Daddypocalypse 3-4

Fattypocalypse

(kind-of, sort-of Daddypocalypse 3)

A gay erotic weight-gain story by Ventrego, 2017

__________

It started the day after I turned twenty-two, the men around me turning huge, vast, bloated, round, and hot.

Uncle Al was the first. I was staying with him while I went to college. Between grants and scholarships, I could focus on schoolwork - and a social life - if I kept my living costs down. Al agreed to let me live with him while I finished my degree. I was looking forward to getting my own place, but he was easy to live with. “Just call me ‘Big Al’ and we’ll get along fine,” he said, and we did.

He was big, sort of. He had an old photo of him at work - when he was well over 320 pounds, with this great big fat gut that flopped onto the desk in front of him, with love handles that bulged over the arms of his chair. It wasn’t quite out of proportion on him - he had a nice, soft chest, and his butt and thighs made sure that chair knew who was boss - but there was no mistaking that gut was the star of the show.

He took this photo when he was in the office alone, with his shirt pulled up, fingers tweaking his nipples. I’ve jacked off to that picture at least five times. I always put it back, but I think he knows.

Unfortunately, he lost the weight somewhere along the way. But some of it came back when he retired comfortably. He was back up to 2X shirts and size 40 pants. He was this big, bearded, comfy bear now,

We played around some together - it’s not like it a was a surprise to either of us that the other was gay. But I was always ready to go, and Uncle Al waved me off a lot - “go burn off some energy”, he’d say. And I’d go look at porn or find a well-fed truck driver or defensive lineman to get naked with.

But I woke up on a Wednesday, newly twenty-two, and with a day off from classes for some campus event or other. I waited for my morning wood to go down so I could pee, showered, shaved around my goatee, brushed my teeth, and downed a microwaveable egg-and-sausage breakfast thing.

Al chuckled in one of the guest rooms. I swallowed the last of the meat and knocked on the open door.

He looked up at me with a smile on his handsome, bearded face. “Hey there!” Al had gone more gray since I came to live with him - he joked that I did that to him. He sat on the bed wearing slacks and a baggy short-sleeved dress shirt with a blue-and-white grid pattern on it. I liked it. IT made him look like an geeky fat engineer or something.

Well, a geeky fat engineer who’d lost some weight. There was plenty of shirt, and his comfy gut all but disappeared in the fabric. The khaki slacks had extra fabric everywhere.

“I found my old work clothes! Man, I was a load back then!” He patted the deflated stomach, and thought for a second and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. “You know, I could stuff a pillow in here, show you how big I used to be.”

We made eye contact, and the thought of him all big like that old picture of his did something to me.

There’s a feeling you get, when you’re looking at a guy, and you know: he’d sleep with you, and you’d sleep with him. You don’t have to say anything, or even do anything. It’s in the eye contact, how you stand. The exchange takes less than a second, but you know way down in your balls that the two of you would be down to fuck.

I’d had that moment a bunch of times with Uncle Al already, so I didn’t think anything of it at first. But then he paused, puffed out a breath, and said, “Whoa.”

When I saw the look on his face, I stepped into the room. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved me off. But his brow was furrowed and his eyes were unfocused. “I just feel, uh . . .”

Uncle Al groaned like he does when he’s jizzing. His face flushed red. One arm braced against the bed and the other grabbed the front of his stomach as he gained fifteen pounds.

Seriously. He was just sitting there, not doing anything special, when his belly roll bulged out and his legs got thicker.

Al caught his breath, shifted on the bed, and hoisted his gut forward in the shirt. “Sorry, I . . uh . . . “

And then it happened again. His spare tire inflated into a belly that blocked the top of his thighs. Beneath him, the khaki fabric of his work pants rubbed against the bedspread as his rump pushed out a little wider.

Suddenly the clothes weren’t so oversized on him anymore - it just looked like he’d just bought a size or two too big.

I think my mouth hung open. My pants were getting painfully tight in the crotch.

Al stared down at himself. “Well, this was unexpected . . . UNGH!”

He gave another one of those jizz-groans, kind of arched his back, and braced his arms against the bed.

Uncle Al's cheeks grew full, his neck got thicker, his shoulders broadened, his arms spread wider, his chest filled out, and his spare tire grew and grew and grew until it shoved new inches of the shirt out of his waistband, stretched the fabric wide, and made the buttons gap in front. His butt and thighs didn’t completely keep up with his gut, but those work pants were at capacity by the time he stopped.

I watched, speechless, as Uncle Al stood. His jumbo gut hung out in space a good foot in front of him, and thick love handles wrapped the weight around to his back. He was every inch the man he was in the photograph, and then some.

Uncle Al stared at himself for a long moment, eyes bulging. He hefted his gut with both hands. “Holy crap,” he said. “Look at me - I’m a load!”

Extra pounds and all, I recognized the bulge in those work pants. He smiled at me. “Check out the backside!”

He turned a little awkwardly. I was admiring the view when he said, “Oh, shit,” and groaned one more time.

I swear he gained like a hundred pounds right then. His face, neck, and shoulders got all thick like a powerlifter. His already-big gut swelled to twice its size, busting the front of his shirt open and showing off his hairy chest and the huge, bed-dominating advance of his gut. When the weight pulled him forward, his bigger rear split out the back of those khaki pants, one popped seam after another.

Suddenly I was looking at four hundred fifty pounds of Uncle Al, the biggest he’d ever been, wearing the tatters of his old work clothes. My dick was an iron rod down the leg of my pants. I stared.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he growled. “Fuck me, damn it!”

I rushed to his bedroom, grabbed the condoms and lube from the dresser, and when I came back he’d shucked off the work pants. He left on the too-small shirt; I think he enjoyed outsizing it. I hopped on one foot, and then the other, to get my own pants off, and my dick sprang to attention straight at him.

Uncle Al shifted his weight and bent forward further, bracing himself on his forearms. He’d been on all fours in front of me before, but this was something else. His oversized gut completely filled the space between him and the bed; he had to keep his legs straight and lean over it to brace himself on his forearms. I could tell by the way he stood that he had a stiffy of his own under that enormous stomach.

I took a moment to admire the view, lubed him up, grabbed his big love handles and slowly entered his big ass. He gasped and growled, and for a minute I worried/hoped that he would get even bigger - he was going to have to watch doorways as it was.

While I thrust, he grabbed himself, crushed his jumbo gut against the bed, swore about how big he was, and carried on in all those ways that made me want to plug him again even while I was plugging him right now. My nuts rose and pretty soon I was unloading into him, pounding against him while he pushed back against me and shot his own big load onto the bedspread and floor.

It took us a few minutes to come back to ourselves. Al rolled onto his side and groaned, his oversized stomach taking up a third of the bed. He stared at himself, and then looked at me. One hand explored his new expanse. “Is this going to happen again?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe. You mean the sex, or the getting huge?”

Al groaned. “Get huge? I’m ALREADY huge.” He rolled onto his back. “The sex sounds good, just let me . . . unh . . . . zzzzzz.”

And with that, my big teddy bear uncle went to sleep.

I grinned and grabbed our clothes to clean up. After a shower, I was ready to go out for a while. But I stopped by the guest room. Al lay on his back, jumbo spare tire bulging around his waistline, snoring louder than I’d ever heard him before.

I guess it was good for him too.

—————

On my way to the truck stop, I passed a construction site.

With the college nearby, there’s always construction going on somewhere. The construction workers are absolutely as woofy as you’d think: strong arms, a hairy torso, and facial hair seems to be some kind of hiring requirement.

I saw one guy, short, compact, muscular, with a super-thick beard that reached down to his chest. He made me twinge inside, sexually, but it didn’t feel right. I walked past the taco truck, where a bunch of beefy hispanic men were ordering and eating lunch. They filled out their tight tee-shirts nicely, but when the foreman showed up I knew I’d found my man.

Red beard, several inches taller than me, mostly fit, with his shirt unbuttoned to show off his hairy chest, and an orange high-visibility vest, he loudly encouraged the men to eat hearty so they could work hard that afternoon.

The guys mostly laughed, but I also saw one order some extra tacos.

Then the big guy turned to me. I momentarily resisted the urge to run my fingers through the chest hair he was showing off.

He looked down at me, expression measured. “You’re not crew, are you? What are you doing here?”

Our eyes met. Before I had a chance to answer, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “I get it. If you want, what say we go back to my truck behind that privacy fence?”

As he led me to his truck, he carried the conversation. “Man, I love leading a crew of big men. And the way they eat!” The foreman chuckled and slapped his tight midsection. “Truth be told, I’m expecting my potbelly to show up any day now. I eat like they do, but for some reason they turn into human wrecking balls while I stay lean and hungry.”

We climbed into his truck. Where it was parked, it was hidden from view from both the construction site and the street.

“So, I’m clean, and I showered this morning. You?”

After some mutual reassurances, we decided on blow jobs - me giving, him getting, then vice-versa. He’d just unbuttoned his shirt when I felt that switch flip.

This ginger bear’s stomach suddenly swelled into a round ball like he was pushing it out. Even fit guys can fake a gut when they want to.

I looked at him, then back up at him. “It seems we both like big guys.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “UH, yeah, but I, uh . . . oof.”

The round ball of his stomach swelled into a medicine ball of fat, bending his treasure trail of reddish hair out into an arc.

“Well, this is new,” he said. A few more breaths, and the round ball of his stomach grew like he’d inhaled, and inhaled, and inhaled, into a fifty-five inch shirt-stretcher. Suddenly he was the equal of any of the beefy construction workers on his site. It bulged forward from his chest, most of his lap was hidden, and his belly button was a reach out front. The heavy-duty truck seat groaned beneath him.

“Woof, will you look at that?” he exclaimed, leaning back to make room for himself, rubbing his new gut with both hands. “I can’t wait to get out there and show off . . . oh, CRAP!”

He gave three huffing, puffing breaths, and stared down as his pot belly ballooned. It bulged across his lap until his legs were covered, wedged him back against the seat, and kept growing fatter. His gut shoved up against the steering wheel, his navel rising as extra inches of bulk shoved their way in below and above, grew so round it began to bulge up from his nipple line, and forced him back like a football player demanding access to his dick.

He kept getting rounder until his legs were pinned, his gut dominated three-quarters of the steering wheel, and something in the seat behind him cracked loudly.

I stared. Suddenly the construction foreman was red-bearded round ball of a man who utterly filled his half of the cab, barely wedged into the driver’s seat and probably five pounds away from completely destroying the interior of the truck.

“Aw, fuck,” he said, voice husky. I was worried until I saw the look in his eyes, like a proud father who’d just saw his son become a man.

“Blowjob. NOW.” he barked, and swung open the door. But when he turned to go out, his over-round gut just pressed against the steering wheel, with hardly any give to it at all.

That just made his breathing heavier. I had to help push him over and around. When it came free, the overblown fat stomach half-pulled him halfway out of the truck.

When I came over to the side, he leaned back to balance an enormous front end that extended inches past his fingertips.

“Who’s the big man?” he asked proudly.

“You are,” I said with a grin, kneeling into the shadow of that colossal overhang. I pulled his stiff cock into my mouth and worked it with my tongue, pressing my head up against the round ball of a foreman. His thrusts and groans were like getting off a construction truck, extra heavy and extra capable.

Soon his thick load gushed into my mouth, round gut blocking the world out above me.

After he came, he was on me immediately. “Gotta return the favor, buddy.”

This time he got on his knees and let his enormous bare stomach press against the dirt in front of him. I ended up straddling it, bracing against the truck with one hand. Despite the awkwardness of working around his overblown bulk, he did something with suction and his tongue that had me blowing my load before I could even get a cramp.

And then he stood up. It was like watching a man lift an Atlas stone! I couldn’t guess his weight, but he’d gained hundreds of pounds out front; it was a good thing he was pretty strong to begin with.

I helped him back into his pants, and he gave me a friendly pat on the back. Before I wandered off, he pulled his high-visibility vest back on. The fabric looked ridiculously undersized on him now, just brushing the top few inches of an enormous ball belly that looked too big to go through doorways.

The foreman planted his hands on his hips and surveyed himself proudly.

“Hey, Jose!” he bellowed. “Come check this out!”

I took that as my cue to continue on.

----------

The truck stop was a good twenty minute’s jog away. I didn't make it inside. In the parking lot, an enormous rumbling beast of a rig pulled up next to me, parked with hiss of air brakes, and the driver leaned out the window to yell down to me.

"Hey, cute thing. Going my way?" His southern accent made the words twang and roll.

I looked up into the eyes of a handsome man with a dark beard, camouflage baseball cap, and hair he'd let grow so long it curled around his shoulders and neck.

The come-on line was cheesy, but coming from someone this hot, I didn't care. It took me all of five seconds to say, "Sure!" I climbed into the passenger seat of his sleeper cab and he rolled us onto the back lot where truckers parked for a rest.

He marked something in his log book. "I reckon I can stay here for a spell." We chatted for a few minutes before he jerked his thumb at the sleeper berth and said, "My name's Emmet. What say we hit the bed?"

He looked my eyes as he stood, and I felt that switch-flipping connection. He was a little taller than me, with the slightly soft build even active men get when they sit and steer for a living, but he barely made it into the opening between the cab and the bedroom, hands already pulling off his belt, before he stopped and said "mmmm" in that deep baritone voice that had me weak in the knees.

His body thickened slightly, making his tee-shirt bulge to the sides as his pants pulled tight.

He looked down at himself, tugged on the waistband of his pants, shifted his hips, and chuckled to himself. "These must've shrunk in the warsh."

I just grinned. He groaned again. His chest filled out, his shirt stretched around a soft belly, and his growing waistline popped open the button on his pants.

He stared at his bigger build, and then looked up at me. "Are you doin' this?"

I nodded.

He laughed and shoved his pants down his thighs until the fabric thumped heavily onto the floor. "Well, don't stop now, bubba! Make my ass wide!"

I wasn't really in control of this, but I didn't have to tell him that. I just watched as he swelled up again, now well and truly fat, with a full, soft chest, a bulging belly, full rump, and wide hips. His strong thighs forced him to widen his stance, and his erection said he was enjoying everything that was happening to him.

He gave a low, deep, rumbling groan - a grizzly bear purring like a kitten. He started to feel himself up, measuring the width of his ass, groping his love handles and stomach, grabbing the sensitive nippled that topped a sizable pair of moobs.

I stood up to join in, my own erection bulging down the leg of my pants. He groaned like he was shooting a load. For a second I thought I was too late to play, but then he swelled one last time.

His face and neck grew well-padded, moobs spread forward and sideways until he had to spread his arms wider to make room. The beer belly grew large and bulged over his crotch, while his waistline spread wider than his shoulders and just kept going. That trucker ass ballooned behind him, wide and round and wide and deep and wide. His thighs and calves grew full and fat, and suddenly I Was standing behind a superwide superchub of a trucker who filled the entrance to his sleeper and probably couldn't fit out the door of his rig.

He groaned, maneuvered around awkwardly, and began to laugh. "Check me out! I'm the widest thing on the road!" He flopped back onto the sleeper bed; the whole industrial-duty truck shook under his weight.

"If this trucks's a rockin, don't come a-knockin'!" He lifted his gut out of the way of his erection, made eye contact with a nearby bottle of lube, and gave me a knowing look.

I joined him on the bed, lubed up my hand, and began to stroke off the biggest trucker I'd ever seen. His handsome, bearded face screwed up in pleasure as both of us played with his new poundage. His chest had become a full, fun playland of its own, followed by his big spare tire. Behind him, that jumbo rump lifted his hips off the bed, his big legs keeping the whole load braced as he thrust and rocked, forward and side-to-side.

Soon he was grumbling, growling, and began to shoot like a fountain, one thick stream of glad-to-be-porky jizz after another. I stroked out my own load right after, the two of us leaving thick splatters on the bedcovers and carpet.

We lay there together, gasping and panting. The heat of his bulked-up body warmed the cabin.

He looked over and smiled at me. "That was awesome, bubba."

I smiled back. "You too."

He needed a little help to sit up. When he surveyed his new oversized build, he said, "I'ma gonna need some bigger clothes, and I can't very well go in the travel center naked."

I sighed. "I'll go. You stay here and get comfy."

"Don't worry about that," he slurred as he flopped backwards on to the bed. "I'll just stay here and . . . zzzz." He snored as I stood, cleaned up with some convenient paper towels, and pulled my clothes back on.

I eyeballed his size before leaving - I decided I'd just get the biggest thing I could buy, and he'd figure the rest out. But once I stepped into the truck stop, that magnet for well-fed men from out of town, I felt that internal switch flip repeatedly like the wings of a hummingbird.

The truck stop was filled with groans, seams popping, and loud crashes as the horny men inside ballooned.

I didn't bring out Emmett's clothes until well after nightfall.

The End

________________________________________

Daddypocalypse 3 - Oliver

Any guy the main character is hot for into turns into a giant. Whoops!

A gay transformation story by Ventrego, 2020

==========

My biggest creation ever was Oliver. I saw him one evening on the way to a gay nightclub. He was short and fit, with a short red beard. He was also dressed to impress, wearing leather from head to toe: cap, jacket, tie, shirt, gloves, pants, boots. There was more cow than man there.

Still, I decided to see if we were a match. "Hey, buddy," I said. "How much do you spend a month on leather cleaner?"

He fixed me with a glare that could freeze coffee. But then his gaze roamed over me, and the look softened. "Plenty. And after a night with you, stud, I'll need it!"

I grinned and felt the internal pull. I wanted to sleep with him.

There was a blur of motion. Something huge shot up into the sky, and Oliver was gone.

I looked around, confused.

The moon went dark, taking the street with it.

I stared up to see Oliver's face fill the sky, from the bill of his cap to the bottom of his mustache. Jesus, how big was he? Stupid me, I opened my mouth. "Jesus, how big are you?"

Oliver looked down at himself and began to chuckle, a deep boom that echoed in basements and rattled foundations. He grabbed the earth with two fingers, crushing the North Pole and Antarctica beneath leather surfaces that could have covered the planet. When he plucked the planet out of its orbit, buildings rumbled and lighting shifted.

Oliver looked at me - how he could see me there I had no idea - and tipped the planet up and down so I could check out his whole expanse. The night grew deeper at his extremities; it was late evening again when he pointed me back at his face.

"NOT TOO BAD, HUH?" he boomed. He shoved the planet further away. The climate immediately began to cool, but I could see more of him as his gloved hands reached for his bulging crotch to free a thick cock and balls the size of Jupiter.

One hand stroked the smooth skin of his prick while the other manhandled the planet. Stars spun in the sky, telescopes recorded views they never saw before and would never see again, and people struggled to keep their footing from Sri Lanka to Algiers.

Oliver bounced the Earth up and down like a rubber ball in his palm. "LOOK AT YOU! I COULD CRUSH YOU NO PROBLEM."

The sky view disappeared as leather wrapped completely around the planet. Air pressure increased as he squeezed. Tall buildings crumbled in his grip.

Mercifully, the hand relaxed. The air and sky returned. He spun the world slowly, giving everyone a view of the handsome bearded face of their new master.

"LOOK AT YOU! YOU'RE NOTHING NEXT TO ME!" The hand stroking his titanic pecker moved faster. He thrust his hips forward, enjoying the feel of leather against his skin. Earth stared at sex machinery working on a planetary scale.

"OH GOD, I COULD CRUSH YOU. I COULD EAT YOU. I COULD . . . UNNNH"

Thick wads of jizz spurted from his cock into the cosmos, looking bigger than the milky way and a trillion times more potent.

"JEEZ. YOU'RE SMALLER THAN MY SPERM!" He flicked a glob of cum onto Russia. Several million men were invaded by Oliver's giant pollywogs. The men abruptly swelled like off-season powerlifters who literally couldn't stop bulking, horny and immobile. Tourism in Russia boomed for decades.

By the time Oliver came back to me, I was leaned against a building, mouth open and breathless, cock stiff at attention.

"YOU LIKE THAT, HUH? GET HARD." Cocks chubbed up all over the planet. I was already there!

"GET READY . . ." Billions of men gasped and grabbed whatever they could for support, as their balls churned and their tiny peckers throbbed.

Oliver leaned in closer, blocking the sun. The mouth that commanded was easily large enough to swallow the earth.

"CUMMMMMM . . . ."

His voice droned on, a deep booming vibration that shook the world like the personal massager from hell. Every last man on earth felt his balls boil and his pecker surge. Some fell to their knees, others dropped to hump the ground, or tumbled onto their backs and thrust painfully up in the air.

Billions of men jizzed the largest load of their lives, taken by Oliver's power. The bearded giant's face loomed over it all as a money shot rocked the planet, leaving humanity gasping and limp before him.

Every man on the Earth flopped back, spent and sticky. But the deep subsonic rumble of Oliver's heartbeat kept them hard and painfully sensitive post-orgasm.

Oliver smirked. "AGAIN."

The screaming started as billions of balls were forced to produce again without recovery. The second money shot for earth was just as productive, but more painful, than the first.

And still the erections refused to go down.

Men everywhere stared in horror at junk that was no longer under their control.

Oliver clenched his Jupiter-sized gloved fist and said, "MORE BABY BATTER. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN."

Men howled, grunted, and raged as their blood-engorged cocks gushed out thick sperm. Pants were soaked, sunning towels saturated, condoms swelled like balloons.

"THAT WAS FUN." said Oliver. "I THINK I'LL GO SEE IF THERE'S HOT MEN IN OTHER GALAXIES." He turned and lumbered off, leaving a gravitational gap in the solar system that knocked Mars off course and sent Uranus spinning.

Humanity recovered eventually, of course.

It took a worldwide effort to get men rehydrated, and fortified with glucose and protein. Emergency systems started distributing water and peanut butter almost immediately.

There was a baby gap for several months as men's overworked systems recovered. The exceptions were people who were already fucking when Oliver's commands hit. Without exception they got very, very, very pregnant. Pregnant woman stories made news headlines for nine months. Pregnant man stories made medical history forever.

Oliver hasn't been back. I like to picture him walking the cosmos, covering the length of a solar system with each stride, booming "CUM" at green tentacled aliens or something.

And as for me? I've resolved to stay at home for a while.

THE END