Punishment - Part 3

Nothing felt right when Don woke up on the couch. There was that damp, stick sensation of stale cum that now coated his groin from when he’d jizzed himself in his sleep, but it was more than that. He felt… heavy. Like he was digging into the cushions more than he should. Like gravity was weighing him down more often than usual.

Getting up was a chore, but at first he chalked it all up to grogginess. Only at first, since the moment he brought his hands up to his face, he nearly screamed.

They weren’t his hands. They were bigger, softer, thicker. He couldn’t see the veins in his palms or the wrinkles in his knuckles any more. That trend continued to his arms, which now toneless limb of your average office worker. Worse, even. His wrists and forearms were as thick as ever, but that thickness now seemed to come from fat and muscle in equal measures. 

“Oh god,” he said, and then stopped. His voice sounded different, a dull croak that felt like his vocal chords were coated in molasses. It even felt weird, like a sympathetic vibration that swept through his entire upper torso. 

Don looked down, and then he did scream. It was all laid out in front of him: his new stomach, his perky tits, his bulky thighs. All of it layered one on top of the other, folded neatly to fit his sitting position.

He bolted upright, and nearly fell over. His center of mass had changed, he couldn’t figure out how to balance himself. He took wobbling steps to the bathroom, desperate to find a mirror, to see what had become of his carefully constructed gym routine. The way he moved felt alien and bizarre, how he had to move each leg around the other rather than merely taking a straightforward stride, how his belly and tits bounced with each lumbering step. 

Slapping the bathroom lights on, Don screamed again at the man staring back in the mirror. His face was round, not angular. His cheeks were chubby, not flat. He had two chins instead of one. His neck could barely be seen beneath a thick layer of adipose that seemed to connect his head to his shoulders before flowing down to wrap around his chest and end in two pert mounds.

There was only the barest hint of what had once been a magnificent pair of pecs. Those square lines seemed to sag now, bowing out under the pressure of the two now-massive nipples that topped each breast. Yes, that’s the right term. And Don should know: he’d handled more than his fair share of breasts. A trembling hand squeezed one to confirm its softness, its give, and yes, it’s breast-like nature.

But it was his six-pack that Don missed most. In its place, a keg. A round belly, wide enough and heavy enough to sag over his groin as he stood, a crease running alongside his waist to accentuate his new lovehandles.  

His mournful groan turned to a wail as he looked further down. Beneath the shadow of the gut that now hung above it lay Don’s cock, almost an inch of it now buried in his new fat pad. It seemed as thick as ever--perhaps even a bit fatter thanks to the flesh that had pooled around the base--but it still seemed a mere shadow of its former glory. 

There was a scale in the corner beside the toilet, hardly used since its initial purchase. He tapped it with a toe he could barely see over the crest of his belly, and waited. The battery still had charge. He stepped on, tears streaming down his face, and then looked at the number. 

280 lbs. A gain of nearly 90 lbs in a single night of binge eating.

It was all too much. Don stepped in the shower, turned it on, and sat down. As the water fell like rain, he cried harder than he’d ever cried in his life.

And as Don contemplated his new life, he felt something else completely new. It wasn’t remorse, or guilt, or sadness, but one of… intense pleasure. Water droplets striking the shelf of his chest then formed rivulets that cascaded over Don’s newly enlarged nipples, and it felt extremely good. Good enough to forget--if only for a moment--how fat he’d become in a single day.

Good enough that he felt a familiar stirring in his loins.

Don felt so awful at that moment, that even though this good feeling made no sense, he latched onto it like a drowning man. He reached down, chubby fingers bumping into an unfamiliar and bulbous body as they reached beneath his belly to desperately tug at his cock. Fresh tears came as he noted how little shaft remained in this position, how his flesh sloughed forward and buried his dick while crouched and sitting on the shower floor. But he could still wrap his hand around it, and it still felt good, and the sensation coming from the water on his chest only kept getting more and more intense, increasing his arousal still.

Eventually, he was fully hard. He began jerking himself, fist bumping into his new flab, the movement of his arm sending the soft tissue of his chest and belly into jiggling fits. It was so odd, so disgusting, but also somehow alluringly different in a way that he’d never considered. 

And his nipples… they were so hard. They felt like they were on fire. The hot water running across his bouncing mounds just felt so incredibly good--better than his dick did, even. 

While one hand  continued to tug at his cock, the other crept slowly up the bulbous contours of his torso to eventually find an eraser head-sized nipple. He let his fingers merely brush his tit at first, and the jolt of pleasure that ran through his body was so strong it made him forget everything, his sudden weight gain, his conviction, his inexplicable desire for cock…

Yes. Cock. He wanted one. Wanted to touch it. Wanted to lick the shaft, taste its cum. He wanted one inside him…

Don paused. Where had that thought come from? What was going on? 

But the water kept coming, and his chest and cock felt so good… 

Eventually, he got up the nerve to fondle his own breasts like he would a woman’s. It felt the same, only it was him. Better even, with his nipples like tiny cockheads sending jolt after holt of pleasure down his spine to a slowly growing spot at the base of his cock. A building pressure that needed something more so it could break into orgasmic bliss.

He tugged again. Another jolt. He mashed his tit, and he got more aroused. For a moment, he took both hands to mash his tits together like he’d seen from countless porn stars, and he gasped at the feeling--also just like countless porn stars. 

He was turning into some bitch, but he couldn’t stop himself now. That pressure below was so great he couldn’t stand it. He had to let it out, but it was like his dick wasn’t enough. Not anymore. 

Now instead of a hand on both cock and tit, it was tit and taint. But Don knew he was getting close, close to where he’d be able to find blissful release in this bizarre, obese body. He was so close. 

There. Right there. Right at his hole. He tentatively slipped his finger inside, and knew at once he’d hit the spot. He dug around a little further, just a little further, and there. It was right there. 

He jammed his finger up as far as it would go, as hard as it would go, simultaneously pinching his nipple with all the force his chubby fingers could muster. And he came. 

It was like before, but more. He came long and hard, rope after rope spurting from his half-buried cock. More cum than he’d ever made in his life. More cum than he’d ever seen in the lewdest of pornos. More cum than he ever thought was even possible. And all of it kept pumping without a single hand touching his dick. 

Eventually the flow slowed to just a few fitful spits, but the crashing wave of orgasm kept going. Each wave made him jerk and spasm uncontrollably. He couldn’t keep hold of himself and he finally let go of both breast and asshole, lying on the floor of his walk-in shower as water washed the evidence of his orgasm away.

And then something deep inside seemed to shift.