chapter 30: september

Without a job, or social contact, without clothes, in a bare room with nothing but a TV for company, I wind up eating a lot more than I probably should.

The fridge is kept stocked, Paul takes care of that whenever it starts to get empty, re-filling it with shakes and snacks and ice cream and cakes and cookies, and the TV is some noise, at least. I barely register what's playing as I sit in front of the thing hour after hour, day after day, but the sound does keep me distracted from the fact that I'm alone...

It's hard to tell where one day ends and the next begins, to be honest. I'm allowed to leave my room, obviously, I can go out any time I want. I'm a guest not a prisoner, but after a few days it doesn't occur to me to dress when I wake up, and by a few days after that it's easier to just stay in, on my mat, eating and watching TV and drinking my shakes and drifting in and out of consciousness. It's temporary, obviously it's temporary, it's just 'til I figure things out, figure out my next step, but I get tired a lot more easily than I used to, and nothing I own fits my big, fat body anymore, and Paul is busy selling my furniture and dealing with breaking my lease so he's never around, and I get lonely here by myself, and the fridge is always so full, and I'm always so hungry...

Beast does visit, occasionally, but he says less and less when he's here, more animal then man as he forces his way in and turns me over onto all fours to...

Well, the routine and lack of mental stimulation makes it hard to think, sometimes, is what I'm saying, and it's hard to figure out the passage of time. But eventually, I guess, it's September, and Paul and his friends are at my door, and it takes me a minute to realize when Paul speaks that he's speaking to me.

"It's time, pig."

"Huh?"

" It's time for your weigh-in."

"My... my weight?"

"Yes, pig. It's that time of the month. It's time to go downstairs and weigh the fat piggy, and see how he's fattening up."

"But... downstairs?"

"Yes. To the gym. You remember the gym, don't you?"

Beast is behind him, a hulking figure, now sporting a full beard, his eyes glazed, like he hasn't had cause to think deeply any time recently. Maybe he hasn't. If he has had cause to think he certainly hasn't shared those thoughts with me in the time we've been together.

Andrew, his other friend, has managed to avoid gaining weight, if anything he's thinner than he was, and also somehow... lighter? More delicate, softer, his hair is different, cut in feathery bangs, and if I didn't know better I'd think he was wearing... makeup? He giggles, his hand over his mouth, apparently something about what Paul said struck him as funny, though it just leaves me confused.

"But... I can't... I can't go to the gym..."

"Yes, pig, you can. For your weigh in, remember? How we do that once a month? It's time. It's September, and we have to weigh you."

"But... but I'm naked...."

"Yes, you are. Pigs are naked, that's only natural. But don't worry, I've brought you something to wear."

Paul turns to Beast, who hands him a simple, leather dog-collar with a dull metal buckle. I don't... understand... but the three of them seem to agree that it's all I need, and I don't know how to argue it. Paul knows what's best, I trust him, if he thinks this...

"Sit up, piggy."

I do, and he slips the collar around my neck. I feel myself blushing as it locks into place, and Andrew hands him a leash to tether me to it.

"So you won't run off. How does it feel, pig? Comfortable?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good pig, now get up, we have to go downstairs."

Standing is hard, harder than I thought it would be, but I manage, though I'm wheezing by the time I'm upright. I do this every day, I stand up to go to the bathroom, or to squeeze my fattened body into shower, though I can't remember when I last did that, it shouldn't be so hard, why would it be so hard? But before I can think too hard about it Paul pulls at the leash, and I'm being dragged out of my room and out, into his apartment and into the hall, Beast and Andrew trailing behind me.

"But... I'm naked..."

"Yes, you mentioned," Paul tells me, "but I don't see the problem. It's not like you wear clothes around the house, and it's not like this is the first time you've been naked in public, is it? So what's the big deal. You're just a pig being taken downstairs for his monthly weigh in, nothing more natural."

"But Mr. Mathews said..."

"Don't worry about Mr. Mathews," he tells me, "I've had words with him, he's not going to bother you anymore."

The elevator doors close, leaving me in a too-confined space with these three men, standing closer than I'd expected, the smell of us distracting me, keeping me off balance, their musk coming off them like...

Are they coming off their workout? Is that why it's so noticeable? Or is it just the enclosed space? I guess it doesn't matter, one way or the other...

One of Beast's hands is on my ass, gently squeezing and kneading the cheek of it, digging his fingernails into it like claws, possessive but protective, and when I whimper he lets out a growl, low and guttural.

"Hah, you like that, do you pig?" Paul asks, looking me over as the door to the elevator opens and I'm pushed out into the hall, "being manhandled by Beast like that?"

"I... um... yes, sir..."

"Good, you'll have to tell us, going forward, we won't be able to know by looking at you. Your cock is entirely gone, now."

"What?!?!?!"

I try to reach it, but I can't find it under my belly, when did it go from ball to apron? And how had I not noticed? I'm led down the hall, Beast's hand now on the small of my back, Paul ahead, holding the leash, Andrew giggling and snickering, trying to remember... what... what had...

It's so hard to think, now. I didn't used to be like this, though, I know that. I was something else, someone else, but the details are hazy, and it's gotten so hard to think recently...

Mr. Mathews is waiting for us in the gym when we arrive. He doesn't look happy, his arms crossed across his chest, scowl on his face, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't scream, or threaten, so I guess Paul's talk did help.

"Filth," Paul asks Mr. Mathews, "do you have something to say?"

Mr. Mathews blushes, and looks at his feet, his hands in his pockets, shifting nervously from foot to foot, before finally looking up and saying through gritted teeth...

"I'm sorry, pig. I didn't realize that this is just who you are, now, and what I said to you the other day was unkind. I'm sorry if I hurt you. There, Sir, I said it. Now can I please take a shower? It's been two weeks, and..."

"I don't know," Paul tells him, "that didn't feel very sincere. Andi, what do you think?"

"I mean, he should live up to his name, shouldn't he? You didn't call him Filth for no reason."

Paul laughs, hearty and utterly confident, and I whimper a little. I don't know what's happening, anymore, but I somehow feel like I should, and I'm a little ashamed at the realization.

"Andi has spoken, Filth," Paul tells my former building super, "maybe we'll try again in another week or two. In the meantime, Beast, why don't you take Filth upstairs and get him out of those clothes, he wouldn't want to get them dirty after all, it's not like he's allowed to use the laundry anymore. Join us at my apartment when you're done with him. Pig, as for you, hop up on that scale."

I waddle my bulk to the gym scale, and with a grunt step up on it, as Beast and Mr. Mathews, Filth now, I guess, exit the gym out into the hallway. I'm scared to look, I know I've been bad this month, I've just been so hungry, and I've had so little to do, and I get carried away sometimes. Andi looks at the scale for me, leaning in, his hand on my doughy, sagging belly, and laughs out loud as he reads it out...

"Hah! Paul, you're right, fifty pounds in a month, he's four-thirty, I guess I've gotta suck you now."

"As if you wouldn't have anyway, Andi. You're constantly hungry for me, lately. And I suspect it's not just me."

And then it's Andi's turn to blush, and giggle, and cover his mouth.

"I'll never tell." He says, but I'm too lost in my own thoughts to really register, too fixated on a number...

Four-thirty? How the fuck am I four hundred and thirty pounds? That's... I mean, I was fat, I knew I was getting fat, I was fat, I am fat, but four-thirty is above and beyond, that's not even... I mean... it's morbid, how... how did I... how did I let myself...

Paul pulls roughly at the leash, and I stumble off the scale, off balance, falling to one knee in front of him, looking up at him, shaken, eyes wide, disoriented and confused, not knowing what it is that I'm becoming...

"Are you ready for your reward, pig?" Paul asks, pushing his shorts down his hips and releasing his manhood, already hard, jutting straight out from him, "You've been such a good pig, you finally deserve this."

And I am, I am ready. As I taste him it feels like I've been waiting for this longer than I can properly remember...