Pounded By This Delicious Tofurkey On Thanksgiving

Vinny is about to experience his first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian, and as a turkey lover, he’s terrified. What if his cravings get the best of him?

Vinny’s friends and family suggest a tofurkey, but Vinny refuses, unable to believe the taste will be satisfying. Instead, he locks himself in his own basement, but this only lasts until the aroma of Thanksgiving dinners around the neighborhood drive Vinny into a frenzy.

Will Vinny succumb to his carnivorous craving? Or will a handsome sentient tofurkey help Vinny realize that there’s more than one way to get a taste on Thanksgiving?

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay Thankgiving food action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and living tofurkey love.

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POUNDED BY THIS DELICIOUS TOFURKEY ON THANKSGIVING

By Chuck Tingle

I can tell by the way this employee is scanning my items that he’s vaguely concerned, but I’ll also concede it could just be my imagination. We’re at a hardware store, after all, so while this collection of strange items might read as the tools of a serial killer, they could also be the setup for someone who’s about to… I don’t know… build a shed?

         “Lotta chains here,” the man says as he pulls these rattling links of metal across the counter between us.

         “Uh huh,” I respond.

         The man hoists up one of my sand bags and then counts the rest in my cart. “Five sand bags,” he announces, then glances up at the sky. “Didn’t hear about any rain coming in.”

         “Me either,” I reply.

         I finish checking out and then continue on my way, my shopping cart having a hell of a time with all this weight piled up onto it. It squeaks and rumbles as I push it out into the parking lot, making my way down a long line of cars until I reach my own vehicle. It’s here that I pop the trunk and start the process of loading in my supplies. There’s a lot to reckon with, but I think I should be fine as long as I pack it up just right.

         “Hey! Vinny!” a voice calls out. “How’s it going?”

         I turn to find my friend Paul standing nearby. He smiles warmly, then glances down at the strange assortment of things I’ve got piled in my cart.

         “It’s going good,” I tell him. “Just getting ready for Thanksgiving.”

         Paul furrows his brow. “Looks like you have some interesting Thanksgiving traditions,” he replies. “You cooking a meal with all that stuff or are you keeping a monster locked up in your basement.”

         I can’t help but laugh, recognizing just how absurd this situation is. “Actually, no,” I reply, grabbing one of the heavy chains and hoisting it up. “I’m locking myself in the basement.”

         “Wait, what?” Paul blurts, even more confused now.

         “Chains, locks, and sandbags so I don’t break down the door,” I explain, motioning to each item within my cart.

         My friend is frozen, waiting for some little nugget of sense to drop into place and finally turn this messy puzzle of information into a coherent picture. It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve left out a very important part of my story.

         “Oh, I’m a vegetarian now,” I explain. “This is my first Thanksgiving not eating any turkey and I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself.”

         Paul’s eyes widen with understanding. “Oh man, I know that feeling. I tried to stop eating candy for a month and I was ravenous. I put a lock on the pantry and ended up tearing the whole door off.” He steps up and pats me on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

         “Thanks man,” I reply.

         “You ever try one of those tofurkey things? Tofu with all the seasonings in a great big loaf.”

         I can’t help but scoff. “No, but there’s no way that’s gonna hit the spot.”

         Paul shrugs. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. I had a bite or two last year and it was pretty good.”

         I just nod along, but to be honest, I don’t believe him for a second. This year, the only thing I’m trusting is iron and sand.

         We say our goodbyes and I climb into my car, pulling out of the parking lot and making my way towards home. It’s less than twenty-four hours until the big day and there’s still so much to do, a fact that hadn’t bothered me much until this very moment. I suddenly find myself getting incredibly anxious, worried this plan of mine might not work out after all.

         I’ve enjoyed being a vegetarian so far, love the way that it makes me feel both physically and mentally, but I still find myself battling those cravings. I’ve been able to resist, but deep down I know a delicious Thanksgiving turkey will be the ultimate test.

         It’s a test I’m not sure I can pass.

         My phone suddenly rings, pulling my attention back into focus as a familiar little jingle comes cascading through my car stereo. I answer quickly, my mother’s voice announcing itself through the speakers.

         “Are you feeling okay?” she asks, jumping right into it. “I heard you weren’t coming for Thanksgiving.”

         “I’m so sorry,” I profess. “I just… I can’t do it. The turkey is going to tempt me.”
         “I don’t have to make turkey,” my mother offers. “What about ham?”

         A hunger pang erupts through my stomach. “Ham! Oh, ham!” I groan, imagining the salty taste. “That’s even worse... or better… or… you know what I mean!”

         “Sweetheart, we’d really love it if you came for dinner,” Mom presses.

         “I know, I want to be there, it’s just…” I trail off.

         My mother understands the importance of this pause, picking up on everything I’m trying to say without a single word being uttered. “I get it,” she says. “You’ll be missed by everyone, but there’s always next year.”

         “Thank you, mom,” I say with a smile, relieved this as a call made out of genuine concern and not some kind of guilt trip.

         I move to hang up but my mother stops me by adding one last thing. “What about one of those tofurkeys?” she questions.

         “I don’t think that’s gonna do the trick,” I reply. “Just… make everyone a delicious Turkey. Have fun.”

         I hang up, and right on cue I spot the local health food store, Borson’s Co-Op. I’m just a few blocks away from home now, close enough that I could walk over here and grab a nice juicy tofurkey any time I wanted, but instead I avert my eyes and keep driving. I can’t get distracted, and it’s too late to change course now.

In all of my planning for this evening, there’s one thing I didn’t account for: just how boring it would be.

         I suppose that’s better than the alternative, but as I sit here in my basement—windows boarded over, door locked and chained, and sandbags stacked high—I can’t help but crave a little excitement. It is a holiday after all, and while my motivations for this seclusion are noble, I still wish there was another way.

         So far this evening I’ve done plenty of pacing, walking back and forth from one end of this room to the other, and now I’ve transitioned to sitting and staring. In a few minutes, I’ll probably get back to walking again.

         My stomach grumbles, a surge of hunger rippling through me. I had a snack before coming down here and locking myself in, hoping desperately this might satiate the future cravings. On another other day, it might actually do the trick, but Thanksgiving is a special kind of monster. This is a day when you’re expected to eat well past the boundary of “full,” and my body knows it.

         I glance over at the pillow and blanket that rest nearby. Maybe I should just sleep it off.

         Before I get the chance, however, a familiar aroma stops me in my tracks. The scent is pleasant and welcome, yet it still sends a chill of panic through my body when I recognize its familiar tang. This is something I hadn’t accounted for, something that could turn this entire evening on its head and undo every bit of planning I so meticulously sorted out.

         The windows may be closed and boarded up, but not tightly enough. There are still small cracks to be found, and its through these cracks that the scent of a sizzling roast has come creeping. The neighbor must be cooking their turkey.

         The pangs of hunger within me begin to transform into something even more compelling, working their way through my body and commandeering my senses. The idea of holding back on these cravings seems futile now, and this recognition only leads to more craving, more hunger, more desire. The floodgates have opened.

         Like a full moon werewolf I spring to my feet, lunging towards the door and frantically tearing away the sandbags. I heave them behind me with superhuman strength, toppling the stack with much more ease than I might’ve otherwise expected.

         It’s not long before the sand has been moved, at which point I get to work on the lock. This padlock is timed to open at sunrise, it’s key tucked away on the other side, but that doesn’t stop me from finding a large chip of basement concrete and using it like a hammer, slamming away until the whole lock just shatters and drops to the ground. After this, the chains fall away, and the next thing I know I’m rushing up the stairs as fast as I can.

         I’m following my nose, completely overwhelmed with hunger as I hunt for some nearby Thanksgiving meal. My search takes me out of the house, erupting through the front door and then down onto the sidewalk. I run down the street, my eyes darting through the dim light of the evening.

         It’s during this search that my gaze falls upon the nearby health food store, the very same place I’d noticed yesterday while driving home. The lights are on, spilling out into the darkness with a warm, cozy glow. A feeling surges through me, not one of freedom, but one of understanding.

         I don’t want to eat that turkey.

         I somehow manage to quell my desires, no longer hurrying towards the scent of someone else’s Thanksgiving dinner but looking for one of my own. I wander over to the storefront, gazing inside and seeing that a man behind the counter is staring out at me.

         “Hey,” I offer, the word coming out strangely gravely and animalistic until I clear my throat and try again. “Hey there.”

         “Are you alright?” the shopkeeper asks.

         “I’m just… really having a hard to staying vegetarian on Thanksgiving,” I admit. “This is my first one.”

         “You didn’t wanna grab yourself a tofurkey?”

         I shake my head. “I knew it wouldn’t taste like the real thing.”

         The shopkeeper holds my gaze for a moment, then laughs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to taste like the real thing. That’s not the point.”

         “It’s not?”

         “It’s about finding something that works,” he replies. “That’s pretty much everything in life.”

         I consider his words for a moment, then I let out a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

         We stand in silence for a moment.

         “You got any of those tofurkey’s left?” I finally ask. “I gotta eat.”

         An expression of disappointment washes over the shopkeeper’s face. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, we’re all out of tofurkeys this late in the game. At least, ones you can eat.”

         I hesitate. “Wait… what other kind is there?”

         “Well, standard tofurkey makes a great meal, but a sentient tofurkey makes a great lover.”

         I’m not entirely sure what this means, but clarity arrives when my eyes wander over to an enormous tofurkey loaf that’s hanging out in the back of the store. The tofurkey catches my gaze and for a moment we just stare at one another, the vibes growing between us.

         Eventually, this sentient meal motions for me to come over.

         “Excuse me,” I say to the shopkeeper, stepping away and heading deeper into the store.

         My heart is slamming with anticipation as I stroll down the aisle, making my way past various cereals and pastas, then a whole assortment of fruits laid out in beautiful, colorful bunches.

Yet, despite all of this delicious food, that ache at the pit of my stomach has transformed into something unexpected. The hunger that had once completely overwhelmed me has been relaced by arousal, although the element of craving remains the same.

         “I’m Vinny,” I say, introducing myself to the handsome sentient tofurkey.

         “Hibbon,” he replies. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? It’s Thanksgiving.”

         “I… uh… well, I kinda fucked that up,” I explain. “I’m a vegetarian, and I knew it would be hard missing out on turkey this year so I tried to skip the holiday entirely.”

         “You didn’t want any tofurkey?” Hibbon asks.

         “I didn’t think…” I start, then trail off.

         A look of understanding crosses Hibbon’s face. “Didn’t think we’d be any good?”

         “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Joke’s on me, though. There’s no more tofurkey left.”

         “There’s one left,” Hibbon replies.

         I chuckle to myself. “Yeah, but you’re sentient. You’re not gonna help me with these hunger cravings.”

         “I can help you with some other cravings,” the living loaf coos. “Maybe take your mind off of things for a while.”

         I freeze, not entirely sure what to make of this incredibly direct approach. When I glance back over my shoulder I find that the shopkeeper has disappeared. It’s just Hibbon and me now.

         Of course, there’s no denying how incredibly attractive this sentient turkey alternative is, but the second this thought crosses my mind another important point comes barreling through after it. Hibbon isn’t the alternative to anything, Hibbon is his own unique thing.

         “It might be nice to focus on something else for a minute,” I admit.

         Hibbon smiles. He saunters towards me, taking his time as the erotic tention between us builds. Closer and closer we get until our lips are hovering just a few inches away from one another.

         “I have a few ideas,” the living tofurkey says.

         “Like what?” I coo.

         “Are you going to make me say it?” he asks. “Or are you just going to step up and take the leap on your own?”
         This whole evening has been an exercise in containing my primal urges, an exercise that I consistently fail. At this point, I have no illusion that things are going to go any different.

         This time, however, I don’t actually care.

We stay like this just a moment longer, savoring the tension until it’s simply too much to contain. Finally, it breaks. Hibbon and me come together in an eruption of carnal passion, completely giving into the moment. My hands begin to explore his delicious tofurkey form as he appreciates me in turn, the handsome plant-based food gradually stripping away the clothing from my body. With each piece of fabric he removes, a sharp chill of arousal runs the length of my spine, these sensations building upon each other as more of me is exposed to the cool grocery store air. It’s not long before I’m standing completely naked before him.

         My hands started at Hibbon’s shoulders and chest, but gradually they work their way down, creeping slowly across the tofurkey’s chiseled abs. When I reach his waistline, however, I stop. It’s here that I let my attention drift back and forth, refusing to give into the temption of what waits below.

         Hibbon pushes his hips against me but I refuse to give in, just watching as his enormous cock swells. Soon enough there’s a delicious rocket of flesh projecting out from the tofurkey’s body, breathtaking in its length and girth.

         “Please,” Hibbon sighs in my ear, pressing himself up against me.

         I finally have mercy, reaching down and wrapping my hand around the living food’s enormous member. Hibbon reacts immediately, his body grinding even harder at little more than the touch of my hand against his aching dick.

         “Fuck,” the tofurkey moans.

         I slowly begin to pump my fist up and down across his length, taking my time and working with the natural movements of his body. The two of us fall into a rhythm together, the pleasure building within him, but before I let things get to hot and heavy I decide to switch things up.

         I still haven’t gotten a taste.

         With steadfast confidence I drop to my knees before the handsome tofurkey, releasing my grip on his cock and then dragging my tongue across his length. I start and his balls and then make my way to the tip, savoring his flavor. The seasoning is perfect, with notes of rosemary and a salty tang.

         “You’re fucking delicious,” I offer.

         “I told you,” Hibbon replies.

         I open wide and take the tofurkey between my lips, bobbing my head up and down across his length at the speed my hand established. The two of us immediately find our pulse, my edible lover reaching down and placing his hands against the back of my head to guide me along. Faster and faster I pump, ravenous for his cock, but when I can’t go any faster I pull back in a flurry of spit.

         I take a moment to center up and collect my senses, then dive back in. This time, however, I use a different approach. As Hibbon’s member slides into me I refuse to pull away, instead swallowing him deeper and deeper into my gullet. The handsome food slips down my throat, well past the expected limits of my gag reflex, and soon enough he is fully consumed. I hold Hibbon like this for as long as I can manage, my face pressed up against his abs in this stunning deep throat maneuver.

         Hibbon’s hands get a little firmer on the back of my head. He’s enjoying this position of domination, and I let him continue until I’ve completely run out of air. It’s only then that I burst off of him, gasping wildly as I struggle to catch my breath.

         “I need you inside of me,” I snarl. “Right fucking now.”

         I turn around and fall to my hands and knees, crawling across the floor as I pump my hips from side to side. I glance back over my shoulder and lock eyes with the handsome tofurkey, then reach back and give my rump a playful slap. With one hand, I hold myself open, allowing him a good look at my tightly puckered ass.

         “What are you waiting for?” I coo.

         The tofurkey doesn’t need to be told again. Hibbon floats down into position behind me, aligning his cock with my anal seal and gently pressing against it. He uses just enough force to let me feel the tension start to give, them pulls away before a full insertion, teasing me with the prospect of something more. He’s paying me back for the way I toyed with him earlier.

         “Come on,” I moan. “I need some of that tofurkey in my ass.”

         Finally, Hibbon succumbs. The sentient food thrusts forward with more power than before, impaling me across his rod as a sudden yelp escapes my throat. My fingers dig into the floor as I brace myself against his weight, body struggling to accept the handsome tofurkey’s incredible size. After deep throating him so efficiently, it appears I’d had a little too much confidence in my own anal acrobatics.

         Fortunately, Hibbon is a patient lover. The muscular tofurkey holds deep within me, but he doesn’t move, instead allowing my body to gradually adjust to his mighty penetration. Slowly, the discomfort begins to melt away, replaced instead by a pleasant warmth at the pit of my stomach. This sensation begins to fill me up, working its way down my arms and legs, and its here the Hibbon starts to move again.

         My tofurkey lover rocks his hips against me, grinding in deep confident swoops and then eventually transitioning into a steady pound. He’s hitting me just right, his cock rubbing perfectly against the prostate lurking deep within.

         “Just like that, just like that,” I murmur under my breath, the words spilling out of my mouth as a feverish mantra that grows and grows with every passing second, until eventually I’m calling out at the top of my lungs. My words spill through the store, unbridled as the passion overtakes me. “Just like that! Just like that!”

         I reach down and grab ahold of my hanging cock, beating myself off in time with these mighty slams as this new source of pleasure begins to mix with the one that came before it. It manifests an entirely novel sensation that’s hard to reckon with, these two distinct feelings creating a cocktail at the pit of my stomach. The muscles tighten and release in a series of waves.

         The largest of these waves hangs back, but I can feel it looming in the distance, slowly making its way towards me and threatening to crest. This is my impending climax, a powerful tidal force that grows larger and larger with every passing second.

         Hibbon is slamming away at me with everything he’s got now, his massive cock plunging into my absolute depths over and over again. With every deep thrust the feelings within me threaten to erupt, and finally I just can’t hold back any longer. The sensation spills over as I throw my head back and let out a howl of pleasure, completely losing myself in the moment.

         The looming wave crests, crashing down with all of its force and sweeping me away in a wash of utter bliss. It feels as though every one of my senses is pinned to the absolute maximum, too much to fully understand but still overtaking me just the same. It’s so much at for a moment it feels like I’ve left my body, hovering above myself and looking down at the erotic scene as it unfolds.

         Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my cock, splattering out across the floor below in beautiful, pearly patterns. It splatters the wood, raining down in glorious droplets that would make Jackson Pollack proud.

         All the while, Hibbon doesn’t let up with his ferocious pounds. He carries me through the entirety of my orgasm from start to finish, and when the feeling finally passes he thrusts deep and unleashes a climax of his own. Hibbon holds my hips tight as he spills into me, his cock twitching hard with every successive burst. Eventually, there’s no room left within the depths of my asshole and his cum spills out from my tightly packed rim, streaking the back of my legs.

         “Oh fuck!” he cries out. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

         When Hibbon finally finishes, the two of us collapse in a pile, utterly exhausted as we struggle to catch our breath.

         “That was incredible,” I sigh.

         “Feeling satisfied?” Hibbon asks.

         I hesitate. “In some ways,” I reply. “I’m still pretty hungry for Thanksgiving dinner.”

         The handsome tofurkey sits up, gazing down on me. “Then what are you waiting for?” he asks. “Go be with your family. I’ll be fine here at the shop.”

         I consider this, then shake my head. “I’ve got a better idea.”

I step up to the door and give three firm knocks. Moment’s later, it opens up and my mother’s expression erupts into one of joy and gratitude.

         “Vinny!” she screams. “You’re here!”

         Mom wraps her arms around me in a warm hug, clearly not expecting to see me this evening. Behind her, the home is spilling over with warmth and good cheer, my whole extended family gathered for a night of food and merriment.

         Eventually, Mom releases and steps back, taking us in. “And who is this that you brought with you?” she asks excitedly.

         “I’m Hibbon,” the sentient tofurkey next to me says, introducing himself. He goes for a handshake but my mother ignores this, giving him a hug in turn.

         “My boyfriend,” I add.

         “It’s so nice to meet you,” Mom says, then turns her attention back to me. “So you finally took my advice and got yourself a tofurkey, huh?”

         “Not to eat,” I clarify. “Hibbon is a living food.”
         “I can see that,” my mother observes.

         Now it’s Hibbon’s turn to interject. He lifts up a casserole dish. “I just whipped this up,” he explains. “We had a bunch of veggies at the shop so I threw a little something together.”

         My mother takes in a huge whiff, closing her eyes and smiling as she’s treated to the scent of Hibbon’s freshly cooked veggies. “Smells delicious,” she confirms, then steps away and beckons us inside.

         As we step through the threshold everyone calls out to greet us thankful that we made it.

I’m thankful for that, too.