Caleb’s breath whistled as he desperately attempted to fling it open. He needed to get out! Throwing his head back, he yanked and pulled, but it was stuck shut.
“Caleb, whatcha doin’ back here?” Brent’s gruff voice spoke from behind him.
Caleb turned, hyperventilating.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down, bud,” Brent hustled over to the fat pig. “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Brent encircled him with his hugely muscles arms, his gruff, fatherly demeanor one of concern. Caleb shivered as the man rubbed his back before hugging him. Brent stroked his head gently, fingers massaging his scalp. Caleb found himself relaxing into the big bear’s arms, breath steadying.
“That’s it, bud. Calm down.” Brent said.
“W-what do I do?” Caleb whispered back in his thick southern accent.
“Have a drink with me,” Brent said, fingers combing through Caleb’s big beard, “I’m a good daddy bear, right?”
Caleb nodded.
Brent leaned forward and kissed Caleb on the cheek. “You’re a hot bear, too, bud. Come on, you’re thirsty, right?”
Caleb’s mouth watered, though he wasn’t sure if it was for beer or… the other thing. “Y-yeah, I am.”
Brent led Caleb back out into the bar. The daddy bear rubbed Caleb big gut and patted his massive ass before setting him down on a bar stool. He leaned over the bar and pulled out a funnel.
“Time to drink the bad thoughts away.” Brent winked, setting 10 beers on the bar.
“That’s a lot.” Caleb said, eyeing the beers. Deep down, he knew that he wanted to get back to the door and escape, but he was so thirsty, and something about the sitting at the bar felt so right. So relaxing.
“You can handle it, I promise. Just relax and have fun.” Brent grinned, popping the tab on the beer and handing Caleb the spout. “Ready?”
Caleb stuck the spout in his mouth and tipped his head back, giving the daddy bear a thumbs-up.
Brent dumped the first beer down the funnel. Caleb felt the cold, refreshing beverage hit his tongue and swallowed. His throat worked, the first beer going down easy, as did the second. He felt a warmth begin to build up in his belly, the fabric of his shirt shifting up his gut on the third one.
Caleb didn’t want to stop, though, finally feeling a soothing buzz. He just tugged his shirt down. As the fourth and fifth beer were poured, he found that task difficult as more and more of his furry belly peaked out through the widening gap f his shirt. He tried to pin it to the sides, not wanting to flash his gut at Brent.
By the sixth beer, he couldn’t stop the fabric from pulling up the curve of his gut and his belly flopped into his lap. The pleasant buzz had progressed to a soft blanket coating his mind. His throat worked as he chugged down the seventh, amber liquid dripping down his reddish-brown beard and second chin, making the beard he had taken years to grow glisten under the fluorescent lights.
Eight, nine and Caleb’s mind was warm, his whole body felt like it was floating. He didn’t care anymore - not about his bear tattoo or his bald head or his big beard or his huge belly. In fact, pride welled up in his fat, saggy chest. Caleb was a real man, a biker, just like his buddies. A big, fat pig. He rubbed his gut, feeling the fur under his rough hands. His shirt rode up higher, now more a strap for his moobs than anything else.
Finally, the last beer went down his spacious gullet with ease. His gut pushed his suspenders to the side, the button on his pants popping open. He pulled the spout from his mouth and burped loudly, Brent grinned as he clapped Caleb on the back, making his body jiggle.
“How do you feel now, bud?”
He stared at the hot daddy biker groggily. Then he looked down at himself and the vast expanse of furry gut. There was something wrong, but that thought was fading. His mind felt slow and lethargic, thoughts all warm and cottony. Caleb smacked his lips, still feeling parched and his tiny cock was rock hard beneath his heaving gut.
“Still thirsty, bud?” Brent ginned.
Caleb nodded dumbly.
The big hot daddy bear lifted him out of his seat and hauled him to the bathroom. Caleb tried his best to stay upright and mostly managed it. The door to the bathroom swung open and the two staggered in. Brent hauled Caleb over to the nearest bathroom stall and plopped him on the toilet.
Caleb groaned, the room spinning.
“Here you go, bud,” Brent said, pulling out his big fuckstick. “Go ahead and suck on this.”
Caleb leaned forward, mouth engulfing the cock and felt it slipped back into his throat. Instead of choking, it just slid right down his gullet, Caleb’s gag reflex completely lost. He bobbed on it, applying some suction to the hot bear’s cock. Caleb was an expert cock sucker, after all.
With a grunt, Brent came, warm sticky loaded shooting down Caleb’s mouth.
Then something warm trickled onto his tongue. Caleb gurgled at first, but it felt so warm and refreshing as it rushed over his tongue that he couldn’t help but swallow it. More warm fluid splashed into his mouth. It was salty and a little acrid, the texture thicker than water, but it was good and quenching. And it was Brent’s, and Brent was his daddy.
The more piss Caleb swallowed, the more his great belly grew. When Brent was done, his cock was replaced with another burly biker’s, and when he was done, another. Dustin came in and instead of making him suck his cock first, he just pissed all over Caleb’s face. Caleb swallowed as much as he could, but his clothes were soaked. Soon he was sitting in a puddle of urine. With every new biker, his gut grew more spherical and taut, the skin stretched tight across his perfectly round gut. The tension grew as the piss flooded his gullet until, with a pop, his bellybutton became and outie.
As Caleb sagged in relief, Tucker appeared in the stall.
“You look nice and settled in, pig. Brent did good work.” Tucker smiled devilishly again. His eyes glittered. “Turn around.”
Caleb grunted but managed to turn around despite his gut, now spherical with the bikers’ warm piss, sloshing as he did so.
Tucker reached around and undid Caleb’s pants, pulling them down over his thick thighs and letting them fall around Caleb’s ankles, revealing his wide, hairy ass. He flinched as Tucker finger was inserted up his hole. It hurt, but strangely his cock jumped.
“Tucker!” Caleb gasped.
“You’re such a good pig. Loosen up,” Tucker’s eyes glittered, another finger working into Caleb’s rear entrance.
He was a good pig.
“Good pigs are loose pigs.” Tucker encouraged, a third fat digit somehow finding its way inside of Caleb.
Caleb grunted, his cock harder than it had ever been before. Good pigs were loose pigs – the words echoed through his mind. He needed to be loose.
The fourth finger entered him and he let it stretch him out, his pucker relaxing. The thumb was last, prodding his sphincter gently and it went completely slack at Tucker’s touch. A puff of air escaped Caleb’s loose hole.
Tucker spat on his hand and shoved his whole fist inside of Caleb.
Caleb whimpered, but not in pain. He felt so nice and full and warm. Tucker’s big, rough fist worked his hole, making Caleb snort and pant louder and louder. His sphincter closed around the biker’s fist, Tucker’s knuckles giving his prostate a deep-tissue massage.
“Good pig. Loose pig. Hot pig. Thirsty pig.” With every sentence, Tucker’s steel-gray eyes glittered.
The words settled deep in Caleb slow, piss-drunk mind. Caleb was a good pig, his place was here in the bathroom stall, servicing his biker brother’s needs.
Tucker’s fist was a blur, pistoning in and out of Caleb’s sloppy hole.
Caleb snorted and grunted louder as the fist pounded his prostate. He-he couldn’t hold on! His cocklet exploded, cum fountaining from his nubby cock in great gouts, soaking the crotch of his jeans. Caleb squealed in joy, humping the edge of the toilet seat as he came and came.
Finally, Tucker pulled his fist out of Caleb’s loose hole.
Caleb lay there all night, men coming in and fucking him roughly. He looked under the stall and saw Steve there. His eyes were glazed in pleasure as a man grunted and pounded his fat hairy ass. Reaching out a hand, Caleb grasped Steve’s tight. Steve’s eyes rolled over to meet Caleb’s and a faint smile crossed lips that were constantly moaning in pleasure.
“I love you.” Caleb grunted as the man behind him thrust deep, cock spasming as Caleb’s bowels were flooded with his seed.
“I love you,” Steve mouthed.
Caleb’s phone beeped, the 12:01 alarm going off. He glanced down, noticing it had fallen to the tile floor. Caleb blinked, wondering what it meant. It was bad, right? Or good? The beeps faded along with the rest of the world, devolving into an endless night of debauchery.
The clock hit 12:01 and cameras in the bar turned back on.
Inside the Heckfire Clubhouse, the bar was empty. Nothing remained of any party. The bathroom stalls were closed, no living human being was on the premises. Out in the back, more cars moldered away, but they’d always been there.
A week later, a bunch of students were reported missing. No one was ever found. Two years went by, the bricks on the building growing looser. The sign outside, advertising it as for sale was taken away as a few prospective owners came in to check the place out.
They stayed past midnight.