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of course he was way into it at first. practically begged me to do it to him. looks like reality’s starting to sink in a little too late for bull bro here. so horny, he can’t focus on his job. so foggy in the head, he hasn’t read a book in months. been dripping so much milk into his shorts, his meaty fore-hooves are startin to smell a little cheesy. dry humped his bed so fuckin hard, he busted the frame in half and now he’s gotta sleep on the floor. when he goes out with his straight bros, only thing he wants to do is rut. spread the programming around, build a heard he can graze and bulk with. slow it down, big guy! got a single pen for you lined up, not openin a cattle farm! he’s already proving a way bigger time sink that i intended. absolutely fuckin insatiable. needs to stop by my place six times a day to get milked. begs me to make it stop. says this isn’t wanted he wanted. uh… yeah it was. whadja think was gonna happen, bro? think i wasn’t gonna mindfuck you into a big dumb horny animal?

Daddy held the spoon still for a moment. The boy sat naked, and let out a slight moan of discomfort.

“Come on boy. It’s Thanksgiving, you know the drill. Just like last year. My special rules still apply.”

The boy cradled his distended gut, and let out a whimper from his mash-potato caked mouth. Daddy gave him a moment of reprieve, the spoon held motionless in mid air, gravy glistening in the low light.

“Locktober and No-Nut November only end when this whole platter is in your greedy stomach.”

The boy looked up at his Daddy, his mind awash with the haze of being much too full and having been hand fed for over an hour. The green been casserole, the pumpkin pies, the eggnog, the catering sized tray of mashed potato, as well as the entirety of this turkey, all destined to be made into new fat on his ever growing body.

Daddy’s round gut strained against a tank TShirt which read “Who’s getting stuffed this Thanksgiving?”, a bush of wiry chest hair sprouting out from the top, and his artic blue eyes stared directly into the boy’s gaze - never quite settling between a state of kind tenderness, and a dominant intensity. The boy felt a surge in his locked groin, and slowly opened his mouth again.

“That’s it, that’s my good fat boy. Only a few more mouthfuls of turkey left, and you’re done. You’re so close.” Daddy pushed the spoon into boy’s mouth gently. “Swallow. Come on boy.” Then with a sudden sternness he repeated: “Swallow.”

The boy wriggled and whimpered as he chewed the mouthfuls of turkey and swallowed them down, some escaping from the sides of his mouth and creating sticky trails of gravy. The boy stopped again, panting and shifting uncomfortably, his pierced tits jiggling, and belly sloshing from side to side. He opened his large thighs so that his distended belly could hang lower, and hopefully allow the food to settle.

Daddy’s patience had expired and he took the boy’s chin in his hand and pushed downwards to open the boy’s mouth, before shovelling in another spoonful. “I told you. To. Swallow.” A further spoonful followed, then another. The boy was panting heavily, trying to time his laboured breathing in between spoonful after spoonful of food. His huge gut gurgled and his locked cock began to strain against the cage as it became engorged.

“See, was that so hard?” The intensity of Daddy’s voice faded into a gentle whisper, “I do hate having to use that side on you my boy, but know that it is necessary sometimes, to show you how much further you can go, than you think.”

The boy nodded meekly and swallowed the final spoonful. Daddy pulled up a chair alongside his boy, and rubbed the boy’s huge distended gut in gentle circles. The boy whimpered and moaned as the pressure eased slightly.

“That’s my good fat boy, I can tell you are now in the right headspace, and you are filled to capacity….

….So.

….Tell Daddy what you are thankful for.”

“I’m thankful…” the boy stopped, panting, his mind still in a haze of thoughts and feelings that he couldn’t quite get to come out verbally.

“That’s it boy. Don’t rush it. Take your time.”

“I’m thankful for Daddy….. thankful that he is my feeder, and for the love he shows me every day.”

Daddy smiled a warm, genuine smile.

“I’m thankful for my huge body, for my muscles and my fat. My huge gut, my strong arms, and my solid butt. Thankful to pass 350lbs this year, and thankful for all that Daddy has helped to mould. For the focus that Daddy brings to my quest to be my true self, and thankful for the stretchmarks and scars along the way that show me where I’ve come from….”

The boy looked down hesitantly as if he’d said too much. Daddy nodded to him in reassurance.

“…. But most of all I’m thankful to be Daddy’s fat bull.”

There’s something about Mall Santas isn’t there? It’s the lack of commitment. The beard, a synthetic jungle of fake curls held in place with an elastic band. The belly, a foam pillow that the ‘Santa’ can take out and slip back into the real world unnoticed. With so many bearded, bellied daddies and grand-daddies around, it seemed almost sacrilegious when compared to the -idea- of Santa Claus. Why wasn’t the Mall Santa circuit wasn’t filled entirely by guys who represented the ‘real’ thing.

But inside the local mall, James shifted uncomfortably as the army of children waited patiently at a private after hours event, to meet the man in the big red (polyester) suit. The youth centre leader had gathered James and the rest of the volunteers, and was co-ordinating how this would work. He assigned volunteers at points before and after the Grotto, volunteers inside with Santa, and others to manage the queue and take the children back once they had finished their visit. James heard a hunger pang growl, and he rubbed his pudgy stomach as if to try and plead with it to stay quiet. There would be time for stuffing later.

“And er… James, was it?” said the youth centre leader looking at James’ volunteer badge, “You will be the second person here by the Grotto door. Santa will call in each person one by one, and you’ll let them in just here.”

After the roles were set, James’ heard a low booming voice say, “Ho ho ho, Santa is ready to see you now!”

With a cheery demeanour, James’ sent in the first kid. Time seemed to fly by, and the queue went down. Each time, Santa’s guttural growl came from the other side of the door, catching James off-guard and sending a jolt of electricity through him. James chuckled at the ridiculousness of his reaction. But hey, he’s always liked an assertive man. Even one in a fake beard..

Slowly the volunteers drifted away as their roles concluded. The queue attendants first, then James volunteer partner, with a mumble of “You’ve got this here right? I didn’t think it would take this long.” James sent the last kid in, as the youth group leader returned and said “Right, that’s the last one. Thanks for your help, we’ll take everyone back to the centre, so give it five minutes to keep up the illusion and you can head off yourself.”

‘Well, that’s my good deed of the year done’, thought James, allowing the facade to drop as he checked his phone.

“Ahem,” came the voice from beyond the door. “I’m ready for you now.”

“Erm.. actually I think that’s everyone.. ‘Santa’,” said James. He walked around the sides and back of the Grotto, but no kids remained and actually, no adults either. The place was empty.

“Santa is waiting! Don’t want to have to put you on the naughty list.” The low voice boomed from inside the Grotto. Once again tinged with a gravelly authority.

James slowly creaked open the Grotto door and in a hushed voice said “There’s no one left to see you, er, Santa.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s true is it? After all, you haven’t seen Santa yet, have you James?”

James let out an embarrassed chuckle thinking what a ridiculous thing that was to say. He stepped fully into the Grotto. Gone were the volunteers, and all that remained was a man sat in a wooden carved chair. James stopped in his tracks as he saw the ‘Santa’ in front of him.

The first thing he noticed was, of course, the huge belly. Tucked into a red coat and spilling over his lap. This was no pillow, or false belly, and instead moved with every word and chuckle. Next was his piercing blue eyes, sat atop chubby rosy cheeks. A beard of mostly white with some hints of grey coated his double chins. He had one of those ‘gentle giant’ faces, and James stomach lurched, unsure whether those eyes flashed with authority or kindness. Likely both.

“How do you, er, how do you know my name?” James asked.

“Because I’m Santa Claus!” Said the man, his belly letting out a jiggle as he laughed to himself. James’ stomach did another somersault. “And… because it says so on your volunteer badge.” ‘Santa’ shot James a knowing wink and pointed to the badge hanging from the lanyard.

“Oh. Oh right! Yeah…” James said with a nervous chuckle.

“Now why don’t you come and sit on my knee and tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“Look fella, the volunteering was fine and all. I don’t know what you think this is.. but I’m not about to—”

“So I see you really do deserve your place on the naughty list,” said Santa, the kindness fading and the authority growing. “And it’s ok. I already know what you want for Christmas.”

“Oh you do huh, and what’s that? What does Mr Mall Santa think I want for Christmas?”

“To be a big fat piggy.”

James stopped in his tracks. “W… what?”

“You want to be a big fat piggy don’t you. You want to gain weight. Intentionally. Recklessly. You want to be a big fat boy for Santa.”

“How did you…. What are you saying? That’s…”

“Say it. Come on. Say, ‘I’m a naughty piggy who wants to be fatter’. Come sit on my knee, and say it.”

James was frozen on the spot, and Santa’s leather-gloved hand reached out and took his wrist. Slowly, Santa led him to his knee. James felt his legs buckle and he was sat on the big man’s lap.

“Now..” said Santa, clearing his throat. He leaned close to James’ ear, “Say. It.”

“I’m a..” James felt a surge of electricity fire to his groin, “I’m a… naughty piggy… who wants to be fatter.”

“Gooood. That’s a good piggy. Tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

James could feel his hard cock pushing outward from his jeans, and panting, he said “I want to be huge. Just a big… fat… piggy.” His face flushed red.

James gasped as Santa’s gloved hand squeezed his hard cock.

“See piggy, was that so hard? I told you Santa already knows. And even though you’re on the naughty list, I want to make sure you get your present.”

“Oh fuck… what’re you.. Mmmmm,” James gyrated his hips pushing his throbbing cock into the big mans hand.

“Feels good doesn’t it piggy?” said Santa, as he slipped down James’ fly and pulled out his hard cock. With his other hand, Santa pushed up James’ t-shirt. The cold leather oh his glove traced the spiral of fresh stretch marks around James’ belly button. “I see you’ve already made a start, haven’t you piggy.”

“Oh god.. that feels… so— Ungh.” James gasped and babbled to himself.

Santa took his finger and pushed it against the dot of precum at the tip of James’ cock, then put his gloved finger to his lips and sucked off the salty fluid. “You taste good, piggy. Now, let’s see what we can feed you.”

Santa took a box of nearby sugar cookies and placed one against James’ lips. “Eat up piggy… I wonder how big we can make you.”

James ate the cookie greedily, in between pants from the gloved hand working his cock.

“That’s it piggy, two of them… now three. Just like you wanted.”

James mind became a whirl, pressed up against the big guys belly as Santa fed him cookie after cookie. “Feed… feed me Santa.”

“Good boy,” said Santa, “We’re getting through the entire box.” Santa’s hand increased the pumping on James’ hard cock as the gyrating became stronger. “You’re going to so fat. Such a big fat piggy… 300lbs…”

“Mmmmph!” said James, his eyes widening as he gulped down the remnants of another cookie.

“400… yes 400lbs… at least!”

“Oh fuck!” whimpered James.

“500lbs of pure lard,” said Santa as he shoved the last cookie from the box in James’ mouth.

“Oh god, oh god.. Santa… I’m!”

“Yes piggy,” said Santa, leaning in real close. And with a dominant growl, he whispered in James’ ear. “We’re not stopping until you hit… 600.” And with that Santa worked James’ cock hard, locked lips and pushed his tongue into James’ mouth.

James could only moan and convulse as rope after rope of cum shot out of his rock hard cock and over Santa’s glove. Santa raised the glove up to James’ lips, and James hesitated for a moment, before greedily lapping up his load from the big man’s glove.

Time stood still for a second as the aftershocks of James’ orgasm pulsed then waned.

“Now what do you say, James?”

“Th… Thank you Santa.”

“Good,” said Santa, the sweetness returning to his voice. “There’s hope for you yet on the nice list… But I think you prefer it on the naughty one…”

*              *               *

-Christmas Day-

The next few weeks saw James dissecting the whole experience, as well as shooting load after load remembering how it felt. How did the guy know his name… his… fetish. Who the hell was he?

Staying at the yearly family get together, James nursed a swollen gut after finishing his Christmas dinner (as well as several of his relatives leftovers), until a call came from the other room.

“James, we missed one of your gifts! I’ve put it up in the spare room where you’re staying.”

James sluggishly climbed the stairs, the itch of fresh stretch marks tingling under his Christmas sweater.

On the bed lay a box which said, ‘Merry Christmas James, love from Santa.’

James opened the wrapping, to reveal a box. On the box was a label, one he knew well. ‘Boost - Nutritional Drink - Very High Calorie.’

A further hand written note said ‘Here’s to 600lbs piggy.‘

“So what was it?” came a voice from downstairs.

“Just something,” replied James, as he wiped the remnants of the first carton of Boost from his lips, “for my future”.

Nothing much happens at first. The football team has a winning streak; their coach keeps them hydrated with fresh water and encourages them to drink milk both as a proud member of the town but also for their bone strength on the field. For celebrations the coach takes the team to eat feasts at a burger joint that prides itself on local product. Each teammate is encouraged to eat at least two or three dripping double cheeseburgers and they even have eating contests between teammates.

The first change other than a bit of chub is the sensitive tits. One day, one of the teammates is flushed red as he’s changing, too tuned into how his chest is burning– one nudge is all it takes for a fat bead of milk to drip out.

The libido comes next. It becomes a habit and shame for that teammate to pump his pecs into the changing room toilets before changing, but as he comes out he starts noticing how his fellow boys have started to round out. Muscular but increasingly being coated in fat, with rounded pecs and swollen nipples just like him.

He gets ridiculously hard at the sight. He didn’t even think he was gay, but he can’t help it. He really can’t.

The shame of lactating and needing to milk himself in the stalls becomes a guilty pleasure after he realizes jerking off alone doesn’t bring him to the edge. What does is playing with his chest as he’s doing it. Now, when his chest gets too full, he’s immediately hard, and his body is already digesting everything from the active frenzy masturbating has turned into. He becomes hungry too.

He craves dairy. He drinks his own milk. He craves meat. He packs his bag with meat and cheese sandwiches. He craves grease. Those sandwiches are soon replaced with a bag full of burgers from that place down the road. A massive order, sometimes featuring breakfast. He’s thirsty after from the sweat and salt. He chugs water and moans when his stuffed belly bloats more.

His teammates have similar revelations. Two get together and become fuck buddies. Presumably the only ones that do at first. Groping leaking tits, ass, and other fat parts leave them moaning long and low, nearly moo-like over time. They drink from each other’s tits and cock. They feed each other and kiss. Makeout, even.

A third catches them and spurred on by each other’s presence, they have enough bravado to ask him to join them.

The team continue to pile on the weight. With more weight comes more appetite, more libido, more milking.

It’s an endless cycle. The whole team becomes in on it. They spend more time together outside of games (that aforementioned winning streak is long lost and burger feasts become a condolence event instead of a celebratory one… they now eat eight times as much as what they originally did; their coach pays out of pocket), they go back to each others dorms or homes and fuck and feed each other. Anything from two to the whole team. Roommates and parents alike are worried and astounded.

The whole team becomes a herd of boycows, ridiculously horny and milky and hungry. And the best part? Each and every one of them fucking love it. Any help that’s offered is rejected immediately.

A month ago, I published Gainer Choices, my very first interactive erotica novel.

I'm really proud of it. It's a 140,000-word book with hundreds of choices and over 80 unique endings. I'm keeping it exclusive to Amazon, but I wanted to share an excerpt here.

I picked the shortest thread in the book. I made all the choices myself, so it doesn't capture the interactive experience. Still fun, though. I hope you like it...

***

You sip your rum and Coke and scan the room. There’s a ton of hot guys, but you’re not interested in any of them. They’re all standard-hot, but you’re hungry for someone special.

Then you see them. Two guys. Twins!

They’re gorgeous. Black hair. Broad shoulders. Piercing blue eyes.

Definitely the hottest guys in the room. But there’s something else that catches your eye. One of them has a muffin top jiggling out of his tight black shirt.

Two sexy twins—identical twins—but only one of them has a roll of fat hanging over his belt. The other is lean and ripped.

You don’t understand why, but the contrast drives you wild.

Both brothers glance in your direction. You can’t tell if they’re interested, or if they simply notice you staring. Either way, you’re going to introduce yourself.

The fatter one heads straight to the dance floor, while his brother goes to order drinks at the bar. Which one will you follow?

You follow the slim twin. You follow the chubby twin.

***

There’s no doubt in your mind. You need to talk to the chubby one first. You can see his love handles jiggle seductively as he dances by himself. You have to grab them. You have to know what they feel like.

You strut onto the dance floor, making sure to keep your chest puffed out so he can see that you’re all muscle. He locks eyes with you, dancing closer.

He’s an amazing dancer, moving his hips like he’s on a stripper pole. So fluid. So flexible. Somehow, you take that as a sign that he was a natural athlete, that he was never supposed to get fat.

He meets you in the center of the dance floor, then grabs your hands and brings them up to his fat sides. He wants you to feel them. He wants you to squeeze. He knows you want that, too.

You grab on.

Under your hands, he twists around and twerks against you, his fattened ass grazing your crotch. “I’m Grady,” he says.

You introduce yourself, but you can’t tell if he hears you.

He turns to face you again, holding you close and grinding your hips. “My brother’s waiting for me at the bar. Wanna join us? Or should we keep dancing?”

You follow him to the bar. You keep dancing.

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