Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 02 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 2 – Beware Gretas Bearing Gifts

When his phone next rang, it was his mother to tell him the bar would stop serving lunch in a few minutes time and did he want any?

“Is it that time?” he asked. Normally, he woke quite early. Still, after last night… “I’ll be right down,” he said. He was ravenously hungry and didn’t want to miss lunch. Rather than spending time searching out clean underwear, he simply kept on his pyjama bottoms and pulled jeans over the top. A tee shirt, socks and shoes completed his dress, and he was racing down to the restaurant to catch the tail end of lunch.

***

“That must have been some steamy session,” his mom said as he sat down at her table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he blustered.

“Gavin,” she said, “don’t treat me like an idiot. It was obvious when we were in the bar, she was gagging to get you to bed, which is why I made myself scarce. Is she coming down to lunch or has she loved you and left you?”

“Did you want to order lunch, sir?” The waiter passed him the menu and he quickly chose.

When the waiter had left, Gavin said, “She had to get back to her house as she’s going to France tomorrow and needs to prepare. But she wants me to go up there when she returns which is a bit embarrassing as I don’t really want it to turn into something permanent.” Under his pyjamas, his crutch felt incredibly cramped. He dropped his right hand to his lap and tried to free it.

“You must have been cavorting with her for about eighteen hours. Surely you must have something in common. Or did you discuss the weather all that time?”

“She’s a nymphomaniac, mum,” he said. He still couldn’t free his cock from the pyjamas.

“Isn’t that every man’s dream?”

Gavin waved his left hand in a so-so manner. “OK, the sex was fantastic, but it takes more than being good in bed to make two people compatible.” He gave his trapped cock another yank through his pyjamas.

His mum smiled. “On what topics of conversation did you find her lacking?”

He shrugged. “Mum, you saw her. She’s so fat.” He gave a bit of a wriggle as well as a yank.

“She obviously didn’t repel you that much in bed, and for heaven’s sake, go to the toilet and sort yourself out.”

“Yes, Mum.”

He went to the toilet, went inside a cubicle dropped his trousers and then his pyjamas and stared down at his genitals.

Except that he’d changed sex. Instead of his cock and balls, he stared at a vagina between his legs.

“Aaagh!” he yelled.

***

“Gavin. What on earth was that shouting all about. Do you need to see a doctor? Do you think Greta has VD?”

“No, mum, it’s nothing like that.”

Then what?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Has she painted your balls dayglow yellow in indelible ink?”

“Mum! This is really embarrassing. But yes, I suppose it’s something like that.”

“I know,” his mum said, “she’s locked you in one of those chastity belts, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said. “She has. But Mum, how do you know about such things?”

“I did the same to your dad, once, when he seemed to be getting too close to some girl in his office. Good for Greta. I take it that means you’ll be seeing more of her?”

“Yes,” Gavin said. “I suppose it does.”

“That’s nice, dear. Just think, if you did go on to marry her, you’d have a very rich father-in-law!”

“Mu-um! That’s obscene.”

“I trust you’re talking about your potential father-in-law rather than Greta, since you cavorted in bed with her for so long.”

“Sorry, Mum. You’re right.”

“That’s better. Anyway, I’ve been dying to tell you my news about the punch up last night.”

“Punch up?”

“Almost. You know that Chelle’s mum and dad, Tom and Petra, run that pub with lots of B&B rooms? It seems that it hasn’t been doing too well, recently. They’re in debts up to their eyebrows and they were hoping that their new son-in-law, that is the stinkingly rich, Lord Carver, would throw in a bit of cash. Apparently, he’s had someone take a look at the business and he told them last night that it would be throwing good money after bad. The best thing they could do was to sell it off and try to come out of it solvent. They’d get more money on unemployment benefit than they’ll ever get from that business.”

“Not the best way to start a relationship with your parents-in-law,” Gavin said.

“But a very quick way to end it. It got very heated and Carver said some really nasty and horrible things, which I think everyone found extremely offensive. But Chelle backed him up and she told her parents she would never speak to them again. Tom and Petra left in a huff, as did almost every member of the family, and the bride and groom left shortly after. It certainly put a damper on the festivities.”

“Sounds like I had a more enjoyable evening than you,” Gavin said.

“Yes,” his mother said, grinning at him. “But it’s now the morning after the night before, and guess who’s smiling now?”

***

When he got back to his room, he went to the website which the QR code on the label had led him to.

Welcome to your new Munt, was the message which greeted him, and underneath: Say Goodbye to your penis. You now have a Male Cunt.

“Oh, shit,” Gavin muttered. I must be able to get this thing off.” He read on.

Your Munt is a highly secure chastity device, reinforced with carbon fibre. If you do attempt to cut your way out, you are advised to have a surgical team ready to sew back on any of your bits which are accidentally removed. The lock has no keyhole which can be picked, but has strongly encrypted Bluetooth security. You will need the Munt App on a smartphone to open it. This can be downloaded free of charge from your App Store. You will also need the password which may be up to 32 characters long. After entering an incorrect password, the delay before entering a new password is initially set at one minute. That time will be doubled after every failed attempt. To save you the effort of calculating, this will mean a delay of 17 hours after your tenth failed attempt. No doubt you’ll be relieved to know that after your sixteenth attempt, the total delay will be capped at one month between attempts.

It was time to ring Greta.

“Hi, this is Greta on my number for special people,” the answer message said. “If that’s Gavin, I’ll be back from France on Friday. I know you said you wouldn’t be available next weekend or maybe the one after, but send me a text when you are and we can arrange for you to come up and see me as soon as. I’m really looking forward to it. Bye, lover.”

“Oh, shit!” Gavin thought.

He sent her a text: I can’t wait to meet up with you again. I’ve cancelled those other things I had planned and could meet you on Friday when you return. Let me know where and I’ll be there. XX. Gavin.

Then he waited for a hopefully speedy response.

The first two days were unbearable. After that it got worse. He’d had to telephone his casual girlfriend and tell her he wasn’t able to see her for a while. She accused him of having sex with someone at the wedding, and said she never wanted to see him again. A very sexy cashier at the supermarket where he worked and whom he’d been trying to date for ages, rang to tell him she’d split up with her boyfriend and would he go round for a little TLC (which they both knew meant TLF). Then, there was the unbelievably attractive customer at the supermarket who said her husband was working nights and would he give her a little ‘companionship’?

By Wednesday, it was clear Greta wasn’t going to text him until she was back in England. A little research revealed that the Carver estate was in Northumberland, which would take him a day to reach. He decided to take some pre-emptive action, book a room at an inn close to the estate for a few days from Thursday evening. Then, he would be on hand when she told him to come round. He only hoped she wasn’t stopping off in London to meet up with him, but he guessed she’d be anxious to get her pigs home.

Gavin’s boss refused him leave, especially as he didn’t know when he’d be back, so Gavin had to leave his job. It hadn’t been much, but it was something. His mum wouldn’t lend him the car so it meant taking the coach and then a series of local buses. He would have to set out early in the morning to get there before midnight. But of course, all these things were insignificant compared to the worst of his problems: he simply had to masturbate, or better still, have sex with someone soon or he would die.

He got to the inn at about nine-thirty on the Thursday evening, and was totally exhausted. He had a quick meal in the bar, where an attractive older woman started chatting to him and he reckoned that if he said the right things, he could share her bed. A-a-g-h!

The next day was the Friday when Greta would be returning from France, but there was still no reply to his text he’d sent almost a week ago. He sent another: I simply can’t wait to meet up with you, so I’ve decided to come up to Carver Hall. I’m staying at The Fox & Hounds nearby. Call or text me as soon as you can, and we can meet up.

He decided to have a look at Carver Hall, which was about a mile’s walk to Carver Hall, and when he got there, he simply found a pair of locked gates. There was no reply to his ringing the bell. Fortunately, he’d taken the precaution of writing a short letter and putting it in an envelope, so he posted it into the letterbox, and hoped that even if Greta didn’t check her mobile, she would check the post. It poured down with rain on the way back to the inn, and he arrived back soaked to the skin.