“Promote him? Sure he looks like a nice guy, but I heard he’s a cocksucker. We can’t have someone like that representing our company as a Vice President! Men like that only care about sex, fucking degenerate freaks is all they are,” the other executives at the club laughed along with Jerry as they smoked cigars, and the discussion moved on to other, straighter candidates for the position. Only Jerry heard the words on the air:
“Truer words were never spoken.”
Over the next while, Jerry found himself getting hungrier. There were the usual hors d’oeuvres available at the club, but none of them were particularly satisfying to this need growing in his gut. He ended up in a chair in the corner of the room, looking a bit sullen, sucking on his cigar, licking the end thoughtlessly, until it was nothing but a nub. Then he excused himself, got his coat from the check, and left.
He needed something to satisfy this, he was getting desperate. He didn’t go to his car, instead he found himself walking down the city streets, his feet guiding him somewhere. Perhaps he’d find a little restaurant still open at this time of night, that could give him what he needed. Instead, he found himself standing outside of a building that advertised itself as a bathhouse–he knew about these, and what those faggots did in there. He tried to walk away, but his stomach cramped, almost sending him to the sidewalk on his knees. Distressed, he followed his feet, went inside, purchased a year long membership without thinking about it, and got undressed in the locker room.
The first cock he saw, he knew what he needed. He tried to get down on his knees and suck the twink off, only for him to push him away and walk off, obviously not interested in him. Flustered, he wandered around, looking for someone willing to feed him, and finally passed by the gloryholes. His feet turned, he got on his knees in the booth, and it wasn’t long before the first cock slid through the hole, and Jerry swallowed it to the hilt, ravenous. After a few minutes, he was rewarded with a load of cum that he swallowed down eagerly, horrified at his shamelessness, unable to comprehend why he was doing this. He tried to get up, tried to run, get dressed and go home to his wife, but his legs refused to unbend. Another cock slid through the hole, and he sucked that one dry too, and the one after that, and the one after that.
When he finally felt full, he stood up, stepped out and got dressed in his suit. It no longer fit correctly. Jerry had always been large, but his gut had swollen even more with all of this cum, arms and legs shrunken, now several inches shorter than he had been. He looked like a freak, like a degenerate, like a cumhungry pig. He left the building, horrified to realize it was already morning, and he only had a little time before he was due at the office. Still in the same suit he’d worn the night before, he rushed over, only to find himself in a meeting with the new VP of Operations–which had been his position, hadn’t it?
No, of course not. The new VP was more than happy to remind him of the fact that cum hungry pig faggots like him weren’t fit for this sort of work. Thankfully, there was a position open in the maintenance department, which would be more fitting for a cocksucker like him. He had to agree, and the new VP was even nice enough to feed him a load of cum, before he went down to the basement, exchanged his suit for a set of coveralls, and spent the day dunging out the bathrooms of the offices. That night, he found himself back at the bathhouse, back on the other side of the hole, no longer questioning his hunger. His hunger that never slept, so neither would he, from now on. By day, a janitor, and by night, a hungry mouth. There was nothing else that could matter for a cocksucker like him.
Bracken's Corner 