The barista who fattened me up and stole my beta

by BigManBigBelly

Once upon a time, I lived as the alpha in my own life. Then this happened and everything changed.

Added: Dec 2021 4,948 words 5,580 views 4.0 stars (3 votes)


Once upon a time, I lived as the alpha in my own life. Young, tall, smooth and slim but muscled. Six figure income in a noble profession. Kind and quiet, but assertive. Handsome too, if I say so myself. Cory and I had been living together for several years now after relocating across the country for a new adventure together. My income continued to rise over the years but I was starting to feel the beginnings of my youth declining as 30 approached. Then our new adventures seemed more routine with each passing week.

Cory was a year older than me, hairy and lightly muscled from years of athletics in his teens and early twenties, now covered in fat that pushed his weight into the 270s. A round belly and a fat ass, slightly taller than me, everyone assumed he was the top. I could hand my credit card directly to the waiter and they’d still hand it back to Cory when they returned. In reality, Cory was a pig bottom slut. He loved to be bred, thirsted after taking the biggest cocks and fantasized about scenarios where strangers could come and go, pumping his guts full of their loads all day long.

Cory worked part-time from home, and seasonally at that, but maintained the home and cared for the dogs while I worked. This left him plenty of time to grow bored and restless while I was away, never satisfied with how much time and energy I had left to give by the time I walked through the front door in the evenings. The one event each day he seemed to look forward to was his morning coffee down the street. Plastic cups with a green mermaid stamped on them littered his car, and he mentioned, more and more with time, a certain barista who frequently took his order.

By all accounts, the barista greeted Cory enthusiastically each time he arrived and made sure he was the one waiting on him. If he took Cory’s order outside at the drive thru, he would hustle back inside to make sure he saw him at the pickup window too. I got a glimpse for myself one time when I joined him on the weekend and my suspicions were true.

Not knowing who I was, the barista, Brayden, ignored me and flirted openly with Cory. He lit up like I almost never saw him do anymore and his personality was totally different. Normally crass, rude, annoyed and short-tempered, he had the audacity to pretend to the guy that he was this warm, friendly, gregarious and complimenting person. They laughed at each other’s every word with big smiles and exaggerated hand gestures. Referenced past conversations amongst effortless banter. Even worse, Brayden was younger, adorable and lightly muscled but trim.

That evening, I dreamt that Brayden had fucked my boyfriend. Cory laughed at my insecurity when I recounted the dream and repeated it over the next few days as a recurring joke that pinged me each time. The very next night, though, I dreamt he had bred me too. Young, fertile and sexy little otter that he was, it was thrilling to be taken by him. To have him set his eyes on me and claim me too. That weekend, we stopped for drinks again and Brayden was at the drive-thru to take our orders. The two of them bantered as usual, totally engrossed in each other for the duration of their short interaction, holding up the line to chat a bit longer, Brayden leaning casually toward Cory as he spoke about the new flavors available for the season.

I couldn’t hide my feelings, apparently, because Cory begrudgingly asked what was wrong. I asked why he didn’t introduce me and pointed out how friendly they were each other, pretending I wasn’t there. This, of course, irritated him but when we drove up to the pick up window, Brayden was there to sneak in one last hello and Cory flagged him down. When Cory introduced us, Brayden did not look pleased to meet me. Bothered even. As though the suggestion of my place in Cory’s life represented a challenge and he wished to see me gone. He had omitted my food order as well and I had a hard time shaking the suspicion that it was intentional.

Over the next few days, Cory could sense I was in my head but any attempt for me to discuss my feelings about him continuing to see Brayden were met with anger. It wasn’t even a convenient drive for him anymore. They had first met when we lived nearby but we had since moved outside the city and it took Cory 40 minutes to get his coffee from there. I buried my feelings best I could and dropped the subject, but it all came pouring out again a couple weeks later when Cory’s latest bout of ignoring me was finally broken.

Cory admitted, looking a mix of guilt and defensive, that he and Brayden had shared a kiss. While I was working, he had gone for a coffee, stepped outside with Brayden while the guy took a break, and invited him back to his car. The two flirted, groped and wrestled tongues in the passenger seat where I always sat. “But that’s all we did,” he told me, as if to minimize the behavior. He omitted how long and girthy Brayden’s cock was or how it felt when it stretched out his jaw and pounded the back of his throat.

This wasn’t his first indiscretion and I had grown almost numb to them. This one seemed to sting more than usual, and I couldn’t figure out why, but I had trouble reconciling with it. It felt like this was just how gay relationships are and I was powerless to do anything. I pretended I was over it and we continued on with our life, heading back into the city the following weekend to visit a museum. Cory promised to stop going for coffee there without me present, but still wanted to stop at his favorite spot when were in the area.

We went inside the cafe for our orders this time so Cory could take a leak first. I ordered a tea with lemonade that Brayden prepared himself and brought back over to me just as Cory was returning from the bathroom.

“Careful,” Brayden smugly warned me, “The syrup in that drink is very fattening. Addictive even. It will ruin that athletic body of yours. Now drink up.”

Cory laughed, of course, tapping Brayden’s hand and shaking his head. I took a deep gulp while frowning at the interaction. There was no way for me to know just how right Brayden would be, and in hindsight, that syrup he had added was no normal menu item.

My stomach growled all morning at the museum and I was starting to feel as though I would pass out from hunger. We stopped over at the little cafe inside the museum for a bagel, which I smothered in cream cheese and devoured in a few bites. Cory gave me a strange look but bought me some mixed nuts to chow down on as we finished touring the exhibits. When we drove home, I was embarrassed, but my guts were emitting a symphony of grumbles. We stopped for an early lunch from a fast food drive thru and I scarfed down a meal for three by the time we had pulled into our driveway.

While Cory stepped into the office to get some quick work done, I hid in the other room, out of sight from him while I spooned out globs of peanut butter, practically moaning as I ate it. I felt like I was hiding a body when I suddenly realized I had finished an entire jar, washed down with a gallon of whole milk, both of which were stuffed down into the bottom of the trash can in the garage. I couldn’t get enough to quell this peculiar hunger, binging at every opportunity and going for thirds at each meal.

At the end of day one, I lied in bed feeling as bloated as I ever had back in college after a night full of beers, bong rips and endless munchies. On day three, even elastic waistbands were digging into my skin. I could suddenly feel my clothes as they stretched over my chest or my sides whenever I moved. When I tore the first pair of underwear squatting down, a few days later, to grab a pot for macaroni, I started avoiding the bathroom scale. By week’s end, the socks I’d had for years were choking my feet and I had to untie my sneakers to wrench on a pair of shoes.

Yet, somehow, I still couldn’t stop. For breakfast, I would make Belgian waffles stuffed with strawberry cream cheese and chocolate chunks, smothered in maple syrup and dusted in powdered sugar. A dinner plate full of greasy sausages gone in minutes and I washed it all down with a full carton of orange juice and a bottle of champagne for mimosas. By ten a.m., I’d be back in the kitchen grazing on cheeses or fruits. For lunch, I ate anything from four grilled cheese sandwiches and a full bag of potato chips to a foot long burrito with tortillas and queso. I would sip on my fifth or sixth sugary soda of the day as I mindlessly took down a box of cheez-it’s or a couple bags of goldfish in front of the TV around three. Then as soon as I woke up from a deep afternoon nap, belly sticking out of my tee shirt and snoring away on the couch, I would stretch and go find out what we were having for dinner. With the pandemic, the office was always deserted, most people opting to work from home, and I worked whatever hours suited me, so my income wasn’t being affected, and there weren’t any glares from coworkers to pressure against my new eating habits.

Being a big guy himself, Cory got a kick out of all the eating for a few days. He even joined me for the nights full of snacking and the multiple rounds of dessert after dinner. But then the jokes turned into jabs, the jabs turned into nervously asking what was up. I was ashamed but my hunger undeterred, Cory grew irritated as my body ballooned with new fat. He berated me when I stopped exercising, losing muscle tone as I used the time instead to eat more and do less.

Strangely, the changes in my body seemed to be having secondary affects. The first were not too surprising, given the increased intake. I felt as though my guts were constantly bubbling, moving and full, tight as a drum. I belched deeply all throughout the day, scratching my gurgling belly as I pushed out frequent growlers. By the end of the first couple weeks, however, I went from concerned about the amount of hairs I was shredding, to staring at my reflection and whimpering over a rapidly receding hairline. I used a hand mirror and stood at an angle to the bathroom mirror where I could spot an area of notable thinning on the crown of my head, a bald spot. Just as quickly as my scalp was losing it, I was growing new and coarser hair all over my chest, stomach, shoulders, back and ass. My arm and leg hair was growing in darker and curlier. Trying to keep my beard shaven clean became impossible with how quickly and how thickly it grew in. What’s worse, I had to imagine my cock would look shorter the more my fat grew and swallowed it up, but each time it got hard, I could swear it had lost girth and length until one day, my rock hard cock was the size of a thumb.

Cory usually had a good 80 pounds on me, but after a month had passed, I had exponentially ballooned until more than 120 fresh pounds of fat tipped the scale into the 300s. Eclipsing his weight and being unable to fuck him seemed to be the breaking point, at which time Cory’s irritation switched into completing ignoring me. No more kisses, cuddles, sex or even a conversation of any depth.

The following weekend, we drove into the city for coffee again and it was humiliating. Brayden looked adorable as ever. Cute, young, masculine face, lightly tanned and muscled body. He was still completely uninterested in me but he did look gleeful at my appearance. Face rounded out and bulging out of baggy clothes that didn’t come close to fitting. Cory and Brayden chatted playfully while he ordered, flirting without restraint right in front of me. When Cory excused himself to pee and I stepped up to order, Brayden interrupted me.

“Let me guess,” he snarled. “If what Cory’s been texting me every day is true, and by the look of you, it must be—I think I can go ahead and guess your order, piggy. Half a dozen glazed donuts, chocolate croissant, apple fritter, everything bagel with cream cheese and our largest, most sugary, cream-filled drink, right? I went ahead and added a few other things to your order to munch on after you leave, since those won’t last the hour, I’m sure. Go ahead and swipe your card, since that’s all you’re good for, you fat, old man.”

He laughed at my balding head, and the forest of fur that was exposed where my belly hung out below the shirt, as I paid and then made jokes when Cory returned about the amount of food I had ordered. Unable to defend myself, I merely blushed, humiliated and began eating as Cory stared on behind furious and disapproving eyes.

That night, I had another dream. Brayden and Cory sat at a table across the room where they were flirting and kissing. I sat on the ground and stared up at them, unable to coax their attention. They threw scraps from the table as they chatted without looking at me. To stop gobbling down everything they tossed was beyond my power. With every morsel of food, I ballooned fatter, tearing through my clothes until I weighed half a ton. Completely buried in fat and trapped where I sat. Brayden undressed Cory and pushed him, bent over the table, entering him roughly and fucking his brains out. Cory called out Brayden’s name and screamed in ecstasy while I begged fruitlessly to join them. Cory was then flipped on his back and the aggressive assault on his submissive guts continued. As they clutched each other close, full eye contact, panting, sweating and professing themselves close to orgasm, Brayden pushed a hose off the table, which rolled across the floor and ended up in my hand. I pushed it past my lips and swallowed greedily as pure lard pumped down my throat and filled my belly. Rounder and larger by the second, my belly grew and I was helpless to stop it. A tremendous rumble shook the room as my belly nearly overwhelmed my line of sight, but not before watching as the two of them roared and came together, Brayden pumping into Cory like a fire hose and claiming his stolen territory from me. Just then, as my belly was full of stretch marks and churning like an engine, powerless to pull out the hose and stop myself from swallowing still, Brayden finally looked me in the eyes with a cocky smirk, waved goodbye and … boom. I woke up drenched in sweat and cum.

“Maybe you should be more concerned about yourself and less concerned with some random guy from the coffee shop,” Cory angrily snapped at me that morning, after I had recounted an abridged version of my dream and expressed feeling insecure about trusting his fidelity. “You used to look like him too, but now, in a matter of months, you’ve managed to grow into a morbidly fat bear. It’s disgusting. I bet you can’t even find your cock anymore and have you forgotten what a razor is?”

There was nothing I could say. I stepped on the scale afterwards and the numbers 317 glared back at me in red LED. Yet all I could think about was looking forward to that tub of ice cream in the freezer and how I would stop for fast food on my way to work that morning, ordering enough food at once to feed a construction site’s worth of men. By the next week’s end, the scale was somehow pushing 350 pounds, managing to shock me even while knowing how much I was eating. Cory didn’t speak much to me, always on his phone smiling at the screen, and he would deny it if confronted, but I knew who he was texting all day and night.

On a Tuesday afternoon, I was typing away at work, when my perpetually gassy belly was particularly active. Luckily I was alone or I would have gassed out of any of my coworkers from their work stations. My guts roared, churned and turned over ferociously, eliciting some of the loudest and deepest belches of my life. Maybe it was that third burrito I’d eaten during lunch? No amount of pepto or time was quelling it, so I packed up earlier than anticipated and headed home for the day to lie down.

My keys approached the lock to our front door when a scream caused me to shake, startled. “Take it deep, pig!” The voice cried out. “You’re my bitch, you chubby fucker. Now take this cock until I rearrange your guts and give. Me. That. Load!” I carefully unlocked and opened the door, quietly, to sneak down the hall. The thumping coming from our bedroom hid the squeaking of the floor boards beneath my own immense weight. The two of them were climaxing now, together, before collapsing onto the creaking mattress and catching their breath.

“Fuck, babe,” the same voice sputtered, “you’re getting good at taking this thing. Daily practice has really stretched you out haha.”

I felt powerless. My masculinity and sense of power had been ripped away from me by someone younger, fitter and more virile with a much bigger cock. I got back in my car and parked down the street to wait for him to leave. Something sparked in me though as I watched Brayden leave my house. I started tailing him and all of a sudden I found myself outside of his apartment, watching him walk from the parking lot and making note of which door was his.

Then I was at his door, knocking loudly and repeatedly until he opened the door. An expression of unease and annoyance melted upon seeing me. His eyes scanned me up and down as that cocky smirk took hold again and then he began to laugh. He played with my tits and shook my enormous belly in both of his hands while he excoriated me for having grown so fat and domicile. He ordered me inside and instructed me to sit on the floor by his feet while he sat on the couch. Then he presented his feet to me and ordered me to massage them if I wanted him to speak to me.

Humiliated, red-faced and replaying the sounds of him fucking my boyfriend in my head, I found my hands trembling but reaching forward before pressing my knuckles firmly into the soles of his feet, rubbing my thumbs in circles and tugging on his toes.

“Pathetic, fat, hairy, old man,” he started. “I hear you make a lot of money. Must be why Cory sticks around with a submissive cow like you. Big guy like that needs someone to take charge and you just don’t have it in you. That’s why I’ve been fucking your boyfriend raw for weeks now. And what’re you gonna do about it? Nothing. You’re gonna keep eating, getting fatter and working to supply him with money. And he’s gonna use that money to take me out on dates and buy me things too. Maybe even pay my rent if I say so. Because I’m his alpha and you’re his fat wallet. Remember that drink I made you? I added a special ingredient from my own stash. I told you it was addictive and I warned you it would make you fat as sin, but you sucked it down all the same, because I told you to. Now tell me—what do you want, pig? You give a great massage, so I’ll give you a chance to speak for yourself.”

I couldn’t even make eye contact as I muttered out something inaudible. He ordered me to repeat myself and I spoke louder, begging him to fuck me too. To be my alpha as well.

Whatever he expected me to say, it apparently wasn’t that. I watched his cock jump in his shorts while his face stayed frozen in that shocked and thinking expression. The thought of dominating and taking another former alpha, rather than just ruining and defeating him, hadn’t occurred to Brayden before. He finally broke his silence.

“How committed are you to being mine then?” He replied sharply.

He licked his lips and took in the sight of me again. Now reimagining me in a better light, as belonging to him. He loved big men and he had grown me massively himself. He couldn’t deny how attractive he found me. It was part of what had fueled his desire to compete. I looked up at him and pouted through chubby cheeks.

“I’ll do anything,” I promised.

“That syrup I fed you will wear off in the coming weeks,” he slowly responded, a softness emerging in his voice. “I’d bet you’ll have cleared 400 pounds by then. Your hair should start to regrow and your cock may reach a girthy five or six inches again with time. The body hair and the beard probably won’t recede but I need you to maintain this monstrous size once the hunger dissipates. Is that clear? I never want to see you without a wide, bouncy ass and a gigantic, perfectly round ball-belly.”

My head shook up and down excitedly while a toothy smile cracked open across my face. I could feel the fat on my ass recoiling as my hips swayed energetically like a dog waging his tail.

“Prove you’ll keep yourself fat for me and I’ll start by letting you suck my cock here, right now. You’ll need to prove your throat can handle a python this size too. Wait here.”

He returned a few minutes later with a large mixing bowl that he had filled with everything fattening he could find. Heavy cream, melted butter, brown sugar all whipped into a mousse-like consistency. He placed it in front of me, yelped excitedly and told me to hold on while ran back into the kitchen. When he returned, he knelt in front of me, swirled a layer of whipped cream of the top, topping it with sprinkles and chocolate chunks. Then he sucked on a sweet candied cherry, let it pop back out from behind his lips with a smack and dropped it on top before shoving the bowl forward toward me.

As I ate, face down in the bowl and gobbling like my life depended on it, Brayden’s face softened from smug and maniacal, to boyish, wide-eyed and lustful, spit leaking down from the corner of parted lips. When I finished, I let out an enormous belch and wiped my chin, my chest and face covered in creamy splatterings. Before I could reach forward for Brayden’s cock, he had lunged forward aggressively and pinned me to the floor, hugging his arms and legs around my fat body and groping at my belly and tits. His lips pressed against mine and his tongue explored my mouth with an animalistic passion.

Leaking precum all over my belly and lap, fearing he was close to busting, Brayden sat back, catching his breath and then crawled forward to let his cock point menacingly at my face. A drop of precum fell and landed on my tongue. It tasted exquisite. I grabbed his narrow hips, cupping a trim bubble-butt and forced his hard, leaking cock past my lips, across my tongue and straight down the top of my throat where I could feel it stretching me inside of my neck. Tears streamed from my eyes and nostrils, spit poured out messily from the gaps in the lips and the sounds of suction catching and popping rang out frantically and repeatedly as I plunged my throat with his impressive meat. In no time, his load was gushing down into my stomach, warm and thick in my belly.

I belched as his cock slithered out of me and gasped for breath. He was trying to catch his breath too. Toes and fists clenched to the floor, face contorted in ecstasy, legs splayed out as he rested on his ass and his chest heaved up and down. His cock was slick with spit and still leaking. A desperately enamored and hungry expression etched into his eyes, he lunged again and kissed me passionately while exploring every inch of my skin, then grabbed a blanket off from the couch and covered us while he rested on the pillowy surface of my chest and belly.

We awoke a few hours later to the sound of my stomach rumbling, which prompted Brayden’s sleepy face to form a sheepish grin. This time he told me to lie back on the couch while went into the kitchen. He returned a while later, while I lie there patiently waiting, with a thick and buttery grilled cheese, stuffed with bacon. He hiked my fat thighs, calves and feet back over my shoulders, exposing my hole, which he spat on and then teased with a thick and pulsating mushroom head. Once he popped through my sphincter and slid deep inside, the animal took over again. He pounded me out mercilessly, his cock feeling as though it filled my belly, and stuffed the sandwich into my mouth while my muffled moans crescendoed with his thrusts. He was kind enough to order me to cum, popping a loud of out me with the ramming on my prostate before roaring and launching another of his loads into my belly.

Later that evening, I returned home. When I walked in, Cory looked up for a moment, nodded nonchalantly and then looked back down at his phone. Then his eyebrows furled, his mouth slacked agape and his head shot back up, realizing Brayden was walking in behind me and standing quickly while he sputtered, looking for words.

Brayden explained his newfound lust for me and his desire to breed the both of us. He reminded Cory that he was carrying a lot of extra fat himself. That he was so into thick boys is why Brayden had set sights on Cory in the first place. He also came clean about having spiked my drink with the fattening pig syrup that was responsible for all of the drastic changes to my body. That seemed to elicit the first ping of guilt from Cory that I’d seen in a long time. But Brayden also explained that he was going to keep stuffing both of our mouths with food just as much as he wished to keep stuffing our asses with his loads. He was renting month-to-month, which I would finish paying for him and he’d be moving into our place by week’s end. I’d pay for the movers and Cory and I would pack up everything for him, of course.

And that brings us to now. Cory and I are both pushing 400 pounds by now. Fat, hairy, pot-bellied pig slaves to Brayden. He lets us lift weights to keep a good shape with strong muscles beneath all the blubber, but we submit to his feedings as often as he commands and we’re only allowed clothes that are several sizes too small for us. He fucks our throats and our asses at his leisure, even showing up to my work when he craves me immediately. He made Cory get another part-time job for during his off-season and he still maintains the home, but for the three of us now. I’m still working too and paying the bulk of all our expenses. Lavishing Brayden with regular gifts and having to trust him with unlimited access to my credit card. Brayden doesn’t work, of course.

I think we’re happier this way. Both mindless pigs. Fat as fuck. Submissive to a young, adorable jock. Neither having to lead. Doing as we’re told and being rewarded with endless affection, greedy hands constantly groping our skin and unbelievable sex. Sometimes, while role playing, Brayden fantasizes about ballooning us into superchubs, immobile, over 800 pounds. Making us grow bigger and bigger until we blow up… and I’d let him too. Cory and me and our master, happily ever after.


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