You look hungry.

Sorry this took so long! But can confirm that part 3 is already nearly complete, so enjoy! (Find part one here)

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Ethan woke to the 4th burger taunting him; taunting him for his gluttony, taunting him for his weakness. He brushed his hand against the bloat from the other 3 burgers, still very much present on his frame, a nervous queasiness in the pit of his stomach.

Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to push his midnight binge out of his mind, unceremoniously binning the final burger in a meagre show of willpower. He had made the right decision, he told himself. For one, his dick was finally soft. He’d regained some control. Though for whatever control he’d gained over his dick, he’d lost over his timing. Post-release, he’d slept like a log, and he barely had time to throw on some clothes before rushing off to the warehouse.

“An extra $10,000 is an extra $10,000.” Ethan muttered as he bustled out his door. Not-quite-successfully quieting the part of him screaming not to go back – the part begging him to just take the $20,000 and run, the part warning that the money was not really why he was returning – but he was not ready to face that thought just yet, turning all his attention to getting to the warehouse in time. And there it was, looming into view. Once again the steel door swung open, and Ethan was back in the locker room.

Unprompted, he undressed, with the small confidence of settling into a routine, though this time his hands sheepishly hovered over his bloat rather than his dick, and he felt a cringe of embarrassment as his fingers grazed the dried cum still on his stomach from his late-night surrender.

A small moment passed, and Ethan felt a breeze pass over his exposed ass, turning to see that a new door had opened off the locker room.

“Should I go through?”

The only answer was a trail of gently glowing arrows silently leading the way. And Ethan cautiously followed them.

It was just a shower. He felt a moment of relief as he saw the warm water falling from the ceiling. He hadn't known what he was expecting. Stepping into it was blissful, he barely even shuddered as mechanical arms appeared to scrub and fondle him, and quickly he abandoned any pretence of trying to wash himself, just letting the machine do its thing. The mechanical hands gently massaged his body, working their way into his pits, down his ass crack, over his tender bloat, bringing his dick so easily to attention.

How had they known I needed a shower, did I really look that dishevelled? He tried to quiz himself through the gentle pleasurings of the machine. Do we always need to be showered on the third day? The thought sent a shiver through his body – No. There is no 'we'. I'm nothing like those fat guys through there. I'm just here for the money. But even that affirmation sent another shiver through him, and not an entirely unpleasurable one. He couldn't shake the memories of the men, just eating, cumming, growing. He needed to be back in that room.

The great machinery of the place was towelling him off; too embarrassed to present himself to the man in the lab coat already erect, Ethan quickly tried to cool himself off, but at the slightest delay in the perfectly oiled functioning of this strange operation, a voice came over the intercom, “Please proceed to the processing chamber, failure to comply with result in removal from the programme”.

A new set of lights beckoned him forward, and Ethan hurriedly trotted along. He wasn’t ready to let this experience end. He burst into the main room, the ‘processing chamber’, coming face-to-face with the man in the lab coat. Unprepared, Ethan’s arms flung to cover himself, though they didn’t know quite whether to try and hide his erection, or his bloat. The hurried action only elicited a small smirk from the man, as a predatory look briefly flashed over his eyes, before his cold demeanour returned.

“This way please.” As if Ethan needed directing back to his faithful chair.

In spite of himself, Ethan craned to see Alex, spotting him practically fellating an éclair. He was bigger, no doubt about it. What only a couple of days ago was a touch of softness was now rounded out into a proper little belly, a crease across his chest where his once meaty pecs, now moobs, met his stomach, his soft ass spreading out on the seat. Ethan’s eyes darted over Alex’s body, taking in every fattened inch, the pure look of gluttonous joy on his face.

No. Ethan averted his eyes, only to turn his gaze to an even fatter man, fat rippling as the machine fucked him, fed him. No. He forced his eyes shut. This was not going to plan. He was feeling frantic. He thought he’d gained back some of his will. Was he really so weak that all it took was a little fondle in the shower and one look at his neighbour to break him? Not just his neighbour, the rows and rows of men, the sounds, the cumming, the feasting. No. He wasn’t into that. He wasn’t like that.

A small cough from the man in the lab coat brought him back to reality, opening his eyes to see Alex smirking at him. Alex's eyes briefly moved down to Ethan's obviously bloated stomach, only to re-establish eye-contact and suggestively gorge himself on an éclair. Ethan felt himself blush. No, Alex wasn't hot, him stuffing himself wasn't hot, get a hold of yourself.

“Glad to see you came back.” Alex said after getting the last of his éclair down, licking his lips to get every last trace of the cream.

“The money’s too good; it would be stupid to not come.” Ethan retorted, lowering himself into the chair.

“Yeah, the money.” Alex’s speech was punctuated with thrusts from his chubby groin, as a mechanical hand slipped little chocolate bonbons into his mouth.

How does he eat so much? How do they all eat so much? He could still feel the late-night burgers filling his stomach up to the brim, especially as the slick rod of the machine probed his asshole.

“Feeding?”

“No.” Ethan responded, some confidence in his plan returning: the intermingled moans of cumming and feasting couldn’t work their way into his mind when he was this full. Though there that smirk was again on the man’s face as he affixed the milker to Ethan’s dick. He flicked open a control panel on the arm rest, in reach of Ethan's restrained hands.

"Push this if you change your mind." He says gesturing to a central button, and with that he was off. Even before he was out of sight the machine was ramping up, pumping at his dick and thrusting at his ass. Ethan felt a wave of relaxation wash over him as his muscles leant into the motion of chair. This was good. A wave of pleasure radiated from his dick. This was right. The room faded into a mass of groans and eating, a rhythm of thrusts and jiggling flab.

The pressure was building and building, a sheen of sweat gathering from his thrusting and writhing, but he couldn't get the release he craved, the release he needed. Something was wrong – his focus kept shifting back to his stomach, and the lingering sensation of his late-night gorge.

"You must be hungry. Thrusting like that's hard work." Alex's words came muffled through a mouthful of pizza, the ever-present feeding hands having switched back from sweet to savoury. Hunger? Was that what he was feeling? No. He was still full –the glorious memory of cumming as he stuffed that third burger down washed over him, the sensation of his stomach stretching out with the sheer amount of food. He wasn't that full, not anymore.

"Hmm. You're not being receptive to the process. Did you do anything unusual last night?" The words cut across Ethan’s thoughts – how long had the man been stood there?

"N-no," he stammered out, the machine still working him from both ends; and Ethan could have sworn he saw a smirk briefly flash across the man's face. He couldn't admit what he’d done, that he had gone home and stuffed himself. He wasn't like the other men here, eating like pigs, letting themselves get fatter and fatter. He stole a quick glance back at Alex, who had already returned to devoting his full attention to the food. No, he wasn’t like that.

"Well, whatever the cause, you'll need to have this," Ethan turned back to see the man holding out a small medicine cup of clear liquid. Ethan hesitated, "w-what – what is it?", the machine quickening around his cock. Another wave of humiliation rolled over him; he felt so pathetic here, writhing as the machine milked him – while the man just stood there, fully dressed, composed, in control.

"It's a new compound we've been developing. Drink it.' The man brought the cup to Ethan's lips, but Ethan backed away. “Non-compliance will result in termination from the programme," and seemingly on queue, the machine thrust deeper into his ass, sending a wave of pleasure rolling over Ethan, a wave of pleasure that only seemed to stoke the need growing inside him – he was so close to the bliss of the day before.

"No!" He didn't want to think about how desperate his voice sounded. In that moment he couldn't pretend it was about the money, what this machine was doing to him, what it did to him yesterday. He needed it.

"Then drink." And this time there was no denying the smirk on the man's face as Ethan complied.

The liquid was sweet, and it went down easy. For a moment, fear prickled on the back of his neck as he watched the man walk away. What had he done. The world seemed to pause as the reality of his situation came crashed around him; his heart racing as he found himself staring at the fat man across from him, half expecting the substance to make his own body to suddenly balloon to that man’s size. But no change came, and Ethan found himself just watching the ripples flowing through the man’s fat, each set off by a lazy thrust of his cock.

The way his fat moved, it was calming, hypnotic. Ethan just stared at that belly. It was fine, this was fine, he was fine. He did feel fine; Ethan glanced down to his flat stomach; the small trace of bloat was gone. It was just something to help his digestion. Calm returning to his body, Ethan felt himself relaxing into the caress of the chair. No barriers between him and that blissful place. He was ready.

Body arching, toes curling, hours/moments later, Ethan felt the machine slowing around him, the slick rod pulling out of his ass. His body bristled with annoyance; there was no way of counting the number of times he had cum today, but he wanted more: so quickly he was becoming used to the constant stimulation, the constant pleasure, the pampering. Any interruption to it was not acceptable.

A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the man in the lab coat slide the milking machine off his still-hard cock. For a second he felt the words forming within in him. Stop. More. But the superior look on the man's face pulled him back down to earth, cheeks flushing with shame as the last few droplets of cum dribbled out of the end of his dick.

"Your shift is over. Your production was better today," and like it was the most normal thing in the world, or like Ethan wasn't even worth consideration, the man stroked up Ethan's cock with two gloved fingers, scooping those last droplets into the machine. "But it’s not where it could be. This is hard work," - and Ethan could feel the trace of sarcasm in his words - "you've got to keep the body fuelled."

"Hmph," for once a flicker of pride, arrogance, rose within Ethan, "I think the guys here are getting more than enough 'fuel'." But even as the words came out of his mouth he felt the scent of a greasy burger grace his nostrils, he was hungry. That was normal, he hadn't eaten all day – or however long he'd been in that chair – but he wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing his hunger.

The man didn't respond to that; and Ethan looked around, seeing if any of the other men had been goaded into a response, but even Alex wasn't paying him any attention: his full attention devoted to playing with his swelling tits, fingers running over his nipples as what looked like melted ice cream dribbled down his chin, the machine pumping even more than Alex could handle into his greedy mouth. Not that he seemed to mind.

Despite himself, Ethan's cock twitched at the sight, a motion dutifully noted by the man in the lab coat. There was something about seeing him like that, greedy, pathetic. Ethn almost wanted to go over and lick the ice cream right off his face. No. Snap out of it. No. He needed to get out of here.

And finally, he was.

Breathe. His stomach rumbled.

Breathe. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel of his car.

He really was hungry.

Ethan hadn't even managed to leave the car park, his ass planted in the driver's seat, talking to himself. "Look, you haven't eaten all day, you do need to eat something." Something, images of burgers floated through his mind; burgers, doughnuts, cream cakes; his mouth was watering. He knew 'something' should perhaps be healthier fare, but it was late, he didn't have anything in, the shops were closed - the rationalizations came thick and fast. Slowly, he turned out of the car park, making his way to a nearby drive-thru – just the one burger, he was in control.

He didn't even manage to make it home before he started tucking in – the smell of it filling the car, it smelt like there, he couldn't take it.

But the release when it hit his lips, his dick immediately tented in his shorts – with one hand he held the burger, as the other snaked down into his boxers, coating his dick with a light film of burger grease. It was delicious, he couldn't remember a burger tasting this good, his full body giving into the pleasure. Too soon, the last bite, it was over. The realisation of what he was doing crashed over him – if anyone had seen him, dick-in-hand on the side of the road, stuffing his face. He had to go, but he hadn't even cum, his dick furiously tenting in his shorts to remind him of this fact. And worst of all,

he was still hungry.

---

The email was sparse, almost alarming so - "Young male needed, 10 AM. Address below. No questions asked. $10,000 per day." The address was in a part of town Ethan didn’t recognise, but the number, the number blew him away. $10,000 for a single night’s work, it was ludicrous, it was impossible, his mind racing with just what kind of work could entail that compensation, and this method of recruitment. But he forced those thoughts out of his mind, he forced away the thoughts that it was some strange prank, he had to. Rent was overdue, everything was overdue, and he’d been living off ramen for weeks. He had to take it, he was desperate.

The building was unassuming from the outside, a large warehouse on the edge of an industrial park, but oddly, the area seemed deserted. Willing himself on, thinking of the money, Ethan moved up to the heavy steel door. Before he could even knock, the door swung open of its own accord, revealing a small locker room. Stepping in, the door closed behind him, sapping what little of his confidence was there to begin with. 

“Ethan?” A voice called from a speaker in the corner. He nodded. “Good. Strip.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, but he was prepared, in honesty being part of some rich pervert’s sex game was towards the better end of the dramatic scenarios he had been running through his head. “$10,000” he thought to himself. “For one day.”

He reached for the hem of his shirt, awkwardly tugging his clothes off, feeling the chill of the air and the beady gaze of a camera on his nude body. One of the lockers swung upon. 

“Deposit your clothes.”

Ethan obliged, naked and self-conscious. Another door swung open, gently glowing arrows on the floor marked a path.

“You’ll be working in a sterile environment. Go. Follow the lights.”

Walking down the dim corridor, Ethan couldn’t help but cup his privates in a bid to maintain some dignity. Little did he realise how little he had to worry about. Turning the corner, the hallway opened up into a massive room, taking up a significant portion of the warehouse, and he had to stop and gasp. Rows and rows of chairs line the space, or something like a chair, something like a dentist’s chair turned up to eleven. Each chair occupied, if that’s the term, with a man fully strapped in. Mechanical arms and tubes hovering around them, holding plates of food, and pipes of - the smell hit him - cum.

“Over here”, a voice said, barely registering in his state of shock. He turned his head to see a man in a lab coat next to him, clipboard in hand, next to some sort of large scanning device. He gestured for Ethan to enter. “W-what?” Ethan half-stuttered as he stepped into the indicated spot, brain still reeling.

“Will just take a second.” One hand gently parting Ethan’s own, still clutched over his dick. Before jotting down some quick readings from the machine.

“This way, we’ll get you hooked-up.” He said as he strode down one of the rows, expecting Ethan to follow.

Ethan trotted along behind, trying to fully take in the scene around him. The men varied in size, from a few that sported a trim physique like his own, to the slightly chubby, to the massively obese with their bodies spilling over the edges of the chairs, faces rapturous.

His stomach churned. One man was softly moaning as a mechanical hand fed him a dripping burger, his belly jiggling with each bite as the machine gently massaged his fat. Another with eyes glazed over as he furiously thrust into a… milking machine? Thick ropes of cum pumping from his cock into a tube.

What the hell is this place? Ethan thought, his legs trembling. But the memory of his bank account, sitting at a pitiful $27, forced him forward.

They stopped in front of a chair, and he lowered himself into it, his hands gripping the armrests as the man in the lab coat strapped him in. Cold metal clamps were secured around his wrists and ankles, and some electrodes were attached to his chest, dangerously close to his nipples.

The man reached into the depths of the machine and pulled out a tube, Ethan desperately tried to avoid eye contact as he felt it slide over his cock, realising, in spite of himself, that merely the act of putting it in had started to get his dick chubbed up, and he noticed a smirk on the man’s lips.

A mechanical arm holding a burger, dripping with grease, wheeled into view.

“No. I’m not—I’m not doing that,” he said, his voice shaking. “The feeding thing. I won’t.”

The man in the lab coat shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’ll make the process longer, but it’s your choice.” He pressed a button, and the machine whirred to life. Ethan tensed as a pumping, sucking sensation started around his cock. The sensation was… strange, almost clinical, but as the machine ramped up, a low groan escaped his lips.

“First time?” a voice asked. Ethan turned his head to see the man in the chair next to him. He was fitter than a lot of the others, his body only just starting to soften around the edges. His cheeks were slightly round, his belly a patch of softness rather than a massive swell, and his ‘pecs’ were just starting to be a bit too puffy to keep the name. He was strapped into a similar machine, but unlike Ethan, he was happily accepting the food being offered by a mechanical hand.

“Uh… yeah,” Ethan managed, his voice tight as the machine continued to work him. “What is this place?”

The man chuckled, taking a bite of a glazed donut held an inch from his mouth. “Paradise, man. They pay you to sit here, get fed, and… well, you know.” He gestured down to his cock being worked over by the milking machine, causing Ethan to quickly look away once he realised where his attention was being drawn. “Ha.” he chuckled around a mouthful of donut. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. I’ve been coming here for a bit. The name’s Alex.” Absent-mindedly, he stuck his finger into the pliant flesh accumulating around his stomach. “I’m loving it. The food, the ease, the way it feels to just… let go. You’ll see.”

Did he realise? Did he see he was getting fat? Did he not see he was on his way to being one of the fatties overflowing his chair? Ethan opened his mouth incredulously, but the machine chose that moment to intensify its rhythm, and his words were lost in a sharp gasp. His head fell back against the chair as pleasure surged through him, his body winning against his disgust. How can this feel so good? He thought, his mind swimming. Alex chuckled again, his voice low and knowing.

“See? You’re already getting it. Just let go, man. Let the machine do its thing. You’ll thank me later.”

Ethan stood outside the warehouse the next day, staring fixedly at the door. He could barely believe it was all real, he wouldn’t have been able to believe it was all real if the money hadn’t already appeared in his account.

The machine, Alex, the pleasure. It had caught him all off guard.

The money. He was here for the money. He kept repeating the mantra to himself. What was happening in that warehouse was gross and wrong. He was coming back for the money.

He approached the door, and it swung open. He stepped inside, stripped, packed away his clothes, and mentally prepared himself to stride back into that room.

Walking back into the milking room, hands once again sheepishly covering his cock, he was struck by the sight of so many men moaning, cumming, eating, growing. Even knowing what was coming he wasn’t ready for it, the sounds, the sight of chubby flesh sliding being fondled by mechanical arms, the smells of greasy food, and a hint of cum, tickling his nostrils. The man in the lab coat was back by the entrance, he looked him up and down, and wordlessly led him back to the same chair. 

Moving through the rows of men being serviced he couldn’t help but think -  they were all already here, did they stagger the entrances? Did they ever leave? The question made him shudder.

The cold leather and metal of the seat kissed his skin as he lowered himself into the chair. The man wrapped the familiar straps around his wrists and ankles.

“Feeding?” Questioned the man. Ethan resolutely shook his head, eyes fixed on his neighbour from yesterday. Alex was deep in the throes of feeding, sucking down chocolate milk from a metal appendage, almost looking like he was trying to give it a blow-job, the odd dribble escaping his lips. All while wildly bucking his hips into the milking machine. Even worse, around his stomach the machine was gently prodding and poking his softness, kneading his flab, caressing his love handles - was he bigger than yesterday? He couldn’t possibly be in just one day.

“Day two includes additional stimulation,” the words cut across Ethan’s stream of thought.

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Wait, what—”

But the man in the lab coat was already pressing buttons on the machine, and before Ethan could protest, he felt something warm and slick press against his entrance. He gasped, his body tensing, but the machine didn’t stop. The pressure increased, and then it was inside him—smooth, firm, and unrelenting.

“Fuck!” Ethan moaned, his fingers gripping the armrests of the chair. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of discomfort and pleasure that made his head spin. The machine began to move, slowly at first, then faster, and Ethan’s breath came in short, ragged gasps.

“Relax,” came a voice from beside him. “It’s better if you don’t fight it.”

Ethan turned his head, his vision blurry with pleasure. The sound of him getting fucked had roused Alex from his stupour, if not his feasting, and now his eyes were alight with mischief.

“You’re back,” he said with a grin, as the chocolate milk hose backed away from his mouth, only to be replaced with a burger clasped by a robotic arm. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Shut up,” Ethan growled, but his voice lacked conviction. The machine was doing things to him, things he couldn’t ignore. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through his body, and the milking device on his cock was relentless, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

The man chuckled, low and knowing. “You don’t have to pretend with me, man. I can see it in your eyes. You like this.”

Ethan shook his head, but the words felt hollow. Because, deep down, he did like it. The pleasure was too much, too intense, and the man’s voice—smooth, teasing, almost hypnotic—was worming its way into his brain.

“That’s it,” the man purred, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go. Let the machine take you. You’re here now. You might as well enjoy it.”

Ethan could feel his resistance crumbling. His body arched as the machine thrust deeper, and a moan escaped his lips, raw and unfiltered. The man beside him let out another laugh, and Ethan could hear the sound of the mechanical hand feeding him, the soft squelch of food being shoved into his mouth.

“You’re doing great,” the man said between bites. “Just like that. Let it all out. Feel it.”

Ethan’s head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure consumed him. The machine was relentless, its rhythm unyielding, and the man’s voice was a constant presence, urging him on, pushing him further.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” the man continued, his voice low and husky. “All tied up, being milked, loving every second of it. I can’t wait to see how you look after a few more sessions. You’ll be just like me—big, soft, perfect.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. The words should have disgusted him, but instead, they sent a jolt of arousal through his body. His cock throbbed in the milking device, and he could feel himself getting closer, his orgasm building with every thrust, every word.

“Come on, man,” the man whispered, his tone almost tender. “Let it go. Let me see you.”

Ethan’s control snapped. His body convulsed as pleasure ripped through him, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. He cried out, his voice echoing through the room, and for a moment, the world disappeared. There was nothing but the machine, the pleasure, and the man beside him.

When he finally came down, his body limp and spent, the man let out a soft, satisfied sigh. “That’s my boy,” he said, his voice warm and approving. “Now… let’s do it again.”

And he had done it, again, and again, and again. More pleasure coursing through his body than he thought possible, more cum extracted from his cock than he thought his body could allow. Yet here Ethan was, tossing and turning in his bed, his dick stiff to attention, and Alex running through his head. Somehow being serviced in that place has left him feeling anything but released. From the second he left he has been desperate to touch himself, To touch Alex. No. He resolutely abstained, he couldn’t admit that that place, that machine, was having an effect on him. He was more than his dick.

And so here he was, where he had been since the second he got in, led on his bed, willing for sleep that will not come. Frantically pushing images out of his mind.

Soft. Alex was so soft, he could remember the machinery of the chair fondling Alex’s soft belly, sinking into the pliant flesh. What would it feel like to sink his fingers into Alex’s fatness? What would it feel like for the cold metal to sink into his.

No. Ethan shook his head for the hundredth time. But still the memories came, this time of the orgasmic joy on Alex’s face as a fresh donut was pressed against his lips. The way he would moan and squirm as he stuffed himself in time to the machine’s milking of his cock. It couldn’t possibly feel that good could it?

This wouldn’t do. He could feel his resolve slipping away, picture himself saying yes to the man in the lab coat, taste the burger on his lips. He wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t become like the others, being fed by that machine; but he needed rest, needed sleep to recover his willpower, he needed to take control of the situation. 

He picked up his phone, scrolling through delivery options - it was the middle of the night but he knew the city wouldn’t disappoint him. He would do it now, on his terms. His fingers tapped out a burger order - just one, no two, no four. “I’ll arrive so full I won’t even be able to dream of saying yes to the feeding.” Ethan said to himself, and his erection.

Too long, the delivery took too long, and yet Ethan barely had the wherewithal to chuck on some boxers, taking the burgers from the driver while very obviously tented. He ripped into the take out bag with abandon, one hand bringing a burger to his lips, the other racing to his dick. He let his mind drift back to Alex, where it had been wanting to go all night. 

“I’ll get it out of my system. Just this once and I’ll get it out of my system.”

The floodgates had well and truly opened. He remembered Alex’s moans, the glances at Alex’s dick he told himself he couldn’t have avoided making, a mechanical hand tweaking Alex’s puffy nipple. His mind slipped further, further than he would care to admit, remembering the nameless fatso in the chair opposite him. At least wanking over Alex was defensible, an obviously fit guy recently gone a bit to seed. The guy opposite him was something else. But still the image of him blissfully sucking down some fattening substance played in Ethan’s mind. The flavour of the burger filled Ethan’s mouth, harmonizing with the memories of the men getting fed. Like he was there, like he was them. The first burger was wolfed down quickly, Ethan barely even took notice of it as he worked his cock, the second one didn’t take much longer, but by the third, he was painfully full. He wanted more, more food, more pleasure, but he knew he was reaching his limit for how long he could draw this out. He was getting closer, and closer, feeling his stomach pushed way past his usual limit. He forced the last of the third burger into his mouth, and he was there, wave after wave of pleasure radiating over his body out from his cock. Within moments he was passed out, a dribble of cum drying on his bloated belly.

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Part 2 here

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