****** Big Slave ****** =============================================================================== Big Slave Brad had been hustling for almost a year now, and the older guys he met at parties just couldn't seem to resist his blond good looks and tight swimmer's build. One sexy smile would usually be enough to start a mutually rewarding relationship. He'd been to Hawaii a couple of times and even to Europe once with a rich executive. The last guy he'd been with gave him enough cash to take a short vacation on his own, so he'd gone back to Wisconsin to see some old friends and party down. He'd stuffed himself with lots of beer, pizza and fast food for a few weeks -- after all, grass always gave him the munchies and he'd always been able to eat like a horse without gaining a pound. Still, as he put on his tight jeans for his first evening back in the city, Brad felt a little discomfort as he cinched them closed around his waist. Gazing approvingly at his handsome face in the full-length mirror on his bedroom door, his satisfied smirk disappeared as he lowered his view. A small jelly roll of flab bulged over his jeans, and jiggled ever so slightly as he moved. No doubt about it, Brad thought to himself, got to join the Y and start swimming again. He slipped on a t-shirt and headed out for a night of partying and greasy pizza. THREE MONTHS LATER... Things had been kind of slow the last few weeks for Brad. He went to the same bars, but somehow the guys weren't responding as often, and he had to be more aggressive to find a guy. One 40ish guy he'd cruised even chuckled and grabbed the small mounds of flesh Brad had hidden, or thought he'd hidden, under a loose- fitting shirt. "Man, I really gotta start jogging or something," he thought at the moment...but he ended up finding a guy that night and going out for a late night 6 course Italian dinner. Oh well, he'd start exercising as soon as spring rolled around, and anyway it wasn't like he was really fat or anything, just a little "bigger" than he used to be. He could knock off a few pounds easy once the weather warmed up a little. Brad lit a cigarette, downed his scotch and left the restaurant. FOUR MONTHS LATER... 190 pounds! Brad looked at the scale in disbelief, then into the mirror at his 5 foot 10 inch frame. Not only had he gained at least 15 pounds, but he was sure a lot of what had once been muscle was now pure butterfat. His cheeks were plumper and rosier, and he even saw the hint of a double chin. He was having a hard time finding guys these days, and he was behind in the rent. No way he was going back to working in a K-Mart in Wisconsin, he thought to himself grimly. Summer had arrived and Brad was dressed in a tight pair of shorts and a t- shirt. The elastic waistband on the shorts dug into his softening waist, he noticed, while his tits and belly tugged slightly against the large t-shirt he'd bought only a month ago. Almost broke, Brad went to the donut shop down the street and bought a bag of day-old donuts and a coke. As he started scarfing the donuts and worrying about how to pay the rent, he noticed a good looking guy in his forties on the other side of the shop. He was well-dressed, about 6 ft, with a tight build, ex- military maybe. Brad couldn't help noticing the guy had returned his stare, and suddenly wished he'd put on something that covered up his spare tire. After about 20 minutes, Brad had finished the donuts and was working on the last of his Coke. He'd exchanged a few more glances with the handsome guy, but was surprised when the guy got up and started walking straight toward him. The man dropped a business card on the table in front of Brad, and left without saying a word. Brad looked at the card: Donald Hansen, J.D. On the back their was a hand written note: "I think you're a hot- looking guy. If you're interested in a mutually profitable relationship call 356-9394." Brad shrugged, put the card in his pocket, and polished off the last donut in 2 bites. He got up and left, letting his belt out a notch and patting his stomach. Good thing he didn't get a good look at this fuckin' gut, Brad smiled to himself as he left the donut shop. TWO WEEKS LATER... Brad had just received an eviction notice from his landlord, and was living on peanut butter and day old pastries, washed down with milk or beer. Sitting around all day watching TV, he'd packed on another 8 or 10 pounds, and resigned himself to going back to Wisconsin. Suddenly he remembered the business card. He dug his jeans out of a pile of clothes he'd outgrown, and found the card. He puffed a Marlboro nervously as he dialed the number and listened impatiently for an answer. "Hello" came a smooth sexy voice. "Hello?" the voice repeated. "Uh... hi there, um, I'm the guy from the donut shop..." "Oh yeah, how are ya guy?" "Good... uh... well not so great, actually. I'm being evicted." Shit, Brad thought, I've blown it, now he'll think I'm trash and hang up. "No sweat, big guy, I've got a spare room at my place if you're interested..." "Yess!!" thought Brad, "a sugar-daddy...and a pretty fucking hot one too... But, hell, why not hold out a little?..." " I dunno", Brad said, mock-reluctantly, "I'd have to think about it..." "What's to think about? Room, board and $100 a week, how's that sound?" "It's a deal" answered Brad quickly, "...oh, and can ya pay a couple a hundred in back rent?" "Sure, guy. Call it an advance." Brad sensed that a new life had begun, rich, lazy, luxurious... he'd finally got what he came to the big city to find: an address on Easy Street, with some sap to pay the bills... THREE MONTHS LATER... Brad polished off the last of the waffles and started in on the first piece of bacon, dipping it lovingly into syrup before he popped it into his hungry mouth. Life with Don was sheer heaven. True, Don had made him stop smoking, and he'd started eating like a fuckin' pig to compensate, but Don didn't seem to mind the extra pounds. In fact, the sight of Brad's swelling, jiggling tits, ballooning waistline and round rippling ass-cheeks seemed to get him hotter than hell. Don loved to run his strong, sensitive hands over the rolls of flesh, nibbling Brad's ear as he caressed the bloated warmth of Brad's belly, cupped his bouncy tits and teased his hard, erect nipples until Brad moaned in ecstasy. "Shit," Brad thought, chuckling, "all I have to do is lie around eating, and this guy'll service me AND support me for life!" Just at that moment, Don appeared, not in his customary business suit, but in army fatigues. "Kinky," said Brad, grinning, "but I'm really not up for anything this early, maybe later we can..." But Don hadn't waited for an answer. He slipped his hands under the mattress and rolled Brad's 220 flabby pounds out of bed. "Hey, man, what the hell..." "Shut up, private" barked Don, yanking Brad up off the floor. "Shit, man, what the fuck--" Brad felt a twinge of pain as Don twisted his arm around behind his back in an iron grip. "From now on, you're to address me as Sir," Don menaced between clenched teeth. He loosened his grip on Brad's arm, and Brad spun around, glaring. "Listen, man, I don't know what you're new scene is, but I'm outta here...", Brad put on his sweats and headed for the door. "Go ahead," Don grinned wickedly. "See how much money you make hustling YOUR big fat ass..." Don gave his ass cheek a sharp slap for emphasis. As Brad felt the flabby globes of his ass ripple under the sweatpants, he realized that Don was right. "OK, you bastard, what's the deal?" Brad glared sullenly. Don grabbed a handful of Brad's hair roughly. "For starters, as far as your concerned my name is SIR, got that, lard-ass?" Brad nodded, submissively. "Good! Now, as my slave you've got two jobs: fulfilling my every wish in bed, and EATING. I'm gonna grow a chubby, Brad, and you're it. If you cooperate you get a life of luxury... If not, well... believe me big guy, you don't want to know..."