The online revenge
(The following is my first attempt at writing a story so any comments would be very much appreciated. The main focus of the story is weight gain, age progression and baldness. Thank you – voodooweaver)
Will was putting the finishing touches on the website he was designing. The client had placed the order since a month ago and it had kept Will quite busy throughout that time. He felt a sense of pride as he gave one final surveying look at his work before sending the confirmation email to the client stating that the project was complete.
As he clicked the send button, he lay back in his chair and placed his arms behind his head.
Par For The Curse – Part VI (Final)
Ber woke up groggy, as from a long slumber, feeling strange and aching all over. He was still in that damn shed, laying down alone over some thin mattress on the ground, but when he tried to rise, he felt heavier than usual. After some awkward moves, he managed to roll to his side and lift his…
You’re a fairly typical guy. You consider yourself fortunate, having gone recently through college, and then quickly able to find a steady job in your field. You were even moderately successful in your line of work. You have a nice car, nice house, and a relatively attractive body. However, you also have an unusual trait not many knew about. You liked porn. I mean, you REALLY liked porn. You used get teased by your guy friends, who would refuse to come into your room because of how bad it smelled of your seed.
After high school and college though, it didn’t matter, as you began to grow distant from those people. It had gotten to a point where you stopped going out after work, or even on the weekends. Instead you would spend his time masturbating, working your cock raw, shooting loads after load of cum, on your tight, trim body. You only stopped when you needed some food, or to use the facilities or maybe to work out on occasion – which always seemed to work you up even more. Some might call you an addict, but you resented those people.
You had seen it all – pictures, amateur videos, even private shows. But eventually, you had done the impossible: you really had seen it all. The internet was, somehow, running out of fresh porn for you masturbate to.
You were browsing the internet one day, trying to find something new for you to jerk off to, when you noticed a bright flashing ad for a website you hadn’t seen before, guaranteeing free, professional porn. You figured it was a scam, but you were growing desperate, so you clicked on it anyways.
Another window instantly popped up. But rather than the typical website layout, it just pushed you through straight to a video. The first one was titled “Fat slut gets plugged by young sexy stud”. You preferred mostly lesbian porn, not wanting any cocks in his jerk-off material, and certainly not any fat chicks. But again, you were desperate. So you let it play.
The fat chick was alright – she had big tits, a nice ass, and an okay face. You was furiously stroking your modest 7 inches, trying to shoot a nice big load, but you noticed it just wasn’t working. It was probably the fact that the fat chick kinda just sat there and took it. And her moans were growing pretty annoying. The guy though, the guy was great. You weren’t gay, but you had to give that guy props. He was a fucking machine, pounding away at her, grunting, calling her names, ridiculing her about her body, and fucking her in so many different ways – way’s he’s never even seen, or heard of. And that was surprising, for a porn addict like you.
Maybe it was that curiosity that got you to bite, and let the next movie play when it automatically loaded up. Even if it wasn’t your usual kind of porn. You noticed the next video starred the same guy, which pleased you. But he was with another ugly fat chick. You tried to make the most of it, and furiously jerked off while focusing your attention on her, but your cock went flaccid in your hand. You turned your attention on the male actor, his dirty talk, the way he handled her… and you noticed the actor was starting to get a rise out of you. It was just admiration, you insisted. You would never jerk off to him. And yet, you had never seen someone so powerful, so dominating, so sexual. It was as if the fat woman’s body was be molded by his masterful hands like clay, used purely for the man’s pleasure. It helped that he wasn’t bad to look at – nice muscular butt, and a well-defined back, smooth abs, nice pecs – the works. One thing that was interesting, though, was that you never saw the man’s face. The angle always showed his backside, or was too low to see anything other than his young sexy body.
You were staring at the young stud with such intent that you didn’t even notice your hand naturally gravitate towards your crotch, jerking your rock-hard cock.
You noticed that the video was transitioning again, having finished the old scene. The next one was a bit different – it still had the stud, but now instead of a voluptuous woman it featured an old, fat, saggy man. You were about to click the big red “x” – sure the guy new how to fuck, but you weren’t about to watch some gay porno. But then you heard the old man moan, and the stud grunting. You were just curious. And besides, it takes a true man to fuck another man. A true display of dominance, of sexual prowess.
So you watched the young man. How he worked that old man’s body. His ass. His whole being. It was strange – when he pinched the old man’s nipples, you swore it felt like yours were the ones getting pinched. You were moaning, loudly – something you usually didn’t typically do. What’s weird, is that you were moaning in time with the old man. “Yeah, you like that old man?” The stud asked. “Like when I fuck your sloppy hole? Ready to get a nice load of young cum shot deep into your ass?” If the man responded, you didn’t hear it. Instead, you moaned back at the screen: “YES! FUCK MY DIRTY OLD HOLE! WORK ME YOUNG MAN! MAKE ME YOUR OLD PERVY PIG!” You didn’t know what had come over you, and frankly, you didn’t care. You were practically shouting horny things back at the screen when you felt your nuts tighten, and shoot several thick ropes of cum all over yourself. The orgasm was so intense, that you promptly passed out.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
When you came-to, you felt more than a little groggy. Had you passed out jerking off? You rarely did that. That was so unlike you. You felt the afternoon sunlight fall across your skin, telling you that you’ve been passed out for more than a few hours.
You stare at his computer screen, noticing a weird pop-up flashing over the videos. It said something, but you were having trouble reading it. You feel around on his desk, as if by instinct, until you make contact with cool metal. Of course, your glasses! How could you forget? In the back of your mind, you thought he never needed glasses before, but that was silly. Your eyesight was terrible! Of course you needed glasses.
Focusing his attention back on the screen, you read the pop-up. In big bold red letters, it asked “SEND VIDEO?” at the top, followed by a small black window with a play button and a simple Yes/No prompt. You pressed play on the video, curious as to what was on it.
The video displayed the old man – who was, as far as you could tell, the same old man getting fucked by the stud in the past video. The stud stood behind you, but again, his face was cut off. The old man didn’t seem to notice him, and was instead leaning back in his chair, jerking off his cock and staring at the screen.
You took a good long look at the old man, just for a second. Although he had kept his hair in his old age, it was a stark white. It looked like he had soft flabby skin, wrinkled from his many years. His belly was wide, fat and round, sagging towards his hips. His most angular feature was his nipples, which had sagged and grown into fine points, as older men can sometimes get from a decrease in their testosterone. That was probably for the best though: those saggy man-tits made him the perfect bitch for that young stud.
Something was peculiar about the man, although you couldn’t quite figure out why. He almost seemed familiar like a lifelong friend or relative. But you couldn’t place where you would possibly know him from. That’s when you noticed – the background was your room! A chill runs down your spine, and you glance around the room, having the distinct feeling you were being…watched. And then you look down.
You almost pass out again at the sight of you. Gone was your young, strong body, replaced a much older one. You had a big belly, saggy man-tits, flabby, ham-like arms, and weak-looking legs. Your cock was small, shriveled and chubby, you balls pooled against the leather chair you were perched on, looking thick but wrinkly. You noticed, oddly, that your body was void of any body hair, so you could see your white, wrinkly ball sack perfectly. You raise a hand up to look at your hands – no longer smooth and young looking, but old, chubby, and wrinkley. And weak, oh so weak.
A loud moan plays through your speakers, and you snap your head back to the screen. The video of the old man…. Of you was still playing. And you were moaning. The young stud who stood behind the old man leaned down, pinching your tits in the video, playing with them, causing your old, weak self in the video to moan loudly. You reach your arm up to click the red “x”, but you felt so weak. The effort of leaning forward with all your weight and grab the mouse was simply too much. Instead, your wrist falls limply into your lap, playing with your chubby old man cock.
“Oh yeah, play with those tits young man… play with that soft old man tits… my soft, old man tits…” You grope your cock, trying to get a rise out of it, but finding it much harder than before. It isn’t always easy for men your age, you know. You reach up with your free hand and pinch one of your pointed nipples, eliciting a small moan from your wrinkly lips. It felt like an electric surge ran straight through your nipples down to your cock, causing your short chubby dick to become erect almost instantly. Well, almost erect – your cock was barely half-hard, but for some reason, you felt like that was as hard as you were going to get. You thought of the Viagra you have in your medicine cabinet, but you’re not sure if you could reach it right at that moment.
The saggy skin felt weird against your semi-hard cock, and it was weird watching you jiggle with each pump of your hand. However, the combination of you playing with your cock, tits, and watching the video of you jerking off, was enough to send you over the edge after a few minutes of stroking. You felt your heavy old man balls tense up tight against your scrotum, your measly half-hard cock shoot out a small dribble of old man cum. It wasn’t much, but it was all an old man like yourself could hope for. Practically deranged, you scoop the small collection of sour, yellow cum in your old wrinkled hand, and lick the substance off your fingertips, savoring every taste.
When you were done, you mustered up as much strength as you could, and guided your hand to the mouse. You hovered over the “no” option, just for a moment, before clicking the green “yes”. You hoped that would publish the video online. Often times, you were just guessing at things, as you weren’t so good with all this internet contraptions. Hopefully some young stud will find the video and (having recognized the fat old perv you are) send you a message. Maybe you could show off for him.
Gosh, you loved showing off for young studs. Hearing them humiliate you about your weak, ugly, old, out of shape body. Nothing could get you harder than that. With that thought, you went to one of your favorite websites, bateroulette, hoping you can get lucky and find a stud to make fun of you.
You don’t even hear when a soft chuckle comes from the shadow in the corner of your room.
This is actually a photo that I took, and I do not remember posting it ANYWHERE online. I have no idea how it got out. I took this about 4 years ago. You can’t see, but on his other suspender strap this guy has a cell phone and a pager clipped to it. Thought that was pretty weird, I think I have another photo I’ll try to find at some point.
Making Changes
Note: I thought this was up already… >_>
Robert had been hanging around the local chatroom online for a while now and was about to call it quits when a new handle showed up in the userlist. BearMuscl. Hmm. Not one to pass up a hot bear, Robert called up BearMuscl’s profile. 36, 5’11”, 195lbs, black hair, muscular build, worked out three times a week. “Woof,” Robert thought to himself.
Opening up a message window, Robert sent a ‘Howdy’ and sat back. BearMuscl was probably checking out his profile and Robert hoped he liked what he saw. 38, 5’10”, 175lbs, dark brown hair. He kept meaning to update the profile, he’d kept a beard for a while now and was moderately hairy, something of a bear himself. Yeah, he was moving out of his greenest pastures, but he could still turn heads. Unfortunately he hadn’t been getting much more lately than heads turning away.
My first tattoo was given to me as a gift for my 18th birthday. I was told they were addicting, but I really didn’t care – the tattoo artist I went to see was legendary and very professional. I just wanted something small done, but he talked me into getting a decent sized scene on my back, which required multiple visits. By the time he was all done, I had well exceeded the amount my parents were comfortable spending on a tattoo for me, and I had no other means for money. But The Artist was good to me, and offered me a temporary job at his shop doing working as his assistant.
But rather than spend the money on paying off my debt, I kept on using it to purchase more and more tattoos, expanding the scene on my back around my sides, even down past my shirt line and into my ass. Usually tattoos with this much detail took a long time to heal, but The Artist did such a good job, they were almost completely healed the next day. I liked the tattoos they made me seem much more mature then my typical 18 year old-self. It gave me the courage to grow out some facial hair, which grew in surprisingly thick. It even added a little bit of hair to my chest, which was promptly removed so I could cover it with ink.
My parents and I were getting into arguments more and more frequently. I was focusing less on school, and more on working with The Artist. Some days I would skip out on school so I could see him work on some other projects. It was weird, because woman very rarely came into his shop – most of the ones with the large scenes were large, beefy men. He often reminded me though, that I was his best work, his masterpiece. His praise gave me a strange twinge of pride every time he mentioned it, and gave me a strange feeling below the belt line.
He wasn’t the only one to appreciate my tattoos, though. I would often find myself surround by mirrors, jerking off to the vast, detailed scenes that were displayed on my back, creeping around my shoulders, arms, and legs. When I worked in the shop, the artist demanded that I wore as little clothing as possible, so that he could show off his work. Typically, that meant nothing more than a jockstrap between his walls. The customers didn’t seem to mind, and often complimented him on his work on me, which only made me harder.
When I began to put on a little weight, The Artist said that he admired my dedication, and that the added pounds would allow him even more room to tattoo me up. So I ate more and more, losing what little definition I had, and packing on the pounds, passing 200, then 250, reaching 300 in a matter of months. By then I was well past flunking all of my classes, and was forced to drop out. My parents were disgusted, and said that I was a failure, but I didn’t mean. The Artist says that I’m his masterpiece, his best work. I had a reason to live, and that was for him. When my parents kicked me out, The Artist even let me move in with him.
At around a year after I started my first tattoo, my entire body was nearly covered, save for me face, cock, and balls. My face was hardly recognizable by now, though. I had thick, chubby, rosey cheeks, weathered looking skin, and thin balding hair which was shaved down to an eighth of an inch, as The Artist requested. My facial hair had grown into a full-fledged beard, grey and black expect for the yellowish tinge around my lips, which came from the tobacco usage as The Artist requested.
Finally the day came to finish The Artists masterpiece, by covering my cock in ink. He brought me over to the mirror, to take one last good look at myself before the procedure. He told me that this was my last chance, that after this there would be no coming back. But after a good long look at myself, my ink, my chubby body, my old face, and my hard, pink cock, I told him passed that threshold a while ago.
The final process was long and painful, but I never winced or cried out in pain. I kept my eyes open and looked down at my beautiful tatt’d frame, and kept my cock rock hard throughout the entire procedure so The Artist would have the most available room to work with. Of course, with the weight, it wasn’t necessarily big. But The Artist said that I was perfect just the way I was.
By the time The Artist finished my cock was raw, but I couldn’t be any more horny. I no longer was the young, 18 year old high school kid coming in for my first tattoo. I’ve devoted my entire life to the art, to being my master’s greatest masterpiece. The ink has had some side effects – although only a year has gone past, I looked at nearly 40 years older. But that was only to help – I was perfect for my master. The perfect masterpiece. As The Artist unzipped his fly, I let my mouth drop, and inhaled his cock. He locked down on me with such love and adoration, and I swelled up with pride. Within seconds my tiny inked cock shot a huge load all over my body, but that was okay. I was The Artist’s Masterpiece, and I lived to obey.
I went to the gay bar to support my best friend for coming out a few weeks ago. I was a bit of a prude about it at first, and said some things I regretted to him, so this was my way to show him that I was over it, and would still love to be friends. Of course, he also said that there was a good chance that I’d be getting a couple of free drinks, which only served to sweeten the deal.
Of course, that means when I received the free drink, I had to humor the gay guy that thought I was attractive enough to buy it for me. And this twink – well, I think he’s a twink, that’s what my friend told me, would not leave me alone. It had gotten so bad that my friend left me sitting in a back corner with him so he could go out and socialize. I wanted to let him know that I was straight and uninterested, but I was worried he wouldn’t buy me any more drinks, so I kept my mouth shut.
The way he was flirting was awfully strange, though. Although I was probably as young if not younger than the guy, he kept calling me “daddy” and his “big fat bear”. Hah, he wishes. I easily had one of the lower percentages of body fat at my local gym, which I frequented daily. I took pride in being able to show off at the pool, in a tight red speedo that showed off my body. Still, I kept my mouth shut, and took another sip of this strange, yellow drink he kept giving me.
Typically I’m more of a beer man, which is what the substance looked like, but the substance packed much more of a punch, as if it were something stronger, like whiskey. While the taste was awful at first, the more I sipped it the more I enjoyed it, and I started to get a good strong buzz, and a warm feeling in the pit of my chest. I was feeling good, so when the twink asked me to take off my shirt, I figured hey, why the hell not? It might get this guy to by me some more drinks, and may attract some other gays, too. Plus, I had such a hot body, why wouldn’t I want to show it off? So I set this drink down, and with the help of the young guy, took my tight shirt off without getting up from my chair.
I didn’t even bother to look down. If I did, I would have noticed that I had quite a bit more chest and tummy hair than I had previously. Not a whole lot to boast about, but when you’re used to a full body wax every couple of weeks, it was a huge difference. My muscles were still there and pretty well defined, but sitting down exposed a small bit of flab, forming together to create a small gut which hid my otherwise perfect abs.
But I was too busy drinking and flirting with the guy to know that. I went through that drink, and he brought me another, making the buzz even stronger. I tried to protest when he reached down and unzipped my shorts, letting them fall to the floor, but again, I figured, why the hell not? This guy had already bought me at least 15 dollars’ worth of drinks, the least I could do is show off some more skin. “Nice speedo, daddy. Looks like you came prepared to show off!” I glanced down to see what the flamboyant twink was talking about, and was shocked to see I had in fact wore my tight red speedo that I normally wear to show off at the pool with. And then I remembered, of course I did! It was all a part of my master plan to get some free drinks from the gays. I also noticed that my body looked a little fuller and rounder, but I chocked it up to the nice buzz I was feeling and the blurriness of my vision.
As the night wore on, I went through that drink, then another, and then another. I was starting to feel pretty drunk, when I looked at my watch and noticed we had been talking for a few hours, and I hadn’t seem my friend for most of that time. I told the twink that I needed to find my friend, and he nodded, slipping a piece of paper with his number into the front pouch of my speedo. I jumped a little from the feel of his cold hands, but rather than tell him off, I just smiled at him and got up.
When I stood up I realized how drunk I really was – the room was spinning, and each step felt much heavier, threatening to knock me off balance. The loud music and flashing lights only served to make things harder. I walked into the dancing crowd, hoping to find my friend. Because of my drunk stupor, I fell into people, almost knocking a smaller guy down. Some big hairy guy grabbed me the third time I threatened to fall, and lifted me back up, with what seemed like a good amount of strength. “Woah there big guy, you need to be careful. Don’t want you hurting yourself old man.” But I just ignored him and kept walking, thinking the gays had a really weird way of flirting with other guys. It was weird though, all the times I ran into other people I thought the gap was plenty big enough for me. I typically had no problem navigating the straight clubs. These queers must just have wanted an excuse to cope a feel.
I finally found my friend, some little bottom boi grinding up against his crotch to the loud obnoxious club music. “Hey bud, I think we should go home.” I was beginning to have a headache from all the loud racket, and the heat generated from the dance floor alone was enough to make me all sweaty and gross. But the look Tom gave me was a look I hardly have ever seen from him before. It was almost like he didn’t recognize me, and was disgusted by me. “Sorry old man, but you’re not really my type. And for future reference, you might want to try and buy me a drink first.” I blinked, confused. He must not have heard me right. I tried repeating it, but he just flipped me the bird. Upset, and a little angry, I stormed off, looking for a way across the dance floor.
I kept walking in one direction, not sure where I was going, before I met another big hairy guy. The word bear flashed across my mind, but I was too drunk to make any sense of it. The guy that stood before me was about eye-level with me, with a short white beard, chubby cheeks, and a balding haircut. His body was hairy and fat, with thick pointed nipples, large, flabby arms, and thick, ham-like legs. He looked like a mess – disheveled, dripping with sweat, and a lost look in his eyes. He certainly had no business wearing that tight red speedo, which looked curiously a lot like the one I had on. I stepped left, trying to avoid him, and he stepped right. That was weird. So I stepped right, and he stepped left. Finally, fed up, I said “Look, buddy, I don’t have time for this, just get out of my way.” I realized he was mouthing the exact same words. Wondering how this guy got so good at mocking me, I reached out a hand and so did he. But when we made contact, something cold pressed up against my fingers. Much cooler than the room around us. But that means…
“Hey daddy, you’re looking a little lost.” A young effeminate guy whispered in my ear, and snaked one of his thin arms around my side to grope at my bulge. It felt like a spike of electricity spiked through my body, and I fell back into my drunken stupor, letting out a load slutty moan. He giggled. “You like that?” He asked, moving another arm around my right side and playing with one of my pointed nipples.
I looked at the mirror at the strange new fellow, who reminded me a lot of myself – youthful, thin, attractive features, a nice crew haircut, and sparkling eyes. But when I compared him to what was apparently me – fat, hairy, balding, no more than a big fat old man, I could make no comparison. Then he ran a hand up and down my belly, and jiggled it a little bit. “I love big daddies like you!” He squeaked, and I moaned again. He’s right, I was a big daddy. A big, fat fuckin’ daddy slut, who loves to find little twinks to fuck his fat ol’ hole. I pressed my wide ass against his hips, feeling his cock jut through his shorts against the backside of my speedo and my large, sweaty crack.
“You’re in luck boy, because you’re just my type too.” I told him loudly back, a bit surprised as my guttural voice, with a hint of a gay lisp. I grided my ass across his cock to the beat of the music playing overhead. I felt my nub of a cock rise in my speedo, and my whole body jiggling as I danced. Sweat glistened off my chest hair and down my big fat guy, and I moaned again.
Yeah, I was such a hot daddy. Such a hot fucking daddy. Not all twinks may like me, like that Tom guy, but fuck’em. There were plenty of gay fish in the sea, ready to fuck my hole. And I knew how to hook ‘em. I was a master fisherman, so to speak – I knew how to attract chasers with my dancing, and suck ‘em off so well they keep coming back for more. I was grinding my ass against this chaser’s cock so hard, I didn’t even notice a chain slink around my neck, glinting in the moon light, and sealing my fate, as Bruce, the fat gay daddy slut.
I used to hate visiting Grandpas house – he was always lazy, boring, and half naked. Worst of all, I think he was a closet case – I could swear he was checking me out from time to time when I wasn’t looking.
When he gave me a wristband for me birthday, I just rolled my eyes. Just another lame present from a lazy old man. I’m pretty sure I even saw him wearing it before. I wasn’t even going to put it on, but he insisted.
The effects were immediate. I was no longer sitting on the couch, opening gifts, but instead watching myself open gifts, from the recliner off in the corner. But that means… wait, am I grandpa? One quick look at my gut confirmed it – I was a fat old man! I was about to panic when I heard my voice.
“I love it grandpa – thanks!” My old body said, shooting daggers in my direction. I paused for a moment, open-mouthed, realizing I couldn’t confront him, at least not now. “You’re welcome, buddy, anything for my grandson.” I said, a bit surprised at how weakly I responded.
After spending some time drinking with my former parents, and eating some cake (and by some I mean a LOT, this body could pack away the carbs), I finally found the opportunity to approach my grandson. Err, I mean, my grandpa.
“Whats the big deal? How did you do this? Change me back, now!” I demanded, whispering quietly in the corner of the house.
“Fat chance, old man. I feel fantastic! No more gut, weak joints, and bad eyesight! I’ve waiting so long for this!”
This only frustrated me even more. “If you don’t change me back, I’m going to tell everyone. How about that?”
The youngin just rolled his eyes. “As if they would believe you, you old quack. Fine fine, just play a long for a couple of days, and I’ll change back. Okay?”
I agreed, but it’s been three weeks, and he still hasn’t made an effort to contact me. I keep telling myself that I’ll call him, but I always find an excuse. Sometimes the phone is too far away, sometimes I’m too scared to say no. Besides, life ain’t so bad. I spend most of my time couch locked, half naked, in a pair of briefs and a tank top that doesn’t fit too well, maybe even smoking a stogie. I got TV, and when I get horny, I can find me a hot young stud to jerk off to. Sometimes, if I’m really feeling naughty, I’ll find me a hot young stud on Craigslist. They’re not as hot as all the pornstars I jerk off to, but when you get to my age, beggars can’t be choosers.
Troy’s Shopping Trip
(Based on an idea and photo submitted by kenai88.)
He tried to play it cool and ignore him, and thankfully it didn’t seem like he recognized him. Instead, the older man just offered him his cart, and Troy took it to be gracious, thankful the guy hadn’t screamed at him. He’d been certain that his son’s injury had been no accident, and while Troy hadn’t been the one to do it, he’d been the one to suggest him as a target. Still, what’s done is done, right? The snacks were closest, and Troy parked the cart in the middle of the aisle and started grabbing bags in twos and threes off the shelves and dumping them into the cart, making sure to grab the favorites of each person on the team. When he was satisfied, he headed back to the cart—only to discover that it was empty.
Had someone taken it? He looked up and down the aisle, but there was no one there—just him and an empty cart. Fuck, he was thirsty all of a sudden. His mouth felt like he’d taken an entire shaker of salt and dumped it down his throat. Unable to help himself, he let out a big belch and patted his gut, feeling it jiggle a bit.
Wait, gut?
He looked down at himself, and tried to figure out what had happened. One part of his head was telling him that he should look like this, and another part was screaming in terror. He was fat! He hadn’t been fat when he’d come in here, had he? He groped his gut, feeling it’s heft, and underneath he felt his cock start to harden, and he blushed. Playing with his fat always seemed to get him hard, but it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. He reached under and readjusted the front of his shorts, and tried to figure out what he had been doing. He was thirsty—better head for the pop and the beer—he could get the snacks later.
Something about his body felt strange today, like he wasn’t used to taking up this much space. He went to the pop and started loading two liter bottles of several varieties into the cart, but again, when he turned around to survey what he’d put in, the cart was completely empty.
Another belch—this one massively loud. God, he was such a pig, and he secretly loved it…didn’t he? He looked down at himself, and the same terror struck him—he wasn’t just fat now—he was fucking obese. His shirt could barely cover the gut overflowing past the waistband of his shorts, and his second and third chins wouldn’t let him get that good of a look. Fuck, he was hot though. Hot fucking fatass pig, fuck yeah. He checked up and down the aisles, but he was alone. He gave his huge apron a shake, feeling it reverberate around him, and he shuddered. His cock was hard, but he had another problem—he had to piss like a fucking racehorse. He hadn’t even had anything to drink lately either, but apparently his bladder disagreed. Still, he might as well go now before he had a full cart to deal with, and he lumbered off to the back of the store and the bathroom there, leaving his empty cart outside it.
He stepped inside, and found someone there washing his hands—the coach of the rugby team across town. How did he even know that? He didn’t play rugby. All he did was lounge around all day, stuffing his face and jacking off like a nasty pig—fuck! He was so fucking horny now. The coach finished washing his hands and turned around to look at Troy, sneering. “Lose some weight, you nasty fucker,” he said, and left the bathroom. The words somehow managed to shame Troy and turn him on at the same time. He was a nasty obese pig, and he loved the looks he got, he loved how much people were disgusted by him. He stepped up to the urinal, aiming blind, and pissed what felt like several gallons, before wrapping one chubby hand around the shaft and jacking off into the urinal, grunting as he did. “Fucking nasty pig, fuck yeah,” he said to himself, “Massive, nasty fat fucker, fuck *grunt*,” and he came, accidentally coating the underside of his apron, but it felt good there, being such a fucking slob felt great. He left it and hiked up his shorts, only to realize someone was in the stall and had heard every word that he’d just said. He left quickly, embarrassed to death, licking the cum off his hand absentmindedly.
Outside, the position of his cart had shifted, but he didn’t think much of it. He went and grabbed some beer since it was near the bathroom, vaguely fearful for some reason that it would disappear when his back was turned, but nothing happened. The same with the snacks and the pop, and he finally checked out his massive cart and headed out into the parking lot, but as he was loading the food into the back of his SUV, he saw the man from the bathroom leaning against a truck, away from the storefront, his cock hard and jutting from his jeans.
Troy drooled. He could totally use a cock right now, drinking down a load of cum would feel so damn good. “Sooooeeeyyy!” The man shouted, shaking his cock and staring Troy down. He couldn’t just…just suck him off in the parking lot, could he? It turned out that he totally could. He waddled over and dropped to his knees, feeling his bulk settle around him, and swallowed the man’s cock down into his gullet. “Yeah, how’s that taste you fucking pig?”
It tasted amazing. Troy didn’t know why he’d never sucked a dick before, but he kept glancing around, sucking fast, eager to get the man to swallow before someone could see him. He wasn’t fast enough—an older man walked back and saw what they were doing and froze. Troy wanted to die, knowing someone had seen him like this.
“Pig’s got a hot mouth,” the coach said, “Want to fuck it after me?”
The man glanced around nervously, and then walked over to the truck, set down his groceries, and waited. The coach finished quickly, hauling his cock out and spraying his cum across Troy’s fat face.
“Your turn man.”
Troy wanted to object, but what could he say? The man pulled his cock out of his jeans and Troy swallowed it down as well, and then the coach got down next to him, slid a hand down the back of his pants and began fingering his hole. It felt so good, and Troy began grunting uncontrollably, cumming in the front of his shorts before the stranger came down his throat. His ordeal over, he heaved himself up, only remembering halfway home that his face was covered with spunk. He wiped it up with his hands, licked it up, and then jacked off again at a stoplight.
That night, the rugby team didn’t seem to know what the huge fat man was doing there, but they all knew him somehow. Troy sat at the bar, shirtless in the hot, humid house of dancing men, watching their guts balloon as they devoured his snacks, soda, and beer. Thirty pizzas arrived which no one ordered, but they were demolished by morning, eaten up by the huge group of gainer pigs who had replaced the rugby team in the campus house.
Stuck as Santa 