“Good morning, Walt,” he said. “I hope you’re hungry, because I made plenty of breakfast for both of us.”

I looked at my plate piled high with eggs and hash browns covered in gravy. “Actually, I am pretty hungry...but look at this! What’re you trying to do, fatten me up?”

Mike set his plate down on the table, equally loaded. “If I am, then I’m probably trying to fatten both of us up.” he said laughing. “Seriously...you have to have a good breakfast to start the day. Dig in!”

He obviously wasn’t as talkative early in the morning as he seemed intent on finishing the big helping of food in front of him. Still hungry from weeks on the road, I followed suit.

Fifteen minutes later, Michael took the plates off the table, emptied of their contents. “Man, that was a good breakfast.” I said, rubbing my full stomach. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” said Mike, sitting back down across the table from me. “So how do you like your new body, Walt?”

I stretched and surveyed my 5’9”, 180# frame. “It’s nice being an adult again, that’s for sure.”

“I can imagine. Do you have anything to wear?”

I looked sheepish as I said, “Nothing that’ll fit me now.”

Mike nodded knowingly. “Plenty of clothes to fit a short teenager, huh? I suppose I can lend you some of mine...Why don’t we make you my size for a while, until you can pick out something you like.

My chair tilted backwards slightly as I shot up four inches taller. “Whoa!”I exclaimed, trying to regain my balance as my frame filled out a little more. Soon I was a chunky 250#. The boxers Mike had given me strained underneath a small beer belly that had formed in front of me.

Mike grinned as I examined my new heft. “I hope you don’t mind a few extra pounds, my clothes won’t fit right without them.”

“It’s...um...something I’ve never tried before.” I said as I shifted myself back into a comfortable position on the chair. The feel of a soft gut bulging over the waistband of my underwear was something completely new to me. It wasn’t really unpleasant, but I wasn’t sure if I liked it either.

Mike waited in the living room as I rifled through his dresser to find clothes I liked, especially a pair of boxers that fit. When I stepped out into the main room, Mike said, “It’s interesting seeing how my clothes look to other people. I guess I dress pretty well, except my jeans don’t bulge quite that much in the crotch when I wear them.” When I sat down in the easy chair, he asked, “Do you mind if I try something, Walt?”

“Go ahead.” I replied.

“Well, first, let’s see your meat shrink back down a more normal size - like mine. You’re making me feel inadequate!”

I chuckled a bit as the bulge in my pants receded to match Mike’s - still substantial, but not awkward.

“Now you need long hair and a goatee. Not a short one like mine - a big bushy one. You should be stronger, too...a little more muscular. Let’s see those shirt buttons straining.”

Everything happened just as he said. Dark-brown hair flowed from my head down to my shoulders. Moments later I was sitting there with a goatee so big it blocked a little of my view when I looked down, and my chest and arms bulged in the confines of the dress shirt.

Mike seemed pleased with the results. “Before we go any further, Walt, I have to know...am I dropping you off at the truck stop, or are you staying with me for the week?”

“This seems like a pretty nice place to spend a week...” I said with a grin. Mike’s own grin spread from ear to ear as he stepped towards me. “In that case, you’d better stand up.”

I obliged, looking eye-level into Mike’s handsome face. “This is something I’ve always wanted to do, Walt,” he said as he adjusted his crotch. “Lose the belt and unbutton those slacks, please.”

I obliged, looking puzzled.

“I want to see you get fatter. Bust right out of those clothes.”

My eyes opened with surprise - I’d been one inch tall, a caveman, a teenager, and a short musclestud, but this was the first time a chubbychaser had owned the charm. I felt the already-tight shirt shift, and pull taut around my midsection. Suddenly I felt like I was wearing my teenager-sized underwear again as my waistline expanded past the capacity of the slacks. I grunted a bit as my gut pushed forward and sideways. My pecs grew somewhat softer as gaps appeared between the buttons of the shirt. Mike’s jaw had dropped and he was getting hard without even touching himself. I think I muttered “mmmph...oh, man...” as the slacks strained tighter around my widening thighs. Even my face felt different, warm and kind of numb like it was under a layer of jell-o.

First one button popped, then the seat tore out of the pants. As I turned to see, three more buttons broke off the shirt. Ten seconds later I was over three hundred pounds, and Mike’s ruptured slacks had fallen off of me. His shirt was in three large pieces - the sleeves had separated at the shoulders, and only the top few buttons held the front together. I moved my arms, and the back of the shirt tore from my shoulders to my now-substantial ass. I looked down in shock at my suddenly-enlarged body; I was fat!

I looked up at Mike, who was almost beside himself. “This is just amazing...” he said, circling me and appraising the view. “Okay, I am DEFINITELY going up to 300 pounds, wardrobe be damned!”

I shifted awkwardly. The extra weight made my motions feel difficult and kind of sluggish. When I saw my profile in the mirror, though, I almost gasped. Long hair, a bushy goatee, and about a hundred extra pounds made me look like a blue-collar worker or a biker or something. I ran one hand over my torso, feeling the new bulges and curves I’d developed. It felt completely new, and good enough that my dick was at half-mast.

“Do you like what you see, Walt?” Mike said hopefully.

I turned to face the miror, now so broad that I had to turn a bit from side to side to see myself completely. “Hmm...” I said, bouncing my new potbelly experimentally. I was used to physical changes, but having the extra addition to my frame was something new. It was like waking up to discover you’ve always had another foot or something, and just never realized it. “Just give me some time to get used to it.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do just that,” Mike said. “As much as I want to jump you right now, we’ve still got to go the truck stop to get you some clothes.”

“But...’ I said, sweeping my arms in a vain attempt to indicate the tattered remnants of my clothes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said. “I’ve got some sweatpants with an elastic waistband that you can wear. My shirts won’t even come close to fitting you, but you won’t be the first guy to go into this truckstop without a shirt on. Trust me on that one.”

I almost wanted to ask him what that meant, but he was already halfway to his bedroom. A minute later he reappeared with a pair of 2XL gray sweatpants. “Even if I do say so myself,” he said as I donned the pants. “I’d make one fine big biker daddy!” I slipped into an extra pair of sandals he had waiting by the door and stepped out into the crisp day.

Before, the chilly weather would have bothered me. Instead, I felt the cold against my skin, but somehow didn’t feel at all like shivering. I rubbed the cool skin on my belly to make sure I wasn’t misreading my new body.

“We can put the heat on in the car until you get a shirt,” Mike said.

“Um...nah, thanks, that’s okay.” I demurred as I opened the passenger-side door.

Getting into the car with my new weight was interesting. When I tried to bend over to climb in like I normally would, my spare tire pushed back against me. I tried from a few different angles, and finally ended up exhaling as I crumpled my body into the car.

Mike looked over to see me hit the seat with a loud “oof”. He chuckled. “I’m not sure, but I think most big guys swing themselves into the car instead of climbing straight in. It’s not much of a problem for me yet, but I learned ten pounds ago that it made it easier.”

“I’ll....I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I pulled the seatbelt out as far as it would go. Then I swung the buckle around my ample midsection and fastened myself in. I almost jumped as the seatbelt tightened, the strap sliding back underneath my roll and pushing up into my six-inch overhang. I pulled on the strap to adjust it as I shifted my bulk around a bit.

“Are you ready to go, or do you want to fiddle with the seat belt all day?” Mike asked, grinning.

“Look, I’ll get used to it on the way. Let’s go get me some clothes that fit.”

Mike chuckled as he backed the car onto the dirt lane leading back to the highway. As he talked about the legends of the forest we drove through, he kept sneaking glances at me. Unfortunately, my body had developed intertia in unexpected places. I was too busy being thrown around by bumps in the road to listen to his words or his looks.

I breathed a small sigh of relief when we reached the highway. Michael, misinterpreting it as a sign of boredom, said, “But listen to me going on about the lumberjacks and loggers around here. Why don’t I tell you about the truck stop?”

I rolled my eyes - I really didn’t want to hear about the place before we got there - but Mike seemed more comfortable talking so I let him continue for the three minutes it took to reach it.

There were three or four rigs parked on the dirt outside the small combination restaraunt and fuel station. Despite the healthy mark-up on diesel, there was actually one rig at the pumps as we pulled in. “I might as well get some gas while I’m here,” said Mike, pulling up to the other side of the same pump.

As he pulled up next to the pump, another truck pulled off the highway and swerved over to our side of the fuel island. It screeched to a stop inches from the back bumper of Mike’s car and honked.

Mike looked over at the truck to see the driver having a fit, then unlocked the cover on his gas tank. The trucker hit his air horn, a piercing blast that got the attention of every person in the area and several deer walking near the highway.

I popped open my door, and tried to climb out of the car. My attempts were unsuccessful until I grabbed the doorframe and pulled myself out. I walked around to the truck where Mike was inserting the nozzle into the tank.

“What’s his problem?” I asked, indicated the truck driver fuming in his seat.

Mike shrugged. “These guys, they get in a hurry, and they don’t want to share the road with four-wheelers. Especially waiting for fuel.”

I looked at the rig on the other side of the pumps - its pump was still going, and had been since we pulled up. “But why would he get mad at you? You need gas too!”

“I guess he thinks he has more right to it because it’s a truck stop or something.” Mike said. “If I were him, I’d be glad to be behind a car...those rigs can take fifteen or twenty minutes to fuel, I’ll be out of here...”

The nozzle trigger banged back against the handle. Mike hung the nozzle back on the pump and got back in the car. I followed suit as he started the engine. The truck honked again, using the city horn this time. “Just for that, you can wait another ten seconds,” Mike said. He sat there, counting silently. I checked my rearview and could see the trucker yelling and gesticulating inside the cab of his rig.

Mike pulled forward and parked the car at the entrance to the main building. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s pay for the gas and get you some clothes.”

As we surveyed the meager selection of jeans and western shirts available at the convenience store, the impatient trucker stormed in. He was a big brute of a guy, easily 6’4”, with a beefy build and a round potbelly that obscured his oversized belt buckle. His long hair and thick goatee framed a face that made it clear he didn’t put up with much from life, or anyone in it. As the guy paid for his fuel, he asked if the truck stop had a shower. “We’ve got one in the john,” the clerk replied. “Towels are a five dollar deposit.” The trucker yanked the towels off the counter and stormed back towards the restroom.

Mike and I we were too busy trying to find something for me to wear to pay much attention. Fortunately, plenty of stuff fit me; apparently truckers went from size medium to four-X L and occasionally larger.

My jaw dropped when I pulled out a 9XL shirt. It looked like a small fabric tent that had “big to the bone” emblazoned across on the back. “Wow!” I exclaimed. “I thought I was fat, imagine the guy that could fill this!”

Mike grinned and stretched the shirt to its full width. “That would have to be one heck of a potbelly, that’s for sure. You know what, I need to take a leak. Pick out some clothes to try on...and remember...” His smirk was very expressive. “...with a little help from me, anything you like, fits!”I laughed quietly as Mike turned to go to the men’s room.

A minute later, he came out with a cunning look on his face. “You know, Walt, I’ve always kind of had a fantasy about sex in a truck stop...and there’s a shower open....”

I grinned; I’d been aching for sex since I woke up, and Mike was either too gracious to take advantage or too dense to notice. “Should I buy this, then?” I asked, pulling out the 9X tee again.

“Naah...how about something more like...” Mike flipped rapidly through the rack and pulled out a 3X solid-color western dress shirt. “And...” he turned to the stack of jeans and pulled out a pair with a 44” waist. He grinned sheepishly as he handed them to me. “I’ve always had a thing for big truckers.”

“No kidding!” I said as I surveyed the width of the waist on the jeans.

“Walt, if you’re not up for anything I suggest, please just say so. I don’t want to push you into anything...”

I looked into his face and read the concern there. It reminded me of Hall and how well he’d treated me. “Mike, you’re showing me stuff I’ve never seen before, and so far I like it. Make what you want happen and quit asking me about it. If we’re heading somewhere I don’t want to go, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Mike grinned and nodded. “In that case, here’s some cash. Pay for those and come into the men’s room. I’ll be in the shower by the time you get back there.” He held the bracelet up and spoke into it like it was a microphone. “When you get into the men’s room, you’ll grow to fit the clothes you put on. Then you’ll join me in the shower and get a raging ten-inch hard-on.”

I smiled at him. “You don’t need the charm to give me one of those. And by the way, it’s not a Star Trek communicator...you can just talk normally.”

Mike blushed a little.

“Now get back there and start showering so I can bust in on your pansy ass.” I growled.

Mike blushed more and got a goofy grin on his face. He turned and all but ran into the men’s room. I had to admit, he was a fun guy to please.

Two of the fattest drivers I’d ever seen were standing up at the register. I’m not a good judge of weight, but if they’d said they were six hundred pounds each I’d have believed them. When I saw them leave together, I wondered if they were a couple - and if there was enough room for both of them in a rig! After paying for the clothes, I ripped the tags off on the way to the bathroom/shower area. I swung the door open as quietly as I could and stepped into the clean, tiled room. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

The back of the brute of a trucker filled the entrance to the shower. He was buck naked, his dirty tee shirt and jeans left lying in the middle of the room. I heard him growl something about making him wait again, then he shoved someone roughly against the wall. I couldn’t see around him, but it didn’t take a genius to realize Mike was in trouble.

“Hey asshole!” I yelled.

The trucker looked over his shoulder. He sneered at me. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you after I’m done with your nancy friend here.” I charged him but he just laughed and knocked me back with one hand. Damn, that fucker was strong!

I fell backwards onto his clothes. The brute evidently decided I wasn’t man enough to retaliate, and turned back to Mike. When he crushed Mike up against the wall, the yell told me it wasn’t just Mike’s personal space being invaded.

I tried to stand and my hand slipped on the brutes’ shirt. Something clicked in my brain, and I quickly pulled on the 5XL tee.

The trucker gave a surprised yell as I grabbed one of his arms and yanked him away from Mike, who stood frozen for a moment, unsure what was going on or what he should do. I didn’t even give the trucker a chance to fight, I just grabbed his arms and yanked them over his shoulders and backwards behind his head. “What the fuck!” he yelled, struggling against me. Thanks to his filthy shirt, I was every bit the beefy strongman he was, and I had better leverage.

Mike stood up and walked towards us. He looked up at two oversized men with big goatees straining against each other. He looked at me strangely for a moment, but When he saw what I was wearing, he said, “Good thinking, Walt! Very good thinking indeed. Keep him there.”

As Mike walked over to the sink, holding his head in his hands, the trucker spat out, “You wanted it!”

Mike turned numbly. “You know what...the worst part is, you’re right. I wanted a rough trucker fuck more than anything.”

He picked up his pants and rifled through the pockets. Pulling out three quarters, he turned to the condom machine, which promptly spat out a sealed packet.

He tore it open and pulled out the prophylactic as he stepped in front of the seething trucker. The guy growled, “Fucking faggot! Have this bastard let me go before I beat you both to blody pulps!” He wrestled against my hold, but I just pulled up slightly and the pain of two shoulders about to dislocate calmed him down.

Mike surveyed the trucker. “You know, you may be a dick, but you do have nice nipples.” He started sucking on one of the brute’s nipples while massaging the man’s big, hairy balls. Seconds later the guy was hard again against his will. Mike slipped the condom over the 5” stiff member. A quick stroke distributed the lubricant over the latex surface.

“Okay, now Walt, shift around so your meat is nestled in his crack.” I did what Mike said, since he seemed to know what he was doing.

“Now, I believe I was up against the wall like this...” Mike said, facing away from us and planting his hands against the white tile. “Walt, walk him forward so he’s up against me.” One step away from Mike, as I entered the shower, I felt a stirring in my crotch. “Um...Mike...” Suddenly the trucker started fighting mightily, wrenching his arms back and forth.

Mike backed up against the trucker, who stopped struggling once Mike was in place. Mike moved back and forth a bit. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you big guy. Well let’s see how you like this. Now, Walt, all the way in.”

I suddenly caught Mike’s double meaning - and what he was up to. As I shoved the two of them against the wall, I stepped completely into the shower. And, just as Mike as had said I would, I popped a raging ten-inch hard-on - right into the trucker’s ass.

He hollered plenty, but I just kept his arms pinned as I backed out a little and slid into him again. After the trucker had quieted down some, Mike said, “Walt, not to be critical, but are we just going to stand here?”

“I’m trying to be gentle...” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Walt, I get to go along for the ride as two beefy truckers ram up against me. Don’t be gentle. In fact, you’re too horny to be gentle.”

Suddenly my dick throbbed, aching for release. I could tell the trucker felt it, because a small grunt escaped his lips. I pulled five inches out of him and slammed it back in, hard. Both he and Mike went “ooof” as I jammed both of them against the wall. I slammed into them two more times before giving them a moment to recover.

“Oh, yeah!” said Mike. “You’re much, much too horny!”

Suddenly all that mattered was my dick, red-hot and screaming for release. I pounded against that trucker with all my (his) might, going faster and harder as my balls began to boil. The feel of that brutes’ wide ass compressing against my thrusts only made me push harder...and harder...

I can’t remember the next few minutes. It was a haze of grunting, thrusting, and the need to bang that prick against the wall so hard he’d crack the tile. Mike must have shot at some point, because he screamed, “Okay, Walt! Enough! oof...Cum already!”

I yanked the brute off Mike and leaned backwards, lifting him up by his arms. He bellowed as his feet left the floor, but I was oblivious to his yells as I bounced him on my throbbing meat. I finally got the release I needed, shooting into his ass again and again. His limp prick flopped around as the cum-filled condom fell off it, stretched too big for the flaccid member it had contained.

I dropped the trucker to the floor, where he lay, bruised, exhausted, and spent. Mike and I cleaned ourselves up quickly and got dressed. I decided to take the trucker’s clothes; the ones I’d picked out were too small for me now. We walked out, leaving him naked and obviously fucked.

As we went back to the car, Mike looked up at me and said, “Thanks for saving my butt, Walt. Literally.”

I looked down at him and got kind of minsty-eyed. “No problem, bud,” I said, hugging his shoulders. “Anytime.” •