Commissioned by Calvinwolf

“Ah, you must be Jared–the airline called ahead, your reservation’s all set up,” the man said, as Jared approached the desk, exhausted, his duffel bag slung over one of his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, and watched the older man give his body a lecherous once over and he sighed in his head. Looking around at the paint chipped walls and mismatched furniture, the air smelling of stale smoke, he grimaced. This wasn’t exactly where he had expected to stay when the airline told him that his flight had been cancelled, but it was free, at the very least, and considering how many people were probably stuck staying on cots in the airport, in this storm, he might as well count himself lucky.

Still–the owner was obviously a fag–why were they always fags? Granted, Jared’s body attracted a lot of stares, at six foot three and 260 pounds of nearly all muscle, he was an impressive sight, though not impressive enough, apparently. He’d flown here to compete in a regional body building competition, hoping he could finally break into the pro circuit, but he’d placed fifth–netting him no prize money, and he hadn’t gotten a single offer from a sponsor to boot. The flight cancellation was just more crap piled on, especially since that meant he’d probably miss work the next day, and he wasn’t even sure he would be able to make rent this month. Still, he had a room for the night, and he took the key card from the man’s hand.

“You look hungry–would you like me to send something up from the diner to your room for you?” the  man said.

“Yeah, I could eat something,” Jared said, “But nothing too fatty, if you can manage it–and heavy on the protein.”

“Of course–gotta keep your figure nice and trim right?” the owner said, and gave Jared a wink which wouldn’t have been creepy, if the man hadn’t also licked his lips while doing so. Feeling a shiver run down his spine, Jared left the lobby and climbed the stairs to his room, letting himself in, throwing his bag on the floor, and falling back on the bed. He was exhausted, and demoralized. That competition was supposed to have been his big break–but now what? Back to training, he supposed, but he just didn’t know what he was missing. Was he just not big enough? Were his poses lackluster? Did he need more definition? He got back up, pulled off his shirt and went into the bathroom, practicing some poses, looking for weak points, checking his symmetry, trying to find the flaws which were apparent to everyone else, but not to him.

The knock on the door surprised him, and he opened it up, finding a rolling tray in front of the door with a tray on it heaped with a collection of food he hadn’t been expecting. There was a pile of french fries, a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, two dinner rolls, and the only protein on the plate was a stack of heavily breaded, deep fried chicken. He rolled his eyes–he should have known that a diner like this would have no understanding of what kind of diet he needed to eat, and checking the hallway, he didn’t see the person who had delivered the tray, so he could send it back. Still…it did smell good. He could have the chicken at least, and skip the carbs.

He wheeled the cart in, his stomach growling, the scent of the food filling the room, making him drool a bit. In the back of his mind he thought something was strange, but a new hunger was overwhelming that caution, and he picked up a drumstick, messily devouring it in under a minute, before picking up another piece and slurping that down as well, dropping the clean bones onto the floor, forgotten. When he finished off the chicken, he was so hungry that without thinking about it, he hammered through the fries, potatoes and rolls without much thought, not even bothering to sit down during the entire meal, and when he finished it all, he let off a massive belch. He felt more stuffed than he could remember in recent memory, but he felt…good, and he slumped down onto the bed, relaxed and happy.

Really relaxed, actually, and he couldn’t help but smile as he lay back, just staring at the ceiling, his gut gurgling and growling…and expanding. Shiny with grease, his abs slowly lost their definition as Jared lay there, forming a slight paunch, his pecs softening up, thighs thickening slightly, but Jared was out of it. With one hand, he reached down into his shorts, feeling them tightening up as he grew, and started rubbing his cock, getting it slick with grease as he stroked himself. In his head, he tried to figure out what was going on. He felt so strange, and yet…why stop? It was almost like he was drunk, the room losing focus around him while the sensitivity of his body seemed to increase, warm…thick…and without really thinking about it, he unloaded into his shorts, a wet spot forming on the tight fabric, and Jared let out a soft moan.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, lolling about, lost in the pleasure of his earlier gluttony. What finally roused him and forced him upright wasn’t any sense of clarity–it was hunger. More hunger than he’d felt earlier, more hunger than he’d ever felt before. His body had finished processing his enormous meal, and was desperate for a refill. Still, Jared knew he shouldn’t eat more…right? No, that was ridiculous–he had training and competitions to think about…didn’t he? Still, he was having a hard time thinking about them now–the hunger was overwhelming him, his stomach cramping and heaving. He stayed in the room for a couple of minutes, hoping it was just gas, but no, he really was hungry again. He picked the bones from the floor a bit cleaner, but that barely sated him for another minute. Finally, he called the front desk.

“Front desk, how can I help you?” the voice on the line said, which Jared recognized as the same lecher who’d checked him in earlier.

“Hi, this is Jared in room 210. I was wondering if I could get another order of room service.”

The man hmmed and hahed for a moment, before answering, “Well, I’m sorry sir, but we close down for room service at ten. Still, the diner is open twenty four hours, so you’re welcome to come down and we can feed you there.”

“Oh…alright. I’ll do that then.”

“Very good. I’m excited to see how you’re coming along,” the man said, and then hung up, leaving Jared puzzling over his statement for a moment, before hanging up. After ten? He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was half past ten–but he’d arrived at the inn and checked in at seven. How had he spent these last three hours–just eating and jacking off? Something stirred in him, and he walked into the bathroom, looking himself over. He could see that he was fatter, sure…but for some reason it was difficult to make himself worry about it. It felt good–he felt good. He found his shirt where he’d thrown it on the floor, and tugged it down as far as he could over his fatter, greasy frame, not even caring that it couldn’t cover his belly entirely, and was already soaking up the grease from his earlier meal. Letting off a mighty belch, he left his room and headed down the hallway, down the stairs and found his way to the diner connected to the lobby.

Even with the storm raging outside, the diner was quite busy, and Jared had the distinct feeling that he had been expected, because as soon as he entered, nearly every set of eyes in the room swung towards him, before returning to their usual spots. The clientele were exclusively men, and the help all seemed…rather chubby. The bartender was in his fifties, dressed in a flannel shirt, overalls and weighed in at close to five hundred pounds. The servers were all younger, but nearly as big. One of them came over and showed him to a booth, returning a moment later with a pint of dark lager.

“The owner sent this as an apology–on the house,” he said, gave Jared a wink, and then he was off again. Jared looked over towards the kitchen and saw that the same man who’d greeted him at the front desk was working the kitchen, gave Jared a wave, and then went back to work. Jared took a sip of the beer, finding in surprisingly dense and heavy, but also quite satisfying, and with more alcohol than he was expecting. Halfway through the glass, he was already feeling lightheaded and drunk, and when the server brought over a plate piled with fries and two double cheeseburgers, Jared didn’t even think before chowing down. Almost as fast as he could eat, more food was brought out, and he found himself in a race to keep up with the volume of food being thrown at him and his relentless hunger and thirst. He lost count of the beers after the sixth one, but he noticed his cock was rock hard in his pants and leaking, his gut growing steadily the whole evening.

He only realized something was wrong when he reached for a new basket of fried chicken and his hand felt only air. In the dim bar light, he saw that the table was a massacre of empty plates, but the rush of food had stopped, allowing him a second to lay back, breathe, and contemplate the excruciating fullness of his belly, though his hunger continued unabated. The server walked by and Jared grabbed at his shirt, “Hey, where’s my food? I’m still hungry,” Jared said.

“Sorry man, the kitchen closes down at  two. We open again for breakfast in a few hours though. I’m sure the owner will find something to occupy you until then.”

“Hey! Piggy! Get over here, daddy’s thirsty,” a patron shouted, and the server let out a giggle, bringing the drink over, and as Jared watched, the older trucker pulled the chubby server onto his lap, lifting up the server’s tight shirt and giving his belly a rub. Jared almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but looking around, every server was similarly occupied. Even the older bartender was kissing someone across the bar, his shirt missing, the overalls unhooked, and his gut hefted up on the surface for other men to massage. However, a second need was making itself aware for Jared–he had to piss, and soon. He squeezed his way out of the booth and stood up, but the room was spinning, and he felt…so strange.

Before he could fall over, the cook and owner he’d spoken to earlier was there, helping him back into the booth. “Easy there, big boy,” he said, “You’re a little top heavy.”

“I gotta…I gotta piss…” Jared slurred a bit, and tried to get up, but the owner blocked him in, his hands running their way across his now obese frame, rubbing his nipples through his shirt, Jared moaning in pleasure.

“Goodness, doesn’t this shirt hurt? It’s way too small for you, and look at how filthy you’ve gotten it. Why don’t we go ahead and take it off?” Jared, unable to fight back, let the man yank away his tank, his gut bursting free, and looking down, Jared saw that it wasn’t just fat he’d gained, but hair. He’d always been fairly hairy, but he kept himself shaven for competitions, but this looked like he hadn’t shaven in months, not that he was objecting. The feel of the owner’s hands running over his hairy moobs and gut sent shivers to his cock, though he really did need to piss. He tried to protest once again, but the owner pushed him back down, “Relax, Jared, just relax. Everything will be alright if you just relax, and let go…”

The owner leaned in and started kissing Jared, and at first, the ex-bodybuilder thought he was cumming in his pants, but then the stench of piss hit his nose, and he realized he was pissing himself. The humiliation, far from clearing his head, only seemed to fuel his lust, and the domineering owner bore down, driving his tongue deep into Jared’s mouth, and nearly down his throat, twisting and pulling on Jared’s nipples.

His shorts had already turned cold by the time the owner came up for air, Jared now deep in the sway of the food and drink which had been foisted upon him. “Goodness, and now look at the mess you’ve made in my booth. You’re gonna have to clean that up, pig–now get up.” Jared did as the man said, and put up only a meager resistance, as the owner yanked off his shorts and tossed them away, leaving his naked in the middle of the bar, more and more men turning to watch the show progress. The owner bent Jared over, face towards the seat, and said, “Now lick that seat clean, and when you’re finished we’ll work on the floor.”

“No…No I ain’t…gonna drink my piss…” Jared slurred back, but when the owner shoved his head down, he obeyed, following the lecher’s orders, listening to the crowd jeering around them as the owner fondled and groped his frame, kneading his giant ass before slipping a spit lubed finger up his hole. Jared was so relaxed at this point that the sudden intrusion didn’t even hurt, but it did make his hard cock leak a little more, and he started fucking himself on it, moaning while he lapped up his piss, which didn’t taste as bad as he’d expected it to. When he was finished cleaning the seat, he moved down under the table on his own, finding a larger puddle there, the owner pulling his own hard cock out of his pants, and ramming it home after Jared was settled on all fours. Around them, a crowd of men had gathered to watch the new pig be broken in, many of them with their own cocks out, eager for their own turn.

In his head, Jared tried to resist what was going on, though his opposition was weak. The food–there must be something in the food and the beer which had done all of this to him, and even though he knew this was wrong, and that he should fight the owner off and get out of here, he simply…couldn’t. He just stay there, head shoved under the table, his gut still growing, licking the floor clean while some fat old man fucked him roughly, his own cock hard and leaking down his thighs. He shot his first load with a moan, not even touching his own cock, and the owner, amazed at how wonderful of progress his new pig had made in just a few hours, pumped harder, filling Jared’s ass with his seed.

“Alright, he’s all broken in boys–how about we take the pig back up to his room, and have a party?” the owner said, and the men cheered, dragging Jared out from under the table and dragging him through the inn, and up the stairs into his room, Jared lolling about, no longer able to resist. He blacked out as the men pushed him over the bed, and the rest of the night, thankfully, was spent in darkness.

***

He awoke slowly the next morning, a headache pounding in his temples, and let out a moan. Jared was still in the position he’d been left in, bent over the bed, face down, feet on the floor, ass towards the open door, his thighs tacky with cum. He ached all over. His throat hurt, and he stank, and he was exhausted, but he was alive, and awake. He shoved himself up with his hands, finding it much more difficult than he’d expected–he’d been growing again. Apparently his body had finished processing his second meal in the bar, along with his many beers, because any sign of his previous musculature was gone, replaced by soft, billowy fat. It felt strange, and he rolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed, letting out a sharp gasp as he felt something drive it’s way into his ass. Standing up, he reached around and pulled out a beer bottle someone had wedged in there, tossing it aside in disgust.

What had happened to him? His head felt a bit clearer than it had the night before, and he could recall the basics of his night, but none of the details–not that he really wanted to know. He needed to get out of there–he knew that for certain, and he needed to get out fast. However, he quickly noticed a problem–his bag was gone. Just gone. He was naked in a hotel room, with no clothing–what in the hell was he supposed to do? Well, first things first, he struggled up and shut the door, making sure it was locked, before returning to the bed, and sitting down on it. God, it reeked–he could smell piss, and cum, and sweat…his cock was getting hard–no, it couldn’t still be affecting him, could it? He got up and went into the bathroom, hoping a shower could clear his head a bit, but, unsurprisingly, the water had been shut off, and in the toilet…piss. The bowl was full of it, and he could smell it, and he was suddenly so thirsty…

He backed out of the bathroom as fast as he could, suddenly not feeling nearly as safe there as he’d imagined himself to be. He was so hot, and it was becoming hard to ignore how hard his cock was, and then, came the knock on the door. He turned towards it, and a moment later, he heard a voice shout, “Room Service!”

No, he couldn’t eat anything else, he just couldn’t. He looked over at the clock on the dresser–his delayed flight was scheduled to leave in the afternoon, and of he didn’t get out of here…he would miss it. The knock came again–obviously whoever was out there wasn’t going to go anywhere. His best bet would be to just push past them and run for it, naked as he was, at least he would be out of here. He went to the door and opened it–but as soon as he laid his eyes on the tray laden with food right outside his door, he started salivating, and his will left him. The cub who had served him the night before shoved him back into the room, and then wheeled in the cart. “The owner said you would probably be a bit resistant this morning, so he sent me up to make sure you ate everything all up, but I don’t think you’re going to put up much of a fight, do you?”

Jared whimpered a bit, trying to sort out his fear and all of his competing desires, his eyes welling up a bit, but the cub picked a piece of bacon up off the tray and held it up to the now obese bodybuilder’s mouth, watching him swallow it down, unable to help himself. They settled on the bed, Jared now willingly stuffing himself while the cub massaged his frame, encouraging him to let go, twisting his thick nipples, running his hands through his hairy body, and digging into his gunt, twiddling his rapidly shrinking cock, coaxing out several loads which he then spread onto waffles and pancakes, forcing Jared to eat his own seed, the cub occasionally pissing into a glass, giving it to Jared to wash down the food whenever he took too big of a mouthful, but he had Jared just piss himself where he was sitting on the bed. After an hour, the cub spotted the beer bottle where Jared had tossed it, and brought it over, driving it back into the fat man’s ass and watching Jared fuck himself on it, stuffing himself silly, now begging the cub to jack him off again, or give him another glass of piss, which the cub was now fetching from the toilet bowl, having run out of his own.

Hours later, the cart demolished, the cub wheeled it away, Jared laying back on the bed, stuffed to the throat, groaning, mind addled once more. He had to get up–he had to get out of here, right this very moment, or he’d never catch his flight–and then, he’d never be free. He struggled up, quelling the urge to vomit, and stumbled out of the room, using the wall for support as he stumbled naked down the stairs. The door, he could see the door, it was right there, but before he could take a step towards it, the owner came around the front desk and stopped him.

“Ah, Jared–on your way to catch your flight? I thought that meal would incapacitate you for a bit longer, but if you really want to be on your way, so be it. If you just step over here, we can settle your bill and you can be on your way.”

“My…My bill?” Jared said, finding it difficult to understand what the owner was talking about, and fighting the urge to just drop to his knees and suck the older man off, “I thought the airline was paying for it.”

“Well yes, they paid for a night, but there’s still the issue of your room service, and your bar tab to resolve. In fact,” the owner said, looking at his computer, “It looks like you owe an outstanding balance of eight hundred and seventy-six dollars and twenty-three cents. Will that be cash or card?”

Jared just gaped at him. “Eight…I don’t…I don’t have that much–much money,” he said, and realized he didn’t even have his wallet–hell, he was butt naked, standing in a hotel lobby, nearly out of his mind with lust and hunger.

“Oh really? Well that’s too bad,” the owner said, “I guess we’ll just have to get the money out of you some other way…” he said, stepping around the desk, something metallic glinting in his hand. Jared stepped back, but ran directly into both the bartender from the night before and the cub who’d stuffed him earlier, each man grabbing one of his arms–holding him in place. Jared struggled weakly, the owner getting down and giving Jared’s cock a few strokes, until he shot another load all over the carpet and went soft, allowing the owner to secure the chastity device around his cock, locking it closed with a padlock, and pocketing the key. “There, you’re hired! You’re working for me now. Don’t worry, you might pay off your debts someday, if you work really hard, and make me happy,” the owner said, leaning in, leering at Jared, whose face had paled, “Now, how about we show you where you’ll be working?”

Jared tried to fight back, but the three of them dragged him into the diner, and then into the bathroom, where Jared saw three spaces where the urinals should be, but where, instead, two men just as fat and filthy as he was were kneeling, collared and chained to the wall, the room reeking of piss. “We don’t have many positions open at the moment,” the owner said, “So you’re gonna start out working the bathrooms. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll absolutely love it in a few days–you won’t be able to imagine doing anything else.”

Jared tried to protest, but the owner shoved him down onto the ground in the third, empty spot and collared him before he could get back up. “You can’t do this–this is illegal. Someone is going to find out, someone will stop you.”

“Please, I’ve been running this business for too long to have to worry much. I’ve bought half the police force, and I pay the airlines to send…candidates like yourself to my inn whenever a flight is cancelled. Besides, if anyone starts snooping, well, let’s just say they develop quite the appetite. Now, let me explain how this works. These three are your coworkers. Now, I like competition–I think it brings out the best in people, so here’s how it works. Each of you has a tip jar,” the owner said, pointing to a steel cup bolted to the wall above each of their heads, “You get tips whenever you give one of your patrons service over and above their expectations–whatever that might be. Now, each week, whoever gets the most tips has the privilege of cumming once.”

“Fuck you, I’m not going to do this, I’m not.” Jared said, half to the owner, and half to his own growing desire, but then something he’d said caught up with him. “Wait, three? There’s…there’s only two here.”

“I’m getting to that. You see, I know that not everyone is motivated by positive reinforcement, so whoever gets the least tips…well…” the owner walked over and pushed open the door to the handicapped stall, and Jared gasped. There was another man, covered in filth, looking completely down trodden. “Whoever loses gets to be the toilet for a week–so if you don’t want to work the urinals, that’s fine–we can just unchain Mitch here and move you right in–”

“No!” Jared shouted, “No, please…I’ll…I’ll do it..” he said, hopeless.

“That’s a good piggy. Now, make sure you get lots of tips, and don’t forget that you’re still going to be racking up room and board charges–so you need about…hmm…two hundred bucks a night to break even. Good luck!” Laughing, the owner left the bathroom, the server and bartender following behind, leaving Jared with the other urinals. Still, the owner was right about one thing. Two nights later, Jared was happily cemented into his role, begging along with the other urinals for piss and cum from the nightly patrons, trying to wrack up as many tips as he could, his stomach churning a bit every time he saw a man go into the handicap stall. Still, that wasn’t going to be him, not if he could help it. And if he worked hard enough, who knows? He might actually be able to work his way out of here. Sure, no one had succeeded in checking out before, but there was always a first time for everything…right?