VIP Package (Part 3)

“I still don’t understand what the fuck that fucking means!” Jeremy screamed at the buff young man behind the desk, who simply maintained the same plastic smile all of the fucking men on staff had, and nodded along.

“Yes sir, you’ve said that several times. I can assure you that your husband is safe, and will be returned at the end of the cruise, or earlier, if our VIP guest chooses to remove him from his package prior to arrival back in Florida.”

“Who the hell is he fucking that’s so fucking important he can’t spend his vacation with me?”

“I can’t disclose any information about our VIPs, sir.”

So what, he just fucking disappears on a fucking a boat, with some fucking stranger?”

“He’s providing a vital service for the cruise line, and will be handsomely compensated at the end of the voyage.”

“Oh, and now you’re telling me he’s a whore, too?”

The man behind the desk thought a moment, grinned, and then nodded, “Perhaps, in a sense, if that helps you understand. But that’s still not quite precise enough. However, I cannot clarify further, because I cannot disclose the nature of our VIP packages to visitors in the midst of their fantasy voyage.”

“Some fucking fantasy.”

“Would fucking a member of our staff help, sir? I can offer you someone on the house, if you’d like.”

“I’m going to call the fucking cops when I get off this fucking boat, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Our company has filed and been granted a special waiver, and at sea, our vessels are classified as sovereign nations. Even if you told the police, they would have no jurisdiction. That said, further threats against our ship can be considered an act of war, so I would encourage you to leave, and not press the issue further.”

The man’s eyes, had turned stony, and the grin, while pleasant, was…also menacing. If it was a bluff, it was crazy enough to sound possible. Samuel was the lawyer–all Jeremy knew how to do was ride the markets for hedge funds. Still, it was clear that this muscle fuck wasn’t going to give him any answers, so he did leave the cruise ship complaint office, frustrated, but also terrified and confused. The last he’d seen Samuel, he’d been napping at the pool, while he’d gone off for a quick fuck with a cute guy next to them. Well…quick had turned into a couple of hours, but Jeremy hadn’t figured Samuel would mind. They…hadn’t exactly been getting along well, and this cruise probably wasn’t helping much. Samuel was just…so easy going about all of this shit, and all Jeremy wanted was for him to fight for him, to show him that he was wanted. He didn’t want to keep pulling away, but the more distant he got, the less Samuel seemed to even care. Here’s where it had gotten him: alone on a massive ship, his husband keeping some rich fuck company as…as something similar to a whore, and he had no fucking clue about any of it. So he did what he’d always done when things went south–he got shitfaced at the nearest bar.

He was, at first, only going to do a shot or two to steady his nerves. Then, he just needed a couple more before that bear a stool or two over looked a little more handsome. Then, after slurring and flubbing his pickup line and getting firmly rejected, he decided to call it a night. He stumbled back to his room, managed to get the key in the door, and he hoped against everything that Samuel would be in there, ready to clean up another mess, and he’d just…demand they talk about this, about everything. He’d apologize for everything, ask for everything to be right again, to make this work. But there wasn’t going to be anyone in there–he was gone, probably for good, now. He managed to get the key in the door, and nearly fell through it when it opened, and when he looked up, sitting on the edge of the bed…it was Samuel, or at least, he thought it was. It was hard to tell, when the world didn’t seem to want to stop twirling.

“Jeremy? Jeremy! Oh god, oh fuck, I didn’t think I’d see you again, but I begged daddy, and…and I had to do such dirty things, but he said I could see you baby, he said I could be with you.”

“S-Samuel? Is that you?”

The man looked a bit taken aback. “You fucking–that’s not my name! My name is Sammy! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shook his head, “I’m…I’m sorry, he’s still in my fucking head, but it’s ok. Just…don’t call me that, I don’t want to be called that anymore.”

Jeremy focused, trying to clear his head, leaning against the wall beside the door. When he opened his eyes, the swirling had eased up, and he could see…Sammy there, on the bed. It…was his husband, he could see that, but he wasn’t quite the man he remembered. No, Samuel had been buff, and greying, and…a fucking hot top, when he was in the right mood, but the man in front of him…no, it couldn’t be him. For one thing, he was fucking fat–probably 350 pounds at least, with no real definition, just flab, and all of it perfectly smooth. His face was smooth, and looked so young, the rest of his skin without a fucking blemish at all…aside from a prominent birthmark on his right shoulder, which Jeremy knew intimately. He couldn’t process this, what in the world was even happening. “I…I must be hallucinating, you look like a fat fucking…boy, or something.”

“Oh…Oh fuck…” Sammy groaned, “Oh fuck, say…say it again.”

“What?”

“Come on Jeremy, you know, call me what I fucking am.”

“What, a…fat fucking boy?”

“Fuck…fuck me daddy, fuck!” Sammy got up from the bed, grabbed Jeremy, and shoved him towards the bed, where he landed, and Sammy climbed on him, tearing his clothes off, finding his cock. “It…seems so small…but I don’t care. Daddy said you wouldn’t be enough for me, but I don’t care! I don’t…I mean…” Jeremy was trying to protest, trying to get a handle on what was happening, as Sammy stroked his cock, but he was both too turned off–and too drunk–to get hard. “Fuck…Fuck you! You fucking…you’re fucking worthless, he was fucking right! You…you can’t give me what a boy like me needs, fuck, I…I need a, I need my daddy!” Sammy shouted, and fled the room, leaving Jeremy befuddled on the bed, and he passed out not long after that.

VIP Package (Part 2)

They reached their destination floor after a few moments, and stepped out onto a level of the ship Samuel hadn’t explored–and he realized a minute later, after walking across the plush carpet in his bare feet, looking at the gold trimmings and elegant decor, that he was probably not even supposed to be aware that this floor existed. It wasn’t like Samuel and Jeremy hadn’t splurged on decent tickets, booking a fairly large room with an ocean view right below the main deck, but he had seen those astronomical VIP packages on the website…is this what that bought?

The waiter rounded a corner, and Samuel followed, finding himself in a spacious, high ceilinged lounge–or whatever you might call something between a restaurant, bar, and bathhouse. There was a haze of smoke hanging in the air, a mix of pot and tobacco, and in the haze he could see men lying around the room, fucking, relaxing, and looking out the windows through binoculars at the deck below–where Samuel had been lying a moment earlier–occasionally consulting a small tablet they had with them.

The waiter led him close by the window, where an older man was sprawled across a fluffy sofa, wearing a silk robe which had fallen open, exposing most of his body for anyone to see. He was…not quite Samuel’s type. He usually went for muscle bears like himself. A bit of a gut was alright, as long as the guy could carry it well, but anything like this man–Mr. Bishop, the waiter had been calling him–was quite simply out of the question. He likely weighed close to 450, or perhaps even 500 pounds, the rolls of flab cascading around him, almost like he was a massive pillow, a part of the sofa itself. The one thing standing apart, quite literally, was the massive, erect cock jutting out from the flabby rolls. It was…impossibly large, at least a foot, if not longer. Realizing he’d been staring at the cock a bit longer than he’d like, he jerked his eyes away, taking in the flabby body coated with a thick layer of grey hair, and up to his face. He had a thick, well trimmed beard, glasses, and was smoking a cigar. Mr. Bishop smiled when he saw Samuel there, and set down the glass of whiskey he’d been sipping. “Ah, I can’t believe it! I’d never thought a lawyer–but then, hope springs eternal. Come boy, have a seat with me, don’t be shy.”

Samuel tried to resist, but like before, his body was far more keen to obey Mr. Bishop’s voice than his own desires. He sat down, gently, on the edge of the sofa, only for Mr. Bishop to grab him and pull him back, so he was reclining against his fat body.

“Is there anything else I can do for you sir? Someone else for your package perhaps?”

“Oh no, Samuel here will suffice. Though do schedule an appointment for him in the Salon, in one hour.”

“Of course, Mr. Bishop. A pleasure, as always, to have you sailing with us.”

The waiter left, and Samuel heaved himself up and away from the man, tried to stand, but his ass stayed stubbornly planted on the sofa. “Please, I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m…flattered, really, but this isn’t what I thought this was.”

Mr. Bishop laughed, smoke pouring from his mouth. It’s alright boy, I’ll be happy to answer some questions for you, in a moment. First, however, I want to…take care of a few things. Samuel, please go unaware for programming.”

He had no clear recollection of what happened next. He seemed to be…floating. Present, but everything in his mind turned off, and open. Mr. Bishop was speaking to him, and he would respond on occasion, but it seemed…unimportant. Natural. And when he awoke, a few minutes later, this loss of memory didn’t unnerve him–even though he knew it should terrify him out of his wits. He was standing now, looking down at the fat man, still reclining in front of him, like nothing strange had happened at all. “What…just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mr. Bishop said, waving a bit of smoke away with a hand, “Now, I’ll answer a few questions for you, at least, until you can’t control yourself any longer, and have your way with me, boy.”

He leaned on that last word a bit, and when he did, a mild shot of pleasure raced through Samuel’s body, from the top of his spine, right to his cock, and he moaned, breath quickening. He looked at Mr. Bishop again–no, at…at Daddy again, and…and where before he’d been quite turned off, he found himself beginning to appreciate the man’s appearance a bit more than he had. “What…why did that feel so good?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. Every time I address you, boy, you’re going to feel an escalating sensation of pleasure, and find me more and more attractive each time. We’ll see how long before you can’t stop yourself from climbing up and fucking yourself on my massive daddy cock, boy, like the slut you’re going to be, soon enough.”

Those two slammed into him with more force than the first. Samuel’s cock was hard, his ass twitching, and looking at Mr. Bishop now…fuck, he suddenly was finding the old, fat fuck attractive. He shook his head, trying to clear it as best he could, fighting whatever was happening to him. He needed answers. “Please, please stop this, this isn’t what I wanted.”

“Silly boy, you still think this cruise is about what you want?” Mr. Bishop saw Samuel’s knees start shaking. Mr. Bishop heaved himself forward on the couch, grabbed Samuel by the crotch, and pulled him closer. He stumbled forward, and collapsed in front of him, on his knees, staring at…at all of that fat. But he didn’t want this…right? “I can see how you might make that mistake, and think that the fantasy in the name of the company implies a fantasy for everyone. And sure, mid level guys like you, there are a few fantasies for you, boy, like that whore who talked your husband into bed with him, and that bear you were eyeing down at the pool. Sluts, hired by the company, to please upper deck passengers, and you never even know it. But no, the real fantasies that come true, boy? You have to be a real VIP for that, like me. And my fantasies? They’re rather…complicated.”

Samuel had stopped listening. He was too busy ripping off his swimsuit and climbing up, straddling his daddy’s massive frame and slowly dropping himself onto his massive cock, not even taking the time to lube it up with more than a handful of spit. He needed it inside him, needed this beautiful daddy to fuck him. The waiter arrived an hour later, to remind Mr. Bishop of his appointment at the VIP Salon, and he led Samuel away, towards the back of the ship, for his first proper makeover.

On vacation!

Hey all. I’m going to be travelling for the next couple of weeks, visiting our friends in The Netherlands. Posting shouldn’t be interrupted at all, but no guarantees. That said, the husband and I might be out on the town on the weekends. If you’re local and see a couple of American bears hanging around, you never know who you might be chatting up!

VIP Package (Part 1)

This story takes place in the same setting as the caption story “Cruising” I posted a couple of months ago. The stories are unrelated, but it might help establish some background for ya’ll. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2.


Samuel rolled over on the chaise under the hot, Caribbean sun, looking over at Jeremy. His husband was rolled away from him, talking to a stranger on the other side–flirting really, but then, everyone around them was flirting. This was the Gay Fantasy Cruise Lines after all, and it delivered. Was there anyone who worked for this company that didn’t have a perfect eight pack displayed at all time? He listened to the two of them chat, Jeremy trying too hard like he always did, and wished Jeremy would talk to him like that, at least on occasion. It was the second day of the cruise, but he estimated that the number of words the two of them had spoken during their vacation was less than two hundred, and nothing of any substance, sexy or romantic or otherwise. Were they on this cruise to save their relationship, or put it to sleep? He rolled back over and shut his eyes, enjoying the sun, if nothing else. He feigned sleep, heard Jeremy get up off the chaise, and take off.

It wasn’t the sex that bothered him. He’d never been the jealous type. But wasn’t this supposed to be a vacation for them? Together? He couldn’t even invite Samuel to come along for a threesome? He opened his eyes, staring up at that deep endless blue, and sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t work, but regardless of their ailing relationship, they both had needed a vacation. Maybe freeing himself from one rut would help him get out of a few others. He sat up, stretched, and looked around the deck of the ship, certainly pleased with the view–and more than happy with the stares he was getting as well. It wasn’t like either of them was lacking in the looks department. They each spent a good chunk of time keeping themselves fit, and even though they’d each just passed the big forty a couple years back, Samuel was quite pleased with the muscle bear he’d become–a bit of grey in his goatee and chest hair, a little weathered around his eyes, hairline receding slightly, but without becoming unsightly. If Jeremy was just going to spend the whole cruise fucking instead of dealing with anything deeper, there was no reason for him to bother, right?

He cruised another bear on the other side of the pool for a minute, gauging interest, when a member of the hyper-muscled waitstaff stepped between them, smiling down at Samuel. “Thanks,” Samuel said, waving him off, “I don’t need a drink or anything.”

“Actually sir, one of our VIP members has taken an interest in you, and has requested that you be added to his package.”

Samuel looked around the man at the bear, surprised, then back at the waiter, “What does that mean?”

“Men who opt to become part of a VIP member’s package have their cruise fee refunded, receive a significant stipend for each day they remain a member of the package, as well as other benefits. Any modifications are of course removed at the end of the cruise, though some after effects have been reported. Affirmative consent is required. Terms and conditions apply, of course. Would you like to read them? I am required to advise you that you should do so.”

Samuel, a professional in the legal field, was a bit taken aback by the string of jargon, but he’d never really been one of shy away from risk. Besides, it was just a cruise, right? “Sure, why not? I consent.”

“Very good sir, Mr. Bishop will be pleased. Now, if you would just press your thumb here…” he presented an small electronic screen. He pressed his thumb to the screen, and immediately an electric shock shot through him, paralyzing him. “Now, just a matter of administering your control chip,” the waiter bent Samuel’s head forward, and pressed something cold and metallic to the base of his neck, and a piercing pain sent sharp pain to the end of what seemed like every nerve in his body. “The chip will be removed at the end of the cruise, or when your VIP no longer desires you to be in his package experience. Thank you for volunteering, and helping make our VIP’s experience on Gay Fantasy Cruise Lines an unforgettable experience!”

The paralysis was wearing off, and Samuel was able to reach around behind his head, and feel the bump at the base of his neck. “What the hell did you just do to me, you fuck?” he shouted.

“I did advise you to read the TOS, if you’ll remember, as required. Now, follow me, and I’ll escort you to your VIP.”

The waiter stepped back, and Samuel wasn’t about to follow this crazy fuck anywhere, but much to his surprise, he stood up–his body disobeying his own mind entirely. “What–how the fuck did you do that? You fucking, this is fucking insane! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t worry, once we reach your VIP, I’ll transfer complete control to him. Now, come along, and don’t make a scene.”

Samuel followed behind the young gymrat, watching his tight ass swing back and forth in those tight trunks they all wear, sailor hat perched perfectly askew, and he hated him. He wanted to drown him in the pool, he wanted to savage him, but instead, he simply followed the smug, crazy fuck off. Samuel was still assuming, at this point, that the VIP had been the bear he’d been cruising, but at the corner of the pool, they kept going straight, towards the entrance to the ship. “Wait, where are you going? I thought he was back there?”

The waiter looked back, over his shoulder, “Who, that bear you were looking at earlier? Oh no! Mr. Bishop is up in the VIP lounge. He’s been watching you for most of the morning, along with a few other candidates I was prepared to invite to join his package if you declined. He’ll be very happy to know that his first choice agreed! It always makes me so happy when our VIPs are happy, you have no idea!”

“I should at least tell my husband–”

“Jeremy will be notified of your new status, when he’s done with the guest he left with earlier.”

They got to an elevator, stepped inside, and started to rise. Apparently, he should have read that fucking fine print–and now, who knew what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.

Faggot Therapy (Part 2)

After that session, Lonnie found himself unable to cope with his new knowledge and memories, and within a day, he’d suffered a complete, emotional breakdown. The doctor had ordered him be committed, but suggested it would be better for Lonnie if he stayed and lived with his therapist, until he was back to his usual self. Lonnie didn’t resist–he couldn’t resist. The doctor had done so much for him, after all. He packed a small bag, and moved in with him that evening, staying in a small room up in the attic.

The therapy didn’t cease, however. Lonnie would have moments of clarity, where he would deny what had happened, deny that he was even sick at all. The shock collar was medically necessary, to control his patient. To remind him, at any moment, that he wasn’t really a man, as he was trying to insist. No, Lonnie was just a pathetic faggot. He would be put into a trance for hours, reliving horrible, violent, humiliating memories, the therapist slowly rewriting his patient’s entire life. Now, every man he’d known had used him–his father and uncles, his two brothers, his friends and bullies. Everyone knew he was a faggot, other than him. When he’d gone off to college, Lonnie had put all that away, he’d been pretending for decades that he was a real man–this is what had caused his anxiety, he learned–only by returning to his proper nature, could he feel at peace once more.

His therapist would make him relive his memories, particularly in the shower. It would trigger violent flashbacks, and Lonnie would helplessly get down in front of his therapist and service him in any way the man demanded, like he had all those boys in his school, and much to his surprise…the feelings of terror and anxiety began to fade away. The therapist encouraged his progress and good behavior. Helped him feel more at home in his new identity. Still, the road to recovery was long. It was two years later, when Lonnie was finally released from his therapist’s care–no longer a man, but just a humble faggot.

He made amends the only way a proper faggot could–my servicing as many men as he possibly could. He would cruise bars and bathhouses every night, worshiping cock, begging for it, and the crueler the top, the happier he found himself. Of course, finding work was difficult for him. He’d quit his previous job after his breakdown, but every time he sat down for an interview, especially with another man, he found himself compelled to explain to them exactly what he was, and why. Occasionally, the man interviewing him would use him, but after three months he was still unemployed. It was Dr. Halvers who found a solution for him.

The only job suitable for a faggot as lowly as Lonnie, was as a complete slave. It turned out, the therapist knew of a…rather unconventional auction, held a couple times a year–and he was happy to sponsor him, of course. Lonnie fetched a fair price, and Dr. Halvers collected the fees himself–Lonnie’s treatment hadn’t been cheap after all. Last he’d heard, Lonnie–or Scum, as he’d been renamed, had never been happier. Four hundred pounds, completely hairless, castrated, kept in a cage for twenty hours a day, brought out only for service. The only future a faggot could ever desire.

Mad Science

loakachunk:

Finally, it was done. 8 years of research, months of preparation, and a menagerie of deceased mice, but at last he held in his hand the formula that he had sought for most of his adult life. Dr. Walker felt an incredible excitement building within him as he inspected the tiny vial. He was so close to realizing his dream that he could almost taste it, taking all his willpower to stop himself from downing the vial’s contents right then and there. No, mad scientist he may be, however he was not so mad as to administer a still as of yet unproven cocktail to himself without any kind of human testing.

Unfortunately for him, this formula was being done off the books, without any knowledge of the university, so he couldn’t just announce his findings to the world and start human trials. Jon also knew he couldn’t simply spike someone’s drink with the formula to observe the results. If it proved toxic he’d have to hide a body, a subject he had skipped in his mad scientist studies and had no idea how to handle. If it proved effective, the unwitting dupe would likely be largely upset at the outcome, and he wasn’t so sure he would be able to remove all evidence that would lead back to him anyway. He would have to find a guinea pig that was as enthused about his results as he was, but also willing to sacrifice some safety to achieve his goal.

Fortunately, the internet was a vast place, and home to many, many diverse interests.


Mikey was sauntering home after morning classes. The fall leaves were just beginning to turn red and brown, and he was already feeling slightly overwhelmed as assignments piled up at the beginning of his sophomore year. Things like cooking and eating healthy had long since gone out the window, as the freshly punched notches on his belt could attest. However, Mikey wasn’t exactly distressed at these developments, and he made his way back to his dorm already salivating at the thought of a frozen pizza lunch. Maybe even two pizzas, he thought, giving his small belly a pat.

Finally reaching his dorm, he kicked off his shoes, gave a courteous hello to his dorm-mates, dropped off his pack in his room, then made his way to the shared kitchen to pop the tops on two frozen pizzas. Safely set to bake for 20 minutes, he made his way back to his room to sit down, check his email, and surf the usual sites. Homework could wait until after lunch.

He’d always loved food. He’d always loved eating, but more than that, Mikey wanted to grow, to become huge, the biggest he could ever be. Growing up in a very health-conscious household had meant there’d never really been the opportunity to truly pig out. Now that Mikey had left the nest, he was going to make the most of his new-found freedom and eat whenever and whatever he wanted, and finally realize his dream of becoming bigger. He’d already gained the freshman 15 and then some, and was well on his way to packing away the sophomore thirty. A few more weeks and he’d have to buy bigger pants.

Still, progress was too slow for his liking; he wanted to get big, now. Luckily the internet was a big place, filled with many diverse interest. After checking his email, Mikey logged into Gnosher to check his messages there. Mikey had stumbled across the gainer community some years ago, and was surprised to find out there were a lot of people that actually shared his desires. Gnosher was just one such site where people could congregate, share tips, and just generally encourage one another to grow as big as they wanted. Mikey was in touch with several inspiring individuals, and he scrolled through a few messages congratulating him on nearly outgrowing his belt.

The message that caught his eye today was something he’d never received before. There was the usual congratulations for his steady gains, but after that was the question, “How would you like to get much much bigger, much much faster?” It sounded like he was going to be given a pitch for some sort of new weight gain protein mix, something that Mikey had so far avoided on a university budget, but he was intrigued enough to at least reply back asking for the details. Already putting it out of his mind and finishing up his online perusal, he made his way back to the kitchen to begin scarfing his now cooked pizzas.

Upon re-entering his room, Mikey was surprised to see on his still open Gnosher page that he’d already gotten a reply. Curiosity won out over hunger, and he clicked the message open to read it. It turned out the writer was a local, working at the university, and he’d been working on a weight gain formula that was now ready for human testing. After reading Mikey’s profile, he thought he’d be eager to take part in trials, and was wondering if he’d like to sign up. It all seemed too good to be true, and Mikey felt a healthy dose of skepticism, but once again curiosity won out and Mikey replied with positive enthusiasm. Again, a few short minutes later, he was provided instructions to come to professor Jon Walker’s lab this afternoon and he’d be given further instructions.

Bewildered, but excited, Mikey quickly ate his pizzas, stowed his homework for later this evening, and made his way to the Biotechnology building where professor Walker’s lab was.


Now he wondered if he truly was mad. Test the formula here? Now? And with a student here at the university? What if something went wrong? What if the boy screamed and went to the authorities? Or worse, what if it killed him? How would he drag a body out of this office, in the middle of the afternoon? The more the professor fraught and fretted the more insane he thought his plan to be. How could he let his own ego get the better of him to do something so reckless?

Professor Walker sighed, and slumped back behind his desk, the image of a young sophomore still displayed on his screen. Brown hair, blue eyes, boyish looks, and a budding belly; who was he kidding? It wasn’t just his ego that made him message this boy. A life devoted to science had left the professor desperately lonely, and he had jumped at the chance of not only fulfilling his life’s work, but also actually meeting someone with the same desires as his own. He sighed again at his own folly, but at the same time there was the building fire of anticipation. What if it all worked?

“Professor Walker?”

The voice was quiet, coming from the other end of the lab adjoining his office. Steeling himself, he put on his best professor face, and walked out the door to greet his subject.


“Professor?” Mikey called out, wondering if the professor may still be on lunch, but after a few moments he heard a bustling from the small office next to the lab, and then a small, bespectacled, middle-aged man walked out to greet him.

“Ah, Michael, so good you could make it,” he said warmly, extending his hand in greeting.

Mikey took the hand and shook. “Thank you for contacting me. I was surprised that this was something the university even studied.”

“Indeed, the biotechnology laboratory has many concurrent studies being done.”

“I’m in computer sciences, so I had no idea. I’d have certainly signed up if this was a posted study! So, do I have to sign anything?”

The professor paused and them seemed to stammer nervously. “Ah, yes, well, this is something of a personal passion of mine. Off the school’s records, so to speak.”

Mikey raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So… what is it? Some sort of new protein powder?”

“No no no, nothing of the sort. What I have created is a chemical formula able to completely alter the subjects fundamental genetics in such a way that it’s almost like they’re a new person.”

“That sounds… a little dangerous? Look, I’d like to fill out, not become a totally different person.” Mikey said, taking a caution half-step back.

“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, I misspoke. The formula doesn’t change everything, like your hair or eye colour, but actually targets and edits some very specific genes. You’ve heard of course of certain ethnicities being more prone to weight gain and obesity?”

“You mean like, Samoans?” Mikey offered, still skeptical.

“Yes, precisely, very good! Polynesian men simply have higher percentage of adipose tissue than the general population. What my formula does is take those specific genome sequences and edits them into the host, essentially changing their heritage slightly, but without changing anything else like skin or hair colour.” Mikey was about to reply, but the professor exuberantly continued, “But that’s just one example of what the formula does; obesity is a much more complex syndrome than any one gene. There is also the hereditary genetics passed from parents and especially the mother, there is epigenetics when a child is overweight and carries that weight into puberty and then adulthood – all these things are contained and subtly changed in this formula. It’s truly a marvel, if I do say so myself!” Concluded the professor, clearly proud of himself.

“But you haven’t tested it on people yet.” Mikey added flatly.

The professor seemed to shrink bank in on himself. “Well, no, not as of yet, that’s why you’re here of course. However, studies on laboratory animals have been very promising.”

“Like, how promising?”

“98% of subjects have doubled their initial mass after ingestion.”

“And the other 2%?”

“Um, well most of the rest were simply ineffective, and a statistically insignificant percentage suffered mild cardiac events.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “How insignificant?”

“It was one. Out of hundreds of subjects,” the professor grumped. “I have a defibrillator in my office. I promise you this will be perfectly safe.”

Mikey crossed his arms, but a coy smile crept into his face. “Doubled their mass, huh?”

The professor nodded. “Yes, that’s what my studies showed.”

“Alright then, how do we do this?”

The professor visibly relaxed, and then beamed enthusiasm once more. “Splendid! Well, first, we’ll take a measurement so we have a baseline comparison of course. Take off your shoes and jacket and follow me.” Professor Walker then made his way back to his office, and Mikey quickly kicked off his shoes and jacket and followed him in. “Please close the door behind you, would you?” Mikey did, and then lay his shoes and jacket on the floor near the door.

Once inside the professor moved to a physician’s scale and motioned for Mikey to get on. “Now please remove your effects and we’ll weigh you in.” This brought Mikey up short, but he brought his shirt over his head, undid his belt and slid out of his jeans, and lay the pile of clothes near the door with his shoes and jacket. The professor coughed slightly and waved a hand at Mikey’s groin, “and your boxers I’m afraid.”

“What- why?”

Wringing his hands, professor Walker replied, “well, you could keep them on, but it will likely become very uncomfortable quite soon.”

This made Mikey’s eyes widen, but he obeyed and woodenly removed his boxers, standing there naked, hands over his groin. The display of modesty made professor Walker chuckle. “Now now, don’t feel embarrassed. I am a doctor, after all.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your doctorate in?” Mikey shot back.

The professor shrugged. “Molecular biology, but I’d like to think I’d bring the same level of professionalism and courtesy as an MD.”

Mikey snarked, but removed his hands and made his way to get on the scale. The professor wasn’t sure what the young man had to be ashamed of; the boy was more than adequately hung. Impressively hung, even.

Moving behind Mikey, Dr. Walker moved the scale’s weights back and forth, slowly zeroing in on the young man’s weight, while surreptitiously sneaking glances at his subject’s form. An average frame, but possessing a certain softness and a rounded middle suggesting the boy had been skipping the gym and snacking a little too much during late-night study sessions. This, along with his shyness, made him absolutely adorable. It almost made the professor regret the circumstances by which he’d found the boy naked in his office. Almost.

“About 220 pounds, or thereabouts,” the professor announced, and then marked it down on a paper on his desk. Then, he reached into a drawer in his desk, retrieved a small vial of blue liquid and grandly announced, “Now for the fun part, as they say!”

Mikey gulped. He was really doing this. If this worked, he’d put every other gainer on Gnosher to shame. If it didn’t, well, it probably wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully. “Do I just drink it?”

“Indeed, my boy, indeed,” he said handing the vial over to the young man.

Mikey sighed, “Well, here goes,” and drank the vial in one gulp. He stood there for a few moments, not sure what he was expecting to feel, before finally asking, “so how long does this stuff take?”

“Well, in mice it was metabolized in approximately 5 minutes or so. There’s no rushing science,” the professor added, waggling his finger for scholarly emphasis.

Mikey was beginning to wonder if the professor put on this much of a show during his classes, when he started to feel a wave of warmth build up inside, before gently crashing over him, only to do it again moments later. “Uh, professor? I feel something.”

“Yes? How do you feel? Describe the sensation.”

“Uh, warm? Like I have a fever, only it’s in my stomach. And something- urgh!” Mikey doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain, but while he did he found there was more stomach to clutch, and after a moment there was more still. His belly was rounding out more and more, the flesh expanding beneath his fingers like an inflating ball.

“Michael, are you alright?” Dr. Walker sounded genuinely alarmed and took a step forward, however Mikey waved him off and slowly righted himself. As he did he took a slight stumbling step backwards, causing the newly formed flesh of his belly to jiggle slightly. The completely alien sensation of a part of him moving well after he had stopped made his eyes widen in astonishment.

“Oh man, this is happening! I’m getting bigger!” Mikey exclaimed, ecstatic, all pain forgotten as he grabbed his belly to bounce and jiggle it in his hands. In moments it was large enough to have a fold over his waist, and he could lift and drop it with a faint slap of flesh meeting flesh. Then, another wave of heat, this time diffuse and all-encompassing, but without any pain at all. Mikey let it wash over him in rapt anticipation.

For his part, Dr. Walker was even more ecstatic than Mikey was. It was working! This boy was blimping up before his very eyes!  First in the gut, but he could see the rest of him was slowly catching up. His previously flat chest was budding into a pair of perky man tits, tiny areolas stretching wider as his new mammaries inflated with soft flesh. His entire chest now began to rise outwards like inflating dough, the skin softening with adipose as it accumulated beneath it. The softness then spread to his shoulders, down his arms, then up his neck and face, all of it becoming noticeably thicker with growth. In moments the boy had a double chin, round moon cheeks, and a fold of flesh at the back of his neck just where his short brown hair tapered off.

Soon It seemed as though his body was reaching capacity as folds and creases were appearing beneath his chest, arms and arm-pits, the billowing fat unable to be contained beneath the skin. It was then that the growth changed tack, now causing his frame to visibly broaden. Dr. Walker could almost hear the creak of bones as his hips, shoulders and torso enlarged and expanded, making him wide, heavy-set, and barrel chested. The folds of flesh disappeared momentarily as the fat spread out to cover the enlarging canvas, but soon reappeared as the expansion of his skeleton slowed, only now much further apart. With wider hips, Mikey was forced to shuffle his feet and widen his stance, thicker feet now splayed diagonally in order to balance the heavier load.

Mikey could not have been happier feeling each new curve and roll, each new bounce and jiggle as his frame packed on more and more and more. He rubbed his hands over his torso over and over, each time the sensation bringing something new, and becoming intensely erotic. He could tell between his much wider set thighs and beneath his protruding middle he was becoming aroused in front of an audience, but he was too turned on to care. He was getting everything he’d ever wanted all at once, and he was more than happy to ignore a spectator and simply enjoy each new sensation as he grew.

As incredibly erotic as the whole scene was for Mikey, it was even more so for Dr. Walker. The adorable young man was becoming the hunk of his dreams right in front of him, and it was becoming increasingly obvious as the well hung cock began to stiffen and rise to it’s full length, almost slapping the belly hanging above it. It really was impressive, and the sight of this hulking tank blissfully rubbing his chest and belly while his huge cock bounced beneath was more than enough to get the good professor hard as steel in his slacks.

“Oh god, this feels sooo goood,” Mikey moaned, hands never leaving his torso, and the professor could see a drop of pre began to form at the tip of his now turgid member. Doctor Walker was working up the nerve to reach out and touch the leaking organ, when he noticed Mikey’s growth was now redirecting south, his legs, ass and feet puffing up and filling out. Within moments each of his thunder thighs were the size of a normal man’s waist, but unlike the billowy flab of his torso each lower limb was a near solid ham as Mikey’s musculature became better able to handle the heavy burden he’d be carrying from now on. The only exception to this seemed to be his glutes, which not only blew up to this size of two basketballs but also retained a certain wobbliness, the massive globes fighting for space on Mikey’s backside.

Another moan brought the professor’s attention back to the young man’s groin. As each thigh grew thicker they began to press together, leaving less and less space for Mikey’s nuts. Each ball was now stretching the scrotum so thin the veins were clearly visible, and the professor was concerned if he didn’t do something the skin might tear. However, his concerns were expunged as just like the rest of his skin it stretched and grew, letting each teste rest lower and lower until they dangled halfway to his knees. It was then the professor noticed each teste not only sagged lower in a far more loose and dangly scrotum, but seemed larger than before, having gone from quail eggs to those of large chickens. This was certainly not something he had programmed into the formula, however he wasn’t complaining.

Fat began to accumulate in the boy’s groin, swallowing up more and more of the leaking spire, making it appear inches shorter than when he had walked into the office earlier. Yet as the professor leaned in to better observe the changes, he noticed he’d been wrong. Not only had the fat of the man’s pubis swallowed much of his length, his cock had indeed lost a fair bit of circumference, seeming much less massive than before. In moments the young man’s member was much more modest in size, and with the rest of him having grown so large it seemed seemed almost small. Mikey’s burgeoning middle prevented him from seeing this new development, and judging by the blissed out expression still painted all over his face he didn’t seem to notice, or care, about his loss in manhood. The professor hoped the expansion of the boy’s testicles would make up for it.

The complete alteration in frame, shape and the arrangement of fat on the body was all expected and shown in previous testing on laboratory mice, but the changes in his genitalia were never something the professor investigated in his previous trials. With these unexpected developments, the professor began to look out for other unintended side effects of the formula. Stepping back, he took stock of the much larger man Mikey was becoming. He was easily over 350 pounds, and while the growth of his skeletal structure and musculature seemed to have stopped, he could see the accumulation of adipose was still going strong. The boy’s face was nearly circular, chubby cheeks rounding out into a prominent double chin, that seemed to flow into the inflating chest, the young man’s neck having been swallowed up by the expanding tides of flesh. His chest had expanded from perky breasts to much larger man-mammaries, now sagging under their own weight, each eraser-head capped peak propped up by the tremendous tank below it. And what a tank it was, having gone from mere cask to barrel in the intervening period. Framed by love handles as thick as bread loafs and beginning to surge over the boy’s waist, it was a sight to behold. Mikey was more than enamoured with it as he jiggled and grabbed his wobbling middle, oblivious to the world and all that was happening around him.

“Eyes up here, professor.”

Or so Dr. Walker thought, but now Mikey was staring right at him, hands cupping each breast so they would squish into a provocative bosom. Above them the round, boyish face was just as provocative, a sly smile painted on his lips. “I see you’re enjoying the show,” he remarked, eyes pointedly looking at the obvious tent in the professor’s slacks.

For the first time that afternoon it was the professor who felt embarrassed, like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. He floundered, mouth moving but no words coming out, only stopping once Mikey swayed much larger hips. He gulped, frozen, his entire being overcome by lust. Finally Mikey walked towards him, his gait now an odd swagger as each titanic thigh was forced to move circularly around the other with every step. His entire body shook with each lumbering foot fall, an earthquake of flesh growing larger with each passing moment.

Mikey reached him and just stood there, belly mere inches from bumping the professor backward, seductive eyes still staring into his. Then the professor felt something soft and warm pressing into his torso and groin; it was Mikey’s belly. It had surged forward in the few seconds he’d been standing in front of him, and now his belly sagged enough that the lowest portions were rubbing against the professor’s hardon. Mikey tittered and then swayed his hips again, the soft flesh seeming to caress his aching cock.

“Why don’t you touch it?” He asked, grasping the professor’s arm to bring it to the warm flesh of his side. It was so soft, so smooth, his hand sinking in as he pressed further, encouraged by the now colossal college student. After sinking in an inch the two moaned simultaneously, the professor unable to hold himself back any longer. He brought his mouth down to smash into the young man’s chest, lips and tongue seeking the enormous nipple atop the pendulous moobs, slathering saliva all over the pale expanse before finally latching on to suckle with abandon. The professor’s free hands grasped and fondled the yielding fat of Mikey’s belly while he stood there, an unmoving edifice, moaning appreciatively as the older man worshipped his voluminous form.

Had the professor been paying attention he may have noticed the change in tone that had come over Mikey. His manner towards Dr. Walker was mostly ambivalent earlier, but now he was gratefully accepting his unbridled lust with eager enthusiasm. However the professor was beyond thinking rationally at this point. He licked and nibbled and bit the meat of Mikey’s chest, groping at his belly and love-handles as far as he could reach, noticing how hard it was to reach the entire circumference of his waist. He licked lower and lower on the mountainous middle, mashing his face as far into the yielding fat as it would go, eventually descending to his knees, a worshipper having reached mecca. Finally, he reached up to lift the tremendous belly to view the prize now hidden beneath the cascading tide of flesh.

Mikey was already hard as a rock from the professor’s attention, however even at full mast, and even considering the exorbitant flesh that surrounded it, he could tell that Mikey had lost much of his impressive length and girth. Even with his hand pressing against his now impressive fat pad, Mikey extended perhaps 4 inches at best. Resting the behemoth belly on his forehead, the professor leaned into the hot, humid groin to swallow Mikey whole.

He wasn’t sure how the professor was able to deep-throat him, but Mikey couldn’t deny it felt amazing. While the professor eagerly took his entire length over and over, Mikey stood with legs splayed, playing with each doughy breast and the huge nipples at their ends. He knew he was enormous now, larger than he’d ever thought he could gain naturally, and it felt so good to push and fondle and mold his own body, the feeling of size and weight and power. He began to thrust into the professor’s mouth, each movement causing his entire body to quake while sending his pendulous balls to slap into the professor’s chin.

For Mikey each thrust was the barest jerk forward, but for Dr. Walker it had the momentum of over 450 pounds of man bearing down on his face. The first thrust nearly knocked him over, causing him to lose his grip on the colossal belly, smothering him in a tidal wave of fat. He recovered though, and redoubled his efforts, both hands now holding up the prodigious paunch while meeting the next thrust with his open and accepting mouth.

The slap of Mikey’s balls on the professor’s chin filled the office, and while Mikey found he was able to thrust as easily as he could when he was thin, he was working up a substantial sweat after only a few minutes. Liquid dripped on his nose and forehead to gather into rivulets formed on the vast expanse of chest and belly, and he could only imagine how the pressor felt beneath the horizon of his middle.

The professor was more concerned with simply holding on, and only noticed the taste of precum on his lips as Mikey’s thrusting picked up pace. Each battering of balls and groin meat left him covered in the fat man’s sweat. However, the enormous, dangling orbs (that would surely leave bruises once this was over) were beginning to pull upward, and he knew Mikey’s climax was imminent.

Mikey knew he couldn’t last. The professor’s magic mouth took him to the root with each thrust, and the feeling of his entire body jiggling in tune with his lovemaking was simply beyond words. With a bellowing moan, Mikey squeezed each of his love-handles as hard as he could and came.

Even though he could feel the twitching of the dick in his mouth and the ascent of the gigantic balls, the professor was completely unprepared for the torrent of cum that gushed forth from Mikey’s diminished manhood. The first gush filled his mouth completely, while the second overfilled it, and the third made jizz come sputtering out comically from his nose and mouth. The sound of Mikey’s seed splattering on the linoleum floor of the professor’s office was more akin to a dropped cup of coffee than the missed remnants of an impromptu blowjob, and the professor wondered if this was yet another side effect of the formula or if the young man had possessed this ability all along.

After what seemed an eternity, the gushing of Mikey’s geyser slowed to a trickle, giving the professor time to swallow and, more importantly, breathe. He fell backward on his ass, the propped-up belly falling forward and jiggling Mikey’s front while the last drops of his orgasm fell to join the small puddle that had formed beneath him. He calmed down and took stock of his enormity once more, and sighed a deep, satisfied sound.

“Looks like your formula worked, professor.”

Still catching his breath, the good doctor could only manage, “Evidently.”

Mikey wobbled back to the professor’s desk, his lumbering gait somewhat more awkward than a man of his size already would be as he was getting used to his vastness. Noticing something, he bent sideways and picked up a distinct blue vial. “You know professor, there seems to be enough formula left for one more.”

The professor thought about it for a moment, acknowledging mentally that neither he nor his young charge had any clothes that would fit and would have to trundle home, jiggling and naked. He’d have to provide some sort of explanation to his friends and colleagues, and he could even be subjecting himself to the same sort of bizarre mental changes and even possible alterations of his genitalia as the deity of excess that was beckoning him onward.

He downed the vial without a second thought, and as he grew and burst from his clothes, Mikey fondling and groping each new roll as it appeared on his body, he knew without doubt that this was the climax of his professional career.

Faggot Therapy (Part 1)

Lonnie entered the office, feeling rather…uneasy, especially after his last session with the therapist. He’d approached Dr. Halver for help dealing with social anxiety, but nothing the man had been doing seemed to be helping much. Sure, the hypnotherapy was…relaxing, but the things that the doctor wanted to focus on only seemed…well, he didn’t quite know, to be honest. The doctor had him lie down on the chaise, and Lonnie tried to tell him about his reservations, but he barely made it through a sentence before the doctor had him feeling tired and sleepy, pushing the older man into his own memories.

You see, Dr. Halvers was certain that his patient’s anxiety was stemming from traumatic events in his past–memories that Lonnie had hidden away, deep in his mind, for fear of dealing with them, but they were still there, and wrecking havoc on his life. They were getting closer, however, to the truth–the doctor was certain that today they would finally confront what happened to him in the boy’s locker room at school.

In fact, the dear doctor was so certain they would, because he had fabricated the memory himself, and in this session, he was going to force his patient to confront it.

He forced Lonnie to narrate, to describe himself as he’d been in high school. A small, slight boy, hairless, nerdy and socially awkward, with very few friends. That description didn’t sem quite…correct to Lonnie, but he’d found himself doubting more and more of his past experiences, ever since entering Dr. Halver’s care. But it was that afternoon, when he’d been dragged into the locker room by some of the jocks and their older brothers, where they’d…finally shown him that all Lonnie was, really, was a faggot.

A hopeless faggot. A faggot whose only purpose in life was to serve domineering men like them. They’d raped him for hours that day, forcing him to worship every inch of their bodies, violating every hole–and the doctor, for hours, forced Lonnie to describe what had happened to him, insisting on more and more detail, making him repeat entire chunks if he was unsatisfied with Lonnie’s newly recalled humiliation. And not just that day–he forced him to recall how after that first time, he’d…begged for more. Pleaded with those older boys to abuse him further, because they were right. He was just a faggot, nothing more.

At last, late that night, he brought his patient up from hypnosis, and the big bear of a man burst into tears. His therapist was there for him, of course, and told him what a great breakthrough this had been for him. Now that he was being true to himself, now, with Dr. Hasker’s help, he could finally be the man he needed to be. He could finally find his true calling a complete and utter faggot slave.