Son: Hey dad, could you come into the garage? Something's not right about it sir.
Fat daddy: I swear, if that boy got into my beer again and thrashed it like last time, he's out on his ass.
*zips and buttons up as he he heads to the garage*
What's wrong with it...whaaa??
Son: It was like this when I got home from college classes sir. I have no idea where all these fridges and shelves of food came from. It's just you and me that have keys, and I don't have this kind of money.
Fat daddy: Don't lie to me. If this is another drunken fuck up of yours, you're out of here. Get out of my sight for now. I don't want to be around you when I find out this was you.
Son: This wasn't me though sir. I have enough on my plate with college. I'll be up in my room studying though sir.
Fat daddy: Seriously, that kid. I mean, he's a man now, but sure doesn't act like it. *lights up a smoke and begins to puff* What the fuck am I gonna do with all of this?
*belly grumbles, still smoking*
Hmm. I didn't have that much of a lunch at work I suppose. I could at least eat some of it now while I figure out what to do. Let's see what we got. Couple pies, some leftover pizza, ice cream, stuff for sandwiches, a bunch of burgers, beers...wow, all junk food. Not that I'm complaining. Ok, how about this one. Hmm, more of the same. And this one? Same. Wait, are these all filled exactly the same way?
*confirms this and belly is growling*
Wtf? Ok. This is getting weird. 7 fridges filled with the same thing. Well, fuck it. I'm hungry.
*puts out the stub of a cig, grabs a burger from a fridge and begins to eat it*
Mmm, western style, my favorite......
*few minutes later, belly still growling*
Hmm. That was sadly not very filling. How about some pie then, and a few beers. Lemon meringue and lemon shandies sounds good. Hmm, no forks? Ok, I'll get one from the kitchen...
*belly let's out a huge growl*
Or not. Fuck it. No one is looking and I don't want to walk there and back. Hands work just fine. But better not to get any on my work clothes...goddamit. still in my work clothes. These need to go in the wash before tomorrow.
*strips while dipping his fingers in the pie and licking them*
There we go. Ok. Now for some pie.
*grabs a handful and begins eating it*
This pie is great, but it ain't gonna fill me up.
Son: You're right. It won't.
Fat Daddy: Jesus! Where the fuck did you come from? Why didn't you let me know you were coming in here?
Son: Because I'm gonna be in charge now.
Fat daddy: What? What did you say?
Son: I'm in charge now. And call me Sir.
Fat Daddy: Like hell I'm calling you sir. I'm in charge here.
*begins charging, stops halfway, somewhat winded*
*Fat Daddy looks over his shoulder at the pie*
Oh? Want some more? Then get more.
Fat daddy: Shut up. I do but I ought to kick your ass. I know this whole thing is your doing.
Son: Sort of. You see, I got this letter from grandpa. I had gotten a bunch of inheritance from him. But you've always bossed me around. So now it's my turn to boss you around. I laced your cigarettes with a powerful drug. It's usually designed for swine though to fatten them up. I thought it might work on you though too, since you're such a big one. Looks like I was right.
Fat daddy: You callin me a pig boy?
Son: Yeah. You're a fat...fucking...pig.
*Fat daddy's cock pulsed at the word pig. He immediately began eating the rest of the pie, face first*
See? What did I tell You? You're a fat pig.
*another pulse ran through his cock, and he began eating faster
*a series of pulses this time, and he began pulling at his ass, like something was driving it nuts from the inside. He licks the pie tin clean and looks back over at his son*
Fat pig: Get me another pie now!
Son: Where's your manners Pig? *pulse*
Fat pig: mmmff. Grrr. Please may I have some more pie now sir?
Sir: of course. Have as much as you want pig. *pulse* You can fill your belly as much as i want. Now, about that ass........
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