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Sketch #6 – What He’d Seen

Martin was on the sidewalk, having a smoke outside his building, trying to forget about what he’d seen the night before, or at least tell himself that he hadn’t seen it. He should tell someone, he should tell the police, he should–

There, at the end of the block. Was that him? Was that the man?

He turned and walked the other direction. It was different, seeing him in the daylight. He should have felt safer, but he didn’t. He tried not to look panicked, he tried to keep a brisk pace, but the end of the block was a bustling intersection with no way to jaywalk–he was trapped.

“Fancy seeing you here, big boy?” A voice said in his ear, one hand curving around his side, around his belly. It felt…so good. How could one gesture feel so wonderful. He moaned and slumped back against the man slightly, unable to help himself for some reason. “Why don’t you and I have a little talk? I want to hear about what you say last night.”

What he’d seen. He’d seen two guys in a truck, parked, jacking eachother off. He’d seen them proposition a guy for a threesome. This man had taken him up on it, except not in the way they were expecting. Where two young thuggish guys had left the truck, two slaves left with the man, forcibly made in the darkness between the streetlamps, in the dingy dark where Martin couldn’t have been certain he’d seen anything at all. Martin, who had watched it happen, jacking his cock in the open as the two men were fucked and submitted to the man, accepted their chains gratefully in the dark, and he had been seen, just like he’d worried, but now here he was in the alley shade, away from anyone who might help him, cock hard, moaning as the man dragged him further down behind a dumpster.

“I assume you saw everything?”

“Y–Yes sir, I did sir,” Martin said. He hadn’t been able to see the man’s face the night before, and he still couldn’t. His eyes couldn’t look there, they couldn’t touch this master, this man, this stranger, this god? When had he fallen to his knees? When had he started rubbing his fat cheeks into the cumstiff denim of the man’s jeans?

“I thought as much. Loose ends always seem to pop up. You know that I can’t have you say anything about what you saw right? I can’t let anyone know what might happen in the city at nights.”

Martin grunted and snorted in agreement. He didn’t need to talk anyway. He needed to suck, he needed to suck and drink and eat and fuck.

“Oh, little piggy,” the man said, and he let his cock out of his fly. Martin squealed with excitement and started sucking on it, drool leaking out of the corners of his mouth, the man reaching down as the pig’s clothes tightened up into a black rubber suit, nothing exposed aside from it’s fat ass and the massive plug shoved deep into its hole. “That’s a very good piggy indeed.”

Sketch #5 – Getting Bigger

“There are lots of ways to get bigger though.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t what I was fucking talking about, you fucking freak! We were just having a competition, and I wanted some help beating Jack this month!”

“Well too late now–you’re the one who ate all the pills without asking me what they did,” Rudy said, sounding a bit exasperated over the phone, “You can work it off.”

“I can’t work off seventy five pounds! Plus I’m hungry as fuck. Even if I could, Jack’s going to be home any second! What’s he going to say when he sees me like this?”

“Not really my problem.”

“It fucking is your problem! Get the fuck over here and fix this!–Hello? Hello? Did you fucking hang up on me?”

The sound of a key in the door, and Craig couldn’t waddle out of the room fast enough to avoid Jack seeing him, 250 pounds and pile of lard, and his sweaty partner just gaped from the doorway, letting his gym bag fall to the floor with his jaw.

“C–Craig?”

Cheeks red, eyes watering, he locked himself in the bathroom until Jack gave up trying to get him to come out. Then he smelled it–the food. Jack was a nice cook, and had a way of making the healthiest dish seem hearty and filling, but the smells he was getting this time, butter and fat and meat and starch and he was out of the bathroom, salivating, and there was Jack with an overflowing dinner table.

“Did…did you make all this…for me?”

“Get over here and eat, big boy,” Jack said, and was that…lust? Craig was too hungry to worry about it. He lumbered over and started stuffing his face, Jack massaging his gut as he ate, getting down behind him and licking his ass clean, sucking his cock, licking him all over. He didn’t know what was going on–Jack had never told him he was a chubby chaser, but then that might explain some of the bear sites that kept popping in their browser history…

Jack ended up on the kitchen table, Craig trying to fuck him. He’d never had the largest cock and it was harder with all this fat. Jack got frustrated before too long, sat Craig down on the couch and went to get his pump. He fed Craig dessert while they engorged his cock, not stopping until it was seven inches and huge, and then Jack happily fucked himself on his boyfriend’s fat cock for the rest of the evening.

The next day, Craig called Rudy to get some more pills from him. Jack and him had been talking, and they both wanted him over 600 pounds by the end of the month. Rudy threw in some male enhancement as a bonus, and before long, Jack was happily riding his fat partner’s foot long cock all night long, and getting bigger had never felt so good for them both.

Relating to an earlier question regarding slobs- what is a slob then, to you? It’s a broad term you can apply to a lot of things, but there’s a wide variety of definitions seen; in porn and out of it, and it seems to vary from individual to individual. From you, I’d expect you like it because of the regression aspect of it?

A slob is someone who…well, it’s a bit complex, but I’ll try to describe it. It isn’t just someone who doesn’t take care of themselves. It isn’t just someone with “bad hygiene.” It isn’t someone with a particular body type, or with a certain kind of mental regression, or anything like that, it has to do with an appreciation of body, I think.

A slob is someone in love with the body and everything it puts out, waste included. A slob is someone fascinated by their body as organic object. We spend our times in a world which tries to cover up the fact that, at the end of the day, we’re all just meat. This can happen through appeals towards beauty (hygiene, makeup, shaving, etc.) appeals through science (the dispassionate description of the body in medical textbooks, the facts thrown around about how we’re all just atoms in one form or another without any attention paid to what those atoms then compose) or appeals through spirit (all talk of souls/minds either religious or secular, the belief that personhood is found in thoughts and memories and not in actual being) and probably some other things I’m forgetting. A slob rejects those viewpoints and opts for a different one.

They accept that the body is messy. In fact, more than accepting it, they revel in it. This can, of course, happen to different degrees. Simply liking your pitstink is a one way you could be slobby. The act of masturbation is, I think, fundamentally slobby. Wallowing in piss and shit would be slobby as well. It’s all an appreciation or worship of the body as imperfect, messy organic matter, or at least, that’s the best way I can rationalize how I feel about it.

Is it wrong to be offended by stories that are meant to be hot and nothing else? I remember once reading a mind control story by an author who genuinely, honestly believed that people with schizophrenia (or other disorders) would be better off if they stopped treatment and just had their minds wiped. He really argued with anyone who disagreed with his ideas, including people who actually had schizophrenia or other disorders.

Um…well, to be honest, as soon as you use a story to broadcast an opinion, whatever that opinion might be, you kind of lose the ability to then say “Don’t judge my opinions! The story was just supposed to be hot!”

And that said, I don’t think there really are stories that contain “nothing else”. Every story comes from a culture, and from a way of perceiving the world that might be skewed. If you think it’s hot to kill people, and then write a story with snuff, and someone is offended by you writing a story where killing another person is glorified, it could very well be that you wrote the story “because it’s hot” but that doesn’t mean the underlying morals can’t be called into question.

Out of all the stories you have written short and long ones. Which ones are your favorites?

Gah, that’s a lot of stories to sort through. 

As far as long stories go, I’d say “Jock,” “Identity Crises,” and “Letters From Prison” would be my top three is some order or other.

As for short ones and vignettes, that’s a bit harder. Looking through them, there are a lot that I *like* or thought were successful, but no real favorites. I would like to expand a few at some point, but that’ll have to wait for another time.

I love the new scenes! The second one is a great twist on classinc dom/sub reversal. The third one is smoking hot without any MC or TF. Great stuff

Thanks, I’m glad people have liked them. They’re a bit of a departure in terms of tone, and I’ve jokingly called them anti-porn. That is, a story that reads like it should be arousing you, but doesn’t because it’s just depressing and/or weird and/or literary. It’s an experiment, so who knows how it will go.