Yeah, the guy in the picture is me. 6’2, grey-haired, easily 400 pounds. I was probably almost 50 years old. I’d wear something nicer to an interview, but when you’re as big as I am, your options are limited. You probably think I’m just some big loser, But I didn’t used to always be this way.
At one point in time, I was a young jock. I was probably in my senior – no, junior year. I had just gotten a car for my birthday, a brand new truck, nice, sleek, and shiny. There was only one condition – I had to get a job.
My choices were pretty limited – I came from a small rural town, so my options were either cashier at a grocery store, or fast food. And there was only one store in town, which kicked me out after they caught me stealing from them a couple of times.
So, I applied to several fast food joints, and ended up getting hired at McDonalds. The work there was mind-numbingly easy. So easy, I began to get bored. When my manager wasn’t around, I’d tease the customers for fun. The typical customers were white-trash, middle-aged couples with their fat kids, and the occasional humongous old man, so big no ordinary clothes would fit him.
Word must have gotten around, though – because my manager approached me a few weeks after I started making fun of the patrons. He gave me an ultimatum – I can start taking this pill, or I was fired. Now, there weren’t that many fast food places in town – and if my parents found out I got fired, they’d probably take my new ride away. So, of course I took the pill.
From that moment forward, I started to get a little weird. I started to skip out on practices and gym class, something I would never do before. I put on a little bit of weight – not too much, just a few pounds every week, gaining a little bit here and there, until I had a small gut. My friends and teammates at school, realized that I was letting myself go, and started avoiding me. I was getting much hairier – I had to shave almost regularly, my chest hair expanded across my chest, and some back hair even started to develop on my lower back.
I looked like someone who had been held back a few years! It didn’t help that I was seriously struggling in school. I wasn’t very smart before, but I struggled to focus in class. After failing a few tests, I realized that school just wasn’t for me any more. I skipped a couple of days at a time, before dropping it all together. I wasn’t gaining anything from school – and this is time I could work, and get more quick and easy cash. It seemed like the logical decision.
When I dropped out of school, that’s when things really started to escalate. Phil, my boss, would have me take a pill each day before coming into work – which I would do almost daily. I was gaining 1-2 pounds a week, easily. I was also gaining hair everywhere – my chest trailed down into my developing belly, spreading across it’s wide mass. I even grew a small goatee, only serving to make my fat cheeks look wider.
I hadn’t noticed how bad things had gotten though, until I was scolded by my mother. One night, when I went home, she was standing on the porch, a look of disgust on her face.
“Where have you been, young man? I’ve called you three times and nobody answered!”
When I answered that I had been working, her facial expression hadn’t changed.
“The school called – they said you’ve missed Two weeks straight, Peter. Two weeks! What have you been doing with all that time – eating at a buffet?”
I told her that I thought school wasn’t worth it any more. I was nearly an adult now, it’s time that I started making money.
“You don’t get what you’re doing, do you Peter?! Come with me.” She dragged me by my work uniform to the bathroom. “Look! Look what’s happened to you!”
And I did look. Before me sat two heavyset people. My mother, who appeared middle-aged, maybe early 40’s, had a pear-shaped body with wide hips and a decent-sized stomach. But compared to me, she didn’t seem like my mother – she seemed more like she could be my older sister. I looked to be at least 25, if not 30. My full, chubby face was accentuated by my stubble and thick goatee. My hair, which was neatly buzzed, had flecks of grey. But my body was the biggest transformation of all. Gone were the gorgeous, hard earned muscles, replaced with copious amounts of useless fat. My arms burgeoned, forcing the short sleeves of my t-shirt to pinch them like too-tight sausages. My belly, which was ever-growing, pushed out against the t-shirt, creating an obvious outline. Some of it has even began to pool underneath my shirt, like a thick pale apron. Where used to be a lithe, tall athletic high schooler, now stood an obese young adult.
“If you won’t go to school, and you won’t take care of yourself, then I won’t have you in this household. Think of the impression you’re making on your younger siblings! You need to go. Tonight.”
And that was the end of that. She helped me pack my clothes (or whatever would fit), and shoved me out the door. It was just me, my trucks, and my bag of clothes.
But it wasn’t all bad. When I told my manager my story when I came in the next day, he said that I could live with him, for a price. Now, I used to resent the man – he was middle-aged, balding, and at least 350 pounds – and man, he reeked. Now though, he was all I had. I was able to work full time, now, and was able to pay off the bills as they came – barely. But the decreased income meant less money for fun and food. I ate most of my meals on-site, and spent a majority of my time watching TV at home – mostly sports games, like football. Sometimes when I watched college games, I would hear names of people I recognized – some old teammates I used to have, once upon a time. I would think about how different life would be if I stuck with school, and I shuddered. That was way too much pressure – what I do now was so much more relaxing, and easy.
My TV watching only increased my weight more rapidly. I was easily putting on 10, sometimes even 15 pounds a month. It wasn’t long before I reached the managers weight, and then surpassed it. I used to be the one poking fun at him at my job, and now he was doing the same to me. Calling me tubs, poking at my belly, grabbing my thick meaty ass. Sometimes, when we closed, he’d sit me down in a chair and feed me all the leftover food from that day. He’d shove all the stale fries and burgers down my throat, then rip off my shirt, rubbing my monstrous saggy, hairy gut. He’d tell me how big I was getting, and that I needed to get bigger, to truly embrace the company and their ideals. And then at the end of it all, he’d fish out his short thick cock out from under his gut, and have me suck him off.
Now, old me would have been repulsed by all of this – but new me just enjoyed it. Arguing required thinking, and thinking was hard. The only thinking I liked to think about was how to make food, count money, and treat the customers. It was so much easier to let go and let my manager handle all the other stuff.
My new pacifistic nature helped me get along great with the customers, as well. Middle-aged couples I once used to tease I would now chat with eagerly, interested to hear about their lives with their careers, and how much more successful they were than me. The man I really got a long with well, though, was Bob.
Bob was probably 45, and a regular here. He was balding, and wore a short goatee, much like I did. He worked as a programmer, and his desk job didn’t help him keep off any weight. I used to think he was huge – a whale of a man. Now though, he wasn’t much bigger than me. Still, we would talk it up all the time. He would always compliment my size, and we would shoot shit about how are days were going, what games were on TV, that sort of shit. Lately, I’ve been thinking that he was kinda cute. Sure, he wore tatty clothing – but men of our size, it’s hard to find much else.
One night, when it was off-hours and I was feeling especially frisky, I went over to check and see how Bob was doing. Rarely have I seen people order so much food – he had several burgers, a ton of nuggets, and a few large fries, topped with a large shake. Between bites, he’d tell me that the food was great, but he could use a little more. I could have sworn the man even winked at me. I didn’t think much of it though, and went to clean off some tables. It wasn’t until I was bent over, cleaning a particularly dirty booth, that I felt Bob’s belly pooling onto my back, his hard cock pressed against one of my fat ass cheeks.
“I think there’s a mess in the bathroom you need to check out….” He grunted, giving my thick padded ass a few humps.
“C-can you show me?” I asked timidly, knowing where this was going. He and I waddled in tangent to the restroom.
The door wasn’t even closed before he threw me up against the wall, and I hit it with a thud. Before I could warn him together to be careful, he pressed his gorgeous fat body into mine, rubbing my big gut, and wrapped his lips around mine. His extra chin poked into my own, our fat cheeks rubbing together, as I struggled to vie for dominance. I groped his thick man-tits with both chubby palms and shoved my tongue in his mouth. I could taste it – taste all the food he had just consumed. My cock, buried underneath my apron of a belly, was standing erect. I loved it – love the feel of his belly, the way his weight pinned me to the wall – the way his mouth tasted. But it made me more than horny – it made me HUNGRY.
In the middle of the intense make-out session, without warning, my belly let out an intense grumble. He broke off the kiss a moment to chuckle. “Hungry there, Pete? I think I have just the thing for you….” He pulled his sweats underneath his gut, struggling to get it down below his crotch. I knew exactly what he wanted, and got down at my knees. I didn’t care that the bathroom hadn’t been washed today and that I was probably ruining my pants- I needed this fat mans cock, and I needed it now. He hefted up his heavy belly, exposing his tiny, red-hot member underneath, and I attacked it with vigor, my fat lips wrapped around his fiery tool.
He let his stomach drop, hitting the fatrolls in the back of my neck and making my cheeks jiggle. I was encased underneath his belly, in this hot, sweaty paradise. What little air I could breathe carried Bob’s thick musk. I could feel my belly pooled across the cool tile. My shirt must have came untucked – but I didn’t really care. All that I was worried about was sucking out a load from this mans cock – and filling that void in my stomach.
I’m not sure when he started talking – I could barely hear him underneath his gut, but I could barely make out what he was saying. He was… taunting me. “Such a dirty piggy…” He would grunt, thrusting into my lips. “Such a fat fucking sow. A stupid fat fucking cunt. You’re worthless, aren’t you? Can’t get a real job, live on your own. Probably couldn’t even get laid. When was the last time you came, piggy? The last time someone took the effort to jerk you off? You probably couldn’t even reach it, anyways…” I realized he was right. I hadn’t had sex in… well, a few months, at least. For some reason it never occurred to me to jack off, and I never really wanted more pleasure than what eating could bring. I stopped sucking for a minute, and tried to reach for my cock. I could just barely make it underneath my belly before the thick fat in my arm wouldn’t give any more. “Aww, poor piggy.” I could hear the malice in his voice. I realized he was mocking what the younger, thinner me used to say. “Shame you let yourself go so much. You could have been something. Now you’re nothing more than a low-class slob.” And with that, he thrust into my lips one more time, and came.
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That was a month ago. Since then, my manager has taken me off the pill – realizing that I was getting too big and too old for even the most menial jobs at McDonalds. He kept me on a seat at the cash register, my knees too weak to carry me around the shop for long periods of time, much less kitchen duty. My hair has since turned completely grey, borderline white. I look old enough to be my parents’ parents.
People were really impressed with my personal skills. I’ve become the sort of “old soul” of the fast food joint. Or at least, the old pig. Once word got around that I was a great cocksucker, I started sucking off a lot of the patrons in the bathroom. Even the married ones would sometimes stop by and get pleased by my lips. The manager didn’t mind, as it brought in extra business. He even installed a glory hole so “nobody would have to look at my disgusting old, fat body”. I didn’t really care – I loved the way my belly collected on the cold tile, the way my body jiggled with each bob. It hurt my knees a bit, but it was a small price to pay for each load.
I never thought to ask for money – if anything, I thought the people were doing a service for me, to let me service their nice cocks, maybe even clean off their thick bellies. If I did a really good job though, they would call in and compliment my services to the district manager. That must be how I ended up here. He called one day and said there was a position he think he’d like me to become the new manager of, but to be honest, I don’t think I have the mental capacity. I’ll probably end up turning it down – but I heard the district manager is a big guy, nearly 300 pounds. I wonder if he likes getting his cock sucked?
Stuck as Santa 