BULKLORE

So, no, he didn’t have a lie quite ready for Ty in the drive-thru window. “Something…happened to the food,” he repeated. Was it vanished? Stolen? Had it just spontaneously flown out of the car? He gulped. “It’s gone.”

Ty’s grin wrestled itself into a self-serious line that matched Miles’ dire tone. “Yeah, buddy, I know.” And then Ty past Miles’ car, to where only a thin border of trees separated this lot, and the one next to it, which is where Miles had gotten stuffed by the officer. And, to Miles horror, the trees provided almost no cover. The lot of strikingly visible, bathed in the red overhead light of the Burger Palace’s neon sign.

Miles gulped again, unable to look back at Ty. He was determined not to confirm his worst fear—that Ty had seen every single moment of the entire humiliating ordeal—yet that damn smile was audible in Ty’s words as he said, “Same as last time. Park in the lot and we’ll bring the bags out to stuff in your trunk.”

Miles was furious that even this small jab got his cock to twitch. What was going on with him? He pulled up, texted his team an update that he was nearly arrived at the house that they were hanging out at, the ignored their outraged responses while he focused on trying to breath. Was he going to be okay, after all that food? How many calories could a body possibly absorb all at once? If he was worried before about the extra weight that had recently gathered in his ass, he was definitely worried now. If he was smart he would have left the fast food joint right then and there, never letting another morsel of food into his car, but instead he popped the trunk as Ty and his coworkers processed out to him holding up big, heavy bags of food. Once inside, they closed the trunk and slapped it, whooping like they’d spanked Miles’s actual ass, and he drove off with a burning face.

Drove off very slowly. Officer Hunter was bound to be around here still. Or maybe he had vanished forever. Miles wondered if they’d ever see each other again. The wheel began to drift in his daydreaming, and he corrected it with a tug. Tempting fate twice in one night was insane, and plus he had a feast to deliver.

The team had gathered after the game at one of the captain’s frat houses, a usual spot for their late-night debauchery when they didn’t have an early practice the next morning. As Miles entered, cheers went up throughout the first floor, and a seemingly endless parade of massive boys rushed to snatch the food from his arms. They dumped it all out on a large table in the living room that had been an arena for been pong moments ago, sorting through it all like it was treasure until they found what they’d requested. Miles was nervous they’d notice his belly under his crossed arms, but instead the team was delighted that not a single thing had been forgotten. They chanted Miles’ name as they dispersed back to their various activities, and for just a moment Miles forgot his aching gut.

Then, behind him, came an amused voice, “Benchwarmer, do we need to get you a bigger uniform?”

It was Jasper, one of the captains. The one who was a brother at this frat, in fact. He was tall, like Miles, but carved with a wicked sharpness. He looked so striking, Miles had always thought, watching the guy race across the court. Evidently, Jasper had taken his own turn watching Miles back. Right now, his eyes were clearly watching Miles’ ass.

“Left it in the dryer too long,” Miles said with a grin he hoped seemed casual. There was nothing casual about the blush in his cheeks, though.

“What took you so long, Benchy?” Jasper said, poking at Miles. “We almost had to order pizza.” Jasper wagged his phone back and forth, and Miles saw a delivery app with a full cart moments away from being ordered.

“Sorry, I stayed a bit late cleaning up,” Miles offered.

“And?”

“And…shooting free throws?” said Miles.

Jasper’s captain-brain took over, and he gave Miles a slap on the back. “Atta boy. Love the dedication, man, but you almost caused a mutiny. These boys are hungry. Hey, speaking of, you got yourself something, right? You should eat fast. That stuffs no good when its cold.”

Jasper was flipping open his wallet to reimburse Miles with cash, but the captain glanced up when Miles couldn’t answer. Had he ordered for himself again? He’d just repeated everything, mindlessly, but surely he’d know not to bother with those extra few burgers, right?

“Umm, I….” Miles blanched. Luckily, he was saved from answering when a few of the other boys—Kit and Thomas—butted into the conversation to ask Jasp how to hook up the game system below the living room’s massive TV.  Evidently a huge tournament was about to begin. “You play, Benchwarmer?” they asked Miles.

“I’m good,” Miles muttered. He rarely turned down a chance to prove himself, but he was genuinely worried that if he sat down, he’d just fall asleep. The sooner he found an excuse to leave, the better.

“Go figure, he wants to just hang out here, ogling at Jasper and picking at all the fatboy food,” Kit laughed. Thomas punched his arm.

“Hey, be chill, Kit. The kid doesn’t get the same gametime,” Thomas defended, but even that sounded like a diss. Jasper scowled. “Actually, boys, Miles stayed after to shoot free throws. Kit, you missed two this game, didn’t you? Maybe you want to go up against our rookie tomorrow, and see how really belongs on that court?”

Chastised, Kit scoffed.

“And Thomas, it wasn’t long ago that you were the chubby little benchwarmer watching the men do their work,” Jasper continued. The whole thing felt like a very intense joke, and it only built Miles’s respect for Jasper as a captain. That is, until Jasper said, “And besides, Miles here hasn’t even had a bite. Look, his meals right there. He hasn’t even touched it.”

There was in fact one bag left on the table full of shiny wrappers and discarded sauce packets. Miles’s meal, that he had in fact ordered. At Jasper’s urging, he reached for it. It was so far from him he had to lean on the table, putting a pleasant pressure on his full belly. Behind him, Kit and Thomas whistled, and Kit said, “Oh, damn look at that thang, benchwarmer!”

Thomas had his own snide remark. “No wonder Jasper likes to keep you right where he can see that ass. It’s almost big enough for him to—” Thomas cut off as Jasper knocked him on the back of the head, but it didn’t end the teasing. The older boys took full advantage of the show, even going as far as to rub their hands on Miles’s bent-over bottom. Then Kit yanked down on the waistband, exposing one of Miles’s soft cheeks, and the slap was so loud that the entire living room turned in surprise. Or had Miles’s yelped? He didn’t know as he right himself, yanking up his shorts. Then Jasper let out a wry laugh—not at Miles but at the room full of gawkers, turning the joke of the moment back on their leering curiosity.

“Don’t mind them,” Jasper said to just Miles, waving off Kit and Thomas. “They joke around. Seriously, the comments don’t mean a thing.” But even as he said it, Jasper’s face had taken on a bit of a flush, too. He excused himself, leaving Miles alone at the table. Finally. This was his chance to leave, but something about the strange interaction with Jasper had sparked intrigue in his mind. Was Jasper really like that?

Miles got his answer a few hours later. Most of the team had trickled home, but the video game tournament raged on. All the remaining eyes in the room were glued to the tiny war being waged between the remaining players, including Miles. He had hovered by the beer pong table most of the night, relishing the slow sense of relief that started to spread from his gut as his body gradually churned his binge into fat. Occasionally, his eyes had begun to flick to the bag of fast food he’d abandoned. It wasn’t that he was hungry, or horny. He was just…curious. But there was no way he was eating that shit.

Maybe, just maybe, he could have a bite, right?

No, what was he thinking! He shook his head, wondering at his own greed. But it sort of made sense, in a way, didn’t it? He’d been filled within an inch of his life, and now even the slightest room gained by his digestion was bound to feel significant. He wasn’t hungry, his body just didn’t know any better. And, if he was honest, it was the same with his cock. The pleasure had been so complete when he came hands-free in Officer Hunter’s lap that now, hours later, an ache of emptiness pulled at his balls.

Maybe just a nibble.

Miles gingerly slid back to his spot at the table, leaned over, and hovered a hand over the burger.

“That stuffs no good when it’s cold. I told you that.”

Miles stiffened, but didn’t turn around. He was certain Officer Hunter was back, standing behind him in his too-tight uniform. He could feel the man’s massive muscles closing in for a hug. But then, to Miles’s surprise, it was only Jasper to reach around and place a wad of cash in Miles’s pocket.

“Sorry, forgot to give this to you before,” Jasper said like the motion was ever-so-casual, yet they both felt Jasper’s hand graze up the slight puff of Miles’s love handles. When neither of them flinched, which was customary anytime the athletes joking jabs got a little too tender on accident, Jasper slid a little closer.

“You know, I hadn’t really noticed until the other boys mentioned it, I swear I hadn’t,” Jasper said, “But that ass, man…what are you doing at the gym? Squats?”

Miles shook his head, but Jasper was keeping his tone perfectly cool, like this was a casual discussion between two bros despite the clear sexual tension building. Jasper’s hands danced along Miles’s straining waistband.

“C’mon, don’t hold out on me, Benchy. What’s your secret? Split lunges?”

Then Jasper’s hand found its way into cupping Miles’s ass for a clinical squeeze. Miles didn’t yelp this time. He held his breath and locked his eyes on the video games, willing the rest of the room to do the same.

“Oh,” Jasper chuckled. He was whispering now, right into Miles’s ear. “I know your secret. Food. That ass isn’t only muscle, is it?” There was no time to answer as Jasper gently massaged at Miles’s ass, as if continuing some sort inspection. Whatever he found, he seemed to want more and more of, and Miles’s found himself breathless with the heady rush of another jock playing with his fat ass. Jasper must have noticed—or maybe he truly was going to get what he wanted one way or another from his growing benchwarmer—because he gently jerked down Miles’s shorts. Then he laid his hand on the tender print where Miles had been spanked. The touch was soft and suddenly intimate, marking a clear transition between Jasper’s bro façade, and whatever this next phase was.

Slowly, Jasper pushed on the small of Miles’s back, leaning him over the table ever so slightly. Then Jasper lowered himself to his knees, so quietly that for a moment Miles was sure the captain had drifted away. But then came a kiss, right on Miles’s cheek. And another. And another. Soft, quiet kisses that blended into the din of activity in the room. It was the strangest, most exciting feeling in the world, Miles thought, even as his mind tried not to panic. If anyone glanced back, they’d see him standing at the table, leaned forward slightly, but because of the way the table was positioned in the room, Jasper was completely blocked from view. He seemed to know this. Maybe he’d even done this before. Either way, there was nothing but confidence on Jasper’s tongue as it gently dragged up the curve of Miles ass before slipping into the crack and making a wet path right into his hole.

Miles stifled a moan. He was beyond glad he’d showered up with the team despite never breaking a sweat, but he was aware that the last time he’d sweat had been even more recent, in the back of Officer Hunter’s fan. He’d eaten so much, and so fast, that he’d gathered a slight sheen all over. Did Jasper care? Of course Jasper didn’t care. Jasper, the team captain, had bent him over in a room full of jocks, and was now tongue fucking him with a practiced rigor that nearly shot moan after moan out of Miles’ wobbling lips.

And that wasn’t all. Jasper’s hands were getting bold, squeezing over Miles’s ass, to his hips, and finally to his cock. Miles groaned at the firm grip being applied through the slippery fabric of his short. The threat of another climax began to tickle him somewhere deep inside. About as deep as Jasper’s roaming tongue. Miles tried to fight it, but the moment Jasper’s other hand worked up to squeeze his belly, he knew this was a fight he was bound to lose. Jasper, too, felt the reaction. As he squeezed at the taught, giggling fat that had begun to gather around Miles’s middle, precum gushed from Miles’s cock. In minutes, the front of the benchwarmer’s shorts were damp from the inside out.

It was almost too much pleasure, too fast, and Miles nearly lost himself to it right then and there. But then the worst possible thing happened. Right under his captains grip, Miles felt his stomach let out a loud growl.

“That you, Benchwarmer? Just eat your food already,” called Kit from the couch, sparing only a brief glance back at Miles. It was enough to get Jasper to duck down, extracting both his hands and tongue covertly.

“I will,” Miles shot back at Kit, making no move towards the food before him. To his surprise, it was being unwrapped anyways, but Jasper’s reaching hand. What was the captain up to, now? Miles stood up straight, turning to face the other guy knelt behind him, but then Jasper popped up, too.

“Eyes ahead,” he ordered, and Miles pivoted back towards the video game tournament.

“Good boy,” Jasper said, lips grazing Miles’s ear. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Miles nodded.

“Me too, Benchy. You had yourself a little snack before this, didn’t you?

Miles nodded.

“Thought so. But you’re still hungry, aren’t you?”

Still wasn’t quite the right way of putting it. For a while the hunger had abated completely, but now that it was back, it was back. Miles’s tummy let out another growl.

He nodded.

“If you’re hungry, you should eat,” Jasper whispered, raising a fist of fries up to Miles’s face. If he let this happen, he was a goner for sure. He knew that now after how far things got with Officer Hunter. But if he didn’t give in, someone was sure to spot the odd scene stretching out at the table.

“Let me in, Benchy,” Jasper whispered, gently pressing the fires to Miles’s lips. And, down below, something else pressed to a different opening of Miles. A pressure, intense but pleasant, taking advantage of the slick spit on his asshole, driving into him with a soft, expanding pressure. Was this really happening? Was Miles about to get fed and fucked at the same time? His mind couldn’t handle jumping between the two opposite pressures, and in the end he opened up—both above and below—at the exact same time. Salty fries crammed down his throat as a fat cock stretched into his matching fat ass.

“Good booooyyyy, Benchy,” Jasper growled, helping Miles chew by holding his jaw shut until the fries were swallowed. “Goood booooyyyy, piggy. Now grab that burger—”

But the fries had been enough. Combined with the fucking, and the intensity of the act behind the backs of the team, Miles’s was hopelessly evacuating his balls yet again into the fabric of his shorts. And, once again, not a hand could be found jacking him off. It had just happened, based on his body’s will but in defiance of his own mind.

And, of course, he’d let out a devastatingly audible moan. The sudden quiet of the room told him exactly what he was going to see when he opened his eyes, so for another few seconds he kept his eyes clamped shut in rejection of reality. Everyone was staring at him. He knew it. Even the game had been paused.  

“Damn, Jasper,” Thomas said from the couch. “Again?”

“Sorry,” Jasper said, a little sheepish, but with a boyish mischievousness that spoke to some sort of pattern. Pattern of what? This? Miles cracked an eye open. The other boys were, in fact, all turned towards him and Jasper at the table. To few seemed utterly horrified, but most of the older boys were give Jasper knowing smirks.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Jasper said, slowly resuming the fucking of Miles’s ass. “Maybe we should order that pizza after all. Who’s in?”

Hands across the room shot up. The few boys who hesitated seemed to immediately succumb to the effects of peer pressure, and then all eyes were back on Miles.

“How about it, Benchy?” Jasper said with a snide mock in his voice as he pulled out of Miles’s ass with a luxuriating, excruciating slowness. As he sunk back in at the same speed, he asked, “Got room for more?”

Muscles shaking, Miles raised his hand, bringing the team’s decision to unanimity.

TO BE CONTINUED

“BURGER PALACE, YOUR ROYAL FEAST AWAITS!” crackled a deep voice on the intercom. “WHAT’S CAN WE SERVE YOU, M’LEIGE?”

Miles sighed. All at once he felt how pathetic he was. The team’s personal grunt, barely setting foot on the court all night only to end up shuttling his more hard-working teammates greasy burgers and fries. And the worse part was that Miles found he didn’t really care. He should be mad, or at least resentful, but something about this errand excited him. The team was waiting for him, weren’t they? So, cheerily, Miles leaned out of his window and rattled off the long, strange order, speaking for five minutes straight until finally the speaker cracked: “FUCK—I MEAN, SORRY, UMM. IS THAT…IS THAT ALL, M’LEIGE?”

“Oh, wait, I forgot about myself!” Miles cleared his throat and, a bit inspired by the team’s greed, added another combo order. Maybe he could earn a few more ‘fat ass’ comments tonight. Some guys were even getting handsy, and the thought of them really giving his ass—which was quite nice—a squeeze filled Miles’s head with a light buzz.

“PULL UP TO THE FIRST WINDOW,” the speaker crackled, and Miles swore he heard people laughing, but when he pulled up it was just a lone boy sliding back the glass to take Miles’s credit card.

“You nearly cleaned us out,” the boy said with a grin, handing Miles back his card. The comment took Miles by surprise and caused him to look—really look—at the boy. He was college-aged, too, and shorter than Miles (everyone was, mostly), but he had a scruffy handsomeness to him that caused Miles to stare a second too long before blurting, “Oh, it’s not all for me.”

The boy nodded, clearly taking Miles’s awkward pause as confirmation of the opposite. “Really,” Miles insisted, but the boy put on his best drive-through smile and said, “Would you mind pulling into one of the spots ahead? It’s going to take us a while to get it all together.” A laugh tugged at the boy’s smile, and Miles heard a few out-of-sight coworkers hollering in the background. He had to end this interaction ASAP, so without a word he pulled ahead to sit, pouting, in the parking lot.

How long could it possibly take? Miles was getting badgered by the team in the group chat. He felt again a sense of embarrassment, but this time when he did so, he thought of the cute boy from the drive-thru window, and the strangest thing happened. Miles got hard.

“What the fuck?” Miles poked at his cock in his basketball shorts, even fingering a tiny damp spot at the tip. Then someone knocked on the window, and Miles lurched into a more modest posture.

“Don’t get too excited. Cops keep an eye on this lot late at night.” It was the boy, of course. His nametag said just “Ty.” And had he just boldly reference Miles’s accidental masturbation? Miles’s face burned, but his boner did not go away. “Just give me the food,” he muttered, sticking his hand out the window.

“Hungry boy,” Ty whistled. “Afraid it won’t fit this way. You’re gonna have to take it from behind.”

Miles blinked at Ty. He was acutely aware of how he was supposed to react—outrage, because what was this little punk doing hitting on a basketball player? But that’s not what happened. He just blinked.

“Your trunk?” Ty clarified. “We can just put the bags in your trunk?”

Stiff and wood, Miles slowly turned to look further out the window, and a few other guys stood, holding up heavy bags of food already splotchy with grease. It was way too much to pass through the window. Defeated, Miles popped the trunk and felt his face turn red as his car filled with the smell of fries and burgers, from the back to the front.

“And don’t forget about yourself, king,” Ty said with a wink, handling Miles one final bag directly. His personal order. Miles crushed it into his lap, happy for something to hide his raging hardon with, which was was absolutely certain Ty had been eyeing while this entire embarrassing ordeal took place.

“Don’t forget about yourself, king,” Miles mocked to himself as soon as his window was up. He dug his hand into the bag, fishing for a burger, while his tires squealed into a tight turn towards the exit. His phone continued to blow up as his team whined at him to hurry, and Miles slapped the device off the dash. Even for a benchwarmer, this was a new low.

But it wasn’t the last low of the night.

Miles took the turn out of the parking lot a bit too tight, perhaps because he’d been looking at his phone, perhaps because of the burger in his other hand. Whatever the reason, he his wheels jolted up over the curb and he clipped the very edge of the BURGER PALACE sign. The neon lights flickered, but barely. A lucky break. Miles could feel the eyes of Ty and his coworkers laughing at him, so he jammed his foot against the gas and rumbled off. He could deal with karma later.

Then, in the rearview mirror, came police lights.

No, Miles would deal with the karma right now.

In an empty lot, Miles pulled over and prepared for the worst. Was that a hit and run? He’d barely hit the sign! A million excuses ran through his mind as the officer waltzed up to his window, but it was only when the beam of the flashlight glared down at him did Miles finally think about dropping the burger. By then it was too late.

“Hungry, boy?” said a gruff voice. 

Miles gulped. “Yes, Sir. I mean, no, Sir. I mean, I’m sorry, Sir.”

The police officer was invisible behind the bright light, but he sounded not much older than Miles. And the long pause that stretched out next felt significant, like something was being decided upon.

“License and registration, please,” the officer commanded. “That is, if you can take a break from your little snack.”

Miles jammed the burger back into its bag and fumbled for the documents. Handing them over, there was another long pause, and then the officer said, “You’ve been drinking tonight?”

“No, Sir.”

“Just eating?”

Was eating and driving illegal or something? “I just had one bite,” he grumbled.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, then?” asked the cop.

Miles considered bluffing, but he was almost certain the cop had seen him hit the sign. His heart hammered as he considered confessing, but would that be worse? And he certainly couldn’t say nothing, but nothing is exactly what came out of his mouth when he opened it to defend himself. The cop took a step back.

“I’m going to need you to step out of the car, young man.”

Fuck. Now Miles had done it. He brushed crumbs from his basketball uniform and, trying not to let the reveal of his height seem intimidating, he stepped from the car with his hands up. Finally the officer lowered the flashlight, and Miles was surprised to see a man looking back at him at eye level. Just as tall. Even taller, maybe. And something click.

I know this guy, Miles thought. A rival player, or something. Now the scene made sense. Miles was still in his uniform, after all, and the smirk on the officer’s chiseled jaw was totally amused. Maybe even a little vindictive.

“Mind if I take a look in the back?” the officer asked. His badge and ID named him as OFFICER HUNTER. Go figure.

“There’s nothing back there, Sir.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Office Hunter said.

“Come on,” Miles whined. “Look, I’m sorry about the sign, I was just checking my phone and…”

Officer Miles narrowed his eyes, and then said, “I think this might be easier if you wait in the vehicle.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Miles said, going to get back in, but then a strong hand came down on his shoulder. “My vehicle,” the officer said, turning Miles towards a massive van with the lights still spinning. Miles’s feet turned clumsy beneath him as he shuffled around the van’s back. Doors swung open revealing padded benches. When Miles hesitated, the same hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. In his ear, Officer Hunter’s voice was a commanding murmur.

“Don’t worry, just standard procedure. You’ll be on your way in no time. It’s easier if you just let me do my job.”

Miles didn’t even have the guts to roll his eyes. He just slumped into van. That was better than being made to stand on the side of the road as people passed by. Someone would recognize him. Come to think of it, the red neon light of BURGER PALACE was so close that it still shined down at him. He was sure Ty and his friends were watching through the thin veil of trees that separated the two lots.

Officer Hunter’s search did not last long. His footsteps crunched quickly back towards the van, slowing as he reached the spread doors. Then he filled Miles view, his broad shoulders blocking out the red neon light and casting a shadow into the van’s spacious rear.

“This ain’t nothing,” Officer Hunter said, hoisting up the bags and bags of fast food. The smell wafted into the van, making Miles’s mouth water.  The bags were gingerly placed at his feet, with a new command: “Open them up.”

“Jesus, really? It’s just junk food, okay? You saw me at the drive-thru. What do you think I’m doing, sneaking drugs inside of milk shakes?”

There was a long pause that gave Miles ample time to absorb exactly how muscular Officer Hunter was beneath his uniform. Then, the police officer switched off his radio and said, “It looks like our system is taking a bit to return your records. We might be here a while.”

Miles sputtered. “But you didn’t even check—”

“Sometimes it takes a while. No way to know how long we’ll be here. Maybe you should let your teammates know.”

That was odd. Miles hadn’t mentioned his teammates, but Office Hunter seemed to know exactly where all this food was meant to go. The theory of revenge surfaced in Miles’ anxiety yet again. Dully, he realized his phone was somewhere deep in his car, thrown there by none other than himself, minutes ago.  He shrugged helplessly, and Office Hunter grinned. “I’m sure they’ll understand. But it’d be a shame for all this food to get cold while we wait.” Officer Hunter leaned forward and clamped his hands onto their side of the van’s doorway, infusing his casual speech with a distinct air of authority as he said, “So, why don’t you get back to that snack?”

Miles wasn’t about to protest. Something about the intensity in the officer’s eyes terrified and intrigued him, not because of the man’s uniform, but because of the way his uniform seemed to completely vanish from him as a different, more diabolical person took over. The clipped commands were gone, and now Hunter was smiling. There was a sweet, encouraging edge in his voice that felt both dangerous and irresistible.

Miles grabbed up the nearest bag, reached in, and found a burger identical to the one he’d been cramming in his mouth when he got pulled over. He took a big bite, then another, finishing the snack with a few, luxuriously slow chews, never once dropping eye contact with Hunter. If this sicko wanted to torture Miles, Miles was going to take all the fun out of it by pretending to be completely at ease. At least that’s what he told himself.

“Have another,” Hunter ordered.

Miles let his hand pick up the next item. Chicken nuggets, a whole dozen of them. He popped them in, making easy work of the tiny bites, and then he snatched up a sweating cup of soda to wash it all back.

“Played hard today?” Hunter asked, nodding at the next item. A double cheeseburger, Miles discovered, as it reached his lips just in time to cut off a response. Hunter spoke for both of them. “Or did you spend the whole game on that pretty ass of yours, watching the real athletes run back and forth? Must be hard to keep up, eating like a jock but not getting the same work out. You sure you should be eating such greasy, fattening food?”

Miles grinned. Was he enjoying this little game? Absurd as it was, it wasn’t exactly the torture he suspected his captor imagined it might be. Who would feel tortured by eating a few burgers? Hell, this was what he was planning anyways. And yet, it wasn’t the food but the words that seemed to fill Miles’ gut, expanding in him with their dark meanings as he pushed in the final bite of the double cheeseburger.

“I’m part of the team,” he protested while he chewed.

“Yeah, you sure are,” Hunter said, leaning further into the van so that he could snatch up a bag himself. Was he going to eat, too? Miles was almost disappointed until Hunter tossed him another wrapped burger.

“So you can catch,” Hunter mused.  Dutifully, Miles spread the greasy paper open and picked up the burger. He definitely didn’t need to eat this, but another glance at Hunter’s eyes told him, actually, he definitely did. It would only take a few more bites. What was the harm? But then Hunter passed him the next thing. A rattling box of fries. Then it was another box of nuggets. And finally, a milkshake sticky with melted whipped cream, which finally slowed Miles down.

“It’s hard work, picking up the slack for your greedy teammates, but hey, that’s what benchwarmers are for, right?” Hunter asked in a low, slippery voice as he slid into the bench across from Miles so that the two large men sat knee-to-knee. “Your teammates are lucky. If I hadn’t pulled you over, they’d be filled up with all this junk by now. Lucky for them, you’re here to do it for them.”

Miles coughed as the thick milkshake froze to the back of his throat. He was definitely full now, past the point of finding any of this easy. Each gulp of ice cream sent chills all of his body, adding a new, uncomfortable tightness to his abs.

“Why are you doing this?” Miles spat.

The question took Hunter by surprise, but just for a second. Then he leaned forward the last few inches between them, so they were face to face. Miles wondered if they were about to kiss, but then he felt a sudden coolness breath across his crotch. With a well-practiced motion, Hunter hand yanked down Miles’ basketball shorts, pulled the elastic waist up and over the hardest cock Miles had ever seen. It shivered, the tip shiny with precum, and it was another second before Miles realized it was his. He’d been shamelessly hard this whole time. He couldn’t figure out what was worse: that he didn’t know why he was hard, or that he hadn’t even noticed.

It didn’t matter. The sudden vulnerability took all the resistance out of him. His brain switched into a new mode—something even less than off—as he gazed into Hunter’s smug, domineering gaze.

“Damn, you’re really hungry,” Hunter said, and he didn’t mean hungry. He meant hard, and eager, and humiliated, or whatever this strange limbo was that had Miles so trapped. But then Miles’s hands riffled around in the nearby bags as if he were hungry, and it was like succumbing to a spell. Hunter said it, and Miles knew it was true. When the next burger rushed to his lips, he barely felt any resistance at all.

“Good boy,” Hunter whispered, sitting back and letting the elastic band hook below Miles’s aching balls. It was such a shock—both the motion and the pleasant feeling praise—that Miles whimpered, fighting off an orgasm that nearly took him completely by surprise. Hunter froze, eyes wide with wonder, the Dom act momentarily shaken off as he watched Miles struggle against his own urges. Vaguely Miles thought it was a good thing there wasn’t a hint of judgement in Hunter’s eyes because that’s exactly what would have pushed him over the edge. But no, Hunter was genuinely confused, just like Miles, and the moment passed. Miles held himself together, but now a wicked curl snuck into Hunter’s lips.

“Good…” he said slowly, testing the word slowly like a punch winding up to Boy. Miles winced, anticipating the rush, but Hunter held back. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with this new tool. As he committed Miles to chowing through the next massive bag, he used his praise sparingly, saved for moments just before Miles was sure he couldn’t take another bite. Then Hunter would lean forward, and marvel at how much Miles had consumed, and whisper good, that’s really good. You’re a champ.

Soon, there was only one bag left. Miles slumped back, feeling like he was about to burst. He was done. He couldn’t take one more bite, nor one more second of mindless eating. The pleasure was overwhelming him, causing him to drift out of the moment, but Hunter dragged him back with by finally, finally placing a hand on his knee. This whole time they had barely touched, and the pressure of the man’s large hand reordered Miles’ bloated brain.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” Hunter said, amused. Miles slowly looked down, past his heaving pecs, to where his own hands had absently pulled at the fabric of his jersey. It was the tight kind—all the tighter thanks to the pudge Miles had packed on all season from barely moving from the bench—and now it hugged tightly against a horribly swollen gut totally devoid of Miles’ faded abs.

“What the fuck,” Miles said, more amazed than horrified, but his attempt to sit himself up was in vain. The weight of the gut was disorienting, more and more flesh revealing itself as the jersey rode up irreversibly.

“And there’s just one bag left,” Hunter purred.

“No, no way,” Miles whined. How much had he eaten? Six burgers? Seven? That’s just when he lost count, and the wrappers strewn across the floor indicated he’d been losing count for quite some time.

“Awww, that’s a shame,” Hunter said, ignoring Miles’s protests and peeking. “This bag is just milkshakes and ice cream, but it looks like you let everything melt.”

Miles’s head spun. Thank god, he thought. It’s melted. I’m done. Now if he could only heave himself up, he could put this confusing experience behind him and start the hard work of running off all these calories before tomorrow’s practice. And he’d never return to Burger Palace so long as he lived.

“Here, let me help,” Hunter said. He awkwardly scooted behind Miles, wedging the bloated jock up just enough to nearly get upright, but the hard bulge of his new gut shoved him back down. His core was totally useless, trapping him between the officer’s thick thighs.

“Push me up,” Miles whined.

Hunter didn’t even nudge him.

“Hey,” Miles tries to twist over his shoulder as his own arms pressed uselessly against the thick trunks of Hunter’s leg. “Hey, I’m serious, I’m not sure if I can get up by myself—”

The cold edge of a cup met Miles’ lips, and before he could stop himself he was taking on a mouthful of cool, melted milkshake. Even melted, it was still thick, yet now it flowed fast into him giving him no choice but to swallow it as fast as possible to avoid ending up covered in the stuff. Still, a drop raced down his chin and dribbled onto his chest.

“Uh oh, can’t have that,” Hunter said, dabbing the spilled drop until it soaked into the uniform. “Wouldn’t want your mates to know what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Please. Fuck. Please, I can’t. I’m so full. Sir—”

But the next milkshake was already ready. In fact, Hunter peeled off the lids of several melted treats with an experts hand, tipping them into Miles panting mouth one after the other with barely a break in between And, for the most part, Miles kept up with the sweet onslaught. How? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even thinking about it. He just knew that his only hope was to chug, and chug, and chug, and he told himself it was to protect his uniform and his dignity, but really something else was occurring with him.

All the food he’d eaten, every half-chewed bite, was dissolving down into a thick slurry of calories fused together with this new cement of sugar. It expanded in him quicker than he thought was possible, every tiny shred of space in his belly quickly  thrust full of food, causing even the tiniest of air bubbles to slide up his undulating throat and whisk out of his lips in tiny, desperate burbs between gulps. This only freed up more room, which Hunter greedinly filled on Miles’ behalf, until suddenly the jock could take no more. Halfway through the final shake he began to squirm, his hands grasping desperately at the new, humiliating strangeness of his gut, his fingers drumming across the taught skin. His eyes were locked upwards, where Hunter leaned over him with a wolfish grin.

The officer spoke slow, never easing up, so that Miles heard every word through the clotted gulps of his own chugging.

“Careful, player. You’re looking about ready to burst. No way a jock like you can eat this much and not stretch out that gut. You know this is just going to make you hungrier, right? Forever? Hey, look at me. I know you can’t believe yourself. You can’t believe you ate every bite. You can’t believe you almost shot your load just because a man told you what a good boy you were, but that was before you let me dump another 10,000 calories down that greedy throat. And now you’re so hard you’re about to cum, but you’re probably regretting everything, right? But it’s confusing, because you’ve never been more turned on, and that’s why you regret it. Now you know you need this, more than anything, and even though you don’t want to let yourself believe it, you’re about to have the most epic climax of your dumb, ex-jock existence.”

Miles shook his head. No, he pleaded with his eyes. Please, oh god, don’t make me cum. But rather than forgo the final dregs of this final shake, he felt his jaw open wider. All the way. So that all Hunter had to do was tip the final massive cup completely upside down and let the last of the milkshake swirl directly down into Miles’ open throat.

Miles swallowed. Then, aghast at himself, he readied a final denial, but when he next opened his lips it was to let out a growing moan of ecstasy. There was nothing he could do against this feeling of fullness. It settled into him, right at the root of his pleasure, and even as he begged himself not to cum, the orgasm came for him completely.

“Fuck, oh my god, I can’t, I can’t, oh god, oh gooood, oh it’s happening, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna--!”

Miles came like a fountain, with an intensity that only added to the terrible pressure in filling his gut. It made it all the hotter. So did the fact that not once did Office Hunter touch Miles’ cock. He’s simply found a way to push the buttons from within, and evidently those buttons were going to stay pushed for a very, very long time.

Back in his car, Miles barely fit behind the wheel. Officer Hunter had to lean over the stuffed jock to scoot the seat back. In doing so, he came back up with Miles’ long-lost phone.

“Your teammates are hungry,” Officer Hunter said with the same, gruff voice he’d started with at the top of their encounter. He flashed the phone to Miles. About a million texts had come in, but the most recent said: SHOULD WE JUST GET PIZZA DUDE? HELLO?

Officer Hunter tapped back a response then tossed the phone into Miles lap before turning on the heel of his boot and strutting back to the van. And that was it. The van drove off, leaving Miles to blink at his phone. The response said: “I’m on my way. Heading to Burger Palace right now.” Miles groaned. Then, with great effort, he yanked his uniform down over his swollen, cum-sticky gut, put the car in drive, and coaxed it back towards the neon lights.

“One more drink, right?” Henry growled, squeezing Todd where he was most vulnerable. Todd had to grit his teeth hard not to moan. If he wanted to get through this—and he did want to get through this—he needed to make sure he didn’t let his lips part with pleasure. Someone in here was bound to slip a treat inside, and as the hog nog in his system wore off, those final calories could mean the difference between Todd’s dream physique and…he didn’t even want to think about the other option. He was hard enough without that fantasy threatening him and his clothes.

“Fine,” Todd said, leaning back. “One more drink. But I want more hog nog. The pure formula this time, no dilution.”

The room of hunky men nodded approvingly at Todd’s ultimatum, but Todd himself found that he was regretting his prudent choice. The truth was, now that Todd’s erection had been revealed, he was starting to enjoy the attention a little too much. A whole room of your hot gym crushes practically drooling over you? Anyone would be swayed by the circumstances. Plus, Todd had won. He had outlasted the other new recruits, and he’d somehow fulfilled the secret test of pushing Henry just over his body’s limit, resulting in the god that leaned over him. What did Todd have to fear? Another drink, even if it was more hog nog, was just more of the same. If anything, it gave Todd even more credibility with the crowd of lusty body builders fawning over how his body, the fittest amongst the recruits, had been able to absorb the most sugar without buckling outward into obesity. No, he had made the right choice. Now it was time to just enjoy the win.

Todd’s fear drained away, and when someone passed him a fresh glass of sweet-smelling liquid, he tipped it back without breaking eye-contact with Henry. He swallowed it all at once, his powerful throat flexing in a single gulp. Only after it was in his belly did he register the strange, ultra-sweet flavor.

“Ah, you noticed!” Johan, the owner of the gym and the host of the party, plucked the cup from Todd’s hands and licked up the last few drops on the rim. “No need to be alarmed, dear Todd. It’s not often we get a perfect specimen such as yourself, so you’ll have to forgive me for a bit of…experimentation.”

Todd went rigid. What had he just drank? “But I said—”

Jonah raised up his hands in surrender. “And I listened. That was a cup of straight hog nog, just like you requested, but the truth is no one’s ever had more than a few drops before. In small doses, the formula converts sugar into pure gains, using the body’s fitness as a multiplier to determine how much muscle to create. Usually the goal is just to bulk up a bit, have a little fun, but a full dose? Well, I think the gains would only be limited by one’s appetite.”

“Will I get fat?” Todd bit the question out through gritted teeth, not because he was scared, but because when Jonah said ‘appetite’ he felt his cock flex in Henry’s hand. He was sure Henry had noticed, too, and it brought a flush to Todd’s cheeks. He had to cover his lust with disgust.

“Perhaps a bit of plushness can’t be avoided,” Jonah shrugged. “But at the scale you’re about to grow? The risk of excess fat is, theoretically, mitigated.”

Todd tried to focus on the words despite Henry next to him, lazily massaging his dick. Even more distracting was Henry’s soft, warm belly pushing into Todd’s side.

“So you’re saying…” Todd tried to piece it together as he felt a cooling flutter in his gut. An ache of hunger, regret, and eagerness all combined. “…is that I can eat whatever now?”

Jonah gave a smile that was pure charm. It was the same smile he’d served to the spin instructor before the man was coaxed into getting fucked fatter and fatter. If Todd has been level-headed, he would have stood up and ran, but instead he barely noticed the humor in Jonah’s voice when the boss nodded and said, “Oh Todd, that was always the case.”

The strange reasoning had dulled Todd’s attention as the pleasure in his cock inched towards climax. At the same time, the new, undiluted formula was crackling through his muscles, freezing new tension under his skin that begged for more fuel. Suddenly Todd’s fear inverted—instead of worrying about eating too much, he was only concerned about no eating enough. This time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop, but did he need to?

A creampuff was floating towards his face as he considered all this, growing huge in his vision as his eyes focused on it with agonizing hunger.

Just a few more bites, he told himself, okay?

“Open up, baby,” Henry whispered. Todd obliged, and the treat filled his mouth with rich sweetness. He didn’t think. He barely chewed. He swallowed, amazed at his overpowering greed, and then all thoughts vanished as the sugar rushed through his system. The growth, this time, was a buzzy static under his skin. The swelling was gradual, but with a hefty momentum that was hard to stop. Todd lost track of the bites and their results, the feeding turning into one long, utterly exquisite growth all over, until the fabrics of Todd’s holiday outfit were balloon-tight. His chest, his arms, his ass, his thighs, even his collar. He felt like his clothes were nothing but tissue paper trying to keep him wrapped and small. But with another bite…

“That’s six,” Henry whispered appreciatively, rewarding Todd’s cock with a firm squeeze. Todd moaned, then through a mouth full of sweets he asked, “Six bites?”

Henry grinned. “Six creampuffs. All six, actually. We’re out. What’s next, boys?”

The attention of the room was back on Todd now, no doubt everyone awaiting another button-popping spectacle, and Todd found he was eager to give it to them. The fact that he’d lost track of the treats didn’t matter to him. He was close to hulking out of his clothes. He needed more.

Now.

Panting, his mouth yawned open as hands from every direction eagerly thrust desserts at him. Cookies, cupcakes, bites of pie, wedges of cake. The options overwhelmed him. Annoyed him, even. He was losing his hard-won momentum! The climax was slipping away! He bit into the nearest treat—a donut striped with green and red frosting, and little snowflake sprinkles—and it vanished in two meager bites. He needed something else! He opened his mouth wide in a desperate moan, and two treats went for it at once. Chocolate peppermint bark and a mini cheesecake. They smashed together on his tongue and he swallowed after barely chewing. Delicious. Todd felt his growth resuming, finally, picking up speed and urgency with each swallow. All at once it was getting uncomfortably tight in his skin, but the tightness delighted him.

“You got this, pig boy,” Henry growled. Todd’s chewing paused. Did he call me a pig? But Henry’s hand squeezed his cock tighter as he repeated, “C’mon, big boy, you got this.”

Todd felt so close. So close. He was starting to feel full, too. He needed just a bit more to get the growth he so badly desired, and Henry was the key to that release. Todd focused on the pleasure of his cock and opened wide for one final treat. The straw of a massive milkshake found his lips. Perfect, he thought, drinking it down.

“Whoa piggy, slow down,” Henry said, amusement in his voice. Todd for sure heard it that time. He called me a piggy! But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop himself, all worry swept away by the erotic pumping of his throat as he chugged the milkshake down into his overstuffed belly of desserts. “Piggy, you’re going too fast,” Henry warned. “You’re gonna overdo it, Todd. I’m serious. Dude. You’re going too fast.” Henry’s handjob had ceased, but his hand remained as a fist of tension around Todd’s twitching cock. “Todd. You don’t have to do more, it’s just a joke. Look at what you’re drinking. That’s a fucking gallon of melted ice cream. Dude. Todd. Your watch is about to beep. Snap out of it. Todd—“

The room went quiet, the only sound the slurp of Todd’s straw sucking up the last of the milkshake. As it was taken away, Todd saw that it was, in fact, a gallon container of chocolate ice cream, now completely empty because of his greed.

“Sorry,” he said to Henry, feeling a tiny burp rising in his throat. “I couldn’t stop.”

But then….it happened. Todd’s watch began to beep. A slow, dire bleat, like a final swan song, growing louder and faster as an angry warning flashed on the watch’s sticky face.

“Fuck. Wait, wait! What does that mean? You said—” Todd started to ask, but then all at once, all over Todd, it was like his muscles punched outward. The ripping release cascaded down his body, his clothes not only splitting but being torn to awkward ribbons that fought, and failed, to contain the glorious growing flesh below. Todd felt it—felt every cell swelling up, multiplying, swelling up again—and yet it didn’t diminish. Instead, the intensity increased violently, and for a split-second Todd was sure he was going to pop like a balloon. Was that what Henry meant when he said “overdo it”?

The watch’s beeping hammered into Todd’s skull, piercing the delirium of pleasure. He had to get himself under control, now, but was it too late? The watch only got louder as the sugar sunk into his system, warning of the inevitable, and everywhere his skin sparkles with growth. Todd’s instincts were to hold his breath and squeeze every muscle into compliance, but his training kicked in and—keeping his core tight—he breathed into the utterly gratifying growth of his body, riding the wave until it crashed. He braced himself for the crash—the moment his body couldn’t take another calorie, and somehow the focus helped. There was a flutter of softness in his guts, his hips, his chest, his neck, but just as it threatened to doom him, he felt his pulse even out, and the watch’s mad alarm started to steady.

Todd let out a sigh of relief, relaxing, and it was a mistake. A sharp squealing noise cut the air and everyone ducked. When Todd squeezed an eye open, everyone was laughing and pointing up at where his belt buckle had lodged into the ceiling. It wasn’t hard to imagine how the thing had burst so violently; Todd’s clothes were rags on his straining form now, the strip of his leather belt miniscule compared to the adonis hunk laying among them.

“That was…impressive,” Johan said. He seemed so tiny now. Everyone did, Todd thought, though the truth was he’d bumped up a few inches in stature. Johan heaved up Todd’s heavy wrist to check the fitness watch. “Right at the edge. No one has ever nailed it so precisely before, especially at such a perilous dose,” Johan said.

“The…edge?” Todd’s hands were clumsy things as he tried to paw at his body, but it all felt strange. Not wrong, but weird. Bigger all over, but solid muscle most places. His belly, though, was comically full. He poked a huge finger into the taught, bloated muscle. He groaned. Despite this giant size and the capacity it came with, he was at his absolute limit. Whatever Johan’s formula could absorb in Todd’s system, Todd was sure he’d nearly broken past its limits and nearly ended up fat-bellied forever. Even now the watch gave a faint chirp, like a far-off reminder. Todd’s mind swam. He could feel the threat of losing control nibbling at his focus, but if he could just hold on a little longer, he was sure he was going to be okay.

“I think a reward is in order, don’t you, Henry?” Jonah asked.

Henry had backed up during Todd’s growth spurt—everyone had. The once expansive couch barely fit the reclining Todd all by himself, so big had he grown. He could feel it sagging beneath him. If he moved, it might buckle. He didn’t even dare sit up. He felt a little sheepish now, a little dumb, just laying sprawled out in the ruins of his clothes, with crumbs covering his face and gathering in the deep ravine between his sweating pecs. In fact, Todd could barely see over the mound of his own muscles as Henry sank to the floor, between Todd’s legs.

Then Todd felt a tongue on his cock.

“A…reward?” Todd said, pleasure hitching in his voice. As Henry lapped at Todd’s cock, he slid his hands up cut V of Todd’s pelvis, over Todd’s bloated gut. Todd’s head rolled back, a moan breaking free. The growth had rendered him senselessly sore, and every touch was like the best massage after a hard day’s lift. If he felt any shame about getting sucked off right in the middle of the party, it melted away as Henry’s mouth opened wide to take him in. But the pleasure wasn’t quite complete. Todd’s mouth panted open, too, and couldn’t seem to close again. He felt a pesky emptiness still that Henry could do nothing to relieve. He felt…a little hungry.

Thankfully, Jonah was there to make sure no one gave Todd another morsel. The couch sank even lower as Jonah climbed up, feet planted on either side of Todd’s waist, so that he could look down at his creation as he unfastened his belt.

“Look at you,” Jonah said, eyes gleaming. “Perfect, in every way. The clear superior to your peers.” Jonah motioned to one side, to the twink, who had blown up first when his vanity quickly overtook his self-control. Now the poor boy was huffing and puffing, red-faced, as multiple men pinched at his swollen nipples. Jonah motioned to the other side, to the spin instructor. The once sinewy man had exploded into a plush, fattened body that rippled with the force of his rigorous fucking. His fifth of the night, Todd thought. And Jonah didn’t need to motion at Henry. Todd could feel every inch of Henry’s greedy throat as the other trainer expertly worked Todd’s cock towards climax.

Now Jonah had his cock out, too. He slowly jerked the length of the immense thing as he sat upon Todd’s heaving chest. “Superior to your peers, but somehow hungrier. What a delightful appetite, indeed. Let me help you with your new oral fixation.”

Thank god, Todd thought, feeling relief the moment Jonah’s cock hit his tongue. He’d had plenty of fantasies about Jonah too, of course, and now that his boss had transformed into a gorgeous, silver-hair hunk? Todd was eager as ever to impress, except instead of tasting the salt of Jonah’s precum, Todd tasted only sweet. Then he felt it—the grit of sugar—and his mind flashed back to the moment before when Jonah had generously pumped the length of his cock.

“What’s wrong?” Jonah growled. Where Jonah caressed Todd’s jaw, crumbs were cascading from the cookie he’d sly crushed up while Todd had been distracted by the twink and the instructor. Now that cookie had become a sugary paste which Jonah had slathered up and down his cock. Inch by inch, he was getting a final handful of calories into his beefed-up experiment. The timing couldn’t have been worse for Todd, whose already pitiful self-control was gradually being licked away by Henry between his legs.

It was too much and not enough. It was happening so fast, yet not fast enough. The entire night had built up to this—the entire year, in fact, had been training for this holiday party—and Todd had handled every new and strange test. How could he let himself go now? He’d sucked off tons of studs, and he’d gotten head from tons more. Why was this scenario creating a lust within him so heavy and hungry that he couldn’t help taking another inch of Jonah’s sugary dick? Then another? Then another, until his chin was crammed against the base of Jonah’s balls.

“Careful, piggy,” Jonah warned, grabbing Todd’s hair and prying his greedy lips away so that another coating of sugar could be applied. In a daze, Todd dutifully redoubled his efforts, grabbing Jonah’s hips and pulling him fully down so that the length of his sweet cock bottomed out at the base of Todd’s throat. The sugar, cut through with the salt of Jonah’s precum and the musk of Todd’s spit, was a mix so potent that Todd couldn’t help himself. In this moment, he was exactly the pig Jonah had hand-picked for exactly this

Henry abruptly stopped sucking Todd off. “Dude, Jonah, that’s enough,” Henry said from between Todd’s legs, his breath a cool, sobering air on Todd’s aching balls. “You’re not still feeding him, are you? He’s getting a little soft...”

Henry didn’t mean Todd’s cock, which was rock hard. So what did he mean? Todd finally felt the delayed sensation of Henry’s hands pushing up into his belly. It had been taught with tension before, but now it seemed like Henry’s hands were pressing into brand new fat. Fat that was grumbling bigger and bigger. Todd’s eyes shot open, his lust clearing for a moment as he realized his mistake, but at the same time Jonah let out a cry.

“Just a little…more!” Jonah moaned, and a surge of cum filled Todd’s mouth. The load was so abundant that a dribble shot down Todd’s lips, but like an obedient pig he found his lips clamping tight, hoarding the rest of it as he shoved Jonah off to the side. Now he could see clearly what had Henry in a panic. The bloat of his belly had indeed relented into a wide, trembling belly. It pushed out as Todd sat up, gurgling with the threat of more growth. He wrapped his massive arms over it like he could make it go away, and for at least a moment more nothing happened.

“Don’t swallow that load,” Henry said direly.

Todd could taste the abundant sugar that had snuck past his lips during the blowjob. He almost swallowed on reflex, but he stopped just short of guzzling the thick cream down into his over-stuffed stomach. His body had absorbed all the sugar it could, even with the undiluted dose, yet his watch hadn’t beeped again. Todd felt scared, but at the same time, over-confident. What was the harm with swallowing this final treat?

“Cum has calories, right?” Henry surveyed the room. “Right?” But instead of gathering support for his warning, all Henry managed to do was provoke a rising chant out of the other men.

SWALLOW IT. SWALLOW IT. The room boomed with the words, the chant quickly falling into an incoherent maelstrom of demand. Clutching his belly, cheeks flushed, Todd was a spectacle of greed and humiliation as he turned from man to man with his fully, sticky cheeks. Their bulky, muscular bodies closed in around him, locking out all reason and enclosing him in one final, inescapable decision.

Todd obediently swallowed. The sugary load was warm all the way down, settling atop everything else he’d eaten that night.

The men leaned closer. Jonah, closest of all. Even Henry hovered between Todd’s legs, eyes scanning for the first signs of the inevitable. The whole room listened for the telltale alarm of the watch. Then Todd winced. The men drew closer, but all that happened was Todd let out a tiny, polite burp, followed by an open-mouthed sigh to show off his empty mouth. He was going to be okay.

“See?” he said, breathless and relieved. He held up his watch, hoping to brandish it’s victorious silence, but it was gone. A red mark on his wrist indicated where it had been until, minutes ago, he had outgrown the fitness tracker.

“Dude…” Henry started to back away. “What have you done?”

“Done? I’m fine,” Todd protested even as the couch let out a defeated crack and began to sag all the way to the floor. Todd ignored it, clutching his belly tighter as he held to the fierce denial that had preserved him all evening from facing his eventual piggy fate.

“Todd, I’m sorry buddy, but you did this to yourself,” Henry said in a patronizing voice. Todd shook his head, trying to laugh it off like this was just guy talk. “What are you talking about? I’m fine Henry. I know my limits. I’m a jock, remember? I’m—”

It happened fast, but no faster than the others. In truth, Todd’s fattening was the slowest of all, gathering momentum the entire night as his lesser peers gave in one by one. But for all its slowness it had built itself into something ten times as intense. In fact, even in the first few seconds of it, Todd realized the sizeable growth witness tonight—the twink, the instructor, Henry, and himself—was nothing compared to metabolic atom bomb he had stuffed himself with.

Still, he found himself desperately in denial against the pleasure exploding all over him.

“It’s just a bulk,” Todd whined as fat puffed up beneath his hands, his belly gathering in his arms until his hands couldn’t even meet at his deepening bellybutton. “I’ll lose this extra weight in no time,” he pleaded as his thighs thickened beneath him, the gulf of couch between his legs rapidly filling up, his knees turning into lone, lost dimples as the fat even spread down to his ankles. And finally: “I’m a jock, fuck please, someone help me. I’m a jock, remember?”

“Todd, I’m sorry kid, but you’re the biggest pig here,” Henry said, voice thick with gloating. He had won after all.

“I’m not,” Todd protested. Shaking his head, he felt the new lethargy of multiple chins gathering in a ring around his neck. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to gain back the control he’d mastered only minutes before. It was as though every tiny debt he’d incurred all evening was being paid, all at once, and he was powerless to do anything other than watch his once-perfect body explode into rolls and rolls of glossy, abundant fat. He’d taken every single bite, accepted every single challenge, and now the hog nog was soaking up every grain of sugar, burying Todd where he lay as his crush looked down with rich satisfaction.

Worst of all, though, was the emptiness. As the rapid fattening slowed, Todd felt the sudden absence of all that he’d eaten, now absorbed and repurposed. It left him with a hunger like he’d never felt before.

“Oh, is piggy ready for more?” Henry said, noticing the way Todd’s eyes flicked over the the banquet table still ladened with sweets. By now the other scenarios in the room had resumed, the ex-twink on his loveseat, the spin instructor getting gently fucked. It was just Henry and Todd now, on the ruined couch.

“I…I really shouldn’t,” Todd said, though it was more of a moan as Henry’s massive hands dug below Todd’s massive belly and found what little remained of the stud’s former length.

“Relax,” Henry said, producing a gingerbread cookie. “It’s the holidays, buddy. Calories don’t count.”

THE END

Henry caught Todd’s eye, then slapped on a big, cheesy smile. He was playing along, indicating Todd should do the same. Todd tried, but his eyes kept on sliding from smiling Johan to the spectacle of the fattened twink, and the instructor being gently bent into a fuckable position.

“What, you’re not enjoying our little show?” Johan asked, pretending to be offended. He grazed a hand over Henry’s new, even-beefier chest.

“I think we’re a little worried about becoming the show,” Henry said, biting down a sigh of pleasure. From the looks of it, he was still taking on more muscle, though it was hard to tell given Henry’s thicker stature at the start.

Johan nodded sympathetically. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Trust me. I mean sure, you might end up with just a little extra pudge, but aren’t the gains worth it? Besides, I have the fullest faith you can lose the fat…” Johan glanced at Todd, “…if you want to lose it, that is. It’s all about your control, after all. Besides, look around you . Everyone here is doing the same. The hog nog is our little annual treat.”

“Hog nog?” Todd asked. “Is that what you served us?”

“Of course! Only the best for our recruits!” The room cheered distractedly, only half paying attention to Johan as he chatted between Todd and Henry. Everyone had an eye on the instructor, who had been ushered onto all fours on the immense coffee table. A trio of beefy studs grouped behind him, greedily running their hands over his swollen hips and thighs. By the way the instructor was groaning, the cock being pushed into him was probably hitting all the right spots. The stiffness melted from the instructor’s posture as he finally relaxed. The top must have felt this, because the fucking quickly turned from a gentle easing into something much more carnal.

Todd tried to not to stare. The sooner this boner went away, the sooner he and Henry could make a run for it.

Johan was saying, “Everyone has some hog nog at the holiday party. Just a little, but we save our purest, undiluted batch for the new hires. It’s a bit of a game. A test, really. It takes great discipline to do what we do, and now’s your chance to prove yourself.”

“Prove ourselves?” Todd asked. His eyes were glued to the instructor.

“Of course. Consider it your final interview for a lifetime position with our gym. Strictly voluntary. You’re welcome to have as much or as little as you’d like, and you’re free to leave at any moment. All of you, although it appears some might be here for a while…”

Johan was referring to the instructor. The rough fucking had driven the instructor down, onto his elbows, putting his moaning face level with the treats on the table. Much of the cookies had been pushed away in the action, but someone was placing down a large, decadent cake swirled with chocolate frosting and dotted with sprinkles. Forks appeared and instead of slicing the cake, chunks were carved out and then pushed towards Todd and the other new hires.

“Trust me,” Johan said to Todd and Henry, “You both are the pinnacle of male fitness. You can handle way more than those two piggies. Don’t worry about them, though. They’ll get a free membership.”

Todd nodded. He was way more disciplined than those two. Not wanting to indicate his fear, he accepted the bite, as did Henry. Both boys moaned as they felt the body-wide aching ease into a swell as their muscles soaked up the sugar. The instructor wasn’t so lucky. The next time he moaned a bite was shoved right into his mouth, catching him by surprise. From behind, the top fucking him pushed in extra deep, inspiring another open-mouthed moan, and in went another bite, and another, and another, until the instructor’s cheeks were bulging as he chewed. For a moment he was caught in a daze, but then his eyes flung open and a hand rushed to his belly.

“Oh god,” he shouted through his full mouth. “Ooooh god, ooooh god!” His watch beeped madly.

“Now he’s really over done it,” Johan murmured.

With each thrust, more and more of the instructor’s body seemed to be rippling with fat. Everything was starting to jiggle, as though something was building in him. He must have felt it, too. He kept moaning “Oh god, oh goddd,” as he was getting fucked, but the panic was gone. Now, it sounded like a man being brought to climax. Even his hands—which had urgently tried to stop the fat from spreading—rose to pinch at his puffy nipples pointing from quickly swelling tits.

“Head down, pig,” commanded the top as he grabbed the instructor’s once-narrow shoulders and shoved him into the ruined cake. To Todd’s surprise, the instructor opened wide, accepting the dessert as others reached around him to help him scoop more into his panting, moaning mouth. It was beyond hot, but there was no way that was going to happen to Todd next. Right? Todd chewed with his eyes glued to the fattening instructor, breaking only to assess the ex-twink, who was practically overflowing the tiny love seat all by himself now. What pigs, Todd thought as he swallowed. How pathetic. And how hot. He and Henry were going to be fine, and probably laugh about this later.

And then Henry’s watch began to beep.

“Fuuuuuck.” Henry let out a low groan. His hands splayed over his gut. Almost in time with the slow beeps of his watch, a pressure seemed to be building under his hands. “Fuck. Fuck man,” he groaned. The way his face was screwed up, it was hard to tell if the sensation was pleasant or painful. Either way, his jaw still chewed and chewed, like his mouth was on auto-pilot.

“Henry? Your watch—” Todd started to say, but Johan shut him up with a snap of his fingers.

“Hush. This is the moment…” Johan trailed off. The room was quiet now—even the instructor moans lowered as the tops fucking him slowed down. Everyone’s eyes were on Henry, whose watch cried out on his wrist. Henry’s eyes were squeezed shut and he kept whispering “Fuck, fuck no, fuck, fuck.”

He was still chewing, though.

Johan’s hand was suddenly on Todd’s shoulder. “Look. His chest.” Todd held his breath and leaned closer. Sure enough, Henry’s pecs were swelling to the point that his shirt was about to bust open. One more bite—which Henry was chewing at this very instant—and it seemed the shirt was doomed. The whole room watched with lustful focus as Henry’s stubbled throat flexed, taking the massive bite down and into him. Even Todd held his breath, aware that he was harder than ever beneath over the pillow he clutched in his lap. What was going to happen to Henry? Shouldn’t he stop his friend from going too far?

Except for Henry’s watch, the room was silent. Then Henry let out a groan of discomfort and, quite loudly, the first button on his shirt popped off. It zinged into the crowd, ignored, as all eyes watched Henry’s pecs swell through the newly widened crevice in his straining clothes. But the show wasn’t over. In seconds Henry’s pecs swelled even further, jeopardizing the next button, and the next, but like clockwork they popped off, unable to keep his new body contained. Henry let out a cry each time, but it was clear the extra room was a relief. Soon, his beautifully tanned skin was straining through tiny rips in the shirt, pulling seams apart at the shoulders and biceps.

But Todd’s eyes were on Henry’s belly, clamped beneath the man’s strong hands. Thick puffs of fat were pushing between his fingers, ballooning under the shirt, and Todd found himself anticipating the moment it all ripped apart and he got to see the damage once and for all.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” Johan said to Todd, surprising him. “You’re curious, aren’t you?”

“I’m good, I’ve had enough,” Todd said.

“But has he?”

Henry’s watch had slowed it’s beeping. His growth had all but paused. The room rustled with disappointment, but Johan’s smile was reassuring.

“Dear Henry here seems right on the verge, ready to tip. Do you know what that means, Todd?”

Todd shook his head, mesmerized by the sweat that dotted Henry’s face.

Johan pushed closer. “It means, Todd, that you’ve nearly won.”

Todd was nodding despite himself. This had been a competition all along, had it not? To see who could last the longest? Who was most in shape? Henry’s watch had beeped before Todd’s, but for some reason it wasn’t over. Maybe because Henry had managed to stop, just in time, before he was a total goner like the other two. Todd looked at Johan, confused, and saw the answer in the older guy’s hand. Another gingerbread man. Johan placed the cookie in Todd’s palm, saying, “Go on, then. Earn your victory.”

Henry was still breathing hard. His eyes were squeezed tight and his lips pressed together in denial. But Todd couldn’t help himself. He brought the cookie to his friend’s lips. Even just the smell made Henry’s eyelids flutter, and his lips part. One more bight was all Henry would need…

“Not so fast, Todd,” Johan cut in. “It wouldn’t be fair if one of you had more than the other, would it? That would hardly prove who is in better shape. If you want to really impress us, you’ll have to go bite for bite.”

“Bite for bite?”

Johan’s smile was simply too sweet as he produced yet another gingerbread man, wagging it in front of Todd’s own face. It smelled incredible, like nothing Todd had ever tasted. Instantly his mouth was watering. But…could he afford another bite? Johan seemed to think so. The risk was colossal, though, and shouldn’t he be helping his friend, not feeding him? Then again, he’d had a crush on Henry since they met. Maybe if Henry was dying to get back in shape, and Todd was in the best shape of his life, they could start something amazing.

Before Todd could decide, he felt something warm on his hand and heard Henry moan. To Todd’s horror (and delight) Henry was eating the cookie right out of his hand! Sucking it down with sensuous greed. It was incredibly hot feeling the man’s lips graze his fingertips, eager for the treat, and Todd’s own mouth hung open to accept Johan’s offer. Bite for bite. What was so bad about that? The cookie tasted incredible, and being fed while he fed his friend was achingly hot. He forgot all about his watch, or the new tightness in his thighs, or his rock-hard boner. He swallowed dryly, not even noticing Jonah beginning to feed him a second cookie.

“Just a little…more…” Johan whispered. The whole room was watching.

Todd was totally lost in Henry’s half-lidded stare, which somehow shined with both total surrender and an accusatory glint. Then something shifted, and Henry’s eyes fluttered wide, suddenly lucid as Todd pushed the last leg of gingerbread man into him.

“Dude,” Henry said, spitting crumbs, “Todd, what the fuck, man? What the fuck did you do to me—oh fuck. Oh my god. Holy shit. Holy—”

Henry’s watch beeped frantically one final time, then went quiet. Henry lurched back, pressing into the couch like he was trying to escape his own body. The pressure in his gut was audible now, pushing hard on the already strained fabric of his shirt. He looked around, desperate, but his eyes landed back on Todd. Large men behind the sofa pried Henry’s hands off his distended belly, forcing them to his sides so that everyone could get a good view at what was about to happen.

“Fuck, I can’t…I can’t stop it. Fuck Todd, help me, help meeeee.”

But it was already done. Henry’s middle quickly buckled outward, love handles flowing over the tight leather of his belt. His belly ballooned forward, into his lap, and with a final cry the last buttons of his shirt flew off. The men began to cheer—this is what they had been after—but the celebration died right away when Henry’s exposed belly didn’t slow down. No, instead of simply freeing itself, the tight fat of Henry’s new gut kept flowing. Softening. Trembling. Growing. And despite the man’s protests it was clear he was bound for bear-hood. Within seconds, Henry was sporting the belly of a 300 lb, overfed ex-powerlifter, with fatty pecs to match. The room gawked, amazed at the results, and the men holding Henry’s arms finally let go. Henry grazed his hands over his new gut, transfixed. Almost appreciative. Then, with his hands proudly settled on his belly, Henry winked at Todd.

“Knew you had it in you,” Henry said, his voice strong and clear. He sounded normal, no sign of the sugar-drunk piggy from a second ago. Todd was confused.

Henry flexed his chest, his arms, garnering praise from the men around the room. “This is perfect, Todd. Good work. I’ve been wanting to try out the bear look, but all the eating seemed like so much work. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Wait,” Todd sat back. “You wanted this? You were in control?”

“Sure,” Henry shrugged. “Listen, this test is all about self-control, but also not being afraid to push others. Push other’s hard. And you did great.”

What? This was a test, too? Henry was faking, just going along with the scared act to see what Todd would do? Johan’s sly smile seemed to confirm this. The men around the room were giving approving nods. Other activities had recommenced. The instructor began to moan again as the guys fucking him swapped out. The twink, now horribly obese, slurped noisily from a milkshake someone held up to his chubby face.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Johan asked Todd, who could barely sputter a response. Was it finally over? Did he win? Johan slapped him on the shoulder, saying, “How about another drink, eh?”

It was too much for Todd. All of the men staring, their bulging physiques, the smell of their sweat and spit, the smell of sugar in the air. His head swam and Henry’s new, bulging belly filled his vision even though he tried desperately to think of anything else. He could feel his body reaching its limit. His muscles were tight and sensitive like he’d worked out for three days straight, and they were begging to soften. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to go. Now.

“I’m sorry. I need to go.” Todd heaved himself up, but his balance was terrible now. His legs, powerful as they were, were a new impediment, and the lightness in his head was terrible. He clutched the pillow still, but now he was only vaguely aware of his cock. The room throbbed, but worse was the pleasure that rushed through Todd. Waves of it, like before, but why? He’d just had a little more, right?

“What’s this? A little starter belly?”

Shit, Todd thought. He’d wanted to pinch and poke at himself this whole time, but a sense of denial fought off any urge to confirm his worse fears were coming true. Johan steadied him from behind, the boss’s hands sliding around the taught fabric clinging to Todd’s hip. Todd squeezed his eyes shut, seeing himself only by the Jonah’s wandering hands, which gradually squeezed a new heft of fat gathered against Todd’s belt.

“I ate a lot,” Todd whined. A weak, insipid denial.

“Oh, we know,” Johan laughed as he gently pried Todd’s belt open. Todd felt a pressure relieve, and his head cleared just a bit. That felt nice, but he had to keep his wits. He could go whenever, right? Those were the rules, but he couldn’t leave if he was naked.

“What’s this?” Johan’s hand grazed Todd’s bulge, which was still hard, and quite wet with precum. Todd swore, realizing he’d forgotten about this particular detail. He sat down, trying to rummage up his belt, but his bloated belly was firm and inconvenient. Why was he so out of breath, too? He felt hot all over, like his tiny protest had been a grand attempt at escape. The men nearby laughed, noticing the sweat on his brow. Johan knelt before Todd, walking his fingers over Todd’s rounded belly.

“Well that’s a twist,” Johan said. “Here I thought you were just feeding Henry out of ambition, but all along you’ve had other interests.”

“What?” Henry had sat up a bit, hands on his knees. His arms rested on his new, furry gut. Todd wanted to shut Johan up, but maybe Johan would take mercy on him, finally.

“Our star personal trainer Todd,” Johan lifted his voice so the whole room could hear him. “….is rock hard.”

The men went suddenly quiet, captivated again. A few hands pulled Todd down so he was sitting slouched on the sofa, only able to see the mound of his belly and his heavy pecs barely contained in his shirt. Past his belly, Johan’s eyes were fixed on Todd’s groin. Todd felt his underwear being pulled aside, and cool air finally breath over his cock.

He sat up, embarrassed, but to Todd’s surprise Henry reached forward and wrapped a strong hand around his cock. His touch was firm, but kind, and the ample precum created just enough slide that all the fight went out of Todd’s muscles.

“Now, how about that drink?” Henry asked, slowly massaging his slick thumb over Todd’s cockhead.