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To Release Your Inner You Part 2
"Sufficient changes in the alpha and beta waves of the test subject brain,” he said while flipping over a piece of paper, "noticeable changes in the activity of synapses and highly elevated levels of adrenaline present in the blood stream.” The glass door opened and the wispy blond receptionist walked over to the doctor as the sound of her high heels clacked on the linoleum flooring. "Just so you know our agents are following Mark throughout the left quadrant of town as he hits basically every fast food place in that area,” she said in a fairly flat tone with her eyes barely opened as if she had better things to do, like sleep. "Thank you, Petunia,” the doctor said coldly. He waved his hands in a dismissive manner. The woman known as Petunia walked toward the door. "Oh,” the doctor said with the first glint of deranged emotion in his voice, "and since you walked in here unannounced once again. Tazer yourself for three seconds once you’re in the hallway.” The girl nodded, reached into her back pocket, and exited into the long, silent corridor. She then took a small device, stuck it under her shirt just around her navel, and then a bright spark of electric blue light briefly illuminated her blouse. Doctor Bakersfield stood there for a moment, moving his index finger, then his middle finger, and then finally his ring finger. At that precise moment, Petunia stopped shocking herself, and continued her walk down the hall. As she left, tears were streaming down her lazy, droopy eyes. The doctor returned to his notes. Only now he was looking through a portfolio of pictures of different men. Some large initially, others shriveled and frail, but all of them had the same picture taken. Straight on face shot, then a profile shot. Then the pattern continued into a full body shot. Some of the men were wearing underwear, others bleach-whitened shorts, but most of them were stark naked. A few of the men had looks of nervous shock on their faces, while most of the men in the buff seemed fairly pleased with themselves. The doctor then pulled out a large red marker and began to strike out several of the men’s pictures. When he was done, there only seemed to be a dozen men unmarked by his large red Sharpie. Taking the unmarked pictures, he scooted the file of failed test subjects with their red marks into a trash can, and continued his procedure. He then took out another tan folder, opened it to about a dozen transformed men of immense size and girth. He began a method of taking one picture in his left hand, looking at the serial number on the bottom left corner of the picture, and then matching it with the series of transfigured men on the table in front of him. Some of the men looked nothing like their former physique. Some of them had grown taller, gotten more muscular, fatter, and some had looked almost as if they had been reversed to their Cro-Magnon ancestors. Within a few minutes, the test subjects had been matched. Their files had been documents with their pre and post pictures adorning each corner of the medical papers. With a soft sigh, the doctor looked at Mark’s resume. "For my sake, Mark,” the doctor raised an eyebrow casually, "I hope you don’t change too much. I don’t have a damned picture to match you with.” Hudson Valley was no stranger to controversy or scandal. People were robbed, mugged, and murdered just like in any big city. And just like those big cities, people don’t usually bat an eye at such brutal acts of the so-called human condition. So when Mark Dodson had continued his primal scrounging of the city for food and fucking, people rolled their eyes, made their crude comments, and went about his or her way. Only the occasional out-of-towner or tourist would make a frightened face at Mark’s lack of communication and occasional grunts and groans as his body shifted from a cordial, easy-going college student on summer vacation to this changing, impulsive man that stood before them. Mark was not without his reasoning though. He would speak, but only when necessary. Deep within his mind, he still had that little voice everyone has. Some call it their conscience; others their mother’s nagging voice. For Mark, it was neither. It was his actual repressed part of his brain. Each part of his brain was still working together, but now, it seemed, each part was unbridled. He wasn’t trying to commit a crime, nor was he trying to get in trouble. He just continued his search for food and sex. Plain and simple. And that little voice inside Mark’s head told him that he would soon run out of money for food, and while he wanted more and more, he wouldn’t allow himself to steal. Not yet, anyway, he reasoned with himself. It wasn’t more than thirty minutes ago; he had screwed the brains out of some red-haired individual in a bathroom stall. He didn’t know the guy’s name or even found him reasonably attractive. He knew that the guy found him attractive or at least fuckable, and he took advantage of that. His arm suddenly felt heavy, and then he looked at it for a moment. He was shocked to see that a woman was holding it. She seemed a bit reserved, but confident. As if she knew how beautiful she was, but would rather not flaunt it. Her face wasn’t plastered with make-up, and her bright green eyes stood out against her dark olive skin. "You’re gonna get run over if you walk out in the street,” she said, gesturing to his intended path. The road was beginning to become congested with afternoon traffic. "Thanks,” he said in his gruff voice. "You’re welcome,” she said back softly, batting her eyes, clearly flirting with him. "For such a tall guy, I wouldn’t have expected such big arms.” She flexed her fingers around his bicep, and Mark moved his arm from her grasp. "Thanks,” he muttered again, clearly uninterested. But something she said had caught him off guard. Even in his quest, he hadn’t noticed how big his normally small arms had gotten. The dress shirt he was wearing was nowhere near skin tight, but he was definitely beginning to fill it out better. Looking a bit out of sorts, Mark grabbed each arm with his opposing hands and felt the firm smooth curvature of engorged muscles. As he groped his appendages in public, he felt the warmth pressing on his forearms, only to find a newly rounded out chest. His wiry thin chest was now coated in a thick layer of swollen muscles. His shoulders were standing about an inch or two further out than before, and he could feel the seam of his shirt and how it was resting in a new location than what it was this morning. But that wasn’t what disturbed him the most. As a city bus pulled up in front of him, he noticed his reflection. His arms, chest, and shoulder had grown indeed, but what had grown more was the tension on the button on the front of shirt. While he had a few inches to grow in this shirt, his previously flat stomach was bulging out in a ball of a shape, putting pressure on the front of his clothing. You have eaten a lot, Mark’s inner voice reminded him. But you’re still hungry, aren’t you? Mark nodded his head in agreement. As soon as this mental conversation took place, Mark smelled the most enticing smell. A sweet, sugary whiff of air had fluttered passed his nose. Following the syrupy aroma, Mark turned his face to see a quaintly placed Dunkin Donuts shop. Faster than he could even comprehend this mouth-watering discovery, Mark was on the move. He had never moved so swiftly in his life. He reached the double doors of the restaurant in a few short minutes, and as he stumbled inside, he saw the obese clerk pulling a fresh tray of doughnuts out of the oven in the back through the Plexiglas window. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. "FOOD!” He grunted aloud. Mark's mind knew that he was no hungry. He hadn't been hungry since long before lunch. But something deep within his mind said he was. And more importantly, that if he didn't try and eat every pastry in this Dunkin Donuts, he'd regret it later. Never had Mark felt these pangs of hunger so deep in his stomach before, and never before has his stomach been stretch out to wide. His bloated belly was working overtime transforming this food into nourishment, and what it couldn't burn off or give away it was almost instantly turning it into fat. Already his lower belly, which was normally nuzzled flat against the waist band of his pants, bulged tightly against the fabric. The expanding softened flesh had already begun to spill over the top by a good two inches, while the top part of his belly was rock hard and full. The rest of his body seemed to literally ache for more room in his clothes. While the legs of his trousers and the sleeves of his shirt had plenty of room for his limbs to occupy, the torso of his shirt, especially the lower buttons, were beginning to grow taught. Unbeknown to Mark, the rear end of his pants had blossomed considerably as his previously non-existent ass began to round out nicely with an equal portion of fat and muscle. Mark clenched his hands as he tried to think clearly, but his senses had taken over. His primal instincts were at full steam ahead, and his rationale had been pushed to the background. He marched with gusto towards the counter where the severely obese young man with the clean cut goatee and crew cut stood in half-amazement, half-arousal.
"A dozen donuts," Mark grunted in his deep gravelly voice. The fat man opened plump, soft lips and said in an equally gruff voice, "What kind?" Mark looked dazed for a moment, as if words escaped him. "All of them," he responded before he could think of the words. "Well, buddy," the portly man chuckled, "ain't no way a stick like you can put that many donuts away." He slapped his large, bulbous belly and chuckled louder, "Me on the other hand, well, that's another story." For some reason, when Mark witnessed the ripple in the fat man's belly, even beneath the fabric of his nearly skin tight shirt, his own dick began to pulsate. His mouth salivated even more, and he placed his mammoth hands on the plexi-glass counter-top display. He wanted to say that he found the man's heft attractive. He wanted to say he was hungry and needed not only the donuts, but he needed to be as big as that man. He wanted to express himself, and the voice inside his mind protested violently as all his suppressed urges and desires came spilling into the forefront of his mind. But alas, all he could say was, "MORE!" In a quick jolt of movement, Mark had pushed himself up into the air, swung his long legs over the counter, and landed adeptly on the employee side of the counter. "You can't--" the blubbery man began to protest, but was interrupted. Mark's forceful lips had clenched themselves tight over the three hundred plus pound man, and his tongue seemed to dart around in the man's mouth for sustenance. He thought he tasted a trace of the sugary coating used to glaze the donuts, but instead all he found was a wanting mouth. Mark's primal strength surges as his arms seemed to grow a few inches in tandem. He hurled the man backwards, momentarily breaking their passionate kiss. The fat clerk stumbled, jiggled, and wobbled back a few feet and bumped into the double doors leading to the hidden back area where the donuts are prepared. Mark charged like a linebacker, and tackled the fatty into the prep area. When Mark's burgeoning belly met with the clerk's, he felt his desire and lust amplify exponentially. The clerk had felt his short, stubby, fat-encased dick spring to attention for a millisecond before he could concentrate on anything other than his head connecting with the grease covered tile floor. The loud resounding crack in his head wasn't enough to cause any damage or a concussion, but it was enough to make his vision blur for a minute or two. In those few minutes, Mark had once again undressed a complete stranger, and stared at the fat man's small dick with amusement and desire. His own pulsate member beckoned for a warm hole to enter, but nothing about this man's genitalia aroused him. It was the man's fatness that got his motor's turning. The sheer size of the man's gut, which had been cradled by the tucked in portion of the man's shirt, was soft, malleable, pale, and huge. He easily had a fifty inch man belly, and that's what Mark wanted. He thought of himself getting more muscular and fatter, but what concerned him more was feeling himself cum. He needed that release. His hand clumsily groped and grabbed at the swollen lump in his pants. Even now the seams in the crotch of his pants seemed to beckon freedom from the stress. Mark, even in his grunting, grumbling state, was startled when he heard the clerk moan in his deep voice. "Feed your dick to me," the clerk said in ecstasy, and then he waved his hands to the mounds of warming donuts, "and help yourself." A buffet of more than one treat. Mark's hands, now knowing what to do, easily undid the pants, slid down the zipper, and fished out his cock. Mark's eyes widened and his mouth dropped when he saw how large his little man had gotten. Not even fully erect it had grown at least another inch or two, raising the length to nearly eight and a quarter inches long. The girth had seemed to fatten with his new weight as well, making the swollen veins and thick head look more like a bodybuilders flexing bicep than a cock. As Mark stared in wonderment, the rolly polly pastry clerk scooted his fat ass closer to his man-treat, and in doing so made his entire body ripple and jiggle and slosh like a bloated sausage. He licked his lips and growled seductively, "Feed me that big cock!" Mark happily obliged. He dropped the swollen dick from his hands, and before it could even get to quarter mast, it was in the clerk's mouth. The adept mouth sucked, licked, and pulled ferociously. But for Mark it didn't quite seem enjoyable. True, it felt good, and that clerk was no novice when it came to dick sucking, but something was missing. That was when his sense of smell kicked in. Like a whiff of his mother's home cooking, Mark's mouth watered, and his hands shot out for warmed samples of donuts. He began to shove them into his mouth one right after another. Glazed, sprinkled, chocolate-covered, cream-filled, fruit-filled, you name it and he ate it. It was only then that he felt his pleasure gauge spike dramatically. His cock sprung to its full length, causing the clerk to nearly choke on its engorged mass. The clerk didn't care how much the man ate, because deep inside he knew it had been quite sometime since he had sucked such a beautiful cock. In fact, he was in such deep enjoyment of this moment that he closed his eyes, rested himself on his paunchy elbows, and sucked to his contentment, like a child on a pacifier. Luckily for Mark, had the clerk noticed what was happening, he might have stopped his tantric mouth motions. Mark was shoveling food in left and right. His hands and mouth were covered in confectionery toppings. But the most alarming thing was his changing. This combination of sex and food was just what the doctor had ordered. Literally. The pleasure receptors of Mark's brain had been keyed to such a moment as this. Two things he had repressed for such a long time: his sexual desires and his desire to get bigger. No, not bigger. His desire to become MASSIVE! With every mouthful of food and with every thrust and suck of his cock, Mark changed. First, it was his face. His chin seemed to harden and become more square. His cheekbones then followed suit, only to be followed by a more dominant brow and thicker cheeks. As his double chin began to slightly show, stubble quickly began to darken his lower face. His neck muscles tensed as he swallowed mouthfuls of food, and he tensed them they grew larger as a healthy layer of fat covered their sinewy curves. His shoulders became broader and then rounded out nicely, stretching the seam on his shirt to near breaking point. His biceps and triceps engorged themselves as he moved them to the stacks of trays. They enlarged with each use, but once he swallowed his food, they were immediately covered with fat. His arms had officially made the sleeves look too small for his body. His pecs followed the same suit as his arms. But instead of just getting fatter, they blossomed outward, causing tension between his enlarging back muscles and his lats. His nipples hardened due the sensitivity of the friction under his clothes. His belly ballooned out massively. The abs buried deep within had also managed to enlarge some and strength themselves, but they were too busy being covered in copious amounts of lard. As the clerk continued his suck-fest, he was oblivious the popping of the seams in the back of the pants as Mark's delicious ass rounded itself out more beautifully. Unlike most of his body, the ass itself balanced itself perfectly between fat and muscle. Keeping a close to fifty-fifty ratio. Lastly, Mark's legs were becoming less fat and more Adonis-like. While his inner thighs rubbed together more now than they ever had, even when Mark was an infant, the outer edge was rock hard and nicely lined. His calves thickened and quite nearly popped themselves out of the pants leg. And with one final sigh of relief, Mark's feet grew into the remaining few gaps inside his shoes. As Mark's finger looped inside the last remaining doughnut hole, he shoved it greedily into his mouth and chomped down gleefully. As he savored the sugary sweet taste, he felt himself tense up dramatically. His balls, which had remained unmoved and untouched by this change, suddenly became twice the size they normally were, surging hormones into Mark's body. Mark's fingers clenched themselves on the counter, as his nuts drew up momentarily and a tidal wave of cum blasted itself through his shaft, out his head, and into the eager mouth of the clerk. The clerk moaned and groaned as he tasted the sweet nectar of this horny god, and he shot his load from his fat covered cock. As globs of Mark's cum dribbled out of the corners of his mouth, the clerk began to smile. His heart was racing, and he gently slid himself back down onto the floor. He had swallowed what could have been cups of cum, and never known it. As he lie there dreamily, he never heard the quiet scuffle of the dream hunk who had charged into his store. And before he could come around, Mark was gone and had eaten hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars worth of donuts. Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=17843 | |
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