#The way he calls himself gay guy

[eosphoria]

Month's have passed since I watched this heck of a movie, and this scene still makes me laugh only by looking at the screencaps

[nerdrooikat]

drabbles about the deer imagery in The Secret History (specifically in relation 2 Camilla) because her becoming a deer/believing that she did stuck in my mind (although this post will mostly take Camilla and the other's recollection of events to be as they recount it – if i examine it in it's effect as an incorrect account, that would be in a separate post)

Obviously there's, on a meta level, an irony to it – Camilla and Charles are named to make fun of the Princess Diana scandal that was happening at the time, and so ironically Camilla transforms into an animal sacred to Diana.

There's also a parallel that I think could be interesting to make between Camilla and Taygete, who for anyone unfamiliar, was turned into a deer by Artemis to protect her from Zeus' sexual advances. Although I think that what happened in the Bacchae was concensual sexually, I think it could possible be indicative in Camilla's narrative role as the "wanted"/"desired" one within the greek class – by Charles, Henry, Richard (although he wasnt there) and even Francis, although he wants to be her more so than actually wanting her.

Additionally, outside of how it actually functions within the story, her transformation into a creature associated so closely with innocence, especially in relation to Diana/Artemis' virginity, might perhaps be tied to Richards view of her as this "pure" and "virginal" person – obviously we know this is far from the truth, and he himself learns this later, but I think it definitely ties into this flawed angelic idea of her he so covets.

I think this interpretation ties into the myth of Actaeon (in terms of "deer transformation myths") although its very interesting to me that they different at key points – Camilla, the "virginual" character, is the one transformed, rather than the sexual transgressor (Charles) or the one who introduces miasma (Henry). But, like Actaeon, she is pursued and hunted – which, another key point – Actaeon is pursued and killed by his own hunting dogs, and Charles returns from the ritual with a bite mark, perhaps tying him into the myth thurther?

[thedevotionaltour]

i bring delight and whimsy to all my interactions < saying words insanely about a character in a way nobody asked to hear

[glsneeg-enthusiast]

sneeg and niki siblings is real to me

[designernishiki]

“ugh why couldn’t nishiki see that reina was Right There and would’ve made such a good girlfriend–” he’s gay, susan

[dreamertrilogys]

that fact that he’s somehow straight is so truly baffling in ways i don’t even know how to explain. this is so awful

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Bisexual Best Friend

Male Yandere x Fem Reader He just wants what's best for you. If he has to tell a few white lies now and again, then so be it.

When you first saw him, he had his tongue down your boyfriend's throat.

It sure as hell would not have been the start of a friendship, except...

He was the one who ran after you when you stormed out of the club, mascara and eyeshadow running in silvery streaks down your cheeks.

He was the one who hugged you and apologised and said your boyfriend was a piece of shit for doing that to you.

He was the one who got you home safe, cleaned off your makeup and left aspirin on your bedside table.

In your half haze of alcohol and tears, you clung to him and nuzzled into his neck and told him you were so grateful, that he was such a nice guy.

It wouldn't have been the start to a friendship and maybe it shouldn't have been. But you called him the next morning.

You apologised for being such a mess, stuttering just a little at the deep gruffness of his morning voice. He laughed and told you not to worry about, that you should've seen what a fool he made of himself when his boyfriend cheated.

You weren't sure how, but a phone call turned into lunch together. Both of you just a little tipsy from bottomless mimosas, his arm tossed across the back of your chair as he sketched out the horror of his last situationship.

"So you're gay?"

You should have noticed it then - the way he narrowed his eyes just a little, the way he let his fingers graze your bare shoulder, the way he seemed to take just a second too long to answer.

"Yeah. I'm into guys."

That was the first lie he told you. Not entirely untrue. He was into guys.

He was just into girls too. And he was especially into you.

He could have been honest with you, he could have told the truth. But you were still reeling from your boyfriend's betrayal, too guarded and hurt to let another man into you life.

And he so desperately wanted to be a part of your life.

The next time you asked him to hang out, you were so at ease. You hugged him when you saw him, your tits squished against his chest. You held his hand and dragged him along behind you. You fell asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He smoothed your hair away from your face and any idea of telling the truth crumbled.

He told himself he just wanted to be your friend. Lord knows you needed one after such a nasty break up. But anyone who looked at you together could tell friendship was the last thing on his mind.

He took you to watch his favourite band performing live and hoisted you up on his shoulder for the encore, his hands inching further and further up your thighs.

He took you to his favourite club and bought you drink after drink until you danced with him, your arms thrown back around his neck and your ass grinding into his crotch. It was only the pulsing neon lights that kept you from seeing his hard on.

He invited you over for a movie night and pretended to lose the AC remote, just so he could share a blanket with you and keep his arm around your waist.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got. You were cute and clever and funny. You could yap together for hours about fashion and music and video games. You brought him little presents every time you came over - small packets of his favourite sweets, a new flavour of ice cream, his go-to Starbucks order.

Could you blame him for wanting you?

He started calling you his wifey, even in front of his friends. Would crack jokes about getting married if either of you couldn't find a guy by next year. And you went along with it. Ran your hands up his chest and fluttered your eyelashes at him and called him your strong, handsome fiancé - oblivious to the way it made his heart race.

When he walked in on you changing, he kept his face deadpan and told you red was definitely not your colour, even as you scrambled to cover up and spluttered at him to get out.

"Why? You aren't exactly my type babe."

Another lie. Not even remotely true this time.

And soon you got used to him walking in on you. Started asking him for fashion advice while you were in just your underwear and heels. Started asking him to tie your bikini tops and unzip your dresses. You didn't notice him always slipping away afterwards, one hand shoved deep in his pocket. You didn't notice the way his hair was always slightly messed up when he got back, his cheeks just a little flushed.

And if there were ever any warning bells - any subconscious instincts that told you he touched you too much, hugged you for too long - they were drowned out by his parade of boyfriends and flings. Why would he be into you when he could be dating a ripped surfer or hooking up with his personal trainer?

You never realised you were the reason his relationships were always so short lived. He couldn't fall for any of them the way he fell for you. They were all just quick fucks to get the frustration out of his system.

He could have continued just like that - fucking a new guy every weekend and getting brunch with you right after.

But then you went and met someone.

He froze when you told him, his smile a rictus, hand clenched so tight around his wine glass that he was lucky it didn't shatter.

He gritted his teeth and managed to choke out a congratulations. You beamed at him, flushed pretty with young love. You squeezed his hand and said it was only a matter of time before he found his love too.

He had to excuse himself after that. Had to splash cold water on his face and fight down the urge to scream. God, why was he so fucking stupid? He should have made a move on you ages ago, back when you first met. If you rejected him then, at least it wouldn't hurt as bad as it did now.

He somehow managed to make his way back to the table and smile at you like you hadn't just clawed his insides to shreds.

"So when can I meet the lucky guy?"

When you got up to wash your hands he slipped your phone out of your bag. He scrolled through your gallery, over analysing every pic of your new boyfriend. Cute, but you could do so much better. And he wasn't even that much taller than you. God, are you really gonna date this loser?

You kissed him on his cheek when he left and he spent the entire walk home rubbing the spot and thinking up ways to get rid of this new... disruption.

Later that afternoon you called him up and asked if he'd like to come to a bar with you and meet your new man. And just like that, the wild ideas in his head clicked into place.

"Sure wifey, I'd love to come."

He showed up late and spilled a drink down your dress before you even finished saying hello. And while you rushed off to try and get red wine out of satin, he scanned the bar for your new boyfriend.

And when he finally found the bastard, he turned on all his pretty boy charm. Bought him a drink and slung an arm across the back of his chair and pretended not to hear when he said he had a girlfriend. Managed to get the guy flushed and stuttering even after he claimed to not be into men.

When he pulled your boyfriend into a kiss, the fucker had the nerve to actually kiss him back.

He was careful with his timing - going in for a second kiss as soon as he saw the flash of your dress through the crowd.

He pulled away just as you reached the table and looked up at you with oblivious innocence.

"What's wrong baby? Why do you look so shocked?"

Your boyfriend shoved him off and stood up to grab you, to claim he didn't kiss someone else, the guy just came onto him swear to God. But the damage was already done.

Who would you believe was at fault? Your best friend who didn't even know what your new boyfriend looked like? Or the asshole kissing someone else while you were gone?

You threw your drink in your boyfriend's face and called him a filthy liar. When you grabbed your best friend's arm and dragged him away, he struggled to hide his smile.

He took you back to his apartment and popped open a bottle. Poured you a drink and kissed your forehead and let his hand settle on your lower back.

"Men ain't shit baby. We're all just manipulative assholes deep down."

He let you drown your sorrows in the bottle and then pulled you onto his lap when you were too drunk to object.

"I'm the only man you need in your life, yeah?"

You sniffled, too drunk and hurt and dizzy to notice his hands moving to your bare thighs.

"Yeah."

"C'mon, say it. Say I'm the only man you need."

"You're the only man I need."

His fingers slipped under the hem of your dress and he pressed his lips against your skin, teeth oh so close to your jugular.

"And I'll take care of you. So just sit still and I'll make it all better."

[akascow]

dUDE okay pls watch this closely omg ??

LIKEEEE zaundads GAY AS HELL and it was lowkey highkey confirmed canon (this au concept at least) in the OFFICIAL ARTBOOK bUT its SO OBVIOUS W THE LIL DETAILS HERE AND IM LOSING MY MARBLES over this THIRTY SECOND clip UGH OKAY OKAY here:

ONE- not totally captured here BUT vander was fkn making silco’s drink before he was even back there or in frame omfg dude. also silcos gay lil drink cup HAHA

TWO- THE WAY THEY SMILE AT EACH OTHER WHEN SILCO WALKS IN brUH thats straight ROMANCE AND AFFECTION right there

THREE- silco basically DRAPING himself over vander and his finger playing on vanders shoulder pad OUGHH

FOURRR- silcos hand literally NEVER LEAVES VANDERS SHOULDER (watch his hand the whole time im going fucking nuts dude) even when he pulls its back a lil when ekko calls out vander for trying to kill him, AND U CAN SEE SILCOS FINGER tenderly move around a bit again OMFGGGG

FFFFIVE- the way they LOOK INTO THE OTHER’S EYES AND SMILE when silco says “greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive” and vander is just standing there the whole time lovingly smiling at his beautiful husband WTFFFF they literally look like theyre about to MAKE OUT like damn

SIX ! AND mOST IMPORTANTLYYYYY- BENZO going aGH and giving Ekko A LOOK,, after that line... WHICH IS SUCH A “jesus christ you two.. in front of my SALAD ?? get a fucking ROOM” THING TO DO omfGGGG this guy has been 3rd wheeling them FOR DECADESSS

👇🏻still shots under the cut if u just wanna stare at them like i do:

and a gif i guess HAHA

[metalomagnetic]

Canon Marauders meet Fanon Marauders

“I will kill him, James. I simply have to kill him. It’s a duty at this point,” Sirius whispers, at breakfast. 

James is morally opposed to murder, to say the least, but now when he opens his mouth to automatically tell Sirius he can’t kill people, the Abomination walks into the Great Hall, and James closes his mouth, with a sigh. 

He condones it. 

“Can you kill me, too, please?” Remus asks, as he watches his counterpart walk behind the Abomination. 

“Oh, come on! The Other You isn’t so bad.” 

“They’re all bad,” Peter mutters. “Just unbearable to watch.” 

They’ve only arrived in this cursed universe the day before, but it’s already too much to suffer. 

When Sirius met this universe’ version of himself, he had to be restrained from committing unspeakable violence. 

“What’s with the pranks?” James wonders. “Look, they’ve only just entered the Hall and they’ve already pulled a few pranks.” 

“You call those pranks?” Sirius sneers. “Those lame jokes?” 

“They probably take the ‘prankster’ label too seriously,” Peter bemoans. “And I’m missing again. It’s like I don’t even exist here, like those guys forget I’m their best friend.” 

After the Other Sirius, Other Peter was done the dirtiest. He’s much uglier than the real one, far shorter, and so stupid Sirius thinks he shouldn’t even be allowed to attend school. 

Not that Other Sirius is smart- oh, no. Other Sirius is a moron, apparently allergic to books. 

Remus got an upgrade- he’s now a wise genius to rival Dumbledore, and he spends his days giving people chocolate frogs.

It’s a wonder the Abomination is so thin, with how much chocolate he’s getting from Other Remus. 

So thin and short. 

“Why am I short?” Sirius growls. “I don’t know mate, it’s like the creator of this universe misremembered our heights and switched them around,” Remus offers, watching his other self, a very tall bastard. He’s even taller than Real Sirius. 

Outrageous. 

“I could suffer you short,” James says. “But look at him, he’s - why is he so…is that ...nail polish? Gods, what have they done to my Sirius!” 

“I asked him if he still has the bike,” Peter whispers. “He said he does, but I mean- he’s so fragile and dainty, how does he even manage that monster bike?” 

Sirius shakes his head in horror. “I have to kill him, there’s no way around it.” 

The Other Sirius whines in the distance. “MOOOOONY,” he pouts, and that's it, Sirius stands-

“Not here,” James pulls him by his sleeve. “You can’t have witnesses.” 

(-)

It takes them a few days to figure out what’s wrong with Other James. At a first glance, he looked normal, compared to the others. Almost unchanged from his real version, if only stupider. But not as stupid as Other Sirius and Other Peter, of course. 

A chicken wouldn’t be dumber than those guys. 

When they do figure it out, James throws up. 

“There, there,” Sirius pats his back. “Breathe, mate. Breathe.” 

“I’m fucking your brother! Your brother, Sirius!” 

“Oh, no, that is not my brother. That is Other Brother.” 

This version of Regulus is apparently not a bigot at all, it’s all just a big misunderstanding. He’s an Animagus, too, somehow. 

Sirius actually thinks Other Regulus is an alright lad- nothing like his brother, mind you, but alright, in general. 

James throws up again. “Me! With Regulus Black! I’m not even gay! I love Lily, and she loves me-” 

“Well, apparently she’s gay, too, in this world.” Remus says, which only makes James cry.

That isn’t so bad, really. Many things are wrong with this universe, but Lily and Dorcas look hot together. Sirius had a wank thinking of them the other night. It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s not betraying James. This Lily is nothing like their Lily back home. This one is like a goddess of beauty here, hair far more vibrant than the Real one, flawless skin and overall perfect in everything she does. Extremely selfless, saint-like, to the point she apparently offered to carry Regulus’ and James’ baby after Hogwarts.

Real Lily would hate her. 

She’s still not worse than Other Sirius. Nothing is worse than that. Real Sirius has taken to bullying Other Sirius, daily. Hourly. The Abomination whines about it to Other Remus all the time. 

“I want a word,” Other Remus hulks over, ridiculously muscular and, for some reason, with scars on his face. 

What the fuck happened to this bloke? Who even is he?

Real Remus slinks back. He was never one for confrontations, their Remus, but apparently this upgraded version is all up for it. 

“Listen,” Sirius tells him, because he doesn’t hate the man- sure, he’s not Remus, but he seems like a nice lad. “Why do you put up with that insufferable drama queen? He deserves to hang, and you deserve better.” 

“That’s my baby! That’s my Pads,” Other Remus says, suddenly all violent, his eyes turn yellow- what the actual fuck? 

But Sirius is already nauseous, stomach turning as soon as he heard ‘baby’ and ‘Pads”  coming out of his mouth. 

Real Remus cheers from the sidelines as Sirius wipes the floor with Other Remus. The Abomination cries somewhere in the distance, all helpless, until Real James hits him over the head with a candlestick. Other James is too busy sucking Other Regulus’ face to notice anything. 

(-)

Other Snape has a split personality, as if someone out there can’t decide if he’s evil reincarnate or a mewling, innocent boy. 

It’s jarring to see the shifts, day to day, and Sirius doesn’t know which version he hates more. 

He never thought he’d miss Snape, but he does. He misses their Snape, gods damn it, the Real one. 

(-)

He finds out his parents- or at least his parents in this world- torture Other Sirius on a daily basis. With the Cruciatus, even. 

Other Regulus tells him this, all traumatised. 

“Well,” Sirius says, shocked to the core. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it. “To be fair, if I had a son like the Abomination, I’d torture, him, too.” 

(-)

Dumbledore is Evil. But stupidly so. Even a random eleven year old saw through his evil plans and humiliated Dumbledore at breakfast. Some smart arse kid, who’s apparently Lord Potter Black Gaunt Slytherin, and talks like an eighty year old politician. Apparently Dumbledore stole his money or something. 

“I wonder how Other Voldemort is like,” James says, anxious to consider it. 

“I don’t even care,” Peter says. “We should join him. It’s either him, or siding with these lunatics.” 

They all nod in agreement. Voldemort can’t be worse- nothing can be worse than Other Sirius and Evil Stupid Dumbledore.  

(-)

There’s two Voldemorts. 

One is practically a ‘cartoon character’ Remus says. Sirius has no idea what that means.

This Voldemort is Ridiculously Evil. 

Insane Bellatrix is his most loyal. For some reason Insane Bellatrix cackles all the time, and mutters about blood and the Cruciatus under her breath. She’s also dressed like a slut. 

Real Bella, like the aristocrat she is, would never be caught looking like that in public. 

Sirius takes her aside to have a few words with her, and then he finds out apparently she, too, was tortured daily by her parents, like Other Sirius. 

“And raped,” she remembers, with a shrug.  

Wow, and Sirius thought the Real versions of the Blacks were bad, but these people take the fucking cake. 

If the Real Blacks would find out what these Other Blacks are doing to their children, there’ll be hell to pay. 

His mum is a right basket case back in his world, insufferable and cruel with her words, unreasonably strict, but if she’d ever find out another version of herself is torturing her children- why, she’d cut that bitch in pieces. 

(-)

The second Other Voldemort is some misunderstood good guy with a sob story. He whines about his tragic childhood as much as Other Sirius. 

At least this Other Voldemort is still tall, unlike Other Sirius. 

“It’s all Dumbledore’s fault,” he ends a monologue. “He made me do all I did. Or-” he checks a list. “Apparently sometimes he simply framed me and I didn’t do anything at all. Also, you can call me Tom, in private,” he invites them. 

It’s a tragic state of affairs. 

They decide to join Ridiculously Evil Voldemort, simply because he’s the only one that wouldn't protest to murdering everyone. He talks about murder every single day, and Sirius promises him he’ll do anything If he’s allowed to kill Other Sirius. 

“Oh, by the way, you should deal with Good Guy Voldemort.” 

“With who?” 

“You know, the hotter you, the one that’s innocent of all wrongs and calls himself Tom.” 

Evil Voldemort has a heart attacks and dies. 

(-)

They’re on the run from everyone in that crazy world, when a hooded figure enters their tent.  

“Is it you? Is it really you?” the man asks. “Potter? Black? Lupin? Pettigrew?’ 

“Yes, it’s us.” 

The person lowers his hood. It’s Snape. Real Snape. With greasy hair and a large nose, but with intelligent, sharp eyes.

There’s no ‘Victim’ stamped on his forehead, nor is he an evil arrogant bastard, like the Other Snape.

“Fuck, Snivellus! A sane person! I could hug you!” 

“I’d rather not,” Snape spits at James. “Alas, I am...relieved to have found you. We need to work together. I came here after you-” 

“Of course you did, you berk! You were stalking us, as usually, weren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Snape says, unashamed. “I killed the Other me.” 

“Good job. I killed the Other me, too,” Sirius boasts. “I took my time with him.” 

“I killed Other Lily,” Snape says. “She had to go. She was all ...wrong.” 

James sniffles. “She was.” 

And then they all sit down, and plan how to kill Good Guy Voldemort and Evil Stupid Dumbledore. 

[feeder86]

Gluttons

It was strange how you could go ten years without seeing someone and yet suddenly remember everything about them the moment you came across them again.

Oliver had never understood the alarm system at the house he and his boyfriend had bought a couple of years ago. However, since it had been setting itself off whilst he had been at work, he knew it was time to get someone in to see it. He’d called a company, not knowing that his old high school buddy, Tom, worked for them. That was, until the guy showed up at his door that Thursday afternoon.

Back in the day, Oliver had mixed with quite a diverse crowd in high school. He’d never been one to shoehorn himself into a stereotypical group and had amassed friends across the entire spectrum of high school life. Tom had been on one of those extreme ends of the scale: a typically gorgeous, athletic jock who didn’t have much time for many people outside of the usual jock circle. However, Oliver had always found him relatively easy to chat to and even remembered them getting dared to kiss each other during an alcohol infused round of ‘spin the bottle’ at one of their friend’s parties. Unlike many of the other jocks, Tom seemed more comfortable in his own skin, not caring that Oliver was gay, despite only having an eye for the most athletic girls in the school. It was fair to say that Oliver only had good memories of the guy.

“Oliver!” Tom smiled in recognition as he stood on the doorway carrying his bag of tools. “I didn’t know you lived here!”

The man stepped over the threshold, placing his bag down and reached in for a hug that almost seemed out of place after such a long period of estrangement. The scent of him seemed so familiar. He was still so handsome and good-looking, but what was that Oliver could feel as their torsos bounced against each other? He looked down the moment they stepped apart again, noticing that Tom had developed the cutest, tight and firm-looking paunch on him. It stuck out under his toned chest, stretching the material of the cheap work shirt, looking incredibly out of place on the guy who had once been so fit and active.

“Long time, no see,” Oliver smiled back, trying not to stare at the unusual shape of his old high school buddy. The pair spent a few minutes reminiscing, with Oliver explaining how he and his ex, James, had come to buy the house and lived there together up until three months ago, when the guy had cheated on him and abruptly moved out. 

“I just remember that crazy old cat guy used to live here when we were in high school,” Tom laughed. “I never imagined it would be as nice as this inside.”

“Oh, it definitely wasn’t like this when we bought it,” Oliver laughed. “We pretty much had to start from scratch when we bought the place.”

Tom smiled at him, seeming to admire his achievement. It was the way he had always been, never jealous or competitive; just genuinely happy for others when things were going well; even if people beat him in a tennis match or smashed his high school athletics records. 

As Tom settled to work at the alarm box, Oliver couldn’t help staring at his old friend’s new shape once more. From behind, it was obvious that the tight little paunch on him had pushed around to his sides, providing him with the sweetest little love handles, further emphasised by how ridiculously tight his shirt was around his middle. There was an added thickness to his butt too; his old, slim glutes replaced with more bulbous, stronger-looking butt cheeks. After three months of being angry at the world and swearing off men, Oliver suddenly found himself swooning. He’d always loved guys on the larger side and Tom appeared to be the most perfect dad-bod specimen Oliver had ever seen. As the guy bent down to collect some wires from his bag, an expanse of skin on his lower back came suddenly into view, alongside a sweet shot of his delicious-looking butt crack that his stretched and undersized underwear failed to cover. There was no doubt about it, Oliver was finally getting over his break-up.

“Would you like some cake?” Oliver offered, pulling out the leftovers from the birthday party he had thrown for his mother the day before.

Two greedy little eyes looked upon the cake and the man swallowed a sudden build up of saliva. “Sure,” he nodded eagerly, sipping on his fresh coffee and feeling a lot more spoiled than when he called at most folks’ houses.

Oliver could feel his erection flexing as he pulled out the knife to start cutting the slice. Tom had always been so fit and lean, yet now Oliver was serving him cake whilst enjoying the round, bloated shape of his stomach. He went to dish out the portion when a wicked, kinky part of his brain began whispering to him: ‘More! More! Cut him a bigger slice!’ 

As Oliver listened to it, he felt even more blood pumping into his groin. The slice he had cut was ridiculously massive. He almost felt embarrassed as he served it up. Yet Tom didn’t seem in the slightest bit put off by it. He simply stood to the side, resting the arm holding the plate against his tight, rounded stomach, feeding himself with the fork. The sight was almost mesmerising.

“Can I get you some more?” Oliver asked cheekily, seeing that the plate was cleared remarkably quickly. “It’s fresh cream. I’ll probably end up having to throw it out tomorrow,” he lied.

“Well… okay then,” Tom nodded, seeming to know that he was overindulging. This time, Oliver didn’t bother cutting a slice. The remaining cake was only marginally larger than the slice he had served up last time. He simply slapped the entirety of it onto the plate, thanking Tom for freeing up some space in his refrigerator.

“It’s been really great to see you again,” Tom smiled later on as he gathered up his things and headed to the door.

“You too!” Oliver nodded back, having enjoyed the last half an hour immensely. He felt reinvigorated and irredeemably aroused, as if the time had been the best possible therapy to get him over the sadness of his break-up.

“Perhaps you might let me take you out to dinner sometime?” Tom asked next, suddenly a little shy.

“Dinner?” Oliver shot back in complete and utter shock. “As in… a date?”

“Sure. Why not?” Tom chuckled. “I always remember the two of us having a good vibe together back in high school. I’d like to see whether we still have it.”

Oliver was almost speechless. Sure, he’d been flirting the entire time, but he hadn’t expected any of it to land. Tom had never… Tom wasn’t into guys… What the hell was going on?

“You don’t want to,” Tom sighed, trying to interpret the stunned silence.

“No!” Oliver shot back. “Not ‘no’… I mean, yes. I mean…” he spluttered, grumbling at his sudden inability to communicate effectively. “Okay,” he nodded, trying not to laugh at his own good fortune. “But why don’t you come over here instead of going out? I can cook us a meal.”

Tom smiled brightly. “I’d love that. Tomorrow night?” he asked.

Oliver reflected the smile as he nodded. There really was no time to waste.

At the supermarket the next day, Oliver felt the same sense of arousal he had experienced when serving the cake. There were so many things a relatively overweight, former jock should never eat, suddenly getting thrown into his shopping cart: beers, potato chips, pastries and sodas. Something inside of Oliver was captivated by seeing how much Tom had let his eating habits slide and he endeavoured to create the most decadent dining experience for his date that he possibly could.

When Tom arrived, he looked smart enough in his pants and polished shoes. But just like any guy who wasn’t paying enough attention to his expanding waistline, his shirt was once again tight around his stomach. Even standing up, the buttons looked slightly strained, positively gaping once he sat down and started to eat alongside Oliver.

“You’ve got a great appetite!” Oliver couldn’t help marvelling as Tom reached out for a second helping of the dessert. He got up, spooning out another scoop of ice cream for the man as well, pretending that he was merely pleased that Tom had enjoyed his cooking so much. The guy hadn’t stopped complimenting his food all evening.

“I’ve always enjoyed my food,” Tom nodded back, already starting to spoon it all into his greedy little mouth. “I always used to get away with it when I was younger. But once I hit my mid-twenties, it all started to stick to me a lot more,” he explained, giving his rounded stomach a pat, showing, for the first time, that he was actually aware of it. “I reckon it’s probably the reason I’m still single.”

The shape of that gut was completely mesmerising to Oliver, yet he pushed his urge to stare and marvel at it to the side. It wasn’t normal to be so fixated on a guy’s belly; a feature that most people would find to be Tom’s least attractive attribute. “The last thing I heard about you was that you were engaged to Molly Simpson from the year below us,” Oliver enquired interestedly.

“Oh, yeah…” Tom mumbled back, trying to eat at the same time. “That was a couple of years ago now.” He shook his head, as if something still frustrated him. “I just don’t get it,” he grumbled. “What do people expect guys like me to look like these days? I’m nearly thirty after all.”

It was obvious that his increasing weight had put an end to Tom’s engagement. But the way that Tom seemed genuinely annoyed by it all seemed to suggest that he placed no blame on himself, or his overeating, whatsoever. The volume of food he had devoured was more than extreme that evening, yet the guy seemed to believe his expanding waistline was just a normal part of ageing?

“You remember Steve, my older brother?” Tom asked, still feeding himself. “He’s the same. Only he goes to the gym to try and keep his weight down. But,,, It’s not like I have the time for that, do I?” he shrugged.

Oliver nodded sympathetically. However, there was an excitement inside of him that he felt almost impossible to contain. Tom’s genuine greed had captivated him all evening, yet the multiple excuses and denial about his own part in his increasing weight was adding fuel to that fire; supplying another strange level of arousal to the whole proceedings. “Well, I’m just grateful to have someone who actually enjoys my cooking,” he threw back, resisting the temptation to make a disparaging remark about how his ex had never appreciated all the effort he put into their meals. “So is this why you asked me on a date? You think the girls don’t want you anymore?” he teased, adding another small scoop of ice cream into Tom’s bowl at the guy’s request.

“I told you I was bisexual years ago!” Tom shot back.

“No you didn’t,” Oliver laughed. 

“I definitely did!” Tom countered. “The night we played spin the bottle at Andy’s party. The night we kissed,” he chuckled. “You do remember that, right?” he asked, getting concerned.

“I remember us being dared to kiss,” Oliver nodded. “But I don’t remember anything else. I was pretty wasted. Did you really come out as bisexual to me that night?”

A small smile twitched from the corners of Tom’s mouth. “So that’s why you didn’t ever pick up on my flirting then,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“You were actually into me back then?” Oliver asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course I was,” Tom nodded. “You’re gorgeous!”

The pair held a sickly, besotted look for a moment, before they both got up to move over to Oliver’s lounge space. Tom sat down first. He’d always carried a sense of presence about him, but with his imposing height and added mass, he seemed to fill the area with a deeply arousing, masculine air; his straining shirt gaping once more, bloating from all the food he had devoured; yet Tom appeared completely oblivious to it, with eyes only on Oliver. They talked for a short while about the people they knew from their school days; both of them realising that there were surprisingly few either of them were still in regular contact with. They’d both moved on, lived lives and experienced things that had altered them more than their eighteen-year-old selves could have contemplated. They were so familiar to each other, and yet excitingly new.

Oliver nestled himself under Tom’s arm and rested against his side; a gentle hand draped over the boy’s stout little tummy as they moved in for a sweet kiss. The smell of his body was arousing Oliver more than he thought possible; the gentle sweat and manly musk of a guy who had overindulged in stifling clothes, more than a little too tight for his fattened body. The kiss was good and followed swiftly by another, more passionate and almost frantic, as if their simmering attraction to each other had finally passed the point of no return. It wasn’t as if they were strangers just getting to know each other, and it was obvious what they both wanted.

Oliver’s hands wanted to explore more and more; to rip off Tom’s clothes and see it all. Thankfully, it was Tom who was leading the charge. Perhaps, just like Oliver, this was the first bit of action he had had in months. As such, the kissing progressed quickly, with hands sliding down into crotches and rubbing with gentle moans of encouragement. Tom grunted and unbuckled his pants, sliding them down to let his buoyant erection spring out. Oliver followed his cue, with the pair mutually stroking the other as they kissed; their breathing getting heavier and heavier. 

Finally, Oliver could wait no more. He wanted to see under Tom’s shirt. He wriggled his dropped pants clean off, then raised his own shirt off his slender, gently toned body. Immediately, Tom’s eager hands explored his torso, smiling with eager appreciation. Now was Oliver’s moment. Naked, he stood and smiled wickedly and he pulled Tom’s pants further down and threw them across the room. He sat himself on Tom’s lap, finally taking his hands to the top button of the guy’s shirt, unpicking them all, one by one, making his way down. At last, he spread the material apart, revealing the rounded, most handsome potbelly Oliver had ever seen in his life. The chest was strong and a little hairy. Only the very gentle softness of the nipples gave away the obvious forty pounds Tom had gained since Oliver had seen him last. However, the extreme, solid and heavy ball-shaped stomach was more than he had ever wished for. Here was a man who not only enjoyed his food, but had clearly packed it into himself with relish, growing such a firm, well shaped, spherical mass. It was all Oliver could do not to lament at how insanely arousing he found the sight of it. Instead, he kissed the guy more and more, leading him upstairs to finish the job.

Oliver’s friends were always going to be sceptical when he started a new relationship. They’d witnessed how heartbroken he had been after his split with James, glancing at each other with concern as Oliver had lamented about seeing an old high school crush.

“He’s staying over again tonight?” Mandy had asked. “Doesn’t he have his own place?”

Oliver had steered the conversation carefully, sensing their worries. These friends had only ever known him as the driven, assertive version of his twenties; mistaking that now for a reckless, foolhardy fall into a rebound relationship. In contrast, Tom seemed to know him so much more; that unrefined incarnation of his teenage years and the way it had evolved now into someone the man appeared to have fallen for just as much as Oliver had in return.

“Trust me,” Oliver had smiled at them all. “You’ll understand when you meet him.”

However, when the friends did meet Tom, Oliver soon realised how much of a serious misstep he had taken in laying the groundwork. He’d talked too much about how they’d known each other in high school and how popular Tom had been with the girls because of his athleticism. So when he arrived with a thicker, slightly pot-bellied physique, he should have been less surprised when their eyes kept flying back to Tom’s swollen middle. Of course they would be surprised. Oliver’s ex, James, had been obsessed with the gym, whereas it was obvious that Tom was not. Like a typical guy who had packed on a few pounds, Tom was continuing to wear his medium t-shirts that clung unflatteringly against the expanded waistline, emphasising it even more. It also didn’t help that Tom had arrived, feeling pretty hungry. He ordered more than everyone else and even reached across to grab the things people had left on their plates when they were too polite to refuse him.

If Oliver was honest, he felt a strange sense of embarrassment at Tom’s overeating and attire. His new boyfriend’s greed and appearance did not match in the slightest with the men his friends were used to him dating. Upon meeting Tom, they were quickly realising that Oliver’s taste in men wasn’t always quite so mainstream. On the other hand, however, it was incredibly thrilling to show off the kind of man Oliver found genuinely so appealing: overfed, under-exercised and swollen. As Tom ate, Oliver’s hardness built, realising that were Tom to continue on this path, this was probably the slimmest his friends would ever see his new lover.

In truth, Oliver knew that he was significantly overfeeding Tom whenever he came over. It almost felt like something he could barely control as he stocked his refrigerator and cupboards with all the decadent favorites he knew Tom wouldn’t be able to resist. Meanwhile, Tom relaxed into it completely, resting back into the couch as he sipped on his beers and allowed his new lover to spoil him. It was obvious how much he enjoyed it all, lamenting more than once how great it was to be dating someone who didn’t constantly nag him about his eating, as it appeared his previous girlfriends had all done. In Tom’s mind, this made dating guys so much easier.

The effects were instantaneous. When they first started sleeping together, Oliver could squint his eyes and still see the toned, athletic butt that Tom had had back at the end of high school, even with his slightly oversized glutes. Now, however, the tops of Tom’s thighs had started softening and the butt cheeks had pushed outwards, developing significantly more width to them through a lack of exercise. Tom’s ass had become that of a fat man, rather than a simple ex-jock, meaning that Oliver was able to finish with remarkable speed whenever they practised being versatile in the bedroom. But as Oliver thrusted and pounded, he wasn’t simply enjoying the feel and shape of Tom’s chubby butt; in his mind, he was imagining the size it could grow to with more time and encouragement. After all, it was obvious that Tom’s rear was only ever going to grow bigger.

Unlike other people, there seemed to be a genuine disconnect between Tom and the appearance of his body. He didn’t seem to notice how badly his clothes were fitting, nor become irritated by how obviously uncomfortable certain items of clothing must have been for him; his tortured, stretched out and exhausted underwear sliding further down his butt crack. After a performance management review, Tom came back wearing larger work shirts that had been issued to him after his manager saw the disastrous fit of the old ones. Tom had shrugged it off without complaint, nor alarm over how much thicker he was becoming. He was the type of man who didn’t make issues where there needn’t to be any. His weight wasn’t impacting his work, nor his sex life, so it surely mustn’t be a problem.

Out of both excitement and neccessity, Oliver took the initiative and started to buy Tom some new items to wear, finding that the man was more than happy to accept the guidance. Having never had an interest in clothes, he’d assumed that, as a gay man, Oliver would be a lot more knowledgeable about how to dress him. The casual look was so sexy on him as well; the sweatshorts and sweatpants, the sleeveless t-shirts and elasticated waistbands. It was obvious how Tom’s gain had been able to take hold of him. The guy had adopted a lazy lifestyle that Oliver had enabled with ease. As Tom drove around from house to house in work, he’d been making casual calls at fast food places several times in a week, as was evident throughout his work vehicle. He’d avoided walking as much as he could, always ensuring he parked as close as possible to the store he was visiting. When he got home, he would collapse on the couch and not move. Indeed, a brief look in the glutton’s kitchen cupboards would tell anyone that he had the taste buds of a five year old; with sugary snacks and tasty treats filling them up entirely.

For the first time, Tom was starting to carry a little more weight in his face, with cheeks that had swollen slightly and the start of a small chin. His pecs had softened, with fat beginning to spread under his arms as his rounded gut inflated once more.  Oliver realised that in only three months of dating, he had probably witnessed Tom gaining a further thirty pounds of fat on his tall frame without a care in the world.

It was around that time when Oliver was taken to meet Tom’s family. Despite only knowing for a few days that their son had flipped to dating a guy for the first time, Tom was still remarkably affectionate with Oliver in front of them. His brother, Steve, and his wife, Rachel, had been invited along for dinner at the same time, really piling on the pressure for Oliver to impress. 

Oliver had an image in his head of how he expected Tom’s parents to look; after all, Tom had done every athletics club under the sun when he was growing up, and it wasn’t unreasonable for Oliver to anticipate that this was as a result of his upbringing. However, Oliver quickly realised that the picture he had of them in his head couldn’t have been more wrong. Tom’s mother was short, round and carried an enormous amount of weight on her giant rear. His father was an even more extreme example of obesity, clearly weighing no less than four hundred pounds on his tall and broad frame. Oliver wondered if this had been a recent thing for the pair of them, but as he gazed upon the family photos around the house, he realised that Tom and his brother, Steve, had always grown up with very large parents. 

Steve’s wife, Rachel, was someone Oliver remembered clearly as the former editor of the high school newspaper; an extremely bossy and studious girl from the year above and not someone Oliver had been particularly keen to get to know. Perhaps it was just the fact that she had seen so many of Tom’s love interests come and go over the many years she had been a part of the family, but she did not seem in the slightest bit as interested in Oliver as the rest of the friendly bunch. She picked at and chastised her husband for reaching for a second helping of dessert and she positively scowled at her mother-in-law when she brought out further snacks after dinner. Her reason for this was simple. Much like Tom, Steve had packed on quite a good amount of weight since his athletic high school days. He’d developed a stout little tummy and his face had that distinct puffiness to it that his younger self had not.

“The boys always overeat when they come here,” Rachel grumbled quietly to Oliver later on, as the pair were alone for the first time. “Walt and Sue have absolutely no idea about healthy diets or portion control,” she sighed, referring to Tom’s parents; clearly wound up and frustrated by having to be there.

“Well, they’re clearly good cooks,” Oliver smiled back, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Steve and I went through a rough patch a couple of years ago and he moved back here for two months,” she replied, still attempting to make her point. “Forty pounds!” she exclaimed. “That’s how much he gained from just being here with those two, eating the same things that they do. He’s still carrying around some of it now.”

“I see,” Oliver nodded, not really wanting to get involved in Rachel’s in-law grumblings.

“Give these boys an inch and they’d turn into the image of their father,” Rachel nodded, finally seeming to reach her point. “Tom’s weight has gone up and down in the last couple of years, but I’ve never seen him this big before. You’ll need to start putting your foot down with him, like I do with Steve.”

With impeccable timing, the pair watched as Tom reached out and fed himself a large doughnut as he finally finished drying the dishes with the others. Three large bites and it was gone, like it had been nothing more than air. It was plain to see that Rachel was absolutely right. Left to their own devices, both Tom and his brother were exactly the type of men who could stumble into quite extreme obesity. If only Rachel knew that Oliver had no intentions of ever preventing that.

Oliver had never dated a guy with so little inhibitions when it came to his body. Despite the fat little tummy he had developed, Tom seemed completely at ease lounging around Oliver’s house in nothing but his underwear; even answering the door to the take-out delivery guy with next to nothing on. Perhaps it stemmed from the days when Tom had been the ultimate fantasy for so many women; tall, broad and handsome. But with his gut pushing out in one direction and his chubby rear in another, the guy was getting further and further away from the sleek form that had once made women droll. His laziness was evident by how content he was to lay about all weekend, making multiple excuses whenever Oliver suggested going for a hike, or getting out for some exercise. Overfed, oversexed and under-exercised, Tom had reached a level of contentment in his new relationship that was only ever going to have one result.

It was easy to become blind to it all. Tom’s eating was indeed quite extreme. He could arrive at Oliver’s place with a tray of doughnuts and go to bed that night with not a single one left. Despite being well catered for, he ordered in food later in the evening and he slurped on beers and sodas like he’d spent a month in a dry desert. It was as if he was so comfortable and happy in his relationship with Oliver, he was taking the best vacation from caring about his diet at all.

However, as the months trickled by, it was clear that Tom’s eating was anything but temporary. Their first holiday season together had been an eye-opener as Oliver saw just how much Tom’s family indulged. Rachel had been a constant snarky killjoy the entire time, biting Steve’s head off anytime he went in for extra helpings in the same way Tom seemed to enjoy doing. It was obvious that neither Tom, nor his parents were all that keen on her, making it significantly easier for them to appreciate how laid back Oliver was instead. By simply not nagging or chastising Tom as his gut bloated up into an even more spherical shape, he’d become the firm favorire amongst even the extended family. It was something that Oliver didn’t mind too much. Rachel was abrasive and harsh. It was easy to feel sorry for Steve as they waved goodbye to them both after a meal at Tom’s parents; Rachel’s face set like stone because her husband had overeaten once more.

Moving in together had been the inevitable next step for Oliver and Tom. However, this process was sped up significantly by the fact that Tom’s landlord was wanting to sell. Although it had been less than eighteen months since Oliver had kicked out his last lover, there he was welcoming another into his home. He’d expected the usual teething problems as they learned to get along, living side by side. Yet the experience turned out to be nothing but pure pleasure. Not only was their sex life as rampant as ever, but Tom was considerate and funny, appreciating how lucky he was to have a guy who was not only willing to let him move in, but make the changes he wanted around the house: his significantly larger TV screen in the lounge, his ugly recliner chair in front of it; a beer dispenser by the refrigerator and a whole stack of games and console machines in what was the become Tom’s new man cave. Giving the guy his own space vital to making this work, Oliver reasoned. He’d had to set his own ground rules as well; chief amongst them that Tom tried his best not to sit down on some of the older pieces of furniture Oliver had inherited from his grandmother. Given the size of the man’s ball-like stomach these days, Oliver suspected that his lover had already surpassed three hundred pounds as the couch began grumbling under his weight.

In no time at all, Oliver’s home soon became a casual refuge for Steve as well. Being that Tom only lived a few blocks away from his brother now, the two guys were seeing a lot more of each other than they had in the ten years since Steve had first moved out of their parents’ place. With some amusement, Oliver would chuckle to himself as he saw Tom letting the guy in to watch the football on TV. Steve would always be dressed like he was heading to the gym and Oliver suspected that that was exactly where his wife had been told he was going. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, gorging on take out pizzas with his brother, whilst shouting at the screen.

Steve had always carried a stubborn, stout little paunch the whole time Oliver had been dating Tom. However, after only three months of skipping the gym to watch sports with Tom, the guy had packed on a considerable amount of additional weight, rounding him out further and bloating up his face in the same way that Tom’s had in the early days of dating Oliver. Judging by the amount of take-out boxes and emptied cans Oliver could come down to in the morning, it was obvious that Steve was every bit as much of a glutton as Tom was. The results of all those excess calories were staggeringly similar as well: the swelling ball of stomach, the widening of the rear. The more the boys ate, the hungrier they seemed to become.

Tom’s gut appeared to enter the room before he did and his hips had swollen outwards in a way that had completely altered his shape. There had always been at least a hint of the guy’s former athleticism in his physique: the strong chest, the biceps, the jawline. Yet all of that had now melted away, being replaced by a puffing fatness that had coated Tom’s entire body. As he slouched in his chair, the great mass of stomach fat arched out in front of him, expanding into his lap; his pecs long since succumbing to the build up of blubber. At what must have been 350lbs, Oliver could not get over how attracted he was to the man: the sheer enormity and size of him; the great appetite and joy he seemed to get from his eating, without caring in the slightest about how his body was changing.

Oliver had asked Tom to marry him whilst they were on vacation together in Las Vegas. Tom had gorged himself the entire time, going from restaurant to restaurant, and when they had won a sizable amount of cash on their penultimate evening there, it felt like everything had slotted into place as they headed off to the tackiest looking chapel they could find.

However, as one marriage began, it seemed as if another was ending. Steve and Rachel clearly weren’t getting along, meaning that the poor, hapless guy was soon spending more and more time in Oliver and Tom’s spare bedroom. Oliver tried not to pry but it seemed obvious to him what the main catalyst was for the couple’s troubles.

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the pizzas later when you’re watching the game with Steve?” Oliver tried to ask. “You know what Rachel is like about his weight and it’s clear that she’s not happy about how much weight he’s gained.”

Tom shrugged. Even he couldn't deny how much weight his brother had packed on in the last few months. After all, he had taken to wearing many items of clothing that Tom had outgrown himself: the sweatpants, the t-shirts, the sweaters. “What’s the point? We all know they’re not getting back together.”

Oliver sighed. Given how much of Steve’s stuff had been filling up the spare bedroom, he had come to a similar conclusion.

“And so what if they do get a divorce? Steve’s already starting to realise how much nicer life is without her.” He looked at Oliver, trying to get a sense of what he was thinking. “Unless… you’re frustrated at having him here?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “You know my parents would let him stay with them if it’s all a bit too much?”

Oliver shook his head. That wasn’t the case at all. Ever since Tom had quit his job for an admin role, working from home, he had worried that Tom’s weight would start to come down, now that he wasn’t roaming from fast food joint to fast food joint during his working day. But with Steve around, the pair fuelled each other’s enthusiasm for tasty treats, with an inevitable, incredibly arousing impact on both their bodies. In the last few weeks alone, Tom’s thighs had appeared to explode with additional size, stretching the capacity of even his most casual sweatpants.

Steve’s attitude seemed to change the moment he found out that Rachel had started to date one of his old friends. Rather than being angry and bitter, it was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could at last move on, rejecting the guilt he felt and enjoy his life.

“Steve’s out again?” Oliver chuckled as he came in late one evening. “Another date? Who is it this time?”

Tom nodded as he dipped his hand into a large bag of potato chips. “Some girl he met online,” he replied. “A new one.”

Oliver smiled, pleased that Steve was proving to be such a hit with the ladies, even with his larger stomach these days.

When Steve finally did bring a girl home, both Oliver and Tom quietly confessed to each other their surprise over how good looking she was: petite, slim and large chested, the woman could have had any man she wanted; yet she seemed physically incapable of keeping her hands off her new chubby boyfriend. As for Steve, he seemed blissfully happy and pleased with himself, knowing that he had struck gold. Gina seemed like the girl he had been waiting for his entire life.

“Your Tom’s a big boy, isn’t he?” Gina smiled, watching as Oliver’s husband and Steve retreated into the lounge after dinner.

“I guess so,” Oliver smiled as he tidied up the table, still undecided about the woman his brother-in-law was dating.

“You two must get a lot of looks when you go out together? You’re both so different!”

Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So many folks didn’t understand how he could be so in love with a man almost two hundred pounds heavier than him; yet few lacked the tack to keep that curiosity to themselves. “I guess so,” he replied disinterestedly.

“My Steve has a pretty big tummy on him as well,” Gina blundered on, chuckling nervously.

“Well, I think my husband is partly to blame for that,” Oliver smiled back. “He’s been teaching him some pretty bad habits since Steve moved in here with us.”

Gina nodded enthusiastically back. “Yes, Steve’s been telling me! He split his pants at work the other day,” she chuckled.

“I’ve lost count of the amount of pants Tom’s destroyed over the years!” Oliver joked back.

“So, are the boys done eating for the night? Or do they usually snack now?”

Oliver looked at his watch and shook his head. “It’s only eight o’clock!” he replied as if Gina’s question had been utterly ridiculous. “Tom likes something to eat around ten or so. Usually it’s a pizza.”

“And does Steve join him?” Gina asked, almost excitedly.

“Of course,” Oliver nodded.

Gina turned, looking towards the lounge area, sighing with pleasure. “I think this living arrangement is going to work out very well for all of us!”

Oliver simply wiped down the kitchen counter as Gina skipped off to snuggle under Steve’s arm on the couch, not quite understanding exactly what the woman had meant.

A couple of weeks later, Oliver nudged his husband as Steve came down the stairs ready to head out for dinner with Gina. His eyes had bulged at the tight shirt the guy was wearing; his stout, rounded stomach already straining the buttons. 

“You can’t let him wear that!” Oliver whispered, panicking as he saw Steve grabbing his keys. “Tell him it’s too tight!”

Tom looked up from his heaped plate of cheese and savoury biscuits, balanced on top of the shelf of stomach fat he had accumulated. He saw the ridiculous shirt and smirked to himself. “Have a good evening, buddy!” he called out, letting the guy leave without a word of protest.

“How could you let him go out like that?” Oliver cried, utterly shocked by his husband’s lack of caring.

Tom merely laughed to himself. “You worry far too much about him. Trust me, Steve knows exactly what he’s doing!”

Oliver paused, never quite knowing how far to pry into the brothers’ relationship. They got along better than any other siblings he had ever known and were certainly a lot closer than Oliver had ever been with his especially aloof older sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Tom seemed to ponder how best to answer as he continued eating. “Well, Gina is quite forthcoming when it comes to her appreciation of the extra weight he’s been carrying lately. I imagine he’s going to get very lucky tonight when she sees him in that tight shirt!”

“Gina likes it?” Oliver asked, feeling a lot more surprised than he should reasonably have been, considering all the compliments he had heard the girl giving the chubby boy.

“Of course,” Tom nodded. “She wants him bigger.”

“She… what?” Oliver gasped. 

“Oh, come on!” Tom chuckled. “You can’t pretend you’re not exactly the same. It’s just like how you get off on my… what is it you say? My ‘big, manly appetite.’”

“That’s not quite the same thing,” Oliver mumbled, slightly embarrassed. 

“Well, Gina thinks it is,” Tom replied. “Her and Steve talk about it quite a lot. She thinks you enable me to gain weight because you enjoy it.”

Oliver blushed. He never lied to Tom, yet if he opened his mouth at that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to help one from slipping out, denying everything. “And what do you think?” was all he asked.

“I just think I’m a greedy boy who eats far too much,” Tom smirked. “But I do think that might be part of the reason why you married me…”

Tom’s responses were light and jovial, relaxing Oliver as he came to terms with the fact he would have to own up to his kinkier side. “But, I don’t make you wear tight clothes that people will make fun of you for,” he replied, trying to shift the spotlight back onto Gina instead.

“No,” Tom nodded in agreement. “But you’re hardly stopping me from outgrowing everything, are you?”

Oliver merely stared at his husband for a few moments as he finished up the last of his pre-dinner snack; all those additional calories and fats he had prepared for his husband. He’d been outed as a chubby chaser. “So how big does Gina want Steve to get?” he asked.

Tom pressed his thumb into the plate, picking up all the leftover crumbs, before sucking them off. “They’ve had some very kinky conversations about just that,” the big man nodded. “She makes these special shakes for him, loaded with calories! Then she sucks him off whilst he downs it all for her.”

“And Steve is okay with that?” Oliver questioned, trying to hold back his surprise.

“Did you not hear the bit about the blow job?” Tom chuckled. “He’s a guy. Of course he loves it.”

Tom’s casual nature was making it harder for Oliver to unpick how the man really felt about all this. His brother had fallen into a feedist relationship and yet Tom seemed utterly delighted for him. “Are you saying that’s something you’d like us to try?” he finally asked.

“I’d drink one of those shakes for you, no problem,” Tom nodded enthusiastically. “Especially if it came with some benefits…You should get the recipe from Gina. I’m sure she’d happily share.”

“And you’d find that exciting?”

Tom scoffed, not prepared to let his husband hide behind the mask of his supposedly naive enabling anymore. “We’d both get off on that, and you know it!” he laughed. “Frankly, I’d love it if you were a little more vocal about enjoying my appetite; like Gina is with Steve.”

At that moment, a knock came at the door, just as Oliver was trying to take in the enormity of the casual comments his husband had just made. Dazed, he walked off to the entrance way and opened the door up to the visitors they had been expecting.

“Jeez!” exclaimed Dex, fresh from a year-long trip to New Zealand with his girlfriend, Marie. “We just saw Steve heading out as we pulled up,” he rambled, having met Oliver and Tom as a couple only once before heading off on their trip. “I can’t believe how much weight he’s…”

Tom waddled in from around the corner, ready to see one of the only friends he still kept from high school, simultaneously shutting Dex’s ramblings down in an instant as the guy saw just how enormous Tom had grown. His girlfriend’s eyes bulged too; the pair of them trying to contain their surprise.

“Hey… hey there, buddy!” Dex cried, walking over to Tom and giving him the briefest of hugs. His voice was unsure and it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt to have been caught commenting on Steve’s weight gain, given how much more extremely Tom had grown. That giant gut really was the only thing anyone ever saw.

Oliver looked at the pair, not really understanding why Tom still kept in touch with them. Dex was every bit the high school jock he had once been; Marie a moderately successful social media influencer. They’d travelled the world, worked in several different countries, declaring that they could never imagine anything worse than living an insignificant life back home in the small towns where they had grown up. It was exactly the sort of ego that Oliver had disliked about Dex back in high school. Meanwhile, Tom lived for his pizzas and take-outs. He worked from home and had little interest in anything that involved getting up off his couch. How many days had it been since Tom had even bothered to leave the house?

It was easy to become blind to Tom’s size ever since Oliver lived with him each day. But with Dex there, alongside his petite girlfriend, the contrast was clearer than ever. Since when had Tom’s face become so massive? Did regular folks like Dex and Marie really eat such small portions? It had been a little while since Tom had started sitting at the head of the table, instead of at the side by Oliver. However, as the four of them were sitting that evening, it was more than obvious that the seating position was purely to accommodate Tom’s giant size. Oliver had to lean over and plate Tom's meal up for him, catching Dex and Marie glancing with concern at each other at just how much food Oliver was naturally piling onto their friend’s plate.

The conversation quickly became dominated by uninteresting anecdotes from the high flying couple’s global adventures. Oliver could tell that Tom wasn’t really listening; neither of them were. Oliver simply kept a keen eye on Tom’s plate, spooning on more of the different items as they started to get low. It was second nature to him now. However, from the little, uneasy pauses Dex made each time Oliver did so, his disapproval was getting ever closer to the surface. But the more Dex and Marie rambled on, the less concerned Oliver felt about upsetting them. It seemed like their egos had inflated tenfold with a little social media success. They spoke as if they were the authority on several issues, with an arrogance inside them that they both seemed completely oblivious to. 

Oliver slopped more food onto Tom’s plate. His husband was eating well; most likely because there was no opportunity for him to join in the conversation. If he kept it up, Oliver wouldn’t have to plate up any leftovers later. All the serving bowls could go straight in the dishwasher. He knew he was overfacing Tom by emptying the last of the cream and cheese potato dish out for him, but it was worth a shot, given that Steve wasn’t there to help out, as well as the fact that Marie and Dex had avoided it; seeming to know how calorie laden it was.

Afterwards, Tom stretched out and rubbed his swollen stomach with a grunt whilst Oliver dutifully cleared the table around him. He’d made a giant, hearty dish of sticky toffee sponge, leaving it out in the middle of the table for Marie and Dex to serve themselves. Unused to waiting for guests to be served first, Oliver tried to hold back a small chuckle as he heard his gluttonous husband swallowing back saliva as he watched on. Finally, the serving spoon was in Oliver’s hand, carving out a humongous portion and pressing it down until it fitted inside their oversized bowls. He’d made additional toffee sauce, pouring that on for Tom as well, before placing it down in front of him. The weight of it was obvious by the hefty ‘thunk’ it made onto the placemat; something that did not go unnoticed by the guests.

If there was one thing Oliver never had to worry about, it was Tom’s sweet tooth. But rarely had Oliver been so blatant as to start refilling his husband’s bowl the moment he dropped the spoon. The goal was simple: no leftovers. Having Dex and Marie there to witness it was even quietly thrilling.

“So, do you have any more plans for the house?” Marie asked, finally seeming to notice that they had been talking about themselves for over an hour by that point. “Last time we saw you, you mentioned wanting to extend out the back.”

Oliver shook his head. In truth, he’d lost a lot of his enthusiasm for the house ever since he’d met Tom. Houses and renovations were not the large man’s thing in the slightest. All Tom really cared about was having somewhere to rest his head at night. “I don’t think so,” Oliver replied, reaching under the table to rest his hand on Tom’s knee. “In truth, I can’t see us staying here for too much longer.”

“Oh, really?” Marie smiled back. “Are you guys thinking of moving out of town?”

“No, nothing like that,” Oliver shot back, realising that he hadn’t even discussed any of this with Tom. “But this place is old and has already been knocked around a fair bit. The shower is getting a little too small for Tom and there’s no way of making it larger unless we knock down the wall into one of the guest bedrooms. It’s a lot of work.”

“Or…” Dex began, looking at them both like they were simple, “...you could just put him on a diet.”

Oliver was surprised at the slight glee he felt at making Dex bite. Tom was busily scraping his bowl clean, determined to get every last crumb; oblivious. “Oh, I think that ship has sailed, don’t you?” Oliver chuckled, exchanging his husband’s empty bowl for the entire bowl that remained in the middle of the table. He lifted the jug of extra toffee sauce, emptying it entirely, before passing Tom his spoon back and slipping his hand under the table once more to rub his husband’s knee. His silent meaning was clear: eat it all.

Steve’s disgust was evident on his face as he simply watched his old friend annihilating the entirety of the remaining dessert without a thought. All three spectators were observing the masterful glutton taking on the sugary feast without even noticing he was being watched; the conversation halted. Oliver could hardly believe how erotic he found it and he was thankful that he was wearing an oversized sweater that covered his crotch as he stood up to collect yet another fresh soda for his husband. He imagined how boring it would be to be lumbered with a fit guy like Dex. Oliver knew he’d have to fatten him up with his calorie dense food and quiet enabling, until he got what he wanted; exactly as he had done with Tom, and now his brother as well.

“Check out this pic I found of us from high school,” Dex insisted, fumbling with his phone. “I found it the other day,” he explained, filling the silence as he clicked and swiped his way to it. Finally, he turned it around for Oliver and Tom to see: two handsome, shirtless jocks with glistening six packs by the pool. “Look at the pair of us! Man, I miss those care-free days!” Dex chuckled fondly.

Oliver tried to suppress a chuckle. Dex’s true intentions hadn’t been clearer, reminding his old friend of how fit he used to be.

“I don’t!” Tom grunted in reply between large mouthfuls. “I never liked being on the swim team. In fact, I haven’t stepped foot in a swimming pool since I graduated.”

“Seriously?” Marie asked in surprise. “In over ten years?” Given how many poolside selfies there were of her, it was a wonder she didn’t have gills.

“Tom’s not big on exercise,” Oliver confirmed, shaking his head.

Realising the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, Dex returned his cell phone to his pocket. “Dude, you’re starting to look like your dad,” he finally snapped as Tom began scraping the bowl for the last of the toffee sauce. 

Having cleared some plates, Oliver was just making his way back to the table as he said it, making him chuckle as he rubbed his husband’s large back proudly. “Actually, Tom can eat even more than his dad these days,” he smiled, as if this was an achievement to be proud of.

Tom, who seemed to be finally switching back onto the conversation now his food was all but gone, nodded in agreement.

Dex had clearly expected more negativity from his comment and he looked at Marie as if they were both thinking the same thing. He gazed down at his watch and Marie nodded subtly in agreement.

“Thanks for dinner,” Dex sighed, already getting up. “But we have to be up early tomorrow for our flight.”

Oliver beamed. He had thought he was stuck with the pair of them all evening. “Oh, we understand,” he nodded, hoping to sound disappointed. Then he looked down at a still seated Tom, waiting for him to echo his words of regret. However, Tom seemed far more concerned with the tightness of his stomach after downing such a large amount from his fresh soda. He rubbed at his stomach and looked almost like he might throw up, before a giant burp came rolling up from his throat. Sighing with relief, Tom grunted as he rose to his feet as well; his stomach so bloated that the underside of it was visible from the bottom of his t-shirt.

No one hugged in goodbye. Dex seemed disgusted and, at the same time, pitying towards his old friend. Tom raised his great arm and Oliver slid underneath, resting against the man’s bulk as the pair stood just outside the house and waved the pretty couple off. “Do you think we frightened them away?” Tom whispered as the car rumbled off the driveway. “You’ve never made me eat like that before,” he chuckled.

“It was more entertaining than listening to all their boring stories,” Oliver replied, trying not to move his mouth so much that the couple would have the chance to read his lips as they backed out onto the road. “Did you enjoy it, though?” he smirked, raising his hand for the final wave to Dex and Marie.

Tom didn’t reply. He simply trotted his way back into the house and embraced his husband in a giant kiss the moment the front door was closed behind them. Oliver was the one who pulled off Tom’s shirt, feeling a freedom now to enjoy the giant size of his glutton’s stomach that he hadn’t allowed himself before now.

“You like?” Tom asked, standing proudly and full of confidence, even pushing his fat tummy out a little more.

“I do!” Oliver nodded, slipping down onto his knees in order to kiss the giant mass. 

Tom grunted in approval, seizing the opportunity to lower his sweatpants and feed his stiff and buried hardness into Oliver’s mouth. He moaned loudly as Oliver settled to his work with such relish, rubbing his enormous stomach as if his own size was turning him on. As Oliver’s tongue worked him harder, Tom’s stomach rubbing only became more frantic and desperate, taking a hand to each side of it and bouncing it up and down.

“You’re never going to put me on a diet, are you?” Tom asked, his voice dripping with lust.

Oliver briefly pulled his mouth from Tom’s crotch to reply. “Never,” he teased back, noticing that Tom’s dick was even harder by the time he got it back between his lips. 

The next time Oliver came up for breath, he pulled Tom along towards the couch, letting the fat boy down on his back, legs splayed, as Oliver set back to pleasuring him. In this position, Tom seemed to be enjoying himself even more; moaning loudly and rubbing his giant gut like it was an enormous wrecking ball pinning him down. There was almost no effort required to make the man ejaculate.

Afterwards, Oliver looked on at his husband with a satisfaction that no orgasm could give him. Naked and well-catered for, Tom had fallen asleep in the same position he had landed in during the blow job; a giant, fat slug draped over the couch that constantly creaked under his weight. The fat under his chin had made his neck disappear in this position and a contented, calm expression filled his face as he dozed. This was the reason Oliver loved his size and greed so much; for only he could deliver this sort of bliss to a glutton like Tom: his perfect man.

Only eighteen months later, Tom stood, filling his plate full of items from the buffet table at his brother’s wedding. It had been a long day for the guy, being the Best Man, with plenty of time up on his feet for the photographs. Oliver watched on, admiring the sheer size of his husband’s rear from afar. There was something so cute that happened to those glutes once a man crossed five hundred pounds. They were so plush and soft, yet grotesquely oversized and extreme-looking, especially in the tight dress pants Tom had been made to wear that day. He wasn’t used to such restrictive clothes, and he wriggled and twitched in them the entire time, silently longing to get back into his sweatshorts which wouldn’t pinch him like these pants did.

There had come a point a few months back when Oliver and Tom had decided to take a step back from the deliberately fattening regime Tom had seemed to take himself on. To some extent, it had worked. Tom was no longer growing at the rate that he had been. However,  there was no denying the fact that the man was indeed still growing. Those unplanned pounds had made his body swell and soften in a way that none of the previous weight ever had before. His upper arms had ballooned with fat and his hips had widened so that he had broken more than a few chairs. It had been fat building upon already well established fat. Of course it was going to change his shape, thought Oliver, rolling his eyes as Tom finally began to have second thoughts once even his parents had shown some concern. But the weight was still finding him; still sliding onto his overfed physique and quietly arousing them both by the seemingly uncontrollable nature of it all.

Steve, and his new wife emerged onto the dance floor. It was almost pitiable to watch her dragging such a fat man out to dance with her. With such a hectic day, Steve had become dishevelled and a little sweaty; his large shirt untucking itself in all but a couple of places around his large circumference. His blossoming love handles an underbelly showing in just the same Tom’s had only one hundred pounds earlier. As for his new wife, she seemed to be loving every minute, showing off the giant, spherical man she could now call her own. Without much family to Gina’s name, the guest list seemed saturated with friends of hers with similarly bloated, overfed husbands; most likely undergoing the same transformation that Steve was under a feeder’s care. Oliver had seen them all looking across at him, nodding in approval at Tom’s size, as if they were all a part of the same strange and unspoken club.

“Are you not coming to watch?” Oliver asked his overstuffed husband, wiping his mouth after completing his monstrous mountain of buffet food.

Tom shook his head lazily, pretending to want to rest his feet.

Oliver smirked, spotting the vast quantities of pre-cut wedding cake sitting on the table not far away and knowing that Tom was secretly plotting a way to get more than his fair share whilst everyone was distracted. Indeed, if there was one thing Oliver could always rely upon, it was Tom’s sweet tooth.

“Okay, honey,” Oliver smiled, pretending not to have figured out his gluttonous husband’s real intentions. “You just rest here for a minute,” he smiled, turning his back so that Tom could quietly gorge himself, unnoticed by everyone else in the room. Given how well the man had been eating today, there’d certainly be fresh fat to explore on his body by tomorrow morning….

Life was sweet.

[mx-paint]

.

[sohasters]

🥒✈️Cumplane Secret identity AU???

Peerless cucumber becomes so notorious that he starts getting Airplane notices semi-regularly. Airplane needs some extra cash so he starts doing vtube/voice change streams where he draws PIDW characters, comics, monsters etc - he's a talented baby what can I say, and he gets a decent stream following, offering sneak peeks at his creative process - but he really doesn't want his face and ID as an erotica writer out there thank you!!!

Peerless Cucumber is absolutely ridiculous in his chat, ubiquitous, always there the second he starts streaming. Constantly dropping huge donos to ask ridiculous lore questions that literally go on for minutes... riding herd on other chatters and policing people... Eventually him being "worst mod" becomes a meme, and Airplane mods him mostly as a joke.

They start messaging, and weirdly it's not hellfire? Modding the channel is the first actually constructive thing Shen Yuan has done, like, ever. It turns out that when he has actual responsibility, he takes it pretty seriously? He's more reliable than anyone, especially himself, could have expected him to be? Everyone still clowns in him and calls him "worst mod", "everyone tell the mods they suck" but it starts to be affectionate, because he actually helps detoxify the community a little? (Only HE is allowed to be toxic on airplane's channel!!)

He decides to take a media and communications degree because social media is the only thing he's ever been good at. He sees a guy with a PIDW sticker on his laptop in his lectures, and they become study buddies! It's great!

They talk about their shared appreciation for PIDW probably more than they should. Study Buddy is pretty chill, he teases Shen Yuan for his BingGe obsession. Shen Yuan doesn't want to be a dick, so he doesn't really slag it off as much as he would online? And Study Buddy LIKES talking about the monsters and how cool Bing-gege is!! Maybe they talk enough that Shen Yuan figures maybe there's a reason he was never into wife plots? Maybe he's actually just... Not into... You know.... Girls? That way??? And Study Buddy is super chill? And maybe it's okay to talk about that stuff???

Meanwhile he's still chatting with airplane, who gets invited to attend a con to be on some kind of panel. He asks cucumber-bro along because he's shitting BRICKS, and he wants someone there who will, like... be in his corner?

Turns out Shen Yuan already has tickets because he and his study buddy were planning to go!

Oh, and look at that! He and airplane are booked at the same hotel! It's convenient!

They decide to meet in the lobby.

Shen Yuan and his study buddy go to their separate rooms to freshen up and rest, with a plan to meet for breakfast. Thirty minutes later, they're both back in the lobby.

Both of them are "waiting for someone."

Both of their "someones" are running LATE.

Shen yuan messages Airplane.

Study Buddy's phone buzzes.

Their eyes meet.

No fucking WAY. this is the guy who talked him through his LBH inspired GAY AWAKENING!! The friendly and supportive "bro" he has COMPLICATED FEELINGS ABOUT??? And that's AIRPLANE?

He literally spent five minutes TALKING ABOUT LBH'S MUSCULAR CHEST AND STAR STUDDED GAZE... to AIRPLANE????

Has he really spent MONTHS coming to the terms with the fact that AIRPLANE is kinda....

Could Bingge maybe portal in with Xin Mo and drag Shen Yuan to hell, because he can't deal with this 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I’m not usually one for miscommunication as a trope but hear me out:

Arthur thinks he and Merlin are together because Merlin says shit like “you’re my destiny” and “two sides of the same coin” fairly often.

He even looks fond or proud whenever he calls Arthur a prat, and pet names never suited them. He considered it once but it just felt weird. “Idiot.” Changed to “Idiot <3” when they finally got together and that suits them much better than Darling or Babe or whatever else.

And it’s not like he doesn’t say romantic stuff back, all: “you’re the bravest man I ever met.” Or “you’re the best friend I have and I couldn’t bare to lose you”

Meanwhile, Merlin pinpoints the same moment Arthur believed they started dating as when Arthur started acting more affectionate and Merlin’s crush got dialled up to 11.

Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so he pushes his luck occasionally and will hug Arthur after a long day or will lean on him if they’re eating together on a hunting trip. Merlin absolutely cherishes these moments, but he’s secretly wishing they meant as much to Arthur as they do to him. (Spoiler alert: they do.)

So they must be together, Merlin just can’t be bothered with titles and with everything that happened, Agravane and Morgana betraying him, it would be ideal to wait for an announcement of their relationship.

He gifts Merlin clothes, new boots, will leave flowers in his chambers and asked for the cook to make more of Merlin’s favourites so he can steal food from Arthur’s plate because he claims it tastes better when it isn’t his food.

Arthur gave Merlin his mother’s sigil, for crying out loud. They’re obviously together.

And even better, (you can pry demi or ace Arthur from my cold dead hands) they don’t even need to be intimate beyond the occasional hug or soft gestures like Merlin brushing the hair from his face before Arthur goes to sleep at night and Arthur doing the same whenever they’re not in the castle and sleeping next to each other. He was worried at first, but Merlin never expected it, which Arthur just takes as: “And how stupid to worry? who knows him better than Merlin? Of course he would already know Arthur didn’t feel comfortable with that sort of stuff.”

Then one day, a delegation comes to Camelot and one of the foreign knights is flirting with Merlin. Arthur sees, and he doesn’t usually feel any need to act on his jealousy because he trusts Merlin, but this knight isn’t flirting in the way Gwaine does that’s just part of who he is, and Merlin looks uncomfortable. So he calls Merlin over to him, starts acting like a prat, and keeps Merlin “busy” all night by keeping his goblet full or usual servants duties.

Then later, Merlin thanks Arthur but says he doesn’t need to worry and he can handle himself. Arthur, finally relaxing after being ready to start a fight for the past three hours, pulls Merlin into a hug and kisses his forehead, because let the medieval gays be soft sometimes. He whispers something like, “I know you don’t like talking about it, and that you’ve said you don’t need a title, but you shouldn’t have to handle everything on your own.”

Merlin pulls back, looking shocked and confused. Then they actually have to talk about everything.

Merlin’s just fine with actually dating the guy he’s got a massive crush on and now he’s more willing to instigate hugs and affection. (Arthur just thought Merlin wasn’t going to push him to not make him uncomfortable but secretly wishes that he would instigate more) They end up sleeping in the same bed in Camelot too, because cuddles and softness, something Arthur wanted for a while but didn’t know how to ask for.

Basically all the problems in the relationship that Arthur was worried about but kinda felt “it’s already more than I could hope for” so didn’t want to bring up get worked out naturally and Merlin, who was previously worried about his friendship getting ruined if they changed the dynamic too much, is shocked by how little actually changed now that they’re together. He just gets to hold Arthur’s hand, can be less subtle about stealing from his dinner, gets to relax and gets an Arthur that’s more clingy and soft now that Merlin knows he’s allowed to reciprocate affection.

They still tease each other, they’re still two idiots sharing a braincell that they occasionally give to Leon to babysit, they’re just more open about being in love now. (More open to each other, anyway. Literally everyone else in Camelot knew long before they did)

Bonus points if they’ve been talking about their relationship and having the important conversation with each other the entire time, just without actually talking about it. Merlin asking why Arthur suddenly changed how affectionate he is and Arthur saying he thought he was allowed. Merlin’s just like “cool, as long as you’re okay. I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable and relaxed.” And glad there’s no love spells or anything sinister going on. Arthur says he doesn’t like Merlin flirting with Gwaine, even if he doesn’t mean it, and Merlin agrees to stop if it makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t think too much into it, just thinks Arthur doesn’t like the casual flirting and believes that relationships are important so casual stuff isn’t super comfortable. Merlin is still friends with Gwaine, just makes less jokes about going home with or marrying him.

Like, they’re having entire conversations and maintaining a fully functional healthy relationship, they’re just fucking idiots at the same time.

[dreamertf]

Role Reverse

/muscle drain, muscle growth, straight to gay, dom to sub, sub to dom, masculinization

/Was on metabods and was inspired by this story

Jack and his roommate Cas weren't on great terms. Jack had moved in a few months ago, finding Cas through a listing on craigslist-- only the listing didnt mention that Cas was a complete bigot. Since the first day of moving in, Jack had been tormented by the tall jock. Cas egging him on for being trans and gay. The daily berating was getting annoying, and Jack wanted to move out but the lease wouldnt be over for a few more months.

As he was doomscrolling tiktok he got an ad for some sort of new social media app called Facets that seemed targeted at gay people.

Facets; each lens creating a new reality

He stared at the app as it downloaded, going through the preview pictures. The way the screenshots were presented made it look like there was some built-in ai photomanipulation that changes your pictures based on your tags. It made sense. Everyone was insanely attractive on the preview photos, inhumanely so.

Creating his account he had to input his information, it felt like a dating app.

Jack Engoff

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 210

Body type: Chub

Position: Verse

Gender: Trans Masc

Scrolling through the app, it was just like scrolling through the previews. Everyone was insanely hot.

Jack decided to get back at Cas a little, have a little fun. He knew that the jock fell asleep in the living room last night after getting home drunk, so he had complete access to him.

Sneaking quietly he stood in front of the behomoth on the couch, his breathing deep and heavy as his pecs rose and fell rhythmically. His thick muscular legs spread, revealing his huge member.

Jack hated how hot he was, he looked like all the other guys on the app.

He took a picture as he thought about what tags to put.

#bottom #skinny #powerbottom #twink #short #sub #femboy #wanttobedominated #thirstybussy

As he pressed post, the loading screen glitched out. Suddenly, a picture of a cute twink appeared. Short 5'5" lean frame with a bubble butt. His waist is small, and his face brimming with feminine masculinity. His previously spread legs were closed as his small dainty hands covered his crotch, his huge ass pointing up- his face down in the couch. He was practically swimming in his clothes, even though they had shrunk to accommodate his new body.

Jack loved seeing his tormenter brought down a few pegs, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't turned on.

---

He looked up in shock as the small twink in the photo manifested in front of him. His breathing wasn't heavy anymore, slight movement to his narrow shoulders as he slept peacefully.

Suddenly he heard slight muttering and moans come from cas.

"Oh Jackie.... im so tight.. please you're ripping me apart!" He moaned, his voice high pitched and sensual.

Jack was immediately turned on, he didnt know what to do.

If this app was able to do this, what could he do to himself?

He took a selfie as he formulated the perfect tags.

#powertop #dom #cisman #himbo #jock #bodybuilder #hugefeet #giant #hugeverywhere #model #abs #jawline #irresistible

He hit post as he ran to the bathroom to see his changes.

His patters became thuds as his feet grew out to size 15s.

He felt his bottom growth lengthen as it turned into a fully functioning penis, becoming thicker as his balls dropped-- becoming huge and juicy. His top surgery scars disappeared as he lost all his fat, his muscles defining themselves, becoming that of a god.

His broad shoulders pushed themselves out as his shirt completely disappeared, leaving his huge juicy tits in the cold air. His torso elongating as his abs popped into existence. He smiled as his adams apple dropped and became more prominent.

He flexed in the mirror, smiling as his face became extremely symmetrical and handsome. His curly hair grew out a tiny bit on top, giving him a lusty edge.

"Jackkkkkk is that you? Whats happening i feel so weak..."

He heard a voice come from behind him, standing in the doorway was Cas, dazed and confused.

Inside Cas was screaming, was he that hungover? Why was jack so much bigger than him.

"Hey baby" Jack said in his deep voice, as he spoke Cas immediately got hard-- his small two inch dick parely tenting his shorts.

Jack picked Cas up easily, kissing him as he brought the shorter man into the bedroom.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep, if you wanted me that bad why didnt you say?"

Cas blushed. It was undeniable how hot Jack was, but he wasn't gay! Cas leaned back in bed as the giant 6 foot 8 giant stood before him.

Seeing him in such a compromising position made jack's huge member immediately come to attention.

As he pulled down his sweats it flopped out, leaking warm goey thick pre as his giant foot long soda can wide dick ached for Cas.

Cas gasped, leaning forward as he felt an irresitable urge to worship Jack's body. Licking up the pre with his tongue as jack grabbed him by the hair.

"Good boy, keep licking and maybe ill fuck you."

[misctf]

The Haunted House II

Back with another Halloween themed story to celebrate the month! This is an indirect sequel to The Haunted House. Enjoy!

“You’ll wanna use these for pie and those for eatin’” Cal says with a warm smile. And just like several customers before, she thanks him for his kindness, “Aw shucks, jus’ glad to be here.” Each word rich with his country accent.

Today was the local college’s annual Autumn Festival. Cal’s father would have him man their stand. It was something the young farmer enjoyed each year and the locals always looked forward to seeing him. But once a year was good enough for him. He never went to college, but didn’t feel he was missing out. He loved the countryside and his life on the farm.

“Besides,” He thinks eying a group of college guys, “They’re all a bit backwards ‘round here.”

The group of bros were talking about a Halloween party that night. Their obnoxious laughter filling the air as they discussed ‘future conquests’. Their vocabulary rich with words like “rizz”, “bro”, and “lit.” Cal couldn’t wrap his head around it. Outside of being from the countryside, he figured being 30 years old contributed. To him, they all seemed immature and rude. A stark contrast to the values instilled in him by his god-fearing parents.

“Well, that was the last of it. Guess I should pack up.” After finishing, he looks down at his watch, “Well I’ll be, there’s still time before supper. Might as well explore.” He figures he might find a gift for his parents and girlfriend, Anna.

Cal walks pass various stands and attractions- enjoying the sense of community and the cool autumn breeze. And as he reached the end of the festival, he saw it- a large, wooden, and derelict house.

“That wasn’t here last year.” He mumbles, walking over to the plaque near the entrance, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He reads. He scratches the hairs on his chin and grins, “A haunted house, huh?”

His neighbors would turn their farmhouse into a haunted house. And it was scary. Cal remembered the first time he took Anna. He damn well near pissed himself. If he wasn’t trying to impress her, he actually might’ve.

“Scariest, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.” He chuckles.

Without another thought, he enters. The inside was dark, illuminated by a few candles. The musty smell of mothballs and mildew invaded his nose, but he reassured himself it was nothing compared to the cows on a hot summer day. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a large mirror.

“I see.” He smiles, “It’s one of them fun mirror houses.”

He feels somewhat relieved. This was nothing compared to his neighbor’s haunted house. He follows a creaky flight of stairs, until arriving at a somewhat familiar looking door.

“Well I’ll be.” He raises an eyebrow.

From what he could tell, it was a replica of the door to his room back home. He opens it slowly, his eyes widening as he enters what appeared to be a total copy of his bedroom.

“There’s no way.” He whispers, only to jump as the door slammed shut behind him.

He looks around finding his neatly made bed, his desk littered with equipment manuals, a pair of his work boots, and pictures of animals and the outdoors. Even his fishing gear sits nicely in the corner of the room. The only difference being the large mirror propped against the wall. Cal took an apprehensive step forward.

“Call me crazy...” He mutters, approaching his desk.

And as he picks up one of the manuals, he feels a shock. He watches closely as the manual starts to shift and change. The cover now showing off a nude man, flexing his muscles. Cal gasps and drops it as the remaining manuals reform into all kinds of lewd magazines. And he watches as a laptop materializes on his desk, immediately opening to gay porn- the sounds echoing loudly.

“What on Earth?” Cal gasps, feeling his cock tenting in his jeans, “Naw, this ain’t...”

He backs away, falling onto his bed. And when he does, images flash through his mind. He can hear his neighbor Billy. He’s moaning, begging for more. And Cal grunts from a sudden warmth around his cock.

“This don’t make sense.” Cal huffs, holding back a moan as he bucks his hips.

Billy was never near his room. Cal’s parents warned him about Billy’s sexual preferences. Yet he could hear Billy’s voice now, clear as day. His moans a symphony in Cal’s head as he absentmindedly massages his tented cock.

“Wasn’t that a good fuck?” A voice said.

“Fuckin’ was.” Cal slurred, recalling Billy’s firm ass.

He shakes his head and leaps from the bed, sweat trickling down his face. He never... not with a guy. Not even with Anna. He was waiting until marriage.

“Huhuh remember Anna’s face when she caught you?”

A new unwanted memory appears. The day Anna walked in on him and Billy. Her look of disgust. How his parents didn’t even know what to say, just going on about how disappointed they were.

“Whatever...” The voice continued, “At least we got bragging rights.” Cal groans as he remembered telling his friends about banging an older woman. But wasn’t he the same age as Anna?

“Nah fam, you’re 21.”

Before Cal could respond, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He couldn’t explain it, but he looked younger. He runs a hand along his smoother skin and watches with amazement as his facial hair falls to the floor. He moans as rush of hormones and energy fill his body.

“No, this isn’t right...” Cal’s eyes widened, “My voice... what...?” His country accent gone- now more akin to the bros from outside earlier.

He retreats from the mirror, awkwardly tripping over his work boots and falling into his closet. He looks up at his flannels and denim hanging neatly. And before his eyes, they morph. His clothes shifting into oversized hoodies, joggers, and tank-tops. He even catches a glimpse of his work boots as they become slides.

“Bruh, that drip ain’t hittin’ right.” The voice said, “Gotta ditch that fit.”

“What are you even...” Cal stops, hating how similar their voices sound.

But he quickly finds out what the voice meant. He yelps as the cool air caresses his now naked form. His rock-hard cock exposed and throbbing from the cool draft.

“But how...?” His eyes inspect his naked form.

He no longer sports a farmer’s tan. Instead, every inch of his skin was sun kissed- a rich bronze. And even his chest and belly hairs fall out. He frowns at the loss of the tokens of his traditional masculinity.

“Fuck this.” He curses, stumbling out of the closet, “Wait, no way.”  

The pictures of animals and nature have been replaced by pictures of half-naked men and women. He groans as memories of jerking off to these pics fill his mind, and he shudders as the moans from his laptop seemingly got louder.

“I gotta bust.” He mumbled, thinking back to Billy’s ass, “But... no, fuck...”

His voice drips with smugness- deep and dull now. And nothing he did could prevent him from sounding like a typical douchebro. Taking a step back, he trips over a dumbbell.

“Bruh, where’s my fishing gear!?”

Instead, there’s a full set of dumbbells and a bench press. And his jaw drops when he caught his reflection again. Gone were his lean muscles. He now sports broad bis and tris. His pecs now a pair of meaty muscle tits. He slowly runs his hand along his six-pack abs, an unwanted pride filling him.

“Being jacked's a vibe, bro, no cap.” The voice said as Cal bounces his pecs.

“Facts bruh, a little extra muscle never hurt nobody.” Cal bites his lip, “No, oh fuck... my head...” Memories of guys and girls drooling over his muscles make his dick twitch. He loves the way those sluts would salivate over him, “Please... no...”

He winces as an intricate forearm tattoo engraves into his skin. And he gasps as a few bracelets materialize on his arm. There was no way... he would never buy shit like this. He was saving his money for more important things, right?

“Bruh, when you’re on OnlyFans, the bag’s there, no cap.”

Cal watches as a ring light and video camera materialize on his desk. Memories of his content flooding his weakened mind. The modest part of him blushing as he recalled the lewd content he created. Cumming on camera, teasing his cock, fucking Billy...  

“They love watchin’ this dick in action.” He smirks, giving his monster a few tugs.

Yet, part of him was terrified- his values and kind-hearted nature resisting the persona that was taking over. And he quickly released his cock and grabbed his head.

“You gotta let that go, fr.” The voice said.

“Deadass, I’m not lettin’ this slide.” Cal shot back.

And as he turns back to the mirror, he saw himself. His real self. Still naked. But a reflection he was more used to- his farmer’s tan, lean muscle, and body hair. Not sporting a tattoo or fake jewelry. The kindness still in his eyes, albeit fearful.

“It’s me...” He whispers.

But when he looks down, all he sees is his newly bronzed skin, two slabs of chest meat, cobblestone abs, and his 12 inch, throbbing cock.

“No... I don’t want this...”

Desperately, he reachs out to the mirror- to his old self. Wanting nothing more than to go back to being himself. But as his hand touches the mirror, it shatters. Cal cries out and tumbles through the opening, falling to the ground just outside the haunted house.

“Oh fuck...” He curses, pushing himself up.

He looks down at his tanned, meaty hand. His tattoo and arms on full display in his tank-top. His pair of joggers doing little to hide his raging boner. In a dazed panic, he grabs his phone and opens snapchat.

“It’s me, bruh. For real.” He keeps staring at the photo, his eyes dulling, “Damn.. I got that rizz today.” He swipes through a few filters and grins, “Lit.” His selfie now framed by the entrance to the haunted house, “Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” He chuckles, “No cap.” He uploads the selfie for his thirsty followers.  

“Bruh, you good?” Cal looks up at the group of guys from earlier.

“Ghost play with your cock, CJ?” One quips, nodding towards the outline of the boner in his pants.

“CJ?” Cal mumbled. Yeah... He likes that... CJ, “Bruh, that house was straight-up bussin’, no cap.” CJ chuckles and readjusts his dick, “Ayo, quit staring unless you're gonna do something about it.” He stands up, “Like, don’t we have a party to hit up?”

Later, CJ stands in his dorm room, flexing after his shower. His dick needed some attention- not like he ever had a problem with that. That’s why he went to fuckin’ college in the first place. His basic ass parents could waste their lives on that farm. Nah fam, CJ had bigger and better things ahead of him- as did whoever guy’s ass he was baggin’ that night. CJ chuckles, already feeling his cock hardening.

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

a fic inspired by this, because i could not stop thinking about it.

“What’s your name?” The girl who’s name Eddie absolutely did not catch, yelled, while holding her microphone out to him. 

“I’m, Eddie.” He yelled back at her, not quite sure if their yelling was necessary in their quiet corner of the room, but totally loving the chaos anyway. 

“Are you single Eddie?”

“I am indeed.” 

“Would you like to change that?” 

That question was not hard to answer at all. 

“Absolutely.”

“Great, because otherwise this would have been a very short video.” Eddie laughed much harder than he expected to–and oh shit he is much tipsier than he thought. 

“So what’s your type then?” 

“You’re gonna hate me,” Eddie sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was painfully contradictory, but hey, you can't blame a guy for having his taste in men be permanently altered by a guy he had a crush on when he was 20. “So I like jocks… but like pretty boy jocks.” 

“Pretty boy jocks?”

“Yup.”

A smile grew on her face

“Oh easy, give me like 5 minutes.”

And she really wasn’t kidding when she said that. 

Eddie had barely had enough time to get himself another drink when he heard his name being called behind him. He whipped his head around to see– 

Holy shit

“Harrington?!” 

Steve Harrington stared at him with a look on his face that Eddie assumed was equally as shocked as his. But then he’s the first to move, pulling Eddie into an enthusiastic hug. 

“Eddie! Oh my god, it's been so long!” 

When Eddie is finally released from the hug enough to breathe he responds, “what are you doing here?” 

“A gay bar or Chicago?” Steve laughs. 

And, oh yeah, Eddie’s stupid fucking crush. If the butterflies are anything to go by, that’s still around. 

Before Eddie can respond the girl cuts in, “I’m sorry, what’s going on here?”

“We- uh-”

“We’re from the same town.” Steve fills in when Eddie cannot find the words to explain their fucked up found family situation. 

The girl laughs, “what are the chances, jesus!”

“But hey,” Steve smiles in a way that Eddie is sure cannont mean anything good for him, “At least you got his type pretty dead on.”

“Oh my god, I forgot I told you that.” Eddie groans and full body cringes. And Steve just laughs. A frustratingly lovely laugh. 

“I’m not surprised you were very high.” 

Jesus fucking christ.