It's a Growing Sport part 1

(This is part 1 of the first extended story to be posted on the channel. This first part is available to all patrons and is also posted on bellybuilders, but the rest of the story will be patreon exclusive, and only available to the DadBod tier and higher. I hope you enjoy.)







I gotta admit. I really love football. I had tried out as wide receiver for my college team about a month back. I was ecstatic when I found out I made the cut. The coach had stopped me one day in between classes and told me the good news.

He was a little more than your average middle aged man. He was extremely fit for being 56 years old, at one time he had dark brown hair, but that had all began to fade to gray and he now sported a graying goatee. His arms and legs were powerful from all the heavy lifting and squats in sure he did every morning and night. His chest was built well enough that his white polo shirt hugged his obviously muscular pectorals, the stretchy fabric curving to their form. I was also petty certain he had a six pack set of abs. His red gym shorts reached to just above his knees, and hid his well built thighs. Though when he walked you could see the muscles in his calves flex nicely. Aside from his white sports sneakers, he wore a red ball cap with a bulldog embroidered on it, our school mascot. And the typical whistle hanging around his neck. A total daddy of a man, with beautiful green eyes.

During practices I found it difficult to keep from eyeing him. Especially when he'd bend over to pick something up, and his shorts would accentuate his strung bubble butt. I usually got the wind knocked out of me from a tackle at this point.

After a few months in the team I was growing bored of my wide receiver position. I was 5'9", 145 lbs. I was slim and quick. But I wanted a change, I wanted to be able to shrug off a hit, not be lying on the ground for minutes after being tackled.

My dad had been a linebacker in his college days, with how big and beefy he had been, and he only expanded over the years, growing not only thicker muscles but also a gut that protruded over his belt. He was a real man. 5'10", and 345 lbs of beef. I wanted that, to have that kind of physic, but without such a big gut. When I spoke with my dad over the phone about my interest in being a linebacker, he suggested I spoke with my coach and a possible routine to help me bulk up a bit. I was all too eager.

I did my best to calm my excited nerves as I approached coach's office, which had a door that lead into the team's locker room. He had windows allowing him to look in on us, to make sure we weren't causing any sort of mayhem. Though he had blinds he lowered every now and then. I knocked as I leaned in through the open door.

"Hey coach, can I talk to you for a moment?" I said, trying my best to calm my excitement of speaking with him face to face and not while surrounded by the rest of the team.

"Hey there, Fletcher. Sure, come on in." His baritoned voice brought me some much needed comfort as he said my last name. My full name was Tyson Fletcher, but coach always used our last names for some reason. Typical coach I guess. He sat behind his typical black and brown desk, arms flexing as he typed away on his keyboard. The room lined with trophies from games won over the past several years. Bats hung from one wall, while footballs stood on stands on a shelf on another wall. As I sat in the chair across from him, he locked his fingers and rest his hands on his desk. He looked at me with a grin, the grin that only accentuated his handsome. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well," I rubbed the back of my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I've kind of been growing bored of being a wide receiver, and was wanting to try being a linebacker."

"A linebacker," he questioned, surprise visible on his face. "That's the front line. You'd be taking really heavy hits, boy. No offense, but with your physic you'd be crushed."

"I'm aware," I nodded. But I wasn't going to give up. "Which is why I talked with my dad, and he said to talk with you about figuring out a possible routine to help me bulk up."

"Ah, your father was great linebacker when we were back in college," he said with a nod. He brought his hands up and brushed a hand across his gray goatee. "I suppose I could help you. But it'll be tough. It's a lot of working out, more than what you're already doing. It'll also involve a lot of eating. You'll basically be doubling your daily calorie intake. Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"

"I'm willing to give it a go," I said with a shrug. "I want to make my father proud. As long as you're there to help me push myself, I'm certain I could do it."

He gave an approving nod. "Okay, I'll start putting together a scheduled routine, and I'll have it ready for you after tomorrow's practice. I also already have your number from your file. I'll be calling you every now and then to meet up for lunch or dinner every now and then. If you're going to do this, I'm going to make sure you do it right. You'll be my personal project. Are you okay with spending extra time with your coach?"

My heart did a flip in my chest. I was so excited I almost jumped out of my chair. But I had to keep my cool. Had to refrain from showing too much emotion. Instead, I smiled, but was pinching the back of my hand below the desk. Just checking to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"I'm totally okay with that. You're taking time out of your day to help me. I greatly appreciate this, coach. Thank you."

"It's not a problem. I'm eager to help," he said with a smile, this time showing teeth. He then flicked his wrist, gesturing toward the door. "Now get out of here. I'll have a layout for you tomorrow."

"Thank you again, coach," I said as I stood and headed out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."