Slob Control - Peter's New Boss

For Peter during that first week, making the adjustment to his new body, and his new life, was a struggle. Not, necessarily in the ways he would have expected. Going back to work that Monday morning, he was surprised to find that all of his office clothes fit--mostly. Everything was a bit tight on him, making it a little embarrassing, especially around his crotch. His bulge looked massive no matter what he did, and it only made it more humiliating knowing it was all balls--his tiny cock wouldn’t even make a dent in it. As far as everyone at the office knew, he had always been like this--hairy, muscular, stinking. That didn’t make it easier, though. He could see the way they looked at him, the disdain they held for him, the whispers behind his back. He tried to remember to take a shower in the morning, and sometimes he even managed to do so. It didn’t matter though. By the time he got to the office, he would already be sweating like a pig, his pits damp enough to leave large wet patches under his arms. He would smell himself, and that would make him desperately horny. That, in turn, would make his massive nuts begin to leak. The first day was the worst. By lunch time, he looked down from the work he’d been struggling though, and realized he had soaked the crotch of his khakis straight through. It was so bad, it looked like he’d pissed himself. He’d crept out of the building as stealthily as he could to go home and change, and returned. After that, he doubled up his underwear, and still had to bring a change of pants to get through the day without incident.

After work, he would go home and service his Master next door. On Monday, though, Bill seemed sick--he didn’t even want to see him. The rest of the week, he accepted Peter’s services, but something had taken the wind out of him all the same. He tried to ask, and Bill just told him it wasn’t his business. Once he was done with Bill, he’d order some food, and then spend the rest of the evening at the gloryholes. He was almost happier as nothing more than a mouth or an asshole, there at the porn shop. Less judgment. He got what he needed, they got what they wanted. It was transactional, easy.

He thought about quitting work, but knew that would just be giving in. It was, in many ways, the only thing left of his old life. Giving up on that would mean that Bill had won, and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. That didn’t make it easy though. He was so horny all day that he could barely focus on his job. Thursday, he got called into his boss’s office, and was chewed out for everything from basic errors in his data entry, to complaints around the office about his personal hygiene. Worst of all, the humiliating tongue lashing only got him hornier. He left work early that day and went right to the porn shop. He was just a cock addicted slave pig, this was all he was good for, his head told him, and it was getting harder and harder to deny it. He managed to finish out the week, and was so happy it was Friday, and he wouldn’t have to go back to that place--not until Monday, at least, and then he’d just have to do it all over again. He put that thought out of his mind, focused on satisfying his base, perverse urges all weekend. Come Sunday evening though, the misery came on strong. He couldn’t keep doing this.

He’d finished servicing Bill by then, who seemed rather pleased with himself, for reasons that he hadn’t bothered telling to Peter. “Master,” Peter said, “I...I have...please, I...”

“Spit it out, slave.”

So Peter did his best, telling him how miserable he’d been at work for the last week, how he could barely manage his job, how everyone looked at him like they despised him. “Please, just...just make it so I’m normal at work. I’ll be your slave at home, I...but I can’t keep doing this, I can’t.”

Bill laughed, a hearty laugh, one that Peter knew didn’t bode particularly well for his request. “So, one week of being treated the way you treated me all these years, and you can’t hack it, is that it?”

“No, I...I wasn’t...”

Bill looked at him again, a little more thoughtfully this time. “Do you like the way I make you feel, Pete?” he said, got up from his chair and went to where Peter was standing, pushing his gut against him, watching his neighbor slave shudder. “Have you ever felt anything as pleasurable as what I give you here? Tell me the truth.”

“No Master, I haven’t,” Peter said.

“I think you’re handsome, you know. Handsome, strong, admirable. I made you this way so that I could have a hot muscle pig slave service me every night. I know you enjoy the way you look, the way you smell. You’d want to give all of that pleasure up, just so you can go to a job, with a bunch of shits that couldn’t care one whit about you on any given day. That place doesn’t care about you, not like I do. It fucking warped you, Peter. Look at how much that place and those people made you care about them, when they couldn’t give two shits about you. The real question is why aren’t you as disgusted by them, as they are by you? Why should you have to change for them? Why shouldn’t they be the ones changing?”

“I’m sorry I said anything Master, please, forgive me, I’m--”

Bill grabbed him by the beard and pulled his face towards his own. “I’m not mad, slave. You were in a cage for so long, I understand that you can miss the sensation of confinement.”

“You put me in a cage. You enslaved me,” Peter said, “you ruined everything.”

Bill just smiled, “I haven’t ruined everything yet.” He let go of Peter’s beard. “Go home slave. Get some sleep tonight. You don’t want to be late for work tomorrow.”

Peter got his clothes on and left, feeling fairly lucky that he didn’t receive some sort of punishment for what he’d asked. Bill watched his horny, stinking muscle slave hustle down the driveway, and chuckled a bit. He’d thought about punishing him, but in all honesty, it was hot watching him pulled in both directions. That old chunk of him still longed for clean, earnest society, but the pig that Bill had planted in him was simply enjoying itself too much for him to resist that hard. He could, of course, find Peter a line of work more suitable for a pig like him--maybe even with the construction crew that Bill worked for, but no, he had a better idea. After all, Bill was only one man, and even after recruiting Jason as one assistant, there was still so much of the world to take on. His smile widened. Yes, Peter would hate that even more, and love it, all at the same time. It would be perfect. Bill summoned the spellbook to his hand, flipped through the pages, and settled on the spell he would need. He waited for Peter to fall asleep before casting it on him. He wanted it to be a surprise for him tomorrow. Pretty soon, he had a feeling that the men in the office would start to see Peter in a different light.

***

Peter dragged his feet on Monday morning, and ended up arriving a bit late to the office. He knew this wouldn’t help matters, as far as his boss was concerned. Inside, he made his way to a spot in the office that was fairly secluded away from other folks, so he wouldn’t bother anyone with his stink or mess. He opened up his laptop, checked his email and messages, and immediately received a note from his boss, Jerry, requesting he come by his office as soon as he got in that morning. Peter sighed--not a great sign on a Monday morning, especially considering the chat he’d had with Jerry the week before.

Jesse wasn’t necessarily a bad manager. Peter had certainly worked for much, much worse. He knew the job, and was generally kind to the people on his teams. He was, however, a stickler for rules and policies. The other reason the two of them had never really gotten along well was the age difference. Peter was in his mid fifties, Jesse, meanwhile, was only in his late twenties. Jerry saw him as an outdated worker from a bygone era, and Peter tended to think Jerry was a little too big for his britches on occasion. It hadn’t made for a great working relationship, and the changes Peter had gone through thanks to Bill had only made things worse between them.

As expected, Jesse lept right into a diatribe, picking up right where he’d left off with him the week before. Peter just wanted to shrink down and disappear. He hated this. It wasn’t even his fault that any of this had happened. As he stood there, he began heating up, sweating more, but it was more than that. There was a pressure, both inside him, like something was trying to push its way out of him, but also outside, like some kind of field forming around him, almost magnetic. He felt a bit dizzy even, his vision tunneling down, focusing intensely on Jesse sitting behind his desk, and then, something shot out of him, some unknown energy, and slammed right into Jesse’s chest. At the same time, the field around him seemed to push out, and Jesse could feel time slowing down around him--at least for everything else.

Bill had something to do with this, it had to be Bill. He opened the door, and found himself looking at Bill’s secretary midstep, coming back with a mug of coffee, frozen in time. Something dragged him back into the office, turned his focus around, back on Jesse. There was a question he needed to answer, or a material he needed to provide. A desire. Something in his chest, something pounding away. It wanted to know what he wanted, what he needed. He looked at Jesse, and felt a wave of horniness rising up inside him. “No...No, not...not that, he doesn’t deserve it, he didn’t do anything wrong!” Peter said to the air around him, but it was too late. The thought was already forming, the desire, the image. Sitting at the desk in front of him, he watched the frozen Jesse begin to change.

He thought Peter was nothing more than a dirty, old pig. Well, he’ll show him what a dirty, old pig looks like. He could feel the logic in the air around them, Jesse beginning to swell larger in his office chair, his cheeks filling in with stubble, becoming a short beard.

Fuck, he’s going to look so fucking hot...

Peter let out a little snort. He realized how excited he was, how horny he was. It was feeding it, pushing more energy into the room, accelerating what was happening to Jesse there at the desk, intensifying it. He looked to be nearly forty now, lines appearing across his face, the first strands of gray appearing in his beard, now nearly an inch long. He was growing fatter at an amazing rate, already pushing close to three hundred pounds, his clothes expanding along with him.

Dirty, horny old pigboss, calling me into his office, using me like the whorepig I fucking am...

He noticed something else. He saw Jesse’s eyes, the shock in them. He knew what was happening to him. Time was frozen, but not his awareness. Shame hit him then, and horror. What could it feel like, watching, feeling his body and life shift right before his eyes, frozen and helpless, as he gained all this weight, this hair, all of these years added to his life. He was terrified, and helpless, and fuck, if that didn’t somehow make it hotter too. His beard was long enough to reach his dress shirt now. His shirt was no longer crisp and clean, but wrinkled with any number of grease stains, and more than a few ash marks as well, from his...from his cigars.

Crude, rude pigboss, smoking in his office, drinking, drunk most days. What does he care? He doesn’t have to work, that’s for the office grunts, he just had to keep them in line...

His beard fading to gray, stained yellow around his mouth. The hair on his head disappeared as he balded, leaving just a horseshoe fringe around his ears and the back of his head. He had to be nearly five hundred pounds now. The office was changing, growing hazy with smoke, the air stale with sweat and body odor. Jesse’s desk was a mess, a half drank bottle of whiskey sitting right there, out in the open, next to his humidor. His chair was larger, reinforced, his desk much larger, and taller--tall enough for a pig like Peter to fit underneath, certainly.

The energy was growing weaker. He could feel the changes slowing down, leaving him both exhausted, yet still intensely horny. Time was beginning to pick up, he could see the shock forming on Jesse’s face, picking up speed as the room caught up to the world, and he watched his new boss, now older than him, massively obese, stinking just as much, if not more, than he was, heave himself up from the chair, catching his bulk on the lip of the desk and ripping off two buttons from his shirt. “What the hell, what the fuck just happened to me?” he said, gripping his fat with both hands, watching his hairy gut fall out of his shirt, over the waistband of his grubby khakis. He looked at Peter, still standing there in front of the desk, “Peter! What...you...you have to get help, something’s wrong, what happened to me, I’m not supposed...I...”

Words failed him. Peter tried to speak, but didn’t know what to say. In all honesty, he was afraid of what words might come tumbling out of his mouth. He was worried that he’d just crawl over, grab hold of his boss’s hairy gut and shove his own face into it, taste it, fuck! He had to get out of here. He turned to run, only to find himself faced with a strange window, hanging in midair--and on the other side was Bill, smiling at him.

“Well, that worked like a charm,” Bill said, “What do you think of your new boss, Pete? Much better than the old one, don’t you think?”

“Master? What the fuck did you do to him?” Peter said.

“Me? I didn’t do anything. You did this,” Bill said, then sighed, “Alright, so I put a little curse on you, as punishment last night. A good curse though. Every day, from now on, you’re going to turn one untainted man into a dirty, dominant top for you to service.”

“Who the--what the fuck is that?” Jesse said, as he tried to maneuver himself around his desk with his new heft.

“Oh, you didn’t finish him off yet,” Bill said.

“What?”

“You gotta service him, Pete. Get him to shoot his load. Once he does that, he’ll fully accept his new life, and forget all about his old one.”

“I can’t do that! That’s...that’s...like, murder, or something.”

“Get him horny, and he’ll start to come around, don’t worry. Then it’s just assisted suicide. Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it just fine. Besides, from what I could see, he’s definitely improved. Have fun!”

The window disappeared as Jesse managed to lumber his way over to where Peter was standing, close enough that he caught a whiff of the funk coming off Jesse’s fat, sweaty, hairy body, and Peter didn’t quite manage to stifle the moan that slipped out of his mouth.

“Peter, what the fuck was he talking about? What’s going on?” Jesse said.

“You...you have to get away from me, you can’t be near me, fuck,” Peter said.

“You fuckin’ pig, you did something to me, didn’t you? What the fuck is wrong with me!” Jesse said, screamed, really, and then did something that shocked both of them, and slapped Peter across the face with one fat hand.

They froze, Peter watching the emotions cross Jesse’s face. Horror, then delight, then surprise at how good that had made him feel, that expression of raw, physical power over this dirty pig, this subordinate, and a cruel little sneer started to form at the edge of his mouth.

“Please, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to change you back, but I know who did it, please, you need to get away from me.”

“You’re not fuckin’ sorry, but yer gonna be, you fuckin’ piece of shit,” Jesse said, backed Peter up against the wall, and wrapped one hand around his neck, pinning him there with his big belly. Peter began to lose it, snorting and grunting, thrusting his hips against Jesse’s huge belly, feeling his tiny cock start to leak in his doubled up underwear. That was enough for Jesse to snap out of it, stumble back and away from Peter, letting him slide down the wall, shaking. “Fuck, what the fuck is going on with me, fuck,” Jesse muttered, and stomped back around to the other side of the desk. With a shaking hand, he opened up the humidor, more by instinct than intent, and pulled out one of his massive, dark cigars.

“No--no, don’t. It won’t help,” Peter croaked out, dizzy with horniness. He needed to get out of this office, but...but...

You need to serve him, worship him. He’s a master, you’re a slave, and you have a duty to do, pig.

That voice, it wasn’t his own, but it wasn’t not him either. Jesse lit up his cigar, took a few puffs, and sighed out a heavy plume of smoke. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, took off the cap and drank straight from the bottle, before plopping down in his chair with a long, loud fart. “Fuck, that’s fuckin’ better,” Jesse said. His voice was changing, deeper and gruffer. “I...why the fuck is everythin’ so fuckin’ muddled up?”

Peter slowly tried to crawl towards the door. If he could just get out of here, get back home, and talk to Bill, maybe he could fix this--maybe.

“Where the hell do ya think yer goin’? We weren’t done with our little chat, were we? Git o’er here.”

Peter froze. Truly froze, froze in the same way he froze when Bill gave him an order. He turned around, screaming in his head, fighting as hard as he could, but he crawled around the desk to where Jesse was sitting, taking another swig of whiskey from the bottle. “Dirty fuckin’ piece of shit, I should fuckin’ fire you.”

“You should Sir,” Peter said, “You should fire me, and kick me out of the building.”

“I would, but fuck, I’m fuckin’ horny today, and I felt you...grindin’ up against me a second ago. Yer a fuckin’ faggot, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, yes Sir, I’m a dirty faggot pig Sir, it would be an honor, a privilege, to service you, please Sir...” Peter said, the words pouring out beyond his control, and worse, it was all true.

“Pathetic,” Jesse said, took a drag off his cigar, then added, “Get yer faggot ass under the desk.”

Peter fit under the large wood frame, but just barely. Jesse hauled up his massive apron, tugged open the fly of his pants, and Peter dug around until he found his boss’s cock. It wasn’t particularly large, and several inches were swallowed up by his thick fatpad, but it was thick. Jesse shoved his body under the desk, pinning Peter there, making his struggle for an opportunity to breathe. Jesse’s fat, smelly body threatened to choke him out, and each time Jesse heard him gasp or choke, he could feel his cock throb. He was getting off on that, just as much as the blowjob itself. Despite himself, Peter was enjoying the treatment immensely, the scent of Jesse’s unwashed body was heavenly, and he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, if he did a good job, maybe his boss would let him hump his belly for a few minutes, just long enough to get a load of his own out. If there were any hesitations from the old Jesse, the smoke and the drink soon buried them, and he came with a grunt, spewing a load of thick cum down Peter’s throat under the desk.

“Not bad, pig,” Jesse said, pushing his chair back and letting Peter crawl out. “Good enough to keep you working here. I expect you in here every morning, understand me? And maybe every afternoon too--we’ll see.”

“Yes Sir,” Peter said. He almost asked if he could hump him, grind up against him like a dirty little dicked pig, but managed to swallow it. He had enough pride for that, surely. He left, horrified at what he’d done, and yet also pleased, and made it back to his cubicle.

“Nicely done slave,” a voice said behind him, and he saw the same window had opened up with Bill on the other side.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit, Master,” Peter said.

Bill just laughed. “Tell me the truth--you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he couldn’t keep his lips knotted up, “I did, alright? I fucking did.”

“Good. Remember, you owe me one man a day from now on. Doesn’t have to be from work--I’m sure you’d like a master or two at the gym too, maybe at the porn shop? Just make sure you always leave time for me. I always take priority. Remember that slave. I own you.”

“Yes Sir.”

“You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes Sir, I do.”

Bill just laughed, and disappeared. Peter gave a groan of frustration, groped himself, and felt how wet his crotch was. He should go change, fuck. No--why fucking bother? He sat in his cum soaked pants instead, and tried to get some work done, eventually giving up and watching porn on the internet. What did it matter? His boss wasn’t going to fire him for this, and pretty soon, he didn’t think there’d be much work happening here in the office anyway.