Commit to the Bit - Part 1

Patreon-exclusive Halloween Special🎃

October 31st

Troy stood before the full-length mirror in his bedroom, only wearing a jockstrap and posing like he was a poster boy for bad ideas. At only 18 years old and 6’4” tall, he couldn’t help but admire the defined ridges of his abdomen, his broad shoulders, the powerful cords in his neck, and the thick set of his chest tapering to a tight waist. He had worked hard to achieve such a magnificent body, and for Troy, it gave him the right to show off as much as he wanted.

Every slight motion accentuated the play of muscle across thick arms that could throw a football clear across the field. His thighs looked strong enough to crush steel between them, and his stance was confident and loose—like the posture of a king who’d never once been asked to apologize. He was the star athlete at school, a walking dare, every teacher’s warning, and every young man’s legend. He was literally untouchable, big in all the ways that mattered.

He flexed before the mirror in pure vanity, spreading a dangerous grin on his lips as he thought of the devilish plan that had been lounging in his head all week. He rolled his neck, shook out his arms, and adjusted the front of his jockstrap, giving his heavy bulge a shake to settle it comfortably before the night’s performance. His huge soft cock and bull balls bounced slightly as he turned around and looked at the cardboard Amazon box on his bed.

“It’s showtime,” he said, bouncing his meaty pecs before slicing the packing tape.

He carefully pulled out a rounded shape from the crinkling plastic. It was a cheap, glossy silicone prosthetic, described as “hyperrealistic triplets,” adorned with faint blue veins and a popped-out belly button. He laughed, like a kid when he’s about to have endless fun with a new toy, a devilish new toy in this case.

As he inspected the fake belly, he mentally revisited his plan and motivations. He had heard the whispers about Haley Baxter since June. The 18-year-old cheer captain had vanished from the squad after showing up to summer practice with a noticeable curve under her uniform. Now, she was six months pregnant, still attending class despite all the rumors. Nobody dared to ask more than a few questions, only staring at her growing middle.

The truth was ugly and simple. It had all started in the dark at junior prom. Everybody knew what had happened for Haley to get pregnant, but nobody dared to mention that the scandal had started in Troy’s arms. Their brief encounter was supposed to be a secret, so she decided to keep it a secret. Everybody knew, but nobody said anything, not even Troy, who was aware that the baby was his. He still pretended to have nothing to do with it, and nobody talked about it. That was how power worked.

Now, Troy’s dark mind had come up with a way to mock Haley even more. He lifted the belly, surprised by its weight. “You’re heavier than you look,” he said, slowly strapping it around his chiseled torso.

The silicone interior hugged his skin perfectly. He cinched the buckles and tested the sway in his hips. It pulled on his lower back, so he exaggerated the weight, arching his spine in a mocking sway and puffing a breath like he’d seen Haley do on her worst days. He laughed at himself because it was cruel and because he could.

From the closet, he pulled out his older sister’s retired cheer uniform, the model Haley used to wear. He wrestled the skirt over his thighs, taking his time to adjust and hide his heavy bulge to look decent enough to avoid issues with the teachers. He felt the zipper begging for mercy, but he managed and then shimmied into the top. The seams strained to their limit with a sound like teeth gritting. He smoothed the fabric over the false curve and glanced at the mirror.

It was obscene how well it “worked.” The uniform strained over that rounded middle as the top stretched taut across his chest and upper arms, turning his athlete’s bulk into a parody of overabundant meat. He hoisted the belly with both hands and did the slow, arched-back sway he’d practiced, pouting with a theatrical martyrdom.

“Best Halloween costume ever,” he said to the mirror, and tapped the swollen navel like it was a button that would play applause.

On the dresser, his phone buzzed. The guys were already at the Halloween dance, sending videos of smoke machines and spooky decorations around the school’s gym. He took one last look, smirking and swaying his body. It looked like a caricature of consequence, with none of the cost.

“Perfect,” he said, leaving the house as the belly tugged at his lower back with each step. He leaned into it, made it part of the act, and let the weight swing him into a swagger he could weaponize.

****

A while later, he entered the gym with a dramatic waddle, and his loud voice drew everybody’s attention. Laughter burst immediately. Hands slapped shoulders. A few kids actually clapped. Others could only stare, with their faces twisting through shock into disgust and back again as if their features couldn’t decide which mask to keep. Near the snack table, a teacher went pale, but he couldn’t say anything.

Troy’s friends collapsed against each other, barking with laughter. “Dude, that’s messed up,” Nate said, already recording as Troy playfully clutched the round middle like in a pregnancy photoshoot. “You look ready to pop!”

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Troy replied, pushing one hand behind his lower back and the other under his false belly, arching his spine in pure mockery. “If others can parade around flaunting their mistakes,” he said loud enough to catch the nearest whispers, “why can’t I?” He rolled his hips in a slow circle and pouted, clearly mimicking Haley.

It was a performance, one where his evil intentions were clear: to make people laugh about Haley’s pregnancy, even though he was also responsible for it. But there were faces in the crowd that didn’t laugh. Some boys and girls stayed unresponsive, with their jaws tight, looking at Troy like a man watching a match drift toward spilled gasoline.

Then, the lights in the gym flickered, and the room went dark for a few seconds. Everything got quiet, people stopped moving, but even in the darkness, Troy smirked and bumped his fake belly against one of his friends. Then, as the lights came back on, Troy saw a girl in a vampire dress sliding past the edge of his vision. Her lips were red, and her eyes had a golden glow that made him shake slightly.

“Careful,” she whispered. “Mocking a mother on All Hallows’ Eve is bad luck.”

He turned to ice her with a look, trying to figure out who that was, but he couldn’t recognize her. “Get lost,” he said sharply, but the girl was already lost in the crowd. “I’ll just get double candy.” He said, rubbing the fake belly exaggeratedly.

He didn’t give the incident much thought since nobody else even noticed. He moved through the gym as if he owned it because he always had. He bowed to boos as if they were roses. Troy arched his back whenever anyone looked too long, placing both hands under the belly in that universal, tender pose he’d seen Haley adopt when she’d been too tired to hide. The cruelty of it tasted like pure sugar on his tongue.

Despite his evil thoughts for the night, he still took some time to dance, then switched to goofy dad bounces that made the belly shake hilariously. He tried to flirt with a Cleopatra who rolled her eyes and a catgirl who could barely hide her interest when she felt his big body so close to her. His grin was devastating, but tonight it didn’t seem to have the same effect. He could feel the distance, and he knew it was the belly, but he didn’t mind it. He knew he could have any girl he wanted, only if he took the belly off.

Around 10 PM, the lights flickered again, leaving the room dark, but this time the crowd rejoiced in the “spooky ambiance.” When the fluorescents stabilized, people were already pivoting back to their conversations as if nothing had happened. However, Troy felt a slow discomfort under his costume as the straps suddenly felt tacky where they’d been snug. He slipped a hand under the top, found the harness with his fingers, and adjusted it. The rubber kissed his skin in a way it hadn’t before, with a suction that made him grimace.

He dismissed it, striking another pregnant pose, along with a cocky smirk. But things felt different. At first, the shifts in him looked like jokes he’d forgotten to tell on purpose. He laughed too hard at a dumb pun by the punch bowl, then snapped at Nate for jostling his shoulder, then turned watery-eyed when a freshman tripped and spilled a plate of cookies. The mood swings hit harder as his extreme confidence suddenly turned into illogical irritation, bursts of manic energy that faded into shaky exhaustion.

One minute, he was teasing everyone in sight with his old cocky grin, and the next, he looked hurt, like someone had insulted his soul. He would grin too wide, then glare too sharply, then blink in confusion as if he didn’t know what he’d felt. Every mood hit him hard and faded before he could name it, leaving him blinking and breathless.

“Bro,” Nate said, half laughing, half worried. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Troy snapped, then rubbed at his sternum like it hurt and took a breath that shuddered. “I’m great. Best night ever!”

The issues didn’t end there. Troy tried to act cool, but he suddenly got unbelievably horny, which was ridiculous and annoying. The costume’s lower band pressed oddly over his crotch, and the lower curve of the fake belly often brushed against his bulge. The short skirt only made the problem worse, barely covering his powerful thighs, and he found himself fighting the need to adjust it constantly. But at this point, most people had already seen the overfilled pouch.

Each movement made him more aware of his skyrocketing horniness because he could feel his huge cock stirring in his jockstrap, pulling at the fabric and making him gasp. He had never been shy about his cock, but he knew that letting it get to its full size—a foot long—while wearing that costume wasn’t ideal. The size pressing forward made him adjust the waistband again, trying to keep his body from showing too much. But despite the evident bulge, he rolled his shoulders and tried to shake the sensation off.

He couldn’t control his body at this point, but he just let himself go into his desires. He stacked a mountain of salt-and-vinegar chips on a plate, and then, since the smell of the caramel corn turned his stomach, he scraped that onto another plate and ate the chips with both hands. While people danced, he kept eating like he hadn’t eaten in days. He followed it with gummy worms, then orange slices, then a pickle spear fished out of an unlabeled jar. The kids laughed at first, thinking it was part of the performance, then stared silently when he didn’t stop.

“Dude,” Nate said, now clearly spooked. “You never eat these things.”

“Shut up,” Troy said, bitterly, and reached for another pickle. “It’s good.” He wiped brine on the belly without thinking, and a shiver traveled through him, sharp enough to make him wince.

Then his chest started aching. It was a sudden tenderness that made him flinch when someone brushed past. He folded an arm across his torso, protective and confused. Even the soft brush of the top against his nipples made him gasp audibly, drawing his friends’ attention even when he wanted to act casual.

“You look flushed,” Nate said from a safe distance. “You should sit.”

“I don’t sit,” Troy said, and then sat because the room tilted. “Okay. Only a few minutes. I think the straps are too tight, and it’s cutting my air or something.”

He laughed too loudly at nothing. He swore under his breath at a song he liked. He blinked and felt his eyes watering. He loved everyone and hated everyone. He wanted chips, wanted ice, and wanted someone to touch him.

“Bro,” Nate whispered, leaning into Troy’s ear to talk clearly, not aware of how much Troy enjoyed the closeness and the heat now that his hormones were driving him crazy. “What if… like, what if this is contagious? Did you check where that belly comes from?”

“Contagious?” Troy croaked, snorting. “What, I’m going to get a pregnant cough on you? By the end of the night, you’ll all have big bellies like this,” he said and instinctively pushed his body tighter against Nate to tease him.

Nate blushed and stepped back. “No, no. I think it’s weird, dude,” he said, avoiding Troy’s eyes and unable to stop looking at the fake belly.

Another friend suggested the straps were too tight. Troy reached under the top to loosen the prosthetic again and felt the surprisingly warm rubber clinging to his skin even more than before. He twisted and tried to adjust himself as his lower back throbbed. Heat ignited low in his belly, and pressure spread from his core to his hips. He kept waving off concerns. He kept staging his bit. But the bit kept staging him.

Nausea hit him without warning. He doubled over, thinking he’d be sick, then straightened with a gasp as the sensation converted suddenly into hunger. He emptied the remaining chips into his mouth like a dare, and two cups of punch soon followed.

“Who spiked this?” he asked, knowing no one had. “It’s making me feel off.” His skin felt thin. His patience felt thinner. And then, as if the night were keeping a schedule, the clock on the far wall clicked close to midnight.

When the numbers showed 12:00, the lights went off again. This time it wasn’t the playful flicker from before, but complete darkness. Someone screamed in a way that made others shake. Then emergency strobes pulsed, covering the gym in a haunting red that made every face look like a gory nightmare. And in that low light, Troy’s middle clenched. He felt a deep heat increasing and pressure knotted in his middle.

He groaned, deep and guttural, in the silent room. He told himself it was his dinner and too many snacks pushing back against the fake belly, that the straps were digging, and that he’d overdone the chips. He slid a hand under the top to shift the silicone, and then he froze. His fingers couldn’t find the edges. He knew exactly where the ridge should be. He’d felt it all night, but it wasn’t there. He swept his hand left, then right, and he found nothing. He could only feel a continuous curve, warm as skin. He glanced down and touched it. It felt like him.

“What the hell…” he whispered in horror, turning pale.

He took two steps toward the locker room doors, and his balance betrayed him. The weight at his middle had shifted from performance to fact. He had to widen his stance, and his gait turned into a waddle that wasn’t part of any act he’d rehearsed. His friend saw him walking away, and despite their dread about what Troy had been doing, they decided to follow him and make sure that everything was alright. As soon as he left the room, the lights came back on.

When Troy entered the locker room, he tried to remove the uniform, trying to remain calm despite his evident distress. He managed to lower the skirt, revealing his big bubble butt and the indecent bulge at the front where the jockstrap strained over his half-hard cock. However, when he tried to remove the top, he felt his center of gravity shift, and he had to lean against the locker for balance as the weight of his belly pulled him forward.

“Help me!” he snapped, breathless. “Help me with this. I need it off. I need it off.”

Nate and two others crowded close. Their hands fumbled with fabric, the zipper, and the hem that clung. Together they wrestled the top up and over his head, finally revealing his magnificent—and now rounded—torso. The belly—his belly—gleamed under the light like an impossibly taut moon attached to a perfectly sculpted body. There were no seams and no straps. No joke. The faint veins now looked real beneath the flushed skin.

“Take it off,” Troy said, almost commanding but evidently scared. “Please!”

“Dude! HOW?” Nate said as they tried to find the edges. Their fingers pressed everywhere, probed, and skimmed, and everywhere they touched, Troy felt it, not as rubber registering contact but as if it were his skin. When one of them pinched, the pain snapped through his nerves and made him gasp and shiver.

“Stop—stop!” He said, shaking. His hands trembled and settled on the curve with terrible caution. He gasped at the warmth, at the firmness, at how his hands felt against the roundness. “It’s… me,” he said, and then felt something fluttering. It wasn’t gas. It wasn’t a tremor. It was the unmistakable knock of a foot—or a hand—against the inner walls of his middle. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Troy shouted.

The others backed away at once as instinct, superstition, and fear took over them. “Did it just—” “No way.” “No way.”

They saw another movement, sharper this time as it rolled under his skin. The surface briefly bulged, then it was gone. Troy’s breathing slowly became a heavy panting as heat flooded his face and his vision narrowed. Within his rounded middle, something turned and tested the elasticity of his skin. The roundness settled lower, heavier, as if obeying gravity like it had always belonged to it.

“Man, we should—” Nate began, but his feet were already running. “We should get outta here—” he said, and the others were already backing for the door. “We’re sorry, dude! You’re on your own this time.”

They left him. He didn’t call them back. He couldn’t find air for either anger or mercy. All his attention focused on the weight he now held. Then, the locker room lights died completely. Only the emergency strobes remained, beating a slow, red pulse. He could barely focus, but he saw a dark frame standing at the door. He couldn’t initially register who it was, but after a few seconds, he recognized her: Haley.

...

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PS: Hey everyone, this is a Halloween-special story based on a prompt a Patreon member sent. I'm loving this concept, and I hope you like it as well. ENJOY!