Ben Blubberball - Expanded edition
Sometimes you just really want to be a massive ball of fat.
It doesn't start that way. For me, it started with a love of burly men. I'd watch videos of stocky furry men for hours, stroking myself till I was absolutely soaked.
The interest soon passed from the big bearish type to the bigger chubby type to the biggest superchubs I could find.
There was one that always had my eye--another tiger, enormous, who used the nickname "Butterball", whose profile had him weighing in at 1,270 pounds. My dick would get to leaking just from looking at him. He didn't have a lot of followers--maybe he was new--but I jumped at the chance to support his streams.
His videos were nothing too spectacular: it was clearly just him in hotel rooms with random hookups. And the setup was always the same: he'd be on all fours, his flab spilling out around him and filling most of the bed, and he'd just get guys to mount him. He never tried to get himself off; it was all about sharing out his body. If it was just one guy, they'd be taking his tail, and if it was a group, they'd all gather around and mount whatever fold of fat they could grab.
But the thing that got me was that he never showed his face.
Now, "Ben," you'll tell me. "It's internet porn. People hide their faces all the time." And sure, they do.
The point is, watching all those furs work Butterball over in a new video every week... I'd fallen in love with the idea of men servicing a basically featureless mountain of blubber.
And I wanted it to be me.
It took the better part of two years to save up enough for a decent body modification specialist. While I waited and worked, I'd spend hours every day fantasizing as my desire evolved. Butterball was great, but he wasn't all blubber. I started imagining him--and myself--without pesky legs and tail to get in the way of whoever was trying to mount our holes.
From there it was easy enough to imagine the arms being gone as well. When you're that fat, you wouldn't be able to reach your dick with them anyway. My jerkoff rituals started to incorporate my ambitions--I'd try to get off without using my limbs at all, finding ways to get a toy in my ass or a vibrator going, without using anything but my mouth and my butt to position things.
The dream kept developing as my mind went down the slippery slope to further and further arousal. Why stop at limbs? Why not be a pure round ball of fat? If I was fat enough I wouldn't be able to see myself being used anyway. I started dreaming myself headless and limbless, and would spend my evenings grinding helplessly against the bed, with headphones across my shoulders, practicing for the day I'd only be able to experience Butterball's videos by the feel of the bass produced when hips meet flab.
And then the day came when my bank alerted me that I'd hit my savings goal.
The doctor was a tanuki who came highly recommended, though I did have to drive the next state over to consult with him.
His office was in a little shopping center next to a credit union, which worried me a little--it felt like a private thing to do in such a public place. But they took me to a back room and I got to wait the requisite however-many minutes until he came in the door, an older tanuki with graying fur wearing a lab coat that did little to hide his paunch.
"I'm Dr. Montblanc," he said, offering his hand for a shake. "You can call me Nick, if it makes you more comfortable."
"Hi, Dr. Nick," I said. "I--"
"Nono," he interrupted, looking pained. "Just Nick. Or Doctor Nook, if you must. So, I understand you're looking to make a big change?"
I nodded. "I'm a little intimidated," I said, "But I really want to be... um... a blubberball."
"Well, let me put your mind at ease a little--my work comes with a guarantee, and if you end up unhappy we can always put you back as you are now. Worst case you lose a few days. Now, we all use words to mean different things. When you say 'blubberball'..."
I told him about my fantasy.
"Oh, that's easy," he said. "I've got an opening next Wednesday morning. Put in for a couple days off work to get used to it, and we'll get you taken care of."
Excitedly I shook his hand and headed to the door while he was taking down his notes.
"One last thing," he said. "You aren't the first one to come in with this fantasy, of course. But I notice you didn't mention anything about your penis when you told me about it. Just to confirm, you did want the pure, ah, blubberball experience, or were you going to keep it?"
I stopped, bewildered. I honestly hadn't thought about losing my dick--the whole point was a masturbatory experience, wasn't it? It was about getting off being a featureless mound? But then, the idea that there could be a purer experience...
"Um, can I think about it?"
The doctor nodded. "Take your time. We'll talk about it Wednesday."
On my way home my dick was paradoxically hard at the thought of losing itself in the service of making me a sex object.
I stripped out of everything as soon as I was back in my bed, humping away at the pillows. I couldn't help myself. I was finally going to go through with it. I was going to be a pure ball of fat.
Pure, I thought, remembering the doctor's words, and slowed my hips. What would it be like to get off without even having a dick? Did that even mean anything? It wouldn't even be about getting off anymore--it'd be about getting others off.
That was all well and good in theory, but I didn't have anyone else in the bed to service and I was way too horned up to stop and get someone to use me.
With a practiced bit of hands-free maneuvering I slid a vibrating toy under my tail instead, rolling over on my side so my needy grinding and squirming wouldn't set off my maybe-soon-to-be-removed penis.
It was a crazy sensation, trying to be only a hole. The vibrator in my ass was a constant, steady hum of pleasure; as I lost myself in it, I realized that if I wasn't going to be climaxing, then sex time really would never have to end. No more waiting for refractory periods and recharging sex drives, just the solid nonstop fuckball experience.
And then I actually did climax, soaking the sheets with cum from my soon-to-be ex-cock.
I could definitely do this.
I spent the remaining days learning to make good friends with the anal orgasm.
The next week I was at Doctor Nook's office with butterflies in my stomach the size of elephants. I couldn't sit still. I was going to be a ball of fat and I was going to be a fuckable ball of fat and I was going to be a big fuckable ball of fat and--
"Ben?" An attendant rat beckoned, and I tried to hide my boner as I followed her to a different back room, and she instructed me to strip and lie down on the table.
And then I was left alone, for the requisite however-many minutes until Doctor Nook arrived.
"All right," he said, wheeling in a cart covered in tools. "Ready to start living the dream?"
I nodded, still anxious and excited.
"All right," he said again. "Now the first thing I'm going to have to do wasn't on your list, but the law requires it. The shape you want is sexually focused but can't really communicate consent or dissent, so we need to give you a way to do that. Also, you're basically going to be an object, and most object folk get really bored when not in use. So I'm giving you a wifi implant so you can communicate over the Internet if need be. If you're a purist you don't have to use it, but it'll be there. Fair?"
"Wait," I said. "You can do that?" A thousand new possibilities flooded my brain.
"Absolutely," he said. "No extra charge, given the nature of your changes."
"Give it to me, doc," I said.
He gave my chest a jab with a little injector. "It'll be a minute, but when you feel it, go to our website and put in the last four of your social and you should be able to get this room's webcam feed."
"This is being streamed?"
"For quality assurance purposes only," he said.
Right.
The Internet was a bizarre sensation. I felt like I had a third eye open up, only but it had a Safari window open.
The doctor faced me, hands behind his back. "To make sure it's working--how many fingers am I holding up?"
It took me a minute to figure out how to work it, but I was able to log in to the camera and see the room from a new perspective. "Seven," I said.
"Excellent." He reached for a broad, flat leaf and covered my face with it. "Now, just breathe deeply for a bit. This will relax you and make your body a little more malleable."
I sat and watched myself breathe through the leaf for several minutes. The scent of it was totally unfamiliar--it was a little sweet, a little minty, a little spicy--but it was definitely soothing; all my anxiety dissipated immediately and every little tension in my muscles faded away a little more after every breath.
Every couple of minutes, Doctor Nook would stroke my leg, just above the thigh. "Testing to see if you're ready."
After a while I had begun to be pretty drowsy, and apparently with the next touch the doctor found me satisfactory. "All right," he said. "We're ready to proceed with the amputations. This will be easy and shouldn't hurt at all... though it may feel a little disconcerting."
And he gripped my thigh firmly, pulling my leg with a sharp jerk till it came off at the hip with a pop that felt very disconcerting indeed. The tanuki ran a paw over the empty space where the limb connected to show me that I was all right; there was nothing there now but a little soft fur.
"We'll be using these limbs to add to your bulk," he said. "Open wide..."
Of course my mouth couldn't actually open wide enough for my whole leg, but the doctor stuck a paw in my muzzle, forcing it open more than seriously should have been possible and started cramming my foot down my throat. I couldn't tell you what was stranger, the idea of my own leg easily stretching my neck or the feel of it as it went down.
My stomach distended grotesquely as the doctor worked, the second leg soon following after the first, then one arm after the other, until finally I was slurping down the last of my tail.
I'd been close to three hundred pounds when I'd come in. Even though I should weigh the same now, since half my weight wasn't being wasted on other body parts I now had the belly of a guy twice my size. Despite the discomfort of my fullness, my dick was rock hard as I watched myself on the camera.
And now my boner had the doctor's attention as well. "Did you make your decision yet, Ben? Dick or no dick?"
I hesitated, but only because it felt like too momentous a decision to answer immediately.
"Off with it," I said.
He nodded and grabbed the base of my dick and balls with his paw. He squeezed tightly, pulled hard, and with a pop--
--my maleness was gone. The doctor stuffed it down my throat like the rest of my appendages.
"Are you doing all right?" The doctor was stroking my stomach. It had been lumpy with discarded body parts but under the influence of the tanuki's leaf I was breaking it down quickly, my gut rounding out and starting to feel soft again.
I tried wriggling in place on the table. "Ooh man," I said. "That's... wow. It's finally happening."
The doctor smiled at me, rubbing my chest a little before grabbing my chin with both paws and pulling my head off with another pop.
Sights and sounds faded immediately, leaving me only the mental image of the webcam window. The sterile smell of the room was gone as well. My consciousness was no longer in my head: I was now just a living ball of fat ready to be used as a sex toy.
My hole was so hungry.
I watched Doctor Nook put my head in a large specimen container and return to my limbless body. He stroked his paws down my belly and chest, kneading it--me--firmly. I felt... I felt like tensions I never knew I had were being massaged away--like my ribcage was just some muscle knot that was finally being loosened.
I looked so soft as the tanuki pressed his paws into me, reducing all my inward parts to the only important thing in life to me: pure fat.
And then the doctor turned to lock the door. Time for my test run, I thought, as the older fur stripped out of his lab coat, revealing his hefty belly and a hanging ballsack that was nearly as large, and turned the operating table to give my vantage point a better view.
As he stroked himself to a full arousal, I couldn't help but look over my own body. I looked like a massive tiger-striped beanbag with a needy hole at one end. Had I been growing? I looked immensely bigger than when I came in--I'm sure I could put even Butterball himself to shame. Remembering my original idol made me wonder what he would have thought--of my choice to become even more of a ball of fat than him.
I felt Doctor Nook pressing his thick shaft under my t--against my hole, rather--and as I watched it on the display in my mind I realized that this didn't have to be the only thing I was watching.
I brought up a second window and watched a favorite video of Butterball getting plowed alongside the stream of my own hole being fucked as I savored the sensation of the tanuki pounding into me over and over again.
This was exactly the life I wanted.
The doctor used me at his pleasure for what must have been at least an hour. The older fur would occasionally stop to get his breath or stroke himself to a full stiffness again, but he never eased up on me when his efforts brought me to climax--if he even noticed. I could only admire his staying power as the thickness of his shaft slid along the inside of my hole over and over, longer than I could have managed on my own. I would have been asking for a break after he forced the first climax out of me, begging for him to go easy on me after the second had me trembling all over, and absolutely squirming to be let go after my third orgasm left me feeling entirely helpless.
But it wasn't about my needs. I felt all that intensity inwardly, but on the outside I was just a sex ball meant to be mounted.
When the doctor finally slumped down over me, grabbing at folds of flab as his throbbing shaft unleashed his load inside me, his release felt more cathartic than all of mine had.
I knew I could be a good fucktoy.
I wrote Doctor Nook a thank you email, started putting together a Craigslist ad, and waited for someone to roll me home.