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Sexually Transmitted Fat - Part 7
🕑 Added 2019-03-04 01:13:48 +0000 UTCI think I might have retconned Part 6 a bit on this one, but oh well! We’re almost at the end, so enjoy the definitely non- consensual fat-TF scene!
Emilio Cruz despised them. All of them--the slovenly, heaving masses. Even before the world became infected with that confounded virus he was not one to spend time in a crowd. Now--now he rarely left his compound. He even demanded that his security guard be nowhere in sight after delivering his morning coffee.
A rule he seemed to be breaking this morning as Cruz watched him heaving for breath halfway up his enormous mansion’s driveway. No matter. He’d have the man fired and replaced before the end of the day.
Cruz sipped his coffee as he headed back inside, considering his contract negotiations for his next blockbuster film. As one of the few uninfected international celebrities still remaining, he commanded a hefty fee to appear on screen, and he asked for even more to be anywhere near those infected by the STO virus. And since that was now most people, he was almost swimming in cash.
It was a strange thing--the fatter the world got, the more money he made, but the less of the world he felt comfortable exploring. It was almost like he was a prisoner of his own little world.
He often railed against his self-imposed prison on social media, accusing everyone who’d been infected by the virus as being sloppy or careless or otherwise “damned by God” to suffer a life of obesity. Even though it wasn’t there fault, he still hated them.
Cruz was thinking of blowing off steam with yet another fat-phobic Twitter rant when he felt an odd bout of gassiness. At least that’s what he thought it was, although he didn’t actually pass wind from either end. He took another step and felt an odd lurch, and then his robe began to slowly unravel. From between the roped fabric more and more tanned skin was breaking through until finally the robe fell away and exposed his torso for the first time that morning.
He was aghast. There, hanging from his torso, was a belly. Worse, it was getting bigger. In moments it went from being a mere spherical growth to losing all sense of shape and just hung around his waist like a misshapen mass. His smooth, hairless pecs seemed to melt in slow motion until they folded over and on top of his gut, his nipples enlarged to an almost grotesque size.
Cruz was horrified. He stood there, open-mouthed, tears streaming down his face as the corruption slowed and stopped, the damage done. He was one of them now--not the largest, nowhere near the size of even his soon-to-be former bodyguard, but he knew the tell-tale signs of the virus by now. It had been his worst fear for years.
Behind him, he felt more than heard the approach of a small crowd. He turned slowly and saw an enormous man, belly swaying as he strutted forward, wearing a small beret and epaulets on his shoulders. “Cruz,” he shouted, “we finally meet face to face.”
Cruz could barely form the words. “Who-who are you? What have you done to me?”
The man wearing the beret was flanked to either side by more men equally as large. All of them wore sneers. “We’ve just given you a taste of what you were missing. Now you’re one of us,” the bereted man said, hoisting his own belly for emphasis. “Well, almost like one of us.”
“I don’t-”
“You may call me General. And you don’t need to understand, Cruz. You’ve been calling for the mass genocide of fat people for the past few years, and we’ve taken note. I’ve lost friends in the food riots. Loved ones. And you were there, laughing instead of helping with all your fabulous wealth,” The General said. “Payback’s a bitch.”
With that, two hulking men wearing over-stretched soldier’s uniforms waddled out to either side and grabbed Cruz by his shoulders and forced him to the ground. Even though there was little to see besides the jiggling mass of their gorms, Cruz felt their hands had an undeniable strength, and there was no way he could escape their grip.
“You’re going to be the first. We’re going to make you watch as every single one of your bougie friends gets what’s coming to them, with you getting a personal touch for what you’ve done.” The General ended his statement by reaching underneath his gut and slowly undoing his belt.
“What you got in that coffee cup was just a taste--a half dose,” the General said. “You’re still vulnerable to the virus for another hour or so, and me and my boys here plan to make sure you get as much STO virus as a human being can hold.”
With that, The Generals slacks fell to the ground and left him totally nude from the waist down. From beneath the massive gut and between thighs that were still larger than even Cruz’s fattened form, he could see the shimmering head of a moistened erection.
“Suck it,” The General commanded.
Naturally, Cruz struggled. After being told that he could either suck it with his teeth in or out, he began to see the benefits of cooperation.
Simply getting to The General’s genitals nearly made Cruz puke--the stench of the obese man was overpowering. Worse, The General was forced to keep a two-handed grip on his own belly just so there was enough space for Cruz to place his head against the man’s titanic crotch.
There wasn’t much to suck on--it was thick, almost as thick as Cruz’s wrist, but The General’s cock was so buried in flab that much of its length would never see the light of day. Even still, Cruz gagged at the taste.
Then the man grabbing his shoulders pushed his face further in and the General dropped his gut.
To Cruz, it was easily the most terrifying moment of his life. His entire world was now surrounded by sweaty, hairy, amorphous flesh. It surrounded him, covered him from the top of his shoulder blades upward. There was no air--every desperate gulp was met with a mouthful of flab. It was like being waterboarded by fat.
His desperate motion gave The General a sort of twisted pleasure. That and the wild flailing and gulping had its own sensuality to it. He came, long and hard, down Cruz’s throat. And as he did, he felt the somewhat fat movie star beneath him become even fatter.
Cruz was on his hands and knees, his drooping gut hanging halfway to the floor, but once The General let go it soon descended the rest of the way. It started spreading out as his ass, legs, arms, and back all gained copious amounts of adipose tissue. In seconds he rivaled The General in size.
Finally, The General stepped back and Cruz fell to the floor gasping and sputtering. He was too terrified of his near-suffocation to realize what had happened to him, leaving more than enough time for the next man to shuck his pants and approach Cruz from behind while The General held down Cruz’s shoulders.
Cruz certainly felt the man’s cock penetrate his clenched asshole. He screamed. He kept screaming as the man eventually came, his cushioned pelvis hammering into Cruz’s gigantic ass with the loudest of wet slapping sounds--a sound that grew louder as each cheek grew even larger. Cruz could feel his torso spreading along the floor as his entire body inflated like a balloon.
The next man didn’t even need The General to hold Cruz down. He was already a broken, sobbing mess, so large he probably would have needed assistance getting up. After the third man was done, he’d need a crane.
If The General had to guess, Cruz was somewhere in the neighborhood of 800 pounds.
“Boss, I don’t think we can even lift him anymore,” one of the men said. The General laughed and clapped the man on his meaty shoulder.
“That’s fine. He can just listen as it happens,” he said, and then left a phone next to Cruz’s ear as he lay sobbing on the floor. “It’s not happening until tonight, but you probably don’t have anywhere to be, do you, Cruz?”
The General and his men laughed and then lumbered off. Their steps caused sympathetic vibrations through Cruz’s new corpulence, and that caused a fresh series of tears to stream down Cruz’s face.
Later that night, Cruz heard the news broadcasts as every world leader, celebrity, and multi-billionaire that had thus far evaded the virus all succumbed. People were calling it a coordinated attack. Cruz knew that it was. And that the world would never be the same again.
