chapter 25: after the party

"I mean Jesus, Brian, you stripped completely naked in the middle of a crowded party, drank two bottles of tequila, and started begging your coworkers to let you blow them. What am I supposed to do?"

I'm squirming in my seat as Mr. Marten sits across from me behind his desk, berating me, because I know he's right. My behavior at Linda's party had been inexcusable, unforgivable, and while yes, Kyle had been egging me on every step along the way, and yes, more than one of my coworkers took me up on my offer of a blowjob, at the end of the day what happened was my own fault. I could have said no at any time, if I'd been able to stand up to Kyle, if I'd been able to put myself together and tell him no. But I couldn't, because that's not who I am anymore, I'm... I'm just...

"And it's not just that, either. The quality of your work has been slipping for months, now, it's like you're not paying attention to your job at all. And what have you gained, a hundred pounds? What's going on with you, Brian, you're falling apart in front of me. How long has it been since you had your suit cleaned?"

I can't have it cleaned, I only have the two suits, now and I'd have nothing to wear. I've been washing them as best I can in my apartment's bathtub, but I can't very well tell him that. I can't very well tell him that a neighbor took my clothes while I was getting my fat ass tattooed. So I just sit there, blushing and squirming, feeling how tight my pants are around my waist and rump, how tightly the buttons on my shirt are pulled, and nod.

"I know, I'm sorry, sir. I can turn this around, though. I'll apologize..."

"Brian, you can't. You know you can't. For god's sake, every one of your coworkers have seen you naked, on all fours, begging for dick and oinking like a pig. How are any of them ever going to respect you, now? Frankly, I'm surprised you even came in. What possessed you?"

And I honestly don't know, I don't know what possessed me. I just knew I needed to come in, needed this job, to get me out of the house, otherwise I'd spend all day in front of the TV, mindlessly stuffing my face.

"Look, you're obviously going through something, Brian. I get that. You're having some kind of breakdown, and I did my best for you, ran interference as your work slipped, tried to keep people from being cruel about... about how fat you're getting, but I can't, not with this. You know that, right? "

"Yes, sir..."

I move my hands to my lap, to cover a reaction I can't control. Don't notice, I silently beg, please don't notice how hard this is making me.

"We're going to do right by you, as far as severance goes. I've made sure of that. But we need your desk cleaned out, immediately. Security is on their way up, to escort you out. All I can say is, get help, Brian. You're a good guy, I've always liked you, but this isn't healthy. You're obviously having some kind of mental breakdown and you need to see a doctor. I can't even begin to imagine what's happened to you, a year ago you were one of our top performers, and now you're..."

"A pig." I cut him off.

"What?"

"A pig. I'm a pathetic, fat pig, sir. A flabby, out of control fatboy, and I can't stop eating. Clothes make me uncomfortable, and nothing seems to fit, and it turns me on, I don't know why, but it does. To know how fat I'm getting, and how soft, and out of shape, and I just... I just need hands on me, working my fat... I don't even know why..."

I'm groping myself, I realize, over my pants, but I don't stop, I can't stop, seeing him sitting there, seeing the disgust on his face, the humiliation of it, knowing I'm losing one more thing, forever, that I'll never get back, I've never been so aroused.

"Jesus Christ, Brian." Mr. Marten shakes his head, a mix of pity and anger and disgust on his face as, behind me, the door to his office opens and two security personnel enter to grab me by the arms and jerk me out of my chair, suddenly enough that I let out an oink in surprise, "Get the fuck out of my office. And if you ever come anywhere near this place again, I swear to god I'll have you arrested."

The button on my pants gives as I'm dragged out, my belly springing free, sagging down, peeking out from under my shirt, bouncing and jiggling as they drag my fat, pig ass out of the building. Jeanie won't even make eye contact, just blushes and stares at her computer screen. Kyle smirks, as we pass his desk, and waves goodbye.

I whimper, and cum, as they manhandle me into the elevator, and by the time they pitch me out into the street, my dirty suit is disheveled, my pants stained, button gone, gut hanging out for all the world to see, oinking and moaning and whimpering like the out of control fat hog I am, it starts to dawn on me.

There's nothing, now.

Nothing in my life but food, and sex, and degradation.

No reason to put on clothes, no reason to leave my apartment.

Nothing to stop me eating all day long.

I'm free.

But I shake the thought off. This is a wake-up call, at least it should be, and I have to do something before it's too late. I need to take Mr. Marten's advice, see a doctor, have myself committed if need be. I need to take immediate steps, because he's right, my life has spiraled out of control and, if I'm going to have any chance of getting any part of myself back, I'm going to need professional help. And immediately. So, blushing, avoiding eye contact with the people I pass in the street, I half-shuffle, half-waddle in the direction of the parking lot, resolved to find the help I've spent too long denying I need...