#public exhibition

Your handler was looking forward to this for months. After a brief hiatus, the famed BDSM Con was returning and your handler was already making plans when the mere rumors started circulating around the city’s underside. It was one of your handler’s favorite conventions and he decided that you were going with him this time around.

The convention was held at a convention hall in the next state over, during the upcoming long weekend.

In the months leading up to the weekend event, your handler wrestled your paychecks away from you and started siphoning a hundred or so dollars from each check into a private banking account. All to make sure that you had enough money to cover the cost of the tickets, hotel room, travel expenses, and of course paying your handler’s traveling agent fee since he was planning everything. He also forced you to call in your vacation day from work, to ensure that you were able to attend all four days of the convention.

Soon the big day was here, you were awoken at the crack of dawn by your handler’s eagerly rocking you awake. Groggily you shuffled out of bed, performed your morning blow job duty, moved your luggage into the car, and prepared for the long drive. 

After a few hours of driving, you arrived at the hotel your handler booked with your money. Once checked in and your bags were put away it was time to go. 

It was a short walk to the convention center building as your handler lead you to the crowded ‘Will Call’ line to pick up the badges. 

The receptionist asked “which is which?” your handler definitively stated that he was the Dom and as he turned to you, in a bit of a louder voice, stated, “And here’s my sub!” While you knew where you were, the fact that your handler said that about you in front of the crowd in broad daylight, caused you to blush a deep red.

The receptionist chuckled as she applied something to the two badges before handing it and a pair of lanyards over to your handler with the comment to not mix them up once inside.

As your handler slipped it around his head you noticed that his badge has a sparking red sticker placed on it, when he handed your badge you saw that yours had a bright light blue sticker applied to yours. As you two were ushered out the hallway towards the main hall of the convention, you were able to inspect it further as you saw a white text on your sticker that labeled you as ‘sub’.

You turned the corner of the hallway you finally looked up to see the main hall of the expo hall and your jaw dropped. The entire hall was full of kink.

Booths and booths of kink. 

Laid out in front of you there were booths of every aspect and genre of the entirety of the BDSM world. There were multiple booths of companies showing off their latex and leather gear, accessories and tools, exotic sex toys,  and media equipment.

You were blindsided by the size, scope, and concentration of it all within this one space. Looking around you saw some major companies of the scene, as well as dozens of local stores and start-ups. On top of that, the entire expo floor was packed with guests all wandering around the booths just window shopping, or stopping to examining the merchandise as they perused.

The guests themselves were just as awe-inspiring, leather daddies, human pups on either two legs or on all fours, and dozens and dozens of people in latex outfits or full gimp suits. 

Along with those there were more moderately dressed guests that were still sporting vests, jackets from local leather shops, while others had obviously coded messages on their graphic text t-shirts. On every one of their badges, they had either red or blue stickers shining in the building’s fluorescent lights. You looked at it all in amazement, never have you seen hundreds upon hundreds of people from the scene before, and here they are, just milling around so openly in the middle of the day.

As you just stared you felt a strong pull from your hand. Snapping out of it, you recognize that it was your handler yanking you out of your stupor as he brought you inside. 

The convention had so much going for it, on top of the expo hall, there was an artist den that had an array of tasteful and raunchy illustrations, as well as latex and leather-clad furniture for sale and enough swings and racks to refurbished any dungeon twice over.

Your handler dragged you up and down the rows, gaze darting from side to side, scanning the merchandise. After walking through the first row, he emerged a new leather chest harness, a new flogger, and a set of latex-lined handcuffs that he quickly attached to his belt. 

As for you, he bought you a “Lil Sissy’’ outfit set that came with pink thigh highs, matching panties, a frilly tutu, and a shirt that said “Daddy’s Little favorite” in matching pink font. From the same booth, he picked up a matching butt plug and a new pink chastity cage. 

Your handler ordered you to immediately go and change in the nearest bathroom. As you sheepishly went in to change your outfit you saw plenty of other blue stickered guests also changing into their assigned outfits from the open bathroom stalls. 

You emerged a few minutes later, and after doing a curtsy to your handler, you followed him along as he led the way through the rest of the convention. 

After the first round, your handler went back to the expo floor, stopping by the booths to examine merchandise, network with some local organization, and catch up with some of his local and internet friends that he ran into.

Throughout the day there were kink panels running in the main and side theaters. Those consisted of reveals of a company’s newest models or technology gadgets or Q&A panels from influential actors, illustrators, and animators from the scene.

Between them, there were also panels that were exclusive to either doms or subs.  There were bouncers at the dom exclusive panels making sure each guest was allowed to be there.  While the dom panels were kept secret from you, you saw that the panels for subs were all about best tips and techniques to serve better, professional experience, and even a mass group hypno session. There was even a designated ‘sub baby sitting’ station for the doms who wanted to attend dom exclusive panels and needed some supervision for their plus one. 

You mostly stayed with your handler as you, looked at the merchandise, attended panels, and wandered with starstruck eyes around the convention. After a few hours of people watching, your handler pulled you into a line for a panel. 

As you looked around, you noticed your handler lead you to an offshoot of an incredibly busy panel line. This door was protected by two leather-clad bouncers who checked your handler’s name against their tablets. The bouncer took one glance at you and said, “this must be your ‘contribution’ then” before opening the door to let you two in.

The room looked like a normal green room, with two other couples waiting as well. One was a leather handler holding on to a very tight leash that connected to his latex human pup while the other pair was a well-toned 20 something man holding the reins to a 40-year-old man who was on all fours, looking straight ahead to the door marked ‘stage entrance’.

Your handler strolled right in as he acknowledged the others, fixed himself a snack at the food table with a cup of coffee, and made his way to a chair. Having no idea what was going to happen, you resigned to stand next to him.

After a few minutes of quietly standing there with everyone else, you heard the murmurs and movement of people filing into the main stage room. You looked at the other two subs nervously as you straightening your girly outfit trying to make sure not to crumple your new tutu. There was a moment of silence then the entire theater roared and applauded in excitement as a microphone amplified voice started to speak. Even with the microphone, it was impossible to decipher what the man was saying through the walls. The best you could make out, it sounded like a person acting as a hype man, warming up the crowd for something. 

That went on for a few minutes until one of the expo assistants opened the door and told the leather dom that it was ‘their time’. The leather dom nodded, stood up and strolled across the green room, pulling the human pup as he went. From the way the dog was looking around the room and how he moved on all fours, it seemed like the pup was left just as much in the dark as you. 

As he was lead out, there was a few moments of silence before a roar from the unseen audience erupted yet again. The microphoned voice spoke back up again, this time in a T.V show tempo. There was a conversation that lasted for several minutes where the audience cheered and laughed along.

The crowd then went quiet before they participated in a three-syllable chant, growing louder and louder. That chanting stayed at a steady raising pace for minutes until it was suddenly interrupted and killed by a disappointed groan. The microphoned man said something in a mock apologetic tone that caused the crowd to jeer in unison.

There was a brief pause and then the show assistant knocked on the green room door and informed the young dom that it was his time now. The dom lead his older sub away through the door and like before the microphoned voice delivered some type of speech and conversation as the crowd applauded and then went back to chant of those same three syllables. The chanting grew louder and louder than before but ultimately ended in disappointed groans.

The next few anxious minutes that followed seemed like an entirety that was abruptly interrupted as the assistant knocked on the door and informed your handler it was his time. Your handler nodded and made his way to the door, with you obediently following along.

As you walked by, the stagehand whispered, “good luck” to you. You made your way with your handler through the small corridor to a side of the theater. You and your handler were greeted by another stagehand who halted you two, looking on to the stage for the right moment. 

You heard the microphoned voice say “We haven’t had any luck with the last two contestants, but let’s see if this last one will provide the gusto to success!” that was when the stagehand ushered the both of you on stage. 

As you walked on stage and you were blinded by the bright lights shining on you. Blinking for a few moments your eyes adjusted to see the audience. 

The theater was jammed packed with people in leather and rubber and they were looking at you. Every single member of the crowd was in gear, from head to toe with the shine of polished latex and metal straps glinting as you scanned the room.

And they were all cheering at you. 

The microphoned voiced boomed from your left as you turned to see the host of the show. He was a tall man with straight clean-cut brown hair, stylized with hair spray. He wore a custom-made leather suit, with a red-dyed leather blazer with yellow trim and a red and yellow striped tie resting on top of a yellow leather undershirt. He was holding a tall thin mental microphone stick and string, the same types you see on old television shows. 

In an unbreakable toothy smile, he welcomed your handler and you to the stage as he continued, “Normally we have a little warm-up and ‘get to know you’ session but our stagehands say that we are running a bit short on time.” The audience let loose a sarcastic grown of disapproval. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” the master of ceremony asked as he leaned the microphone towards you. you stammered out a meek, “uh… no”. The crowd laughed at your response. 

The host chuckled, “well, I’m the showrunner of a fairly popular online show as well as one of the guests of honors at this year’s BDSM con. As a result, I was asked to run a special live show every day of the convention, to show off companies’ newest and upcoming merch in a more… personal and intimate way.” he trailed off as the crowded whooped and cheered.

After a crowd died down the host picked back up, “Today we have one of the newest toys, hot from the silicon molds.” as he moved out of the way to reveal something that was hidden from your view. In the middle of the stage was a huge granite patterned rubber fist and arm standing erect on a little table next to it was a tub of lube with a modified handpump. On the fist, you saw the glint of a golden bracelet resting halfway down the granite forearm.

Your heart plummeted as you finally made the connection just before the show host began explaining it to you. “You see champ, we have this lovely sculpture donated from one of the local silicone ‘artists’, he affectedly calls it, ‘The Boulder’ and we are all here to see if any of our guests can….” 

“TAKE THE FIST!” the crowd chanted in response.

“We need to see if you can take the entire thing to the bracelet… without cumming along the way, you think you can manage champ?” the show host followed up.

Your mouth went dry as it was all explained to you, eyes now fixated on the silicon monstrosity, painfully aware that every eye is on you. While you have done some public exposure and stunts at the behest of your handler, this was definitely the biggest crowd you asked to perform in front of.

You took a deep breath, nodded, and slowly reached under your tutu to pull down your pink panties. As you tugged on the underwear you became painfully aware of how hard your cock was pressing against the pink plastic chastity cage. The crowd cheered in celebration but the moment you reached behind yourself and pulled out the plug your handler bought for you, they went wild. “Oh! We have someone who was lucky enough to come somewhat prepared” commented the show host.

In slow deliberate steps, you slowly made your way towards the table. You knew that you were as prepared as you were going to be since your handler as always prided himself on keeping you well trained and on your toes for any exercise or activity he suddenly threw your way.

To boost your confidence, you tried to put on a show, preparing yourself with the tub of lube, flirting with the crowd. You were able to garner a few murmurs and exciting talks from the audience but you knew exactly what they wanted to see, and what you had to do to get them to cheer for you.

You nervously circled in front of the table, tried to give a confident wave to the crowd as you propped yourself up to get up on the table as you began to straddle out your legs and spread open your ass to accept the massive fist. Your body was now on fire with both embarrassment and arousal as you took one last steadying breath before bent your knees and started the show proper, as the crowd finally started to cheer you on.

As you slowly lowered your ass down, you were bracing for the initial impact, and even though you prepared cool slimy silicone making contact with your ass sent you into a jolt of excitement running up your spine.

After recomposing and straightening yourself you lowered yourself down yet again. Now you could feel the individual ridges of the fist’s fingers against your taint and with the sensation of touch to guide it to where it needed to go. Taking one more deep breath, you closed your eyes and focused on what you needed to do, what the audience and your handler expected of you.

You start by lowering your left knee as your hands clasped each cheek, spreading it apart as far as you could. After a bit of fidgeting, you found the best position and angle. You slowly bent your knees and brought your ass down onto the toy. You felt the familiar mounting pressure of the toy pushing your ass hole. With a grunt and another steady thrust down, you felt your hole gave way and stretch out to accept the first two knuckles of the silicone rubber fist.

Once that started, you lowered your right knee as well, bringing it down to a level as you wiggled and squirmed your body to get everything lined up. As you did so, you heard the tell-tale squelching sound of your lubricated hole being used again. Now you feel each bent knuckle pressed against you before they were pushed their way into you.

As you were focusing, you heard the show host say “It looks like this contestant is diving right down into it, already working on those dainty little fingers” as the crowd broke out in a cheer.

Trying to tune him out, you kept your eyes closed and continued to focus on the task at hand. Wiggling and constantly readjusting yourself you recognized that you just took all four of the fingers inside of you. “And it looks like our guest just took the fingers, lets see if he has the stones to go beyond that” the crowd cheered loudly. “Don’t get too excited everyone,” the host added, “let’s see if the little one can take the thumb and widest part before we pop the glasses, and even then he still has so much to go before he can…” “TAKE THE FIST” the crowd answered.

Hearing the active play-by-play was both demeaning and encouraging to hear the progress reports of your current herculean task. Even though you were looking dead at the audience, you could feel everything that was happening below your waist. You could feel the fist begin to widen more and more as you felt the curled thumb brush up at your entrance. With determination, you pressed on. Slowly but surely you felt your ass take the widest part of the fist. Too wrapped up in the excitement and moment of being on stage, performing for BDSM con, you kept pushing harder and harder against that thumb. Until there was a small give, something inside of you shifted as the rest of the silicone hand was swallowed up by your hole.

Within that second you felt each sculpted rivet and texture rush past your pressed prostate. That intense sensation almost caused you to blow your laid right there. As soon as the moment came, it was gone, rushing deeper into you. The rush and sensation and the wave of relief that crashed through you were so powerful that you had to steady yourself in fear of falling over.

The crowd went wild once you regained your footing and lifted your hands in the air in victory, allowing a moment of rest. The hardest part was conquered, “Now, just the rest.” you thought to yourself “just the rest of it and I win.”

Placing your hand onto your kneed you started a series of steady squats. Every bend at the knees slowly rocked the fist deeper and deeper into you. 

Once you got comfortable with the prostate pressure and routine you started to showboat to the audience, blowing kisses to some, pointing, winking at others, and even performed a little cancan dance with your tutu. All as you slowly work your way down to the arm.

The crowd lapped it up as you continued your work on the toy, the crowd shifted from the normal chant of “TAKE THE FIST” to “SIT THE FIST”. A while later some part of the crowd changed it to “SIT THE FIST, SISSY!” which further degraded to “SISSY FIST” which was quickly picked up by the rest of the theater.

Eventually, you decided to steal a peek between your legs, to see exactly how much of the toy you took already and how much of the arm was left. To your delight, you discovered that there was just an inch and a half from where you were to the golden bracelet that marked your finished line.

Bringing your head back up to the chanting audience you pointed down at your waist, showing off the remaining distance as you shouted, “Do you think I can do it?”

The crowd roared in response, stomping their feet, clapping, and cheering for you to continue. As the chant of “SISSY FIST” renewed and doubled in intensity. 

There you stayed basking in the spotlight and degeneracy as you put your mind to tackle the home stretch of this initially impossible challenge as you kept on the steady pace with your squats. You could feel the solid fist go deeper and deeper. You could feel your heart racing with excitement, and anticipation of your accomplishment. Yet with all of that, you still maintained control of it all. 

Taking a peek below you saw there was only a half-inch left until the gold finish line and you watched as you pushed down even more as a quarter-inch slowly disappeared. Seeing the flint of the gold and that goal being so close now, you couldn’t help but inhale and put on a giant grin, as the crowd continued the chanting, “SISSY FIST” now in a slow, expecting beat.

As you brought your head back up, you stole a glance behind you at the show host who had been quiet ever since as you began your work down the wrist. You saw him, still standing there with his tall silver microphone in one hand. But held in the other hand, by his side, you saw him holding a small round object. 

In an instant of insight, your eyes darted up towards the show host, you saw his eyes flashed with excitement as a smirk grew on his face as he flicked the remote in his hand.

All at once, the silicon fist that you spent all this time working on sprung to life with a sound and sensation of buzzing. It rocketed through your body, shaking you to the core and carrying past that as it went up to your spine and raced straight to your head. The slow, controlled burn of arousal that you were managing throughout the entire show exploded into a wild blaze of sensation and lust as it overwhelmed you. 

Some basic part of you recognized what was happening. 

Apparently, the rubber fist was outfitted with numerous vibrators inside of it. One of each knuckle and one right at the base of the wrist. And they were all turned on at once. And they were now vibrating right against your prostate and shaking the rest of your body in the process.

Your final squat was interrupted, as your entire body froze like you were a deer in the headlights. All of your muscles tensed up in response to the sudden assault on your senses.

A moment later your groin began to twitch and spasm with the telltale of an oncoming orgasm. Without thinking you moved one of your hands down to try to stop what was coming next. Even the faintest touch of your own hand was just enough to push your cock over the edge. You moaned in defeat as your entire body convulsed and twitched as your dick squirted out the load of ruined orgasm into your cupped hand. 

Your stood stock still gasping as you felt your cum slowly start to trickle between your fingers. The crowd went dead quiet.

“Oh, touch luck champ… No one’s ever prepared for the vibrators.” The booming voice of the game host said as it echoed through the theater as the crowd started to boo… at you.

“Well, it looks like our granite fist is still undefeated!”  As the crowd’s direction and attention shifted back to the show host as he came up from behind you, taking over the spotlight. Leaving you in his shadow as you slowly ease your aching body off the toy.  “But let’s give our contestant a hand, ladies and gentlemen.”

Mocking applause filled the room. “And …” as the game host continued, cutting through the crowd’s response, “…because he was oh so close to the final mark. Let’s see if we can get him back for tomorrow’s show! Would you like that audience? A return visit to see if our little star can conquer the granite boulder?”

The audience cheered at that. 

You slunk away to meet up with your handler, waiting to shamefully walk off stage. The only thing you could hear was the hall full of people cheering at the prospect of your returning again. 

“And folks, if he fails after that… we’ll keep bringing him and his cute little outfit back until he takes it!” The show host looks at your handler, who nearly shugs in approval

As you leave the stage, heading back to the green room you hear the chant the entire theater they made for you.

“SISSY FIST” “SISSY FIST” “SISSY FIST”

SISSY FIST.

***
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The Pig Show (Part 1)

It has been a few months since the official launch of The Pig Show and it showed. Under the guidance of Tobin and his, now, weekly live web broadcasts to all of your growing fans.

The continued popularity and financial success of the show resulted in Tobin funneling some of that money back into the show’s production value. It started with a better camera that recorded in Ultra HD and proper studio lighting and a boom mic to record your stomach gurgles. He even bought a mini fridge that he kept stock with thick ice cream bases whey shakes for the show sessions. 

After that Tobin moved on to props, soon every other week new packages were arriving at his place.He purchased jocks for him and you, outfitted you with suspenders, harnesses and a neoprene pig mask to wear during future broadcasts and photo shoots. The gear started to become costly since every few weeks after that Tobin had to place an order for a new pair of jocks because you outgrew it, a fact he would constantly tout online.

Tobin was even upping his presence over you and your fat ass more and more in the public space. He started pressuring you to keep your tighter shirts as you went out shopping with him and every time he would bring you to the local convenience store and order you to clean out the convenient store hot food displays. All while he was standing just over your shoulder as you were forced to stand there awkwardly as the store clerk rang up the half dozen cheeseburgers and whatever chicken tenders or pizza slices were left under the heat lamp. Then he would record you as you scarfed it down on the beach outside of the store for additional ‘extra content’ for the twitter account.

He even pressured you to take the work option to work from home, just like him. From there he had full control over you. Tobin would make you work and walk around the house with just your jock and suspenders most days and nothing else on the others. Throughout the day he would order delivery for you and make you drown every snack and meal with a tall glass of protein shake.

With both working from home and no commute to factor into it meant that your Pig Shows could go live early and go on longer. To spice things up Tobin switched between force feeding you shakes and solid foods, always with the intent to push your gut and your limit to the absolute limit over and over again through the sessions and weeks. There were some shows that were so intense that you couldn’t move after the camera went off, with your gut being so heavy and tight that it literally pinned you down until you could digest parts of your meal after a long food coma.

After a while of broadcasting, Tobin wanted it to be special. He sent the word out and built up hype for a special live showing of The Pig Show and placed a reservation at an All You Can Eat restaurant.

You were ordered to spend the full day fasting before your big show, soon three thirty rolled around and Tobin picked out your clothes, a plus Extra sized sweatpants with a failing elastic and an old t-shirt that you wore on your first date with Tobin. Now the shirt was so small on you that even on an empty stomach your massive gut protruded from the bottom, showing off a band of bare fatty flesh between the shirt and the sweatpants.

Once in your designated ‘going out‘ attire you lumbered behind Tobin he led you to his pickup truck and opened the passenger door. As you lifted yourself up to your seat, you felt the truck rocking back and forth as you settled into the seat. Once you squeezed your ass and monstrous gut into place, Tobin gave your stomach a soft pat before starting up the car and shifting it into gear and slowly accelerated out of the driveway and down the street.

You two were the first to arrive and once Tobin told the staff the reservation you two were led to the back of the restaurant, towards the biggest table they had. Walking past all rows of buffet food sizzling under the heat lamps made your stomach let out an audible growl of protest and hunger as you made your way to the table. Apparently the staff had to clear one segment of a room and put the two longest tables together to accommodate Tobin’s reservation. 

As you took your seat Tobin took no time to leave you at the table and make his way to the buffet. He grabbed two plates of the stacks and started to prowl his way through the aisles as he loaded up the plates with piles upon piles of food.

Starting with a base of fried rice one one and noodles on the other, he then started mounting piles and piles of meats, dumplings and pizza slices on top of that. He made his way back and slid you the two tall plates of food in front of you and your watering mouth. As you dug into your plate Tobin got up and went back to fix himself a third plate to himself, a small salad with light dressing.

As you ate people started trickling in towards your table. Apparently Tobin’s cover story for this evening was that it was your birthday party, since some greeted you with balloons with cartoon pigs on them as they wished you a Happy Birthday. They were all welcomed by Tobin as they took a seat at the table and every time they got up and made their own plate they also took the liberty of providing you with another tall plate of fried food, all so you didn’t have to get up from the table.

As the evening rolled on more and more people from the local side of your community were showing up at your table, some fans some were aspiring feeders and feedees, but they were all there for you. Each one provides you plates, free drinks as well as encouragement and jabs about you and your filling gut. One couple even brought a bottle of appetite enhancers, which Tobin immediately served to you and all of the other feedees there.

Tobin acted like he always did on stream, and acted as the host for the event, relying comments, stories, commands from the table towards you on top of live tweeting photos and video clips of the mountains of food you started putting away as he made sure that you kept going, plate after plate that was ‘generously donated’ from the table.

You felt a new wave of excitement at the prospect of eating and performing to a live audience. You were in the spotlight, everyone was here because of you and your feasting and as you looked up between plates, you noticed that there were always at least six pairs of eyes on you as you went to grab another plate. It didn’t take long for you to get into your well practiced rhythm of chewing and swallowing. Through the mouthfuls, the stack of empty plates in front of you began to grow taller and taller.

Despite your training and Tobin’s best efforts you reached your limit after the sixth or seventh plate. Once you finished that plate you lifted your fork in a dramatic fashion and let it drop and clatter onto the empty plate to the roar of the crowd. That is where you sat, basking while everyone at the table worked through their plates but always waiting for you to make room for another bite.

There was no need to get up or fetch another plate or drink, since Tobin was on the ball making sure that someone was always on their way back to the buffet also helped you out to get another plate of appetizers or get the attention of a waiter to bring you another soda or milkshake.

All of the guests had had their own books, phones and portable chargers. They were here for the long haul and committed to the event, and to see your got your money’s worth from the all you can eat buffet.

As the evening turned into night the guests became more and more rowdy, dropping any established facade that it was a birthday part as the cheers, jeers and chants after completing another plate. The party kept going for hours and hours. You ate so much good you had to make adjustments to your attire, untying your sweatpants for starters, freeing up some much needed space for your encroaching gut.

There you stayed, going through phases of stuffing yourself, resting as others took up the slack and ‘ate for the table’ as Tobin slipped you another appetite pill followed by the slowly regaining your hunger to tackle another few plates. All while as your gut expanded and rode against your old shirt. 

It was getting late and the restaurant staff were long past wary and started sliding your table dirty looks as they kept having to wait on the entire party that had long lost their own table manner in the craze of the moment. And you were so close to the goal.

At the last hour Tobin went up and gave you one last massive plate of food, while whispering into your ear, “hurry up pig, you got one last shot to show them all what you are”. That little whisper rekindled your appetite-enhanced hunger and you began to dig into this one final plate. Eating past the protest of your stomach and stuffing yourself to past your limits as your gut pushed further forward and out from under your taunt shirt

You let out a deep moan as the shirt hem creeps over the apex of your stomach, you keep chugging more and more, pushing yourself until your stomach pushes out and finally pushes the shirt past the top of your now firm gut. In a rush of sensation you felt the shirt material come rushing up your gut and bunching up with the rest of your shirt at your pecs.

Underneath the now retreated shirt was the most recent purchase that Tobin made with the show’s money. In big black blocky text the words “BIG HOG” was permanently tattooed on your stretched stomach, just above your belly button.

The party let out a huge roar at the sight of your new tattoo. They let out waves of hollers form the table, loud enough for every waiter and remainder staff to glare at all of you. You were too busy, letting out a series of belches and gasps as you felt everyone’s hands on you, all rushing to rub your now exposed gut as they whoops and cheered in celebration. 

After a while Tobin came swooping up besides you and eased you out of your chair. Staggering to your feet Tobin directed you towards the door as the crowd joined you, all chanting “BIG HOG! BIG HOG!” over and over again in a drunken and horny craze they followed behind you to the parking lot. 

It was a slow and slugger walk as you made your way to Tobin’s truck. Someone dashed ahead of you two and opened the passenger door, from your oncoming food coma you heard Tobin bark out, “Oh no, he was just on his way out from out growing that seat, here…” as you heard a beep from the truck and he followed up with, “pop the tailgate. We’ll load him in there.” That was met with a roar of hearty laughter as men started coming from behind to help Tobin. 

With still so much food in you, there was not much you could do to contribute the action, save for the tiniest little bunny hop when they counted down to lift. With a well-time countdown Tobin and the others were able to slowly lift you up to the truck.. It was a slow and sluggish struggle but soon enough they were able to get you off the ground and slide you into the bed of the truck, as you heard and felt the truck groan and sag as more of your weight was placed on it.

With help from the group, you were pulled and pushed to the center of the bed as you just stared at the starry night, too dumbfounded and stuffed to the brim to make any sense of what was happening around you. 

You heard Tobin thank everyone for attending and wished them the best, followed by feet walking away. You felt Tobin get into the driver side, rev up the engine and the small jostle as Tobin backed up and slowly drove you back home.

***
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You received a text message while you were at work. Sam, an old co-worker of yours from a past job, reached out and asked if you were free to meet up somewhere to catch up and talk over this weekend. It was out of the blue but you had nothing better planned, you accepted the invite and hashed out the time and place.

As you finalize the details of the meet up, you could not help but notice how quickly Sam was responding to your replies. It was like he was actively waiting by the phone during the entire conversation.

That Saturday you arrived at the location, a nice locally owned coffee shop. You got there a bit early so you went to the barista, got your cup of latte and took a seat at a table in the middle of the floor, facing the front door. As you sat down with your coffee, sipping and idly fidgeting with the paper cup with your fingers you began to think back to working with Sam.

You met Sam at your old job a few years ago. He was a young small, little dude with a petite frame and a mop of messy brown hair on his head that covered his eyes. He was a good worker but just incredibly timid. He was so meek at work some of your co-workers started to call him ‘Shy Sam’. You took him under your wing for training, showing the ropes, and worked with him for a while before you got a better job offer and left the office.You did remember that he was always wearing plain clothes and he never talked about this hobbies, never discussed his social life, as if there was anything to talk about with him. He was just always just plain and boring.

As you were thinking of the past, the door chime rang as the door swung open, and a man stood in the middle of the doorway. He was tall, strong, built like a truck. He wore a polished black leather coat and  motorcycle pants. He was sporting a clean cut haircut and a 5 o’clock shadow covering over his strong jaw. His brown eyes were hard as flint,as he stood there, scanning the room. He finally laid his eyes on you and those eyes sparked to life.  He acknowledged you with a wry smile and then with a glace over his back. The man walked in and took a step of the side to reveal what was standing behind him. 

It was Sam.

You would not believe it was him, if not his still petite body structure and his own persistent expression shyness and uncertainty on his face. Now Sam’s moppy brown hair was dyed bleach blonde and shaved into a military buzz cut. His face acquired a half dozen piercing, a few silver studs on both of his ears and a shiny golden ring was placed right on the side of his nose. It all totally clashed with his weak and mild expression, he had no confidence to pull it all off. 

On his neck was a thin metal chain link necklace, brazenly exposed for all to see. After doing a quick take you noticed that the other man was sporting the same kind of chain necklace but his chain necklace had bigger and thicker chains.

Resting underneath the necklace was a black fishnet shirt, with his pail torso showing underneath. On his hands were bracers and on inspections you saw that they were well padded with mental hoops on each side. He had black jeans on his legs and matching black short ankle military boots just beyond that. Sam’s eyes skittered around the room before he found you. He blushed and after craning up to the man, he received a firm head hod and slowly moved towards you. 

As Sam broke away, the other man marched to the cashier and placed his order, then deliberately made his way to a far away table and sat down in a chair to face directly at you two. Everything he did was the relay that he was there to watch you two talk and he was not hiding that fact from anyone in the cafe. 

Sam approached with that memorable weak smile, awkwardly pulling a chair across from you with an awkward laugh and a weak apology as he sat down. You were thrown for a bit of a loop and you still had no idea how to even begin to respond. So you just answered with stunned silence. Taking that as a cue, Sam made another nervous laugh and tried to restart the conversation. “So ….erm. How’s life?”

Regaining some stability, you replied with a shaky, ‘it’s.. all good’ and after a bit you went off listing off the mundane and mild developments of your 9am-5pm job. Then you bounced the question back to Sam, ‘Son… ahh you have been through some changes?” guesting to his attire.

Sam blushed and stole a look at the man he came in with, who continued to monitor your table through the crowded cafe. He Sat with a wide stance, posed to strike, with his eyes locked on Sam, not you. He kept stuttering as if he was bracing for what was coming next and then he told you. 

He told you how he was in a bit of a bad place, mentally, a few years. Between work and personal stuff and he started to spiral. That was about the time when Sam found him, Xander.

Apparently Sam was a big admirer of the alternative scene as found Xander on a special dating app. After a bit of talking Xander took Sam under his own wing and ‘collared’ him two and a half years ago. He paused in hesitation before concluding with “and here we are” as he gave another glance at Xander.

After hearing that impressive tale, he slouched in his seat with a sigh. Looked at you expectantly, you were re-staggered into stunned disbelief.

You always heard about BDSM relationships and saw a fair few videos and posts during your most depraved late night browsing but you never thought that you would ever meet someone in that, let alone little meek Sam being able to be a part of one.

Before your brain could process it all your mouth sprung to life, “So you’re the….” training off. “the Sub yes.” Sam said sheepishly. “But Mr. Xander has had me describe myself in more …. colorful terms”. Instinctively you followed up with a “and that you’ve….”   

Sam blushed as he replied with, “yes I have done… a lot of things. He is a very experienced Master.” Sam embarrassed arose in his voice for a bit as he explained it but judging on how he was going through the phrases he had this conversation before. Just like old times.

‘Oh?’ you immediately replied, as your dick started to twitch. And before you could stop yourself your mouth once again added on “like what?” Sam shuttered, glanced back at Mr. Xander, took a breath and began listening to them all. In detail. He wasn’t lying in saying how Xander was an experienced dom.

Sam had been through things that you only saw in the most perverse BDSM comic and stories and then went beyond that. Apparently under the guise of Xander’s leadership Shy Sam was quite used and popular. He initially stammered but then his voice became more solid as he went off on stories and tales about being ordered to dress every day. Ordered to track the total length of times he was able to a butt plug in him, down to the minute and second. He was offered and auctioned off at parties. Apparently had his pictures and videos posted all over the web, with plenty of professional photo shoots with all types of outfits and  sensory deprivation gear.  As you spied at his fishnet top, you saw a few ‘on brand’ tattoos on his chest as well, evidently also at the behest of Xander.

As he went on, while you felt pangs of jealousy, arousal and appreciation to Sam’s commitment. You quickly snapped out of your growing fog of arousal as you realized you two were just talking about Sam’s recent history of hardcore bdsm in a very busy cafe in the middle of the day, with his dom watching this conversation.

 After coming to your scenes you asked, “Wait, why are you even telling me this?” Sam’s emboldened persona broke down as he stammered a rehearsed tone . “As a part of Mr. Xander’s Social Rehabilitation program, he had ordered me to.. To contact and … show off to everyone… “ Sam’s face went beat red, “to everyone that I have ever had a crush on. And offer myself up to them” then quickly clammed up.

That hit you like a ton of bricks. All you could do was stare back with wide eyes as you went over everything. He had a crush on you? You would never have guessed in a million years, not that he would tell you back then but still… And he was offering himself to you, to make up for lost time. 

No way this was happening. 

You said nothing, you didn’t even move a muscle. After a few seconds of waiting, a flash of disappointment flashed over Sam’s face and sadness then set in as his shoulders slumped even more. You then saw Xander quietly walked towards you two, he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and quietly told him to get up.

As they were about to leave through the door you finally snapped out of your daze and louder than you intended proclaimed, “Wait!”

***
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