Tag: weight gain

Making Pigs (Part 1)

“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?”

The man in truck took a drag off his cigarette, and eyed the police officer up and down, outside his window. Young, probably pretty new to the force. Cocky eyes. Flat top. Well muscled. Bulge in the front of his uniform pants. “Probably ‘cause I was goin’ ninety or so. What’s it to you?” he said, and blew a cloud of smoke in his direction.

“Sir, I’ll need your license and registration, and please put out that cigarette while I’m talking to you.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, I don’t obey anyone with a one inch dick in their pants.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine.”

“Sir, get out of the car.”

The man did nothing, just took another inhale of smoke. “I’ll do whatever you want if you can prove yer cock’s bigger than my thumb.”

“My dick–sir, get out of the fucking car.” The man did nothing, just watched the young cop’s face turn redder, either out of anger or embarrassment he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t really matter. The cop wasn’t sure….why he did it exactly. It made sense at the time. He unbuckled his belt, undid his fly and pulled down his underwear, but his cock didn’t flop out like it usually did. He looked down, confused.

“We come on then, let me measure–come closer.”

The cop’s feet edged him closer, the man leaning out the window of the truck, pushing his thumb up next to the cop’s shrived cock, but it didn’t even come close to matching the man’s thumb. “Sorry, that ain’t gonna do.”

“If…if it was hard, it would…”

The man laughed, and started twiddling the cop’s now tiny cock, watching it grow slightly as the man moaned, unable to believe how sensitive the nub had become. It got hard in less than a minute, and the man measured again, but it still came up plenty short. “Heh, I was generous when I said an inch, that’s one of the smallest cock’s I’ve ever seen.” he said, and pulled his hand back.

“Wait! Wait, don’t…keep…keep touching it…”

“I told you, bitch, I don’t take orders from little fuckers like you. No, you take orders from me, isn’t that right?”

“N–No, I’m…I mean, I have the damn…the damn badge…” he said, but he couldn’t pull his hand away from his nub of a cock, couldn’t take his ears away from the cars whizzing past behind him on the freeway.

The man laughed, sucked on his cigarette, and then hauled his own cock out–all ten inches of it, and started stroking it slowly. The cop couldn’t take his eyes away from it. “I don’t think you’re going to be wearing that uniform anymore boy, you’re disrespecting it with that tiny cock. Strip.”

“But, I’m on the side of the road!” the cop said, but his hands were already moving, dropping his pants so he could step out of them, unbuttoning his shirt. Before he realized it, he was already in his underwear–a white tank over his muscular body, his tiny cock barely poking free of his briefs, still in his boots. “Please, I’ll…I’ll let you off with a warning! Please, just let me go.”

The man kept stroking for a moment, savoring it. “No. No, you’re going to suck my cock, right here on the side of the road. That’s what you really want, isn’t it pig?”

The cop shook his head side to side, and licked his lips, unable to keep his hands from his nub. The man popped open the door and twisted to the side, his legs hanging out the door, his cock…right there. The cop felt his feet moving him forward again, until he fell to his knees and licked the man’s cock from root to tip, and then took it in his mouth, sucking tentatively, surprised when the man grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved him down deep, feeling the cop gag and fight for breath, trying to push his way off.

“Don’t fight me, pig, you’re too fucking weak. No muscles, just that disgusting, flabby body hanging out of your underwear. You can’t do anything, so just fucking choke on it–I love the feeling of your throat fighting me.”

Tears were streaming from his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was his hand still on his cock, shoved in his gunt, his finger running its way around the head buried in there, feeling how wet it was with precum, his other hand groping his flabby tits, pinching his meaty nipples through the tight tank he was wearing, riding up over his gut, which was hanging out entirely. Had…Had he always felt this…big? No–no, he’d been thinner before, he’d had muscles, hadn’t he? It was so hard to think, this guy’s cock was so hard, and it felt…so good, lodged in his throat, his face pressed into the man’s bush. This was…wrong. He should be in charge. He was the police officer, the…the pig around here, yeah, the big, fat pig.

“Everyone can see you, piggy. Everyone in the whole world can see you sucking my cock. You like that, don’t you? You like showing the whole world what a whore for cock you are?” Someone driving by yelled out the window, calling them sicko perverts. For…for some reason, that just made the pig’s cock ooze out more cum. “That’s good, pig. But why don’t we show the world just how shameless you are, eh?” He groaned, but even now, he wasn’t sure if he was terrified, or…or excited to see what the man had in mind.

Male Bonding (Part 5)

Life was never quite the same for any of those men. Jared and Trevor continued to bond over his father’s vacation time, and by the end of it, his father had completely accepted his proper position in life as his son’s whore. He spent his days at work, trying his best to pretend to be a version of himself which never existed any longer, but only felt fulfilled when he was at home, being plowed by the various men Trevor would bring over to abuse him. Trevor seemed like an expert at finding men to have sex with his father, actually–to be honest, Jared wondered if he simply walked out on the street, and picked randomly from the men passing by. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to say no, with his son’s ring glinting in their eyes.

A few months later, Maurice and Laura had a falling out, after she caught her husband once again drinking his own piss in the bathroom, and she kicked him out of the house. With nowhere to go, Maurice came over to Jared’s house, and begged Trevor for a place to stay while he sorted himself out. Trevor was more than happy to let him stay, on the condition that he become the house’s permanent urinal, though Trevor would occasionally rent him out to various clubs, so the pig could help make a bit of extra income for the house. Kirk, too, had a falling out with his wife, and ended up moving in with Trevor and Jared as well. Forbidden to shower now, he was a rank mess, begging men to let him suck on their feet or clean out their holes for them, after they got done abusing Maurice or Jared. His special treat, when he was especially well behaved, was that he got to eat all of the cum men had shot up Jared’s ass that day, and he live for it, gobbling all of it fresh from his hole. He also was often rented out alongside Maurice–thought Kirk got the job of being the club’s reusable toilet paper for the evening, while his old co-worker had a gut sloshing with piss.

Carter, Ryan, and Dustin managed to keep their lives together–somewhat. Carter had to get a divorce–he no longer had any interested in his wife, now that he understood how…intensely pleasurable it was him to have an arm shoved deep in his hole. He had to keep at least a six inch dildo in all day long, just to keep that damn itch at bay–thankfully he had Ryan in the office to help him out on a regular basis. In fact, Ryan was the boss of the entire department now–after Carter’s performance had slipped, he got transferred laterally, and the new and improved Ryan had been a perfect fit for the position. Dustin’s attitude was much improved as well, and he had proven to be an excellent assistant to Ryan now that he understood his proper position in the company, and in bed. It was Dustin who had perhaps taken his changes most to heart. he’d packed on close to fifty pounds in under six months, and Ryan was happy to make him eat all of the words he’d used to insult his new master in the past. He wasn’t going to let Ryan stop until he was over 400 pounds, and his slave wouldn’t get his cock free again until he hit 300. If he wanted the cage off his cock, then he was going to have to grow and grow and grow.  

Ryan and Trevor became fast friends–at least, that’s how it seemed to Trevor. He liked Ryan, and he liked Ryan’s new attitude even more. How abusive he’d become, how he treated his inferiors. It made Trevor…proud to have made him. What he hadn’t realized, was that Ryan was playing him too–Ryan no longer kept his eye on Trevor’s ring out of bedazzlement, but out of envy. He waited patiently, until one night Trevor slipped up–drank too much, and blacked out, giving Ryan the perfect chance to pry the ring off his finger, slip in onto his own, and when Trevor woke up a few hours later, he and his new master had a little…chat, and Trevor realized just how much sense it made to let Ryan be in charge after all, and Ryan made his own rules–in particular, that no man inferior to him could weigh less than him, and so they all began gaining.

A year later, not one of them was less than 500 hundred pounds, because Ryan himself had ballooned up to 515. Still, his team of men (including Trevor, who had finally managed to find himself a good job working with his father, as well as Carter, who Ryan had transferred back under his proper sway) they were recognized as one of the most effective teams in the company, When asked what their secret was, all Ryan would say was that they had managed to bond not only as a team, but as men, in a way he could have hardly thought possible, and he smirked, shone his ring in the CEO’s face, and had one of his little chats.

Male Bonding (Part 4)

The game continued. Under the table, Jared had finished with Jared cock, and at his son’s orders had begun sucking off the remaining four men, while Maurice crawled around with him, draining bladders as the men needed–and they needed to often, as Trevor kept forcing drinks down their throats, and kept lighting more and more cigars for each of them. Kirk went down next–he’d never had that good of a poker face. Trevor had him eating out his armpits within moments, and then made the middle aged man get on his knees, and beg him to allow him the honor of licking his feet clean. Trevor was all too happy, but forced him to untie his shoes and pull off his socks with his teeth–and then made him promise that he wouldn’t shower more than once a week from that day on, and never with soap or deodorant–all the better to enjoy his own stink, right? Kirk was more than happy to agree, as he shoved his nose between Trevor’s toes and took it great heaving, piggish snorts, running his entire tongue from heel to toe, moaning and stroking his own cock like mad. He shoot on the floor, and Trevor made him lick it clean, before ordering him under the table as well to give the remaining three players foot massages and to lick them clean.

Carter, Dustin, and Ryan were the only remaining players. A strong rivalry had developed between Carter and Dustin, between ruler and usurper. It didn’t help that, with the fewest clothes, they each were the most vulnerable at being removed next. Ryan, on the other hand, still had the most clothes, and he was more than happy to keep it that way. He lost a few more, but it was Carter who fell next, pulling off his underwear as Trevor strode over, laughing. “Oh, and the boss falls! Still, we’ll have to find you something to sit on, don’t you think? Kirk! Get out here, and help me out with your boss here. Get on your hands and knees, Carter.”

Kirk was only too happy to clean out his boss’ hole. Well, at first he was disgusted, but the more he licked it, the more he…couldn’t stop. The more he enjoyed it. The more he loved the sensation of burrowing his tongue in there, getting it slick and wet. Trevor had to haul him away by the hair so he could line up his cock with Carter’s hole and slide it into the well opened hole, Carter immediately fighting the pleasure of it, of being penetrated, of being filled. His resistance didn’t last long, however, and he was shoving his whole body back, desperate to get more of Trevor’s cock inside him. Trevor told the two men at the table to get back to the game, that he had more to do with this pig here. A few rounds later, Carter was howling in some mixture of pain and pleasure as Trevor slipped his fist into his hole, the boss’ cock exploding across the carpet, Kirk diving for it and eating it up from the carpet. Trevor kept an eye on the heated battle going on between Dustin and Ryan. Neither had much left to lose in the game, and Dustin had come back from losing to being neck and neck. Ryan was terrified–but he hated Dustin, and he refused to lose to him. In the end, he counted the deck better, and beat him. Dustin was furious and went to jump across the table and throttle that “fat bitch,” but Trevor stopped him, and then told his father to take over loosening up his bosses’ asspussy for him. Jared dutifully got down and pushed his own fist in Carter’s hole in his son’s stead.

“Dustin, sit back down. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No I’m not fucking hungry, I’m–” he started to say, but Trevor shoved a slice of pizza in his mouth as he spoke.

“No fucker–you’re hungry. You’re fucking famished. You’re going to eat. You’re going to eat, and you’re not going to stop until I tell you to, got it?”

Dustin tried to fight the command, but he couldn’t. He went over to the mostly untouched snack table, and started stuffing his face with everything Laura, Maurice’s wife, had prepared earlier, shoving food in his mouth with his hands, terrified not only at the ferocity of his hunger, but also how horny he was at his sudden lack of control, at the sensation of his full gut.

Trevor ignored Dustin, however, and sat down next to Ryan. “Well done Ryan, looks like you win! Congrats–I kind of hope you’d be the one left standing.”

“Does…does that mean I can go? That…that you won’t do anything to me?”

Trevor laughed. “Let you go? Of course now, Ryan! No, you get the very best prize of all, in fact. No, forget…this. No, you’re a piece of shit, Ryan. Not because you’re fat–I love your size. No, because you’re the smartest fucker in this room, but you don’t believe it. You fucking hate yourself. No, Ryan. I’m not going to let you go–I’m going to kill everything in you that makes you weak, and then you’re going to help me break in these nasty sluts–how does that sound?”

Ryan tried to object, but Trevor just leaned in and started whispering in his ear. Slowly, Ryan stopped trying to fight back, and his face went…blank. Almost featureless, at the debauchery going on around them. Then, his mouth curled up into a smirk–a cruel smirk which was utterly alien to his face. His eyes took on new life, looking around him, at this nasty fucks around him, thinking about…about how much he was going to enjoy this. How much he’d always craved this, this ability to become a brutalizer, and he’d never even known it was inside him all along. Trevor released him, and he immediately got up from his chair, went over to Dustin, and started feeding him, faster than he could hope to keep up with, mocking him as he gagged and choked, trying to swallow everything Ryan shoved into him, and he smiled at Trevor. Trevor–he’d enslaved all of these men, sure, but not him. No, he’d simply told Ryan how to be free.

Arctos Monthly (Part 5)

From that moment on, the two of them were inseparable. Andy was my roommate, sure, but he moved in with Mitch–after Mitch got done kicking his old frat bro out of the place to make room. While Mitch tried to go to class and practice, Andy spent the day fucking himself, smoking, drinking and eating, but as soon as Mitch got back to the room, they’d fuck all night long. I joined them regularly, but it was clear I was a third wheel, and when I got my third package in the mail–well, that changed everything, literally.

It came a few weeks after Mitch’s first, and it was moderately sized. I had no clue what might be in there, but I took it back to my room and opened it up, and when I did–I still don’t really remember what was in there. Nothing…physical, but as soon as I opened it, I started…seeing and feeling and knowing all of these things I knew I couldn’t, that all of this was impossible, and when I felt like my head was going to explode, I passed out–and woke up in my house. Yeah–my house, not what I was expecting either, not that I really knew what to expect from Arctos at that point.

But I had a house. I had a whole new life, actually. I made my way to a mirror and got a look at myself–now in my early fifties, a good amount of grey accenting my red. I’d done well for myself, working construction and owned my own company–I’d never been to college. It all felt perfectly natural, and totally unfamiliar at the same time, but needless to say, I was freaked out. I was still in the same town as before, so I hopped in my truck and headed for campus, where I discovered that both Andy and Mitch both remembered me, and that no one else did.

From that moment on, I drifted apart from Andy and Mitch, though I kept tabs on them well enough. Andy got his final package a week after me, and ended up in a rundown trailer park not too far from my house, living like a complete pig, eeking out a living as a long range trucker–which is about the only job he could manage with his piss-poor work ethic. Mitch quit going to school and moved in with his pig, and got his second package in due time–Andy made him hold off on using the cigar that arrived for him for four days, and Mitch smoked it with Andy in the room, of course. Mitch is massive now–shaved head, covered in tattoos, a real mean fucker, but the new Andy loves it–the abuse, the rough fucks, being his urinal, the fisting–all of it. Mitch doesn’t have a job–he doesn’t do well with authority–but they make some extra bucks renting out Andy’s hungry holes to a few local biker gangs, and Andy pimps himself out on his trips as well–though Mitch usually follows along in his hog, keeping tabs on his pig bitch. After Mitch’s third package, he aged up a bit, but not a whole lot changed–the two of them are certainly happy together still. I see them on occasion, but I don’t fuck Andy anymore, now that Mitch insists he charges me too–I don’t even get a fucking discount, can you believe that? Fucking ungrateful bastards.

But yeah, I was lonely, I admit it. I hooked up regularly, but most of the fucking bears around here are little bitches. It was Arctos who reminded me that I still had one referral left that I could use, and I’d made friends with an older fellow in my neighborhood named Orville–a widow in his early seventies, no kids. He…tolerated my sexuality, but didn’t understand it, but I figured, why not give him a chance to experience it himself?

He got the package a few days after I requested it, and twenty minutes later he was pounding on my door, dressed in some rather age inapporpriate attire–some denim cutoff booty shorts, a leather harness, and steel toed boots, a pipe shoved in his mouth, and my tongue shoved in beside it in short order. He was confused to say the least, and less than happy after I gave him the whole story, but, well, once he’d gotten a taste of my dick, he couldn’t quite get enough, and I was happy to have a steady fuck again. The pipe had put on some pounds, and fuck his ass was nice–soft and pillowy, but not too fat–just right.

He’d come around by the time the second package arrived, and he asked me to stick around while he smoked it. I was more than happy to do so, and when everything cleared–well, we were a bit closer than I was expecting. He’d picked up my red hair, though his was quite a bit whiter at his age, and a nice, thick accent that made my cock jump immediately. Yeah, he’d become my own father, and somehow that only made us hotter for each other. he loved lording it over me too–ordering me around, telling me how to take care of the company he’d given me when he’d retired, but in bed, he did what I told him–I made sure of that. The third and final package showed up and burst his bubble, however. When he woke up, he discovered he’d lost fifty years of his life, and now he was my young, chubby cubson, but I think it made him happy. Fifty more years, and someone sexy to spend it with? He thinks he’s pretty lucky, and I’m pretty lucky too, having a sexy son like that in my life.

To say that Arctos industries changed my life is an understatement–it was transformative, and it can be for you too! For just $149.99 you too can get a three month subscription to Arctos Monthly, and a gift subscription for a friend. I promise you won’t regret it–after all, as with all of Arctos’ products, your one hundred percent satisfaction is always guaranteed.

Arctos Monthly (Part 4)

Andy was, shall we say, impressed with my new look when he came back from class–and he was even more happy when he got a taste and a feel of my new, extended cock, all the way down his throat, and shoved up his ass to the hilt. However, once we’d gone a few rounds, and were lounging around the room, smoking, I could tell he was mulling something over in his head, and I prodded it out of him–he was thinking about what might happen when he got his next package sometime in the next week. I told him to not sweat it too badly, that I was sure Arctos wouldn’t do something to him he wouldn’t like, but I could understand his reservations at the time. After all, the clothes he’d receives had all been cut from a certain…style–walking around campus, he looked more like he belonged as an extra in a country music video, or working on a farm or something, than going to college. Still, the cigar showed up in its small box, a few days later, and Andy had simply decided he wasn’t going to smoke it.

That…well, I hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. That he might just…not do it. Still…I felt a bit guilty, I admit it, for pushing him into the whole thing to begin with. I kind of expected him to just throw the cigar away, and I think that’s what he wanted to do…but instead he just left the box on his messy desk, open. I caught him staring at it more than once that day, like he was questioning his own resolve, but I knew it was better for me to just stay out of it, and let him figure it out himself. What I didn’t expect, was that by the next morning, the cigar would be different. Longer. Thicker. Rougher. Now Andy could barely keep his eyes off of it, and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to have much choice in the matter, whether he wanted to smoke it or not. Still, somehow he held off for another day–it helped, I think, that he was gone at classes for most of it, but come Saturday…well, the cigar was massive, he had it in his mouth, and I went ahead and excused myself–there was no way I wanted to get caught in that room, with him smoking that monster. Turns out that was a very good idea.

Apparently, the longer these things sit–the stronger they get. I came back and found Andy had grown well over an extra hundred pounds–hell, he was probably closer to 500 at that point. His beard was huge and long, down past his fat moobs to his chest, his hair equally long, greasy and uncombed. His side of the room looked like a fucking sty, piles and piles of unwashed clothes, and he was still smoking, sitting on a dildo, and as soon as he saw me come through the door, he started demanding I fuck his fat hole, speaking in a southern accent so thick I could barely understand him around his cigar.

From that day on, Andy…didn’t have much of a mind for school work. Andy didn’t have much of a mind at all. Sure, he tried to keep up for a few days, but his head was so empty now, he preferred sitting around the dorm room, fucking his hole, and eating—and then I noticed Mitch. I still don’t quite know what happened, but Mitch seemed…a bit changed, when I saw him next. He spoke with a slight southern accent, his usually expensive wardrobe seemed a bit grungier, and a bit more southern all of a sudden, and he was obsessed with Andy. That obsession generally took the form of ridicule and pranks, but I thought I knew what might have happened–he must have walked past the room while Andy was smoking that big cigar, and gotten a whiff of the fumes. Not enough to make a huge difference, but enough for me to decide that it was time the bully realized the truth of that old maxim: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

I didn’t tell Andy what I was planning, and I’m not sure this new Andy would have really cared all that much. The only things he really seemed to care much about now were drinking, eating, smoking and plugging his ass with my big cock, which frankly? Was a bit of an exhausting endeavour now. He was fucking insatiable, and don’t get me wrong, he was–and remains–a wonderful fuck, but damn, nothing is enough for him. It wasn’t too selfish a wish, right? That someone else might pick up a bit of the slack?

Well, a week passed. I had no way of really knowing when Mitch might get his package, or if he’d even open and use it–though as I’d seen with Andy, I didn’t think Arctos would take no for an answer. It was only half a surprise then, when someone started pounding on our door one evening. Andy wasn’t about to heft his bulk up and answer it, so I did–and found myself faced with Mitch–or the guy who Mitch was now. He’d grown taller and matched my own substantial height, and his already muscular body had grown only more so, along with a thick forest of black hair all over. He had on jeans, leather chaps, leather vest, boots and a muir cap, like he’d stepped out of a leatherman’s dream, but he didn’t want me. He pushed his way past, rolled Andy over with very little ceremony and started pounding away at his hole, Andy groaning and grunting and begging for more…and watching the two of them go at it, I realized I might have just cut myself out of the equation entirely.

Arctos Monthly (Part 2)

Adjusting was…difficult. The smoking was the hardest–I’d never given much thought to something like that before, but if I went more than an hour without smoking a bowl of tobacco, my mouth would go dry and I’d start getting these jitters. I could sometimes get away with smoking in the dorm with the window open if Andy was out, but for the most part I was stuck outside on benches away from buildings–at least it was a warm April, if nothing else, but my mind was focused on wondering how long it would take Andy to get his package from Arctos…because I had to admit, I was itching for a fuck. Sure, there were a few gay guys on campus who were drooling over me, but I wasn’t really looking for the skinny college type–I needed a fucking bear. Unfortunately my age hadn’t changed at all, and I couldn’t very well get into a bar, and I was nervous about hooking up online. But once Andy got his first package, I had a feeling I wouldn’t have to worry about not getting enough sex soon enough.

It came about a week after I’d received mine. I was in the room working on some school work when he came in carrying a box the same size as mine had been, and my mouth went dry. It was so hard not giving away the game while he read the card out loud to me, laughing, and all I wanted to do was scream at him to put the damn clothes on! That was something I’d discovered too, with this new body–I think my behavior had shifted too. Just…a little but. Like I was more cocky? I took more risks, and I loved being in charge. It was hard to describe, because I was having a harder and harder time remembering that I’d been completely different just a week earlier. Still, I managed to play dumb, and he finally pulled the clothes out–some XXXL sleeveless shirts with the Arctos label, some huge jeans and overalls. Boots, socks, boxers and a set of suspenders. He ended up with cigars instead of a pipe, however. I’d been expecting him to get something like what I’d gotten, but it was an entirely different set–the clothes even smelled different than mine had: more musky, like a locker room.

Now I’d been pretty average size before my package, as best I could remember. Andy, however, was a big old beanpole. Probably six foot three and maybe 160 pounds–there was no way these clothes were going to fit him, and he didn’t even have any interest in trying them on…though something had him at least a little interested, as far as I could judge from the bulge growing in the front of his pants. I think he would have eventually tried them when I was out of the room, but I cajoled him into them, saying it was just for shits and giggles. He finally gave in, pulled on a pair of boxers, a shirt, the overalls because there was no way he could hold the jeans up, even with the suspenders on. He looked ridiculous, of course. The clothes were massive, but the overalls didn’t even reach his ankles, the legs were so short on him. He asked if this was enough…and I wondered why he wasn’t changing. Was it because I was there watching? I realized something was missing, unwrapped one of the cigars and told him to put it in his mouth too. He refused–he hated anything having to do with smoking…but I could see something in his eyes. The smell of the clothes was getting to him now–he wanted it, he just didn’t want to admit to me that he did, especially after all the complaining he’d been doing about the smell of my pipe smoke getting everywhere. So I gave him a push, and just stuck the cigar in his mouth anyway.

I had to pull my hand away immediately, as the end burst into flame, and an entirely different Andy was standing in front of me, looking confused and disoriented around himself at the room which was suddenly much…taller. He had, in an instant, shrunk down over a foot to a much shorter height of five foot two, the top of his head now not even reaching my bearded chin, and he’d exploded in size–and it sure as hell wasn’t muscle. When we weighed him in a bit later, using the scale in the bathroom, we found out he was now 385 pounds, but all I could think at the time was that he was…so fucking fat. He looked down at himself, confused, unable to take it in, panicking and sucking down smoke like he didn’t even know he needed it, and started ripping the clothes off of him–and I helped of course.

I hadn’t really…considered the fact that I might be attracted to bigger guys. Sure, more than a few of the chubby, bearish professors around campus had been catching my eye, but seeing Andy’s new rolls of flab covered with a thick coating of brown hair, his face and double chins covered by a bushy brown goatee, his hair grown out down past his shoulders–I had that cigar out of his mouth and my lips over his, sucking the smoke from his lungs so fast that he didn’t even know what was going on–but he needed me, and I wanted him bad. I threw him around and shoved him over the side of the bed, surprised at my own forcefulness, got down and started eating out his massive ass, and he was moaning and groaning, getting looser until I lined up my huge cock and slipped it right inside, like it had been made for me. Hell, maybe it had been, right? I knew he’d probably have questions, but he sure wasn’t saying no at the time, and I’m not sure I could have stopped myself even if the thought had crossed my mind. He…sure was pissed, though. He ruined the afterglow with his shouting and whining. He’s probably still is a bit pissed, probably, but he’s pretty happy with Mitch these days…heh. Mitch. Where do I even start with that fucker…

Paid Vacation (Part 4)

***WARNING: Still very filthy. ***

In his mind, Ian–or what few scraps of his old mind remained, knew they had lost. This new self–it knew what it was doing, and that was perhaps the worst part. It wasn’t that he had to behave like a child–it was that he wanted to. He wanted to shit and piss himself. He wanted to be fucked by his brother. He wanted to play with his shit, when it gushed out the sides of his diaper, smearing it all over his body, for Rick to lick clean later. He…wanted it, all of it. That made it so much worse, and so much more difficult to fight. It was no longer a compulsion, it was a desire, and it was a desire which was pushing out everything else that had been in his mind. He could barely remember anything about himself, his old self, anymore–and he didn’t really want to. That old him–he’d been a bad boy. But Ian wanted to be a good, disgusting baby boy more than anything, and so he fought that old him, beat it back into a tiny corner of his mind, until in the middle of the last week in daddy’s mansion, he…discovered it was gone. He’d won, finally–he was going to be a good boy for the rest of his life, and there was nothing that old him could do to stop it.

That final week, Rick was no longer taking care of him, but it was his own daddy–finally! The first time he came through the door, Ian was so excited, he fell off the bed and landed right on his diapered ass, shit spraying every direction. Still, since his brother wasn’t there to clean it up, Daddy said, that meant baby would have to take care of his own messes. That made sense to Ian, and so he licked the tile floor clean of his own shit–no longer disgusted by the taste, and a part of him had even begun craving it. His final programming sessions were much shorter these days, merely making sure it had fully eradicated every last bit of Ian’s old self, and his days were instead full of playing with his Daddy. He preferred having his baby play undiapered, and Ian was surprised at how fun it was, crawling around naked, feeling his massive belly drag across the tile, shit and piss suddenly spurting out of him, which he always cleaned up promptly, unless he risk upsetting his Daddy.

Not that his daddy didn’t enjoy getting messy–one afternoon, he hooked Ian up to his feeding machine with Ian on his hands and knees, and his Daddy fucked him for hours, until shit started falling from the baby’s ass. “Look at you, you fucking piece of shit–I looked in your file, you know. Ivy league college, top of your class, and now fucking look at you! Just a stupid, disgusting baby, can’t even keep your shit in! Well don’t fucking worry–you’re not going to have a smart thought in your head ever again, fuck no–the rest of your life, is gonna be spent in a fucking diaper, giggling and cumming as you shit and piss yourself!” he slammed his ten inch cock deep and came, stayed in and unloaded a bladder full of piss, muck spewing out after he removed himself, and rubbed Ian’s face in it, telling him eat it all up, like a good piglet, and Ian had never been happier in his life.

After three rough days with his Daddy, Rick finally came back in–his own gut taut after spending several days hooked up to the toilet pipes, and the two of them spent the next several days cleaning up the nursery and each other with their tongues. Still, the vacation was finally over, and it was time to get back to the office. In his state, Ian couldn’t drive of course–so Rick took them both back, and Ian discovered his office decor had been traded out, carpet for tile, an oversized crib, a big TV for his baby shows, and plenty of space for him to play. It turned out, he also had a lot of playmates.

Rick visited him daily of course, keeping his little brother cleaned up, but it turned out Daddy had lots of friends who liked playing around with dirty babies. Some of them wanted to hear him talk like a baby, begging them to let their little boy suck their cock–others wanted a chance to eat his shit out of his diaper, and still others were diaper daddies themselves. Ian liked those ones the best, both of them filling their diapers before playing in each other’s filth–the mess usually took all day to clean up, and Ian would let his big brother help–sometimes. It was a perfect life, and one Ian wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Daddy would even visit sometimes, to play with him, though he didn’t see him as often as he’d like. But when Daddy told him it was time for another vacation, that he had some great ideas for his little boy, Ian was thrilled. Another whole month for his daddy to fuck with his mind? He could barely contain his enthusiasm, and shit his diaper in excitement.

Paid Vacation (Part 3)

***WARNING*** Still nasty.

For the first week, Ian was able to trick himself into believing that the programming was having no effect on him. He would fight and resist as much as he could, when he was awake, but the fact remained that there was very little he could do to prevent anything from happening to him. He focused his efforts on Rick, trying to get his coworker to see how fucked up this was, but Rick would just smile and shake his head, “I…I used to think like that too, you know. But don’t worry, you’ll understand here soon. You’re going to be so happy, just like me, just like we all are. I…I just want you to be happy, baby–here. let me make you feel good…” he said, and rubbed another load out for Ian, before leaving for the night. Rick was the only person he saw, after that first day, and after about six days, he’d started to loose hope that he’d escape. Still, he only had to hold out for a month, right? That’s how long his vacation was at least. If he could just hang on that long, if the programming didn’t work, then maybe…maybe they’d just let him go! He had a strong will, he could do this!

Then, slowly, he found himself enjoying what was happening to him. Enjoying the feedings, finding himself sucking down as much of the slop as he could, eager to fill himself up so…so he could shit more. So he fill his diaper to bursting. He tried to push the thoughts away, but they persisted, growing louder and louder in his mind. Still, he knew they were intruders, and even as they gained volume, he fought them, trying to work on Rick, trying to make him see that this was wrong. But my the middle of the week, he’d noticed something new–that whenever he tried to talk, the only thing that would come out sounded…immature and childish, using small words, or nonsense words. Even in his mind, he found himself using ‘poo-poo’, ‘pee’, and calling his penis his ‘wee-wee’. He forgot Rick’s name, and couldn’t recover it–the only thing he could think to call him was…’Daddy’.

Rick heard him say that, and chided him. “I’m not your daddy, little boy–you know that. Why don’t you just call me your big brother? Because we’re family, and families take care of each other, right?”

That didn’t sound right at all, but…but it did make him feel good, “Ok, big brother,” Ian said, smiling wide.

“You wanna take care of your brother’s wee-wee for him?”

Ian nodded–the taste of his brother’s cock had started growing on him, and he sucked him off, cumming spontaneously when Rick shot down his throat.

The next day, he woke to discover he was no longer tied to the bed. This…this was his chance! He rolled up, surprised by how…heavy he felt, and saw that his small gut had doubled in size in just a week. What in the world was he being fed, to make him do that? Still, now was his chance to get the hell out of here. He tried to stand up, but his legs couldn’t–or rather, wouldn’t support him. Instead, he started crawling across the floor towards the door, feeling his full diaper sagging down between his legs, making his wee-wee hard, just thinking about…about how nasty it was. How much his big bro would love eating his filth later. He shook his head, and reached the door, struggled to balance on his knees…but froze, in front of the doorknob, struck with terror, and…guilt. He…he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be a bad boy! No, no! He was a good boy, and good boys did what daddy wanted, and daddy wanted him to stay…right? Ian had lost his mental footing, and he sat back in his own shit, trying to sort out what he should do, reaching no firm conclusion before Rick came in to get his little brother cleaned up and fed, but disappointed that Baby Ian had gotten out of bed by himself. Doesn’t he know that’s dangerous? He disciplined him, smacking his ass after he’d licked it clean, Ian sobbing, promising he’d be a good boy from now on, and Rick let him suck his cock to quiet him back down, before diapering him back up, helping him back onto the bed, and giving him his daily programming.

Clarity came less and less. The few times Ian found himself considering escape filled him with fear of disappointing his family. No, he would be a good boy, good and obedient. His feedings grew longer, now that he could eat more, and his shit would regularly overflow his diaper after his meals…which filled Ian with disgust at first…but when Rick saw and praised him for being such a good, nasty baby, he felt himself well with pride–and he started eating more, shitting harder, to make Rick happy. After two weeks of his vacation, Rick finally fucked him–before licking him clean, shoving his cock into Ian’s shit coated crack, and Ian couldn’t believe how…how horny he was, playing and fucking in his own filth. Rick began fucking him regularly, and even let Ian suck his cock clean, even though Rick saved most of his mess for himself, and Ian found himself wondering what his big brother’s crack might smell like in the rubber, what…what his shit might taste like.

Ian could tell his body was changing, but his mind was so addled it was difficult for him to comprehend everything that was happening to him. The fat he was putting on was the most pronounced shift–after two weeks he was already close to 350 pounds, and his muscles had begun to wither. Now, even if he could remember how to walk, his leg’s wouldn’t have been able to support his weight. All of his hair, from the top of his head to his face to the rest of his body had fallen away, leaving him perfectly smooth from head to toe. His cock and balls had changed as well, growing smaller. His balls, by the end of the third week, were more like raisins, and his cock was shrunk back to less than an inch, and was usually buried in his fat. His nipples had grown larger, however, and become incredibly sensitive–it was easier now for him to cum by playing with them, that trying to find and play with his cock. He was losing, and he knew it, and a growing part of him didn’t even mind anymore.

Christmas III: A Brand New Stanta Claus (Part 7)

“Your father gave you so fucking much, and how did you fucking repay him? By being some fucking bum on his fucking couch? Well I think it’s time you learned how to show your father the fucking respect he deserves, boy,” Stan said.

Another red name–another horrid young man deserving Santa’s punishment. This one–Liam–was nothing but a lazy moocher. Dropped out of college after two years–he couldn’t handle the pressure. He moved into his father’s basement and has barely left since. Couldn’t even bother to get a job, just a chubby, stinking lout Stan had found snoring on the couch in front of the TV, even as his father worked two menial jobs to support them both. Well no more of that. “I don’t, I mean–” Liam tried to say, but with a twinkle of magic, his lips suddenly shut themselves.

“No, I think what we need is your father down here, to help you learn to appreciate everything he’s given you,” Stan said, and with a snap of his fingers, Liam could hear someone upstairs above them, and a few moments later, his father came marching down the stairs, naked, not at all sure what was going on, and why he couldn’t control his own body. “Jerry! I was just talking with your slacker of a son here about how he’s wasted his life and your generosity. I think, if anything, it’s time for you to take a load off, what do you think? Liam–get up–let your dad here rest his tired feet.”

The son stood up, and his father took a seat, both of them terrified of this massively obese Santa figure in their midst, and neither of them able to control their own bodies. Jerry plopped down on the old couch, and with a flash, both of them were twisted up in Stan’s magic. When the light died away, Jerry tried to get up, but discovered that…he couldn’t. No, not that he couldn’t that he didn’t want to. That he didn’t have to. This was his fucking house after all, he deserved a chance to fucking enjoy it! Liam, on the other hand, found himself overwhelmed by his father there, dropped to his knees and licking his father’s feet…just…just like he always did.

As Stan watched, Jerry’s body began to expand, filling in with fat, his hair growing long, lank and unwashed, mouth reeking as he leered down at his boy slathering his nasty feet with spit. “Yeah boy, work that fuckin’ tongue–show daddy how glad you are that he let’s ya live here with him.”

Still…not enough. He tried to resist the urge for a moment, looking at the father and son. Surely this was enough punishment, right? But he wanted to see them suffer anyway, and his mind, it wouldn’t stop imagining the most horrendous things…“Here Jerry, have a smoke–enjoy yourself,” Stan said, handing him a thick cigar he hadn’t noticed in his hand to him, which Jerry was more than happy to light up, while Stan got down in front of the very confused Liam. “I know it can be hard, supporting your father like this, but you do it for family, right? Holding down three jobs…not that you don’t enjoy them. Janitor at a local gym–gives you plenty of time to perv out in those nasty locker rooms right? Trashman in the mornings, but you like that too–picking up all that junk, hell, the nastier something stinks, the harder it gets you, right? Hell, just walking into those porta-potties you clean out on the weekends is enough for you to shoot a load into those filthy coveralls you never take off, right?” He stood back up and looked down at Liam, now a very different young man. He was wearing the nastiest coveralls Stan had ever seen, moaning loudly and rubbing his cock as he worshiped his father’s feet. He looked over at Jerry, and the cigar he’d given Jerry was doing it’s work–he’d packed on so many pounds all of a sudden that he probably wouldn’t be able to stand up even if Jerry wanted to. The father’s guts gave a rumble, and he farted–Liam immediately shoving his face between his dad’s massive thighs, snorting in the foul stench, cum splattering it’s way from his cock across the base of the couch.

“I know ya gotta get tah work soon boy, but Daddy’s got a big load of shit for you, and I know ya don’t wanna clean it up off the couch tonight. Well, I know ya like cleanin’ it off the couch, but I don’t feel like sittin’ in it all day, waitin’ fer ya tah git home.”

“Sure…sure thing Daddy…But…maybe ya can piss while I’m gone, ‘n I can suck that out? I’m always so thirsty when I get home,” Liam said, and pushed his dad’s legs up, giving him better access to his dad’s shithole. Stan didn’t want to watch…but he did anyway. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, and couldn’t tear his hand from his cock, eventually giving in, getting down behind Liam, ripping the back of his coveralls open a bit wider so he could slam his cock into the boy’s disgusting hole. He fucked him quickly, but after he came he couldn’t bear to be there any longer, and fled back up to the roof as quickly as he could, unable to believe what he’d just done to those two men. That…that he’d wanted to do that to them.

He’d been trying to avoid admitting it, but he was changing. This job, was changing him. This wasn’t the person he wanted to be, this wasn’t good, what he was doing, and yet…he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to stop, because in his heart, he enjoyed it. But this wasn’t God’s work, this wasn’t the work of any God. He…someone had to stop him. He couldn’t stop himself, but maybe…maybe he could get out of this somehow, stop anything like what he’d just done from happening again. He had to, this was out of control, and Stan knew that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d never be in control ever again. Because this…this felt too good. And that scared him more than anything else. He’d…he’d do it at the next stop, no matter what, before he lost his nerve, and before he got anymore lost in this…joy.

Christmas III: A Brand New Stanta Claus (Part 6)

Stan only grew more concerned as the next few hours passed…and he found himself running across more and more names marked in red on his list. In each case, he would try to resist, but unwittingly he would change his subject in some perverse manner, and then…fuck them. And he…he liked it. He liked it a lot. And all he could think about was when…when he’d been a teenager in his bedroom, when he and his buddy Alex had made that mistake, and he’d always wondered…wondered why he’d hated looking at Emily so much, why he’d always loathed touching her, why sex with her had always been so difficult. If that was what God had wanted him to do, then why make it so damn hard for him? This…this all felt so much more satisfying, as much as he hated saying it, but that wasn’t really the worst of it. The sex…it was nice, sure, but that wasn’t what he was enjoying the most. No, what made him feel better than anything else was punishing these naughty young men, and then…making them serve him. Rubbing their own failure to be good, moral people in their own utterly perverted faces…he took another suck off his pipe, unable to believe how hard he was in his bright red jock, just…just thinking about it. Still, he compartmentalized his urges as best he could. He was just doing his job; they all deserved it, in the end. He wasn’t responsible, not really. He managed to keep his moral distance for several hours, until he found himself on the roof of a college dorm, wormed his way down the chimney and popped out in the common room.

Another red name, this time, his cock throbbing in anticipation and excitement, not that Stan would let himself admit it. He read the details–a hotshot jock who’d spent all of his time at school, when he wasn’t working out, terrorizing the various fat kids on campus, and he felt…angry. This one was personal. Food…food had always been a weakness for Stan, and he’d spent so much of his youth being taunted and teased for his size…and now he could do something about it. And…and he’d always had an idea, not one he’d ever let see the light of day, but with the magic pulsing through him now, he stormed up the stairs, let himself into the jock’s room–named Terrance–and woke him up. “So you like teasing fatboys, eh, little man?” Stan said, looming over the leary eyed jock, “how about you help us out a bit instead? And we can help you out too,” the magic welled up in him, so much in his head, and he released it into the jock with a flash.

Terrance blinked, unable to really process what was happening to him, or who even was standing over him? Santa? Santa didn’t exist, and even if he did, Santa didn’t wear shit like that. Though…though he had to admit, he looked kind of good, with that harness stretched over his big gut. He’d look better if he…if he was bigger, though. No longer sure what he was doing or even why, beyond the fact that it felt good, and right, he sat up on the edge of his bed and buried his face in Stan’s massive gut, rubbing his face in it, his cock harder than ever before in his life. “Fuck…” he moaned, “Fuck, why am I…”

“Don’t worry about it Terrance,” Stan said, “I know what you really want anyway. You want it to get bigger, don’t you? You wanna feed my big gut, boy?”

The dorm room wasn’t a dorm room anymore–it was…it was a kitchen. Stan sat down at the small table for one in the middle, and Terrance got up and started cooking. He’d never known how to cook, but suddenly he was putting together gaining shakes, pulling fattening snacks from cupboards, and happily feeding Santa everything he had, watching his fat gut grow bigger as the hours past, not that the stars moved an inch out the window. Several thousand calories later, Santa was heaving his huge gut, beard caked with food, and he finally allowed Terrance the honor of serving him–of taking his proper reward for all his efforts. The jock got down under the table, hefted up Santa’s huge gut and started sucking at his thick, long cock–and was immediately rewarded with a blast of precum–milk which went right to Terrance’s gut. He sucked and sucked, and only after he too, had gained every pound of fat he’d just put on Santa’s body did he finally get the load of sweet, sugary cum he was craving. This–this is what Terrance wanted now. To feed fat men to bursting, and then suck their cum from their cocks, gaining along with them from cum alone. Before Santa left, he expanded Terrance’s kitchen dorm room a bit more, so it could accommodate all the fat men he’d ridiculed from campus–and fifteen of his usual targets appeared at the long table, as Terrance began cooking the feast of his life. By the time he’d finished sucking their cocks after the meal–he’d be the fattest of them all by several hundred pounds.

Santa let himself out, heaving his own huge gut along with him, and as the afterglow faded, his own doubts slipped back in. What had he just done to himself? He’d never been skinny by any means, but with Emily’s strict help, he’d limited his weight to around three hundred pounds. But that feeding–it had unleashing something inside him–he was ravenous. Ravenous, and huge. He’d packed on at least a hundred pounds, his gut sagging down into an apron. His harness had changed shape, and now clipped to the side of his chaps–like suspenders, allowing his fat to hang out over the front, a thick apron drooping down past his cock, slapping against him, getting his cock hard again already at the sensation of his fat body jiggling around him. Back in the sleigh, after he got his pipe relit, he couldn’t resist–he had to heft up his fat and jack off, tweaking his nipples, hefting his flabby moobs, feeling his second chin under his thick beard.

He didn’t feel like the same person anymore, but he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. No–he felt like him, but like…like a more authentic him than ever before in his life. His limits and controls were being stripped away, and…and was this who he really was? Is this who he wanted to be? He exploded into his jock, huffing and puffing for a minute, trying to just…not think about it, just taking off into the night, already eager again to reach the next red name on the list.