Brad, the groggy-looking jock, shook his head as the retarded service guy with a stutter left.
He had a big party to prep for and that guy would have totes killed the vibe. Brad took a shower and prepared for the night. Sure, he had homework to do, but he paid someone to do it. He finished showering and ordered a keg. They guy said he be by at 9.
9 o’clock came and he was still waiting on the keg. It was supposed to be here by now! Out in the back, the party was just getting started, music thumping throughout the frat house. Everyone was waiting for the keg. Brad fumed.
Chris, another jock with blonde hair and an easy smile, walked out to stand next to him.
“Still waiting on the keg?”
Brad nodded mutely.
“Damn.”
Just as they spoke, a truck pulled up. Brad’s spirits lifted. It was the guy from the Liquor store!
“Ah speak of the devil.” Chris smirked.
The driver hefted a keg onto a cart and rolled it to them, dropping it off next to Brad.
“Take this one. Bring some bros back and get the other kegs.” Brad ordered.
Chris nodded as he hefted the keg. It was clearly heavy. Chris tipped the keg over and rolled it to the back. Brad sighed while Chris disappeared around the side of the house, thankful that things had worked out.
“Ahem.”
Brad looked up and saw the delivery man with two more kegs and his hand out. The groggy jock counted out the bills and handed it over. The deliveryman flicked through them and raised a brow.
“No tip?”
“You’re late, asshole. Try not to be next time.” Brad snorted.
“Fucking asshole,” the deliveryman said, walking off.
Brad chuckled and turned to the last kegs on the floor. The other bros could do it. He walked back into the house and subtracted the funds from their monthly balance.
“Damn, if only we could afford a big keg of the good beer.” Brad said aloud.
It was too expensive. The best beer for a frat party was smooth, clean, went down super easy like water, and had a good taste to it. Unfortunately cheap beer usually only hit one of those qualifications. But the frat could only afford the cheap stuff and while Brad had considered going in out of his own pocket for the good stuff, the other brothers all liked the cheap crap. Plus, Brad wasn’t going to shell out by himself.
Having locked the frat’s money in their safe, Brad started towards the backyard. But as he got to the living room, he noticed a strange, pleasant warmth envelop him.
A wave of dizziness almost overwhelmed him, and Brad stumbled, before managing to steady himself by propping a hand against a nearby wall. Brad’s body suddenly felt lighter and he realized that he could feel chilled air flowing past his stomach. Looking down, he saw his clothes in the final stages of disintegrating as some cloth fibers briefly fluttered away from his body before vanishing into nothingness.
As Brad stared at his now naked body, he noticed that his skin had taken on a shiny metallic sheen.
Brad just sat there, dumbfounded, as he found himself unable to comprehend what was happening to him. The chilly air against his skin contrasted with waves of warmth that continued to lap at him from the inside. All the while, the metallic sheen growing spreading across his skin grew more and more distinct. His stomach gurgled, and Brad stifled a burp. His insides suddenly felt as cold as his outsides, though his mind remained addled with a comforting warmth.
The sunlight reflecting off the kegs in the door drew Brad’s dim attention to the fact that no one had come to pick them up yet. Opening his mouth, Brad tried to call out to see where everyone was.
However, when he attempted to speak, a strange buzzing tingle spread throughout his. He hiccuped, then burped up something delightfully cold and fizzy. Brad rolled it around on his tongue and tasted…beer? But it was really good, a proper frat beer, stout yet sweet and light enough to gulp.
His mind gained clarity for a single moment. What the fuck was happening to him!? This had to be punishment for drinking so much. He knew that he needed to pull back more, not drink until he blacked out every time he wanted to party. He made a promise, saying a secret prayer that he would change his way. He swore this would be the last time he went partying.
Brad head grew dizzier and while his body felt swollen.
He tried to call out, but he couldn’t even think of words to say. His lips parted, empty of his thought, wafting the smell of alcohol. He belched again, loudly, tasting more beer as he did. His skin started to feel tight as his belly bulged out, growing rounder and rounder. It felt firm and strange under his probing fingers, and when he moved to get help, he nearly fell over as his insides sloshed. Brad wheeled his stiffening arms to attempt to balance himself, but then with a loud THUMP, he fell onto his flattening ass.
He struggled on the floor, his arm smacking against his swollen and bugling belly. Instead of a soft WHUMP of flesh impacting flesh, a hollow CLANG echoed throughout the room. His breath left him in a dry wheeze, and he realized just how cold he actually was, so much so that he could see his breath fog in front of him. He couldn’t shiver, the warmth receding into a pervasive numbness, limbs far too rigid to move now. Brad’s arms were clinging to his sides and slowly losing their shape as he gradually took on a barrel shape.
The warmth of his body receded into pervasive numbness, and despite the chill sloshing about inside of him, Brad realized that he couldn’t shiver. Brad’s increasingly rigid arms were clinging to his sides and slowly losing their shape as he gradually took on a barrel shape.
His insides felt bubbly and he burped again. Despite the cold in his body, his mind felt warm and damp… almost…drunk. Brad made one last attempt to stand, but with the sloshing liquid inside him growing heavier and his diminishing limbs, he just couldn’t pull himself up. His fingers and toes wriggled helplessly until they, too, were absorbed.
Everything in the living room shifted, growing around him as his perspective skewed, and Brad realized he was shrinking. Brad looked down and saw the last of himself smoothing away, replaced with hard metal. Across the center of his keg-like stomach, a label formed. “Frat Boy Muscle Milk Stout” spelled out in golden letters with a stylized outline of Brad’s grinning face.
Brad wanted to scream, but his head hollowed out as his skin turned to metal, before slowly sinking into the top of his keg form. One last, gentle shiver ran through the handful of flesh that had yet to fully merge with the rest of his keg body, before his eyes closed and he sank into it completely, nothing more than a keg in the middle of the frat’s living room.
Chris wandered back into the living room with a group of friends. He saw the keg and paused. The other guys stared at it.
“Alright, you guys get the other kegs.” Chris rolled his eyes. Leave it to Brad to half-ass a job. “Guess I’ll finish Brad’s fucking job and bring this one back too!”
“What’s that label?” One of the guy’s asked.
“Dunno, this keg is bigger than the others. Must be Brad’s special Frat Beer he was always talking about making?” Chris said, bending over and reading the label. “Even has his face on it. Alright, let’s get to work.”
Chris tried hefting the keg in his arms. He lifted weights regularly, part of being on the football team. But damn, the keg had to weigh at least 250lbs, easily. There was a ton of beer, he hadn’t bothered to check how much….his eyes landed on the label and bulged.
A full barrel! This thing weighed 300 pounds, then? No wonder he was having a stroke trying to lift the damn thing. Chris paused and assessed the situation. How the hell was he getting this thing outside?
He tapped his chin for a moment, then grinned. “Alright, let’s get you rolling.”
Chris carefully tipped Brad on his side and started rolling him across the floor.
Brad’s dizziness increased, his insides sloshing around. It was such a strange thing, to think of his insides sloshing, but it was the only way he could describe it. If he wasn’t already confused from being tipped over, he was completely disoriented by the time he was rolled outside.
A whoop arose from the crowd gathered in the back as the full keg made its appearance. A few other frat brothers ran over to assist Chris. Soon, Brad was situated right next to the beverage table by a big stack of red cups and an ice-filled cooler with assorted beer bottles and cans. Brad barely had time to regain his senses when Chris turned to the crowd, grinning.
“Let’s tap this bad boy!” Chris announced and stepped towards Brad with a hose and a metal device.
Before Brad could even make the obvious conclusion as to what that device was, it had been stuck into the top of his head. There was a sudden burst of pressure, then an incredible, relaxing and orgasmic bless flowed through him. Dimly, he heard Chris say something about purging the foam, then he felt his insides shooting through the hose, into a white bucket. He wanted to moan, to cry at the pure pleasure it gave him, the strange sense of release something he hadn’t realized he’d craved.
A few seconds later, the foam was gone. Chris picked up the hose and a cup, aimed, and pressed the button on Brad’s tap. Brad felt more of himself empty into the cup as a frothing golden beer. Chris handed it to a party goer and removed his finger from the button. Brad silently whimpered, wishing someone would keep using him, the feeling so good.
Strangely, he could also sense himself in the cup as well, sloshing in another frat bro’s hand. It was Dan, Brad realized, the handsome jock with the long black curls that made the girls go wild. The fellow bro licked his lips and lifted Brad up to his mouth. Gravity shifted and he found himself rushing towards Dan’s tongue. He was effervescent, airy, and delicious. Then he was falling into the darkness of Dan’s throat, and then evaporating into a pleasant buzz.
And yet he was also sitting right next to the beverage table. Brad couldn’t even process what was happening as more and more beer flowed out of him. He groaned silently. It felt so good to help his bros, knowing he tasted great. More mouths swished him around, swallowed him, licked him off their lips.
It was an odd mix of sensation and a weird yet wonderful pleasure as Brad was slowly imbibed. As more and more of himself left the keg, Brad began to feel emptier, light headed…but happy to be consumed. Halfway through the night and his innards, Brad’s mind was floating on a cozy cloud of intoxication, mind utterly free of thoughts or cares. He only had the pleasure of being drunk by his friends. It was his purpose.
His mind slipped further away. The process of being emptied was taking its toll on his mind. While he once felt pleasure and joy from being drained, now his head was quieted. There were no more thoughts of pleasure, no more mouths to warm, no more cold beer left to fizz. It didn’t bother Brad at all, and Brad slipped away into oblivion.
At the end of the night, when the last red cup was filled, Brad was nothing but a hollow, empty metal keg, devoid of any human thought. Chris-who was looking awfully different, though Brad was in no state to tell-pressed his button, checking for more drops, then pulled the tap from Brad.
He made sure to take a picture of the keg so he could order it later. Then he brought it back to the garage with the rest of the empty kegs. Brad sat there, waiting to be picked up and filled again with a beer that didn’t technically exist, now nothing but a useless container.