Pizza & Wings
Title: Pizza n' Wings
Author: Gwydion78
Author Note: I found this old commissioned piece kicking around on one of my flash drives and got clearence from the patron to post it. This one was a bit different than I'm used to writing, but I hope you guys enjoy it. :)
WARNING: The following story contains scenes of weight gain, slobbishness, transformation, and male masturbation. If you find this offensive, or said material is illegal for you to access, please do not read further.
"Yep. Mm hmm." Another violation marked down on his clipboard. "Food preparation area has a dirty floor."
"We mop it every two hours, we were just about to, you just caught us by-"
"Surprise?" Price pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smirking slightly at the "assistant manager" of Pop's Pizza Palace, probably just a glorified delivery boy. His shirt had pit stains and was dappled with splotches of red from spilled sauce. Unwashed uniforms. Another violation. "That's why they're called surprise inspections."
The delivery boy rolled his eyes at him. Wasn't his fault he was the health inspector. He was just making sure that general public wouldn't have to get food from a festering hole like this. Price continued through the kitchen, marking down the smudges on the stainless steel ovens, the streaks in the windows, the discarded food crumbs in the crevices between rubber floor mats. Disgusting. He marked it all down on his clipboard, the number of points draining away. He knew when he walked in it wouldn't be an A, maybe a C.
The delivery boy, "Jake" according to the cheap looking name tag, looked impatient, not at all worried, like this was all a formality and he was just here before passing out an award for the best pigsty in the city. He finished out the form with fluid ease, and tore out the carbon copy for the "assistant manager", handing it to him.
"An F!?!"
"Indeed, you'll find all the details on the form. I'm going to have to close this-"
"What!?!"
"For a week while you get it up to code."
"This is bullshit! We cleaned the whole place this morning! You just caught us right before our cleaning cycle. You can't shut us down for a week because of..." Jake read the form, and sputtered. "Unwashed employees!?!"
"Two weeks." Price stood firm, holding that steady smirk unintentionally, which only served to make the delivery boy all the more fuming. "If you feel you've been judged unfairly..."
"No shit!"
"The appeals committee meets on the first Wednesday of next month."
"That's three weeks from now!"
Price smiled and adjusted his tie before exiting the pizza parlor, and affixed the form with the giant "F" to the window, and then looked back at Jake.
"You have a nice day now."
***
A few days later, Price was enjoying his vacation at home. His superiors had felt he needed some time off after having closed six restaurants in a two week period, and he appreciated the thought. It was good to know that all of his hard work was paying off dividends, and that one of those dividends was paid vacation. It gave him time to catch up his cleaning anyway, since his own apartment had fallen into a state of disrepair with all of his manic hours performing his job as health inspector.
He'd already spent the morning cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing the inside of the refrigerator, scouring the kitchen sink, cleaning his stove coils, dusting the chairs, bookcases, his table and counters, as well as the tops of his books. The afternoon would bring steam-cleaning the furniture, washing the windows, putting his clothes through the wash, and then one of his great joys: ironing.
He checked the clock, and then his schedule, and saw that he was running behind by several minutes, and panicked slightly. He'd lost four of his minutes reserved for food preparation, so his lunch plans were ruined! After sulking a few seconds, he heard his phone ring, and checked his schedule. He wasn't expecting any calls around this time. Odd. He quickly moved to the phone and depressed the hands-free button with his pen.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Price? This the front desk, there's a delivery here for you?" The voice was gruff, slightly annoyed. It was probably Martin, who'd had it in for him simply because he'd told management that he looked like he'd slept in his clothes and had a five o'clock shadow at ten in the morning and had him reprimanded.
"Have it sent up, I'm afraid I'm a bit busy right now, Martin." He heard a bit of grumbling that just might have been a suggestion that Price's parents had not, in fact, been married. Such behavior would be included in his next report to the building manager.
Several minutes later, there was a knock at his door, and then the sound of shuffling footsteps. When he opened his front door and looked out into the hallway of the 17th floor, all he saw at first were the elevator doors closing. He looked down, and saw a large pizza box, with a plastic bag containing two smaller boxes inside. There was a note attached, reading "To an inspector who is truly in a league of his own." How thoughtful! The office must've arranged to send him lunch. Granted, pizza would be his last choice, but it would be bad manners not to accept it.
Besides, the whole time waste of the phone call and receiving the unwisely chosen gift had eaten into his scheduled lunchtime so much that he had to consume the dreadful thing or face the afternoon cleaning on an empty stomach.
With a regretful sigh, he picked up the box and set it on his table, opening the bag to find a box of buffalo wings dripping in hot sauce as well as a box of breadsticks with a large cup of vanilla icing. The pizza itself was loaded with toppings, and looked like a greasy mess. Perhaps this gift wasn't as thoughtful as he might've hoped, but he'd probably be asked about it at work, and he was a terrible liar, so it was best to have a slice or two. He fetched a plate, as well as a fork and knife, and set to carving up the first slice, wincing at the amount of grease that dripped off it onto the plate, making a little orange puddle on the fine ceramic.
Price pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, laid a fine cloth napkin across his lap, considered a moment, and then tucked another napkin into his shirt collar, thankful that no one could see it, but he wasn't about to drip grease and sauce all over his finely pressed shirt and pants. He cut off a piece with the knife, spearing the doughy chunk with his fork, the bite of the slice loaded with cheese, sauce, meat, and slowly dripping grease onto the plate. Wincing again, he closed his eyes and stuffed the fork into his mouth, pulling it out slowly minus the bite, the pizza sliding over his tongue, electrifying his taste buds. Well, at least it didn't taste bad. Still, the cleanup wouldn't warrant ordering from wherever they'd gotten it from.
Price followed the bite with another, then another, leaning his head over the plate itself to avoid getting any more grease onto the napkins in his collar and his lap, which were already taking on an orange hue. The smell of the meal was rather enticing, he had to admit. He checked the clock, and then his schedule, and grumbled, as he wasn't going to have enough time to eat nearly any of one slice let alone two before he had to start on the furniture. Well, there were moist napkins at the table itself, so he could clean immediately afterwards... He picked up the slice with his hands and took a bite, grease dribbling over his lips and over his chin.
Well, it was far messier, but much more efficient timewise! He took a moist napkin and set to wiping his face and hands, checking the clock. "Well, there's enough time for one more slice." He'd have to push back the furniture by a couple minutes, but it was his vacation, right?
Dragging another slice out of the box, he started right on it, chewing and swallowing a bit faster now, his stomach gurgling slightly as the unfamiliar food made its way in. Maybe it didn't agree with him? Regardless, he still had to finish this slice so he could get to work. His eyes then fell on the two other boxes. Fantastic. He'd probably be quizzed on the wings and the breadsticks as well.
Price cracked the box of wings, and fished one out, quickly bringing it over the plate as it dripped sauce, a drop of it hitting his tablecloth, and he added the cloth to the laundry list before the drop of sauce even splashed. He bit down into it, the spicy liquid rolling over his tongue as his teeth tore off the meat, firing his brain with the sensations of heat and explosively good taste. These weren't bad! Really hot though! He grabbed for a breadstick, dipping it into the icing, only wanting a small bit, but ending up with a large dollop instead. His mouth started feeling the burn from the wings, so he stuffed the iced bread into his mouth, biting down on it, sighing with relief as the heat abated, the sweetness of the icing rather refreshing to him as he swallowed it down.
Not all that bad! Well, it was time to get back to work. Furniture wasn't going to steam clean- Price winced, his stomach gurgling loudly now, feeling tight, achy. This food definitely wasn't agreeing with him. His stomach felt like it was packed full of fire, which came racing up his throat. Price's eyes went wide, convinced he was about to vomit all over his tablecloth when his mouth burst open.
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPP!!!!!!"
Price of course immediately excused himself for the crass display of rudeness, even if he was the only one in his apartment, but the volume and reverberation of the belch probably echoed into the adjacent units. His face was fiercely red from embarrassment, but he felt odd that when the immense expelling of gas occurred he felt almost... proud? Well, it was rather impressive, considering. Certainly better than most he'd heard in his life, and it wasn't like anyone had been around to hear!
His shirt felt a little off though, and when he looked down to inspect it, his eyes widened at the sight of a gap between the buttons of his well-pressed Oxford, and afterward he noticed that his stomach had gained a bit of bulge, the fabric clinging tightly against his skin. Gently, he poked the exposed skin through the gap, finding his belly to have little give, and causing his stomach to gurgle once more, his mouth bursting open again to power out another thunderous belch which flooded his body with a blissful sense of relief, as well as popping three more buttons from his shirt.
Well, he had to admit that that one had been pretty damned good. 'Sides, there really wasn't any etiquette about blowing out some gas. Wasn't like he could just wait for his gut to explode or something. His stomach was rumbling again already, though, and he chuckled, figuring that he'd freed up some more room so he could fill up the tank with more wings and sticks and 'za. Price gave his well-exposed belly a soft rub, enjoying the feel of it. He could always sew some new buttons on the shirt and change it later. No point to dirtying up a fresh one, right?
Another slice was followed by some wings, then some more sticks that were practically dripping with icing. Was it just him, or did it all taste even better? He folded up a slice and took big bites, grease dripping onto his shirt, sliding over his stomach, making the skin shine. No matter, the shirt was headed into the laundry. Pants were getting tight though, needed some "adjusting". Normally, he'd go into the bathroom to do such a thing, but he was at home, why stand on ceremony? He reached his hand down to his crotch, taking hold of his package and rattled it about until the tightness abated, then gave himself a few healthy scratches and rubs for good measure. Made him remember it'd been a dog's age since he rubbed one out.
He leaned to one side, biting his lip as he felt himself blast a hot one out his ass, laughing a bit and waving his hand at the smell before shoving some more pizza into his mouth and pulling more meat off a buffalo wing. Maybe this meal would be better enjoyed in front of the TV? Sounded like a good idea, so he stacked the various foods and carried them over to his coffee table, sitting down on his elegant white sofa, which picked up some scattered blotches from grease and hot sauce as he didn't really set down his food with any real grace, but he could clean it. God knew he had more than enough cleaning shit stashed all over the apartment.
Price leaned forward to reach for the remote, becoming aware of his belly pressing into his thighs. Huh, look at that. Finally putting some real weight onto that stick figure of his. He stood up a moment, taking the gut in his hands, jiggling it slightly, shuddering at the feeling. Damn, why hadn't he gone lardass before? 'least he looked like a damned health inspector now. How the Hell would anyone believe he inspected restaurants if he didn't have the healthy gut to match, right? Looked pretty fuckin' hot too.
Price flipped on the TV with the remote in one hand and an icing-encased breadstick in the other, the television immediately tuning to the public access channel. Why had he been watching this? Ah yeah, some idiot show about crotchetin' doilies or some weak shit like that. He was about to change the channel when he noticed that the program currently on was amateur wrestling, a couple of out-of-shape guys in tight spandex damned near groping each other. Price devoured the breadstick as he watched, fishing around for another one, finding a slice first (which he promptly ate), then a wing (which he practically sucked the meat off the bone). He groaned a bit, leaning back, his gut forming the bottom border of the screen, looking rather hairy, his pants feeling even tighter now. Well, he didn't mind takin' the bull by the balls, so he groped himself a few seconds, rubbing his greasy fingers against the obvious tent in his slacks, until he felt a hard squeeze on his waist, and then heard a loud *POP* as his pants gave way, his belly now completely obscuring the screen, the gutflesh looking darker than before.
Price leaned forward with a bit of effort, pushing his gut back into his lap, sandwiching his dick between his belly and his thighs, his wriggling to stay sitting upright only causing his cock to get rubbed by a sweaty, greasy gut and the fabric of his slacks. Yeah, it'd been too fuckin' long since he shot a load or three, and those big boys on the screen would certainly help him get to the finish line. Sure, he'd never looked at guys before, but then he'd never let himself just be horny before, and he wanted those two guys on the screen to put him in every submission hold they could think of until he was painting the world white.
He couldn't just fuck his gut and his pants though. If he was gonna jerk off, might as well make a date with Randy Palmer and his five hot sons. Price stood up using the couch to help him get upright, staggering a bit from his added padding, his pants falling around his ankles, still wearing his shirt that was still buttoned from his pecs on up, though those buttons were starting to strain. Reaching under his belly, he found that the "bull" was starting to live up to his nickname, having put on some girth, his balls not fitting in his hand. With a wide grin, he grabbed a slice of the pizza and wrapped it around his rod, the cheese and grease lubing him up plenty as he started to thrust into the doughy makeshift hole.
Price trembled from the feeling of it, and he felt a bit torn, not knowing whether to eat or hump the rest of his pizza, but with a grin, he figured there wasn't any reason he couldn't just eat it all with some extra "icing" on the crust. His asscheeks quivered as he felt more gas blast out of him, starting to feel a tickle or an itch just above his widening rear. His free hand worked over his belly, which he gazed down on with pride, fingering his expanded bellyhole and relishing the odd feeling that was quickly becoming pleasurable, his exposed skin becoming less hairy and more fuzzy, and it was spreading all over his body now, covering him in a rich chocolate brown that he had to admit was pretty fuckin' sexy. Made him want to stomp his feet a few times and go hump a couple prime steers!
His eyes locked on the screen, his arm flexing hard to keeping the nearly destroyed slice of pizza in place as his hips thrust with increasing speed and urgency. Grumbling, he stuffed the ruined slice into his mouth, moaning loudly at the rich and heady mix of tastes, and quickly grabbed another slice to replace the missing one, his face feeling warm as he chewed and swallowed the greasy mass, the top of his head starting to throb. His ass twitched again and again, his muscles flexing as he blasted out more and more pungent gas, the tickling feeling seeming more like a flex now, like he was flicking a finger upward.
Price was finding it difficult to keep his feet, and finally stepped high, his feet loudly clomping as they pulled out of the pile of his former slacks, his balls bouncing heavily in their loose dark sack. His breathing was growing ragged, and he focused on the screen, wanting to leave long streaks and trails of white on the images of the grappling males. Wouldn't mind lockin' horns with a whole pack of those studs!
Feeling his burgeoning belly start to grumble for more fuel, he stuck his hand into the box of wings, pulling out several in his seemingly larger hand, and popped them into his mouth, grinding his teeth against the meat and bone. His jaw ached as his teeth felt odd, his face feeling hot and stretched as he heard the bones crunch. Taking a large swallow to clear his mouth, he set to licking his fingers clean, finding his tongue much thicker and longer than before. A lewd grin crossed his face as he thought of all the places he could put a bigger and longer tounge, how quickly he could clean the sweat off the two wrestlers on the screen.
His limbs began to strain as they ballooned outward, Price finding himself putting on muscle, his body beginning to swell with strength. He pounded his cock harder, faster, his ears flicking at the sound of his fist slapping his pole, his balls jumping about in their loose sac as they slowly inflated, gaining weight and girth with their increasing bounty of heavy cream. Price watched his body become stronger, larger, having put on at least a couple of feet in height, his muscles clearly defined, veins standing proud through the short fuzzy coat of fur.
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP!!!!!!"
The force of his belch had made the windows rattle, some dishes on his shelves to fall and shatter, his ear still rang from the power of it. It had even nearly pushed him over the brink, almost making him cum, but not yet. Price gazed down at his body, built like the minotaur of legend, and then heard his gut growl, and watched as his body began to grow further.
Only this time, he grew out. His belly surged outward first, reclaiming the heavy roundness of a proper slob, hanging over his waist and resting against his throbbing dick. His legs followed suit, the perfect lines of definition fading underneath an excess of padding. His arms starting to droop, gaining more and more flab and jiggle. His hard pecs softened out, sagging into near-breasts, his nipples well-stretched and sensitive now. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw a long whiplike tail flicking above a wide and thick-looking ass that promptly quivered and quaked as he released a long hot burst of gas.
Even in his haze of lust, Price knew that his body was changing, that this wasn't some fantasy or hallucination brought on by extra-greasy food. He had to see what he was becoming, to know what he was going to be. If only to cap off his stroke session with, at least.
Taking a few clumsy steps, leaving the devastated delivery boxes empty behind him, he clomped down the hall to his room where a full-length mirror awaited. He was made aware of his larger size simply from needing to waddle, the feeling of his belly bouncing with every step, his ass jiggling from his movement. When he reached his bedroom door, he needed to duck as he was eye-level with the door frame, and felt his body smushed by the shape of the frame. The realization that he was almost too fat to fit through the door caused his cock to twitch, fire a fat dollop of his pre onto his well-made bed, making the room smell a bit better.
Once he managed to wedge his way into the room, he stomped over to his mirror, having to sit on his bed to see all of himself, wriggling his sweaty ass against his designer sheets, cutting a wet one into them with a grin. Who cared if they were dirty? At least they smelled better now.
Price gazed into the mirror, and found a rather obese bull sitting on his bed. The bull had a long set of white horns that were stained a bit yellow, a chunky snout as well as a few chins and jowls. No nosering though. He'd have to take care of that. The bull had a simply immense belly that took of most of his lap, the fat constantly jiggling as the bovine madly jerked off a cock that was completely obscured by the flab. The rest of his body quivered as well from all the motion, the mattress straining with the weight of the bull as he gained a sheen of sweat.
Grinning, he watched the bull left his free arm, and lap the sweat from the pit with his long tongue, tasting salt and grease.
And that bull was him. That immense lardassed gassy slob of a bull that was polluting his apartment with his awful stench, smearing his well-cleaned furniture with his grease and sweat, defiling the sanctity of his home with his raunchy antics... That bull was him. He found himself pumping faster at his cock, slipping a thick finger under his flicking tail, finding his sweat musky hole, and pushing deep into himself, which made him grunt and snort in lust. It was coming, he could feel it.
Price fixed his eyes on the mirror, watching his reflection shake as he worked himself over, loud wet slaps filling his room and his ears as he pounded and thrust at his hand, explored himself ever deeper with his probing finger. His body began to feel light, his motions more stunted as he felt a sound building up inside him, his balls pulling close against his body as he felt his cock inflate, tighten, suffusing his body with bliss.
Wobbling, Price got to his feet, staggering to stay upright as he felt himself let go, a near-roar coming out of him like a bull seeing red. He yanked his fingers out of his ass, hoisting up his belly, his cock free to spray its heavy cream all over the mirror. Slowly, he turned in a circle, watching his jets of cum fly, splattering at his wall, his closet, dresser, the figurines he'd endlessly dusted, the hamper full of slightly dirty clothes. He saved the bull's share for his bed, hosing down his sheets and mattress with his seed, drenching it, ensuring it would always smell like a fat rutting bull. When his climax finally abated, he practically collapsed onto the mattress, the boxspring breaking, the bed bowing out to accommodate his weight and loudly squishing from the amount of cum that had soaked in. Before he finally closed his eyes, drinking in the smell of his spunk, he reminded himself to call that pizza place when he woke up and ask about their specials.