Tag: weight gain

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 4)

When every wad had finally be taken from the can and consumed, and after Jasper had also searched the surface of the desk and the floor for anything he might have missed, he realized he’d eaten everything. He’d just spent half an hour devouring his roommate’s cum soaked trash, like some fucking freak, and here he was, actively looking for more. He felt like he was going to throw up–no, that was a lie. In fact, what he felt was good. He felt somewhat full for the first time in over a week. No, but he knew he should feel like throwing up, that he shouldn’t want to keep any of that filth in his body, and so he stumbled up and went into the bathroom, knelt down in front of the toilet…and realized this was a much worse idea than he’d thought.

The toilet reeked of Daryn’s beer piss from the night before and this morning, and it hadn’t been flushed since. Jasper had added a load of his as well, but it was overwhelmed by the sheer force of Daryn’s stench, and he was so thirsty after eating so much dry filth. He’d tasted the wads of cum and that hadn’t been bad, right? Maybe just…just a little, so he could feel better. He started cupping his hands and using them to scoop water up to his mouth, but it was too slow–he grabbed his water glass from the counter and used that instead, bailing the water out and chugging it down, upset by how week and diluted it tasted, but hungry for it all the same. When he couldn’t get anymore into the cup, he shoved his face in and licked the bowl clean, screaming at himself to stop, to control himself, to do fucking anything other than this.

At last, it was the sound of Daryn’s key in the door which tore him away. He crawled across the hall and into his room, locking the door behind him as Daryn entered. Daryn…couldn’t see him doing that. He couldn’t know. What would he think, if he knew what Jasper had just done? He’d probably kick his ass, right? That…that seemed right, but he could imagine something else. Maybe he’d…take pity of Jasper. He was so hungry after all, and maybe a fresh load of piss and a load of cum right from the source would…would be better. The fresh cum had tasted so much more satisfying than the older ones at the bottom, hadn’t they? These were thoughts he couldn’t afford to entertain, so he climbed into bed, feeling sick with himself, and when Daryn demanded to know where he was, he managed to convince him that he was sick–and in fairness, he did feel sick, finally. Feverish, aching, his guts and body on fire.

“Well, what would you expect, for eating so much disgusting filth in one sitting? You’re lucky your new body is designed for this,” he heard an older voice say over him, “Don’t worry–you’ll feel better in the morning, though you’ll also find yourself a bit worse for wear. Still, one setback doesn’t mean you have to give in completely, right? I’m sure you’ll find the will somewhere to carry on.”

It was one of the most painful nights of his life, but eventually sheer exhaustion allowed him a few hours of sleep–not that his dreams offered much solace. The hunger was still there, along with all of the shame. He shouldn’t be doing this, this isn’t who he was supposed to be, and yet he felt so…well, when he woke up. The pain had lifted, the fever had stopped, and most importantly, the hunger which had been eating away at his sanity for too long now had abated. It was still…there, of course, but he could manage it now, right? One binge like that, and he’d be good for a while. He still felt a bit weak, however, because getting out of bed was more difficult than it should have been–and it wasn’t until he got to the mirror that he realized that more had changed in the night than he might have imagined.

It was the added weight which was the most obvious. After whatever confrontation they’d had, he’d weighed about 225–fat, but not too far out of the norm. Now, however, he had to imagine he was pushing at least 275, if not closer to 300–a fact made much, much worse by the fact that he’d shrunk another three or four inches or so. The fat was rolling off of him now, his gut becoming closer to a proper apron, and when he hefted it up, he was distressed to see his cock and balls had also continued shrinking, and were even a bit difficult to see in the pad of fat beginning to grow around them. His body was hairless now, and there was some…stink coming off of him that was difficult to describe, but which turned his stomach all the same–some vile mix of rot and cum and grime and…and he couldn’t stand it. Is this what he was going to be? He’d rather fucking die, wouldn’t he?

“Now now, I knew you were weak, Jasper, but I never imagined that you might be a coward.”

He turned around, and found Mr. Wadsworth in the room with him, sitting on his bed, watching his surprise register all over again. “What…why are you doing this to me? Please, I can’t do that again, I won’t let myself become…whatever fucking crazy shit you’re fucking doing.” Jasper knew that the words sounded idiotic, but his head seemed to be caught in muck as well, and it was hard putting thoughts into words.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to understand all the rules of the game, is all,” Mr. Wadsworth said, “and it is a game, you see. You can still win, if you’re smart, though I won’t lie–you are at a…significant disadvantage. But you see, your body only changed because it’s processing that alpha’s filth–if you manage to abstain, then you’ll recover in time. After that binge of yours, it would be a month or so, but you’ll be normal eventually, if you can hold out. If you make it to the end of your lease this June, then I’ll have had my fun, and both of you can go on your way, in your old bodies, like nothing was ever wrong at all. But lose too much of yourself and I might just keep you both for a long time.”

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 2)

Jasper groaned as he woke up, surprised that he didn’t hurt more–he couldn’t remember much from what had happened earlier, but he could recall Daryn straddling him, and wailing on his face with both fists at once–what on earth had possessed him to get Daryn riled up like that? He…he knew better than that, didn’t he? He brought his hands to his face, and while nothing hurt…nothing felt quite right, either, but it was difficult to say what was off. So much had gone screwy since they’d moved into this apartment–he didn’t even quite feel like the same person anymore. Still, he should be thankful. A brute like Daryn could have done some serious damage to him–he’d have to be more careful…more…deferential in the future. Yeah–as long as he let Daryn get his way, things would be fine.

Then he sat up in bed, looked down at himself, and choked off a scream. This wasn’t his fucking body–what in the fuck happened? He’d been toned and ripped before, but now his body was pudgy and soft, with a small gut and wider hips. His cock was smaller, his balls were a whole lot smaller, he was missing most of his body hair, and he was even missing his fucking tattoos. No wonder his face had felt strange earlier, because his fucking beard was gone too!

“Well Jasper, it was a good contest, but I’m sorry to say that you lost.”

He looked over and found Mr. Wadsworth in his room with him, standing there like it was perfectly normal for a landlord to simply appear in the room of one of his tenants, especially with that tenant naked. Jasper didn’t know what to say, just sputtered a moment, and then looked back down at himself.

“Don’t worry–you’ll fit in just fine. After all, this space is much, much too small for two alphas, don’t you agree? You don’t want to be an alpha do you?”

“N-No…but what…how are you here?”

“Just be careful, Jasper. If you don’t keep yourself under control…well, you, might just find these changes have just started. Still, I can assure you, that the more tastes you got of the alpha here, the better you’ll feel…”

The voice was fading, and a moment later, he was alone again–with no memory of the man being there aside from a vague unease and the warning he’d left. Keep control of himself? What in the world could that even mean?

Jasper got up and found some clothes that fit him–in fact, it looked like all of his clothes would fit his new frame, which was a comfort and a relief. Maybe…maybe that had just been some fucked up dream or something. He did sometimes have…weird dreams about Daryn, but he pushed that away, and went back out into the common areas of the apartment, only to nearly fall to his knees at the scent. It was fucking…everywhere, and it smelled fucking amazing. What in the hell was it? It wasn’t food, it was…he knew it from somewhere, but from fucking where?

“That you Jasper? About time you got up, you lazy fuck.”

He managed to keep his head focused long enough to get into the main room, where he found Daryn at the table in the kitchen, naked, eating breakfast…but it wasn’t the Daryn he remembered. No, this Daryn was a fucking beast–at least three or four inches taller than before, with hair covering his body, and…and fuck, he could see his seven inch flacid cock just…just dangling there…

“…this fucking sty up today, got it? I don’t want–are you even fucking listening to me, you fucking idiot?”

It took him a moment to realize that Daryn had been speaking to him that entire time he’d been transfixed by his roommate’s massive cock. “S-Sorry, I…what?”

“I said, you’re going to clean this fucking place up, right? It’s a fucking mess.”

Jasper looked around, and saw that almost all of it was Daryn’s crap, but he knew better than to argue about whose responsibility it was, and Jasper assured Daryn that it would get picked up.

“Good–now I gotta get to class, and to practice. What are you doing today again?”

“Oh…uh, I have class too, and–”

Daryn walked up to him, looming over Jasper…and he realized he must have shrunk too, or else…fuck, why was his cock so fucking hard? “What are you doing today, dumbfuck?”

“I…uh…I’m cleaning up…sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Five minutes later, Daryn was dressed in some athletic gear, gym bag thrown over a shoulder, and he left without another word. Jasper just sat down on the couch, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Had…Had they fought the day before? Wasn’t he different–a jock like Daryn? That seemed silly to him–he was too fucking weak to ever be a jock, right? Still, he didn’t have to just…take the abuse, either. This was all Daryn’s mess–Daryn should clean it up!

But in the end, he did as he’d been told, and skipped class that day to clean up the apartment. He tried not to think too hard about why he was doing it, or feel too bad about how he’d just rolled over and let Daryn boss him around. He tried not to think about how…hard he kept getting when he smelled one of Daryn’s sweaty shirts or jocks, or…or how he’d jacked off in the bathroom, after discovering Daryn had pissed in the bowl and just left it to stew. He wasn’t going to let this get out of hand. He was a person too, after all. Maybe not as…important a person as Daryn, but a person nonetheless.

Buried Treasure (Part 2)

I don’t remember much of what happened that first night. Mostly, I remember both Mike and Cory abusing me for hours. Mike…he was begging Cory to let him stop, that he was exhausted, but Cory wouldn’t let him, he would force Mike’s cock to get hard again, and force him to fuck me, or make me suck him off, or…or hit me, or whatever Cory wanted to see. Cory had his way with Mike as well, telling my brother how he’d always loved him, but that me–his stupid asshole brother–would have never let anything like their love happen, but now that I was taken care of…well, now they were going to be together, no matter what.

My only hope was that when my parents got home the next morning, there was some chance that all of this could be put right–but Cory got to them first. He’d locked me in the closet in my room, and Mike…Mike was firmly under his sway at that point. Cory…explained things to them, and from that day onward…I don’t like thinking about it, to be honest. Cory told my dad that I’d been a very, very bad boy. That I needed to be punished. Now, my dad is no slouch by any means, and he’d beat my ass quite a few times, but after that first spanking…I realized just how much he’d been pulling his punches before. Still, nothing compared to when…when he fucked me after that…my own fucking dad, shoving me down on the carpet, telling me that I deserved this, Cory watching us both while Mike sucked him off–I was an asshole, but Cory–Cory was a fucking monster.

My mom was in the kitchen, cooking–for me. These massive meals, and Cory would sit me down at the table, my dad next to me, and I would eat. I would eat like my life depended on it, because Cory had unlocked within me some…unspeakable hunger, and my dad would just watch, ridiculing me, making fun of me, warning me that if I kept this up I was going to be the fat ass around here, not Cory. The worst part, I think, was that no matter how bad things got, I…I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t cry, because I was enjoying all of it. I hated how good it felt, stuffing myself, having my dad and brother brutally fuck my hole, worshipping Cory’s body. All of it. My cock was rock hard the entire time, but I couldn’t cum–I could just leak and leak and leak, and the hornier I got, the more…I believed all of it, everything my dad and Cory and Mike were telling me. After a week…he finally gave me permission, that I could hump my father’s leg like a fucking dog, and cum that way–and I did, I fucking did cum and I licked it up afterwards, and then I thanked my dad and Cory for allowing me to humiliate myself for their pleasure.

I watched the calendar. I counted down the days. I was stupid to think anything would get better after Cory left, but things…had to, right? My parents had told the school we’d both come down with an awful flu–Cory had even gone with them to “convince” our doctor to forge a note saying so. But we couldn’t just stay here, right? Eventually Cory would have to let us go–eventually Cory would have to leave, and then…I promised myself I’d do better. I’d been wrong, I could see that now. I’d be a good person, I’d be nice to my brother. I’d be nice to everyone, if Cory would just…leave. If he’d just leave, and let everything go back to the way it was. Cory did leave, of course–but nothing went back to normal afterwards.

I…still couldn’t stop eating, no matter how hard I tried. Both Mike and my father teased me relentlessly, as my muscles began to disappear under a layer of flab. Mike kept working out, of course–he needed to keep up his physique for his boyfriend. He still raped me every night–my dad did too. I tried to tell them that they didn’t have to do this, that they could stop–but none of us could. Whatever magic Cory had inflicted on us, it wasn’t going away with him. By the time school ended, I was over 200 pounds, Mike was…well, Mike looked amazing, actually, and both our parents announced that we’d be spending the summer at our uncle’s farm out in the country. After all, we’d done a very good job helping Cory develop culture, and Uncle Bill needed some help out on the farm with a special project.

I was terrified. I begged them to resist, that they didn’t have to do this. Mike…I’ve never seen Mike like that. On the surface, he was overjoyed–desperate even, to see Cory again. But beneath that surface, he, I think, was even more terrified than I was. He didn’t sleep for days, and I’d wake up and find him rocking on his bed, just staring at the wall…and…and only a blow job could calm him down. I’d gotten very good at them, you see…and I…I liked making Mike happy. School ended, and we loaded our bags into the car and drove off with our dad, who’d decided to spend some time with his brother as well, leaving the house in our mom’s care, and we all drove off to discover what sort of fate Cory had in mind for us for the entire summer.

The Risks of Subletting

Since I missed a post yesterday, today’s content is double length to make up for it!

Me, Marvin and Alex were all good buddies at school, so when Marvin told us that he’d found a house a few blocks off campus that the three of us couple probably afford to rent together, I was certainly excited by the idea. I’d been living in a double on campus with a guy named Harry, this fat fucking nerd–he was nice enough, I suppose, but that’s just not what you want to wake up in the same room with everyday, you know? Now the three of us, we were all jocks–different sports, but we all worked out together and trained together anyway. Alex was a football guy, Marvin swam, and I ran cross country and track. Marvin might have been the slimmest, but I like to think I was still the hottest of the group–certainly I got the most tail of everyone.

The only problem was that we had to start leasing the place in June. Well, it wasn’t a problem for Marvin and Alex; they both had jobs here for the summer, and were planning on staying around and taking a couple of summer courses. I on the other hand, was heading home for the summer, and so I’d have to find someone to sublet my room to for a few months. Then, my fat roommate mentioned he’d received a research grant, and needed a place to live for the summer around here, and so I offered the room to him, sort of as a joke, but he took me up on it. I knew Alex and Marvin weren’t going to be very happy about living with Harry, but they could suffer through it for a few months, right?

I’d met the landlord, Mr. Adams, by this point too, but it was just a short meeting so I could introduce him to Harry, since Marvin was kind of handling all the details of the renting and lease. He was an older guy, and fuck, he was even fatter than Harry was, as hard as that was to believe. Still, he seemed…disappointed but understanding that I wasn’t going to be using the room for the summer, but he and Harry got on really well, so that was something, at least–in the end, it seemed like everything was shaping up, by the time I packed my things, said goodbye to Marvin and Alex, and got on the train home.

My summer was pretty ordinary. Picked up my usual job helping out in a local warehouse. Hooked up with some old ex-girlfriends who might hate my guts, but they all loved the shit I could do with my cock. I stayed in contact with Alex and Marvin, and they seemed to be having a really good time in the house together, and they couldn’t wait for me to get back to school. They’d even seemed to take a liking to Harry, which surprised me, since I couldn’t stand the nerdy guy, but whatever. It was time to head back to school soon enough. I had to go back a week early for training with the team, so I got there to the house…only to discover that something very strange had been going on.

Marvin and Alex greeted me at the door, and fuck–they’d both fucking ballooned up into a couple of fledgling pigs. I didn’t know what to make of it, and even worse…the two of them couldn’t quite seem to keep their hands off one another, like a couple of faggots. Then, it came out, they actually were a couple of faggots, and had moved into one room together at the landlord’s suggestion, which meant that Harry could have the extra room and keep living with all of us for the year.

Needless to say, I was not amused or interested, and I told them that there was no way I was going to be sharing a house with the three of them. I tried to get them to see that this was all wrong, but they were just staring at me like I was crazy. We were still fighting when the front door opened and in came Harry–though I could only recognize him from his face, since he too had packed on more weight that I thought was even possible. “Well, well, look who finally came home,” he sneered at me. The…anger in his voice was palpable, but not something I’d ever heard before. “You guys tell Mr. Adams he was here?”

“Hell yeah man, Master Adams already had a nice long talk with him. We’ve just been waiting for you to get home.”

I had no idea what they were talking about. ‘Master’ Adams? Mr. Adams was the landlord, but I hadn’t seen him today, had I?

“Let’s find out–boy, get the fuck over here and suck my cock. It’s been a long day in the lab, and daddy’s fucking horny.”

I wanted to tell Harry to shut the fuck up, or I’d shut his mouth for him, but instead…instead my body did something else. I got down on my knees in front of him, hefted up his sagging apron while he dropped his shorts, and I…I started sucking his cock, while Alex and Marvin made out and started fucking behind us, and I finally realized that my living situation had gotten more complex than I’d realized.

I didn’t want to be doing this. I was utterly disgusted with myself. I was straight! I hated fat fucks like this! I needed to get the fuck out of here! But no matter what I told myself, no matter how I tried to fight, my body was completely focused on one thing, and one thing only–sucking daddy’s big, juicy cock until he filled my hungry gut with a big load of delicious cum. My own cock was suddenly hard at the thought, and I started rubbing it, moaning, Daddy chuckling at me as I did, at what a fucking whore I am for big men like him. He was getting close now, leaking profusely in my mouth, and out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw Mr. Adams next to us, naked, swore I could…hear him speaking. I managed to pull away from the cock to look over, just as Harry blew his load all over the side of my face–and no one was there next to us at all.

“Come on boy, let’s get you situated,” Harry said, reached down, and hauled me up by the collar of my shirt, “Master already told me what he wants me to do to you, and I’m so fucking excited boy, you don’t even fucking know. If I do real good, then he promised me that I’ll get to be a real daddy even, and you’re gonna fucking love that, I can already tell.”

He dragged me over to the couch, sat me down, and turned on some cartoon channel or whatever. I tried to get up, but when Daddy told me to stay–I stayed. My ass couldn’t leave the fucking couch, no matter how much I wanted it to, and then, daddy started feeding me. I don’t know where all the food was even coming from, but it just kept appearing. Mountains of junk food and fatty deep fried shit I would have never touched in my life, but once…Daddy told me to eat it, or if he just shoved it right in my mouth for me…well, pretty soon, I couldn’t stop. I…I sat there for hours, just watching mindless shit on TV, stuffing my face, and I never even felt full. That was the scariest part. I ate more in an afternoon than I usually ate in a week, and I only seemed to be getting hungrier by the second.

Alex and Marvin came down for dinner and gorged themselves. I tried to get them to help me, but I couldn’t even speak. I felt dead to the world, trapped inside my own body, shoveling filth into my mouth non-stop. It was a relief when Daddy told me it was time for bed around eight o’clock, at least, until I discovered my new bedroom. It was decorated like something a ten year old would want, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was when Daddy bent me over the side of the bed and fucked my virgin ass, and again, I…saw Master Adams there, on the bed in front of me, leering down and jacking off his own cock, talking to me, to us…

It’s been a few months now. Alex and Marvin are still going to class and college, but I haven’t left the house since I arrived here. Daddy wakes me up at seven after a good night sleep, sits me on the couch, I watch TV literally all day while he feeds me non-stop, and then, I go back to bed. It’s…fucking with my head. I was never the smartest guy before, but I feel like I’m getting even stupider by the day. These shows are so fucking juvenile, and yet I catch myself laughing at them like an idiot, spraying food everywhere from my mouth while Daddy…beams at me, and I feel warm around my groin, and realize I pissed my diapers again. But seeing my old daddy happy just makes…makes me lose control, every time.

These diapers are new though. I’ve…been losing control of myself a lot lately, especially at night, and so Daddy started diapering me up, telling me it’s what Master wanted, to keep me protected. I’m fucking humiliated, and yet, I can’t sucking stop pissing myself. I even shit in them yesterday. I tried to stop it, but it just…came out. Daddy told me I was a good boy, and changed me, and I…I do like being a good boy for Daddy, I guess. Daddy’s gotten really sexy lately too, the way his hair is balding, that thick beard turning grey. He’s…he’s my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I’m so lucky I get to be his little boy. Still, it’s bedtime for little boys now, and Daddy’s taking me to bed. I…see myself in the mirror, and I barely even recognize the fat, smooth body looking back at me…or is that just who I am now? I don’t know, thinking is hard, and Daddy’s cock is delicious. I’ll suck Daddy’s cock now, and try and think again later.

Three’s a Crowd

It was supposed to have been about you–you were the one who brought them here, after all. A cute younger couple, friends of yours, and you knew the perfect bar where the three of you could hang out after work–a bit kinky, a little strange, but all fun. See, they were a bit too…vanilla for your tastes, and despite your obvious interest, neither one of them seemed very interested on opening up and letting you play with them, either together or separate. So, why not help things out a bit, right? That’s what Pigtown was for. It had helped you out, after all–shown you what you could be, and now you could introduce the two of them to what they could be, in your eyes.

Yeah, you’d wanted a couple of cubby slaves, right? Two boys, maybe even brothers, both of them obsessed with you, focused on you and your pleasure, willing to do anything to make you happy. Because that’s what had always bothered you most, was that ever since the two of them had met–ever since you’d introduced them to each other, two years back at a party–they’d…become so much more interested in each other than they ever had been in you, and fuck, you hated that. So you plied them with beers, got them loosened up, the regulars all circling around, looking for an opening to jump in and spoil things, so when they start getting horny, you drag them back into the club, find somewhere a bit secluded, and start trying to work them over into what you want them to be.

But it was like herding cats, with the two of them. You’d get them down on their knees, your cock in their face, and after a couple of licks each, they’d just start making out with one another instead. You tried working on them one at a time, but somehow the other would slide right in and replace you before you even knew what was happening. Neither of them is shaping up how you wanted–they’re growing older, more muscular, more confident. Two…hot fucking leather daddies in love and lust with one another, and there you are, six feet away, leaning in a doorway–watching.

Watching them like you’ve been doing for years now, on the outside all over again. You should try again, but honestly? It’s too exhausting to keep trying. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. You…got replaced, and you don’t have to like it, but…maybe it’s time to give up. Settle in. They are…fucking sexy together, you have to admit. You did always like watching them together, didn’t you? Whispering in each other’s ears, laughing–you were on the outside and that burned you up, but the curiosity was always there. They never cared about you, but you have always cared about them, watched them, obsessed over them, desired them from afar. They don’t…even know you exist, but then who would want to notice you? It’s not like you’re really anything to look at–not anymore, at least.

Because you’ve been changing, leaning there, staring at them hungrily. You’re shorter and fatter. Older still, at least fifty if not sixty. Four inch cock, getting shorter with every stroke, tongue hanging out, eyes glued to the sexy daddies fucking each other’s brains out against the wall. Better than porn–and you should know, after all, since that’s all you do with your time now, you fucking voyeur. Just a fat old faggot, sitting at home all day, masturbating, and then you come here to pigtown, and watch people sexier than you fuck and masturbate to that too. No one even sees you. No one cares about you, and you hate it, but that’s just the way things are now.

The bears finish up after half an hour, and the couple heads off into the club to find a couple other guys to play with. They walk right past you, through the doorway–one of them even bumping into your big, furry gut, but he doesn’t apologize, or even recognize you. You’re a ghost now. You look down and realize what you just allowed happen, but it’s too late for you–there’s another scene brewing in the next room, and the sounds of men rutting draw you like a fly to a wound, jacking your short cock. Invisible, desperate, and always alone.

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 7)

WARNING: SCAT, INCONTINENCE

I got back to the nasty trailer where Spitty had been hiding out about twelve hours later, and as soon as I stepped inside, I got the strong stench of piss and shit on the air, like I’d been expecting. Spitty hadn’t been able to hold anything in for that long, but he didn’t seem to distressed by what had happened–I doubt, in his current state, that it was the first time he’s messed himself like that, or even if it was, it wasn’t the first thing on his mind. As soon as I got in there, he started begging and pleading–not to let him go, but to help him cum.

I don’t know how often Spitty was cumming a day at this point, but back when he’d been under my thumb, he was blowing fifteen or so loads a day–and chances are he was shooting even more at this point. I could see, on his gut, at least a few loads he’d managed to work out just out of desperation, but it was clear he was aching, but I ignored him–after all, if I was going to make Spitty suffer, then I was going to have to deny him everything he longed for–and that meant he was going to be cumming much, much less in the future. So we got started, and I started feeding him his own shit, washing it down with my piss, and rewarding him with my spit for being such a good little shitfaced pig. For the next few days, I fed him almost non-stop. Food, mostly, but plenty of shit as well. I got him to embrace his lack of control, enjoy the sensation of pissing all over himself, of shitting right wherever he was, but above all, making him understand how worthless his cock was, how small it was, how hard it was for him to cum, how pointless and hopeless. No, he was just horny now–horny all the time, but never satisfied. The only satisfaction he could find now, was pleasing the cocks of others, and maybe–maybe–he’d manage to explode once or twice a month, but that was good enough, right?

He protested, of course. He tried to tell me that he regretted what he’d done, that he’d been fantasizing and longing for me for all these years, that he’d been trying to find me too, that he wanted to be my little whore, just like I’d planned to begin with. I didn’t believe him, of course. How could I possibly believe him, after what he’d done? No–this was better. This is what Spitty really deserved. I gave him another dose of leaf from his special tin, after a week of treatment. He hadn’t been up from the bed in all this time, he begged me to not do this to him, that he was sorry–but I took a sizable wad–a third of what remained in the tin–shoved it in his mouth, and watched him succumb to the pleasure of the leaf. I told him that he was going to be a good pig, a fat pig, that he wasn’t going to be moving much, that he hated moving. That he loved shitting and pissing himself wherever he was, that his cock was so small he couldn’t even reach it up in all his fat, and he was desperate for cock–any cock. He swallowed the leaf, and when reality centered itself again, he was still on the bed–but it wasn’t rope pinning him down now, it was his own massive body.

He woke with a snort, and immediately started begging me for a load of shit–and I knew he was mine again–but I wasn’t finished with him, not yet. No, I started inviting my new circle of friends around. Filthy truckers and bikers–and if they were too grossed out by Spitty to fuck him, a bit of spit or leaf was enough to bring them around to seeing things my way. Spitty never left the bed anymore–he was just on his belly, ass up, ready for a cock, or a fist, or anything to slide inside him, his mouth constantly calling for more shit or piss or tobacco, but pretty soon I had one guy coming around a bit more than all the others. Jack was the biker who’d tipped me off to Spitty and helped me find him, and I felt he deserved a reward. Of course, Jack wasn’t too…keen on the kind of reward I was planning on giving him, but after a dose of leaf from his own special tin…well, he was just the dirty, nasty biker bear Spitty needed. Fuck, watching the two of them go at it–Jack was a beast in bed, with a massive cock, loved getting himself covered in shit and then making his pig lick it off–and when I gave Spitty another dose of leaf from his tin–leaving just one last dose in it…well Jack was more than a regular companion–Jack was his biker master, and Spitty was his raunchy pigslave.

So here we are. Jack living in the trailer now, full time. Spitty is close to 700 pounds, I think–I don’t exactly have a scale to weigh him with. He’s gotta be pushing seventy years old at this point: teeth rotting out, biker tattoos all over his filthy body, too stupid to read–all he cares about is where his next load of shit is coming from, and who’s going to fist his loose, hungry hole. Or, at least most of Spitty cares about that. See, I know there’s that old jock, still in there. That bit of them, it always hangs around in their head. There’s nothing he can do, of course, but he’s in there. Sometimes I bring him forward, and we chat a bit–or rather, he sobs and begs me to change him back, and I fuck his throat and feed him shit until his little cock squirts out a load of cum into his fatty folds. I’m thinking it’s about time for the last dose, however. Spitty is terrified–he thinks he’s going to be some fucking geezer, or just fucking dead, but not quite–no, there’s a reason I don’t usually give anyone a complete tin, you see, but for Spitty? Well, I think it’s a well deserved end–or beginning.

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 6)

Things get a bit filthier starting here. WARNING SCAT.

He was the first one who’d ever gotten away. I was so fucking angry when it happened–at him, at myself for being so stupid to imagine that anyone might actually enjoy the shit I do to them. I should have known better. My uncle told me to know better, when he taught me how to grow the shit, but…well, hope springs fucking eternal, I guess. No one on the crew even knew anything had happened–not really. There was an odd hole in reality that everyone had to get used to, but after a few days, it was like Spitty had never even been there–only I remembered him, and I still had his tin of tobacco, and if our paths ever crossed again…well, he was going to be getting one hell of a surprise from me.

Of course, I couldn’t exactly go search him out. I didn’t even really know what the fucker had done to himself. I’m sure that what he’d wanted to do was to try and get his old life back, but it takes some skill and plenty of brains to do that–and hell, the leaf don’t let anyone go backwards anyway! As fucked up as he was, I doubt things worked out how he’d planned. I did, at least, know what he looked like now–I’d gotten into the bathroom in time to see him fade out–the physical change always happens first, before reality folds them in somewhere else…and that fucker is definitely not some football playing college student, you can trust me on that one. No, the fucker I saw on my bathroom floor? Spitty looked to be about 350 pounds, most of it fat, covered in filth, his hair and beard even longer than before. Pale skin, meaning he probably almost never saw the sun, and he’d aged up to somewhere close to 50–or at least he looked 50, but he could have been a bit younger, in all honesty. Still, one thing I could know for sure was that my name had probably stuck nice and hard–names are hard to get rid of. So life went on, but I kept my ear to the ground, corrupting a few truckers and bikers passing through, telling them that if they saw any old pigs around going by the name of Spitty, they should let me know, and I’d reward them handsomely.

A couple of years went by, and I’d figured he managed to get out and escape my net. Either the spell had whisked him away further than I’d thought possible, or he was such a recluse now that he never actually went anywhere. I’d…become a bit meaner, in all honesty. Some of the guys on the crew who I hadn’t fucked with in years were brought over to my house, so I could take them down a few more notches, fantasizing that it was Spitty I was ruining, thinking about some of the nasty shit I could do to him if I ever got my grubby hands on the fucker. I…went a bit overboard with Gary, our foreman. Dude…fucking loves ass now–eating it out, sniffing farts, even eating shit on occasion. I feel a bit bad about it, but fuck, watching that fucker eat a turd, imagining it’s Spitty instead, nothing makes me nut quite as hard as that.

And then, sure enough, someone gave me a tip. They’d heard about some fat pig matching my description who occasionally cruised a rest area ten miles out of town, with a particular thirst for tobacco spit. I’d fucking found him–I couldn’t fucking believe it. Still, I couldn’t fucking scare him off, now that I’d gotten a clue, and so I started pressing other guys for details, had a biker follow the fat fuck home one night, and sure enough–the spell had sent him off into the weeds, a good thirty miles out of town, in the middle of fucking nowhere. Still, I knew where I was going now, and I decided it was time to pay my lost boy a visit.

Heh, the look on his fat, nasty face when I busted my way in though–it almost made my humiliation worth it. He’d honestly thought he’d gotten away with it, and there he was, watching some of his porn, sitting in a lazy boy surrounded by trash, bouncing up and down on some massive dildo, and he looked over, saw me, and he fucking shot his load right then and there. Yeah, he’d missed me–I could fucking tell, not that he wanted to fucking admit it. I pinned him down and fed him spit for a couple of hours–there was nothing he could do to fight me, he’d made himself so fucking weak. I got the rope I’d brought in with me, hauled him over to the bed and tied him down, spread eagle–and then took off. I had to go get some supplies for my revenge, after all. I called Gary and told him I’d need a few weeks off, and he was more than happy to accommodate me–I’d be staying with Spitty for little while, getting him ready. I haven’t used a whole tin on someone in a very long time, but this reunion calls for a celebration. Spitty isn’t going to see it that way, of course, but he’s fucking earned this–and he’ll enjoy it plenty, soon enough.

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 5)

Things didn’t quite go according to plan that night, neither for Chuck, nor for Spitty. To start with, for Chuck at least, everything seemed to be going perfect. In fact, he couldn’t quite believe his luck, with this boy. He’d hated that cocky fucker as soon as he’d started working with them on the crew, so certain that he didn’t fucking belong with nasty fucks like them–most of whom Chuck had been ‘developing’ for years now–he was the perfect target, and wearing down that jock nice and slow had been…fucking amazing. In fact, he hadn’t had that much fun ruining someone in a while–but now he knew why. Spitty, it turned out, had wanted it. He’d wanted this life the whole fucking time, but he’d only found the balls to admit it after his first taste of the real shit Chuck grew himself, using an heirloom seed grown in his family for generations. But now, Spitty was hooked–hooked on tobacco, hooked on spit, hooked on cock…and hooked on Chuck, most of all–and that had, perhaps, clouded his judgement. Chuck, after all, had given up on ever finding someone who might want to be with him, or hell, even finding someone he might want to be with, but Spitty was the closest thing he’d felt to love in a very, very long time–and that’s what gave Spitty the opportunity he’d been looking for.

They showed up at Chuck’s house and went inside–this time heading right for Chuck’s bedroom upstairs. He got Spitty out of his cum crusted clothes, and gave the whore one last fuck in his current form–but made him keep his hands off his cock while he did–he needed Spitty to start building up some energy for the chaw he was going to get in a little bit. He told Spitty to take a break, that he’d be back with his special tin in a couple of minutes–he went downstairs to his locked cabinet, opened it up and pulled out the tin with Spitty’s name on it, and then headed back upstairs, his cock already leaking even though he’d just shot a huge load in the pig’s ass, and when he stepped into the room, the butt of the shotgun he kept in his closet slammed into the side of his head, sending him teetering and crashing to the floor. Spitty hit him again, and then a third time–hoping that would be enough to knock him out, grabbed the tin from the floor where it had fallen, and hurried into the bathroom, where he locked the door.

It had worked–his plan had actually worked. Spitty could barely believe it, and it was all he could do to keep himself from masturbating in relief. But this–he had to try and focus. Last time, when he’d chewed this stuff, Chuck had been with him, guiding his thoughts, directing him into his new life–but he wasn’t going to have anyone helping him this time–Spitty was going to have to try and do this on his own. Through the door, he heard a loud groan from the bedroom down the hall–in a panic, he opened up the tin, grabbed about the same amount of leaf as Chuck had given him last time–spit out the shit he was currently chewing and put the special wad in his cheek, that same amazing sensation of floating pleasure seeping into him. He…didn’t remember how he ended up on the floor, but one hand started jacking his cock, and the other found its way around to his hole and started fingering it, just…awash in pleasure.

But he also knew he had to focus–still, his stupid brain couldn’t think like before, and with the pleasure coursing through him, he was having an even harder time getting his thoughts in a row. He…tried to focus on the person he’d been before this–younger, muscular, sports–but someone was pounding on the door and screaming at him, and it was so hard to think! He didn’t want to think about anything, not really. All he really wanted was to be alone, away from Chuck, away from everyone where he could jack off and fuck himself in peace–yeah, fuck, he could…he could just fucking imagine what that would fucking be like. A place of his own, out in the sticks, not even having to work, just lounging around like a total, fat fucking pig, jacking off and fucking himself all day long, stuffing his face, maybe venturing into town for some load of cum or a real fuck on occasion, but usually just happy with his own fucking company. He…swallowed the leaf, just as Chuck managed to bust through the door and stand over him, shouting at Spitty, but they both knew it was too late to change anything. The world went all swirly like it had before, dissolving into…quiet darkness, and then Spitty woke up.

He knew, right away, that things had gone both very wrong, and also…very right. He wasn’t in his parents house anymore–he was in his own fucking trailer, out in the middle of the woods–right where he fucking wanted it to be. His cock needed attention, of course, like always–he grabbed hold of the dildo that was still lodged in his hole from when he’d fucked himself to sleep the night before and started thrusting in into him, jacking his cock, feeling his gut jiggle as he did, moaning and groaning loudly as he came over and over again onto the sticking, filthy sheets of his bed. Part of him, a deep part, was absolutely horrified, but the rest of him, most of him, couldn’t imagine anything better. He’d found a slice of accidental paradise, and he had no plans on ever leaving. At least, as long as Chuck didn’t find him–and he didn’t want that, right?

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 4)

No one other and Chuck and I knew anything had even changed. Well, some of the guys on the crew knew something had happened, like our foreman, but they didn’t know what had changed. I could…see when they looked at me, that they were a bit confused and…sad even, but no one wanted to talk about it, I don’t think. No one dared bring Chuck’s attention to them, while it was still occupied with me–and Chuck…he fucking loved this new me. Goading me, laughing at me every time he caught me with my hand down the front of my jeans, making fun of how stupid I was, and getting everyone else on the crew to laugh along with him. I was the butt of every joke, and somehow, the fact that everyone knew I was just a fucking pervert who couldn’t keep his hands off his dick for more than five minutes…it only made me hornier.

That was the worst part. It would have been easier if I’d hated it, if I’d…been able to fight back in some way, to say that things should be different. But I didn’t want things to be different. I…can’t even imagine how things might be different, beyond a few vague memories of sports, or college, none of which had ever happened in this new life of mine. I remember looking at myself in the mirror a couple days after Chuck fed me that leaf from my tin–it wasn’t the first time I’d seen myself, but it was the first time I’d actually dared take a moment and really look, and I could see all the little shit that had changed too. My tangled and greasy beard and hair falling in front of my face, my bloodshot eyes, my teeth which had already started to yellow a bit from my new chewing habit. I looked…older. I mean, I was older, actually older–about ten years or so than I had been before, but I looked even older than that. My flabby gut and tits, my arms which were still fairly strong thanks to work and…constantly jacking myself off. My little legs and flat, absent ass. And I’m standing there looking at myself, and I’m stroking off again, because I’m so fucking turned on by what I’ve become. I’m not ashamed. I’m not humiliated–I’m not…that humiliated, I mean. What matters, is that I fucking love it, I fucking love myself, and I shoot this huge load into my hand and slurp it up, swallowing it down with some of my spit, and I just feel…so fucking good.

Pretty soon, I’m laughing along with the guys, pulling on my cock in front of them, amazed at how easy it all is. Some of the guys even suck me off on occasion, but nothing really does it for me like my own fucking hand. Still, I’m all there, really. I know, mentally, that this isn’t how things should have gone, and I’m thinking about that tin in Chuck’s house, and I’m wondering what might happen if I could get my hands on it, without him knowing. Could I change myself back? Hell, even if I couldn’t do that, could I at least make myself someone a bit better than this? Maybe I could help out everyone else on the crew too, if I could find their tins as well, but for that to work, for any of this to work, than meant I was going to have to get closer to Chuck than I’d ever wanted too.

Even that was harder than I’d thought it would be. Chuck was usually all over me all day long, feeding me spit, groping my cock, but the first couple of times I tried to grope him back, he…freaked out a little bit, and he kept backing off. So…I told him a lie. I told him that I liked this life he’d given me–and I did like it, but not…in the way I was telling the story. I told him I’d hated being that jock, and just letting loose, it felt so fucking good. I wanted…him to feel good too. He wanted to believe me, I think, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d thought I should hate him–and I did hate him–but I could pretend a bit, I could jack his cock off on our rides to and from work, even suck him off on occasion, drinking down his cum too, and soon…soon he was really getting into it, more than I’d expected him to. The first time he…fucked me–god, it hurt so much. He bent me over a bench in the workshop and started slobbering all over my asshole and my crack, and I could…feel his spit working its way into me, making me shudder, and when his cock pushed into me, with just his tar as lube, it was like my ass was on fire, and tingling all over, and I shot–of course. Pretty much anything can make me cum these days, but this…pretty soon, he was spitting in and around my hole as much as he was feeding me, and that fire in there, it was starting to need attention like my cock did. He was getting me ready, I could tell, and if I was going to have a chance, this was the one I’d have to take.

It was a few more weeks before he finally told me I was coming with him to his house for another taste of the tobacco from my personal tin, while he fucked me in the foreman’s trailer during lunch. Told me that if I wanted to be such a nasty slut, then that’s what I was going to be–as hungry for cum as I was for spit, begging everyone to fuck my ass like the stupid whore I am. I…fuck, it turned me on when he said it, and that scared the shit out of me more than anything else. Still, it had worked, right? Now I just had to try and keep a level head, get the tin away from him, and see if I could fix this somehow. I’d become so compliant lately that he wasn’t even bothering controlling me a directly as he used to–if I was quick, maybe I could just get away with this. And if not? Well…being a cumdump didn’t…sound like that bad of a thing. It’s not like I wasn’t already sucking down everyone’s loads on the site, right? It all comes down to tonight–see you on the other side, I guess.

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 2)

The next day Chuck was waiting for me, idling outside–and I didn’t want to go out there, but like before…I had to. I didn’t know how he was doing it, but he had some sort of fucking control over me, and I didn’t have the will to resist him. He’d arrived so early we had plenty of time to work, but he drove a couple blocks down, parked, and fed me more spit, making me shoot another load, and then ordered me to jack off on the way to work–that whenever I was in his truck, I was going to be jacking off, and shooting my cum on my clothes, where I’d rub it in and leave it. His spit…it got me so fucking horny, I shot another load on the way there, and when we got out, it was clear my shirt was…messy, but I just tried not to think about it, as we got to work.

But everyone on the crew had seen us arrive together. A few of the guys…they were looking at me almost…excitedly, while others couldn’t even meet my eyes. Chuck gave me my nickname at lunch–everyone was going to be calling me Spitoon from now on–Spitty for short–and no one objected, not even the foreman, who seemed…more scared of Chuck than anything else. Sure enough, more guys than I’d thought chewed tobacco on the crew, and starting that day…I got all of their spit. On me, in my mouth–it didn’t matter, but that’s what I was for–or at least, that’s what Chuck told me, and a small part of me…almost believed him. No one’s spit tasted like his though–his was…electric. Every time it hit me, every time I tasted it, it was like some strange wire sparked in my body. Still, I was getting out, right? That’s what I was still telling myself, at least. He could humiliate me for a few months, and then I’d be back at school, and I’d never have to see him again.

But on the third day…I noticed something strange about my body. I’m not a hairy guy by any means, but all of a sudden I had a beard filling in across my face. I’d tried to grow a beard a few times before, but had never managed anything like this, and it had been just two days since I’d last shaved. The rest of me was changing too–most noticeably my new gut. I wasn’t happy about losing my abs, but I also couldn’t explain the sudden weight gain. I hadn’t changed my diet, and my metabolism had always been so quick I could eat nearly anything and stay slender. Chuck teased me about it, of course–made me…rub it, while I jacked off on the way to and from work. He’d make me take off my shirt and spit on my belly, rubbing it in there until it was streaked with black and tingling–and a few days after he’d started doing that, I noticed that, like my new beard, hair was growing in all over my new belly–and my belly was still growing as well.

Still, it was a couple of weeks before I was certain–it was Chuck’s spit. I’d…known that, somehow, but that only seemed to confirm it for me somehow–it made it more real. Chuck was doing this to me, and when I got in with him the next day, I…I begged him to stop. That I was sorry, that I didn’t want this. I told him I had a future, that I didn’t want to be stuck in this shitty town for the rest of my life. That I was sorry his life had come to this, but that didn’t mean he had any right to ruin mine too. He just pressed his hefty frame into me as my pleads dissolved into whimpers, groped my cock with his huge hand, grinning at me, letting his slobber dribble into his beard…watching me watch it fall…and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and sucking it from the hair of his beard, shuddering a bit. “That’s a good boy–you’re a real good boy, Spitty. I think it’s time daddy introduced you to the real shit tonight–yer comin’ home with me for some real fun.”

All day long on the work site…all I could think about was what that meant. I tried to make myself run off, I even begged the foreman for help, when I had a moment of clarity, but he just shook his head, grabbed me by the chin, and fed me a load of spit. “I’m real sorry, Spitty,” he said, “But Chuck…he’s real keen on ya. He was keen on me once too–I know…what it’s like. But don’ worry, things’ll git easier, after tahnight.”

I pressed him for details, tried to get him to tell me what was going to happen, but he didn’t say anything else–just told me to get back to work and try not to worry about it, because there wasn’t anything I’d be able to do to stop it anyway. Chuck didn’t stop grinning all day, and grinning at me especially. It wasn’t even mean–he was really fucking happy, or excited, or who knew what. Our foreman let us both go an hour early, when Chuck asked–I hadn’t really noticed how often Chuck got whatever he asked for from anyone on the crew–and the two of us got in the truck. After a sloppy kiss, he ordered me to haul my cock out and start jacking off, and he raced off towards his place, a run down but nice little house on the edge of town. I asked him if I could at least call my parents, but he didn’t even hear me–just dragged me inside by the hand, my head trying to fight him, but my body was his willing subject, as always.