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"Day 41" - another chapter in the series
🕑 Added 2022-09-01 04:39:31 +0000 UTC"Day 41" - by Lardfill, September 1, 2022
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This is another addition to the "Day One" series of stories that began last month.
Warning: Contains drug use, force feeding, dom/sub situations.
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Day 41
"You're sick."
"What a fucking pig..."
"Don't look at him."
"Save any for the rest of us?!"
"That is the nastiest thing I've ever seen."
"You're what's wrong with this country."
"When are they carving that hog up?"
"You should be ashamed."
Day after day, hour after hour, that's all I heard from people as I sat helpless in a parade of buffets, stuffing my face while drugged out of my mind by Cook. He would take me to the washroom every hour and shove a bottle of poppers under my nose or pack a wad of cannabis candies in my mouth in a washroom stall, away from the sight of any security cameras. I would be wheeled back out into the buffet with my mouth hanging open, my mind lost in a blur of food and faces that didn't seem to sink into my memory at all. I was trapped in the current moment, unable to think ahead to what was coming or remember back to any point to develop a single thought. Cook would put food in front of me and I would automatically tear into it with my hands, lunging at it like a starving animal.
I was not starving. I was beyond full. My body was aching to contain the food I was consuming. There wasn't any room inside my stomach but I still grabbed pieces of fried chicken and tore into them like some prehistoric caveman who had suddenly walked into a room filled with the most delicious things that he couldn't even imagine. I was pushing cake down my throat, followed by wads of delicate deep fried onion rings, immediately washed down with my tenth milkshake and a mouthful of gravy and cheese curds. I couldn't stop myself.
My skin itched all over as it stretched more and more to cover the many pounds of pure fat that I must have been gaining . Stretch marks covered all my exposed flab, and there was a growing amount of it daily, hanging lower and spreading wider. Cook never brought bigger clothes, he had only brought a collection identical outfits for me to start fresh in each day as we did the usual schedule of buffets. Every morning, he'd wheel me into the same buffet and they would see that I was hanging out of my shirt more and just as hungry as the day before, a hefty addition of at least five pounds of new fat jiggling in my lap as he wheeled me through the doors.
We had found only a few buffets that would tolerate my obscene display of gluttony and obesity for long, but the one that Cook preferred best was an old buffet that had replaced the location of what looked like a gay stripper bar. It was dimly lit with black walls and ceilings and most of the customers were men and an assortment of rainbow and pride flags were displayed on the wall. The old stage and stripper poles were long gone and had been replaced with an oval shaped display of food tray stations, and a handsome muscular chef stood in the middle, carving and serving up fresh cuts of roast pork that they always had to eat every time we visited.
Everyone seemed relatively okay with me there, much more than any other buffet we had been to. This was the only buffet where strangers would actually say something positive towards me, unlike all the other restaurants we had visited.
"Hungry man! Good on ya, big guy!"
"The way to a man's heart is definitely through his stomach. You two must be head over heels."
"Puttin' it away, aren't ya big boy?"
"I bet you squeal real good..."
"What a pig. Keep eating. You'll get that blue ribbon someday."
I couldn't remember, but I think a man in leather pants shoved a popper under my nose once while I was eating when Cook was up at the buffet getting more food. It happened so suddenly that I wasn't sure if it was real or not. He was maybe forty or fifty, rugged and stern looking, wearing a black tank top and black leather pants. I looked up from my face full of whipped potatoes drowning in butter and gravy and he was just standing there, watching me with an impressed look on his face. I think he grabbed the back of my neck and forced a little black bottle under my nose and I instinctively inhaled deeply - and then he was gone and I just went back to eating like nothing had happened.
I really can't remember, but I think the chef brought me a cake at one point. He held it waist-high as he walked over to us, and when he set the cake on the table, he pulled his meaty erect cock out of the side of the cake and then stood next to me at the table so I could slobber and suck all the frosting off. Did that happen? Cook was sitting right across from me when it happened and just watched with a grin.. if it even happened?
Cook had bought a large pink butt plug with a pigtail on it at a nearby sex shop one day and happily lodged it into my ass so he could keep me plugged while we ate at the buffet. He would often tug at my pants while on the way to and from the washroom, revealing a good portion of my fat ass with a pink curly pig tail rising out of the crack. He was parading me around, flaunting me to these men that he seemed to know. I was enjoying it, but at the same time, I felt like I was a helpless pig in a den of wolves.
Cook helped me 'unload' and then cleaned me up, plopping my pig ass back down in the wheelchair, my bulky weight forcing the butt plug to remain firmly in place. I groaned, exhausted and sweating from having to stand up and sit down. Cook looked at me with pride - I had fallen so deeply for him and had given him no resistance. There was no way I could ever return to my old life - I was too wrecked and perverted, just as he had planned.
I had small moments of clarity where I found myself able to speak a few words and actually make sense, but there was nothing that I wanted to say - I was happy! I would use the moments of clear mind to just appreciate where I was. No one knew me here and I looked nothing like I did just over a month ago. I don't even think my family would recognize me after a month of constant over stuffing and growing. I was like a new person - or, more correctly, I was now a pig. I had no worries, no cares... no responsibilities or stress. All I did was eat. I gorged and swallowed anything Cook put in front of me. I wanted nothing else in life but to feel my body swell with lard until I was pinned down and completely wrecked by it.
"Ruin me," I spoke out loud to Cook as he pushed another plate of food under my nose.
"What did you say, pig?" Cook asked with a cold stare.
"Ruin me more... Don't ever stop. Please," I said with a bit of struggle to force the words out correctly.
"I won't stop," Cook promised and reached over to stroke my cheek. "But this worries me... Pigs don't talk. We have to do something about this... you need a lesson in being a true hog."
Cook got up and left the table to go have a conversation with the chef. I dug my face into a heaping pile of macaroni and cheese and didn't even chew as I gulped down wild mouthfuls in an effort to prove to Cook that I was a good pig. He returned with a wicked smile like he knew some surprise and he was just bursting with excitement about it - but I was already too busy stuffing my guts to care. I oinked and snorted playfully as I ate, hoping that Cook would appreciate the extra effort to prove myself.
That night, we stayed at the buffet after all the other customers left. The place closed for the night and only the kitchen staff, Cook and I remained. After thirty minutes of being alone, the doors were unlocked and at least twenty men of vastly varying ages and weights flooded into the bar. One of the men - possibly the same leather-clad men who approached me earlier, entered the buffet with an oversized funnel that all the men seemed very excited about. The end of it was long and narrow like an oversized finger, but the cone above it was short and very wide, creating a four foot-wide basin to fill.
"Here it is, Cook," the man said as he held the sturdy plastic and rubber funnel up for everyone to see. "Let's get it suspended with the chains from those four hooks up there, just like when we had the sling up there."
The man pointed up to the black ceiling, where a multitude of large metal rings were firmly planted in the beams. There was suddenly a flurry of activity as several men worked quickly to suspend the funnel about six feet off the ground like they had done it a million times before. I couldn't even concentrate on what was happening - all I knew was that I hadn't eaten anything in nearly thirty minutes and I was feeling the hunger building inside of me. A man wheeled me over to the funnel and parked the wheelchair under it. They dipped me down to fit me under the end of the funnel and then the man in leather gently slipped the narrow flexible end over my tongue and down my throat.
"Swallow it, piggy. Swallow it down like you do so well," he said calmly and firmly as the long rubber tube went deeper and deeper down my throat.
He made sure that it was fully fitted down into my belly before locking the wheels on my chair and stepping back to admire the view. I was unable to move and the oversized funnel made me feel like I was part of the funnel - like the bottom part of an hour glass. A bulky muscle man approached and grabbed at my shirt with both hands and tore it away like tissue paper before doing the same with my sweat pants. I had never been more thrilled and terrified in my life.
My fat spilled out freely and all the men gathered around to get a good look. I felt absolutely defenseless and suddenly remembered that this was the way that farmers force fed geese for the production of foie gras- made from overfattened goose livers. I was an animal to them. I was too weak and wanted it too badly to squirm or fight against it. They had decided to do this to me so it was my fate and I accepted that.
The chef clapped his hands and broke the chatter in the room.
"Alright, men! This is how we're going to do this. We have a full buffet of food here, ready to go. The meat is all free of bones or anything like that, so no need to worry about what you pile on your plate. Once you load up your plate with what you want to feed this greedy, starving piggy, you bring it over to me at the carving station where I have the kitchen's high capacity blenders set up. I blend up the plate with some gravy and melted butter and then I'll pour it into one of these pitchers and you take that over to the funnel and dump it in. When you're done, put the pitcher back here by the carving station and then go back in line. We do that until the food's all gone and our piggy here gets every last bit into his hungry belly. Are you ready, men?"
The room filled with aggressive and deep cheers as they all began to line up and begin the process of filling the funnel and emptying the buffet. Cook leaned down next to me under the funnel and kissed my sweaty forehead.
"If you think I'm relentless, just wait, piggy," he said with a chuckle. "Some of these men have had their own immobile pet pigs at home. They know what they're doing. That man who brought the funnel? He currently has six enormous pigs locked up at his place. He calls it the barn... he really wants you, but he knows your mine. That doesn't mean he can't have a little fun, though... right?"
I grunted and an involuntary pig-like snort came out of my nose. Before I knew it, I could feel a smooth slurry of gravy and butter-soaked food suddenly bloating my belly. I had no control. I could hear the funnel bubbling and gurgling above me before my belly swelled with a pitcher full of liquid calories. Another pitcher was immediately dumped in by another man, and then another. The funnel stopped draining every time and began to fill as pitcher after pitcher was dumped into it. The thick creamy slop piled up more with every pair of legs I watched approach.
The funnel creaked and groaned as the line of men continued to dump liquefied food into it. The pressure built in my stomach as the growing mass of slop forced its way into me. I felt sick but then the man in leather shoved a popper under my nose and then added something into the funnel. The pain and pressure faded and I began mindlessly sucking on the funnel like a good pig.
"Let's pick up the pace - this pig is still hungry!" Cook called out, and the line began to repeat itself.
Gallon after gallon filled the industrial-sized funnel. I could hear the weight of it sloshing above me, with only one way of draining - through me. A full buffet worth of food was being funneled into me and I didn't even have to swallow. I relaxed and let my muscles stretch. I could practically feel the fat pumping through my veins and depositing all over my body.
I squirmed as the pressure was building more than I could control and I found myself becoming incredibly aroused by it. The pressure was crushing my insides and it was causing the butt plug to push hard against my prostate so I tried my best to rock myself around to make it wiggle around in my colon. My erection was exposed but nearly buried under my belly, and my struggle to gyrate my hips got the attention of one of the men.
"Does piggy need to cum?" the man said, mockingly.
I squirmed more, pushing my erection out as far as I could. Cook immediately stepped in and waved his finger in front of my face.
"Ah, ah, ah, piggy," he said firmly. "No getting help. You have to do it on your own."
I grunted and pushed harder, but my muscles wouldn't respond.
"You get to cum when all of this is drained inside of you."
I looked at him, hoping for a moment of pity.
"You have to finish all of this before they open in the morning. When you empty the funnel, I will allow you to cum... but we're not going to help you, Piggy. We're just going to enjoy the show - we'll all pump out some natural lube for you to use on your pathetic little dick, but we want to see you try... if you can even reach it by then. Poor piggy is losing control so fast. What am I going to do to you, huh?"
Cook tapped on my belly and jiggled my fat pad, making my dick bounce and throb. There was a slimy river of pre-cum leaking from it. I was so horny, but I found myself sucking on the tube and not even thinking about my cock. It was aching to cum, but all my focus was locked on the funnel. It was a dream and a nightmare come true. I was doomed.
"Eat up, pig... you've got a very long night ahead of you. That's it... just relax and let us take control. Trust us. We just want to see how plump and juicy you can get. All that soft sweet lard weighing you down... you can never grow enough of it for us... for me. Let it in, pig. Let me take away the last of your humanity. Let me in, pig. Let us all in..."
"Good piggy," another man said as he dumped a pitcher of blended pig food into my funnel.
"Good pig... very good pig," the next man said, rubbing my belly gently after adding to the funnel.
"You can do it, piggy. Let go and embrace it."
"That's it, piglet... grow for us."
"Grow piggy. All that lard..."
"My pitcher is full of just pure melted lard, pig. You like being a pig-fed pig, don't you?"
"Take another hit of this, piggy... you're going to need a blank mind and relaxed muscles for the next eight hours."
The man in leather forced fumes into my nose and I melted back into the chair and let the men take over. I was their experiment, and they were all eager to push the limits. I grunted and snorted like a pig as my mind went hazy and my muscles went limp. The men cheered in response and continued filling the funnel. Less and less clothes were being worn... the pressure inside was building but I kept sucking on the tube.
I wanted this. I loved this. I was excited for a future I couldn't even imagine. I used to be able to picture myself as a blob of immobile fat, but now I could barely form a single thought. There were no choices or options for me anymore - I lived in the moment. I lived to eat. I couldn't stop. I craved to the pressure that was filling my body. I was addicted to a future that I couldn't even imagine. I was their pig - that was all I truly knew anymore.
Comments
Greg Hall
Woke mine up
