Jac and the Fat Man

Firstly, I should apologise for the error made regarding Jack's age in the last part. He's 18 years old - not 20. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. Any grammatical errors are my own.

He never meant to say it, but as he stared into Arnold's blank, expressionless eyes, Jack was glad he had. The last thing he wanted was to upset Arnold and even though he hadn't planned to tell him so soon, it was always his intention to.

He blamed it on the euphoria and on everything that had happened that day. The rush of excitement in Mr Patel's office. The bizarrely sexual, yet coldly clinical and humiliating visit to Dr Charles. He blamed Arnold too. For giving him the strength to accept his burgeoning sexuality. For giving him belief in himself, instead of the black hole of self loathing and depression that had been part of his drab existence for so long. For having a cock that he'd quite literally fallen in love with and for, well, just being Arnold. The only person that had ever made him feel special, safe, attractive and moreover, wanted.

With their eyes still locked, Jack could almost see the cogs turning. What was the big man thinking? Was he upset? Angry? Had he blown their relationship before it had really begun? Was what was happening even a relationship at all? As the euphoria began to subside, he started to feel scared, not of Arnold, but of his own stupidity and the fear of losing him.

Then, he realised the only person he should blame was himself.

"I'm sorry, Arnold," he croaked apologetically, his throat still struggling from the onslaught. God. Had he really just taken all of Arnold's thick man cock? "I didn't know it would happen," he continued, then corrected himself. "That's not true. I can't lie. I don't want to lie. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I wore those jeans today on purpose."

He couldn't look any longer, averting his eyes to rest on Arnold's sweat matted, furry chest. The big man stayed silent.

"I ......I've only worn them once before because I hated how my bum looked in them, but......" Why was he starting to cry? "I wanted my boss to notice me and he did. I don't know what's happening to me, Arnold. Everything's changed." The tears ran freely and Jack began to sob. "I'm so confused. I feel so good, but I can't stop thinking about sucking cock. Yours. My brother's. Mr Patel's. Fucking hell...I've even thought about Mason and I hate him."

Resting his sobbing face onto Arnold's chest, he hugged the huge bulk of the old man's body, his tiny and still hard cock snuggling against the semi flaccid meat that had just pummelled his throat. It felt so good, but he shivered with the expectation that it might be the last time. Jack was positive he'd ruined everything.

And then a big meaty paw began to stroke his hair.

Unexpected as this revelation was, Arnold couldn't help but smile to himself. Jack was blossoming and he felt a certain amount of pride that he'd been the catalyst. And not only that. Young Jack had had the confidence not to lie to him.

"So that's why you were so turned on when you got here?" Arnold asked softly. "Because your boss noticed you and you want to suck him off?"

It took a while for him to explain what had happened and Arnold listened, his cock thickening a little as he did, all the time stroking Jack's bright red hair. How lucky was he to have found him? This beautiful young man who, in such a short time had become such an integral part of his life. Who was growing in confidence with each passing day. Jack had given him something to look forward to. A new lease of life really and fuck, he was certainly not going to him slip away.

Still locked in their embrace, Jack could feel the steady beat of Arnold's heart on his cheek - and the thickening of his fat meat against his own tiny cock. It occurred to him as he blubbered his way through his confession, that it was the first time they'd ever been like this, cock to cock, and he liked it.

"Oh he definitely wants it, baby," Arnold said. "Ain't surprising either. I keep telling you you're beautiful don't I. The fucker wants a lot more than just your pretty mouth too, I reckon," he added with a pulse of his cock and a gentle squeeze of Jack's arse.

"You're not angry?" Jack asked. "I thought you'd be upset. I thought you were going to end it," he added, looking up and wiping the tears away.

"Don't be fucking silly. You ain't getting away that easily," the big man said with a smile. "Why would I be angry?" How could he be? It's not as if he hadn't given up on the other men in his life. Not yet anyway. "Unlike me," he snorted. "You're still young. You ain't had the experiences I've had and I ain't gonna be the man who tells you you can't either. It's only natural you want to experiment, baby."

Jack looked at him, his tear stained eyes wide. "You mean.........."

Arnold kissed him deeply. "I mean, if you want to suck your boss off, do it. Just promise me this," he said a little more seriously. "Don't hide anything from me, be fucking careful and if anyone ever tries to hurt you, tell me."

They hugged for a short while. Given what had happened and the forceful throat fucking he'd goaded Arnold into giving him, Jack marvelled at just how tender and loving it was. He also marvelled at the growing sense of power he felt inside, and it made his skin prickle with anticipation.

Similarly Armold was thinking too. He'd been witness to another side to Jack tonight. A side that he'd seen many times before. The floodgates had opened for him, or so it seemed. If he didn't keep up and do it soon, selfish as it may be, it wouldn't be a virgin arsehole he'd be fucking.

"Let's have a look at the photos," he suggested, lifting Jack's featherweight body and rolling him off. "You can pick the ones you like best and I'll print them off if you like."

It took milliseconds for Jack to realise what the old man was actually suggesting - or at least thought he was. His own folder maybe? Like the one he'd only glimpsed briefly so far?

"My own photo album?" he asked. "Like........?"

The big man smiled, unlocking his phone as they sat up. "If that's what you want. It don't have to be like the one I showed you," he explained. "Maybe just some shots like we did tonight? You said you wanted to see yourself the way I see you, so......." He paused for a moment. "Your album. Your choice."

Thinking back and recalling the thoughts he'd had when he saw those other photos, Jack already knew what he wanted. As they flicked through the 20 or so shots, it occured to him just how good a photographer Arnold was. Yes, he'd seen the ones of Bob and Henry. He'd seen how perfectly posed they'd been too, but to see himself portrayed with similar skill, kind of took his breath away.

He was looking at himself, but it didn't feel that way. The person he was looking at was anything but the person he'd always seen in the mirror. God. He looked......good. His skin. His hair. The rosy flush of his cheeks. He looked sexy. And to really top it off, his bottom, the thing he'd hated so much for so long? Fuck, if it didn't look good. Better than good in fact. It was embarrassing, alien even, to think if himself as attractive, but he, well......

He started to cry again. God, he was crying a lot since he'd met Arnold. "I like them all," he said, wiping the tears away. "Is that how you see me? That person in the photos? I can't believe it's me, Arnold."

"I told you, baby," Arnold said earnestly. "You're beautiful. Ain't nobody I've ever met as beautiful as you. That big arse of yours? I know you hate it, but fuck, Jack, it's a thing of glory. Makes me as hard as fucking nails whenever I see it," he said, putting Jack's small hand on his thickening cock. "And I reckon your boss thinks the same and if we do, ain't no doubt in my head that any man, gay or not, would think the same."

A rush of excitement swept through him. "I want to do some more."

"Not tonight, baby," Arnold said. It was getting late. "Tomorrow we'll do some more and after that, I'll give you what you asked for earlier."

After a final kiss, Arnold watched Jack's jiggling arse disappearing from view and closed the door. He made his way upstairs and began to print the photos off while he opened the loft hatch, pulled the steps down and made his way up to the converted roof space. It was small and his height made it difficult to move around up there, but this was the one place nobody else had ever seen. Running the entire length of one wall, were 4 shelves on which exactly 203 black leather bound photo albums were meticulously stored by date and first name. But there was still space to add to the collection.

He lowered himself to sit in a chair, the one piece of furniture up there, worn and moulded to his huge bulk from years of use. This was "his space" and the albums on the shelves contained close to 40 years of memories. Apart from sex, photography had always been his passion, so it was a natural step to combine the 2. Every man he'd ever been with had their own album, even if it only held a few photos. Some though, like Bob, had more than one. It was Arnold's visual record of his life with sex.

As he listened to the printer whirring downstairs, he reminisced for a while, then stood, moved to the opposite wall, pressed against it and watched the hidden door spring open. It was only small space, no wider than 3 feet and just over a foot deep. Inside was another set of shelves, only 3. They were empty apart from the top one, on which stood just 2 red leather bound albums, no name or date on the spines. This was the space for the special people in his life. He grabbed an album from the stash stacked on the floor inside. He'd bought 30 of them all those years ago, optimistically thinking he'd need them, but the sad reality was that he'd only needed 2 so far and they only held the memories of one person.

Pushing the door closed, he smiled. Jack's albums would reside in there, in that special space.

Sitting back down, he began to idly play with his fat cock, scanning through that famous online retailer, you know the one, adding only items to his basket that could be delivered the following day. Fuck. He was hard again. He'd cum twice already which wasn't that unusual for him, but he needed to spunk off again and that was unusual. He dialled a number.

"Yes, Master," the tinny voice replied. "Give me half an hour."

Before getting into bed, Jack lay the red T-shirt out next to his black jeans, ready to wear in the following morning. He made a mental note to buy some more at the weekend. Tight ones too, and if he could afford it, some more tight jeans or maybe trousers. He'd seen how good he could look tonight, the way other men like Arnold saw him and he damn well liked it. Why shouldn't he too?

He started to play with his cock, his "micro penis" as Dr Charles had so clinically observed, thinking of everything that had happened. What a day it had been, but he quickly fell asleep before he could cum again.

He woke to alarm, showered and with everyone already out of the house by 7.30am he wandered into his brothers room and did something he'd only ever thought about doing thus far. Already hard, he picked up a pair of Mark's discarded worn Y-fronts from the floor, held them to his nose and breathed in deeply. The faint smell of urine mixed with the scent of his brother's cock, was enough to almost make him cum. His licked them too, hoping he'd be able to taste what he could smell, but he was disappointed.

Dropping them and returning to his own room, the expected guilt of what he'd just done didn't materialise. A few days ago he would have been positively mortified by the act, but today, well, he just wasn't.

With one final check of his reflection, he left to catch the bus to work, already anticipating what might happen. God. He was like a bitch in heat. He smiled to himself. A dirty cocksucking bitch. His anus twitched. Arnold had promised to give him what he'd asked for. The big man with the big hairy man cock that he loved so much, was going to fuck him tonight and he was nervous, but oh so excited.

He wouldn't be a virgin and he wondered if it would change him somehow. Would he feel differently about himself? Would his confidence grow even more? What if it wasn't what he hoped it would be. What if it hurt or Arnold didn't like it? More to the point, what if he didn't like it? He was sure he would though. After all, he was already hooked on sucking cock - like the dirty little cocksucker he'd always known he was.

The summers heatwave continued, but thankfully it was a smidge cooler today. As he grabbed his work jacket from his locker, he expertly put his hair up in a man bun. He hadn't liked the style until recently, but now he felt it suited him and it made him feel good and feeling good was getting addictive.

His day was, well, average at best. Yes, his colleagues were chatting more and more, which was nice, but he hadn't seen Mr Patel at all. Maybe he'd only imagined what had happened, but he was certain he hadn't. It was disappointing though.

At lunch, he popped out to get a sandwich and on the spur of the moment, decided to buy some nail polish. He was trying to find his own identity, or so he told himself, but he also wanted to look good for tonight. And not just for the photos.

As he began to wind down, 15 minutes before he was due to finish he was called to Mr Patel's office. A couple of his colleagues ribbed him as he nervously made his way with jibes about being in trouble or getting the sack. It would be fair to say, Jack's newly found confidence had abandoned him and by the time he knocked on the office door, he was genuinely anxious.

Entering when called, he saw Mr Patel leaning back against his desk with a broad smile on his face. Just like yesterday, his tie was loose and the top couple of buttons to his shirt were undone, revealing a thick mass of black hair and Jack immediately blushed.

Ishan Patel, wasn't his birth name. Born of mixed parentage, his father Indian and his mother Iranian, he'd arrived alone in the UK when he was just 17 years old after fleeing persecution. With no means of identity, he'd chosen a fairly generic name and after some intial difficulties and a long time, he'd been granted UK citizenship. He was lucky and making the most of the opportunity he'd been given, he'd worked hard until now, at 61 years old he had a wife, 2 grown up daughters, 5 grandchildren and a very successful business.

Sex with his wife was pretty nonexistent. Even when they were younger it was just a means to an end. He'd visited prostitutes for a few years and then migrated to men only saunas and bathhouses. Apart from the comparatively, small entrance fee, the sex was free and quite frankly, far more exciting. Men knew how to suck a cock and Ishan really liked having his sucked. Something his wife had never done. It was just a matter of time before he progressed to fucking. Not often and only with a certain type.

When Jack had arrived for his interview, he'd taken a fancy to him instantly. Ishan knew he was gay and had just been biding his time, waiting for the opportunity and now, looking at young Jack standing nervously in front of him, he licked his lips in anticipation. The boy had a mouth he'd been waiting to sample and a bottom so unusually big, it was impossible not to want to fuck it. Yesterday's quick grope told him everything he wanted to know. The flesh was beautifully soft and pliable and most importantly, Jack had done nothing to stop him.

"Please, boy," he began. "Take your jacket off. We can talk, yes?"

Looking at his watch, Jack hung his jacket up, whilst Ishan ogled his huge cheeks wobbling invitingly as he did.

"Please, Jack,' he continued. "You won't be late. It is just a short informal chat, yes? Nothing to worry about. Sit."

Just like Arnold, Ishan was rather proud of his cock. A pride garnered from experience and years of picking up cocksuckers. At just over 6 inches he'd seen bigger men of course, but he rarely had to ask before some young man would sidle up to him. They liked his girth and he liked their expertise. And particularly the ginger ones with their pale white skin and blue eyes. Redheads were his favourite, his weakness and unusually rare in the saunas, but just like Jack, that made them a bigger prize.

Jack sat nervously holding his hands, but Mr Patel remained where he was, meaning his groin was directly in front of him.

"May I ask," he began. "How was your visit with the doctor?" he asked looking greedily down at Jack, who was already clearly struggling not to look at his crotch. "Everything is ok? You are not ill?"

Holy God. He could already see it growing, right there, slowly stretching the material at his flies. He looked up and Mr Patel was smiling, looking down at him with the same glint in his dark eyes he'd seen yesterday. Already, the atmosphere was changing - and the bulge continued to grow.

"I...erm...yeah......." he stuttered, feeling his face burning as he recalled what had happened. "No, I....I'm not ill. It was just a check up."

Deep down he knew exactly what was happening, but the fantasy was very different from the reality and his confidence continued to wane. His tiny cock had a mind of its own however, already at full mast. And so was Mr Patel's from what he could see.

"That is good. A young man should take care if himself, yes?" he continued. "Please, you were not offended yesterday when I talked so openly? I do not mean appear rude."

The magnet that was Mr Patel's bulge was so strong now, Jack just couldn't look away. Jesus, it looked so hard in his trousers, almost like it was about to burst free.

Ishan reached down to adjust himself, as always, to the left. He'd done this move often and enjoyed giving whichever prospective cocksucker it was, a casual display of the hidden goods. Something to look forward to. In his experience they enjoyed it too, just the same as Jack seemed to be right now.

"Erm.......no......I wasn't offended," he said, his voice becoming hoarse.

"Good, good," he said. "And as I say, your homosexuality is not a problem for me. I am very understanding, yes? In these moments think of me not as your employer. I am just a man. We can help each other," he added. "Man to man. You understand, yes?"

Very understanding? Just a man? Help each other? The noise in his head was reaching a crescendo and Jack's face continued to flush, but not with embarrassment.

The monster of his newly unlocked sexuality began to take over, focusing his need on the thick bulge that was now throbbing rhythmically in front of his eyes. Quite how it happened, he had no idea, but he watched his small trembling hand reaching towards it without any conscious input from his brain.

And then it landed and his fingers began to curl, digging into the material of Mr Patel's trousers in order to grip it properly. God. It was so thick and so, so hard. The sense of power he'd felt with Arnold resurfaced, sweeping away the nerves and he ran his delicate palm along the full length, feeling it twitch at his touch. This recently discovered capacity to make a cock hard and the rush of pure adrenaline it induced was so exhilarating, it was becoming an addiction.

Mr Patel's thick hairy fingers suddenly gripped his tiny wrist, snapping Jack from his cock obsessed trance and for a moment he feared the worst.

Ishan had waited a very long time for this and for a few moments he allowed Jack the pleasure of his cock, but he could wait another day or 2. There were consequences to be considered and he needed to be certain the boy could deal with them. There was no way he would risk his success on some 'prettyboy's' mouth and besides, he could release his urges in the sauna on his way home.