(STORY) Trent to Trucker - FIRST EDIT

Trent was a jock. At University for a sports major, surrounded by a group of jock bros and girls who embraced his alpha status. His nights were filled with wild parties, drinking, sex with any woman he could find, and he love it. His current drinking gang was the rugby club, which only meant larger groups of larger men, getting into worse fights and sometimes waking up in jail after punching someone they shouldn't have. Trent always got away with it though, the coach would bail him, they couldn't lose their top student on the team ‘Bro’.

But all that was about to change. Yet another raucous party after watching ‘the game’, had ended with the group being thrown out for several punch ups and groping incidents. “Fu#k you! W-we don't need ya bitc#es anyway!” He shouted, managing to hurl a bottle that smashed against the door while hanging off his bros shoulder, dragging him away. Two girls in trashy make up and a guy with a sore fist shouted something Trent couldn't make out through his drunken haze, before narrowly missing a bottle thrown back at him. His mate pulled him sideways “Whoa, F you! We-HIC- Goin’ down the clubs anyway bruv! YOU SUCK - !” before holding up both fingers and walking backwards, gesturing at his cock. Trent and his bros stumbled, hanging off each other for stability, half running around the corner, before the lads at the frat house decided to give chase.

It started to rain. Trents thin shirt clinging to his pecs and abs. His usual swagger was replaced by an unsteady stumble, fueled by the excessive drinking, as they stumbled through the labyrinth of city alleys. “Bro im going home man…fu#k that lot mannn-HIC-” Trent looked at his mate, “For real man? You gon’ wuss -HIC- out on me?” Before he pushed his aside and stagged to stand on his own. Trent continued “W-We can go anywhere we want bro, ya know who we- HIC- who we are bro!” before Trent slipped back and hit the wall. Tearing his shirt. Trents mate laughed, lighting a cigarette as he too slumped against the wall.

“Ma bro -HIC- Time to hit the hay. Its like fuc’5am man.” Trent looked up, the horizon was just glowing from the sun an hour or so away. “Y-yeah I guess man…FU#K!”

Just as he went to pull himself up, a LOUD horn sounded and they jumped back from the edge of the road. A semi-truck rolled past, the driver swearing as he swung the rig up the road and parked next to several others. Trent saw red, shouting over at the trucker as he pulled up. Several other hulking men, smoking cigars and drinking from large glasses by the bar's door, also looked over. The sounds of rock music echoing out from the neon lit bar did nothing to cover Trents booming jock voice. “Oi ya truckers scum! Mind where the- HIC-hell ya goin dumb-ass!” The main group of truckers didn't really respond, taking long drags on thick cigars, but instead  looked over at the one that had just pulled up. Who pointed over at them. “Drunk kids playin’ in the darn road, ge’ yourselves killed!”

“F- you grandad! Can smell ya from here pig!” Trent shouted over, rage building. His mate grabbed him, even drunk he knew better as he attempted to reason with him. “Trent bro, calm the hell down-HIC-man! It aint worth it dude!” But it was too late.Trent marched forwards, his jock body bulging as veins ran up his neck. “You nearly hit ME bro, hit ME! you-HIC-know who I AM?! I’m fu#king TRENT ‘THE TANK’ JOHNSON BRO!” Now looking twice as big, arms flexing as he approached. The truckers barely moved, standing forwards as one unit, the driver ahead of them continued. “Look kid, aint no harm done. Don’t go doing somethin ya go an’ regret son” Taking out a cigar from his leather vest, hanging over an equally dirty and rounded gut. Trent stopped short “Damn bro, you truckers look like SH#T duuude! Ya crawl out a dumpster?! Bet y can’t even SEE ya tiny dick under that ay!” Pointing down at his overhanging belly and jeering.

By now his mate had stumbled to his side. “Trent c’mon man, leave em, I’m not -HIC- getting in another fight tonight bro! C’MON!” He half shouted pulling Trents arm. After a few hard yanks, Trent began to shuffle away. But no less angry. “Lemme go man! Fu#k these pigs! I can take’em bro” The truckers laughed a bit. Another shouted out at them from the group now, scratching his own gut “Listen to ya mate kid, go home. Ya drunk” Trent swung blindly in their direction before his mate finally got a grip on him. Dragging him away. “F you pigs! Look at me! Ya always gonna be scum compared -HIC- to this!” he grabbed at his shirt, yanking it to show off his abs. The truckers just laughed as the two jocks stumbled away. The final words of Trent fading into the distance. “I’ll never be like you! Ya -HIC- hear! Oink Oinks pigs!”

Just as they disappeared, a new trucker switched on the lights of his rig. Having watched the whole thing from inside, silently making his judgment. He grinned as the two jocks disappeared from view. Flashing a set of orange eyes. Thinking over the Jocks final words he found himself answering back. “We’ll see about that kid…”

Gaz the genie slowly followed them back to Trents place, and watched his mate throw him into his bed and leave him there, face down, still dressed and wet. “Trent ya damn ass hole, I'll come back tomorrow bro, your a -HIC- fu#king pain in the ass ya know that bro!” Trent only moaned a reply into his pillow before throwing a lazy ‘thumbs up’ in his bros direction. A few seconds later, Trent heard the door slam closed and leave him in the darkness of his flat. The rain lashing the windows was the only sound he heard as he grinned dopily to himself. “Anotha’ top night broooo….” before he passed out, snoring into his pillow.

Gaz watched. A bolt of lighting announced his presence but Trent only rolled over, drool dripping from his mouth to the pillow. “And THEYRE the pigs ay…” Gaz muttered booking him over. “Lets see how you like it then” as he took a long drag from his own cigar and blew out a huge cloud of orange smoke that seemed to weave and snake its way over and into Trents nose and mouth. Trent barely noticed, other than the odd twitch of his balls as it worked its way into him. Gaz sighed, another job done. “Heh, be seein’ ya kid” He waved his cigar in the air, and just as soon as he’d come, vanished into the orange fog leaving no trace he’d ever been there at all.

Trent woke up sweating. “What the-” He muttered, thinking his clothes were wet from the rain the night before. But no, as he peeled himself up he could smell the musk hanging off his ripe pits and back. Almost stuck to the bed. “Oh christ-Looks like I overdid it, jesus that stinks-UGH!” He grabbed his head, as if the stink wasn't bad enough, he had one hell of a hangover. It felt like he was hit by a truck. He staggered to his feet, finding it much harder than normal, and noticed that he could feet the cold floor under his toes. He squinted down, but couldn't make them out for some reason. Instead lumbering forwards towards the bathroom. His ass letting loose a loud wet fart without control as he did. He jeered proudly, any jock would, as he scratched absentmindedly at his balls. He didn't even register the hair running up his chest and belly as he yanked off his shirt and yawned at the mirror.

“Oh fu….” His voice trailed off as he looked at himself in abject horror.

His buff body had been wrapped in a thin layer of fat, hos gut had pushed out slightly, not to mention the hair. It grew in all directions from his chest and cock. Even his pits now sported long forests of musk that clung to him like wet towel. But even as he watched, he could see his gut slowly expanding, rumbling like a earthquake as he stood breathing. Even as his chest rose and sank, he could FEEL it getting wider, pushing his arms and gut apart. A pressure was building inside him, working its way to his throat, he couldn't stop it. “BUUEUUUUUURRRP" The loudest belch he'd made of heard echoed around his small flat as he steadied his new weight. "-W-WOT'S APPEN'IN....M-MY VOICE?!" He had too come to terms with as he fell back against the wall. His sweaty back slapping against the tiles. Trent looked at his thick brow, heavy set nose, his pretty face was vanishing before his eyes. "NO NO!" he reached up to try and stop it, but his newer fat fingers did nothing to stop it. Only finding thick stubble, forcing through under his fingers to hide what was left of his face.

Suddenly his swinging balls met the cold tiled wall. He let out a guttural moan, much deeper than he expected it to be, as they slapped the cold surface. Trent looked down, now realizing the extent of his changes. His first problem was his thickening gut. It was blocking his view straight down. He pawed at it, pulling the fatty orb around until he managed to lean over to see his new package. "Oh sh#t..." Trent panicked as he saw two huge balls, the size of oranges, hanging almost halfway to his knees. Both were tied in a thick leather strap that made them appear even larger. His cock was a different story. It had lost a few inches. Even as he felt around, he swore he could feel his gut and fat pad slowly eating more space around it. It was no longer the long 10 incher he was used to, but a much fatter 7, soon to be 6.9, 6.8, 6.7.

"I gotta- I gutta stop dis' Trent finally blurted out. Wobbling away from the mirror back towards his room, panting and out of breath already, he was only getting hotter as the hair started to spread over his shoulder, merging with his pits and chest. The stink of sweat pouring from one area to the next. Trent stood in the middle of his room, thinking hard. "Wot did I-wait! T-THOSE truckers blokes!" He froze, the flash of the front door of the bar appeared in his head. It was red, the smell of cigar smoke and the heavy thrash of rock music and rowdy bears drinking. Drool dripped from Trents mouth before his phone snapped him out of it.

He grabbed it without thinking, and immediately regretted it when his mate that got him home answered. "Bro? You sound terrible man...like a fu#kin’ red neck or something man"

"Yer I jus' hunger and got dis damn hangova’ is all" Trent tried to say as casually as he could, but the words fumbled in his mouth. He concentrated, finding a final surge of willpower and gripped the phone. He could do this. He thought to himself. "Y-Yer bro, I'm good ya know, just headache, a-an im gonna be out all -BURRRRRP-day. Can't be bothered dude" Trent paused, had he fooled him? His mate seemed to wait forever before finally shouting "Damn bro, well ya can keep ya stench ass home the. Catch ya down the clubs later then bro! PEACE!" Before the phone went dead in Trents hand. He gulped hard and felt his throat shift and thicken inside his neck. Somehow he knew that was the last time he'd speak like his old self for a while, as another much louder belch forced its way out. "BURRRRAAPPPPPPPDARN IT! W-Wot's I gon' do now? I only got's a few hours before dem kids-I mean-bros come by.." He barely noticed his voice slipping, it felt more natural by the second as a thick beard was starting to join over his lips and hang over his chest. Only muffling his words further.

Trent looked himself up and down, quickly taking stock of his situation. His socks had burst open, huge hairy feet several sizes larger than before poked out the torn gaps. Likewise his shorts, soaked in musk and torn to pieces, were a tattered mess back on the bathroom floor. His muscle shirt was still hanging on, but just barely. Even it, designed for working out in, could only soak up so much sweat as it began to hang limply and wet off his thick, hairy arms, slapping around like a wet towel. The hairs on his chest and shoulders threatened to grow over the vests thin shoulder straps entirely. His back was wet, properly wet, his pits were dripping and his balls were radiating so much heat his legs were getting sweaty from them alone.

Trent looked out the window. Still raining. He thought of the bar, the truckers and how he'd screamed at them drunk. He knew what he had to do. He took a slow step towards his clothes draws. Leaving wet foot prints of his musky feet behind. "Gota' be summit dis fella can wear'.

He pulled one draw open, now having to lean quite alot to move his thick arms and head around his now massive gut to see. Even then his legs and biceps were starting to rub together now. Changing his stance bit by bit. Thick hairs growing to fill the new sweaty, damp spaces.

"B-but wot the fu-?!" Trent yanked out his old clothes. But they weren't HIS old clothes. They were vests, wife beaters, sorts shorts and jeans. Leather vests and even a set of boots that were way too big for...."Oh-" He sighed as he put his massive foot down next to the clown sized leather boot. They looked like they’d fit him after all. "Maybe aint' THAT big" he tried to reason with himself as he had no choice but to pull on the disgusting clothes.

The shirt was just a bit too small for him by the time he got it on. It had stains, and the vest material was just thin enough to see his hairy chest though, most poked over the top like some cheap Italian car dealer. He tried to find a shirt that would look ok, but eventually went for just a leather vest. He was so warm, he couldn't bare putting on any more layers than he had too. Next were shorts. It turned out to be the hardest part to get on. His gut was getting bigger, and his arms thicker, he could barely reach the button as he sucked in as hard as he could and hooked it in. "BURRRRRRRRAAAP" "FRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT" The pressure released as a long belch and fart as he stood proud. "D-done...finally, ain't gonna fit dem college kids clothes no more cuz" before without thinking, he chewed and spat on his carpet. The thick black stain sinking in as he stepped over it towards the door. "I got's me a trucker to beat on" as he clapped his fists together. In Trents head. They'd been the ones to do this to him, and he was going to make them 'undo it' to him.

Several people looked at him as he walked down the road. Some in disgust, other bears like him seemed to leer as he passed. "Weirdos..." he muttered in his deepening trucker voice. As he walked, his steps wider, slower, heavier in his thick boots. His vest slowly began to ride up his growing gut, showing patches of sweat gathering under his arms, over his shoulders, under his belly…

By the time he finally arrived, he’d developed a full and thick beard, his head of hair however was nearly bald, his huge gut was hanging off him like a beer keg, forcing him to lean back slightly. He stank, like really he stank. More toilet than gym, his sweat hung from him like the matted hair growing over his entire body. It was like a warm blanket. A wet, stinky, warm blanket. Then, he saw it. The Red door. He could straight through into the smoky bar. The truckers and other drunk pub go'ers were standing inside. Drinking, smoking cigars, laughing louding and slapping each others bellies. As Trent approached, ready to break some skulls and get some answers...he paused. His steps slowed. He felt his anger slipping away from him, his clenched fists let go and by the time he reached the spot where he’d stood just last night. He came to a complete stop.

"Ya'll ok buddy?" A large bear with bright amber eyes approached. "Ya lost boy?" Boy? Trents mind snapped back to reality. Now his whole vision as this man. This MAN. He was taller than him. thicker, in muscle and fat, hairier, he looked- Trents thoughts paused...he looked he looks perfect. "Wait wots happenin?" Trent shook the thoughts out his head as the large Trucker put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Can I ge' you a drink boy, ya'll look like ye' needs one" Before Trent could respond, he felt the mans thick arms wrap around him, his head forced into the man's own sweaty pecs and wet chest fur as he was litterilly CARRIED inside to the bar.

"Now wait jus' BURRRRP- a sec!" Trent tried to protest but was placed on a stall by the truckers bar and quickly found a large beer in front of him. The massive guy released Trent from his grip and took his own large beer in his own, larger hand. "So son, I'm Gaz, What's a young guy like ya' doin' ere? Got a rig I guess" Taking a long swing from the beer, leaving a thick foam in his beard. Trent steadied himself, his gut was now making it harder to move. His arms now rested at angles, his whole body was alien to him. He looked up at Gaz "I came to-BUUURP- came to errr… get back something-um….-BURRRRP- don't remember…." His voice trailed off. The hangover was back. His thoughts were getting foggy. Just looking at this huge trucker seemed to make his head…fuzzy?

He grabbed the beer instinctively and began to down it. His mind cleared slightly. "I wos ere' yesterday, I needed errr....help...I think...." Trent pleaded best he could. But Gaz just smirked. "Oh I bet I know, you probably left ya truck ere' and wondered off drunk ay? Atta boy, lets go see if can't find it" Almost as if being led on an invisible leash. Trent downed the last of his beer and quickly followed the lumbering hog outside. He could see other truckers and bears eyeing him. He could smell them too. Like a musky ripe pit. Like his truck. God he missed it.

He stumbled forwards over the door and slapped his beard into the wet belly of another sweaty bear. It was the trucker he'd sworn at yesterday. But neither of them regnoised each other. As Trent peeled himself off the guy. He could taste him. It was rank. Like sweaty ass and unwashed ripe gym socks. And Trent was in love…He looked up at the guy. His dick already hard as his drool joined with the guys chest hair. "S-sorry there Boss" He automatically blurted out as Gaz pulled him aside, fist bumping the Driver from last night. "This is Hog. Well, names proper is Brandy, but we all jus' call him Hog"

Brandy, or Hog the Driver, looked down at Trent. Who was suddenly feeling very small beside Gaz and Hog. "Nice to meet ya Pig. Don't I know ya from somewhere boy?" Hog said, leaning in. Trent could only huff the fumes coming off Hog. It was like he was supposed to be buried under his belly, licking his pits. It was Trents place he somehow thought. Hog meanwhile, thought that this cute pig looked just a bit like that arrogant drunk Jock that had a go at him here last night but... it couldn't be. While this strange imprinting was taking place between Hog and Trent. Gaz reached into Trets leather vest pocket and pulled out some large keys. "Ya'll a thick pig, got ya keys in ya damned vest pig" and Trent looked up at them, dangling in Gaz's filthy thick mitts. Hanging from a chain on the keys were the steel joined together letters, PIG.

Trent gulped. 'Was that him? Was HE....PIG? But...Pig was Trent. I mean, Trent was Trent.' He shook his head, again the thoughts were heavy and thick inside his head. Like he couldn't hold onto them for very long before it began to ache. Gaz smirked. "Better take ya boy Hog, looks like he needs ya" and before Trent knew what was happening he'd been shoved head first into Hogs wet forest of stank. He was led, blind as he breathed it in. His mind getting to know his master. Hog was all he needed now. He knew that was why he came. To find this...warm, stinky, place.

"Boy! - BURRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPPP-" A belch so loud his ears shook was directed straight at his face as Hog threw him back into reality. "Look, It's OUR truck PIG" Pig looked up. Gaz was holding the keys out, but as he went to grab them Hog took them from above him. "This this is daddy hogs don' chu pig?" Trent the Pig looked down, then sniffed his pit. His beard was rank too now. It only stank of Hog. That's all he could smell. He nodded at Gaz and Hog just in time to hear a glass bottle come spinning over their heads.

"OI YA SKANKS!" Someone young from the college shouted out at the group of them stood outside the truckers bar. It looked like a load of sports nuts. One looked familiar but, was it a mate he knew? Hog held his pig tight. "I got cha Pig. Fu#k those jocks. They don't know what they're missing ay boy?" as he felt himself starting to need a piss, a wank, and food. A real hog had a lot to teach his new pig.

Pig smiled through his beard as Hog climbed into his truck. Gaz smiled and helped Pig to climb. His hands were thick and slippery with sweat. Plus his gut meant he could barely climb at all.

"God ya nasty! You damn scum bags!" a few more voices shouted out from the passing drunk jocks as Pig watched Gaz close the door behind him, sealing him with his daddy into the truck forever. It was ripe inside. It smelt like Hog. He leaned over. "So wher’ we goin boss?"

Hog slammed the rig into gear as he looked out and waved at Ga who grinned back. "Well pig...your first job aint ta think...-BURRRRRAAAP- now get down on dat" He yanked down his yellow boxers to reveal a thick, meaty cock and huge balls. Both with heavy weights attached making them swing around as the truck shook. His rod bounced and dripped with sweat and pre cum. "Get ta it pig" and Pig leapt forwards. Diving down onto his shaft under the steering wheel and licking with all his might. He had to serve this monster. It was his duty to his boss. He was home. He couldnt imagine being anywhere else than under his boss, wet with sweat, he blew his load into his own shorts as his vest ripped down the sides and his huge gut finally solidified into an orb of solid mass. He'd never touch his dick or reach his balls again. He’d never wash or go to college. His life was forever changed. He was a Pig. “He Oinked and grunted loudly  into Hogs gut and cock, hungrily sucking as the truck pulled out of town.

Gas smirked as it finally vanished from view. "That'll teach ya pig" he muttered proudly just as a jock threw a bottle that smashed in his direction. “Ya all nasty donkeys, the lot of you gay boys!” one of the bulkier

jocks shouted. Gaz sighed. “No rest of the wicked ay”


----

Thank you for reading! Images and more stories are on the way! Stay posted and feel free to mes or chat over on the discord!