine’s arm pressing against your hole.
Coach walks back out in front of you and crouches down. You can just about see what he’s doing and it seems he’s fiddling with a small metal box under the bench.
He reaches inside the box and pulls out a dildo gag with a tube attached to it. "Open up, bull," he says, and you obey without a second thought.
Coach pushes the gag into your mouth. You choke a bit as it slides down the back of your throat, seemingly longer than you imagined it would be. The heft of it rests on your tongue, pinning it to the bottom of your mouth.
After he buckles the gag around your head, Coach leans down and flicks a switch in the side of the metal box under the bench. There’s a quiet whine before the transparent tube leading to the gag begins to fill with thick white fluid.
It flows from the tip of the cock gag and slides down your throat, straight into your stomach. But it seems there are holes on the sides of the gag as well because some of the liquid spills onto your tongue.
The taste of it fills your senses. It’s shake. Rich, creamy, salty-sweet shake. You eagerly gulp down every mouthful that pools on your tongue, massaging the length of the cock stuck down your throat.
As the shake fills your stomach, a muffled groan spills from your lips. Coach smiles and pats you on the shoulder. "Good bull," he says.
He reaches under you and does something that makes the back half of the bench fold down. Only your chest rests on the padded surface, now.
And Coach doesn’t do it a minute too late. The rubber cock shoved down your throat continues to pump you with shake—even when your stomach feels like it’s already filled to the brim.
More and more shake is forced into you. Your muscle gut swells and stretches as you whine and groan into your gag.
The skin around your middle stretches taut as your swollen belly dangles under you. You look almost pregnant, your shake-filled abdomen wobbling with every move.
Coach then grabs the waistband of your shorts and underwear and pulls them down. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out a knife, cutting through the fabric to leave you naked.
You’re so hard your cock brushes up against the swollen mass of your belly. "Such a pretty udder you have, my good bull," says Coach, stroking the underside of your cock as he reaches over to a metal box up on the wall.
Coach opens the small door on the metal box and retrieves what appears to be a milker. It’s attached to the tube leading up into the ceiling.
He slips the end of the milker over your cock and flicks a switch. The rubber at the end suctions to the base of your dick and it begins to pulse and stroke your length.
A muffled moan spills from your lips. It feels so good. And since Coach didn’t allow you to cum while you were making out and jerking off with Ollie on the car ride over, you’re pretty much on the verge of bursting.
Coach returns with two more tubes, smaller ones these time. "Your tits won’t be producing milk for a while yet, but we might as well put these on, yeah?" he says.
He cups your firm, muscular pecs from the side. He squeezes them, pushing your erect nipples out so he can affix the cups on the ends of the tubes to them.
You groan as the cups begin sucking on your nipples immediately. They’re synchronized as reverses of one another. One sucks as the other releases, sending waves of pleasure through your body that begin to blend together before long.
It’s enough to take you over the edge. Or it would be if Coach didn’t smack you on the ass and say, "Hold it, bull. Not yet."
With a desperate whine, you fight the orgasm down tooth and nail. A little bead of white escapes your cock and gets sucked up along the tube but other than that, you manage.
"Good bull. It’ll be hard if you start coming before I work this thing into you," says Coach. A heartbeat later you feel something cold and slick dribble down your ass crack, followed by Coach’s fingers rubbing them in and around your tight hole.
"Oh yeah. Nice and virgin tight. That’s some good stock right there."
Coach pats you on the ass again.
"It’s the ass-virgins that tend to respond best to this, so, you’re in luck, bull."
You hear the lewd wet sounds of Coach lathering up the dildo on the fuck machine. Then, you hear the flick of a switch, and hardly even the blink of an eye later you feel the pressure of the rubber cock pushing against your hole.
"Just relax, bull. Push out. That’s it."
A muffled gasp spills out of you as the head of the dildo slips into your ass. It burns as it stretches you, but all the pain does is add a delicious edge to the pleasure you feel already.
The lube is thick and incredibly smooth. Once the head is in the rest of the dildo follows easily, sliding inside you like your insides are made of silk.
You feel it settle in your fuckhole, giving you a moment to adjust as the velvety heat of your insides grips it tight. And then it begins to move.
It thrusts in and out of you by about half an inch, at first. It goes slowly, giving you time to get used to it. But it gradually picks up the pace.
You don’t know how long it takes. Everything just feels so goddamn good your mind goes blank. The next thing you know Coach is rubbing your ass, telling you what a good bull you are, and you feel the fuck machine jackhammering your hole and pounding your prostate.
"Good bull. Such a good bull. Now come. Give me some good milk for the team, yeah?"
That’s all the excuse your body needs. You come. You come hard.
Your balls draw up against your pelvis. Your legs shake. Your toes curl. Your fingers dig into the cushioned surface of the armrests as your back arches and you helplessly pump your hips into the milker attached to your dick.
Your stomach wobbles with every desperate motion you make as spurt after spurt of cum blasts out of your cock and into the tube. You can feel the shake sloshing around inside you, filling you with such perverse pleasure.
You expect the orgasm to end at some point but it doesn’t. Your balls feel as full as ever. Cum continues to gush out of you. The volume even seems to increase.
You’d moan if you could but you’re too busy gulping down more and more of that shake to replace the fluids you’re losing to your seemingly endless orgasm.
Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes into you and rolls over your body as the dildo in your ass fucks you with incredible vigor. Every time it pushes against your prostate, there’s a fresh gush of cum from the tip of your cock.
You cum hard. Over and over again. The pleasure builds and builds and builds until your mind scatters in the white-hot bliss of it.
Before you’re fully overcome by the pleasure, Coach slips a headset over your ears. Immediately, the outside world is cut off. You can’t hear anything. Not coach. Not the sound of the milker pumping at your cock. Not the noise of the fuck machine as it tenderizes your fuckhole.
It’s replaced by dead silence, at first. Then, by the sound of a gentle breeze meandering through a field. The rustle of leaves in the wind. The soft mooing of nearby cows. And another, louder moo. One that sounds as if it’s coming from you.
The last thing you see, before your mind succumbs to the pleasure, is Coach putting a blindfold over your eyes.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This story was written as a paid commission. If you are interested in commissioning your own story from me, please see the [Commissions] page for more information!