Pt. II - Descent into the Maelstrom
Why, Kevin wondered as he puffed and wheezed his way up the stairs, do all bars have to have the offices on the top floor? Just like every damn Eagle Bar I've ever been in... The heavy beat of the music could not be heard even halfway up the stairs, which he thought was odd until he realized that the entire building was a cinder block fortress that damped sound.
His heart, which normally could handle hours of aerobics and weight training, was pounding before he got very far up the steep narrow staircase. Narrow in truth; with his new girth, he was bumping first one wall and then the other as he made each ponderous step upward.
He'd already knocked askew fully half of the framed bar posters lining the walls, as he could not control his belly and it tended to swing out of control and hit the wall, and anything on it, every time he took a step. After attempting to straighten the first few on his way up and nearly falling over backwards due to his new center of gravity, he decided to leave them. He didn't want to upset the man who had his future resting in his hands, but it wouldn't do to break his neck fixing things either. Besides which, he had another incentive to stay alive: he dearly wanted to get his hands around the necks of both Ted and that bartender Jake when he had the chance. After he was put back, of course. Dammit, he had never been like this! Never!
Kevin truly had never been the fat kid ever in his life. In fact, he'd had the opposite problem, due to a series of unfortunate synchronistic events. As Jake had pointed out with the unerring eye of a seasoned chaser, Kevin had a slow metabolism, and being Italian, had been, as a child, well on the road to being the typical heavyset Italian male inhaling rich food and blowing up like a balloon as he got older. Except that someone beat him to it.
Kevin had a favorite uncle, Gennaro, who was second generation immigrant stock, with a heavy Italian accent and a warm, generous attitude. He was also a large man, with a weight in excess of 290 pounds. Whenever Uncle Gennaro was there, Kevin felt like the most important kid in the world. He wasn't Gennaro's only nephew or niece (after all, they were Italian), but he had a way of making Kevin feel like he was the special one of the family. He taught Kevin how to count in Italian, told him secrets about his sister (Kevin's mother) as a young girl (like the time she ran out of the house with no clothes on), and he always brought a surprise for Kevin when he visited. The questions and rumors about why Gennaro was such an eligible bachelor but still single at his age went unnoticed by Kevin at the time. But if Kevin had thought of it in his adult years, had been able to remember his uncle, he would have realized the reason why they shared a kinship that he never felt with the rest of the family.
He took Kevin out to a museum one day when Kevin was five years old (ostensibly to show him a modern art exhibit, but in reality they spent the day giggling over the Renaissance nudes). Uncle told him, in reference to a Michaelangelo sketch that they saw, about how M. had spent years toiling for his art. "Always follow your dreams, Piccolo." That was his pet name for Kevin. "They will never lead you wrong." Kevin took that to heart. He didn't understand it, but he took it to heart.
So when Gennaro suddenly dropped dead of heart failure one day the next year, Kevin was understandably upset.
Gennaro had been a large man, and with the typical Italian love of rich food. Unfortunately, he'd gone beyond "heavyset" or even "fat"... he'd become what they now call morbidly obese. Aptly named condition when his heart suddenly stopped beating. Much later, they discovered that he'd had a congenital heart defect that had never been corrected (because of not being discovered) or else he would have been able to carry his weight for years, but that was neither here nor there. In any case, he was dead.
Kevin was six years old, and had never encountered death before, let alone of a loved one. So when he was suddenly surrounded with hysterical weeping Italian women, he was a little thrown off. More to the point, he was forgotten. He went for two days without eating because no one remembered he was there, and being a typical child, had no idea how a can opener worked. So when Kevin, tired, hungry, upset, and puzzled, was asked how he was feeling, he blew up and demanded to know what was going on. And his mother, with a trauma she could not hold back any longer, said, "Your uncle is dead. He was a very fat man and it killed him. Never do that, Kevin. Never get so fat that you die." And she walked out of the room.
It was exactly the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, for Kevin. It all crystallized in his mind at once: the sorrow, the hunger, the death. He stopped eating. Entirely. It wasn't until a week later, after the funeral, that someone noticed that Kevin looked thin and tried to feed him. He refused. Politely. As politely as a kicking, screaming six year old can be, anyway. That was when everyone began to realize something was wrong.
Kevin's went into therapy for several months after that, after a visit to the hospital for immediate care, and when he came out of it, he was eating normally again. Not too much, though. He would never eat so much that he gained much weight. His mother worried, as Italian mothers will, but she was grateful he was eating at all now. She never found out that she had been the catalyst, albeit unwittingly.
In high school, he began weight training to tone his body, and could accept the weight gain from muscle, since that bypassed the alarm bells that fat would set off in his mind. And that led, after college, to his career in personal training, for which he proved to have a talent. He also continued his education to include nutrition, aerobics, massage and a host of other topics. All because he was afraid of getting fat.
But there was another effect that no one realized had happened, not the psychologists, not even Kevin. Kevin had not only become deeply wrapped in fear of excess weight, he had also come to associate it with his uncle. He woke up one morning months after leaving the hospital and something was missing. He didn't even notice at first, but later he saw some pictures of himself with a large smiling man, and on the back of some of them it read, "Gennaro with Kevin, the zoo" or "Gen & Kev, Thanksgiving".
And Kevin didn't know who the man was. He had suppressed nearly all his memories of his uncle and didn't even notice the difference. He learned the man's name, but he was still not able to remember him.
That was when the recurring dream started.
Kevin was in college when a man seduced him for the first time, if you can call it a seduction. He was Kevin's instructor in nutrition. The man had been especially hard on him that semester, constantly grading his work low and in general giving him a hard time. Kevin learned just how hard one day after class when he went in to demand the reason why he had received a D-minus when his lab partner had received an A on their joint project. The man, a jiu jitsu expert, in less than a half-hour had Kevin overpowered, naked, and begging to be roughed up even more. After that, despite how Kevin protested afterward that he'd been manipulated, there were twice weekly sessions where Kevin was the man's sexual punching bag. Kevin ended the semester with an A in the class. Far from the essentials of nutrition, the most important lessons Kevin from this experience were his penchant not only for other men, but for the rougher side of sex as well.
Once he was a personal trainer, Kevin dated a number of bodybuilders and powerlifters that literally dwarfed him in size. Sometimes in every regard. Every single one of them was egotistical, demanding, and insufferably overbearing. He told them what to do in the gym and was unmerciful in his training, and then they would turn around and tell him what to do outside the gym, and many of these large men were much more unmerciful. More than once Kevin came home with bruises from a 300+ lb. muscle guy who got a little out of control demanding worship, and a few liked to use ropes. Even more often Kevin came home sore and hardly able to walk after being fucked several times successively by a man (or group of men) with enough bulk that Kevin could hardly be seen under him (or them). Kevin would always swear that that was the last time, that he'd had enough, that it was too dangerous. And then the next week he'd be back on the phone to them, horny and begging.
His weakness for being dominated was another reason why Kevin couldn't sustain a relationship. Kevin would try to stay faithful in a faithful relationship, but couldn't resist his aggressive male clientele. But even if it was an open relationship, his boyfriends couldn't handle the fact that Kevin would often come home too well fucked to do anything sexually with them, often with unexplained pains and bruises.
But professionally, Kevin was flying high at this point in his life. He was at a personal best in his career, both in skill and income level. He had been pretty well unknown and definitely broke before the gym was revamped, but after it was he became sought after as a personal trainer. He had provided massage pro bono for terminal cancer patients and people with AIDS since starting at the gym, working in conjunction with several professionals in the health care industry who held him in high regard, and to his credit, continued this practice as he became more successful.
He wasn't rich, but he was far from hurting for money, due to some wise investments made for him by his cousin Dominic, a stockbroker. More importantly, to his mind, his body was better than it had ever been, due to the fact that he had free access to the gym any time he wasn't performing his duties. It was one of the perks to working in a fitness environment. He had his own apartment to himself, he had a job he was good at even if he didn't totally love it, and was more or less his own boss. In short, everything was perfect.
Then he met Ted.
Ted showed up at his gym one day, about a year after it had been renamed and revamped, asking for a good personal trainer to help him in his workouts. The fact that this man had been a powerlifter for most of his life apparently didn't matter; he wanted a personal trainer. This threw Gary off a little, as Ted was 6'6" and weighed a good 370 lbs. of solid muscle, not fat. Gary, of course, tried to grab him first, because Gary liked to do that, but Ted said he had heard about another one at the gym, a Kyle or Kevin something, that was supposed to be good.
Kevin thought he was in trouble when the man looked at him like Ted was starving and Kevin was the last doughnut. He knew he was in trouble when they shook hands and Ted effortlessly had Kevin on his knees with his grip, smiling the whole time, his mammoth cock tenting out the front of his shorts. Kevin was in too much pain to notice that his was doing the same thing, at least not until he came.
There was very little "personal training" in their sessions. Oh, Ted worked out and Kevin attended him like Kevin would all his other clients, and Ted paid the exorbitant fee for his presence, but Ted knew what to do and made Kevin keep his mouth shut. All Kevin was there to do was to give Ted water, to spot him, to wipe off his sweat, and to undress and service him in Kevin's office afterward. Ted apparently just liked having an admirer around to worship him and was willing to pay for it. Kevin couldn't understand how the man had so much money - he had at least three sessions a week lasting at least three hours each and they were not cheap, and that was just the personal training aspect, nothing else - when he didn't seem to have a job.
Ted preferred verbal abuse and discipline to physical, the most notable example being his pet name for Kevin ("Twink"), but there was plenty of both to his time spent with Kevin. Often the sessions would not end at the gym. He kept Kevin naked the entire time he was in Ted's rather sparse apartment and treated him as a virtual slave, to serve him and/or whomever else he might have in as a guest. Kevin's often objected to the treatment that he got, which got rougher as time went by, but he had a problem that overrode his own arguments; his dick refused to soften when he was around this very large man.
It wasn't love that kept Kevin coming back to Ted. It was fear and subservience. Not only was Kevin unable to commit emotionally, not that he wanted to with Ted, but also, Kevin's deeply embedded mortal fear was almost constantly on the crest of being activated by Ted's very presence. Ted was pushing the envelope as far as Kevin's acceptable body types. Ted was on the borderline of what Kevin would accept in a man: he had a rather wide expanse, which set off Kevin's alarm bells, but it was all solid, which turned Kevin on, and the belly he sported was balanced out by the rest of his physique. Also, he was easily twice as strong as Kevin. That was the final deciding factor. Someone who could overpower him had the last say, not that Ted needed to do that. Not very often, anyway.
Ted was weird some days, though. Some days he was like a zombie or walking stiffly even if he hadn't worked legs the day before or he would refuse to take his shirt off even if he was pouring sweat. Sometimes when he was roughing Kevin up he had a strange look in his eyes, like he was seeing a ghost. The day that Kevin remembered most vividly was when Ted was doing deadlifts and his back started bleeding through his shirt. Ted told him it was due to a deep cut he got while working on his truck.
After a year, many of Kevin's other PT and massage clients got pushed to the side in lieu of serving and servicing Ted. He'd work out Ted. He'd massage Ted. He'd serve Ted dinner. He'd do chores for Ted. He gave the run of his apartment to Ted. He'd spend an hour licking the sweat off of Ted's body. Kevin alternately hated it and feared it, but found himself turned on by and helpless to the whole thing. More to the point, however, Ted paid for Kevin's presence. For pushing his other clients back in lieu of this one, Kevin's income increased, not decreased.
And that was when it happened. Kevin was on his knees, well into the third hour of sucking Ted off, who was drinking beer, smoking a rich stogie (60 gauge) and relaxing, while watching male aerobics videos, of all things. He was a big man but he got off on twinks. Much to Kevin's annoyance, to someone Ted's size Kevin fell in that category too, hence his nickname. That rather irked Kevin but he was not in a position to argue about it.
His aching jaw stretched wide and his throat raw, Kevin could only marvel at just how controlled the man was, sexually. Ted's cock, well over twelve inches long and thick enough that Kevin sometimes compared it to his wrist, seemed to get hard or soft upon command, could shoot several times successively with no effect on stamina, and could be held for hours at the brink of orgasm without letting go. Ted wasn't the only client Kevin serviced sexually, but he was definitely the most sexually satisfying and exhausting.
Kevin had never taken anyone as big as Ted in either direction before. He'd fantasized about it, sure, but the experience itself was a quantum leap forward when it actually happened. Kevin had not been inexperienced and was no longer really tight the first time Ted took him from the back, but at the same time it had proved more difficult than either of them had expected. Ted had reached a point about eight inches in and had been unable to go any farther no matter how they changed positions. So, abandoning any pretense of gentleness, Ted simply grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and rammed it in with sheer force. Fortunately, he had the foresight to clamp his hand over Kevin's mouth or else the neighbors would surely have the called the police about a potential homicide going on next door. After that night, Kevin had no problem taking Ted, which Ted took advantage of at least once or twice a day every time they were together. Also after that night, he had several of his other fuck buddy clients complain about how sloppy he had suddenly become and how he never seemed to tighten up.
It was in the midst of Kevin's oral ministrations that day that Ted "suggested" to Kevin that he try out a bar in town called Dimensions.
"If you like big guys, Twinkie, you'll love this place," he said, and that's all he would say. Kevin was in no position to say anything about it at the time, but when his jaw was back in place and functioning normally he said he'd check it out when he had a chance.
Ted didn't like half-hearted attempts. Once Kevin stood up, Ted picked him up under the shoulders, brought him to eye level, and gave him a very strong disapproving look. With Kevin dangling above the floor, he said, "Did I just hear you say that you would TRY to do something that I TOLD you to do?"
That was a week ago. Kevin had his sked packed with massage clients or he would have come the next night. Ted didn't like excuses if you didn't follow his orders right away. Fortunately, Ted went out of town on a trip the next morning, so Kevin didn't have to explain why he waited so long. On the other hand, Ted also called Kevin at the gym last night to make sure that he was going, and Kevin assured him that he was, apologizing effusively for not going sooner.
Kevin was jerked out of his reverie by an odd whirring sound. He was still two-thirds up the stairs, and nearly fully rested, although his back was starting to hurt from trying to hold the weight of his belly. He had NEVER had a problem with fatigue! He ran the stairs at the stadium almost every week! I'll kill that Jake, and Ted...
Well, he couldn't kill Ted, he thought a bit meekly. The man was too big and would laugh at Kevin and turn him over his knee again, like that one time Kevin had dropped the cigar lighter. And he doubted he could kill Jake either. Jake had a similar build, and there was that weird mental thing too... Jake struck him as being unpredictably dangerous when those two factors were put together.
Whirr.. What IS that? he wondered. Looking around, Kevin once again discovered that he could not turn very far without overbalancing. He could swear that the beach ball hanging off his front had actually grown since leaving Jake downstairs, but it was his imagination. He hoped.
The small red light in the gloom of the hallway caught his attention and held it. Aha, you little bastard, still checking up on me, eh? The camera near the ceiling was almost invisible. It kept focusing and refocusing on him as he moved. "I'm getting there, okay?" he muttered irritably. "I'm just resting for a minute." He scratched as far forward on his belly as he could reach - he wasn't sure he could reach his navel - and very self-consciously tried to pull his shirt down, which it would not do, of course. It was designed for a much thinner man, which he currently was not. It only went down to the top of his perfectly round belly and would not stretch around the expanse he now sported. He decided to leave it be. Ignoring the camera as best he could, he continued lumbering up the stairs.
An eternity later (fifteen minutes), Kevin managed to reach the top of the stairs and boldly looked down at the mountain he had climbed. And ground his teeth. He'd only climbed about twenty or thirty feet, up stairs that were not that steep or that narrow. Somehow it had seemed much more so when he was on them. But then, he had several dozen new pounds on him to deal with. Blessed Light, how much have I gained tonight?? Fifty pounds? Seventy-five?? How DO these men put up with this? he wondered.
On the landing in front of Kevin was a door; thick wood (mahogany, he thought), sturdy, unpainted, and impenetrable. He was caught for a moment by the imposing look of the door, but shrugged it off, reaching for the doorknob. When he got to it, however, he realized that there wasn't one. So how do I get in? He knocked on the door and hardly made a sound on the heavy wood. He tried a little harder, and then harder again, over and over, until he was practically putting his entire weight into it, pounding as hard as he could.
"Hello, Kevin." The voice was not a natural voice, as it was neither male nor female; it was all encompassing, omnidirectional, and emotionless. Either computer generated or being electronically altered. Not even original. Kevin stopped his physical relationship with the door and looked for the source of the voice, but there were no visible speakers.
"Yes, I know who you are, Kevin. I have ways of finding out things." Kevin's eyes narrowed. Jake had known too. First Ted tricks him into coming to this nightmare place, and now he finds out that he's expected? What if he hadn't come today? HOW do they know his name? Under the pretense of pulling his pants up (which he didn't think was very convincing; they were up as far as they could go with his swollen expanse), he surreptitiously slipped his hand into his back pocket to see if his wallet was still there. It was; they hadn't gotten his driver's license. Or maybe they had and slipped his wallet back... he closed his eyes. Paranoia wouldn't help anything either. But then, a little paranoia couldn't hurt anything at this late date. How did they know who he was?
The voice continued. "I've been watching you since..." there was a distinct pause, "...you came in, and I've seen all that's happened to you so far. I see it now, Kevin. Very impressive." Kevin didn't like getting compliments for his bloated state, so he kept his mouth shut. His face must have betrayed his emotions, though. "There's no need to be upset, Kevin. You look very nice, swollen up like a beach ball, and yet you still have sharply defined muscle. There are quite a few men who would be very appreciative of a man with your build and a gut like that. VERY appreciative." So there was a camera at the top of the stairs too, one Kevin couldn't see. This Boss, whoever he was, seemed to like spying.
Control yourself, Kevin thought. You can stay in control. This man will put you back the way you were if you're nice to him. "Look, you bastard," he began, looking around. Well, so much for control. "I didn't ask for this, whoever you are. I didn't want this, and I want to go back to the way I was. Please. I have some money, I'll pay you whatever you want." He had gone from irate protest to pleading in mid-sentence and knew it, but didn't want to backtrack. It would have helped to have a definite point to focus on, even if it was a camera.
Whatever altered the voice apparently had limits. "I do not...!" The sudden barked words sounded distinctly male and sharply annoyed. There was a deep breath and the emotionless quality returned. "All right, Kevin. It seems that flattery will not work." Kevin managed to keep his response to himself. Flattery?! "And I know that you have to be forced into new things for you to enjoy them. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, Kevin." What? Kevin did a small double take but had no time to consider. "Take off your shirt, Kevin. Now." Kevin stood blinking at the door. Huh? The non sequitors were hitting him hard and fast now. "Take it off, Kevin. I can see you, remember. And unless you want me to blow you up like a blimp right where you stand, you'll do as I say." The voice was no longer even trying to be emotionless, or the masking effect had reached its final limit; there was a definite edge to it. "Take it off!"
Kevin's humiliation level went up a distinct notch. Do you want to stay like this? his mind responded. Reluctantly, he peeled his shirt off. It was not easy, as it had had become wedged between his pecs and his belly, and required a bit of mechanics to get the rest of it off of his arms and over his head. Finally, though, he stood there in jeans and boots and nothing else, trying very hard to not see the hemisphere in front of him. Or feel it.
"Well? What are you waiting for?"
Kevin looked confused. What else was he supposed to do?
"Show me that gut, boy. Do a little dance for me."
Kevin felt a wave of nausea at the request. He had been perfectly willing to do anything to get rid of his gut.. except anything that involved it or showed it any way. Fool! What did you THINK he would want you to do? Slowly, he started rubbing his gut, feeling the roundness and firmness, almost like Ted's middle. Or Jake's. He felt a definite emotional reaction while rubbing it. His alarm bells were going off big time. And yet, it wasn't soft, but firm as a flesh covered bowling ball. Almost like muscle. In fact, he felt from his firm pecs down to the sudden protrusion forward that was his middle and he found that he could move from one to the other with no sudden mental jolt, like he had somehow expected to have.
Kevin felt around his middle, feeling the swollen love handles that hadn't been there two hours previously, the straight jutting ball pulling him forward, the deep shelf from his navel to his crotch. He made slow round circles from the sides to the middle, reaching as far forward as he could, his fingers just barely reaching in front, stroking downward across the navel and under and around again. For the first time since this had happened, he forgot what the feel of sharp abs was like, and did not care. He was lost in his own weight, like a separate object but connected to him, shifting back and forth, up and down, pulling at him.
Kevin started moving his hips side to side in a halfhearted attempt to appease the invisible stranger and unexpectedly felt his natural dance instinct take over, honed by years of aerobics instruction. As he did, music started around him. It was a deep funk sound, down and dirty. "That's it, work it, boy. Something to get you in the mood. Keep moving for me, big boy. Show it off for me." Obediently, without thought, he fell into the sheer bliss of the moment, not knowing, not caring, only wanting to follow orders and to please. "Yeah... I like that, muscle boy. Love that muscle gut. Make love to yourself for me. Show me all you've got, big gut muscle boy." If Kevin had been thinking at all at that moment, he would surely have made a sarcastic remark about the liquid honey of the formerly emotionless voice.
Kevin liked pleasing men. He always had. And he liked it when someone took control. This man was like Ted in some ways, or Ted was like him, but better.. so much better, like Ted was a pale imitator. This man had no uncertainty, no rough edges. It was all smooth control with him. Ted was forceful, but brutish. This man, if it really was a man, had grace and finesse to his control. It was so easy to...
Suddenly he realized that the music had stopped. He wasn't sure just how long it had been silent either; he had the uncanny feeling that it had not just cut off.
Confused, Kevin slowly stopped stroking his immense gut, not sure what he'd been doing or thinking. He felt a curious melange of emotions that he could not identify, and tried not to identify when he could. He was vaguely ashamed of himself, and turned on, and fearful, and pleased with himself, and... I'm being manipulated, he thought stubbornly. There had to be some sort of, of... subliminal suggestion in that music! It was very hard convincing himself. He felt like there was someone right behind him shaking an ephemeral head in disapproval.
Kevin forced his hands to his sides in order to keep them from stroking his middle. THAT DOES NOT FEEL GOOD! he shouted at himself. Neither did the solid steel roundness with the silky smooth covering that made his fingers tingle and sent an electric jolt across his skin at every touch. "That was good, Kevin," the voice said. Kevin had been too distracted to now remember the liquid honey, but he noticed that the voice was definitely warmer than it had been. "Very good. You have a natural sense of balance and movement. A lot of athletic guys don't, but you're like a gymnast on your feet. I'm pleased. Very pleased." Kevin started to smile at the praise - no one ever complimented him on his dancing - but caught himself. "You've earned something for that."
Kevin let out a small breath. Finally. That wasn't too bad after all. That phantom disapproving person was shaking its head again; Kevin seemed to be forgetting about his earlier humiliation factor. Without thinking, he absently stroked his gut again, in a sort of off-color goodbye to it. When he didn't think about it, he wasn't afraid of it.
"I'm going to open the door now. Then we can begin."
Kevin's sigh of relief died before it even started. Fool, he thought again. Should have known that couldn't be all to it. Not out here on the stairway. He felt cold, even though the air was warm. I have a very bad feeling about this.
The door slid noiselessly to one side and the darkness beckoned him in.