It was the camping trips that were the worst. Barry could handle the rest of the whole scouting thing–hell, some of it was even kind of fun, like learning about plants and animals, and survival skills–but it was the camping that he hated. Not the act of camping itself, of course, but it was…well, why beat around the bush? He was fat. Seventeen years old and over three hundred and fifty pounds didn’t exactly fit the usual model for a scout, and pretty much everyone in his troop was happy to remind him of that. He got pranked almost every camping trip somehow–the worst was a few months ago, when some of his fellow campers decided to rub poison ivy on his face while he slept. It didn’t help that the scoutmaster, Mr. Hoffson, turned a blind eye to the bullying, mostly because his son, Max, was the ringleader and Barry’s principal torturer. Hell, he’d tried to tell his parents that he wanted to quit, but both of them were adamant that he stick to it. As his dad often said, “If he was tired of getting bullied, then he should just lose some weight,” like it was that simple. To be honest, Barry liked being fat–hell, he more than liked being fat, he wanted to be fatter, and he found fat guys hot as hell, not that he could tell anyone that, of course. This weekend’s camping trip though, this weekend would be very, very different–thanks to the amulet he’d bought from that old woman at that flea market last weekend–hell, things had already changed for the better.
His dad pulled the car into the parking lot of the school, most of the other scouts were already assembled with their packs out, getting ready for their pack inspection. Barry opened the door and hopped out and went around the back of the car, opening the back and getting out his backpack, while his father opened the driver side door and started the process of hefting is now six hundred pound bulk out from behind the wheel, where he’d lodged it. Now, his dad had only been this massive behemoth for about a week now, but no one gave him a second look. As far as everyone else was concerned, including his dad, he’d always been that fat. He lumbered back around to where Barry was, waiting, pack on the pavement, huffing a bit. “Alright son, have a good weekend, I’ll miss you.”
“Heh, don’t worry dad, you have plenty of dildos for that hungry ass of yours to work on, and mom’s always happy to fuck you too.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ll always prefer my big boy’s huge cock in my hole,” he said, and groped Barry’s crotch, feeling the thick, eleven inch cock Barry recently acquired. “Make sure you get enough to eat now–I don’t want you losing any weight, alright?”
“Don’t worry dad, I’ll be fine.”
“And don’t let those other boys give you a hard time either, they’re just bullies with tiny cocks.”
“Heh, I think I’ll be fine this weekend dad, I’m not too worried.”
“Alright,” his dad said, smiling over his three chins, “I’d better get back home–mom’ll be angry if I miss breakfast.”
“Yeah, go eat–wish I could join you!” Barry said, gave his huge dad a big hug and watched him get back into the minivan, still amazed at what the amulet had done, and he gripped it with his hand. The amulet of his dreams–literally. He’d fallen asleep, and dreamed he was getting fatter–and when he woke up, he had been. That’s all it was, the first few nights, him packing on the pounds, but then he dreamed that his muscular dad was a gainer too. The next, that his dad was a total bottom for his son’s huge cock. It didn’t seem to work every single night, but often enough that he had a good feeling about this trip; he hefted his pack up onto one shoulder and joined the rest of the troop.
It was late fall, and the weather had turned sour and rainy over the last few weeks. It looked like a decent chunk of the troop had decided to bow out for the weekend–there were only about twelve people gathered in the parking lot–three adults leaders and eleven scouts, including Barry. The scoutmaster Mr. Hoffson and his son Max were there of course–they always were. Max was a few years older than he was, and his main bully in the troop, along with a few other older kids who followed him around like a puppy. Usually this would have been the worst trip imaginable–leaving Friday and coming home Sunday morning–three days and two nights–but that length of time suddenly had Barry excited. One or two good dreams–and who knew what might happen.
“Yo, lardass, are you coming or not?” Max shouted at him, “This could have actually been a good weekend if you hadn’t shown up. Sure you don’t want to go home and stuff yourself with your lardass dad?”
He really would rather be at home, fucking his fat dad while his mom stuffed their faces, but he had business to attend to first. “Nah, let’s get going–I have a feeling this is going to be a great weekend.”
Bracken's Corner 