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Disguised - Part 2

- 1 Week Later -

You pull out your phone for the tenth time today. The HR department of your company is desperately trying to reach out to you.

"Would'ya take a hint 'n fuck off already." You aggressively shove the phone back in your pocket. "I can't believe that sherrif thought he could stick me in this body 'n get away wit it." You complain to the empty beach.

Despite your grievances, the beach is actually doing a decent job of calming you down. You're not here for the relaxing ocean breeze, though, you're here on a mission. As you walk down the beach, you see the police station emerge from the morning fog, just up the hill from the beach.

"Bingo!" You mumble to yourself.

You happily take a seat on a nearby log, taking a few moments to catch your breath.

"I sure am gonna be glad to get rid o' this nasty pain in my back when I get my body back, but I'm gon' miss you." You say as you pull up your shirt and start rubbing your belly.

"But don't you worry, I'll start eating like a real man and I'll have you back in no time"

As you're enjoying your time alone with your gut, you see a cop car speeding into the stations parking lot.

"Gotcha'."

A deep grunt escapes your lips as you stand up and start waddling up the hill. The cop rushes out of the car into the station, this is your shot. You start running as fast as your plump body can, making the 100m jog feel like a marathon.

The idiot left his car unlocked, so you hop right into his passenger seat and wait. Lucky for you, it doesn't take long. Before you know it, he's rushing out of the station right towards you.

He gets in the car, taking a moment to even notice you're there. And to your shock, he laughs when he sees you. No flinch, no yelp, just that same shit eating grin he always has.

"You crazy son' bitch." He laughs. "I took you for the type o' man to walk into the station and cry that some cop turned you into a fat old man. But no, you just broke into my car."

"I want my body back." You demand.

"What? You're not likin' that belly I gave ya, cuz I sure am!" He slaps your gut.

"Naw, I've come 'round on the belly. I just need ma' pretty face back so I can go home." You respond.

"Ain't gon' happen, pops. That train left the station as soon as that drug went into yer' arm." He says with a sad face.

"I thought that's what you would say... well I'm gon' have to warm ya' 'bout a new trick I learned this past week, it might just change your mind."

The cop bursts out in laughter, unable to take your threat seriously.

He's practically bouncing in his seat from how hard he's laughing at you, but won't be laughing for long. You grab his collar and pull him in close.

"Your gon' regret not turnin' me back." You growl.

You go in for a kiss, holding the back of his head. You make sure to get your tongue in his mouth before he manages to pull away from you.

He simply gives you a disgusted look in return.

"Now what in the world made you think that was a good idea." He said, trying to sound threatening.

"Why don't you look down and find out." You say with a shit eating grin.

He looks down and his eyes widen as he sees his once flat stomach starting to swell under his shirt. His tight shirt starts to ride up his belly as it spills onto his lap.

"What did you do to me!?" He cries out.

"I'm just returning a favor." You laugh.

The buttons on his shirt start to pop off, his soft belly jiggling every time a button pops off. After the last button flies off his shirt, his gut surges forward into the steering wheel before sagging onto his lap.

"How is this happenin'?" The cop asks.

"Turns out that drug ya' gave me is still in my body, so it can spread through my blood..." You lean in close, "and my spit."

His thick pecs, well earned at the gym, start to inflate with fat. He cups them, feeling their weight grow in his hands. He jiggles them up and down, sending shockwaves through his fattening body.

"Oooouuuugghh." He moans.

"Feels good don't it." You remark.

He continues moaning as his ass starts to grow, making it more and more cramped in his car, his head nearly reaching the roof of the car.

You see him turn to make eye contact with you, watching as you stick your hand down your pants and start stroking your cock.

"Oouughh lord, it feels... amazing."

The cop moans as he unzips his fly and lets out his rock hard cock, giving his fat pad some room to breathe. His dick presses against the bottom of his gut, struggling to hold up its weight. He reaches around his belly to grab it with his now massive hand, and starts stroking it. You watch it grow past his belly button, sprouting up to the top of his gut and sticking straight up. His man hands are barely enough to fully grip it as it reaches its full size.

You whip out your foot long cock too, and start jerking it off with one hand rubbing your belly.

His moans turn to grunts as he gets more aggressive. His voice deepens as his sharp jawline disappears behind a thick double chin. And a streak of white hair stretches across his head as his features become more mature, though not nearly as old as you.

He falls back into his chair as he shoots a thick load all over the ceiling. As if on cue, your knees buckle as you cum all over the foggy windshield.

"Oh my lord..." The cop seems to snap back to reality after cumming. "My dick... My belly... Everythins so big."

"Shame ya' didn't get more grey hairs like I did." You say.

He seems to flinch as he's reminded of your presence.

"Lord forgive me!" He yells as he tucks his dick back into his pants and tries in vain to cover his belly with his ripped shirt.

"Don't you worry 'bout the Lord, boy. Accept it." You reach over rub his gut.

"I.... It...." His voice trembles.

"It feel good, don't it? Quite suckin' it in."

"God, it feels so good." He says as he relaxes, causing his gut to spill further out onto his lap.

He gives his belly a solid shake as a loud gurgling sound echoes around the car.

"Hungry, are ya'?" You ask.

"How'd you know. I could eat a whole cow right now."

"Great bellies think alike. How 'bout we hit a buffet, then come back 'n share the love with all yer' cop buddies in the station."

The cop smiles and turns on the engine.

bigification

Disguised - Part 1

The sound of footsteps echoes around the empty county jail cell. You catch a cop in the corner of your eye as he walks past your cell.

"Hey!" You yell, to no response. "Please, I need to get out of here." You plead.

The cop turns to you, his eyes piercing into you like knives. "Why would I release a drunker like you, you're a danger to ma' county." He says with a shit eating grin.

It takes everything in you not to snap back with a snarky remark. He knows damn well you were barely drunk when you got arrested, but being a rich city man in a hick county like this puts a big target on your back.

"What do you want. Money? I can get you money." You're desperate to get out of this southern hell hole.

"Well there's one thing..." The cop gets real close to the cell bars.

"Yeah?" You lift your head.

"I've been awful tense today. If you got on yer' knees and helped release some o' that tension fer' me, I would consider lettin' you out if ya' did a good 'nuff job." He says, his hand rubbing his cock through his pants.

You sit on the proposal for a moment, shaking your head as you seriously consider sucking a cops dick.

"I'll do it." You say with a defeated voice.

You slide off the cold bench and onto your knees, ready to please him for a chance of freedom.

"HAAA!" The cop burst out laughing. "You were just 'bout ready to suck ma' cock, just like that. Damn, you really are desperate."

"What?" You ask, confused.

"Them city folk musta' taught ya' how to suck cock like a bitch. Damn shame it probably woulda' been good too, but that's not how men 'round here do it." The cop continues.

"Well then, what do you want?"

"I heard some o' the boys talkin' bout you, they said you a rich man. That true?" He asks.

"Yeah, yeah I'm the CEO of a te-"

"Don't care." He interrupts. "I want money."

"How much?"

"30,000 bucks." He offers.

"Deal!"

"Good, lemme get the keys." The cop says with the same shit eating grin he had earlier.

A few minutes later he returns and unlocks the cell door. You get up with a warm smile, just hoping he won't go back on the deal.

"Sit down." He pushes you back into the bench. "Did'ya really think it was gon' be that easy. Just walk outta here like a free man."

"Well... Yeah."

"You're gon' need a disguise." He says.

"Like new clothes?"

"A change o' clothes ain't good 'nuff. Us sherrifs never forget a face. But it's yer lucky day. I got this fancy new drug that completely changes yer' body, you'll look like a brand new man." The cop says, holding out a needle with a green liquid inside.

"What... is that?" You ask.

"Hasn't anyone taught you not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Now, this drug wasn' cheap, but I'm feelin' generous today so I'll give it to ya'."

He grabs your arm and injects the drug into it before you can react. You pull the needle out, but it's too late. Your stomach starts to grumble as a loud burp erupts from your mouth.

"Why do I... Feel so full?"

Your belly feels taught, as if you just finished up at a buffet. Looking down you watch in horror as your stomach starts to rise like a loaf of bread. At first you assume it's just a bloat, you're just a bit gassy. You poke it, and your finger sinks right into your rapidly growing belly.

"Oh god, what did you do to me?" You ask with a twinge of a southern accent in your voice.

Your belly swells until the buttons on your shirt start to strain, making you look pregnant. And as if it couldn't get any worse, your well earned pecs start to melt under a soft layer of fat. They grow to the point of creating an outline on your shirt, showing off your moobs to the world. The only silver lining is that your ass is perfectly filling up your jeans, although your belt may not be able to take much more.

You stand, noticing how much extra effort it took to raise your fattening body. One hand holds the bottom of your sensitive stomach as it continues to grow. Your brain is telling you to be afraid, but deep down something about it almost feels good. Good enough to distract you from noticing most of your facial hair falling out, along with your hairline receding slightly.

Though, unbeknownst to you, the transformation is far from over. The buttons on your shirt strain against your gut before popping off one by one. You can't even see your feet as your gut freely hangs out. And your nipples grow as your pecs grow well past the point of being considered man tits.

"Why does this feel so good." You ask, making eye contact with the cop as he stares at you with his hand in his pants.

The tightness grows around your waist until your belt finally gives up, giving your ass some room to breathe.

"You did this on purpose, ya' creep." You yell, the southern accent coming out as you get more emotional.

The cop just laughs. You want to react, but you get distracted by a sudden sensation around your crotch. Reaching around your gut, you feel a soft fat pad engulfing your dick before your dick starts growing, as if to compensate. But then it keeps growing, and growing. You feel it snake down your thickened thighs, struggling to find space in your tight pants.

"Ooouuuugghhhh." You moan as your cock grows down your pant leg.

"You like that dont'ya fatass." He says stroking his cock through his underwear.

Your knees buckle as your near footlong cock shoots its seed down your pant leg.

"Atta'boy." The cop says, watching the cum stain form through your jeans.

You bend down trying to catch your breath, apparently cumming is so much more tiring when your 150 pounds fatter. Not to mention how much older you've become. Your hairline has receded even more and all your hair goes grey, even the sparse beard that does nothing to cover your double chin. Wrinkles form on your skin as the fattest parts of your body start to sag under their own weight, especially your gut as it now hangs over your waist.

"Ohh lord." The cop moans as he shoots a load all over the floor of the cell. "What a show you put on fer' me, gramps."

"What in the hell was all that!" You say with a full southern accent, just like the cop.

"That's yer' disguise to get outta here. Why don't you check yer'self in the mirror, you sure are a changed man." He chuckles while holding up his phone camera, allowing you to see yourself.

"Oh good lord, look at me." You say in disgust at your own reflection.

"Don't you go stressin' that old body too much. It's just temporary anyway, nothin' worth havin' a heart attack over."

"Would'ya at least get me some clothes that fit for God's sake!" You command.

"Yes, sir." He says jokingly.

While he's gone, you inspect your body. Noticing how far back you have to lean to balance out your belly, and how sensitive your nipples are rubbing against your open shirt. Your fingers are thick and calloused, and your feet have grown so much that your toes burst out the front of your shoes. Just the effort it takes to stand is shocking, though it shouldn't be that surprising given that you're nearly double the weight you were minutes ago.

"There are the biggest we have, it'll have to do." He says while holding clothes that you can already tell are too small.

The sweat pants barely make it past your ass, and show an obvious bulge down the side of your leg. The shirt barely reaches past your belly button, showing off your under belly, and the fabric wraps tight around your moobs. The Letterman jacket doesn't even come close to buttoning up.

"This is embarasin', you know that."

"Quite yer' whinin', I've seen dad's go to they son's baseball games in smaller clothes. You'll fit right in." The cops says.

"I... can go?" You ask the younger man.

"Yes sir, yer free to go." He says, motioning for the door.

"What about the money?"

"Oh I took yer' credit card from evidence, I already took the money. But don't you worry, I only took what I was owed. And I got quite the performance outta you." He chuckles as he pinches your gut.

You slap away his hand. "So much fer' southern hospitality." You say as you turn to leave.

He gives you a tap on the ass as you waddle out of the cell, you underestimate how difficult walking would be as a 320 ball of lard.

"Gooday, sir." You shoot a smile at the cop behind the front desk, but he seems too busy stuffing his face with donuts to even notice you. Makes you wonder if you ever really needed a disguise in the first place.

thesidetf

A Permanent Lesson

The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic clank of iron and a father’s sharp, mocking voice.

“Look at that little belly shaking. You’ll never get strong carrying that thing around, Conner.”

Conner’s face burned. The bar stalled halfway up again, his arms trembling under the weight.

His dad Mark, ruggedly handsome, hairy, athletic and strong, folded his arms and smirked. “Pathetic.”

Richard, finishing a set on the cable machine across the room, felt the silver ring warm against his finger. He had tested its power in small ways over the past days, but this casual cruelty disguised as tough love demanded more.

He walked over to the pair as Conner managed one shaky rep and racked the bar, breathing hard. Mark opened his mouth to deliver another dose of tough love.

Richard raised his hand and the ring flashed. Mark froze. Mouth open, arms still crossed, eyes wide and suddenly terrified. Unable to move a muscle.

Conner blinked, confused, then felt strength flood into his chest and arms like he’d never known. He seized the bar again and began pressing controlled and perfect reps.

Richard stepped close to Mark, close enough that the frozen man could see every detail of his face. He spoke quietly.

“For every rep your son completes, you’re going to gain five pounds of pure fat. Right now, while you stand here helpless. You’ll feel it happen. You’ll feel your body soften and swell and bury every bit of muscle you’re so proud of.”

Mark’s eyes darted frantically. A muffled noise tried to escape his throat. Richard smiled without warmth.

“When he’s done today, you’ll be around 350 pounds. A massive, sagging beer belly. Heavy moobs that pull at your chest. Thighs that rub together when you try to walk. You’ll waddle, Mark. You’ll sweat just climbing stairs. And it will be permanent.”

Ethan pumped out another rep. Mark’s midsection rounded almost imperceptibly at first, then faster. The tank top tightened.

“You’ll never care about lifting again,” Richard continued softly. “The thought of a gym will bore you. You’ll crave beer and junk food constantly, and you won’t be able to resist. Every time someone comments on how big you’ve gotten, even a casual joke, your gut will surge with more fat. You’ll keep growing, slowly, endlessly.”

Another rep. Mark’s belly pushed forward, forcing his back to arch slightly even in his frozen stance. The sharp V of his waist vanished under a heavy, hairy dome.

“You’ll remember everything that happened here,” Richard said. “You’ll remember being strong, being proud, mocking your own son. You’ll hate what you’ve become. You might even cry about it at night. But you will never be able to speak of it. Not to Conner, not to anyone. And you’ll watch him get stronger, leaner, better, without his father's help. While you sit on the couch getting bigger and bigger.”

Conner hit fifteen reps, then twenty. Mark’s chest sagged into heavy breasts that rested atop the growing swell of his gut. His arms thickened with soft fat over the muscle beneath. His face rounded, his handsome angular rugged face disappearing under the new fat.

Richard leaned in one last time.

“Goodbye, Mark.”

He lowered his hand.

Conner racked the bar with a triumphant clang and stood, chest heaving, staring at the stranger wearing his father’s face.

Mark unfroze and immediately staggered forward under his new weight. His huge, hairy belly forcing his legs apart. Tears welled and spilled down softened cheeks, but no sound came out.

He tried to speak, to tell his son what had happened to him, but the words died unspoken. The curse sealed his tongue.

Reality shifted around them as memories rewrote themselves. To the world, Mark had always been the fat, lazy dad who drank beer and watched TV while his son trained alone.

Conner picked up dumbbells and moved to the next station, glancing back once with a mix of confusion, wondering why his fat lazy dad had come to the gym with him.

Mark turned slowly and began the long, humiliating waddle toward the exit. Each step sent ripples through his massive gut. The automatic doors slid open, and the evening air hit his exposed lower belly where the tank top no longer reached.

At home, the sofa waited. The fridge was full of cold beer. The cravings were already rising, warm and irresistible. He retrieved his phone and slid a thick hairy finger over the screen, ordering a greasy pizza and burger for when he got home.

thefunkfactory

Stinky Slobs

Erik and Vinny had always been a little proud of how well put together they were as a couple. Erik, the bigger of the two, had that clean-cut gym guy look with a broad chest, thick arms, and rectangular glasses that gave him a sharp, almost academic vibe despite his muscles. Vinny was the opposite: thin and stylish, with bleached streaks in his dark hair, earrings that glinted under the light, and a wardrobe filled with pastel sweaters and fitted jeans. Between Erik’s steady, strong presence and Vinny’s colorful charm, they looked like the kind of couple who had it all figured out. Their apartment reflected that too spotless surfaces, candles on the counter, laundry always folded neatly in drawers.

But all that started to unravel one Friday night.

They’d both been lounging on the couch after dinner, a movie paused while Vinny scrolled through his phone. “Babe, you have to see this clip,” Vinny said, his voice bright. Erik leaned over, chuckling. As Vinny tapped the screen, a weird flash of static replaced the video, followed by a low, almost whispery voice.

“Why keep trying so hard? Just relax. Be normal. Be messy. Let go.”

They both blinked at the screen. “Uh… what was that?” Vinny asked with a nervous laugh.

“Some dumb ad?” Erik shrugged, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t leave his head. Something about letting go felt heavy and strangely inviting. He stretched his broad arms over his head, feeling the familiar tightness of his muscles, but instead of pride, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. “Man,” he muttered, “I’m sick of working out all the time.”

Vinny looked up at him. “Wait, really? You love that stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik mumbled, slumping further into the couch. “But… I dunno. Feels like too much effort, y’know?”

At first, the changes were subtle. Erik rubbed at his chest and realized the lines of his pecs weren’t as defined. His muscles felt softer, his stomach just slightly less firm. He frowned but then shrugged. “Whatever. Who cares,” he muttered, scratching lazily at his side.

Vinny, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. His jeans felt tight across his thighs in a way they hadn’t that morning. He tugged at them, confused. “Uh… Erik, I think my legs are like… thicker?”

“Thicker?” Erik repeated with a smirk. “Good for you, dude. Maybe you’re bulking up.” The word “dude” slipped out naturally, and he didn’t even notice how strange it sounded compared to the affectionate “babe” he usually used.

Vinny tried to stand, but his jeans pinched. With an annoyed grunt, he yanked them off and tossed them aside. “Ugh. Whatever. Pants are overrated anyway,” he muttered, plopping back down in just his underwear. Erik didn’t even tease him for it in fact, seeing Vinny lounge around like that gave him a strange sense of relief, like they didn’t have to try anymore.

It didn’t stop there. The apartment had always smelled faintly of lavender from Vinny’s candles, but now the air felt heavy, almost stale. Erik’s shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat from doing nothing but sitting on the couch. He sniffed his armpit and frowned, then shrugged. “Guess I’m kinda rank,” he said with a laugh. “Too lazy to shower though.”

Vinny wrinkled his nose, but the smell didn’t really bother him like it used to. “You are kinda ripe,” he said, giggling. Then, to Erik’s surprise, Vinny lifted his own arm and gave himself a sniff. “Huh… I guess I’m not exactly fresh either.” Instead of rushing to shower, they both just laughed about it.

Their tidy apartment started to suffer. Vinny dropped his sweater on the floor and didn’t bother picking it up. Erik kicked his sneakers off near the couch, leaving them in the middle of the room. “I’ll clean it later,” he muttered, but neither of them did.

By the next day, their transformation had only gotten worse. Erik woke up with his hair sticking up in every direction, and instead of reaching for his usual clean outfit, he pulled on the same sweatpants he’d worn the night before. They smelled faintly like his own sweat, but he didn’t care. Vinny, meanwhile, grabbed a baggy hoodie and sniffed it. It had that musty, unwashed scent, but instead of tossing it in the laundry, he shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine,” he muttered.

Their once carefully curated outfits were now replaced with old gym shorts, stretched-out shirts, and socks that didn’t match. Erik scratched his chest absentmindedly, feeling the skin slightly tacky from not showering. “We should get breakfast,” he said, yawning.

“Or, like, order pizza,” Vinny suggested, grinning. “Less work.”

“Yeah, pizza,” Erik agreed instantly.

By Sunday, their apartment was unrecognizable. Dirty plates piled in the sink, crumbs littered the couch, and a faint but undeniable stink hung in the air: a mix of old food, unwashed clothes, and the lingering musk of two guys who’d barely left the couch. Vinny sat cross-legged on the floor, eating straight from a pizza box, his hoodie riding up over his growing thighs. “Man, I don’t think I’ve showered in two days,” he said with a laugh.

“Same,” Erik said, scratching his chest and yawning. “We’re gross, bro.”

“Yeah,” Vinny said with a grin, “but, like, who cares?” He leaned back and let out a loud, unapologetic burp.

Erik cracked up. “Nice one. Bet I can top that,” he said, grabbing a soda and chugging it before letting out a burp that shook his chest. They both laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Their hygiene habits quickly spiraled. Erik noticed that his armpits smelled even after he’d changed shirts, not that he was changing often anymore. “Guess I’m just… permanently funky now,” he joked. Vinny snorted. “Dude, I think I’m sweating through my hoodie, like, constantly.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda stinky,” Erik teased, but there was no judgment in his tone. In fact, he leaned over and exaggeratedly sniffed Vinny’s armpit, making a face. “Whoa, man, you reek.”

Vinny laughed, shoving him. “Like you’re any better!”

Erik lifted up his leg and shot out a reeking fart.

PPFFFFFRRRBRBBBTTTT

By the end of the week, the couple that once looked like an Instagram ad for style and fitness had completely disappeared. Erik’s muscle definition had softened; he had a slight pudge forming where abs used to be. His rectangular glasses were smudged, and his hair was perpetually messy. Vinny’s once-skinny frame had bulked up in all the wrong places, his thighs and hips thick and awkward, his sweaters stretched tight across his torso.

The apartment had transformed into a pigsty. Dirty laundry sat in piles on the floor. Half-empty soda cans and crumpled chip bags covered the coffee table. The air was warm and stale, carrying the smell of sweat, food grease, and just a hint of sour socks from Erik’s sneakers.

They didn’t even care anymore.

“Yo,” Erik said, leaning back into the couch cushions with a groan. “I don’t think we’ve cleaned anything in, like, a week.”

Vinny grinned. “Yeah. Just everything is so stinky…huhuh awesome.”

And with that, they both burst out laughing again, sinking deeper into the messy comfort of their new lives, two lazy, smelly college boys who couldn’t care less about who they used to be.

hairy-bothered

POV: You’re trapped in the body he left behind. You still remember the moment you saw your own face looking back at you from across the locker room, smiling with someone else behind the eyes. For a few seconds, you thought it was a prank, a breakdown, a nightmare. Then you looked down and saw the heavy stomach pressing against a sweat-dark tank top, the thick arms, the damp hair on unfamiliar legs, the unkempt mustache bristling over your lip. He had taken everything: your lean physique, your confidence, the face people flirted with before you had to say a word. All he left you was his body - overweight, hairy, tired - and his huge dick - slightly crooked, cut, with a huge head, and a circumference that would make most men blush.

Two weeks later, you are still going to the gym, because rage needs somewhere to go. This body is heavier than yours was, stubborn, always hot and slow to obey, but it is not totally useless. There is muscle under the weight. There is strength in the legs, power in the arms, a history of failed attempts that you refuse to inherit. Every crunch burns, every set feels like arguing with a life you never chose, but you keep moving because stopping would mean letting him win twice - and you want to build a body to match your new manhood.

risefromabyss

Luke was on a healthy diet, but his roommate kept offering him food all the time. Until one day, he just couldn't say no and took a slice of pizza his roommate handed him. After that, everything became a total blur—Luke had no idea how much time had passed, and honestly, he didn't even care. All he cared about was his next meal… and his feeder.

Inspired by a weight gainer blog. Tbh it's the first time I found out about this culture. So forgive me if I make any mistakes or misunderstand.

johnthegainer2

Fat Friday 🐷

Body positivism - follow my journey!

lovebigthings

I just know he'd appreciate a nice aggressive feeding

growingstories

bigboybarn

"I'll get back into rugby in a few months... For now, I'm just gonna enjoy myself and indulge a little. I deserve it."

To see the full 60 image gallery of lazy spoiled sugar babies, as well as 600+ other fat sexy men images, check out my patreon:

Get more from Big Boy Barn on Patreon. AI creations of sexy fat men and other gainer content. Support Big Boy Barn and get exclusive access

gazehaven

bigkingxl0

Who Needs College?

You’re sprawled on the couch, half hard. You haven't done much at all since you withdrew from your classes with cringey note that makes you horny every time you think of it. You decide to scroll through your X, looking for... something. Trying to find an escape from the boredom proves difficult--not like you were trying hard, shockingly--when a new message lights up your phone. The words slide right down.

“You traded your old life to be full time pig porn, haven't you? I bet you're horny right now… because deep down you know how fucking hot your new reality is.”

Your cheeks burn. Your cock jumps. You type a shaky, needy reply you can't even manage to send quickly enough.

“Turned yourself into one of my stories you used to read and fantasize about… except this time it’s real. You’re living it, now. Isn't that right?”

The realization hits like a drug. Shame and arousal twist together so tightly you can barely breathe. You type faster between handfuls of food, desperate for more of each.

“Turned your pathetic self into downshifting pig porn. I ought to write about this."

Your gut twists. You rip a fart, and then a belch, and then a moan spills out of your mouth without reservation. The idea of him documenting your ruin for strangers to read makes your dick leak into your sweatpants.

“This isn’t fantasy anymore. It’s actually happening to me," you groan, then send a reply back that says the same thing.

“You’re fatporn now, piggy. Grade A pork. How does that feel?”

You can only reply with a string of desperate emojis, too turned on to form real words, shoveling in even more food while your thighs grind together. If you weren't dumb as a brick before, that comment just sent all the blood out of your brain and made sure of it. You keysmash a reply that moreorless says you need to finally waddle your fatass back into your goon cave. You scoop up all of your snacks and your soda, your phone and your laptop, your weed and your plastic. Only things that will make you evennnn worse, and you know it.

“Time to get back to your room. What are you even doing? You know better. Good pigs stay hidden away, gooning, destroying the 'normal' life and embracing the loser life.”

You just look down as you pant for breath from moving so quickly.

“It’s okay, loser. Don't try to reply. I know your brain doesn’t work that well anymore.”

Your knees go weak, and not because you're out of shape. Thought that certainly helps.

“I’m… I’m really, really stupid,” you confess, the words making you throb harder than anything ever has.

“It's obvious, Pig,” he replies. “That’s why you just stay in bed or at the computer and goon all day. No more pretending.”

"Oh, fuck," you respond... or maybe you just moan it... you can't tell as you close your eyes in pleasure.

“Grade A pork with straight F’s in college. Good thing you dropped out. It was for the best. Imagine if you’d spent all that tuition money on food, weed, and getting even fatter instead. You’d already be a massive, useless slob.”

Your mind blanks with heat. You can see it so clearly. Instead of education, every dollar wasted on calories and smoke, every failed class swapped for pounds and lost brain cells.

“Fuck… I will now,” you moan, already reaching for the nearest bag of snacks.

“You’ve got some catching up to do, piggy. Or should I say… more catching up.”

By the time the conversation ends, you’re locked in your room, pants around your ankles, belly spilling over your lap, one hand frantically pumping while the other stuffs your face, wrapped in a haze of gas and weed smoke, poppers pressed to your nose every few minutes, frying your already hollowed out brain even more. Every degrading word echoes around in your empty head like it's been implanted there.

And you don't know it... but it has.

You’re not a student anymore. You’re not even pretending to be smart. You’re just a porky drop out loser. Soft--minus the constant hard on, gassy, leaking, and sinking deeper every single day. The most humiliating part is that you’ve never been happier.

Don't try to get better.

You'd fail at that too.

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for @bigfatslob00

keep it up buddy... not like you can stop anyway.