Bad Habits: Life of Pie (Patreon)

Bad Habits

Chapter 4: Life of Pie

         Oliver retraces his steps to see what is causing Dylan’s trance and shit eating grin. The ruby red cart is tipped over on the left side with the calorie enriched, nutrition stripped goodies spilling out including a tub of ice cream rolling towards the end of the aisle. Several two liters of soda move on the other side of the floor fizzing up in their plastic bottles. Boxes of candy liter the aisle. Everything spread out across the tiled floor is void of any nutritional value. The unfortunate morbidly obese man is on his worn out hands and knees. The position exposes his big sweaty ass crack as his pants slide down.

         “Oh, shit,” breathes Oliver heavily. 

         Oliver jogs over to ground zero. “Sir! Are you okay? Let me help you! Dylan, come here and help.” 

          Oliver places his one arm under the man’s left arm. Dylan takes his time trying to hide his erection. He follows Oliver’s lead and puts his arm under the man’s right arm. Together they try to hoist him up, but the efforts are futile. The man cries out in a country accent “Ah cain’t get up.”

        Oliver thinks it might be helpful if they try lifting him up by the waist. They both reposition themselves. Oliver sweats and tries to pull the man up. His hands sink into the morbidly obese stranger’s fat rolls. He’s just too heavy and bloated to properly grab onto and lift for two people. 

         The man grunts from the pressure of his body on the hard floor. “Halp,” he shouts. Oliver hears the held back tears in the man’s strained voice. 

        Oliver jogs through the aisle to try to find an employee. A few aisles over he notices an employee in a red vest. Oliver moves toward him breathlessly, his fat jiggling. “S-sir. We need your—,” he gasps. He realizes just how out of shape he is as he takes a moment to catch his breath. Maybe Dylan is right: exercising might not be worth the struggle at this point. He looks at the employee’s name tag. Oliver continues “w-we need your help Sam. A man fell and he can’t get up!”

        “This happens all the time to the elderly. I can help,” invites the employee.

        “He’s not old. He’s, uhm,” Oliver pauses.

        “He’s what, sir?”

        “He’s overweight. Well, morbidly obese. He’s the largest person I’ve seen outside of a TLC documentary. I’m thinking in the mid-six hundreds,” says Oliver with both hints of fear and excitement in his voice. So much for Oliver’s respect for obese people he shamed Dylan for earlier. Sam pauses for a brief moment trying to determine a plan of action given the details of this man’s extreme weight. 

       “Oh, I see. Which aisle?” asks Sam with a little disgust.

       “Aisle 11 in the grocery section.”

      Sam begins the path toward aisle as he calls in the order to the central office. Oliver gets frustrated at the entire situation. There is a man trapped on the floor and Sam is taking his time. Oliver keeps quiet though because he knows that he’d be out of breath and on the floor himself attempting to run back to the scene. It scares him, but also excites him at just how unfit he is becoming in such a short amount of time. 

        They make it back to site. The obese man on the floor is now on his back. His breathing is raspy. Candy wrappers litter the ground. The man brings an unwrapped candy bar up to his mouth. He chews making his fat cheeks puff out more. 

      Oliver walks over to Dylan and angrily whispers “How did he get that candy, Dylan?”

        “What? He said that he thought his blood sugar might be low. He said he was hungry and weak. I wasn’t trying to feed him on purpose. It’s not like I’ve been shoving candy bars into him like quarters into a heavy piggy bank. Please don’t be angry with me. Look how comfortable I’ve helped make him,” whispers Dylan back. 

       Oliver’s head spins. Perhaps Dylan has a point, but the whole situation is odd. Another employee shows up. His name tag indicates his name is Jeff. Jeff is shocked to see this man’s monstrous gut.

        He speaks into his walkie talkie “got that forklift and pallet? We’ve got a beached whale here.”

       Sam thinks for a moment. “I think it’s best if we just call EMS. He could be seriously hurt and I’m not about to get my ass sued.” Jeff agrees while Dylan turns red realizing the liability of having given the enormous man chocolate while he was on his back. The group of five wait for the professional crew to move the puddle of flab off the floor. Fourteen minutes later a team of eight people show up in the aisle. Oliver thinks eight is a bit too much. Several of them gasp. 

         “Sir can you tell us how this happened?” asks the leader of the pack. 

       “Ah jus wanted mah soda. They done put it on the top shelf. How m’ ah s’possed to reach em? So ah tried ta get up n’ now look at me. I have the diahbeetus. Mah feet are numb n’ slipped out from under me. Ah somehow knocked over the scooter when ah fell,” he replies with a sting in his voice. 

        “Can you get up on your own?”

        “Would y’all be here if I could?”

         Dylan looks over at Oliver. Oliver’s stomach churns and his heart races. His face is going pale. Dylan thinks this is strange. Maybe this was too much for Oliver and way too soon. Dylan observed over the past few months that Oliver is anxious when he isn’t eating or high. He tries to find an excuse to help Oliver manage his emotions.

        “Oliver, we still have pies to get and there are spoilables. We should really leave,” says Dylan.

        Oliver nods. He zones out. He doesn’t remember much, but Dylan loading their cart with other things they would need for shakes and some other goodies like cakes and pies. He wonders what will happen to the man. They check out and go to the car. Dylan puts the groceries in the trunk. Oliver is still zoned out.

         He imagines himself taking the place of the fat man. Would it be as bad as he told himself? This person clearly doesn’t worry about what he eats and doesn’t have to overexert himself with trivial tasks like walking. The thought is pushed out of Oliver’s mind. That life can’t be worth it, right?

        Oliver isn’t talking on the way home. Something depraved deep down has him thinking about everything. He feels his blood pressure raise and feels weak. Dylan wants him in that position. Dylan wants him unable to do anything for himself. It’s so messed up. That man is miserable and unhealthy. It’s sad and scary to think that there are hundreds of thousands suffering from morbid obesity. 

         However, something dark about it finally appeals to Oliver. If Oliver lets himself go Dylan will dominate him. He gets to lose all control. No more diets. Dylan clearly stayed this long. Could this be true love? Would Dylan truly stay with Oliver if he got fatter and ate to his heart’s content? Is this freedom or reckless abandonment? 

       Oliver gropes his gut and mindlessly shakes it. Dylan notices it and grins, but doesn’t say anything in hopes his lover will learn to appreciate his own belly. Oliver notices that it’s soft and feels good. He remembers the obese man’s body felt good in Oliver’s hands. Something inside Oliver wanted to have plenty of fat to have Dylan jiggle and hump. “Fuck. I’m not a pervert!” shouts his mind. They arrive back at the apartment before Oliver realizes he zoned out again. 

       “Is everything fine?” asks Dylan with concern. 

        “It’s fine. I’m just a bit exhausted from shopping.”

       “My poor baby boy. Why don’t you go into the bedroom and relax. I’ll take all the groceries inside and put them away. Then, we can think about dinner.”

          Oliver walks to the bedroom leaving Dylan to finish the tasks. He checks off another imaginary box in his head: Dylan is sweet and spoils him. Would being a fat, pampered prince be the worst thing in his world? The positive aspects of intentionally putting on weight really outweigh the negatives at this point. 

       The events of the day beat down on him. Why is there so much confusion? Why can’t he just figure it all out? Why is sexuality and pleasure fluid? It’s all a double edged sword to Oliver.

       Oliver takes off his clothes before grabbing his belly and jiggling it. His hands move upward until he reaches his chest. He cups his breasts with his palms touching his nipples. He’s never had so much fat accumulate there before. He remembers when they used to be flat. He grabs his nipples and pinches them letting out a slow hushed moan. 

         Oliver rationalizes that he needs a test like pulling Excalibur out of a stone to determine his fate. A test that proves gaining weight for sexual pleasure is worth the potential consequences. He falls back into his bed knowing what his test will be. 

         He starts thinking about his body. Dylan is feeding him in his mind. In response his cock swells between his legs. Oliver grabs his cock and rubs it up and down, thinking about it. His thumb presses his cock right before its head. He moans. As he strokes he thinks about swelling up instantly. He shuts his eyes. His mind goes wild: he imagines his body expanding left and right. His gut grows downward to his knees. His penis completely disappears under the heavy gut. Trying to get up is impossible as his sides slough off the bed. His eyelids grow tighter. 

          “Make me fat. Make me too fat to fucking do anything. Take complete control. Make me as big as you want Dylan,” Oliver moans close to climaxing.

        “Really, as big as I want?” asks Dylan seductively. 

        “What the fuck!?” shouts Oliver as his eyes fling open. He blushes and immediately stops touching himself and tries to hide is cock. Dylan is standing in the doorway. “I didn’t hear you open the door. Ignore that. You weren’t supposed to... I—.”

        Oliver blushes and Dylan interrupts “Relax. I heard what you said and there’s no need to explain yourself, Ollie pop. I don’t mind just pretending with you. If it turns you on and you don’t want to be really fat, let’s just role-play. I’ll be right back,” purrs Dylan stripping off his clothes quickly before leaving the room.

        He comes back several minutes later. His hands carry three pie containers stacked on top of each other. Dylan grins bringing the pies to the night stand beside Oliver. 

       “What a surprise. How many times have you brought dessert to bed? Déjà vu.”

         “Are you getting sassy with me? You might regret that. Get on your hands and knees.”

        Oliver gets on all fours per Dylan’s demand. He pushes his ass in the air. Dylan takes off the lid of one of the pies. He discards the packaging on the floor. The pie itself is placed in front of Oliver.

         “Eat for me,” says Dylan coldly as he touches his dripping member. 

          Dylan wants to say awful, terribly kinky things to his pig. He tries to keep the most depraved things from slipping his lips because he knows Oliver is still sensitive about his gains. Oliver isn’t allowed to know just how perverted Dylan is yet, but Oliver could probably pick up on it if he wasn’t high and oblivious all the time. Dylan tries to hold back, but fails. 

         Oliver goes face first in the pie, occasionally looking up to chew. He’s like a pig eating from a trough. When he does this his mouth opens. The filling dribbling out of his mouth and onto his chins should be disgusting, but it isn’t to Dylan. Instead he starts to stroke his hard member. He goes faster and faster watching his piglet boyfriend greedily eat the pie as if he almost didn't stroke out at the store trying to help that man. Dylan opens the next pie container while Oliver finishes up the second pie. The pie is scooted closer as Oliver is done and coming up for breath. Crumbs and filling litter his cute face. Before Oliver gets a chance to recuperate, Dylan shoves Oliver’s head back down causing him to face plant into pie number two; Oliver isn’t getting breaks or choices. He chews and slurps on the pie. A moan escapes from Oliver as he feels more full. Dylan is already opening up the final pie before furiously masturbating again to his lover.

         “You have no damn self control, you fat fucking pig,” harshly spits Dylan. Oliver’s heart pounds in response. His anxiety and heart rate are increasing - either from the lack of oxygen going to his head or from all the sensory overload. 

          Dylan plays on Oliver’s fears. He tries to be gentle, but the lust turns his tone abrasive. “It’s cute how you think you’ll be able to escape your fate of a mobility scooter. You’re going to end up sitting your cute fat ass in that comfy seat because of how fucked up your knees will be under all that weight. You two are not that different. You think at some point he wasn’t your size? You don’t think that you will lose control? You had the same exact junk in our cart he did: Sodas, cookies, pies, and ice cream. Riding a scooter and eating instead of walking just makes you fatter faster.”

          Oliver’s diaphragm tightens. He’s afraid he’s going to be sick at Dylan’s caustic words. He pushes through the anxious and dizzy feeling because he knows the euphoric feeling that comes from eating with all abandon feels good and so does the sex. If he eats enough he knows that daddy will reward him. 

         Dylan continues as words tumble out of his mouth “Didn’t you feel all that weight on him when you tried and failed to get him up? It took a whole crew to help him up from the floor of that aisle. You don’t think you’ll end up that heavy? What makes you think you can stop yourself? Blowing up to 500 pounds...700 pounds...900 pounds. You’ll be just as pathetic one day.”

          Oliver tries to keep calm, finishing pie number two. His heartbeat is racing again and his cock is hard. It’s becoming too common, and eating until it hurts or smoking it away are the only remedies. He still has another pie. Dylan places it before Oliver. He is ready to dive in. The anxiety will be all over soon. I’ve just got to eat. It’s all talk. He just wants to get us both off. At least that is how Oliver rationalizes Dylan’s behavior. Dylan rubs the length of his cock faster. It would be more convincing to Oliver that it’s all talk if Dylan didn’t seem so into it. 

         “You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re just daddy’s prized hog now,” pants Dylan. They both recognize how fucked up his voice sounds. It’s desperate and cuts like glass, almost like Dylan is a serial killer. It drives them both wild. Dylan spurt ribbons of cum in the air. 

         Dylan howls from his orgasm for a few moments before he turns his attention back to Oliver. “You’re not done yet, pig. You still have that last pie right in front of you.”

         Oliver plants his face into the pie from Dylan’s coaxing. Dylan calls him a good pig. Oliver moans and his eyes widen as he feels Dylan’s tongue touch his butt. Oliver eats the whipped cream. Dylan’s tongue goes deeper and deeper. Oliver has never been rimmed before, but the feeling is indescribably erotic. His heart races as he eats the parts of the pie quickly. Dylan eats Oliver’s ass ferociously, a mirror of Oliver’s movements in the pie. Oliver grunts heavily into the filling. 

          When Oliver finishes the pie he tries to roll over. Dylan gets the hint that Oliver is done and satisfied. Oliver’s arms are weak from keeping his body up. Dylan and Oliver lay in bed breathing heavily. Every session is a new opportunity to explore their kinks. Oliver looks Dylan in his eyes. His mouth is stained from assorted pie flavors, crumbs in his dimples.

        Something in Oliver’s fat-filled brain breaks. His anxiety only gets worse thinking about being fattened up. However, his pleasure increases at the same time. He thinks about sucking cake from Dylan’s dick and eating pies on all fours while being rimmed. He thinks about the soft flab hanging off the helpless man on the grocery store floor. He thinks about being in a state where he has to use a cane or scooter, and he thinks about becoming trapped in his bed because Dylan overfeeds him. There’s a strange comfort in the panic. The anxiety makes him dizzy and sick again. It also...makes his dick hard again? Shit.

        He turns to Dylan and anxiously says “I think it’s time for a milkshake using the weight gain powder. I also believe you said something about dinner?” 

       “Oh, having a workout tonight? I thought we just had one.”

        “N-No. I just bet it would be a tasty way to wash down all that pie before dinner,” he hesitates. 

        “You’re going to get fatter with that mentality,” teases Oliver.

        “Y-yeah? S-So?” Oliver asks shyly.

        “Just this morning you asked me to go to the gym. What happened to putting you down if you got so big you had to use a scooter? Not that I’m disappointed. In fact, I’m thrilled, but is this what you really want?” Dylan asks with skepticism. 

         “Isn’t that what you want? For me to be your fat piggy son? What if it wouldn’t be all bad? I won’t hit immobility overnight.” He grabs his belly and jiggles it at Dylan. He continues “I can stop anytime I want, but I think we are both enjoying this too much. You were so excited. You’re always excited when you get to play with my rolls and feed me. I want to excite you all the time. I also get the perk of eating a lot of really good food.”

           Dylan jumps out of bed with excitement. He’s confused. Is Oliver serious? What changed? He doesn’t want to lose this momentum. He runs naked to the kitchen to make Oliver a shake with over 2,000 calories. He has him right where he wants him. He knows Oliver is sealing his fate as Dylan’s fat fuck piggy boyfriend.