Meatballs

[manlion]

Hey guys. I've written a few stories like this in the past, but aside from a chapter here or there on CYOC I've never really posted anything anywhere, it's all been half-starts that never make it off my hard drive. Just wanted to experiment here a bit.

Hope you guys enjoy.

--

"I don't know about this, Brad.. Are you sure this was vetted with the superintendent?"

"Of course, Michael." The taller man was Mike's old college buddy, and where he'd gone on from college to get a teaching degree and settle down, his old dorm-mate had gone on to become a rep for one of the larger pharmaceuticals firms in the state.

Michael Redgrove picked up the glass jar, which was filled with what looked like spaghetti sauce. "So why like this? Why not a pill or an injection or something?" The other teachers had already left the lounge, where Brad had just presented the general plan for the next six weeks. Mike, as the wrestling coach, had his doubts.

Brad collected the paperwork from the conference table. "Has to be this. We found the material only works if it stays moist, which takes pills out of the equation, and per dose there's too much to inject without risks to blood pressure." Brad took the jar and shook it, causing a large meatball to emerge on the surface. "The best protein and enhancements are in the meatballs. All they have to do is eat one small bowl of pasta with this sauce on top, and two meatballs, every school day."

Brad closed his briefcase, and the two men headed out into the hall. "Plus, we found a nice kicker effect. Less than an hour before a meet, if they take a spoonful of the sauce and hold it under their tongue, they get an energy boost that's stronger the longer they can keep from swallowing."

"So I still don't get why we get to do this. We've been on the bottom of the regional wrestling rankings for four straight years, and they're so desperate.. I've been doing everything I can to keep them off steroids and that kind of junk."

"There are other teams on the same stuff. You'll pick them out sooner or later." Brad drew Mike in as they walked into the boy's locker rooms, stepping into the coach's office. "Look, everything will be fine, as long as you keep them on their doses. Make sure they get exact servings, no overdoses or cuts."

Mike brooded. "What about absent students?"

"You'll just have to ride them a little harder, Mike." Brad smiled. "Don't worry, they're going to love the effects, I'd be more worried about them trying to take a few jars home. You might want to keep the stock somewhere safe, lock it up or something."

Mike looked around his little office, normally sparse, currently packed to the rafters with crates of this 'supplement'.

Brad lowered his voice. "Look, I'm not supposed to do this, but take some for yourself. Try it, even if only for a week. I'm sure you're going to love the results." He flashed a sparkling grin as he spoke at a whisper. "I know I do."

---

Freddie bit into the burger.

"Bland, tasteless, and overcooked as usual?"

Freddie nodded, chewed, and swallowed. Fridayburgers were apparently a tradition in this school, dating past when his dad used to attend. He figured they probably used the same meat.

Edd sat down at the table next to him, and settled into his own tray. "So what did your dad say about this new program we're going to be starting next week?"

Freddie paused. "Mostly it's a special diet & exercise thing, I guess. He says we've gotta eat some special food on a daily basis, and he's going to step up on practice. He even cleared it with the rest of the teachers, for the next month or two we drop afternoon classes and just go straight into practice."

"Wait, we drop? Sweet! I was failing math anyway!" Edd bit into his burger with energy. "I always wanted to get some of those sweet jock-perks you see on TV!"

"No such luck. We all get shifted to a third lunch together, the moved out afternoons into special sessions during lunch. AND with practice three hours long now, I've *gotta* quit my job." Freddie worked at the local supermarket after school. Recent lapses in his work had been the result of post-practice exhaustion, he'd already been threatened by the assistant manager twice, one more would get him fired.

---

After last period, Freddie made his way to the parking lot as quickly as he could. No use in hanging around, the other guys didn't really pay any attention to him, and neither did the girls.

Only on the wrestling team did he get any attention, and that was mostly negative. Despite being the coach's son, he got no special treatment from his father. Still, that didn't prevent the rest of the team from treating him like coach's pet.

It wasn't his fault he was the worst guy on the team. He'd inherited his father's broad bone structure, putting him high in the weight categories, but unfortunately his father's muscle and agility didn't come with it, making him the weakest in strength and the slowest on the mat.

Still, he stuck with it. He never gave up and quit, which despite his poor ability was probably why he was never cut from the team. He did do pretty well against newcomers, but within a few weeks they'd learn his patterns and have him on the mat in seconds.

Freddie had told his dad he was considering dropping wrestling. They both loved the sport, and Freddie knew how much it hurt his dad, but they both knew how things were progressing. He was eighteen, and as a senior, he wasn't getting anywhere by sticking with something he failed at.

Michael had looked pained when he'd been told. His reply was halting, unsure. "Just.. Just wait another month. Give me that. Let's see how this program works out." Freddie had agreed, but he didn't have much hope for it.

---

Monday had come, as Freddie looked at the sphere of meat on his fork. It was a sickly yellow-brown, almost a wrinkled lump, and the tomato-sauce red didn't make it look much better by contrast. He bit into it.

Nirvana struck his tongue. Salty-sweet juices swelled over his teeth and made his mouth water even as he chewed.

He swallowed the rest of the meatball off his fork and dug into the rest. The sauce made the bland spaghetti taste amazing, it was that same juice from the meatballs that did it, he guessed.

Before he knew it, he found his entire tray empty, and despite hunting across it for the slightest remnant of sauce or meat, he came up empty.

He started to get up, to go back to the lunchline for seconds, only to see Edd returning already with a disappointed look on his face. A few other team members had similar looks as they settled down.

"No go, dude. Part of the special diet, says the Doris over there. I guess they can't keep us from junk food at home, so they keep us under wraps here."

Freddie looked around the room, noting the dozen or so wrestling students in the lunchroom. He'd never seen the room look so empty.

Suddenly he found himself counting ceiling tiles as his hand brushed across his lap and found his tent pitched. Fortunately he was wearing jeans; it wasn't obvious.

As his heartrate increased, he found his breath quickening. Edd was staring blankly at his tray, licking his lips, but Freddie was sure he could hear his own heavy breathing echoing across the empty room. A glance at the clock on the wall told him he still had thirty-five minutes before next bell and practice began.

Quickly, he made his way out of the lunchroom, heading for the nearest bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he went for a stall, only to slap himself as he realized the redundancy.

At this point his erection had only gotten harder, the stiff rod making an obvious lump visible in the mirror across his hip as he lifted his oversized shirt above his waist. He pulled off the hoodie and sat on it, putting some padding between himself and the stiff bench.

He pulled the zipper of his jeans down, agonizing as his dick pulsed and tingled. A visible stain had already appeared on his boxer-briefs.

WHAM! The door to the bathroom shook as someone slammed into it. Freddie jumped. He expected the person to knock on the door, but all he heard was the sound of feet running away down the hall.

He looked down, and found himself face-to-dick with himself. His cock had wormed its way out of his underwear, forcing the head out from behind the band. He shrugged, and pulled the band down under his balls, which seemed unusually sensitive and swollen today. Must be blue balls.

He reached up next to the sink and got some hand-soap, and was about to start to slowly stroke himself, when another BANG! resonated through the restroom. He jolted, but then began to convulse as his hand wrapped itself around his dick.

He gripped his dick like a joystick as he leaned back. Looking up, he noticed a mirror which filled the opposite wall, which had him as the front-and-center image. He kept stroking, watching his chest rise and fall in the mirror.

His breathing filled his ears, as he watched himself stroking. He'd never looked at himself in the mirror before, but couldn't take his eyes off himself.

He lost track of time sitting in that haze, but before he knew it was coming, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he found himself gripping the edge of the bench with his free hand. He felt a breeze rush across his skin, and realized he'd shot all over his torso, getting as high as his chest.

RRRRRINNGG!! The bell for next class rung in the hall outside, and he heard the rustle and murmur of students leaving their classes. As he cleaned up and pulled his shirt back on, one thought went through his mind.

What the *hell* is in those meatballs?

---

To Be Continued?

[scrawn]

great start! can't wait for the next part

[Maverick0095875]

agreed continue thids