Eric did go to the library for a few hours, where he holed up in an isolated corner away from anyone else, and tried to focus on his school work, but nothing could get past his growing terror. Something was seriously wrong with him. He was bigger. He already stank like he hadn’t showered in days, and he’d just been sitting there in the cold room. He had a beard he couldn’t shave. His dirty laundry had just fucked up his roommate in some way he couldn’t even begin to explain. He’d spent all weekend fucking with some stranger. He’d raped one of his teammates. Trying to stack everything up together, everything felt too big. He tried searching online for anything he could find about what might have happened, but everything either led him to filthy porn videos he was too terrified to watch, strange online stories which read more like fantasies ripped out of twisted minds, and freakish conspiracy theories about aliens, government agents, and genetic experimentation.
He leaned back in the chair, feeling it creak, his gut growling. He’d been hungry for ages, but he didn’t want to give in. He could…remember eating with Greg, in that room, how he’d always lost control of himself each time, stuffing himself, Greg stuffing him, rubbing his gut, that time he’d…greased his cock up with butter and fucked him. He shuddered, and realized too late the memory had not only gotten him hard, but he’d just shot a huge wad right into his tight pants, the wet spot obvious and spreading across the denim. It dried in less than a minute, and the jeans he had on looked a lot less clean than they had been moments before–the same with his shirt, which looked like it was stained with who-knew-what and was suddenly crispy to the touch. The hunger was intensifying, becoming physically painful, but he didn’t dare go to the mess hall, not like this, not around all of those other people, but he didn’t know where to go instead.
He should go back to see Greg. He needed to know what was happening to him, he needed to know just how much of what he’d just read on the internet about this was true. He needed…to smell him, see him, taste him again. He pushed the desire away, and holed up in the corner of the library for a few more hours, trying not to think about what was happening to him. Once it had gotten a bit later, past the dinner hour, he ventured out right before the dining hall closed, piling a tray high with what remained, and trying to keep his distance from everyone, found a booth in the corner and stuffed himself, helplessly masturbating under the table, filling his jeans with four or five more loads of sticky cum before he finally finished his meal. He sat there, disgusted with himself, pleased with that disgust, a part of him embracing it, finding it sexy to be so reprehensible and filthy and fat. How was he going to live like this? Fuck, he needed a fucking drink.
There was a liquor store a few blocks away–he bought a fifth of whisky, and on impulse, a few cigars and a lighter. He’d never smoked cigars before, but they…they were calling to him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He walked back to campus, but couldn’t go back to his dorm, and he couldn’t go back to the library, so he went back behind a maintenance building, lit a cigar and started slugging back booze, feeling a calm, dullness settle in over his mind. With the dullness there was nothing to hold back the horniness, and he started idly masturbating for lack of anything else to do, thinking back on his time with Greg, thinking about Tom in the hallway, how he’d smelled, how they’d all smelled together. He could…almost smell him now, in fact.
“D-Daddy? Oh fuck, daddy!”
Eric looked over and saw a young man coming towards him. It…couldn’t be Tom. He didn’t really look anything like Tom, but it had to be him, because Eric could smell him–more strongly than earlier that day, even. It was a powerful sweetness, a musky innocence, young fruit just beginning to rot. Tom had been a wide receiver, all lean muscle, but not any more–now he was half a foot shorter, his body rounded out in all the sexy places: wide hips, soft belly and boytits, and a big round ass that you could just eat for days. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was he doing? He threw the bottle to the side and snuffed out the cigar, trying to clear his head as Tom approached. “Boy, you need to get the fuck away from me, I don’t…think I can control myself…”
“But Daddy Greg said I needed to apologize, for how I spoke to you earlier. I didn’t mean to be so mean daddy, but I…I wasn’t feeling like myself. Daddy Greg, he spent all day with me, really teaching me what a boy I am, and I see now! I get it daddy, I get it. I thought I was the important one, but Daddy Greg was just using me before–but now, everyone gets to use me, because that’s what I fucking want. That’s what I was fucking meant for.”
He came close, pressing his soft frame to Eric, who moaned and muttered, cock rock hard as the boy started stroking it, the scent of his filth and the boy’s sugar mixing, making him think of…of all the disgusting shit he could do to this little fuck, and how he’d love it, because that’s what boys did. They loved everything their daddy’s did to them, and everything was new to them, every time. But not…here. Not right here, in the open. Well, maybe…No! No, just…just a quick fuck, back in his dorm, and then the boy was gonna be out on his ass. “One apology fuck, and that’s it boy.”
They both knew he was lying, but they believed it for the moment, as Eric grabbed the boy’s hand and the booze with the other, before dragged him back towards his dorm, so the boy could properly apologize.
Bracken's Corner 