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Awesome story ! 🙂😃

Beer Bellies

It was finally Friday Night. After a long week of work, all Sean wanted to do was have a boys night with his buddies, Nate and Jordan, drink drink some beer, and relax. The three boys met in college, they all played on the same soccer team and they became best buddies very quickly. They made plans to meet that night, Nate would bring the food, Sean the drinks, and they’d meet up at Jordan’s house when they got off of work. At 5:15, Sean clocked out and drove to the grocery store to buy the beer for tonight.

Sean wandered his way over to the refrigerated aisles to look for the beer of choice for tonight. He saw all of the usual brands they’d drank before, but right before he made a selection, a bright orange box caught his eye. It was a new brand, Sean realized, since he didn’t recognize the label. And it was on sale! 3 boxes for the price of 1! Sold, Sean thought to himself, loading his shopping cart with 3 of the orange boxes. He also grabbed a large bag of ice, and after he checked out, he opened the trunk of his car. He poured the ice and a box full of beer into the ice cooler he kept there, closed the trunk, and left for Jordan’s house.

Now, Sean was exactly 6 feet tall and his muscular soccer body from college never truly went away. He had blond hair that was starting to grow a little bit too long for his liking, and the faint beginning of a beard only exaggerated his strong jawline. By many people’s standards, he was very hot, to put it mildly. Many people constantly wondered how someone who looked like him could possibly still be single, but Sean knew the answer. He never truly liked to dwell on the subject, but he knew that he had a crush on both of his friends. Unbeknownst to Sean and his friends, all 3 of them, Nate, Sean, and Jordan all had crushes on each other, but no one dared to make any sort of advance to each other. Sean wished he could wake up everyday to one of his friend’s gorgeously chiseled body and beautifully sexy face every day. But alas, he never truly pursued anything serious with them.

Sean was the last one to arrive at Jordan’s house. As he opened the door he was greeted by Nate, the goalie from their old soccer team who had golden brown skin, dark brown eyes, curly black hair and a well toned body, who gave him a hug and then a helping hand to bring all of the drinks in. “Looks like you got us enough for a week! You didn’t need to spend this much!” Jordan said as he walked over to say hi to Sean. Jordan was also very tall, only an inch taller than Sean. His Brown hair and beard framed his face very well, and his hairy chest really accentuated his large pecs.

“It was on sale anyways” Sean laughed giving Jordan a hug, adding, “plus, I’ve never tried this stuff. Never even seen it. So I figured tonight was the night to try it” He opened the cooler, grabbed a bottle from inside, and downed half of the bottle in one gulp. It was surprisingly delicious. Nate and Jordan both grabbed a beer from the cooler, and they entered the living room, where the TV was playing a basketball game the boys were interested in.

Barely a few minutes into the basketball game, Sean had finished his first bottle. “Bro we barely sat down!” Jordan laughed in his baritone voice, before taking a large swig of his own drink, nearly draining it. “You trying to get fucking slammed tonight or what!” he laughed again, giving Sean a hard time, as he drained the last of his bottle as well. Sean laughed, grabbed another bottle from the cooler they had brought into the living room, and took another large sip. “Looks like you’re drinking a little fast too smartass” Sean joked, and tossed his buddy another bottle. It didn’t take long until Nate let out a burp and exclaimed that he too had finished his bottle, giggling to himself as he walked over to the cooler and grabbed himself a bottle. As he sat back down, Jordan punched his arm lightly and said “Okay wait, I got an idea” he took another gulp from his beer and said “if we’re gonna drink this fast, we may as well make it fun. How about we see who can finish 5 bottles first” he smiled, “whoever loses has to drink an extra bottle!” Sean chuckled and said “Prepare to lose then, lightweight”, and it didn’t take any time at all until Nate laughed and said “I’m in, but only because I’m gonna win and make y’all look stupid” They all laughed, and they began to set up for their competition.

Unbeknownst to the boys, this beer wasn’t like any other beer they’d chugged before. It was called Bloater’s Original, and as the name would suggest, this beer made its drinkers pack on a surprisingly strong bloat, which would turn even the strongest of abs into a beer belly in less than an hour. It also contained a secret ingredient- an aphrodisiac, which worked especially strongly on men. If two men under the influence of this beer had sex, however, the weight would be permanent and they would stay eternally aroused by their bellies. However, the boys hadn’t heard of Bloater’s Original, and they weren’t aware of any of this. All they knew was that it tasted amazing.

Jordan opened the ice chest again, passed each person their 5 bottles, and said “On your marks, get set, DRINK!”

Immediately all 3 boys began to chug their bottles at a much faster pace. Barely 8 seconds passed and Nate put down his first bottle and grabbed his second. Moments later Sean grabbed his second bottle, and barely any time passed before Jordan grabbed his next bottle. All anyone could hear was the sound of loud gulps and an occasional burp from one of the boys.

Sean couldn’t help but feel how good the beer made him feel when he was drinking it. He felt the cool, sweet liquid slowly slide from his throat down into his stomach, where it felt nice and soothing. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his midsection was beginning to curve outwards as the beer bloated his stomach. He could feel his shirt begin to ride up his bloated stomach. He also began to notice he was getting slightly buzzed, revealing that he was more of a lightweight then he had led on. But he wasn’t thinking about any of that, his mind was on slamming down his fourth empty bottle and grabbing the last one. As he opened the last bottle, he began to drink faster than ever, but was interrupted by a final slam and a loud burp as Nate finished his last beer.

“Told you I would win!” he exclaimed, a little buzzed. He burped again, and watched as Sean slammed down his last drink, who also let out a large burp. “I guess you were right, but at least I’m not Mr. Last Place over here!” Sean giggled, patting Jordan on the back as he drained his bottle and sat back. Nate high fived Sean and said to Jordan “One more beer for you, Loser!” he laughed, and he placed another beer on top of Jordan’s new bloat. “Holy fuck dude! Look at your belly!” Nate laughed incredulously as he poked Jordan’s new bloated middle. Jordan rolled his eyes as he pushed Nate’s hand away. “This beer isn’t exactly making you skinny, Chubs” Nate put both of his hands on top of his new bloated belly, pat it for a second, and then turned and said “But let’s not ignore Sean’s fucking GUT over here!” Nate laughed again as Sean pushed him off when he tried to put his hands on Sean’s pleasantly warm belly.

Sean looked down. Woah. That belly wasn’t there earlier, he noted, as he rested one of his hands on his bloated middle. It felt firm to the touch with just a little give, and it was almost perfectly spherical. The shirt he was wearing had rode up s little, exposing the smallest sliver of belly. Its new heaviness weighed him down a bit, and as he shook his midsection with his hands he could hear 6 bottles of beer sloshing inside. It was true that Sean’s bloat was the largest of the 3, but for some reason he didn’t mind. He knew that after another beer Jordan would get to his size, and he also knew that Nate wasn’t one to be left out, and he would be drinking again soon. “Who cares about my gut, we’re supposed to be pouring another beer into Jordan’s!” he said, giving his friend a little rub on the belly. He was vaguely surprised at the soft layer that met his fingers. Was Jordan losing his abs? No, he was at the gym the other day, Sean thought to himself. He shook the thought away as he grabbed another beer, passed it to Jordan, and sat down.

Jordan grumbled as he opened his beer and poured its contents down his throat. Even though he was noticeably slower, he still drained the bottle fairly quickly. A little trail of beer that missed his mouth dribbled down his jaw and left a wet spot on the top of his shirt. As he put down his empty bottle he let out his largest burp yet, and put both hands on his swollen belly. “Y’all, I dunno why this beer is bloating me up but I feel fucking enormous” he said as he burped again. He rolled up his tight shirt and revealed a perfectly round bloat that looked pretty tight. By now it was obvious that his belly was larger than the other two boys, and he began to massage it to try and relieve some pressure. He burped again. He looked like if someone had strapped a 30 pound belly onto an athlete. Sean, feeling some liquid courage, asked “Bro, can I touch it?” In response, Jordan moved his hands away to grab Sean’s and Nate’s arm, and he rested them both on his belly. The three boys sat there, Nate and Sean slowly rubbing circles into Jordan’s bloated belly as Jordan had a hand on top of Nate and Sean’s bellies. Sean gasped quietly as Jordan began to rub his bloat, but relaxed since it felt so good. As Sean rubbed his buddy’s warm belly, he felt his thirst for another beer return. He went to the cooler to see if any beers were left, but all of the bottles were used in the drinking game. He went to the kitchen, opened the other boxes, and laughed a devious laugh as he looked into an open cabinet and saw the keg from the boys’ college days. He poured the beers into the keg and struggled to cart it all back into the living room.

As he walked back to the couch, Nate saw what Sean brought in and his face lit up. “Jordan I didn’t know that you kept that! I thought someone threw it away!” Jordan turned back and smiled “I didn’t want to waste it! Of fucking course I kept it!” He laughed as he spoke again, “So! Who’s gonna go under the tap first? For old times sake!” He looked at both of his slightly rounded friends, and then grabbed Nate’s hand and motioned for him to lay down. “You won the drinking game! You get to go first now!” Nate laughed as he got under the faucet of the keg, and the boys laughed as he put the spigot in his mouth. Sean chimed in, “I put 24 bottles in there! Once you’ve had more or less 8 bottle’s worth it’s my turn!” He pat his belly for emphasis. Why am I so excited for this? He thought. He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought though, because Jordan had just opened the tap, and Nate began to drink. Nate’s gulping was slow at first, but almost immediately picked up as his mouth filled up with beer much faster than he thought. Jordan got back up and rested his right hand on Sean’s belly while cheering Nate on. Why are we all so touchy tonight? Sean wondered, but he wasn’t complaining, since he’d been wanting to rest his hands on his friends’ bellies for a while now. He put his own hand on the roundest part of Jordan’s belly and rubbed his thumb on his surface. As he cheered for Nate, a warm feeling returned to Sean, the one he wanted to suppress, especially around his buddies who he was in love with. This moment wasn’t helping his crush out at all, but he just went along with it. Jordan’s loud cheering for Nate brought him back down to reality. Sean looked back at Nate, cheering and laughing, but also realizing Nate was probably getting close to finishing his turn with the keg. Nate was definitely much rounder now, his golden brown abs being covered up by a huge fat belly that was now bulging outwards like a basketball. As Nate drank, Sean could see Nate’s gut pushing outwards with every gulp, making his buddy swell, and he looked positively massive. Sean turned off the flow of beer and pat Nate’s belly. In the time he watched his friend drink, his belly went from basketball sized to beach ball sized. His fingers sank into Nate’s much softer middle, and he was once again shocked at how fat his buddy was. It was like if Nate hadn’t worked out a day in his life. He couldn’t think much about it though because Jordan was helping Nate up and was motioning to Sean that it was his turn with the keg.

Sean layed down in the same position Nate was in, and after he counted down from 3, Jordan turned the faucet on. Immediately he felt the cool beer enter his mouth, and as he swallowed he felt the soothing sensation of the cool liquid sliding down into his bloated belly. He kept swallowing and swallowing as more beer kept flowing into his mouth. Despite all he was drinking, his belly didn’t hurt, it just felt pleasantly full. The tide of cool beer kept coming, and Sean closed his eyes to focus on swallowing. He was aware now of his round belly, and he could feel as each gulp of beer pushed it out further and further. It felt so soothing, and he continued to swallow the beer that flowed into his mouth. His belly felt pretty tight now, but now a new feeling also arose: he also felt a significant layer of his belly that wasn’t under pressure at all. As his friends began to stop cheering him on, he opened his eyes to Nate turning off his flow of beer. He almost couldn’t believe the sight he was met with.

His huge belly, which was now filled to the brim with fattening beer, was heavier than he ever felt it. It was almost perfectly round, just beginning to sag ever so slightly, and it felt so warm and soothing. He looked positively massive! It looked like he’d gained 100 pounds and it all went straight to his fat belly. His belly was even bigger than Nate’s! His shirt had slid up over an inch over his belly button, and it was extremely tight, leaving no part of his newly fattened body to the imagination. He burped, feeling relieved as some of the pressure left his belly. It didn’t go down however, and Sean let his hand gingerly pat his fat belly. He was shocked when it was a lot softer than he anticipated. His fingers sank into his soft gut, and he realized then that this wasn’t just a massive bloat; he was also getting fat. He let his fingers sink into his gut again, feeling the warmth of his fat belly on his fingers. He knew he should be concerned, but a new feeling crept into his brain, almost like magic: arousal. He’d never felt so aroused ever in his life as he was now; looking at his fat belly and then looking up to see another fat belly, Nate’s, looking down at him too. He tried to get up so that Jordan could have a turn, but realized in shock that his belly was too heavy for him to be able to stand up, keeping him pinned to the ground. Nate and Jordan offered their hands, and after Sean grabbed them, they helped him off the ground. As Sean got up, Jordan got on the ground, eager for his turn.

Jordan’s belly, formally the largest of the 3 but now the smallest, began to swell almost immediately when Sean turned on the flow of fattening beer. He watched as Jordan took a couple gulps of beer before he turned to Nate. Without thinking, Sean reached to rub Nate’s now huge belly. Nate had the same idea, and the two fat men began to rub each other’s swollen bellies, pushing their guts into each other just to be able to reach each other, all the while cheering on Jordan and his growing belly. Sean’s fingers were surrounded by Nate’s soft body, and Nate’s fingers were sinking into Sean’s plump belly as he rubbed it softly. The sensation of his belly being fondled, as well as having his hands on another belly felt so pleasant that Sean’s dick began to harden. Fuck, he thought, my buddy is giving me a fucking boner. He almost would’ve felt bad, but noticed that Nate was also beginning to get a boner from getting his belly rubbed. Huh? He’s into this too? Sean thought, arousal and confusion now turning into horniness. His question was answered when he gently slapped Nate’s belly, and his 7 inch cock in response stood fully erect. He turned to Jordan, and was shocked at the size of his buddy’s growing belly. It was huge! He’d just finished draining the contents of the keg and was laying down, belly fattened and exposed, burping quietly. As Jordan opened his eyes, Sean and Nate stood by Jordan’s face so that his first sight would be two huge boners and two jiggly bellies. Once Jordan was aware of the view, his own 10 inch cock began to get hard. “Damn, y’all look so fucking huge from down here” He growled, as his arms moved down to pull down his shorts to free his dick, the largest of the 3. “How about you fatties help me up huh?” He asked, snapping Nate and Sean from their horny dazes. The two helped Jordan up, who was the biggest one of the 3 boys by one fattening bottle, onto his feet. Almost immediately, the three fat, horny men pushed their swollen, fat bellies into each other, hands secretly moving down to take off their shorts so that their erect cocks could poke into the bottom of their own bellies. It felt so good having someone else’s belly pushing into their own bellies. After a horny minute of each other pushing out their bellies and rubbing them sensually, Sean finally whispered “We should take this to your room, huh Jordan?” Jordan nodded while making lustful eye contact with Sean, then to Nate. He pushed his belly into Sean’s back to get him to start walking, which made Sean even hornier than earlier.

The second the boys entered the bedroom they began to help each other take off what too-tight clothes were left and moved to Jordan’s bed. They were lucky that Jordan had invested in a King-sized bed, because the three 275 pound men would have almost filled up the entire bed. Sean, being the first one on the bed, ended up laying belly down at the side of the bed and tried to move a hand down to his cock to jack it off. Immediately, Nate climbed on top of Sean’s plump backside and stuck his hard dick right into Sean’s round juicy ass. As Nate began to pump Sean’s ass, he could feel his own gut jiggling and shaking to the beat of his dick. Jordan, not missing a beat, waddled to Sean’s face, and after waiting for him to submissively open his mouth, stuck his massive cock into Sean’s mouth, and grabbed his hair. Jordan watched in pleasure as Sean’s face disappeared under his massive gut as he took all 10 inches of Jordan’s thick dick in his mouth. He rested his belly on top of Sean’s head and used his hands to pleasure Nate’s fat, sensitive nipples. Sean shuddered in pleasure as the weight of his buddy’s belly rested on top of his head. As Sean sucked on Jordan’s dick, he moved his free hand to the bottom of Jordan’s belly and began to massage and pat and rub it, doing everything he could to pleasure Jordan’s sensitive underbelly. He was still getting pounded by Nate, who’s dick was the perfect size to massage Sean’s prostate, making him shudder in pleasure. Nate made Sean’s body rock back and forth in a rhythmic motion, and Sean could feel all of the beer in his heavy belly slosh around and weigh him down even more. Sean kept licking and sucking Jordan’s huge dick, it’s head reaching deep into Sean’s throat, and making Jordan moan louder and louder. Sean kept himself from gagging multiple times, but Jordan’s monster cock was almost too much for him. Sean’s eyes watered in pleasure at the combined sensation of a big dick in his mouth and his ass, rocking him back and forth. After a couple more minutes of moaning, sloshing, thrusting, and jiggling, Sean could tell that Jordan was going to be the first to cum. Jordan tried to muffle his sounds of pleasure, but after a powerful thrust from Nate finally made Sean gag on Jordan’s dick, Jordan moaned one last long, loud moan and began to cum directly down Sean’s throat. Sean swallowed every pump of jizz from Jordan’s cock and could feel it’s warmth settling in his fat belly. Sean’s eyes were watering up again, as he drank from Jordan’s cock like a hose, and was relieved when his enormous orgasm finally ended.

Immediately, Sean felt his belly get warm and tingly. After motioning for Nate to stop, and getting some help from Jordan, Sean sat up straight on the side of the bed and watched as his belly slowly began to grow rounder and rounder, bigger and bigger. Jordan’s cum, affected by all the beer they drank, was fattening Sean’s belly even further. Sean and Nate watched in animal horniness as Sean’s belly finally stopped swelling, leaving him even fatter than before. He was now the biggest boy in the room, completely eclipsing Jordan’s monster belly by more than 50 pounds. Boner stronger than ever, he turned to Nate and said, “I think it’s time we switched, fatboy. You need to get fattened like I was” This was all it took for Nate to assume the same position that Sean was in moments ago, and Sean heaved his massive gut on top of the small of Nate’s back, and began to pump his ass with his 8 inch cock, albeit more sluggishly. Nate’s face was one of sheer pleasure as Sean’s dick rocked his fat body. Sean kept thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into Nate’s ass, and in no time they were both moaning on the brink of orgasm. “Stop,” Sean whispered into Nate’s ear, full of lust, “Let me force-feed you my cock and watch you grow, fatty” Nate obeyed immediately, and in his horniness, shoved Sean’s entire dick into his throat, and began to swallow as Sean began to cum like he never had before into Nate’s fat throat. He could only imagine Sean’s cum dribbling down into his heavy beer filled belly, and kept swallowing as load after load of cum was forced into Nate’s gut. Sean grinned as Nate sat up and began to pork up before his eyes. First he grew slowly, playing with his belly until it began to speed up, surging into his lap and completely encasing his throbbing cock in soft fat. When his belly stopped expanding, Nate looked like he was twice the weight he was when the party started, all the weight in his jiggly round belly, moobs, ass, and love handles. With a crazed lust in his eyes, he turned to Jordan. “It’s your turn, fat boy” Nate whispered, patting Jordan’s belly.

By now, the horniness from the beer was beginning to weaken on Jordan. He wasn’t ashamed of anything he just did (partially because of his crushes, partially because the beer’s effect on him would never truly wear off), but he couldn’t believe how large and fat he and his friends became. He looked positively massive, and his friends looked like they weighed 350 pounds. It would take years to work this belly off! He stopped Nate, despite his boner returning slightly, saying “Um, haha, I’m done bro! I don’t want to get any fatter man” but Nate wasn’t listening. Still close to orgasming, he forced Jordan onto his knees and shoved his dick, slick with lots of precum right into Jordan’s throat, and he watched with lust as Jordan’s body jiggled some more in an attempt to stop his cock from fattening him up. Jordan gave up and accepted his fate as he felt Nate’s cock explode with cum, opening up a waterfall that he was forced to swallow. It felt like it would never end, and Nate’s dick was still shooting pump after pump of fattening cum down into Jordan’s throat. After the longest orgasm of his life, Nate slowly pulled his dick out of Jordan’s mouth and rested it on Jordan’s sexy face. Jordan felt the warmth of all the cum he just guzzled make its way into his belly, and he could’ve sworn he could feel a slight bloat and warmth coming from his belly as the two liquids mixed in his growing gut. He moaned ever so slightly when he felt his belly began to swell outwards. However, due to the amount of cum that Nate had shot into his belly, Jordan wasn’t going to endure quite the same fate as his buddies. He watched on as his belly grew to the same size as Sean’s and Nate’s, and began to grow nervous as it continued to grow past the size of his obese friends. He watched in terror as he kept blowing up, as pound after pound of fat settled around his belly. After what felt like an eternity of watching his body grow fatter and rounder and jigglier and softer by the second, his body finally stopped growing when he hit the 400 pound mark.

For a minute, the three boys looked at each other’s fattened bodies. “Damn.” Nate said softly, as he left to go grab an empty bottle from the living room after gently slapping his two buddies’ guts. Jordan and Sean were now alone in the room. “So.” Sean started, but Jordan hushed him, as he reached over both of their bellies to plant a kiss on Sean’s lips. Sean returned the kiss, and when they seperated, Sean asked, “What are we? The three of us?” Jordan smiled to him and said, “I think you know.”

Nate returned moments later with a bottle and said in the same cheery way he would have earlier, “Hey guys! I read the label! The beer made us this fat!” he said, and laughed. Sean and Jordan also giggled at his enthusiasm. “We’re also never gonna be able to lose these fat guts, but” he smacked his belly for emphasis, “at least we don’t want to! We love them! And I love y-” Nate cut himself off, and blushed. “Don’t worry, we all know” Jordan said quietly, waddling over to him to kiss him. He continued, “We love each other. Our boyfriends. And our big bellies”. Nate smiled and went to give Sean a hug, but he jumped when all three boyfriend’s bellies rumbled loudly at the same time.

“Nate, you better have brought a lot of food” Sean stated, as his belly rumbled again. They all laughed, and laid a hand on each other’s fat guts as they walked to the kitchen to eat.

The Fattening

This story is written by me and was originally posted to the Bellybuilders website under the pen name "Pintoupes". It is reproduced here, having undergone a light edit.

David turned the speed on the running machine up to the furthest level he could possibly take, trying to burn off all the feelings of hurt and confusion which had been troubling him for the last few days. He often threw himself into excruciating exercise when he had something on his mind.

David had just broken up with his smarmy boyfriend, Eric, a 23-year old Greek god of a man whom all of the girls, and more than a few of the boys, fantasised about getting off with. All of the flattery Eric received had gone to his head badly and came out in the cruel, insensitive way he treated David, regularly ignoring David when other people were present, expecting him to go out of his way all the time to suit whatever Eric's own fleeting conveniences were.

For a long time David had put up with shit which he couldn't imagine tolerating from anybody else, but as his partner became increasingly cold and rude to him, David finally confronted his arrogant boyfriend about it, to which Eric responded by dumping him there and then, admitting to six infidelities which David had long suspected but did not want to believe. Such a sudden break-up would not have been all that bad, given Eric's awful treatment, but having become so infatuated with Eric that he lost touch with the few friends he had before, David now found all of his friends were in fact really Eric's friends, and none of Eric's "fan club" now wanted to have anything to do with David.

Thinking about how desperately lonely and resentful he felt, suddenly David found himself flying through the air and landed with a thud against the wall, bruising his leg. After a moment, he realized the running machine was going a bit fast, and he hadn't been paying attention, his mind dwelling on Eric and the break-up.

"What are you doing here, you peeping perv?" roared a voice.

Dan, one of Eric's muscle-head friends, was standing over David.

Everybody turned around, and the supervisor gave Dan an irritated look.

David got up.

"Go away, Dan."

"You're here spying on Eric aren't you, you little cock-sucker?"

"Shut up."

"He's told me all about you. I can tell what you are by the way you look at us. Well, we don't want your type around here."

Infuriated as he felt, David did not have the energy for arguing with one of Eric's idiot friends. Glancing around, he saw Eric standing next to one of the weight machines. Eric noticed him instantly and walked towards David, thankfully getting Dan out of the way.

"Look, I don't want you anywhere near me, I've told you," Eric snarled.

"What's your problem? I am here using the gym. If you have a problem with that, go somewhere else."

Eric grabbed David's bag next to the running machine and hurled it out of the door. David felt like hitting him but was so emotionally exhausted, he just walked out. When he got home, he just went to his bedroom and cried.

The next two weeks were hell, but David could now really see what a truly nasty piece of work Eric was and, with that, he stopped mourning the end of the relationship. Instead, he threw himself more into the job he'd got at a local estate agent, slowly earning the respect of his colleagues and clients, so much so that over a period of six months, he was promoted twice and on better money than ever before. He'd also managed to rekindle friendships with some of the people he had lost touch with when he met Eric, and over time, David generally sorted himself out.

In fact, everything in David's life would have been almost perfect, if it hadn't been for one small thing. After the incident in the gym, David had generally avoided the place, and his old exercise regimen had all but vanished. Compounding this, in part due to work, he found himself making more and more use of fast-food takeaways, all of which together had gradually taken a toll on his figure. He was only twenty years old but fast came to realise he'd now have to start working for the 'boy band' figure he had always taken for granted. At 5'10", his weight which had always been under 160 pounds, had gone up to 176, and although some people commented that he looked stockier, some even enquiring if he was going to the gym more, David knew that, underneath his clothes, he was becoming a lot softer. Although he didn't really have the time or motivation to go to the gym again, he vowed to cut down on the takeaways, beer, and the variety of sweet foods -chocolates, donuts and other cakes - with which lately he had taken to indulging himself.

Then, just as all appeared to be going right in his life again, another shock: David discovered his landlord was going to sell the house, and he would have to be moving out soon. Fortunately what had threatened to be a very difficult accommodation-searching exercise was avoided when his friend Sarah told him that, in the house where her ex-boyfriend Joey was living, someone had just left and Joey was looking for a good lodger.

"I'll put in a good word for you. I'm sure you'll get on well with Joey", she said smiling.

So David moved in there, a house with Joey and two other people, a very tidy place with more space than David had before at a rent which wasn't bad at all. Before long though, he realised he was developing a pretty big crush on Joey, whom Sarah had told him about. He couldn't quite pin it down. Joey wasn't model material like Eric had been. He was older, about 25, short-ish, very slim, and though his nose was slightly crooked and he had a bit of an acne problem which got bad from time-to-time, there was something impishly charming about him - his looks, his behaviour, how he moved, how he talked - which David found irresistible.

"He's straight though," thought David gloomily, realising that no one in the house knew David was gay, since he hadn't gone out or had sex for ages and was beginning to feel horny and frustrated. Quickies in the toilet cubicle were something he disdained, but he wondered how long he'd go before he'd have to go out and relieve his suppressed appetites.

He looked at himself in the mirror. "I don't think I'm as attractive as I was," he said to himself, depressed at the idea his weight had just tipped 200 pounds, looking at the slight belly which he had been hiding underneath his trousers and which was now too big to conceal. David had noticed his pants getting tighter and tighter, and he'd had to buy some new pairs the previous week. In fact, the other day he was using the shower and caught himself in the mirror on the other side of the wall and couldn't believe how his body looked. Where before his chest had looked hard and lean, now it was soft and he had developed curves which made him cringe. When he tried to jiggle his pecs, as he often proudly used to do, he noticed that they'd become soft, round and pointy, almost like a woman's. It felt humiliating. So, in thinking about his prospects of finding a guy again, he felt downhearted.

More and more David fantasised about Joey, laying in bed at night and wishing he was cuddled up next to him. Then he felt guilty and desperate, but he didn't care. "It's only harmless," he thought. Indeed, Joey seemed so cheerful and chirpy all the time that it really brightened up the evenings, and David found it delightful that Joey seemed to single him out for attention, always bringing him into the conversation and joking around with him.

Joey had even gotten into the habit of doing David's cooking for him most nights, although Joey was a vegan and so had to do his own cooking separately. He was just that sort of guy, always eager to please, and please David he did, with big meals, invariably smothered with thick gravy and big dollops of everything. He seemed to know that other people ate more than he did and so when cooking he always dished out things until people protested. Being slightly shy and with a healthier appetite than ever before, David often failed to raise the warning flag, relishing the little ritual as the only form of affection from Joey he could enjoy

David's diet went to pot. Dinners were more calorie-packed than ever, and the routine of snacking he got into during the day now felt almost impossible to break out of. He loved his food, and whenever he was without a snack for more than a few hours he got cravings for them of such intensity that they distracted him from whatever he was doing and gave him a headache, to the point that people at work were beginning to notice how he was forever popping to the sweets machine for a quick bar of chocolate or bag of crisps.

"You're eating whenever I see you," his female boss smirkingly observed one day, satisfied that she had lost three stones and was beginning to look like Demi Moore, whilst David, the man with the looks, the talk of the office, was porking up. A few days earlier, David had jokingly flirted with her, and she caused him immense embarrassment in front of his (mainly male) colleagues by poking him gently in the tummy and jibing "I'm not sure you're in condition for a session with me!" It was a little nasty, but David took it in good humour.

"So I'm a bit fat," he rationalised. "It's not the end of the world."

Over the next few months though, David failed to stem the erosion of his athletic body into an increasingly flabby figure, a process too difficult to stop now. Work was so often boring, and munching on snacks was the only way to keep sane, so that chomping on a Mars Bar had become as addictive to him as lighting a cigarette was for a smoker. And at home, Joey's meals were becoming more and more grandiose as well, having acquired an interest in Italian, Indian, Greek and Chinese cooking, which David thought very strange, considering Joey never ate meat.

All in all, David couldn't stop thinking of Joey and how gorgeous he was, and it, too, was becoming embarrassing. David sometimes found himself staring at him whenever he had the opportunity, and he was sure at least one of the other lodgers had noticed! Just hearing his voice gave David a warm feeling. A lot of people would think Joey was ugly because of his spots and his nose being a little out-of-joint, but to David all his little faults just made him even more enchanting, kind of vulnerable but with a confident air about him, very slim but perfectly proportioned, like a doll. David took advantage of every opportunity to look at Joey when he would walk around after a bath or changing his shirt, exposing the hard and toned body.

What a contrast to the ever mounting piles of flab smothered over David's ex-jock body, the round and plumped-out ass, the big sloppy tits hanging down the top of his chest, the porky child-bearing thighs, and the bloated, round belly which hung embarrassingly around his waist! David jerked his cock up and down in a fast-paced rhythm, imagining Joey's lithe little hands manipulating every square inch of his big body and leading him to an animalistic climax of sexual frenzy. He moaned, as thick boy juices exploded out of his untameable cock, and flung flat out on the bed, exhausted and dripping with sweat, he watched serenely as his over-worked cock experienced after-shocks for what seemed like hours, rising softly up and down from behind the hillside landscape of a rounded belly splattered with cum, sending him wave after wave of soothing pleasure.

After recovering his energy, David began to glide his hands over his body, feeling how soft it was becoming. Being fat was actually quite a turn on. The size made him feel powerful, and he was amazed how sensitive his newly-made flesh was to being touched, massaged, pinched and squeezed. How erotic it would be to have someone working all over his body, able to reach the places he can't reach, touch him in new and unpredictable ways and places, keeping alive all the orgasmic sensations whilst he would otherwise be too fat and tired to keep up the pace,

"I want to have a proper look at myself," David said to himself, but the only mirror in his bedroom was a tiny one for shaving. "Well there's one in the spare bedroom…and nobody else is in the house at the moment, it's my day off. Joey should be at work and others are away."

Wearing just a pair of pants, David tip-toed to the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, excited that his big erection was so prominent, and when he stood in front of the big mirror which promised to give him a full view, he gasped. "Wow!" David couldn't believe the size his belly had gotten to. He posed at all different angles to see his new body, getting himself hotter and hotter.

"This flab is so cute," David thought, running his fingers slowly down the curve between his navel and his groin, wishing that his fingers could be Joey's sweet lips. As for his butt, it was awesome, almost like having another two little squashed-up bellies on the other side. Turning his back to the mirror, and craning his head to look at it, he slowly lowered his pants. The display was so titillating he began to feel the urge to start masturbating again, but he disciplined himself to continue the slow drawing down of his pants, revealing two gorgeous mounds of soft baby-fat squeezed together like two oranges in a blender. He turned around again to have another look at his belly to see if it was just as shapely, and discovered that just by wobbling it, his cock was jiggled by his swaying fatpad.

However, at that moment the sound of the front door opening was heard. "Oh shit!" David murmured to himself.

"Are you sure you don't mind, it must have been expensive," came the voice of Rebecca, a lodger leaving the house today from downstairs.

"Oh yes, you're quite welcome to it. It won't fit in my room anyway," came the voice of Joey from the same place.

"It's a lovely mirror..."

David looked about himself. He had no clothes, save his pants, and there was nothing in the room to cover himself with. They were coming up the stairs to take the mirror!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

The sound of footsteps came up the stairs.

"These stairs are creaky," remarked Rebecca.

"Yes. Do you notice you can always tell when David is going up or down them? He's gotten so fat! It's bang, bang, bang, bang!" he heard Joey say.

David dashed out of the spare bedroom, deciding the least embarrassing option was to run out into the hall and make it look as though he had just got out of the bath and was heading towards his bedroom, having neglected to dress because he thought he was alone in the house.

"Ooooohhh" squealed Rebecca, evidently shocked.

David felt like a shiver looking for a spine to run up.

Joey's eyes widened and he looked startled, then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, David, I'm sorry…umm."

"Sorry…I didn't think anyone was in," mumbled David sheepishly, whilst walking as fast as he could into his bedroom and then closing the door.

When he got inside he realised that his tight pants had partially rolled up into his butt crack, and half of one of his buttocks was exposed. He blushed and started to breathe profusely, hardly believing how he could have been so stupid to get into that situation. Deeper down though, he felt kind of excited that Joey had seen him naked. Ever since he'd started putting on weight he'd been too shy to walk around shirtless the way Joey did, but now the taboo had been involuntarily broken.

That evening, David weighed himself, and was startled when the scales didn't stop until they read 268 pounds. "I've really packed it on," he mumbled, and to his surprise a throbbing sensation shot up his cock. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I kinda love all this fat but who's gonna want me looking like this?" he mused as he cupped his fatboy tits with his chubby palms.

A few nights later, in the evening, Joey and David were alone in the living room because one lodger had left and the other was out. Joey seemed to be cooking a big meal.

"I don't really feel like eating a lot tonight," said David shyly.

"Awwww. What's wrong, Davey? You not feeling well?" crooned Joey in an almost motherly way which made David feel guilty for turning down his poor little darling's cooking.

"Well…I'm a bit big, y'see…."

Joey grinned broadly. David absolutely adored his smile and wished he could jump on top of him there and then! Joey walked to behind the couch, where David was sitting, and placed his hands around David's neck and shoulders, massaging them gently. David felt in heaven.

"You're a big boy! We can't have you missing out on meals, you need them."

"But look how fat I am!" wailed David.

"I don't think you're fat," Joey soothed.

"Don't kid me!"

"I'm not."

"C'mon, you saw me yesterday!"

There was then a pause, and the two giggled.

"Okay, yes, you have kind of filled out a bit," Joey admitted. "But you're not fat."

"Look," shrieked David, lifting his shirt up about five inches.

Joey walked around to the front of the sofa to study the naked flesh.

"Yes, I can see my cooking has had an impact there," he whispered mischievously, playfully stroking the hairs around David's belly button with his little finger.

David began to feel aroused, and loved the way Joey's wild eyes seemed to be scrutinising the shape of his body with the single-mindedness that a man sizes up a woman's breasts. He kept wondering if his erection would become too obvious. Being examined by Joey this way was so erotic!

"You seem to find this very interesting," giggled David, touching his belly with his right hand and then placing it on the arm of the sofa, allowing the shirt to drop down again, ending the show.

"Boy, I didn't realise you'd become such a piggy," Joey chortled.

"It's your fault, it's your cooking!"

"Yes, well…"

"What?"

"It's a real privilege cooking for a fat boy," he murmured, then ruffled David's dark hair and lightly pinched his double chin.

"Am I your favourite fat boy then?" asked David jokingly but hopefully.

"My prize piggy."

"Oink! Oink."

They both laughed.

"Now you sit there and let me get you some dinner," Joey said in a mock schoolteacher voice, prodding David's belly with one hand and his left tit with the other, as though forcing him back into the chair.

David felt a really warm feeling running through him after that. Joey returned a short while later with some sort of little lasagne thing for himself and a very large plate with a massive pizza on it for David. David looked flabbergasted!

"I can't eat all that!" he protested.

"I reckon you can, with an appetite yours!" coaxed Joey, tapping David provocatively on the thigh.

David got hard immediately, and began to think maybe his fantasy would come true and Joey was interested in him.

"How comes I get these great big meals and you hardly eat anything?"

"'Cos you're a fat boy and I've got a figure to maintain!"

"Skinny tyke!"

"I've been working out a lot," protested Joey.

To David's delight, Joey then pulled off his t-shirt, revealing that he had been working out quite a lot and had become more muscular than David had imagined. David couldn't believe it, and couldn't keep his eyes off Joey's body. His shoulders were broader and stronger, he was even developing pecs, and his abs were so sexy David wishes he could lick cream off them.

"You're in shape," David remarked, feeling somewhat taken aback.

Joey laughed, and seemed to be slightly embarrassed after his display of bravado. He put his t-shirt back on. They started chatting.

"People keep saying I'm gay because I act sort of camp," Joey remarked at one point.

"And are you?" asked David, unwilling to let the opportunity pass by.

"Do you think I am?" Joey blurted out.

David felt embarrassed and wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't think there's anything wrong if you are."

"Maybe I've gone with a few lads."

"Well, so have I."

There was a pause. Then Joey started giggling, and said it was funny that there were two poofs living together not knowing about each other. Then they started talking about sex, Joey asking David how often he got it. David admitted it had been a while, and he didn't feel very confident at the moment because his last partner had been so cruel and now he'd put on lots of weight. While he was talking, Joey leaned across the sofa and kissed David on the forehead.

David moved up closer to Joey.

"You're gorgeous Joey. I've liked you for ages."

"Come here to me," Joey whispered in a voice David found incredibly sweet and seductive.

David allowed Joey to push his chest onto Joey's lap. They then kissed passionately, Joey getting David's body aroused with slow strokes of his hand along his hands, arms, neck, face, hair, then down his chest, around his tits, teasing out the rolls of fat beneath them, around his saggy tummy, then a massage of his underbelly which made David hornier than ever, tracing voluptuously along the contours of his thighs and bum. David was in ecstasy, barely noticing as Joey undid his shirt for him in a couple of seconds, his belly and nipples being manipulated by Joey's experienced hands which seemed to know exactly how to pleasure a fat boy in ways he hadn't even explored himself. This was the first time David had been with a guy after putting on weight, and boy did Joey know how to make him feel fat! Joey couldn't keep his hands off all the soft flesh, and found it deliciously arousing when David blushed as Joey's masterful movements heightened his body consciousness, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm.

"You're the sexiest boy I've ever known!" Joey cooed to him. "I love fat boys like you, I love teasing and exciting them, getting them get horny! You don't know how much I've loved seeing you get so fat like this!"

David felt mightily turned on by how Joey seemed to adore his flab in the same way that he himself found it so sexy in his private moment. For such a small guy Joey was remarkably in control of the situation, treating David like a puppy dog, and he did everything imaginable to David's belly, the area of his body that had been the focus of David's own erotic attention for the last months. David felt more turned on than he had ever been in his life when Joey lifted up his shirt and began to rub his hard and smooth chest over his blubbery belly, teasing him about being a "gorgeous fat slob" at the same time.

Noticing David's hard-on, Joey unplucked David's button and zip, exposing a trembling column of flesh cloaked by the thin fabric of a pair of pants which clung tightly around a shapely pair of thighs. He gently teased it with two of his fingers, then massaged it, first torturously slowly, then faster and faster and faster.

After some teasing, Joey swiftly and gracefully slipped off David's trousers, allowing him to view his lardy stud in just his pants for the second time. He thrust his head down towards David's crotch. The erection was sticking out prominently, and David prayed Joey would relieve him with his beautiful thick lips which had proved so adept at pleasuring other areas of his body. Joey stuck his fingers playfully into David's pants like a kid dipping his finger into a cake, stroking David's balls and sliding his finger erotically up his cock. Going one step further, he pulled up David's pants half an inch over his thighs, and began tenderly and methodically licking David's huge, round balls, sending shockwaves of ecstasy.

"Please, do me!" David begged, his cock aching badly.

Joey beamed at David kindly, and pulled David's pants down, getting a good feel of his huge ass as he did so. He proceeded to jerk David off with one hand, alternating the other hand between rubbing his belly and massaging his sweaty balls, at a frustratingly slow pace at first, because like a sadistic torturer from the medieval ages, Joey got off on postponing the final climactic moment for as long as possible and observing his subject writhe in anticipation. Joey's nimble and dexterous hands were able to switch smoothly between gears of speed ranging between turbo and ultra-slow, taking David right upto the brink of cumming then holding him there, again and again and again.

"You're so fucking gorgeous! Look how fat you are? Do you like being my fat boy now, yeah?"

David was breathing, panting and sweating so heavily he could barely respond, but Joey's teasing voice and his total mastery of David's sexual response made the fat boy hornier and keener to please than he'd ever been. As Joey bent his neck down and opened his lips with a devastating smile, David couldn't take anymore, and his cock spewed out a stream of juicy white cum which he thought would never stop flowing.

Joey listened to his housemate howl with uncontrollable pleasure, and gazed at the blubbery lad he'd seen go from muscle hunk to slob and had fantasised about for so long. The sight of David's belly smothered with glistening cum, naked in front of his eyes, unable to hide its size or piggish indignity, heaving frantically up and down to the tune of David's breathlessness, sent a hundred wild thoughts through Joey's sexual imagination. He couldn't stop himself. Roughly grabbing David's love handles and shoulders, he rolled him onto his back like a roll of dough and surveyed the startled lump of flesh before him. He prodded his finger into David's ass and greedily squeezed his round ass cheeks. The sight of it brought out a "fuck instinct' in Joey which he'd never felt before but was now overpowering.

"I want to fuck your fat ass," he bawled.

Tired and dizzy already, before David knew it, his wide curvaceous thighs were being stretched wider than he'd thought possible, then he felt his wet and wobbling belly dragged upwards, and in an instant, Joey was inside him, fucking the hell out of him. He felt Joey's cock rubbing against his bum fat, his hands greedily and roughly gripping his belly, and making his tits wobble so fast they hurt. David felt a roaring pain inside his ass and he felt like screaming. He'd never let Eric or anyone else do this to him, but he'd let Joey do anything, and besides, with Joey in this red heat, it didn't seem like anything could stop him. The pain subsided into pleasures David had never experienced or imagined, and he begged his lover to fuck him harder. Joey obliged like a man possessed, the smack, smack, smack, smack of Joey's crotch thumping against David's quivering, beachball backside, turning them both on even more. As he picked up the pace of his fucking, he started to moan unrestrainedly when his cock spurted out its sweet juice, like a ripe peach, into David's tight boyhole.

After this ecstasy, they both lay shattered for a time, but for the sake of respectability, eventually retired to Joey's bedroom, where they just kissed and cuddled each other all evening, teasing each other and chatting.

"I'd love you to carry on getting fatter," Joey told David, fiddling his lover's nipples and caressing his belly.

"Really?" asked David. He'd been thinking of this stuff for a while now but it seemed too weird to talk to anybody about.

"Yes. And the fatter you get the more horny I'm gonna make you!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do I have to do then?"

"Just carry on letting me cook for you," Joey said with a grin. "And forget all those ideas about dieting and become a muscle boy anymore. You've had all that. From now on you're a fat boy. Eat whenever you want to, whatever you want!"

So from then on, David trained himself not to feel guilty about stuffing himself whenever he wanted to, and true to Joey's word, sex got hotter and hotter for both of them as the pounds crept onto David. People at work and friends made lots of jokes and snide comments, but David didn't mind; it made him feel even sexier. Joey liked holding what he called "feeding sessions" with David, coaxing him to eat loads of food. David's belly got so full it hurt, but Joey's gentle voice, belly-massaging and persuasive cock-teasing always encouraged him to eat more than he had managed the previous occasion, until four months later, he had grown to a really fat 320 pounds. True, he couldn't take things quite as fast as he once had, but it was more than worth it, for, as his body got bigger it became increasingly apparent, to Joey's great amusement, that his cock was looking less and less significant. This was a great turn on for Joey, who felt an enormous sense of power in being able to make his hulk of a lover pant and sweat and moan by giving his attention to just one small and diminishing lever of his massive body, as if he were in charge of driving a giant oil tanker.

One day David's friend and Joey's ex, Sarah, came to visit. For David it was a strange experience because the pair of them seemed to be giggling a great deal, as if they knew something he didn't. They ended up telling the story that when they were partners they had a fantasy about making another man fat, and that after Eric had been so cruel to David, Sarah had pointed them both out to Joey outside the gym, and told Joey to try and make Eric really fat to teach him a lesson.

David found this very strange, and wasn't sure whether to feel angry or to burst out laughing.

"Why did you do me then," David asked.

Sarah burst out laughing.

"He got the wrong one!" she guffawed. "He thought you were him."

Joey blushed bright red.

"You bastard!"

"Well actually, I thought you were by far the cutest and nicest of the pair," Joey explained.

"And you wouldn't believe what's happened to Eric…," Sarah continued.

"What," enquired David.

"He's my partner now."

"You're with that cunt?"

"I've done better with him than Joey has with you."

"What are you talking about?" Joey snapped.

"He's fucking 400 pounds!" she cried, and they all burst out laughing.

David couldn't believe that, but a week later, they all went out for a meal, Joey and David, Sarah and Eric, and it turned out indeed that Eric had totally transmogrified into an amazingly obese pig! David felt a cruel sense of satisfaction from that, though he knew Eric was probably enjoying the same sinfully sensuous rewards from the vice of gluttony that he was himself.

"So," said Joey when they got home, "Do you fancy getting as big as Eric?"

"Bigger!"

On that note Joey leaned over to kiss his boyfriend, and they were all over each other just like they had been on that first night. As he felt David's cock melting in his ass, his tits hardening in his mouth, his hefty rolls of flab gliding through his fingers, and his plump pink palms caressing his cock, Joey felt more satisfied than ever.

The Tickling

The fantasy of Jason's wanking sessions waddled across the train station platform. That round, porcine ass and chunky thighs, straining against his work trousers. Sweat dribbling down his forehead. A packet of crisps in one chubby paw, being shovelled into his greedy, double-chinned face by the other. But most gloriously of all, the thing Jason was so fixated on, a great globular whalelike gluttonous belly, straining against his shirt buttons, and the shape of a mighty pair of melon-like tits, nipples pressing delightfully against the shirt fabric. Then, that seductive, oval shadow, the indent of his navel against his white shirt, brazenly flaunting itself like a solar eclipse. The first time he cast eyes on him, he was big, but nothing like this big. Jason could swear the guy was getting fatter every week and it was so, so hot.

Jason was not into fat guys. Well, that is what he told himself. He liked trim athletic guys, much like himself. He liked to tickle them till they squealed like girls. They did not object too much. Almost always they asked to come back for more. But he did not do fat guys. They were gross.

And yet...

There was something about that belly, now seated in its usual place near the drinks and sweets machine, that Jason just could not get enough of. He had to have it, he vowed. But how?

I wonder if people notice me looking at him, he wondered, glancing casually at the usual crowd of people awaiting the 8.10am train. I wonder if they can read my thoughts? What if they can see I fancy fat guys?

Jason walked closer to the edge of the platform as the sight of the approaching train appeared in the distance.

Well fuck it, he thought. Why should he care? 

The train roared closer. Jason held his eyes still. He had long practice doing this, from working as a model. He could hold his eyes absolutely still, so he could see if anyone was looking at him, but nobody would see if he was looking at them. Maybe the porker in the suit would walk up and admire my butt, he thought. This was a little game he had been playing for a while now. Was the fatty interested? A few times he had caught him surreptitiously checking out his ass or taking in his handsome figure. Or had he? Sometimes it was hard to be thoroughly objective about these things.

Jason entered the train and took a seat. It was busier than normal today. The chubby guy walked in, crisps bag rustling. There was no seat for him.

Jason's heart pounded as the guy walked past him down the aisle. Now was his chance.

"Please have a seat," he said, flashing the smile that worked every time.

The big man looked flustered.

"Please, it's yours", he whispered with a smile, and got up.

The large gentleman looked at Jason gratefully. "Thank you," he said shyly, and lowered his elephantine backside onto the seat, with a squash of gasping air from the cushion and a creak in the seat.

That was the first time Jason had heard the guy speak. Or was it? The voice sounded familiar. He knew that voice. Where was it from?

This thought nagged him all day.

That evening, he was chatting online to a potential tickle victim. A really hot one, athletic, blonde and green-eyed. Never been tickled before. A tickle virgin. Normally this was the sort of person he would be lusting after, but now, he thought, if he was honest, his heart was not in it. Nobody and nothing did anything for him any more but the ever-ballooning hippo of a stud at the train station.

"When was your first experience?" the guy asked.

Jason had been asked this question before and typed out the usual response about that bastard kid, a year younger but much bigger and stronger, who had tickled him at a friend's birthday party. Tickled him till he...till he pissed himself. And everybody saw and laughed, and it was so embarrassing.

That, he admitted, was the psychological root of his tickle fetish. After that, he wanted to tickle other guys. Never to be tickled himself, mind you, but to tickle others, to tickle them deliriously, hopelessly and humiliatingly past the point of self-control.

Something clicked in his mind.

That boy who tickled him. Miles.

His voice.

The same voice as the guy on the train platform. Older and deeper now, but the same voice.

The guy's face. Yes. Yes it is Miles, beneath that face pudge.

Jason could hardly believe it.

That fat bastard, he thought. I am going to get him. And I am so going to enjoy it.

He had fantasised and wanked many, many times about tying the guy up, exposing his soft fat gut and tickling it without mercy. There was nothing new about that fantasy. But now he felt it more intensely than ever before. 

Miles had not been fat back then. But he was now. By God, the things I could do to that big fat belly, he thought. Such a round, bulging expanse he could not possibly hope to ward off a determined assault.

Next day, Jason saw Miles again on the station platform. His heart raced, but he stayed calm, trying out the trick he learned as a model, centring his gaze so Miles would not know he was looking at him.

Miles was checking him out. Oh yes, at last, thought Jason! No doubt about it. He wants me, and bad!

Jason went to sit down next to Miles at his usual bench, next to the vending machine.

"Hey," he said in his friendly way, "I hurt myself this morning doing leg lift-ups, so I need to take a seat today". Which was a lie, of course.

Miles spoke shyly: "I'm sorry, that sounds really rough". 

"Hurting like hell" said Jason,  clutching his muscular thigh and faking a grimace of pain.

Miles melted. "Aww man that sucks," he said, "is there anything I can do?"

Jason leaned in close to Miles, looked at him with puppy dog eyes and whispered in a low voice: "How about you cheer me up and go with me for a drink tonight?"

Miles could hardly believe it. Before he knew what had happened, he and Jason had exchanged telephone numbers and arranged to meet at the Queen's Arms pub, just outside the station, at 7pm that evening.

It so happened that Miles had to get on a different train that morning due to a conference he was attending, so he did not get to share the carriage with the object of his lust. That was a shame, he thought. Or maybe not, he reflected, maybe it would be less awkward this way.

At 6.50pm Jason was sipping his diet lemonade as the pub door opened, and the big guy promenaded in, belly bursting out flagrantly in front of him, his shirt inadvertently rolling up and flashing a pink fleshy flab roll which seized Jason's eyes, causing Miles to suddenly notice and blush, then attempt but clumsily fail to correct his clothing. Jason beamed at Miles.

"What are you having?" asked Jason.

"Foster's, if that's all right," said Miles. Jason threw his arm around Miles' waist and tapped his gut affectionately. "Coming right up, big man!" he promised, guidihg Miles to a large comfortable cushion chair, then headed to the bar.

After Jason returned with the drinks - another diet lemonade for himself - the conversation was slow and halting. Miles was shy and awkward. Hard to believe this was the same lad from all that time back, he thought. Then he was a cocky and arrogant bully. Now, he seemed withdrawn, hesitant, different. 

The tempo changed when Miles came back from ordering another set of drinks, and as he approached the table, Jason patted on the space on the settee next to him, gesturing for him to sit there instead of on the big chair where he had been positioned previously. Miles did so. Their thighs and legs touched against each other. It was like electricity. Miles started to relax, to open up.

He told how he received a rugby injury when he was 20, and how much that had set him back, how he had lost confidence, and how he had gained so much weight, and how shy he now felt around people. He spoke about two relationships, one with a guy and one with a girl, which had both ended with them complaining about his weight gain.  

Jason came out as gay, but admitted - truthfully enough - that he had never been involved in anything too long-term with anyone. He talked a bit about the drama going on at work at the moment and some of the personalities he was having to deal with. They talked and laughed about that for quite some time. Then somehow the topic came around to sexuality again, with Miles enquiring what Jasons "likes". 

"Tickling," Jason replied in a low voice.

Miles chortled a little. "That's an interesting one, I'm curious about that one too," he said. 

Jason's eyes held Miles' for a moment.

"How did you get into it?" asked Miles.

Jason brought his face closer to Miles'.

"Remember anything about this mug?" he asked.

It clicked. Miles' eyebrows shot upwards and his mouth dropped.

"It all started that day with you, Miles" he said. "But I'm strictly a tickler," he added. "I love to tickle other guys so bad".

Miles blushed. A welter of emotions and, one could say certain, fantasies, surging through his mind.

"I'm so sorry for what I did," he said. "I know that was quite wrong of me."

"No, no", said Jason with a smile, "without you...", he paused and then continued in a quieter voice "I would never have had so much amazing fun".

Miles smiled.

"But if you feel so, so guilty, there is a way you could make it up to me," said Jason. "I would enjoy nothing more than to rip your shirt off and tickle your big, sexy fat belly".

Jason playfully tapped Miles' belly with his finger.

"I've been checking you out at the train station for so long," he went on, "and you have no idea how much the thought of your body turns me on".

Miles could hardly believe it. This hot sexy guy, who he had been so awful to all those years back, was proposing to fulfil one of his deepest fantasies.

"I will make you laugh and squeal and beg so loud, so desperately, you will be my sexy helpless tied-up fat-bellied pig" he went on in a lower voice, "and you will go away remembering the best fucking orgasm you've ever had. I am going to fucking ravish you till you can hardly breathe". 

Miles was bright red, transfixed. "You don't mind me being big?" he asked.

"I absolutely fucking love it and I want every curve, every inch, every fold, every bulge, every part of your body," Jason said, as he gestured a tickle with his fingers. "All of your softness is going to be made totally mine."

Miles did not take persuading to return with Jason to his flat a short distance away. They continued to chat about everything, particularly about "the old days", the school they had both attended, the area they grew up in, the familiar places and people they had known. Neither could believe they had been going to the same station for so long but not recognised each other.

Jason plied Miles with lager, crisps, chocolate, cake, pastries, biscuits and various other snacks he had deliberately kept on hand. He wanted to fill up Miles' belly and bladder as much as possible before he got down to work.

"I am loving all this grub" said Miles appreciatively, as he got stuck into a bowl of Haagen-Daaz strawberry cheesecake ice cream. He had twigged on that Jason was getting off on him stuffing himself, and was in no mood to complain. Actually, he admitted to himself, it was starting to turn him on. He had lost count of how many lagers he had drunk by now.

Jason lifted off his shirt, exposing his smooth, lithe, athletic physique. Miles gawped in admiration. What he would give just to touch that!

"Now you, fatboy", rasped Jason.

Miles' cock stiffened. It turned him on so much to be called that. He knew fat was supposed to be unfashionable, but secretly, his own growing body had been turning him on, and he had fantasised for ages now about being fat teased by a stud like Jason. He needed that attention, he craved that affirmation, that degradation.

Miles started undoing his shirt buttons with his pudgy clumsy fingers. But Jason was not going to wait. He rushed on to Miles' lap and undid the buttons himself, revealing the most perfect tits and belly he could imagine. I am going to give this fatboy so much excitement he doesn't know what hit him, he thought to himself. But first he is going to have to earn it.

"I want you in just your underwear, on my bed, arms and feet tied to the bedposts," he said.

Miles felt a rush of excitement to his head.

Jason took Miles' hand softly and led him to the bedroom. To begin with he was gentle, removing Miles' remaining clothes, and kissing and making out with him under the duvet. Miles was obviously still self-conscious to a degree about his weight and his body. Being under the duvet and drunk on lager felt more comfortable for him. It was so special though. Jason was holding him, kissing him, touching him. He had a raging boner and wished Jason would do something about it, but Jason did not want to go that far yet, preferring to cock-tease Miles, stirring up his lust for a project more adventurous. 

"I don't want you to do this unless you really, really want to," Jason said softly, "but if you are okay with it, it would turn me on so much to throw aside this duvet, so I can see all of you for real. Your body is so beautiful, you have no idea how much you turn me on."

Miles consented, and began to push the duvet to one side, a task Jason then completed for him, pushing it completely off the bed. Miles felt so excited, and so exposed. Jason could see all of him. He felt so vulnerable, so sexy, so ready. Jason's eyes and hands could not get enough of him. And he could see all of Jason too. Oh God, he thought. He wanted Jason so much. They rolled around, kissing and touching each other, one moment Jason on top of Miles, another moment Jason rolling over so Miles was on top of him. 

"I need this belly," growled Jason.

"Do it," said Miles. "I want you to tickle me like you do the other boys."

A mischievous grin formed on Jason's face. "Are you sure?"

"Oh fuck yes!" Miles said.

They agreed on a safe word, and Jason got out his ropes and rigged Miles up. They kept looking at each other and laughing whilst Jason was doing it. Miles' dick was swelling like anything, he could not remember having a bigger boner than this ever before.

Jason crawled towards Miles, and Miles burst out irresistibly laughing.

Jason moved his fingers in a tickle gesture in the middle of the air, and Miles laughed even harder. He could not help it.

"You are an interesting one," said Jason. "Not even started yet and look at you!"

He again made tickling movements with his hands in the middle of the air, and Miles laughed raucously, uncontrollably, his belly heaving up and down and his tits shaking in a way that turned Jason on so much he wanted to lift up the boy's thighs and fuck him there and then.

"You've not even felt anything yet," said Jason, "yet look at you, you big fat sexy blubbering mess!"

Miles continued to guffaw.

"Just look at you, fatboy," said Jason cruelly. "Just look at you...so fucking pathetic and helpless and so fucking sexy".

Miles laughed even harder, even his porkly toes and fingers starting to twitch dementedly, as though they were being tickled.

Jason gazed at Miles' behemoth body. Those great wide bulking thighs, sexy thick arms and shoulders, pert mantits and massive beachball belly. All of this fatboy is mine, mine, mine he thought, as his merciless fingers dived suddenly for Miles' underbelly.

"AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP STOP STOP HAHAHA! AWWWW HA AAAHHHHHH HAHAHA PLEASE PLEASE STOP STOP HA HA AHHHHHHHH!"

The fatboy thrashed his arms and legs wildly and rolled his body from left to right but it was useless, completely useless, he was tied up. He was jiggling, jiggling everywhere. It was so humiliating. And he was trapped! But what a perfectly sexily irresistible trap to be in.

Jason stopped tickling, but it made no difference, Miles continued to laugh, as though he was still being tickled. He loved fucking with this boy's head.

"Look what a big boy you are", teased Jason, "and look what a big fat blubbery baby you're behaving like".

And with that, he renewed his assault on Miles' senses, tickling his navel, his belly, all around his tits, his armpits, thighs, under his double chin, under his balls, his feet, his wrists, absolutely everywhere. Miles screamed with laughter, rocking all over the place. Jason wondered if the bed would break, but he didn't care, this was too good not to continue. He was going to have his fun with this fatboy now and nothing was going to stop him.

"AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH! AHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!" hollered Miles.

"Tell me you want it," said Jason.

"AAAHHH! HAHAHAHA! AAAAHHHHH! AHHHHHH!"

"Tell me you want it fatboy", demanded Jason.

"I want it! HAHAHAHA! AHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH! HAHAHAHA! AHHHHH!"

And Jason did want it so bad. In his nakedness and his helplessness, he suddenly realised, he was himself, he was fat and he was sexy, and in the hands of Jason, he was complete.

Jason's fingers scoured the big man's body, alternating between tickling slowly and fast, softly and hard. Miles breathed harder and harder, sweating profusely like a pig now, getting out of breath, his great paunch of a belly heaving up and down faster and faster.

"Feeling all that lager you've been drinking, fatboy," taunted Jason, noticing Miles straining the ropes to reach for his dick, which he wanted to hold because his bladder was feeling so full.

"I need to piss", cried Miles.

"Piss then, like the big fat baby boy you are," said Jason, as he continued his onslaught. "When I tickle you, I liberate you of all pretensions and self-delusions and I let you be completely you, the big fat baby you are."

"HAHAHAHA! AHHHH! HAHAHA! Stop! Stop! AHHH! AHHH! HAHAHA!"

"Let me introduce you to you, that's what I do."

"HAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHA! HAHA! HA!"

"Such a big fat blubbery crying squealing baby," taunted Jason. "That's what you are, and I fucking loving it."

"HAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! AHHH! HAHA!"

Miles continued to thrash around wildly on the bed. He was sure the neighbours downstairs must be able to hear if they were in.

"Don't worry about them, they're used to it," said Jason, pointing downwards and reading Miles' mind.

"HAHAHAHA!"

"I wish everybody could see how naked and round and fat and sexy and pathetic and turned on and absolutely fucking mine you are right now."

"HAHA! AHHH! EEEHH! HAHA!"

Jason smirked as he admired his handiwork. This was by far the biggest guy he had ever been in bed with, but he was completely at his mercy. He was going to enjoy this so much. I own this fat fuck, he thought.

"I need to pee!" wailed Miles.

With devilish skill, Jason applied his finger to Miles' love handles, in those deepest, softest parts where he knew the boy's blubber was most sensitive.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop! AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHH!"

But Jason was never going to stop. He was such a bastard, and he knew it, and he was enjoying it to so fucking much.

"AHHH! AHHHHH! AHHHH! AHHH! AHHH! AHHH AHH! AHHH!"

Miles could suddenly control himself no longer, and his dick, which had been spasming remorselessly, erupted a massive fountain of cum into his pants.

"AHHHH! OOOOOOHHHH! OOOOHHH! OOOOOHHH! OOOHHH! OOOHHH! OOOOHHH!"

The cum did not stop shooting for quite some while, but Jason did not stop the tickling. 

"HAHAHA! OOOHHH! AAAHHHH!"

Finally the thick flow of cum stopped. Jason smirked thinking about how badly his fatboy needed that. He's mine now, he thought, assailing Miles' left armpit and right nipple with the tips of his fingers.

"HAHAHA! AAHHH! AHHHH! AHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH!"

And suddenly Miles' pants were drenched again, not with cum, this time, but with his own piss. He had been tickled till he had pissed himself. All that lager he had drunk... Oh fuck, he thought. He was so out of breath now. He said the safe word. Any more now and it would be too much. Jason stopped the tickling, and Miles, blushing and exhausted and sweating, headed out for a shower.

On his return, Jason spread his hot body on top of Miles, kissing him gently, telling him what a good boy he had been, how much he had enjoyed it, how much he was going to look after him now. Miles melted. He wanted this bliss to last forever. After the hot shower, his flushed pink body was so relaxed and his skin felt all warm and soft and glowing, and he craved deeply for Jason's cosy embraces and kisses, which Jason bestowed on him unrestrainedly, holding him tight and petting and kissing and licking him tenderly in every place he could find. 

Miles luxuriated in the attention his lonely, touch-and-sex-starved body was so hungry for, more vibrant and resplendant than ever, pulsating with post-orgasmic euphoria-intoxication. I am like a pig in swill, he thought, as he pressed his buttocks into Jason's groin, feeling the hardness, knowing and willing and needing what would come next.

Neither of them wanted to separate that evening, but they had to - Miles had to travel somewhere for work. When Miles finally did go, Jason pulled out the bed linen and the huge fat-assed pants Miles had left behind, both soaked with Miles' sweat and cum, and a faint smell of piss as well. He hugged the linen around himself and placed the stained pants proudly on the elegant hatstand in his hallway as a trophy. Miles, meanwhile, walking off flushed with excitement and a tender throbbing delectable soreness in his lard-buried boyhole, would be coming back for more at the first chance he could.

Diet Daddy

"Mr Lascelles will see you now," announced the petite twink in a girly voice, twirling to flaunt his skimpy French maid's costume.

Brett, the 31 year old out-of-shape muscle bear, sporting a ginger beard and long curly ginger hair, who had been waiting in a hallway of this grand house for the last half an hour, got his ever-growing fat ass off the small hard wooden chair and entered the room as the twink opened the door.

"Come in," said Mr Lascelles, a 6'4", a compact 68 year old with powerful shoulders and arms, silver hair and a faint grey moustache, in his deep, aristocratic English voice.

This room, like this whole house, is amazing, thought Brett. He had never seen anything quite like it. The place had the feel of a country house belonging to the nobility, bookcases, paintings and antiques everywhere, wallpaper and carpets of the most elegant tastes, heads of stags, lions, tigers and other such animals hanging from the walls.

"Sit down," said Mr Lascelles.

Brett sat. This chair was bigger and more comfortable than the one in the hallway was. 

"And tell me, what appears to be the problem...?"

"Well sir," said Brett, blushing and spluttering, self-conscious of his American accent. "I seem to have gotten a little fat". 

"So I can see," said Mr Lascelles. "Antoine" he called in a loud voice, and the twink from the hallway came scuttling in through the door.

"Antoine, fetch the scales and tape measure," he ordered.

The twink dashed out and returned, moments later, with the required implements.

"Measure this gentleman's height", he said, adding "Shoes off!" to Brett.

Brett shook off his shoes and stood up straight, whilst Antoine measured him

"Five foot ten, sir," reported Antoine.

"Hmm," mumbled Mr Lascelles, "you told me five foot eleven, that means your BMI will be a little higher."

"Sorry, sir," said Brett.

"Now the scales," barked Mr Lascelles.

Antoine placed the scales on the floor, and Brett walked towards them.

"Naked," ordered Mr Lascelles.

Brett blushed red, looked at Mr Lascelles then looked at Antoine. From Antoine he saw an expression of sympathy, but Mr Lascelles' visage was hard and cold as rock.

"Now, please, my time for this appointment is limited," demanded Mr Lascelles.

Brett nervously slipped off his suit jacket, then undid his tie, then his shirt, then his trousers, then his socks and then lastly his briefs. He then walked again towards the scales, but Mr Lascelles interrupted.

"Antoine, first trot him round the ring, I want to see his gait and how he moves."

Brett felt confused, but Antoine looked at him kindly, held his hand, whispered to him to follow, held him affectionately by the hand, then walked him slowly around the room in a big circle. Mr. Lascelles' cold, scrutinising stare followed him the whole time.

"Hmm," muttered Mr Lascelles neutrally, sounding neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. "Scales", he snapped.

Brett stood on the scales.

"101.605 kilograms," announced Antoine.

"Not that continental claptrap you're always picking up from your mother," snarled Mr Lascelles.

Antoine cowered backwards, then picked up the scales, adjusted the settings, put them back down again and gestured to Brett to get on them again.

"16 stones", announced Antoine.

"Or 224 pounds, as the Americans would put it," grumbled Mr Lascelles. "Change the setting just to pounds next time, so this young yank here can understand what we're talking about." 

He turned to Brett. "Your profile claimed you were only 209 pounds."

He took out a small calculator and performed some calculations.

"BMI 32," he stated, "obese".

Brett felt so embarrassed. He could not hide it, standing up here, all naked. He used to be so muscular, without an ounce of fat on him. All the twinks, who he adores, used to fawn on him and beg to suck his cock and be his slave, which he loved. For the last year, though, he had let himself go. In front of him was a big fat belly, behind him a soft blubbery ass, and to his disgust, he was even beginning to sprout tits. The twinks were less keen now. Some of them even laughed at him. The last one he went with taunted him about how his fatpad was making his dick smaller, and that battered his confidence so much, he could not even get himself hard enough to perform. After that humiliation, he resolved, he had to get something done. That was when he came across a user called "Diet Doctor" on the kink website, who promised to help him lose weight and regain his physique again. This was why he was here.

"What have you to say for yourself?" said Mr Lascelles, allowing his eyes to run all over Brett's body.

"I am here for your help, sir," said Brett.

Mr Lascelles clasped his hands in a triangle, considering.

"I propose to proceed as follows," he drawled. "You will meet me here every two weeks, and I will weigh you. If you lose weight, I will generously share with you my professional advice about diet and maintaining fitness. As you can see, I am a fine specimen of a man, even at my current age, and my physique puts men half my age to shame."

He was right, thought Brett, melting at the sight of the fit sexy daddy in front of him. What he would give for a night with that...

"Especially," he added, "fatboys like you."

Brett blushed.

"However," he continued, "if you do not lose weight, then I will punish you, and if you gain weight," and at this a cruel leer appeared on his face, "Let's say I have some funny ways I could punish you even more."

"Yes sir," said Brett. He was falling for this daddy really bad.

"But first," said Mr Lascelles, "I need to know if there are any psychological blockages we need to address."

There was a pause.

"I am not sure what you mean, sir," said Brett.

"Psychological blockages of a physical or sexual nature, in particular."

There was a pause.

"Antoine," said Mr. Lascelles, "remind me what we had in the file about him".

"He doesn't like to suck cock, sir," said Antoine.

Brett felt his heart sinking to the ground. He had no idea how they had found this out, but it was true. He could not abide sucking dick. Ever. That was something other guys did to him. It was never something he did to anyone else. Ever. The thought of it was so degrading.

"In my experienced opinion," said Mr Lascelles slowly,  "before this young man can overcome his laziness and his greed, this particular blockage in his psyche will need to be eliminated."

"But please, sir..." pleaded Brett, "it is not natural to me, I can't do it, it's too much..."

"If this is too much," said Mr Lascelles, "then how do you hope to summon the discipline you will need to regain your physique?"

"I do not know sir."

"On your knees, boy!"

Brett got on his knees.

"Antoine," ordered Mr Lascelles. 

Antoine walked towards Brett, hovering over him, then lifted his short black skirt, exposing a knickerless, pubeless crotch, alongside an obscenely sized pair of balls and a humongous sausage of manhood, far thicker and wider than he could ever have imagined on such a small guy. Brett stared forward, in shock, speechless, mesmerised and horrified at the same time.

Mr. Lascelles rapped his desk with his knuckles. "It is time for you to do as other fatboys who have visited us have done," he growled.

Brett began to tremble. He could not face the humiliation.

Antoine placed his hands tenderly around Brett's face, stroking his double chin and beard. "It will be okay, I'll look after you, I promise," he said, and guided Brett's lips slowly to his cock head. Brett looked up at Antoine, and Antoine looked down. He has a kind face, thought Brett. He disdained men who dressed in female clothing, but something about Antoine was different and alluring. It felt wrong, he thought. Antoine should be going down on me. But, well... for Antoine, I would do anything for now to please him. He'd just better not damned fucking well tell anyone, that's all.

Within a few minutes, Brett was devouring Antoine's big, hard cock, and he did not like to admit it, but he was loving it, and wanting it more and more.

Mr Lascelles was chortling in the background. "Fatboys always make such good cocksuckers," he laughed, watching the outlandish sight of a fat hairy muscle bear sucking off a twink in a maid's outfit.

It came as a complete surprise when Antoine's cum shot like a fountain into his mouth. He should have known this would happen, of course, but perhaps the fact he had never sucked cock before meant he somehow overlooked the inevitability of such an outcome. 

"Uugghhhhhhh!" he spluttered.

Mr. Lascelles laughed uproariously at what he was seeing.

Antoine, seeing Brett's discomfort, pulled his dick out of Brett's mouth, and shot the rest of his load on the carpet. Mr Lascelles was not pleased.

"Not on the carpet!" he shouted. Brett and Antoine looked at him, downtrodden.

"Lick it up!" he ordered.

Brett and Antoine exchanged glances. Antoine, sparing Brett from further humiliation, got down on his knees and licked up his own semen himself, as though this was something he did every day.

A bell in the corner of the room started ringing. Mr Lascelles stirred to action. He had other business to attend to.

"Back here again, two week's time," he said.

Antoine escorted Brett from the room, then set up the date and time for the next appointment. He walked Brett, who was still trembling, to the front door, then before leaving, embraced him tenderly, pecked him quickly on the lips and said "I do hope you will return, I like you so much, and he's not as bad as he sometimes seems, you know."

*

Two weeks later, Brett arrived again at the grand old house. No waiting around this time. The servant ushered him straight in.

"You know the routine," said Mr Lascelles, who was on his feet and faced towards the window, admiring the garden, not even acknowledging Brett. 

A pair of scales stood on the floor. Brett stripped off his clothes. Gosh, this was embarrassing. He had been planning to stick strictly to his diet and work out every day, but none of that ended up going to plan. Eating and drinking and snacking was just too good to give up, and exercise was too much hard work. And if he was completely honest, a part of him was titillated by fantasies of how Diet Daddy might punish him if he dared to gain weight when he was supposed to be dieting.

"Well?" demanded Mr Lascelles.

"232 pounds, sir," said Brett.

"Antoine," called Mr. Lascelles.

Antoine entered through a door from an adjoining room, dressed like a tart in a pink and black latex dress and bunny rabbit ears, and eyeing up Brett lasciviously. He produced a small notepad with a pink cardboard cover from his pocket and started to study it.

"224 pounds last time," stated Antoine in his sensual voice, "so an increase of 8 pounds".

Mr Lascelles turned around from the window and faced Brett, eyes coldly taking in his body. 

"This is not good at all, not good at all," he muttered.

"I've been finding things difficult," said Brett, feeling very self-conscious of his enlarged furry belly.

Mr Lascelles drew his chair back a distance from his desk, then sat on it. 

"Over my knee, boy," he demanded.

Brett's face went scarlet red. He had never done anything remotely like this before.

"A psychological corrective will be required," continued Mr Lascelles, "and it involves you getting your slovenly fat hairy ass over my knee".

Antoine smirked and almost giggled, but somehow managed to hide this from Brett, and instead took him by the hand gently, and led him, like a nervous little boy, to Mr Lascelles. "Don't worry, it won't be so bad and I'm here for you," he whispered to Brett.

Mr Lascelles slowly stroked Brett's plump rump with his fingers, a look of glee flickering briefly in his face, then he straightened out his fingers, closed them together, drew back his hand, then spanked the helpless fat bear across the rear, softly and slowly at first, then faster and faster.

"Ow! Ow! Owww! Owwwww!"

Brett felt so humiliated and turned on like he had never been humiliated and turned on in his life, and he felt his cock growing bigger and harder.

"This is what we have to do with fat, greedy, lazy boys who don't control what they eat and can't be bothered to exercise," scolded Mr Lascelles, as he parted Brett's blubberous buttocks and poked his finger suddenly into his hole.

"OOWWWWWW!" shrieked Brett, grimacing in pain and startled by this gross invasion of his manhood, the likes of which he had never experienced before.

Mr Lascelles laughed loudly, but withdrew his finger and continued spanking Brett's ass. 

Antoine's cock stiffened at the sight before him, Brett completely bare assed naked, cock throbbing away, getting his fat bright red ass mercilessly spanked.

Mr Lascelles squeezed Brett's big hairy balls gently, but enough to elicit a squeal of pain, then laughed cruelly again. "If it doesn't hurt it won't work," he said, delivering an especially powerful swipe to Brett's left butt cheek.

"OWWWWWW!" shrieked Brett.

"Get up," barked Mr Lascelles.

Brett rolled off Mr Lascelles' knees, but feeling dizzy, found himself crawling on to the floor.

"Now undo my zip and suck me off," he ordered.

Brett could not believe it. He wanted this so, so much, but this was not something he would usually do at all. This was beneath him. And yet he wanted it. So he crawled forwards to Mr Lascelles, still seated in his chair, undid his zip, pulled out his big cock, and began sucking it, just like he had done Antoine's two weeks previously.

"Mmmm," groaned Mr Lascelles softly, taking hold of Brett's fat face by the fat rolls and guiding his mouth up and down his cock.

After the session with Mr Lascelles was finished, Antoine put his arms around his waist, briefly squeezing his side-belly, then invited him to have tea with him in another room. Brett's dick had been straining like anything back there but been given no relief, Antoine knew, and he could not resist the opportunity to have a little fun with the handsome chubby bear himself.

Before barely a few drops of tea had been drunk, Antoine was all over Brett, undoing his clothes, stroking his long hair, kissing and licking his big hairy body.

"I can't get enough of you," rasped Antoine. "You are so big and sexy and hairy. And do you know what, I know you are supposed to be here to lose weight, but your beer belly turns me on more than I can tell you, it is so masculine, and it makes me want to strip you naked and worship and suck you off and do every little thing you want me to do. Can I tell you a naughty secret? Nothing would turn me on that to see you grow this belly fatter and fatter and fatter for me. I want you to be my big fat daddy bear!"

Brett gloried in the attentions of young Antoine, finding him impossible to resist. He did not usually go in for girly twinks, particularly ones dressed in girly slutty clothes, but Antoine was different. And whilst the emasculation he had experienced with Mr Lascelles had awakened erotic impulses in him he never knew he had, deep down, he was finding Antoine's validation of his masculinity comforting, and a massive turn on. Before he knew it, he was laying down on the floor, naked, and Antoine was shovelling small pieces of delicious chocolate cake in to his mouth, and his cock, which had been aroused beyond endurance already, was clasped between Antoine's pert, muscular and supremely experienced buttocks, which he manoeuvred powerfully and skilfully to bring Brett to a jiggling, sweating, grunting, moaning, howling climax.

I've still got the magic touch with the twinks, Brett grinned to himself, catching an utterly voluptuous look of satisfaction on Antoine's sweet face. He left the grand house with a swagger in his step, his sense of proud masculinity restored.

*

Two weeks later, the familiar ritual repeated itself.

"245 pounds," announced Antoine, "a gain of 13 pounds".

Mr Lascelles glowered sternly across his desk at the fat hairy porker bear standing naked on the scales in the centre of the room.

"Shave him," he snarled quietly.

Brett's face turned crestfallen.

"Please, not that," whimpered Antoine in his effeminate voice, putting his arm protectively around Brett.

"Every psychological blockage to weight loss must be removed," Mr Lascelles rasped meanly. "This fat ass bear thinks being fat and hairy makes him manly and sexy. Well, we'll see about that. Shave off all his hair and leave him as smooth and pink and soft as a porky piglet."

Then he chortled cruelly. "We'll see what all the silly bear-besotted twinks think of him after that."

Antoine morosely pulled out a high portable bed with wheels from a corner in the room, and tapped on Brett's ass playfully to signal him to lay down on it, which he did. Then he went to a drawer, and returned with an electric razor.

"Zzzzzzzzz!"

Mr Lascelles began giggling as the razor glided over Brett's chest, then in circular motion over his big round belly, shorning him of the prideful emblem of manhood he set such store by.

"Zzzzzzz!"

Oh fuck, thought Brett. This was so humiliating. He would never live this down.

"Zzzzzz!"

The shaving went on and and on and on, with Mr Lascelles taking the closest interest in the proceedings, cautioning Antoine not to miss bits.

"Zzzzz!"

"And his beard and the hair on his head too," demanded Mr Lascelles. That all went too. Brett's proud beard and long curly ginger hair all went.

"Zzzzz!"

"And his pubes."

They went too. 

"Zzzz!"

Everything was going. Even the hair on his thighs and legs.

"Turn him around". 

Brett reluctantly turned around. His back was shaved, and his back legs, and his blubbery hairy ass, everything.

"Now stand up."

Brett stood up.

"And walk around the circumference of the room for me."

Brett did as he was told, as Mr Lascelles laughed lasciviously at what he had achieved. Antoine stood quietly, holding a clipboard next to his groin to conceal his massive hard-on.

"You know what comes next," Mr Lascelles said.

And Brett did. Being spanked over Mr Lascelles' knees, and then getting down on his knees and sucking Mr Lascelles cock. 

The hottest and most humiliating thing about it all for him was this: he loved it even more than the time before.

*

The morning of his next session, two weeks later, Brett weighed himself on his scales at home. 261 pounds. Fuck, he thought. But it was no surprise. Getting fatter was turning him on so much. There was no way he would stop it now.

When he arrived outside the grand house, however, he was greeted by a different scene to normal. A limousine was pulled up in the drive, along with several burly looking security men on motorbikes. He heard one of them talking on his mobile phone. "The traffic is so blocked up we'll never get her back to London now," he said. "We could have done a private flight but the optics would not be good right, y'know, with the press and everything."

I wonder what is going on, thought Brett.

Another sight now greeted Brett, this one even more surprising. It was Antoine, but looking completely different, dressed in the suavest suit he had ever seen, and a top hat. He marched elegantly to the limousine door, and opened it. 

He looks so changed, thought Brett, but so damn smoking hot as well. This is the first time I have seen him not looking like a female prostitute.

Out from the limousine stepped a smartly dressed little old lady, with a small walking stick and handbag. Antoine bowed, and kissed her hand, then they promenaded together towards the main door, with lots of onlookers crowding round to watch.

Brett looked on, feeling awkward.

One of the security men came up to Brett, and began to interrogate him. "Good morning, sir, and you are...?"

Brett felt so shy, but another smartly dressed lady, a much younger one this time, emerged from the limousine, with 3 dog leads and 3 corgis, and approached Brett and the security man with a charming smile.

"You must be one of Lord Beale's special friends, I can always tell," she said, poking Brett playfully in the tummy. "Come in with me, it will probably be easier."

Brett, grateful for the assistance amidst this growing throng of people, did as he was told, and was recognised by the doorman, who helpfully provided him with a shortcut to Mr Lascelles' study which would avoid the busy main corridor, where more and more people were gathering.

Brett knocked on the study door.

"Come in!" barked Mr Lascelles.

Brett entered. 

Mr Lascelles leaned back in his chair, taking a good, long look at Brett.

"You are letting your facial hair grow back."

"You did not tell me I couldn't, sir."

"But you should have known, you should have known. This is most insubordinate of you, and you will be punished."

"Yes sir," said Brett.

"And I can see without even weighing you that you have gained weight again. Do you deny this?"

"No sir," said Brett. "I have been trying my best but it is not working," he added lamely and somewhat deceitfully.

"Hmmm," grumbled Mr Lascelles. "There is only one thing for it. A short, sharp shock which will make you terrified of coming here again having gained yet more weight. Something that will remove the last psychological blockage that we have somehow failed so far to identify and erase."

Brett looked at his shoes.

Mr Lascelles got up off his feet.

"Bend over my desk," he ordered.

Brett looked askance.

"I said bend over my desk."

Brett did as he was told.

Mr Lascelles walked round to the other side of the desk, and stood behind Brett.

"Lower your trousers and pants."

Brett obeyed, listening to the sound behind him of Mr Lascelles removing his belt.

Thwack! The leather belt smacked against his big fat smooth ass.

"OOWWWW!" shrieked Brett.

"Shut up, fatboy, there are important guests in the house."

Thwack!

"OWWW!"

"Be quiet!"

That last voice, that "Be quiet", sounded so like the voice of Mr Lascelles, and yet not quite like it.

Thwack!

"Be quiet!"

Where is that voice coming from, thought Brett.

Thwack!

"OOWWWW!

"Be quiet!"

Brett looked straight ahead of him. Sited against the wall at the far end was a parrot cage with a macaw parrot inside. It was shrieking "Be quiet!" whenever he yelped.

"That's the Duchess," said Mr Lascelles. "Only in this room today because she doesn't like women and tried to attack our VIP the last time she visited."

Thwack!

"OWWW!"

"Be quiet!"

"I can't believe how fucking fat you are", Mr Lascelles continued, groping Brett's belly. "Such a fucking fat hog".

Thwack!

"OWW!"

"Be quiet!"

Mr Lascelles inserted his belt into Brett's mouth. "Chew on this, boy," he whispered, "there are important people outside and I don't want them to hear your pathetic little squeals.

Brett grimaced with pain and chewed on the belt as he felt Mr Lascelles' thick long cock slowly and humiliatingly invading his boyhole. Oh fuck, he thought. He had never had this done to him before. This was something he always did to other people.

Antoine's voice floated in from the hallway outside, sounding deeper and richer than previously: "We hold fitness and dieting classes in this wing of the house. My head gardener, Mr Lascelles, is taking the lead at the moment. He is a retired nutritional psychologist, but helps us out here, and is in charge of the garden and the classes."

"How fascinating," came another voice, a posh, perfect female voice, a voice he could swear he had heard on television but could not pin down.

Brett grunted as a particularly vigorous thrust of Mr Lascelles' cock sent vibrations racing through his body.

"Keep shush, lard ass," Mr Lascelles hissed, "I can't have you setting the parrot off again."

"It's just one of the many activities we have here," said Antoine's voice.

"Oh, I am sure," said the female voice. "Do you know, my sister tried dieting so many times, and she always told me it was the most tedious, the most boring thing in the world. Which is why I marvel that, from what you told me earlier, that you can make it so exciting and interesting for people."

"Well it is not only diet advice we give," came Antoine's voice. "We have a billiards room, tennis, a swimming pool. And the estate grounds are bigger than you might think here, so we do horse riding, clay pigeon shooting, archery, marathons, all sorts. The other day my wife was organising a dog show for the Bedlington Terrier Club, and Lady Margate's little Saffy won Best in Show."

Brett chewed teeth marks into the belt, pressing his hungry fat rump greedily into Mr Lascelles' groin and stifling an uncontrollable moan as Mr Lascelles grabbed him by the neck and pumped his cum into his ass with a series of fast and powerful thrusts.

"There is just so much to do here, isn't there?" came the female voice. "So much, so much I am hardly sure it is the dieting your visitors all keep coming back for."

The Wonder Formula

"Attention, concentration, focus!" enthused Professor Twerpywerky, a supernaturally energetic, diminutive little man who had a habit of flapping his arms around constantly. "Optimum nutrition, optimum exercise, optimum mental, physical and spiritual strength!"

The team sat round seated in a circle, listening to the professor with rapt attention, their eyes all glazed in a semi-hypnotic trance.

"The new formula you have all begun taking today," he continued, "will allow you to harness the power of your mind, the power of your will, to direct and transform your body. By the power of meditation alone, you can achieve a level of fitness you have never achieved previously. And you can achieve it without even needing to exercise or manage your diet!"

"Although we will all still need to come together for training your rugby skills, strategy and tactics and so on," added Coach Wilson. He was not the greatest enthusiast for Professor Twerpywerky's scheme to take Rokio Rugby Club to the top of the league. A strict disciplinarian who focussed most of his training sessions on old-fashioned physical fitness, he felt like his role at the club was almost being made redundant as a result of this so-called "Wonder Formula". It is all nonsense and goes against all my principles as a coach, he thought, but there is no choice. The club chairman is determined, at least for now, to let the professor's harebrained scheme go ahead.

"Concentrate," gushed the ever-excitable Professor Twerpywerky, "and enter the zone of your inner world. You are running up a mountain, huge and steep as Everest. You feel no fatigue. You race, and race and race onwards, faster and faster. You feel the muscles in your legs and all over your body flexing, bulging, growing, strengthening. You are a superman. You are not like one of the players from the other teams. You do not fatigue. You are a superhuman, one of a team of superbeings, getting faster, stronger, sharper, tougher every single second!"

The team all gazed into Professor Twerpywerky's eyes, completely under his spell.

"You have all been given your meditation exercises, which must be practised every day without fail. Do these, and carry on taking the Wonder Formula twice a day, and the world is yours, my boys. You can be anything you want to be!"

*

That night, Bob the full-back got home and practised his meditations. What a luxury it was, he thought, not to have to worry about what he ate or how much he worked out. The Wonder Formula and the meditation would do all of the work for him! All he had to do was think about himself becoming a musclebound superhunk, and it would happen.

The only problem was, the more he tried to focus his meditation, the more...other thoughts began to intrude.

A few weeks ago, Bob came across a really weird illustrated story online, and he had been re-reading it and wanking about it ever since. Doughboys, it was called, about a restaurant with all these really fat sexy guys, and a muscle stud who goes to work there and ends up fat like the rest.

I must stop thinking about that story, thought Bob to himself. But the story and those luscious line drawing illustrations of those big, glorious bellies kept coming back into his thoughts.

I must focus on myself becoming fit and powerful and muscular, he thought.

But all he could think about was the fantasy of getting as fat as Frank, or better yet, as fat as Nick. Would that not be the most awesome, erotic, orgasm-inducing thing ever?

Fuck, fuck, shit, shit, thought Bob. None of this is any good. I must concentrate.

*

A week later, the players all turned up at the training grounds for their next session. Bob looked around. The results so far are impressive, he thought. Everybody else looks noticeably more muscular.

Except me, he thought. He had gained 13 pounds, and clearly, from the appearance of his paunch and the softening of his tits, most of it was fat.

A series of fitness tests confirmed all the players were fitter, except Bob, who had become more sluggish. Bob could not help blushing at the end, reflecting on how out-of-breath and sweaty he had gotten, running around the grounds.

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Professor Twerpywerky. "I am sure this is only a temporary, short-term side effect. The experiment has produced positive results with all the other players, and I have no doubt you will have positive results too by next week."

Bob's best friend on the team, Grant, the left flanker had improved his fitness more than any of the other players on the team. He was also quietly gay, like Bob.

"Do you want a lift home?" Grant asked Bob, and Bob accepted.

"So," said Grant during the drive. "I'm so sorry for you with what happened, man. Do you want to talk about it?"

Grant was a psychology student whose mother was a counsellor, and always loved to be the guy to help his friends out with their problems.

"Well," said Bob, unsure how to respond or how much to say. "I think it's because I have a trouble fully focusing, with the meditations I mean."

"Are you not able to get time alone, where you've got quiet?"

"No, that's not really the problem. It's to do with the focus."

"Focus, as in?"

"As in...focussing on becoming super-fit, as opposed to...my thoughts drifting to other things."

"You mean, thinking instead about not being fit?"

"Well, maybe."

"You find yourself thinking about becoming a slob or something, like my dad is in front of the TV?"

Bob laughed nervously.

"Don't be shy, bro," said Grant. "Our minds can be fucked, I mean, they can play all sorts of games and tricks on us."

"I know this will sound so ridiculous," said Bob, "but to tell you the truth, a few weeks back, on an internet forum, I randomly came across this story, a made-up story, about this guy who gets really fat."

Grant nodded, listening.

"And, you know, there's sex in it, guy sex, and it's kind of hot and all, in it's own way."

"And," said Grant slowly, "you can't get the story out of your head, right?"

"Right," said Bob.

Grant took a deep intake of breath. "Tough one," he said.

"I know."

"I can't really tell coach or the professor."

"Yeah."

"I've avoided re-reading the story and tried to stop thinking about it, but those thoughts, you know, it's irritating and it's irrational, but they keep peeping into my thought stream, y'know?"

"Right."

Grant dropped Bob off at his house. Three days later, he gave Bob a call.

"Hey Bob, I'm just wondering, you know what we talked about before...how are you getting on now?"

"The same."

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to think what I can do to help you."

"I dunno."

"Tell you what, could you tell me where to find this story? Then maybe I will be able to understand this all better and can try to see if I can look into this further? Without getting any of the others involved, of course."

"Sure."

Bob gave him the name of the story and where to find it.

*

At the next weekly training session, the players were again measured and weighed and had their fitness levels tested. All had become fitter and more muscular, with the exception of two individuals. Bob, who had gained another 14lbs, and Grant, who had gained 8lbs.

"I'm experiencing the same thing as you," Grant told Bob in a discreet moment.

After the session, Bob and Grant went to Darren's.

"It was so funny watching you two fatties huffing and puffing and sweating round the grounds at the end there," said Darren, a straight but gay-friendly member of the team, as he shovelled pizza into his mouth.

"You are such a bastard!" said Grant.

"I find it so fucking hilarious," went on Darren, "that I can eat as much pizza as I want, as much of anything as I want, and my stomach stays absolutely flat, it doesn't bloat even half a milimetre".

"That is kind of weird, isn't it," said Bob, tucking in to his own pizza with gusto.

"Six extra large pizzas here," said Darren, pointing to the pizza boxes on his table. "I say we eat two each. I will bet you my stomach will not bloat one single bit, whereas for you fat fuckers...."

Darren burst out into laughter, and Grant play-punched him in the ribs.

Bob lifted up his shirt. "27 pounds," he said. "Fuck I can't believe I'm getting so fat."

Darren started laughing again, then started poking, grabbing and rubbing Bob's belly, starting Bob laughing, and then Grant too.

Once the pizzas had all been consumed, and a number of cans of lager gulped down as well, the three guys all took their shirts off to "compare bellies", as Darren called it.

Just as Darren had predicted, his own stomach was perfectly slim and taut, whereas Grant's and particularly Bob's were rounding and bloated. Darren, more drunk than the other two, became excitable and teased his two friends wickedly, calling them "the Rokio fatboys" and prodding and touching up their bellies and tits at every opportunity.

On their way home, in Grant's car, Bob and Grant discussed the thing they had not mentioned back at Darren's.

"Darren's hard-on, you must have seen it?" said Grant.

"Yeah," giggled Bob.

"I would have done anything to get on my knees and suck him off right there," said Grant, "but y'know, not when he's drunk and all and he's meant to be straight."

"Yeah," said Bob.

*

At the next week's training session, Bob had gained 26 pounds and Grant 16 pounds, and both had fallen in their fitness scores, whereas all the others had gotten fitter and more muscular. This would have attracted the wide-eyed gawps of the whole team, were it not for two other, more startling developments. Adam, the burly right-prop, had developed a large pair of feminine breasts, and Liam, the fly-half, was clearly concealing an abnormally large appendage in the crotch of his shorts.

Coach Wilson was not happy and vented his feelings at the Professor in front of the whole team. "Professor, I've had enough of this fuckery," he raged. "You've given me one player who looks like a woman who has done botox on her tits, another player with a dick so big he will risk a serious injury if I put him on the pitch, and two others who are so fucking fat they couldn't run more than a minute without getting out of breath!"

"Patience, patience, dear Wilson!" soothed Professor Twerpywerky. "Let us look at the broader perspective. Yes, with 4 players there are...niggling problems of a transient nature which will all resolve in due course. But with our other 16, the results have been spectacular! We are developing a new team of rugby champions, of titans, of supermen! They are fitter and more physically perfect than ever before! We cannot stop the experiment now."

"Then at least take these four off the program," demanded Coach Wilson.

"I disagree," said Professor Twerpywerky. "They need the program to help them resolve the issues they have developed, it is just all a matter of them perfecting their meditation techniques."

Coach Wilson scowled. "Boys, do you really want to continue with this?" he said, looking at Bob, Grant, Adam and Liam in turn.

Each of the four rugby lads considered the question, realising the experiment had produced profound results, but secretly, furtively, willing its consequences to advance to the next stage. Neither of them answered, and matters drifted on.

*

In the dressing room afterwards, there was much ribaldry and fun, with all the guys getting bare butt naked in the shower, and revelling in the way Bob, Grant, Adam and Liam had undergone such surprising changes. Liam got his humongous dick out and started waggling it around, jokingly slapping it around guys' faces and boasting he was now the best-endowed member of the team. Adam felt absolutely no self-consciousness about his new breasts, squeezing them, jiggling them, shoving them in the guys' mouths. Bob and Grant felt self-conscious with their fatter bodies, but showed themselves off nevertheless, taking all the banter about what porkers they had become, and coming on the receiving end of lots of endless belly rubs and pokes.

"WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE THEN?" yelled Coach Wilson, coming through the changing room door and witnessing all sorts of things going on that he could not mention to his wife when he got home. "CLEAR IT, SCRAM, THE LOT OF YA!"

The guys all silently and quickly dried themselves, got dressed and went on their way.

Darren caught up with Bob and Grant as they left the club. "You boys are coming home with me for pizza, and kebab as well this time," he said to them. And they did.

*

A long evening followed of gorging on food, swilling beer and fizzy drinks, watching films and gaming. This was frequently interspersed with sessions of "comparing bellies", where they would all lift up their shirts, always to observe that Darren's stomach stayed absolutely trim, whilst Bob's and Grant's bloated fatter and rounder. All of them, Darren in particular, found this hilarious, and they could not stop feeling up each other's bodies, contrasting how Darren was so slim and muscular, whilst Bob and Grant were becoming such fat-ass gluttons. Especially amusing to Darren, also, was how Bob and Grant kept farting and belching the more they ate and drank, whereas he - even though he was eating and drinking as much as them - did not release hardly a single belch or fart.

"I'm the stud, I'm the superman!" Darren drunkenly boasted. "You're both fat slobs, but look at me, look at me, I can do what the fuck I want and still I look perfect!"

They all became more and more turned on, until at the end of the evening, with the clock approaching midnight, Darren casually invited his two beefy friends to come to bed with him. "It's a double bed and we'll just about squeeze in somehow," he said.

And here they shared the most sensual and delicious experience of their lives, cuddling, touching, stroking, kneading, kissing, sucking, pounding, sweating, huffing and moaning way into the early hours of the morning. Bob and Grant found themselves without the usual level of energy they were accustomed to, but it did not matter, since Darren, more athletic than ever, was more than able to keep both of them in a continuous cycle of stimulation, longing and satisfaction. Although he had never been with guys before, he took naturally to sucking their cocks, fucking their asses and doing every little thing that would make their soft fattened bodies tremble with ecstasy. It was better than the best orgasm I gave my ex-girlfriend, he thought later, gleefully remembering the expressions on their sweaty chubby faces as they cooed and howled to his lovemaking.

The next morning, Darren arose to check a text message on his mobile phone. A look of consternation crossed his face.

"Oh no," he said. "The rugby authorities have ordered Twerpywerky to cancel the experiment. Lord knows how the rest of us are going to hold off the weight now, now that we've been used to eating like this and getting away with it for the last few weeks."

Bob and Grant looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

Bellygasm

"So," began Dr Weston, who was not a medical doctor, but had a PhD with an obscure psychology-related title, "what do you feel appears to be the problem?"

James, a musclebound Adonis in his early 30s with radioactive blue eyes and gorgeous, floppy light brown hair, stretched out his legs as he sat on his chair, then leaned back, eyeing the ceiling contemplatively.

"To come straight to the point, Doc," he said, "I'm having trouble getting it up."

"When with yourself, or with others, or both?"

"With others mainly, but with myself sometimes too."

Dr Weston scribbled into his notepad.

"In our chat online the other day, you said something really interesting," said James. "About...about how the stomach can become far more sexually aroused than the penis, if you train it right."

"Oh yes," said Dr Weston, "this is one of the most interesting discoveries my closest colleagues and I have made."

"Well," said James, thoughtfully, "to tell you the truth I've always found my stomach really erotic. I like to play with it, y'know, like it's something, like it's meant to be something more than it is now".

"You see a...a potentiality in your stomach area?"

"Yes," said James quickly, "that's a good word, a potentiality."

"How would you describe that potentiality?"

James shrugged his shoulders. "Erotic, erogenous," he said. "But more too, like it's the centre of my whole being."

Dr Weston scribbled hastily into his notebook.

"Like it's something I need to discover, that's connected to something...to something greater, though I don't fully understand."

"Fascinating, fascinating," said Dr Weston.

"After our discussion online, you said you could tell me a lot more, stuff that I don't know but will make everything make sense."

*

"So," began Dr Weston, "what do you feel appears to be the problem?"

"There are obstructions in my spiritual path that I am struggling with," said Marcial, a tall, lanky and intense young man in his early 20s.

"Your spiritual path," said Dr Weston slowly, "where is it headed, and how are you feeling you're not getting there?"

"Well I hope I'm getting there, but not fast enough. Sometimes I feel I am progressing but other days not at all. I'm feeling held back by the material world, by earthly things, especially by my body and my bodily urges. Sexual urges. Well, erections, orgasms, impure thoughts."

"How do you feel, if you have an erection or you have these thoughts?"

"Like all those people out there," said Marcial animatedly, pointing at the window, with an angry look on his face. "Like the whole mass of humanity, like I'm not making an inch of progress at all, despite all my meditations and studies."

"And you cannot...uh...compartmentalise, separate those moments from your spiritual journey, your studies, your meditations...?"

"No," said Marcial forcefully, an aggressive look on his face. "I know I must elevate myself to a higher level, I must make myself above these things. Look, you told me you have a technique to get rid of all this stuff for me. Can't you just tell me what that is and how that all works?"

*

Dr Weston looked into James' eyes. "The human body," he said, "consists of your physical body, which we are all aware of, and also another body, an energy body, or a spiritual body if you like, which overlays the physical body. My special area of study is the way these two bodies overlap and affect each other, and how that knowledge can be used to... to achieve optimum levels of human happiness and welfare."

"This all sounds big," said James.

"Some of the individuals I have come across," Dr Weston went on, and gestured towards James to make clear he was including him in his remark, "have a particular affinity with the tummy area. They go through their lives not really understanding it, but being aware it is there for something, that it is like...like an unused organ, as if a person had an extra leg or an arm they were not using..."

"Yes, yes, yes," said James, "that is definitely me".

"And there is a reason for that. You see, there is an important connection between the physical body and the energy body at exactly this point. Just below the navel, to be exactly precise, although the sensation can be right across the tummy area."

"Wow," said James. "This is so making sense now!"

"It is a powerful, powerful energy centre," went on Dr Weston. "When it starts to become active - and it has been becoming active in you, just the earliest stages - it starts to draw energy, and to draw your body's and your mind's focus, away from the other energy centres...including the one in your groin."

"You mean, as I'm getting more and more into my belly, my dick is...starting to lose it, if you see what I mean?"

"In a manner of speaking, in a sense, yes."

"So how do I make my belly give me back my dick?"

Dr Weston smiled. "Well, it is not quite like that, you see. It is not that your penis is losing its natural function. What it is, you see, is that one sexual organ is declining in erotic sensitivity, precisely so that another sexual organ, a far more powerful one, can emerge and be discovered. A bit like when your baby teeth start to fall out, and your adult teeth grow up to replace them."

"My belly is turning into my dick?"

"Your belly," said Dr Weston carefully, "is developing into your belly, and what I think we can do here is to help you to connect to it and move on to the next stage in your natural progress, which I believe will be more satisfying for you compared to where you are right now."

"I like the sound of that very much indeed."

*

Dr Weston looked into Marcial's eyes. "The human body," he said, "consists of your physical body, which we are all aware of, and also another body, an energy body, or a spiritual body if you like, which overlays the physical body. My special area of study is the way these two bodies overlap and affect each other, and how that knowledge can be used to... to achieve optimum levels of human happiness and welfare."

"And enlightenment, spiritual progress...?" asked Marcial.

"You could very well call it that. You see, there is an important connection between the physical body and the energy body just below the navel. If this is activated, then... this would open up a new range of possibilities, which I believe would surprise and interest you. It would also, as it happens, cause the unwanted sensations with your penis to...to diminish, and in time, go away completely." 

"And this involves no medication or surgery in any form?"

"Absolutely not."

"And this isn't some sort of quack hypnotism or something?"

"Not at all."

"Then I insist we go forward with this at once."

*

James sat still, straight-backed in his chair with his eyes closed, while Dr Weston made passes all around him with his hands, maneuvering his energies, initiating an awakening that would leave James never quite the same again. A peaceful feeling of calm serenity flooded James' whole body. He could feel the warmth and the tingling, like electricity, surging all the way through himself and around himself. I wish this could last forever, he thought.

"You can open your eyes," spoke Dr Weston softly, "and in your own time, return."

James came around, feeling the energies whooshing around himself. He had never felt anything like this before.

Dr Weston gave James half a glass of water, which he drank slowly and silently.

*

Later that day, Marcial went through the same experience as James with Dr Weston.

I am awakened, the potentialities are limitless, he thought. I can feel my powers growing. Soon I will be a great, great man. Others will desire to learn from me, to have even a small dose, the tiniest whiff, of what I have.

*

"This feels so fantastic I don't know how to describe it," said James.

"Try," prompted Dr Weston.

"My belly feels so sexy, like it is a massive new erogenous zone, and every time I touch it, it's better than touching my dick, much better. The feeling is so erotic, so deep, it goes right through my body, right through my soul. And as I get the feeling, the arousal, I get hungry, and I eat, and that feels hornier and hornier, except the horn isn't in my dick, it's in my belly."

"How are things with your penis?"

"I don't wank myself anymore. It's been getting hard less and less. I think I'm starting to stop thinking about it."

"That is very common and nothing to worry about. You still have the memory of penile erections ingrained in your memory, and from time to time, that will come to the surface, and your penis will become aroused. But that will be less and less so over time, probably."

"I long to be able to meet people who will...who will touch it, play with it, you know. But I don't know how to ask or where to go."

Doctor Weston smiled.

"There are a group of us here who are especially attuned to the aura, to the energies of the initiated, awakened belly, who understand the...the desires, the needs of a person such as yourself. We have sessions here every Tuesday. You can come along if you like."

*

James could hardly wait for Tuesday's session, and spent every spare moment stroking, rubbing, touching his belly, making it feel better and better and better. It was so hot. Even just thinking about his belly made him feel horny and hungry. He piled on the weight, his belly becoming bigger, fatter, rounder. It was so fucking hot, he thought. God knows how much I've gained but I've never been more turned on in my life.

He arrived at the session, finding himself in a big room with nine other guys, including Dr Weston. There was a big, luxurious bed, into which, after stripping himself down to his underwear, as instructed, he threw himself into, enjoying the soft, bouncy comfortable mattress. Before he knew it, nine pairs of hands were all over him, stroking his tits, his navel, his lovehandles, his underbelly, his thighs, his double chins, everywhere. There was food, too, so much of it - cakes and everything - which they fed to him by hand, morsel by morsel, like Cleopatra with the slaves and the grapes. It felt so fucking good it could not be described. On and on it went, feeling hotter and hotter. 

"Awwww ahhhhhhh..." he began to moan loudly, as the feelings of ecstasy bubbled and swirled in his belly. "I feel such a fucking hog, such a fucking pig. Awwwww this feels so, so, so good!"

At that moment, the guys all dropped their pants and started wanking over him, one guy shoving his cock in James' mouth, which he suckled greedily and slavishly.

His belly began visibly growing, roundening in front of everybody's eyes as his arousal deepened. Other guys got hard dicks, he got a blowing up of his belly.

"Oh my fucking God, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" James wailed.

Dr Weston tore off James' briefs and lifted up his fat chunky thighs in the air, exposing his curvy blubberous ass for everyone to see, then dived in like a man possessed, shoving his cock as deep into James' boyhole as he could go.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!" moaned James.

He felt a massive surge of energy in his belly, and it started expanding again, God knows how fucking big it was now, James could not even see in front of himself it was so huge.

"Get ready, boy," rasped Dr Weston, frenziedly pounding James harder and harder.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" shrieked James louder than he had ever shouted before, "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

"And that," announced Dr Weston in a steady voice, turning to his colleagues, "is a bellygasm".

*

"The technique has proved a success," said Marcial. "I am making more and more progress on my spiritual journey every day."

"And the unwanted feelings, the unwanted erections...?" queried Dr Weston.

"Almost entirely gone," said Marcial. "My mind and my body are entering a new, more advanced era in my development. Those sort of things are behind me now, I have moved on from all that, and my development is continuing apace."

"You feel calmer, happier, within yourself...?"

"Wiser," said Marcial. "What is happiness? I do not know, I do not care. But I am going where I want to go."

"This feeling of making progress, of developing, of becoming wiser.. this may sound a strange question, but if there was an area in your body where you could locate this, where would you say it was?"

Marcial gestured towards his belly, which Dr Weston noticed, was several times larger since his last visit. "It is nothing to do with my physical body," he said. "That is completely irrelevant of course. But in my spiritual body, yes, it is here that the wisdom is deposited, the enlightenment is expressing itself."

"And how does it feel?"

"Good, very, very good, very fine, and this feeling is the proof, the evidence of how enlightened I am now, I am not the being I was before, I am so much more profound now, and I sense this everywhere I go and in everything I think and say and do."

"Are you comfortable with the...the changes that are affecting your body?" Dr Weston asked, gesturing to his own slim stomach.

"Buddha had exactly the same experience, as I think I told you once," said Marcial. "I am becoming enlightened, accruing knowledge and spiritual strength at such a fast rate, that unless I grounded myself in earthly matters in some way, I would go completely off my head and leave this material plane of existence before it is my time to do so. This is why I eat so much, to ground myself. It is not because I am a glutton or I enjoy food too much, it is a purposeful, concentrated course of action undertaken on my part to guide my journey along its proper course."

"The Buddha's story is an interesting one, I think."

"And not only him either. Look at Jesus and the disciples, for example. They were always eating and drinking and gorging themselves. There is a purpose behind this, although only truly elevated souls can truly understand and appreciate it."

"I have a group that meets every Tuesday, and they would be eager to partake in the presence of someone like yourself, if you felt you could give them the privilege. You could come along if you like."

*

That next Tuesday, Marcial arrived in the same room as James had the previous week, surrounded by the same nine men, including Dr Weston. There should be twelve, he thought, that would be a more appropriate number, but nevermind. 

"Students, cushions, seated," Marcial announced, and everyone pulled up cushions and sat around him in a circle, with himself standing in the centre.

He then began to expound, at great length, on various religious and philosophical matters, while his listeners gazed up at him in adoration, paying most particular attention to the curves of his tits, belly, ass and thighs, which were now so much bigger than they had been even when Dr Weston met him only last week.

"Teacher," said Dr Weston, "in order to absorb the aura of your presence more completely, for our benefit, would you remove your robes?"

Marcial muttered impatiently. These beings are on a lower level than me, he thought. I suppose I must indulge them with what they need for their soul's progressions at the moment.

Later that evening, everyone in the room was naked. One by one, they would crawl on their knees to Marcial's belly to touch, rub, kiss, lick and worship it, eagerly and passionately. 

"One at a time, self-control, very important," ordered Marcial, as all of them tried to dive in at once.

Marcial's belly was growing and swelling and bloating, bigger than it had ever done before.

These are just passing phenomena of the physical world, Marcial thought, nothing to pay attention to.

The nine guys all gathered round him as he lay down, wanking over his huge fat gut.

They are just burning off unfinished business, blockages from their previous lives, thought Marcial. They are doing these things with their genitals because they are at a less advanced spiritual level than me. But I must be patient with them. I am helping them, by being here amongst them, as one such as myself. Let them do what they must do and they will come out the other side of the journey.

A glorious, sensual, orgasmic sensation erupted through his belly, as it bloated further and wider.

I feel like I could holler and yell with joy, thought Marcial, but I shall not, because that would set a bad example to these people. I must be calm, collected, because this is just how very great I am.

"I hope we can do this again next week," said Dr Weston.

Now that does sound a good idea, thought Marcial, wondering, if only for a moment, whether he was enjoying this more than he would admit.

*

James and Marcial stood at opposite ends of the room, naked except the gowns they wore around themselves. They walked to greet one another, slowly, wordlessly. Dr Weston had asked them not to speak to one another, but just to be with one another, wordlessly, meaningfully, beautifully. And that is what they did.

"A meeting of great minds," Marcial recounted to Dr Weston later. "We understood each other so perfectly not a word needed to be said."

"And how was it for you?" Dr Weston asked James separately, later on.

"The best fucking bellygasm I've had yet," he said.

Rajiv and the Micro Invasion of Fattr

Rajiv, a young chub enjoying his first 40 pounds, browsed through his feed on Fattr.

"Stop pretending to be micros when you're not micros, you're biggies," typed Carrot Rumplespice. "Micros are being appropriated and objectified by biggies and it's not fair, it's got to stop. If you don't understand this, you are part of the problem!"

"I'm as much of a micro as you are," retorted FatAss29 in reply. "Stop pretending you're a real micro who is 3 inches tall when we all know that's bullshit. If you have a sexual fantasy of being 3 inches tall then that's okay, you can role-play that with consent just like I do, but just stop fucking pretending it's real and going after everyone else who is only DOING THE EXACT SAME THING AS YOU."

"I AM ONLY 3 INCHES TALL YOU BIGGIE BIGOT FUCKWIT!" lashed back Carrot Rumplespice. "Look at my photos, they're real, unlike yours, where everyone can tell you've used PhotoShop to shrink yourself. Don't comment on things you don't understand. You are the bane of this community. Go fuck off!"

Rajiv had been watching this drama unfold for the last month. There was a craze going on where people were editing their photos to make themselves look tiny, posing next to objects like pens, paperclips and cups in order to emphasise their tininess. Then all these other people, calling themselves "micros", posting similar pictures of themselves, started getting angry, saying they themselves were bone fide tiny people and that the people pretending to be them were guilty of "appropriation" and making people believe they were not real.

"We were here before you, you just jumped on the bandwagon to pursue your bonkers psycho-fantasy" accused FatAss23.

"BULLSHIT!" raged back Carrot Rumplespice. "WE were here before YOU, then you started to copy us and pretend to be like us, you bunch of biggie flaking flakey fake micro wannabes."

BigBearXXX, Fattrceleb with over 9000 follows, thumped his mighty paws into his keyboard, banging out his call to action:

"Fattr, BAN all of these micro idiots NOW! I can't log in without having to watch these stupid, stupid conversations and arguments going on, and I've had it up to here! I don't give a shit whether they are real micros or fake micros or mental cases or whatever it is they are. These dumbwits don't belong on Fattr. Fattr, if you really want to keep these people, go and create another site for them under your franchise and call it Micrr or something. If these Micro retards are not got rid of NOW I'm leaving."

Rajiv watched as over 400 likes swiftly accrued for BigBearXXX's post, along with a stream of comments from people echoing his opinions and threatening to take their profiles off Fattr and move their content to Fwitter instead if something was not done about "the Micro problem".

BigBearXXX thundered on and on, blasting Fattr for "putting commercial interests before community" and threatening not to renew his premium Fattr subscription costing 27 cents a day and to campaign for everyone else to do the same unless "something is done NOW". That was a good few minute's work, he thought gratifyingly to himself, as he switched tabs to peruse his takings on his OnlyFans account, where thanks to the audience Fattr had let him access, he was now making enough money to pay more than half his weekly shopping bills.

The Fattr admins trembled before the rage of BigBearXXX and his legion of acolytes.

A special admin message popped out at the top of Rajiv's screen.

"IMPORTANT NOTICE: Micro profiles are now prohibited on Fattr, and we will be taking enforcement action on this beginning in 3 days time. However, micro RP remains welcome on DogSpace, and self-identified authentic micros remain welcome on Weabie."

*

Over a month later, Rajiv was chatting on Fattr to Joel.

"I wonder what happened with all that make-believe micro nonsense?" Rajiv asked.

"Oh they're real, all right," typed back Joel.

What followed was the most extraordinary conversation Rajiv had had on the site, up to that point. Joel told him about a micro, Meadow Copperpebbles, who wanted to hook up with him for a feeding session. "I wasn't interested in that, those tiny little people are not my thing," Joel explained, "but we became friendly, and he came round to visit me a couple of times."

"So these little people," typed Rajiv, "only a few inches tall - you're saying they're real?"

Joel affirmed they were, adding "prickly characters, though," and the next day, he came back to Rajiv with another message:

"So I was talking to Meadow earlier, and he agreed I could put you in touch with him, if you're really interested. His profile name is MCop. It's a blank profile. If you notice, there's been a big influx of blank profiles lately. Most of them are micros trying to sneak back into Fattr. Dogspace and Weabie don't interest them. They know this is the best place for all the bellies and gainers, and that's what they're after."

*

"Hi," Rajiv cautiously messaged MCop. He did not know what to say, and was not sure what his own feelings were about the whole micro thing, except he knew it made him really, really curious.

"Things have been tough for us since the persecutions began," came the reply. "Goddamn I hate those fascist fuckwits! The things I would do to punish them if I was less scrupulous than I am!"

"You mean the ban?" asked Rajiv.

"You'd better not tell anyone who I am."

"You're safe with me, Meadow."

"So... what're you into?"

"I dunno. Curious about the micro fetish, I'm micro-curious I guess."

"Micro fetish? Micro-curious? Pffttt! Mate, you've got to understand, we are not a kink, WE ARE A SPECIES OF OUR OWN! You've made me feel all sexually objectified now."

"I am really sorry, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, please forgive me."

"So...what're you into?"

Rajiv paused, thinking carefully. "I'm not sure how to answer that," he typed.

"What do you fantasise about doing with us?"

"Do you know that scene in Gulliver's Travels, where the miniature Lilliputians tie Gulliver up in his sleep, and when he wakes up he is completely helpless and at their mercy, unable to move a muscle? I've always found that really hot. I've not talked about it to anyone else tbh. I'd love to have that done to me, then for there to be lots of feeding and sex."

Meadow replied with a smiling devil emoji and the question "Which date pls".

"Um?" replied Rajiv.

"Me and my boys are coming over to you in the middle of the night to tie you up, stuff your belly with food and fuck around with you. Pls provide convenient date."

"Errr this is going a bit fast?"

"Oh not another fucking timewaster! You biggies are all like this, flakes and time-wasters the lot of you. You look big and you eat big and you talk big, then you wuss out. Every fucking time! There isn't a single real person amongst you, you're all flakes."

Rajiv rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. Was this conversation even worth continuing? Anyone else and I would block them right now, he thought, but I'm just so curious about this I've got to go forward with it.

"So... you are really like 3 inches?"

"3.1987 inches."

"Tall?"

"What do you think, cock size?"

"I mean...you are really, truly, a micro?"

"Why are you biggies all so dumb???"

"I'm not dumb, I'm asking. Like, if people like you are real, why aren't you on television or anything?"

"Typical biggie! Obsessed with television, watches television every spare hour of the day. If it's not on television it's not real. Television and online is your whole reality."

"I'm sorry, I'm just asking, I didn't mean to offend."

There was then a long pause.

"So when do you guys wanna do this?" Rajiv asked.

"That's the question I asked you, Mr Flakey McFlakeybiggieperson."

Rajiv felt confused, not sure what to say. This all seemed so crazy but he did not want all of this to drop, he had to see what all of this was.

"I go to bed at 11 and am usually asleep by midnight. I'm off work tomorrow."

"When you wake up tomorrow morning, we'll be there."

"Hold on, how will you get here, and how will you get in?"

"We have ways."

"Don't you need my address."

"I already know. We've been working for the Russians for decades."

Fuck, thought Rajiv, this is weird.

"Umm, should we chat about all of this a bit more first?" he typed.

"You biggies are always playing the back-and-forth dm'ing game and it's so tiresome."

Rajiv felt his blood boiling, but still did not want to give up on this.

"Well, y'know, you know my address without me having told you and you're planning to break into my home while I'm asleep and tie me up and do what-not to me...so...err...maybe we could discuss the details first, the consent issues & all."

There was a long pause.

Suddenly, Rajiv's inbox was being flooded with dozens of dms from blank profiles, all of whom seemed to be Meadow's micro friends. They were asking all sorts of bizarre and lewd questions, such as whether he would agree to shove them up his ass, or sit on them or squash them, or fart on them, or swallow them up and even shit them out the other end. There were so many messages coming in like this, frequently repeating the same questions others had already asked and he had already answered, that he began to feel overwhelmed and pissed off.

"I can't talk to you all one at a time like this, there are too many of you, I can't keep up with all this convo," he messaged Meadow.

They agreed Meadow would act as the group's general spokesperson, to keep things simpler. No swallowing, going up my ass, fart play or squashing, Rajiv insisted, explaining these things, along with various other requests he received, were probably either too dangerous or simply not to his taste. But bondage, feeding and sexual petting is okay. Meadow agreed to make these rules clear to the group. They also agreed on a "safe word" which Rajiv could utter if it ever got too much: "BigBearXXXSucksMicroCock".

"You'd better be ready cos we'll be there when you wake up tomorrow!" Meadow warned.

*

As the day wore on, Rajiv found himself becoming more excited, but more nervous also. This was so surreal. Could it all be real or is it a massive wind-up? What if this is a hoax someone is playing to make fun out of me? Or what if this is real, and it turns out to be something really dangerous? He could not stop the thoughts swirling around his mind. As it got later into the evening, though, his mind began to calm. None of this can all be real, he thought. I will wake up tomorrow and everything will be normal. He ate some chocolate and some eccles cake, brushed the crumbs off his bed then sank into a slumber.

Languidly re-emerging into consciousness, Rajiv's first sensations were of an almost imperceptible itching or tickling all across his body, but his sleep was so heavy his eyes did not open, or his mind gear into action, for a good hour or so. Then he suddenly jolted, meaning to turn himself over in bed, only to realise, in terror, that he was tied down fast to the bed by thousands of minute but strong, tightly-wound little threads, completely naked, and there were a swarm of little people - dozens of them, he estimated - crawling all over him, caressing his great curves and trampolining delightedly on his soft bouncy flesh, sprawling themselves out all over him, stimulating him with their hands, feets, mouths, everything.

One tiny chap marched up Rajiv's chest and gazed triumphantly into his eyes.

"Didn't think we'd come, did you?" he said jovially. "This is the same thing we did to Jonathan Swift. He was an interesting one. Put his bondage experience with us into one of his stories. Risky stuff, you know. We could have been found out and stuff."

"But we're not so worried about all that now," said a second little person, "we're fed up with being repressed into silence about our biggies kink. It's time to come out into the open. Who cares what all the other micros think? Who cares what the biggies say? Us lot love biggies, the bigger and fatter the better!"

Rajiv stared at the first little man in astonishment. "You're...Meadow?"

"Meadow Copperpebbles at your service, sir," said Meadow Copperpebbles, as he took a dignified bow.

"And now what?" asked Rajiv.

"Breakfast!" said Meadow Copperpebbles, who drew a bell out of his coat pocket and rang it loudly. Rajiv saw a line of micros, carrying morsels of bacon, eggs and toast on small spoons, emerging from the horizon of his round belly in front of him, marching up his chest and towards his mouth.

"Open wide, fatty!" ordered Meadow. Rajiv gulped down small spoonful after small spoonful. The morsels came slowly at first, then faster.

This feels so good, thought Rajiv, as the taste of the food warmed his tongue, his belly swelled, and he felt his body, his belly and tits especially, being titillated and worshipped in every way possible.

"Mmmmmm!" Rajiv moaned, as delicious, erotic sensations went coarsing through his dick and balls. These little guys sure knew what they were doing.

Soon, the micros were getting aroused as well, dropping off their clothes and grinding their dicks into Rajiv's warm, blubbery flesh.

"Nimbus, where are you?" came Meadow's voice.

"Here," said Nimbus.

"Do his guturis".

The smallest micro of them all, Nimbus, less than a fifth of an inch tall, climbed out of Rajiv's ear lobe, which he had been frolicking with, crawled across Rajiv's face then shot right into his mouth and down his throat.

That was weird and I didn't consent to that, thought Rajiv, an uncomfortable expression appearing on his face.

"Nimbus will go into your belly and find your guturis, a sexual organ in your belly which is very much like a female's clitoris," explained Meadow. "He's a pro. Once he gets started you'll be begging him not to stop."

Moments later, Rajiv felt an erotic, sensual feeling in his belly, better than anything he had felt before. It was driving him wild. His big, bulging belly was being tantalised from the outside and from the inside by these randy sexy little men, becoming a massive erogenous zone, and he could not get enough of it. On and on and on and on it went.

"This feels so good!" he groaned as he felt his tits, belly, thighs, dick, balls, buttocks and asshole being ingeniously manipulated all at once by more than a hundred tiny hands, feet, lips, tongues and dicks. "Oh god, I think I'm going to cum!"

"You cum when I say so, fatboy," leered Meadow, standing on Rajiv's chin and jerking off his dick over Rajiv's mouth, so Rajiv could smell and almost taste it.

"Oh yes, oh yes!" wailed Rajiv, more aroused than he had ever been in his life. He felt at least one of the little people burrowing deep up his ass. "Oh yes, yes, yes!" he shrieked, hardly able to believe how good it felt. I didn't give consent to them going up my ass, he thought to himself, but fuck it feels so good.

A series of other little people joined Meadow on Rajiv's chin, wanking furiously over his mouth.

"Take that, you fat fuck!" said Meadow, bursting forth an impressive stream of thick hot white cum into Rajiv's mouth. Moments later, the others blew their loads in unison, almost drowning Rajiv's throat in spunk.

"Unnggghhhh!" cried Rajiv, as it gurgled down his gullet.

Meadow looked into Rajiv's eyes wickedly. "Wait for it," he rasped.

Rajiv felt a curious rumbling in his tummy, and then, before he knew it, his body, and especially his belly, was expanding, getting thicker, curvier, fatter, softer. 

"Mirror!" called Meadow.

Some micros further down the bed raised a mirror in front of Rajiv, and he sat there, watching himself all tied up, with these horny miniature guys lusting all over him, as his body blew up and up and up.

A vigorous thrust up his backside and tingling, tickling under his balls pushed him over the edge, and his cock erupted with white foam, giving him the best orgasm of his life, as the randy little guys rushed into the shower of hot thick liquid, rolling and splashing themselves around in it, lapping it up like the greediest, most insatiable nymphomaniacs on the planet. A massive fart erupted out of his ass, and as Nimbus shot out of it like a projectile missile, at least three or four micros rushed in, frenziedly thrusting themselves as far up there as they could, their little noses sniffing, inhaling, consuming as much as they possibly could. I did not consent to fartplay, Rajiv thought indignantly, but by God that was good.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Rajiv roared and moaned, his newly-fattened body trembling and shaking with gushing orgasmic pleasure, tearing asunder the cords that bound him.

"Now for a photo," said Meadow, standing at the far side of the bed holding the smallest camera Rajiv had ever seen.

Rajiv gazed at himself in the mirror. He looked fatter, rounder, hotter, sexier than he had ever been.

"You won't stay like this forever, you know," said Rajiv, "your size will go back to normal after a little while, so if you want to capture how you look now, now is the moment to take a snap."

All of the micros, with the exception of Meadow, who held the camera at the end of the bed, positioned themselves triumphantly on Rajiv's massive fat bloated belly and fatpad.

"You can put this on Fattr," said Meadow, "even if you have to crop out your crotch for the public photo."

"But you know what they're like there, you know the rules banning micros," said Rajiv. "Can you take a shot of me without you guys in it? I'll get away with that, although everyone will put it down to amazing photo-editing techniques."

"Are you ashamed of us, then, is that it?" accused Meadow. "Had your fun with us and now you're chucking us away and are too proud to be associated with us? Is that it? Typical! This is what biggies are like. Every single time! Use us then let us down!"

"No, no, no," protested Rajiv, "it's not that at all, I really respect, really value you, all of you."

"If that's true," said Meadow, "then post the photo on Fattr. I'll send it to you later. Tell your story about what happened between you and us. Show them we're real. Show them they can't just keep denying us and banning us."

At that moment, a haze of blissful orgasm-induced lethargy came over Rajiv. "Come on, hurry up, we've got to get to the next one," he heard someone say, and then he fell asleep, not awakening until 6pm that evening.

*

Soon after waking and drinking a cup of hot coffee, Rajiv logged onto Fattr. A pop-up message from the admins opened up, dominating the screen.

"IMPORTANT NOTICE: Over the last 24 hours there has been a persistent effort to flood the global feed with claims about micro persons being real and artificially edited photos of members alongside alleged micro persons. These actions are against our site guidelines, and henceforth, any infringements of this nature will result in the user being permanently banned from our site."

Rajiv looked for his messages from MCop and the other micros. They were all gone, and so were all their profiles.

Big Baz and Little Tom

Baz playfully manhandled Tom into a headlock, then let Tom swivel around and jab him in the paunch.

"Why don't you admit it?" said Baz, "you know you find me hot. It's okay. I won't tell anyone."

"Fuck you!" teased back Tom, squeezing Baz's belly, which had been protruding more and more lately out of his muscle-bound body.

"Tell me how manly you find this sexy beer gut, eh?" ribbed Baz.

"I've gotta admit, that gut's got a hold over me,” said Tom, running his hands all over Baz's belly. This always ended up happening now, whenever Tom and Baz found themselves alone.

"So masculine isn't it?" pouted Baz, "turns you on so much, doesn't it, gay boy?" 

Baz pushed his belly out as far as it would go, and at the same time rolled up his sleeves and flexed his biceps.

"You know it,” said Tom. "Do you suppose you could grow it bigger, just for me?"

Baz laughed.

"Even if just a bit, you know?"

Baz scooped Tom up and dangled him upside down.

"Just for you," he chortled conspiratorially. "Our little secret, between me and you - but don't tell anyone okay?"

*

Barry, known as Baz, or "Big Baz" as per his wrestling nickname, at 5'10" and 300lbs was the biggest and toughest musclehead on the campus, with a reputation for showing off his brawn and rough-housing the smaller nerdy types.

Tom, who everyone called Little Tom, lived in the same student block as Baz, and was his favourite target. Only 5'2" and 128lbs, he kept himself in shape, but was no match for Baz, who loved to creep up behind him and give him wedges, or lift him up, carry him on his shoulder and twirl him around. Tom's friends felt Baz took things too far, but Tom, one of the smartest students on his course, did not mind too much. Truth be told, he fancied Baz like crazy and enjoyed the attention, however boorish it was. Any opportunity to be physically close to him was worth it, whatever the discomfort and humiliation. He wondered if at some level Baz felt something back for him, and hoped he did, but could never be sure. One day, though, he was determined to give that big goofy sexy stud his comeuppance, and have his way with him in the sack into the bargain.

One day, in the student pub, boozed-up Baz was acting up raucously with his mates. Everybody's eyes were on him everywhere he went. He was the star attraction. People followed him around just to be in his glow.

"I challenge anyone who dares to a no-rules, no-holds barred wrestling match," Baz boomed from the karaoke platform. "If anyone can last more than 5 minutes with me, they get my new stereo system."

Baz's loutish friend, Jason, known as Jaz, got up to speak next. "The match will be held at my gym, with me as referee. Big Baz versus whoever. But no time-wasters please."

Jaz came across like a brutish, foul-mouthed uneducated lout, but in fact he had all the privileges of an expensive private education and wealthy parents, who had funded a private gym for him, which he used to enhance his social status at university. He liked to pose as a rough, working-class lad made good, which was  why he cultivated mates like Baz, who more closely matched that image than he did. 

Nobody dared to meet the challenge. Jaz and Baz's other acolytes marauded the pub, daring random people to wrestle Baz, or asking them to telephone or text friends of theirs, to see if they would be interested. But none were forthcoming.

"I will take you on, big boy," came a sweet, high-pitch voice.

Everyone turned to a table near the back, where a petite, effeminate looking lad with curly ginger hair and radioactive green eyes was sitting all by himself, drinking apple juice. It was Tom.

Baz, Jaz and Baz's girlfriend, Marilyn, known as Maz, all burst out laughing, and soon everybody else was joining in.

"You cannae be serious!" yelled Ross, Tom's best friend Sue's boyfriend, in his inimical Scottish accent, and the laughter erupted again.

Baz scooped Tom up in his arms, hurled him over his shoulder and began spinning him around, to widespread mirth, then dropped him onto the bar, with his head hanging over one side and his legs the other side.

"I won't know whether to fight him or fuck him!" grunted Baz, and the crowd laughed so hard and started becoming so rowdy that the poor, struggling barmaid had to plead with them all to quieten down.

"Little Tom," said Baz after calm emerged, "I've got to give you this: you've got guts, more than all these other people here."

There was a round of clapping, following which Baz shook Tom's hand, in a gentlemanly way at first, but then squeezing his hand so bonecrunchingly hard Tom's face contorted with pain, and there were renewed shrieks of laughter.

"Big Baz and Little Tom, see you at the gym, 7pm tomorrow," said Jaz.

Just before departing, Baz and Tom glanced at each other, and Baz pushed out his belly and patted it, grinning as Tom's eyes consumed every moment of the gesture.

*

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Sue, Ross' girlfriend and Tom's best friend. "You have nothing to prove. You're miles and miles better than what he is, he doesn't have a fraction of your intelligence, and you're a really sweet guy, whereas he is a total douchebag. Why expose yourself to what you know they're going to do to you? I don't trust them. Tom, I'm seriously worried you'll get hurt. I don't want you to go to this. I can't understand why you want to go. Why don't you just call them and say you've changed your mind? Everybody will understand. Nobody will think any less of you."

Tom grinned cryptically. "Oh, don't worry, Sue, I'll be okay," he said. 

"But they're thugs, you've seen what they're like."

"Despite everything, Baz and I have an understanding. He knows how far to go and when to stop. He's not as bad as lots of people think he is. At least not to me, anyway."

Sue pulled a face. "Seriously?" she asked.

Tom nodded.

"Tania said to me at lunch the other day that she thinks you fancy him."

Tom put his fingers to his lips, and Tania started giggling.

*

"You know the rules," drooled Jaz. "Which is there are no rules," he added with a smirk. 

"Get on with it, we're meant to be going out in 20 minutes, I'm not standing around here all evening waiting for this to start," nagged Maz, annoyed that her boyfriend was interrupting her social life by picking a stupid wrestling match with someone he picked up like a sack of potatoes and threw around every day for fun.

"It'll be over 2 minutes max," sad Jaz.

Baz and Tom squared each other up in the wrestling ring. The contrast between them was dramatic, almost offensive - 5'10" and 300lbs of Big Baz versus 5' 2" and 128lbs of Little Tom. 

"Ready?" shouted Baz.

"Ready!" yelled back Tom in his campy voice, causing Baz, Jaz and Maz to guffaw cruelly with laughter.

"Coming for yer!" said Baz, and started to run at Tom mockingly, almost grabbing him but then letting him get away, time and again. Baz turned his back to Tom, arched his ass out then vocalised a disgusting farting imitation. Jaz laughed riotously, but Maz became impatient. "Come on, come on, get this over with you big lazy lump!"

Tom began to dance on his feet.

"This is wrestling, not dancing you prat!" yelled Maz. "Though Baz, you should join in because you need to lose that belly, y'know, I keep telling ya."

Then Baz came for Tom and picked him straight up over his shoulder, like he had done so many times before, and threw him out of the ring. Jaz began the count-out: "One, two, three, four, five...!"

Tom crawled back into the ring. Baz made no attempt to pursue him, giving Tom a chance to get his breath back. This was so easy, he thought, and messing around with Tom was so much fun, even if - especially if - it was pissing off Maz.

"C'mom we're going to the party in 10 minutes, hurry up and get this over!" complained Maz.

"Not now, we're wrestling!" said Baz, and Jaz laughed.

"You prefer spending time with him to spending time with me," maoned Maz, causing Jaz to burst out laughing again.

"Oh, but Tom is more fun!" retorted Baz, swinging Tom towards the ring ropes, which Tom bounced off, then lost his balance and fell over.

"C'mon, get serious, destroy him, Baz!" growled Jaz, now getting impatient that Baz was going so soft with Tom.

Tom struggled to his feet, then started punching Baz in  the chest, but Baz just stood there nonchalantly, taking it, not showing or feeling an iota of pain or budging an inch. 

"Hit me as hard as you can, Tom," jeered Baz, "c'mon as hard as you can".

Tom pounded Baz again and again in the chest, but to no avail. Then he whacked him in the belly, which slightly winded him. Baz immediately recovered, scooped Tom up and went to slam him into the mat, but paused the movement right before the end, and discreetly slipped his open hand under Tom's head, softening the impact, so Tom would not be too much hurt. Maz and Jaz both clapped. Baz went for the pin. "One, two..." counted Jaz.

"OOOWWWWW!!!" shrieked Baz in agony, as Tom squeezed his balls in a vice-like grip with his small femine hands, and rolled Baz off himself.

"Hey that's cheating, you runty little bastard!" shrieked Maz. "Get your hands off my boyfriend's balls!"

Tom continued to squeeze.

"OOWWWWWWW" yelled Baz frantically, as Tom intensified his claw-like grip.

"You know the rules," Jaz said to Maz, "there are no rules".

"Stop, stop, stop, OWWW!" howled Baz, "let go you fucking little cunt!"

"Submission win to Tom," announced Jaz, shocked.

"Hey I didn't submit!" protested Baz.

"Oh you didn't?" challenged Tom, squeezing tighter. Tom hollered even louder. "Okay, okay, just stop, just stop!" he cried.

"Only on condition that when we get back in the changing room, I can punish you."

"Okay, okay," blubbered Baz.

Tom let Baz go, who, along with Jaz and Maz, was stunned into silence.

*

Back in the dressing room, Baz bear hugged Tpm to within an inch of life, then released him, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Wow, boy, you were good out there!" congratulated Baz. "Do you know, I think we could make a wrestler out of you yet."

"You think so?"

"Definitely," he said, "although remember you can't go for a guy's privates in a real, professional match" he added pointedly, "that's against the rules...and...and...and against the code of what guys do to each other."

"Well, you stipulated the no rules, no holds barred thing."

"True, true," said Baz, his thoughts drifting.

"Now for your punishment," said Tom, an impish grin on his face.

"What's it gonna be?"

Tom moved close up to Baz, and leaned in to kiss him. Baz paused still, dead silent, for several tense moments, and was about to reciprocate when Tom drew away.

"On your knees, big boy," Tom whispered.

Seconds later, Tom had dropped his pants and Baz was on the floor, staring at Tom's smooth crotch, taking Tom's rock hard cock in his mouth - surprisingly big for such a small guy - and looking up into Tom's eyes while Tom stroked his hair and cradled his hands around his head, guiding him to go faster or slower. Baz had never done this before, he had only done sex with girls. This was so different, so humbling, but so goddamned hot, he never wanted it to end. On and on it went, Baz becoming more and more hypnotised into the rhythms of his cock-sucking, Tom's breathing and grunting becoming louder and louder, until Tom felt himself about to cum, drew his cock from Baz's mouth, then shot a massive hot load all over the big goof's face.

"Come and look," said Tom giggling, girlishly leading Baz by the hand towards the mirror on the wall, so Baz could see his face and hair smothered in jism. They both burst into uncontrollable chuckling, and Tom threw his arms arounds around Baz, touching him all over his newly-fattened ass and belly, and Baz found his hands wandering all over Tom's body, and before they knew it, Baz had a massive erection, which Tom groped and teased through his underwear.

"ARE YOU GUYS COMING OUT OF THERE?" screeched Maz's voice from outside the changing room. "We've got to get a move on, NOW!"

Tom quietly pulled Baz down so his face was level with his. "I've wanted you so much for so long," he said softly. "And I want you to do something very special for me."

"Anything," said Baz softly.

Tom's hand ran under Baz's shirt and felt up his belly, his finger lingering in his belly hole. "Carry on growing this food baby for me, okay?"

Baz blushed, and kissed Tom gently on the lips. "You know I will," he said, blushing all over. "Come round for my new stereo later, by the way," he added.

"You mean my old stereo?" correctedTom, and they both smiled.

*

"Come in, come in," said Baz, beckoning Tom into his room.

Tom entered, knowing, as he did so, that he was crossing a threshold. Before, Baz would never have invited him into his room because he would have been worried about what his friends would think of him hanging around with a dweeb like Tom. Now, Baz did not care about any of that crowd, Tom reflected, as he slipped his hands lovingly under Baz's shirt and felt up his firm, hairy, roundening gut.

"Getting bigger, stud," said Tom, reaching up to plant a warm kiss on Baz's mouth. 

Baz held Tom like a baby, lifting him off his feet, returning his kisses gently, stroking his hair softly, cradling him like the sweetest, most delicate, most precious china doll there ever was.

"I wanted to talk," said Tom.

"So did I," said Baz. "So, me and Maz split. It's no big thing. It was always a social thing with her anyway, she only wanted me for the social status, but now I'm no longer going to all her parties with her, and this belly of mine is getting bigger, she's no longer interested. It was never serious anyway. She was sleeping with other guys on the side, I knew that and didn't care. So nobody's leaving this hurt or anything."

Tom listened carefully, nodding thoughtfully. Baz had changed a lot over the last three months. Not just physically - he had gained over 40lbs in fat - but the people he hung out with and his whole perspective had altered. He was no longer socialising much with Jaz anymore, in particular, although Baz continued to attend Jaz's gym, where Jaz still let him have free sessions. Plus his tough guy reputation had been dampened by his humiliation at the hands of Tom at the wrestling match, which Jaz and Maz had not kept secret.

"I feel bad for what I did to you," said Tom, "squeezing your testicles and all. I mean, really it was unfair, it was a sexual assault even, and I shouldn't have done it. I feel so bad."

Baz laughed. "After everything I did to you, I deserved it," he said, "I deserved it, we both know that what I did to you and some of the others too was just rotten."

"It was," said Tom sternly, remembering the way Baz had treated all the nerdy guys, "though in my case I think we both know I rather enjoyed it," he added.

Baz pressed his big belly into Tom, knowing that was a bait Tom could not resist, and in seconds Tom had ripped Baz's top off and was suckling on his meaty, softening tits and gliding his fingers all around Baz's belly, poking his belly button, and letting his hands slip lower still, to tease and fondle that place that Baz longed to be touched. It was like a supernatural, animal magnetism guided their every thought, sensation and movement. Before either of them knew it, they crossed together into the realm of voluptuous delights, with Tom alternating between worshipping Baz's weighty fat belly with kisses and caresses, and engulfing his big, horny, hardening cock in his mouth, driving Baz into deeper and louder guttural moans of passion, until he collapsed on to the bed in post-orgasmic ecstasy, hardly able to believe how this tiny little guy could get him off so fucking much, and get him off better and better almost every single fucking time. The blissfulness he felt was so intense, his gratitude to Tom more impassioned than anything he had ever felt before. Tom made him feel so fucking good it was unreal, and he longed, more than he had longed for anything else before in his life, to give Tom something back in return.

"Tom, I want you really bad," he said, rolling over on the bed and arching his back, presenting Tom with the widest, roundest, brawniest, sexiest, hungriest, fattest ass he had ever seen. Tom could hardly believe what he was being offered, having fantasised about this so many times, but always imagining a guy like Baz would never submit himself to it. Without missing a beat, Tom slapped Baz's ass cheeks in arousal, and coated his dainty finger in lube and pressed it gently into Baz's boyhole, causing Baz to grunt and writhe in a way that turned Tom on more than ever, as he gently stroked Baz's balls, and watched enraptured as Baz's hanging belly heaved in and out as his breathing increased.

"I want this so, so much," rasped Tom, "but are you sure you're ready?"

Baz arched his back more, thrusting his ginormous plump ass shamelessly and yieldingly into Tom's hard finger. "Oh yes, baby, I want to feel you, all of you!" he cried. Tom grew intoxicated with horniness as he watched Baz's buttocks quiver and tremble with anticipation and excitement, and felt Baz's virgin manhole doing exactly the same thing around his finger.. Sliding his spare hand around the big sexy beast's bulging wide lovehandles, he slowly pressed in then withdrew his finger from Baz's hole, emitting whimpers of pleasure from Baz, then thrust in his dick, slowly and softly, then harder and faster, giving his insatiable lover everything and more he was craving and begging for.

*

In the shower together afterwards, Tom and Baz rubbed soap all over each others' bodies, hugging and kissing all the while, touching and cleaning every crevice of each other, making themselves as clean and sparkly as could be, Tom unable and unwilling to remove from his mind that glorious image of Baz buck naked on all fours, humongous ass spread open in supplication and behemoth, hanging belly and jiggling mantits wobbling more wildly with every thrust. Being together was so special, and they were loving it so much, but there was a cloud on the immediate horizon: half-term would separate them now for a whole two weeks.

"I have a present for you, before we depart for the break," said Tom, producing something Baz had never seen before.

"What is that?" he asked.

"A chastity device," said Tom.

Baz giggled. "You don't trust me while I'm away?"

"No, it's not that," said Tom. "It's just I want to keep you horny the whole time you are away, and build up gallons of cum in your balls, and then when you get back, I want you to give me everything, I want you to fuck me like I fucked you just now, only much, much harder."

Baz grinned nervously as Tom slipped the device onto his soft, shrivelled, cum-drained member. "You be a good boy for me," said Tom, patting his lover cheekily around the rump.

*

Over the half-term, Baz and Tom each had to go back to their separate homes, in different parts of the country, but they kept in touch regularly, staying up all night in webcam chats. Tom was an expert in playing with Baz's mind, getting him to stuff his now double-chinned face with more and more food, telling him and showing him just how much that turned him on, knowing exactly how to show off his supremely irresistible smooth, lithe boyish little body, and what to say to get Baz so hot and bothered he could explode. But for Baz, of course, trapped in the device, it was no good, he could not get a proper erection, he could not cum, he got more and more frustrated. Tom took particular delight in Baz's growing fatpad, which was bigger than ever now, and starting to diminish his big dick. Tom would plead with Baz again and again to show it off and rub it for him, which Baz loved to do, discovering it was becoming a whole new erogenous zone. Look at my ass, Tom would tease, seductively flexing his buttocks and flashing his hole at the camera, driving Baz to distraction. Baz pleaded and pleaded with Tom to let him take the device off, but Tom, cruel master that he was, would not relent, only promising that when Baz came back to him he would give him something he would never forget, the mindblower of all mindblowers, the orgasm of all orgasms.

And he did, by God he did, reflected Baz later, remembering that night he shared with Tom when they returned from the break. Just the sheer memory of it was enough for him to feel so fulfilled, so satiated he could not imagine ever having a sad day in his life ever again. Tom was thrilled at the sight of Baz on his return, another 30lbs having been added to his body, all of which he could not wait to get his hands on. Truth be told, when they got down to it, it was a clumsy affair at first, with the removal of the device taking more time and care than either of them expected. The sense of liberation Baz felt after that was achieved, however, was overwhelming, and it was not long before Tom's devilishly sensual caresses gave the big-bellied, desperate, sex-starved, cock-teased muscle hunk the boner of all boners, driving him near out of his skull.  Baz found himself on his back, with Tom on top of him, gyrating his beautiful thighs, sliding his divinely tight boyhole tormentingly up and down Baz's boner, clenching and unclenching, goading Baz to eat more and more slices of heavenly delicious creamy chocolate cake, working Baz up to a wild, grunting, bellowing, puffing, sweaty, pre-cum drenched. cum-filled ball-tingling state of frenzy. Tom looked down, spreading his hands all over that big fat obese manly hairy belly, tracing the belly hair contours with his fingertips in fascination like a geographer studying a map, manicly lusting for the sexy bloated over-fed ballooning man-paunch that was all, all his, ravishing and fucking that deep, sexy belly hole with his finger, round and round, in and out, in and out and round and round.

Tom leaned over towards Baz's face and kissed him passionately. "I want you to take me baby," he said. "I want you to throw me around like you always did before, and fuck me and bang my ass as hard as you fucking can, I want you to split me in two, I want you to fuck the fucking life out of me."

Baz was so horned up he could not say no, and they readjusted positions, with Tom on the bed, back arched, presenting himself, all of himself, to Baz for the taking. Baz went straight in, but gently. Part of him wanted to fuck Tom hard and brutally like Tom had asked, but this was Tom, who he loved so much, and he could not bear the thought of hurting him.

"Go on baby," urged Tom, "this is my gift to you. I've wanted this for so, so, so long. I want you to fuck me like the powerful, sexy big fat horny wild man I know you are."

It took coaxing from Tom, but stage by stage Baz lost his inhibitions and pounded Tom harder and rougher, Tom urging him with every thrust to go faster and harder, until finally Baz lost himself, and found himself lifting Tom up, pressing his furry mammoth belly into his back, holding him tight, and fucking him pitilessly against the wall, the bangs surely waking up his neighbour next door, but who cared for that, they could lump it, this was too, too good.

When Baz blasted the condom full of hot juicy cum, he and Tom collapsed together in a pile, both sweating and panting, hearts pounding together, tongues still in each others mouths, Baz's hands cradling Tom's delicately featured face, Tom's hands wrapped round Baz's humongous, heaving belly, clinging needily to its protective girth and warmth, never wanting to let go.

After coming out of the shower a little later, they wrapped themselves with thick warm white towels and began to talk, for hours and hours, about everything, everything there was to know about each other, about all of their hitherto hidden thoughts and experiences. On the outside, they were each such different people, and yet inside, so at one. Each, they both realised, could now intuit what the other was thinking or would say next, like sometimes happens with twins or very close siblings. They truly were two people very much in love, hands all over each other, eyes never leaving one another, souls connected, endlessly, forever.

Two Kingdoms: A Dark Fairy Tale of Gluttony, Lust, Depravity and Incest

Once upon a time there were two princes, twins, 24 years of age. Both had light blonde hair and deep brown eyes, and would be indistinguishable were it not that Adam was lean, whilst Charles was fat.

Their much elder brother, William, had been a womaniser siring bastards up and down the land, and up and down many other lands besides. He was slain by a love rival when the twins were only 7 years old.

After this, the King and Queen resolved the twins would endure a stricter upbringing than they had allowed William, and would not be allowed to mix even socially with the opposite gender until they had married. Every aspect of their lives was overbearingly regulated, particularly relating to all matters sexual.

Be that as it may, the Queen allowed Charles, who was the younger twin, to indulge his love for cuisine in a way which was forbidden to Adam. This all began almost as a family joke, when Charles told Adam that Kings were meant to swear and cram their mouths with food all the time. Young Adam, knowing no better, proceeded to do just that, until when challenged by their nanny about his behaviour, he told what Charles had said to him, and the nanny pulled Charles to one side and scolded him that it mattered less if he was a foul-mouthed glutton because he would not be King, but that for Adam to be so would be another matter. Their parents, when they heard the story, could not help laughing.

Over time, neither prince cared to swear very much, but it was Charles, and not Adam, who cultivated a great love of fine food. It is hard for Charles, not being the heir, the Queen would remonstrate with the King, and since he did not have to worry about becoming King, it did not matter how he looked, so if he wanted to enjoy his food, where was the harm in it?

Now, returning to the present, it happened the kingdom faced a danger and an opportunity all wrapped up together. Their neighbour to the north, ruled by the devilish King Vortismore, was devouring up neighbouring kingdoms with his invincible armies, and was threatening to do the same to the twins’ kingdom as well. However, Vortismore faced a dilemma, which was that he had no sons, only a daughter, the lovely Princess Marie, and was desperate to find a suitable prince to marry her.

One might imagine princes would be falling over themselves to marry young Princess Marie, who was beautiful beyond compare, and heir to the mightiest kingdom ever known. There was in fact another aspect to the princess that would attract any hot-blooded male, that being that her mother, a renowned sorceress, had sought to increase her value in the marriage market by casting an enchantment endowing her with a magical and wondrous vagina granting sensual pleasures exceeding any other. For this alone, every man in the world coveted her, but for the parents and advisers of those princes who desired her hand, there was cause to hesitate.

To understand this, it is regretfully necessary to know some sordid details concerning King Vortismore, whose household any would-be son-in-law of his would be expected to join. Vortismore was notorious as a man without morals, not just a roving libertine in the manner Prince William had been, for example, but a man who could take equal delight in pleasure and cruelty, and cared not who he hurt.. He lusted after that which other men would not dare to lust. Specifically, the Enchanted Vagina of his own daughter.

When, as a young man, after murdering his father the previous King, he took a sorceress for his Queen, his people feared this was a dangerous choice. Quickly, though, they came to see he was in fact far more evil than anything she could ever be, and they respected her as their protector who used her sway to shield them from at least some of his cruelties. But despite her moderating influence, she was unable to prevent him from alienating all of the country’s neighbours, raising doubts over whether her daughter would be able to make a good foreign match. And so, to make her daughter more desirable to foreign princes, she used a forbidden black art to make her daughter irresistibly seductive and pleasurable to men.

Yet the Queen was no fool and wished her daughter to be no man’s whore, and so to safeguard the princess’s virtue, along with the enchantment, she cast a curse which would prevent anybody from enjoying her in a dishonourable way. She never imagined, though, that the first to try to take Marie’s virginity would be her own father. Until the day of her death, the memory remained etched in her mind of how she heard Vortismore’s panicked screams, then rushed in to Marie’s bedroom to find Marie with her clothes partially pulled off and Vortismore clutching his chest, his heart coming close to stopping, a punishment from the protective curse.

There was one further occasion, about which the Queen never found out, when he sought to take his daughter for himself but was thwarted by the curse, which this time almost expelled all the air from his lungs. After that, he raged furiously, livid that he, the most powerful man alive, was so impudently obstructed from sampling the fruits of the orchard he had planted.

There must be a way to break this protective curse, he thought. Will the curse break if I destroy the one who created it?

This he tried, first by poisoning, but when that had no effect, by beating his Queen’s head in with a silver candlestick holder. Still, the protective curse held in place, chasing him out of his daughter’s bedroom by making his feet as hot as though he was walking on burning red coals.

The Queen, who was not naive to Vortismore’s wickedness, had anticipated he might try to murder her and might seek ways to overturn the curse protecting her daughter. And so, as a means of diverting his attention in such an eventuality, she had promised him that when she died, her body would return to the state it was in on their wedding night, that it would never decompose and that he could enjoy it until the end of his life. After the sombre state funeral was over and done with, Vortismore took up this opportunity on a nightly basis, digging up the grave, ravishing the body, then burying it back again. For a while this was fun, but then he lost interest, visiting the tomb less and less, until the day came when he buried her, never to re-bury her again.

The reason for this loss of interest was twofold. Firstly, the prime object of his desire was not for his wife, but for his daughter, and that remained his primary, but for the moment unobtainable, desire. Secondly, a stimulation had entered his life which replaced that of his dead wife’s body.

Young male palace servants in tightly-fitting bright uniforms with plump round bellies, perky pink nipples and big fat virgin-holed bottoms.

That and one other thing: it aroused him immensely to lure in noble gallants with Princess Marie’s charms, only to watch them suffer, just as he had done when he tried and failed to take her. For his daughter, whilst controlled by her father and unable to meet anyone without his blessing, had - as her father well knew - her own lustful urges, and chased eagerly after any man her father dangled provocatively before her, although he always ensured such liaisons would end in disaster.

Vortismore took the most exquisite delight in teasing her with Lord Charmley’s son, Henry, the most handsome man in the kingdom, who he allowed to enter her rooms to teach her poetry. Although they thought they were unsupervised, Vortismore was spying on them the entire time, along with his guards, vicariously enjoying the thrill of their clumsy young fondlings. Then one morning, when Henry was stark naked and they seemed close to attempting a consummation of their love, he suddenly walked in, dressed in his full royal regalia, sending the terrified Henry scuttling away to hide in the great iron cauldron in which the princess took her baths.

Marie frowned, terrified her father had seen the sight, but composed her face, hoping in vain that he had not. He calmly sat by her and talked casually to her about matters of court, and it seemed to her at first that she had gotten away with her adventure. Then he remarked her features looked pale and suggested she take a bath, so his accompanying manservant filled the cauldron with water and lit a fire beneath it. He carried on conversing naturally, calmly as ever, as the water boiled and bubbled, and young Henry, his screams echoing around the princess’s chambers, was simmered. Marie, too terrified of her father to raise any objection, could only keep up the casual conversation, forcing herself to act as naturally as she could, as though nothing was happening, until her father had left and the man she adored could shriek no more.

This, then, was the man that King Vortismore was, and the reason why the twins’ parents, the neighbouring King and Queen, were opposed to their sons’ pleas to be allowed to court Princess Marie. That would mean entering King Vortismore’s household, and that, they feared, could be a fate worse than death. But the sex-starved twins, bristling under their parents’ puritanical regime, forbidden the presence of the opposite gender and reproved by watchful servants even for taking solitary pleasures under the cover of their bedsheets, begged and begged and threw tantrum after tantrum, pleading and demanding to be allowed an introduction to the princess.

So when one day, an artist from the court of King Vortismore arrived, requesting to make a portrait of the twins for his King, their parents sent him away. Then the twins, made privy to the artist’s arrival by a palace sympathiser, arranged a sitting with him in secret, then sent him away with his sketches, imploring him to send their greetings to the princess. She will surely like me best, thought Adam, for I am lean and fit whilst my brother is fat and gross. Charles, though, did not lack confidence. There must be some who prefer my build to my brother’s, he thought, and besides, if she takes a liking to my brother’s appearance and desires to meet him, royal etiquette dictates she could not meet him at the first encounter without meeting me at the same time, and if she compares our company, it is me she will prefer, because I am smarter and wittier than he.

It so happened that Princess Marie never got to see the portraits, for the artist returned them, as instructed, to King Vortismore, who could not care less what his daughter thought of her suitors and never intended to give her any say over who she married anyway. It was Charles who interested him most, not Adam. He had already heard reports of the young man’s elegant features and soft, plump build, and devoured the portrait as soon as it was presented to him, taking in every curve and bulge. He interrogated the artist at length, wanting to know exactly how Charles appeared in the flesh, threatening torture and death if Charles arrived at his court and looked different to how he was portrayed. For the artist, this was an awkward position, for in drawing the portrait, he had to please different masters, the princes and Vortismore, and to offend either would be a fearful risk. But now, at the mercy of Vortismore alone, he opted to confess the truth: Charles was, in fact, much fatter than he appeared in the portrait, and he had slimmed him down to avoid causing offence at the foreign court. Trembling, he feared the worst, but only a big grin appeared on Vortismore’s face: he was a happy man indeed, and rewarded the artist with five bonus gold coins.

Vortismore sent a messenger to the kingdom to the south, offering Marie’s hand in marriage to Adam, on the condition both Adam and Charles should be entrusted to his protection at his royal court, and that Charles should serve as his royal equerry until such time as he saw fit to arrange a suitable marriage for him with a noblewoman from his kingdom. Adam, consumed by his fixation for Marie and her Enchanted Vagina, was eager for the plan to be accepted at once. Charles, annoyed at being denied the opportunity to work his charisma on Princess Marie in person, jealous of his brother and aware of King Vortismore’s reputation for lechery with young fat men, was horrified and swore he would never consent to the proposal. His parents, too, were cold on the scheme, dreading the prospect of sending their precious, innocent sons to a demon like Vortismore. Yet at the same time, they dared not provoke his anger, and so a compromise was suggested: Marie would be invited to join them at their court and marry Adam, and Charles, also, would remain with them.

When Vortismore heard this counter-proposal he was furious, beating the messenger about the head and sending him back with heavy bruises. His ungrateful neighbour would obey him in this matter, he fumed, and so the rough wooing of the southern kingdom began, with raiding parties sent across the border, burning crops, stealing goods and kidnapping maidens. Back in the south, the King and Queen were distraught, cautious to protect their people from further vengeance, but unable to contemplate surrendering their beloved twins to this tyrant.

In the end, it was Charles who made the inevitable decision. Mother, father, brother, he told his family, Vortismore’s armies are bigger and better equipped than ours, and against him we stand no chance. There is only one option left. For the good of our kingdom, we must agree to his demand, however painful it is for us, and however degrading it is to me personally in particular. This is a sacrifice we must make. In the long run, it will be worth it. Vortismore is getting old, and one day he will die, and then Adam, according to custom, will become King of his land, and then in due course, when father is no longer with us, King of our land too. These two kingdoms will become one kingdom, a great and holy imperium that will uphold peace and righteousness across the world. That, my beloved family, is the most precious prize of all to win, and the price we are being asked to pay for it, however uncomfortable, will be meritorious.

All of the family, all of the ministers and advisors, and all of the courtiers were astounded by the courage, maturity and self-abnegation Charles had shown. Fountains of tears were shed all around, and Adam, especially, could scarcely believe how much his brother was giving up, and begged him pleadingly and apologetically to forgive him all of the hard words and wrongs he had committed against him in his obsession for the Enchanted Vagina. It was always going to be this way, brother, Charles reassured him, we are only mortals and can only walk the paths the gods have set for us, but whatever fate has in store, let us remain the closest and most loving brothers, twins, that ever were. And at that, the tears flowed all around all over again, everybody trying to comfort each other and commenting on how Charles was the noblest son that could grace any dynasty.

The princes now set off on a long expedition to Vortismore’s court, amidst a long train of richly-decorated, horse-drawn wagons and surrounded by a protective cohort of 200 guards. Charles, at his own request, assumed responsibility for organising the expedition and choosing all of the persons who would accompany them. It was noticed, when the list was provided at the last moment, that all of the names on the list were people who were personal friends of Charles, more friends of Charles than friends of Adam, but this was not something Adam or the King and Queen were bothered about at the time. Charles is the one who is going to have to endure Vortismore’s cruelties and perversions the most, they all thought, and so he cannot be begrudged for taking his friends along for comfort.

Charles, though, was more devious than anyone about him realised, and had formulated a very definite and shocking plan long before the expedition even set off. The principal figures in the party travelling with the two princes were all in on this from the beginning, and the rest could all be relied upon to go along with it, or at least not to thwart it. The scheme was as simple and as ambitious as this: that the twins would swap places, the lean twin becoming the fat twin and the fat twin becoming the lean twin. Charles’ allies doubted at first that this could be accomplished, finding the proposal preposterous, but bit by bit, as they listened to the tactics he outlined and trembled at his cold determination, they saw this was indeed possible, and believed his promises of reward once he was married to the most eligible princess in the world.

During the journey, Charles decreed, Adam would be surrounded only by himself and companions he personally and carefully selected himself. They would ply him with drink and food laced with calorie-boosting supplements, they would discourage and distract him from sport or exercise, they would goad him to eat more and more, telling him stories about how in the foreign kingdom princes are meant to be big and fat, and that if he arrived at the court slim, he might be sent back home. The artist who came to paint them, he lied, had redrawn Adam as a fat prince, after he, Charles, had bribed him to do so, because he knew if Vortismore thought he was slim, he would never let his daughter marry him. All of this surprised Adam at first, but it was confirmed to him by all of the companions who surrounded him, and he did not doubt his brother’s word because his loyalty had already been proved to be unquestionable. So Adam consented to dine heavily at meals, to snack frequently, to binge and to graze on all of the rich, delicious foodstuffs Charles attentively provided and had the knowledge from experience to tell him so much about.

Charles, meanwhile, started to exercise every day and to eat modestly, determined to slim down. You well know the reason for this, he assured Adam. That King Vortismore is a chubby chaser, and he has designs on my person. Losing all this weight is the only way of safeguarding my honour. But don’t worry about yourself, Your Highness. He would not dare touch you, because you will be the husband of his daughter, his heir and the future King, and even he, repellent brute that he is, would not dare lay a finger on you. In any case, you will be surrounded all the time by your very own guards, and if he dares to upset you, mummy and daddy will find out about it and strike him down.

All of this, Adam’s companions impressed upon him too, and before long, it all sunk in, unquestioned. Adam would have to become fat and Charles would have to become slim. This was just the politics of the thing, Adam reasoned, and Charles has always grasped politics more than me. The experience was made more bearable because his brother provided him with what he called “a special companion”, albeit one who did not know their language very well. This was Edward, although that was probably not the name he was born with, a petite 19 year old with luscious dark skin, a scrumptiously seductive body and beguiling exotic features who would share his bed at night to keep him warm and comfortable for the journey. Behind bedroom doors, Edward would strip to his racy feminine undergarments, and provide his master with all the exquisite delights of the den of iniquity from which he was fetched, coaxing him to gorge himself more and more with food, telling him how manly this made him and how aroused it made him to see him eat like a King. All princes, all Kings do this in preparation for the marriage bed, Charles and Edmund would assure him, you are only performing your duty in undertaking this training. Oh, but what a delicious duty and training this is, thought Adam, and how grateful I am that I have such a conscientious and considerate brother, to guide me through this complicated and wearisome maze of life.

For several glorious months this went on and on, with Adam considering this quite the happiest time of his life, enjoying more freedom to satiate his burgeoining appetites for food and sex than he had ever been allowed back home. I wish this could last forever, he thought and said many times.

Then one stormy evening, as the train of wagons approached the border between the two kingdoms, the trap was sprung. Your Highness, there has been the most terrible mistake, Charles told his twin. I have just spoken to some of our spies in the court we are going to. Vortismore and his court are expecting a slim Prince Adam, not a fat Prince Adam, as we previously thought. Princess Marie will never consent to marry a fat prince, and her father would not allow it either. Whatever shall we do? As soon as they see us, they will throw us in the dungeons, and Vortismore will send his armies across our border to seek the most terrible vengeance. Our Kingdom will be conquered, our parents slain! Oh whatever shall we do?

Adam’s face went pale with shock and he trembled with horror. Oh how had such a mistake been allowed to happen, he remonstrated with his brother. I am so sorry, I am so sorry, it is not my fault, pleaded Charle, I was acting on the best information I had, and which our father’s ministers had given me. Please do not hate me, beloved brother, there has never been a brother more loyal and more subservient than I!

Both brothers sat silently together for a long time, weeping and holding each others’ hands. Eventually, after what seemed to Charlies like an age, Adam proposed a solution to the situation. There is only one thing for it, he said. We must swap: you must become Adam and I must become Charles. You must wed Princess Marie, and I must amuse her father.

Charles, inwardly relieved, put up a great show of resistance, saying this was something he could never allow, even threatening to slash his throat at night with his sword rather than put his dear brother through such a humiliation. No, no, insisted Adam, you must do your duty, and I must do mine, for the good of our parents, and our kingdom, and our people. Still Charles put up a show of resistance. You must do this or I will drown myself at the next river, Adam threatened. Oh well, if you absolutely insist, I suppose I will have to go along with this, however unwillingly, Charles conceded, thinking to himself about the ecstasies of the Enchanted Vagina which awaited him in only a few weeks time. Brother, you are such a good, loyal brother, praised Adam, wherever would I be without you?

From that day onwards, Adam became Charles and Charles became Adam, and from this point in the story, we will call them as such for simplicity. After arriving at the palace, Charles soon settled into his new life as Vortismore’s bumboy, teased, taunted, humiliated and used whenever and however the sadistic despot pleased. He was not, to be fair, left without comforts. He was permitted, and indeed encouraged, to lead a luxurious life of leisure, gorging on food all day long, attended by servants and entertained by all the diversions the court had to offer. His beloved Edward remained with him, attached to his household, their bond growing strong, Charles teaching Edward more of the language and of cultural matters, and Edward showing and teaching Charles more of his lovemaking wiles.

Charles resisted Vortismore at first, pleading with him to leave him alone, but within a week, although he would not at first admit it to himself, he began to experience their shared intimacies with passion more than horror. Whereas to begin with, Charles had shouted and complained, and threatened to write to his father about what Vortismore was doing, by the end of the fortnight, it was a different story. Instead it was Charles begging Vortismore for his attentions, craving the contrast between Vortismore’s tall thin body and long thin member, and his own shorter, increasingly plump build, with his privy parts buried deeper and deeper into a pad of fat, which Vortismore called his fatclit. Now it was Vortismore who tired of Charles’ constant imploring for attention and degradation, and Vortismore who testily threatened Charles with telling his father about the supplications he bombarded him with, but Charles did not care, he wanted more and more, his mouth stuffed will more food, his belly bloated further, his soft parts caressed and jiggled, his fat rump spanked and poked and fucked while he hollered and wailed and blubbered for more.

The wedding was a grand affair, with everybody eating and drinking to excess, and everybody commenting, behind Charles’ back, on what a glutton he was and how he was fatter now even than when he had arrived in the country not long ago. As the evening drew to a close, Adam and Marie went to bed together for the first time, Marie shy and blushing, Adam hot and fervent to partake of the legendary Enchanted Vagina for the first of many times.

I bet they are having fun, thought Charles, but he felt no envy or resentment now. Events had not turned out as planned, but all things considered, he felt happy with his lot. Kingship was not for me anyway, he thought.

Then he heard a loud and terrible scream reverberating across the palace, a scream which everybody heard and none who heard would forget.

Attendants rushed into the private chambers of the newlyweds, from whence the sound had come.

Adam writhing and howling in pain, blood gushing from his privy parts, his member cut off clean and laying, dripping in blood, some distance away from him. Marie stood naked, shocked, in terror.

The way was cleared for nurses and doctors, but like all the nurses and doctors in this world, they were quite useless, massaging Adam’s feet and forehead with coconut oil and twirling the tip of his nose round and round anti-clockwise, and the small toe on his left foot likewise clockwise.

Vortismore himself arrived. Get the witch, he yelled, grabbing the nurses and doctors by the hair and dragging them out of the room. He had Marie ushered away as well. Minutes later, the witch arrived, and began to chant her spells and apply her ointments. The blood stemmed and Adam started to recover consciousness. Witches know what they are doing in this world, and this one, employed by the King himself, was the finest magician alive since the death of the sorceress, the King’s now-dead Queen.

The charm which enhances my daughter’s vagina, Vortismore told Adam, comes alongside a curse which punishes and repels any man who seeks to take her maidenhead ignobly. Tell me then, what thing it is you have done? Adam, who had lost his manhood, now lost his manhood, and cried like a little girl, confessing all to his father-in-law, pleading for forgiveness.

Vortismore reflected carefully. So the twins had swapped. That explains why the Enchanted Vagina rejected the twin that was meant to be Adam but was in fact Charles. But what to do now? He was dearly tempted to send this young man to the dungeons, but what would that achieve? It would make him look a fool, and besmirch the reputation of his dynasty. No, he thought, he needed Adam to be his daughter’s husband, and he needed him to sire children.

Witch, he commanded, restore to this man his phallus.

Can’t be done, replied the witch.

It must, insisted Vortismore, threatening all manner of punishments and tortures unless she complied.

The most my magic can do, she explained, is to turn somebody else into his member, and then attach it to him.

This information had the most profound effect on Vortismore, who still had not forgotten his lust for his daughter.

If I am turned into his member and enter her vagina, will the curse of the Enchanted Vagina prevent me, he asked.

I do not think so, replied the witch. You will feel the pleasure just as much, if not more intensely, than her husband does.

Then do it, ordered Vortismore.

And she did, and it was done.

But before this operation could be completed, he gathered together Adam and his leading ministers, telling them what he was going to do, appointing Adam Regent and swearing them all to utmost secrecy and to maintain the fiction, for the time being, that he was going off by himself on a long pilgrimage.

Those who did not know the truth sent up prayers to heaven when they learnt the news, believing their King, at long last, had repented of his sins and gone off to discover simple living, religion and righteousness. Little did they know the truth, that he had become the very wand of carnal sensualism, and would in time be several times a day ravishing his own daughter’s most delicate and intimate parts.

And yet, although the pleasure was good, it was not so pleasing as expected, for on the day of her husband’s unmanning, Marie had gone to the witch alone, and commanded her to remove the enchantment of her vagina, complaining it had brought only woe to herself and her family. This, after some hesitation, the witch performed, and afterwards she duly told her husband, praying he would understand. Generously, he did, and did not reproach her for her action. At least for now, after his last experience of penetration, such matters were the last thing on his mind, and it would in fact take an effort of the will before he could bring himself to perform in the marriage bed again.

Marie, bless her, had no idea of the outrage to which she was being subjected. Neither Adam, nor her father, nor any of her ministers or

advisors told her the reality, letting her believe only that her father had gone on a journey and that Adam’s new phallus had been conjured up by the witch.

Yet just as Adam concealed facts from Marie, Marie also concealed them from Adam, since the removal of her vagina’s enchatment was not such a simple matter as he let him believe. To remove the enchantment was impossible, the witch had told her, and the most she could do was transfer it from one person’s organ to another’s. So Marie, unaware as of yet about her father’s disappearance, ordered the magic to be transferred to her husband’s brother’s rectum, where she hoped it would give her father enough diversion to keep him away from herself, which at that time remained an ever-present anxiety in her mind.

All of these particulars might not have led to anything, were it not for a peculiar over-spilling of the mind of Vortismore into the consciousness of Adam, introducing to Adam impulses and fantasies that originated not with himself, but with his father-in-law that was now his privy organ. How or why this happened, we cannot describe exactly, although perhaps we can compare it with those strange cases, known of in our own world, where a person receives an organ transplant, and then, inexplicably, develops characteristics and tastes belonging to the person from whom the organ was taken.

The effect of this was that Adam experienced malevolent notions entering his thought stream which were not natural to him. These troubled him, for despite his past ambitiousness and scheming, he retained something akin to a sense of conscience. This was strong enough, fortunately, to allow him to identify and mentally process these freak impulses, so they were snuffed out in his mind before they became stronger or any real harm was caused.

In one respect, though, the influence of Vortismore’s mental power was so pervasive, Adam could not control it, and this was in the most unnatural and overwhelming sexual curiosity he began to feel for his twin brother, whose gluttonous feats and growing girth were the talk of the whole court and beyond. It is hard to say how much this attraction came from the influence of Vortismore, and how much of it came from the celestial draw of his brother’s Enchanted Rectum, but each element surely played a role.

Having neglected his decadent brother, who had become an embarrassment to him, he now sought out his company, taking great satisfaction in getting him drunk and watching him consume mountain after mountain of meals, snacks, sweets and desserts. At first, he was ashamed by the powerful erections he got whenever his brother was near, but over time, that feeling declined, and what grew in its place was an insatiable determination to sodomise his twin brother’s backside so vigorousy he would not be able to walk normally for several days.

Late one evening, with Charles drunker and fatter than ever and with rolls and mounds of fat spilling out of his clothes, Adam seized his opportunity, and escorted his drunken and bloated brother to his private chambers, for further entertainment. Once there, he wasted no time in rolling Charles into bed, stripping him bare, parting his round blubberous buttocks and indulging himself in that delectation he knew was forbidden. The Enchanted Rectum performed it's mythic gyrations with lubricious skill and fervour, squeezing and releasing, curling and untwisting, stroking and suctioning, titillating and tormenting in ways none who had not experienced it could conceive, taking him closer and closer to the most egregious and glorious orgasm ever delivered. Charles was no less impassioned, so much so that even when his twin’s wife strode into the room and challenged him, he declared boldly and shamelessly that he would not stop fucking his fuck even if the King himself should come. With the King that was the phallus on the verge of precisely that, and disgusted and infuriated by her husband’s self-absorbed obliviousness, Marie raised Adam’s sword, and demanded again the twins compose themselves. Then when, they still did not do so, she wielded the sword above her head and brought it crashing down between twin and twin, leaving, amidst blood-curdling screams and howls, Adam’s severed member detached from his person, still hard and throbbing, sinfully clinging to the ginormous royal fat ass it did not cease, in its frenzied spasming, to remorselessly profane.

Adam, for the second time, had been denied, at the last moment, the greatest delight any man could experience, and had it replaced with the deepest pain and humiliation any man could bear. Marie, repentant of what she had done in the heat of her anger, cried wildly about the place as her husband writhed and wailed, and called in the witch to do everything she could, anything, to mitigate the carnage she had inflicted.

Yet curiously, Adam, despite the agony he was in, protested forcibly against the proposal that the member should be reattached to his groin. He recognised, now the thing was shorn from him, that that foul mass of bleeding, sweating, obscenely pulsating flesh was a source of evil to his mind and body. Even in this pain, he told them, he suddenly felt better, liberated, because that thing was no longer troubling him. Marie and the witch thought he was delirious, and sought to persuade him to undergo the reattachment, but he was so determined, accepting the treatment for his wounds but refusing to have that member back again, that they reluctantly acceded to his wishes.

That is, in all respects bar one, for whilst he demanded they throw the organ on the fire and incinerate it until it was destroyed, neither Marie nor the witch had it in their hearts to do such a thing. So Marie left the member to the responsibility of the witch, who handed it over to Marie’s lady-in-waiting, who gave it to her mother, who gave it to her maid, who gave it to the village wisewoman, who gave it to the ogress in exchange for the return of two village children she was planning to stew for her husband the ogre’s dinner that evening.

The ogress was elated with her new plaything. It required coaxing, she found, and this she did by keeping it restrained in a metal trap she contrived, for the purpose of denying it stimulation, so it was more susceptible to the attention she foisted on it when released. Nevertheless, although smaller than her husband’s, it was more frolicsome in its responses and gave greater satisfaction in the ways that mattered to an ogress experienced in the art of self-pleasure.

For Vortismore, his time with the ogress was a torture, and he abhorred finding himself, at all times of day and night, thrust into her hairy, oozing, foul-smelling flaps, folds and crevices, detesting the performance of a function so loathsome and cheapening in the extreme to him, and resenting his inevitable but involuntary and humiliating physical reactions to it. What was worse, he had no mental or psychic means of influencing or communicating with this ogress, which at least to a limited extent, he had been able to do with Adam. He was imprisoned, and without any way to communicate the distress of his imprisonment. A state, he began to think, far worse than death.

He thought that until the ogre came home unexpectedly early one evening, and found his wife cooing and sighing with legs splayed open, her eyes closed and the phallus draped incriminatingly across her lap. Already incensed that the ogress had for some time lost interest in carnal relations with him, and now discovering the reason for this, the ogre became violent, grabbing the phallus from her and stating he would smash it to smithereens with his axe then cast it into the furnace outside. The ogress, eyes pouring with tears, clung to the ogre’s feet, begging him not to destroy the toy which had given her so much comfort, but the ogre only kicked her away and marched into the yard to perform his task.

Vortismore strained his mental powers to the maximum, desperate to break through the ogre’s anger and communicate just a few thoughts or words that might somehow save his life. It seemed he was failing, and he prepared himself for annihilation, but then, the gods know how, he made it through. Spare my life, he told the ogre, and I will show you a hole more comely than your wife’s. The ogre, denied his need for copulation for so long, consented. And so it was that Vortismore directed the ogre to the place where his wife the sorceress and Queen was buried, and to which the ogre would return again and again in future months whilst the ogress thought he was out hard at work.

After the ogre returned from his first outing to the graveyard, satisfied and full of vim, the phallus put another proposition to him. I am Vortismore the King, he told him. Take me to the witch, and she will transform me back into a man, then I will grant you high office in my army as a reward.

The ogre went to the tavern and downed gallons of drink to consider this offer. I owe a debt to Vortismore, he thought, for what more could an ogre ask from a King than the sweet body of his Queen? On the other hand, Vortismore has been a monster these many years, and if this phallus is indeed that Vortismore, who would thank me for restoring him? Yet in the end, what decided it for the ogre was the consideration of his wife, the ogress. He had not forgiven everything, but he retained tender feelings for her, and he felt guilty about his cemetery trysts, which he was sure she would be upset by if she ever found out. More to the point, in their marriage bed, it was now her who was always wanting attention, because she had been denied her plaything, whereas he was lacking in interest, because he now took his pleasures elsewhere.

There is only one thing for it, he thought, or else I will never get a full night’s sleep again with all her bothering.

So to its horror, she handed the phallus back to the ogress.

The ogress was overwhelmed with gratitude at first, so happy she was to have her toy back. In time, though, her resentment grew that the ogre spent more and more time away from her. He must be seeing another ogress, she thought, sobbing and sobbing, as she told the phallus all her frustrations and woes.

It was at this point, as she began talking to the phallus as though it was a person, or at least a friendly dog or cat which could be expected to sympathetically listen if not understand, that something interesting happened. Whatever it was that had previously prevented Vortismore from conveying his thoughts and emotions to the ogress began to lessen. They became closer and closer, the ogress, for the first time, spending more time talking to the phallus than using it for lewder functions.

One day, the bond between the two was strong enough that Vortismore could communicate clearly to her. I am King Vortismore, your sovereign liege, he told her. Take me to the witch, so that I may be transformed back to my proper human person, and I will reward you with prizes beyond your imagination.

The ogress was mortified by this discovery, and threw herself flat, face-down to the ground, pleading for forgiveness. It was only by much persuasion that the phallus coaxed her to her feet again, and even then, she kept falling into clumsy curtseys and exclamations of abject apology and humbleness. After recovering her composure and fortifying her nerves with a bucket of fermented bear’s blood, she did as she was bid, making a journey to visit the witch, telling her everything and handing over the phallus in a wooden box.

Your Royal Highness, behold your father, the witch said to Marie, plonking the open box on the tea table in front of her. The princess sat appalled, as the witch, determined to shield her from the truth no more, narrated the full facts of her father’s recent history and deceptions. This is too terrible to be true, she raged. But true it is, the witch reminded her. Take this thing away from me, she demanded, bury it with his wife my mother and let us never talk of it again.

This, her servants set about doing, but on reaching the grave, they found it disturbed, and the Queen’s body bearing signs of molestation by some large and unspeakable animal. Thus informed, Marie changed her mind, putting the thing away and saying she would consider what to do. We could try talking to it, the witch suggested. Never, said Marie.

The princess would never have spoken of that obscene appendage again, were it not for a conversation she had with the witch some months later regarding delicate and confidential matters regarding marital relations. Her concern was twofold. First, her husband, with a gash where once his shaft did hang, sought the female role in bed, dressing himself as a lady and her, Marie, as a noble gentleman, or to be more specific, as a lusty sailor on shore-leave enjoying a liaison with a tart from a low bawdy house. Second, her husband, so her spies informed her, continued to commit unconscionable debaucheries at parties hosted by his twin brother.

I know of a possible solution, said the witch. Then tell me, insisted Marie. But you might tell me off if I tell you, the witch replied. No, I will not, said Marie. Yes, you will, said the witch. Tell me this instant, demanded the princess.

Oh very well, if you are forcing me, relented the witch, now here is what you could do. Let me take the foreskin of that thing in the cupboard, and from it produce a male privy part for you and a female privy part for Adam, and then he will be happy and stray from you no more. But just to be sure, give the remainder of the thing to your twin Charles, since he surely understood and loved the horrid creature more than anyone else did, and if you give it to him, it will occupy him and distract him from your man.

But if we do this, protested Marie, he will be a man no more, and I no woman. Indeed, agreed the witch. Yet would that be so bad, thought Marie, in fact, it would suit me well. For if I am King and he is Queen, the rule not only of this household, but this kingdom, shall fall in full to me.

And so it was that Princess Marie became Prince Marc and Prince Adam became Princess Ada. A year later King Vortismore was declared legally dead, elevating Prince Marc to King Marc and Princess Ada to Queen Ada. Their subjects were surprised, but accepted this transformation, and truth be told, were relieved the tyrant Vortismore was no more, and pleased to now be ruled by one of their own kin, not a foreign prince.

Although they never found out about it, the new King and Queen would face danger when Charles, again under the influence of Vortismore, took the phallus to a succession of wizards and warlocks, with the aim of transforming it back into a man that would be King. Each tried, but mercifully, each failed. His nature is now closer to what he is now than what he was before, each would explain, and this makes what you ask beyond the powers of our sorcery.

After hearing this on the eleventh occasion, Vortismore felt none of the disappointment he felt on the first. They are only telling me what in my soul I know to be true, he thought, and I am now, for the first time, content in who and what I am. In Prince Charles’ licentious court he lived the happiest of his days, buggering backside after backside presented to him from all classes and stations of life, all of which came back begging for more.

A sly trick he learned and became renowned for was, on his chosen occasions, to spray forth a foam of seed into the ripe, unsuspecting ass of his victim, which would then, within moments, fatten the chap up to ludicrous, quite ridiculous proportions. The anxiety this could happen might have been predicted to deter potential thrill-seekers, but to the contrary, that risk only inflamed them in the servile erotic desperation Vortismore loved so well to savor, and they came to him in greater numbers and with greater eagerness than ever before.

Darshan

"Receive your redemption," intoned the chaplain Petrus to his kneeling King, Cyprian, lifting his frock and exposing his large, hungry, throbbing member. That frenzied ritual scarcely completed, King Cyprian stepped out onto the balcony of the palace, to give his afternoon darshan for his people, thousands of them, gathered below, scorching under the hot sun, heads craning upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of him.

And what a sight he was. The "golden boy", they called him, when he ascended the throne at the age of 12, but now, at the age of 27, in the full bloom of manhood, he was quite something else. A mane of blonde hair; fine cheekbones and chiselled features; friendly and lively green eyes; and a muscular physique that was the envy of the realm's most renowned knights. The most handsome monarch who had ever ruled, the most beautiful man who had ever lived. Even more beautiful than his mother, Queen Consentia, who passed away 15 years ago.

Cyprian thought of his mother often. Those were such happier, more innocent times. Or at least that was how they had seemed then.

She had died, suddenly, in the midst of childbirth, leaving behind him, his half-brother, Aurelio, and his stepfather, Ludovicius, who became his regent. He regarded Ludovicius as his own father. Indeed, he loved him as his own father, believed he was his own father.

Then, in the months after the Queen's death, everything became more complicated.

*

Cyprian continues to wave to his people. At the front of the crowd, in their shaded enclosure, fanned by skeletal, half-naked punkawallahs, the greedy nobles in their ermine robes. Most of them strolled down to the square less than twenty minutes ago from their luxury mansions near the palace. He could not bear to look at them. He recognised them all by sight, and despised every one of them. Behind them, the middling classes, reasonably attired, probably come down for a day trip. Further back, the plebs of the city, scantily clad, thin-boned, hungry, dirty, ridden with fleas and disease. Kept away from the better classes by the city guards. Cyprian took in their scrawny, questioning faces.

*

It all began, after the Queen's death, with a conversation he had with his favourite playmate, Sergius, son of the powerful Lord Philoxenus.

"Ludovicius is not your real father, you know," said Sergius.

"What?"

"He is the father of your brother, Aurelio, but not the father of you. Everyone knows that. Didn't you know?"

Cyprian was much shocked by this suggestion, and confessed it to his governess, after she caught him crying. She then told Ludovicius, and there followed a painful conversation between stepfather and stepson. "I am sorry," Ludovicius said. "Your mother and I were planning to tell you the truth after the baby was born...but then...you know...so much happened, it was all too much..."

Cyprian's behaviour changed sharply after this. He became rebellious, resentful, distrustful of everyone around him. How could his family have kept all of this secret from him for so long? And why would his stepfather and his tutors not tell him more about his real father, or allow him to contact his paternal family?

"I am sorry, so sorry," Ludovicius had tried to explain. "Your father's family revolted against your mother, after your father died. They tried to seize the throne for themselves. They are all either executed, imprisoned, in exile or living in obscurity now."

Cyprian was having none of it, and his behaviour became angrier and more intolerable to everyone around him. Even some of his best-loved tutors, who had been around him since his earliest days, could no longer bear his company and left the royal employ.

One day, whilst hunting in the forest, Sergius turned to him, with a trembling voice and a shaky face.

"Cyprian, there is something you must know. Follow me; we will ride to a small cottage a short while away, where my father will tell you everything."

Cyprian loved Sergius like his own brother, but he had heard enough of court intrigues to be wary of the proposal. His tutors had warned him, many, many times, about the traps that others might set for him, or even be tricked against their will into setting for him.

"It's important," berated Sergius.

"I'm not sure about this," cautioned Cyprian. He had heard a few stories about Lord Philoxenus.

Sergius gripped Cyprian around the shoulders. "We have little time," he hissed. "The regent, your stepfather, no longer trusts you at all. He intends to have you murdered and to put his own son, Aurelio, on the throne in your place."

From that moment on, the trap was set. Only the previous night, Cyprian had had a fearfully bitter row with Ludovicius, where the worst things had been said on both sides. 

Cyprian went over to the side of the devious Lord Philoxenus, who led a revolt against the Regent in his name, demanding the Regency be put to an end and Cyprian be declared King ruling in his own right.

Ludovicius did not put up a fight. At the time, Cyprian was told his stepfather had been a coward. Years later, he learned that in fact the strength of Ludovicius's forces assured him a fair chance of winning, but that the moment he was informed his own stepson had been placed at the front of the army opposing him, he had flung in the towel, unable to bear the prospect of being responsible for the death of the late Queen's son.

Ludovicius's execution followed. The young Cyprian was reluctant at first, but Lord Philoxenus and other powerful nobles around him incited his anger at his stepfather, and fuelled his fears - fears he now knew to be imaginary - that even from his dungeon cell, his stepfather was plotting his death.

His younger half-brother, Aurelio, was sent to a seminary school on a distant island, in preparation for becoming a monk. He died from illness only two years later.

*

King Cyprian withdrew from the balcony. His darshan for the day was finished.

Darshan was everything in this Kingdom. If the monarch appeared for darshan, the Kingdom was happy and all was settled. Cyprian remembered how his stepfather had been ill for a few days, just before the rebellion, and had missed his darshan. That had been interpreted as a fateful sign, and had given strength to the rebellion when it erupted. Ever since then, Cyprian's advisors had warned him never to miss the darshan, however ill he may feel, however sick he may appear. A missed darshan was now, more than ever, to be interpreted as an ominous portent.

Petrus, his personal chaplain, was waiting for him in the corridor leading off from the balcony, and together they strolled towards the King's private study. Petrus was not a member of the Royal Council and had no formal political power, but he was doubtless one of the King's closest confidants, which was surprising, because Petrus was seven years his junior, just 20 years old, and young monarchs usually chose older sages as sources of advice. Petrus, though, was wise beyond his years, and with his simple, charming ways, picked up from the monastery, was the antithesis of the swaggering arrogance that characterised almost all of the others at court. The young monk arrived at the Palace a year ago, as part of a deputation from a far-away monastery, to deliver a report to the King on how local affairs, which at the time were full of intrigue, were developing. He had then fallen ill with a fever, and stayed behind after the other monks left. The King felt peculiarly drawn to the good-natured youngster, so fragile and doll-like, and spent time nursing him and getting to know him better. He learned Petrus had gone to the same monastery as his brother, Aurelio, and had become a close friend of his, their being the same age. This cemented the bond between Petrus and the King even further. Cyprian thought about his brother all the time. His sense of guilt was terrible. What must Aurelio have thought of me? How could I have done to him and his father what I did?

It was to this topic, yet again, that the conversation between Cyprian and Petrus turned now.

"You must not think he despised you," Petrus comforted. "The Abbot well knew what king of man Lord Philoxenus was and how he had tricked you and used you, who were only a boy at the time. Aurelio told me many times he forgave you, and wanted only that in time you should be able to put Philoxenus and his gang to justice."

"Well, I am further away from that than ever," grumbled Cyprian. And this was true. Lord Philoxenus, now the Chief Minister, and his cronies exercised a vice-like grip over the running of the Kingdom, dominating the Royal Council, deciding, in effect, almost all of the key appointments and running the Kingdom exclusively to the benefit of the greedy, powerful nobles and to the detriment of the impoverished masses.

"The suffering of the people grows every year. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"I feel so angry and so helpless," cried Cyprian. "I am a prisoner, not a real King at all. What is the point of me, other than to step outside onto the balcony once a day and look glamorous and handsome? The regime that rules in my name is corrupt and oppresses the poor to benefit the rich. I am made the poster boy for all of this. What can I do? I feel so helpless."

"I know, I know."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me...what can I possibly do?"

"Well, let us consider," said Petrus, slowly and quietly. "You cannot, at least for the moment, control the levers of government. That is in the hands of Philoxenus and the others. What you can control, perhaps, is the presentation of the government to people, in the form of your person. As you know, it is you, not Philoxenus, who appears at the darshan every day. It is from your appearances that the government derives its image, its legitimacy. Perhaps you could...perhaps you could subvert, in some way, the wholesome message the government wants the people to see?"

"You mean, send out some sort of secret code, telling the people their ministers are wicked and I'm just a figurehead, a prisoner of the nobles?"

Petrus laughed softly. "No, no, although the few who are wise enough know that already, of course. What I mean is, if you have to be the figurehead of this government, then show yourself as decadent as it is. Right now you are noble and youthful looking, muscular, handsome, like a warrior, just like your stunning official portrait which hangs in the palace entrance."

Cyprian giggled. "You mean, I should become a bloated, gluttonous drunk like Lord Sceparnio?"

They both laughed at the reference to Cyprian's old tutor.

"Well, consider this," said Petrus, "In three months' time, we will have the Day of Charity."

Ah yes, remembered Cyprian. The Day of Charity is when the King is ceremoniously weighed in front of the whole court, and the nobles have to donate the King's weight in gold to charity, to help the poor. Even Lord Philoxenus and his allies had not dared to eliminate this long tradition, for fear of the unrest it would provoke amongst the people.

"What a splendid idea!" exclaimed Cyprian. "If I increase my weight, those rich bastards will have to part with more of their gold, and there will be nothing they can do about it!"

"The poor of the land will be most grateful to you, Your Majesty," said Petrus.

I am 5'9" and at the last Day of Charity, I was 161lbs, considered Cyprian. I am the same now. Let us see how things will be, in seven months time, when it is the Day of Charity again.

*

"Eat," commanded Petrus, lain naked on his back on the couch, his cherubic, invincibly irresistible backside shining gloriously in the sun beaming through the overhead windows. Cyprian was driven crazy by the sight, lusting more and more for Petrus's virginity every day, but every advance he made was deflected. Petrus teased him and denied him remorselessly, mercilessly. Right now, though, the sacred hole was shielded, decorated, deliciously, with a large brown pork sausage, wedged sensuously, obscenely, between his firm tight buttocks.

"Eat," commanded Petrus again, adding "embrace your degradation" with a wink. Cyprian dove in, unable to resist that sexy ass any longer, and chewed at the sausage, hesitantly at first, then greedily and disgustingly as Petrus urged him on, telling him how good it is to let go of pride and dignity, and embrace the humility that can only come of being a shameless, greedy, butt-munching pig.

"You know I want to take you so bad," pleaded Cyprian.

"I know, Your Majesty," said Petrus, "but for now you may eat your sausages," he added, as he slipped another, even larger and longer sausage in between his crack.

Cyprian continued to munch greedily on the sausage, delighting in the humiliation and thrilled to be so close to the young monk's tenderest parts.

"I would do anything, anything," he rasped, sending a shudder down his young lover's spine as he licked his hole as deep as he could.

"Make sure you eat all the bits of sausage in there," said Petrus, pressing the sausage meat deeper into his luxurious crevices. "I want to make you the fattest King who ever lived. I want to see the faces of those nobles when they read the scale."

"So do I, so much," said Cyprian, as he reached over Petrus's back, and squeezed him, and kissed him, and they lost themselves in each other's beautiful forms, tumbling, whispering, whimpering, laughing, Petrus slipping chocolate after chocolate into Cyprian's mouth, fuelling an addiction he knew would be sure to add ever more pounds to the royal waistline. "I want this so much," cried Cyprian, as Petrus pressed his ass into his face, pressing the vertically pinioned sausage deeper into his throat. "Then eat," said Petrus, "savour the aroma, and eat and eat and eat".

Night after night, this routine and many ingenuous variations of it was repeated, and the lovemaking between King and chaplain became even more intimate, and more intense, although the cock-teasing chaplain, to the King's frustration, whilst flaunting and pouting his virgin cherry, would always at the last moment withhold it, leaving him ever more desperate and anxious to please. 

*

After two months of snack grazing, binge eating and erotic stuffing sessions, the King had gained over 40lbs and tipped the 200lbs mark. He had never enjoyed such a sensual, titillating experience, noticing how his body became rounder and softer, and his clothes ever tighter.

"I wonder how much people are noticing?" asked Cyprian.

"I don't think so, you have such a muscular build underneath people think it is just muscle," said Petrus. "And even if they did notice, they wouldn't say anything. You're the King, Your Majesty".

"Yes, but it would be funny if they did notice, wouldn't it?" replied Cyprian. "I've got to admit, I would find it so hot".

Cyprian quietly asked some of his trusted courtiers, his "spies" as he called them, to prowl around the court and find out whether anyone was noticing or saying anything. They all came back to him with the same reply: "No, Your Majesty". A shame, thought Cyprian. But then again, they might be lying to me. The whole lot of them are flatterers.

"I know what I will do," he told Petrus. "I'm going to start wearing those tighter shirts for my daily darshans. The ones that really show off my gut."

Petrus giggled. "You wouldn't dare, Your Majesty."

But he did. And the crowds cheered just as loudly as before. And everybody told him how marvellously he looked, how he was the very incarnation of the perfection of manhood, how his mother would have been so proud, how any princess anywhere in the world would give her right arm to marry him.

"Surely they must be saying something?" Cyprian grilled one of his spies.

"No, Your Majesty," replied the spy. Nothing at all."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

I will try harder, vowed the King, and began cramming ever more food into his growing stomach at every spare opportunity, washed down with tankards and tankards of beer.

*

"Please, Petrus," Cyprian pleaded one night, as he pressed his cock into his sweet lover's buttocks. "Please let me do it tonight."

"Your Majesty knows the sacred value of self-denial and discipline," Petrus teased, pressing himself closer to his sovereign, "one day, when you are fatter than you or I could ever imagine, and you are hornier than you have ever been, even hornier than you are now, then, and only then, will you have your reward."

"But I want it now!"

"So do I," said Petrus, savoring the King's hairy fattening belly pressing into the small of his delicate back, "so much, so much it keeps me awake at night, but all in good time, my beloved. Trust me, if we wait, it will be better - so good the wait will be worth it over a thousand times."

*

The weight continued to pile on, and within what seemed like no time, the King was nearly 250lbs.

"Such a sexy porker," whispered Petrus, as Cyprian headed towards the balcony for his daily darshan. "Surely they can't fail to notice it now."

"Still nothing has been said, not even a word," sighed Cyprian. "How much must I gain before someone says something, acknowledges what I am achieving?"

Petrus ran his fingers down the King's shirt and twirled it around the outline of his bellybutton. "Get out there, big boy."

*

Later that day, General Stratipoccles, chief of the National Guard, approached the King for a private audience. "Your Majesty, " he said, "I am sorry to report that evidence has emerged of certain...seditious activity."

"And what would this be?"

"Well," said the General, sounding sheepish, "it is to do with a cartoonist".

"A cartoonist?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. You know, silly drawings, scrawlings..."

"I know what a cartoonist is," snapped Cyprian. "Why is my lunch being interrupted because of some damned cartoonist?" he asked, shovelling more dundee cake into his mouth.

"The cartoonist in question is drawing caricatures of Your Majesty," the General replied uncomfortably.

"Oh really?" chortled the King, scoffing his mouth with sliced cheeses. "Are they good?"

A pained expression manifested across the General's visage. "I think not, Your Majesty."

"What do they depict?"

The General blushed bright red. 

"Well?"

"I prefer not to speak of it, Your Majesty, may that please your Majesty..."

The King swilled a small tankard of beer. "Then what do you expect me to do?"

"The death warrant, Your Majesty," said the General, presenting a short formal-looking document. "Sign this, and we have authority to round up the perpetrator and execute him".

"Execute him for a cartoon I've not even bothered to look at?"

"Lord Philoxenus is recommending this, Your Majesty".

The King felt his blood boiling. "He does, does he? Well fuck Lord Philoxenus!" he roared

The General cowered and fell to his knees deferentially. 

"Get up, get up," said the King hurriedly, recovering from his rage and reminding himself that the General, like himself, was in no position to challenge Lord Philoxenus about anything he was insistent enough about. "I am sorry, General Stratipoccles, I have been too hard on you, I know. You are only doing your best."

"It is I who would apologise to you, Your Majesty," said the General, tears in his eyes. "The Almighty knows how wrong it is that that man is treating you how he does, but you know how it is..."

"I know," said the King sadly. "We all know. Now about this cartoonist... please do tell me, how did he draw me?"

"Not as you are to be drawn, Your Majesty."

"Meaning?"

"Sedition."

"How precisely?"

"Well...?"

"Show me the bloody thing!" snapped the King, losing his temper once again.

The General reluctantly produced a piece of paper from his satchel and handed it over to the King. "This was confiscated earlier today," he said. "We believe this cartoonist is attending your darshans to draw obscene caricatures of you."

The King's eyes widened as he took in the drawing. It was him, on the balcony. He had been drawn in this pose so many times before, every day, but this was different. All the other ones did not dare depart from the perfect version of himself presented in the official portrait that hung in the palace entrance. This one was from a different artistic style altogether.

"My gosh!" he gasped, as he absorbed every detail. His bulbous belly was straining against the fabric of his shirt, his deep bellyhole lewdly exposed between the bottom two buttons; his hefty tits bulging suggestively under the shirt fabric; his chubby fat hands greedily clenching a massive handful of chocolate cake and chocolate smeared over his red, sensual lips. He had never seen anything like this before.

The King's cock stiffened. The man in this drawing was even fatter than he was now, and he longed to equal and exceed the girth of this behemoth in the drawing in front of him.

"I am sorry for this outrage," pleaded the General softly.

The King recovered his composure. "We will conduct a detailed intelligence operation. Recover as many of these drawings as possible and bring them to me immediately. Gather as much information as possible. But no arrests, not for now."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

*

Each week that followed, the General, shiftily and uncomfortably, presented the King with more and more of these cartoon drawings, each more salacious than the one before. The belly, the tits, the ass, the double chin, everything, was becoming fatter and fatter. Only one thing was becoming smaller: the bulge in the King's crotch, depravedly outsized in the first drawings, but subtly dwindling in presence ever after. Eventually, in a drawing more obscene than any so far, the King's puny, shrunken member fell limply out of his burst fly,  its tip almost touching the engorged belly pouring out of his button-shattered shirt.

"This really is too much, really too much," muttered the General. "Lord Philoxenus is again pressing me to make arrests. I cannot hold him off much longer, I am afraid."

"Not today," giggled Cyprian, slipping the drawing into his suitcase and partaking of another fruit scone flavoured with rich strawberry jam and luscious full fat cream. Lately he had been playing a little game with the cartoonist, appearing at his darshan with food stains on certain parts of his clothing, testing to see whether the artist would spot it. He did, and the stains would appear in grotesque proportions in the next day's drawings, much to his amusement. Then, over the last few days, he had appeared on the balcony exposing some under-belly beneath his tight doublet, and this too the artist caricatured with expert, sensuous cruelty.

"I must ask for all of the drawings back," said the General. "Our intelligence people want to examine them again, and Lord Philoxenus insists they must have them at once."

"Must I?"

"I am afraid so, Your Majesty."

The King scurried off to his bedchamber and returned with a pile of drawings, dozens of them. I hope none of the semen stains are too obvious, he thought.

"Yours," said the King, handing them over. "But I'm keeping this one," he added, pointing to the last, most outrageous one.

*

Nine days later, the General appeared again before the King, a hearty grin on his face. "We got the bastard, Your Majesty," he announced. "He's in the dungeon, being interrogated about his sponsors and accomplices."

"Not torture, I hope."

"I imagine they're onto the seventh toe nail by now."

"Then stop them, goddamned you," bellowed the King. "I told you I don't like that stuff."

"You know Lord Philoxenus's ways, Your Majesty..."

"Do you take orders from him or me?"

There was a pause, and they both looked at each other awkwardly, sadly, knowingly.

"Just this time, do this for me," said the King. "Halt the interrogation immediately. Take him to a comfortable cell. Tell them to look after him well."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I suppose I might just about get away with that."

*

With only three weeks left until the Day of Charity, the King was now 279lbs. "One final push now, big boy," said Petrus, stroking the royal belly lovingly. "I want you over 300lbs when they weigh you."

"You think I can make that in time?"

"With discipline and abstinence, Your Majesty."

"Discipline and abstinence?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," said the mischievous monk, slipping a chastity device onto the royal member and fastening it tight. "No cumming now except when I say so, and that will only be when you've stuffed yourself so much you can hardly move."

"But Petrus!" complained the King. "You know how horny, I get, how I have....needs. Like when I get up in the morning..."

"Oh I know, I know very well," said Petrus, a devilish grin on his face. "But from now on, your orgasms are mine. Now get on all fours and eat your dinner."

The King crawled down on all fours, belly hanging down and ass pouting out, and ate like a pig from the trough on the floor.

"Such a sexy fat pig," whispered Petrus, in a voice he knew would always drive the King wild. 

"It's not fair, I can't touch myself," moaned the King.

"I'll touch you here instead," said Petrus, kneeling down behind the King and inserting his finger skilfully between the royal buttocks, in and out, then plunging wildly in and out of the royal hole, finger fucking him until his moans could be heard all the way downstairs in the kitchen, where certain of the chefs had already guessed what was really going on between the  cheeky ravishing little monk and the gluttony-and-lust-maddened King.

The next weeks saw Cyprian fall deeper under Petrus's spell, ravenous for the release which only his confessor could grant, and which only came after his belly was blown up outrageously, and he had humiliatingly and grovellingly submitted to his lover's every imaginatively smutty and perverted whim.

*

Finally the Day of Charity arrived, the Holy Scales set out in the middle of the palace courtyard, nobles, gentlemen and gentlewomen, and commoners alike gathered around anxiously to watch. The King, dressed in his finest and most colourful regalia, stepped out the Palace entrance, to mass applause, and made towards the Holy Scales.

"Three hundred and thirteen pounds!" announced the master of ceremonies.

A deep moan of shock echoed from the crowd.

Lord Philoxenus stood up. He had not condescended to meet the King for a year, having ruled the country mainly from his country estate in the west of the country, and had no idea of just how much weight he had gained. "Your Majesty," he said shyly, "I am sorry, but this is too much. We cannot supply this much in gold."

"My nobles will supply the required sum, in accordance with the sacred traditions of this land!" the King barked back. Everybody was shocked. An open confrontation between the King and his leading noble, the Chief Minister. In public.

"I speak for the other nobles," replied Lord Philoxenus firmly. The other nobles raised their hands in support. "Two hundred at the very most, Your Majesty, please graciously accept two hundred."

"Your Lordship knows the law of the land," protested the King. "The scale says three hundred and thirteen pounds, and three hundred and thirteen pounds you will pay, for the alleviation of the misery of the poor."

At this, the great mass of the crowd erupted in cheers for the King and insults and denunciations of Lord Philoxenus and the nobles.

"You have not heard the last of this," snarled Lord Philoxenus, turning his back on the King and marching off with the other nobles, the crowd booing him and them as they departed.

"He dares to turn his back to the King," growled General Stratipoccles quietly. "Let me arrest them, come what may."

"No, not now," responded the King.

"They mean no good."

*

And mean no good they did not. All through the day, a rebel army led by Lord Philoxenus and his nobles camped outside the capital, growing in size, planning the moment to seize the city and overthrow General Stratipoccles' small National Guard, which remained fiercely loyal to the palace. Several times the enemy army seemed confident enough to launch an attack, but each time called it off, hoping for a better moment. As the day went on, though, the ordinary people came out onto the streets, wielding their clumsy weapons, vowing to fight and die in defence of their King - a King, they saw, who cared more for them than the nobles ever did. By evening, the two sides were looking evenly-matched, and the city stood on tenterhooks, waiting to see which side would attack or withdraw first. Eventually, at twenty minutes to midnight, Lord Philoxenus threw in the towel, seeing his side was now outnumbered and outpowered. At first he had tried to negotiate his escape into exile, but the King refused, and in the end only unconditional surrender was accepted.

Lord Philoxenus and his allies thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeons, the King stood onto the balcony to thank his supporters, and tell the people that now the full power of the government was his, he would rule justly, and no longer allow the nobles to oppress the poor. 

"And before this day is out, there is one more final item of business," he announced. "On the Day of Charity, it is customary for the King to issue pardons to those whom he thinks deserve it. I therefore have three pardons to issue. The first, to Lord Sergus, my close childhood friend."

The crowd gasped with shock. Sergius had followed his father, Lord Philoxenus, into the rebellion. Could he be trusted now?

"And the second is to the caricaturist, Piscatores."

"Piscatores?" whispered a voice in the crowd.

"The one that did those naughty pictures," said another voice.

"And the third, my stepfather Lord Ludovicius, wrongfully convicted of treason, and who I now pardon, with deep personal remorse for my role in his execution and the events that led to it."

Scarcely a pin-drop could have been heard.

*

Returning to his private chambers in victory, the King scooped up Petrus exultantly in his arms like a puppy, and swung him round and round in a dance.

"I've won, I've won, I've won!"

"So you have, Your Majesty."

"This calls for a celebration."

"It does."

"Please, Petrus, you know I want this so much, please, please, please..."

Petrus cheekily slid out of the King's arm, crawled onto the soft sofa, dropped his trousers and wiggled his backside around, parting his buttocks, exposing his hole and driving the King to new heights of lust.

"Unlock me! Unlock me now, you runty little bastard!"

"Watch and suffer," smirked Petrus, peering between his legs at the King's panting face, great round belly and locked-up privy parts.

"I deserve this so much," the King whined. "You know I do, you sadistic, pious little shit!"

"Learn the spiritual lessons of self-restraint and chastity," teased Petrus, dancing his ass around even more bawdily.

By the end of that long night, after much tormenting and much wine had been drunk, Petrus finally deigned to release his sovereign from his lock. Like a man possessed, the King mounted the young monk, and attempted to penetrate, but found, to his great indignity, that his member was now too swallowed up in fat to be able to penetrate very much. Petrus taunted him mockingly, urging him on to show him what he could do, giggling and tittering at how little he could. 

"Bend over, Your Majesty," he said at last. "There is another position we could try."

And they did. And it was good.

"I think you should call up that artist," said Petrus, pulling his cock out of the fat royal ass and smirking at the sight of his wet hot cum dripping out of it and running down the thick flabby royal thighs.

"Yes," said Cyprian, walking towards the shower, "I really think we should".

*

The next afternoon, since it was not until the next afternoon that they woke up, the King summoned the artist, Piscatores, to his presence chamber.

"Piscatores, Your Majesty," announced the herald, and in walked a tall, skinny beanpole of a young man, dressed in rags and evidently covered in thick dark brown hair, on his body, face and head.

"What is this urchin?" muttered one of the assembled courtiers.

"I have been eager to meet you," said the King. 

Piscatores fell to his knees. "I am most grateful to you, Your Majesty, for granting I, most undeserved wretch, my freedom. Most grateful, Your Majesty."

"I see you must have been studying me very closely at my darshans."

The King and Piscatores exchanged a brief looks, then the Piscatores' eyes fell downwards in terror, and he crawled onto the floor in self-abnegation.

"Do you have anywhere to go once you are released?" asked the King.

"I am an orphan, no family, no home."

The King eyed the young man up and down, noting how much of a tramp he looked.

"You are...of the streets, may I say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Some courtiers began to titter and roll their eyes.

"You clearly have some artistic talent. Have you ever had any career from this, anything you could receive payment for?

"I made a little from the...the...errr...you know, the cartoons, but not much."

There was a long pause.

"I have decided," announced the King, "to appoint you a painter of the Royal Court. You shall begin work on a new official royal portrait tomorrow morning."

The courtiers all groaned.

"After all," said the King, pointing to the current official portrait on the opposite side of the wall, "I have changed a little since the last one was done."

The gentle humour in the King's voice relaxed Piscatores, and they exchanged glances, and smiled, and each left the audience with the sentiment of having shared an intimate secret with the other.

*

When Piscatores was presented to the King the next morning, he looked a completely different man. The palace staff, after recovering from the horror of his appointment, had scrubbed him up, trimmed his hair, shaved off his beard and attired him in respectable clothes.

"You picked a tramp and got a gentleman!" Petrus whispered in the King's ear.

"He's rather dishy, don't you think?" whispered back the King.

"Oh, behave!" hissed back Petrus, with a nudge.

As Piscatores approached the throne, everybody else left, including Petrus. The painting of a royal portrait was by custom a private matter strictly between monarch and painter.

"We meet again, Sire," said Piscatores shyly.

The King stepped from the throne and embraced Piscatores warmly. "I admire your abilities, your vision, you know," he said. "You wouldn't believe how much your drawings wound up our security people. I couldn't help laughing!"

"I ask again that you please forgive my...my...impudence, Your Majesty."

The King laughed. "Not at all, not at all. Now, how would you like to proceed?"

"Your Grace must forgive me, but I am not a normal painter, a proper painter. I know I can draw, but I can only do it my way, and if I don't do it my way, it never works. I can't explain it, Your Majesty. Forgive me, Your Eminence. I don't know if I can do this...this great honour you have bestowed on me."

Piscatores began to tremble and cry.

"Nonsense, nonsense, dear boy!" exclaimed the King. You are a brilliant artist, better than any of our others. I love your cartoons, the caricatures, the way they...the way they bring everything to life and exaggerate all of the features, but in a way that makes them more real, more vivid than they would be in a photograph, say."

"But those were cartoons, Your Highness, and this is meant to be a portrait, isn't it?"

"Well, yes..."

"And that is so much harder for me, that more formal style, you know, sire."

"You can do this, Piscatores, I know you can."

"I've only done a portrait once before."

"Then do my portrait the way you did that portrait."

"But I can't possibly, Your Excellency."

"Why on earth not?"

"It got me in trouble last time, Majesty, so much trouble."

"What?"

Piscatores then burst into tears again, and the King put his arm around him and cuddled him, and at long last, cajoled him into explaining how he drew his last portrait and why it got him into trouble.

"It was Lady Floronia, Highness, Lord Tertius's daughter."

"And."

"I drew her with my special paints. I could only draw a portrait with my special paints, Your Honour, that's the only way I know."

The King laughed gently. "You can paint me with your special paints then, you silly boy!"

"And when I am painting a portrait, I can only paint it in a certain order. No other order. I have to get it exactly right."

"Then go ahead! I am placing no restrictions on you. I would not dream of cramping your artistic style."

Piscatores then explained, to the King's great amusement, that his "certain order" meant painting the subject in stages. First, completely naked. Then, with the next layer of clothes, like socks, underwear and vest. After that, the next level of clothes, like the shirt, and then the level after that, like the ermine robe, and so on.

"No wonder Lord Tertius was not amused when he discovered how you were painting her daughter!" the King chortled.

"He did not...he did not understand, Your Majesty. He thought things of me...that were not true, Sire."

The King laughed again. "I'm sure you are right. But luckily for you, I do understand, so let's get started."

*

Two months later the King had ballooned further to 348lbs, and it was time for the Summer Ball at the palace, held, as ever, on what was traditionally the hottest day of the year. Nobles from across the land, and dignitaries from every other land poured into the banqueting hall, to partake in the great feast, to be followed by dances and then outdoor festivities. In pride of place, hung on the wall, behind the King's place at the table, Piscatores' masterpiece beamed out in bold resplendent hues at the guests. A fat King, in luxuriant colours and voluptuous curves, such as had never been drawn before, and was the marvel of the artistic world, gawped at with fascination by every onlooker. Ever since the painting was given its first public outing, it had started a new craze among the young male courtiers, who all wanted to ape their King, get as fat as him, or at least look as fat as him, with the aid of padding their courtly costumes.

The King's indulgence at the banqueting table was legendary, and on this state occasion, he did not fail to disappoint, wolfing down every dish that came near him and drinking so much gassy beer he was periodically disabled by fits of burping and farting. Fortunately for him, his beloved Petrus sat next to him, always ready to shuffle up the next dish, or massage the royal belly to aid its stately digestion.

"Open the windows," roared the King," sweating copiously, stroking his brow and rubbing his belly.

The windows were flung open, but still the heat was so hot.

"Punkawallahs!" ordered one of the royal aides, and a crew of skinny, scantily-clad punkawallahs appeared, lifting their fans up and down, trying to cool the sweltering guests.

General Stratipoccles, seated opposite the King, bore a shocked expression on his face, his jaw dropping lower and lower. He was looking at the portrait.

"What is wrong, General?" asked the King.

"The portrait, Your Majesty...."

"The portrait?"

"Is melting, Your Majesty."

"Melting?"

"And...and..."

"And what?"

"And revealing, Your Majesty."

"Revealing?"

"And unclothing...and...oh my God..."

The King turned around to see the portrait for himself, and saw, with horror, that the paint was melting, layer by layer, that all the guests on the other side of the table were transfixed on it, and that within a few minutes the version of himself in the portrait might be raw stark naked.

Brick House

Carol could tell a lot by the way a person entered a room. Liam, who had slipped in awkwardly and slyly through the door just now, fascinated her more than any other client she had come across for quite a while. Partly because, let's face it, she admitted to herself, he was drop-dead gorgeous, late twenties, with curly brown hair, bedazzling radioactive blue eyes, open friendly features and a masculine, thicc athletic physique she could not help but lust for. In another setting, she would have been tempted, she would have dared a move, but here, in this one, the ethics of counsellor-client relationships was a reality. Her attraction towards him could not enter the equation. Still, she consoled herself, she could listen to his slow, beautiful, haunting voice, and this she did.

"I've really taken in everything you said in our last session, and the previous sessions, it's so good, I appreciate it so much, I've really taken it on board," he said. "But it's not going away, instead it's getting more and more intense. Ever since I moved into my new place, Brick House, something crazy weird comes over me in the evenings and late at night. I get madly hungry, not normally hungry, I mean desperately hungry. And, like aroused, y'know. It feels like there is a presence coming over me, making this happen. Something that's not me, that's outside of me, completely outside of me. I try to resist, to say no, but then it feels so good, so addictive, and so it goes on. And I can't stop it, I don't know how to stop it."

"You said last time it felt to you like it was something supernatural, maybe something connected to Brick House."

"It does, it so absolutely does, but you must find that totally batshit crazy, right?"

"I'm not here to judge you or judge your perceptions or beliefs, Liam."

Liam, who had been staring at the floor, sucked in the cute little belly he was so self-conscious about, and looked up at Carol with puppy dog eyes.

"Let me say this, Liam," she continued. "I am no expert on the supernatural and that sort of thing, and have no firm or strong beliefs on it either way, if I'm honest, because it's simply not something I've encountered or delved into much. What I can say, as your counsellor, is I have talked to you over a number of sessions, and I feel you are basically, a very logical-thinking, rational person, who is self-questioning, and with a lot of self-insight. That's not to comment on whether this is something inside you, to do with emotions and psychology, or something outside you, something much harder to understand."

Liam nodded gratefully. I wish I could snog him, thought Carol.

"I feel we have explored the psychological side to this as much as we can, and I am not convinced I am really getting anything there," she continued. "That leaves....other aspects to this...aspects I am not sure I have the experience or knowledge to take on."

There was a pause.

"But I do know someone, someone very good, who I wonder might be able to help. He used to work as a counsellor, but not any more, he moved into IT. He is also something else, on the side, in his own time...he has psychic abilities, I believe, and I know he has investigated all manner of psychic phenomena, although he's not talked much to me about that because I'm a little bit squeamish about some of that stuff."

Carol handed Liam a card. "Sam Greenwood, Psychic Consultant", it read.

*

Liam did not know what to make of Sam Greenwood when he arrived at Brick House for the first time. A tall, shy, suited black dude in his early 40s, with deep brown eyes, oozing gentleness and compassion. Smolderingly hot as well, Liam thought, lasciviously catching a glimpse of his backside as he came in. That made it all the more difficult in some ways. How to confide to such a sexy guy about something so uncool and uncouth: his late night binges and the associated sexual arousal, feelings of guilt and sense of something unnatural gaining control of him.

"Carol, I understand with your permission, has acquainted me with the details of what has been going on," said Sam in his quiet, sweet-tempered voice. 

Ah yes, remembered Liam, I told her she could tell him about me. That saves me the embarrassment of explaining it all myself, then.

"If you do not mind," Sam continued, "I would like to take a short wander around your place by myself, just to pick up on the vibrations. Would you be comfortable with that."

Liam rapidly assented, and let Sam stroll around. This is so utterly wild, Liam thought. What would anyone else think if I told them everything that's going on in my life right now?

"It is as I thought that moment I first came in," Sam reported, coming back into the living room. Two presences. A thin man and a fat man. They cannot experience the pleasures of eating or drinking or sexual pleasures in the way you or I can, but they can experience them indirectly, vicariously as it were, through manipulating and drawing on your energies."

"Wow," said Liam.

"My intuition is telling me to search the loft, particularly the chimney area, above where your fireplace is. Could we go up there?"

"Sure, we can try," said Liam. Actually he had never been up there before.

Opening the loft hatch took quite some effort on Liam's part, and Sam could not help admiring his body as he struggled with it, arms flexing, brow sweating a little, the cutest rounding baby belly jutting out of his top. He longed to run his fingers along it and make some comment, but restrained himself. This is too serious for that, he thought.

Liam ascended the drop-down ladder into the loft, and Sam followed after him. In moments, even before Liam had managed to locate and flick on the lightswitch, Sam seemed to have found what he wanted. A box, right next to the outline in the wall of where the chimney stood. And in that, right at the top, a black and white photo.

"This is it," Sam announced. "This is what I was getting. This is them."

Liam looked at the photo. "They're both slim," he said. 

"I know," agreed Liam, "but I just know it, this is them. Maybe the bigger man was slim at the time of the photo, but gained weight later in life. Or maybe he was slim all through his life, but at some level wanted to be a bigger man, and this is why he is appearing to me that way."

*

Liam pondered what to make of Sam's visit. The man was deep, unlike anyone he had ever met before, make no mistake. And so, so, so goddamned sexy as well, he thought, although that in itself is not relevant here. Sam had been so meek, so quiet, and yet also so incredibly, sexily, self-assured about the task he was undertaking. The moment he came in the place, he said, he knew it was two men, one thin, one fat. Then he got hold of that photo, and knew exactly where to find it. The photo had not matched, it was two slim men. But Sam was not bothered by that, that's them, he'd insisted, so strongly. What to make of this? All so surreal. Was Sam a bluffer, a fake, or could this be the real thing?

Liam spotted Sandra in the neighbouring garden, clasped the black and white photo in his hand and rushed to greet her.

Sandra did not live nextdoor, but it was almost as though she did, she was there so much, as the carer and closest friend of the long-term 92 year old resident there, Denise. Liam had never seen much of Denise, but saw Sandra, a 71 year old lady herself, all the time, and considering the differences in age and background between them, they had struck up an unusually friendly, bantering relationship. Sandra was always fun. And she loved gossip. She knew everything.

"Sandra," said Liam, leaning over the garden fence with the photo, "guess what I found in the loft, I don't suppose you recognise these folks do you?"

Sandra, never one to pass up an opportunity like this, studied the old photo carefully. "Well, well, well!" she said. "I cannot say I recognise them myself, but Denise always talked about two men who used to live in your place. 'The gentlemen', she always used to call them, I wonder if that means they were gay, but I couldn't say for sure. She mentioned they were unusual. I could show this to her and ask her if you like, wouldn't that be interesting?"

Liam agreed to this proposal, eager to learn what would come of it. To his frustration, though, Sandra did not come back to him that evening. Denise had been too sleepy to be troubled, apparently. But the next evening, Sandra rushed to Liam's door, rapping on the door, all excited.

"I was right, I was right, it's them," she said. "Denise told me about them just now. Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr. 'The gentlemen', she calls them, 'always very private', she said. Into 'lots of funny stuff', she said, I think she meant the occult, but she wouldn't say more; I don't think she wanted to speak about it, and maybe she didn't know much about any of that anyway. They lived in your house from the early 1970s, she says, until just some years back. Then she says they 'just disappeared', and she's not heard of them or from them since."

"Were they both always slim, like they were in the photo I showed you?"

"What an odd question," said Sandra, but before she could ponder its oddness further, she dashed back indoors, then returned a few minutes later. 

"Yes, Denise says they were both always slim. But here is the interesting thing, she says there were always fat men visiting them. Young fat men, she says."

Liam thanked Denise for her help, exchanged a few more pleasantries, then headed back inside to consider things further. I must get back to Sam, he thought.

*

"I've been running this again and again through my mind, just like you," Sam told Liam down the phone. "I am so sorry for you, Liam, it's the very last thing you deserve or need, and I know this is putting so much stress on you."

"I really, really appreciate you so much for being here for me," said Liam, "it means so much."

Sam felt his heart melting, but knew he had to stay professional. "What I am going to suggest," he said, "is we do a ritual, to ask these spirits, or entities, or energies or whatever they might be, to depart in peace, to stop bothering you. Is that something you would be comfortable with?"

Liam readily agreed, and within thirty minutes, Liam and Sam were sat together cross-legged in the living room, surrounded by a circle of candles, Sam deep in meditation, intoning commands to whatever it was to leave and to seek healing. 

Sam put his arm around Liam's shoulder at the conclusion. "Let's hope this does the trick," he said, "but if there's anything else, you have my number."

*

As the evening grew later, Liam steeled himself again, as he had for so many nights now, to face the phenomena he knew was waiting for him. Or was it? Sam's ritual must have worked, he thought. This isn't going to happen this time. Think positive. Read a book, watch a film, anything. Act like normal. 

Yet it all started again, about 9.30pm, with this uneasy sensation there was something else in his space, and then this overwhelming hunger and horniness, combined together - "horngriness" he sometimes called it.

No, thought Liam, I must resist, I must be strong.

But it was too much, and soon he was gorging himself with cakes, biscuits, slices of bread, chocolates, anything he could find to hand, ravenously shovelling it all into his mouth. His cock was getting warmer, juicier, harder, spasming back and forth without him even touching it, as a plethora of erotic thoughts coasted into his mind. Oh no...oh no...oh no...how could this be? Sam, oh Sam, how can I be thinking of you in this way? This so embarrassing, and so wrong, but so fucking sexy, and oh fuck oh so fucking right! Oh Sam! Oh Sam!

Before Liam knew it, his balls were tingling and tightening and his dick was erupting cum like a fire hose, splashing onto his heaving belly, then shooting as far as his tits, then splattering onto his forehead, and then even onto the bedhead behind him. Fuck. He never used to cum anything like this before. Not since the beginning of...all of this.

*

"It happened again," Liam told Sam on the phone the next evening. "Don't worry, bud, I've got you," said Sam, and drove round as soon as he could.

Liam told Sam all of the details once he arrived, although leaving out the discomfiting bits about his fantasies for Sam. Sam listened carefully, sympathetically, but when he came to speak, the tone in his voice was firm:

"We will do the ritual again, but this time, and this is deadly important, you must say the words yourself, with me, not just me saying them like last time. We must not only say the words, we must think them, and mean them, absolutely bloody mean them, every word. I don't know how else to say this, Liam, and I know it must sound judgemental or harsh maybe, but when you ask this thing to go away, you must mean it with every ounce of your soul. If there is any part of you, even if it's subconscious, which wants this to continue, you have to reject that, reject it 100 percent. Do you get what I'm saying? When we do the ritual this time, we have to be absolutely telling it to leave, and not even one thousandth of a percent inviting it to say."

Liam considered Sam's words seriously, awkwardly. "I do want and need this to go," he said. "I suppose there could be parts of me which are attached to it, though, I guess. As I told you before, there is this intense sexual excitement element, which I don't understand. Plus it's part of my routine, my habits now. Every evening, about 9.30pm, this starts, y'know...?"

Sam gazed deep into Liam's eyes, put his hands on his shoulders and praised him for having the courage to talk about the challenges, but still warned him in no uncertain terms that unless he could get himself to a place mentally where he could unambiguously and without hesitation ask the presence to go, it would not go. 

"You've got this, Liam, you've got this," he encouraged.

"I can do it, let's do it," Liam confirmed, gesturing towards the candles.

Liam lit the candles surrounding them, and began the ritual, this time with both him and Liam intoning the words. When it was finished, the atmosphere in the room somehow felt different, clearer, fresher.

"Thank God, I think we've done it!" exclaimed Liam

"We did, we did it, dude!" congratulated Sam, and they both laughed and started to relax. Liam went to the fridge and came back with some beers, and they started to chat, about themselves, about all sorts of stuff. It was the first proper conversation they had had which had nothing to do with the strange goings-on. Their inhibitions slipped, they talked about previous partners and dates, they talked about the latest television shows and films, and which celebrities they fancied. They felt more and more drawn to each other, flirting with each other with little smiles and taps on the arm or legs or knee. 

Then something kicked in with Sam. I am meant to be here to support this guy, to help him with a problem, I can't get too close, I've got to stay focused, he thought. So he made his excuses and cut the evening short, to Liam's pained disappointment.

*

Less than 90 minutes later, Sam saw his mobile phone vibrating: it was Liam.

"Sam, I'm really, really sorry to do this and this is so embarrassing...but I don't know what to stay...that feeling, the presence...it's starting again."

Sam felt a rush of adrenaline, but kept his voice steady and calm. "It's okay, Liam, I've got you man, I'll be there soon as I can."

"We will do the ritual again," said Sam as he came in the door of Brick House, immediately rushing to the living room to start positioning the candles in a circle again, just like before. "You know I hate to be a bitch, but I've got to say this again: if there is any part of you that does not want this to stop, or is not sure you want this to stop, you've got to mentally chuck that out right now. We have got to have 1000% focus here. When we do the ritual, when we intone the words, we have to be thoroughly and unreservedly telling this thing to fuck right off, to fuck right out and then some, and leave you in peace. Are you getting me?"

"I know, I know," said Liam, then became emotional, tears streaming down his eyes. "I am so sorry, Sam, I'm so sorry, I'm trying but...it's not working!"

Sam embraced Liam, holding him tight, stroking his cheeks and wiping his tears with his fingers. "It's okay, Liam, it's okay. However long this takes, whatever we have to go through to sort it, I'm with you, every step of the way. Now look, do you want to talk through this? Could be better to do that before we start."

"Sam, I know this is so rotten of me and so stupid...I don't know how to say it."

"Hey, you can tell me anything, man," said Sam, clasping Liam's hands in his own.

"I think this thing is more of a hook, more addictive than I thought. The base pleasure of it, I mean, the food, the drink, the horniness - you would not fucking believe the orgasms."

"That's okay, that's okay..."

"And there is more than that."

"What?"

"It's you, Sam, I don't know how else to say it. There is a part of me that doesn't want this to end because I don't want you and me to end. I don't want to lose you, Sam. Now I know that's so unfair on you, so if you want to walk out that door..."

Sam held Liam firmly, tightly, and their faces pressed together, noses rubbing, lips touching. Then Sam stood back.

"Do you know, I owe you a confession," Sam said quietly. "I should have seen this earlier, but somehow I didn't, or I didn't want to, I don't know. But I've been exactly the same. I've been intoning this damned ritual, asking this thing to end, when all the time, in my heart, I'm not wanting it to end, because I'm not wanting my experience with you to be over. I've let you down, Liam. I'm sorry. You're deserving of better. If it hadn't been for me, I wonder if this might all have been over for you now."

They both began to cry, and hug, and for a while, kiss. Then Sam again turned to Liam with a serious face.

"This time we do the ritual, and we really mean it to go. We got it?"

"We got it," confirmed Liam, and Sam lit up all the candles, and they both intoned the mantra, asking, insisting, demanding the presence leave.

"I command these forces of gluttony and sexual stimulation and licentiousness to begone!" Sam whispered, at the conclusion of the ceremony, then turned to Liam.

"...but not yet," he finished, a look of frenzy in his face, and pulled Liam's top off, kissing his face passionately and uncontrollably, hands sprawling everywhere across Liam's body, devouring his luscious thicc build, fingers lingering on and plunging into the newly softened areas, his member pressing ever more vigorously against Liam's thigh, until before they knew it, they were rolling around ontop of and underneath each other, the lit candles surrounding them, totally forgetting the task they had come here to complete. The rest of the evening passed in a haze, and neither could remember all of it afterwards, except they had both stuffed themselves royally with everything they could find in the fridge and the cupboard, and they both orgasmed more times and more intensely than they had ever done before.

There was one detail, though, which Liam did remember vividly, and would never forget for the rest of his life. It was the moment before he lost consciousness and fell asleep. A glance at the bedroom mirror, the sight of Sam on top of him, ejaculating into him, and himself unleashing a cum fountain onto the sheets only moments later. Except the sight staring back at him was not himself and Sam, but two other men, two elderly men. The Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr from the old black and white photo. It was only a moment, a second or less, but he could swear it, he knew it.

When they awoke the next morning, there was not much time to discuss things as they both had work to go to, but Liam did raise the experience with the mirror, and saw Sam's alarmed expression when he told him.

"That mirror, it's a leverage, a power centre," Sam muttered agitatedly.

"What do you mean?" asked Liam.

Without even replying, Sam rushed to the mirror, took it off the wall and started running his hands along the back of it, peeling back parts of the cardboard backing.

"Hey, what're you doing?" demanded Liam.

"Here," said Sam, handing Liam the mirror.

Liam took the mirror from Sam and saw Sam was holding an old black and white photograph in his hand.

Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr, sat in the living room of Brick House, surrounded by a party of young chubby men.

"Don't be frightened, Liam," said Sam. "It's neutralised now, won't bother you again," he added, gesturing a sign of the cross over the photo. "Forget it now."

*

Over the next weeks, Liam and Sam drew closer and closer, until Sam had practically moved into Liam's place. Every evening, around 9.30pm, the same pattern would repeat itself, with them both becoming supremely hungry and horny, and they would stuff themselves and make out with each other all evening and all night, before collapsing in post-orgasmic stupor, waking in the morning with only vague reflections of the night before. They talked less and less about this as though it was a problem or in any way a supernatural occurrence. It was just something they tacitly accepted, as part of their lives, something they enjoyed, something they did in the evenings, like others watch Netflix or play cards.

Then one day something happened that shook Liam up and reawakened the fears he was having previously. He spotted a really good looking guy visiting nextdoor, and could not help but be nosey and ask Sandra who it was.

"Oh, that's Julian," she said. "He used to live in your place, before you arrived. Now let me tell you the strangest thing. When he arrived, he was really slim, just like he is now. While he was here, he got really big, you know."

"Big?" asked Liam.

"Just like you and your fellow," she replied, and Liam simulated a laugh, although he was feeling freaked. They often joked about each other's weight. So she means fat, thought Liam.

"And now he's returned to visit Denise, because they were friendly - there is some family connection between them although I can't remember what it is now."

"Is Julian still around?" asked Liam.

"No, only a brief visit, he's gone off to the other end of the country now," said Sandra. "But don't let that stop you chasing him, if you want me to get his number," she joked, and they both giggled again.

When Liam spoke to Sam later that day, he told him about Julian, and how Julian had apparently piled on weight whilst living at Brick House, then lost it after leaving.

"It's making me think about everything again," said Liam, "how weird it is, I have this feeling something's not right here."

"But think about it, Liam," protested Sam. "All that's happened is a guy we don't even know gained weight, then lost weight. I mean, that sort of thing happens all the time. You're safe with me, completely safe, nothing can hurt you, nothing has hurt or harmed you, after all. Nothing. You know that, right? Any problem here is just in our heads."

The conversation went back and forth, culminating in them both agreeing they would consult a friend of Sam's called Denzel, who Sam said was "very experienced, more experienced than me in all this sort of stuff."

*

Denzel came round to visit, a charming, precise, well-educated, well-spoken man with a clipped voice, carrying a briefcase and wearing a suit. Liam noticed how he and Sam seemed immediately comfortable with each other and to know each other well. Sam would later tell him about how they had both worked at an office together, and been the joint victim of a troublemaking colleague who resented black guys succeeding more than he did.

"Now this is how I see it," said Denzel after Liam and Sam had told him everything. "This is whatever you want it to be. If you are two guys being terrorised by spirits, it's that. If you are two guys in love, enjoying a harmless little private fetish, it's that. Choose."

"But how can we?" protested Liam. "I mean, if it's spirits, if it's the dark side, how can we change that?"

"By not fretting about it, by not fretting about it," replied Denzel. "I don't know that any of this is supernatural. But what I am telling you is that if it is, it is being caused by the angst, the conflict, the guilt-tripping you are putting on yourself. There aint no ghosts here, I can tell you that for absolute certain. If there was, I would sense it, see it. What there might be here is energies, phenomena coming out of your own pain, your own inner conflict. Now that I see all the time, not uncommon. I guarantee you though you aint got no ghosts, no human souls here."

"Thank you," said Sam. "You've given us a lot to think about."

"God bless you my friends," said Denzel, adding "And I must say you boys are looking mighty healthy", as he gently poked each of their bellies and smiled.

After Denzel left, Liam and Sam discussed things further.

"I have faith in Denzel," said Sam. "Yeah he's an odd guy, but when it comes to the other side, he's the best in the business. If he says there are no ghosts or spirits here, I believe him. He says if there is anything going on, it's only coming from our anxiety, so if we cut out the anxiety, it's gone."

"When you say 'our anxiety', you mean my anxiety, right? So it's all my fault?"

"No, no, no Liam," said Sam, holding his face close to his, "none of this is your fault at all, it's just one of those things, and I can tell you for a fact Denzel is right, this stuff is far more common than most people would think, normal practically."

They talked on and on, and Liam's sense of unease began to dissipate. Why fret and worry when we can just live our lives and have fun? he thought. Besides, life has never been more awesome, what with having Sam here, and the delights of late night snacks, and the unbelievably incredible breathless multiorgasmic sex every night.

*

The next months were more blissful than any Liam and Sam had experienced before. Their waistlines blew up, their tits ballooned, their asses and thighs swelled, and many of their gay friends looked askance about them, but they didn't care - well they more than didn't care, they loved it, they gloried in it, every little achievement, every little delicious humiliation. There came a day, though, when their anxieties, and especially Liam's, would come to the surface again.

Liam had left his key at home and locked himself out, leaving him to wait another hour until Sam's arrival. So he went over nextdoor, to pass the time. This was one of the rarer occasions when he got to meet Denise, the elderly lady resident, for himself, although Sandra was also there, bubbly as ever and chatting away.

For most of the visit, Denise remained silent, nodding away in the chair, but listening appreciatively and smiling or giving occasional glances of acknowledgement. Then, out of nowhere, she sat up straight in her chair, and began to talk:

"Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr came to visit me yesterday afternoon. It was so lovely and they were so funny."

"Don't be daft, Denise," waded in Sandra. "I was here all afternoon yesterday; they can't have been here at all."

"Oh, they did, they did, while you were in the kitchen, dear," continued Denise.

Sandra gave Liam a look, signalling her scepticism about what Denise was saying.

"They are both in a care home now, living together. Very limited mobility now, poor dears. They were telling me how they get to float around all night and all day, go to all sorts of places, to places they know, to places they don't know, all over the world. All these interesting people they are getting to see, to meet..."

And then, Denise seemed to be somewhere else, her eyes closing.

"Poor dear," Sandra whispered to Liam. "I think it's those tablets."

When Liam got to see Sam later that evening, he told him about what Denise had said.

"I suppose there are possibilities here," reflected Sam. "Could it be that these two elderly men, bored and maybe confused in their care home, are astral travelling around, causing weird stuff to happen, seeking out chaps to make plump? I don't know. I will think about it more and have a chat with Denzel."

"Don't you find it scary, Sam? What if these are fat fetishists, feeders or whatever we call them, doing stuff to guys to make them like this," he said, running his hands along his lover's now ample paunch.

"Do we really care?" asked Sam, and they both looked at each other, and started laughing.

"It's like what I said to you at the beginning, and what Denzel also explained to us. We have a choice here. If this is supernatural, and we want it to stop, all we gotta do is ask it to stop, properly ask it to stop, and it will stop. If it's doing no harm, if it's not bothering us, no need to worry."

*

About a week later, Sandra knocked on the door. "Denise is going on about the gentlemen again," she told Liam. "I said I'd ask if you could show her the photo again, as she'd really like to see it once more. Is that okay?"

"No problem," said Liam. "In actual fact, we found one other photo, so there are two photos with them in now," Liam added, remembering the photo Sam found behind the bedroom mirror. "Do you know what, tell Denise she can have them if she likes. She knew those people after all, and I expect they meant more to her than anything they do to us."

"Oh, that's so, so lovely of you, dear!" said Sandra. Liam retrieved and handed over the photos, with a sense of relief, hoping never to see them again.

Later that evening, Denise awoke from her nap, and Sandra pressed the two black and white photos into her lap.

"That's them, that's them, it's like yesterday!" said Denise, looking at the first photo, of Mr Galbraith and Mr Starr together.

"Yes, that's what you said when you saw that the first time," said Sandra.

"And this is them again, with their big young men," she said, turning to the second photo and chortling softly.

"Do you recognise any of them?"

"Yes, yes," said Denise. "That nice Liam and Sam from nextdoor, they're in here."

She's confused again, thought Sandra. That photo must be from the 1970s, before Liam and Sam were even born.

"They all look so happy together," said Denise.

"Yes, I'm sure they do."

"Those four all together, so nice, don't you think?"

"Yes, very lovely," said Sandra.

The Taming of the Bear

"Get out there, big boy," rasped 24 year old Jake in his sexy, American accent, slapping Keith's mountainous butt cheeks with a loud thwack, then cheekily thrusting his finger deep into his hole, before playfully shoving the hairy behemoth onto set, bare ass naked, to perform his next scene, cock springing spontaneously into erection, all glorious 13 inches of it.

There was a pause as Bobby, the scrawny director of Sunny Hill Adult Studios and boyfriend of Keith, his prime performer, the four twinky porn actors, the cameramen and other assembled onlookers gawped in amazement at Jake's cockiness, expecting Bobby to tear into him any moment. 

But there was nothing. Only silence. Jake, the studio's dazzling new star, smirking smugly to himself, taking in every inch of Keith's tall, middle-aged, muscular-but-going-to-seed, furry ball-gutted body.

"Cut," barked Bobby. "Erection is too soon, start again as soon as we can,"

Keith blushed and looked shyly at Bobby, who bore a huffy scowl on his face.

*

In order to appreciate how the scene described above came about, it is necessary to go back four months, to when Jake was still in America, before he came to the UK to join Sunny Hill Adult Studios. Jake's small living room, one quiet evening, when he was entertaining Scott, his best friend, one-time boyfriend and fellow performer in the adult entertainment industry.

"Do you remember that Keith Starr guy I talked about?" asked Jake.

Scott burst into giggles. "Yeah, I remember, that fat old dude you're so crazy about!"

"Well, something interesting has come up," cut in Scott. "Bobby Woodward, the director of Sunny Hill, has offered me a shitload - and I mean an absolute shitload - of money to go to the UK and produce material with them."

Scott's mouth gaped. He knew Sunny Hill paid big, but he also knew why as well.

"I know you worked for them at one time," Jake continued. "I was hoping you could give me the low-down, share some gossip, y'know."

Scott put on his serious face.

"It's not like that, is it?" asked Jake, concerned.

"That place, Keith Starr and Bobby Woodward, especially Bobby Woodward really - they've got a certain notoriety."

"Maybe I like me some notoriety," crooned Jake, perking up.

"Not this, you wouldn't," said Scott. "They're... well to be fair they're not gropey or rapey, never seen or heard anything like that..."

"Can't be so bad then," said Jake. "You know what some of the people in the industry in the US are like..."

"But they are...rough."

"Rough?"

"Bobby gets off on seeing Keith fuck guys less than half his age and size senseless, brutally, blood gushing out of their anuses sort-of-stuff... I've seen it, and it's horrible. Keith's the 100 percent alpha male, never kisses a guy, never sucks a guy, never bottoms - all he does, literally ever, is fuck asses and faces. Now, I'm not saying those lads don't know what they're getting themselves into, but at the same time, having seen it, having it done to me once in fact...it's just not right. They know they have to perform or Bobby, who is the biggest asshole I've ever known, will chuck them out. So it's pressure, you see?"

"I heard Bobby is a skinny runty little bastard, and I got that impression on the phone as well. But they're not doing anything wrong or illegal are they?"

"Well, not illegal, but it's... it's carnage. You're a piece of meat there."

"What's Keith like?"

Scott pulled a disgusted face.

"Well?"

"I find the man repulsive, the way he behaves both on set and around the studio."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not natural, his libido. It's legendary. He can literally provide an erection on command. Whenever there's a fucking scene, and the guy is losing it, is not able to perform...Bobby just calls out to Keith to finish off the shoot, just to literally provide the shot of the big cock fucking some poor guy's face or ass."

"Wow. He never can't hold an erection? Never?"

"Never, ever. God knows how. That man has been in porn since he was 20, and he's what, 51 now?" said Scott, who did a quick Google search on his mobile phone and confirmed. "Yup, 51 years old now and still going."

"You've got to admire that," said Jake, leaning back, fantasising about the big hairy bear daddy he wanked over so much.

"What I can't understand is why he's still in the business and so popular, a star performer. I mean, have you actually seen what he looks like?"

Jake smiled lasciviously. "6 foot 4 inches and 290 pounds of daddy meat," he announced in a thrilled whisper.

"I mean, he's fat, he's old, he's covered in all that hair, and I'm sorry, he's disgusting, just disgusting."

Scott laughed.

"When I was over there, I saw the amount he eats, and the way he eats, and it's just untrue. That man, I swear, as he gets older, his appetite for food and his appetite for sex are getting bigger and bigger and bigger. That's what they all told me there, people who'd known him years. And I saw it. You know how I told you about how they bring him on set just to do the cock shots when one of the other guys is flagging? Seriously, I've seen him on the set, fucking a guy whilst he's shoveling a hoagie or a kebab down his face, getting it all over his beard and chest hair. The camera won't show that, because it's only focusing lower down, but that's what's happening."

Scott burst into laughter.

"That man is a pig, he's fucking gruesome! I can't understand how you're sitting there, thinking it's all so funny. Can you imagine actually having to work around all of this?"

"Well, he's a success," said Jake, recovering from his laughter. "You can't doubt that, everyone knows him."

"I refuse to call him a success," said Scott, "but he is... a phenomenon, yes, he is that. I don't know why. There is the bear niche, the chub niche, the daddy niche, whatever we call all of that, but Keith Starr's audience is way beyond that."

"What do you reckon?"

"Honestly? Having this guy in the films makes the losers who pay the subscriptions think that if a hideous fat, hairy, over-sexed middle-aged ogre like Keith Starr can get to fuck all these sexy twinks, then maybe they stand a chance too."

"You really think that's all there is to it, man?" Jake asked.

"I don't pretend to know what it is and frankly I don't want to know, I don't want to get into the mindset of a person who gets off to Keith Starr," he said, jabbing his finger at Jake, causing Jake to explode with laughter again, "but that's my best guess."

After his guffawing had stopped, Jake became serious. "I've accepted the offer to work at Sunny Hill."

"You what?"

"Last night. Bobby Woodward practically begged me. He knows I'm the next big thing, and he needs to get me before someone else does. He offered me anything I want."

"You're making a mistake, Jake. I've been there. You'll hate it."

"In fact," said Jake coolly, twirling his finger round and round. "I obtained a special understanding from Bobby, before I agreed to come."

"What?"

"Full creative control over scenes I am in," he whispered, "and Keith Starr has to be at my entire command, to serve me in any way I demand."

*

"Before we start again, run us through just one more time what you want, Jake," said Bobby, while Keith poured a bottle of water over his gargantuan cock, trying to calm his erection.

"Very straightforward, should be easy enough for everyone," Jake cheerily replied. "All I want is for Keith to do what I saw him do yesterday, and what I hear he does all the time here. Pound four guys, one after the other, while eating that chicken cheesesteak hoagie," he said. "Which I see he's already starting on," he added with a grin, noticing Keith with the hoagie almost touching his mouth, and everybody laughed.

"Don't eat it all yet, that's got to last you the full scene," barked Bobby, and there was more laughter.

"The only difference," continued Jake, "is this time I want the camera to focus on the fucking and the eating, not just the fucking like you guys usually do."

The cameraman gave Jake a thumbs up of acknowledgement. Jake then gave Keith his sweetest smile, which to Keith's embarrassment, sent his cock shooting upwards again.

"Oh for Chris-sake!" complained Bobby, clearly in a bad mood, as usual.

"It's okay," said Jake, placatingly, he's fine as he is, let's go."

"Well, it's your scene," grumbled Bobby, remembering he had agreed to give Jake creative control over some of his scenes and some of Keith's too. He was not keen on starting like this, as he feared his viewers would be disappointed if they missed the sight of Keith's member evolving from limp to fully erect, but if this was how Jake wanted things, so be it.

The scene played out perfectly, just as Jake had hoped. Keith fucked four different twinks while eating his chicken cheesesteak hoagie, and after that going through several pizzas slices and chocolate cupcakes which Jake thoughtfully provided, before blowing his load in glory into the fourth twink's ass. Jake stood mesmerised throughout the whole scene, which lasted longer than an hour, amazed by how huge Keith was, how horny he was, how long he could last, how much food he could cram into his gut, and most of all, by his round, bloated, utterly stuffed belly, which he could not resist stroking with his fingers when Keith lumbered off stage.

"Want me to do you next?" Keith shyly asked Jake, not used to having his belly touched like that, but longing to get his hands on Jake, who he felt hotter for than any other performer he could remember.

Jake planted his lips softly on Keith's, and plucked some pizza out of his beard. "Come to mine at 7pm," he said in a quiet voice. "I'm going to be giving you your orders." 

Keith felt a tremor of electricity going right through him. He had never been spoken to like that before. Jake, he knew already, was something else, something outside all of his experience. And he felt so excited, he could hardly wait for 7pm to arrive.

*

Jake answered the door wearing just his shorts, his sensual, athletic body glimmering in the sunlight. Keith was in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt which was huge, but getting small for his gut, his belly straining at the fabric and threatening to peek out at the bottom any moment, manboobs bulging out too, and his bellyhole marking out a big round indent as well.

"I've been so looking forward to you coming," said Jake, tapping Keith's navel, taking him softly by the hand and leading him inside. Jake noticed, as he led Keith inside and saw him take his seat, how shy, almost embarrassed he was, very different to how he was on set, where he seemed a quiet but unmistakably forceful presence.

"I'm going to ask you something," said Jake sweetly. "And I know you and Bobby agreed I could ask anything of you and all that, but I want you to know you're allowed to say no to this, it will be okay, I won't cut out of the deal or anything, if it makes you uncomfortable, because it's a bit weird..."

"Ask away," said Keith, managing a goofy smile, sitting awkwardly. This guy is so unimaginably adorable, thought Jake. I don't think he can have been on a date or a real social meeting or anything in forever. Such a big, gorgeous guy, but so unsure of himself, God I'm finding him so sexy.

"I'd find it really, really sexy, and I think also extremely interesting from an artistic point of view, if you could get a bit fatter for me," said Jake, allowing himself to blush a little.

Keith suddenly laughed, and his face and body relaxed. "Do you know, I was terrified you were going to ask me to lose weight? Bobby has been on to me about that for ages, especially since we learned you were coming, he told me it was sure to be the first thing you'd insist on."

"Really?" said Jake, amused by the irony. But I suppose that's not so surprising, he thought on reflection.

"He never shuts up about it, always telling me it will be the end of my career," said Keith.

"I want to tell you something, Keith," said Jake. "I've had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, especially since you've gained this weight. I've never jacked off about anyone as much as I do you."

"You're joking, right?"

"You're the only one I want."

"I thought you and Xander had a thing going," Keith said, referring to one of the other performers who Jake had done a scene with on set.

"Xander has a crush on me, although I think he also wants to ingratiate himself with me to get more scenes with me, to advance his career," said Jake. "But he does nothing for me, not like you do. I'm only doing some scenes with Xander and a few others to keep Bobby happy, to give him the material he wants. The thing I really want, though, Keith, is you, it's always been you. Remember the understanding I got before I even agreed to come here: it's not Xander I want to be all mine, it's you."

Jake leaned across Keith's big belly and started to kiss him, but as his tongue went in, Keith started to look a bit uncomfortable, so Jake softly backed off.

"So what's your weight now?" Jake asked. "The website said 290 pounds."

"Umm, it might be more than that now..."

"Oh really?," said Jake with a smile. "Mind if I weigh you?"

"So long as you don't tell Bobby the reading."

"Oh, that man has no taste at all!"

Jake scurried off to fetch the scales from the bathroom, then returned with them and placed them on the floor. Keith stepped up to stand on them, but Jake held out his hand.

"Naked please," said Jake. "Just so we're, uh, being absolutely professional and consistent with our weigh-ins."

An awkward expression formed briefly on Keith's face, but he obliged, and started to undress. This poor guy, he is so shy doing this, thought Jake. But why is he so unselfconscious on set, but embarrassed here? Is it that the set is his natural habit, where he can function naked all the time, but elsewhere is different? Is it that I've spooked him by telling him I adore his body and want him fatter...?

"303 pounds," announced Jake, reading the scale. "Very good. Very good indeed. Seems like you started on your mission before I even got here."

"My weight seems to be going up all the time anyway," said Keith. "I don't think gaining more will be any effort."

Jake stood back, taking in all of Keith's bare naked body, wishing he could devour every inch of him there and then.

"Oh man, Keith, you are so beautiful," said Jake, adding in a quieter voice "it was worth coming here just for you, not for the money or career or anything else, just for you," and he approached Keith, hugging him, holding him. Keith relaxed, his face melted, and he wrapped his thick arms around Jake, his paws stroking up and down Jake's sides.

A few tears rolled down Keith's eyes.

"Hey, big guy," said Jake, holding Keith tighter and stroking his beard. "Tell me what's up? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Nobody's ever liked me before until this. Not for the longest time anyway."

"Oh, come on, I can't believe that," comforted Jake.

"All the performers make comments about me, behind my back and sometimes right in front of me. They all find me gross, I know it. They hate doing anything with me."

Jake thought back guiltily to the conversation he had with Scott before he flew over. Scott had found him gross, and yes, Jake admitted to himself, I found it funny, found it a turn on even, to think about how awful Scott and all the others found their experiences around Keith. Yet this was, this is, a real human being, with feelings, this real guy in my arms, crying right in front of me.

"Keith," said Jake, "I've never met anyone as amazing, as gorgeous as you are."

"Really?"

Jake gestured with his eyes towards the raging hard-on bulging in his shorts, and Keith smiled.

"I know we adult entertainers have to get hard dicks all the time, but this is real, Keith, this is really for you," Jake said. "And this - and all those folks who pay subscriptions for your films - proves you're not gross, you're a sexy, sexy, sexy man."

"I don't feel it."

"Why not?"

"Bobby never touches me any more, never wants me to touch him. There's been nothing there for a long, long time. I'm just one of his performers now, not something special, like what I thought I was before...Now I think about it, though, I don't think I was special to him even then."

Everybody knows Bobby is one of the biggest bastards in the industry, thought Jake. Hasn't anyone told Keith that?

"He goes with other guys instead," said Keith. "Like Xander... I think that's how he got those scenes with you."

"You know Xander can't do for me what you do for me."

"But Xander and the others know stuff, can do stuff I don't know how to do."

"How do you mean?"

"The way I've always been with Bobby... I have to act like I'm a straight guy having gay sex basically, and that was always both on set, and in my private life too. I've never been allowed to properly kiss a guy, with tongues, you know. Or do other stuff, like suck a guy, or be the bottom. All I'm allowed to do is fuck. I'm a fuck monster basically, that's what he calls me, his fuck monster."

Jake took some moments to take all of this in. This was strange, twisted, he thought. Before I came here I would never have believed Keith could be so vulnerable, or so absolutely under the thumb of another guy, but he is, he really is.

"That's okay, Keith," said Jake. "You don't have to do any of those things to make me happy."

An expression formed on Keith's face. Was it disappointment or confusion, wondered Jake.

"But I would love, I mean really love, to teach you," Jake added.

Keith broke into a smile, and for the rest of the evening, he and Jake were snuggled up on the sofa, Jake teaching Keith how to kiss, and the two of them touching each other all over their bodies. Then, later on, Jake plied Keith with beers, and ordered four extra large pizzas, cajoling Keith to guzzle up slice after slice with belly rubs and cock play, until they both crashed out together in bed, Jake's head resting on Keith's stuffed, gluttonous belly. It was the happiest night either of them could remember. 

*

Back on set, Keith sat sprawled naked across a giant bean bag, stuffing his face with a kebab, and periodically partaking of the scrumptious bacon rolls Jake had lovingly made for him, assembled on a plate resting on a small coffee table within easy reach. As he munched away, four twinks devoted themselves to his pleasure, one each sucking on each tit, and the others licking and sucking his hefty balls and inner thighs. Jake smiled, enjoying the fantasy he was seeing enacted on set, whilst Bobby looked askance at the cameraman, silently communicating how awful he thought this whole scene was. Bobby was not used to not being able to call the shots, and he did not like one moment of it. "This will never sell," he muttered quietly to Xander, the performer he got on best with at the moment. Xander though, he knew, was not the star here, at least not yet. The stars, Bobby well knew, were that ageing lardball he pretended to call a boyfriend, and Jake.

After some while, with Keith dripping with sweat and belly and cock swelling obscenely, Jake dove in between Keith's legs and took the honours for himself, worshipping Keith's great round gut with his fingers, lips and tongue, licking out his deep bellyhole, then taking his big cock expertly into his mouth, swallowing the full length deep into his throat, driving Keith into a wailing frenzy which took Bobby and the other staff aback. Keith was not meant to make much noise; that was against his established image. He was meant to be a few masculine grunts and that was it, not howling like a whore like most of the other performers did. When will this all be over, thought Bobby to himself.

*

"Jump on the scales for me, big boy," said Jake, leading Keith by the hand to his weighing scales.

"335," reported Keith. He did not feel the least self-conscious or awkward being naked at Jake's place now. He knew how much Jake adored him, and it just felt so natural.

Jake's hands wandered all over Keith's big belly, feeling up every curve and bulge, squeezing every newly-forming lovehandle. Keith squeezed Jake close to him, and Jake melted, then thrust his tongue deeply and passionately into Keith's mouth, unable to get enough.

"You know I find you so damned handsome," Jake said when he finally came out for air. "Your body drives me wild, you know that, but I am crazy for your face, you are the most handsome guy I ever met," he said, running his fingers around Keith's chubby jowls and stroking his sexy black-flecked-with-grey beard.

Keith had never felt so physically, sexually wanted, needed before. Sure, he'd done porn shot after porn shot, all through his adult life, but never anything so real, so passionate, emotional as this. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel good," Keith pleaded. "Nothing, nothing turns me on more than seeing you excited over me."

"You know you're not ugly, don't you," continued Jake. "I don't want you to ever think you are ugly again, no matter what those jerks on set say. You are the most gorgeous man in the world."

Keith raised his eyebrows.

"Say you are the most beautiful man in the world," pressed Jake.

"I don't know about that," said Keith, "but I know I am the most beautiful man in the world to you, and that makes me the happiest man in the world, and that's very happy."

That was all the excuse Jake needed to guide the big man to his bedroom and throw himself on top of him on the bed, making out with him passionately.

"Your face is so goddamned sexy," Jake hissed, "I really want to fuck it, if that would be okay?"

Keith nodded obligingly. He had always been unsure about sucking dick, but had been fantasising about doing this with Jake for some while now, and this, his first such experience, did not disappoint for either of them.

"You have no idea how cute you look right now," said Jake, snapping a photo of Keith's hairy cum-splattered face with his mobile phone. 

"You've gotta show that to Bobby. He'll never believe it, he'd be so shocked!"

*

For their next session on set, Jake took his fantasies one step further, directing that Keith get down on his knees and eat and lick four donuts off his long, thick, hard cock.

"I won't say I'm keen," protested Bobby. "This goes against Keith's image, which we've built up for three decades. He doesn't give oral, he only receives."

Jake flashed Bobby the photo on his mobile phone, and Bobby grimaced. "Been having fun, you two, eh?"

"Well, we did agree," said Keith, reminding Bobby of the understanding they reached when Jake came to work for the studio.

"I'll do some more scenes with Xander, if that makes you feel better about this," offered Jake, remembering how eager Bobby was to pair him and Xander together. Xander's face could not conceal his delight.

Bobby nodded. Keith can't have long left for his career anyway, he thought.

"Good, then," said Jake, walking onto set, stroking his big dick until it was at full mast, then skewering the four donuts onto it, one after the other. Bobby's eyes rolled upwards, and Jake winked at Keith, who clambered onto the set too, and got down to business. As Keith tenderly consumed the donuts, Jake gazed into the screen, enjoying the perfect angle of seeing Keith on all fours, belly hanging down, huge round ass taking up a quarter of the image. I want that so badly, thought Jake, thrusting his dick deeper into Keith's mouth, delicious thoughts going through his mind about how much it would turn him on to introduce his sexy big boy to the exquisite delights of bottoming. You have no idea how hard and how many times I am going to fuck you, big boy, he thought, plowing more donut and dick into Keith's mouth, and you have no idea how much you are going to beg me for more and more.

*

"I saw the way you were looking at my ass in the screen," said Keith.

"You never?" said Jake.

"From one of the mirrors at the other side of the set. C'mon, I know you want to fuck me so bad, don't you."

Jake's face beamed.

"We can try, if you want..."

"I want to so much, but first I have some games to play and toys to play with..."

With that, Jake took Keith by the hand and led him gracefully but assertively to the bedroom, then lowered Keith's pants, produced a chastity device as if from nowhere and clamped it onto Keith's big dick.

"You know what this is?"

"What the fuck?"

"You not seen one of these before?"

Keith lifted up his dick and tried to examine the device, but could not get a proper look because his great fat belly was in the way.

"Come here," said Jake, grinning, leading Keith by the hand towards his wardrobe mirror.

"I've not seen anything like this before. What is it?"

For someone who had worked in the porn industry for over 30 years, Keith was remarkably innocent, Jake thought. He was not surprised, though, because he had already seen a lot of what Keith was like in this respect.

"I'm gonna be keeping you all horned up, not able to wank, not able to get hard," whispered Jake. "I'm gonna make you so desperate."

Keith, blessed with an unusually high sex drive and used to frequent hard-ons and orgasms, trembled at the prospect of being locked up like this. It was so cruel, so frustrating. But also, he had to admit, so fucking hot. Yes, he was being locked up, but he was being locked up by and for Jake, and there could be nothing more tantalising than that.

"Good job we've got no filming for a week," said Keith.

"I have some other toys to play with," said Jake, producing a small dildo.

For the next six days, Jake teased and taunted Keith mercilessly about his predicament, doing sexy dances and stripteases for him to make his blood hot, but never releasing him from the device. He continued to ply Keith with beer and food as well, finding, to his delight, that the lack of access to sexual arousal increased Keith's appetite tenfold. Most excitingly for Keith, though, Jake introduced him to dildos, small ones at first, then slightly bigger ones, then ones that were even bigger. He had never experienced anything like this before, this pleasure in his anus, more intense than anything he could have imagined. It was unbelievable, he thought, that at the age of 51, he was discovering and re-learning sex in such a thrilling new way.

"I'm gonna give you some real dick now," hissed Jake on the seventh day, putting aside the dildo, dropping his pants, and finally giving Keith what he had been begging for all week.

"Oh yes, yes, yes!" squealed Keith, on all fours, thrusting his fat ass as hard as he could into Jake's crotch, as Jake entered him for the first time.

"Take my dick, baby, it's all yours, big boy," said Jake, unlocking the chastity device and pounding him as vigorously as he could. Keith's pent-up, newly-unleashed cock became engorged in moments to massive proportions, bigger than Jake had ever seen it before, gyrating back and forth and side to side, along with his obese gargantuan jiggling belly and tits and humongous fat round ass as Jake gave him the time of his life. Neither of them could last long, both blowing their loads and collapsing in a heap together, Jake on top of Keith, both panting and sweating. It was not the longest fuck, but both would agree, years later, that it was the best either could remember.

*

"Run me through the plan for this scene," said Bobby.

"Kinky policeman and the shoplifter," said Jake, looking dashing in the police uniform he was dressed up in.

"Ah yes, interesting..." said Bobby, exchanging a cynical glance with Xander, who was stood nearby, getting frustrated at being kept hanging around so long and wondering when he would get another scene with Jake.

"Up you get, big man," teased Jake, handcuffing Keith and slapping his ample ass, gesturing for him to come onto the set. The scene began.

"Stand straight, stop slouching fatboy," snapped Jake from behind his desk, looking every inch the handsome, authoritative, son-of-a-bitch policeman.

Keith, dressed in shorts and a vest that was way too small, shuffled nervously and stood straight.

"You are here in my office because you were caught stealing chocolate eclairs from Mrs Greaves' shop in town. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I am sorry, sir, I was hungry and didn't have any money."

"You were hungry? You are pleading hunger as your excuse, your motive, for this gratuitous act of theft?"

"I know it is not an excuse sir," mumbled Keith, staring at the floor.

Jake got up and started prodding and poking Keith in the belly.

"Do you consider yourself underfed, boy?"

"No sir."

"Then what is this you are telling me about hungry?"

"I don't know, sir, I wanted something to eat."

"I wanted something to eat," taunted Jake, mimicking Keith's voice. "Well I would say you've done more than your share of eating, wouldn't you?" he roared, grabbing hold of a mound of Keith's belly flab and squeezing hard. Keith yelped.

"Yes, sir," said Keith, terrified.

"Do you have any children or family who are starving?"

"No sir."

"Well," continued Jake, considering. "If you had a starving family back home, I might have gone soft on you, though even then I'd have suggested you stop chowing so much and give everyone else a chance to eat," he said, punching Keith softly in the gut. "But as it is...nah, man, I think I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson." Keith lifted his nightstick from its sheath.

"Please sir, not that, not that sir..."

"Please sir, not that, not that sir..." taunted Jake, mimicking Keith's voice again. "Well, if we're not gonna do that, we could do another way..."

"Anything sir."

"Do you wanna see what I do to greedy fatboys who steal donuts from law-abiding business people trying to make a decent honest living?" snarled Jake, walking behind Keith.

Keith trembled, and Jake took in every moment of his fat ass, thicc thighs and legs going wobbly.

"Let me show you, fatboy," barked Jake, and pulled down Keith's shorts, thrust him forward chest down onto his desk and proceeded to fuck him.

"Eat those donuts, fatboy."

Keith grasped one of the donuts he had stolen, sitting in a cardboard box on the desk, and started to eat it.

"Faster, fatboy," snapped Jake, smacking Keith's rear as hard as he could.

"Owwwww!"

"Faster!"

Keith consumed donut after donut, his chest facing down over the desk, his legs splayed open wide, the merciless, horny, kinky policeman taking his pleasure from behind. On and on, this scene continued, until Jake blew his load. But he wasn't going to wait for Keith to cum too. 

"Johnson," barked Keith, pulling up his trousers.

One of the twink performers, also dressed as a police officer, came in the door.

"Lock this fat fuck up in the cell," said Jake, manhandling Keith, with impressive strength, up off the desk and into the arms of the other officer, who led Keith away, panting and sweating profusely, dick still straining and engorging like crazy.

*

"It's that time again, sexy boy," said Jake, pulling out the scales. Keith hopped on, bare ass naked as usual.

Jake whistled. "378," he announced. "Fuck you're getting so fucking big," he added, and crept up behind Keith, running his hands all over his big round furry body. "You are one big fat sexy daddy bear."

Jake and Keith's sexual relationship had been getting more and more intense and kinky and imaginative, both on and off the set. Their personal relationship had deepened too, and Keith had come to trust and be relaxed with Jake a lot more, but there were still some things, some areas, where it was difficult for Jake to get much out of Keith. One of these was about the exact relationship between Bobby and Keith and the financial aspects involved. So far as Jake could see, they called each other boyfriends, but the relationship was in name only, and Bobby clearly did not care a fig about Keith, was never interested if he had a problem or was feeling unwell or whatever. Plus, to Jake's amazement, despite the fact Keith never went out and had no spending extravagances other than food, and was bringing in shedloads of money for the studio, Keith showed no obvious signs of wealth. To the contrary, Jake got the impression Keith was hard up, as he always made excuses not to go out with Jake, saying he had no money and refusing Jake's offers to pay for him.

"This has been really bugging me, and I know it's personal, and it's sensitive..." Jake said, "but please, you've got to tell me, what does Bobby actually give you for all the work you do for him? What's your contract?"

"He lets me stay at his place," said Keith. That is true enough, thought Jake, yes, Bobby gives Keith a room, but that can't be worth so much in financial terms. With the career he has had, Keith ought to have a nice big house of his own by now.

"What does he pay you, though?"

"I don't like talking about it."

On and on the discussion went on, Jake pressing, Keith resisting, until finally, with great patience, Jake succeeded in getting Keith to tell him the actual details. And boy, did it make Jake angry. Keith was being taken to the cleaners by Bobby, seriously exploited, not just recently but for more than three decades. I should be really shocked right now, thought Jake, but he was not, because he had long sensed something was odd between Keith and Bobby.

"You realise, if you told this to anyone else in the industry, or anyone else anywhere, they would tell you Bobby is screwing you?"

"I don't know, it's just how it's always been."

Keith is so simple, thought Jake. But I knew this already, why am I surprised? I've got to help him get him out of this. 

"Keith, I want to take you away from all of this. After we've finished the current round of filming, the stuff we've both agreed we'll do, I want us to go somewhere else, just you and me."

"But I've never been anywhere, done anything else..."

"We can do it, Keith, you and me."

*

The final day of Keith and Jake's shooting came. They knew this, of course; Bobby did not know, expecting them to sign up to a renewal of their contracts.

"So one scene for you, and one for me, we're agreed?" Bobby asked Jake. He was impatient with having to give so much filming over to Jake, for all this stuff he did not feel was commercial enough, some of which undermined Keith's long-established industry image.

"Agreed," said Jake. "And I want to do a face-sitting scene. These are becoming more popular, y'know, they're not such a niche thing anymore, this is in everybody's fantasies today."

Oh Christ, thought Bobby, not more of this nonsense...

"Where is Adrian," asked Jake. Adrian was nowhere to be seen. Adrian had been lined up for a face-sitting scene with Keith, but by surreptitious arrangement with Jake, had agreed to go AWOL.

"He's not here," grumbled Bobby. "Look, we've limited time and I want to get around to the scene I want to do. Can't you do this scene in Adrian's place?"

Jake scratched his chin. "Hmmm... I would...but do you know what? I don't think I'm right for this. It's not that I'm unwilling to do it or anything, it's just I don't have the vibes for this particular thing, y'know...?"

"So what do we do then?"

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but I actually think you would be perfect for this, absolutely perfect. You've got this thing that I don't have...and that I don't think Xander has either, all due respect to him..."

Xander breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding getting conscripted into having Keith's fat ass sat on his face.

"I suppose I can do it," said Bobby, flattered by Jake's honeyed words and eager to rush through the shooting.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Jake had spent the whole day up to now wheedling Keith into eating like an elephant and consuming gallons of beer and fizzy drink.

Bobby rarely took part in shoots himself these days, but he did occasionally, and he now got up to play his role, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, laid out on the floor. Then Keith strolled onto the set, fully naked, and plonked his behind over Bobby's face, as gently as he could, trying not to crush him too much.

"Relax more, Keith," said Jake. "You've gotta relax more if we're to make this work, don't worry, your ass is in the exact right position over his face, he can support you..."

Keith relaxed more, and Bobby felt the excruciating pain and indignity of his face being crushed deeper into Keith's ass.

"Drink some cola, Keith," ordered Jake, and Keith began drinking the cola, as the camera started to roll.

Before long, Keith felt the bubbles beginning to rise up in his stomach. Oh fuck, he thought, holding in his fart as much as he could.

"Keep drinking that cola, Keith," Jake instructed, knowing exactly what he was doing. "And relax, come on, don't worry, be relaxed, we're all professionals here, doesn't matter if you've got a little wind or whatever." Bobby grimaced, under the weight of Keith's ass, unable to move or say anything.

Keith finished off the rest of the cola, and at Jake's instruction, someone handed him another one. I can't hold this in much longer, thought Keith.

A rippling went through Keith's insides. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he thought.

"Don't look pained, just relax, smile," Jake coaxed Keith.

And then it happened, and it was reverberatingly loud, lasting a good 10 seconds.

Then a pause.

Then another one, much louder, but shorter.

Jake smiled at Keith, gesturing to him to be calm, to let it all out.

Then another one, quieter, but lasting much longer, maybe a good 30 seconds.

"Excellent, boys," whispered Jake, "just a little more to go."

Keith felt an urgent rumbling of pressure in his stomach, his anus twitching and clenching like crazy, trying to hold it in...

A mumbling emerged from Keith's ass, but this time it was not Keith, it was Bobby, his arms now starting to flail, signalling his desperation to escape.

"And just hold a bit longer, we're almost there..." said Jake.

Keith could hold in no more, his insides deflated, and a massive, thunderous fart thundered and gurgled around the studio, sounding more loathsome than the most nauseous of toilet noises, causing even the cameraman - no stranger to most things - to contort his face in repugnance.

Xander, loyal to his master, rushed onto the set, grabbed Keith's hands and helped drag him up, relieving the pressure on Bobby.

"Are you okay, Bobby?" asked Xander, holding Bobby by his queasy-looking face.

"Water," mumbled Bobby.

Xander went off to fetch water, but by the time he had returned, Bobby had staggered to his feet, and everybody but Bobby noticed one thing: a tiny brown smear above the left side of Bobby's right nostril.

*

Several hours later, Bobby called the whole team back to the set, to film his last scene for the current series.

"This should be very straightforward, we've done it so many times before," Bobby said. "I want one more scene using the winning formula, that thing we know the fans pay to see again and again and again - Keith the fuck monster."

They all knew what that meant. Keith ferociously, pulverisingly fucking guy after guy.

"Xander, you're first, then Brian, then Joe, then Kieran, then Jake for the final cumshot."

Xander and Keith both got up onto the set, but they all saw something was wrong, something unusual that had never happened before. Keith's dick was limp. Normally, the problem was sometimes the other way round, with Keith being too hard before he got on set, but this was something different.

"Cut," growled Bobby. "Xander, give him some prep."

Xander played around with Keith's member, trying to arouse it, but nothing would happen. Then Jake stepped in, started sucking on Keith's nipples, one after the other, then started to kiss him. Hey presto, Keith was on form again

"Rolling," ordered Bobby, and Xander kneeled into position, but within a short amount of time, Keith was floppy again.

"Okay, we'll try again in 15 minutes," announced Bobby.

When they started the next time, Bobby told Keith and Kieran to start things off, but although Keith had his erection at the beginning, it quickly faded.

"I'm sorry," said Keith, "I don't think I can do these kind of scenes anymore. They don't mean anything to me, they don't do anything for me, at all, not now."

"Keith," scolded Bobby, growing impatient, "you're a professional, you've got to perform, it's your job."

"Maybe I could do it if we changed the script, some kissing and hugging for instance, and me getting to please the other guy as well."

Bobby frowned. "That's not how this works, Keith. You know your image, what the fans love you for. All that gay stuff is fine for the others but not for you."

"Then I can't do it."

"Don't say that, Keith. Look, this happens to every performer some day, not being able to get it up. It's a nuisance, but so what? Look, give it an hour, then we'll try again, and if it still doesn't work, we try again tomorrow."

"No," said Keith, discovering a strength of resolution he did not realise he had. "I'm not doing that sort of scene again, the senseless, aggressive fucking, with no love or gentleness in it, the guys walking off set in pain all the time. That's not who I am any more."

"Keith you're over-reacting."

"No I'm not, this is about me and who I am and what I'm willing to do and not willing to do."

Bobby finally lost his temper. "For fuck's sake, Keith!"

"I don't know what else to say to you."

"Well I know what to say to you: you're fired! And evicted too. You've got 24 hours to clear your stuff out of my house."

With that, Bobby stormed off, and everybody looked at Jake, practically the unofficial deputy director, wondering what he would say.

"Let's do a scene just me and Keith," Jake said.

Keith was initially not keen on this proposal, feeling in a sour mood, but he could not resist Jake, and Jake's powers of persuasion were strong.

"Just lay back," he whispered to Keith, straddling him, fondling his big dick, expertly guiding it into his ass, lowering and raising himself, clenching and unclenching, in a slow rhythm, then faster, fingers encircling Keith's enormous belly, then leaning forward as far as he could, kissing Keith passionately with his mouth whilst fucking his cock with his ass, completely in control, loving every moment of it, seeing his lover's great belly heaving up and down, perspiration leaking from his skin, breath panting from his mouth, until, with exquisite skill, he brought both himself and Keith to climax, and they collapsed in a heap. Everybody was impressed. Even Xander congratulated them both afterwards, saying he was sure Bobby would recover his cool once he saw how hot the footage they filmed was.

But Jake did not want to hang around to listen to all the gushing praise which everyone wanted to shower on him; now, this business all done, he wanted to be with Keith alone. Jake sensed this moment had been coming for some while, and he wished it had happened earlier, but he knew he could not rush it, that this was something Keith needed to work through himself, in his own time and his own way.

"Keith, I know this is hard for you, but this had to happen. That guy has taken advantage of you so much, financially, emotionally, everything. But it's okay now. It's you and me together, you and me against the world. From now on, we do things our own way, me and you."

And with that, Jake started the car and they drove off, never to return to Sunny Hill Adult Studios again.

The Boss' Secret

There was something familiar about Daniel. Jon recognised his face from somewhere, although he could not put his finger on where. They shook hands, being introduced as colleagues for the first time by their senior leader. But as Jon studied his facial features, he could already see that Daniel showed no signs of recognising him in return.

“Daniel will be overseeing most of the accounts from now on,” Rachel explained, clearly a little taken by the slender twenty-something as she showed him around. “He’s got some fantastic ideas to really rejuvenate things around here and save on costs.”

Jon could feel his teeth clenching. He knew that they were hiring for a new member of the team, but he wasn’t aware that that recruited person would be working above him. It was yet another shitty move from the higher-ups, promising them all pay-rises and progression, then hiring in from outside and going back on their word. And then they wondered why morale was so low?

“Can you believe that?” Jon grumbled later to Kathleen at the desk behind him. He could feel a rage building inside him. “They’ve hired that skinny little shit to come and put us all in our places!”

“What else did you expect?” Kathleen sighed, rolling her eyes and agreeing with him completely.

It was things like this that caused Jon the most frustration in his life. He was tall, broad, muscular and extremely masculine-looking with his well groomed beard. He weighed more than 240lbs, having the largest glutes and thighs than anyone else in his gym. In his day-to-day life, people naturally looked up to him and listened. But, here in work and throughout his career, he’d had to fight for every last thing he had received. “Where’s he from?” he asked Kathleen, still unable to shake off the recognition that he felt.

“New York,” Kathleen replied. “Janice drew up his contract. I know I shouldn’t say this, but… he’s going to be on more money than you and I combined.”

Jon shook his head and looked over the desks at his new, younger boss, already despising him. Guys who worked their way up the ladder this quickly were always the type to take credit for other’s work, or throw people under the bus whenever they’d fucked up on something. In no way could Jon ever trust a guy who had climbed the ranks this quickly. But, even so…. where the fuck did he recognise him from?

Gina had been an awesome distraction for Jon that night, turning him on by gorging her big fat belly on pizza and cake. She sucked him off so perfectly and easily gorged on at least three thousand calories to satisfy his kinks. In return, he’d fucked her just as hard as his big thighs and powerful hips suggested he was capable of; leaving her feeling completely satisfied and grateful as he slipped out the door.

No stranger to casual sex, Jon had to admit that he enjoyed the fatties more than any other. Their soft, fleshy bodies made him feel so powerful and in control. When they ate for him, he knew they would be carrying additional pounds that were his alone; that he had added to them. The whole thing was a buzz like no other. It was the reason why he frequented those feederism websites and apps; happily perusing through one the following evening in the hope of finding more possible connections with fat girls.

That was when Jon’s eyes boggled and his jaw dropped to the floor. Staring back from the screen at him was his new boss’ profile picture. The idiot was sharing his face and everything; all there for everyone to see. Jon remembered coming across him several times in chat rooms. The guy was just another fat-lover, like himself. However, he didn’t seem to have the right charm or dominant approach to getting the attention that Jon enjoyed from the larger ladies. Sure, his face was pretty, but the moment he started talking on there, most people assumed he was a simple catfish.

Anonymously, Jon clicked on the guy’s profile, seeing that he had just moved from New York and was on the hunt for a larger lady to ‘feed-up and pamper’. Jon couldn’t believe what he was reading. This was absolute gold! Imagine what would happen if he exposed this at work! He screenshotted the lot, storing it ready for himself, just in case.

“So why is Daniel meeting with my client?” Jon demanded, incensed. “They’re my client! I was the one who brought them here from my last job!”

“He’s done the same thing with some of Kathleen’s clients,” Fred added, whispering in case others heard them. Daniel’s reign was still in its infancy and loyalties had not yet been fully established.

“That’s the fifth time this week he’s pissed me off,” Jon complained, similarly looking around to check that no one was listening in. “Is that all they’re paying him for? To take clients… clients we already have… out to lunch?”

Fred laughed but nodded in complete agreement. None of them had yet to see the great ‘innovation and cost-saving’ that Daniel had promised to deliver. As far as they could all see, Daniel was nothing but hot air and a sickening stench of self-importance.

“I’m meeting with a client on Friday and I want you to come with me,” Daniel announced a few weeks later. “I think you’ve got the sort of charm with the ladies that may work with this one,” he explained.

Jon laughed inwardly to himself. There was no tolerance for sexual exploitation in this office, apart from when they needed his muscular body to help them swoon a new client. “Sure,” he nodded nonchalantly, requesting the case notes to read through beforehand. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Daniel was asking for help to seduce a potential new client into signing. Once you looked beyond his pretty face, there really wasn’t much personality to find within. Despite being on those feederism sites most evenings, Daniel didn’t seem to be making much impact there, either. Although he had at least found some sense to remove his face from his public profile.

As arranged, Jon made his way to the restaurant that Friday, frustrated that Daniel had already sat down with the client. Why hadn’t they all just arrived together at the same time? Was it a strategy of Daniel’s, simply to make himself look more professional in front of the client by arranging that Jon was a little late? He’d certainly known insecure bosses to pull similar stunts in the past.

Plastering a smile on his face, Jon set to work, doing exactly what he did best. There were occasions when he had to deflect some poor interferences from Daniel but, on the whole, no one could argue that the successful outcome of the lunch meeting was entirely down to him.

“Well, I think I owe you a beer,” Daniel conceded afterwards, as the client left with a giant smile across her face. “I certainly didn’t think she was going to sign for that length of time.”

“You’ve gotta be ambitious,” Jon shrugged. “I knew I had her the moment she brought out those pictures of her dog.”

“Yes! That was definitely the moment she started coming around,” Daniel nodded in complete agreement. “Thank goodness your mom bred all those German Shepherds when you were growing up.”

Jon looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. Had he really been as gullible as the client?

“That was all bullshit?” Daniel asked in surprise. “But you sounded so knowledgeable!”

“A dog’s a dog. You just have to tell the client whatever they want to hear,” Jon chuckled, finishing his coffee and standing up. “I also have an uncle who works for the New York Yankees and a cousin in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. They never fail to impress the clients when I talk about them.”

Daniel looked as though he wasn’t completely sure that Jon was still making things up. Then the pair of them simply laughed.

“I’ll catch you back at the office,” Jon announced, striding back through the restaurant as people subtly swooned over his muscular thighs and butt in his tightest work pants.

Scrolling through the feedism app that weekend, Jon couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Daniel had posted a status the night before that seemed bizarrely out of character. He had recounted visiting a restaurant with his ‘muscular colleague’ and had described his body in quite surprisingly erotic detail; ending with: ‘I so wish I could fatten him up!’

“Cheeky fucker!” Jon laughed aloud from his bed as he read it. He searched back through the guy’s profile, realising that there hasn’t been any hint of bisexuality before now. It was part of the reason why the guy had failed to make any impact on there. No one could really make any sense of what he was actually after. Whereas Jon always went in hard and confident; flirting with anyone with a big appetite and at least a hundred pounds of extra blubber.

Jon sat back and smirked. So his boss had a little crush on him? That was definitely unexpected. And yet, it was also something that he could definitely use to his advantage.

“Off out for lunch with the boss again today?” Fred smirked, trying to conceal his jealousy with humor. “The Chosen One, yet again!” he laughed.

Jon nodded. He had started to do quite well under Daniel’s reign. A month earlier he had been looking for jobs at other companies. But now he found himself feeling rather content with his work life. The favouritism was obvious and Jon could feel the relationships with his colleagues becoming a little more tense, but the trade off would be worth it when his pay review came up. “Daniel’s the numbers guy, and I’m the charisma,” he simply joked back to Fred. “You’ve gotta admit, we’ve never taken on so many new clients in such a short space of time.”

“All these free lunches on the company expenses account,” he grumbled. “You’ll start looking like the boss soon, if you’re not careful.”

Jon nodded and quietly laughed. It was something they had all noticed in the last couple of weeks. A distinct dad bod had started to take hold of Daniel’s slim physique. Bombarded by an onslaught of company lunches since he had arrived four months ago, a distinct paunch had started to push its way out below his chest, straining the buttons of his ‘slim-fit’ shirts. It was his own fault, Jon noted with surprising glee. He’d seen for himself how carelessly the guy ordered from the menus, selecting signature dishes rather than considering what was actually in them. He’d also not got his apartment straight since he’d moved from New York, relying on microwave meals and take-out more often than not. What else should he expect?

“Don’t you worry about me,” Jon smirked, tapping his trim waistline. “I think there’s only space for one little chub in this office,” he winked, happy to show that despite being so much in favor with the new boss, he also wasn’t above making a joke at his expense.

A few days later, Jon and Daniel sat at the bar, congratulating each other with a beer after having secured yet another large account that evening. They’d done their homework beforehand and executed their strategy to perfection. To be fair to Daniel, the guy really did put the hours in. There wasn’t a single figure that he hadn’t had to hand the moment the clients asked for it; saving Jon’s pitch and smooth talking each time they tried to catch him out. Still, all these work hours were taking their toll on the boss, with his squisher glutes starting to spread themselves a little wider across the bar stool.

“Hello, stranger!” came a loud voice as a giant lady started striding towards them.

“Gina!” Jon smiled, getting up to kiss and hug the large girl from the feederism website, all dressed up and fancy on a night out with her friends. “Looking good!” he swooned, suddenly remembering that Daniel shared his larger taste in women. “Gina, this is my boss, Daniel,” he smiled, making the introductions.

Daniel rose to his feet, looking rather overwhelmed. He shook her hand and seemed quite out of breath once she had left. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“Nah,” Jon replied, shaking his head. “She’s a beautiful girl, and I enjoy messing around with her every now and then,” he smirked, letting Daniel know exactly the sort of fun they got up to. “But she’s also very high maintenance!”

Daniel was still staring at Gina’s enormous rear as she disappeared out of the door to the restaurant. “Can I ask you something?” he mumbled, seeming now to look up to Jon more than ever before. “How do I get a girl like that?”

Jon smiled, enjoying the dynamic that had seemed to form between them. He wasn’t intimidated by the overly serious, sometimes humorless nature of Daniel, like so many others at the company were. He’d read too many status updates about himself on the guy’s feedism profile, describing Daniel’s crush on him in quite some detail. One had particularly made Jon laugh, where the younger boss had described how the pair of them had been in an elevator together, before a giant influx of people joined at a later floor, squishing them both together. The boner this had given Daniel, having Jon’s large, muscular glutes pressed up against him, was written up in extraordinarily graphic detail that even gave Jon a semi when he read it.

“Girls like Gina,” Jon began, with an air of expertise, “they love confidence. They’re big and heavy and they love a guy who can handle all that. When they see a big, strong man like me, they know they’re in for a good time.”

Daniel looked down at his own body with dismay. “Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong,” he sighed. “Since moving here, I’ve accidentally let myself get a little doughy.”

Jon chuckled. He knew that he was supposed to make Daniel feel better and tell him that he looked no different to how he did five months ago, but what was the point? They’d all noticed the pounds he had gained. “Listen,” he began, leaning in a little closer and choosing to have some fun. “Even that little paunch of yours is a marketable asset,” he stated with certainty, deciding to play with the guy. “Who usually ends up with the fat girl in the end?” he asked. “It’s always the fat boy!”

Daniel looked across at Jon the same way most guys did; as a man who knew exactly what he was talking about when it came to seducing girls. “You’re saying I shouldn’t lose weight?”

Jon rolled his eyes. Surely Daniel knew him well enough by now to work out when he was playing with him? He always took everything so damn seriously! He sighed, deciding to see how long he could stretch the joke out instead. “Of course not,” he laughed. “Keep going! Add a few more pounds. It’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“I never thought about it that way before,” Daniel nodded, looking down at his softer middle with renewed understanding. “I guess the type of girls I like would find this all pretty hot,” he considered, rubbing his hand against the blubber in his stomach.

Jon looked on with surprise. Did he let on that he had been kidding? Or did he simply let this ideal roll?

“Fuck!” Jon gasped as he checked into the feedism app the next evening. “What the hell has he done to himself?” he laughed.

There, on the screen, was a brand new picture of Daniel added to his profile, showing his body from the neck down dressed only in some very tight underwear. Just what had all this careless eating done to his physique? The guy was positively flabby! A generous coating of fat had surrounded his stomach area, destroying the tight waist that had been visible in previous pictures. Likewise, his chest had begun to soften, with fresh blubber seeping itself around his nipples and beginning to make them pointed and sensitive-looking. His underwear seemed tight around his thighs as even his legs seemed considerably more padded with softness. It was one thing to see Daniel looking a little softer and doughier in the office. But without his clothes on, there was no hiding just how far his lifestyle had thickened him up. Jon’s boss was actually fat!

Jon read through all the comments the picture had attracted. As well as the mountain of likes, guys and girls had complemented and teased Daniel with as much enthusiasm and arousal as Daniel must have hoped for. The horny guy had replied to each and every one of them, promising to keep up this new look. That was when Jon actually felt himself getting hard. He’d been the one to start this. This had all been his idea. Had he single-handedly created his very own monster?

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, stepping into Daniel’s office a few days later and seeing his boss looking a little surprised and flustered at his sudden appearance. 

Upon seeing that it was only Jon, Daniel relaxed and pulled back a hastily concealed box of doughnuts, grabbing a fresh one for himself. “I thought you were Rachel,” he mumbled, resuming what had obviously been a mid-morning bout of gluttony.

“What’ve you got there?” Jon asked, stepping closer and picking up the sweet scent.

“It’s a pack of twelve. You want one?”

Jon waved his hand and shook his head. “You keep at it, buddy!” he smiled, dropping a report with the projected sales figures for one of their client’s companies. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting lunch at your desk today?” he asked, perching himself on Daniel’s desk.

“I’ve actually got a lunch date,” Daniel replied, holding up a doughnut, as if this explained everything. “She likes big guys, so I may have exaggerated and told her I’m a little heavier than I actually am,” he continued.

“How much did you tell her you were?” Jon asked, peering down at his boss’ bloated stomach.

“Two hundred and thirty five,” Daniel replied, wincing like he was quite some distance off that figure.

Jon pulled a sceptical face. “Yikes! What possessed you to tell her you were that big already?” he chuckled.

“I’m really into her,” Daniel sighed, as if this explained it all. “She’s big… very big. I’ve never had a chance with a girl like that.”

Jon looked down on his boss with pity. Having had more than his fair share of larger ladies, he could hardly begrudge Daniel his first opportunity to enjoy himself. “Well, I guess we could try and bloat you up a little bit before you go,” he suggested, taking the report back and deciding that his boss had far more important things to attend to. “Doughnuts won’t work all by themselves. I can whip something up for you, I’m sure.”

Jon soon left Daniel to finish his doughnuts whilst he emptied his large gym bag and headed straight to the convenience store down the block. There he bought a large gallon bottle of water which he immediately tipped out, and replaced with a mixture of several items, including whole milk, cream and a few sachets of the calorie boost powder he kept for after his gym sessions. Without a blender, he merely had to shake the daunting mixture up after he pulled it from his bag back in Daniel’s office.

“This’ll put some meat on your bones!” Jon grinned, pleased with the surprisingly large mixture he had created within ten minutes.

“You want me to drink all that?” Daniel asked, amused by the idea.

“Well, why not? You made light work of those doughnuts,” Jon joked, spotting the empty tray. “I don’t see how this is any different.” 

He passed over the great container to his boss who simply looked at it, perplexed. The bottle was so heavy, Daniel couldn’t hold it up to his mouth without help, and so Jon stood behind his chair, reaching his arms out to support the bottle as Daniel tried to tip it up and into his mouth.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. The guy was actually doing it!

“You’re doing the right thing, buddy!” Jon coaxed him. “This’ll blow you up for your date in no time!”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Jon kept his eye on the door to the office, silently wishing that he had locked it behind them.

“This is a good effort!” Jon continued, noticing that Daniel still hadn’t stopped for a break. “Your shirt buttons are getting tighter already.”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Suddenly the bottle was light enough for Daniel to hold himself. Jon stepped back, feeling the stiffness in his crotch as he saw for himself the monster he had set loose.

With only a third remaining, Daniel finally lowered the bottle and paused, clearly trying to release a burp; the sound of it eventually coming rolling up his throat at a velocity that was unknown to most people; gargling through the large amount of liquid that had already filled his stomach. 

“Awesome work, buddy!” Jon chuckled, clapping the guy on his back. “Better out than in!”

“My gut feels like it’s about to explode!” Daniel groaned, setting the bottle down on the floor.

“That’s exactly how it looks as well,” Jon grinned, still standing somewhere behind his boss’ field of vision. “She’s going to be one lucky lady when she meets you later!” he marvelled at the stout bloat that had pushed Daniel’s shirt buttons to the absolute limit. He grabbed his bag and held it so that his crotch was covered, advising Daniel to take his time with the last third, then made his way out, back into the bustling office space once more; where not a single person could have guessed what had just gone on behind that closed door.

Jon didn’t need to wait until the following Monday to find out how his boss’ date had gone. Daniel had written all about it on his profile, describing the incredibly decadent and gluttonous time he had enjoyed. By Sunday, there were more pictures of him; this time drinking shakes that looked suspiciously like the one Jon had made up for him, with a caption that told everyone that the drinking of these was the biggest turn on he had ever experienced.

A few more weeks went by. For the first time ever, Jon had been asked to accompany Daniel to a hotel in Toronto where they were meeting with huge new clients and putting the finishing touches to a major project they had been working on with them for quite some time; one that would be the crown jewel of Jon’s CV if it all came together.

“This place is unreal!” Jon gasped as they arrived in the hotel lobby. “Have you seen the spa facilities?” he asked, showing Daniel a copy of the brochure he had been perusing whilst his boss had been checking them in.

“Go for it!” Daniel chuckled as their bags were carried ahead of them up to their rooms. “It’s all on the company account. They stand to make a lot of money on this, so take full advantage. The flight home isn’t until Thursday.”

Despite the optimism, the work schedule had been surprisingly gruelling since they had arrived in Toronto. It wasn’t until the Wednesday that things started to relax and the two men could finally spend a little more time enjoying the lavish hotel. A confident Jon strode into the changing rooms with his chubby boss. He’d never been shy about his own body. He’d always been taller and better built than most guys, and he had learned that, even when flaccid, his penis was significantly bigger than the average. 

If anything, Jon was most curious about whether he would later end up reading about the experience of getting changed in front of Daniel on the guy’s feederism profile. It had been some weeks since there had been anything written about him whatsoever, with Daniel writing post after post about his own body instead. Perhaps a little glimpse of Jon’s large, muscular glutes. that the boss’ profile had previously stated he found so alluring, would soon prove to be the key to correcting that.

Daniel’s undersized swimming trunks pinched at the guy’s back fat like nothing Jon had ever seen before. It was as if his former athletic body was still perfectly visible, yet the puddles of fat invaded it all from above, not yet fully integrated, but simply leeching onto wherever it could. Jon had to admit that even he had been shocked at how Daniel looked without a shirt on now. Sure, he’d seen pictures on the feederism website, but that hadn’t prepared him for the fluttering of the back fat when he walked behind Daniel into the sauna, nor the way it all rolled up when he sat his wide butt down in the dry heat.

“Does this sauna feel hotter than most others?” Daniel asked, sweating so much that his whole blubbery body glistened.

Jon looked at him and chuckled. “I was just thinking how much less intense it is in here than the ones I’ve been to in the past.”

Daniel threw his sweaty head back against the wooden walls and tried to breathe a little deeper. “It must just be me then.”

“Or, it could be all this recently installed insulation,” Jon joked, poking his boss in his tummy and being genuinely surprised at how far his finger went in with so little effort; especially after how tightly the man had packed his gut at breakfast. “Being a hit with the ladies does have its consequences!”

Daniel nodded and seemed to relax a little more, grabbing a roll of his fat and jiggling it. “It’s all come on so fast,” he agreed. “My friends back in New York will be so shocked when I see them.”

“Of course they will,” Jon smiled. “You’re a fat boy now.”

Daniel grinned. “I really do love it!”

“I know you do,” Jon laughed. “It’s hot!” he blasted, suddenly realising that he was being a little too forward. “I mean… you know, it’s hot when fat girls really embrace it and let you play with their fat; maybe feed them a little,” he added. The pair of them had discussed their love of larger ladies in the past, but their conversations had never gone as far as talking about feeding them.

Daniel’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Actually…” he smiled. “There’s a girl I met online. She’s really keen to… be the one to feed me.”

“Oh…right,” Jon replied awkwardly. The conversation and gentle flirting had been so fun, but hearing that there was someone else ready to take on all the hard work that Jon had begun with Daniel actually made his teeth clench with jealousy. “What’s she like?” he asked.

“She’s so hot!” Daniel beamed. “We’ve only met a few times but…”

“You’ve actually met her?” Jon asked, feeling even more scorned now.

“Oh, yeah!” Daniel nodded, delighted with himself. “We’re actually dating.”

Jon listened as Daniel droned on and on about the new love in his life. He’d always felt somewhat in control of the situation; that he could snap his fingers and make the guy fall for him, should he ever wish for it. Yet now there was someone else. He’d waited too long. Perhaps Daniel had never really been into him as much as his profile made out. 

Daniel wouldn’t have noticed how pissed off Jon felt, yet he still made his excuses, heading out of the sauna, claiming that he needed to make a phone call before their first meeting. But, inside, he was silently devastated.

“We’re glad we’ve finally got you on your own,” smiled Holly, the main business associate they had been dealing with in Toronto. “We’ve been very impressed with you this week and would like to invite you into discussions about coming to work with us in the very near future.”

Jon’s eyes widened. A job offer?

“Let me ask you, how would you feel about relocating here to Canada?”

“Um, well…” Jon murmured, hardly knowing what to say. He thought all the hard negotiations had been completed yesterday. Then he thought back to Daniel and how let down he had felt. As a man who had always been able to keep people hanging on his every word, he suddenly felt childishly spiteful towards sticking around for Daniel; especially if the guy was going to go off and date someone else anyway. “Sure,” he nodded. “I’m up to discuss that.”

Besides the outrageous rental prices, Toronto had turned out to be an awesome place to work and live. Jon was earning well over twice his salary at his old job and, in the three years that he had lived there, he had fallen for a girl on his team; even becoming engaged at one point.

However, things were now starting to fall apart. His relationship was over, thanks to a pregnancy scare that had uncovered a fast chasm of difference in the pair’s priorities and life goals. Also, following a car accident his father had been in, Jon came to realise that his parents were not getting any younger. Canada had been great, but it was time to move back home.

Jon began what he assumed would be a long process of trying to find a job that was even comparable to his salary in Toronto. However, the portfolio of work he had put together from his time there was a serious draw to anyone who had his CV wafted under their nose. Within a week of looking, Jon had accepted a position at a prestigious company he could never have dreamed of taking him on three years ago.

“The team are all very keen to meet you,” Gina explained, leading Jon around the new offices the company now occupied in the very heart of the city. 

Everyone seemed very nice and friendly. Jon had been glad that he had worn his tightest shirt and pants as he could already see his appearance was going to earn him a lot of favour with the heavily overbalanced, majority female, staff members.

“Danny usually works from home on a Monday,” Gina explained, taking Jon into the large office that was next to his own. “But he’s come in especially today so that he can get you up to speed on things.”

A massively overweight man rose to his feet as they entered, his hand already outstretched to shake as he moved out from behind his desk. 

Even as Jon took his hand, the realisation didn’t hit him until he looked deeply into the man’s eyes. ““Daniel!” he laughed. But how was this so? He was barely recognizable, with a huge ring of fat now surrounding and framing his face; well shaved skin and an extreme double chin having entirely swallowed his neck.  “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“About eighteen months or so now,” Daniel nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you’d been hired. Head of marketing, huh?” he chuckled. “I guess I’ll be accountable to you when it comes to that department,” he joked, appreciating the reversal of roles.

Gina took an interest in Daniel and Jon’s previous work together. As Daniel explained it all, Jon had the opportunity to look down and see just what had happened to his old boss. Exactly how had that little pot belly exploded into such a monstrously wide gut? How had his fleshy chest suddenly become adorned with breasts that were larger than most girls’? And how did he move about these days with thighs so incredibly thick and juicy?

“I’ll leave you with Danny to get reacquainted, and he can guide you through the account I referenced earlier,” Gina smiled, making her way towards the door. As soon as it closed, both men seemed to give a great sigh of relief and looked at each other, grinning.

“Look at you!” Jon marvelled, sending his eyes straight onto Daniel’s giant gut. “You look so different! You certainly know how to take an idea and run with it!”

Daniel smiled and reached out his hand to touch the extent of his giant tummy. Even his hands had filled with fat; mere dimples where his knuckles had once been, and sweet little creases of skin where his wrists began. “I recently hit four, sixty,” he grinned, seemingly loving Jon’s startled reaction

The last three years had suddenly evaporated. Jon fell back into feeling completely relaxed around Daniel as he circled around to get a look at the guy from behind. His ass had completely blown up and the love handles were enormous! “I can’t believe you took it this far!” he laughed, unafraid to show his sheer delight. “Is this the work of the girlfriend you were seeing before I left for Canada?”

Daniel pondered for a second, wondering who it was Jon was referring to. Then he shook his head. “No… this has been all me,” he smiled, placing his hands on his wide hips. “With, perhaps just the odd bit of help from a feeder or two over the years,” he winked.

“Awesome, dude!” Jon smiled. “Absolutely awesome!”

“I agree!” Daniel smirked, sitting his giant ass back down at his desk with a plop. “Although, the back fat is rather interesting at the moment,” he chuckled, lifting his arms and showing just how much blubber had filled under his armpits, visible even through his giant work shirt. He tried reaching for some of it, but it was obvious that his body was becoming too wide for the man to reach everywhere.

Such a sight gave Jon an instant erection like nothing else he had experienced around Daniel before. He followed suit, sitting down as fast as he could in order to disguise it.

“You look no different at all,” Daniel laughed, finally content to move on.

“Excuse me!” Jon joked, raising his arms and flexing his biceps in his tight shirt. “These guns have never been bigger, actually!” He tried breathing deeply, but his sudden arousal was so much to cope with. Perhaps it had blended with his nerves about starting a new job, but he almost felt out of control; as if his mouth could run away and say something horny and stupid at any moment. “So, are we going out for lunch today, like we did in the old days?”

Daniel grinned. “Actually, I think Gina has plans for you over lunch.”

“Well… fuck her,” Jon shot back impatiently. He hadn’t felt this aroused since he was a teenager. “I want to catch up with my old buddy instead.”

Daniel’s smirk was something new entirely. He seemed to have a confidence about him in this new body; not so shy and humorless as he had once been. He inhabited the life of a massively obese man in a way that only made him ever more enticing. “How about dinner instead?” he asked. “Do you have plans after work?”

“No,” Jon lied, deciding to cancel everything that stood in his way.

After the long day, Jon headed straight into Daniel’s office to find that the large man wasn’t there. 

Jon curiously took a tour of the room, spotting several candy wrappers in the little trash bucket. He pulled open the drawers, failing to find anything useful for an office worker. All of them were filled with the very worst, most fattening snacks available. Jon laughed as he sank his hand down into the drawer, lifting some out and dropping them like confetti back inside. “Oh, Piggy!” he sighed in helpless lust. “What the fuck have you been doing to yourself!”

Thankfully, Jon soon returned from the bathroom and the pair of them were quickly making their way to a cab that Daniel had booked. It was obvious that the big man walked very little around this city.

“So, where is good to eat around here these days?” Jon asked, looking out of the window and seeing that so much had changed.

“There’s an all-you-can-eat place right by my apartment,” Daniel explained. His mouth seemed to water at the mere mention of food and he swallowed the saliva that was building up. “I thought we could go there.”

Jon nodded in agreement, excited to see just what kind of damage a big man like Daniel could do in a buffet these days. He smiled to himself, wondering whether Daniel had bought his apartment in this area because of the buffet place only a few feet from his building, or whether it had all been one giant coincidence. He suspected not.

“Evening, Danny,” sighed the server as they turned up, giving Jon the impression that the fat man’s appearance was just a regular part of the monotony of her daily routine. “A table for two tonight, huh?”

Daniel stepped aside a little more so that Jon could be seen and he introduced him. They headed to a table that was referred to as Daniel’s ‘usual spot’ and she left them be whilst she got their drinks.

“We’re a little early tonight,” Daniel whispered. “The good dishes usually come out at six.”

“You really know your stuff!” Jon laughed, watching as Daniel’s greedy eyes scrutinised the staff as they prepared the buffet for the changeover; listening as the saliva was building in the guy’s gluttonous mouth and witnessing him having to swallow it down several times. However, the fat man was not wrong. Within minutes, the buffet was filled with fresh new dishes, and the two men got up to start. 

Jon followed on behind, eager to take in the view of Daniel from behind. Just what the hell had happened to the guy’s hips? From this angle, the man was so incredibly wide! His butt had swollen and stretched itself outwards in all directions; the fat in his love handles bouncing and rocking with each step he took, slowly untucking his work shirt. The glutton seemed like such an expert at filling his plate, selecting the best parts of the buffet and leaving the cheaper fillings, such as the rice and the breads. It was no secret that he knew what he was doing, openly boasting about how much he had read up on how to get the best value out of these types of places as the pair of them sat down.

Jon ate slowly, whilst Daniel was up and down, fetching himself more and more. So incredibly turned on by this vast display of greed, Jon fiddled in his pockets, trying to reposition his erection so that he could stand up when needed and not expose his arousal to everyone else in the restaurant. After three years of being in a relationship with a girl from his office, Jon hadn’t explored anything to do with this world of eating and weight gain, and it was only after this encounter that he fully understood just how linked to his own sexuality it all was: nothing turned him on more.

“I am STUFFED!” Daniel chuckled about fifty minutes later, having gorged his way through most of the main courses on offer, as well as several of the dessert items. He slapped his hand on his lage stomach, not seeming to notice how strained the buttons had become.

“You’re leaving those?” Jon asked, surprised to see two macrons left to the side of Daniel’s final plate.

Daniel looked down at them. He sighed and gave an uncomfortable burp. “It’s okay. They’re not so good from here anyway.”

“Even so…” Jon smiled mischievously. “You can’t ruin your clean sweep. You’ve cleared every other plate.”

Daniel grinned. “I’d forgotten how much you used to encourage me in the early days,” he laughed. Even so, he looked down at those macrons, sighed in fullness and then shook his head. “No,” he winced. “Trust me. I’m done!”

“Surely there must be something I can do to persuade you?” Jon asked, trying to think on his feet. More than anything else, he didn’t quite feel ready to stand up and leave just yet. “How about I buy you a coffee on the way to work each morning next week?”

Daniel pulled a face. He’d never been a great lover of coffee.

“I’ll buy you a new plant for your desk,” Jon tried again, having noticed that Daniel’s current office plant was withered and mostly dead. He searched through his memory to try and recall the things used to motivate Daniel back when he knew him best. “I’ll let you feel my bigger biceps,” he offered cheekily, flexing them and never expecting his bribe to work.

Daniel considered for only a second, then he nodded and threw a macron straight into his mouth at a speed Jon had not been expecting, laughing, even with his mouth full, at Jon’s shocked expression. He then reached across to get a feel of a stunned Jon’s muscle. “Okay,” the fat man nodded. “They definitely are bigger than last time,” he admitted, mumbling after swallowing most of it down. 

Jon grinned. He couldn’t believe that it had worked. Then again, Daniel had always claimed to be obsessed with his body in those early days. 

Still one macron sat on the plate, unclaimed. “Eat that other one for me and…” Jon pondered, considering whether he should go as far as he was now considering, “...I’ll let you feel up my glutes next.”

Daniel’s pig-like eyes widened in surprise. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then, although he had not been able to bring himself to even swallow the last of the previous macron, he pushed the final one into his mouth, accepting the offer; forcing himself to chew and swallow them both down at long last.

Nothing was said about heading back to Daniel’s place afterwards. The two men simply got up and started walking until they reached the fat man’s building. There, they got into the elevator and made their way up to the top floor, all whilst making inconsequential small talk to fill the time.

Daniel’s apartment was large and flashy. He had great views over the city and his kitchen was straight out of a home decor magazine. But the place was also scruffy and filled with furniture that was oversized and awkwardly positioned. Take out boxes sat on the top of his coffee table, providing the slight stale odour that filled the space. However, Daniel simply seemed oblivious to it, heading straight to a massive chair in front of his TV and sighing with relief as his massive form dropped into it with a confidence in its constriction that did not seem warranted.

“This is where a lot of the magic happens,” Daniel smiled. “I’ve pushed so many calories into myself right here, in this chair.”

Jon laughed. “Not just you pushing them in either, I bet,” he teased. “You don’t grow a gut like that without a lot of encouragement.”

Daniel nodded and smirked with a confidence in himself that Jon had never seen in him before today. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking around the space and rubbing the top of his fat gut. “I’ve had a lot of fun in this apartment.” His eyes then locked on Jon’s. “And now it’s time for you to pay the piper,” he joked, beckoning him over. “That last macron wasn’t easy!”

“You want to touch the finest glutes in the city?” Jon laughed. He wanted to act casual so that he could still walk out of there with his head held high should this not go in the direction he desperately hoped it would.

Jon made his way over, positioning himself so that his back was turned to Daniel and his pert butt within reach. He heard the fat man grunt as he repositioned himself on the edge of his seat, then, two chubby hands reached out and moulded themselves onto the shapely, firm masses, exploring every inch.

Both men gave a sigh as all the pent up sexual tension finally started to release. Jon felt himself being pulled back a little more by his belt. Then, even Daniel’s nose was rolling over the material, his lips kissing each glute in turn. “Beautiful!” the fat man whispered.

It was at that point that things became all too much for Jon. His hands reached down to his belt and he unbuckled faster than he ever had in his life, pulling his thick erection out and handling it in the way he had wanted to all day. He spun around, staring only at Daniel’s greedy little mouth. “Open up, Fat Boy…” he growled, letting his lust completely get the better of him.

Despite his coarseness, Daniel’s mouth slid straight over the hardness and began working straight away; his hands holding firmly onto Jon’s strong hips and pulling him in closer. 

Jon moaned aloud. It never failed to catch him off guard how great guys often were at giving head, but three years in a monogamous relationship had also lowered his expectations when it came to genuine sexual thrills like this. Daniel’s mouth was so filled with saliva, his tongue so expertly gifted at working whatever was placed on top of it; Jon felt like he could climax in no time at all. Instead, he pulled back, quickly undressing himself further and allowing Daniel to do the same once he stood back up again.

Suddenly, all that incredible flesh was being unveiled. Even after staring at Daniel’s body for so much of the day, Jon had never imagined that the guy’s nipples would sag quite so much. His giant gut was so heavy and squishy, his love handles rolling into several folds of fat that wrapped around into his back. His arms were so large and puffy, his thighs so genuinely overfilled with blubber, his calves looked positively tiny and weak in comparison. But then Daniel lifted his gut a little and reached under to grab at his almost hidden hardness, his forearm jiggling all the lard in his stomach as the fat man attempted to pleasure himself.

“Are you impressed?” Daniel asked, knowing that despite how hot and muscular Jon was, it was his own body that was the star of the show right at that moment.

“Yes,” Jon replied, tugging at himself as he watched Daniel doing the same.

“Did you ever imagine I’d get this big?” he asked next, clearly arousing himself more with his own questions.

Jon shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you to get this big,” he answered honestly; awe-struck by how extremely obese his former boss now was. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Daniel moaned and tugged at himself more, grunting with the effort of having to reach his chubby hand into his groin. “I’m nowhere near finished yet, either,” he continued, grabbing at his stomach fat with his other hand. “I still want so much more!”

Jon sighed in appreciation of the display in front of him. There were so many rolls and folds. He could spend weeks exploring and fucking every single one; never getting bored.

Stepping closer to Daniel, Jon slipped his large hand around the back of the big man’s head and pulled him in for the most lust-filled kiss of his life.

“Don’t worry, Fatty,” he grinned, finally having the freedom to tease Daniel just as he had always wanted. “I started you off on this journey…” he whispered, grabbing at the flab and jiggling it. “...And I’m going to be the one to finish the job!”

Daniel nodded submissively, his hand taken away from his own hardness and replaced with Jon’s strong, firm grip upon it instead. “Whatever you say,” he moaned back; his piggy little eyes already rolling back into his head at the sensation. “You’re the boss.”

Jon’s erection seemed to swell ever more. “Say that again!” he teased with excitement, manoeuvring the fat man so that they both slipped into the nearby bedroom. Daniel was spun around and he gladly fell upon the edge of the bed, his wide rump exposed.

“You’re the boss!” the large, horny man declared, spreading his legs wider, knowing exactly what he needed Jon to do next. “You’re the only boss I ever want!”

Jon marvelled at the sight before him, knowing that nothing would ever come close to exciting him in the way that this did. He lubricated and pushed himself inside, enjoying every single powerful thrust he made: the sheer scale of the man he was fucking, the way all the fat and blubber rocked and jiggled. Feeding and pounding Daniel was the only thing he ever needed.

“I should hope so!” Jon declared, slapping the wide butt that was so willingly taken. “I’ll be giving you your performance review in a couple of weeks…” he teased, starting to thrust harder and harder. “I’m going to need you to bring your A-Game appetite and really step things up for me.”

Daniel moaned and nodded in agreement; every fantasy in his kinky little brain starting to come to life.

“Your new boss is a real bastard,” Jon laughed. “He’s going to push you harder than ever before, Fatso!” 

Jon slowed his pace slightly, allowing the huge man a short relief; sliding in and out with more tenderness and caring.

“But be prepared, piggy…” Jon smiled, starting to ramp up the pace yet again; his strong thighs beginning to come into their own. “...I need results. And, I’m sure as hell going to get them…”

God this is so hot! 🥵 I’d love to do this to a feedee OR have the right feeder do it to me 😳

Tommy's Two Hundred

From the moment Tommy had joined the gay dating app, he’d spotted that the closest person to him geographically was a catfish. It was obvious from the little thumbnail picture that no one with a body that good could live so close by and him not know about it. The picture, showing the massive pecs and toned six pack were guaranteed to have been stolen from some straight bodybuilder somewhere in the world; but definitely not anyone who lived within at least two hundred miles of this backwards town in the middle of nowhere. The guy was probably some lonely, middle aged man seeking some attention that he did not deserve; attention that Tommy had no intention of bestowing upon him.

With his good looks and average height, Tommy soon found himself on a couple of dates with guys from the app. Some a little older; a couple still in college. He always got himself so excited before each one, having enjoyed endless kinky exchanges beforehand, back and forth. He liked it when the guys led the conversation with their horny talk, getting most aroused when they spoke about dominating him and tying him up. He gave these virtual suitors a deep, authorative voice in his head as he read out their messages, imagining the ways they’d seek their pleasure from him. In these fantasies, he built an entire persona for his dates; the way they spoke, the way they acted; the things they would do to him after getting back. He was his own worst enemy. No one could live up to such expectations. Despite being bold and brave behind the keyboard of their cell phones, the guys were never as Tommy pictured them in real life. They were polite and friendly; a little kinky perhaps, but only behind closed doors. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Tommy’s bubble to burst, leaving him stuck on a dull date with another boring Mr Average. 

As Valentine’s Day rolled around once more, Tommy felt the sting of still being single at the age of twenty-four. Friends, who thought they were being helpful, lamented about how difficult it was to understand why a guy so good looking and successful was still on the shelf. Tommy, however, knew that he just wasn’t being plain enough with people about what he was really after. He’d wasted more than a couple of years of his time on guys who were never going to please him in the ways he most wanted. If he was going to find the man of his dreams, he would need to start his dating profile from scratch.

Stripping his shirt and binding his hands with rope, Tommy posed for his new profile picture. He updated his username to include his submissive nature. Then, it was finally time to work on the profile itself. He stripped it bare of the mundane details about his favourite hobbies and movies, his education and aspirations. In their place, he went to town about his kinky interests and desires. He wanted to submit himself to someone entirely, openly and without reservations. Like a form of cosmic ordering, he outlined in great detail the sort of kinky, dominant guy he was on the lookout for, and ended by posting a further picture of his toned, naked body, wrists and ankles bound with handcuffs.

With breathless excitement, Tommy saved his changes and waited with fizzing excitement for his first messages. 

Nothing. Sure, his profile had had lots of views, but no one had felt compelled enough by it to reach out. 

Days went by. Tommy began to feel that he had made a mistake; that he had exposed himself and his kinks too openly on the app. Perhaps, rather than being turned on by his pictures and words, they were laughing at him instead; his extreme submissive fantasies, too weird and niche for anyone to actually want to meet him. Maybe the man of his horny dreams didn’t actually exist.

By the end of the second week, Tommy had made up his mind to delete the account. He gave his profile one final read, cringing as he tried to imagine it from another person’s perspective, then he stormed onto the app settings and found the exact link he needed to erase it entirely.

Just as he did so, Tommy saw a message pop up on the screen: 

‘Nice profile.’ 

Assuming sarcasm, Tommy skeptically tapped his way into his inbox and rolled his eyes when he saw that the message had actually come from the catfish profile of the guy who supposedly lived right here in town. 

‘Thanks,’ he typed back, determined that he would never be rude enough to ignore anyone who messaged him.

‘If you’re really as submissive as you claim, I’d be very interested in meeting you,’ came the next response.

Again, Tommy rolled his eyes at the fake profile picture. However, given that in five minutes time he would be deleting the app for good anyway, why not just click on the profile and take a look?

What Tommy saw next altered his perspective entirely. He didn’t care if the profile picture was a fake; a guy who could write like that, so erotically, about his desires to dominate, could look however they wanted to in real life. Tommy needed to meet them.

What followed over the next couple of hours was a kinky exchange where Tommy literally poured his heart and soul out to the mystery man on the other end. No one had ever shown such an interest in his kinks, nor drawn them out of him with such precision. So, when the offer of a meet at the coffee house in town came up, he didn’t think twice.

Sitting with his back to the door, Tommy waited patiently, but with a realistic mindset that a guy with a fake profile picture was unlikely to ever actually show up. Then, suddenly, he felt a large, warm hand land on his shoulder and a deep, masculine voice rumble into his ear. “Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t turn his head. He wanted to preserve that catfished image of the man he had been messaging for just a few moments longer. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw that very same man appear in the flesh. Tall, strapping, muscular and handsome; it was as if a beautiful, mid-twenties Greek god had just arrived in his hometown; from out of absolutely nowhere. 

“I’m Hunter,” the guy smiled, reaching out his large hand to shake.

Tommy couldn’t help admitting to the fact that he hadn’t believed Hunter’s profile pictures to be real, and Hunter nodded, saying that he had been told the same thing many times. He seemed pleased by Tommy’s appearance too, stroking his knee gently under the table as they settled into their first real conversation.

A few moments later, Hunter was up and ordering coffees for them both. Tommy turned to catch the guy from behind as he stood at the counter: so tall, with such perfect glutes and that broad back adorned with muscular shoulders. Was this really Tommy’s lunchtime date?

Hunter soon returned carrying a tray with coffees and, surprisingly, a large slice of triple chocolate cake, which he placed in front of Tommy. 

Politely, Tommy thanked him for it, even though he had not asked for something to eat and actually felt a little awkward picking at it when Hunter did not have anything himself.

“I wanted to discuss our sexual interests,” Hunter stated next, steering the conversation when Tommy seemed to be taking it down a more mundane path. “The domination and submission.”

Tommy felt his cheeks getting hot. There were another two couples close by; probably within earshot. But Hunter didn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

“What do you want to know?” Tommy replied excitedly.

“Actually, I think it's time that you listened to me instead,” Hunter replied sternly, putting Tommy in his place perfectly. “It’s lucky that I saw your profile as I don’t use that app much for meeting guys.”

“Where do you usually meet guys?” Tommy asked, sensing that Hunter had paused for him to ask just such a question.

“A few places,” Hunter shrugged, flicking through his cell phone. “These are some of my previous subs,” he offered, holding up his phone and swiping through pictures of himself next to other guys in various forms of submission to him: on their knees, bound and gagged, you name it. “Do you notice anything in particular about the guys I sleep with?” Hunter asked next. His tone was serious and it was obvious that he wanted Tommy to respond in much the same way.

The answer came to Tommy immediately, but he squirmed as he tried to think of a way to reply to Hunter, without seeming rude. “Well, you’re so…” he mumbled, gesturing towards Hunter’s powerful body and chest. “And yet, these guys here… there’re a bit…”

“They’re fatties,” Hunter stated for him; obviously not one to dress his language up. “I need you to just come out with it in the future when I ask you questions,” he stated frankly. “That’s the way I work. No bullshit.”

Tommy nodded, feeling turned on by how direct Hunter could be. Having discussed in such detail what his dream dominant would be, it was almost as if Hunter was slotting perfectly into place. 

“Why fatties?” Tommy asked, hoping that mirroring Hunter’s language would please him.

“Because fatties turn me on,” Hunter replied plainly. “I work hard to build my body up. So when I fuck a sub, I need him to be soft and doughy for me.” He reached over to the plate of half eaten cake in front of Tommy and gave it a gentle nudge. 

Tommy’s eyes bulged. Hunter wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like to bullshit. His meaning couldn’t have been clearer. “So, you bought me the cake because…” he mumbled. He considered leaving it there and posing it as a question to Hunter, but he got the sense that the dominant hunk in front of him wanted him to just say what he believed to be true. “You bought me the cake to… soften me up.”

Hunter smiled for the first time in a few minutes and he leaned in, putting his giant hand back on Tommy’s knee. “That’s right,” he nodded, seeming to be genuinely delighted that Tommy had been frank with him. “Submission for me, is more than just slipping on a pair of handcuffs during sex. Submission is a lifestyle. It should be your entire body. You should wear it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

Feeling his heart beating faster and his palms sweating simply from hearing Hunter’s deep voice speaking at such a volume about things, without a care in the world, Tommy nodded. “I agree,” he answered. “Submission should be a lifestyle.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Hunter nodded again, his eyes now fixed on the still half eaten cake.

“Oh,” Tommy shook himself, picking up his fork again and popping the next bit of cake into his mouth. Instinctively, he apologised and Hunter did not correct him for it.

“I’m not going to lie,” Hunter stated, nodding subtly with approval. “I think this could work between us.”

“You do?” Tommy shot back with so much delight that he immediately wanted to punch himself in the face for it. “That’s cool,” he nodded, trying to seem more relaxed.

“We’ll meet at my place next time,” Hunter told him, draining his coffee as if this interview was already over. “I’ll message you on the app.”

“Okay,” Tommy replied, surprised by how fast the date was over with. 

Hunter leaned in. “And make sure you finish that cake,” he whispered into his ear. “Every last crumb.”

Having Hunter so close sent exciting electrical pulses through Tommy’s brain: the smell of his delicious aftershave, those perfect lips so near to his face. “I will,” he replied sincerely, turning to look Hunter in the face in the hope that they may end with a kiss.

Hunter held Tommy’s gaze, studying him. But Tommy knew better than to be the one to initiate a kiss. “I know you will,” the hunk replied after a few seconds. “You’ll be a good boy,” he chuckled, then turned and walked away without a second glance.

Tommy raced home feeling more elated after a date than ever before. Finally, he had found someone who seemed to relate to him on a level that no one had before. And, unbelievably, the guy was hotter than anyone else he had ever dared to dream of.

Of course, there was the one part of the date that he was less sure about. He hadn’t come across someone so into domination that they had insisted their date consume cake for them. But just because it was a little different, didn’t mean that he had to view it negatively. After all, he’d got quite a kick out of complying, hadn’t he?

“Come on in,” smiled Hunter a few days later, opening the door to his apartment. 

Just as he had stated in his messages, Hunter had not long got in from the gym and still looked a little sweaty, dressed in tight, and particularly short, shorts, together with a well-fitted compression top that showed off every detail of his exquisite body. He was even taller than Tommy realised, making him feel so insignificant standing next to him. He tried not to faint, right there on the spot.

“Rule number one,” Hunter began. “When you come here, you take your clothes off as soon as you get inside.”

Tommy stared up at Hunter, wondering if he was serious. But as the pause continued, Tommy realised that Hunter was waiting for him to comply. He fumbled for a second, then began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling more than a little embarrassed to be doing this straight away. He’d taken so long to pick out his outfit for their second date. What a waste of time that was!

“Come on, quickly!” Hunter prodded him impatiently.

Tommy kicked off his shoes, removing his pants and underwear in one go, knowing that his dick was going to be pathetically hard already. He stood there after awkwardly removing his socks, not knowing whether to cover his hardness, or act like this was normal.

Hunter nodded with approval. He reached down into the pile of discarded clothes and pulled out Tommy’s underwear, holding them up as if for inspection, and gripping the small waist between his fingers. “Cute,” he chuckled to himself, seeming to find them highly amusing.

But Hunter did not throw them back onto the floor. He carried them as he turned into the apartment, clearly expecting the naked Tommy to do the same.

Following the jock inside and admiring those fine, muscular glutes just ahead of him, Tommy had never felt so turned on in his life. It had been immediate, from the moment he stepped inside. He felt, at that moment, that he would have eaten an entire mountain of chocolate cake if Hunter had told him to.

Hunter led him to the kitchen area, where Tommy was surprised to see that the big man was busy preparing a meal for them both, despite not having even showered yet. A good meal was clearly more important to him.

“Smells delicious,” Tommy chirped politely, still unsure whether to cover his boner with his hand as he trotted in.

Hunter raised his eyebrows in recognition of his comment, but did not reply. Instead, he pulled out a chair at his table and pointed for Tommy to sit whilst he went back to stirring and serving it out. 

There was something so sexy about a man in the kitchen. There were so many things on the go and yet Hunter did not seem in the least bit flustered. Everything was under complete control. But as Tommy watched, he noticed that it was all being served onto separate, single plates; not distributed between the two of them as he had expected.

At last, Hunter pulled out a chair and positioned it directly in front of Tommy. Then he sat, spreading his strong legs and looking at his guest seriously. “I enjoyed our date, Tommy. I really did. I think you’re a nice guy and I believe that you would make a great sub for me.”

Tommy smiled back, pleased; feeling the need to tuck his hardness between his thighs whilst Hunter was being so friendly.

“But if I’m going to spend some real time with you, I need to know what you can do. I also need you to see the type of man I really am. You may not like any of what I have planned tonight. You may want to leave. And that’s fine. But at least we'll both know where we stand, and neither of us will get our hopes up, thinking that this is more than what it is.”

Tommy looked from the gorgeous man to the piles of steaming food still on the counter. He knew that Hunter would want him to think for himself and be direct. “You want me to eat this for you, don’t you?” he asked, realising that the chocolate cake slice of their first date had just been the start of whatever kinky play Hunter was into.

Hunter simply nodded. “I want to see how far you’re willing to go for me.” 

The stud sat back, lifted his arms and removed the tight compression shirt he was wearing, revealing his remarkable torso to Tommy for the first time. 

Chuckling slightly at the obviously smitten expression on Tommy’s face, the large guy leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. “Are you ready to do this for me?” he whispered into his guest’s ear, before picking Tommy’s small hands up and placing them on his strapping chest.

The hot, sweet breath on Tommy’s neck, combined with the musky scent of the jock’s body, so firm and strong, made him want to climax there and then. “Yes,” he replied obediently.

Hunter sat back again with a smirk, making Tommy’s hands fall back down. He knew exactly the effect he was having upon the boy. He reached down to the guy’s stomach and, with the back of one finger, he stroked across the light six pack that showed there. “Goodbye, little buddy,” he teased wickedly. Then he stood up, seeming to loom larger than ever without his shirt on, and brought the plates and bowls to the table. 

Armed with only a fork and a spoon, Tommy was expected to feast on all of it.

Luck was on Tommy’s side; he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Plus, Hunter was watching him, rubbing his back sweetly and advising him on what to eat next; taking him back and forth from one dish to another. But something seemed to happen about thirty minutes in. Hunter changed slightly. He’d had a laid back attitude the entire time that Tommy had been there, as if he wouldn’t have been bothered if Tommy cancelled the date and took himself home instead. Maybe he was used to that. But now he was actively supporting; up and about, fetching the furthest plates so that Tommy did not need to reach. The man’s breathing had altered as well, with deeper, more rapid intakes of breath as he watched Tommy eat. Then, with a small glance down, Tommy saw that the thickest hardness had swollen down one side of Hunter’s gym shorts. How incredible! Had Tommy really excited the dominant man that much?

“You’re doing well,” Hunter praised him; his voice deeper and more gravely than Tommy had heard it before. “I’m impressed.”

Tommy’s stretched out stomach began to really hurt about forty minutes in, yet he continued to push himself as far as he could. Some plates were clean now, which Hunter got up and replaced with some dessert items. Tommy had always enjoyed switching back and forth between sweet and savory items, so the additions to the table were more of a help than a hindrance.

Eventually, the time came when Tommy knew he would have to stop. His pace had slowed and he started selecting those easier, lighter items to make the remaining plates look at least a little emptier. “That’s it. I’m done!” he whimpered, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his painfully distended stomach.

Despite expecting cries or protests from Hunter ordering him to finish the pathically small amount of pasta he had left, or gulp down the last few melting scoops of ice cream, Hunter simply sat there, surveying the destruction on the table. “Where did you learn to eat like that?” he asked, seemingly flabbergasted.

Tommy quietly dredged up a burp to relieve some of the pressure and shook his head. “Don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve always had a pretty good appetite.”

Hunter still seemed unable to comprehend what he had witnessed. “I’ve seen some seriously fucking fat boys eat less than half of what you just put away.”

Tommy burped again and found some pleasant relief; more than he was expecting. He knew how expensive the ice cream that Hunter had served him was, and decided to finish it off after all, not wanting to see it go to waste. He could see Hunter staring at him in amazement. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I’ve always had a very fast metabolism.”

“I can soon destroy that,” Hunter growled, giving away just how horny he was. “Natural greed like this… It's incredible. And very rare!” 

“Thanks,” Tommy smiled,unsure what else to say. 

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” Hunter asked next, wrapping a big arm over Tommy’s shoulders, like a snake about to suffocate its prey. “I know you don’t have work in the morning. I can make you breakfast.”

A mixture of relief and arousal swept over Tommy. He’d made such an effort to eat, he’d all but forgotten the fact that he’d need to catch the bus home later.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Hunter teased, as if Tommy needed persuading. He reached for a tiny bottle of lubricant in his shorts and tipped a small amount of it onto his fingertips, before gently massaging the head of Tommy’s hardness.

Tommy gasped and grabbed for the sides of his seat, as if the floor was about to cave in. Hunter was so good at this. All that eating made the oxygen catch in his chest and it took him a few seconds to get his breathing into a rhythmn as Hunter took the reins of pleasuring him. He nodded his head, not wanting to use his voice in that moment for fear of how pathetically weak and needy it might sound.

“Come on Greedy Boy,” Hunter teased him. “Let’s go take a shower together…”

“I can’t come next weekend,” Tommy grinned, addressing his coworkers six weeks later. “I’m away with my boyfriend.” 

As predicted, the whistles of delight sounded in the air as they all made a fuss at the news that their colleague was dating at last. Tommy wasted no time in sharing a picture of the two of them together, sitting in his parents’ lounge. 

“He’s hot!” blasted one of them straight away.

“He looks like he should be on a catwalk!” squeaked another.

Tommy smirked to himself. He loved the reactions he got to pictures of Hunter. Sure, people might have thought he was punching quite significantly above his weight, but he was still the one who got to be fucked by such a hunk, and not them. However, behind that handsome smile and perfect ‘boy next door’ act Hunter laid on astonishingly thick for all of Tommy’s family and friends, lay the kinkiest, most dominant lover he could have ever wished for. The things they got upto in the bedroom satisfied him completely. After years of dating boring guys, Hunter seemed to swoop in and make Tommy fall hopelessly in love with him in only a matter of days. Tommy was utterly devoted to him. And the best part was, Hunter knew it.

“You haven’t really told me much about these friends of yours we’re going to meet this weekend,” Tommy pondered, sitting in the passenger seat and noting how far out into the country they had gone on his online map.

“Well, why bother? You got along with all my other friends,” Hunter chuckled, obviously keeping something from Tommy about this trip.

Tommy sighed. “Yeah, but they were all co-workers and old school buddies. They don’t know… all the sides of your personality,” he replied diplomatically.

“Well, let’s just say, this weekend will be good for us,” Hunter smiled, leaning back and driving smoothly. “These guys are sexy as fuck, and we all like to play together. I’ve been excited to show you off to them since we first started going out. ”

“Show me off?” Tommy asked. “How so?”

“Just you wait and see,” Hunter laughed, adjusting the developing boner he was getting in his crotch. Something about this was exciting him very much. Then he reached his hand across to stroke Tommy’s thigh and brushed off some of the many wrappers from the drive-thru they had stopped at a good few miles back.

The location, when they finally arrived about two hours later, was nothing short of breathtaking. The house was set in the most charming of spots, overlooking the hills; with eight bedrooms, a pool, and the largest hot tub Tommy had ever seen. They entered, Hunter leading the way, only to see several shirtless men all standing around in the kitchen. They cheered when they saw Hunter and came over to greet him with a hug.

Tommy stood back awkwardly. He’d been so stupid in how he had imagined these men in his head. They were not at all as he had envisioned them; all of them round bellied and at varying levels of obesity; not the types of guys that someone in Hunter’s extreme, peak physical condition would have been expected to associate with. But, then again, Hunter had always said that he preferred fat guys.

“And this is my new boyfriend, Tommy,” Hunter finally stated, pulling Tommy forward to greet them all.

There was a look of surprise on all the guys’ faces. One of them furrowed their eyebrows, as if about to ask whether Hunter was being serious. Then, the first one stepped forward and shook his hand warmly; followed by the rest of them, one by one.

“That was a little weird,” Tommy whispered as the pair of them went up to the bedroom that had been assigned to them: thre master suite no less. “Did they not know that you’re dating?”

“No, they knew,” Hunter smirked, undressing himself and slipping on his tiny swim shorts to head out to the pool. “I date fat guys, remember. I’ve fucked and dominated every one of them in my time,” he continued, checking his perfect hair in the mirror. “So when I told them I was dating the fucking greediest, sexiest guy I’d ever met, they’d probably assumed you were a lot larger.”

“Wait. So do they know that you…” Tommy asked.

“These guys know everything. That’s why I was so excited for this weekend. We can just relax and be ourselves, without having to worry. I can cook mountains of food for you, just like normal, then bring you up here, tie you up and fuck you all night long,” he grinned, striding over to Tommy and kissing him. “Now, get changed,” he ordered, throwing some swim shorts at him.

“Looking good!” growled one of the men as Hunter led the way down the stairs. “I’ve never seen you looking so chiselled.”

Hunter stood and soaked in all of their comments, comically flexing and posing for them all. Then he smirked and tapped one of the guys on his gut. “I could say the same to you, buddy,” he nodded. “This overhang has really gotten a lot bigger since the last time I saw you.”

Tommy inhaled slightly with shock at Hunter’s rudeness. He looked for signs of offense, until he saw that the man instead looked mightily pleased with himself. “Paul has been feeding me a big tub of ice cream before bed every night,” he pointed over at another large bellied guy in the corner, who was obviously his partner. 

“Well, it’s really working,” Hunter smiled at him, giving him a deep, horny kiss. “I’m doing the same with this little guy,” he continued, pulling Tommy closer to him. “He was still living with his parents when I met him, but I’ve got him with me most of the time these days. That’s making things easier. Ice cream before bed is one of the things I started him on straight away,” he stated proudly.

The eyes of the men studied Tommy’s body in his swim shorts.

“I’m having to break down his incredibly fast metabolism. It’s not ideal. But if I turn him around, you can see,” Hunter explained, spinning a light and clueless Tommy around and bending him down so that his small butt faced the men instead. “There’s a little more softness forming around his lower back and…” he continued, dropping Tommy’s swim shorts slightly so that his butt cheeks showed, “...his glutes and thighs are filling up a lot more than when I first met him.”

Hunter tapped Tommy’s butt, creating a short ripple.

“Do you see it?” he asked them all.

With his head down, facing away from them, Tommy didn’t know if the guys had nodded in agreement. 

“Do you think he’s going to be quite bottom heavy then?” another of the men asked, clearly feeling that Tommy’s butt was wothy of discussion.

“Possibly,” Hunter agreed. “It’s a bit too early to tell. There aren’t many fatties in his family for me to get a good idea of how he might develop. That was one of the first things I checked. But he’s quit the gym to spend more time with me, so that should speed things up a little.”

Tommy felt his swim shorts getting pulled back up and a sweet kiss being placed on his forehead by his boyfriend. Then he was spun back to face the others, just as they all started chuckling with amusement to themselves, noticing the hardness that had developed in Tommy’s crotch during their conversation about him.

Hunter soon noticed as well and joined in the laughing, patting Tommy on his butt proudly. “He’s a kinky little fucker too!” he smirked, repositioning himself behind Tommy, rolling his big strong arms around the smaller guy’s shoulders and gently rubbing his crotch into his lover’s rear.

“I take it he’s a sub?” Paul asked from the corner.

“Of course,” Hunter shot back, gently nibbling Tommy’s ear. “One of the most obedient I’ve ever had,” he whispered. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Tommy?” he teased, reaching one arm down to stroke the hardness in Tommy’s shorts, even with all the other guys there.

Tommy’s head flopped back against Hunter’s shoulder. In this situation, he felt so crazily out of control, yet it was arousing him in ways he could not explain.

“Anyway, come on, Piggy,” Hunter finally ordered, pulling his large hand out from Tommy’s crotch. “Let’s go try out the pool.” He tapped his lover on his butt, admiring the slight flutter that spread into the guy’s thighs. “But remember, not too much exercise for you. I don’t want you to spoil all the fast food calories I bought you earlier.”

Dinner was served a couple of hours later: a vast spread of multiple dishes, prepared by the varying couples in attendance. They sat in the shade, all of them in their swim shorts, and some of the men spilling out of the tight patio chairs that the rental property had for its guests.

“You finished already, Danny?” Hunter asked the significantly overweight man across the table. “Tommy will be nowhere near finished. He’s got at least another twenty minutes in him,” he boasted.

“It is extraordinary,” one of the others nodded in agreement, seeing how easily Tommy was packing it all in. “Is this how he usually is?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hunter nodded, reaching over and spooning on another large serving of cheesy pasta, as if he was psychically linked to his boyfriend and knew exactly what he wanted. “He can go like this for every meal: breakfast, lunch, dinner… He’s also a great little snacker as well. I need to eat frequently throughout the day to keep this physique up,” he explained, tensing his large biceps. “So it’s easy to get this one eating with me, and it still never spoils his appetite when dinner time rolls around.”

“How are his family feeling about him dating a feeder?” Danny asked, eyes still on Tommy as he continued to consume.

“It’s still early days,” Hunter replied. “He’s not really started to fatten up properly yet and take shape. Plus, they absolutely love me. I have his mom eating out of the palm of my hand! I’m sure the idea that I’m fattening their son won’t cross their minds for some time yet.”

“What’s his recovery time like?” Danny’s slightly slimmer husband asked next.

“Pretty good,” Hunter nodded again. “After he’s done here, I’ll take him upstairs, jack him off and then let him sleep for a couple of hours. Then he’ll be back up and ready for something else before bed,” he laughed, rubbing his boy’s back sweetly.

Tommy listened to it all as he continued to eat. Below the table, his hardness was weeping into his swim trunks. It wasn’t at all how he anticipated the life of a submissive, but it was still absolutely perfect, hearing Hunter boast about his control over him to all his friends.

“Are you struggling there, Fat Boy?” Hunter grinned as he watched the enormous Jack trying to repack his suitcase in the middle of the lounge that Sunday.

Tommy could tell that Jack was Hunter’s favourite of all the fat guys; most likely because was the softest of them all; partly due to his shorter height, making him rounder and more spherical than the others. Tommy had been with his boyfriend long enough to know when Hunter was getting horny and he sensed the spark of arousal within him each time Jack waddled on by, dressed only in his swim trunks all weekend.

Jack wiped his brow and nodded. “I’m not as sprightly as I used to be.”

Hunter chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Harry has done an awesome job on you. All that fresh fat in that big gut…” He growled in approval, admiring it all. His hardness was getting too much for him and he pulled Tommy gently down into his crotch to pleasure him whilst they spoke.

“I think you’ve got a good one there too,” Jack nodded over at Tommy, sucking away, as ordered.

Hunter sighed with pride and slapped Tommy on his butt, as he crouched across the sofa. “He will be. He just needs time to get into my ways.”

“He looks pretty obedient to me,” Jack chuckled.

“Oh, definitely! Like I said, he’s one of the best subs I’ve ever had. Decent blow job skills too,” he sighed, really starting to feel Tommy’s work now. “I just need to take down this metabolism of his.” He gazed down at the back of Tommy’s head bobbing up and down in his crotch. “I need every part of him to submit to me.”

Jack nodded knowingly, trotting over and rubbing Tommy’s butt as well. “Don’t worry, Hunter. I know you. You’ll have him under control very soon now...”

Over the next few weeks, Tommy felt a creeping tightness in his workpants. He stared in the mirror, hardly believing that the swollen glutes and thicker thighs were actually his. In his constantly bloated state, he hadn’t noticed the disappearance of his light six pack, as a thickening layer of fat began to spread itself around his waist. In fact, it was only as he jumped down from his office chair after finding something on the top shelf of a cupboard, that he noticed the first flutter of that fat, especially in his chest. But after that day, everything seemed to spiral.

“Hunter, I need you to come to my work,” Tommy whispered down the phone.

“Why?” Hunter asked, clearly in the middle of a training session with one of his clients at his gym.

“I bent down to pick up my pen and…”

“You ripped your pants,” Hunter finished for him. “About time. Did anyone see?”

“No,” Tommy replied with relief.

“That’s a shame,” Hunter sighed in disappointment. “And now you want me to drop everything and head over to deliver some larger pants for you?”

“Yes, please!” Tommy begged, knowing that his dominant boyfriend might actually get quite a kick out of leaving him in his ripped pants all day long.

A long, excruciating two hours later, Hunter arrived at the office. Many of the female employees rushed from their desks to greet him, and Hunter flirted sweetly with them, knowing exactly what sort of effect he had on them. It was strangely arousing to see him in action, pretending to take an interest in Melissa’s honeymoon or Fran’s new grandchildren; this charming character that he portrayed with ease.

“Well, I must go, ladies,” he smiled, walking towards Tommy’s office as some of them continued to bleat on. He closed the door behind him and comically put his body against it as if to stop anyone following him in. Then he locked it, just in case. “How do you put up with such boring people?” he sighed, looking straight at Tommy.

“They absolutely adore you,” Tommy reminded him.

“I know. But they’re still fucking boring,” Hunter smirked, checking the blinds were closed properly before striding over to his chubby lover who rose from his chair to greet him with an embrace.

Immediately, Hunter seized the opportunity in those moments of weakness; his strong hands sliding down to the tear in Tommy’s pants, mercilessly ripping them open further.

Tommy’s hands slipped back surveying the damage. Now, even his underwear had been compromised as he felt cool air against his increasingly fleshy glutes. “Please tell me you brought my new pants,” he blasted in panic.

“I did,” Hunter nodded, rifling through his backpack and showing them briefly. “But it’s going to cost you,” he sniggered, now pulling out his hardness from his shorts and nodding for Tommy to lie himself on the table.

“But I’m in work!” Tommy shot back.

“All the more reason for you to stop complaining and get a move on then,” the man laughed back, stroking his thick hardness to warm it up for Tommy’s softening butt.

Tommy lay himself down, realising that one of his most kinky work fantasies was about to come true, despite feeling no less worried that there would be a knock on his door at any moment. He spread his legs, making the tear even more pronounced, then heard the thud of a supermarket cheesecake being dropped by his head and then slid underneath his nose: Hunter’s latest fascination, watching him gorge on something extremely fattening whilst fucking him.

Both of them set to work, Hunter pounding him so forcefully that the cheesecake smeared itself over Tommy’s nose and under his chin as he tried to eat it at the same time. It was clear that he needed to eat fast, save getting it on his white shirt and ending up in exactly the same sartorial predicament again. His tongue came into play, scooping it all up and then pushing whatever didn’t need chewing straight down. Hunter didn’t take long to finish, but the sweat on his brow gave away just how much he had really gone for it. He threw Tommy a pack of cleaning wipes for his face and unfolded the new pants, presenting them like a prize to his lover.

A minute later, Hunter insisted on being walked out of the office; both of them stopped on the way multiple times.

“Yes, we’d love to come over for dinner sometime, Christine,” Hunter smiled politely, both he and Tommy knowing full well that it would never happen. Hunter wouldn’t waste his free time socialising with any of these people, unless there was something in it for him.

“Whart a nice boy he is!” Christine marvelled, standing at the main entrance of the office block, watching Hunter drive off. “So polite and gentle!”

Swishing his tongue around his mouth and still tasting nothing but cheesecake, Tommy nodded in agreement. “He’s the best.”

It felt very festive, turning up at the picturesque rental cottage covered in snow. Unlike last time, Tommy knew exactly what he would be walking into as Hunter’s friends arranged their next meet up. Being from up north, renting these houses was the best way for them to meet up with Hunter, who they all found just as fascinating and intoxicating as Tommy did. 

“Someone has been eating well!” the men chuckled, seeing Tommy for the first time in almost six months.

Tommy nodded, taking his big jacket off. In the last couple of months, his cheeks had blown up in a way that was not too dissimilar to a hamster stuffing itself with seeds. Fat had spread under his chin and into his neck, always visible now that Hunter insisted that he stayed clean shaven. Hunter kissed him proudly, always delighted whenever anyone mentioned his boyfriend’s gains.

“I’m guessing you defeated that fast metabolism of his?” Danny laughed, seeing more and more of Tommy’s shape as he removed the layers of winter clothing.

“Did you ever doubt me?” Hunter smirked back, grabbing both of their bags to take them upstairs; never wanting Tommy to burn any calories unnecessarily.

“What do you weigh now?” Paul jumped in after Tommy and Hunter came back downstairs after settling into their room.

Tommy looked to Hunter, knowing that he would want to be the one to tell them all.

“We’re up 70lbs since you last saw him,” Hunter beamed, draping his big arm over Tommy’s shoulders. “I bet you can hardly recognise him with these chubby cheeks, huh boys?”

“I suppose the sweatpants come in handy these days?” Eddie asked, nodding at Tommy’s casual attire as he stood beside his muscular boyfriend.

“Um, I guess so,” Hunter pondered. “To be honest, I don’t let him wear clothes when he’s at home. Do I?” he asked Tommy in an attempt to include him, even a little, in this discussion about him.

Tommy shook his head.

“As you can probably see, his tits are starting to come in real nicely,” Hunter continued, lifting Tommy’s shirt for the boys to see. “Lovehandles are fully in shape now, and the back fat,” he rambled on, spinning Tommy around for their viewing pleasure. “I’ve had to rescue him twice in work now after he’s split his pants,” he laughed, rolling the sweatpants down so that the guys could see the transformation that had taken place in Tommy’s glutes. “And, best of all…” he went on, rapidly spinning Tommy like a ragdoll again to face them once more, “Check this out…”

The boys marvelled in unison as Hunter grabbed a thick wedge of fat that had amassed at the top of Tommy’s groin. 

“It’s hard to believe how much fat there is here, considering he’s only 220lbs at the moment,” Hunter grinned. “It’s incredible!”

“Well, we can help add to that this weekend,” Danny smiled. “It’s your first holiday season as a fatty,” he nodded at Tommy. “That’s got to be quite exciting?”

“It’s also our first one together,” Tommy replied, falling back into Hunter’s large chest.

“What are you guys doing for the big day?” Eddie asked next.

“Well, we told Tommy’s parents that we were going to my family. And then we said the exact opposite to my parents. So, basically…” Hunter smirked, pulling his lover into a cute sideways cuddle, “...this little piggy is going to be spending the day sitting on my cock whilst I feed him absolutely everything I’ve been preparing for him for the last month.”

The guys all looked at each other, clearly astounded and secretly aroused by the idea.

“Have you had much backlash from Tommy’s family now he’s getting so overweight?” Danny questioned them later, sitting at the table, waiting for Tommy to finish his meal.

“Not so much,” Hunter replied. “Now his face has started to balloon, people are certainly a lot more aware of it. But his parents aren’t as switched on as mine. My dad pulled me to the side a couple of weeks ago and told me to start going easy on Tommy.” He straightened up, about to do an impression of his father and put on a dull, stuck-up voice. “Your mother and I know exactly what you’re doing,” he began at a fast pace, poking his finger out like a school teacher. “You’ve always been forceful about getting your own way; always the bully we used to get complaints about when you were in high school. But Tommy is a nice boy; the nicest you’ve ever brought home, and you’ve got to start getting your kicks some other way. One that doesn’t involve him getting so out of shape!”

The men all laughed in unison.

“I just tell them I’m going to set up a diet plan for Tommy in the New Year,” he chuckled; setting the rest of them off. 

“Well, I can imagine exactly what sort of ‘diet plan’ you’ll have for him,” Danny smirked, knowing his friend all too well.

Hunter nodded and laughed along with them. “Yeah, this fat boy is so fucking screwed!”

Their conversation rolled on. All the while, Tommy continued to eat.

“Good boy!” Hunter sang moments later as Tommy finally put his knife and fork down; his plate cleared. “Was that tasty? That lamb dish is one of Eddie’s most fattening recipes. I should know. I taught him how to make it.”

Tommy nodded his head; utterly stuffed.

“Do you want me to take you upstairs for your pleasure time?” he asked the blubbery boy. “It’s part of his routine,” he explained to the guys. “Or would you rather have it here, so that the other fat boys can see you?”

Tommy looked around at the faces staring at him. All of the men were shirtless and some of them, like him, had come to the table wearing nothing at all. His initial thought was to go back upstairs. However, that seemed like such an effort in his stuffed state. He looked over at a cosy chair by the fireplace and nodded; “Over there.”

Initially, the other kinky guys had pretended to busy themselves whilst Hunter took Tommy over to the chair and began to rub his hardness up and down. However, their curiosity and arousal was soon gettng the better of them, one-by-one, coming to sit on the other chairs or stand nearby watching Hunter controlling his sub.

“Are you a good piggy for me?” Hunter whispered into his ear, making Tommy moan and nod. “You’ve put on so much fat for me this year. Did you see how shocked the guys were earlier? They’re all looking at you now.”

Tommy opened his eyes and looked around. What would he have said a year ago, had he imagined a scenario that was anything like this?

A curious and horny Eddie licked his thumb and began rubbing it over Tommy’s pointed nipple.

Hunter looked across with approval. “Piggy loves that now his tits have come in. He can’t get over how sensitive they are.

Danny licked his thumb and began playing with the other nipple, before Paul came along and grabbed a wedge of Tommy’s stomach fat, as if hardly believing how quickly it had developed.

“You see, you’re the star of the show, Piggy!” Hunter whispered into his lover’s ear.

Tommy’s breathing became a lot heavier as he felt his climax building.

“It’s alright, Piggy,” Hunter continued. “Don’t hold back. You can show them what I taught you to do when you climax.”

Tommy looked into Hunter’s eyes. Was it really okay to let himself go like this? But the orgasm was coming so fast and the urge to do it was becoming too much for him to resist. He gasped, letting go of his inhibition, then snorted, loud and clear, just like a pig, mimicking the tones that Hunter had taught him exactly. Jets flowed across the coffee table in the middle of the room and Tommy shut his eyes, calm at last..

As the New Year came and went, Tommy realised that his weight had spiked at an alarmingly fast rate over the holidays. Hunter had declared, looking at the vast new size of Tommy’s glutes, that it had been the best gift he had ever received. The gains did eventually slow down, but never stagnated. And so, by their first anniversary of getting together, Tommy stood next to his gorgeous boyfriend with over one hundred and ten pounds of added fat on him.

Hunter was more pleased with his own body than ever before as well. He’d spent the last few months bulking his shoulders and glutes, so that even he was outgrowing his clothes. Seeing Tommy swell so fast had given him the motivation he needed to make a real push with his weight training, and he spent much of that summer without a shirt on, both inside and outside of the apartment. He’d inherited a decent amount of money from a great uncle he had never even met, spending most of it on a new convertible and a designer watch that helped to inflate his ego even further. Their kitchen had been the epicentre of it all, with Hunter cooking himself up vast amounts of high protein meals, whilst simultaneously pouring in the butter, oils and grease into everything he made for Tommy.

Hunter’s bulking had also created the perfect excuse for Tommy’s ever swelling stomach. Hunter made no secret of how much he had to consume in order to keep up the strapping muscle on his body. “Most evenings, I’m cooking up food and portioning it out for myself for the next day,” he explained to Tommy’s aunt during their next visit. “But I think the smell of it makes Tommy hungry, and when I go to bed, I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy!” his aunt tutted with disappointment. “No wonder you’ve gained so much weight then. You need to exercise some self control.”

Hunter nodded in agreement, rubbing Tommy’s back supportively; as if this was all one great big intervention, aimed at helping him. The lies just rolled off the hunk’s tongue with such ease and he’d soon be laughing in the car at how easily they all swallowed them. “Come on, Fatty,” he whispered whilst still smiling and waving at Tommy’s extended family as they reversed off the driveway. “Look at their faces,” he laughed. “They really think you’re going to turn things around this time.”

“My aunt spoke to me a minute ago, before we left,” Tommy explained from the passenger seat. “She told me that you’re the fitness expert and that I just need to do whatever you say.”

Hunter laughed victoriously. “Good old Auntie Paula!” he roared, waving one final time to her in particular. “In that case, your fitness expert is taking you home to sit my dick while I feed you your disgustingly oversized dinner. I heard that chair squeaking when you sat on it earlier. Next time we go to see them, I’m going to make sure your fat ass destroys it!”

The summer was coming to an end, but not before the pair of them drove up in Hunter’s new car to yet another rental place for a weekend with the boys.

“I’ve got a surprise for everyone later,” Hunter joked, shirtless and with a strong arm draped over his flabby, newly 300lb boyfriend.”

“Another one?” the boys joked, having just spoken at length about their shock at seeing the swell of Tommy’s chest and underarm fat in particular.

Hunter kept them all waiting keenly. They ate their dinner, recharged and then settled down to some beers in the large lounge. “Want to see something super cute?” he finally asked them, grinning with excitement.

“Is this our surprise?” Jack immediately replied, ready to be entertained.

Hunter nodded. “Look at these!” he cooed, suddenly holding up a tiny pair of underwear he’d been hiding behind a cushion.

The boys laughed. “Awh!” they all sang back. In their world, no one wore underwear that small; even Hunter with his giant glutes and muscular thighs needed a large, or even an extra-large in many cases.

“These belonged to Tommy when he came over to my apartment for the first time,” Hunter laughed wickedly, spinning them around and holding them by the very ends of his fingertips as if to further emphasise how petite they were. “I’ve not even washed them since.”

At this, all the guys began laughing in much the same way. They passed them around, each of them marvelling at their tiny size.

“Your butt used to be so small!” Paul bellowed, draping the underwear over his large gut to show how minute they were in comparison.

Tommy stared at them, suddenly remembering how Hunter had walked off with his underwear on that first date at their now shared apartment. His perspective really had been skewed, hardly believing now that he ever wore clothes that small.

“That was only seventeen months ago, boys!” Hunter shouted, raising his arms up in the air for the admiration he was owed. “That’s how it’s done, my friends! That’s how a real feeder takes control and fattens his piggy!”

The boys all cheered in complete agreement. The transformation, the sheer speed of it all; it was breathtaking.

“He’d never get them on these days,” Eddie laughed. “Not with the amount of fat he carries on his thighs, and that huge butt of his.”

Hunter pretended to ponder the idea; theatrically raising his thumb to his chin and rubbing. “Hmm, do you really think so?” he asked, barely holding back his laughter. “I think we may need to test that hypothesis, don’t you, boys?” he called out, rousing the crowd of fat men into a chorus of cheers. 

Within seconds, Hunter had stood up and moved clear so that the other men could move in and do his bidding. Tommy was being lifed and forced out of his current underwear, feeling delighted pats of approval from some of the guys as his big, fat, doughy glutes came on show. The coffee table had been removed from the room, the music turned way down, and he was pushed into the middle of a now cleared space, with all the large, occupied chairs and sofas imprisoning it. 

Suddenly, the mood changed. Unlike the others, Hunter was standing, blocking the only path out of the room; his giant arms folded intimidatingly across his immensely powerful, shirtless chest; an inpenetrable wall; a ringleader, ready to entertain.

Even before he started, Tommy could hear little hoots of laughter all around him. He looked up at Hunter’s stern expression and his hardness throbbed uncontrollably.

“As you all remember,” Hunter began, “a short while ago, I started dating a very handsome, a very athletic, and in fact, a very pretty-looking guy…” 

His tone was so playful and full of mockery; making the other guys laugh; every single one of them. Then he reached out and took the tiny underwear from the person who had them. Although only a few feet away from him, Tommy looked up at his lover as if the giant man was standing high upon a towering pedestal. The way those cold eyes stared down at him aroused him more than anything else.

“The pride and joy of his parents…” Hunter sang, holding Tommy’s old underwear for them all to see again, “...college graduate, all round nice guy. He told me that he wanted to meet me. Practically begged me!”

Again, the other guys all laughed at that. Tommy’s first foolish mistake.

“He told me that I was the sexiest guy he had ever seen in his life,” Hunter smirked, emphasising the language and slipping a finger up into the crotch of the old unerwear, showing where Tommy’s little erection would have once pushed against them. That got him one of the biggest laughs. “And he promised me one thing…” Hunter went on. “...That he would do absolutely anything that I wanted him to.”

The guys all turned from looking at Hunter, to gazing with awe at Tommy’s fattened body: the rolls and blubber, stretch marks and sag. His complete submission was right there, before their very eyes. Hunter’s will, made flesh.

“What you’re about to see, boys, is my now disgustingly gluttonous, obese boyfriend, trying to put on a pair of underwear that he last wore the second time he met me,” Hunter declared, throwing the tiny material down at Tommy’s feet, filling his large chest with air and folding those enormous arms once more. 

Again, the fat men all laughed to themselves, some reaching in again to poke Tommy’s fleshy stomach, or tap his naked, under-exercised butt.

“Taking them off was one of his first acts of submission to me. And now,” Hunter continued, “this greedy, fat hog is about to try and put them back on for us.” He stared hard at Tommy, making him hornier still.

Tommy nodded slowly, hardly believing that this was all happening so fast. Two minutes ago, he had been snuggled into Hunter on the couch, oblivious that any of this was coming.

“Are you ready, boys?” Hunter roared at them all; rousing another cheer of excitement. He was made for this. Showmanship was in his blood. “Count the fat fucker into it for me…” he shouted at an alarming volume.

Tommy glanced at the ridiculously small underwear; his heart beating at quite the pace. He could feel the huge ring of fat under his chin as he looked down and tried to envision how best to do it.

“Three…two… ONE!” the boys all sang with the boisterous Hunter; lifting their bottles of beer up high; eyes wide and excited to see how this would all go down.

With a slight grunt from all that he had eaten earlier, Tommy bent down to pick up the underwear. There were cheers of amusement as his butt crack opened to those standing behind him. Then, turning the underwear in his hands, he lifted one leg to begin to put them on. He stumbled, feeling the fat in his butt and love handles quiver with the force he had to throw his foot down, just to keep his balance.

“Take your time, Piggy. Get it right,” Hunter reminded him in his stern tone. This show was important. These were his friends, and he had brought Tommy here to entertain them.

Tommy nodded. He started again, slipping one foot into the tiny hole and raised the material to his ankles. Now came the trickier part. He grunted, raising his other leg and miraculously slipped that inside as well. The big moment had arrived. 

Grabbing onto the tiny waistband, Tommy sucked in his stomach and heaved them up. They began soaring up his legs and then slowed dramatically. just above his knees. They were so narrow, he felt like he needed to spread his legs more to get them up; but there was no room. He pulled at them again, hearing howls of laughter all around him. The effort was almost unbelievable, and yet the underwear raised barely more than a couple of inches. Never mind his giant butt, it was his blubbery thighs that were the problem. 

On he struggled, feeling the waistband at last touching the lower part of his doughy rear. He lifted the front part easier, just managing to squish a little of his excited erection inside and then he looked up at Hunter. Had he done enough?

Hunter simply raised an eyebrow and smirked, the guys’ laughter suddenly becoming too infectious for even him to ignore. His smile spread and he laughed too, throwing his arms out and then pumping his muscular chest. Some of the men reached their congratulatory hands out to the feeder for him to shake as he walked around the space where Tommy stood. His victory lap.

“Thank you. You’re right,” he replied to their comments. “Twenty five years old, and look at it now!”

Finally, he came to stand in front of Tommy again, suddenly becoming falsely affectionate and stroking his submissive’s large, chubby cheek. “I’m so glad I met you,” he told Tommy, speaking as much to the other men who were listening in.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Tommy replied, full of love and arousal for his dominant lover.

The men all laughed at Tommy’s words and Hunter looked around at them with devilment dancing in his eyes. His perfect white teeth glistened as the widest smile grew on his face. He knew exactly what they were all thinking. Obesity was beginning to take a vice-like grip on Tommy’s body, and yet the twenty-five year old was still hopelessly under the spell of his wicked boyfriend.

“Good. I’m very glad,” Hunter nodded, lovingly tucking Tommy’s overgrown, sweaty hair behind his ears. He could never resist stroking the extensive chin fat with the back of his finger at the same time; the broad, fat face, freshly shaven as Hunter always insisted upon. “You realise that you’re going to be fatter than everybody here soon, don’t you?” he continued, explaining it to the fat boy like it was an exciting adventure they were embarking upon.

Tommy nodded.

“And that’s okay is it, Piggy?” Hunter asked, playing up to the crowds.

“Yes,” Tommy nodded again. Compliance was so easy.; submission so arousing. And this situation he was in now, so exhilarating and undenyably thrilling. Everything he never knew he needed.

Delving further into the three hundred pound zone was every bit as strange and transformative as the guys had warned Tommy as he left that weekend. Everything jiggled. Everything made him sweat. He had to accept how severely overweight he was now. It was the first thing people noticed when they met him and it was the one factor that influenced how people treated him most. He noted their tones of disapproval and impatience; their blunt answers to his questions and their indignation whenever they saw the gorgeous Hunter kissing him. He stared at pictures of the two of them at his sister’s wedding: his large, bulbous, doughy belly spreading out of his jacket and barely contained within his enormous shirt. He looked at the beautiful Hunter standing behind him, grinning proudly; no one there realising that he was laughing at them all, showing off what he had done to one of their own.

“I think it’s time you considered a new job. One where you can work from home,” Hunter declared, getting up after having fucked one of his new favourite places on his lover’s evolving body: the fat roll encompassing Tommy’s deep belly button.

Tommy nodded. “That would certainly save me a lot of time,” he agreed.

“It would also save you a lot of calories,” Hunter sighed impatiently. “I get so frustrated thinking of you burning off all my delicious breakfasts, trotting that giant ass of your back and forth to the photocopier.”

“But the girls in my office would miss seeing you though,” Tommy joked.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Another good reason to quit,” he grumbled, chugging down one of his protein shakes and drying off his sweaty body with the towel they left under the bed.

“They actually asked me to apply for a job at another one of our branches the other day,” Tommy considered, remembering how little he had considered it at the time. “Two days in the office, three at home.”

“Where?” Hunter asked with surprising interest.

“North. We’d have to move. At least we’d be closer to Paul, Eddie, and the other guys. But then, it means uprooting your life as well.”

Hunter furrowed his eyebrows in disagreement. “Look at me!” he cried. “I could get a job at any fitness place I wanted. A move away is exactly the sort of thing that we need.”

“It is?” Tommy asked, having never heard Hunter even consider the idea of moving before.

Hunter came over to Tommy, who was still sticky and sprawled out on the bed. The guy’s immense, muscular body made the bed sink slightly as Hunter sat next to him, making the fat in Tommy’s tummy jiggle and lean towards the powerful lover, as if attracted by him. “Listen. You’re now a very fat man. By this time next week, I’ll have you at over 350lbs,” Hunter explained. “But people around here don't see that. All they see is that skinny little dweeb they used to know. That handsome guy with a six pack and no ass, who couldn’t admit that being dominated would make him so fucking horny.”

Tommy chuckled. Hunter’s descriptions were blunt, but always very accurate.

“It’s time we went somewhere new. Where people don’t know about how slim you used to be. Where they will see you the way that I do: just another fat, disgustingly overfed piggy.”

Tommy exhaled deeply, feeling himself getting aroused hearing Hunter using so many of the trigger words that he usually deployed when he was getting pleasured. He nodded. Perhaps Hunter was right. Maybe it was time for a change.

“You make sure that you look after him, won’t you?” Tommy’s mother sobbed, speaking to Hunter as the pair of them stopped to pick up the last of their things and load them into the truck.

“Don’t worry, Angela. He’s in good hands with me,” Hunter smiled back. Now that Tommy had grown wide enough, the big muscular man could rub his boyfriend’s disgustingly overgrown glutes the entire time he spoke to the guy’s mother, without anyone even noticing. “Your boy will be well taken care of.”

They all hugged, with Tommy’s parents telling him how proud they were about his big promotion, as well as how much they would miss him.

“Do you think they know? Even on some level?” Hunter asked as the pair of them got back into the truck. “They have to, surely? No one is that fucking stupid, watching their son get into a relationship and suddenly gaining over two hundred pounds in just over two years!” he sniggered, surprised that no one had mentioned Tommy’s weight today; even with the daringly tight t-shirt he had made him wear.

“Perhaps, on some level,” Tommy considered. At barely average height, his 370lbs was sitting more and more on his stomach these days.  Only a few moments ago, Hunter had needed to push against his wide, overgrown butt, in full view of his parents, in order to get him back into the high removal truck they had hired for the journey. “But, if I’m honest, I don’t think they really know what’s going on.”

“So fucking stupid! It’s unbelieveable!” Hunter sighed, turning the volume way up on the stereo and pulling off his shirt as the air conditioning blasted into life. As much as he enjoyed playing the innocent boyfriend, Hunter also longed for recognition, in whatever form it came.

“Goodbye,” Tommy waved to his parents as they started pulling away. He knew they couldn’t hear him. The music was far too loud.

“Goodbye,” Hunter joined in bitterly as he started to steer. “I’ll look after your son. I’m turning him into a big fat pig, y’know!” he shouted loud and clear, although he would never be heard. “I’ll have the fat fucker at 400lbs by the time you see him this Christmas! Goodbye, idiots!”

Hunter laughed with delight at himself as they rolled down the street. He slipped on his sunglasses and opened his window, just a crack, to let in a bit of fresh air.

“Still think this is the right thing?” Hunter asked moments later, reaching for Tommy’s chubby little fingers and holding them sweetly. His question was so ambiguous, with so many different possible meanings, and an infinite amount of responses. Not that any of that mattered to Tommy. For him, there was only one possible answer to any of those questions.

“Yes,” he smiled with certainty. “Two hundred percent, yes!”

Taking a Few for the Team, Pt 2

Part two! Part one is here.

I've always had a fantasy about a sports team breeding one of the players, transferring all their fat to the one player. It's a work in progress! Contains male weight gain & sex, some bloating/gas. Let me know what you think!

"Alright, I guess I'll give it a shot." said Trevor.

He got up and made his way over to Aaron, still sticky and bent over. He slowly slipped his cock inside Aarons ass.

Aaron moaned again as Jared's seed oozed out of his sphincter and dripped down onto Trevor's balls, which were also massive.

Trevor grunted as he thrusted in and out of Aaron's tight ass, getting off on the thick milky fluid leaking from Aaron's hole.

Aaron was loving the feeling of being full of Jared's cum while Trevor's cock was inside him. He wondered how big he could stretch if all the guys came inside him. But the way Trevor was speeding up his thrusts, he was about to find out.

"uuuUUrp Ahhh shit yeah" Trevor moaned, as he slammed into Aaron. Soon his balls slapped against Aaron's and he exploded in his ass.

Like before, he felt his belly expand and stretch with each of Trevor's thrusts. It felt like an eternity until his friend was done blowing his load, all the while Aaron's protruding cum-filled belly was sloshing back and forth with Trevor’s thrusts.

Aaron heard the guys around him cheering as Trevor finally finished unloading inside Aaron. “Fuuck big boy” breathed Trevor as he slowly slid out of Aaron’s ass. Aaron was now feeling very full, after Jared and Trevor both came so much inside him. The pressure inside him was now even more intense than before, but for some reason he loved the feeling of holding his friend and team captain's huge loads inside him. He loved how full and heavy they made him feel.

Just like after Jared, Aaron looked like he had gained another five pounds. His already tight shirt was now too small to cover his huge sloshy belly, revealing a strip of skin. Normally this would be embarrassing but he was in a state of pure bliss. This was all so hot it felt like a dream.

“Shit Jared, I see what you mean now, I feel great!” Trevor said with a huge grin on his face. “I look like I lost the holiday weight, and I’m not bloated anymore either. We need to do this more often!”

“Told you, bro!” Jared said, equally excited. “I told you guys these shakes would work! I think Aaron is having a pretty good time, too.” Jared reached over and slapped Aron’s dangling gut and poked his boner, making him shudder. “Mmmmhmm” was all Aaron could let out.

“Fuck, is it my turn yet!?” Said Trent, ripping a massive fart as he got up off the couch. “I’m so horned up right uuUUuurRP now I can’t take it anymore!”

Still dazed, Aaron felt Trent’s huge manhood enter his hole. “Fuck fat boy, you really are full” moaned Trent as he began thrusting back and forth, Aaron’s cum covered ass slapping against him with each thrust.

The pressure in his belly amplified the feeling of Trent’s movements, sending chills up Aaron’s spine. He could feel himself jiggling with each of the man’s thrusts. “Mmmm… fuck… you guys are filling me up…” moaned Aaron.

“Just fucking wait, big boy” said Trent in a low, dominant tone “you’re going to be so fucking UUUURP fat and full when we’re done with you. You’re our fat fucking team slut now!”

Trent’s pounding got more rapid until “FUCK! I’m gonna blow!!” Trent yelled, while tightly grabbing Aaron’s love handles. Aaron could feel another load gushing inside him, filling his ass and then his belly. “Fuuuckk…” he whimpered. He felt so full, but he loved it. All he wanted now was to hold his team’s huge loads inside him. As Trent slid out, Aaron held all the cum in his ass not wanting to waste a drop, no matter how full he felt.

“Shit, that was unreal” Trent said, out of breath “you guys have to try it” he said to the rest of the team. There were cheers punctuated by the rest of the team's bloated gas. Aaron looked up and noticed that at this point they all were wearing just their shirts, revealing their massive full balls and huge cocks they were all stroking. He realized that they were all going to be unloading in him like the other boys before.

Jared helped Aaron get his shirt off and moved him gently to the guest bed where he laid on his back. The weight of his cum filled gut pinned him down, but it felt amazing. Aaron was rock hard but his belly was so big he could barely see the tip of his own dick.

“Alright boys, who’s next?” Jared shouted, grinning. “Let's pump this fat boy full!”

His other teammates continued to fuck his ass one after another, shooting their loads into him, filling him up with their cum. Aaron moaned continuously as he was fucked mercilessly. And with each load, his belly got fuller, tighter, rounder. But along with his belly, Aaron was beginning to go from pudgy to full on fat boy. His thighs were getting bigger and heavier. His face felt fuller. His nipples and tits were beginning to grow big and plump, shaking back and forth while his teammates pounded away. His full belly gained a new layer of thick, soft fat on top of the tight cream filled inside.

Finally, after what must have been hours, the boys were done. Aaron was so full he could barely breathe. His belly was absolutely massive, about the size of a yoga ball. He looked like he must have gained 150 pounds of fat as well.

"Guys... *Burp* I think *burp* I'm too full... I'm gonna pop" moaned Aaron, out of breath. The pressure in his belly was immense. It felt like if someone were to even breathe on it, he would explode.

"Well we aren't done with you yet" said Jared, standing at the edge of the bed. Aaron could barely see him over his massive gut.

Everyone  watched Jared pull out his cock and slap it against Aaron's stomach.

"Come on big boy" said Jared. "Give me your full ass"

“N…no… *burp* please!” Aaron moaned, but it was no use. He was too full and heavy to move.

Aaron felt Jared's cock press in, the pressure was immense. It sent electric-like shocks throughout his body. He was so fat and so full at this point, he couldn’t take anymore! But it felt so good. All he could do was let out labored moans. Right when he thought it couldn’t get more intense, Trevor and Trent both started sucking on his fat nipples. “MMMmmh!” he let out. His nipples had never been sensitive like this before! “Fuck your ass is so fucking fat now” moaned Jared. “I know you fucking love it though, I saw the way you blushed when we teased you about it in the locker room. I know you fucking want to get bigger for us, fat boy. I know you want to be our team cumdump lardass!”

“..mmm… yeah… *burp* …fuck… …I do…” Aaron could barely speak. This was all too intense! It felt so good, he felt like he was getting closer and closer to blowing.

“Fuck yeah you do, and we’re going to keep fattening you up. Every time we drink these shakes all of our fucking fat is going straight to you, fatboy. You’re going to be… so… fucking… huge!” Jared started thrusting faster and harder. “Fuck big boy! I’m gonna blow!”

“MMMph!!” was all Aaron could let out. He felt Jared cum inside him again, pushing him over the edge. It felt fucking incredible, he was so full of their cum! At the same time, he felt his own cock release, bringing sweet relief. He had never cum so hard in his life. He kept cumming and cumming, shooting his load all over the bottom of his fat gut.

After what felt like an eternity of release, Aaron saw that while his belly was no longer as big, he still looked incredibly fat. Wait! This wasn’t a dream! With considerable effort, Aaron got off the bed and stood up while his teammates all stood around him. He was fat as fuck! It looked like he had put on 150 pounds since he got there that night. His belly was soft and jiggly, as were his now massive love handles. 

He had fat tits now with large nipples, and huge thighs. His ass was now gigantic. Jared gave it a hard slap, causing it to jiggle back and forth. “So, fat boy, how do you like our new additions?” Jared said with a smirk.

Part three