Fatter - Part 3

I was still hard. The intense heat and desire in my loins made it impossible to remember my quest to find that weird homeless guy that was somehow connected to my sudden enlargement. All I could do was reach down and touch my leaking dick and start the process of jerking off again.

I knew I’d gotten fatter again. To start, it was harder to reach over my own gut. Second, I felt less shaft poking through the fat mound of hair that covered my groin. And third, as I frantically began to pump what little cock I could reach, I felt my entire body jiggle and shake relentlessly.

Strangely, all that motion seemed to help. I got off in record time, coating my soft and flabby belly in a fresh layer of spunk to go with the one that had dried overnight.

And then as soon as that rampant horniness appeared, it was gone. It was like I’d just woken up from a dream. I realized I was still fat, and getting fatter every day. It even seemed to be getting faster.

As I heaved myself up and lumbered to the bathroom for a desperately needed shower, I tried not to think about how much farther my tits jutted out, how much lower my belly sagged, or how my thighs made a distinct clapping noise as they collided with each step. I ignored my reflection, although it was impossible to un-see the width of my cheeks or the roll of flesh that bunched up at the back of my neck. Even from the corner of my eye, I looked huge.

It became even more noticeable in the shower. It used to be that I could soak my whole body standing beneath the shower head. How the stream just struck my chest and rolled down my front without even touching my legs. It was like the muffin top of my torso was like a giant, flabby umbrella keeping my bottom half dry.

I scrubbed myself down, noting with disgust each new fold I found. When I got to my crotch, I found that I was once again hard without even realizing it.

This time I found I could resist. I ignored the leaking spike and continued showering, eventually figuring out how to wash feet that I could no longer see and calves that I could barely reach. My back, however, was simply impossible. I’d have to get a brush or something to reach behind myself.

Drying took longer and I needed more than a single towel to cover my added circumference. I ignored the scale and got dressed as quickly as I could, which wasn’t very fast. None of my pants would button up and my shirt left a good 3-inches of belly exposed. I ignored it all as best I could, got back in my car, and drove back into town.

I drove around for what felt like an hour, but just like yesterday, I didn’t find him. I did, however, find the twinky-looking kid from yesterday and slowly pulled up beside him to ask if he’d seen the homeless guy.

“Fuck off, fatso, I ain’t got time for you,” was all he said as soon as I rolled down my window.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, but I really need your help. Do you know where I can find--” I stopped. He’d stopped and turned around and I could see a clear tent in his ripped jeans. It was more than enough to make me remember how I’d been rock hard since yesterday and still felt deeply unsatisfied.

“As you can see, I have a pressing need that requires immediate attention,” he said as he reached into his slacks to flip his cock upward. It was less noticeable, but I could still see the outline of a pretty hefty shaft. “So unless you plan to help me with this, I got nothing for ya.”

“And how could I help with that?” The words left my mouth without me even thinking. They brought the twinky kid up short, who suddenly stopped walking down the sidewalk and instead walked straight into my car’s passenger seat.

“My place is two blocks that way,” he said before giving me a once over. “Damn, dude, you ain’t got anything that fits your fat ass?”

I scoffed, but the words still stung. “No, this is a… recent development.”

“Right. Well, you still got a dick somewhere under all this?” He made a vague motion to try and encompass my girth.

“Yeah,” I replied, holding back the knowledge that there was significantly less of it showing than before.

“Good. I don’t care if you a fat fuck--I just need a dick in me, and I need it yesterday.”

I didn’t care either. Not right this second. All I could think about was how hard I was, how wet my slacks were, and how much I wanted that dick in my mouth.

We arrived, the car titling far more heavily when I got out of the driver’s seat. He didn’t wait for me, and I followed as quickly as my blubbery body allowed. He opened the door to a dingy apartment with paint peeling off the walls and a ratty sofa next to a television that looked like it was from the ‘70s.

There were no words. He simply started removing clothes, revealing a lithe body covered in tattoos and piercings. He tossed me a bottle of lube and told me to get ready. Then he made his way to a small bedroom with a queen mattress lying on the floor. He got on all fours, his enormous cock still hard and hanging down due to its own mass.

“Well? I ain’t got all day,” he called from over his shoulder.

I took off my clothes, grateful that he was already facing away so he couldn’t see my corpulence on full display. I shuffled behind him and quickly realized that my size prevented the same sort of easy entry I’d become accustomed to my entire life. For the first time, I couldn’t see my cock or the hole it would be penetrating. Everything would have to be done blind.

I coated myself in lube, and then his hole out of politeness. Then I positioned by pelvis where I thought it should be and pressed in.

First, my gut got in the way, so I reached down and lifted it up so that it wasn’t between me and the ass I desperately wanted to fuck. Then I felt my cock slide between his solid cheeks only to come nowhere near a hole before my pubic fat got in the way. I pressed forward, hoping that I’d  eventually find my goal, but instead just slipped up his crack.

A few more of these sad attempts eventually got a sigh from my impromptu partner. Then he reached back and “helped” me get aligned with his hole. I pressed in and finally felt glorious penetration.

“Fuck me, fat boy,” he grunted.

I dropped my gut on his back with a wet flopping sound and then set about fucking him as requested.

It was just like last night. It didn’t take long for me to cum, but I stayed hard and somehow got even hornier. So I fucked him again, and came again, and then I fucked some more. Sweat was pouring off my body to pool on the small of his back where my belly had come to rest, but I felt no fatigue even after my fourth orgasm.

“Ah yeah, fat boy,” the twink moaned. “Deeper!”

I tried to comply, once again shifting my bulk to provide the clearest access between my pelvis and his, but it always seemed like I was fighting my own flab. Each time I thrust I heard a wet slapping sound as either my belly bounced on his back or my own ass cheeks clapped due to sympathetic vibrations.

Eventually I stopped caring. All that mattered was getting off. An hour went by and the bare mattress we were rutting on was soaked in sweat and cum. My cum. I’d long since overflowed this twink’s asshole and it was running in rivulets down my thighs to mix with the sweat that already pooled around us.

It vaguely occurred to me that something about this wasn’t right. That there was just no way I could have this kind of stamina when I get winded just from putting on socks. But then the feel of the tight ring running up and down my fat-encased dick washed whatever criticisms I had away in yet another orgasmic release.

Finally, I heard the man beneath me scream out and release his own load. Neither of us had even touched his cock, but that didn’t stop it from shooting out jets of cum that splattered lewdly into the mattress so hard I felt the thump from where I was still pounding his asshole. He collapsed into the puddle of fluids that hard formed and just panted for a few moments, while the release of his ring from my dick was like the cessation of some kind of spell. Suddenly it felt like I’d just run a marathon and I too collapsed, desperately sucking in air as fast as I could.

“Wow,” the boy beside me breathed. “I wasn’t expecting that. You actually got me off.”

“Yeah,” I gasped. “I… did…”