Pt. III - Fighting the Undertow
The heavy steel fire door leading to the staircase closed behind Kevin with a deafening crash of metal. Jake stared at it, actually through it, an intense mix of emotions on his face. Had anyone been in a position to see his look at that moment, they would probably have turned tail and run out of the bar immediately.
The sounds of heavy music, men talking, laughing and fucking in dark corners washed over him, but he didn't hear any of it. He had a bad feeling about this one, a bad feeling that he had never had before. Yes, Kevin was an annoying little musclehead and ever since "The Incident" Jake had no patience for them, but it wasn't that. Yes, he had insulted Little Tony, and it had been sheer joy blowing him up afterward - he'd had to grit his teeth to keep his expression smooth at the time - but it wasn't that either. It had to do with the Boss' interest in him. Jake knew The Boss worked over other guys on a regular basis. Jake didn't own The Boss - hardly that; the other way around - and he had never before felt about any of them the way he did now.
For a moment he just stood there, hand on the rough metal handle, torn between returning to his duties and... what? Chasing after Kevin and forcing him out the front door? Making him so grossly obese that he couldn't move? Either option was impractical for its own reason, but both of them were overridden by a more pressing concern: the Boss wanted Kevin for His own fun, and that was the final say. And Jake obeyed the Boss, without question, without hesitation, as Jake felt a slave should. So why did he have the desire to break his own self-imposed obedience?
Jake didn't have a last name. He knew, logically, that he was supposed to have one, but just accepted it without thinking as one of the stipulations of being under the aegis of The Boss. The Boss didn't just control men's bodies; He controlled their minds as well when it suited Him. Jake was content to let The Boss mold him and use him however He wanted. That put Jake's mind at ease.
Jake had no inkling of what was bubbling furiously beneath the surface, however, not just in general but specifically tonight. All things considered, that was an extremely good thing. He knew, on an unconscious level, why Kevin bothered him, and it had nothing to do with the dossier The Boss had compiled.
Except that it did.
A call from the bar brought him back to reality and he pried his ham-like hand from the door. Ham-like. His hands hadn't been this thick or strong two years ago. How different he had been. Forced weight gain and forced personal training under a powerlifter did cause one's body and mind to change. Where was that man? He knew better than to disobey by this time. His mouth became a grim line. Yes, Jake hated non-consensual scenes, but in that one case he didn't mind setting aside his rule.
Shaking it off, he sidled back over to the bar, enjoying the swing of his gut, and the looks that he got. He gave some encouraging looks, some discouraging, and some just playful, but he enjoyed all of the ones he got. He ran his hand around his expanse, sticking easily more than a foot and a half in front of him. Maybe it was time for a few more pounds on the ol' middle. The Boss said he could do whatever he wanted with his body, after all.
He eased over to the counter, where Andy was confronting a waif. There was no other word for it; he was a waif. He was 5'9" and he *might* weigh 150 if soaking wet. Jake knew instantly what was going on, but waited for Andy to explain it.
Andy stood there, arms folded in front of his own massive blubbery body, a stern look on his face. Jake was not the only hardcase that worked in this bar. "This BOY," he said to Jake, not taking his eyes off the, well, boy, "would like a drink." His tone was larded with sarcasm. Andy's eyes turned respectfully to Jake. "He wishes to enter the bar, Sir." Sir. Jake didn't even remember when that had started, only that it was another thing now taken as a matter of course. Maybe it had to do with Andy's own fattening, which Jake had done himself only a few months previously. It could be that. "This is his ID, but I have my suspicions." His eyes and voice became hard again when they turned to the other one, who jumped. Andy's hands moved his hands to his hips, and they became buried in the rolls of fat that hung low over his belt. His love handles were as thick as most men's thighs.
Jake took the ID with a sigh. As the other bartender there, Andy took it upon himself to handle a lot of the minutiae of the bar that neither Jake nor The Boss had the time or energy to deal with. And he was *way* too much of a hard-ass when it came to this type of thing, but at the same time Jake was grateful for that. Andy's insistence of following the letter of the law, while, paradoxically, helping the Boss to sidestep it, had saved them from more disasters than Jake could count, not even including the incident with the undercover cops.
Jake made a show of looking at the ID, but it was clearly fake. This kid - he looked 19, if that - obviously had had no one to make him a convincing one. He'd added his picture to a real one and cut up the rest to look as legit as he could, which wasn't saying much. The kid would have to learn that a good ID usually has the renewal date for the ID *after* your date of birth. He opened his mouth to say as much... and the words died on his tongue.
The kid - according to the ID, Kyle - was making serious eye contact with someone; a tall, broad heavyweight regular that Jake knew only too well. The man's name was Rory... the only name he would give if asked. The Boss undoubtedly knew what his full name was, but He'd never passed the information along to Jake. Rory wasn't much of talker, preferring to maul a man to get to know him. Jake was by no means tight, that had been one of the first things The Boss had eliminated permanently, but Rory didn't sport a dick in his pants; he had something approaching the size of a kielbasa.
It was because of this particular attribute, very well known in the local community, that Rory came to the attention of The Boss. Rory had been extremely frustrated sexually all his life. He desperately wanted to top, but had been unable to find anyone who could accommodate him. He had never bottomed and apparently didn't want to. With all this in mind, The Boss had approached him with a particular proposition, which at first had been met with skepticism but which changed to growing excitement when the reality was realized. Jake would be his sexual outlet, however often Rory wanted him. For a small price, of course.
The first session had lasted well over a day and a half. It took Rory that long to relieve an entire lifetime of sexual frustration. While Jake was recuperating in the emergency room afterward, The Boss assured him that if He had known the man would be that rough, He would never have sent Jake there. The Boss had fisted Jake on many occasions and they both had thought that would make him receptive enough, but they had very seriously underestimated just how big Rory got and just how frustrated he was. It took Jake several hours to convince The Boss that he was fine, mostly due to the pain medication making him sleepy. Jake was okay, and as soon as the doctors stitched his hole back together he wanted to service Rory again.
There had been many, many sessions with the man since then, usually two or three times a week. After that first experience with Rory, Jake had been opened up to new and better things and never had another problem. Even The Boss was happy with how open he'd become.
Jake made a split-second decision. "This ID looks fine to me, Andy. He's 23, just like it says." Andy and Kyle both whipped their heads around at the same time, jaws dropping. Andy opened his mouth - maybe to finally protest something Jake had decided on? - but Jake overrode him. "The ID looks *fine*, Andy," he added firmly. Andy closed his mouth hurriedly and nodded. No protest, none at all... what was *with* him, anyway?
Kyle smiled, confused yet pleased, and looked at Rory again, who hadn't moved or looked away. Rory was now rubbing under his gut, at his crotch, and the monster was starting to wake up. "Get to the back bar, Andy. I'll meet you for inventory later." Andy flashed a smile at him before jiggling off into the darkness. For them, "inventory" was the code for "getting fucked." Andy never missed that, and Jake was glad that he had such a willing fuck buddy on hand that didn't expect anything else.
"Kid," Jake said, "Let me get you a shot. On the house." Kyle nodded, not really paying attention as he backed toward the bar so that they wouldn't lose eye contact. Rory advanced came up and started pawing the kid roughly, his eyes and smile burning with lust, all of which the kid seemed to enjoy. Jake hoped he'd like it as much later on when he was pinned under the man, unable to escape. Kyle tentatively put his hands around Rory's enormously wide middle, until Rory pushed the kid's hands in to encourage him to play with it.
Jake swiveled around the bar in a practiced motion and started mixing up a special cocktail for the kid, one that he probably wouldn't drink if he knew what it would do. The kid had struck him as more of an encourager than a gainer, and looking at the two of them, um, get to know each other, he knew he'd been right. And Jake knew something about Rory that the man didn't realize he'd let slip; Rory was aggressive and no-nonsense usually, but not with someone he'd had sex with. These two might make a perfect match.
Jake wanted to make sure that the kid wasn't killed or permanently maimed.
Jake looked at the mixture he had concocted uncertainly. If the tag molecule did what he intended, the kid would have no problem taking Rory. For that matter, the kid would probably have no problem taking a bowling ball if he wanted to. If it did what he intended. He glanced up at the two of them, both of them oblivious to him, and Kyle had gotten to the point of feeling Rory's crotch and down his pant leg nearly to the knee and was gaping in amazement. On impulse, Jake made it double strength. The kid would need it.
Wordlessly, he set the shot down in front of the kid, who picked it up and downed it without even looking at it. Rory had the look of a predator in his eyes, and now Kyle was unsure of himself. Great time to be, Jake thought, rolling his eyes. Jake pulled the kid by the shoulder and whispered roughly in his ear, "Kid, you've taken a big bite with Rory, but not more than you can chew. He's going to want to fuck you." The kid looked at Jake and Rory with horror, but Jake pulled him back. "Listen to me! He's got a big one, the biggest you'll ever see, but don't worry about it. You'll be able to take it. The drink I just gave you will relax you enough for it." Kyle's look went from horrified to dubious, but he wasn't old enough to doubt everyone's word, for which, in this one case, Jake was grateful. "Trust me. You'll open up like you never have before, and you'll like it." He nodded toward Rory, who was opening his fly. "If you really want to stuff him, he has to stuff you first. Are you man enough for it?" The kid gave him a look and moved off with Rory into the bar.
Jake noticed the small addition to the kid's outfit as he walked away.. in his left back pocket, he had a knife and fork. He looked at it strangely. When had THAT become the signal for an encourager? It made sense, in an odd way, but still... Jake shook his head. He had never been one for carrying a hanky to signal his tastes, and frankly thought that a hundred shades of blue, green, and yellow was too much.
Just then, glancing back over the bar, he caught sight of the monitor below the cash register and froze. It had paused in the security rotation focused on the stairs up to the Boss' lair. What was going on? That jerk looked like he was *dancing*, of all stupid things, in the stairwell! He found he was grinding his teeth and stopped it. Why would The Boss...? The rotation moved on to the back patio, where a beer-drinking contest was going on. Contest. Competition. He had a sudden realization... and then everything went right out of his head.
"Please, Sir," a man on his knees was saying to the man standing in front of him, "Let me gain for You." He gazed worshipfully up at a man dressed in a leather uniform shirt, black jeans and boots, who was holding the kneeling man's leash, hooked not into the collar around his neck but down to his large gauge PA. A triple-zero, Jake estimated. "I want to become enormously fat and rotund for You, Sir. I want to be Your fatboy, Daddy." The litany of things he wanted done to him became more graphic as he went on. Some of his desires would make him unable to leave the bar. Some would make him as big as the bar.
The Daddy leaned down and took a wide stogie out of his mouth and blew the smoke right into his boy's mouth. The boy inhaled as fast as he could when the smoke hit him. Not even a bit was missed. "You want to be my fatboy? You want to be my prize hog, boy? You want to be led on a leash with a belly that hangs to your knees, boy?" The Daddy was clearly getting off on taunting his boy with the threat, or hope, of huge growth. Jake had to admit that the VA the man was giving was arousing for him too.
Neither of them was a large man by any means. The Daddy was around 6-feet, mature and sexy, and a rather lean body. The boy was in his late 20s/early 30s, naked except for his boots, his collar, his PA and nipple rings, and had a body a lot of guys would kill for: smooth and hairless, rippling abs, tight and toned. And he wanted to bloat up. He certainly picked the right bar for it. And the right time, his eyes narrowing as he looked past them at the door leading to the stairs.
"Pardon me, Sir," Jake said, in his most respectful voice - he certainly had enough practice at the knees of The Boss - "But if it is Your desire to bloat up Your boy, I can help You. My name is Jake, Sir, and I am the bartender here." Leaning in to the man, he doubted anyone besides the two of them had heard what he had said. The boy certainly had not; he was starting in a long, graphic fantasy about being housebound due to his enormous weight. The bar patrons around the two men certainly had not heard either; most in the immediate vicinity were paying close attention to the boy's speech, and there was even a guy with a shaved head and goatee in the corner writing down notes on napkins. Probably post the whole thing on the internet somewhere, Jake thought.
The man leaned in to Jake, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Nice to meet you, boy.. but it can't be done. I've tried. He's been my lover for four years now, my boy for two, and since I chained him, I've done everything in my power to put weight on him. He has a naturally fast metabolism and even keeping him sedentary and feeding him junk food doesn't make his abs go away. I'd never admit it to him because it would hurt him, but I'd like nothing better than for him to be over 400 pounds with a belly apron hanging past his crotch." He blinked, and said, "I must be in a confessing mood.. I never tell anybody that much."
Jake resisted smiling, just nodded soberly. If the man only knew about certain things the Boss added to the air in this bar.. well, that was neither here nor there. "Sir, I don't mean to presume, but it can be done. It was done to me." He looked down and moved his belly forward. He liked the feel of it, the gravity pulling on it, the way it hid his dick even when it was hard. The man looked dubious, but lifted his free hand and felt Jake's roundness.
The Daddy looked into Jake's eyes, looked back at his boy - who had trailed off and was looking between his Daddy and Jake with a puzzled expression - and then said, "Let me tie him up and we'll talk."
Jake had a momentary flash of the man putting the boy in bondage right then and there, but what the man actually meant was tie the leash to a nearby bar stool. With a stern admonishment to the boy not to let anyone touch him without his Daddy's express approval, the two of them moved down the bar, away from the crowd of people and toward a table in a relatively quiet corner of the bar.
Once there, Jake sat down with the man - Daddy Alan - and went into an explanation of the growth factors. Not the full explanation of course - it was extraordinarily complicated - but certainly a more full explanation than Kevin had received. Jake shoved the thought away, continuing. "...but the Kilo beer is actually only one of many different formula available. We have concentrated formulae that will put on dozens of pounds in a matter of hours, or even minutes, depending on what the recipient wants."
"Different specific effects, not necessarily weight gain, can be achieved as well. We've had bodybuilders come in who want a roid gut but no other fat or bloated appearance. We've had skinny guys who *only* want a bloated gut, or want an even distribution of fat around their body *without* a visible gut, so that they're just generally 'thicker.' " Jake gestured vaguely. "And of course some just want 'weekend fat.' That's quite popular. They're nice respectable types with good bodies and good jobs and stable lives, and on the weekends they want to be fat-belly hogs with a waist they can't see around. The effects last as long as the recipient wants before they return to their original state, or it can be made in...definite..."
Jake trailed off. Daddy Alan's face had become unreadable stone. Jake was just about to backtrack and offer an apology - for what, he didn't know - when the man said, "I want a demonstration."
Jake blinked. Just like that? Most people didn't believe the first time he told the story, or they believed and got freaked out that their desires could be fulfilled. Some fantasies should stay fantasies, even when the opportunity to make them reality comes up. "Yes, Sir. If You would like, I'll even demonstrate on myself." Yes, it was time for more around the middle, all right.
The man smiled then, a truly evil smile, but gratified at the same time. "I was hoping you'd say that, boy. I like your gut, but I want to see it even bigger before I buy the good stuff." Jake heard the caveat there - This had better work, boy! - but at the same time he heard cash register noises in his head.
Jake told him that he would need to prepare a few things and get the bar covered before he left it unattended, to which the Daddy acquiesced, since he wanted to lock up his boy in the trunk of his car for safekeeping. As they parted near the front door, Jake looked at the man's retreating back in amusement. The Boss kept Jake under tighter control than this Daddy did his boy, but it wasn't Jake's place to criticize another's personal practices. In the gay community as a whole, he thought, none of us can afford to do that.
After taking care of a few patrons and getting Andy to close the back bar and take over the front one - and reassurances of meeting later - Jake led Daddy Alan back to Jake's small but livable rooms in the back of the bar.
No one who knew Jake understood why he lived in the back rooms of the bar. The Boss had given permission to Jake to find his own place to live, and The Boss gave Jake a weekly stipend that would buy a mansion if he wanted it. The Boss was stringent, but He rewarded good behavior, financially and in discipline.
The apartment was a very small place to stay, barely 600 square feet, only a handful of rooms and a bathroom, but it had its own small kitchen and Jake had paid the expense of renovating the space - with the Boss' approval, of course - so that it was comfortable. It had been decorated rather nicely by yet another of the Boss' clients, a 'weekend fat' interior designer. No one would recognize it as the storerooms that had been there previously.
No one who knew Jake understood why he lived there except Jake. And Jake was not about to admit even to himself to being in love with his Master.
"Right this way, Sir," Jake said, leading the man to his lab room. Jake was grateful he'd put away his more esoteric instruments. It would be hard to explain why an electron microscope was in a big man's bar. Following Jake, Daddy Alan raised an eyebrow as they passed the sling, still hanging from the hooks over the dining table. With chagrin, Jake saw that there was still grease covering the floor thickly in a three-foot radius. And the dining table covered with toys larger than his arm. Catching the man's look, he said, "I apologize for the mess, Sir. I haven't cleaned up the place since my last fisting session. The Boss likes to keep me open and receptive, and hires tops to work me over on a regular basis." Well, Daddy Alan had been honest with Jake... nothing wrong with a little quid pro quo. Momentarily, he dilated his hole, feeling it open like the rosebud it now resembled, before tightening it up again. The man said nothing, but as he passed the sling, it got an appraising look. Jake suspected the boy and his Daddy would soon be exploring a new kink if they hadn't already.
After a hasty mixing, Jake presented the man with his brew. It wasn't regulation, but then none of it was, really. Jake wanted to put on some pounds, the man wanted a good show, and Kevin could go to hell. Gaah! He had to stop that. The man glanced at the small glass, but Jake said, "This is all it takes, Sir, but then I'm only putting on a few pounds. Maybe twenty or thirty." The man blinked at that, but Jake responded by downing it. And he stood there, smiling.
For a moment, nothing apparently happened, but Jake could feel it working.. he'd had enough experience with the change to recognize even the subtle signs. And his belly notched forward. And then some more. Jake let out a sigh of pleasure.. this was always his favorite part, just starting.
Jake hadn't weighed himself in a long time, but estimated his weight around 295 now, and his belly around 65 inches. He exhaled, and inhaled, watching the belly go down, and up, and up, and up and up. Daddy Alan's mouth dropped open as he watched the growth happen in front of his eyes.
Jake felt the euphoric bliss take him and he wasn't Jake anymore... he was a blimp being inflated, he was a swimming pool being filled, he was a reservoir pushed to capacity. His amazing gut became a giant cannonball, and he wanted to pulverize the enemy with it. He wanted to walk down the hall knocking people out of the way with it. It was the center of his universe. He was his gut. He was flying.
He was flying. She was only six years old. My name is Troy. The shunt is too dangerous. Welcome to Dallas. Your theory is completely specious! The diagnosis is ovarian cancer. When I tell you to return. It can't be controlled. Dear Mark, I am so sorry... Where were you between June and November? It's on fire!
"Blessed Savior," Daddy Alan breathed, and Jake's eyes popped open. He was breathing heavily, and could feel the wetness at his crotch. He hadn't actually cum, but the precum let loose was running down his leg like a faucet. How many hours had he been standing there bloating? A quick look at the clock revealed that only 15 minutes had passed. It had seemed like much longer... and much shorter. As usual. But something else had happened too, something he couldn't remember... Had he thought of something important? He shook his head to clear it, but even the wisps slipped away from him.
Daddy Alan was grabbing at his own crotch, which tented in front of him. The wetness there was either a lot of precum or cum, Jake didn't know which. "Let me feel it," the man said in awestruck tones. Jake raised an eyebrow at that; he doubted that this man had asked, or begged, to be let to do something in a long time. Obediently, Jake stepped forward, surprised as he always was at the change in his gait and the swing of his belly, and brought it for the man's approval. The man felt at the expanse tentatively, then forcefully grabbing and pawing Jake's new expanse. Overcome with lust, he started humping his whole torso into Jake's swollen middle, which surprised and thrilled him. Finally, though, Daddy Alan backed away and asked, "All right, what are your rates?"
Thirty minutes later, Jake and Daddy Alan were standing out in the bar once more, and the boy was once again kneeling at his Daddy's feet. Daddy Alan glanced at Jake, who nodded and moved back over to the bar. They had some talking to do, and Jake knew better than to be nearby when the final decision was made. Of course, the decision had been made a long time ago, but this much more serious.
For a moment, Jake stood staring at nothing. The strange feeling he'd had in his rooms had already vanished. He was standing in the spot he'd been in before his interlude with Daddy Alan, and he glanced toward the monitor once more, which was now showing the parking lot. He had had a thought about Kevin, something about Kevin's eyes... he shook his head. The thought would not come back.
Jake swung around and nearly overbalanced. Dammit, why did he always do that right after bloating? The patrons around him were making appropriate sounds of pleasure and amazement at him, and he reveled anew, feeling like the biggest man in the place, which he knew he wasn't. Andy ran his eyes over Jake's new poundage and was practically salivating. Oh, yes, Andy was hot to get fucked, all right. Jake just wished he could figure out Andy's other behavior patterns.
Jake had heard of synchronicity, but had never seen such a graphic demonstration of it until Andy showed up. Andy was in a bad way at that time: he had done the one thing that you should *never* do, to Jake's mind; he'd moved cross-country for a new boyfriend. Who, when he saw Andy on his doorstep, waiting to move in, promptly dumped him. Not a good way to start a new relationship. Andy had been left with no money, few possessions, no way to return to his hometown and no job or family even if he had. So, he went to the nearest bar to get drunk, which just happened to be Dimensions. When he'd been sitting at the bar, telling Jake his story in a tear-filled voice, Jake did something that had been a serious risk at the time; not just for the bar, but for his own standing with the Boss. He hired Andy on the spot to be the other bartender. The previous bartender, Cliff, after being under The Boss' control for an extended period, had been sold to a porn director only a week previous. The Boss had cleared out a lot of Cliff's mental baggage, and he now enjoyed his (extremely profitable) career as porn star, underwear model, and gym bunny.
The Boss had not been pleased by Jake's decision to hire Andy without His consent, but could not fault the decision, ultimately: Andy was not only a hell of a bartender, but he was also an administrative wizard. He had an instinctive understanding of accounting, even better than The Boss Himself. Even the Boss had been surprised at how many of the biochemicals he regularly bought could be classified under "cleaning supplies." Of course, it was hard to explain the high expense of cleaning supplies the bar used each year, but Andy produced documentation (from where, he refrained from explaining) showing the Boss' fictitious cleaning supply distribution center, authentic-looking enough to satisfy the IRS. And the CIA.
The only problem had been Andy's weight.
Andy had weighed exactly 147 pounds when he first came there. Jake had weighed him, ostensibly for "the records" but in reality he had been curious. Andy was greeted with surprise by the heavyweights in the bar at first, but then, he became invisible. No amount of cheerful chatting, playful comments, or downright lewd remarks made his presence a comfortable one for men who were three or four times his weight, except for the predators who wanted to take advantage of a skinny boy. This was not a good development for a bartender, whose job is to make the customer comfortable. Jake was told in no uncertain terms by The Boss to work his magic on Andy or the kid was out the door no matter how good he was at the books. What the Boss wants...
So Jake sat down with Andy and told him everything.
Andy agreed on the spot.
The Boss didn't attend Andy's fattening. He never did unless He was the one doing it, for which Jake was grateful in this one case. Andy told him that he had left his old life behind and wanted to start a new one, and this was the way to break the ties with the past. He had few friends back in his old hometown and hadn't been close to them, and his parents were long dead. And he was so eager and earnest in his desire... he agreed to everything Jake told him that he'd have to do to stay there. Even now, months later, Jake did not understand why he had agreed to all of it so readily... with his skills, Andy could easily have gotten a job anywhere in the state for high pay that wouldn't have required him to change his body so completely. So why had he?
Jake planned the scene very carefully. He wanted this to be a high ritual... it seemed the right thing to do, for some reason. Dimensions was closed on Tuesday nights, ostensibly for cleaning and inventory, but the real reason was that there was no profit for the bar on Tuesdays. Jake prepared the bar. All the barstools were removed, the tables taken out; everything not tied down was removed from the floor. Candles were lit, hundreds of them, around the bar, on the sideboard, in the floor in circular patterns to represent Andy's coming new shape. Andy himself was laid out, nude, on the pool table, covered with a black leather cover, and he had been coated with a liberal coating of oil. A single spotlight over the pool table lit him, and the flickering flames made him look erotically appealing. Every camera in the room was trained on Andy and recording the change independently. There would be multiple copies at the end of the night, each from a different angle and zoom.
Jake came in, his body encased from foot to neck in a black leather body suit that the Boss had made for him. It had required the services of an upholsterer, but it had been done. As he stepped out next to Andy, a deep ambient groove filled the air, building slowly and filling the air with a comforting womb of sound. Andy was already starting to climb into ecstasy, and not the street drug.
Andy looked at him, his mouth open and breathing deeply, not saying a word. "Andy," Jake said, "In a moment I'm going to change your body, your mind, your world. I will not harm you. Everything that happens we have discussed, and you have agreed to. Is that understood?" Andy nodded, his head buzzing. "From the time I start until I finish, you have no say in what happens. And once I start I cannot easily stop without complications that I cannot predict. Is that understood?" Andy nodded again, with no hesitation. "If there is any danger or risk to you, or if mentally you can't handle the trip, I will stop anyway regardless of the consequences. I will not risk you. You are far too special to be hurt." Andy blinked and smiled a much deeper, considering smile, moved by this.
Jake took a deep breath, and said the part he didn't want to say, but had to. Jake was far too good a Top to not. "I will give you this last chance, Andy. You can get up from this table, put on your clothes, and walk out of this place, and I will not hold it against you. You will be as much a man as you were; in some ways more, because you had the strength to admit you did not want this and take action."
Andy looked back at Jake, his face serious, his gaze steady. "If I leave," he said, "you'll never let me come back." Jake reluctantly nodded. The Boss had said as much. Jake didn't like admitting that. "And the change will be permanent." Jake nodded again. Actually, this wasn't true, but in a way it was. Andy could be changed again to an approximation of his previous state, even up to 99.9999% accurate if handled correctly, but not exactly back the way he was; not for this radical a change so quickly. Every attempt Jake had made to actually completely undo a change had led to unpredictable genetic splicing. Fortunately, he had a subject to experiment on, one that was in no position to argue about his fate. Andy did not yet know any of that, however. Andy's eyes were clear and untroubled. "I am ready." And he laid his head down, prepared for anything.
Jake felt his chest tighten. With those three words, they were both committed. And he felt Andy's own ecstasy lift him up as well. This would not be a one-way scene. He nodded in response and reached under the table for the flasks he had prepared, some large, some small. The small ones were not part of the change, but in their own way just as necessary to the scene. He put three large flasks to the left of Andy's head, the side opposite Jake, and the smaller ones on the right side of his head. He then took a rubber mouth guard and, opening Andy's jaw, inserted it in place. Andy watched it silently. In the guard was a grooved slot, and into this slot Jake inserted a thin flexible hose and extended back toward Andy's throat, and then down it. Andy would still be able to speak (if not clearly) but he would not need to swallow, since the formula would be inserted directly into his stomach and absorbed immediately. He then took hoses and attached them to each of the large flasks and connected them to the guard with a single join, and clamped the join. Then the flasks were inverted, so that the fluid was waiting to fill Andy.
Once it was in place, Jake watched Andy silently for a moment to ascertain comfort level, and satisfied by what he saw, opened the three small vials, each filled with oil; one red, one green, one clear. White was ideal for this type of ritual, but clear would work as well. They were simply colored lavender essential oil, but for what would happen, they would be much more.
He took the green oil and held it above Andy's abdomen. "The first color is green, to represent the earth from which we come and to which we return. It is stability, grounding, discipline, and life." He then poured it slowly in a circle around Andy's middle.
Jake then took the red oil. "The second color is red, to represent the fire that burns and tempers our lives. It is growth, change, desire, and death of the old." He poured it inside the circle of green in the shape of a triangle pointed up.
Then the clear. "The third color is white, to represent the goal of all souls. It is purity, heaven, ecstasy, and the end of time." He then poured it vertically in a straight line from each of the points of the triangle, up to Andy's shoulders.
He then looked in Andy's eyes. Andy nodded fractionally, ready for the next step in his life. With that, Jake opened the clamp on the flasks and the fluid rushed down the tube into Andy's stomach.
Andy watched, breathing and holding Jake's gaze, unsure what would happen, unsure anything was happening at all. Then he felt it, a strange sensation like... he couldn't describe it. A stretching, expanding sensation; he felt like he was literally inflating. His breathing became labored in excitement... and more. He looked down at his middle, and was surprised to see the oils that Jake had poured on him were rolling away faster and faster in all directions. He was acquiring a belly, which he'd never had before, and love handles. With every breath, the layer of his middle thickened faster and faster, until he realized his privates and his feet were hidden from view when he looked down. Then he examined the rest of his body that he could see. His arms were also thickening rapidly and his fingers were starting to look like sausages. He hadn't expected that, but now that it was happening he was shocked and amazed, and, he admitted, pleased. He could feel his legs starting to grow together and knew that when he walked from this point on they would probably rub together. He turned his head to look and felt what he would later realize was a cascade of chins. His neck was also thickening rapidly. He looked up at Jake. He blinked when he saw Jake nude and stroking himself in his excitement. Andy had been too preoccupied with his own change to see him disrobe.
Andy took a glance at the flasks and saw that they were over 3/4 empty now, even while the expansion continued. It wouldn't be much longer now before it ended, he thought... and was surprised that he was disappointed. He'd done everything, and still wanted more. But did he want more because he wanted more, or because...? He glanced at Jake again. Did Jake even suspect? He decided not. Jake had never acted like he knew, and Andy would not tell him.
Andy wanted very much to stroke his cock, as he could feel it was rigidly hard, but he felt that moving would destroy the utterly perfect feeling he had at this moment. He also had the more practical realization that his belly had expanded downward and outward so much that he was not sure he could readily find it. He wondered if he'd have to haul his belly out of the way to pee. There was a sudden surging forward as he thought that, and he decided it was just a burden he'd have to bear. The flow became a trickle, and then nothing, as the fluid ran out. The surging and expanding correspondingly slowed and then stopped, and Andy let his breathing slow. It was over. He was huge. He was ENORMOUS. And yet...
Jake stopped stroking himself and came to Andy's side, stroking and kneading the new rolls of fat everywhere on Andy, the look on his face one of absolute delight and arousal. Jake was one who admired a good job done. And yet...
Jake moved to remove the hoses and Andy jerked his head away from Jake's hand. Jake blinked, surprised, and gave Andy a look. "Please!" Andy said, or tried to say. The hose made making coherent sound difficult. Jake moved to the hose again and again Andy moved his head away. "No! Please!" he said, and Jake clearly did not understand. Andy tried very hard to be audible and coherent. "Please! I want MORE!"
Jake did a double take. They had not discussed this part. But he smiled and left the area momentarily, returning with another flask. "The last one I had made up. I was going to use it myself later this week, but I think you've earned it." He then connected the hoses accordingly, removing the empty ones, and upended it without clamping it first. The resulting rush was faster than the first three had been, and once again Andy expanded, this time faster, though not as much as three at once would do. But Andy felt everything expanding again, and that was the important part. Now he felt the growth was complete. In short order, the flask was gone, the hose was removed, and Andy was catching his breath and exploring the unaccustomed feeling of heaviness in his body.
"You've done it, Andy. Congratulations." Jake was smiling broadly, but not as broadly as Andy was. "Now comes the tricky part. Getting you off the table and weighing you." Andy laughed, but Jake did not; he was serious. This *would* be tricky. He had no idea what Andy weighed now. With difficulty, he lifted Andy by the arms, but that wasn't easy either. Andy couldn't bend forward very far, and the belly he now sported practically pinned him down. Jake had never been as grateful for his powerlifting before as he was at that moment. Soon Andy was sitting up on the side of the pool table, and then standing on his own feet. And his jaw dropped when he saw his reflection in the mirrors on the wall.
The Andy that had lain down on the table was gone. The Andy that had gotten up from the table was so enormously obese he did not look like the same man at all. His face had gone from sharply angular to a rounded moon-face, and his jowls were large and prominent. His neck had practically disappeared under rolls of flabby, pendulous fat. His arms had thickened considerably, and seemed double their former width. His chest rolled forward and to the side, forming rounded ovals that reached for his armpits. And his belly...
It extended forward in a straight line before curving outward and downward in a massive mountain, continuing down and down. Andy couldn't figure out where his legs were. With a start he realized that the belly had swelled forward and outward so much that it hung down, unable to fight gravity. The enormous paunch was hanging over halfway down his thighs, and extended so far to the sides that there was a difference of six inches between his love handles and his shoulders, and the shoulders were not the winners.
He wished he could see his own butt to see what had happened to it, but he would have to wait: he had a hard enough time moving at this point, trying to turn and see would have been too much of a chore. But when he did see his cheeks, he'd discover them to be wide and rounded. He'd need two chairs when he sat from now on.
The final verdict came in Jake's rooms, surprising both of them: The scale, an industrial model, registered a number that was not to be believed. "Andy," Jake said, his voice shaky, "you now weigh almost 400 pounds." Andy was too fireblind by it to do more than act instinctively; he kissed Jake deeply. Jake, already in overload, responded. That was the first night they spent together, and Andy felt sore the next morning, and very, very satisfied.
Jake was shaken out of his remembrances by what he'd been waiting for all evening. Slinking in the back of the bar was a familiar large sight, clearly trying to avoid being noticed. Rather a hard thing to do, given his height and bulk. Jake wondered what had delayed him, but he didn't care, ultimately; for being late, he had a reason to punish the man. He always liked finding reasons to do that, and the best part was that the man knew when they were coming now. Jake and The Boss had broken him of his bad habits, and the Boss said that Jake could use the man any way Jake wanted to. The man did anything he was told to do, now.
The man had not liked losing his muscle and bulk, even temporarily, since he'd spent most of his life building it up. He had certainly not liked becoming the lean, swimmer type that he liked to abuse. Jake's eyes flared angrily. One of those lean swimmer types had been a good friend. In one weekend, that man turned a laughing, smiling 28-year-old boy into a traumatized, brutalized wreck. He was in the hospital for two weeks healing from his injuries, including to his colon, which the man had decided to rape unmercifully. This was the reason Jake did not like nonconsensual scenes.
The only blessing in any of it was that there had been no broken bones, only fractures. Unfortunately, the mental injuries were worse than the physical ones. The psychiatric care alone had been the most difficult, and was still ongoing. Jake had actually burst into tears when he heard what had happened. And The Boss told him, in calm tones, that Jake now had in his possession a blank check to pay for his friend's medical bills. All of them. And it was not to be paid back.
The man had been Jake's trainer before that incident. After, Jake had had to be physically restrained to keep from killing the man. But, as the Boss pointed out, it was so much sweeter to give him what he deserved, don't you agree, Jake?
The first step had been the kidnapping. Jake had been sure it would be impossible, but he hadn't reckoned with The Boss' expertise in these matters. All Jake had had to do was wait until his next scheduled personal training session with him. Jake hadn't realized just how powerful chloroform actually is. It was a good thing that The Boss was familiar with how to restrain men's bodies, even those much larger and stronger than average. The next step had been the mental reshaping, which had taken many, many weeks of seclusion and heavy discipline. But finally he had been reduced to a muscular heap on the floor, weeping and begging for forgiveness from The Boss and Mister Jake and also begging to pay for his sins however he could.
The man did not like pain. At least he hadn't at first. The physical pain he had experienced, however, was pale compared to what his mental pain had become. There was also the added bonus that he had never touched another man since, except of course for the one, and Jake didn't mind him touching that one.
Once The Boss felt that the man could be trusted, He gave him an assigned duty and kept him under strict discipline while not executing that duty. He would be play-acting a role to prove his sincerity and the depth of his remorse. It hadn't taken Jake long to realize that The Boss was grooming the other man for slavery. He often ground his teeth at the thought of sharing service under The Boss with him.
Jake went up and looked up into his eyes, but the man winced and would not meet his gaze. He never did unless ordered to. "You're late," Jake said, biting off each word. The man was more obedient than that. Now, he was. "Follow me," he said, turning back to his rooms. He nodded at Andy as he went back, who nodded back, a silent agreement to keep the bar going for a while longer. Andy knew the story and liked this man just as little.
Once inside the apartment, Jake turned and put his hands on his hips, framing his rounded gut, and gazed at his captive. The man stood with his hands clasped in behind him as he had been taught, back straight and eyes forward, staring at nothing. He was a large man, the bulky musculature of many years of heavy weightlifting evident everywhere on his body. He also had an obvious roid gut. Well, Jake would be taking care of that too, tonight.
"On your knees," Jake ordered. Instantly, the man was on the floor, hands still clasped behind his back. Oh, yes, he had learned well. "Take off your shirt." In an moment, it had been shucked, exposing thick slabs of muscle to the open air. Jake liked the nipple ring he had had the man get, just today; a 10-gauge circular barbell in his right nipple. Sterling silver, not stainless steel. He had screamed when such a large ring went in, and Jake had recorded the sound. He intended to play it to the man at every opportunity. But not right now. Jake went to the refrigerator and returned with a large red flask, the size of a milk bottle, with the man's name written in bold letters. It was kept there for his frequent visits. "Drink. All of it." The man did not hesitate, he grabbed it out of Jake's hands and downed it in one long swallow.
Jake watched with no enjoyment as the man changed before his eyes. He would never forgive the man for what he had done, even if The Boss now felt that he had paid in full and it was now ancient history. It was true that he had paid a hundred times over and had lost his abusive behavior along with any kind of Top attitude, but Jake could only see his friend's bandaged face in the hospital, unable to do much more than drink his food through a tube for days. This change was not sexual; not this time. This was justice. Every time was, with this one.
Minutes passed, and the man held his eyes tightly shut while the change altered his body. Jake had to admit, grudgingly, that the man now truly did try to accept what happened to him, but he seemed to be in terror every time he was left alone with Jake. Jake liked it, but felt it was distracting.
Finally, though, he felt the change slowing, and then stopping. He had learned to recognize the signs by this time. Tentatively, he opened his eyes. In front of him was not Jake, but a mirror, as it always was when he was forced to endure another change. He looked in sadness and fear at what he saw, even though, unlike most of Jake's changes, he had known what was coming. Where there had been a muscular powerlifter there was now a skinny, slightly built boy of around 100 pounds. His pants had slid off his now tiny hips and he was swimming in his underwear. He also knew that, when he looked, that his formerly thick-as-a-wrist cock could now be stroked off between his thumb and forefinger. Jake had thought of that touch, and the Boss had laughed when it had been done the first time.
"Get up," Jake ordered from behind the man-boy, and the other bounded to his feet, his pants sliding all the way down. He stepped out of his boots, which were now too big for him. "Put these on," he said, giving him a packet of clothes. First, the underwear: a t-shirt and briefs with teddy bears on them. Jake's sly joke. The man-boy grimaced, but put them on without comment. Then, he put on the plaid shirt and jeans, and finally the tennis shoes. Anyone who had seen him in the bar would not recognize him now. Of course, they'd assume he was 13 years old, too. Except for the nipple ring. It looked even larger on his skinny chest than it had on his beefy one. Jake had wondered if there would be discomfort from it when he changed, but then decided that he didn't care. It was a fresh wound but it would heal with time. Unlike some wounds.
"There, baby boy," Jake said, and the man-boy flushed, embarrassed. He hated being called baby boy. "You were supposed to be here before Kevin got here, and you know it." The man-boy started to mumble something but Jake went right on. "I don't want your excuses. The only reason I don't blister your ass right now is that I can't afford to spare the time. Rest assured your... your discipline" - Jake hated The Boss' restriction that the man be 'disciplined', not 'punished' - "will come. Now. I can't have you walking through the bar like this, so take the private elevator upstairs. You know where it is." He jerked his head toward the back of the apartment. "The Boss is waiting for you, Ted."