Feeder Drones (Sketch)

“He’s out there again, isn’t he?” Max asked, when he saw Daryl fuming at the window of their apartment. It wasn’t a very good view by any means, facing another building in the complex, but that wasn’t the real problem. What Daryl was staring at the the massive fucker who’d moved in across the space from them, who right now was at the window, staring at the window, masturbating. He’d been doing it constantly, and always while looking at Max and Daryl. They’d reported it to the management, but no one had done anything about it, and it had gone from annoying to making Daryl, in particular, absolutely furious. Max figured that if they just didn’t respond, the guy would get bored eventually–he was just a pervert or something, right? But Daryl, he’d always hated fat people, and the guy had to be close to 500 pounds. The idea that someone that big could be attracted to him or his boyfriend was a deep, personal offence.

“No, fuck this, I’m gonna go solve this fucking problem myself,” Daryl said, and headed for the door.

Max tried to stop him. “Daryl, don’t fucking start anything! We’ll be the ones who get in trouble.”

“Fucking pervert just needs to be taught a fucking lesson!” Daryl said, flexing his muscle and pushing past Max and heading out the door. Max knew better than to get in Daryl’s way–he’d…gotten a couple black eyes from him by saying no before, but things had gotten better over the last year. Still, he felt sorry for the guy–Daryl wasn’t known to stop after one or two punches, especially as angry as he was.

Daryl hurried over to the other building and leapt up the stairs to the landing and pounded on the guy’s door. Should be break the fucking lock? That seemed like overkill, but it would sure as hell teach the fucker he meant business. He tried the knob, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. He pushed it open and went inside–the place was filthy, and he felt…like he’d been in here before at some point. It wasn’t just the fact that all of these apartments had the same layout either–he’d been in here, but when? Something was wrong, but the man was there in the doorway, leering at him. “Drone, report conversion process.”

“Flesh to Drone conversion complete as of 3:48 this morning. Flesh form has been archived as ‘Daryl Version Zero’.” Daryl heard his voice say, but he hadn’t told himself to say that, had he? And why had his voice sounded so fucking flat?

“Good, Assume neutral form from the neck down, drone.”

Daryl felt his entire body shiver–just just his skin, however, but everything…inside him, as well. Something was wrong with him, but he couldn’t even begin to understand what. He looked down at his hands and arms, and saw that what should be flesh…wasn’t. It looked like he had on a skin tight latex suit, but he could sense that…that it was rubber, through and through. He was rubber. He was made of rubber, he was a drone, he was…was Master’s drone. What the fuck was going on? He was trying to breathe, but he no longer had lungs. Master walked over, smiling. “Remove those clothes, drone.”

Daryl did as he was told, and saw that everything from the neck down–his entire body, was the same solid rubber as his arms. It still had the same shape as his body–well, aside from his crotch, which was completely flat. He ran a hand down the front of him, hearing the slight squeak of rubber on rubber–knew the sensation should make him feel sick, but he wasn’t…feeling anything.

Something in his eyes must have conveyed his terror, and so his Master offered an explanation. “I wiped it from your memory banks, slave, but this is actually the second time we’ve met. The first time you stormed over here, I infected you with my drone serum. For the last week, your flesh has slowly been converting to smart rubber–you’re not a person anymore drone, you’re just an object–my object, to be precise, and I can make you be anything that I want. But I want you to keep your mind, for the moment. I want you to know you’re mine, and I want you to service me, drone, with that tongue of yours.”

Daryl tried to fight his body, but it was no longer under his control. He got down and he leaned in, pressing his mouth to Master’s fat pad, and started sucking on his cock. He was fighting it, trying to deny it. This had to be some horrible dream, it couldn’t be true, could it? This wasn’t possible, right?

“Yeah–you and that pretty boyfriend of yours–you’re going to be two excellent drones. I got found out a few months back–had to disappear. Ended up losing almost fifty pounds! But with the two of you as my new feeder drones, I’m sure I’ll put that back on in no time. I just won’t…recruit as actively as last time, as sad as that is–so the two of you will have to be multipurpose. Drone, generate pleasure skull number one.”

Daryl disappeared, quickly, as his head turned to the same black rubber as his new body, and his face…dissolved. Mouth growing wider, his tongue growing long and falling to his chest, slick with rubbery lube. Master turned around and bent over, pushing his massive ass and crack towards the drone’s face, and it responded as it had been programmed, driving it’s thick tongue into Master’s hole, fucking him deep. It didn’t pay any mind when it heard the gasp behind it–Max had come to investigate what was happening with his boyfriend, only to find the obese man and some…rubber monstrosity with the door open.

“Fuck, I forgot to shut the door…this is what I need drones for!” Master said, “Lucky it was you. Step inside, drone, and shut the door behind you.”

Max did as he was ordered, unsure why he was obeying the massive fucker standing there, but unable to resist.

“Drone, report conversion process.”

“Flesh to drone conversion at 92%,” Max said.

“Almost there. No worries–you can watch, and when you’re finished, we’ll put you both into proper service. Dig deeper drone–you know how I like to get tongue fucked.”

Ideal Tenants (2/2)


After three months, both Josh and Greg had each packed on an impossible one hundred pounds–and neither one of them seemed the least bit bothered by their sudden gain. If anything, the two of them had become quite a bit more easy going over the last month–being more polite and accommodating to their neighbors, stopping in to chat with their landlord…each of them a bit embarrassed to find the older, bearish man somewhat…attractive, all of a sudden.

Something else they hadn’t noticed, was that they each appeared to be about a decade older than when they’d moved in–more like their mid 30’s than early 20’s. The apartment had changed as well–their gym equipment eventually disappearing into thin air, replaced by shelves full of books and a well stocked kitchen. They were still fucking quite often, but all of their sex now seemed to involve food somehow–just eating was enough to turn either one of them on. It was Josh that Mr. Emerson fucked first–showing up at the door with a dozen doughnuts he plied him with, until he got so horny he demanded Mr. Emerson fuck his wide ass. Greg succumbed not too long after that, to an entire cake, and after that, Mr. Emerson was paying them both regular visits, often at the same time.

With direct contact, the changes grew more extreme. Josh transitioned, overnight, from retail work to a rather cushy office job in finance. He was now in his mid 40’s, wearing suits everyday, and stuffing himself at his desk. Greg found a new job as a programmer, which allowed him to work from home–giving him ample time to feed, and also to service his landlord’s cock,whom he’d begun to address as master, as he ballooned past 600 pounds, while Josh hovered at a mere 375. Still, the gainers were a perfectly happy couple, and were very eager to sign a new year lease with Mr. Emerson, both of them under his desk vying for his cock, as he passed them sweets and candies for his two pigs to share.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 6)

The dildo was quite small now, especially compared to the width of Judd’s ass. The white and blue had faded away from the shaft as it had shrunk, leaving just a pale, creamy rod which Ari slid in deep. “Why don’t we just let that melt for a bit?”

“Aww fuck…can’ believe ya fuckin’ turned me intah some dumbass redneck slob. Can’t believe how much I fuckin’ love it, fuck! I’d fuckin’ plow mah ass if I could, hot damn, what a pig…” Judd muttered to himself, gazing at his reflection. “Ya got anythin’ tah smoke round here? Could use somethin’…got an itch tah scratch.”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke. I can get you a beer though.”

“Fine, two cans though–’n just the cheap shit! Don’t need so sissy fuckin’ import shit. Real fuckin’ ‘Merican’s drink domestic!”

Ari just shook his head, and went into the kitchen, as a new taste flooded Judd’s mouth. It was like sweet whipped cream…but with a sour tinge, almost like yogurt, or…cum. Yeah, it was like sugary cum, that was it exactly! Fuck, it tasted pretty damn good–he wouldn’t mind some real cum, now that he was thinking about it. Ari returned, and since Judd’s body was still paralyzed and limp, He had to help the big lug drink the two cans down. A good amount ran down his chins and onto the rubber sheet, running around his filthy body, but he got a small buzz going–enough to ignore the growing need for tobacco in one form or another. “Thanks fucker–now git that cock in mah mouth–this pigs hungry fer some cum.”

“No kidding. Still, I want to check on the rest of the effects, and see how that’s working first.” Ari walked around behind him, and looked at Judd’s ball sack–which was tingling a bit, and Ari gave a few noises of approval. “Damn Judd–you’ve got quite the sack on you now! And better get used to having the crotches of your overalls wet, because that cock of yours will be leaking at the first sight of a guy’s cock you want.”

“Yeah? Well I fuckin’ want yers! Now git round here, ‘n fuckin’ feed me! This pig’s fuckin’ hungry.”

Judd didn’t actually get through the blow job before he fell asleep, thanks to the tranquilizers Ari had put in the beers. Still, he took pity on him, skull fucked his fat, bearded face and buried deep into his throat, pumping his gut full of a load, and then got up off the bed, found his phone, and made a call.

“Got a pickup for you. He’s asleep….Sure thing, one hour.”

Overall, a successful test–as good as he could hope for really. He could review the tapes later, and decide on what changes he might make to the product line–but for now, it was nearly four in the morning, and he needed to sleep. He managed an hour nap, before the crew arrived, marched in, bundled up Judd and carted him off out of the apartment–Ari didn’t know where they took them when he finished with them, and he didn’t really want to know. All he really wanted, was a nice long sleep–and when he woke up? He’d pick another target, and conduct his next test in next week.


Judd woke up to a pounding headache, and with a groan, rolled over in the tight queen bed that barely contained his bulk, and wondered where, exactly, he was. He should be home…right? Was this his home? He had fuzzy memories of some crazy dream, but they were already fading–he sat up, belched, gave his furry pit a scratch and sniff, before hauling himself up and squeezing through the tight trailer, finding the filthy bathroom where he pissed mostly into the toilet, and then started scrounging around for something to smoke. The only thing he found was a can of chewing tobacco, so he hauled out a thick wad of the dark leaf and shoved it in his mouth, feeling better as he gnawed on it, dark spit rolling out the side of his mouth and down into his beard. Beer next–then breakfast. Then he could worry about how he’d ended up here.

Still, by the time he’d gotten four beers in his gut, cooked up a pile of eggs and potatoes and scarfed the whole thing down, his brain had managed to catch up–and he realized he was home. After all, it didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else…and he’d probably just drank a bit too much, and fucked up his head, like usual.

Breakfast hadn’t quite sated all of his hungers, however, and he hauled up his massive gut and started proding at his cock–turnin’ on the cumtap as he liked to call it. His balls were massive–at least the size of two grapefruits, and the cum streamed out of him in a torrent–fast enough for him to hang off a chair, milk his cock with one hand, hold a big glass in the other, and guzzle down a full cup of fresh jizz every few minutes. His milking routine was interrupted by an unfamiliar ringtone–he dug through the filth of the trailer for a few moments, hunted down the years out of date flip phone, and answered it with a long, drawled hello.

“God fuckin’ damn it Judd, where the fuckin’ hell are ya? This god damn truck ain’t gonna drive itself, ‘n yer half an hour late n’–fuck, from the way yer pantin’, were ya milkin’ yerself again?”

“I don’t know…who ya are, but…” Judd stammered.

“Shut the fuck up pig! If ya weren’t such a cum hungry faggot, I’d a canned yer worthless fat ass months ago. Git here now, fucker–’n if ya don’t got her nasty mouth round mah cock in twenty minutes, yer gonna be findin’ another fuckin’ job!”

Memories were falling into place again–that was his boss–Heathrow Midstel–and the owner of one of the biggest, fattest cocks Judd had ever seen. Trucking wasn’t something he liked to do–but if he got to drink his boss’ cum on a regular basis, he’d manage. Grumbling, he hauled on a pair of filthy overalls, the crotch stained dark and stiff with cum, threw on some boots, and went out to his old beat up truck. It wasn’t a perfect life–but it was the only one he had…and if Judd was honest, it was the only life he wanted now too.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 3)

Ari heaved a sigh, “Guess I fucked the sequence up a bit–should have done a Tatted Twister first, but I won’t be able to see anything under all that hair of his…Oh well, guess we might as well go big or go home–how does that sound, eh Jules?”

Jules wasn’t listening–he was still staring at his now incredibly hairy body, unable to really process what had just happened to him. His hair had grown long, but at the angle he was positioned on the bed, it had flopped over, obscuring some of his vision. In front of him, he could see his beard, and it was easily a foot long. He had always wondered what he might look like as a redhead, but this wasn’t how he wanted to find out. “Look–please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, alright? I don’t want to do this.”

“See? This is why I need the muscle relaxer first. Because even guys who are open to trying one, never seem to want a second. Well, unless they’re actually buying one of course,” Ari walked back over, and sat down on the bed, looking at Jules, sizing him up. “Probably easiest if I bring the scale in here, I think.”

He got up from the bed, Jules calling after him. He returned a minute later, wheeling a massive, industrial scale ahead of him, and pushed it up next to the bed. “Alright, now let’s get you loaded up.”

The rubber sheeting of the bed turned out to have eyelets all along the edge, allowing it to be hoisted up by a mechanical hoist in the ceiling. For several awkward minutes, as he was picked up in the rubber bundle, maneuvered over the scale, and dropped down onto it, he was forced to try and avoid getting suffocated by the sheet. When he was in a satisfying enough position for Ari to be satisfied with, he zeroed out the scale, and then went to the wall–and returned with a monstrous, pale white tube, thicker than an arm, and five or six inches longer than a forearm. “Newest model of this one–The Nuclear Tonnage! Just have to figure out how much tonnage we’re talking about.”

“Wait, what? What’s this one going to do? And I can’t take something that big!”

“Well…honestly? It’s going to make you fat. I’m not sure how fat–that’s what I have to find out, so I know whether I need to scale the mold up or down.”

“Fat? Oh fuck you, fuck no, get that fucking thing away from me, you fucking asshole!”

“Oh, don’t worry–you’ll love it. Everyone does–it’s built in! You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

The scale had registered 235 pounds–which, excluding the sheet and prop underneath Jules, meant he weighed about 225. Ari spent half an hour or so, opening up Jules’ ass–first with one fist, and then with both hands at once. It hurt–a lot–but Ari had obviously done this quite a lot, and once the pain subsided…Jules refused to admit it, but it actually felt good…good enough for his cock to get hard, at least. Then the hands pulled out, and before he could object further, the tip of the massive, pale rod was at the entrance of his hole, and sliding in. It went it like butter, and inside, as it heated…it almost felt like it was softening, molding itself to his intestines as it slipped into him, making him shudder and groan with pleasure. “Oh god, it tastes like butter…”

“Oh, this one tastes like a lot of things, trust me–no dog hair though. And hey! You got it all the way in–good job newbie.”

All the way in? It didn’t seem possible, but he could see himself in the mirror, and sure enough, the entire mass was lodged deep in his ass…melting into him, and fuck, it tasted good. Like butter. Or…or lard. Yeah, like pure fucking lard, fuck it was making his mouth water. The warmth inside him, and the delicious tastes assaulting his senses blissed him out, so he didn’t even notice the first few dozens of pounds that added themselves onto his body–not until Ari started poking and prodding at him, testing his skin, and noted that, according to the scale, he’d gained 100 pounds, and it was still climbing at a good clip. Jules tried to pull his focus away from the maple doughnuts he was tasting on his tongue, and looked over at himself, now 325 pounds and growing. His muscles were buried below a hefty layer of fat, and the belly he’d always kept as thin as he could had grown into a proper, sagging gut. Still…it didn’t disgust him as much as he might have expected it to–if anything, he thought it looked…kind of sexy?

“Why…does seeing myself look like a pig…turn me on all of a sudden?” He asked, feeling oddly sluggish in his mind.

Ari started kneading his fat with his rubber gloves, making Jules moan in pleasure, sliding the slick, greasy dildo in and out of his hole a few times, seeing how small it had become. “Because that’s what it’s supposed to do–I told you you’d like it. Now shut up and enjoy yourself. These things are supposed to be pleasurable.”

He did his best to fight it, but as he expanded, he found himself excited to see just how big he might end up. He passed the 200 mark, putting him over 400 pounds, and still showed no sign of stopping, though the dildo was now only about a third of the size it had been to begin with, Ari ramming it in deep, Jules lost in the pleasure of his new body–so lost, that his own orgasm caught him by surprise. He could feel his cock pulse deep in his fat pad, cum leaking out and around his fat…and even that idea made him feel so fucking sexy. The scale finally came to rest at 332 pounds–putting him at a new total weight of 557–and suddenly, he wanted to keep going. Wanted to be bigger, the taste of butter lingering in his mouth but fading fast. “Fuck, he said, and let off a big belch, “I’m fucking starving–and shove another one of those in me! Make me even bigger! Oh fuck, did I…fuck, what the fuck have you done to me?”

Russian Agent (2 of 2)


What Andy didn’t know, was that the program he’d entered had, in fact, been designed by the Americans, who had mastered the technology first, and then embedded American spies to sabotage the Russian intelligence network. And so, as the days wore on, Andy tried to muster up his energy to clean up his slovenly apartment, but never seemed to find the energy for much beyond watching American TV (which, he discovered, was actually quite good) and surfing the internet (something he’d never been able to do back in Russia.) The memories of his old self started to sink deeper, and he didn’t even realize he was losing them–he also didn’t realize that this new body of his was always, constantly, hungry.

Eating was second nature to his new persona. He did it mindlessly–at his desk at work, watching TV, snacking as he walked and rode the bus around town. Soon, he was forced to buy new clothes…and admit something else to himself. Something horrible had happened to him, in this procedure–he’d become gay.

For quite a long time, he’d tried to jack off to pictures of women, but nothing had worked well for him. Then, mostly by accident, he’d stumbled across a video of a massive man fucking a woman–and he’d blown his load in seconds. He sought out more videos of massive men, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to imagine himself being that…huge. He tried to resist–he could sense something was wrong. He tried to call in for assistance, but no help came for him. It was over a four day weekend, full of binging, that he asked a feeder he’d been chatting with online to come feed him–and after that, there was no going back.

It’s been five years now, and Andrei is dead. Andy, however, is celebrating his five hundred pound mark with his two feeder-partners. They’re going to stuff him full of an entire, three tierd birthday cake, and then all his friends–bears, cubs and chubs from all over town, and even a few from further away–are going to come over and seed Andy’s hole all night long. Meanwhile Russia has lost contact with twenty of their top agents–they’re sending over another five in a month, to try and track down what happened to their comrades. Still, it’s not likely they’ll be able to resist the allure of American Life either.