25 bottles of beer on the wall

by Seth Peterson

A New Year’s frat initiation bears some very delicious fruit for newcomer Mateo!

Mateo had heard of the odd, somewhat shady initiation rite of the Sigma Upsilon Sigma fraternity, but never in a million years would he have expected he’d be taking part in it! Not surrounded by the most praise-worthy, drool-inducing, alpha-monster gods he had ever laid eyes on. Not a single boy in the frat was under six foot, and not one could have been under 200 pounds. Not with the incredible muscles bulging and swelling all over the place. And the boys knew how to rock it, too; tank tops, crop tops, and cut-off jeans let those shredded muscles bulge out every which way you looked! Mateo wondered how he fit in: barely five and a half feet tall, maybe 120 soaking wet, with a wisp of facial or body hair. His bronze Puerto Rican complexion added a touch of exotic appeal to his figure, but overall he had never thought of himself as a looker. And certainly not compared to these giant, gorgeous hunks. But if nothing else, he’d be glad of the eye candy. Especially on this monumental New Years Eve!

Now, as a 120-pounds-soaking-wet beanpole, Mateo was a little hesitant of the seemingly endless supply of Bud Heavies lined up before him. And the handsome grins of the massive boys all around him did little to hide the feeling that those grins had a little bit of naughty motivation behind them. Mateo was fairly certain he’d be turning himself inside out before the night was over…but compared to the infamous “goldfish incident” of Tau Alpha Phi, he supposed he was lucky to just be throwing up by night’s end. He looked to the huge, musclebound studs around him and nodded, grabbing the first beer and cracking it. He had some experience drinking, but his limit was usually about two to three beers…and there were WAY more than that on the table. Just how many was announced as the beefcakes began to pound the table and floors, familiar tune sounding out from their heavy baritones.

“Twenty-five bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-five bottles of beer! You take one down, you chug it down…”

They paused, and one motioned to Mateo. Taking the hint, he gulped nervously and began to chug. As much as he had prepared himself, the fragrant taste of chilled horse piss still made his nose crinkle. And yet, the bubbly liquid went down smoother than expected! Perhaps it was because he had built up a tolerance to the alcohol since joining the frat. Perhaps it was because his twenty year old body was more resistant to carbonation and booze than he knew. But most likely it was because Mateo was starting to grow. It was slow, gradual, unlikely to be noticed if one wasn’t looking for it. But it was there: a millimeter with each gulp, a fraction of a pound with every swallow. Mateo was so caught up in the frenzy that he certainly didn’t notice the imperceptible tightening of his clothes around his expanding frame. But he also didn’t realize that a feat of this caliber was meant to be paced…drinking twenty-five beers was a marathon, not a sprint. But alas, he had already cracked the second beer and was chugging as the boys sounded out in unison:

“Twenty-four bottles of beer on the wall! Twenty-four bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-four bottles of beer!”

And so it went! Mateo quickly realized his error, altering his pace so that the sheer volume of carbonation didn’t cause him to upend his stomach. And with every gulp, he grew. The minuscule amounts of height and weight quickly began to compound and add up…and the extra size helped Mateo push one more beer further, and then one more. By twenty beers, he was just over 5’8 and perhaps 150 pounds. His muscles were starting to define, any extra pudge melting into sculpted, defined musculature. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly enough to hint at a good exercise routine.

By fifteen beers, Mateo was starting to get lightheaded. The carbonated liquid was absorbing into his bloodstream quickly, and the fact that he had chugged ten beers in about fifteen minutes was a dangerous indicator of his mental capabilities. So it was no wonder that he barely registered the paper-thin quality of his shirt, or the painful digging of his slacks into his legs. Because Mateo was now six feet tall and just bordering on 185 pounds of solid, built, meaty muscle! The booze was beginning to give him the hint of a beer gut, but apart from that he was as carved and ripped as a mighty oak tree! With his rounded biceps, meaty pecs, broad shoulders, and pants-bulging quads, he would draw stares and give some shy smiles whenever he passed an interested party on campus. But such as it was, he was still tiny compared to the rest of the men…and so he kept drinking.

“Ten bottles of beer on the wall, ten bottles of beer! You take it down, you chug it down…”

Mateo was drinking quickly now, and the liquid was vanishing down his eager gullet without much problem. Any nausea had vanished as he had passed 200 pounds, and now he was as stellar a shotgunner as the most experienced boy in the frat! At 6’3, he was downright beefy. Like a powerlifter who’d spent a bit too long at the buffet, Mateo’s prominent musclegut was only offset by the handsome bronze muscles swollen all over his body. His clothes were tearing and ripping with every movement, and the holes in his fabric revealed hair follicles beginning to poke up all across his body! Even his face was beginning to develop some shadow, jaw hardening as stubble pushed up across his cheeks and chin. But there was no stopping now, not when he was that close!

But he did start to slow down after the twentieth beer, with only five to go. Even at his massive 6’5, 235 pound enormity, he was flagging. But with Mateo’s new body came a new confidence, his old personality perfectly mixed and blended into a newfound sense of power and ego. Nothing arrogant or annoying, but rather self-sure and experienced. And this experience told him that he’d finish the initiation without puking…he just had to take it a bit slower. The other boys were more than happy to let him take his time; by the time he was finished, he’d be one of the biggest men in the room! Mateo stood, the last shreds of his tortured clothes falling away. But he didn’t mind his nudity; these were his boys, and he’d be naked with all of them before the year was over, that much was certain. What harm was giving them a sneak peek? Pursing his lips, he put a hand on his enormous booze belly, grunting hard as he pushed. With a resounding ‘boom,’ the gut slammed inward into a set of rock-hard abs, the extra meat sending his cock rocketing out into a 10-inch salami as his balls dropped to the size of oranges!

“Four bottles of beer on the wall…”

Mateo’s back nearly doubled in width as his pecs oomphed outward into massive balls of muscle, giant meaty sacks of flour packed full of manly goodness!

“Three bottles of beer on the wall…”

His cock sagged to a full foot in length, balls drooping as they burgeoned to the size of small melons, pre already oozing from his soft python!

“Two bottles of beer on the wall…”

Mateo moaned loudly as his Adam’s Apple bulged, voice dropping three octaves instantly! His face scrunched as a handsome goatee sprouted on his lips and chin, chest and abs growing furry and dense with erotic hair!

“One bottle of beer on the wall…”

The final drop slurped down, Mateo clenched his mighty fists and rumbled happily, his frame quivering as he burst up to a whopping 6’8, his weight finally stabilizing at just under 260 pounds. Huffing for air, Mateo smiled warmly as his new frat brothers cheered in delight. Clapping him on the back, rubbing his dick good-naturedly, the hunks took turns congratulating him, a few older boys even giving him a long French kiss to welcome him in. Wrapping his enormous arms around two, Mateo chuckled deeply as he took in the scene, the campus bells just starting to chime out twelve. Oh yes…this would be a wonderful year indeed.

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