Sorry this took so long! But can confirm that part 3 is already nearly complete, so enjoy! (Find part one here)
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Ethan woke to the 4th burger taunting him; taunting him for his gluttony, taunting him for his weakness. He brushed his hand against the bloat from the other 3 burgers, still very much present on his frame, a nervous queasiness in the pit of his stomach.
Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to push his midnight binge out of his mind, unceremoniously binning the final burger in a meagre show of willpower. He had made the right decision, he told himself. For one, his dick was finally soft. He’d regained some control. Though for whatever control he’d gained over his dick, he’d lost over his timing. Post-release, he’d slept like a log, and he barely had time to throw on some clothes before rushing off to the warehouse.
“An extra $10,000 is an extra $10,000.” Ethan muttered as he bustled out his door. Not-quite-successfully quieting the part of him screaming not to go back – the part begging him to just take the $20,000 and run, the part warning that the money was not really why he was returning – but he was not ready to face that thought just yet, turning all his attention to getting to the warehouse in time. And there it was, looming into view. Once again the steel door swung open, and Ethan was back in the locker room.
Unprompted, he undressed, with the small confidence of settling into a routine, though this time his hands sheepishly hovered over his bloat rather than his dick, and he felt a cringe of embarrassment as his fingers grazed the dried cum still on his stomach from his late-night surrender.
A small moment passed, and Ethan felt a breeze pass over his exposed ass, turning to see that a new door had opened off the locker room.
“Should I go through?”
The only answer was a trail of gently glowing arrows silently leading the way. And Ethan cautiously followed them.
It was just a shower. He felt a moment of relief as he saw the warm water falling from the ceiling. He hadn't known what he was expecting.
Stepping into it was blissful, he barely even shuddered as mechanical arms appeared to scrub and fondle him, and quickly he abandoned any pretence of trying to wash himself, just letting the machine do its thing. The mechanical hands gently massaged his body, working their way into his pits, down his ass crack, over his tender bloat, bringing his dick so easily to attention.
How had they known I needed a shower, did I really look that dishevelled? He tried to quiz himself through the gentle pleasurings of the machine. Do we always need to be showered on the third day?
The thought sent a shiver through his body – No. There is no 'we'. I'm nothing like those fat guys through there. I'm just here for the money. But even that affirmation sent another shiver through him, and not an entirely unpleasurable one. He couldn't shake the memories of the men, just eating, cumming, growing. He needed to be back in that room.
The great machinery of the place was towelling him off; too embarrassed to present himself to the man in the lab coat already erect, Ethan quickly tried to cool himself off, but at the slightest delay in the perfectly oiled functioning of this strange operation, a voice came over the intercom, “Please proceed to the processing chamber, failure to comply with result in removal from the programme”.
A new set of lights beckoned him forward, and Ethan hurriedly trotted along. He wasn’t ready to let this experience end. He burst into the main room, the ‘processing chamber’, coming face-to-face with the man in the lab coat. Unprepared, Ethan’s arms flung to cover himself, though they didn’t know quite whether to try and hide his erection, or his bloat. The hurried action only elicited a small smirk from the man, as a predatory look briefly flashed over his eyes, before his cold demeanour returned.
“This way please.” As if Ethan needed directing back to his faithful chair.
In spite of himself, Ethan craned to see Alex, spotting him practically fellating an éclair. He was bigger, no doubt about it. What only a couple of days ago was a touch of softness was now rounded out into a proper little belly, a crease across his chest where his once meaty pecs, now moobs, met his stomach, his soft ass spreading out on the seat. Ethan’s eyes darted over Alex’s body, taking in every fattened inch, the pure look of gluttonous joy on his face.
No. Ethan averted his eyes, only to turn his gaze to an even fatter man, fat rippling as the machine fucked him, fed him. No. He forced his eyes shut. This was not going to plan. He was feeling frantic. He thought he’d gained back some of his will. Was he really so weak that all it took was a little fondle in the shower and one look at his neighbour to break him? Not just his neighbour, the rows and rows of men, the sounds, the cumming, the feasting. No. He wasn’t into that. He wasn’t like that.
A small cough from the man in the lab coat brought him back to reality, opening his eyes to see Alex smirking at him. Alex's eyes briefly moved down to Ethan's obviously bloated stomach, only to re-establish eye-contact and suggestively gorge himself on an éclair. Ethan felt himself blush. No, Alex wasn't hot, him stuffing himself wasn't hot, get a hold of yourself.
“Glad to see you came back.” Alex said after getting the last of his éclair down, licking his lips to get every last trace of the cream.
“The money’s too good; it would be stupid to not come.” Ethan retorted, lowering himself into the chair.
“Yeah, the money.” Alex’s speech was punctuated with thrusts from his chubby groin, as a mechanical hand slipped little chocolate bonbons into his mouth.
How does he eat so much? How do they all eat so much? He could still feel the late-night burgers filling his stomach up to the brim, especially as the slick rod of the machine probed his asshole.
“Feeding?”
“No.” Ethan responded, some confidence in his plan returning: the intermingled moans of cumming and feasting couldn’t work their way into his mind when he was this full. Though there that smirk was again on the man’s face as he affixed the milker to Ethan’s dick. He flicked open a control panel on the arm rest, in reach of Ethan's restrained hands.
"Push this if you change your mind." He says gesturing to a central button, and with that he was off. Even before he was out of sight the machine was ramping up, pumping at his dick and thrusting at his ass. Ethan felt a wave of relaxation wash over him as his muscles leant into the motion of chair. This was good. A wave of pleasure radiated from his dick. This was right. The room faded into a mass of groans and eating, a rhythm of thrusts and jiggling flab.
The pressure was building and building, a sheen of sweat gathering from his thrusting and writhing, but he couldn't get the release he craved, the release he needed. Something was wrong – his focus kept shifting back to his stomach, and the lingering sensation of his late-night gorge.
"You must be hungry. Thrusting like that's hard work." Alex's words came muffled through a mouthful of pizza, the ever-present feeding hands having switched back from sweet to savoury.
Hunger? Was that what he was feeling? No. He was still full –the glorious memory of cumming as he stuffed that third burger down washed over him, the sensation of his stomach stretching out with the sheer amount of food. He wasn't that full, not anymore.
"Hmm. You're not being receptive to the process. Did you do anything unusual last night?" The words cut across Ethan’s thoughts – how long had the man been stood there?
"N-no," he stammered out, the machine still working him from both ends; and Ethan could have sworn he saw a smirk briefly flash across the man's face. He couldn't admit what he’d done, that he had gone home and stuffed himself. He wasn't like the other men here, eating like pigs, letting themselves get fatter and fatter. He stole a quick glance back at Alex, who had already returned to devoting his full attention to the food. No, he wasn’t like that.
"Well, whatever the cause, you'll need to have this," Ethan turned back to see the man holding out a small medicine cup of clear liquid. Ethan hesitated, "w-what – what is it?", the machine quickening around his cock. Another wave of humiliation rolled over him; he felt so pathetic here, writhing as the machine milked him – while the man just stood there, fully dressed, composed, in control.
"It's a new compound we've been developing. Drink it.' The man brought the cup to Ethan's lips, but Ethan backed away. “Non-compliance will result in termination from the programme," and seemingly on queue, the machine thrust deeper into his ass, sending a wave of pleasure rolling over Ethan, a wave of pleasure that only seemed to stoke the need growing inside him – he was so close to the bliss of the day before.
"No!" He didn't want to think about how desperate his voice sounded. In that moment he couldn't pretend it was about the money, what this machine was doing to him, what it did to him yesterday. He needed it.
"Then drink." And this time there was no denying the smirk on the man's face as Ethan complied.
The liquid was sweet, and it went down easy. For a moment, fear prickled on the back of his neck as he watched the man walk away. What had he done. The world seemed to pause as the reality of his situation came crashed around him; his heart racing as he found himself staring at the fat man across from him, half expecting the substance to make his own body to suddenly balloon to that man’s size. But no change came, and Ethan found himself just watching the ripples flowing through the man’s fat, each set off by a lazy thrust of his cock.
The way his fat moved, it was calming, hypnotic. Ethan just stared at that belly. It was fine, this was fine, he was fine. He did feel fine; Ethan glanced down to his flat stomach; the small trace of bloat was gone. It was just something to help his digestion. Calm returning to his body, Ethan felt himself relaxing into the caress of the chair. No barriers between him and that blissful place. He was ready.
Body arching, toes curling, hours/moments later, Ethan felt the machine slowing around him, the slick rod pulling out of his ass. His body bristled with annoyance; there was no way of counting the number of times he had cum today, but he wanted more: so quickly he was becoming used to the constant stimulation, the constant pleasure, the pampering. Any interruption to it was not acceptable.
A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the man in the lab coat slide the milking machine off his still-hard cock. For a second he felt the words forming within in him. Stop. More. But the superior look on the man's face pulled him back down to earth, cheeks flushing with shame as the last few droplets of cum dribbled out of the end of his dick.
"Your shift is over. Your production was better today," and like it was the most normal thing in the world, or like Ethan wasn't even worth consideration, the man stroked up Ethan's cock with two gloved fingers, scooping those last droplets into the machine. "But it’s not where it could be. This is hard work," - and Ethan could feel the trace of sarcasm in his words - "you've got to keep the body fuelled."
"Hmph," for once a flicker of pride, arrogance, rose within Ethan, "I think the guys here are getting more than enough 'fuel'." But even as the words came out of his mouth he felt the scent of a greasy burger grace his nostrils, he was hungry. That was normal, he hadn't eaten all day – or however long he'd been in that chair – but he wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing his hunger.
The man didn't respond to that; and Ethan looked around, seeing if any of the other men had been goaded into a response, but even Alex wasn't paying him any attention: his full attention devoted to playing with his swelling tits, fingers running over his nipples as what looked like melted ice cream dribbled down his chin, the machine pumping even more than Alex could handle into his greedy mouth. Not that he seemed to mind.
Despite himself, Ethan's cock twitched at the sight, a motion dutifully noted by the man in the lab coat. There was something about seeing him like that, greedy, pathetic. Ethn almost wanted to go over and lick the ice cream right off his face. No. Snap out of it. No. He needed to get out of here.
And finally, he was.
Breathe. His stomach rumbled.
Breathe. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel of his car.
He really was hungry.
Ethan hadn't even managed to leave the car park, his ass planted in the driver's seat, talking to himself. "Look, you haven't eaten all day, you do need to eat something." Something, images of burgers floated through his mind; burgers, doughnuts, cream cakes; his mouth was watering. He knew 'something' should perhaps be healthier fare, but it was late, he didn't have anything in, the shops were closed - the rationalizations came thick and fast. Slowly, he turned out of the car park, making his way to a nearby drive-thru – just the one burger, he was in control.
He didn't even manage to make it home before he started tucking in – the smell of it filling the car, it smelt like there, he couldn't take it.
But the release when it hit his lips, his dick immediately tented in his shorts – with one hand he held the burger, as the other snaked down into his boxers, coating his dick with a light film of burger grease. It was delicious, he couldn't remember a burger tasting this good, his full body giving into the pleasure. Too soon, the last bite, it was over. The realisation of what he was doing crashed over him – if anyone had seen him, dick-in-hand on the side of the road, stuffing his face. He had to go, but he hadn't even cum, his dick furiously tenting in his shorts to remind him of this fact. And worst of all,
he was still hungry.
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I know this is very cheeky, but times are tough, and so if you’ve enjoyed please consider supporting me through Ko-Fi or over at Patreon
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.
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Part 2 here
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I know this is very cheeky, but times are tough, and so if you’ve enjoyed please consider supporting me through Ko-Fi or over at Patreon
Kind of a weird one, but getting inflated and fucked by an evil and corrupting slime sounds so damn hot…
It's not enough for it to invade your body -- no, the dark substance that's pressing its way into every hole it can find couldn't be satisfied so easily. Steadily it consumes you, trapping you, sniffing out every warm & wet crevice of your body and wriggling its way inside. The more room it finds, the more of it wants in. Greedy. Too mindless for its own good - it's taken you, wedged itself into every passageway it could find winding through your body, and steadily filled you with squishy, soft slime.
It's not enough. That feeling of fullness, contentment as your belly swells chubbier and rounder. The uncomfortable fullness that snuck its way through you, from your aching holes all the way up to your throat. Tighter. Too tight; your poor guts wrenching as if trying to tear away from your body to give the creature more room.
Not. Enough. Tendrils of thick, heavy slime invading the very membrane of your body. Finding its way through your system, bloating you, saturating every fiber of your being. The fullness spreads down your legs and feet all the way to your toes; up your arms and neck. Your cheeks even bloat up as the slime finds more and more ways to use you. What little of its body still hasn't found its way in is being rejected -- literally forced out of you -- by the sheer mass that's enveloped your being. And yet it keeps trying, rocking your compromised body with every push.
And the discomfort turns to pain. And the pain? The sharp lightning jolts of tearing and mending flesh that pierce your soul and jerk what muscles you can still move? Well, it only makes the slime hungrier. And makes you all the hornier.
And you try with all your might to pull even more of it in. Even with the grunts that escape your swelled-shut lips, even with every hole filled and fucked by your intruder. It's not enough for you, is it?
You didn't think twice about downloading that delivery app. Something about points? You were always down for a deal.
Except these deals seemed almost… too good? After you ordered breakfast to your place once, suddenly you were getting a happy little ping on your phone with a half-off offer that turned your usual meal into a combo.
More food for less money? Anyone would've taken that deal. Of course, not everyone would have eaten it all, but I guess you've always had a bit of an appetite, haven't you?
You shrugged it off when it would push notifications about deals when you passed by a bakery or a coffee shop; surrendering your data to the conglomerates seemed a small price to pay for all these extra treats. You didn't pay much attention to how much you were eating and drinking, but your bank account was looking healthier than ever.
Pretty soon, your waistbands started feeling a little snug. You told yourself it was just some bloating -- maybe from that milkshake that got added into your burger combo last night? Or maybe that éclair from this morning…
Either way, it wasn't that uncomfortable, but when your phone pushed you an offer for same-day delivery sweatpants, on clearance in exactly your size, you didn't hesitate to tap that order button.
After a few weeks, you couldn't deny that you'd put on a couple pounds. You felt a little soft, a little slow. Maybe this app wasn't really a good influence on you? Maybe you needed to take a break, join a gym or something…
Fortunately, the delivery app rolled out a super helpful health and fitness feature that tracked your calories for you, monitored your activity levels, and recommended orders that filled in your nutritional gaps. You'd never have guessed, but you'd been running a calorie deficit all along, the app informed you, explaining your lower energy levels.
Your diet started to change. More protein, you told yourself, as you tapped Agree on a daily app-selected lunch from the closest burger place to your home. Like clockwork, it showed up right when you seemed hungriest. When you started feeling full and pushed your plate away, the app seemed to know and sent you a helpful reminder that your caloric intake was precisely calibrated for your healthy weight range. That seemed reason enough to push through the discomfort and clear everything out, the app knew more about nutrition and stuff and you did, right?
But your body seemed to have some trouble with the new diet. Soon breakfast was donuts and breakfast sandwiches and coffee with enough sugar to make the donuts seem lacking. Lunch came in two bags. Afternoon snack, half-off pastries that hadn't sold out at the bakery. Dinner. Dessert. Late-night snack. You let any thoughts about what you wanted to eat, or what you should eat, drift away as you learned to just respond to the buzz of the app with a slow, plodding walk to the door to retrieve your next meal.
When your clothes got tight, the news section of the app happened to push you an article about the dangers of low circulation from restricted clothing. When your belly's glorps started turning into burps and gas that would have made you blush if anyone could see them, new research came out about how increased gas levels meant more toxins leaving your body. Notices about how excess movements strain your muscles made you feel better about lazing on the couch you were sinking into more and more by the day.
The day an app-controlled feeding device popped up on your screen, you hesitated for a minute. Looking down at your doughy body, seeing how easy everything had gotten, wondering if maybe you'd gotten a little too big…
But the buzz of 90% off with free chocolate shakes for a year sealed the deal. Soon you were sitting, barely a thought in your head as the pump gently slid the fattening slop into your mouth, the precisely-calibrated diet working wonders on your sedentary body.
Sometimes you'd reach down and play with your belly a little, giggling to yourself about how big you'd gotten. A flicker of a thought about how hard things used to be and how easy everything was now. Even getting something delivered seemed like more of a hassle than using your feeding tube.
When the app congratulated you on achieving 50% of your ideal body weight, you couldn't begin to calculate what weight it intended for you… but you took a calm comfort knowing the app knew what was best, settling deeper into your couch and rubbing at the strained bloat of your full belly; the ideal consumer.
not “a little bloated.” I want your gut to be hard to the touch. i want it to sound solid when I slap it. I want to feel your skin stretching under the pressure from inside. I want your upper belly protruding out of you like you swallowed a brick. I want your lower belly soft but filling itself up as your body strains to process what i’ve given you. I want you panting as your stomach presses on your lungs and your heart races as you try and digest. I want you moaning in discomfort with every little movement that shifts something around inside you. I want you begging me to stop when I press more to your lips. I want you to choke it down anyways and whine and writhe as your beach ball of a belly strains and distends even more. I want to press myself into your bulging body and grind on you while making you moan with pain. I want to take my time pressing my hands into your gut where it looks like it hurts the most and pushhhhh. I want to watch your face fill with agony masochistic delight.
then you’ll get a break, you’ve been so good for me anyways. I might even let you watch me please myself in front of you while you lie there unable to move, pinned down by the anvil in your gut. maybe i’ll rub your poor belly a little nicer. see if I can’t get it moving down through your system. that’ll provide you some relief as the pressure spreads itself out from your upper gut. but then your lower belly will start to grow. slowly it’ll all settle in, shepherded along by regular, firm but gentle rubs of my hands on your belly.
once I hear your panting and whining subside, I know you’re ready to go again. this time, I put a tube in your mouth. you turn your head and see it attached to a large tank. I smile and tell you this’ll help wash it down ;) I open the valve and liquid fills your mouth. it’s a slow, steady stream. the liquid is bubbly and you can taste the sting of alcohol in it. it’s sweet and the bubbles feel kinda nice in your belly, so you swallow it down steadily in big slow gulps every time your mouth fills with it.
“you like that, babe?” I ask, carefully wiping a small drip from your chin after pausing the flow to check on you.
you finish what’s in the tube then open your mouth. you moan, this time more with pleasure than pain as you feel the food I fed you earlier settling deep in your guts. your upper belly is filling with this sparkly liquid. it feels warm inside you and the bubbles seem to dislodge some of the food stuck in there. let let out a long, deep belch and sigh with blissful relief.
“yessss….. ughhh” you manage to get out as you pat your belly to shake out some more gas. “more, babe. please.” you beg.
“of course, love”
I stick the tube back in your mouth and open the valve again. this time, though, the liquid rushes in faster, harder. you can’t get it swallowed in time and it splashes all over you. I stop the flow, help you put it back in place, and we try again. this time, you open your throat more. you let the liquid flow straight into you. you can feel it landing in your belly like filling a barrel from a spout. the pressure of the gas builds as more gets in. I let this run until the liquid spills out of your mouth again. by this point, your lower gut is packed tight with food, your upper gut looks like a massive water balloon, and I can see on your face that the alcohol is taking its effect….
Spoiled overfed pet going into heat. The cycle rolls around often, but this time it really feels different.
Obviously, it's tough work for any pet like you to have all these hormones hit at once. What makes it worse seems to be the fact I can't say no to you. Ironically, it used to be the other way around. When you first came into my care, I made sure to fuss over you in every way possible. Needless to say, you were certainly fed and grew accustomed to it. You'd do anything for a belly rub and these days, they're not hard to get.
Naturally, as any pampered pet does, you gained weight. You were conditioned easily, growing accustomed to food coupled with affection. It's everything you know. You're built to be a fat pet, unable to deny it whenever you're caught eating directly from the fridge late at night.
There's a punishment, but it obviously doesn't work. You seem to like sitting on your knees, begging on all fours and whimpering like the sweet hungry thing you are. You're never sated, nor discouraged. As much as feeling your belly hit the floor on all fours is a surprise, it doesn't deter you. Neither do the outgrown clothes and certainly not the affectionate teasing.
You were never this big before, perhaps healthily chubby some time back. It didn't stop there. It couldn't. You'd grown an appetite to get where you were and there was truly no sating you, no matter how big the breakfasts, lunch or dinner was. Snacks called to you. I hardly told you no. I offered them to you innocently and now there's a non stop routine.
You're far bigger than you used to be. You grew into such a fat pet. You hold your belly often out of habit, look towards me with the kind of eyes that require attention. I don't tell you no. There's a habit. It rubbed off on you. Now, you're easily recognisable from sheer size. Not just in view. It isn't just your wide backside, the rolls that overlap your hips or the immense view from your side profile. It's the noise too. It's the heavy breathing, the weighted footsteps and the sound of furniture coming from the other room. It's easy to know where you are.
It creeps up quickly, possibly too much in the last year. You've really let yourself go and now you're sprawled in bed, laid on your back and trying to touch yourself. You reach, sure, but there's a position required and a spare hand needed to shift your belly out of the way. All you need is a bit of release. It wouldn't fully sate you, but nothing truly does these days. You only desire a taste.
Yet, all you can do is work yourself up. You're so accustomed to having everything given to you, but when you're left alone for a mere few hours? It hits. You're needy again. Your heat has come and all you can manage is a meek shuffle and a pathetic attempt to grind. It barely lasts five minutes. Two minutes, even, is generous.
You take breaks. Each time you try, you're more exhausted from the last. You roll onto your side, then the other; the sheer process exposing you to realise just how out of shape you are. You've grown into such a fat pet. It's not surprising. You were always so receptive. Eager. Willing.
After an exhausting few minutes, you give up. You're horny, undeniably so, but completely useless. You can't do anything about it. The only other activity that comes to your mind is eating. It's a source of comfort. Warmth. Attention. All these things you crave are the same things you'd typically find in a bar of chocolate or a packet of biscuits.
So, you eat through your heat. It starts slow, but then you find the energy to make your way to the fridge. You eat from there. The cupboards, next. You take what you can find, filling yourself up on everything. There's trips between the couch and kitchen, moments where you're cradling your belly on the floor. You find yourself grinding when you eat, lower belly rubbing against the couch or even the floor. It does something to you. There's a slight thrill.
Perhaps it's the jiggle that works it's way through your body, then way such a heavy build puts pressure on your already plump crotch. You've been fattened up beyond return. There's no way you're turning your life around now. Why would you? Even in moments of struggle, you're excited. Even when you can't get off, there's always food.
You were made to be a fat pet. There's no reason you would want to be otherwise.
Sam couldn’t know why Duncan had taken to hanging out with him at the gym. Although he had always been fit and athletic, Sam had never been deemed worthy enough to hang out with the jocks back in high school. Perhaps, on some level, even Duncan knew this; leaving the body-building guys to head over and chat to Sam as he started up the treadmill.
Not everyone liked Duncan at this gym. Of this, Sam was acutely aware. Many thought the guy arrogant and narcissistic. He’d seen folks actively roll their eyes whenever Duncan strutted in: dressed to display his beautifully sculpted body, shoulders back and perfect posture, towering above everyone else. “He’s got one of those smarmy faces I’d love to punch,” grumbled one older guy after Duncan had laughed at his technique on the press up bar.
“Your’re here five minutes early today,” Duncan smiled, checking his watch. “You couldn’t wait to see me tonight, huh?” he winked at Sam, never failing to make him blush with the playful flirtation that constantly poured out of the guy’s mouth. Even if Duncan hadn’t been the straight alpha male that he was, Sam didn’t think he could ever have brought himself to flirt back. He was a stuttering, fumbling mess whenever Duncan turned on the charm: a constant source of amusement to gym hunks like him, whose playful sexual appetite seemed to exude from every pore of his body.
On the treadmill, Duncan talked about himself, effortlessly chatting away even as the set programme automatically increased the speed of the belt, the whole machine raising up and down with the incline.
Sam could feel the sweat rolling off his forehead. He took a swig from his drink but he still knew he couldn’t keep up with Duncan tonight. His muscles still ached from the previous night’s workout. He was sore and depleted. He smashed his hand down on the button to lower the speed, cancelling the exercise programme he had started with Duncan. “I’m out!” he gasped, feeling his legs turn to jelly as the belt beneath him quickly decelerated to a pace he only had to walk to.
Duncan laughed. “Aw, buddy!” he mocked. “You’re not giving in already tonight, are you?”
Sam stepped off, stooping until he dropped down onto the nearest bench and tried to catch his breath. He could tell that Duncan wasn’t really disappointed at him for quitting. This seemed to be what he liked best about coming to the gym: showing everyone else how much fitter and more capable he was than the rest of them; increasing the speed of the treadmill even now, just to demonstrate how easy it all was for him. Only a light coating of sweat showed against his broad, powerful chest, making him look even more imposing and awe-inspiring.
After ten minutes, Duncan found him again, strutting across and taking over as Sam struggled to set up the weights for his chest press. Even after such an intense cardio session, Duncan handled the giant metal discs with ease, barely making them clatter once as he expertly slid them onto the bar. Without being asked, he stood behind to catch the bar should Sam struggle to complete the full reps. It was a favor Sam had no hope of reciprocating, given how extreme the weights Duncan lifted himself. Even the guy’s encouragement seemed hollow and patronising, given how pathetically weak he must have looked to a toned, muscular adonis like Duncan.
“I’m taking my girlfriend away this weekend,” Duncan declared. “A nice little, romantic cabin in the woods,” he smirked, like a man who knew he was about to have a full weekend of sex. “She wanted to see the Fall colors, but I can’t see her leaving the bed much!” he joked, like Sam was just another one of his straight buddies who would clap him on the back for his great sexual prowess.
Sam nodded and smiled as Duncan flipped his cell phone around to show him a picture of the place he had booked: stunning social media fodder and very expensive-looking. How Sam envied that girlfriend! Oh, the things he would have done to experience a dirty weekend with Duncan! “It looks nice!” he smiled.
“Have I ever shown you a picture of my girlfriend?” Duncan asked, clicking through his gallery and smirking as though he was trying to find a picture that was safe to be shown in public. “Here she is,” he finally declared, flipping the cell phone around again.
Sam tried his best to conceal his surprise. It was the large double chin that made his eyes bulge slightly. Short and round under Duncan’s great arm, the woman’s stomach and hips looked as though they had been inflated by a giant pump. Gorgeous Duncan’s girlfriend was undoubtedly obese.
Seeming to know exactly what Sam was thinking, Duncan turned the cell phone back around and smiled in delight at the image he had shown. “She’s a greedy little thing!” he chuckled to himself. “She’s put on a lot of weight since I asked her out. She says she’s on a diet at the moment,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes as though he didn’t take that at all seriously. “But I’ll just pick up a tub of ice cream on the way over to her place later and she’ll still have the whole thing eaten by the time she falls asleep.”
Duncan chuckled to himself once more, staring at the image some more: their dramatically contrasting bodies; the outline of an ever so slightly erect bulge pressing against the tight material of Duncan’s gym shorts; an image that Sam would undoubtedly be touching himself to later on when he tried to recall it in his mind in the privacy of his own apartment. But, right now, Sam didn’t really know how to respond. Should he say something about how cute they looked together? How pretty she was? He didn’t know the rules.
“She’s a lucky girl,” Sam finally stated, feeling that he couldn’t leave it a second longer to reply. He regretted his careless phrasing immediately. He always tried to hide his attraction to Duncan so carefully, yet it always tumbled out of him in awkward moments such as these, every single time.
Duncan grinned from ear to ear. It seemed impossible that such a handsome face should exist atop of such a fine,perfect body. “Oh, absolutely!” he smirked, seeming to know just how much this quiet, polite twenty-two year old would love to suck him off. “She’s a very lucky girl!”
Many may have pondered Duncan’s usual choice of girlfriend. But, for Sam, the answer seemed obvious. Duncan was into that big, fat-girl look, and the fact that he didn’t try to hide that preference only seemed to increase his sexual appeal. Having a crush on a guy was one thing, but knowing that that man was also a kinky, horny devil was adding a whole new layer to Sam’s quiet infatuation with him. Over the weeks, Duncan’s shared images of his girlfriend only seemed to show her becoming rounder and rounder. Yet the man stood proud, knowing that he was the mastermind behind all of it.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Sam asked one week. It was a habit he had got into after that one time Duncan had shown him a picture of himself with his girlfriend at the beach. Shirtless and sculpted, Sam had wanted to burn the image onto his retina for all eternity. Maybe, one of these weeks, another such shirtless image would be shown to him, providing that he kept asking about what Duncan had been up to with his girlfriend.
“We broke up,” Duncan replied casually. “She’s decided to start her weight loss journey,” he smirked, as if quoting her phrasing exactly. “And she feels that it will be a lot easier to do that if we weren’t together.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Sam shot back; his face full of sympathy. The gym was oddly quiet that evening and the lack of people suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Duncan furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s absolutely right,” he chuckled. “It’s the smartest thing she’s done since I asked her out.”
“She’s a fool, giving up a guy like you,” Sam tried to counter. He’d been wound up for the last half an hour by how beautifully tight Duncan’s gym shorts were; not forgetting the musky scent of his pumped body. The fact that the guy was now single was sending jolts of pure lustful fantasies to soar through his brain, no matter how impossible it was that they would ever come true in real life.
“She’s really not!” Duncan laughed even as he took a large swig from his protein supplement.
“She is!” Sam exclaimed. “If I was with a man like you, I would…” he stumbled, realising he should have thought of how he was going to finish the sentence before he’d started it. “I’d do anything,” he finally stated.
A bright but wicked smile spread over Duncan’s face. “You see, that’s exactly what I need,” he nodded, patting Sam on the back. “Someone who will just do what I say, when I say it. Is that too much to ask?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam replied, nodding his head emphatically. The feeling of Duncan’s large hand on his back just made him want to say whatever he believed the man would most want to hear. Perhaps that was why Duncan was keeping it there, causing all the blood in Sam’s body to head south.
“You think I could ever find someone who would do that for me?” he asked, looking straight into Sam’s eyes. “Someone who would eat what I told them to eat? Wear whatever clothes I thought suited them best? Someone who would really care about keeping my dick hard as much as possible?”
Sam swallowed. He’d had a few homoerotic chats with straight guys back in college, but this was actually making his heart race and his skin turn clammy with sweat. “Absolutely!” he answered a little more timidly. Fuck! Was Duncan really talking about his dick? That perfect, oversized bulge Sam had swooned over for months?
Raising an eyebrow, Duncan went to take another drink from his protein shake and then stopped. He looked at it for a second, then back at Sam. “Here,” he offered, pushing the spout towards Sam’s mouth. “Drink.”
“What? Why?” Sam replied, caught off-guard by the request.
“Do I need a reason?” Duncan smirked, shaking the almost completely full bottle and holding it close to Sam’s mouth.
Wanting nothing more than to keep this sexually charged conversation going, Sam reached out his hands to take the bottle as he tilted his head to take a sip. However, Duncan’s large hand did not move to let him take the flask. Instead, the muscular hunk was pouring it in, with Sam awkwardly dropping his hands to the side instead. His lips clamped around the spout Sam had the odd sensation of subservience, like he was committing an act not too dissimilar to sucking Duncan’s actual dick. Yet, as he swallowed, the big man seemed to have no intention of letting him stop until every last drop was gone. Sam searched the guy’s face, looking for clues about what was really going on behind those wicked, electric eyes. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow.
“Good boy!” Duncan smirked the moment the entire bottle had been drained to the back of Sam’s throat. “That’s over a thousand calories right there!” he chuckled, patting Sam’s middle as the guy tried to discreetly burp up the air he had accidentally swallowed.
“Really?” Sam asked, surprised that a protein shake could be so ridiculously calorie dense.
Duncan nodded. “Yeah, it’s great for guys like me,” he smiled, flexing his bicep almost into Sam’s face. “Not so good for boys like you,” he laughed, squeezing Sam’s comparatively puny arm.
The weight of all that liquid was sitting heavily in Sam’s stomach. He groaned, rubbing his middle. “That’s going to take ages to work off on the treadmill.”
Duncan laughed, wrapping his big arm over Sam’s shoulders and pulling him away. “Nah, your workout is over, buddy,” he replied. “You can come help me with my reps instead.”
Inexplicably, Sam found himself doing exactly as he was told, following Duncan around from one machine to another and holding the man’s sweaty towel.
Duncan looked around, seeing that the place was still eerily quiet. “Looks like everyone’s at home watching the big game tonight,” he chuckled. “How about I give you a little treat?” he winked at Sam, already leading the way back to the changing rooms. “Sit there,” he ordered the moment they were inside.
Again, Sam only did as he was told; his brain working overtime trying to catch up with what was happening to him. At the very least, he knew he’d had some fantastic views of Duncan working out to masturbate to when he got home later.
With the satisfied grin of a man who knew he was the ultimate fantasy of so many, Duncan began undressing himself for the showers, slipping off his underwear and pointing a finger straight at Sam. “Now, you stay right there!” he teased, like telling off a naughty puppy as he climbed into the open showers space. “Staaay!” he repeated, like he expected the horny Sam to jump on him at any moment. “Good boy!”
Sam could hardly believe what was happening. Of course Duncan was completely hung. He’d suspected as much from the many glimpses of the bulge he’d had over the last six months of knowing the guy. His dick was an absolute genetic masterpiece.
Soaping up his muscular body, Duncan seemed to drink in the quietly lustful glances from Sam. Round and round, Duncan massaged his pecs and ran his hand up and down his tight, chiseled stomach. Those big hands then reached down into his groin, scrubbing his shaft just a little too long not to be playing with it, at least a little. He turned gently, giving Sam a look at his perfectly sculpted back and deliciously pert and muscular butt cheeks. It was as if the man had known every last sexual fantasy that had wandered through Sam’s head for the last few months, and he was here, now, playing up to every last one of them. Look, but don’t touch.
“Towel,” Duncan ordered, reaching his hand out as he returned from the showers, still just soapy enough to give his body that perfect, glistening shine.
Duncan jumped to attention, delivering right away. Finally, an opportunity to stand close to that statuesque, naked body.
“How was the show?” Duncan asked, holding the towel but still not using it.
Sam faltered. How was he supposed to respond? He’d tried and failed to hide his attraction to Duncan for months. Was it time to just be honest?
“Well?” Duncan pressed him.
“Amazing!” Sam replied. “Your body is just… incredible.”
Duncan nodded knowingly. “Do you want to suck my dick?” he asked plainly.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Well, I…” he fumbled.
Duncan laughed. “I’m just fucking with you!” he called out like a taunting bully from the playground. “You’re nowhere near ready to suck me off.” He reached his large, strong hand to hold Sam by his shoulder, suddenly more serious. “But you could be one day. Would you like that?”
Not wanting to open his mouth and reply incorrectly, Sam only nodded meekly.
“Good,” Duncan smiled. “Very good!”
The following days were a whirlwind of strange encounters and arousal. Sam would arrive at the gym to be little more than Duncan’s assistant, following him around the place and watching him lift. As many as three large water bottles filled with protein shakes were pressed into his hand at timed intervals, coaxed into drinking them all by an uncompromising Duncan. The place was always too busy for another peep show in the shower, yet that seemed to only play into Duncan’s hands even more, keeping the memory and fantasy of it all in Sam’s head; played out and replayed like a well worn cassette tape each time Sam touched himself.
“I see we’re making some progress at last,” Duncan smiled, poking Sam in his stomach one day. His strong, outstretched finger pressed firmly against an undeniable layer of fresh padding. Sam hadn’t intended to gain weight. Yet, by following Duncan’s orders each night, he must have been consuming an incredible amount of extra calories. It had messed with his head and thrown his usual routine, eliminating all workouts from his routine and making him hungry later in the evening when the tight bloat of all those shakes finally wore off.
“Was this what you did to your girlfriend?” Sam asked boldly; questioning Duncan for the first time about the strange requests he had made of him over the last three weeks.
“No,” Duncan chuckled, shaking his head as if Sam had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “She didn’t just throw her head back and take down anything I told her to,” he taunted, as if making fun of Sam’s unquestioning obedience. “Things are going to go a lot faster with you.”
Sam swallowed. So this was a sexual thing for Duncan. He was getting the same thrill out of pumping him with calories as he had with his ex. That must mean that there was at least a chance that Duncan might…
“You should come over to my place tomorrow night,” Duncan stated, sitting on the large seat of the chest station. “I can start taking some measurements of you and get you on my special scales.”
Sam’s heart fluttered. An invitation to Duncan’s apartment? Could this be real? “Okay,” he nodded.
Duncan scoffed, nodding down at the slight bulge that had sprung in Sam’s gym shorts. “Down boy!” he grunted, already pressing the extreme weights to start the first of his reps. “You’re not sucking my dick tomorrow. You understand?”
Sam shrank back a little, grabbing Duncan’s sweat towel to hide his groin. “Yeah, I understand,” he nodded, not wanting to overstep and ruin his chance.
The next evening, Duncan had told Sam to be at his place for eight. Sam had arrived early, waiting outside on a bench just around the corner so as not to appear too keen. Then, at exactly eight o’clock, he pressed the buzzer, feeling more excitable than ever before.
Duncan’s apartment was every bit as Sam had imagined it to be: Plain, functional and undecorated. It wasn’t at all a place for him to bring girls home to seduce them. This was quite simply the control room from which Duncan organised his life; his wet suit from his water sports adventures hanging on a hook on the bathroom door, a large cardboard box of protein powders used as a makeshift coffee table, as well as several free weights and kettlebells lined up against one wall. A small TV sat in the corner but something told Sam that this was something the big man rarely actually used.
“You came,” Duncan smirked, like a lion seeing its prey simply wandering freely into its cage. “You’d best get your shirt off then so that I can get a look.”
Sam nodded. He’d expected this, pulling it off just as Duncan slipped to one of his drawers and pulled out a measuring tape.
“Nice work!” Duncan marvelled, reaching one finger to lightly stroke a new build up of fat at Sam’s side and nudging him slightly so that Duncan could get a better look at his butt. “This is pretty decent,” he nodded, complimenting himself on the progress he was making with his doting admirer.
“Thanks,” Sam smiled back, making Duncan laugh at him. The big man shook his head and rubbed his forehead, finding amusement in the fact that Sam would actually thank him for all this flabby softness that was quietly invading his body.
Out came the scales, placed on the firm kitchen floor. Sam’s butt was tapped impatiently until he climbed up. “You said you were one-fifty-five when I asked you a few months ago,” Duncan proclaimed; surprising Sam that he had actually retained that knowledge. “Let’s see what you are now.”
There was no dramatic climbing and balancing of numbers on Duncan’s scales. Like the man himself, they delivered the figure quickly and to the point.
With obvious amusement, Duncan delighted in reading the number out. “One hundred and seventy two!” he nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought it was going to be!”
Sam stepped off, feeling his body. Had he really gained seventeen pounds of fat in just over three weeks? And, more than that, was the change really so obvious that Duncan had been able to predict the exact number with ease?
“Relax!” Duncan scoffed at him, sensing Sam’s sudden insecurity at how quickly this was all happening to him. “You’re going to have to get used to this if you want to keep hanging out with me. That is what you want, right?” he asked, as if challenging Sam to correct him.
“Of course I do,” Sam nodded. “It’s just a… a big change,” he mumbled.
“Think of it this way…” Duncan jumped in. “If you want to be my plaything, then you’re going to have to entice me to play.” He wrapped his arm over Sam’s shoulders. “In your case, that means taking down a lot more food and calories to really push a gut out on you. I’m talking tits, fat rolls, extra chins… the lot! That’s the sort of stuff that really gets my dick hard.”
Sam nodded, the scent and touch of Duncan, not to mention his deep, masculine voice in his ear, really spiking his arousal once more.
“I’d love for you to be that lucky person who gets to wake up next to me each morning, but that’s not going to happen with a skinny little ass like you’ve got at the moment. Are you understanding me?” Duncan asked, as if feeling that he was explaining something to a three year old.
“If I want to be with you, I’ve got to get fatter,” Sam replied, trying to show Duncan he was on board.
With a little sideways squeeze, Duncan chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re sort of getting there,” he smirked. “It’s just time to start committing yourself in the way a guy like me deserves.” He pulled off his shirt and reestablished the sideways hug; their two naked torsos side by side for the first time.
Within a further week, Sam had been banned from the gym by Duncan. Now, these late evening home visits had become the natural progression. At Duncan’s apartment, Sam would be pressed with further shakes along with deliberately fattening feasts, like pizza, takeout or whole tubs of melted ice cream.
“Maybe we should plan a little sleepover for you soon,” Duncan grinned, grabbing at a full wedge of fresh blubber on Sam’s frame and jiggling it until even Sam’s puffy nibbles moved against the rhythm.
Sam nodded keenly, gazing with admiration at the mostly naked Duncan, but for his underwear, having arrived when the guy was fresh from the shower. “I’d like that,” he smiled, knowing that the new tire of belly fat that was starting to encircle his own waist was giving Duncan the very slightest of boners. Three shakes down and almost an entire extra large, meaty pizza, his capacity for consuming was increasing by the day. A good thing, considering there was a full tub of ice cream sitting at the side for him afterwards as well.
Without the gym, all the extra calories seemed to hang off Sam’s body in blubbery masses. There was that new roll across his stomach and oozing into his love handles. Then there was that new softness under his nipples and the embarrassing chub that had arrived under his chin. His butt had softened and widened, along with the tops of his thighs and, more recently, the tops of his arms too. In his everyday life, he’d started buying and wearing larger clothes. That was, apart from when he was seeing Duncan. At those times, Sam made the decision to keep dressing himself in those old, ever tightening pieces that were beginning to look nothing short of ridiculous on him. It was the longest foreplay of his life, enticing Duncan bit by bit as his body swelled outwards in just the way he liked. He found he could play up to it. Hiding his burps was less effective than letting them out, for Duncan smiled broadly and clapped him on the back each time he let one go.
Once the fat had started properly jiggling in the love handles, shirtless Sam made endless excuses to head to the bathroom or walk himself back to the kitchen, allowing Duncan to observe the free movement of fat across his body. “I feel like such a fat pig today,” he groaned, draping a limp arm across his bloated stomach after that day’s pizza was finished.
“That’s because you are a fat pig!” Duncan chuckled back, slapping his big hand down on Sam’s new gut and rubbing in a firm, harsh and unsympathetic manner.
Sam smiled, pleased that he was getting this sort of response now; an erection clearly pressing against Duncan’s brilliant white underwear. He’d paid more attention to the way Duncan spoke about him when he was most aroused, repeating those names like ‘pig’ and ‘lardass’ when he talked about himself and finding that it was all bearing fruit when it came to getting Duncan turned on. Perhaps, with this continued progress, he could have Duncan’s beautiful dick down his throat in less than a few weeks’ time.
People were surprised when Sam began telling them he was seeing someone. Perhaps it was because it was so clearly obvious that he was in the worst shape of his life. His certainty that Duncan would soon give in to his clear attraction to him allowed Sam to relax a little, flashing a picture of the man to those who asked about him. The more he talked about Duncan as if he was his, the more Sam needed to make it happen, doubling up his portions to keep his waistline expanding in the way that Duncan wanted.
“THAT’S your new boyfriend?” asked an indignant colleague of Sam’s as he took in the picture Sam was showing him.
Sam smiled and nodded. He was well used to these types of reactions now. Duncan was so impossibly hot, it was easy to question how anybody could land him, let alone a now 220lb Sam.
“That guy is a narcissistic asshole!” came the unexpected response, catching Sam by surprise. “He dated my cousin for almost a year and she gained almost a hundred pounds!”
“Oh, right…” Sam mumbled awkwardly, wishing he’d kept this secret to himself.
“The guy clearly gets off on it. I remember trying to talk to him about cutting down on the treats he was feeding her. He clearly didn’t give a shit. He didn’t care about her at all; only about getting her fatter.” He then gazed appraisingly up and down Sam’s body. “Trust me. You need to get away from him!”
Like a reality check smacking Sam in the face, he was a little quieter the next time he went over to Duncan’s place. What he was doing was utterly insane in anyone’s eyes. He’d allowed himself to amass so much extra weight and hadn’t done a slight bit of exercise in months; all to impress some guy who, in all likelihood, couldn’t care less about him.
“Come on, Piggy!” Duncan prodded Sam, seeing that he was a little slow with his meal that night. “You’ve got tits to grow for me.”
“One of my work colleagues knows you…” Sam began, deciding to just say what was on his mind. “Apparently, you used to date his cousin.”
“Oh, and let me guess… his cousin found herself piling on quite a few pounds?” Duncan asked back, clearly pleased by his own reputation.
“His cousin’s name is Ellie,” Sam nodded.
“Oh, THAT little piggy!” Duncan laughed in amusement. “Now she was a great fatty!”
“She still hasn’t been able to drop the weight,” Sam went on, recounting what he had been told by his colleague. “She’s tried everything.”
Duncan laughed wickedly. “Good! I’m glad all that time I spent secretly training up her appetite didn’t go to waste.”
“I thought you might feel a little bad?” Sam asked, surprised by Duncan’s reaction. “She’s tried every diet under the sun.”
“Pigs will be pigs!” Duncan merely grinned back, obviously delighted that Ellie was still as large as ever. Then he sighed, seeing that Sam continued to be unsatisfied by his response. “I’m not a good person, Sam,” he stated frankly. “Or have you forgotten that?”
“No… I'm just…”
“I’m a bad boy,” Duncan spoke over him, getting closer on the couch. “If you wanted to shame me, I’m afraid it hasn’t worked. All your little story did was get me even more turned on,” he grinned, pulling down his underwear a little to reveal his naked erection to Sam for the first time.
Sam’s eyes bulged.
“Greedy boy!” Duncan laughed as Sam instinctively licked his lips. “I told you… pile on the blubber, then you can suck my dick as much as you want!”
It had been a masterclass on manipulation. Just the mere sight of Duncan’s boner had shattered all of Sam’s resolve to have a serious conversation about the man’s morals. He didn’t care how long he had to wait, nor the cost to his waistline in the process, Sam was going to wrap his lips around that beautiful dick one day. It was something Duncan appeared to know all too well, reaching for Sam’s hand and pulling it into his own underwear until Sam’s hand was actually gripping his throbbing shaft. Was this real? Was Sam actually holding Duncan’s dick in his own hand?
“Are you going to be a good boy and stop complaining now?” Duncan asked firmly.
Sam nodded; his jaw slack from the absolute arousal he felt in doing what he was doing.
“So are you going to eat your food now? Build the fat and make me want to fuck you properly?” the man continued, guiding Sam’s hand in a slow, steady stroke of the shaft, concealed once more under the fabric of the underwear.
“I’ll get as fat as you want,” Sam heard himself saying. “I swear!” he declared, realising that he wouldn’t change this wicked side of Duncan even if he could. It was part of him, and the reason why Sam couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else.
Duncan’s hands began to linger a little longer on Sam’s body after that day. A playful tap on his softening butt would lead into a firm hand cupping his glutes as he swallowed his first shake of the day. Belly rubs became longer and more intense, the strokes along Sam’s fleshy upper arms and under his chin undeniably intimate. Duncan’s boner was now a constant feature, pressing up against Sam’s butt as he climbed up on the scale each week: 228lbs…233… 245…”
Some men might have carried such weight easier, but on Sam’s body, the fleshy fat pushed out of him, bloating him up like a shapeless slug. Duncan had turned him around and kissed him once he’d hit two-fifty. The moment had caught him by surprise; so tender and even romantic. Nine months of this crazy kink-fuelled alliance and at last he had been kissed. It was almost an old-fashioned courtship when looked at from another angle. But then that timeless image was shattered, with Duncan immediately pushing Sam’s head down and into his crotch, allowing Sam to suck him off for the first time ever. How long had the man had this goal in his head to get Sam to two-fifty? Had Sam known that this was the target, he would have ensured he got there at least a couple of months earlier.
“There’s just no hiding those tits now, is there?” Duncan laughed, ready to take Sam out on an official first date. He’d chosen the restaurant, had his hair styled differently and bought himself a new shirt that showed off his pecs to perfection. Meanwhile, Sam was struggling to make himself look anywhere near presentable to go out. His shape was so different to so many other guys; his naturally narrower frame carrying the fat in giant moobs and widening his butt into a shape that almost seemed quite feminine. However, his gut was unmistakably masculine, arching outwards even beyond his chest. He’d packed on twenty pounds in little over two weeks of reaching two-fifty, as if his metabolism had now completely destroyed itself.
“Maybe I should start growing a beard,” Sam pondered, still trying to correct his appearance in the mirror before they left.
“Not a chance!” Duncan chuckled behind him, kissing him sweetly on his cheeks. “I want every last inch of you on show!”
Duncan’s mindset seemed to be changing. He talked about them as if they were a real couple, and discussed vacation plans far off into the future. He’d slide his hand down into Sam’s great underwear and jerk him off, or part the fat man’s butt cheeks to allow himself entry. Was Duncan actually smitten by him? Was this a real, content version Sam had never known actually existed?
At some point, once Sam was around 300lbs, it finally happened. He’d been at a celebratory meal with his work colleagues to congratulate themselves on signing up a major new client after months of preparation and effort. Sam hadn’t expected them to choose the buffet place he’d been to with Duncan on multiple occasions, but as he ate, he suddenly found himself getting hornier and hornier. Usually, by the end of the third plate, Duncan’s strong hand would be rubbing his thigh under the table, coaxing him to push further. Yet, even without Duncan there, Sam could feel his arousal spiking as his work shirt tightened around his middle.
Sam’s colleagues thought it amusing to see Sam heading back up for so much more food. Even Frank, the senior manager, who was at least fifty pounds heavier than Sam, had long since given up eating. Perhaps that was the reason he was so aroused. Duncan had always told him how fat and greedy he was getting. Now Sam could see how completely true that was, surrounded by normal folks with average appetites; so different to his own, a man who had been fattened and stuffed for over fourteen months. He had no concept of correct portion sizes left in his brain; his only usual reference for normal eating habits being Duncan, who also constantly ate in order to maintain his strapping, muscular physique.
“What have you done to me?” a lustful Sam cried out as he got home and found Duncan there, still a little sweaty from his hard workout at the gym.
“Someone had a good evening,” Duncan chuckled at the sight of Sam’s strained work shirt.
Sam didn’t even reply. He unbuckled his pants the moment the door was closed, dropping them, along with his super large underwear, down to the floor. He grabbed his already hard erection and began tugging it in the way he had wanted to do for the last two hours. The pleasure was immediate, his eyes rolling up into his head.
Laughing, Duncan headed over. “What’s gotten into you, Piggy?” he asked curiously.
Sam moaned as they kissed, pulling Duncan’s hand onto his large belly and contracting the man’s fingers so that it pinched the copious amount of blubber. There had been some shift in him that he could not describe. He went upstairs to prepare himself, knowing that he needed nothing more than Duncan’s hardness inside of him in order to quench this sudden thirst.
“Little pig, little pig! Let me in…” Duncan teased, banging on the bathroom door when he could hear that Sam was almost ready to emerge.
There was a buzz in seeing Duncan’s face as Sam stepped out wearing the little pig nose he had picked up from the joke store on the way home. He watched Duncan move a step back and take in the words Sam had written across his large belly in quick-drying face paints: ‘Make me a Superchub!’
Without a single word exchanged, Duncan kissed and made love to him with a horny urgency that resulted in one of the best orgasms of Sam’s life. His surrendering and encouragement of Duncan’s wicked intentions felt like the greatest of all turn-ons. So what if he was struggling to see his own dick anymore? Duncan’s erotic fascination with his body would ensure he was never short of receiving wave after wave of pleasure.
Even as Sam continued to grow, Duncan’s unflinching dedication to his own body was admirable. The man had participated in, and won, two body building competitions; his achievements fuelled in part by his deep sexual arousal by the ever increasing contrast between him and his lover. Duncan could spend hours rubbing, patting, jiggling and tapping at Sam’s plush body, amazed at the complete lack of muscle tone and the delightful softness. He’d made it clear that he had wanted Sam’s neck entirely eliminated, so captivated was he by the expansive ring of fat that was framing his boyfriend’s face. Everything was a turn on for him: the little involuntary grunts Sam made as he shifted his weight, the unflattering fit of even well-sized clothes, as well as the disgusted reactions of those who had not seen him in some time.
Duncan would pose for him after each gym session, perfecting the professional stances that displayed his insane muscle best. In return, Sam would recline his chair and allow the stud to push handful after handful of delicious cake into his greedy mouth; lubricated down his throat by a pot of pure cream.
The weight in Sam’s chest felt unreal as the fat began to form giant sacks that nudged their way under his arms, lifting them outwards. It was the greatest benefit of having a bisexual boyfriend, as Duncan worked them to perfection, claiming them to be the ‘best tits’ he had ever played with. Once over 400lbs, Duncan’s attention shifted to the large padding of fat that filled Sam’s groin, almost swallowing up his dick entirely. The skin was so sensitive to Duncan’s touch, Sam had little comprehension of just how many calories he willingly consumed as his man fondled him there, getting a better grip on his hardness than Sam could ever hope to achieve on his own now.
Perhaps, given such erotic fixations, people may have expected their relationship to fizzle out. However, as Sam’s butt widened and his gut began pressing outwards and even sagging slightly, it was clear that Duncan had no intention of going anywhere. It was the lifestyle he longed for most; working hard in the day, working out in the evenings and then coming home to his grotesquely overindulged lover; stuffing him with food in a way that made both of them climax with ease. It was obvious how surprised others were when Duncan proposed, but not to Sam. He knew his man better than anyone else on the planet: his dreams and desires, his goals and ambitions.
“What do you say, Little Pig?” Duncan grinned, holding out a ring as he got down on one knee in the middle of the restaurant as a startled gathering of folks watched on from other tables, just as Sam knew Duncan would want.
Stuffed to the gills, Sam nodded, hearing the vague, half-hearted and unsure applause from the strangers that surrounded them. The kiss was deep and passionate as Duncan enjoyed every last moment to show Sam off in public like this. The man had handed his cell phone to the waiter, asking him to take a photo of them together as he stooped over Sam’s chair: Duncan’s large, strong arm draped over Sam’s shoulders, his other hand resting affectionately on the shelf of the enormous belly he had grown on him. This was it for Duncan; his ultimate fantasy coming true. There had been a reason why Duncan had stuffed him so much before popping the question. He’d wanted Sam as bloated and round as possible before this picture was taken of them together. The picture that would soon be shown off to all of Duncan’s friends, colleagues and gym buddies as he proudly displayed the gigantic, lardy blob he intended to marry.
But, as Sam smiled, feeling that gentle, affectionate rub of Duncan’s kinky hand on his fat stomach, he knew that marriage to such a man was only going to do one thing to his waistline. Perhaps that would have worried him some time ago. But, even now, he could feel his erection building with just the first images of what he would soon look like flooding his brain. He turned his head back to Duncan, gazing at those perfect lips he wanted so desperately again.
“Are you ready for this?” Duncan grinned, preparing to kiss him once more for the next picture to be taken by the waiter.
“You bet I am!” Sam nodded keenly; closing his eyes and surrendering.
Oh, sweetheart—you’re not feeling hungry today? Don’t say that. You couldn’t possibly expect me to let you leave the house on an empty stomach. Let me get you at least something to fill you up. You always love my sweets in the morning, all my pastries and sugar. I know how badly you want them. Just look at how aching your belly is! What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t send you off with a proper breakfast?
Come on. You’re not in a rush. Take your time to stumble out of bed and smell everything that’s been prepared so, so lovingly for you. Put something nice and warm on, and sit down. You’re not walking to go and get your coffee, That’s my job. Plenty of cream and sugar to wake you up. Let’s get you a big mug to start your day off right. Oh, don’t fuss. I know how you like your coffee. Twelve creamers. Whole milk. As many pumps of syrups as your want. Why don’t we add some whipped cream just to make it fun? Here’s your cup sleepy head. Drink up while I get your plate ready.
I know you’re not hungry, but I made your favorite cinnamon rolls. Nice and gooey. It took me hours this morning to get everything right. All that dough, cinnamon, brown sugar. I couldn’t forget the icing, of course; but I wanted you to decide how much I drizzle on. You know you're spoiled about how your food;s made. There’s no shame in it. After all, a good wife makes sure your satisfied with every bite that goes past your lips. The icing’s nice and warm. I’ll pour, you tell me when to stop. Is that good? You want some over here? Let's get a nice and thick coat on all of these before you dig in. There’s still a little left over. We’ll just pour it on the side of your plate. That way you can dip the bottoms in and get every inch covered,
Now, have some bacon on your plate. I made sure it was cooked extra crispy just the way you like it. And syrup always makes it better, doesn’t it, my love? No, no—I’ll pour it. We’ll make sure every piece has enough to dip it in. You just sit back and look at the spread I prepared. French toast just the way your mom used to make it. Extra thick. Although, I did think you would like it better fried. Cut up into strips. And you can’t have french toast without powdered sugar. I also may have gotten some strawberries at the store the other day while you were at work. There already coated in chocolate and powdered sugar. I just could decide which was best for my hard, hardworking fatty.
I know there’s already a lot on your plate, but do you think you could try one more pastry for me? It;s a new recipe I’ve been dying to spoil you with, honey. You have to be my taste tester. I wanted to make you some danishes. You always eye them in the coffee shops at work, I thought “why shouldn’t i make them at home?” Made with plenty of butter and cream cheese. They should slide down your throat very easily. I promise. I only made a couple and then some. Please, please try them.
It makes me so happy just to make all of your favorites every morning. I know you maybe have to eat a lot and you always kinda have to finish off every “feast” I prepare, but I just love knowing that I’m taking good care of you before you head out the door. You deserve rest after a long night of sleep. I can just hear your stomach growling all night long, waiting for a delicious, hearty breakfast. A swollen gut weighing you down is just a little reminder that someone loves you so, so much that she just had to stuff you with every single rich craving she could think of.
Let’s tug this waistband of yours down a bit. You know it’s just going to make your soft, doughy rolls uncomfortable. That belly needs to be allowed to breathe and grow, and fit as much as it possibly can into it. Finish your coffee for me, love. Drink, drink it up. Here, just let me tip it gently into your mouth like this. My poor, hungry, big boy should never have to lift a finger for his breakfast. I’m going to sit on your lap and feed you every single morsel.
Are the cinnamon rolls good? Warm and gooey just like I said they would be? Good. I love the way your cheeks fill out just trying to get it all to fit in that greedy. Hardworking mouth. Don’t speak. Oh, silly—you don’t have to be embarrassed to chew like that. Just work your jaw until you can get it all down. Have another. Then, let me hear the crunch of that bacon. Over and over again. There/s still more. I bet the syrup is your favorite part of it, though. Sticky and melt-in-your-mouth? That’s perfect.
Does the french toast have enough batter? Enough sugar over it? Let me add some more sugar just to top you off. I’ll even refill your coffee if you show me how full that belly’s getting. A little round and tight. Mm, that’s what I like to see in the morning. Now, eat up. You have another plate to get through. Not to mention, all the chocolate covered strawberries I spent hours hand-dipping, getting melted chocolate on my fingers. Come on, fruits are healthy for you, sweetheart! They’re low-calories. So, that means you have plenty of room for a danish or two.
Do you want to try my danishes?
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i'm going to be responding asks tonight. feel free to tell me what y'all want for breakfast :)
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