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The Freshman 150/Fat + Muscle, Part 3 (Conclusion)
🕑 Added 2021-09-29 20:10:24 +0000 UTC
May 15
Dwight Alston, the biology student who had created the formula used on Tucker, had never seen his brother so flustered before. Mike Alston had always been confident and self-assured, which is what made him a good coach, but now he seemed different that his usual self. “I just don’t know what to do, Dwight. The guy’s gone crazy!”
“Here, let’s sit down and tell me everything that’s been happening,” said Dwight, taking a seat on the couch in his living room. He looked a lot like his brother – around 5’8” and 180 pounds, but just a bit less muscular and a bit pudgier. He also had the same short dark hair but it hadn’t started thinning like Mike’s, which was unsurprising since he was only 19.
Coach Alston sat in a nearby recliner. “The first couple months were really good. Tucker was stronger, still devoted to football, and ready to make an impact on the field next year. He was a little cocky, but shit, I would be too if I had his new and improved body. But lately he’s gone way over the top – using my credit cards for clothes and alcohol and even a jet ski. Fucking anyone and everyone in sight. Telling his friends that it was me who made him big, and I will do the same for them. He doesn’t show any respect or listen to anything I say anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was so focused on getting the formula correct for changing the body that I didn’t consider the mental aspects that might change as well. Have you tried explaining to him what might happen if word gets out?”
“Yeah, like 100 times. He just doesn’t care. He figures he is too big and too powerful to suffer any consequences. Oh, and get this – the other day he said he wants a second dose of the formula.”
“You’re kidding?” asked Dwight.
Mike shook his head. “He’s mad that his growth has slowed down. He said he ‘only’ gained 20 pounds this past month and wants to keep getting bigger. I mean, the man has put on 140 pounds of mass during his freshman year of college, and he’s gotten ridiculously strong, but he is demanding more.”
Dwight did a quick calculation in his head. “So he’s 410 pounds already? If he got any bigger, could he still play? I mean, could he still run down the field?”
“Probably not, but like I said, he doesn’t care about football anymore. He doesn’t even go to class. He just eats, works out, and fucks. I doubt he will continue on the team next fall.”
“Look, I don’t have anything that can help right now,” said Dwight. “But if you give me a few weeks, I think I can solve your Tucker problem.”
June 15
Coach Mike Alston knocked on the bedroom door in the hotel suite. The place was huge and obviously cost quite a bit, and he should have been pissed that Tucker would try to charge it to his credit cards. But with his nightmare about to be over, he was actually in a good mood.
“Enter!” shouted Tucker from inside the bedroom.
Mike opened the door and was almost knocked over by the stench of sweat and cum. “Jesus, how long has he been in here?” thought Mike. He walked in to see Tucker sitting on the massive California King bed, with two other guys passed out face-down on the other side.
“Hey, Coach! Me and the boys wanted to have some fun this past week, but my little bed in the dorms couldn’t hold us all, so I rented us this room. Nice, right?”
“Very nice,” Mike replied. He estimated it must cost at least $600 or $700 a night, but again, still didn’t get upset. “Are you still living in the dorms since you dropped out?”
Tucker stood up and turned toward the giant full-length mirror to stare at his massive body. He ran his hands over his freakishly large chest and muscle gut, and then raised his arms into a double bicep pose. Huge beefy muscles popped up, but Tucker couldn’t bend at the elbows past the 90-degree mark because he was so enormous. He could feel his balls churn and his cock growing harder as he turned himself on. “I stayed on campus because all the hot guys I wanted to fuck were there. I’ve had sex with everyone on the football team, the lacrosse team, and the rugby team. Everyone wants me. I’m a fuckin’ muscle god.”
“But you’re not coming back to play football in the fall?” asked Mike.
“Nah, why would I?” asked Tucker. He turned toward his former coach and took two steps forward, shaking the floorboards as he moved. “I’ve got some of the richest men in the world offering incredible sums of money just to spend the night with me. I don’t need football anymore.”
“That’s disappointing to hear, Tucker. I had big plans for you next year.”
“Well, I guess I’ve outgrown them, Coach. Just like I’ve outgrown everything else. I put on another 10 pounds this past month, so I’m up to 420. Can you believe it? 150 pounds since the start of the year.”
Mike wanted to turn away, but it has hard not to look at Tucker’s amazing body, especially the man’s cock. It had to be at last 15 or 16 inches long and wasn’t even fully hard. “And you still want more, right?”
“Fuck, yeah!” exclaimed Tucker. “I know I’m already the biggest and strongest man on Earth, but you’re damn right I want more. I fuckin’ deserve more. I’m like a king who deserves tribute. A muscle king. I’m if you brought what I think you brought, I’m gonna turn into a muscle god.”
“Yeah, my brother finished it last night – think of it as a booster shot, Tucker. It should help rev up your growth again.” Mike pulled a small vial from his pants pocket, and Tucker greedily grabbed it from him. He popped the top open and gulped down the contents.
“I don’t get it, Coach,” said Tucker after he finished. “Why didn’t you take it – or why didn’t you take the original formula? You could have had all this for yourself – all this muscle and power. All this size and strength.”
Mike shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Tucker smiled and grabbed his growing cock. “I think it’s cause deep down you’re a pussy. I think you like being frail and weak. I think you don’t have big dreams or big desires but would rather a real man like me tell you what to do. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s definitely not it, Tucker.”
Tucker took another step forward until his elevated dick was right in front of his coach’s face. “Sure it is. You like being a weakling.”
“I’m hardly a weakling. I can bench 250 pounds, which isn’t…”
“250 pounds? Fuck, my cock could bench that much. Face it, Coach, you’re not a real fuckin’ man. You’re just a…”
Before Tucker could finish his sentence, he started to feel a little dizzy. He dropped the vial and put his hand on the dresser nearby to steady himself.
“Is it working already?” Tucker asked. “This is more intense than the first time.”
Mike took a few steps back to get out of the way of what was about to happen. “Yeah, my brother says this formula will be a little different than the previous one.”
Tucker’s erection began to soften, and he staggered backward and sat back down on the bed. "I can barely move," he said. “I think something is wrong.”
“No, I think for the first time in months, everything is going right,” said Mike.
Tucker’s head was spinning now, and he began moaning. “It fuckin’ hurts, Coach! I don't know what you did to me, but I’m gonna fuckin’ murder you…and your brother.”
Suddenly, Tucker’s body began to change. His cock had shriveled so much you could now longer see it between his legs, and his powerful muscles began to fade. After another 15 seconds, Tucker’s belly began to grow larger and larger and extended further and further onto his lap. His chest, arms, and legs lost all their definition, along with all their sexy veins, and expanded as they grew fatter. His pecs ballooned with flab and began to sag, his ass blew up with cellulite, and everything about his softened.
"What is happening to my body!" Tucker cried. He flexed one of his arms, but there was nothing but jiggle – no more shape, no more strength, and no more power. " My muscles are all gone! I'm a total blimp now." He had to lean back to make room for his expanding pillow gut, and when he tried to reach down to feel his penis, all he could find was a fat pad that had suddenly appeared.
Now it was Mike’s turn to smile. “I told you this formula worked a little differently. Basically it turned most of your muscle into fat – you’ll have enough strength to walk around, just maybe not too far. You certainly won’t be bench pressing anything close to 250 pounds anymore, though.”
“You cannot leave me like this! I’m a fuckin’ blob! You need to change me back right now, Coach!”
“My days of catering you are over, Tucker,” replied Mike. “I gave you every opportunity to be a great man, and you pissed it all away, so I decided to take away the power you were given. You want to change your body again? Well, hit the gym like everyone else. It might be hard to find the time because you’re going to be super hungry and want to eat 24 hours a day, but maybe you can squeeze in some curls with the 2-pound dumbbells, if it doesn’t tucker you out too much. Ha – mybe that’s what we should call you from now on – Tuckered Out.”
Tucker struggled to get up, but his weakened muscles were no match for the immense amount of flab that had spread across his body. “Please, Coach, I promise to follow the rules from now on.”
“Too late, I’m afraid, Tucker. There was only one more batch of the original formula, and my brother took it this morning. Well, he took an adapted version of it so we can avoid the problems you created, but trust me, he’s already growing like a weed. I expect him to gain at least 200 pounds in the next few months – all of it rock hard muscle.”
“Your brother?” asked Tucker, now huffing and puffing as he talked. “The science geek?”
“The former science geek who is going to be the new star player on my team in the fall,” added Mike. “I’m going to spend the summer tutoring him on football, and he’s going to be the one on the cover of Sports Illustrated come August. You just wait – he’s going to a monster.”
“Please, Coach. Don’t leave me like this. I’m supposed to be a stud!” Tucker was almost in tears, but it was hard to tell with the sweat streaming down his brow, onto his face, and then onto his dropping pecs.
Mike was already heading for the door of the bedroom. “If you were supposed to be a stud, Tucker, you’d be one. But I think deep down you’re a pussy. I think you like being fat and weak. And I think you will enjoy having a real man tell you what to do from now on. Oh, and I cancelled all the credit cards you took from me before coming up here, so you’re going to need to find a way to pay for this little hotel excursion. Maybe one of your buddies asleep on the bed will help you out.”
The coach then turned and left the room. He knew where Tucker had parked the jet ski – the one he had paid for – so he figured he would grab his brother and go enjoy a few hours out on the water.
