Kent O’Kane wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t manly, as per his namesake implied,

Kent O’Kane wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t manly, as per his namesake implied, nor was he big and burly like all the other men in his family. The only thing he had in common with them was his hair, the vibrant shock of auburn on his pale skin spoke more of his heritage than he ever could with looks alone. The other thing he shared with his family though, was Rugby. 
The sport was basically entwined with his family history, the fields, ball and jersey weren’t unseen around his house and every weekend he would always accompany his parents, brothers and cousins to the nearest field. 
All the men in his family had participated, with some becoming teachers of the sport and others being dedicated enough to go pro nationally. Whatever it may be that separated them, Kent felt at least someone related to them men when they would stand and cheer or bemoan a referee’s mistake. 
It was because of them that Kent was currently dreading the next and possibly last few minutes of his life. There he sat, sitting on the side-line of the green field in the cold morning air. The green and white jersey hung loose and breezy on his thin body, the boots were donated from his too-big cousin and the rest of his attire was his brother’s, right down to the underwear. He had almost laughed out loud when he saw the white briefs with small green clovers, shuddering as they barely held themselves up on his small hips. 
It was his grandfather’s idea. The older man came down from somehow a more northern town, the man looking half his age and just as handsome. He was huge, a mountain of muscle and hair with a bright re beard covering his square jaw. He was a joyous man, a gentle giant but that didn’t mean Kent wasn’t intimidated and agreed immediately to avoid angering him. 
He had clapped him on the back and encouraged him, the younger nearly sent sprawling from the impact. “Don’t worry lad, you’ll be as big as your brothers soon as you hit the field!” Kent scoffed to himself, thinking of the words his Grandfather had said so assuredly. It was barely three minutes to the end of the game, the score at 30-35, Away side currently in the lead. The Away side, the team that had travelled however many miles to their small town to play against them, currently looked smug; as if to silently reassure their own presumption of victory. The game was vicious up until this point, the teams trading blow for blow, try for try as they passed, tackled and dodged their way across the turf. It looked even until Callum had been injured running to try and catch the enemy Wing, diving and re-damaging his already bad shoulder as he fell in a heap. He had been pulled off the field and onto a plastic chair that groaned under his weight. Kent thought he could maybe replace Jameson on Wing, but it looked like his coach was going to field him for Callum. Said man stood over a head taller and then some when compared to one another; the Prop forward being a wall of beef that had setup some of their best scores this season. To send out Kent as his replacement would be sending him to die. ‘Maybe Coach could swap us around? Nick could go into Prop and then-‘ “Kent, go on for Callum.” The coach snapped, not taking his eyes off the teams preparing for a scrimmage on the field, arms intertwined as they moved to position. Kent knew better than to question or interrupt the man. He ran on, his teammates raising their eyebrows at his arrival but said nothing, looks of disbelief coupled with exhaustion making their faces turn into scowls. He packed in, slipping beside Bryan M as Bryan G hooked into his other side. “You know what to do?” They both asked in unison, a quirk of theirs. Kent didn’t speak, busy putting in his mouth-guard and nodding. He grabbed onto the jersey, the wet and slippery material made him shudder. The smell of grass, rain and testosterone surrounded them in a haze. Kent felt strange as more people piled into position, like he was filling up with some kind of energy that he hadn’t felt before. He felt hot under his clothes despite the cold weather, looking to the side it seemed like none of his huge teammates felt the same. Looking forward led him face to abs with the enemy prop. He was going to open his mouth and say something when the call of the referee boomed out over them and across the field to the awaiting parents and friends. “Crouch!” 
Kent was yanked down along with his team as they lowered into a squat position, muscles taut and ready to push head on into the others. The feeling was worse now, the dull itch now a tingle as he felt a surge of adrenaline, it made his legs shake and feel something like anticipation mixed with anxiety. “Bind!” Kent reached up automatically, grabbing a fistful of the opposing prop’s jersey and twisting it. The other looked up and grinned, not in malice but amusement at his gusto. He did the same, moving his arm back and forth to see Kent sway slightly before planting his feet. They readied, heads aligned with the gaps in the others’ shoulders. Kent felt like he was buzzing, completely and utterly vibrating next to his teammates. “Set!” Their bodies rushed together, Kent assumed he was going to be crushed between the onslaught of weight but he tried his best to hold steady. He pushed as hard as he could with his legs, then harder still. His spine tried to fold but he straightened up and lowered his head, staring at the ground as the ball was rolled in. 
He felt like he was going to snap, to break in half and fall to a heap. He screwed his eyes shut, it was Even when they came together but Kent’s weakness meant they were slowly losing. Kent gritted his teeth, the feeling of someone’s shoulder pushing him from behind worsened the feeling. It built, moving until it was a crescendo and- Kent felt a massive throb down below, like he was paralysed in his legs and suddenly could move them again, like a wave came from the tips of his toes upwards and moved until it reached his hips. He dug in his heels and pushed onwards, the effort now somehow considerably easier. ‘Was he giving up?’ Kent thought, taking steps forward until the ball was eventually grabbed by their halfback. 
“Break!” Someone yelled, hands coming off of Kent as they dismantled and bolted across the field in record time. Kent was bewildered for a moment but followed quickly. He soared a glance down to his legs when he was met with something extraordinary. His legs looked more like his brothers, but also not. It was the same pale, freckled skin but now it was stretched taut over huge lumps of muscle that stretched his short legs and socks to the limit. He tried to wiggle his toes in the shoes but it felt so tight in there, now like they fit him too tightly over too loosely. Kent was aghast as he ran, these were the kinds of legs he would stare at quietly watching others train, the hard calves and thick, meaty thighs he would privately wish to suffocate between and need to readjust his pants for. Normally he would see an equally impressive pair of cheeks that rested above them but Kent felt no wobble or jiggle as expected. He didn’t have time to think though, confusion ebbing away to determination as he readied over his tackled player, needing to brace for the hit of the opposing player trying to bowl him over and steal the ball. The two Brian’s had already fended off the first wave of players but they were dispatched in the process, the only one standing between two players running towards his only chance at victory. He braced, one leg over his mate, Rory, who was huddled in the ground and trying to hand off the ball to another player. The two bodies his him hard, hands and arms wrapping around him as their momentum tried to topple Kent off his feet. Even with his new legs Kent couldn’t fight much longer against them. 
He heaved, bending precariously back as another body hit him from behind, one of their backline had joined in the efforts and had sandwiched him between the opposing forwards. Kent groaned with exertion but felt that same pressure build, he pushed and pushed, ha da snaking behind each of the two bodies as he have one final heave. The pressure that left him was electric, waves came through his shoulders and down his arms as they exploded in the shirt. Kent could vaguely see around their wide backs his hands had turned meaty and huge. Gripping their jerseys he hauled all four bodies to one side, throwing the two and himself out of the way as his backline received the ball. The impact landed the two men on top of Kent, the force of their weight on top of him as he hit the earth released another bout of pressure he didn’t realise was there. Kent felt his back all the way down to his legs pulse once, twice before he pushed himself from laying down to crouching, then standing. The others were on their feet as well, but instead of looking up at them, Kent now looked down at their dumbstruck faces, the gears whirring in their heads but not comprehending anything amiss. Kent took off running again, seeing the familiar motions of one final play forming. The referee blew the whistle, signalling there was one play left before the game ended. Kent’s biceps, triceps and shoulders stretched out to his sides, they were huge and covered in veins and looked like he could effortlessly lift any of his brothers, even his burly father now. Kent backed up and readied for a sprint, the halfback seeing what he was planning and decided on one last ditch effort to win. They shared a glance and a second became a lifetime, the ball suddenly springing out of his hands like a bullet as Kent ran to intercept the throw and keep running. He intercepted it, but there were a few members who anticipated this, a body running towards him from the front in an attempt to tackle. His shoulder made contact with Ken’s stomach but he palmed the other away, continuing his stride straight towards his finish line. Another stood, and several more were on their way it seemed. Cheers from the sidelines rang out in a cacophony of noise, parents and onlookers caught between holding their breath and cheering him on. Kent felt the next impact in his chest, the immediate result of his pecs jutting out and making his normally high collar show off the cleavage between them. He tried ripping Kent down to the ground by his shirt but failed due to Kent’s momentum carrying him onwards straight into his body. They collided, the other’s face practically motorboating him as he fell to the ground. Kent could have sworn that the other was blushing like mad. He ran further and further, the white halfway line passing him underfoot, then the ten metre. He approached, the enemy wing was right on him and Kent needed to make a decision. He dove, springing off the ground and into the air as he did the same, reaching to stop the ball from hitting the ground.
Kent outreaches him though, the impact with the earth sending him skidding along as the cheering turned raucous and the referee sounded his whistle, signalling Kent had scored a try and made the teams even. The fall released the final few knots still stuck inside, the opponent’s hand pulling him down coupled with the expansion left Kent’s ass bursting out of his pants, two huge bubbles turning the briefs into a jockstrap as they ripped the fabric down the middle. A similar predicament came with Kent now freeballing in the front of his shorts, his cock and balls now feeling like they were going to slip out of his pants leg with their sheer size and girth. Kent was surrounded by his team as they hauled him to his feet, cheering and congratulating him for the stellar play. They hugged and surrounded him, ruffling his hair and passing his pack, a few daring to give him a spank. Their bodies writhed against Kent as he straightened, the added testosterone seeping into his pores as his neck thickened. The stragglers appeared too, dunking water from the bottles over the team in celebration, even if they didn’t win yet. The liquid seeped through his already damp clothes, clinging to his body as the itchiness re-emerged slightly. Kent rubbed his jaw, the wetness of the water and added testosterone in the air making the bones reshape into a perfect pointy and angular masculinity. A carpet of red hair sprung up underneath the sodden clothes, making him much more like his brothers and their own hairiness. They hauled each other off the field to await the final kick, a final chance to snag some points and turn it from even to a win. Kent just wanted to shower, to see what he had become as the crowd formed. “Kent, bag!” He heard, turning to see his brother throw him a small fabric bag that he caught. He headed into the locker room, turning on the showers and quickly ducking under the spray. He rubbed his new body all over with some soap provided, feeling toe thick hair and square jawline, the ministrations making his loins stir as the newly fat cock began to get somehow thicker and longer. Someone cleared their throat behind Kent, who turned and recognised the face as being slightly familiar; the captain of the opposing team. He was a centre, powerfully athletic but smaller than Kent by a long shot. His body was thick with hard, large muscle but was outshined by the sheer bulk and beefiness of the redhead. He smiled cheekily, light brown hair seemingly combed perfectly despite the game they just played. Kent stared a little longer, taking in the light brown hair that was longer at the top, the big brown eyes and slightly tanned skin, the curve of his Cupid’s bow and the smooth jawline. “You played real well out there mate.” Came his voice, the expressed my British accent not unfamiliar to Kent. “Aye, as did you.” He replied, turning to face him and not missing the other’s not so subtle glance townward. “Name’s Leon, and you?” He asked, stepping out of his boots and pulling his shirt up, beginning to take it off. “Kent, though I’m sure my name isn’t what you’re interested in.” He replied, seeing the man take off his socks and shuck his shorts and underwear down in one go. “Nonsense, I just wanted to congratulate the man that won the game. Properly, that is.” Leon got with him under the spray, tilting his head upwards and teasingly flicking to Kent’s lips as he began kissing down his neck and pecs, latching onto his nipple and biting lightly. “Fuckin’ tease!’ Kent groaned out. Leon chuckled as he worked lower, moving until he got to his knees and massaged the already hard length. Kent’s member stood long and hard in his hands, the head still down turned as it was unable to harden and stand completely due to the weight. Leon tongued up the long, fat vein before taking the head into his hot mouth. Kent let out a curse and grabbed Leon’s hair with both hands. “You come to me and act like such a fucking tease. Take it and don’t complain!” Kent’s gruff words echoed through the room, the heady slurping of Leon drowned coupled with his heaving grunts rang in Kent’s ears. He felt his old self slipping away, seemingly growing and being replaced at least partially by the new Kent, the huge rugby player that was currently making Leon’s eyes roll back. He tucked hard and deep, abusing Leon’s mouth to the point he lacked a gag reflex anymore, just sitting and letting him pummel the velvet walls of his gullet and stretch his lips over the length. Kent was sure he’d look like he got into a fistfight by the time he was done, bruised lips and red cheeks from the snap of his hips, coupled with the tears in his eyes from the rough treatment. Kent furrowed his brows, the crowd outside building in anticipation as Brian G steadied the ball, a new one needing to be inflated after Kent had popped into the last one with his try. He ran the few steps, kicking the object and watching it soar through the air. The crowd erupted as did Kent with a guttural howl, shoving Leon against his pelvis as his balls unloaded pump after pump straight down his throat. Kent pulled out, Leon’s lips stretching some of the way was he sprayed the last few loads onto his face and hair. He looked thoroughly fucked, gurgling in pleasure as Kent came down to lift him to his feet and kiss the captain. He swallowed the rest as the crowd came down from their high, walking off shakily and combing the leftover cum into his hair like gel. “Thanks for the fuck mate, felt amazing!” He said, though his voice was hoarse. “Left my number in your little bag, if you ever want to catch up again. Some of the guys want to meet you too, Kyle’s particularly interested in your tits.” He called out, slipping through a small door and into the other shower room attached to the Away team’s changing quarters. Kent signed, contentedly washing up and wrapping the towel around his waist as he went to his bag, unable to resist snapping a picture and sending it off to the number Leon left, as well as the one Kyle apparently scribbled on. Turns out Kent O’Kane really was something special. -- source link

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