Nutritionist, The


By Aardvark2

“I don’t know, Lloyd. It seems like my boys and I are just doomed to be fat. Ever since Evie passed away, all we can do is eat. I’m not even motivated anymore.” Lloyd looked at Jack. Best friends since high school, they’d gotten married four months apart and had started having children around the same time, as well. They’d both been overweight at marriage, and the newfound stress of supporting a wife and children had gotten to both of them. They both became critically obese, and both had four children – Lloyd had four girls, Jack had four boys. Finally, Lloyd’s wife became sick of a sexless marriage and called a nutritionist. Over the course of a year, fat Jack got to watch Lloyd change into a stud – every time they’d meet, Lloyd was more lean and muscular. Eventually, the man who had once been three-hundred pounds of blubber was two-hundred-and-twenty pounds of chiseled, ripped muscle. Lloyd had, in addition, gotten his snaggleteeth fixed and whitened, his age marks lasered off, and his eyesight corrected so that he didn’t even have to wear contacts anymore. At fifty, Lloyd was as handsome as he had ever been. Jack had suffered a harder existence. When his youngest son was five, his wife passed away from breast cancer. It had been devastating – already overweight, Jack and his sons went into a tailspin. Life seemed to cease existing as they knew it. Lloyd’s daughters had a positive female influence on their life, and grew up into pretty, well-adjusted young women. Though the men’s other three children were different ages, Lloyd’s daughter Jessica and Jack’s son Curtis were both 17. The contrast of the friends lives was obvious: Jessica was beautiful and kind, both a cheerleader and Key Club president. Curtis was fat, acne-ridden, and insecure about himself – when Jessica would say hi to him in the halls, he blushed due to his own appearance. Lloyd took a sip from his latte and responded to Jack. “Y’know, Jack, I felt like that until my wife got me that nutritionist. God, he was great! He whipped me into shape. He was a trainer, too, y’know. Cost me a lot of money, but it was worth it. I’ve probably added ten years onto my life.” “What’s his number?” Jack scratched his whisker-covered jowls. “Well, he moved to Martha’s Vineyard, actually. But I’m sure you could find someone like him, maybe for cheaper, too.” Lloyd stretched back to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, and his big pectorals stretched against his polo, with his nipples clearly showing. His abs were obvious, as well, popping out against the white stretch cotton. Jack couldn’t help but notice – he was jealous. “I’ll go home and look one up right now, Lloyd.”

Jack flipped through the Google results for nutritionists in his hometown. They all seemed so basic – but one caught his eye. “Ken Peavler: Nutritionist, Trainer, and Hypnotist.” He went to the site. Ken Peavler was a humblingly gorgeous man, with big blue eyes and thick blond hair that was swept back off his tanned forehead. Jack was sure he’d probably gotten a lot of comparisons to his namesake doll. There was a page that interested Jack about how hypnosis can, in effect, speed up weight loss and improve one’s health. The site also mentioned that there was a family discount. Jack looked at the Contact Info, picked up the phone, and dialed.

Ken Peavler tossed six bags into the backseat of his Porsche. It was clients like this that he lived for – a fat man and four fat sons! It was like giving Picasso five empty canvasses. He sat in the driver’s seat and reviewed the stats as he drove, mainly while sitting at stop lights. Between occasional sips of Evian, he read. The father was Jack Malone, fifty years old. Six-one, three-hundred pounds – yeesh. Wife deceased. Four sons: Curtis, 17; Reese, 15; Dallas, 12; Clayton, 10. Good names, Ken thought. He and his wife knew what they were doing when they named those boys. All, apparently, were overweight. He’d have to make a full assessment when he arrived there. He pulled up to the driveway. Any house with two stories, a circle drive, and trimmed rose hedges signifies a comfortable lifestyle, and Jack had indeed told Ken that he made a healthy amount of money. The house would be a wreck if they weren’t able to afford a maid, but she came once a week and cleaned for them. Ken rang the doorbell, leaving his Porsche in the circle drive. He heard some shuffling, the clicking of the lock, and the movement of the hinges. A boy – he looked about twelve, so it was probably Dallas – answered. He was probably about five-five, but Ken had gotten so good at judging weight that he knew Dallas was probably about 160 pounds, much too heavy for a boy his age. “Are you Dallas?” “Yeah, that’s me. You looking for my Dad?” The boy’s voice was raspy, crackly. Puberty was on the up-and-up. “Yes. I’m the nutritionist, Mr. Peavler.” “DAD! THE NUTRITIONIST GUY’S HERE!” Jack Malone waddled into the doorframe. He was wearing jeans that he had wriggled into, and his big gut hung over the waistband. “Mr. Peavler!” Jack extended his hand – even it was chubby. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” Ken shook it firmly. “Well, Mr. Malone, let’s have a family meeting, shall we?” “Of course. Boys!” Ken sat down and opened up his briefcase. Inside were several vitamin bottles, some pamphlets, and various other guidelines. He arranged them after the car ride and snapped it shut. The boys had arrived, and they were big. Even Ken, who had seen a lot of overweight young men, was surprised at how big they were. The older two, Curtis and Reese, were both either pushing 200 or right at it, and they were covered in pimples. Dallas’ status had already been established, and the youngest, Clayton, was a good thirty pounds heavier than he would be. This was going to be a pleasure, he could just tell. “Alright, gentlemen, I have several rules for you. First of all, I am big on vitamins. In fact, all of you should start right now.” Ken opened a bottle and five pills rolled out onto the table. “They’re chewable. Isn’t that fantastic? No water needed. There’s one for each of you.” Jack reached into the center and grabbed them all, passing one to each of his sons. They all popped them in, patiently chewing, listening. “Excellent! I know they don’t taste great but trust me, they’re helpful. You’ll be taking those a lot. Now, on to business. “This is going to be a very difficult process for you and a very easy one for me.” Ken looked at the five males, who all seemed to be having trouble staying awake, with glazed eyes and nodding heads. It was time. “Alright, gentlemen, let’s begin.” Ken snapped his fingers. Immediately all five sat straight up and stared right at Ken, fully attentive. “Jack, Curtis, Reese, Dallas, Clayton. I am a certified professional and I already have a plan for how all five of you will look when I am finished with you. You will be successful, attractive, smart, and healthy. You will be accepting of all instructions I give you, regardless of what they entail. Is this clear?” Four heads nodded in unison. One, Reese, abstained. “Reese, I said, ‘Is this clear?’” Reese sat still for a second, then nodded. “Why didn’t you nod originally, Reese?” “Because I’m not good at following instructions, sir.” Ken chuckled. “Oh, I see. Well, you will be. Gentlemen, your first step toward becoming new men is to throw away all of your unhealthy food. You do not desire, crave, or enjoy candy, sweets, or even most sugars. You enjoy fruit, vegetables, smoothies, and meat. Do you understand?” Five heads nodded. “Not only that, but you enjoy working out. In fact, you are only truly at peace when lifting weights or running. You are in a constant state of exercise, of movement. Is this clear to all of you?” He looked down at the four boys and their father, bobbing their heads up and down. “Excellent. Now, finally, any changes to your physical appearance, be it through natural means, magical means, or hypnosis, are welcomed by you. I will mold you into beautiful men. When I snap my fingers, you will willingly go into a state of hypnosis. Do you accept these terms?” Five voices responded in unison. “Yes.” “I am going to snap my fingers. We have discussed these terms and you will continue as if we have partaken in a normal conversation.” Ken snapped his fingers. The Malones shook their heads and looked confused for a second, but in a few seconds, all was normal. “Are we ready to begin?” “Yep!” Jack stood up and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get to work, guys!” Clayton and Dallas both got up and walked to the fridge. Dallas grabbed an apple, while Clayton chose a bag of carrot sticks. “Hey, Dal, what’s this doing here?” Clayton picked up a box of Fruit Roll-ups. “Throw it away, stud.” Jack walked in and saw his son holding it. “It’s not supposed to be in here.” Ken walked out to the Porsche and unloaded the duffle bags. When he walked in, he could see through the crack in Curtis’ door that the chubby teen was doing crunches. Ahhh, it brought warmth to his cold heart, he chuckled to himself. He piled the bags on the stairway and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jack! Guys! Meeting in the kitchen!” He walked into the kitchen and the five Malones followed. He raised his finger and snapped. All froze. “You all are going on a two-mile jog. I don’t want you to run too hard, but I don’t want you walking the whole time either. Work hard. I’ll see you when you get back.” He snapped his fingers once more. “Y’know what, boys?” Jack slapped Reese on the back. “Let’s go for a jog. How about two miles or so? Get our juices going?” His four sons, who would have vehemently disagreed previously, nodded and followed him out the door.

Ken walked to the pile of bags and looked at the labels. He grabbed the one with a “J” on it and walked into Jack’s bedroom. It was slightly messy but mostly well-organized, with just a few clothes lying around. He began picking them up, then he opened the drawers, pulling all of their contents onto the floor. He moved quickly, pulling new clothes – most still in packaging, to preserve space - out of the duffel bags and replacing the old clothes with them. He picked up the old XXL t-shirts and massive, holey boxers, stuffed the old clothes into the duffel bag, and moved on to Dallas’ room right down the hall. He did the same in all four of the boys’ rooms, then took the five overstuffed bags and put them in his Porsche to dispose of later. Did he have time to get rid of them now? He looked at his watch. They’d be gone for forty-five minutes. It was too risky. Ken opened the fridge and looked at the healthy food, stacked neatly. He was moving fast with these people, maybe too fast. Hopefully he’d still be able to cover all the bases. He reached in and grabbed a slice of grilled chicken, nibbling it, and waiting. He heard the front door open. About damn time! They were tired, and out of breath. Ken looked at the chubby kids, and their equally rotund father, panting in the hallway. “Well, that looks to have been a success!”, he said warmly. Only Curtis had caught his breath enough to acknowledge Ken’s comment. “Yeah, I feel five pounds lighter.” “Good!” Ken went over and patted the teen on the back. “Now, I want everyone to go in their room and do one hundred sit-ups.” He saw Reese shaking his head, so he snapped his fingers. All was immediately silent. “That wasn’t a request. 100 sit-ups, and don’t come out of your rooms until they’re done.” Snap. Jack, Curtis, Reese, Dallas, and Clayton all walked to their own bedrooms and obediently shut the doors. Ken popped his neck and walked into Jack’s room first. Jack, under the heavy hypnosis, wasn’t able to register that his room had been organized and his old, baggy clothes were gone. He lay on the floor, struggling to do even one sit-up, with big tears streaming down his face. “I let myself go, I let myself go, Ken…and I betrayed my boys by letting them do the same…” Blubber blubber blubber, Ken thought. Boo-hoo. Do something about it, why don’t ya? But no, you have to get the hunky nutritionist in here to fix everything. So predictable. “Stand up, Jack.” Ken extended his hand but Jack continued to try sit-ups, looking perplexed. “I can’t, Ken…you told me to do sit-ups…rrrgh.” “Well, I’m telling you to stop them and stand up.” “I can’t do that. I have to finish.” Ken rolled his eyes. This shit was so annoying. Snap! Jack lay back on the floor, unmoving. “Stand up, Jack.” Jack stood. “Jack, you are entering an advanced state of hypnosis. I am going to begin the most difficult part of my job, which is transforming you into a completely different person. All the changes I make to you and your sons are for your wellbeing and theirs. Do you understand this?” Jack, unable to speak, simply nodded, his mouth slightly open. “Take off your clothes.” Jack tugged at the white t-shirt, covered with food stains and sweat. He pulled it over his head and revealed the hairy, pasty white skin. The Malone men all had big bellies, beef tits, and sausage arms, and Jack, as the father, was the worst offender. He dropped his pants and peeled off the tighty whities, revealing the short penis that had created his four fat boys. “Mmmm, unimpressive. Here, Jack, I’m going to inject you with a serum. Don’t panic, this is for the best.” Jack didn’t respond as the needle slipped under his skin. “Now, for the supplement booster. It’s basically muscles in a syringe.” Again, a silent injection. “Jack, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening to my voice?” The man nodded. “You are not fat anymore. You are muscular, virile, and hunky. Women lust for you. Men want to be you. You have four adult sons, who are all as handsome, successful, and sexual as you are. You are fifty years old, and are a football coach. You raised all of your boys in football, as well. You’re looking for a head coaching position in town right now.” Jack was beginning to rock back and forth, swaying to the low timbre of Ken’s hypnotic voice. His loose skin began to tighten and the fat began to disappear off of his body as the serums and mental changes took effect. “You are handsome. You are a man’s man.” Jack shut his eyes and a smile began to spread across his face. Ken didn’t like it when they couldn’t relish the change. He took a deep breath – sometimes this didn’t work – and snapped. Jack’s eyes fluttered open and he moaned loudly. “Shhhh, Dallas will hear you, Jack.” “I…fuck…fuck me…fuuuuckkkk…this feels fucking amazing…” Jack’s voice was already deeper and louder. His little prick began to shake and grow, stretching out longer and harder. Cum started to drip onto the carpet. “Fuuuuck!” His boobs were starting to, not vanish, but thicken. The muscle underneath the fat began to bulge out and reveal itself magnificently. His nipples dripped with sweat and pushed out to the sides of his ever-changing body. “Fuck me, Ken! FUCK ME!” Jack started ripping at Ken’s clothing, tearing the white cotton shirt off of the nutritionist and sending buttons flying all over the room. His football coach cock was in full swing, bulging with cum. Ken watched the top of Jack’s head thicken with dark brown hair as Jack kissed Ken’s pecs. Ken could feel Jack’s brand new pectorals and abs brushing up against his own. This was the easiest change of the day, so he couldn’t imagine what the four younger Malones held in store. Jack’s face was sharpening, hardening. His features were more severe and intimidating than the soft, fat layers they had once been. His eyes peered out of their deep sockets menacingly, and his square face and wide, cracking jaw were enhanced by a clean-shaven cleanliness. “Fuck me pleeeeeasssseee…” The deep voice was pleading. Jack’s legs had gotten longer, just like his newly thick dick, and he was now taller than Ken – almost six-three. Ken and Jack’s naked bodies rubbed against each other. Jack, covered with sweat and cum, stuck to Ken’s clean skin as they made love. “Wait a second…what the fuck am I doing…” Jack stood up. “Ken?! What the fuck?!” Ken pulled his pants on, mumbling to himself. “It always surprises me how well it works.” Jack reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a brand-new thong, slipping it on over his big cock and thick legs. At fifty, his body was still tall, robust, and rock-hard, and his face was craggy but exceptionally attractive. His voice was husky and rough, from years of screaming on the sidelines. “Get out, Ken. Get oooouut, you ass-fucking…” His voice was rising to a screech before Ken snapped his fingers and froze him. “Jack, you make an excellent football coach and an excellent father. I’m going to go work on your sons now, so you have no memory of this change. It is erased from your memory. Is this clear?” Jack nodded. “Do 200 sit-ups followed by 200 push-ups. This will be easy for you. When you are finished, you may leave your room and spend time with your sons. Probably talking about football, I would assume.” Ken pulled his ripped shirt over his equally ripped body and snapped. Jack got down on the ground and started counting. “One…two…” Ken quietly opened the door and exited, walking down the hallway. Who was next, who was next…he practically rubbed his hands together with gleeful anticipation. Opening Dallas’ door, he saw the boy asleep on the floor, instead of doing his sit-ups. Naughty, naughty. “Dallas?” “Oh…Mr. Peavler! Hi! I’m, uh…I’m sorry…I guess I fell asleep.” Dallas was still very chubby, but probably less so than his brothers. He had a little belly and a ring of latent fat around his babyface, and was at the onset of puberty, as proved by the shorts that were just a little too short and the tee that was just a little too tight. Dallas, at twelve years old and five-six, was shaping up to be a pretty tall man. Maybe he could help Dallas out, just a little, he snickered to himself. “Dallas, my boy! Stand up.” “Sorry, again, Mr. Peavler. I don’t know what got into to me that let me disobey you!” “Don’t worry about it, Dallas. Here, let me help you take your shirt off.” Ken put his fingers at the corners of the cotton tee and helped Dallas peel it off. His flab jiggled as the shirt pulled over his head, and his little boobs hung free when it was all off. Dallas blushed slightly at his round little body. Ken reached down and undid the drawstring to Dallas’ shorts. “Wait…what are you doing?” The boy put his hand on Ken’s bigger hand, stopping him. “Don’t disobey me, Dallas.” Dallas pulled his hand away and Ken tugged the shorts down to the floor, leaving Dallas in his underwear, which he pulled off voluntarily. His little-boy dick was needle-thin and unchanged by puberty, he hadn’t even started growing pubes. Ken reached down and cupped Dallas’ little penis in his hand. “It’s so small…” Dallas looked at him quizzically. Ken reached his hand into his pocket, withdrew a needle, and calmly injected it into Dallas’ arm as the boy was preoccupied with why Ken was holding his dick. Dallas didn’t react. “Mr. Peavler, what are you doing…” “Shhh.” Ken injected the muscle serum second, and again, Dallas didn’t notice. “Mr. Peavler…” “Shhhh, quiet, Dallas. Listen to me. I have a question for you.” Dallas opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out except a grunt. “Are you ready to change, Dallas? Into someone that every man dreams of being?” “What are you…” “You’re going to be a stud, Dallas. Head quarterback at your college. We’ll have to get you a scholarship, but that will be easy. Your Dad is a retired football coach, by the way.” “What are you…” “Look! Look at your dick!” Dallas looked down and saw his penis lengthening, seemingly crawling across Ken’s large hand. As it got longer, it also got thicker, until it was not only big for Dallas, but big for any man. The big tip hung over the edge of Ken’s palm. “Wow, that’s quite a big penis, Dallas. That’s not even a penis – that’s a COCK.” Dallas was mesmerized. “What are you doing to me…why, goooooddd…nnnngh…” The fat boy seemed to be gaining weight, instead of losing it. His massive penis was rock hard and stuck straight up, and his belly was clearly receding, but other than that, the jiggly mass was growing. His arms were bigger, his shoulders wider, his legs thicker. Dallas felt too fat. “I can’t stay up…augh!” And he toppled over, writhing on the floor. Ken could see – and hear – the gross stretching sounds of Dallas’ bones. The new teen arched his back and roared, digging his fingers into the carpeted floor. His ribs started pushing out against his newly flat chest, and his boobs were hardening, thickening, until they were bouncy pecs. “Mr. Peavler! This is fucking CRAZYYY…” Dallas’ deepening voice cracked and splintered, like his stretching bones, until it was as low and husky as his father’s, but still smoother and younger. “You can’t DO this to meeee…” Dallas pulled at his naked skin, shrieking as it stretched tightly over his plumping musculature. The boy – now a strapping, sexy teen – was as tall as Ken, six-one, but his spine stretched and popped loudly, and pretty soon he was six-three. He was as buff as his old man, and Ken watched the new man’s coloring slowly change – Dallas’ skin became increasingly darker, his gleaming white teeth popping out against the golden brown texture. The jock’s hair was getting shorter, and shorter, and shorter, until it was a closely cropped half-inch length, platinum blond – several shades lighter than yellow, almost towheaded. Dallas’ legs were getting thicker and thicker, gaining in mass as his waist became skinny and tapered. His shoulders bulged out farther and his collarbone receded into the mountains of muscles, ornamented with his round pecs and leading down into eight-pack and porn star dick. His gluteus was sticking out far enough to serve breakfast off of, with the cheeks so firmly exercised that they rippled with power, just like his legs and beefy biceps. The hair around his prick was becoming brush-like, leading up a treasure trail to his bellybutton. His balls bounced as he rolled against the floor, sobbing, moaning, laughing. His face was changing, as well, but differently. Jack’s face had become sharp, fierce, all angles. His son’s was looking more like an Abercrombie models. Dallas eyes became big and blue, popping against his skin. His cheeks pushed out and his jaw widened, but his mouth stayed the same, and pretty soon Dallas had developed a look of eternal youth, almost-but-not-quite babyfaced. With his ripped body and washboard abs, he could be a fitness model, with his cute, open face and blond locks, he became the picture of purity. His pecs bounced up and down on his heaving chest. He was having trouble catching his breath. Ken threw his leg over the jock’s body and sat down. Dallas could feel the nutritionist’s big balls on his chest, even though they were inside of his pants. These men were HORNY. “No, no no no no no…not me, not this…my Dad’s going to freak…” “No, he’s not.” Ken leaned in closer, feeling Dallas’ hot breath on his face. The man’s face looked almost comical due to the boy inside – the developed body quivered from the shock of a child. His blue eyes were bugged out and his lips were shaking. “Calm down, Dallas. Your Dad will love you, just as he always did.” Then, Dallas surprised Ken. Instead of reacting with more fear, the lips curled into a sneer. “You’re a worthless chicken shit, Peaves. Fu....” The insult spilling out Dallas’ mouth was interrupted by Ken’s tongue slipping inside. The kiss lasted a long, long while, until Dallas wriggled free. “Whooaaa…how are you doing this to me…” Ken reached his fingers up into the air, and Dallas noticed, his eyes widening once more. “No, no, wait…” Snap. Dallas leaned back, his eyes relaxing. His breaths became longer and increasingly rhythmic. “Dallas, you are now twenty-one years old. You are pure, one-hundred-percent prime American jock. You thrive on meat and sex, you love to toss the pigskin around with the boys, and your three brothers love football too, just like you. Your father has been your football coach since you started playing, and you just moved here, looking for a quarterback position. You model. You respect no one but yourself and your father, and that’s because he’s your coach. You are better than everybody. You have a hotter body, a bigger cock, and a sexier face. You love your babyface because it gets you eighteen different kinds of ass any way you want it.” Dallas’ face seemed to harden even as Ken watched it. The eyes became harsher, the eyes slightly crinkly. He was rough, he was king. No one fucked with Dallas, not even his brothers, big or small. “You’re a stud. Live your life, fucker.” Snap. •

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