Max Reynard | Morphelio

Product Description

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Chapter 01 – White Picket Fences

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The Milkman 01 – Audio on Max Reynard Tube

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Chapter 02 – Grub Dash Delivery

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The Milkman 02 – Audio on Max Reynard Tube

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Chapter 03 – Excitement in the Mundane

The glorious professional that is the Milkman once again comes for the bellies of tight-bodied men in Suburbia, this time fattening up one man tremendously while fucking his boyfriend on the DL. A bonus ending grows them both into the Milkman’s new piggy pets.

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It all began when my boyfriend, Henry, and I moved to a new neighborhood together. A classic suburb – 20 minutes away from the city, rows of manicured homes, green lawns, and white picket fences. There were even a handful of other gay couples in the neighborhood, which felt welcoming in a setting that could otherwise have felt foreign to us.

A week into settling in, most of the boxes unpacked, and the two of us halfway through Chinese takeout and a Netflix movie, Henry hopped up from the couch to answer the door. There was a man offering his services, new to the area, and trying to establish his first customers. Henry stuttered instead of answering, so I craned my neck and saw why.

The man was gorgeous. Tall, muscular, devastatingly handsome and wearing a retro milkman’s outfit, all white, with a hat and shiny black shoes to boot. He carried a little wire basket with half a dozen liter-sized glass bottles of milk. Feeling a boner swell in my shorts, I could understand why Henry was hunching forward a bit and trying to nonchalantly adjust himself.

Henry giggled and tussled his hair before telling him we’d be happy to try out his milk. He turned back to me for confirmation, cheeks blushed, and I chuckled while nodding back in approval. I couldn’t have known what I had just agreed to.

“Well, well, well, Henry. I haven’t seen you drink dairy milk in the last five years I’ve known you hahah. Whatever compelled you to sign up for weekly deliveries of the stuff?”

“Oh hush … you and I are both excited to see that hunk offering us his milk every week hahah. Besides, you drink milk with your cereal, so it won’t go to waste.”

“Six liters worth?? I’m not sure I’ll drink that much between just my cereal and espresso each week, but I’ll try it out and we can always have him delivery fewer at a time.”

Henry gleamed, brought the milk to the fridge and then returned to the living room wearing only his underwear and a greedy smirk. I imagine we were both picturing the milkman in our mind’s while we fucked on the couch.

The following morning, I thumbed through Instagram reels while preparing my breakfast. I sat down to enjoy it, still distracted by my phone, but nearly dropped it as my eyes grew wide and my attention snapped back to the room. The unique sweetness and the incredible creaminess that coated my mouth and tongue. The tremendous sensation as it pushed back against my throat, dilated my esophagus and drained down into my stomach, where it felt strangely dense, thick and comforting. My cock tingled and grew heavy in my sweatpants, where a small dab of precum was darkening the cotton. My breathing was shallow and rapid … what the hell was with this milk?

‘Fuck the cereal’, I thought, as I titled the bowl back and gulped wildly, chomping furiously through the grains to allow myself a continuous flow of this unbelievable liquid. Feeling it fill my cheeks so that they puffed out like a chipmunk, my belly gurgling and coming alive as it stretched with the quick arrival. It was more exciting, more pleasurable than anything I could remember. I couldn’t understand it, but not even sex felt this good.

I chugged down my latte like I was shotgunning a beer and then scrambled to the fridge to suck the remaining prize out of its bottle. Once the first bottle was empty, I launched out a belch that practically rattled the furniture and slumped back against the wall, sliding down until I felt like a puddle on the floor, rubbing my happy, rumbling gut.

…

“I’m glad you like it so much, hon, but it’s like, artisanal shit. It’s not cheap. Let’s try and stick with no more than a bottle a day, okay? I’ll let the guy know to come back early this time and I’ll ask him to start dropping off 7 bottles each week, okay? … it’s funny, I’ve never seen you drink a glass of milk by itself before. Is it really that good?”

“It’s incredible.” I responded with an airy giggle.

“Ha … okay. Weirdo haha. Well it’s all yours. I really can’t stand dairy milk.”

“Works for me! I get a delicious addition to my day, and you get to see the sexy milk man when he drops off my supply while I’m away at work,” I said, with a wink and a little laugh. Henry responded by blushing and cocking his head to the side, as if to say ‘sounds good to me.’

…

The milkman’s name is Ryder. I only knew this because Henry told me. Henry seemed to know a good deal of things about Ryder as the weeks passed, but we never crossed paths, since his deliveries occurred while I was at work. Ryder was a chatty guy, and probably a bit cooped up taking care of the home and working remotely part-time, so I could imagine him stealing some of Ryder’s day with an offering of tea and some conversation. His tight figure and adorable face were hard to say no to, if you could even get past his infectious energy.

I was feeling a bit different these days, myself, and I’ll admit that seeing Ryder on the doorbell camera was starting to elicit strange emotions in me. I couldn’t help but to think of him each time I drank his milk, and the pleasure it brought me to drink it was giving me throbbing erections. I sometimes came in my pants humping against the fabric as I drank it in solitude in the mornings.

I was beginning to feel envious of Henry, that he got to see Ryder, and to talk to him, probably flirt with him, while I was trapped at work. I felt jealous, too, that Henry seemed so infatuated with him, hypocritical as that was. But these feelings flushed my cheeks red with humiliation and swirled together with the lust I felt when stimulating my cock and drinking that milk, until deciphering the feelings apart grew impossible.

If I over drank and ran short a glass, even just for one meal, I felt like I was withdrawing from some powerful drug, trying to cap my irritation to avoid unfairly turning off Henry. Not that seemed to matter too much. We still cuddled, watched movies and chatted every day, but our sex life was rapidly drying up.

Though I often came in the mornings by myself, if anything, I was hornier than ever. But Henry was seemingly uninterested and always had an excuse, even if he was never cruel about it. I wondered if he was touching himself each day to the thought of the milkman, or if anything else was turning him away.

As I stood in the bathroom mirror one weekend morning, a month after Ryder first knocked on our door, I spotted something foreign that might have explained Henry’s aversion from having sex with me. With one eyebrow raised and my heart racing, I pulled out the scale, dropped my towel and stepped on. A grimace cracked my face as I had to suck in my gut to fully read the number – 230lbs …

Never had a day gone by that I couldn’t see each abdominal muscle carved out from my stomach, and somehow, I’d gained 60lbs without even noticing. I felt so stupid. All my clothes were so tight on me. My belts were on their last hole. I had imprints on my skin each day from my waistband cutting into me. There were even a few small stretch marks along my love handles, my ass cheeks, the sides of my pecs. How could I have been so distracted?

As I studied my face in the mirror, my expression etched with confusion and embarrassment, I could see how much fuller it was, how the definition in my jaw had become buried. I felt compelled to ask Henry if he’d noticed, and then like an idiot again. Of course, he had. He wasn’t blind.

…

“I just figured you were dealing with a lot of stress at work. You haven’t been exercising lately, and you’ve been very into your food. You were always so cut, so I figured you could just lose the weight once you wanted to. I didn’t want to make you feel bad about it. Besides … you’ve become a really comfy pillow while we cuddle up for movies haha”

“Oh god. I’m so embarrassed.” It was all I could muster for a bit. As Henry looked on, uncomfortable, placing a consoling hand on my shoulder, I found my voice again, albeit smaller than usual. “Is this why you haven’t … wanted to fuck me lately?”

“What?! No … we’ve … well, I guess maybe we’ve been having less sex than usual, but … idunno, I’ve been enjoying our time together hanging out and watching movies, eating snacks, kissing and cuddling. It’s been kind of … sweet. Maybe I just haven’t been horny lately. That happens sometimes, ya know? I’m sure it’ll pass.” Spotting the doubt on my face, he continued. “How about I take you into the bedroom right now. I’ll massage that gorgeous body of yours from head to toe, and then I’ll milk out that fat load of yours with my cute little ass. How’s that sound?”

I was really too horny to argue, even if it was clearly a pity fuck. And whether he meant to use trigger words or not, my cock jumped and stiffened at the his use of the words ‘milk’ and ‘fat’. If he was or if he wasn’t actually interested, he was still sweet enough to spend a half hour worshipping my body with oil before climbing on top of me and giving an Oscar-worthy performance of how great my cock felt inside of him.

Of course, Henry didn’t cum. He just popped off of me, waddled to the bathroom and grabbed a towel while I remained lying down in bed, breathing deeply despite having only laid there the whole time. I just smiled at him, satisfied for the moment as my whole body tingled, while he wiped me clean and kissed my forehead, grateful for the release and not even thinking about if he’d gotten off, too.

“Do you think I could get an extra glass of milk, now … maybe with a brownie?” I asked with a sheepish grin. “Ryder can just come by a day early this week, if that’s okay?”

Henry laughed, leaned forward, and kissed my lips this time. “Sure thing, big boy. You stay here and I’ll grab that for you. Why don’t you pull up something on the TV for us to watch when I get back? We’ll cuddle up for a bit. I suppose you’ll be sort of ‘fluffing my pillow’ for me, won’t you hehheh”

I blushed again as I stared down at my soft gut. It wasn’t so big, yet, that it could remain round like a ball while lying down, so it spilt out to my sides a bit.

“Don’t get used to it!” I called out to Henry in the other room. “Starting tomorrow, I’m getting strict with my diet and I’m getting back to the gym”. My voice lost some of its volume as Henry reentered the room with my snack and a loving smile. “I mean it,” I said, licking my lips and feeling my heart race at the sight of Henry bringing me a moist brownie and that heart-stopping milky delight. “Ab work every morning before I shower, lifting weights five days a week, and running every day except for Sundays, just like I used to do. And no more sweets.”

“Does that mean no more milk?” Henry asked, trying to look playful, but also looking a bit nervous.

“I mean … milk only has like 150 calories a glass and a good amount of protein in it. I really enjoy it, too, so … I think that can stay, so long as I account for the calories elsewhere. I definitely have other things I can cut out. This brownie for example,” I exclaimed with a chuckle as I tore into it with a big bite, followed by a chug of milk that made me shutter and stiffened my nipples.

Henry laughed at the sight, then stared on approvingly and nodded his head in agreement, for more reason than one, it would turn out.

Of course, what I didn’t know at the time was that I could cut out every last calorie from my day, if I had the discipline, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Not so long as I was unwilling to cut out that addictively sweet and delicious milk. Each glass of the milk that Ryder delivered to me each week was packed with thousands of calories. Drinking two of those each day, on top of my normal food intake, had caused me to swell with 2lbs of new fat every single day. A fantastical truth that I would have never guessed possible, much to my continued frustration in the months that followed.

What I also didn’t realize, flagrantly stupid as it might sound at this point, was that Henry wasn’t just uninterested in fucking me because of how fat I’d grown in such a short time. Ryder the milk man had been delivering all the loads Henry needed each day while I was away at work, and his cock was bigger than mine ever was, and his body was both still sculpted and more muscular than mine ever was. Henry was just smart enough to turn the doorbell camera off each day except for when Ryder was expected to drop by.

…

Surprising even myself, especially with a hectic work schedule, I stuck to my commitments. In the weeks that followed, I woke up early enough each morning to get down on the floor and crank out a hard 20 minute core workout. During my lunch breaks at work, I used the company gym to pump iron, with intensity, for 30 minutes before hopping in the shower and then scarfing down a salad with strips of grilled chicken. After work and in the mornings on Saturdays, I went for an hour long run that left me drenched with sweat, sucking wind, and with my leg muscles burning. All the while, I still got to enjoy my two glasses of milk each day, and felt fully satisfied with this, even as I kept to a strictly healthy diet, with calories counted and devoid of any sweets or other aberrant carbs.

Two things changed after a month of this routine. For one, my fitness was returning. I had more energy. My muscles were growing and giving an attractively powerful shape to my arms and legs, my chest and ass. I could even see a bit of the outline of my upper abs, and all the fat that had accumulated on me thus far was lifted by the new muscle tone. I walked with good posture and turned heads again, a powerful, 6 foot 2 inch daddy strolling by with a chubby belly that plenty of people drooled over.

Much to my astonishment, I had also gained another 35lbs. 265 the scale read as I stared back at it, daring it not to drop. To be fair, I was clearly putting on new muscle at a surprisingly fast rate, but I knew there was no way even half of that weight gain could have been muscle in just a month’s time. Henry did seem at least more genuinely turned on when we did fuck, which was about once a week at my near-groveling insistence, and he even came one of those times.

But there was no denying, something strange was going on, and I was still getting fatter, even as I grew fitter with bigger muscles and even as I consumed far too few of calories to explain it. Another two months passed, and by the second month, Henry was throwing me a bone once every two weeks, but he hadn’t cum during sex with me in any of those times. I knew my cock was shrinking into the fat that stubbornly kept blooming, so perhaps I wasn’t hitting his prostate, but he also never seemed bothered like he wasn’t being satisfied, he just seemed like he didn’t need it.

He was still loving in how he touched and looked at me. He could sense my cock twitching when he grabbed my chest while riding me. His two hands clenching fistfuls of fat above my impressive chest muscles.

At the end of those two months, I stepped onto the scale again and whimpered. THREE HUNDRED and fifteen pounds. I’d gained nearly a pound each day since I began exercising and restricting my diet. I felt trapped to continue gaining weight, regardless of what I did, but the motivation to continue exercising stuck, because I was worried about remaining mobile if I stopped. The impressive, hulking muscles I was growing were the only thing keeping me standing and walking under such a rapid and tremendous weight gain. They were also the only reason I still had a masculine shape to my body, and why my enormous ass and belly remained round, taught and lifted, despite their grand size and plumpness.

Another month passed, and another 20lbs fatter I grew despite further restricting my calories and increasing the length of my lifting workouts in lieu of eating lunch. After a month of no action, Henry finally relieved my cock of its load. He didn’t even bother to ride me after lying me down. He just lifted and reached under my gut to stroke my cock with Albolene while groping my tits and tweaking my nipples.

I was grateful and desperate for the release, but I missed his sweet ass, so I reached around to play with his cheeks. Then I used some of the lubricant on my two fingers to pierce his hole, surprising him at first, but obliged my horniness as it was clearly bringing me closer to orgasm. ‘Strange’, I remember thinking. Henry hadn’t been horny for months and he hadn’t taken my cock for at least a month … but my fingers slipped into him like he was being freshly gaped on the daily. He even took all four fingers without so much as wincing.

…

I worked long, stressful hours, so I didn’t get to socialize much, not that I was feeling particularly confident these days. We had hoped to have get together with our gay neighbors when we moved in, but I hadn’t seen any of them in months, and I was honestly sort of grateful. We had met them all, and everyone was so fit and attractive. Gays weren’t always kind about appearances.

I did notice something both strange and oddly comforting, though. Driving past one couple’s house on the way to work one week, I spotted Dave getting into his car. Waddling, more like it. He looked at least 100lbs fatter, clothes taught and threatening to burst, as he struggled to squat and shuffle his way into the sedan.

Later that week, I spotted another of the gay couples from our neighborhood while getting in early to the office to get through some piled up paperwork. They were power walking the sidewalk around 4:30AM, and my headlights caught their embarrassed expressions, both in tight tee shirts and clingy booty shorts with love handles and plump ass cheeks hanging out, probably each at least 70 or 80lbs fatter than I’d last seen them.

Of course, I was hovering around 360lbs at this point, so it seemed I was still clearly in the lead for fattest hog on the block. I understood their apprehension with upgrading the clothes. Aside from hoping desperately for the weight to be temporary, it was expensive to keep sizing up. I had torn through at least a dozen pairs of pants while bending forward or squatting to sit too quickly. Some of my shirts had torn apart around the armpits, and they were always coming untucked and exposing bare flesh to the room when I reached overhead. I grew accustomed to the fact that my coworkers were likely pointing and laughing at my ass crack being on display with my fat cheeks pouring out the top of my waistbands.

I even endured the humiliation, one day, of sitting through a meeting, trying to shift my weight to stop my gut from loudly bubbling and digesting, when I swore I could feel myself expanding and bloating in real time. The middle button on my shirt suddenly snapped and launched across the room. Just as the men around me processed it and began stifling their laughter, my face bright red, I tried to move without farting while sucking in my stomach as I whimpered a prayer that I could escape the room before disaster struck. Then I hiccuped, which forced out a massive burst of gas from my ass, followed by a reflexive belch that blew my papers off the table. If any of the guys weren’t already cackling, the next four buttons that shot off from my like shotgun pellets was enough to have them in stitches. I excused myself clumsily, knocking over my chair and then slamming the table with my enormous ass, which then busted another hole down the inseam of my pants so that the fabric of my boxers, in the shape of two fat cheeks oozed out of the opening. I beelined for the door, my fat gut jostling and causing my undershirt to roll right up to my tits, leaving it naked and bouncing in the wind as I continued burping and farting in smaller spurts. It was a wonder I made it out of the room without continuing to burst out my clothes until I was completely naked.

…

It was then that I began to discuss taking a leave from work to focus on my health with Henry, which didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Apparently, my growing fat as sin wasn’t too much his problem, but me not being to work and support the both of us, was a huge issue. Too embarrassed to return to work, I got permission to work from home and set up a home gym and office in the spare bedroom, so I could keep lifting, since that seemed to be my biggest defense against turning entirely into a marshmallow. But without the routine of getting out of the house, and with more and more weight piling onto me, my attendance with running in the evenings quickly dried up, leaving another 500+ calories a day in the tank to accumulate.

I’m ashamed to say, I still hadn’t figured it out, and with the additional stress I was feeling, and the hunger of eating so little, I thought I was swapping another 300 calorie snack for a third 150 calorie glass of milk each day. Between this and the running stopping, I ballooned to over 400lbs in a matter of weeks. I sat at my computer desk, fat hanging over every edge, and spilling out of my 4XL tee shirts and gym shorts. Even socks felt too constricting on my plumped up feet.

Aside from using the bathroom off of the bedroom that I was using as an office, I really didn’t leave the room all day long, since I had so much work to do and it was an effort to get around too much. Henry would bring me my meals and my milk, and I was pretty oblivious to what he was doing all day long. I was absolutely massive, and the only way I was getting off these days was by shoving my hand into the sweaty cavern beneath my gut to jerk off the remaining few inches of cock left unburied.

I stopped trying to fuck my husband at this point. My cock was too small and my belly was too big for my cock to reach his hole, anyway. Every week, though, I got a notification when the milkman arrived at the front door with his delivery. That exquisite milk in one hand, a cocky smirk on his face, and the other rubbing his thigh, or playfully touching my man’s shoulder. Henry’s voice cheerful and his face showing him clearly turned on, before the milkman would follow him inside for 20 minutes or more.

On one of these occasions, I felt compelled to go see Ryder for myself, craving his attention, even if it would be mockery or a judging stare. Though he had entered the house, neither he nor Henry were in the kitchen. I waddled as quietly as I could towards our bedroom suite, where the door was closed, and listened. Then I heard the bedsprings squeaking, the sticky slap of lubricated skin smacking skin, and Henry moaning for more.

I thought about what I had been stupidly ignoring this whole time, the obvious truth, as I lay in bed that night, propped up on a wedge pillow to reduce my snoring. Hands resting atop the sheet that draped over the enormous gut of a now 435lbs man, staring up at the ceiling. It made me angry to think about as I drifted into an uneasy sleep … but it also turned me on … and it made me jealous … I wanted my turn with the milkman. Once I’d knocked out for the night, I slipped into a dream …

Henry was in the kitchen with his back to me, brewing up some tea for two. A cup for himself and a cup for Ryder. I could tell he was ignoring my very existence and he made no offer of a drink for me. I was so thirsty. But not for leaf-flavored water. I needed something with heft. Something to drown in. I needed it. I could have screamed and thrashed for it, but I felt so heavy and powerless to move.

Ryder stood in his all-white button down and slacks, glossy black dress shoes and white milkman’s hat. I was seated on the couch, in the body I formally recognized as my own. He beamed down at me with an arrogant smile, but god was he gorgeous. I pleaded with my eyes to have him and he began to laugh at me.

Henry walked over to hand him his tea, which the two of them drank, Henry still acting as if the two of them were alone, Ryder glancing over at me from time to time to smile or chuckle. Then Ryder put down his cup, reached forward and tore open Henry’s pants by the inseam, before working his fingers past Henry’s soaking wet hole, making him squirm and moan and beg for more.

Ryder shoved everything off of the coffee table, picked Henry up by the waist and sat down, so that Henry’s legs were wrapped around his hips with his back to me. I watched Ryder unsheathed a mammoth-sized cock from his pants fly. Watched it floss Henry’s perky cheeks, rub and flirt with his hungry hole. Watched Henry bounce, begging to be fucked, when finally I could scream out. I screamed for Ryder to fuck me instead, which brought an evil smile to his face, mirrored on Henry’s face as he turned his head to finally acknowledge me.

Ryder stood, lifting Henry and placed him on an armchair across the room where he stared at me with an icy expression and a gloating smirk. Then Ryder stood over me, cock on my face and commanded me to open. When I obeyed, he plunged my throat like an animal, spraying load after load into me, while I gagged and swallowed manically.

When he finally relinquished, cock withdrawing with a slimy trail, I looked like I had a round, pregnant gut. I felt the familiar panic of humiliation, but when I looked up, he was unbuttoning his shirt. He then revealed a pair of muscular pectorals bigger than any I’d ever seen, with two glorious, massive mounds of tits on top, dribbling with milk that looked ready to blow.

I reached forward violently, demanding feeding. I knew that milk, and I needed it. He knelt before me and brought me his nipple, which I latched onto and suckled like a mad man, drinking in large gulps of creamy milk. Gulp after gulp, I expanded, wild in heat, ballooning dozens of pounds every minute. Time raced forward as I drained something that never seemed to empty, filling and expanding without limit. Growing larger than the couch, immobile with fat. Fat torso, fat ass, fat tits, fat arms and legs, fat hands and feet, fat face and neck, a spherical mound of dough with an unending hunger. Henry merely watched, laughing, and stroking his cock while fingering his hole. He reached climax and sprayed all over his face and chest, just as I exploded.

……

Henry startled awake at the sound of me groaning like an injured walrus, convulsing like I’d been electrocuted, and soaking the sheet with a geyser of cum that jettisoned out in a wild spray after smacking against and ricocheting off of my underbelly. His fear turned to a mix of irritation, disgust and amusement once he’d realized what happened. I huffed and puffed as he stood watching me change the sheets, then I went to shower off the biggest load I’d ever sprayed before returning to sleep for the last couple hours of the night.

The next week, just before the time when I knew Ryder was due to arrive, I called for Henry in a panic. To his annoyed response, I told him I urgently needed an item for work, but was unable to get away from my desk. I would receive the milk order from Ryder while he was away, I told him. When he paused to think of an excuse, I added, “unless there’s a reason that that’s a problem?”

To avoid any more conversation on the matter, Henry relented and hopped in the car, texting Ryder of the change in plan for the day. I planned on confronting Ryder. I think a part of me even hoped he would make a move on me, though I doubted he would be interested in my obese ass. I would have even felt thrilled by him laughing at or mocking me, but I wasn’t prepared for the encounter that took place instead.

Ryder knocked on the door with a wide grin, holding his bottles of milks for me. I was up to 21 bottles a week, so he had to carry larger baskets of bottles in each hand. When I opened the door to meet him, barely contained by my clothes, he nearly dropped them in tandem with a shocked expression.

“Dear God, Man.” He spat out. “This is truly magnificent. You’re so FAT.”

My face burned red. I wasn’t expecting this lack of filter. My cock also tingled a bit, it’s swelling entirely blocked from view by my gut.

“Let me look at you properly,” Ryder then gasped out while pushing his way inside without an invitation. He placed down the bottles and then spun back to focus his attention on me. He approached cautiously, studying every inch of me with rapt fascination, then prodded my gut, groped my chest, ran his fingers lightly down my love handle, down my hip and around to grab a handful of my plentiful ass.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “Fucking your man’s sweet, little bubble butt feels fantastic, and he is adorable, but I can’t believe what my milk has done to you. This is impressive. I’m so glad to see you’ve been sucking down all this product on your own.”

“What- … what do you mean?” I sputtered.

“Don’t you smell it on me, lardass? How about a hint?”

He stepped closer, grabbed my head and pressed my face against his chest so my nose was smooshed against his nipple. A little wet spot formed and hit my nostril like a foghorn. My cock instantly throbbed at full erection and my tongue and lips instinctually began suckling. He chuckled and took out his nipple so I could suck on him, releasing a stream of milk that was even more concentrated and delicious than what I’d been drinking all these months.

“A glass of my milk packs about 3,000 calories and these bad boys are constantly filling up. You should see them if I don’t milk them for a day. Triple G cups and leaking like a faucet.”

I tried desperately to pull away to process his words and to respond, but I was locked in. Twenty minutes of rabid suckling, one nipple after the other, and I’d drained them for the moment, sucking another few minutes from the dry tap finally allowed me to unlatch and catch my breath.

“Mhmm, good boy. That was probably enough to fatten you up another 2 or 3 lbs. I can practically see you swelling as you sit there like a good, dumb ass boy.”

I wanted to scream at him, or pin him down and make him pay for destroying my body and mind like this. I managed to lunge and knock him over, easily trapping him beneath my weight, but he just smiled back, even as he grunted from my weight. Then my will broke and I attacked his lips with my lips. Felt his hard cock rubbing my ass through his pants and reached around to unzip his pants and free it. Scooted back and heard my heart beating in my temples as his cock pressed against my sweaty hole and his tongue wrestled mine passionately. Then he rolled with me, pinned me down with my legs up, and fucked me like an animal in heat.

…

“Henry … he’ll be home soon,” I whispered in between gasping breaths, a hint of shame in my voice.

“So do you want to do about this?” He responded coyly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well … I’m responsible for your gargantuan, fat body, and your boyfriend has been taking my cock every day since I first dropped off that milk, behind your back. Any thoughts about how you’d like to proceed?”

“I … I want you to fuck me every day, after you’ve fucked him, and we’ll keep it a secret from him, too.”

“Mhmm. Granted. Anything else?”

“I …. I …… I want to trick him into drinking your milk. How do we blow him up even faster than you blew me up?”

“Mhmmfuck yeah. I’ll let him catch up, how’s that? If you can avoid drinking anything of the milk I drop off, I’ll let you suckle straight from my nipple for a single glass’ worth each day after I dump my load into you. Then all you need to do is to buy him a new protein shake that you read helps pack on more muscle. Dump out the entire case you buy him and fill them all with my milk instead. He’ll be hooked and start drinking them every day. The more you can get him to drink, the faster he’ll grow. Most people are so dazed by the ecstasy of my milk, they won’t even notice the weight gain until after the first month.”

“That explains what happened to me,” I thought to myself.

“He drinks three a day now …. but maybe I can convince him to drink four if I tell him he’s losing muscle …”

“Go get ’em tiger,” he replied with a chuckle, before dressing and walking out. I got myself together next and waddled at top speed over to my office to start ordering cases of a new brand of protein shakes.

…

*Day 1*

Height: 5 foot, 8 inches

Weight: 150lbs

BMI: 22.9

Body Fat: 7%, (or 10lbs of fat)

Henry tries out the new shakes I bought him. He’s curious about the sudden interest in his choice of protein, but always excited by new health supplements for his perfect body. At the first sip, I see his eyes light up like there were fireworks going off behind them. He’s hooked. I tell him I felt like spoiling him and noticed he’s been losing muscle, so I bought enough for him to drink four a day, to help him bulk up at the gym.

He scoffs and makes a joking comment about how it won’t make me look any smaller if he bulks up, then kisses me on the cheek and goes back to gulping down the rest of the shake. He starts excitedly jotting down an updated lifting schedule, and a plan for when to drink each shake, along with the rest of his diet.

*Day 2*

Weight: 154lbs (+4lbs)

BMI: 23.5

Body Fat: 9%, (or 14.5lbs of fat)

The shakes are a huge hit. Henry can’t stop talking about how delicious they and how much energy he feels they provide him. He’s ready to hit the weights and bulk up. He says he hopes I won’t feel too embarrassed around him watching his muscles grow when I’ve been struggling so much with my weight. I stare at his feet and imagine how much they’ll be groaning in a matter of weeks and it gives me a boner.

*Day 5*

Weight: 166lbs (+12lbs, +16lbs from baseline)

BMI: 25.3

Body Fat: 16%, (or 26lbs of fat)

Henry shudders whenever he chugs down one of Ryder’s shakes. He probably senses something familiar about the scent. He’s quickly growing obsessive about lifting weights each day and posing his muscles in front of any mirror he passes. His clothes aren’t tight, but he’s filling them out more and he’s lost a lot of the definition in his abdomen.

*Day 9*

Weight: 182lbs (+16lbs, +32lbs from baseline)

BMI: 27.7

Body Fat: 23%, (or 41lbs of fat)

Henry might not be lending me his ass anymore, but Ryder is jamming my ass full of seed with a monstrously large cock still soaked from fucking Henry moments before each day. Each time I masturbate, I think about how his cock feels filling me, the taste of his milk after he’s spent his load, and the sight of Henry’s body as it’s now beginning to noticeably balloon. Little love handles are starting, a soft muffin top oozes over the circumference of his waistband, his abs are mostly buried. His nipples are just starting to puff forward in the shape of a Hershey kiss. His ass is a bit plumper and stretching the back of his shorts. His face was once cut like a model’s, but now it’s softened as much as most of the population.

*Day 14*

Weight: 206lbs (+24lbs, +56lbs from baseline)

BMI: 31.4

Body Fat: 31%, (or 63lbs of fat)

The contrast of Henry’s cockiness against the reality of his waistline is intoxicating. He seems only to notice that his muscles are growing and remains oblivious to the plump expansion. A shorter guy to begin with, he’s now firmly chubby. His strong chest jiggles with the emergence of little titties on top. His belly isn’t huge, but is completely soft and round, lifted as it is by the toned abdominals buried underneath. It pokes out of his shirts, which are stretched taught over him. The same goes for his shorts, which do nothing to hide how chubby and bouncy his ass cheeks have grown, or how his thighs now smush together instead of maintaining a distance in between. He may not have noticed the stretch marks forming from gaining dozens of pounds in two weeks flat, but I sure have.

*Day 23*

Weight: 242lbs (+36lbs, +92lbs from baseline)

BMI: 36.9

Body Fat: 36%, (or 87lbs of fat)

It’s truly beautiful to behold, and though I never imagined I would find weight gain sexy, especially on my own boyfriend, I cannot jerk off enough to the sight of Henry growing so fat so quickly. The sound of him breathing heavily when he takes the stairs, or when he eats too quickly, makes my dick throb. His clothes are now comically too small for him, his shirts looking sports bras, and his gym shorts like tiny booty shorts threatening to burst. His gait has even changed. He’s finally waddling when he walks to accommodate the size of each thigh passing one another, the sway of his hips back and forth hypnotically forcing his ass cheeks to bounce and rebound almost spastically. I’ve taken to giving him foot massages every night while we watch TV and he moans with pleasure in response, not understanding why they’re so sore.

*Day 31*

Weight: 274lbs (+32lbs, +124lbs from baseline)

BMI: 41.7

Body Fat: 42%, (or 116lbs of fat)

A month has passed, but Henry seems no more aware of his drastic ballooning. Ryder whispers in my ear how much he loves my boyfriend’s fat ass swallowing up more and more of his cock with each day that passes while fucking me. He tells me we’re both to become his personal piggy pets when the time is right. For now, he continues to deliver milk to all the neighborhood gays, and they’re each plumping out into proper fatties, but we’re his favorites and he’ll be reserving all his milk for us when we’re ready. Henry is sucking wind with simple tasks and his stretch marks are running rampant. He’s swelled with so much fat in a matter of weeks and it’s left him taught and round. Watching him pose muscles in front of the mirror, all that chub covering him, with a smirk on that fat face, is both hilarious and hot as hell.

*Day 40*

Weight: 310lbs (+36lbs, +160lbs from baseline)

BMI: 47

Body Fat: 48%, (or 150lbs of fat)

…

Henry finally noticed the weight gain and to say he was panicked is an understatement. It took him longer than a month to notice, but maybe being next to me, so massive, he was able to go longer without sensing how fat he’d grown. At this point, I had grown to 500lbs. At 6 foot 2 inches, my BMI was 64.2, and body fat was 60% or 300lbs of fat, so he could perhaps be forgiven for not being as aware, especially with Ryder showering compliments on his figure every day.

With his perfect body ruined, Henry was confused and furious, but gradually empathetic towards my own weight gain. The same cycle played out – restricting calories, introducing a great deal of cardio, continuing with the delicious shakes that he believed were low calorie and high protein.

When another month passed, I had climbed to 540lbs, while Henry had ballooned to 430lbs. With his shorter stature, our proportions were looking fairly equal. He had swelled so incredibly fast, his skin stretching at lightning speed – he looked like he was stuffed with so much blubber as to create a rounded, turgid pressure that could blow at any moment.

It was when he finally submitted to our new lives at fat men, when he was horny all the time, getting fucked daily by Ryder and humping until cumming with me twice a day, that Ryder decided it was time to become daddy to us both. He simply showed up one day with his packed bags, ready to move in, and commanded us both to sit on the floor in front of the couch for a family meeting.

Henry looked terrified.

“So, here it is, boys. I’ve been fucking you both on the daily, and since you’re more me than you at this point, I think that makes you both mine.”

“What – does that mean?” Henry stuttered.

“It means all that milk you’ve been drinking, the stuff that clouds your mind and gives you more pleasure than anything else in your day, it comes from my tits, and it comes packed and loaded with thousands of calories per serving. You’ve each more than doubled your weight by storing the fat from my milk in your ruined bodies. So now, you’re made more of me, than you are of your former selves.”

It was a lot to process and Henry did so by whimpering and groping all over his taught, fattened body.

“Don’t worry, boys. Daddy’s here to love and take care of you. Why don’t you start by showing your love for me.”

Ryder withdrew that enormous, beautiful cock from his pants, the aroma washing over the two of us. Since Henry was newly processing everything, I let him have first go at it. He slobbered, sniffed and swallowed it up, stretching his throat as he took it all in. After spraying a thick, warm load into his belly, he sat back, pacified for the moment as I took my turn.

In the weeks that followed, the three of us settled into our new roles. I slowed down considerably on my hectic work schedule, and Ryder became the main financial provider. Henry and I spent most of our days either eating whatever we cared to eat, lounging around playing video games and watching TV, lifting weights or down at our master’s impressive feet to worship his body. We both continued swelling with new fat from Ryder’s tits, but the weight gain slowed down as we grew bigger and bigger, me topping out around 600lbs and Henry slowing down considerably around 550.

“Damn, you boys have gotten so big, it’s getting harder to continue growing you, even with all my milk focused on the two of you,” Ryder purred one evening, “… but I’m sure we can still coax at least a few pounds a month onto those jumbo bodies of yours.”

…

A typical night unfolds …

Ryder sits his bulky, tightly toned, muscular ass on the couch with his arms resting to either side over the back of the couch. He’s wearing a loose, white, linen button-down tee-shirt and a pair of little black boxer briefs. A pair of black dress socks are strewn across the ground a few feet from the couch. His strong, size 16, extra wide feet are perched up on a low ottoman, toes wiggling and spreading invitingly, showing off his power. There’s a movie playing, a bowl of popcorn and a bag of jerky by his side to snack on.

Henry and I, in all our glorious, naked fatness, bellies hanging to the floor, are on hands and knees, sucking and lapping up every inch of our master’s feet as he moans softly and stays focused on the television. After an hour, when he feels we’ve sufficiently worshiped and pampered him, he lets out an affirming chuckle and unbuttons his shirt down far enough to release two fat melons over top slabs of pectoral meat, and the upper rows of defined abdominal muscles.

“Fresh milk, boys,” he cooes. “Haven’t been milked all day, so they’re extra engorged.”

True to his word, each of his tits is absolutely massive, taught and leaking that glorious cream. His two prized, ever-growing pigs struggle to climb up either side of the couch, breathing deeply as they settle into their respective positions, leaning on Ryder from either side and latching onto their nipple. Then they suckle and gulp down cup after cup of sweet, sweet milk, feeling its heaviness fill and stretch them. Looking forward to it growing them and weighing them down even more.

Ryder watches his pigs with admiration and lustful joy, pulling out his long cock and stroking himself as he feels them drain his tits and watches their bellies bloat, full of him.

—

The Milkman 03 – Audio on Max Reynard Tube