Mr. Drake’s Games – Part 3

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, boy,” Mr. Drake said, “Or rather, what you’re gonna do. I want to see you jack off, lard ass. I wanna see you pump a load of cum out into those massive rolls of fat you have now. And what I’m gonna do, is every minute you spend trying to cum, I’m gonna change something about you. Alright? See that clock on the wall? In fifteen seconds, that second hand is gonna hit the twelve, and then you can start–heh, well why don’t I give you a head start? You might need it.”

Jay didn’t need any encouragement or direction beyond that. He started digging around under his fat with both hands, desperately searching for his half sized cock. He could find his balls relatively easily, and they were really very huge, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite reach his cock. He kept trying, pushing up into his fat as hard as he could, occasionally brushing his hand across the head, but he couldn’t get a grip.

“That’s your first minute–How about he give you some more hair? Hell, how about a lot more hair? I like my fatties hairy as hell.”

“I can’t fucking reach it. I can’t fucking reach my cock!” His body was itching as hair grew in, dense across his entire body, and the thick bush accumulating at his groin didn’t make it any easier to reach his cock either.

“Well, then I guess I’m gonna be changing you a whole lot then, aren’t I?”

Jay kept trying, one hand working his nipples, keeping himself hard, but it was no use.

“Another minute down–how about a big beard to go with that hairy body of yours? I want to see that head shaved, though.”

“Please, there’s nothing I can fucking do!”

Mr. Drake wrapped his hand in the long beard pushing it’s way out of Jay’s chin, and he leaned in closer, “I just don’t think you’re being very imaginative, is all. I don’t think you really want to cum, is your problem.”

Jay did his best to calm down, and tried to think. If he couldn’t reach his cock, then he was going to have to try something else to stimulate himself. He rolled his body, and felt a shiver of pleasure, and then shoved his hips forward, feeling his cock working its way in and out of his fatpad. With a grunt, he started tugging at his nipples, feeling his arousal growing higher, bucking his cock into his fat. Closer, he was getting closer now.

“Still taking too long, boy. How about we see what happens when we make you a bit dirtier, eh? No more showers, no more baths, just a stinking pile of fat, and you fucking love it.”

The sweat building up as he tried to fuck himself suddenly reeked, and as much as Jay wanted it to disgust him, it didn’t. It only made him hornier, and he lifted one arm, taking a long snort of his hairy pit, licking up his own fat sweat. But he was getting tired, he had to find a better way to rub his cock off. Maybe if he tried a different position. He rolled over and dropped off the couch onto his knees, facing the seat, bucking his hips as hard as he could into his fatpad, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Poor little piggy, it seems like you’re still having some trouble there. Maybe you should go ahead and start making some sexy pig noises too?”

His face hurt, like his nose was pushing into his face, and suddenly he was snorting and grunting, unable to help himself. “Please, I can’t, *grunt* I need help…” he managed to get out between gasps.

“Do you want me to help you? I could probably do that, but you’d better ask me nicely. You’d better beg.”

“Please, please help me, I *snort* need to cum so bad, I can’t do it, I need you to help me.”

Mr. Drake helped Jay stand up and bend over the sofa, presenting his ass away towards Mr. Drake. Of course, all of this had cost another minute, and he could feel the heavy septum ring now hanging from his nose, feel the studs in his nipples, the rings in his scrotum which Mr. Drake added. Mr Drake worked his cock into his fat hole, and it was unlike anything Jay had ever felt before. He was squealing, desperately trying to get as much of the old man’s cock in him as he could, and he was cumming, he was finally cumming, and he huffed and puffed and collapsed into the couch while Mr. Drake kept pounding his fat hole, shooting his own load deep inside his ass.

“Well done, pig–too bad that still took you an extra minute. But watching that performance, I know just the thing, right pigslave? Yeah, Pigslave. Owned by your fat, nasty dad, and he lends you out to all the perverts in the neighborhood, and you fucking love it. You love it because you’re too dumb to know any better. You love it because seeing someone look at you like you’re less than human makes that little piggy cock of your hard. You love it because it gives you an excuse to belly up to your trough and get even fatter, isn’t that right, Pigslave?”

He tried to say no, but all he could do was grunt and squeal–after all, he wasn’t allowed to talk. Pigs were never supposed to talk like men. Something tight was around his neck, and he recognized it as his collar. It felt good, actually, a reminder that he was owned. That he was just an animal for men’s pleasure. Mr. Drake clipped the leash onto it, and led him out the door and across the asphalt, back towards his house. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he also wasn’t quite sure why. Why would a pig like him be embarrassed? This is just what he is. His dad–no, his Master–was happy to get him back, and made sure he’d done a good job pleasing Mr. Drake. As a reward, Jay got his dinner an hour early. He crawled over to the trough in the kitchen, and his dad poured in his slop, and he lost himself in his feast. By the time he’d finished, Jay was dead and gone, and all that remained was the neighborhood pigslave, exactly what he’d always wanted to be.

Mr. Drake’s Games – Part 2

“Double or nothing.”

Mr. Drake just stared at him, and then laughed.

“Seriously. Let me try again. If I make it, then let me go, but if I don’t then…you can change me some more, whatever. Let me try again.”

You won’t be able to make it to a hundred, not as tired as you are. You’re basically asking me to fuck with you,” Mr. Drake loomed over him, obviously calculating, “Fine. I’ll even make it easier on you. If you can make it to fifty, I’ll change you and your dad back, and get the fuck out of dodge. How does that sound? But you won’t like what happens if you lose,” he chuckled, “Well, you probably will like it, actually.”

Jay couldn’t believe his luck–he was tired, but he’d made it to fifty pretty easily last time, and he was pretty sure he could do it again. He laid back down on the floor and took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself and focus, and he started again. By ten, his muscles were already burning and shaking, but he kept pushing, huffing and panting along, but by twenty, he had slowed down substantially.

“Looks like someone could use some encouragement,” Mr. Drake said, waited until Jay was down before stepping over and straddling his big gut, and bending his knees so his cock came to where Jay’s face hit when he was sitting up, “Come on piggy, let’s see you work for your cock.”

Jay didn’t want to admit that it helped, but it did. He liked cock. He liked the smell of it, he liked how it felt when he pushed his face into it, he liked how it tasted. He his thirty sit-ups and kept going, but Mr. Drake stepped back bit by bit, making him work harder to get close to him. Jay realized he was using more energy than he needed too, just to try and get to the old man’s cock. Maybe he could have made it, but as it was, he collapsed back at number forty-six, unable to bring himself up one more time.

“Well, that was a good try, I must say, but it seems that you’ve lost again, Jay.”

He had, he’d lost. He tried to hold back his tears, and he rolled over, ready to try and get up, but as he did, he felt something happening with his body again. His gut was gurgling, and it was growing, bulging out again, becoming a full fledged apron hanging heavy from his stomach.

“You know, the thing about doubling, Jay, is that you have to be mindful of where you’re starting from, so you know where you’ll end up.”

No. He couldn’t be serious. Jay fought his way to standing, even as his body was exploding in size. Much of the weight was focused in the apron which hung down half the length of his thighs, but he could feel changes in the rest of him too–his moobs had easily doubled in size, hanging low and jiggling as he heaved for breath. He could feel them wrapping their way around his body to his back, pushing his flabby, ham sized arms away from his body. Even his hands were inflated, looking like short, chubby sausages. Just standing was hard, and after his exertion, he didn’t think he could keep it up, so he waddled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, feeling and listening to the springs protest as he did. He was encased by fat now, and he was hot and sweaty and even his briefs had finally given way, ripping apart as he’d grown, lying in tatters on the floor, except for one piece caught between a thigh and his apron.

“What do you think you weigh now, Jay? You had to have been over 300 before. Hell, you were probably closer to 350. How does it feel to weigh almost 700 pounds?”

“Fuck…it feels…amazing.”

Mr. Drake grinned, and Jay sensed a change.

“No, what did I say?”

“You said it’s amazing.”

It was amazing, wasn’t it? He ran his fat fingers over his rolls, giving his blubber a shake, and a strange erotic thrill shot through him.

“Fuck boy, that’s hot. You like shaking your blubber, don’t you?”

“You made me like it.”

“Heh, I made you like more than that. I made you want more. I made you want to be even bigger. I made you want to be so big that you can’t move.”

Jay found that image far sexier than he should have, and he tried to push back against it, but it felt so natural. It was just another thing he wanted, like Mr. Drake’s cock. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, right? This was just who he was.

“Still, that’s not all, Jay. In the spirit of doubling and halving, I went ahead and changed some other stuff too. I shrank your cock by half, but doubled the size of your balls. I even went ahead and made your nipples and ass twice as sensitive,” he stepped up, pushing his way into Jay’s overhanging gut, grabbed his fat tits and gave them a twist, “Can you tell?”

Jay gasped with pleasure, feeling his two inch cock throb with pleasure, “Oh fuck Mr. Drake, fuck…Please…I need to go, I have to get out of here, I–”

“Nonsense Jay, looking at your fat fucking body has gotten me hard all over again, and you know what else? I think I want to play one more game with you, before I send you on your way back home, since you love my games so much. Still, you’ll like this one I bet, but I can assure you it’ll be quite the challenge. And you’re going to want to try your hardest, if you want to get out of here without anything else happening to you.”

Jay tried to protest, but Mr. Drake gave his nipples another tug, making him moan with pleasure, and he realized he’d backed himself into a corner he hadn’t anticipated, and he if wanted to get out of here, he was going to have to fight for it with everything he could muster.

Mr. Drake’s Games – Part 1

“Oh, just go help him out, Jay,” his dad said, “Mr. Drake said he’d pay you twenty bucks.”

“But dad, he’s a fucking creep.” Then again, it wasn’t all that surprising that his dad and Mr. Drake got along–both of them were chubby, hairy old faggots. Hell, just the way his dad was looking at him, was making him uncomfortable…his dad never used to look at him like that…right?

Jay’s dad just stared at him from where he was lounging in his recliner, naked like he always was around the house. Part of Jay knew that wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t quite figure out where his doubts were coming from. “Go help our neighbor, or no video games for a week.”

“But dad–”

“Go on, Jay.”

Jay grumbled, but he headed out the front door and crossed the cul-de-sac heading towards Mr. Drake’s house. He couldn’t believe his dad sometimes–he hated it here. Why in the hell hadn’t he gotten out of here yet? Jay had turned twenty one a few months ago, but he was having a hard time getting on his feet. He certainly hadn’t planned on staying with his dad, but a DUI during his senior year of high school had cost him the athletic scholarship he’d been banking on to go to college, and so here he was stuck, with his fat, dirty slob of a father. At least he was still in shape, he told himself–it could be worse. Still, something was bothering him–his dad had used to hate Mr. Drake, hadn’t he? Everyone in the neighborhood did–he was dragging everyone’s property values down with his hoarding and decrepit old house. He was still trying to figure out what was wrong as he climbed up onto the porch cluttered with junk and knocked on the door. “Mr. Drake? Are you there?”

“Is that you Jay? Come on in, boy.”

Jay pushed open the door to his neighbor’s house, and found himself confronted with a very naked Mr. Drake on a couch, leering at him.

“What the fuck? Put some clothes on, you fucking sicko!”

“Heh, I’d be much happier to see you lose yours, Jay. In fact, why don’t we get right to it and grow you out of them?”

Jay wanted to run, but somehow he was rooted to the spot where he was standing, and something strange was happening–his body, he could feel himself changing. Looking down, his tight T-shirt was starting to bulge out, and started to ride up as his abs were swallowed up by a soft, pudgy gut. “What…what the fuck are you doing? Fucking stop it!” Mr. Drake didn’t say anything, and Jay felt his clothes tightening around him, the collar cutting into his fattening neck, chest tight across his growing moobs, the seams of his jeans starting to tear as his thighs expanded. Mr. Drake stood up from the couch, walked over and started ripping at Jay’s clothes, pulling them away in tatters until he stood naked aside from a pair of very tight briefs stretched tight by his new fat body.

“Oh yes, that’s much better,” Mr. Drake said, “No more muscles for you boy, just fat, fat, fat, just like your new fatass daddy over there.”

Jay was trying to move, but his feet were still rooted to the floor, Mr, Drake feeling his fat curves and laughing, “This is crazy, what the hell did you do to me?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m just having a little fun, is all,” Mr. Drake said, “I was getting tired of everyone around here looking down at me all the time, so I thought why not bring everyone else down here with me? And who better to start with than your big buff dad and his muscular son? Then again, you probably don’t remember how your dad used to look, do you? He was muscular too, earlier today, but after a little bit of conversation…well, he’s much friendlier now, don’t you think? He certainly things highly of you–why we masturbated together earlier, fantasizing about what we were going to do to you.”

He could remember. Those strange thoughts he’d been having as he walked over here, he could remember…kind of. His dad had been in shape like him. A clean freak, not the fat slob who’d sent him over here. Now he felt something else–fear. He was fat–fatter than he could believe…and he couldn’t quite remember being thin at all. He’d been this fat all his life, hadn’t he? “Please, I don’t know what you want, but please, don’t do this to me.”

Mr. Drake laughed, “Well, how about this? How about you lay down here, and you do, say, one hundred sit ups? If you can do that–if you can prove to me how much you want that hot, muscular body of yours back, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll even change your dad back, and I’ll leave forever. How does that sound? But if you can’t, well, then being fat is going to be the least of your worries, boy.”

What choice did he have? He cleared a space among the trash littering Mr. Drake’s floor, and got down. How hard could it be, anyway? He could do a hundred sit ups easily. He shoved himself up, pushing against all the new weight holding him down, and realized this was going to be much harder than he thought. But what choice did he have? Mr. Drake counted as he did, taunting him as he started shaking, as he started slowing down. Laughing matching his panting.

“You’re not gonna make it, look at you fatty! You’re not even halfway and you’re already close to a heart attack.”

But he hit fifty, and he kept going, his lungs burning, abs threatening to cramp up, but he kept going. Mr. Drake grew quieter as he hit eighty and kept going, but at eighty seven, he finally hit a limit. He simply couldn’t raise himself up again, and he collapsed back onto the ground with a sob.

“Well, you did better than I thought you would, but you still didn’t make it boy–so I guess the question is what I’m going to do to you now? Still, I bet you’re thirsty–would you like a drink?”

Hell yeah, I’m fuckin’ thirsty,” Jay said.

“Well come on then, you fuckin’ faggot, drink all the old cum you want,” Mr. Drake said, got down on his knees with his cock in Jay’s face, and his fat young neighbor swallowed the head without even questioning it, sucking at the head happily. It was only a few minutes later, when he’d been worshiping the old cock avidly, that Jay realized what he was doing, and he struggled–but exhausted from his failed challenge, Mr. Drake was easily able to shove his head back against the floor and fuck his throat. After a minute, the doubts passed again, and Jay began moaning in pleasure until his neighbor came, pumping his entire load down Jay’s gulping throat, and then he got off him, huffing and puffing himself.

“You made me a faggot,” Jay said.

“You don’t seem to be complaining.”

“I’m…I’m not. I mean, no. What the fuck is wrong with me?” he said to himself, “I don’t want this, I fucking don’t, but…”

“But it feels good, doesn’t it? My old cum tastes good, and you want more, don’t you?”

Jay’s face turned red again. They both knew what the answer was.

“Still, thanks for your help–if I need another blow job, you’ll be happy to help me out, I’m sure–but you should get home fatty–I bet your dad would love a blow job too.”

Jay sat up, and then he had a thought. It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe he still had a chance to get out of this.