Punishment - Part 7

It was hard to walk now. Hard to do much of anything other than eat and lay on his front or side as Karson fucked him to another earth-shattering orgasm. Don couldn’t even guess how large he was now--400, maybe 450 pounds. Somewhere in between. All he knew was how it felt. 

It felt amazing.

That was the surprising thing throughout all of this. He remembered the person he was, the violent sexual predator that got off on abusing and hurting women. And now? He didn’t even understand himself. He didn’t understand the tears that he’d shed not even a few hours ago. He didn’t understand the allure of a big, heavy dick swinging between his own legs. He didn’t understand why he enjoyed feeling like a big, lumbering neanderthal, only focused on where he’d bury his seed next.

It was so much more fun to be on the receiving end. 

And it was so intoxicating, this body that was so voluptuous. Curves upon curves, gently swelling mounts that peaked and plunged into deep, cavernous valleys. Secrets of seduction lay waiting in each dark recess of his own form that--once adequately plundered--brought both himself and his partner to the very heights of ecstasy. Why would anyone want to be anything other than gloriously fat? 

Karson was an enthusiastic teacher. He taught Don the pleasures of flesh like he was a teenager learning the birds and the bees all over again, like a high schooler with his first partner. There was always the slight menace, that overarching sense of angst that made Karson into a sort of bad-boy first-timer, but that just made Don feel all the more excited. 

Plus, Karson was hung like hell. No better teacher than a cock the size of a fist. 

Don was all over that cock. He loved it, worshiped it, rubbed it up and down his soft and luscious body, stuffed it in cracks and folds, and eventually, his ass. He couldn’t sit on it anymore--he’d gotten so large that a single squat was about all Don could manage--but a little encouragement was more than enough to get Karson to rise up, bend Don over a table or countertop, and fuck him even fatter.

Idly, as Don was enjoying his post-orgasmic meal, he wondered just when it would stop. He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he? There was a size that would eventually make him too large for even Karson’s mighty cock to burrow into. Reaching behind, Don traced the edges of what he could reach of his own rear, a slight worry as he noted just how wide he’d gotten. He needed two of his kitchen chairs just to sit down, and the meals now filled his entire table. 

Don didn’t think to ask himself just where the food was coming from. Karson merely ensured that Don always had something to eat, and so he ate it. It was one part his desire for food and another part doing as Karson ordered him to. 

Sometimes Karson would come up from behind to reach around Don’s chest and jiggle his new mammaries. Those were perhaps the only connection to his old life that Don understood--tits were great, whether they were on a woman or himself. They were warm, soft, and inviting even to him. And his nipples were so sensitive. Just a few light tugs were enough to his little cock hard as a nail from between his thunderous thighs. 

Hard and leaking. Don appreciated the attention and the results--pre-cum made a delightful lubricant for the inside of his legs, which now endured constant friction at their current size. It also made him smell like a fucking sex pig, an identity that Don delighted in cultivated.

“Looks like you’re almost done, piggy,” Karson said in Don’s ear as he stuffed his face with fried foods of all sorts. His voice was sweet and seductive, without its usual edge. “I think the restructuring will be done after a few more fucks.”

Right. “Restructuring.” That’s what had happened to him, why he couldn’t relate to his former self. He was a new man now, one ready to re-enter society without any chance that citizens will fall victim to his predatory behavior. There wasn’t a predatory pound left in Don’s body--not unless you were a chicken nugget.

“You’re gotten a lot bigger than most of the guys I’ve seen, gotta admit. To be fair, that’s probably my fault. Mine, and the city’s. They wanted to make sure you got the full treatment as much as I did, so we made a deal to ensure you’d be an elegant pansy of a porker.”

Karson slapped Don’s belly playfully, without any sting, just to watch the ripples that radiated outward from the impact. 

“C’mon tubbs, let’s get you fucked again.”

Don didn’t need any further encouragement. He did need a hand, however, as the two kitchen chairs he’d been sitting on finally collapsed under his immense bulk, their legs bending at odd angles as the metal finally failed. Don was in the middle of scarfing several chicken wings, which resulted in barbecue sauce spilling down his still-wobbling front.

“Fuck, we’re gonna need a crane for your fat ass soon,” Karson muttered as he bent down to grab Don’s arm. He braced and pulled, and with Karson’s help, Don was just able to get a leg underneath him long enough to stand up and waddle his way to the bathroom with Karson’s guiding hand there to steady him.