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vipguy212 · 13 hours

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The Feeders' Fortress

It was the dirty floor against his face that Mike noticed first. His head felt fuzzy and the room was so incredibly dark. It was impossible to work out where he was. He stumbled groggily to his feet, realising that he was dressed only in his underwear. What the hell kind of party had he been to last night to wake up here? Then again, had he been to a party last night? His head was so disorganised.

Reaching around the space, Mike tried to find his clothes and, hopefully, his cell phone so that he could find some light. As he did so, he heard footsteps creeping outside of the room and, for the first time, a streak of light through the crack under the door.

“There’s another one in here!” cried a deep masculine voice as the door opened and Mike suddenly had a small torch shone straight into his face. “Same as us. Underwear. No clothes in sight.”

“What’s going on?” Mike asked indignantly.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” sighed another voice beside the person shining the torch. He reached out his hand and lowered the light so that Mike was no longer blinded. Where the light touched, Mike could see the dilapidated interior of the house he was in: filthy, boarded up and crumbling. Tired, dated pieces of furniture lay haphazardly around the edges of the room, some covered poorly with dust sheets.

“What is this place?” Mike mumbled, getting to his feet.

“Someone’s creepy idea of a joke, no doubt,” came another voice as the footsteps of the guys entered the room. “It looks like your classic haunted mansion. All the windows and doors are locked tight and we haven’t found the way out yet.”

“If there even is one,” replied a pessimistic voice.

“Of course there is,” disputed the guy holding the torch who had seemed to appoint himself the leader. “We got in here somehow, didn’t we? So there has to be a way out.”

The others sighed. None of them claimed to know how they had arrived, each arguing their alternative theories about why they were there. None of them had before. They were all strangers. But, to Mike, there was one clear detail that each of them had in common: outstandingly good looks.

Finn, holding the torch, was a quarterback for the local college team and, even in the limited lighting, Mike could tell that the guy was more strapping than anyone he had ever seen on the pitch. The person standing beside him was Oliver; even taller and toned to absolute perfection. Like Mike, he did some modelling whilst studying in college. Mike knew the agency that he worked for and, whilst the other two were arguing about which direction to search next, the pair discussed the surprising stresses they had encountered with certain jobs they had done. The only other guy was Rob, another football jock for a rival team of Finn’s, though neither of them claimed to know the other. He was built for clear functional athleticism, with the lightest six pack of all of them and a meaty, muscular butt. Delicious.

Even now, in this bizarre situation, Mike could feel himself getting aroused in their presence: these three gorgeous, practically naked boys. Together, they were calm, even jovial. They bolstered each other’s confidence, methodically searching the large building as if they were trying to hide the fact that they were silently terrified. There had to be answers to their questions somewhere in this building.

“What’s down there, do you think?” Oliver asked as they shone the torch down some stairs.

Out of habit, Mike flicked the light switch, expecting nothing to happen, when suddenly, the whole room below lit up perfectly.

“Success!” roared Finn, heading straight down; soon followed by the others, at quite some pace.

What lay below was the most bizarre of sights: a small, neatly made up dining table, filled with tasty treats: cakes, doughnuts, cookies and pastries; all fresh and smelling incredible. Such a homely scene lightened the mood further, with Finn and Rob heading to sit down at the table and Mike following them, if only to hide the tightness in his crotch which would be clearly evident in this well lit room.

“I knew we’d be alright! This just proves it. It’s definitely some sort of prank,” Finn smiled, reaching out for one of the doughnuts.

Oliver stood to the side, surveying the scene with more scepticism. “Isn’t this a bit fucking weird?” he asked. “This whole place is a shit hole, and now this?” he pointed at the homely scene before him.

“Relax!” Finn scoffed at him, already chewing on a bite of the doughnut. “It tastes fine.”

Rob reached out next, picking up a pastry, now that Finn had sampled the goods. Meanwhile, Mike had his eye on one of the cupcakes, feeling surprisingly hungry after waking up here. Eventually, even Oliver followed them to the table,sitting down at the fourth chair, picking up a cookie and nibbling it with only a small amount of hesitancy.

Under the light, it was clear just how beautiful these guys all were. Mike found himself trying not to stare for fear that his erection may get even more severe if they all had to get up soon and explore the place some more. The mood was relaxed and surprisingly light-hearted as Finn reached for a second and third doughnut before any of the others had even finished their first chosen snack.

“Who do you think made all these?” Oliver asked the guys.

“Whoever it is pranking us,” Rob replied, scanning the room for cameras as he sat at the table.

Mike sat up nervously. He didn’t want to be on camera right now. Not with his erection as it was.

Mike suddenly felt a slight prod on his arm as Oliver looked at him seriously, pointing across to Finn. The movement caught Rob’s attention as well, until all three of them were gazing at a now motionless Finn, staring down at the table and seemingly stunned after finishing his third doughnut.

“Are you alright, buddy?” Rob asked, noting the sweat that was glistening on Finn’s face.

Finn looked up slowly until his eyes met with Mike’s right across the table from him. His jaw was slack as he picked himself up by leaning his strapping body on the table. Then, from out of nowhere, a giant burp erupted from his throat, right in front of Mike. It was so loud and deep, completely unnatural after such light snacks, making the three others stare across in panic.

“What the fuck?” Oliver asked, standing up in alarm, sensing immediately that something was wrong. It was then that Mike noticed that Finn was not as slim as he had thought; that for all his muscles, he was actually carrying a little paunch that looked bizarrely out of place.

FInn’s hips started to rock, like he was fucking some invisible girl in front of him, and, even in his loose fitting trunks, it was clear to Mike that the guy was also nursing an erection.

“What’s he doing?” Rob shouted; his eyes similarly caught by the shape of Finn’s stomach. Each time the guy rocked back and forth, the budding love handles at his sides seemed to swell more and more.

At some point, all three of them realised what was happening. It was the way Finn’s gut began to flutter and jiggle with the shaking. Fat was ballooning in his stomach, actually pushing it outwards. The relaxed fit of his underwear began to disappear as the gentle creases stretched out and the material tightened around him, spurred on by an obvious widening of his tight butt. It was then that Mike began to observe even Finn’s chest starting to succumb; his nipples pointing and a softness spreading into his pecs. It seemed to bloom and spread itself under his arms, softening up his biceps at the same time and swelling his neck; producing a shameful double chin.

Oliver was still the only one up, with Mike and Rob still stunned in their seats. Then, without warning, Rob suddenly bolted for the stairs, grabbing the torch at the same time.

“What do we do?” Oliver asked Mike in pure panic, clearly desperate to follow Rob and get the hell out of there.

Finn’s sweaty body glistened as fat spread throughout. The blubber began to pour itself over the tight waistband of the guy’s underwear, now digging in quite painfully. Mike could see the guy looking down at himself in shock and alarm: his beautiful body becoming more and more obese.

Mike had no answer for what was happening or what on Earth they were supposed to do about it. He could see Oliver looking back towards the dark stairs; no sign of Rob at all. More than once, Mike thought that Oliver might run off in fear as well. If he did, Mike decided he was going to run straight out with him.

A general widening seemed to take place in Finn’s body. The love handles pushed out to further extents and his hips swelled above the two extremely blubbery thighs. The guy’s cute underwear had allowed his large, sweaty glutes to slip out as the inflation took hold. Now the material began to tear; stretched as they were in every direction.

Within no time at all, Mike realised that Finn was now carrying an insane amount of fat on his body; 400 lbs? 450? His underwear were reduced to little more than rags, still dangling from a destroyed waistband; an entire sack of lard now filling Finn’s groin.

Oliver bolted, quickly followed by a petrified Mike, throwing himself up the pitch-black stairs. “Wait up!” he cried out in horror, wincing as his feet stepped over the debris and dust. All he could do was follow the sounds of Oliver’s lightning footsteps.

Suddenly, Mike felt himself bumping straight into Oliver, knocking them both to the floor.

“Watch it!” Oliver grumbled. “What the hell were you running for? We can barely see a thing!”

Mike’s mouth filled with all the things he wanted to say and then, just as quickly as they arrived, nothing. Why was he running? Had something scared him? No. He would have remembered that. He shuffled to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling rather silly. “I must have just been trying to catch you up.”

Oliver shushed him and the pair listened intently as voices came from another wing of the enormous house. They began stepping in the same direction, noticing faint glows of the torch around one corner.

“But this is the way I came in!” argued a new voice. “The door was open, and now…” he shouted, banging forcefully on what appeared to be the front door.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Oliver bellowed, finally spotting Rob standing next to a police officer.

The relief that Mike felt was indescribable. Tall, built and appearing nothing but strong and capable, the police officer turned to face them both, shining a second torch in their faces.

“Is this all of you?” the cop asked.

“No, there’s another guy,” Rob mumbled, as if he couldn’t quite remember exactly. “Finn. He’s downstairs somewhere. He was eating some food we found,” he continued; his voice wispy, like he was trying to piece something together. He’s pretty big and heavy though. I don’t suppose he wants to go walking all around this place at that size.”

Mike nodded, realising that Rob was probably right. That must have been why Finn stayed down in the basement.

“Well, this door has locked behind me. I don’t have any signal on my cell phone and there doesn’t seem to be any reception for me to contact the station on my radio,” the cop explained grumpily. “I guess you had better take me to see this Finn guy so that I can check on him too,” he finally decided, slamming into the heavy door one final time, just in case it budged at all.

Oliver and Mike took one torch, whilst the cop and Rob walked ahead with the other.

“Do you think he’s a real cop?” Oliver whispered to Mike. “This whole thing just seems to be getting weirder and weirder, don’t you think?”

Mike pondered the idea. He’d not imagined that the cop was not genuine. But Oliver was right. Here he was, wandering around, almost naked in an abandoned mansion with no idea how late at night it was. Absolutely anything was possible.

“Where exactly are we?” he shouted ahead to the cop. “How did you know to come looking here?”

The cop began explaining the exact location of the mansion. “This old place has been crumbling for years,” the guy stated, after informing them all how far out of the city they were right now. “We used to get calls about trespassers quite a lot, but that all stopped about six months ago. Until tonight.”

In the dim light, Mike could feel Oliver looking at him from the side. The guy wasn’t trusting a word that was coming out of the cop’s mouth.

“Something’s up with Rob,” Oliver whispered a few moments later, when they had slowed their pace to allow the other two to go even further ahead, in search of the stairs to the basement. “Have you noticed how much he is sweating?”

Mike shone the light a little more on Rob. Oliver’s observations were spot on. The guy’s broad back was glistening with sweat, running down his back and drenching into his boxers, all down his butt crack. Something about it all seemed so familiar, although Mike couldn’t put his finger on why. Was this a bad sign? Was it something to be feared?

“We need to keep our distance from him,” Oliver decided, pulling Mike back a little bit more to let the cop and Rob get even more ahead of them. They kept a slow pace behind and waited as the pair eventually found the staircase down to the basement, heading straight down.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked, feeling that Oliver’s senses were sharper than his own; his instincts better.

Oliver rubbed his face, clearly stressed. “I don’t know!” he sighed. “But something tells me it’s going to be me and you finding our way out of here. I don’t trust that cop, and as for Rob…” he whispered. “I just have this really bad feeling.”

Suddenly, the cop was shouting at the top of his voice from the basement, startling both Oliver and Mike.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he blasted. “What are you doing?”

Racing down, Oliver took the lead, standing on the staircase in front of Mike as they looked on at the scene. Rob’s body was rocking and shaking, his tight abs suddenly swollen and buried. The cop stood crouched to the side, his gun out and seemingly very afraid. Whatever was taking over Rob had a very firm grip on his body; thrashing him about as his stomach continued to grow.

In those moments, Mike suddenly remembered what he had witnessed happening to Finn. How could he ever have forgotten? There Finn was, snoozing on the floor, encased in mountains of fresh fat.

“What’s going on?” the cop demanded of Oliver and Mike.

“The food!” Mike mumbled, seeing it all there, continuing to invite them in. “There’s something in the food!” he stated with more certainty as Rob’s fine torso began to be consumed with an onslaught of blubber, swelling into his pecs and rounding out his stomach so that it pushed out further and further. The guy was panicking, managing to waddle around as his body shook, and he gazed at all the food that Mike was now blaming. Just what was it doing to him?

“But we ate the food as well,” Oliver shot back, terrified and transfixed as Rob’s butt widened in those cute little boxers of his; fat starting to crease the skin on his back and love handles swelling out further every single second. The butt crack began to peak out as the glutes grew; little more than an inch to begin with, then more and more; until his super sized butt was almost entirely outside of the underwear. That was when it ripped at the weaker stitching between his lardy legs and the material began to deteriorate quickly; all the elastic stretched beyond its capacity.

Mike put a comforting hand on Oliver’s strong shoulder, hoping to ease his worries in any way that he could.

The cop had fallen to the ground, backing up into the corner by the stairs and holding his gun out still; no longer so big, strong and tough.

Oliver reached his hand up and lovingly held Mike’s own hand upon his shoulder. Despite everything, the sensation of Oliver’s touch was all Mike needed.

Rob had fallen onto the floor, the transformation seemingly at an end, and a deathly silence filled the room.

“We’re fucked!” Oliver sighed. “Absolutely fucked!” He looked at Mike, his eyes full of concern for him. “Will it be us next, do you think?” he asked Mike, still holding his hand sweetly.

At that moment, Mike felt so completely smitten. Yet he nodded. “I think so,” he agreed sadly.

“What the hell are you on about?” the cop demanded of them both, still clearly terrified from what he had just seen. “Food can’t do that to someone! Not like that, anyway.”

“There’s no other way to explain it,” Oliver shrugged. “It took Finn first because he had eaten the most. Now Rob…”

The police officer stared hard at the two enormously fat guys on the floor and then looked in amazement at all the food still resting on the table. But then, his eyes widened even further and he stood up in horror. “Those doughnuts!” he shouted, looking straight at the unusually colourful and sprinkled treats on the table. “There was one just like it on my desk earlier! I thought it was from one of my colleagues.”

Mike and Oliver looked at each other with worry. Was the guy who was here to rescue them, actually just another victim?

“But did you eat it?” Oliver demanded of him.

“Yes, I ate it!” the cop shouted back, getting angry now. He seemed to feel faint, getting hot under the collar and putting back his gun so that he could take off his shirt.

Again, Mike and Oliver looked at each other. Why was the cop getting so sweaty all of a sudden? They watched as he shuffled around, leaning against the side, kicking off his shoes and even pulling off his socks, as if every piece of clothing was irritating his skin.

“Um, Sir…” Oliver cried out awkwardly as the cop untied his belt, discarding even his gun without a care, then unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor.

In this state, it was clear to see what the cop had had in common with the four of them; young, handsome and highly athletic as he clearly was.

“Oh, no!” the cop mumbled, tensing all the muscles in his strapping body.

“What’s happening?” Oliver whispered to Mike.

“It must be trying to take him,” Mike shot back. “I think he’s actually trying to fight it.”

Both Mike and Oliver climbed two steps further up the stairs, abandoning the cop and knowing that there was nothing they could do to help him now. The gorgeous officer was grunting and bracing himself against the wall. The sounds he was making reminded Mike of the guys he had seen in the gym trying to lift extremely heavy weights.

“I can’t watch!” Mike whispered to Oliver, who had taken a further step up to sit beside him on the stairs and kindly draped his arm over Mike’s shoulders.

“We must,” Oliver whispered back. “We’ve got to see if he can do it. Who knows, right?”

“Maybe he can fight it off,” Mike agreed hopefully.

“Shit,” Oliver replied, quickly shutting Mike down. “Look at his abs. Can you see? The skin around them is starting to bloat up.”

Oliver leaned his head against Mike’s and rubbed his back soothingly. The arousal Mike felt was spiking once again and he found himself momentarily lost, even as the cop battled on only a few feet away.

“It’s a battle that cannot be won. This guy only got married last year,” Oliver continued, as they both looked across at the police officer. “Yet he’s already cheating on his wife with a new recruit at his station. That’s why he ate the doughnut. He thought it was from her.”

Oliver’s voice was so soothing and intense. Mike felt as though he could sit there all day long admiring the perfect man beside him. But, what was he actually saying? Mike had to replay it in his head, before the obvious question dawned in him. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“His secret girlfriend says she can’t resist those tight little buns of his,” Oliver whispered teasingly, as if trying to hold back a laugh. “Not so tight anymore. Wouldn’t you agree, Mike?” he asked; the pair of them watching as the cop growled loudly in desperation to hold back whatever force was taking him. But Oliver was right; slowly, but surely, the guy’s butt had started to develop some extra meat to it, rounding the glutes in a way that only fat ever could.

“What are you saying?” Mike asked, feeling Oliver’s presence becoming more powerful.

“Shh,” Oliver soothed, rubbing Mike’s back and continuing to lean his head against his, forcing them both to watch the action in front of them. “We can’t have a cop that handsome walking around, can we?”

Mike’s heartbeat rose to new heights. The person who was controlling all of this had been with him the entire time. His body tensed, making Oliver sigh in happiness as he stuck close to him on that step.

“I love this bit!” Oliver continued whispering, as if telling Mike a bedtime story. “Can you see how he’s trying to hold his breath? He thinks he can force it back down, but he can’t. The formula has now spread into every cell in his body.”

Even with the officer trying to hold on tight, a slow, insidious tire of fat was gently forming over his abs and budding softness grew into love handles. The effort of holding his breath was taking it out of him; his eyes were screaming for release and cheeks had filled with air. Now his eyes were shutting tight, as if to concentrate even more, when a tiny burst of air slipped through his lips like a leaking pipe; more and more, until the floodgates had opened and he had to let it all go; sucking up a great big chestful of air and then burping like never before; all control stripped from him.

That brief pause in the guy’s attention was seemingly all this formula had needed to take control. The hips began thrashing about with surprising violence, with his stomach and rear inflating with remarkable speed; as if making up for lost time.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Oliver asked, kissing Mike sweetly on the side of his head. “So much fat! The thighs, the chest and the arms!” There was such a thrill in his quiet voice, as if he was deliberately controlling his elation to creep Mike out even more.

“Why are you doing this?” Mike asked; eyes still fixed on the ballooning cop as his jawline disappeared under the building flesh in his neck and chin, and blossoming into his cheeks.

“Because I can… And because I want to,” Oliver quietly replied, as he continued to stroke Mike’s back. “Look at him!” he cooed. “Pecs are gone already!”

Mike watched as the officer’s nipples started to bounce and his thick thighs swelled outwards, blowing up his butt to a size that was almost disproportionate to his frame.

“I wonder what his girlfriend will say about him now,” Oliver joked, knowing that Mike would be looking at exactly the same thing. “A disgusting, overfed, fat ass like that!” he whispered gently into Mike’s ear, making every part of the boy tingle with a baffling excitement. “You’re going to be a fat boy, just like him soon…” the devil whispered into his ear.

Mike wanted to get up and run, but being so close to Oliver felt like something he had longed for his entire life. Was this what love felt like? This yearning to be with someone, no matter what?”

Oliver began to caress the tip of Mike’s throbbing hardness under his underwear. “How exciting for you. A whole new life for yourself as one of my fatties,” he teased, turning his head so that he could whisper directly into Mike’s ear as he watched the cop continuing to become even more extremely obese, lose his balance and slide against the wall; landing with a splat on his enormously overgrown backside. Yet, even sitting down, his butt and thighs continued to spread out onto the floor; the rolls and blubber that decorated his torso, softening and spreading; folds deepening every second.

Then, just like that, the cop had fallen asleep; his revoltingly obese body resting after the dramatic trauma it had just endured. Mike gasped, but not because of the sight in front of him. It was Oliver, continuing to massage his erection. He was brought so close to climaxing, that when Oliver brought his lips towards him, Mike moved swiftly to meet them in a deep, passionate kiss.

As they came out of the kiss, Oliver gently stroked Mike’s hair back from his face. “I’ve so enjoyed our time together,” he smiled with delight. “You’ve been so entertaining, from the very start.”

Mike smiled back, in awe of the amazing man who was giving him all the attention he could ever wish.

Oliver brought his nose close to Mike’s neck and sniffed in deeply all the way up to the top of his head. “I can smell my formula inside of you!” he breathed with genuine eroticism at the thought. “It’s getting ready to take you!”

Oliver took Mike by the hand and stood him up. The pair came down the stairs, stepping over the gigantic cop’s outstretched legs and into the light properly. There was not a single part of Mike that wanted to resist.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” Oliver asked, pulling the underwear down so that they dropped around Mike’s feet; his hardness springing out with an almost embarrassing enthusiasm “You’ve been such a good boy, this whole time. I picked the cop as the one who would be able to hold out the longest, but I’m so glad that it was you. Such a handsome boy!” he marvelled, stroking Mike’s face. “When I saw you in that magazine, I knew I had to take you.”

“I’m all yours!” Mike spluttered lustfully back; for some reason, only wanting Oliver to touch him again like he had on the stairs.

“Do you really mean that?” Oliver asked, barely concealing a grin behind those innocent looking eyes.

“I do!” Mike nodded. “I would do anything for you!”

“Then prove it,” Oliver snapped. “Don’t make me wait for you. Take another piece from the table and overdose on my formula just like that first idiot did,” he ordered. “Set my beautiful formula into action!”

Inexplicably, Mike’s feet were taking him towards the table. If this was the way to please Oliver, he needed to show him that he could do it. He grabbed at a doughnut and made to push it towards his mouth. However, just as he almost made it, Mike’s hand stopped and tried to push back. There was some invisible, subconscious part of his brain, still active and working, despite the fogginess that was clouding everything else.

Oliver smirked, as if he knew exactly what was going on; why Mike’s hand was not letting him eat. He seized the guy’s wrist and pushed it forwards with remarkable strength as Mike made every effort to keep his mouth wide open and let it fall onto his tongue. He bit down, watched carefully by Oliver, standing in front of him, smiling victoriously,

By the second bite, Mike felt his jaw slacken and stop working. A rumbling burp rolled from his throat, entirely unchallenged. The haze around him seemed to have grown more intense. Oliver was still in front of him, but circling around like a sergeant major conducting an inspection, or a killer whale startling its prey. It was only when he heard the man laughing that Mike knew his hips had begun to rock. He had no idea how the cop had tried to fight it off. The autonomous nature of whatever process this was, seemed entirely beyond his understanding. A warmth was filling his body; building and strengthening. Then that warmth seemed to spread itself across those areas that Mike had seen on the other guys: his stomach felt almost red hot, whilst his butt and legs were tingling and changing rapidly.

Oliver’s hands were seizing upon him, grabbing and pinching parts of his body that Mike didn’t even know existed. Mike tried to speak, to ask Oliver if it was working, but his mouth could not shape the words. Only a groan made it out, shaken and rocked by the vibrations of his instantaneously transforming body.

Waves of fat began to bounce and crash into each other as Mike felt fresh flesh developing all over his body. A few seconds in, he had thought that Oliver had grabbed at his hardness again. However, he soon realised that it was the tip of his penis slapping against an enormous roll of fat that had invaded his torso. He looked down, seeing the remarkable width of his squishy stomach and the strange pointing of his nipples.

Oliver’s voice was far from soothing now. He was shouting and calling him out on his grotesquely overfed body; telling him how greedy he was, or likening him to a pig. He even oinked triumphantly right down Mike’s ear.

The body that Mike was in no longer felt like his own anymore. His whole being had been transported into that of something new. The space that he occupied was incredible, surging outwards more and more. He lost his balance, feeling his giant self being collected by Oliver’s unnaturally strong arms as he was gently lowered to the ground.

Mike got a look at his disgusting, blubbery physique, wondering how he would ever use it. How could he do anything with that enormous belly in the way? How could he get himself up the stairs to his apartment? He’d certainly never squeeze himself into his tiny shower, or find any clothes at regular stores to cover himself up with.

“Goodnight, Fat Boy!” Oiver sang as Mike felt his eyes getting heavy. He knew he'd never see Oliver again. He’d served his purpose. He’d entertained. Now came the sleep that would erase everything from his mind. The factory reset that would prepare him for his life as one of Oliver’s fat boys.

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vipguy212 · 13 hours

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The 1%

It had been such a thrill, finding that the scouts had picked him; those same experts who had signed up the likes of Harley Hawkinson and Carl Williams. Did they really see the same potential in Nicko as they had done in those superstar football players? It all felt so surreal as he got off the plane to Oklahoma and entered the training facility.

Nicko knew it wouldn’t be easy to prove himself. He looked around the large sports hall, filled with over one hundred large, athletic college guys, all hoping for the same dream of a professional sports contract: to play the game that they loved and get paid handsomely for it.

“As you all know, the modern game of football is dominated by guys who are more muscular than we have ever seen before,” an older guy explained to them from the staging area during this first welcome meeting. “In the last three years, we have seen the average weight of a professional football player increase by 30lbs. And that number looks set to continue to increase.”

Looking around at the other guys, Nicko couldn’t help but understand why he was saying this. Sure, the guys around him were full of talent. How else would they have got here otherwise? But put them on a field with the professionals out there these days, and they would get trampled down in seconds. They all knew it. None of them had the muscle and the bulk that was needed to survive in a big league game.

“Our training scheme and medical support can give you that last hope of achieving your dreams,” the man on stage went on; selling the scheme which each of them had already signed up for. They all knew this was their only real shot at success. These days, no professional football player got anywhere without the experimental drugs offered in places like this; not that anyone would ever admit it outside of these walls. “So, my advice to you is, train hard and work with us… Now I’m going to hand you over to someone you will all be very familiar with. We’re so proud of him and delighted that he has given up his time to be with us today. Boys, please may I introduce you to… the one and only… Carl Williams!” he beamed, as the large room of excited college athletes roared into life.

An enormous, hulking mass of man began strutting from the door and onto the stage. He lifted his arm up, accepting all the applause and smiling from ear to ear. Every muscle on his body was pumped and full. Even his forearms looked incredibly developed. Nicko could hardly believe his eyes! His biggest celebrity crush, right here in the same room with him! Carl was known for playing rough and dirty on the field and, in Nicko’s wildest fantasies, he was much the same in the bedroom. Not to mention the fact that, in terms of celebrity bulges, Carl was off the charts. Every gay site he visited had picked up on the fact Carl was packing something absolutely enormous between those giant thighs.

The man didn’t speak to them for long, but soon had everyone up on their feet, chanting his name. He stuck around too, and was there that evening as they sat down to their first meal together.

“They say he has some sort of sixth sense about which guys will go on to do well here,” Nicko’s new friend, Steve, whispered to him; both of them looking with jealousy at the six young guys who had been invited to sit on Carl’s table.

Nicko shook his head sceptically. “Nah, they’re just the loud ones who know how to sell themselves,” he scoffed, having met a couple of them and deciding that they were not the type of guys he would want to hang around with here; so pumped full of arrogance and self-importance. “We’ve just got to train hard, that’s all.”

Steve exhaled and raised his eyebrows. “I wish that was true,” he mumbled. “But we both know the only thing that sets this training academy apart from the rest is the drugs they use. You can train as hard as you like, but if the drugs disagree with you, that’s the end of the line. Career over.”

Nicko rubbed the spot where he’d had his first injection earlier that day; straight into the muscle at the top of his right butt cheek. ‘Please work!’ he thought silently. There was nothing more he wanted in life than to be up on that top table with Carl Williams.

During the first three weeks, some guys started to stand out remarkably well. Shoulders began to widen, whilst larger glutes and thighs made the training sessions more intense and physical than ever before. Nicko could see the changes in his roommate, Steve, each time he came out of the shower: his biceps bulging and his pecs pumped.

As for Nicko, he had seen only minor changes in his muscle mass, and he was yet to make any impression on the trainers. But as certain guys began to bulk faster, hit harder and dominate on the field, it became more and more of a challenge to stand out, or even stay on your feet.

Egos were beginning to run riot at the camp. Those guys who had quickly responded to the treatments began to strut about with more confidence and ownership of the place than any of them had expected. The larger guys hung out with each other more, sitting together at meal times and excluding those they obviously found inferior.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispered to him as it was obvious that everything was getting to Nicko. “You’ll respond more to the drugs soon. You’ve just got to focus on the training. That’s the important part.”

Nicko nodded, knowing that Steve didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. In two weeks, they were making their first eliminations, and Steve knew he was heading straight home.

During the assessment, Steve very quickly got a sense of how badly it was going. He was weighed, prodded and poked to within an inch of his life; seeing the same grim faces on the medical professionals all around him. In the end, he was simply sent to a small room and told to wait there for someone to come and speak to him. The afternoon training session was to begin in thirty minutes, but no-one was in a rush to ensure he would make it. The reason for that was obvious: he wasn’t coming back.

It was no shock to Nicko that he was in this position. The last week in particular had been especially hard. He’d been thrown around by the larger guys in training, beginning to understand how the nerds must have felt back in high school. At twenty-one years old, Nicko was in a place that was little better than a kindergarten playground.

Without warning, and making Nicko jump with surprise, the door suddenly opened and an enormous muscular man entered. It took a couple of seconds for Nicko to focus and recognise the person who was now filling the tiny room they were in, but when he did, he shot to his feet and held his arm out, desperate to shake the guy’s hand. “Carl Williams!” he blasted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Carl looked across at him with a smirk; his eyes travelling up and down Nicko’s body as he reached out his hand for him to shake. “So you’re Nicko, huh?” he asked, as if trying to hold back a laugh.

Nicko nodded, hardly believing that this meeting was even happening. Carl was even more insanely huge and attractive up close like this.

“Sit down, Nicko,” Carl ordered, grabbing a chair himself. “I need to break something to you.”

“I’m being kicked out, aren’t I?” Nicko shot back, not wanting to draw this out and ruin his one-on-one time with his biggest celebrity crush.

“Oh, of course you are,” Carl chuckled, seeming surprised that Nicko had only just figured it out. “But one of the boys told me you had a bit of a crush on me, so I thought I would come in here to soften the blow.”

Carl gazed at Nicko with a sly grin on his face. He knew that he had embarrassed him and he was enjoying the period of time when Nicko was squirming and desperately thinking of how to respond.

“Um, so… how come I’m going home?” he asked, trying to fill the cringing silence.

“Because you’ve not responded to the drugs the same as everyone else,” Carl shot back, looking at him as though he was stupid for not being able to see that for himself.

“But there are a few guys who aren’t packing on muscle all that fast either,” Nicko protested.

“Oh, you’re right about that,” Carl nodded. “But you’ve not gained any muscle mass at all,” he stated harshly. “In fact, you’re part of the less than 1% who actually lose muscle mass on this treatment.”

“That’s not true,” Nicko protested. “I have gained weight since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Carl laughed. “You’ve only gained fat since you started.” He pointed at the slight paunch that always popped out whenever Nicko was on a bulking diet. “All the guys can see that. I hear they’ve been giving you a rough time this week? The medical team spotted a nice collection of bruises on your body this morning.”

“Not too bad,” Nicko lied, not wanting to look pathetic in front of his idol.

Carl simply laughed as if he knew differently. “Sure, sure,” he nodded patronisingly. “Those guys are just learning; being on a football team is like being part of a pack of wolves. So when you see a little piggy on the field with you, you’ve got to go for them.”

Nicko’s eyes bulged at Carl’s rudeness. But the professional athlete simply smiled at him, as if daring him to call him out on his comments. Then, when Nicko kept quiet, the big man nodded in approval.

“I like you,” Carl grinned wickedly. “You’ve got the right attitude and you don’t live too far from where I play, do you?” he asked, having clearly studied Nicko’s notes before coming in. “I’d love to grab a few beers with you sometime in the coming months.”

Nicko nodded his head frantically.

“Good,” Carl smiled, reaching his large hand out to stroke Nicko’s thigh. “Play your cards right and I might even let you suck me off,” he teased, before standing and heading straight out of the room.

Despite the daring, unbelievably hot fantasy Carl had dangled in front of Nicko’s nose: home still beckoned. He had lost. The dream of sporting success and insane riches was now over.

With a mediocre college degree, Nicko settled into an equally mediocre office job, close to home so that he could move back in with his parents. He’d suffered from a great sense of failure after the training scheme had gone so badly. No one wanted to be the first one sent home; he hadn’t even had a chance to say even a quick goodbye to his friends. He’d got himself into quite the slump, finding that no matter what he did, he simply couldn’t shake off the little arching paunch he had developed in Oklahoma. In fact, despite all his careful eating and gym work, it actually seemed to be increasing in size more than anything.

The same could be said for the rest of his body, with Nicko’s underwear pinching uncomfortably as his tight glutes began to pack on some extra, softening mass. Was he really developing love handles at this age, even after all this exercise? It just didn’t seem physically possible. His date, the weekend before, had even called him out on his extra pounds. Perhaps he had even been right to do so; his profile pictures really were a little out of date these days. It meant that when he got the call from someone on Carl Williams’ staff, trying to set up a date for their beers, Nicko went immediately into panic mode. There was nothing in his closet that was suitable for drinks with a football superstar; at least, nothing that fitted!

“Well, well, well…” Carl smirked as Nicko entered the very private VIP room at the back of the noisy, exclusive club in the city. The enormous 335lb football player looked sexier than ever, all dressed up as he was for a night out. “Let me get a look at you,” he demanded, ruthlessly kicking away the table in front of him with his feet and making space for Nicko.

Having travelled for an hour to get here and arguing with the security outside for twenty minutes that he was a guest of Carl’s, Nicko wanted nothing more than to just sit and have a drink. However, when Carl clicked his fingers and pointed again to where he was being summoned, Nicko only did as he was told.

Immediately, Carl reached forwards, slapping one hand on Nicko’s larger butt and the other on the furthest extent that his paunch was now sticking out. He smiled, bouncing both lightly and seeming to appreciate the new width across the middle of Nicko’s body. “Look at you!” he growled with disgust. “You wouldn't last two minutes on the football field now. My boys would rip you to pieces!”

“I’m trying this new diet…” Nicko began explaining, not knowing what else to say.

Carl winced and shook his head impatiently. “Shh! I don’t want to hear about shit like that.” He leaned right back, then tapped his outstretched thigh, silently telling Nicko to sit on it.

Again, Nicko did as he was old, unable to comprehend that he was getting so close to his football idol. He heard Carl growl in appreciation as Nicko’s torso slipped so easily into his reach. Then, without a word, he began unbuttoning Nicko’s shirt from the very top.

“Wait!” Nicko jumped. “Don’t people come in here?”

“Yes,” Carl replied, unperturbed as he reached the fourth button down.

“What if someone comes in and sees me like this?”

“Then they will see…” Carl smiled, finally reaching the end of the buttons and now splaying the shirt material to the sides, “...THIS!”

Nicko tensed as his fleshy torso was revealed to the one person he had been carefully dressing to conceal it from.

“Fuck!” Carl blasted. “Even the tits are coming in!” he laughed loudly, reaching up and bouncing one of Nicko’s nipples.

Nicko got up, feeling embarrassed. He felt Carl’s strong hand clasp the back of his pants and pull him back over his knee so that Nicko actually fell into the space on the couch beside the football superstar. From there, the enormous man seemed to envelope him, his arm over his body and his face so deliciously close.

“Don’t be shy,” Carl whispered teasingly. “This happens to all the boys at the training camp eventually. Well…” he grinned, raising his arm to show off his incredible bicep, “...almost all.”

“Weight gain?” Nicko asked, feeling his stomach rolling over his belt as he sat, half on his back, with the enormous athlete looming over him.

Carl nodded. “A fat belly, jiggly tits, a giant, doughy butt… you know how it goes,” he laughed; his lips devastatingly near. “But the one percent, well, that boy is always very special.”

Niko nodded, remembering Carl referring to the muscle stimulant medication having an opposite outcome for one percent of the people who used it. Which, in Nicko’s group, had been him. “I’m special?” he asked, aroused by all this attention he was getting.

“Very much so,” Carl grinned, rubbing Nicko’s cheek with an outstretched finger. “The one percent packs on fat faster than anyone else. In less than a year, he can go from a chiselled athlete to a full grown superchub!”

“That can’t be true,” Nicko replied. “They’d never allow something like that.”

“And yet…” Carl laughed, grabbing the roll of fat hanging over Nicko’s belt: his point made. “You really have no concept of how much money there is to be made in football, do you? How vital things like this are for the economy? Fatties like you are just… collateral damage… a necessary evil on the way to creating superstars like me.”

“How do I stop this?” Niko asked, watching the athlete getting up and unbuckling his pants.

“Sucking on this should help,” Carl lied, pulling his monstrously large erection out and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It was even bigger than Nicko had ever imagined, gazing at pictures and videos of the guy’s bulge over the years

Overcome with lust, Nicko slipped his mouth over as much of it as he could, just as he was directed. Everything that had happened since entering this room had been like a dream. Whatever weird things were happening in his life right now, here he was, pleasuring a football champion!

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” Carl moaned. “Yes! Work that tongue, One Percent! Take as much of me in as you can!”

In those moments, Nicko did not care what was happening to him. He was the luckiest guy in the world, feeling ecstatic as he brought the enormous man to a full climax, simply by using his mouth.

Clearly impressed, a sweaty Carl buckled his belt back up and sat himself down again. “Keep that up and you’ll go far with me,” he sighed in appreciation.

As Carl fixed his clothing, Nicko tried to do the same, beginning to refasten his shirt buttons. However, Carl was still having none of it; placing his large hand very decidedly over Nicko’s and saying ‘no’ in a very strict manner; as if training a puppy.

“Have you ever thought about moving to the city?” Carl asked next.

Nicko shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Plus, I don’t know anyone here.”

“Good. That means you wouldn’t go wandering,” Carl shot back bluntly. “I can get you somewhere by next weekend. You can live there, and then you’re close by for me to pop in whenever I want. I keep a few guys that way.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Nicko asked, confused by what he felt were a rush of mixed messages.

“At a game, the front row seats are always the best,” Carl simply replied, leaning across once more and flicking the fat roll that fell over Nicko’s belt. “And this is a show I have no intention of missing…”

It was a couple of months later. Nicko stood at the large picture window of his apartment, still unable to comprehend the amazing view he had over the cityscape. Fully furnished and decorated by professional interior designers, Nicko was living a life he could have only ever imagined in his very wildest of dreams. He was even paid a salary each month and had new bank accounts set up entirely by Carl’s people. And all it took was the signing of several non-disclosure agreements from the athlete’s numerous lawyers.

“It’s time to put that pizza down, Fat Boy!” Carl called out, striding in unannounced, as usual.

Nicko chuckled. He hadn’t been eating any pizza, although you would never have guessed that from looking at him. Upon Carl’s insistence, he wore only his underwear around the apartment, catching glimpses of his increasingly lardy reflection in the many, many mirrors that Carl had insisted was part of the interior design.

“Jeez! Look at you!” Carl laughed, undressing himself at the door, as he always did, and watching as his secret project came waddling into view. He pulled his erection out and stipped even his boxers, standing there as the perfect masculine specimen. “Your tits just won’t quit growing, will they?” he laughed. “And look at this fat butt!” he marvelled, dropping Nicko’s underwear and slapping the oversized glutes which had been filling up at a faster rate since Carl had been sending over take-out most nights. Nicko could tell from the way that Carl was handling them, exactly how the big man wanted to fuck him that evening.

The big mirror in the hallway was always Carl’s favourite spot. He could bend Nicko over the sturdy little desk and watch their reflections as he powerfully bombarded his boy’s chubby’s rear with blow after blow.

“You played well last night,” Nicko offered afterwards as a naked Carl lounged on his sofa for a rest afterwards..

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl sighed, rolling his eyes. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day long. This wasn’t what he kept Nicko for.

“I felt so proud, I decided to finish all those doughnuts you sent me,” he explained, hoping to please his lover.

“Good,” Carl nodded. “It’s about time you stopped resisting the ways I’m trying to help you fatten faster.” He beckoned Nicko closer, just as the chubby boy had hoped. “So, tell me, how did it make you feel, eating all that for me?”

Still fully loaded and, as yet, unsatisfied, Nicko gasped in excitement as he felt Carl’s hand moving onto his thigh, ready to pleasure him if only he said the right things. “It felt incredible,” he replied, exaggerating. “It made me want to eat even more food and please you so much more,” he continued, feeling his erection having a gentle stroke; so subtle and yet so precise.

“Go on,” Carl demanded, not letting Nicko stop. “Tell me more.”

Nicko gasped, always climaxing pathetically quickly whenever Carl was the one touching him. “It made me so excited to get heavier for you…” he offered.

“Oh, no. That’s not the right word now, is it?” Carl sighed with disappointment. “You’re not just getting heavier, are you? Tell me what’s really happening, One Percent.”

Nicko gave another gasp of arousal, his jaw slackening as the pleasure built. “I’m getting fatter for you,” he replied diligently.

“What else?” Carl demanded again, having found a small crack in Nicko’s defences and prizing it open in any way that he could.

“I’m getting lazier. I don’t exercise. And I eat like a pig,” Nicko whispered, just as he had been trained.

“You are a pig,” Carl shot back at him, spiking Nicko’s arousal even more. The shock he felt over the word was now gone, given how many times Carl had whispered it into his ear whenever he came. Now the word had become a key for unlocking Nicko’s arousal.

Nicko nodded, gazing submissively into the big man’s eyes. His breathing was heavy and his entire body twitched as the orgasm built.

“Piggy, Piggy, Piggy!” Carl sang teasingly, forcing Nicko’s hardess to erupt explosively yet again.

“My goodness! What on earth have you been eating?” asked Nicko’s mother a few weeks later as he called home for a quick visit.

Nicko could feel his face flushing. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to conceal his stout gut that had quickly formed and dominated his torso. It was all his family wanted to talk about, demanding explanations from Nicko about exactly what he was doing to gain so much weight so quickly. Didn’t he have any regard for his health? His appearance? His ability to find someone nice to settle down with? Just what was this city life doing to him?

“She’s only thinking of you, Son,” Nicko’s dad offered later that afternoon, as the pair retreated into the TV room to watch the football.

“I know, I know,” Nicko huffed, trying to concentrate on the game to see how Carl was playing. Then he winced as Carl went in for a big tackle, destroying the opposition.

“Ouch!” Nicko’s dad hooted. “He’s a nasty piece of work, that Carl Williams! Look at him getting up like nothing’s happened. That poor guy will be out for weeks after that tackle.”

“So?,” Nicko replied defensively. “It wasn’t an illegal tackle. He’s not broken any rules.”

“No, just another guy’s shoulder by the looks of things. Third one this season by my count.”

They both watched the screen as Carl strutted about on the pitch, waiting for the medical team to finish up so that play could resume. Nicko knew the football player well enough to know when he was trying to suppress a proud smile.

“A man that big has no place on the football field,” Nicko’s dad continued. “Look at him! His arms are bigger than my thighs! The game has gone ridiculous!”

But Nicko definitely was watching, feeling blood pumping into his groin. He rubbed his fat tummy, just as Carl would have, suddenly knowing that he wanted to gorge himself stupid on fast food on the way home.

“I weighed myself this morning,” Nicko explained, lying on his front, naked on the bed after a particularly boisterous session with Carl. “Three hundred and forty one pounds,” he smiled, rolling a little and grabbing a wedge of belly fat.

“You have to start eating more then, won’t you?” Carl replied, unimpressed. “You’re only just a little heavier than me.”

Nicko laughed. Whilst the fact was true, his and Carl’s bodies were complete polar opposites in terms of composition.

“I mean it,” Carl stated seriously. “Three fifty by next weekend. Make it happen.”

“Am I the fattest of the guys you keep?” Nicko asked, knowing how Carl supported lots of secret lovers all over the city.

“Not even close!” Carl laughed.

“Do you think I could be, one day?”

Carl looked at him seriously, studying his face in a way that he did not usually. Then his answer, when it came, was actually a lot more considered than anything else that usually came out his mouth. “Why? Do you want to be?”

The feeling of having Carl’s attention was a drug that Nicko could never wean himself off. “For you,” he smiled, “I’d do anything.”

With Nicko’s new enthusiasm and commitment, he felt himself rising up the ranks in Carl’s mind. The athlete came over a lot more and took a very active interest in ensuring that Nicko continued to grow as he’d promised he would. One such perk was having free seats to any of Carl’s games; often getting himself on camera as he gorged on corn dogs in the stands.

“Steve?” Nicko asked as he recognised the man standing by the rest rooms after the game. “How’re you doing, buddy? I can’t believe I’m bumping into you!”

The young man Nicko had met and made friends with in the training camp failed to recognise him until Nicko introduced himself once more. His jaw dropped and he spluttered and mumbled his way through the conversation, clearly not quite believing that they had once been roommates a little over one year ago.

“How did the training camp work out for you in the end?” Nicko asked. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to anyone.”

“Yeah, we got used to that,” Steve nodded. “We’d see guys at breakfast and then… gone. Kicked out. I got down to the final thirty or so. But it got so toxic in the end,” he grumbled, reeling off the names of the guys both he and Nicko had despised: the ones who were now making names for themselves in the professional game. “In the end, I was quite happy to leave.”

Nicko looked down to Steve’s body, noticing a stout little stomach under his pumped pecs.

Steve noticed him looking and he sucked in hids stomach slightly, clearly feeling a little awkward. “I’ve been trying to keep up the training,” he rambled on, clearly used to making excuses for his appearance. “It’s just hard to balance now I’m working full time as well.”

“It’s much easier when you give into it,” Nicko smiled knowingly.

“Yeah, well…” Steve smiled awkwardly. “I’m not quite ready for that.”

Nicko wondered whether he should tell his old friend that the weight gain wasn’t going to stop; that just like him, Steve was heading on a path to enormous obesity as a result of their time in the training camp. However, he resisted, giving his old friend the goodbye hug he had never been allowed at the camp, and watching the guy’s meaty, round glutes and stubborn love handles as he walked back to his girlfriend who was now out of the restrooms. If only she knew the body her boyfriend would soon inhabit: another victim of his own lust for sporting success.

It was only now that Nicko realised just how involved Carl had been from the beginning, having invested millions in the training camp they had attended, and reaping fifty times as much in return. It was what he loved most in the entire world; never missing a single event day they held, and personally seeing to it that more and more naive college boys were signed up each year.

“You’re such a good pig these days,” Carl grinned, watching Nicko nibbling on the specially made giant doughnuts that fitted perfectly around Carl’s thick erection. “Just seeing you without your clothes on now… you’re so disgustingly obese, and yet… look at you eat!”

Nicko nibbled and licked the remaining bits up quickly and sat up so that Carl could touch and jiggle his enormous body, laughing as the waves of pure fat travelled in such interesting ways through his entire body.

“How about we get you somewhere nicer to live than this dump?” he asked, scorning as he looked around the plush, luxury apartment. “Somewhere a lot more superchub friendly.”

Nicko nodded, happy to live wherever Carl thought was best. As he had grown, the wage that was deposited into his account each month had been increasing more and more. Carl had always been great at incentives. In a couple more months, he would even be able to buy his own place, should he so wish.

“I’m looking for somewhere very exclusive for my original piggy to live in,” Carl explained, bouncing up and pushing Nicko onto his back on the bed. “I’d like it to be somewhere for you both to live together,” he smiled, picking up another cream filled doughnut and pushing it into Nicko’s submissive mouth.

Chewing quickly and swallowing as much as he could, Nicko nodded with interest. “This is the guy you first went on the training course with? Your fattest boy so far?”

“You wait until you see him!” Carl grinned excitedly. “Mountains and mountains of pure blubber!” he chuckled, stuffing yet another doughnut into Nicko’s mouth and watching as the greedy boy swallowed it down for him “But he’s not always obedient, like you. He still tries to push against my rules on occasion,” he sneered in irritation. “The pig’s almost one hundred pounds heavier than you are,” Carl explained, having never actually given Nicko any insight into the differences between him and the other fatties he kept. “Yet, he still thinks he can defy me at times.”

Nicko looked up at the gorgeous, hulking monster above him. “Don’t worry. I’ll sort him out for you,” he stated with certainty.

Carl threw his head back and laughed. “My disgusting fatty is setting himself a mission, is he?” he mocked. “Well, you do that then, One Percent,” he nodded approvingly. “Turn him into a good piggy, just like you.”

Nicko smiled, delighted to be trusted with such a task. He rolled over, feeling Carl’s large hand smacking an entire palmful of lubricant into his crack. Then he pulled his heavy, fat-filled glutes wide apart to demonstrate that he was ready to be fucked again. Nicko didn’t know exactly when he had stopped caring about anything else in his life; devoting himself entirely to Carl’s wants and needs. He knew that the guy was wicked and manipulative; throwing his money around and flaunting his good looks to get whatever he wanted. He knew as well that the guy could get bored of him and drop him in a flash. But whilst he was here, basking in the limelight, he would enjoy every second of it.

He would be the very best piggy.

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