Preventative measures [Gaining]
Story created by Original Gainer Stories. You can find more in his tumblr profile.
“Well, no one can say that you’re not ambitious,” sighed Martha, looking around at the dump that Darren was now calling home. “You really think there’s a story in this?”
Darren nodded enthusiastically. “Of course there is!” he smiled. “A notorious city full of crime and violence, suddenly turning things around and becoming one of the safest places to live on the whole planet – all in two years! There’s more going on than meets the eye here - and I’m going to be the one to expose it!”
Martha sighed again. Darren had pitched his story to her many times before. Whilst Darren knew that he had a lot of work to do to make his name in the world of journalism, at the age of twenty-five, people just weren’t taking him seriously enough yet. He needed something big and this was it. Something sinister was going on here. The place was just waiting for an ambitious, young journalist to root it out.
“But… living here?” Martha cried. “Is it really necessary?” she asked, not wanting to touch anything in the dirty apartment.
“If I want to get a name for myself as a potential criminal, I have to live in the worst neighbourhood,” he reasoned. “This way I’ll be able to see for myself just how the city deals with people it deems to be a threat to the peace.”
Martha nodded, making her way over to kiss him. “Just make sure that you email everyday with updates. One month and you’re out of here - story or no story,” she smiled, looking at Darren lovingly. Darren had enjoyed their affair together. As his editor, Martha had been easy to seduce with his own handsome good-looks and charm. He always knew how to spot the women who were bored in their marriages; the women who could help him progress to the top of his career. “Yeah, I know, I know,” he sighed, holding her tightly. “But trust me… I’m sure it’ll be worth the time away from each other,” he smiled, looking convincingly sad. He’d be glad of the break. Despite the fact that she was married, Martha was surprisingly needy. Once he made it big time in journalism, girls would be flocking at his door, even more than they already were.
Unpacking his electric razor and waving goodbye to his pretty-boy hairstyle, Darren then began to daydream about the awards and accolades he would achieve for his outstanding undercover journalism here. Martha would serve her purpose in that. So what if his handsome, good looks and toned body got him a little further in life? He wasn’t above using that t his advantage.
A few hours later and shorn of his pretty hair, Darren was still undoubtedly handsome. He practised scowling in the mirror to make himself appear more aggressive and threatening. He slapped on some large stick-on tattoos across his toned arms and changed his clothes for more rebel-like attire. He needed to make himself ‘look’ like a criminal. But what did that look like? he wondered.
Right on cue, there was a knock at his door. “City police,” a loud, gruff voice called. Darren smiled. Martha had put in the false complaint with the police just like he told her to. He strutted to the door, trying to prepare himself. This was it. He was finally an undercover reporter!
“Mr… Lint?” asked the police officer; a tall, well-built man in his early thirties; the type of hard-ass cop who always took their job way too seriously and never letting anything slip to journalists.
“Who’s askin’?” Darren shot back rudely, trying his best to give as much attitude as he could.
The police officer raised his eyebrows at the performance. “There’s been a complaint of assault made against you,” he explained. “I take it you know what I’m on about?”
Darren shrugged his shoulders as if he hardly cared, turning away from the officer as if he were unworthy of his attention.
“My name is Officer Rogers. Make sure that you remember that,” he explained calmly. “I know you’re new in town, so this is just a friendly warning.” The imposing man stepped into the room and stared hard at Darren, threateningly. “This city doesn’t treat scum like you too kindly. You got that?” he growled, seeming to take an instant dislike to the look of Darren. “My advice… keep your nose clean, or get the hell out of here.”
“Why?” Darren asked, barely containing his journalistic instincts. “How do you treat guys like me?” But the police officer was already heading out of the door.
“Just know… I’ve got my eye on you now,” he finished. “One warning is all you get here.”
Darren watched the officer leave feeling an incredible sense of adrenaline. Already his assignment was heating up. There was a mystery behind the officer’s words; a mystery he was determined to uncover.
Over the next few days, Darren saw Officer Rogers around his neighbourhood. Martha was working hard to feed-in false intelligence that would link Darren to some low level crimes, keeping him on their radar. In a city without crime, Darren was somehow making a name for himself. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he spat at the officer one afternoon. He could see him stalking him as he walked around the neighbourhood, drinking liquor that was deliberately badly concealed in its paper bag. “Stop following me!”
Officer Rogers parked up and got out of his car, coming over to deal with Darren directly. “I want to talk to you!” he growled.
Darren clicked the fast record button on his cell phone in his pocket. “What the fuck have I done now?” he slurred, trying to stay in character.
“You’re on my list,” the officer whispered aggressively. “I can’t get anything concrete on you yet. But the second I do, I’m hauling your skinny ass down to the station and dealing with you the way we do it in this town.”
“Oh yeah? And how do you do it in this town?” Darren asked, almost forgetting to slur.
“You don’t want to find out,” the officer growled, turning and walking off.
Darren couldn’t help but grin as he got back in. Things were working out perfectly. Already he had pages and pages of reports to send back to the newspaper. Now he just needed to push things a little bit further. If he played his cards right, he could have this story wrapped up in less than a week.
Sneaking out a few hours later, Darren armed himself with a loose brick from a crumbling wall. One more misdemeanour and he was going to get the inside scoop on how this town was dealing with their criminals. He selected his target carefully: an empty store close to his new home and, although he couldn’t see them, Darren had the sense that the cops were watching him from somewhere. Bracing himself, he hurled the brick at the window, shattering it to pieces. His heart was pounding from the incredible rush he felt.
A siren rang out from around the corner and the police car sprang into action. Darren stood where he was. He had no intentions of running. Two officers handcuffed him and threw him in the back of the car without even reading his rights. Before Darren could blink, he was at the station. People were speaking to him, faces… voices…
Dark rooms… a doctor in a white coat… a cell…
Darren was sat on his own couch the next morning feeling as if he were still drunk. He knew he had been arrested last night. He knew he had somehow avoided being charged. He remembered speaking to the officers and yet, as he typed to recount it at his keyboard, all of the finer details seemed to struggle to enter his mind. The whole thing had been something of an anti-climax and in some way, he just couldn’t be bothered reporting in today. He hadn’t been released until the early hours. He’d slept in until midday and now he just wanted to grab some breakfast and sleep for the afternoon. In his stomach, he felt a strange feeling of butterflies, as if his body was excited about something he had yet to remember.
Still dressed in his clothes from last night, Darren heard a knock at his door. The same muscular police officer was stood there with his fists on his hips and a smirk smeared across his arrogant face. “Get in,” he ordered, pointing to his police car. Darren tried to protest; there was no reason for him to do what Officer Rogers wanted after all; but the self-satisfied look on him was infuriating. As he spoke, Rogers looked like he was about to burst into a mocking laugh at any second. What was this dick’s problem? he wondered.
Darren huffed and walked to the car’s back door, but the officer shook his head and pointed to the passenger door instead. Once inside, he slowly rolled forward, taking Darren somewhere without a single word of explanation. “So… what do you want?” Darren asked impatiently.
The officer didn’t reply, seemingly too important to even speak to him.
“I’ll stay out of trouble today,” he tried. “I promise.”
“Stay out of trouble?” laughed the officer. “It’s too late for that I’m afraid.”
“I wasn’t even charged last night,” Darren spat back.
“Relax…” the officer chuckled. “You’re in for a treat!”
A few minutes later, the car pulled up outside of a bland building on the edge of an industrial estate. The officer stood and nodded for Darren to follow him. “What have you brought me here for?” Darren asked.
“A little treat,” the officer repeated, more friendly than Darren had ever known him. “We have a very proactive approach to guys like you who are in danger of causing crime. That’s why we set up this place,” he announced, opening the door wide and gesturing for Darren to enter before him.
As soon as Darren entered, the smell of food hit his nostrils. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled fiercely whilst the butterflies continued to flutter inside it.
“Smells good, doesn’t it?” the officer asked, as if reading his mind. “You’re lucky. This place is only open to some of the city’s residents.”
Darren looked around at the space. Tables and booths filled the majority of the area, whilst a small corner was dedicated to a deserted pool table and an empty TV area. The largest attraction however, was the huge buffet table that was the centre point of the entire building. It was filled with enough food to feed a restaurant three times the size of this place, and the smells coming from it were almost unbearable for Darren’s hungry stomach.
“This is a special place where we can bring young men, such as yourself to keep them out of trouble in the daytime. There’s everything you could ever need…” he smiled, giving a tour of the sparse facilities with his hand. “Chef will also make anything else you want if you let him know. And our officers are happy to drop you off home whenever you want. There’s always a few of us about,” he explained kindly, sitting down with Darren at a table.
“You mean, the city funds this?” Darren asked, looking around at the men, sitting alone at their tables; each one gorging on his own mountainous plate from the buffet table.
“I told you,” the officer responded, “the city has a very proactive approach to crime prevention.” He slouched back in his chair, spreading his strong thighs and chewing his gum whilst looking around at the young guys in there. He called to a man coming out of the kitchen, waving him over. “This is Darren,” Rogers explained, grabbing Darren by his shoulder across the table as if they were old pals. “He’s going to be one of your new regulars.”
The chef looked at Darren, up and down. “I take it he’s had the…?” he asked the officer quietly.
“Yes, yes… he had it last night,” the officer responded quickly, with no intention of explaining their meaning to Darren. “Now, go on Darren,” he smiled, pointing to the buffet. “I bet you’re hungry after last night.”
Not needing further prompting, Darren stood up to collect a plate. His stomach was grumbling so loudly just being in here. The officer stayed for a short while after Darren began eating. He didn’t pick up a plate himself and Darren did not ask why. Was this it? Was this all his journalistic work had been leading to? A community centre for guys who were potential criminals? It was hardly the cutting edge journalism he was looking for.
Soon after, he’d eaten way more than usual and somehow, having the buffet right there in front of him made him eager to try more and more of it. His stomach was bloated and yet, he was still taking advantage of the free food. Stuffed better than thanksgiving, he slouched back in his chair and took a look around. The place was filled with men, not much different in age than himself; although none of them were especially attractive. All the guys looked as if they had eaten too many meals here, for their stomachs burst forwards in front of them like they were pregnant. They looked dirty and untidy, as if they rarely washed. Hardly the type of guys even an undercover journalist wanted to be around.
Five officers stood at the doorway chatting. How nice it must be, Darren thought, to be a police officer in a city with no crime. They had all the time in the world. But, as he looked carefully, Darren noticed that the officers were actually slyly chatting about the men in the room; these so-called ‘potential offenders’. They hid their mouths behind their hands and glanced over mockingly at one of them, making the others howl with laughter with whatever was said.
“Where are you going Liam?” asked one of them, seeing a portly young man standing up to go outside. The officer strutted over to him, puffing out his chest with his hands on his hips, just like Officer Rogers would.
“I was going to have a smoke…” the chubby man replied, looking towards the door, beyond the muscular officers.
“Nah man, you don’t need a smoke!” the officer smiled, taking the man by his shoulders and turning him back around in a friendly manner. “You sit your butt back down here,” he grinned, his eyes dancing with laughter, as if he had made a wonderful joke. “Chef is going to have your chocolate dessert ready soon buddy. You like that don’t you?” he coaxed, as if speaking to a kid.
The man nodded, as if pacified and sat back down to continue his mountain of food whilst he waited for his chocolate dessert. The officer spun back around and looked directly at the other officers, grinning wickedly like a high school bully. Somehow, they all seemed to understand the joke he was making.
The guys were not kicked out of the centre until 10pm and Darren felt compelled to stay there for the day, for none of the others seemed to want to leave either. “That was your first time at the centre today?” the officer taking him home asked. “Well, it opens again at 6am,” he explained. “If you want, I could arrange for an officer to pick you up ready for their breakfast buffet?”
Darren nodded. He knew there was a story here somewhere. But the sound of the breakfast buffet sounded equally intriguing.
Waking to the sound of someone banging on his door the next morning, Darren realised that he had fallen asleep on his couch as soon as he got in last night. He rubbed his eyes and hobbled to the door to see who was making such a din. Early daylight streamed in, making him squint. However, the unmistakable, broad silhouette of Officer Rogers was instantly recognisable.
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” he teased with his deep, gruff voice. “You requested a ride to the centre this morning?”
Darren nodded his head, although he hadn’t expected to be picked up this early. He looked down at himself, still wearing the same clothes he had been arrested in two days ago. “I need a shower…” he mumbled groggily.
“You look fine to me,” Rogers dismissed. “You think I have time to wait for you to make yourself look pretty?” he spat sarcastically. He looked hard at Darren as if waiting for him to see sense. “Besides, aren’t you excited to see what’s on the menu this morning?”
Darren nodded slowly. He really was excited to see what was on the menu. Despite his overindulge yesterday, his stomach growled at the thought of heading back for more. Feeling like a cavernous empty pit, his empty stomach suddenly felt like more of a priority than his need for a shower. Grabbing his keys, Darren left his grotty apartment without a second thought.
Despite the fact that Officer Rogers had rushed him out of the house that morning, now he sat with him at his table, simply watching him eat. Darren might have found it uncomfortable were he not so preoccupied making his way through a mountain of pancakes dripping in syrup. “Loads of the guys who come here rave on about those pancakes,” Rogers nodded as Darren opened his mouth widely to get a large forkful in. “It seems like chef has found himself another fan,” he laughed.
Rogers only left him about an hour later, standing up to chat to more of his police buddies who had brought more of the clientele in. The breakfast pancakes were no longer being served, with English-style cooked breakfast items taking their place. Taking a pause, Darren rubbed his distended stomach feeling as if he had more room yet. He hadn’t noticed how full the place had gotten, with loads of guys now gorging away at their own tables, many of them looking just as shabby and dirty as he felt. Maybe they had been woken by a cop at their door, just as he had.
Darren looked around at the décor with wonder. Old 50s style pictures lined the walls, giving the place a diner feel. But as he stared closely, a similar pattern seemed to emerge in each one. Every picture – every last one – had a large, fat-bellied man somewhere within the frame. What was that about? Darren asked himself, staring around the room.
“Oi, Darren!” Officer Rogers whistled at him rudely from the front, next to his police buddies. “What are you daydreaming for? Make sure you try the bacon before it all goes!”
Darren snapped back into focus. Bacon would be good, he thought, standing up and heading back to the buffet table; not even hearing the laughter coming from the cops as they watched him.
Later on that day, Darren took himself to the large bathroom in the back. The thick milkshakes they were serving were just going straight through him. Large, very generously-sized stalls, lined the room along one wall since they must have knocked the male and female facilities together when they were converting this place. Standing at the toilet, relieving himself, Darren heard a strange noise from the stall next to him; a grunting, heaving sound. He pressed his ear up to the dividing wall when he heard a similar noise coming from the stall next to him. He stood there in the middle trying to work out what the men on either side of him were doing, when a loud, pleasurable gasp burst from his left side. Then, a few seconds later, the same thing happened in the stall to his left. Were both guys masturbating in there?
Standing at the sink, washing his hands, Darren watched the first man come out of his stall, looking calm and relaxed. His face was sweaty from the exertion, which was unsurprising considering the large gut he had on him. It pressed unflatteringly up against his t-shirt, exposing a few inches of skin underneath. Trying not to make eye contact, Darren glimpsed the second guy coming out of his stall too. Similarly sweaty, this man was even heavier. His t-shirt had been pulled up over his fat belly, as if he had been touching it whilst playing with himself inside the stall. He didn’t seem to care, or even notice that he was so exposed. Darren simply snuck back to his table for the 3pm servings, wondering, once again, about what sort of guys they let in here.
“It’s a community centre for potential young offenders?” asked Martha as she sat herself down on Darren’s couch a few days later. “That’s the big scoop?”
“Yeah, but it’s a weird place…” Darren responded, trying to think of a way to get his point across. Words failed him.
“I’m pulling the plug on this,” Martha announced. “There’s no story here.” She had waited over a week for Darren to even email her back and had been sick with worry, waiting outside his apartment until he returned at 10pm in a police car.
“No,” Darren protested limply. “There’s a story here. I can sense it!”
Martha looked down at him in concern. “No, we need to end this. You look…” she began, trying to find the words. “You don’t look yourself.”
Darren rolled his eyes. Martha had always liked his style and looks. How did she not realise that his dishevelled appearance was all part of this character he was playing here?
“Come on,” she announced, standing up and trying to pull him out of his seat. “We’re leaving.”
“No… you’re leaving,” Darren grumbled irritably, staying in his seat and relaxing. He would be asleep in a few minutes and he knew it. “If you don’t want my story, I’ll sell it someplace else,” he mumbled, getting even more comfortable for his rest.
“Darren!” Martha shouted. “You’re a mess! This place is not good for you. I’m insisting that you come home right now!”
“Whatever,” Darren grunted. “You’re not bossing me around. If you don’t like it, I quit!”
“You don’t mean that…” Martha cried.
“Yeah, I do,” Darren nodded sleepily. “I quit. You and the paper.” He could feel his eyes closing. “I’ll find some other desperate editor to suck me off next time I need a promotion instead,” he mumbled. “You’ve served your purpose.”
Darren didn’t hear the door slam behind Martha. He was already too relaxed and dreamy. But now he was alone here. Very alone.
Darren began to dream over the coming weeks; a recurring dream of a bizarre nature. In it, he was back in the station on the night of his arrest. “You’re all mine now,” Officer Rogers had smiled with glee. “There’s no way they can turn down my application for you to join the programme!” Time flashed forward, with Darren being taken to a small, dark room at the back of the station where he was greeted by a doctor in a white jacket. But why was he having a medical appointment after being arrested? Next thing he knew, he was having an injection placed into his right butt cheek which quickly made him feel groggy and weak. “You’re all mine now!” Rogers was repeating into his ear as he fell asleep again.
As bizarre as it was, the dreams hardly made any sense. Despite his sinister intentions in Darren’s dream, friendly Officer Rogers would always spend part of his shift sat next to Darren at his table in the centre. So much time in fact, that Darren no longer questioned it. He liked to be here at 6am to ensure he didn’t miss out on the pancakes, but was happy to stay until 10pm as well so that he could see what desserts were coming up at the end of the evening.
“You know, there is a room in the back where you can pick up some fresh clothes,” Rogers noted, looking at the stained t shirt Darren had lived in for the last few days. He never spent much time at home and clothes were not really his priority, working undercover. “Come with me. I’ll show you,” he offered kindly.
Rogers led the way into the back, to a small room, stocked with boxes and boxes of clothing items.
“Let me see…” Rogers pondered, wading through them all. “You sit on table 22…” he mumbled to himself as he searched.
Darren pondered on the organisation of this stock room. What on earth would his table number have to do with anything?
“Ah! Here we are!” the officer shouted, pulling a box towards himself and rifling through. He seemed to consider the sizing, looking across at Darren thoughtfully. “These ought to do,” he announced, handing over a white shirt and red chinos.
Darren looked at the clothes. These weren’t clothes he would have put together himself, but somehow he felt excited to wear them; not just in his head, but also in his groin. He was getting hard.
“Come on,” Rogers coaxed him. “Slip that old t-shirt off and try this on for size.”
Darren pulled his t-shirt off, feeling a little surprised at how much the material tugged at his sides whilst being lifted up. He hadn’t been able to get to the gym since he went undercover, but he spent so much of the day stuffed, it was hard to tell how much of this lazy lifestyle was sticking. Just as he got shirtless, Rogers strangely didn’t hand him the new shirt and stood there instead, waiting for him to remove his pants first.
“Come on!” he coaxed again, tapping Darren’s butt cheek. “There’s fresh underwear here for you too. These ones are practically bursting off you.”
Was Rogers telling him he’d gained a few pounds? Darren wondered as he tugged at the tight underwear to pull them down. He tried to do it all one-handed since, for whatever reason, the situation was giving him a strange hard-on.
But as the material finally fell down and he stepped out of his underwear for the last time, Darren felt the officer grabbing his right butt cheek and squeezing the skin, as if inspecting it. “You can’t even see a mark anymore…” Rogers whispered almost inaudibly. Then, seeing that Darren was looking at him in confusion, he simply patted Darren’s ass again and winked at him.
Once dressed, Rogers led Darren to a large mirror on the back of the door. He realised that there were no other mirrors in the place, not even in the bathroom. Darren looked at himself with his hand flying immediately to his face. He hardly recognised himself. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his hair was out was of shape. But as he looked down at his clothes, his sense of arousal grew. What was it about the white shirt and red chinos that was turning him on? They were massively too large for him, but there in his middle was the unquestionable shape of a pot belly. He moved his hand down to feel the shape of it, his eyes boggling with the roundness of it, slipping around to his overwhelming love handles. Rogers watched as he turned and stared at his own ass. Since when had his cute butt been so wide and protrusive?
“Yeah, these clothes look good on you, don’t they?” Rogers nodded, taking hold of Darren’s arms and placing them by his side so that he no longer felt his unfamiliar body. “You know who you remind me of in these?” Rogers asked, fixing the collar on Darren’s shirt as if he needed babying. “You look like that guy in the picture by your table,” he chuckled.
That was it! Darren realised once back at his table, staring at the familiar picture. That was why he was so intrigued by the clothes. Rogers was right, the clothes were an exact match with the large, obese man in the picture directly in his eye-line at his table. He had stared at it so many times whilst he ate, morning, noon and night. But as he looked at it, he realised that he was also starting to look like him as well; with his newly expanded waistline pushing out the shirt in a similar way. But why was looking like him, turning him on so much?
In the brief few hours he had at home each night, Darren would shave, uncovering a small double chin, just like the man in the picture. He had been sent home with more than enough clothes so that he never had to wear his old outfits again. “A little treat for my favourite guy…” Rogers had winked as he handed over the bag, whilst dropping him off home during his late shift.
In the coming days, Darren would stare at the photograph opposite his table, feeling more and more aroused each time. As food entered his body in an almost constant stream, he could feel his stomach expanding in the shirt. He felt like the image was imprinted on his mind. He couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to look like more.
Darren’s hardness was unrelenting as more time passed. The more he ate, the more it seemed to encourage it. He looked around at all of the buffet, rubbed his swollen stomach and felt almost breathless with lust. Placing his hand in his pockets, he tried to twitch and fiddle with his crotch from under the table, but the material was too tight for him to get any sort of stimulation. And so, looking around the room, as if everyone would know what he was up to, he took himself off to the bathroom.
Locking the door behind him, Darren released his hardness from his tight pants and began tugging away at himself. He felt bad, doing this here, but he hardly ever came in here without hearing the other guys doing it. He placed a hand on his stomach and imagined all of the food in there, rubbing the softness that was the inevitable result. He couldn’t believe how quickly his cock was responding to being touched. Within a few seconds he felt ready to come, trying to hold himself back until he had a firm grip on a flabby roll of fat around his middle.
He gasped when he came. He couldn’t help himself; the feeling was too powerful. But the bathroom had been empty before he entered, of that he had been sure. He cleaned himself up with tissues and opened the stall door to return to his table, a little bit calmer.
But Darren jumped as the door swung open. There leaning on the frame, waiting directly outside for him, was Officer Rogers. He leaned in, chewing on his gum and smirking as if he knew exactly what Darren had been doing inside. “Everything alright?” he asked, enjoying the fact that he could make Darren squirm. “You look flushed!”
“I’m fine!” Darren lied, unable to prevent the high pitch of his flustered voice. “Why are you following me in here anyway?” he asked, trying to take the focus off himself and his slimy hand from climaxing.
“Well, the guys and I were noticing you getting a little… overwhelmed in there,” he smirked, looking down at Darren, much as the high school bullies had back in the day. “I thought I’d come and see for myself.”
Darren decided to ignore Rogers’ comment. But, somehow, the sight and even the scent of Rogers standing in front of him was already resurrecting his boner. He washed his hands and tried to pretend that the man wasn’t even there.
“The cream cakes have just come out,” Rogers announced, so as not to be ignored. “I thought you’d like to know,” he almost whispered, patting Darren’s soft rump as he washed his hands.
In a moment of clarity, Darren turned to him and looked straight at the handsome man. “What was in that injection?” he asked, taking a gamble that maybe his dreams were not dreams after all.
Rogers’ surprise lit up his face and his eyes danced with excitement as he chewed on his gum, staring appraisingly into Darren’s face. He nodded, as if impressed. Then his hands started fidgeting with the collar on Darren’s shirt, giving his small double chin a stroke as he finished. “You’re getting fat,” Rogers commented, ignoring the question and instead, rubbing the expanse of Darren’s belly, turning Darren on.
Rogers moved back into the toilet cubicle and lifted his head to insist that Darren followed him. Once inside, Rogers whispered in his ear, locking the door behind them. “Now you’re all mine!” he laughed, somehow knowing that he was triggering something in Darren’s brain. Rogers unbuckled his own pants and pulled down his fly. “Have you ever sucked on a guy’s dick before?” he asked, already placing his strong hand on Darren’s shoulder and applying gentle pressure to push him down there.
Darren slipped down, not caring that his knees were on the dirty bathroom floor. He parted his lips and allowed Roger’s hard cock to slip onto his tongue. He couldn’t imagine doing this with any other man, but much like the picture on the wall, somehow Officer Rogers was stuck in his head. He felt the cop’s hands grabbing the back of his head, thrusting himself deeper into his mouth. Having received plenty of blowjobs in his time, Darren felt like he knew exactly what to do. He relished making the officer’s cock pulse inside his mouth, until at last, the handsome man came down his throat.
Rogers seemed pumped afterwards and he bounced on his feet like he were ready to take on the world. Adrenaline seemed to be coursing through his body. “Catch you later, fat boy,” he laughed, leaving Darren alone in the cubicle, knowing full well that he would need to lock the doors again and touch himself once more.
Months passed and Darren finally felt like the fog in his brain was lifting. He became sharper again, starting to notice more about the other men in the centre. It wasn’t just him, Darren noticed as he studied his surroundings. All of the guys, excluding the slim new guy who had arrived yesterday, were all wearing remarkably similar outfits to whichever fat man was on the picture nearest their table. Was that why the clothes in the back were placed in boxes according the table number?
“Liam’s belly has grown a fair amount this week, don’t you think?” Rogers mused, slouching back in the booth with his muscular arms behind his head and his thighs outstretched. “He’s almost finished the programme now. He’s done very well!” Rogers praised. “Isn’t it amazing how his belly has come on recently? Sometimes it just happens like that.” Darren glanced at the previously pot-bellied man and saw how transformed he had become over the last few months. His small stomach had swollen and expanded into a soft, wide sack of fat that fell out of his t-shirt. Darren constantly heard him jacking himself off in the toilet. Was that what Rogers meant by him having ‘done well’? he wondered.
“Did the injection do that to him?” Darren asked, casually. The officer was losing his guard now and Darren was able to ask him a few more questions lately. Sucking a guy off whenever he wanted was likely to do that, Darren noted. Rogers had certainly made less and less of a secret out of the fact that Darren was here to fatten-up. Once he had worked that out, everything else seemed to click into place.
“Partly…” nodded the cop, looking at Liam’s overgrown ass as he swung back around and tried to squeeze himself back into his booth; both of them holding their breath to see if he could do it. “But there are lots of things we do,” he sighed, as if disappointed now that Liam had managed to sit back down successfully.
“The clothes? And the pictures on the wall?” Darren asked, casually. He had worked that much out himself. Making the guys fixate on an image of a fat man and then dressing them like it. Darren knew for himself how powerfully that was working on him.
“You’re smart,” Rogers grinned, pointing at him casually as he slouched back still. “The injection makes you pretty susceptible to stuff like that,” he explained without a care. “The food, the officers here, the expanding waistline; they all become highly sexual to these guys.” He laughed cruelly. “I doubt any of them could even get it up for anything else anymore! I certainly know you can’t!” he winked at Darren.
Darren had to admit, just hearing Rogers explain it to him was giving him a hard-on. “But that’s not all the injection does, is it?” he asked, stuffing a doughnut into his mouth to make the question seem more casual. In his head, he was imagining the article he could write.
Rogers watched the way Darren was eating with a strange mix of pride and revulsion etched on his face. “No… you’re right,” he nodded. “It has to provide an immediate super boost to the appetite and find a way to annihilate the man’s metabolism first.” Rogers pointed to the table across the room to the new guy who was busily stuffing his face. “Like that guy over there,” he laughed. “Cor… he’s going to be a big one isn’t he?” he noted, impressed. “He’s like you were ten months ago! The other officers and I could hardly take our eyes off you!” he chuckled. “And we weren’t wrong were we?” he mocked, looking directly at Darren’s tank of a belly.
Darren looked down at his large gut. So that was how it had come into being; that was why his pecs were now sagging and his thighs rubbing together as he plodded around the buffet table. He must have grown more than 150lbs in that time. Still, he had at least another hundred pounds to go before he reached Liam’s sort of size. “What happens to us when we reach the end of the programme?” he asked, still trying to be casual.
Rogers shrugged. “Who gives a shit?” he grunted. “None of these guys will ever go on to reoffend. Not with the way their brains are programmed now.” He looked into Darren’s face. “Your bad boy days are well behind you,” he laughed. “It’s a tried and tested method for many years. Wives with abusive husbands would deliberately over-feed them to make them fat. The constant gratification of food was known to calm them down. We’ve just taken that idea and run with it. Cheap, carb-rich, high-fat, high-sugar foods pumping in to these disgusting pigs every day; we save the taxpayer a fortune!”
Even in Darren’s still slightly cloudy mind, he knew he had the story of the century on his hands: Institutionalised fattening of potential criminals. It was going to go down as the greatest undercover work ever conducted. “I think I need to head home early tonight…” he muttered. “I need to take a shower.” But Darren knew that he needed to contact the biggest news reporters as soon as possible. This was it! Although maybe he could suck Rogers off one final time on the way home. He would certainly love that.
“That’s not like you…” Rogers frowned, looking at his watch even though it was only half an hour before closing. “Let me get you a new shirt from the back first…” he insisted as they both stood up. “Fat boy’s growing so fast!”
Darren followed the officer into the back, admiring his strong ass in the tight uniform. But as he entered the room piled high with boxes, Darren saw that there were many other men in there: officers and a man in a white jacket.
Rogers closed the door behind them and the officers stood with their arms folded like beefy security guards. “Hello again,” said the doctor in the white coat.
Darren panicked, realising that he had been led into a trap. He turned and was grabbed by the strong officers, throwing him forwards over a pile of boxes. His head was low and all they could probably see was his wide rump and chubby legs above the boxes still. He could feel an officer over him holding his shoulders down, but there really was no need. He’d grown far too fat, far too quickly to even consider getting up from this awkward position without help.
“Sorry Darren,” Rogers called insincerely from somewhere behind him. “But we’ve worked too hard for anyone to find out what we’re up to here.” He paused dramatically. “Journalists especially,” he stated, creating a deep chorus of laugher from the other hunky officers in the room.
He’d been found out! Darren realised. He’d asked too many questions, let slip too much about what he remembered; had too much faith in Rogers. He felt the men tugging at his pants and his underwear, soon feeling the cool air on his exposed ass cheeks, presented to them all like some sort of prize.
“This thing looks a lot different to the last time I saw it!” joked the doctor, walking towards Darren’s wide and blubbery exposed rear.
The men laughed again and a couple of them slapped his fat ass with relish. Darren didn’t need to be told what was in the doctor’s hand; he already knew. He felt the doctor pinch the skin of his soft butt cheek before the sharp scratch of the needle.
“There’s no coming back from a dose like that,” chuckled the doctor as Darren’s eyes became heavier and he fell blissfully to sleep.
“Wakey, wakey!” Darren heard as he awoke the next morning. What was he doing at the centre already? “We’ve got your breakfast!” teased an officer, sliding pancakes under his nose and tapping his gut. He was the first one here today. No one else to compete with for pancakes! Darren realised, taking his fork. He smiled gratefully at the sexy officers surrounding him. He’d never met nicer people in his whole life. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder from the side and he turned to see sexy Officer Rogers. His mouth was level with the handsome man’s groin and he couldn’t wait to suck him off later. He even licked his lips in anticipation.
But as the strong officers all scattered and left him, Darren looked across to the picture on the wall of the man dressed just like him. He took pleasure imagining himself looking just like that as he began shovelling the pancakes into himself.
Officer Rogers put a large, thick chocolate milkshake down on the table and sat himself down to watch Darren eat. He put his hands behind is head to relax, displaying his pumped biceps and stretching out his strong thighs under the table. It was not yet 6am and the show was already about to begin.
“Well, no one can say that you’re not ambitious,” sighed Martha, looking around at the dump that Darren was now calling home. “You really think there’s a story in this?”
Darren nodded enthusiastically. “Of course there is!” he smiled. “A notorious city full of crime and violence, suddenly turning things around and becoming one of the safest places to live on the whole planet – all in two years! There’s more going on than meets the eye here - and I’m going to be the one to expose it!”
Martha sighed again. Darren had pitched his story to her many times before. Whilst Darren knew that he had a lot of work to do to make his name in the world of journalism, at the age of twenty-five, people just weren’t taking him seriously enough yet. He needed something big and this was it. Something sinister was going on here. The place was just waiting for an ambitious, young journalist to root it out.
“But… living here?” Martha cried. “Is it really necessary?” she asked, not wanting to touch anything in the dirty apartment.
“If I want to get a name for myself as a potential criminal, I have to live in the worst neighbourhood,” he reasoned. “This way I’ll be able to see for myself just how the city deals with people it deems to be a threat to the peace.”
Martha nodded, making her way over to kiss him. “Just make sure that you email everyday with updates. One month and you’re out of here - story or no story,” she smiled, looking at Darren lovingly. Darren had enjoyed their affair together. As his editor, Martha had been easy to seduce with his own handsome good-looks and charm. He always knew how to spot the women who were bored in their marriages; the women who could help him progress to the top of his career. “Yeah, I know, I know,” he sighed, holding her tightly. “But trust me… I’m sure it’ll be worth the time away from each other,” he smiled, looking convincingly sad. He’d be glad of the break. Despite the fact that she was married, Martha was surprisingly needy. Once he made it big time in journalism, girls would be flocking at his door, even more than they already were.
Unpacking his electric razor and waving goodbye to his pretty-boy hairstyle, Darren then began to daydream about the awards and accolades he would achieve for his outstanding undercover journalism here. Martha would serve her purpose in that. So what if his handsome, good looks and toned body got him a little further in life? He wasn’t above using that t his advantage.
A few hours later and shorn of his pretty hair, Darren was still undoubtedly handsome. He practised scowling in the mirror to make himself appear more aggressive and threatening. He slapped on some large stick-on tattoos across his toned arms and changed his clothes for more rebel-like attire. He needed to make himself ‘look’ like a criminal. But what did that look like? he wondered.
Right on cue, there was a knock at his door. “City police,” a loud, gruff voice called. Darren smiled. Martha had put in the false complaint with the police just like he told her to. He strutted to the door, trying to prepare himself. This was it. He was finally an undercover reporter!
“Mr… Lint?” asked the police officer; a tall, well-built man in his early thirties; the type of hard-ass cop who always took their job way too seriously and never letting anything slip to journalists.
“Who’s askin’?” Darren shot back rudely, trying his best to give as much attitude as he could.
The police officer raised his eyebrows at the performance. “There’s been a complaint of assault made against you,” he explained. “I take it you know what I’m on about?”
Darren shrugged his shoulders as if he hardly cared, turning away from the officer as if he were unworthy of his attention.
“My name is Officer Rogers. Make sure that you remember that,” he explained calmly. “I know you’re new in town, so this is just a friendly warning.” The imposing man stepped into the room and stared hard at Darren, threateningly. “This city doesn’t treat scum like you too kindly. You got that?” he growled, seeming to take an instant dislike to the look of Darren. “My advice… keep your nose clean, or get the hell out of here.”
“Why?” Darren asked, barely containing his journalistic instincts. “How do you treat guys like me?” But the police officer was already heading out of the door.
“Just know… I’ve got my eye on you now,” he finished. “One warning is all you get here.”
Darren watched the officer leave feeling an incredible sense of adrenaline. Already his assignment was heating up. There was a mystery behind the officer’s words; a mystery he was determined to uncover.
Over the next few days, Darren saw Officer Rogers around his neighbourhood. Martha was working hard to feed-in false intelligence that would link Darren to some low level crimes, keeping him on their radar. In a city without crime, Darren was somehow making a name for himself. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he spat at the officer one afternoon. He could see him stalking him as he walked around the neighbourhood, drinking liquor that was deliberately badly concealed in its paper bag. “Stop following me!”
Officer Rogers parked up and got out of his car, coming over to deal with Darren directly. “I want to talk to you!” he growled.
Darren clicked the fast record button on his cell phone in his pocket. “What the fuck have I done now?” he slurred, trying to stay in character.
“You’re on my list,” the officer whispered aggressively. “I can’t get anything concrete on you yet. But the second I do, I’m hauling your skinny ass down to the station and dealing with you the way we do it in this town.”
“Oh yeah? And how do you do it in this town?” Darren asked, almost forgetting to slur.
“You don’t want to find out,” the officer growled, turning and walking off.
Darren couldn’t help but grin as he got back in. Things were working out perfectly. Already he had pages and pages of reports to send back to the newspaper. Now he just needed to push things a little bit further. If he played his cards right, he could have this story wrapped up in less than a week.
Sneaking out a few hours later, Darren armed himself with a loose brick from a crumbling wall. One more misdemeanour and he was going to get the inside scoop on how this town was dealing with their criminals. He selected his target carefully: an empty store close to his new home and, although he couldn’t see them, Darren had the sense that the cops were watching him from somewhere. Bracing himself, he hurled the brick at the window, shattering it to pieces. His heart was pounding from the incredible rush he felt.
A siren rang out from around the corner and the police car sprang into action. Darren stood where he was. He had no intentions of running. Two officers handcuffed him and threw him in the back of the car without even reading his rights. Before Darren could blink, he was at the station. People were speaking to him, faces… voices…
Dark rooms… a doctor in a white coat… a cell…
Darren was sat on his own couch the next morning feeling as if he were still drunk. He knew he had been arrested last night. He knew he had somehow avoided being charged. He remembered speaking to the officers and yet, as he typed to recount it at his keyboard, all of the finer details seemed to struggle to enter his mind. The whole thing had been something of an anti-climax and in some way, he just couldn’t be bothered reporting in today. He hadn’t been released until the early hours. He’d slept in until midday and now he just wanted to grab some breakfast and sleep for the afternoon. In his stomach, he felt a strange feeling of butterflies, as if his body was excited about something he had yet to remember.
Still dressed in his clothes from last night, Darren heard a knock at his door. The same muscular police officer was stood there with his fists on his hips and a smirk smeared across his arrogant face. “Get in,” he ordered, pointing to his police car. Darren tried to protest; there was no reason for him to do what Officer Rogers wanted after all; but the self-satisfied look on him was infuriating. As he spoke, Rogers looked like he was about to burst into a mocking laugh at any second. What was this dick’s problem? he wondered.
Darren huffed and walked to the car’s back door, but the officer shook his head and pointed to the passenger door instead. Once inside, he slowly rolled forward, taking Darren somewhere without a single word of explanation. “So… what do you want?” Darren asked impatiently.
The officer didn’t reply, seemingly too important to even speak to him.
“I’ll stay out of trouble today,” he tried. “I promise.”
“Stay out of trouble?” laughed the officer. “It’s too late for that I’m afraid.”
“I wasn’t even charged last night,” Darren spat back.
“Relax…” the officer chuckled. “You’re in for a treat!”
A few minutes later, the car pulled up outside of a bland building on the edge of an industrial estate. The officer stood and nodded for Darren to follow him. “What have you brought me here for?” Darren asked.
“A little treat,” the officer repeated, more friendly than Darren had ever known him. “We have a very proactive approach to guys like you who are in danger of causing crime. That’s why we set up this place,” he announced, opening the door wide and gesturing for Darren to enter before him.
As soon as Darren entered, the smell of food hit his nostrils. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled fiercely whilst the butterflies continued to flutter inside it.
“Smells good, doesn’t it?” the officer asked, as if reading his mind. “You’re lucky. This place is only open to some of the city’s residents.”
Darren looked around at the space. Tables and booths filled the majority of the area, whilst a small corner was dedicated to a deserted pool table and an empty TV area. The largest attraction however, was the huge buffet table that was the centre point of the entire building. It was filled with enough food to feed a restaurant three times the size of this place, and the smells coming from it were almost unbearable for Darren’s hungry stomach.
“This is a special place where we can bring young men, such as yourself to keep them out of trouble in the daytime. There’s everything you could ever need…” he smiled, giving a tour of the sparse facilities with his hand. “Chef will also make anything else you want if you let him know. And our officers are happy to drop you off home whenever you want. There’s always a few of us about,” he explained kindly, sitting down with Darren at a table.
“You mean, the city funds this?” Darren asked, looking around at the men, sitting alone at their tables; each one gorging on his own mountainous plate from the buffet table.
“I told you,” the officer responded, “the city has a very proactive approach to crime prevention.” He slouched back in his chair, spreading his strong thighs and chewing his gum whilst looking around at the young guys in there. He called to a man coming out of the kitchen, waving him over. “This is Darren,” Rogers explained, grabbing Darren by his shoulder across the table as if they were old pals. “He’s going to be one of your new regulars.”
The chef looked at Darren, up and down. “I take it he’s had the…?” he asked the officer quietly.
“Yes, yes… he had it last night,” the officer responded quickly, with no intention of explaining their meaning to Darren. “Now, go on Darren,” he smiled, pointing to the buffet. “I bet you’re hungry after last night.”
Not needing further prompting, Darren stood up to collect a plate. His stomach was grumbling so loudly just being in here. The officer stayed for a short while after Darren began eating. He didn’t pick up a plate himself and Darren did not ask why. Was this it? Was this all his journalistic work had been leading to? A community centre for guys who were potential criminals? It was hardly the cutting edge journalism he was looking for.
Soon after, he’d eaten way more than usual and somehow, having the buffet right there in front of him made him eager to try more and more of it. His stomach was bloated and yet, he was still taking advantage of the free food. Stuffed better than thanksgiving, he slouched back in his chair and took a look around. The place was filled with men, not much different in age than himself; although none of them were especially attractive. All the guys looked as if they had eaten too many meals here, for their stomachs burst forwards in front of them like they were pregnant. They looked dirty and untidy, as if they rarely washed. Hardly the type of guys even an undercover journalist wanted to be around.
Five officers stood at the doorway chatting. How nice it must be, Darren thought, to be a police officer in a city with no crime. They had all the time in the world. But, as he looked carefully, Darren noticed that the officers were actually slyly chatting about the men in the room; these so-called ‘potential offenders’. They hid their mouths behind their hands and glanced over mockingly at one of them, making the others howl with laughter with whatever was said.
“Where are you going Liam?” asked one of them, seeing a portly young man standing up to go outside. The officer strutted over to him, puffing out his chest with his hands on his hips, just like Officer Rogers would.
“I was going to have a smoke…” the chubby man replied, looking towards the door, beyond the muscular officers.
“Nah man, you don’t need a smoke!” the officer smiled, taking the man by his shoulders and turning him back around in a friendly manner. “You sit your butt back down here,” he grinned, his eyes dancing with laughter, as if he had made a wonderful joke. “Chef is going to have your chocolate dessert ready soon buddy. You like that don’t you?” he coaxed, as if speaking to a kid.
The man nodded, as if pacified and sat back down to continue his mountain of food whilst he waited for his chocolate dessert. The officer spun back around and looked directly at the other officers, grinning wickedly like a high school bully. Somehow, they all seemed to understand the joke he was making.
The guys were not kicked out of the centre until 10pm and Darren felt compelled to stay there for the day, for none of the others seemed to want to leave either. “That was your first time at the centre today?” the officer taking him home asked. “Well, it opens again at 6am,” he explained. “If you want, I could arrange for an officer to pick you up ready for their breakfast buffet?”
Darren nodded. He knew there was a story here somewhere. But the sound of the breakfast buffet sounded equally intriguing.
Waking to the sound of someone banging on his door the next morning, Darren realised that he had fallen asleep on his couch as soon as he got in last night. He rubbed his eyes and hobbled to the door to see who was making such a din. Early daylight streamed in, making him squint. However, the unmistakable, broad silhouette of Officer Rogers was instantly recognisable.
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” he teased with his deep, gruff voice. “You requested a ride to the centre this morning?”
Darren nodded his head, although he hadn’t expected to be picked up this early. He looked down at himself, still wearing the same clothes he had been arrested in two days ago. “I need a shower…” he mumbled groggily.
“You look fine to me,” Rogers dismissed. “You think I have time to wait for you to make yourself look pretty?” he spat sarcastically. He looked hard at Darren as if waiting for him to see sense. “Besides, aren’t you excited to see what’s on the menu this morning?”
Darren nodded slowly. He really was excited to see what was on the menu. Despite his overindulge yesterday, his stomach growled at the thought of heading back for more. Feeling like a cavernous empty pit, his empty stomach suddenly felt like more of a priority than his need for a shower. Grabbing his keys, Darren left his grotty apartment without a second thought.
Despite the fact that Officer Rogers had rushed him out of the house that morning, now he sat with him at his table, simply watching him eat. Darren might have found it uncomfortable were he not so preoccupied making his way through a mountain of pancakes dripping in syrup. “Loads of the guys who come here rave on about those pancakes,” Rogers nodded as Darren opened his mouth widely to get a large forkful in. “It seems like chef has found himself another fan,” he laughed.
Rogers only left him about an hour later, standing up to chat to more of his police buddies who had brought more of the clientele in. The breakfast pancakes were no longer being served, with English-style cooked breakfast items taking their place. Taking a pause, Darren rubbed his distended stomach feeling as if he had more room yet. He hadn’t noticed how full the place had gotten, with loads of guys now gorging away at their own tables, many of them looking just as shabby and dirty as he felt. Maybe they had been woken by a cop at their door, just as he had.
Darren looked around at the décor with wonder. Old 50s style pictures lined the walls, giving the place a diner feel. But as he stared closely, a similar pattern seemed to emerge in each one. Every picture – every last one – had a large, fat-bellied man somewhere within the frame. What was that about? Darren asked himself, staring around the room.
“Oi, Darren!” Officer Rogers whistled at him rudely from the front, next to his police buddies. “What are you daydreaming for? Make sure you try the bacon before it all goes!”
Darren snapped back into focus. Bacon would be good, he thought, standing up and heading back to the buffet table; not even hearing the laughter coming from the cops as they watched him.
Later on that day, Darren took himself to the large bathroom in the back. The thick milkshakes they were serving were just going straight through him. Large, very generously-sized stalls, lined the room along one wall since they must have knocked the male and female facilities together when they were converting this place. Standing at the toilet, relieving himself, Darren heard a strange noise from the stall next to him; a grunting, heaving sound. He pressed his ear up to the dividing wall when he heard a similar noise coming from the stall next to him. He stood there in the middle trying to work out what the men on either side of him were doing, when a loud, pleasurable gasp burst from his left side. Then, a few seconds later, the same thing happened in the stall to his left. Were both guys masturbating in there?
Standing at the sink, washing his hands, Darren watched the first man come out of his stall, looking calm and relaxed. His face was sweaty from the exertion, which was unsurprising considering the large gut he had on him. It pressed unflatteringly up against his t-shirt, exposing a few inches of skin underneath. Trying not to make eye contact, Darren glimpsed the second guy coming out of his stall too. Similarly sweaty, this man was even heavier. His t-shirt had been pulled up over his fat belly, as if he had been touching it whilst playing with himself inside the stall. He didn’t seem to care, or even notice that he was so exposed. Darren simply snuck back to his table for the 3pm servings, wondering, once again, about what sort of guys they let in here.
“It’s a community centre for potential young offenders?” asked Martha as she sat herself down on Darren’s couch a few days later. “That’s the big scoop?”
“Yeah, but it’s a weird place…” Darren responded, trying to think of a way to get his point across. Words failed him.
“I’m pulling the plug on this,” Martha announced. “There’s no story here.” She had waited over a week for Darren to even email her back and had been sick with worry, waiting outside his apartment until he returned at 10pm in a police car.
“No,” Darren protested limply. “There’s a story here. I can sense it!”
Martha looked down at him in concern. “No, we need to end this. You look…” she began, trying to find the words. “You don’t look yourself.”
Darren rolled his eyes. Martha had always liked his style and looks. How did she not realise that his dishevelled appearance was all part of this character he was playing here?
“Come on,” she announced, standing up and trying to pull him out of his seat. “We’re leaving.”
“No… you’re leaving,” Darren grumbled irritably, staying in his seat and relaxing. He would be asleep in a few minutes and he knew it. “If you don’t want my story, I’ll sell it someplace else,” he mumbled, getting even more comfortable for his rest.
“Darren!” Martha shouted. “You’re a mess! This place is not good for you. I’m insisting that you come home right now!”
“Whatever,” Darren grunted. “You’re not bossing me around. If you don’t like it, I quit!”
“You don’t mean that…” Martha cried.
“Yeah, I do,” Darren nodded sleepily. “I quit. You and the paper.” He could feel his eyes closing. “I’ll find some other desperate editor to suck me off next time I need a promotion instead,” he mumbled. “You’ve served your purpose.”
Darren didn’t hear the door slam behind Martha. He was already too relaxed and dreamy. But now he was alone here. Very alone.
Darren began to dream over the coming weeks; a recurring dream of a bizarre nature. In it, he was back in the station on the night of his arrest. “You’re all mine now,” Officer Rogers had smiled with glee. “There’s no way they can turn down my application for you to join the programme!” Time flashed forward, with Darren being taken to a small, dark room at the back of the station where he was greeted by a doctor in a white jacket. But why was he having a medical appointment after being arrested? Next thing he knew, he was having an injection placed into his right butt cheek which quickly made him feel groggy and weak. “You’re all mine now!” Rogers was repeating into his ear as he fell asleep again.
As bizarre as it was, the dreams hardly made any sense. Despite his sinister intentions in Darren’s dream, friendly Officer Rogers would always spend part of his shift sat next to Darren at his table in the centre. So much time in fact, that Darren no longer questioned it. He liked to be here at 6am to ensure he didn’t miss out on the pancakes, but was happy to stay until 10pm as well so that he could see what desserts were coming up at the end of the evening.
“You know, there is a room in the back where you can pick up some fresh clothes,” Rogers noted, looking at the stained t shirt Darren had lived in for the last few days. He never spent much time at home and clothes were not really his priority, working undercover. “Come with me. I’ll show you,” he offered kindly.
Rogers led the way into the back, to a small room, stocked with boxes and boxes of clothing items.
“Let me see…” Rogers pondered, wading through them all. “You sit on table 22…” he mumbled to himself as he searched.
Darren pondered on the organisation of this stock room. What on earth would his table number have to do with anything?
“Ah! Here we are!” the officer shouted, pulling a box towards himself and rifling through. He seemed to consider the sizing, looking across at Darren thoughtfully. “These ought to do,” he announced, handing over a white shirt and red chinos.
Darren looked at the clothes. These weren’t clothes he would have put together himself, but somehow he felt excited to wear them; not just in his head, but also in his groin. He was getting hard.
“Come on,” Rogers coaxed him. “Slip that old t-shirt off and try this on for size.”
Darren pulled his t-shirt off, feeling a little surprised at how much the material tugged at his sides whilst being lifted up. He hadn’t been able to get to the gym since he went undercover, but he spent so much of the day stuffed, it was hard to tell how much of this lazy lifestyle was sticking. Just as he got shirtless, Rogers strangely didn’t hand him the new shirt and stood there instead, waiting for him to remove his pants first.
“Come on!” he coaxed again, tapping Darren’s butt cheek. “There’s fresh underwear here for you too. These ones are practically bursting off you.”
Was Rogers telling him he’d gained a few pounds? Darren wondered as he tugged at the tight underwear to pull them down. He tried to do it all one-handed since, for whatever reason, the situation was giving him a strange hard-on.
But as the material finally fell down and he stepped out of his underwear for the last time, Darren felt the officer grabbing his right butt cheek and squeezing the skin, as if inspecting it. “You can’t even see a mark anymore…” Rogers whispered almost inaudibly. Then, seeing that Darren was looking at him in confusion, he simply patted Darren’s ass again and winked at him.
Once dressed, Rogers led Darren to a large mirror on the back of the door. He realised that there were no other mirrors in the place, not even in the bathroom. Darren looked at himself with his hand flying immediately to his face. He hardly recognised himself. He hadn’t shaved in weeks and his hair was out was of shape. But as he looked down at his clothes, his sense of arousal grew. What was it about the white shirt and red chinos that was turning him on? They were massively too large for him, but there in his middle was the unquestionable shape of a pot belly. He moved his hand down to feel the shape of it, his eyes boggling with the roundness of it, slipping around to his overwhelming love handles. Rogers watched as he turned and stared at his own ass. Since when had his cute butt been so wide and protrusive?
“Yeah, these clothes look good on you, don’t they?” Rogers nodded, taking hold of Darren’s arms and placing them by his side so that he no longer felt his unfamiliar body. “You know who you remind me of in these?” Rogers asked, fixing the collar on Darren’s shirt as if he needed babying. “You look like that guy in the picture by your table,” he chuckled.
That was it! Darren realised once back at his table, staring at the familiar picture. That was why he was so intrigued by the clothes. Rogers was right, the clothes were an exact match with the large, obese man in the picture directly in his eye-line at his table. He had stared at it so many times whilst he ate, morning, noon and night. But as he looked at it, he realised that he was also starting to look like him as well; with his newly expanded waistline pushing out the shirt in a similar way. But why was looking like him, turning him on so much?
In the brief few hours he had at home each night, Darren would shave, uncovering a small double chin, just like the man in the picture. He had been sent home with more than enough clothes so that he never had to wear his old outfits again. “A little treat for my favourite guy…” Rogers had winked as he handed over the bag, whilst dropping him off home during his late shift.
In the coming days, Darren would stare at the photograph opposite his table, feeling more and more aroused each time. As food entered his body in an almost constant stream, he could feel his stomach expanding in the shirt. He felt like the image was imprinted on his mind. He couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to look like more.
Darren’s hardness was unrelenting as more time passed. The more he ate, the more it seemed to encourage it. He looked around at all of the buffet, rubbed his swollen stomach and felt almost breathless with lust. Placing his hand in his pockets, he tried to twitch and fiddle with his crotch from under the table, but the material was too tight for him to get any sort of stimulation. And so, looking around the room, as if everyone would know what he was up to, he took himself off to the bathroom.
Locking the door behind him, Darren released his hardness from his tight pants and began tugging away at himself. He felt bad, doing this here, but he hardly ever came in here without hearing the other guys doing it. He placed a hand on his stomach and imagined all of the food in there, rubbing the softness that was the inevitable result. He couldn’t believe how quickly his cock was responding to being touched. Within a few seconds he felt ready to come, trying to hold himself back until he had a firm grip on a flabby roll of fat around his middle.
He gasped when he came. He couldn’t help himself; the feeling was too powerful. But the bathroom had been empty before he entered, of that he had been sure. He cleaned himself up with tissues and opened the stall door to return to his table, a little bit calmer.
But Darren jumped as the door swung open. There leaning on the frame, waiting directly outside for him, was Officer Rogers. He leaned in, chewing on his gum and smirking as if he knew exactly what Darren had been doing inside. “Everything alright?” he asked, enjoying the fact that he could make Darren squirm. “You look flushed!”
“I’m fine!” Darren lied, unable to prevent the high pitch of his flustered voice. “Why are you following me in here anyway?” he asked, trying to take the focus off himself and his slimy hand from climaxing.
“Well, the guys and I were noticing you getting a little… overwhelmed in there,” he smirked, looking down at Darren, much as the high school bullies had back in the day. “I thought I’d come and see for myself.”
Darren decided to ignore Rogers’ comment. But, somehow, the sight and even the scent of Rogers standing in front of him was already resurrecting his boner. He washed his hands and tried to pretend that the man wasn’t even there.
“The cream cakes have just come out,” Rogers announced, so as not to be ignored. “I thought you’d like to know,” he almost whispered, patting Darren’s soft rump as he washed his hands.
In a moment of clarity, Darren turned to him and looked straight at the handsome man. “What was in that injection?” he asked, taking a gamble that maybe his dreams were not dreams after all.
Rogers’ surprise lit up his face and his eyes danced with excitement as he chewed on his gum, staring appraisingly into Darren’s face. He nodded, as if impressed. Then his hands started fidgeting with the collar on Darren’s shirt, giving his small double chin a stroke as he finished. “You’re getting fat,” Rogers commented, ignoring the question and instead, rubbing the expanse of Darren’s belly, turning Darren on.
Rogers moved back into the toilet cubicle and lifted his head to insist that Darren followed him. Once inside, Rogers whispered in his ear, locking the door behind them. “Now you’re all mine!” he laughed, somehow knowing that he was triggering something in Darren’s brain. Rogers unbuckled his own pants and pulled down his fly. “Have you ever sucked on a guy’s dick before?” he asked, already placing his strong hand on Darren’s shoulder and applying gentle pressure to push him down there.
Darren slipped down, not caring that his knees were on the dirty bathroom floor. He parted his lips and allowed Roger’s hard cock to slip onto his tongue. He couldn’t imagine doing this with any other man, but much like the picture on the wall, somehow Officer Rogers was stuck in his head. He felt the cop’s hands grabbing the back of his head, thrusting himself deeper into his mouth. Having received plenty of blowjobs in his time, Darren felt like he knew exactly what to do. He relished making the officer’s cock pulse inside his mouth, until at last, the handsome man came down his throat.
Rogers seemed pumped afterwards and he bounced on his feet like he were ready to take on the world. Adrenaline seemed to be coursing through his body. “Catch you later, fat boy,” he laughed, leaving Darren alone in the cubicle, knowing full well that he would need to lock the doors again and touch himself once more.
Months passed and Darren finally felt like the fog in his brain was lifting. He became sharper again, starting to notice more about the other men in the centre. It wasn’t just him, Darren noticed as he studied his surroundings. All of the guys, excluding the slim new guy who had arrived yesterday, were all wearing remarkably similar outfits to whichever fat man was on the picture nearest their table. Was that why the clothes in the back were placed in boxes according the table number?
“Liam’s belly has grown a fair amount this week, don’t you think?” Rogers mused, slouching back in the booth with his muscular arms behind his head and his thighs outstretched. “He’s almost finished the programme now. He’s done very well!” Rogers praised. “Isn’t it amazing how his belly has come on recently? Sometimes it just happens like that.” Darren glanced at the previously pot-bellied man and saw how transformed he had become over the last few months. His small stomach had swollen and expanded into a soft, wide sack of fat that fell out of his t-shirt. Darren constantly heard him jacking himself off in the toilet. Was that what Rogers meant by him having ‘done well’? he wondered.
“Did the injection do that to him?” Darren asked, casually. The officer was losing his guard now and Darren was able to ask him a few more questions lately. Sucking a guy off whenever he wanted was likely to do that, Darren noted. Rogers had certainly made less and less of a secret out of the fact that Darren was here to fatten-up. Once he had worked that out, everything else seemed to click into place.
“Partly…” nodded the cop, looking at Liam’s overgrown ass as he swung back around and tried to squeeze himself back into his booth; both of them holding their breath to see if he could do it. “But there are lots of things we do,” he sighed, as if disappointed now that Liam had managed to sit back down successfully.
“The clothes? And the pictures on the wall?” Darren asked, casually. He had worked that much out himself. Making the guys fixate on an image of a fat man and then dressing them like it. Darren knew for himself how powerfully that was working on him.
“You’re smart,” Rogers grinned, pointing at him casually as he slouched back still. “The injection makes you pretty susceptible to stuff like that,” he explained without a care. “The food, the officers here, the expanding waistline; they all become highly sexual to these guys.” He laughed cruelly. “I doubt any of them could even get it up for anything else anymore! I certainly know you can’t!” he winked at Darren.
Darren had to admit, just hearing Rogers explain it to him was giving him a hard-on. “But that’s not all the injection does, is it?” he asked, stuffing a doughnut into his mouth to make the question seem more casual. In his head, he was imagining the article he could write.
Rogers watched the way Darren was eating with a strange mix of pride and revulsion etched on his face. “No… you’re right,” he nodded. “It has to provide an immediate super boost to the appetite and find a way to annihilate the man’s metabolism first.” Rogers pointed to the table across the room to the new guy who was busily stuffing his face. “Like that guy over there,” he laughed. “Cor… he’s going to be a big one isn’t he?” he noted, impressed. “He’s like you were ten months ago! The other officers and I could hardly take our eyes off you!” he chuckled. “And we weren’t wrong were we?” he mocked, looking directly at Darren’s tank of a belly.
Darren looked down at his large gut. So that was how it had come into being; that was why his pecs were now sagging and his thighs rubbing together as he plodded around the buffet table. He must have grown more than 150lbs in that time. Still, he had at least another hundred pounds to go before he reached Liam’s sort of size. “What happens to us when we reach the end of the programme?” he asked, still trying to be casual.
Rogers shrugged. “Who gives a shit?” he grunted. “None of these guys will ever go on to reoffend. Not with the way their brains are programmed now.” He looked into Darren’s face. “Your bad boy days are well behind you,” he laughed. “It’s a tried and tested method for many years. Wives with abusive husbands would deliberately over-feed them to make them fat. The constant gratification of food was known to calm them down. We’ve just taken that idea and run with it. Cheap, carb-rich, high-fat, high-sugar foods pumping in to these disgusting pigs every day; we save the taxpayer a fortune!”
Even in Darren’s still slightly cloudy mind, he knew he had the story of the century on his hands: Institutionalised fattening of potential criminals. It was going to go down as the greatest undercover work ever conducted. “I think I need to head home early tonight…” he muttered. “I need to take a shower.” But Darren knew that he needed to contact the biggest news reporters as soon as possible. This was it! Although maybe he could suck Rogers off one final time on the way home. He would certainly love that.
“That’s not like you…” Rogers frowned, looking at his watch even though it was only half an hour before closing. “Let me get you a new shirt from the back first…” he insisted as they both stood up. “Fat boy’s growing so fast!”
Darren followed the officer into the back, admiring his strong ass in the tight uniform. But as he entered the room piled high with boxes, Darren saw that there were many other men in there: officers and a man in a white jacket.
Rogers closed the door behind them and the officers stood with their arms folded like beefy security guards. “Hello again,” said the doctor in the white coat.
Darren panicked, realising that he had been led into a trap. He turned and was grabbed by the strong officers, throwing him forwards over a pile of boxes. His head was low and all they could probably see was his wide rump and chubby legs above the boxes still. He could feel an officer over him holding his shoulders down, but there really was no need. He’d grown far too fat, far too quickly to even consider getting up from this awkward position without help.
“Sorry Darren,” Rogers called insincerely from somewhere behind him. “But we’ve worked too hard for anyone to find out what we’re up to here.” He paused dramatically. “Journalists especially,” he stated, creating a deep chorus of laugher from the other hunky officers in the room.
He’d been found out! Darren realised. He’d asked too many questions, let slip too much about what he remembered; had too much faith in Rogers. He felt the men tugging at his pants and his underwear, soon feeling the cool air on his exposed ass cheeks, presented to them all like some sort of prize.
“This thing looks a lot different to the last time I saw it!” joked the doctor, walking towards Darren’s wide and blubbery exposed rear.
The men laughed again and a couple of them slapped his fat ass with relish. Darren didn’t need to be told what was in the doctor’s hand; he already knew. He felt the doctor pinch the skin of his soft butt cheek before the sharp scratch of the needle.
“There’s no coming back from a dose like that,” chuckled the doctor as Darren’s eyes became heavier and he fell blissfully to sleep.
“Wakey, wakey!” Darren heard as he awoke the next morning. What was he doing at the centre already? “We’ve got your breakfast!” teased an officer, sliding pancakes under his nose and tapping his gut. He was the first one here today. No one else to compete with for pancakes! Darren realised, taking his fork. He smiled gratefully at the sexy officers surrounding him. He’d never met nicer people in his whole life. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder from the side and he turned to see sexy Officer Rogers. His mouth was level with the handsome man’s groin and he couldn’t wait to suck him off later. He even licked his lips in anticipation.
But as the strong officers all scattered and left him, Darren looked across to the picture on the wall of the man dressed just like him. He took pleasure imagining himself looking just like that as he began shovelling the pancakes into himself.
Officer Rogers put a large, thick chocolate milkshake down on the table and sat himself down to watch Darren eat. He put his hands behind is head to relax, displaying his pumped biceps and stretching out his strong thighs under the table. It was not yet 6am and the show was already about to begin.
1ヶ月前
