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[f-e-a-s-t]

Industrial Fattening

The email was sparse, almost alarming so - "Young male needed, 10 AM. Address below. No questions asked. $10,000 per day." The address was in a part of town Ethan didn’t recognise, but the number, the number blew him away. $10,000 for a single night’s work, it was ludicrous, it was impossible, his mind racing with just what kind of work could entail that compensation, and this method of recruitment. But he forced those thoughts out of his mind, he forced away the thoughts that it was some strange prank, he had to. Rent was overdue, everything was overdue, and he’d been living off ramen for weeks. He had to take it, he was desperate.

The building was unassuming from the outside, a large warehouse on the edge of an industrial park, but oddly, the area seemed deserted. Willing himself on, thinking of the money, Ethan moved up to the heavy steel door. Before he could even knock, the door swung open of its own accord, revealing a small locker room. Stepping in, the door closed behind him, sapping what little of his confidence was there to begin with. 

“Ethan?” A voice called from a speaker in the corner. He nodded. “Good. Strip.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, but he was prepared, in honesty being part of some rich pervert’s sex game was towards the better end of the dramatic scenarios he had been running through his head. “$10,000” he thought to himself. “For one day.”

He reached for the hem of his shirt, awkwardly tugging his clothes off, feeling the chill of the air and the beady gaze of a camera on his nude body. One of the lockers swung upon. 

“Deposit your clothes.”

Ethan obliged, naked and self-conscious. Another door swung open, gently glowing arrows on the floor marked a path.

“You’ll be working in a sterile environment. Go. Follow the lights.”

Walking down the dim corridor, Ethan couldn’t help but cup his privates in a bid to maintain some dignity. Little did he realise how little he had to worry about. Turning the corner, the hallway opened up into a massive room, taking up a significant portion of the warehouse, and he had to stop and gasp. Rows and rows of chairs line the space, or something like a chair, something like a dentist’s chair turned up to eleven. Each chair occupied, if that’s the term, with a man fully strapped in. Mechanical arms and tubes hovering around them, holding plates of food, and pipes of - the smell hit him - cum.

“Over here”, a voice said, barely registering in his state of shock. He turned his head to see a man in a lab coat next to him, clipboard in hand, next to some sort of large scanning device. He gestured for Ethan to enter. “W-what?” Ethan half-stuttered as he stepped into the indicated spot, brain still reeling.

“Will just take a second.” One hand gently parting Ethan’s own, still clutched over his dick. Before jotting down some quick readings from the machine.

“This way, we’ll get you hooked-up.” He said as he strode down one of the rows, expecting Ethan to follow.

Ethan trotted along behind, trying to fully take in the scene around him. The men varied in size, from a few that sported a trim physique like his own, to the slightly chubby, to the massively obese with their bodies spilling over the edges of the chairs, faces rapturous.

His stomach churned. One man was softly moaning as a mechanical hand fed him a dripping burger, his belly jiggling with each bite as the machine gently massaged his fat. Another with eyes glazed over as he furiously thrust into a… milking machine? Thick ropes of cum pumping from his cock into a tube.

What the hell is this place? Ethan thought, his legs trembling. But the memory of his bank account, sitting at a pitiful $27, forced him forward.

They stopped in front of a chair, and he lowered himself into it, his hands gripping the armrests as the man in the lab coat strapped him in. Cold metal clamps were secured around his wrists and ankles, and some electrodes were attached to his chest, dangerously close to his nipples.

The man reached into the depths of the machine and pulled out a tube, Ethan desperately tried to avoid eye contact as he felt it slide over his cock, realising, in spite of himself, that merely the act of putting it in had started to get his dick chubbed up, and he noticed a smirk on the man’s lips.

A mechanical arm holding a burger, dripping with grease, wheeled into view.

“No. I’m not—I’m not doing that,” he said, his voice shaking. “The feeding thing. I won’t.”

The man in the lab coat shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’ll make the process longer, but it’s your choice.” He pressed a button, and the machine whirred to life. Ethan tensed as a pumping, sucking sensation started around his cock. The sensation was… strange, almost clinical, but as the machine ramped up, a low groan escaped his lips.

“First time?” a voice asked. Ethan turned his head to see the man in the chair next to him. He was fitter than a lot of the others, his body only just starting to soften around the edges. His cheeks were slightly round, his belly a patch of softness rather than a massive swell, and his ‘pecs’ were just starting to be a bit too puffy to keep the name. He was strapped into a similar machine, but unlike Ethan, he was happily accepting the food being offered by a mechanical hand.

“Uh… yeah,” Ethan managed, his voice tight as the machine continued to work him. “What is this place?”

The man chuckled, taking a bite of a glazed donut held an inch from his mouth. “Paradise, man. They pay you to sit here, get fed, and… well, you know.” He gestured down to his cock being worked over by the milking machine, causing Ethan to quickly look away once he realised where his attention was being drawn. “Ha.” he chuckled around a mouthful of donut. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. I’ve been coming here for a bit. The name’s Alex.” Absent-mindedly, he stuck his finger into the pliant flesh accumulating around his stomach. “I’m loving it. The food, the ease, the way it feels to just… let go. You’ll see.”

Did he realise? Did he see he was getting fat? Did he not see he was on his way to being one of the fatties overflowing his chair? Ethan opened his mouth incredulously, but the machine chose that moment to intensify its rhythm, and his words were lost in a sharp gasp. His head fell back against the chair as pleasure surged through him, his body winning against his disgust. How can this feel so good? He thought, his mind swimming. Alex chuckled again, his voice low and knowing.

“See? You’re already getting it. Just let go, man. Let the machine do its thing. You’ll thank me later.”

Ethan stood outside the warehouse the next day, staring fixedly at the door. He could barely believe it was all real, he wouldn’t have been able to believe it was all real if the money hadn’t already appeared in his account.

The machine, Alex, the pleasure. It had caught him all off guard.

The money. He was here for the money. He kept repeating the mantra to himself. What was happening in that warehouse was gross and wrong. He was coming back for the money.

He approached the door, and it swung open. He stepped inside, stripped, packed away his clothes, and mentally prepared himself to stride back into that room.

Walking back into the milking room, hands once again sheepishly covering his cock, he was struck by the sight of so many men moaning, cumming, eating, growing. Even knowing what was coming he wasn’t ready for it, the sounds, the sight of chubby flesh sliding being fondled by mechanical arms, the smells of greasy food, and a hint of cum, tickling his nostrils. The man in the lab coat was back by the entrance, he looked him up and down, and wordlessly led him back to the same chair. 

Moving through the rows of men being serviced he couldn’t help but think -  they were all already here, did they stagger the entrances? Did they ever leave? The question made him shudder.

The cold leather and metal of the seat kissed his skin as he lowered himself into the chair. The man wrapped the familiar straps around his wrists and ankles.

“Feeding?” Questioned the man. Ethan resolutely shook his head, eyes fixed on his neighbour from yesterday. Alex was deep in the throes of feeding, sucking down chocolate milk from a metal appendage, almost looking like he was trying to give it a blow-job, the odd dribble escaping his lips. All while wildly bucking his hips into the milking machine. Even worse, around his stomach the machine was gently prodding and poking his softness, kneading his flab, caressing his love handles - was he bigger than yesterday? He couldn’t possibly be in just one day.

“Day two includes additional stimulation,” the words cut across Ethan’s stream of thought.

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Wait, what—”

But the man in the lab coat was already pressing buttons on the machine, and before Ethan could protest, he felt something warm and slick press against his entrance. He gasped, his body tensing, but the machine didn’t stop. The pressure increased, and then it was inside him—smooth, firm, and unrelenting.

“Fuck!” Ethan moaned, his fingers gripping the armrests of the chair. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of discomfort and pleasure that made his head spin. The machine began to move, slowly at first, then faster, and Ethan’s breath came in short, ragged gasps.

“Relax,” came a voice from beside him. “It’s better if you don’t fight it.”

Ethan turned his head, his vision blurry with pleasure. The sound of him getting fucked had roused Alex from his stupour, if not his feasting, and now his eyes were alight with mischief.

“You’re back,” he said with a grin, as the chocolate milk hose backed away from his mouth, only to be replaced with a burger clasped by a robotic arm. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Shut up,” Ethan growled, but his voice lacked conviction. The machine was doing things to him, things he couldn’t ignore. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through his body, and the milking device on his cock was relentless, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

The man chuckled, low and knowing. “You don’t have to pretend with me, man. I can see it in your eyes. You like this.”

Ethan shook his head, but the words felt hollow. Because, deep down, he did like it. The pleasure was too much, too intense, and the man’s voice—smooth, teasing, almost hypnotic—was worming its way into his brain.

“That’s it,” the man purred, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go. Let the machine take you. You’re here now. You might as well enjoy it.”

Ethan could feel his resistance crumbling. His body arched as the machine thrust deeper, and a moan escaped his lips, raw and unfiltered. The man beside him let out another laugh, and Ethan could hear the sound of the mechanical hand feeding him, the soft squelch of food being shoved into his mouth.

“You’re doing great,” the man said between bites. “Just like that. Let it all out. Feel it.”

Ethan’s head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure consumed him. The machine was relentless, its rhythm unyielding, and the man’s voice was a constant presence, urging him on, pushing him further.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” the man continued, his voice low and husky. “All tied up, being milked, loving every second of it. I can’t wait to see how you look after a few more sessions. You’ll be just like me—big, soft, perfect.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. The words should have disgusted him, but instead, they sent a jolt of arousal through his body. His cock throbbed in the milking device, and he could feel himself getting closer, his orgasm building with every thrust, every word.

“Come on, man,” the man whispered, his tone almost tender. “Let it go. Let me see you.”

Ethan’s control snapped. His body convulsed as pleasure ripped through him, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. He cried out, his voice echoing through the room, and for a moment, the world disappeared. There was nothing but the machine, the pleasure, and the man beside him.

When he finally came down, his body limp and spent, the man let out a soft, satisfied sigh. “That’s my boy,” he said, his voice warm and approving. “Now… let’s do it again.”

And he had done it, again, and again, and again. More pleasure coursing through his body than he thought possible, more cum extracted from his cock than he thought his body could allow. Yet here Ethan was, tossing and turning in his bed, his dick stiff to attention, and Alex running through his head. Somehow being serviced in that place has left him feeling anything but released. From the second he left he has been desperate to touch himself, To touch Alex. No. He resolutely abstained, he couldn’t admit that that place, that machine, was having an effect on him. He was more than his dick.

And so here he was, where he had been since the second he got in, led on his bed, willing for sleep that will not come. Frantically pushing images out of his mind.

Soft. Alex was so soft, he could remember the machinery of the chair fondling Alex’s soft belly, sinking into the pliant flesh. What would it feel like to sink his fingers into Alex’s fatness? What would it feel like for the cold metal to sink into his.

No. Ethan shook his head for the hundredth time. But still the memories came, this time of the orgasmic joy on Alex’s face as a fresh donut was pressed against his lips. The way he would moan and squirm as he stuffed himself in time to the machine’s milking of his cock. It couldn’t possibly feel that good could it?

This wouldn’t do. He could feel his resolve slipping away, picture himself saying yes to the man in the lab coat, taste the burger on his lips. He wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t become like the others, being fed by that machine; but he needed rest, needed sleep to recover his willpower, he needed to take control of the situation. 

He picked up his phone, scrolling through delivery options - it was the middle of the night but he knew the city wouldn’t disappoint him. He would do it now, on his terms. His fingers tapped out a burger order - just one, no two, no four. “I’ll arrive so full I won’t even be able to dream of saying yes to the feeding.” Ethan said to himself, and his erection.

Too long, the delivery took too long, and yet Ethan barely had the wherewithal to chuck on some boxers, taking the burgers from the driver while very obviously tented. He ripped into the take out bag with abandon, one hand bringing a burger to his lips, the other racing to his dick. He let his mind drift back to Alex, where it had been wanting to go all night. 

“I’ll get it out of my system. Just this once and I’ll get it out of my system.”

The floodgates had well and truly opened. He remembered Alex’s moans, the glances at Alex’s dick he told himself he couldn’t have avoided making, a mechanical hand tweaking Alex’s puffy nipple. His mind slipped further, further than he would care to admit, remembering the nameless fatso in the chair opposite him. At least wanking over Alex was defensible, an obviously fit guy recently gone a bit to seed. The guy opposite him was something else. But still the image of him blissfully sucking down some fattening substance played in Ethan’s mind. The flavour of the burger filled Ethan’s mouth, harmonizing with the memories of the men getting fed. Like he was there, like he was them. The first burger was wolfed down quickly, Ethan barely even took notice of it as he worked his cock, the second one didn’t take much longer, but by the third, he was painfully full. He wanted more, more food, more pleasure, but he knew he was reaching his limit for how long he could draw this out. He was getting closer, and closer, feeling his stomach pushed way past his usual limit. He forced the last of the third burger into his mouth, and he was there, wave after wave of pleasure radiating over his body out from his cock. Within moments he was passed out, a dribble of cum drying on his bloated belly.

To be continued.