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The Suit Makes the Man by gwydion78

Commission for Calvin_Wolf

"Full-time work available for assistant to elderly man. Pay is $1500/week. Must be able to lift two hundred pounds, please send photo. Male applicants only, please."

Brett had to question the wording of the advertisement, but every since construction had dried up in town and jobs had migrated either out of town or needed a master's degree, online bulletin boards were the only place to find employment. He'd sent his photo to the address, a selfie he'd taken at the gym, as the rest of his photos were largely reserved for the ladies, but Brett figured they'd also prove he could lift the required two hundred pounds.

Considering it was for an "elderly man", it probably meant he'd have to pick the guy up and carry him to the shitter, but for over a grand a week he wasn't going to complain. That kind of money would pay his rent and then some.

A day later he got his response to come and meet the man for an interview to make sure they could stand each other, seeing as they'd be in close proximity however long the job was going to last. Brett drove his truck to the address given, which was an apartment building for seniors. The visitor's parking lot was empty save him, not surprising at all, seeing as Brett never gave his own grandparents a second thought once they were put into a home.

The response only had an apartment number, 423, so it wasn't until he was in the lobby, waiting to be buzzed in, that he saw the man's last name was Newton, and there wasn't any response to the page other than the door buzzing loudly. The building's interior was boring, beige, sedate with stock photos of flowers on the walls, and the elevator rattled slightly as it climbed to the fourth floor. There was a vague smell of disinfectant in the air as he exited and strolled down the hall to the apartment's door.

It opened on the third knock to a man in his late seventies, bald, a couple inches shorter than him but easily the same weight, though the elderly man was heavy by fat instead of muscle. He wore a bathrobe that was tied loosely in front, revealing his boxers and the stained and stretched wife-beater underneath. Newton didn't say anything, just beckoned him in, walking slowly back toward the living room, the furniture limited to a coffee table, a recliner with a TV tray next to it, and of course a large television from a couple decades ago, the screen on and tuned to some daytime programming.

"You'll do," said Newton as he sat heavily in his recliner, belching and then slapping his jiggling belly.

Brett fought off a wince, already asking himself if he needed the money that badly. "So uh, what exactly you need me to do, huh?"

Newton shrugged. "Carry boxes, bring up groceries, bring me meals, sometimes my legs get wonky so you'll have to carry me. Bathroom's over there." He pointed at a door. "Clean it every three or four days. Keep out of my bedroom, I'm hardly in there anymore. Usually snooze here in the chair." He yawned heavily. "Might actually take a nap. Get to know the place."

A few seconds passed and Newton closed his eyes, his great belly rising and falling with his breath. Brett waved a hand in front of his face, and it looked like the old man was already out cold. This was going to be his job? And cleaning toilets? Ugh, hell with the money, he'd just find something else.

Brett looked around the apartment, checking the bathroom and immediately shutting the door after opening it. The smell was intense and a little gross. Definitely not worth no matter how much he was getting paid. The kitchen was small and simple, fully stocked, the fridge loaded with beer, freezer filled with ice cream, and the cupboards mostly had snacks with a peanut butter base. No wonder the old man was a fatass.

His bedroom... Well, he was planning to quit anyway, so who cared if he got fired for it? Considering how heavy Newton seemed to be sleeping, and that the door wasn't locked? Brett opened the door to go in, closing it behind him before flicking the light switch on the wall. He instantly wished he hadn't, as the room itself was filled with...

"Ugh, old guy's a fag?"

Posters covered the wall, all of naked, muscular men that grinned at him as they handled their dicks, and on the dresser were an assortment of large rubber appendages that were easy to identify. A smaller TV was in front of the queen-sized bed, sitting atop a VCR that had big stacks of tapes next to it with labels like "BEAR-ASSED", "TRUCKER TOPS", and "BIG FAT GUYS WITH BIG FAT COCKS!"

Disgusting.

He was definitely quitting now, hell with the money. At this point he was ready to smack the shit out of the old fag for hiring him to be eye candy or some bullshit. Wasn't like he could fight back, and he could get his pay for the week and never have to come back to this place again and have to see the porn vids or the dildos or the...

The golden statue the old man had hidden behind them. Brett peered over the statue, which was of a large naked, muscular man with a rather large erection, but it looked like solid gold with gems in the eyes, nipples, and the balls. Sure, it'd be embarrassing as hell to sell at a pawn shop, but just selling it for the gold scrap alone would be an easy ten or twenty grand.

Carefully, he picked it up from the dresser, gripping it tightly in his hand as he made he way back toward the bedroom door and...

And his leg felt weird. Weak, like it was falling asleep, enough to make him kneel and reach with his free hand to rub the flesh but... his fingers were falling asleep too, growing less responsive to his mind's commands. What was happening? He dropped the statue, which clunked onto the floor as Brett tried to stagger back to his feet, but his entire right leg had fallen asleep, though oddly he could still feel the fabric of his jeans, even if the pantleg felt baggy and... Baggy?

He started to poke at his leg, which *gave* to his prodding as if his muscles were hollow, rubbery, but soon he fell to the floor, his left leg losing sensation for a few seconds, falling asleep as well. Had he been drugged? Was the old man going to rape him or something? No wonder the ad had been on that site, he should've been smarter!

Brett tried to call for help, but his tongue was unable to shape the sounds, numb, bleah and blah being the only things he could vocalize. His entire body was losing response to his commands, though he could still feel everything as he slumped to the floor, his throat going numb, his back beginning to itch. The statue was barely in view, his head not moving, but the statue's was glowing gently, the gems in the eyes sparkling bright.

"I had a feeling you'd come in here if I told you not to." Had the door opened? He hadn't heard anything, though his ears had started feeling off a few seconds ago, but he could recognize Newton's voice. "Liked my statue, I see. Cost me a fortune, everything I had, a lifetime of work, but you, my boy, have made it all pay off. Just think..."

The old man picked him up with ease, his vision going downward as his neck went slack. Bret found his chest to be flattened, his arms wobbly, empty, limp. There was a strange sound, like a zipper being pulled that was paired with a disturbing sensation, as if his body were being opened, and soon after his head was brought upright, something... *inside* it that shoved into his jaw, opening and closing his mouth mockingly. "You're crazy," Newton said in a mocking voice as his hand manipulated Brett's mouth, "Let me go, you old faggot!"

Newton laughed as he stripped down, gazing at his prize. The statue had worked exactly as it was supposed to, the larger, muscular Adonis before him emptied of flesh and innards, magically transmuted into an enchanted bodysuit. The statue had originally been, according to the legends he'd researched, intended for clandestine purposes, to capture enemies and infiltrate using their skin, but the magic could be used for other purposes.

A life of hedonism had taken its toll on his body, but he hadn't regretted it one whit, not his prodigious belly or his balding scalp or haggard appearance, the stopping point had been when his loins had gone into slumber, no manner of images or stimulation waking his one reliable phallus to erection. But now, he'd have a new one.

The opening in Brett's back was wide, the skin limp, the inside silky and smooth against Newton's hairless skin. Inserting his legs was a revelation of stimulation, feeling the younger man's strength immediately as his feet slid into position. He pulled upward, pushing in his arms and grunting from the flood of sensation as the burgeoning biceps, triceps and forearms fed his mind, eagerly awaiting his commands. The final step was the head, which was slick and wet as it pulled down around his face, some adjusting needed to synch up his nose, eyes, mouth, but after a few seconds of wriggling, the darkness of the suit's interior gave way to light, then the view of his bedroom.

Newton looked down at his body, his new bodysuit, and grinned widely as he tore off Brett's shirt, revealing the firm pecs and rigid abs beneath, running his fingers over the skin and moaning softly, his voice emerging as Brett's. His jeans came off shortly afterward, his breathing catching in his throat as he observed Brett's cock, the sight of it causing it to erect to Newton's whims. His fingers brushed it, wound little spirals in the thick pubic hair, slipped down to graze the nuts that hung heavy, confidently. A smile went across Brett's face as he watched himself bloat and grow with arousal, passing six inches with ease, topping out at seven veiny inches of maleness.

"Hello there, young man." He squeezed himself gently with a chuckle. "Been neglected by your previous owner? I'll bet he never even let you think about another man playing with you. Feels nice so far, doesn't it? Knowing another man is jerking your junk, eh? Leaving you helpless but to enjoy it?" Newton turned Brett's gaze to the dresser and the array of toys. "Curious, boy? Hm? Ever wonder how us ?fags' took a juicy cock like that?"

Newton stood, getting one of the smaller toys, as this new body wasn't properly broken in yet, and drizzled lubricant all over it. He opened his closet door to reveal the full length mirror on the in-side of it to better position himself, guide it in, getting a view of his new back, which was solid, wide, strong, and had a long zipper-like tattoo along the spine that gave Newton a chuckle as he squatted.

Brett, in the meantime, was fully aware as his body was moved beyond his volition, as words were spoken without his thoughts, that even his *mind* was clouded with images and fantasies of random men playing with a much older and fatter body that clearly wasn't his. It was all interrupted though as he felt something slick and *thick* pushing against his... No! He wasn't a fag, things weren't supposed to go up there!

"Don't worry, kid. It... Mmmmmm.... It don't count it it's only a toy. Just a plug anyway." Newton made the eyes look down at the body's surging cock, dragged a finger over the leaking tip. "See, boy? Your cock's a quick study, already leakin' at the feeling of something pluggin' you up."

Brett then tasted something sweet and salty on his tongue as his finger was licked clean, and he wanted to shudder, knowing what it was. The TV turned on shortly afterward, his body sat down with more force on the bed, his ass feeling stretched and overfull as the screen came to life, "PLAY" flashing on the upper corner before a video of two large, hairy men making out quickly came on, the tiny speakers putting out fuzzy audio of their moans and groans. Newton curled Brett's fingers around his dick and started pumping slow, assaulting Brett's mind with erotic delight that hammered away at his resistance and disgust.

Newton looked down to the statue, still on the floor. "Have to wonder about this thing, how responsive it is to my whims." He picked it up, still pumping Brett's cock, relishing the ability to bend over without any aches or pains, and grasped the statue, the gold warm in his hands as he lifted it to his mouth. He licked the chest of the statue smoothly, closing his eyes, letting the sounds of the video fill his ears, imagining the hirsute men, their pits stinking of the heady musk of a hard working man.

Within seconds the statue glowed unbeknownst to the man and the sentient suit, the well-muscled torso itching harshly for a moment as a carpet of hair grew in, thick in the gaps between the pectorals, outlining the abs, giving the suit a deep coating of fuzz and near-fur. The nose tickled as well as the exertion of masturbation enhanced the production of the sweat glands, pumping out moisture that gave the body a healthy, hairy sheen as well as a thickening scent.

The fuzzier ass clenched hard around the invading plug as Newton opened the eyes, moaning, dropping the statue to grip himself with both hands, pistoning his grip up and down as he reveled in his enhancements. "Yesssss... Yes! Mine! It's really mine! My body!"

Breath caught in the throat, Brett overwhelmed by the sudden rush of carnal bliss that swept him away as the plug jabbed the prostate repeatedly, throwing Brett and Newton over the cliff's edge, white ropey jets of jism surging from the cock in lazy arcs that splattered the screen again and again, mirroring the orgasm that was taking place on the screen. Newton fixed the eyes on that image, of the cum dripping over the shot of two men grunting through their climax, and sighed with relief.

"How'd you like that ride, kid? Eh? What's the matter, cock got your tongue?" Newton kept stroking through the ebbing of the crest, licking the lips greedily, still watching the video. "Always good to give yourself a tug, but that ain't what I was looking for, kid. Plenty of men out there who'd never have given my old fat ass a second glance, but you?" He pinched the nipple, mmmmphing at the stimulation. "Could probably find a couple truckers too horny to care about the hole. Nothin' like a boy poundin' your ass tryin' to convince himself he ain't a fag."

Newton stood the body up, putting on the clothes slowly, rolling his shoulders once he was dressed, glancing over at the mirror, flexing and posing a few times. "So I'm going to take you out and get you laid, kid. Get a proper cock in your ass while there's a dick in your mouth." He cupped the hand around the ear. "What's that? No requests? Ain't going to stop me, tell me you ain't a fag? Guess you're on board then!" He groped the crotch and gave it a few healthy squeezes. "Good boy."

Brett most assuredly was not on board with this, no matter how amazing the orgasm had been and battered his mind with bliss. Getting off was one thing, but slutting himself out to truckers? He struggled, pushed, pulled, tried to exert control over his body, but he was helpless against the old puppeteer that wore him like a suit. Speaking, altering breathing, even trying to get his eyes to blink to his own will didn't work, he could only watch as his body was simply used.

And watch he did, even as he didn't want to observe Newton getting in his truck and driving to the highway, singing along with an oldies station until he reached a truck stop just after sunset. The truck was parked soon afterward, and Brett felt himself exit, and stroll over toward a semi that was parked near the back. There were a few stickers on the passenger side window that he didn't understand, but Newton seemed to, as the door was banged on several times.

It opened to a beer-bellied man in a sweaty T-shirt and no pants, his cock hard and standing from a thick bush of pubic hair. Newton answered simply with a shrug, "Need a fuck."

He looked Brett over, licked his lips, and then glanced into the back of the cab. "Up for a three?" Apparently a silent gesture was the response as the trucker looked back at Brett.

"You're the middle," he said as he moved into the back of the cab. Newton followed him up wordlessly, closing the semi's door behind him, and started silently shucking his pants, finding the first trucker and another similarly built man in the back, also wearing only a T-shirt. The second man was older, and fatter than the first trucker, who motioned between the two of them. "I'm Red, that's Buck."

Buck gave Brett a once over, and then glanced at Red. "I don't feel like gettin' up, okay if I get the ass?"

Red shrugged. "Long as he ain't sloppy." He sat down, giving himself a couple tugs while Newton positioned the body between them. The mouth was lowered to Red's cock, the body inexperienced but the mind controlling it guiding it along, working mostly with the tongue around the ridge of the glans, enough inches to nearly graze the back of the throat. Buck for his part took the ass in his hands, squeezing and kneading the hard-packed muscle there, and roughly pulled it into position over his erection before tugging his belly up to give the best aim.

Newton had filled the mouth, but he still inwardly celebrated how quickly he'd found two men to use him. He could feel Brett's disgust, but could feel how much of it was posing, simple resistance. When he'd cum with that plug in, Brett had gone silent, enjoying the climax as much as he had, he simply didn't want to admit what he liked, and even now with a dick in his mouth and pushing into his ass, using him like a slut, the muscular man was silent even as Newton could feel his presence still in the bodysuit.

In the meantime, the body's nose was filled with the thick, raunchy musk of Red, face buried in the soft, cushy and hairy underbelly of the trucker, pubic hair scratching and itching his lips, making them rough and chapped as the fellatio continued on. The ass was filled with a dick of average size but plenty of experience, bumping the prostate repeatedly to fire the loins of the man chosen to be Lucky Pierre. Even though the body was complete, even though the groin surged with arousal, it was treated as if only two pieces were worth mention, much less attention, and the old man working that body bathed his consciousness in that treatment.

He was just a mouth and ass to be used, to be filled with pent-up spunk and then cast aside until someone else was needful enough to plough him and fuck him dry. His ass and belly would be filled and then bloated with cum, sweaty, musky, salty man-juice that would stain his clothes and dribble from his mouth and leave damp patches in his pants from where excess had leaked from his rear, and everyone would know just from *looking* at him that he was nothing more than a...

The ass clenched hard as the cock shot a fresh batch of semen despite having been untouched, splattering the floor of the cab with cum as the mouth gulped and gargled. Red and Buck didn't finish in response, their arousal was only getting underway, and they merely shared a chuckle at how easily the kid had busted a nut. They weren't finished with him by a long shot.

Half and hour later, when the body was on the brink of its third climax, Buck dug his fingers into the well-fucked ass of the spit-roast, and simply nodded to Red, neither of them needing any announcement or heraldry of the event that was about to transpire. Brett felt a flood of warmth in his ass, and a minute later, in his mouth, which the body struggled to swallow quickly enough to let him breathe. It wasn't until he was helped out of the cab and had his pants thrown at him that Brett realized he'd...

"Liked that, didn't ya, kid?" Newton licked the lips with a grin. "First cum, that was mine, will admit, but number two and three? Swallowin' that trucker junk? All you, kid." He started toward the truck, stretching out a bit. "Night's not over by a longshot, though. Gonna take you to a couple bars, meet some bikers, break this ass in proper."

Newton got into the truck, starting it. "Then, gonna take you home, hang you up, ain't gonna even clean you off, and in a few days, I'll put you back on, and we'll do it all again." He glanced down at his groin, seeing it was already fervently erect. "All you, kid. All you. And I'm gonna show you what this body can do."