TANK
By
NWBearHunting and
JB
Kind of groggy... coming out of a sleep...
not one I entered into knowingly. I try
to move and well, I cannot ... Went
home with this really hot man...Sweet man, mischievous smile, nice chest. He told me he was glad to see me drinking
water at the bar, and that started things off. Then we were making out and he
was rubbing on my gut, and well ... man, the rest is kind of a blur... The room
is dark, and I am on some sort table, well, not exactly I am in a sitting
position - reclined ... let me try to describe it for you...
I am naked. My legs are
spread far apart and strapped over the calf and thigh in a contoured rest. My ass is right at the edge of this table. It feels quite full. When I clench my ass
the plug moves inward. There is a support in the small of my back. It makes my belly protrude in the position
it is in. There is a wide band around my chest just above my nipples. My arms are in cradles similar to my
legs. Straps at wrist, forearm and
bicep. There is a support under my neck and my head is strapped in a similar
cradle across the forehead. My mouth has a thick piece of rubber strapped in.
There is something sticking though the gag and if I try to move my tongue it
touches it. Didn't plan on this. I have know idea how long I have been laying
there or where the hot stud went... Still very groggy... and well... ...
... ... snore ... ....
I awaken to his hand
rubbing my belly again and that smile again.
He starts licking and rubbing on my gut. Kissing it. Fuck, the
stud is making love to it. He looks up
again and raises his eyebrows. The
chair start to move... startles me a bit... he rests a reassuring hand on my
gut as I arrive in an upright position.
He doesn’t talk much just smiles as he lifts a glass of water and pours
it into a large funnel above my head. He then slowly turns this lever and the
water trickles slowly down the hose and into my mouth. He tells me, "Tank, you can stop it
with your tongue when you need to, but you are drinking all that goes in the
funnel." That smile again! ...and Tank? What is this Tank, shit?
I let the water flow in
and begin to swallow... the smile gets bigger the more I drink... He pours more
into the funnel... rubbing on my belly the whole time. This continues until I have finished off
four glassfuls. He reaches over and
grabs hold of something.. I see it is a tape measure and he takes the
measurement... winks and proceeds to fill me with the contents of two more
glasses of water.
He turns off the lever,
and steps between my legs... he begins to massage my belly with this hands...
kneading it like bread dough. Kissing it, pressing on it, rubbing it, focused
totally on the belly. He eventually
stops and grabs the tape again.
Measures. The smile
disappears. He shakes his head. "The Tank needs more!"
He steps from between my legs and fills the funnel again. Opens the lever in the tubing and the water
floods my mouth. The smile returns.
His hands rub the belly as the contents empty into my mouth. I see him lift the gallon jug and empty the
remains of it into my funnel. I
eventually finish up the water. He
turns the lever off. "First
gallon... Good job, Tank" He
levels the chair and I am now on my back, ass a bit up in the air. "Tank, now for the other end."
Well, I have had an
enema or two in my day... so this might not be all that bad, I can take a lot
up there. Smiling, he steps between my
legs and makes sure the plug in place properly. I am waiting... it is going to
be cold or hot... fucker going to get me drunk with a wine enema... He bends over and starts to pump up and down
on this handle with both of those beautiful arms... the veins standing out as
he grips the handle... it appears to be a pump of sorts... still waiting for
the water, but only feeling pressure. and the pressure increases with each
pump. Is filling me up with air? Fuck!
About 15 pumps into the inflation he stops and begins intently to massage the
now bloated area. More kneading ... serious kneading ... me the receptacle for
the water and the air ... his sole job to fill the Tank up.
He measures the tank
again... the smile disappears once more.
He adds more water to the funnel and opens the lever... the water
descends into the tube. I stop it with my tongue; he is rubbing my belly
waiting for the water to fill me more. I won’t let it in. He grabs my balls and starts squeezing them
with very steady pressure. More and more until I let the water in... he keeps
his grip on the balls until I have emptied the funnel. He fills it again and once again squeezes
the balls. "Fill 'er up!" the
squeeze gets more and more intense as the water trickles in...
*********************************
By increasing the
pressure on the testicles, I was finally able to force the tongue off of the
tubing, resuming the steady flow of water into the tank. "Tank, shit", I laughed to myself
now. I'd known this was gonna be one hell of a job when I first spied the tank
downing water at the bar earlier that evening, but I'd hardly been prepared for
this. "How much more can this tank take?", I thought, checking the
swelling ball before me. Thats what the
fuck it was....the description had stuck in my head at first
sight...tank....the tank of some big brute machine..."The poor guy,"
I thought, smiling, as I also checked the valves and tubing....good no
damage. Looked like the pressure to the
balls was working..."Fill 'er up!", I sounded as the filling
continued.
**************************************
There had been
quite a few guys at the bar that night.
Most of
them passed by me unnoticed. I knew exactly what I was looking for
and I had been planning and preparing for a while. Now, it was just a matter of
watching and waiting. I was prepared to be patient...it had to be just
right...the receptacle had to be just right.
I had gone to the
back bar to get a drink when I noticed a group of guys standing over by
boot-shine chair. One of the local
"tops" was getting his boots done, boy by his side, while several
guys looked on, cracking jokes, drinking beer, and cruising each other.
They were the "big
boy" set, for sure, each one probably at 225lbs or more. "Perfect," I thought to myself as
I claimed one the barstools, "I just might have hit paydirt...". I ordered my drink and settled down to
observe the group. "Damn, those
are big guys," I said under my breath as the bartender served my
drink. "Yeah," he responded,
overhearing my comment, and subtly pointing toward the group, "Check out
the guy right there." I followed
his gesture over toward the wall, where I noticed a figure standing partly in
the shadow. As my eyes adjusted better
to the dim room, I began to get a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach. A small rush of excitement, at first, that
increased in intensity as I started to make out the features of the figure that
the bartender had pointed out. I noted
that the stranger kept one hand on a large bottle of water that he drank from
at pretty frequent intervals, and in apparently large quantity, as I was soon
informed by the bartender. The
stranger, I was told, was on his 6th bottle of water and didn't really show
signs of slowing down.
"Impressive," I nodded at the bartender, smiled, and then
continued to eye the stranger.
The figure was
wearing black boots, a faded pair of Levi 501s lashed to a thick trunk with a
wide black belt, and a sleeveless flannel shirt that showed off massive
tattooed arms. I noticed immediately
that I could not see the buckle of the belt.
The excitement increased. I suspected that the prolonged water drinking
was taking its toll on the leather and also forcing the buckle up against the
underside of the... ....thats when the word hit me. "Tank!", it flashed in my head,"...a big ol' tank
getting all filled up....". I
watched in awe as the 6th bottle was downed and the figure started to move
toward the bar. As the tank approached,
I made a point to make eye contact and then give a small nod and a slight
smile..."Let the games begin," I thought to myself as the tank noted
my presence on the barstool and returned the nod.
The bartender
already had the bottle of water on the bar and I already had the buck fifty
waiting in hand, which I quickly gave to the bartender. "Hey,
thanks," the tank growled as it grabbed the bottle from the counter. "No problem," I replied, "You
look a bit thirsty there." The
tank smiled, nodded, and then began to attack the 7th bottle of water like it
hadn't had a drop in days. As the tank
stood in front of me, chugging water from the bottle, I confirmed my suspicions
about the belt buckle. The large belt
circled around to outline a strong but slightly bowed back and then returned up
front only to dive under a round solid gut that I could almost see expanding as
the 7th bottle was poured down a thick muscular neck. The chest and shoulders of the tank were massive and strained the
fabric on the flannel shirt...but that magnificent gut was what caught my full
attention. I continued to watch as the
last drops of water were drained from the bottle and the tank took in a large
breath of air. I could see the pull on
the shirt and the slight movement of buttons as the tank inhaled after polishing
off the bottle in mere seconds.
"Damn! You WERE
thirsty," I exclaimed as the tank set the bottle back on the counter. The tank nodded, let out a belch, and then
prepared to order up another container.
I knew at this moment that I needed to make a decision and then act
fast. "Never saw anybody down one
like that," I interjected. The
tank turned toward me with a big smile, seemingly pleased with the
observation. I smiled back and stood up
from the barstool. "Good to see a guy drinking water," I continued,
gauging the tank's expression. It
nodded again and walked closer to where I was standing. The tank slapped a meaty paw on my chest and
smiled wider. I was taken by surprise
at first, but quickly sorted out the tank's intent. "Excellent," I though to myself, "seems to be
interested." That was all I needed
for the moment. Before I knew it,
however, the tank had backed me into one of the dimmer corners of the room, one
big hand rubbing my chest and the other on my crotch. At that moment, I felt the swell of the tank's belly push up against
my own chest and stomach. The gut felt
firm and I couldn't help but place a hand on top of the water filled sphere now
pinning me to the wall. The tank's
massive chest was partly exposed and I could trace a line of fur from the chest
down to where the gut started to protrude from beneath the tank's massive
pecs. The shirt buttons in use were
still operational but definitely looked overworked. I proceeded to rub the top of tank's swollen gut with one hand
while attempting to discover the location of the lost belt buckle with the
other. The buckle was still intact but
pressed firmly against the underside of the tank's full belly. The belt leather sqeaked as I tugged at the
buckle, allowing it to adjust further down toward the tank's waist and permitting
the pumped gut some extra room. My
other hand discovered that a thick layer of muscle aided in containing the
large quantity of liquid that the tank had poured into itself. My nickname for the brute seemed more and
more fitting, and I knew I had to find out how much this tank could take.
"Woooof,"
I growled as I removed my hands from the tank's gut. "I think were both
gonna need some water to cool off with now," I said, excusing myself for a
moment. The tank moved back slightly but
made me squeeze between the wall and…
*********************************
Piss! I need to piss! Okay - the pressure had been building up in my bladder for some
time now. All this water, air, and massaging ... well ... ""I need to
piss!" A big smile crossed his
face. "Do you, now", he grinned.
He brought over a pitcher and grabbed hold of my cock, he told me to
relax. I finally was able to release
the piss into the pitcher. I pissed for
a long while. Once finished he shook
off my cock, and took the pitcher over to the sink and began measuring out the
piss. My piss almost filled two of the
glasses he was using to pour the water in.
"Okay, Tank. Here is the
deal. I need to replace every glass you
piss out with two to keep you at the same level." He filled the glass with water and lifted
it to the funnel.
One ... Two ...
Three... Four more glasses filled the funnel.
Four more glasses into my gut.
The smile returned to his face as he massaged my now stretching
belly. He applied lotion to my belly
and began to work it in. "Tank,
this will make the stretching much easier on you." Stretching?
How much more was he going to pour in me? His massaging and lovemaking to my gut increased as the size of
it increased. After a while, he picked
up the tape and measured again.
Apparently, he was still not satisfied with the results. There was about one-third of the gallon left
and he began to pour the rest of it into the funnel. His hands found my balls and began to massage and squeeze ... I
knew the routine ... swallow!
This was now becoming a
contest of "mind over matter".
My head was telling me "there is no way you can drink any more
water", and yet it still flowed in, my belly swelling under the invasion
of the liquid. Swallowing was getting
difficult, but my tongue and jaw ached from stopping the water, as did my
balls. So, swallow it was. And swallow I did.
More measuring ... More
massaging ... More kissing ... More water ... and more ball squeezing. The skin on my belly was taut... I could no
longer see my feet any more. I was
being filled near to full. I had pissed
3 more times by now, and was rewarded twofold for my efforts. He used the word "rewarded". Hardly.
Here I was laying here becoming as big as a blimp, and this smiling
fucker getting off on this. The belly
is tight and almost feels solid for all the fluid in it... my stomach is about
stretched to the limit. He thumps my
gut a couple of times. He cocks his
head to one side and does it again, as though he were tuning a fine
instrument. His concentration turns to
grin... he almost looks gleeful.
"Tank, you will be happy to know there is enough water in
you." I begin to relax, and then
he continues, "Air! Tank, you need more air!" He reaches for the pump and the inflation
begins...