“Oh, just go help him out, Jay,” his dad said, “Mr. Drake said he’d pay you twenty bucks.”
“But dad, he’s a fucking creep.” Then again, it wasn’t all that surprising that his dad and Mr. Drake got along–both of them were chubby, hairy old faggots. Hell, just the way his dad was looking at him, was making him uncomfortable…his dad never used to look at him like that…right?
Jay’s dad just stared at him from where he was lounging in his recliner, naked like he always was around the house. Part of Jay knew that wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t quite figure out where his doubts were coming from. “Go help our neighbor, or no video games for a week.”
“But dad–”
“Go on, Jay.”
Jay grumbled, but he headed out the front door and crossed the cul-de-sac heading towards Mr. Drake’s house. He couldn’t believe his dad sometimes–he hated it here. Why in the hell hadn’t he gotten out of here yet? Jay had turned twenty one a few months ago, but he was having a hard time getting on his feet. He certainly hadn’t planned on staying with his dad, but a DUI during his senior year of high school had cost him the athletic scholarship he’d been banking on to go to college, and so here he was stuck, with his fat, dirty slob of a father. At least he was still in shape, he told himself–it could be worse. Still, something was bothering him–his dad had used to hate Mr. Drake, hadn’t he? Everyone in the neighborhood did–he was dragging everyone’s property values down with his hoarding and decrepit old house. He was still trying to figure out what was wrong as he climbed up onto the porch cluttered with junk and knocked on the door. “Mr. Drake? Are you there?”
“Is that you Jay? Come on in, boy.”
Jay pushed open the door to his neighbor’s house, and found himself confronted with a very naked Mr. Drake on a couch, leering at him.
“What the fuck? Put some clothes on, you fucking sicko!”
“Heh, I’d be much happier to see you lose yours, Jay. In fact, why don’t we get right to it and grow you out of them?”
Jay wanted to run, but somehow he was rooted to the spot where he was standing, and something strange was happening–his body, he could feel himself changing. Looking down, his tight T-shirt was starting to bulge out, and started to ride up as his abs were swallowed up by a soft, pudgy gut. “What…what the fuck are you doing? Fucking stop it!” Mr. Drake didn’t say anything, and Jay felt his clothes tightening around him, the collar cutting into his fattening neck, chest tight across his growing moobs, the seams of his jeans starting to tear as his thighs expanded. Mr. Drake stood up from the couch, walked over and started ripping at Jay’s clothes, pulling them away in tatters until he stood naked aside from a pair of very tight briefs stretched tight by his new fat body.
“Oh yes, that’s much better,” Mr. Drake said, “No more muscles for you boy, just fat, fat, fat, just like your new fatass daddy over there.”
Jay was trying to move, but his feet were still rooted to the floor, Mr, Drake feeling his fat curves and laughing, “This is crazy, what the hell did you do to me?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m just having a little fun, is all,” Mr. Drake said, “I was getting tired of everyone around here looking down at me all the time, so I thought why not bring everyone else down here with me? And who better to start with than your big buff dad and his muscular son? Then again, you probably don’t remember how your dad used to look, do you? He was muscular too, earlier today, but after a little bit of conversation…well, he’s much friendlier now, don’t you think? He certainly things highly of you–why we masturbated together earlier, fantasizing about what we were going to do to you.”
He could remember. Those strange thoughts he’d been having as he walked over here, he could remember…kind of. His dad had been in shape like him. A clean freak, not the fat slob who’d sent him over here. Now he felt something else–fear. He was fat–fatter than he could believe…and he couldn’t quite remember being thin at all. He’d been this fat all his life, hadn’t he? “Please, I don’t know what you want, but please, don’t do this to me.”
Mr. Drake laughed, “Well, how about this? How about you lay down here, and you do, say, one hundred sit ups? If you can do that–if you can prove to me how much you want that hot, muscular body of yours back, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll even change your dad back, and I’ll leave forever. How does that sound? But if you can’t, well, then being fat is going to be the least of your worries, boy.”
What choice did he have? He cleared a space among the trash littering Mr. Drake’s floor, and got down. How hard could it be, anyway? He could do a hundred sit ups easily. He shoved himself up, pushing against all the new weight holding him down, and realized this was going to be much harder than he thought. But what choice did he have? Mr. Drake counted as he did, taunting him as he started shaking, as he started slowing down. Laughing matching his panting.
“You’re not gonna make it, look at you fatty! You’re not even halfway and you’re already close to a heart attack.”
But he hit fifty, and he kept going, his lungs burning, abs threatening to cramp up, but he kept going. Mr. Drake grew quieter as he hit eighty and kept going, but at eighty seven, he finally hit a limit. He simply couldn’t raise himself up again, and he collapsed back onto the ground with a sob.
“Well, you did better than I thought you would, but you still didn’t make it boy–so I guess the question is what I’m going to do to you now? Still, I bet you’re thirsty–would you like a drink?”
Hell yeah, I’m fuckin’ thirsty,” Jay said.
“Well come on then, you fuckin’ faggot, drink all the old cum you want,” Mr. Drake said, got down on his knees with his cock in Jay’s face, and his fat young neighbor swallowed the head without even questioning it, sucking at the head happily. It was only a few minutes later, when he’d been worshiping the old cock avidly, that Jay realized what he was doing, and he struggled–but exhausted from his failed challenge, Mr. Drake was easily able to shove his head back against the floor and fuck his throat. After a minute, the doubts passed again, and Jay began moaning in pleasure until his neighbor came, pumping his entire load down Jay’s gulping throat, and then he got off him, huffing and puffing himself.
“You made me a faggot,” Jay said.
“You don’t seem to be complaining.”
“I’m…I’m not. I mean, no. What the fuck is wrong with me?” he said to himself, “I don’t want this, I fucking don’t, but…”
“But it feels good, doesn’t it? My old cum tastes good, and you want more, don’t you?”
Jay’s face turned red again. They both knew what the answer was.
“Still, thanks for your help–if I need another blow job, you’ll be happy to help me out, I’m sure–but you should get home fatty–I bet your dad would love a blow job too.”
Jay sat up, and then he had a thought. It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe he still had a chance to get out of this.
Bracken's Corner 