Everybody in town loves the Sheriff—which is pretty rare, even he admits that. He knows everyone in town, and has a habit of dropping in on families unexpectedly, like he did with the Robinson’s just last week. It was late—after dinner, and Mr. Robinson was enjoying a bit of whiskey, when the door opened (everyone left their doors unlocked, in case the sheriff wanted to stop by) and he said hello to Mr. Robinson, and then found the Misses getting dessert ready in the kitchen.
“Betty,” he said, stroking her cheek with a gloved hand, “Be a doll and skip dessert at home tonight. Why don’t you take the kids out for ice cream? And don’t come home until I call and tell you to.”
“Yes sheriff, of course!” Mrs. Robinson said, and bundled up the kids and left the sheriff alone with her husband.
Mr. Robinson wasn’t the healthiest of men, but then again, all of the men in the town had started packing on weight since the sheriff came to town. The Sheriff walked into the living room and started running his gloves over Mr. Robinson’s body. “Strip down, I want to see those fat rolls of yours, Mr. Robinson—and then we’re going to eat that whole cake your wife just baked. After that, I’m going to plow that fat ass of yours all night—how does that sound?”
“Sounds fucking hot, Sheriff, I can’t fucking wait,” Mr. Robinson said, moaning as the Sheriff rubbed his hard cock, and stuck one of his gloved hands into the citizen’s drooling mouth.
The sheriff got up off the bed, Mr. Robinson groaning, his belly covered with icing, cake fragments and streaks of cum. “That was very good Mr. Robinson, I wish all of my citizens were as law abiding as you are.”
“Thank–thank you sheriff, I try my best….ugh…” He was so stuffed, but he couldn’t question the sheriff. Still, he hoped it was at least a week or two before he stopped by next–he felt like he wouldn’t eat for days. The sheriff showed himself out, and got back into the uniform he’d discarded around the living room downstairs. He pulled out his cell phone and called Betty.
“Hi Betty, why don’t you bring the kids back home now. None of you will find anything strange about your husband. But Betty, I think his appetite has increased. Be a doll and add a sixth meal for him, would you? Thanks.”
He left before Betty could return. He’d needed a chance to vent his frustrations a bit, but watching Mr. Robinson devour that cake, watching him plead when he thought he was too full to carry on, that had given him an idea that might solve his little problem. There were, unfortunately, a few men around town who had resisted the powers of his special gloves. He couldn’t dominate them entirely, and he’d been forced to repurpose the lockup as a place for them to stay out of trouble while he figured out how to help them join in his society.
But maybe he’d been tackling them from the wrong direction. He’d been trying to break down their intellect–render them unwilling to resist his mental commands. He’d been worried that they were all just too smart for their own good. However, maybe he should be getting them to want to belong. Maybe he simply hadn’t shown them how wonderful it is to be hungry.
“Mr. Hubert, good evening.”
“You fucker, get the fuck away from me!” the man shouted, yanking at the manacles that kept him chained to the wall.
“Now Mr. Hubert, if you keep lashing out like that, you’re going to be stuck in here for a very long time.” The sheriff approached and stroked one of the man’s cheeks with a gloved hand, watching him shiver, but resist the magic. “I just think you would be so much happier if you were a bit more agreeable. Now–how about we work on that a bit, eh?”
The sheriff grabbed Mr. Hubert’s head with both hands, driving his will into the man’s mind. But rather than assault his intellect, he started exploring elsewhere. Down deeper, instinct, desire, craving, emotion–here was something he could work with! Yes, here everything was very pliable, down at the foundations. And with the right structural shifts, he was confident the castle of Mr. Hubert’s mind would begin to crumble in due time.
He pulled his hands away, wiping his gloves together, satisfied.
“What did…what did you do? That was different…oh…oh fuck…”
“What is it Mr. Hubert? Is something wrong?" The man’s jaw was trembling, and the sheriff heard a great growl emerge from the man’s stomach. "Sounds like someone is getting hungry…”
Mr. Hubert whimpered. He was starving. He was hungrier than he could ever remember being in his life. The sheriff smiled and left the cell.
“Wait! You can’t just leave me here! I’ll starve!”
“You won’t starve, Mr. Hubert. Breakfast will be served in the morning, as usual. Make sure you eat it all up. You and I will talk again tomorrow.”
He heard a whimper, and then a sob. Music to the sheriff’s ears. He would break them all down, now. He would build the world he’d always wanted, right here, in this little quiet town. A sheriff and his flock of pigs.