Troy’s Shopping Trip

(Based on an idea and photo submitted by kenai88.)

It was going to be a killer party tonight, Troy thought as he parked his car towards the back of the lot, got out, and headed for the supermarket. Of course, it wasn’t going to anything like the slaughter on Saturday, when his college rugby team faced their cross town rivals in their first match. Rivals was really too kind a word–their team was awful, and Troy’s was vicious. In fact, a few years back they’d made a secret pledge to always wound one of the players in the game. Last year, their captain and the son of their coach had to be carried off with a broken leg–apparently he’d gotten so fat while recovering that he’d never play again. And then, as Troy headed for the doors, who should step out but that very coach and father, pushing an empty shopping cart.

He tried to play it cool and ignore him, and thankfully it didn’t seem like he recognized him. Instead, the older man just offered him his cart, and Troy took it to be gracious, thankful the guy hadn’t screamed at him. He’d been certain that his son’s injury had been no accident, and while Troy hadn’t been the one to do it, he’d been the one to suggest him as a target. Still, what’s done is done, right? The snacks were closest, and Troy parked the cart in the middle of the aisle and started grabbing bags in twos and threes off the shelves and dumping them into the cart, making sure to grab the favorites of each person on the team. When he was satisfied, he headed back to the cart–only to discover that it was empty.

Had someone taken it? He looked up and down the aisle, but there was no one there–just him and an empty cart. Fuck, he was thirsty all of a sudden. His mouth felt like he’d taken an entire shaker of salt and dumped it down his throat. Unable to help himself, he let out a big belch and patted his gut, feeling it jiggle a bit.

Wait, gut?

He looked down at himself, and tried to figure out what had happened. One part of his head was telling him that he should look like this, and another part was screaming in terror. He was fat! He hadn’t been fat when he’d come in here, had he? He groped his gut, feeling it’s heft, and underneath he felt his cock start to harden, and he blushed. Playing with his fat always seemed to get him hard, but it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. He reached under and readjusted the front of his shorts, and tried to figure out what he had been doing. He was thirsty–better head for the pop and the beer–he could get the snacks later.

Something about his body felt strange today, like he wasn’t used to taking up this much space. He went to the pop and started loading two liter bottles of several varieties into the cart, but again, when he turned around to survey what he’d put in, the cart was completely empty.

Another belch–this one massively loud. God, he was such a pig, and he secretly loved it…didn’t he? He looked down at himself, and the same terror struck him–he wasn’t just fat now–he was fucking obese. His shirt could barely cover the gut overflowing past the waistband of his shorts, and his second and third chins wouldn’t let him get that good of a look. Fuck, he was hot though. Hot fucking fatass pig, fuck yeah. He checked up and down the aisles, but he was alone. He gave his huge apron a shake, feeling it reverberate around him, and he shuddered. His cock was hard, but he had another problem–he had to piss like a fucking racehorse. He hadn’t even had anything to drink lately either, but apparently his bladder disagreed. Still, he might as well go now before he had a full cart to deal with, and he lumbered off to the back of the store and the bathroom there, leaving his empty cart outside it.

He stepped inside, and found someone there washing his hands–the coach of the rugby team across town. How did he even know that? He didn’t play rugby. All he did was lounge around all day, stuffing his face and jacking off like a nasty pig–fuck! He was so fucking horny now. The coach finished washing his hands and turned around to look at Troy, sneering. “Lose some weight, you nasty fucker,” he said, and left the bathroom. The words somehow managed to shame Troy and turn him on at the same time. He was a nasty obese pig, and he loved the looks he got, he loved how much people were disgusted by him. He stepped up to the urinal, aiming blind, and pissed what felt like several gallons, before wrapping one chubby hand around the shaft and jacking off into the urinal, grunting as he did. “Fucking nasty pig, fuck yeah,” he said to himself, “Massive, nasty fat fucker, fuck *grunt*,” and he came, accidentally coating the underside of his apron, but it felt good there, being such a fucking slob felt great. He left it and hiked up his shorts, only to realize someone was in the stall and had heard every word that he’d just said. He left quickly, embarrassed to death, licking the cum off his hand absentmindedly.

Outside, the position of his cart had shifted, but he didn’t think much of it. He went and grabbed some beer since it was near the bathroom, vaguely fearful for some reason that it would disappear when his back was turned, but nothing happened. The same with the snacks and the pop, and he finally checked out his massive cart and headed out into the parking lot, but as he was loading the food into the back of his SUV, he saw the man from the bathroom leaning against a truck, away from the storefront, his cock hard and jutting from his jeans.

Troy drooled. He could totally use a cock right now, drinking down a load of cum would feel so damn good. “Sooooeeeyyy!” The man shouted, shaking his cock and staring Troy down. He couldn’t just…just suck him off in the parking lot, could he? It turned out that he totally could. He waddled over and dropped to his knees, feeling his bulk settle around him, and swallowed the man’s cock down into his gullet. “Yeah, how’s that taste you fucking pig?”

It tasted amazing. Troy didn’t know why he’d never sucked a dick before, but he kept glancing around, sucking fast, eager to get the man to swallow before someone could see him. He wasn’t fast enough–an older man walked back and saw what they were doing and froze. Troy wanted to die, knowing someone had seen him like this.

“Pig’s got a hot mouth,” the coach said, “Want to fuck it after me?”

The man glanced around nervously, and then walked over to the truck, set down his groceries, and waited. The coach finished quickly, hauling his cock out and spraying his cum across Troy’s fat face.

“Your turn man.”

Troy wanted to object, but what could he say? The man pulled his cock out of his jeans and Troy swallowed it down as well, and then the coach got down next to him, slid a hand down the back of his pants and began fingering his hole. It felt so good, and Troy began grunting uncontrollably, cumming in the front of his shorts before the stranger came down his throat. His ordeal over, he heaved himself up, only remembering halfway home that his face was covered with spunk. He wiped it up with his hands, licked it up, and then jacked off again at a stoplight.

That night, the rugby team didn’t seem to know what the huge fat man was doing there, but they all knew him somehow. Troy sat at the bar, shirtless in the hot, humid house of dancing men, watching their guts balloon as they devoured his snacks, soda, and beer. Thirty pizzas arrived which no one ordered, but they were demolished by morning, eaten up by the huge group of gainer pigs who had replaced the rugby team in the campus house.