The Program
Part 9
I spent most of my time on the field, in full uniform, practicing with a trove of equally built guys, who became increasingly confident with their skill and technique as time went on. I settled into the role of the quarterback, although I preferred playing wide receiver. Something about darting through a maze of brawny, muscular guys with charming smiles and intimidatingly wide shoulders just seemed perfect to me. With my bi- and triceps, and quads now huge and bursting from the uniform, I could throw the ball much farther and run much faster than I’d ever imagined before joining Pure Muscle Mass. Of course, I fucked Justin every spare chance I got. Sometimes our sessions went into the night, though they never cut into our sleep cycle. The wee hours of the night were always reserved for the milking machine, a sort of rule.
The coach reported my progress to Todd, who commended me when administering the drugs that kept the huge gains coming. I looked forward to our checkups, and the rush I always felt when I took the medications and Todd adjusted my harness to a new setting always motivated me to achieve more. Dick permanently standing at proud salute, it made me push myself harder and further at each workout, and after ten months, I was looking freakishly huge. Any coach in the tri-state region would be glad to have me, in fact, they’d probably pay.
Every piece of spare energy I had, I put into the practices and drills. Coach’s and Todd’s commendations would motivate me to push myself further, and each night as I was pumping out another load for our faithful GNC customers, I thought of the next day’s practice and just how I would circumnavigate that maze of muscle to score in the other team’s end zone. This became my raison d’etre, and, each night, as I felt my nipples giving up their delicious milk, I thought of some scheme to penetrate the defensive line on the next day.
I had become a football addict.