#gainer fiction

[letsgetbigger]

The Fat Submarine

The USS Vanguard rested in the harbor, a shadowy behemoth of steel and precision. It was a world of discipline and duty, where every man aboard had a role to play. Deep within its labyrinth of corridors, far from the command center and sonar rooms, lay the galley—a realm James "Big Jim" Carter ruled with an iron spatula and an even firmer eye for detail. This wasn’t just about cooking meals for the crew. For Big Jim, the galley was a stage. He’d spent weeks handpicking his culinary team, slyly navigating Navy regulations to assemble the men he wanted: young, unattached and lean—at least for now. Jim’s instincts, sharpened by years of using his "gaydar," told him they were men who likely shared his inclinations, even if they kept them hidden under layers of military discipline. Big Jim had a particular fantasy, one he could indulge during these long tours under the sea. He loved watching slender men give in to temptation, their strict diets crumbling under the weight of his decadent meals. The thought of them growing softer, filling out their uniforms, sent a thrill through him. He intended to fatten them up, one buttery pastry and rich sauce at a time, and if their close quarters led to some harmless flirting among themselves, all the better.

Now, in the cramped cabin they’d be sharing for months, his new recruits stood before him for inspection.

“All right, boys,” Jim said, his deep voice filling the room. “Strip out of those civvies and get into your uniforms. Let’s see how you clean up.”

The four men hesitated briefly, glancing at each other before complying. As they pulled off their street clothes, Jim leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering.

Kevin was the first to step out of his jeans, his tall, athletic frame immediately catching Jim’s attention. His blond hair and vivid blue eyes gave him the appearance of a young officer from a recruitment poster. The thin white fabric of his regulation briefs clung to him, outlining the swell of his firm round buttocks and a noticeable bulge at the front.

Next was Glen, shorter and wiry, his brown hair slightly tousled from the journey aboard. His dark eyes darted nervously toward Jim, but he quickly focused on folding his shirt. Glen’s chest was hard, with small, pointy nipples visible through his undershirt, and his briefs hugged him tightly, emphasizing a lean physique and a modest but defined package.

Damian, the youngest one, moved more slowly. His black hair and soft blue eyes gave him an introspective look, and as he pulled off his T-shirt, Jim’s eyes were drawn to the slight curve of his belly. Damian’s briefs fit a little looser, but it couldn’t hide the fullness of his thighs or the soft outline of his manhood.

Last but not least, there was Pete, the last to undress, and the one who commanded attention without trying. His deep brown skin gleamed under the fluorescent light, and when he smiled, it was with an effortless charm. Pete’s powerful thighs filled out his briefs, and the generous curve of his gluts strained the fabric more than any regulation garment should. His dick was clearly larger than the others.

James cleared his throat, savoring the sight before him.

“Gentlemen, you’re my team now. The galley is where we’ll live and work. It’s our domain, and I expect you to take pride in it—and in yourselves.”

They nodded, their movements quick and eager to please. None of them suspected anything beyond standard Navy protocol, which was just how Jim liked it.

“Now, suit up,” Jim ordered, tossing each of them their uniforms.

As they moved to comply, he let his gaze linger for a moment longer, cataloging every detail. Soon, they’d be devouring the rich meals he prepared, they’d begin to change. And Jim would be watching it all, savoring the transformations and waiting to see if their closeness led to anything more. This was going to be one hell of a tour.

***

The submarine hummed quietly as it cruised through the depths, its steady vibrations a backdrop to the day-to-day life aboard. In the small cabin the chef and his culinary specialists shared, the end of another exhausting but fulfilling day had arrived. The five men had spent hours cooking for the crew, plating meals, scrubbing pots and preparing for the next service. But it was their private dinners together afterward that Big Jim had started to treasure most. He watched as his team slowly abandoned the dry, plain chicken and steamed broccoli they once insisted on. At first, it had been little things—a bite of garlic bread here, a taste of creamy pasta there. But now, they dug into full plates of the rich, flavorful meals Jim encouraged them to "save from waste." Desserts, especially, had become a nightly indulgence: chocolate cakes, caramel-laden puddings and pecan pies with buttery crusts. Jim had seen their strict discipline eroding by the day, and he was delighted. The changes in their bodies were subtle at first, but not anymore. Only a couple of weeks in, their uniforms were fitting differently. The results were on full display now as the four of them got ready for bed.

Glen was the first to strip down to his white briefs, the thin fabric adhered to his frame. As he moved about, Jim couldn't help but notice the slight swell that had formed at his belly, just above the waistband. Glen’s chest, once defined and lean, now had a softness that pushed against his undershirt before he pulled it off.

Damian followed suit, pulling off his shirt with a yawn. He’d always had a slight curve to his stomach, but now it was undeniably more pronounced. His thighs, too, seemed thicker, the fabric of his briefs hugging them tightly. Jim’s eyes lingered as the two men padded out of the room together toward the shared bathroom with their toothbrushes in hand.

The sound of the shower stopping announced Kevin’s return. His blond hair was damp, and droplets of water glistened on his skin as he walked into the cabin with a towel around his waist. His upper body, once all sharp angles and tight lines, was softening in ways Jim found irresistible. And two very round buttocks strained against the thin fabric of his briefs as he slipped them on.

Finally, Pete strolled in, whistling softly. It had been his turn mopping the galley floor.

“Man, that chocolate cake tonight?” Pete said, chuckling as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You’ve got a gift, sir.”

The chef grinned.

“I'm glad it hasn't gone to waste,” he said.

As Pete undressed, Jim’s eyes followed every movement. Pete’s briefs clung tightly to his powerful thighs, and the fabric stretched thin across his backside. As the young man bent to take his socks off, his butt crack became visible.

When the lights dimmed and the men drifted off to sleep, Jim stayed awake for a while longer, replaying the day in his mind, horny as hell. He couldn’t wait to see how much further their habits—and their bodies—would change in the weeks to come.

***

A couple of months aboard the USS Vanguard had passed, and Big Jim couldn’t be happier. The tight quarters and the endless temptations he provided had worked their magic. His four recruits had transformed before his very eyes, abandoning their rigid Navy diets for rich sauces, buttery pastries and indulgent desserts. Their once-trim bodies now bulged in all the right places, their uniforms stretching tightly across expanding bellies, thick thighs and rounder behinds.

Jim had just finished doing inventory when he heard hushed voices coming from a corner of the galley. He rounded a stack of shelves silently and froze. Glen was leaning casually against the counter, holding a big plate of leftover pasta in one hand and a fork in the other. His once-wiry frame was long gone, replaced by soft curves and a prominent belly that pressed against the taut fabric of his undershirt. Across from him stood Pete, his uniform trousers stretched to the max due to his thick thighs and fuller buttocks. His broad chest, now with a soft layer over his muscles, heaved as he laughed at something Glen had said.

“Come on, Pete,” Glen teased, offering him a bite of pasta. “Your ass is gotta keep up. Look at this—” he gestured to his own stomach, grinning. “I’m not gonna be the only one busting out of his uniform.”

Pete grinned back, leaning forward to take the offered bite.

“You’re not, trust me.” He chewed slowly, savoring the food, then swallowed and leaned in closer. “But I gotta say, Glen, you’ve been looking damn good lately. Those tight shirts? And these?”

Before Glen could respond, Pete reached out and gave one of Glen’s now-prominent nipples a playful pinch through the thin fabric of his undershirt. Glen let out a surprised laugh, swatting at Pete but making no real effort to stop him.

“Careful, Pete,” Glen said, his tone mock-warning but with a noticeable edge of excitement. “I might start thinking you like them.”

“Oh, I do,” Pete replied smoothly, his grin widening. His eyes flicked briefly to Glen’s belly. “Everything.”

Jim’s heart raced as he watched, hidden behind the shelf. His dick swelled with satisfaction. The closeness, the teasing, the lingering touches—it was everything he’d hoped for. Quietly, he backed away, leaving them to their moment.

He made his way to the shared cabin, a smug smile on his face. The room was empty, save for the faint sound of running water coming from the adjoining shower. He stepped inside quietly, setting his things down and pausing when he heard Kevin’s laugh.

“Damian, I’m serious,” Kevin said, his tone playful but low. “I think I’m gonna need a bigger uniform soon.”

Jim moved closer to the bathroom door, careful not to make a sound. Through the steam, he could make out the outlines of Kevin and Damian. They stood facing each other, the spray of water cascading over their softened bodies. Kevin now boasted a soft belly, thicker thighs and a really big ass. Damian, slightly shorter, had filled out even more noticeably. His belly now jutted out enough to press gently against Kevin’s when they stood close.

“You think you need a new uniform?” Damian laughed, running a hand down his own stomach. “Look at me! I’ve got stretch marks already.”

Kevin’s voice lowered, a teasing edge creeping in.

“They look good on you. Everything does. You’re—” He hesitated, then added, “hot.”

The two men went quiet for a moment. Then Damian broke the silence, his voice soft.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know. I’ve been… noticing.”

Kevin chuckled, and their bodies moved closer. Jim couldn’t see well, but it was clear they were jerking each other off.

“Fuck,” Kevin murmured. “I guess I don’t mind getting a little fat… as long as you’re into it.”

Damian’s laugh was breathy.

“Oh, I’m into it.”

Jim felt precum wetting his underwear as he stepped back toward his bunk. Everything was falling perfectly into place. His culinary delights had done more than change their bodies—they’d started changing the way they saw each other. And as the weeks stretched on, Jim knew those bonds would only deepen.

***

As time passed, the changes in the four men became undeniable. With every passing day, their uniforms grew tighter, their bellies and asses expanding. The galley was alive with the clatter of pots and the hum of shared laughter as the five men worked side by side. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of fresh bread and rich sauces simmering on the stove. Big Jim stood by the prep station, casually chopping vegetables, his watchful eye on his team as they moved around the tight kitchen space, their bodies brushing against each other more often than the cramped quarters strictly required. Pete was at the oven, crouched down as he pulled out a golden-brown roast. His uniform pants strained audibly as he bent, the seams already pushed to their limits by his massive thighs and even bigger backside. And then it happened. With a loud, unmistakable rrrip, the back of Pete’s pants gave way, exposing a generous view of his white briefs. The thin fabric barely covered the lower half of his enormous cheeks, leaving most of the plush, jiggling flesh on full display. Pete froze for a moment, his wide eyes darting over his shoulder as he realized what had just occurred. The room fell silent for a second before Kevin let out a laugh that quickly became contagious.

“Jesus, Pete!” he exclaimed, leaning on the counter for support. “You finally did it. You killed the pants!”

Pete stood and turned, his face a mix of embarrassment and amusement as he surveyed the damage. The torn pants flapped around his thighs, useless, as his massive ass jiggled with every move he made.

“Well,” he said with a sheepish grin, “guess these pants couldn’t handle greatness.”

Glen, who was stirring a sauce nearby, smirked and stepped closer, giving Pete’s exposed cheek a playful slap that sent a ripple through the soft flesh.

“Greatness is one word for it,” he teased. “That thing should have its own zip code.”

Damian joined in, laughing as he passed by Pete and gave him another light smack.

“I’ve seen hams smaller than that, man.”

Pete took it all in stride, leaning casually against the counter as the others circled around him, their teasing affectionate rather than mean-spirited.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, boys,” he said with a wink.

The entire group was roaring with laughter, even Big Jim, who usually maintained his composure. He let out a hearty chuckle, his gaze lingering on Pete’s expansive backside for a moment longer than necessary before clearing his throat.

“Let’s get back to work. Pete, maybe try not to destroy any more uniforms today.” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Pete shrugged and went about his tasks, still wearing the ruined pants as if nothing had happened, his massive ass bouncing with every step. The others kept stealing glances and exchanging knowing smiles, the mood in the galley light and charged with an unspoken energy.

Later that evening, after the galley had been cleaned, Big Jim made an announcement in the cabin.

“Alright, men,” he said, standing in front of them. “I think it's time for some new uniforms. I've got bigger ones for you.”

They started undressing, eager to try on their new uniforms. Kevin was the first to strip off his shirt and pants. Big Jim’s gaze went straight to his ass. The thick cheeks bounced slightly as he straightened up. Next was Glen. He pulled off his shirt, revealing his fuller chest and soft, rounded belly. His manboobs were more prominent now, swaying slightly as he moved. Damian followed, revealing a belly that looked pregnant. When Pete removed his torn pants, his massive ass jiggled, and everybody stared at it. The four men tried on their new uniforms, the larger sizes giving them plenty of room to grow. Big Jim watched them, proud of how far they had come—and eager to see just how much further they could go.

***

One day, Big Jim leaned against the counter, surveying his four culinary recruits with a knowing grin. The galley was spotless, their end-of-day routine complete, and the soft hum of the submarine surrounded them.

“Well, boys,” Jim began, setting down his clipboard, “I’ve got some good news for you. Turns out someone made a little mistake on the supply order. We’ve got way too much heavy cream onboard—cases of it. So, I’m giving you free rein. Use as much as you want when you cook. Hell, you can even drink it if you feel like it. No sense letting it go to waste.”

Pete, who had been polishing a serving tray, stopped mid-swipe and turned to Jim with a gleam in his eye.

“Wait a second, sir. You mean we can just... go all out with it? No measuring, no rationing?”

Jim nodded.

“That’s exactly what I mean, Pete. I don’t want to see a drop of that cream go to waste. If you want to cook with it, bake with it, heck, even drink it straight, I’m not going to stop you.”

Pete’s eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Drink it straight, huh?”

“Sure,” Jim replied.

Without missing a beat, Pete pushed himself off the counter and made for the pantry.

“Be right back!”

Moments later, he returned, holding not one but four 1-liter cartons of heavy cream. His grin had only widened. The other three men looked at Pete and then at the cartons in his hands, a mix of surprise and excitement flashing across their faces. Pete kept one carton for himself and handed the others out.

“We gotta do as we're told,” Pete said, popping open his carton.

He tilted it to his lips and took a deep swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the rich, thick cream. When he lowered the carton to take a break, a bead of it dribbled down his chin. Kevin, Glen, and Damian exchanged a glance before shrugging and following Pete’s lead. Each opened their carton and began drinking, their eyes lighting up as the decadent liquid coated their throats. Big Jim stood silently at the counter, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, their dicks getting unashamedly hard in front of him. His plan had always been to fatten them up, but this? This was beyond his wildest dreams. They weren’t just indulging—they were reveling in it. As the last drops of cream disappeared, the men tossed their empty cartons onto the counter, wiping their mouths and exchanging glances that bordered on smoldering.

“Well,” Pete said, his voice a rumble, “we'll do it again tomorrow, sir.”

Jim cleared his throat, pulling himself together.

“Good. Now, off to bed.”

They obeyed without protest, their laughter and murmured conversation filling the galley as they shuffled out. Jim’s eyes followed them, fixating on the way their butts swayed with every step. As the door swung shut behind them, Jim exhaled a long, slow breath, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

***

Six months into their voyage, the transformation was complete. The four culinary specialists had become nearly unrecognizable, their bodies having grown to proportions that defied their former navy physiques. Each of them now weighed around 300 pounds. Their new uniforms were straining once again, even after Big Jim had issued the larger sizes. Soft, jiggling bellies, thick thighs and rounded asses dominated their silhouettes, and their faces were fuller too. Big Jim’s plan had unfolded better than he could have hoped. Not only had the men embraced their new sizes, but their camaraderie had deepened into something far more intimate.

It was late in the evening, the submarine quiet except for the low hum of its engines. Big Jim headed toward the pantry, intending to check the inventory before turning in. As he neared the door, he heard muffled noises—heavy breathing, quiet moans, and the occasional sound of bodies shifting. Intrigued, he paused and peeked through the narrow crack of the door, careful not to make a sound. Inside, Damian had Kevin pinned against a rack of supplies, their massive bodies pressed together in a scene that was equal parts passion and sheer physicality. Damian’s hands gripped Kevin’s wide, doughy hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he thrust into him. Kevin’s enormous ass quivered with every movement, the thick cheeks bouncing and jiggling as Damian’s hips met his.

“God, Kevin,” Damian panted, his hands sliding up to grab at the blond’s fleshy sides, “you’re such a fatso now. Look at you, all soft and huge.”

Kevin laughed breathlessly. “Says the guy who looks nine months pregnant,” he shot back. “Your gut’s so big, I can feel it every time you move.”

Damian grinned, leaning in to kiss Kevin’s neck, his belly pressing heavily against Kevin’s back. “You love it, don’t you? All this lard jiggling while I—” he punctuated his words with a thrust—“give it to you.”

Kevin moaned, his hands bracing against the shelf as he pressed back harder. “Hell yes, I do. I can feel every pound of you pushing me into these cans.”

Their movements grew more fervent, their overfed bodies colliding in waves of soft flesh. Damian’s thick thighs slapped against Kevin’s massive ass, the sound echoing faintly in the confined pantry. Kevin’s belly jiggled with every thrust, his love handles spilling over Damian’s hands as the darker-haired man pulled him closer.

“You’re such a lardass,” Damian murmured into Kevin’s ear, his voice dripping with desire. “I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten.”

Kevin laughed, breathless and flushed. “Shut up and don’t stop.”

Big Jim’s pulse quickened as he watched, the sheer spectacle of their swollen bodies moving together leaving him riveted. The pantry shelves rattled slightly from the force of their movements, jars clinking softly as they lost themselves in each other.

Satisfied that he’d seen enough—and more than a little thrilled—Big Jim backed away quietly, leaving them to their passionate encounter. His dick had grown with excitement as he made his way back down the corridor.

A couple of days later, in the quiet darkness of the cabin, the low hum of the submarine’s engines blended with the soft rustling of sheets. Big Jim, resting in his bunk, was pulled from the edge of sleep by the faint sound of a muffled giggle. His eyes opened, and he glanced toward the source of the noise. Across the room, Pete’s bunk was a dimly lit tableau of intimacy. Glen was perched on the edge of the mattress, leaning over Pete, his hand resting on the curve of Pete’s massive hip. The dark-skinned man’s body nearly overflowed the cot, his broad belly rising and falling with each deep breath. But it was his enormous ass that truly drew Glen’s attention. The twin globes of soft, heavy flesh were barely contained by the stretched fabric of his briefs, which dug into the ample swell of his hips. Pete grinned up at Glen, his white teeth gleaming in the low light.

“What are you staring at, chubby?” he teased, his deep voice carrying a note of affection.

Glen smirked, his hand slipping lower to caress the underside of Pete’s thick cheek. The fabric of the briefs strained under his touch, the elastic pressing deep into the soft flesh.

“Just admiring all of this,” Glen replied, his voice low. “Your ass is huge, you know that? Like, actually huge.”

Pete chuckled, shifting slightly, which sent a wave of motion through his heavy backside.

“Takes one to know one, fat boy,” he teased back, reaching up to grab Glen’s side, his fingers sinking into the soft love handle that peeked over Glen’s waistband.

Their laughter softened as Glen leaned down, pressing his lips to Pete’s in a slow, deliberate kiss. Pete’s large hands slid up to rest on Glen’s waist, pulling him closer, their bellies pressing together. Glen adjusted his position, his hand now trailing over the expanse of Pete’s enormous backside, squeezing the plush flesh appreciatively.

“These briefs are fighting a losing battle,” Glen murmured against Pete’s lips, his fingers hooking into the waistband and snapping it lightly.

Pete laughed softly, his cheeks flushed.

“You’re one to talk. Yours look like they’re painted on.”

Smirking, Glen sat back slightly, his own overburdened briefs digging into his thick thighs. He peeled them off slowly, the fabric clinging stubbornly before sliding down over his hips and past his rounded cheeks. Pete followed suit, lifting his wide frame with some effort to tug his own briefs free. His massive ass jiggled as he moved, the soft, rounded cheeks now completely exposed in the dim light. Big Jim, lying silently in his bunk, watched through barely opened eyes. His heart raced as he took in the sight of the two men, their bodies all curves and softness, moving together in quiet intimacy. Glen ran his hands reverently over Pete’s thick thighs and up to his plush hips, leaning in to kiss him again. Pete returned the affection, gripping Glen’s sides and pulling him down onto his massive frame. Their whispers continued, words of playful admiration exchanged as they explored each other’s bodies. Jim stayed perfectly still, his breathing even as he absorbed the scene. His plan had exceeded every expectation, and as the two men lost themselves in each other, he allowed himself a faint, satisfied smile in the darkness.

He came without touching himself in the shadows, breathing unsteadily. His plan had worked better than he ever could have imagined. The four men had transformed completely, both in body and in their relationships with one another. The galley of the submarine had become a sanctuary of food, fat and sex.

[igotfatter]

Ex boyfriend stepped out on me a few times. My solution? Make sure he can never take a step again.

[feeder86]

Roy's Boy

“Don’t even go there,” warned Roy as he saw Scotty checking out the most handsome guy he had ever seen coming into the bar.

“Who is he?” Scotty marvelled, turning to his much older boss. Tall, muscular and with the face of a supermodel, the guy who had just come in wasn’t in the same league as anyone else there that night.

“He’s bad news,” Roy stated, between grabbing drinks from the refrigerators behind him. “Not the type you want to get messed up with.”

Scotty served his own customers, continuing to glance over their shoulders as the outstandingly beautiful guy began perusing the crowds there that night as if they were pieces of meat.

“Jed’s a bratty jerk who thinks he rules this town just because mommy and daddy own the timber plant,” Roy went on to explain. “I’ve had more than a few run-ins with him, lording about in here like he owns the place. It’s a wonder he can get his head through the door,” he sighed, keeping an eye on the guy as he strutted about.

“His family actually owns the timber plant?” Scotty replied, impressed.

Roy sighed, seeing that his new, young bartender wasn’t getting the message he’d intended. “Just trust me on this one. Jed’s not a nice guy. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories I’ve heard about how he gets his kicks.”

Scotty couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued. As nice as Roy was, taking a fatherly interest in him when he took this job at the gay bar two weeks ago, he’d never encouraged Scotty to date anyone who came in. Being only nineteen and recently out to his hostile parents, Scotty had never come across the bad-boy type; Jed had piqued his interest like no-one else ever had. The guy had the air of a brute who would happily take the lead in the bedroom and make any lover submit to him. Just the thought of being mercilessly dominated by him was making Scotty glad that his crotch was hidden behind the bar most of the time.

“Who’s the fresh meat?” Jed asked as he came up a few minutes later, spotting that Scotty was a new employee; his voice deep and powerful, much like his staggeringly built body.

Roy had stepped in front of Scotty the moment he saw Jed approach. “Off limits!” he stated assertively. “What drink do you want?”

Jed smirked, eyeing Scotty with more interest now that Roy was standing in his way. “He’s cute,” he nodded appraisingly. “Tight ass, pretty face. Was that on the job advert?” he asked cheekily.

“Off limits!” Roy repeated, now with a hint of aggression. He pulled the lid off a bottle of beer and pushed it towards the arrogant jock. “No charge,” he growled, just wanting Jed to get back to the dancefloor and away from the bar. The bribe seemed to be a language that Jed understood best, tipping his head at the free beer and smirking at Scotty as he retreated back, somewhat satisfied with his result.

Scotty couldn’t help continuing to check Jed out whenever he looked up. He saw the guy sitting in a chair to the side of the dancefloor, his legs spread wide open, displaying his long and muscular thighs and ensuring that every single person who gazed upon him imagined themselves sucking him off; Scotty most of all. He could feel an arousal inside of him that was unlike any sort of attraction he had ever felt before. Boys were making a fuss of him, with one guy sitting on his lap for a short while; his ass crudely felt up by Jed’s enormous hands as he whispered something clearly kinky into the hunk’s ear.

A sudden rush came at the bar and the next time Scotty looked up, Jed had gone; onto the next bar. Scotty sighed in disappointment and inwardly cursed Roy for getting between him and possibly the best fuck of his life. He decided then that if he ever was lucky enough to come acrossJed again, he wouldn’t be so easily quietened. If Jed really was such a bad boy, he was going to have fun learning that for himself.

As the clubs were in full swing, it was time for the smaller bars to start to close up for the evening. Roy was in a particularly good mood, letting Scotty leave as soon as the cash registers had been balanced. He skipped out the front, taking in the warm summer air and tried to recall the breathtaking images of Jed that he still had in his head. The man had been so fucking sexy! He could still feel his boner even though it had been two whole hours since Jed had come in. 

Scotty walked slowly by another bar, noticing that they still had quite a crowd inside. He peered in, just in case Jed was amongst them. Then, his heart skipped a beat. There the beautiful guy was, surrounded by other handsome boys, like his own personal fan club!

Wasting no time, Scotty went in and leaned against the bar to be served, deciding that a short detour before home would be worth it if he could catch Jed’s attention once more.

Keen-eyed Jed spotted him straight away, sliding over straight after he had been served. “Well, well, well… what have we here?” he sang. Scotty’s heart started beating with incredible speed. He couldn’t tell whether he was about to be flirted with or bullied. Either way, he was already getting horny. “I wonder why you came in here!” he chuckled, seeming to already know Scotty's motives.

“I often pop in here after a shift,” Scotty lied.

“Sure you do!” Jed laughed, getting closer and closer. “How’s the lovely Roy these days?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” Scotty replied, finding he was too nervous and excited to even hold eye contact for more than a second or two. “Why does he dislike you so much, though?” he questioned him; his curiosity getting the better of him.

At this, Jed smirked. “I may have fucked a few people in the bathrooms at your bar,” he beamed proudly.

“We often get guys misbehaving in the cubicles,” Scotty shrugged, a little disappointed if that was to be the extent of Jed’s sexy ‘bad boy’ reputation.

“Oh, I don’t squeeze into those uncomfortable cubicles!” Jed laughed. “I get off on having an audience when I’m fucking someone. I don’t know what little Roy was complaining about. I certainly packed out his bar for him.”

Scotty tried to imagine the sight, feeling his breath catching in his chest with excitement. His eyes drifted onto Jed’s full, plump lips, losing control of himself.

“Roy sure knows how to pick the kinky twinks,” Jed teased, searching into Scotty's eyes and seeming to instinctively know all of the dirty thoughts that were running though his mind. “So, you grew up in Tennessee, huh?” he asked next, as if trying to refocus the conversation back onto something that might calm the horny Scotty down.

“I grew up around here,” Scotty answered, bewildered by Jed. “I moved from Tennessee when I was about five. But how did you know that?” 

“A couple of your vowels when you speak,” Jed replied. “It’s very subtle, but it’s there if you know what you’re looking for.”

“You’re very observant,” Scotty mumbled back, wondering just how much more Jed had inferred about him. No one had ever commented on his indistinct accent before. It was clear to him that Jed was as sharp as they came.

“Are you taking him back with us?” asked a muscular guy to Jed, strutting over with a feminine looking conquest under his arm.

“Of course I’m taking him home,” Jed replied, looking Scotty up and down. “Don’t be too flattered,” he chuckled to the slender bartender he had spoken to for the first time only a minute earlier. “I fuck all of Roy’s boys. It really pisses him off.”

Scotty didn’t care about the motives or consequences at that moment. His erection was wanting him to follow Jed, no matter where he led him. He abandoned his full drink and followed the boys on that short journey down the street towards an apartment building. Once in the elevator, Jed pulled him in to kiss him passionately, as if this was all a well rehearsed and highly effective warm-up for the main event. His massive, sexy body pressed into him, hands roaming exactly where they needed to. Then he stood back and smiled wickedly, knowing that he had Scotty hornier than he had ever been in his life.

Once on the top floor, the two other guys entered the apartment, with voices and dance music escaping as soon as the door opened. Jed held Scotty back in the entrance space, ready to explain the rules and expectations.”I’m leaving fifty bucks here,” he demonstrated, pulling out the ruffled notes from his wallet and placing them on the small table by the door. “If you want to leave at any time, just take it and get yourself a cab. The guy downstairs will help you out.”

Scotty nodded despite having no intention of going anywhere. But Jed’s intention was clear: he was free to leave whenever he liked.

“If you want to suck my dick tonight, you gotta leave your clothes here,” Jed ordered next, pointing to a pile of empty, discarded shirts, pants, underwear, socks and shoes. “The subs don’t wear anything in here,” he explained matter-of-factly. Then he stood, waiting for Scotty to comply.

Scotty didn’t waste a second. He wanted to be part of one of Jed’s exhibitionist fantasies like nothing else. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his work shirt, released his belt and dropped his pants, alongside his underwear; taking pride in showing off just how hard his erection had become. Twenty seconds of stroking and the whole thing might blow.

The main living area was large and spacious, with double height windows and several areas for people to congregate. Guys were everywhere, some naked and some not, lounging about the place. From their reactions when Jed entered, it was obvious that this was his place. The star of the show had just returned, holding a naked, skinny twink’s hand, ready to fuck in front of them all. They stopped what they were doing, conversations ending and they moved to see what entertainment Jed had in store.

“He’s very slim!” chuckled one of the guys to the side. “Not your usual type at all!”

Jed laughed and nodded, stroking Scotty’s slender butt with hardly an ounce of fat on it. He;d always been the same: moderately tall and lanky with a runner’s build. “He’s one of Roy’s new bartenders. You know what Roy’s like for his twinks. I had to collect the set.”

Scotty felt even more blessed to be there. He wasn’t even Jed’s usual type, yet there he was, about to have the pinnacle of his sexual experiences merely because the bad boy had a vendetta against his boss. He was sent down onto his knees. Jed unbuckled his pants, feeding his oversized erection into Scotty’s mouth. No wonder the guy was so into public sex. He had no reason at all to ever feel conscious about his size. Scotty had never taken something so big; his mouth needing a little while to work out what to do with it all.

Jed continued chatting to those around him, recounting the story of how he had been sent away by Roy earlier. They all laughed at the bit where Scotty had turned up at the bar later and been so easily enticed back; moaning with appreciation at watching him trying to suck Jed off.

“Alright, alright,” Jed chuckled a few minutes later, pulling Scotty’s mouth off his hardness. “That’s not really your specialty!” He looked around at the others. “Skinny boys always give shit blowjobs.”

Scotty noticed people rushing to push some of the large sofa sections together. The whole thing came apart in modules, leaving a large, square, bed-like stage in the middle of a surprisingly crowded space.

“Face down. Ass up,” Jed ordered him, guiding him to the area. He’d slipped a condom on and lubricated himself up, all the while Scotty presenting his butt to the eager crowds. But once Jed was inside him, working up a sweat, nothing else mattered. Scotty felt the eyes upon them, heightening his sexual thrill. He came the moment Jed reached around and grabbed his hardness, only seconds before he ejaculated himself. Some in the crowd had started touching themselves, others subs going down on their men.

Jed, drenched in sweat and smiling proudly simply turned to Scotty and whispered. “Be sure to tell Roy that I did that!”

The whole living space was empty when Scotty woke up the next morning to a loud sound. He’d always been a deep sleeper, having crashed on the couch at some point and not woken, even as the sun had started to pour in through the enormous windows. Had he missed the memo? Had Jed expected everyone gone before he was up the next morning?

“You’re still here?” asked a naked Jed, striding into the kitchen moments later, opening the refrigerator and drinking his milk straight from the carton.

Scotty apologised, fumbling as he got up and tried to remember where he had left all of his clothes. Jed leaned against the wall, watching with amusement as a slightly panicked Scotty tried his best to dress himself from the scattered remains of his clothes across the hallway.

“Thanks for last night,” Scotty tried once he was half dressed. “It was the best experience I’ve ever had.”

Jed only smirked and downed more of his milk.

“Is there any chance you might want to do it again some time?” Scotty asked next, knowing that he would regret it if he didn’t.

“I fucked you to piss Roy off,” Jed answered honestly. In fairness, his agenda had always been blatantly transparent. “You’re not my type. All that skin and bone. I’m into chubs.”

Scotty nodded, not in the least bit surprised that Jed wasn’t interested in seeing him again. Although the fact that a guy like Jed could be into chubs was not something he had expected until last night. 

“Maybe if you gained thirty pounds or so, we could discuss it. I’m sure Roy would love that!” Jed joked, supping from his milk once again.

“Roy’s a nice guy,” Scotty replied, feeling that he needed to defend the kind boss who had looked after him so much since he’d moved to the city and been practically disowned by his parents. “He didn’t hire me because of how I look.”

Jed laughed. “Roy’s not a nice guy,” he sniggered. “And he absolutely hired you because of how you look. That’s why all his employees look almost identical. If he’s not made a move on you, it’s because he’s not got you where he wants you yet. Trust me, he does it with every single one of his bartenders eventually.”

Again, Scotty shook his head. “You just don’t know him like I do,” he sighed, finally pushing his feet into his shoes and turning to leave.

“Wanna bet?” Jed asked, as if Scotty had thrown down a challenge. “Saint Roy wouldn’t be half as nice to you if you did put on a little weight.”

“He’s not interested in me like that,” Scotty repeated.

“Fine then. Prove it!” Jed demanded. “You wanna be Roy’s boy, or mine?” he asked flirtatiously, stepping closer.

“Yours,” Scotty replied meekly back, his heart beating faster again.

“Gain thirty pounds for me and I’ll fuck you in front of everyone again, just like last night,” Jed offered, his hands sliding onto Scotty’s butt as he pulled him in. “No muscle, no weight training. Just give me some nice doughy padding on that ass of yours for when I fuck you next.”

Even the thought of a second fucking like yesterday’s was giving Scotty a hardness he couldn’t control. “I’d do anything…” he whispered back lustfully.

Jed smiled and kissed him, motioning him back towards the door. When the kiss ended, Scotty was already on the threshold. Jed had spun him around by his shoulders and with a little push on his butt, Scotty was outside in the corridor. “I guess we’ll soon see, won’t we,” Jed grinned back, swinging the door shut behind him. Gone.

After several rounds of touching himself, thinking about the previous night, Scotty set to work researching his task without a second thought. He needed to gain a good few pounds if he had a hope of getting with Jed again. The internet had lots of good ideas, although weblinks kept sending him back to sites that promoted ways to lose weight, rather than gain it. He studied the advice for weight loss, realising that he could reverse much of it if he wanted to see the number on the scales rising. So what if he might look a little chubby for a while? Experiences like the one last night could not be matched, so why fight against doing what had to be done? He’d been far too skinny most of his life anyway.

Word had reached Roy that Jed had slept with Scotty by the time he started his next shift that Wednesday evening. The relentless gossip was one of the most frustrating parts of this community, Scotty realised. Roy was obviously cross, reminding Scotty again and again how he had tried to keep him out of harm’s way, as well as the reasons why. Scotty found himself apologising simply to appease the guy, not daring to explain any of the details of how thrilling and magical the evening had been. Roy wouldn’t want to hear that he didn’t regret a thing.

For two weeks, Roy was colder with him, before things finally started to lighten up. However, that was before a new challenge hit them.

“Those pants look a bit tight,” the older man commented seeing Scotty unloading some beers into the refrigerators. 

Scotty idiotically tried to turn his head over his shoulder, as if he too could see his butt. He’d done everything he had learned in order to gain weight, but had only managed about five pounds so far. Surely that wasn’t enough for his boss to notice?

“You know, if you’re going to work here, the customers expect you to look tidy,” Roy reminded him.

“The pants feel fine,” Scotty shrugged. “I just gained a couple of pounds. That’s all.”

Roy raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Well, sort it out,” he grumbled warningly.

Scotty soon realised that pants which felt fine one day could soon become quite restrictive the next. He couldn’t deny that his butt had swollen up as he finally reached a ten pound gain on the scales. His flat stomach had taken a bit of a beating, looking constantly bloated; remaining like it was after a large meal. When he poked and prodded it, everything underneath the skin felt altogether softer. His tight, figure-hugging t-shirts had to be put away for the time being, and Scotty bought himself some stretchier pants for work, pairing them with a black shirt that made his less streamlined appearance stand out less. By fifteen pounds, Scotty was starting to feel it under his chin. Each time he shaved, he could see the little padding getting puffier and puffier. Softness was spreading into his hips and sides, swelling slight love handles out that further complicated the fit of both his pants and shirts by the time over twenty pounds hit. He looked, for all the world to see, like a young guy ready to go on a diet. Twenty-five pounds sounded like a tiny amount of weight, yet it had altered his appearance so much, especially when his shirt came off.

As for Jed, Scotty hadn’t laid eyes on him in the entire three months he had been following every single nutritional advice he could in order to pack on the pounds. There were faces he recognised of the people who had been at the party that night, but none of them were ever with Jed, nor willing to hand out his cell phone number whenever Scotty cheekily asked for it. Some said he was on vacation, others that he was working away. In either case, Scotty was soon going to reach his weight goal and the guy he was doing this for wasn’t even going to be around to see it.

It began to dawn on Scotty just how much extra weight thirty pounds was. With it, he had actually grown a small belly that rounded out his middle, whilst he was also starting to carry extra blubber around his nipples for the first time. His cheeks had become puffier in his face and even with his styling choices, he wasn’t able to conceal the fact that he had gained quite a considerable amount of weight. But with the absence of Jed around town, Scotty suddenly had an unexpectedly awkward job on his hands. At 185lbs, he’d hit his weight target and now needed to somehow maintain it without dropping down again. That would mean he would need to maintain certain aspects of his new eating regime, without going overboard. Something that had never been part of the plan. What Scotty had expected was a short-term weight gain, followed by a cut that would see his weight return to normal.

Perhaps it was all about the timing. Scotty had hit the goal weight just as the holidays were getting underway. He should have known that maintaining his weight would have been no issue. But as Scotty tried to button his pants that January, he realised that he had actually done even more damage than before. He stepped on the scales and sighed in disappointment at himself. It couldn’t be? The scales had to be off! He couldn’t really be 197lbs, surely? Had he really fucked up his metabolism that much on this weight quest? He needed to go on a diet as soon as possible.

“What the fuck did you do?” cried out a deep and powerful voice as Scotty busily collected the empty glasses and bottles from the tables in the bar. He’d been rushed off his feet, with Roy choosing to leave him with a fairly incompetent new hire. But as he turned around to see who was shouting, the air got caught in Scotty’s lungs and his eyes visibly bulged. It was Jed, looking even more built and physically imposing than the last time Scotty had seen him.

In an instant, Scotty realised how stupid he had been. Jed was joking about the weight gain, right? He’d made a couple of throwaway comments about gaining thirty pounds and here Scotty was with almost an additional fifty. He rubbed his stomach, suddenly wishing he could make it all disappear.

“You’re an actual fatty!” Jed laughed, reaching out to Scotty’s hips as the boy held his tray of empties. Then Jed spun him around so that he could see the wide, bloated mess his butt had become.

“I’ve been doing it for you…” Scotty shot back, now feeling a desperate need to explain himself. “...Like you asked.”

Jed turned him back and reached his hand under Scotty’s chin, pulling forwards so that all of the new double chin fat bulged underneath. “This is way more than thirty pounds, though,” Jed observed shrewdly. 

“I went a little overboard,” Scotty replied meekly, seeing that people were starting to stare. “I got carried away.”

Jed was just staring at him, spinning him some more; a wicked twinkle in his eyes. He reached down and readjusted himself. Was he actually getting a hard-on, right there in the middle of the bar?

“Where can I take you to fuck you?” Jed demanded, looking around the space as if exploring all possible options.

“I can’t. I’m working,” Scotty replied regretfully, hardly believing the apparent urgency that Jed needed him after all.

“Fuck!” Jed moaned, sounding like he might actually burst. He looked at his large designer watch knowing exactly what time the bar would be shutting. “Come to my place after you finish,” he ordered, strapping his big hand over Scotty’s butt and squeezing. “You remember where to go, right? I’ll make sure there are plenty to watch…”

Scotty nodded. After months of work, everything was suddenly happening so fast. Not only was this happening, it was happening tonight! At long last, Jed was about to have his way with him.

Jed wasn’t the one to answer the door when Scotty finally made it up to the apartment two hours later. A short, hairy and slightly older guy answered. Completely naked, it was obvious that he was the submissive of someone inside. Had he been there last time? Scotty could hardly remember. However, with the way his body was being scrutinised, Scotty felt sure that he must have been: eyes of judgement upon him for packing on so much extra weight.

Jed, your new chub’s here!” the guy cried out.

Suddenly, a strapping, shirtless, athletic guy was racing to the door. He picked Scotty up from the threshold, throwing him over his shoulder excitedly and calling out to the room in his deep voice. “My new fatty’s arrived!”

Scotty was very aware that all everyone could see of him as he went in was his wider, chubbier rear, held at head level for the rest of the guests; some of whom patted it in amusement. It was the ass that he hoped Jed was about to give a proper pounding, all going well.

Jed put him down and immediately swept Scotty up into a surprisingly romantic, passionate kiss. He took a step back, leaving Scotty as the focal point of all the eyes in the room. “Take note everyone,” Jed called out. “This is what a real sub looks like,” he beamed. “I challenged him to gain thirty pounds for me and the little pig went and gained fifty instead! All of it pure blubber!”

Jed stared intensely whilst the others in the room looked at each other, perhaps some of them starting to recognise Scotty now from when he was here a few months ago. Jed lowered his zipper and pulled out his own hardness, stroking it excitedly: big and heavy, too large for even his giant hand. He nodded at Scotty, his meaning clear in that moment: start undressing.

Scotty gazed with lust at Jed’s hardness as he began unbuttoning his shirt. He heard gasps of surprise as he pulled it off, knowing just how much the material had concealed his flabbier shape. He knew how bad the back fat looked: the stretch-marked love handles resting on his belt, the fleshy swelling of his nipples. But still Jed grinned, stroking himself; silently demanding more. He noticed that the music had been turned down low as he removed his belt and kicked off his shoes. He undid his pants, dropping his underwear at the same time, uncovering his comparatively underwhelming hardness.

“Fuck, look at it!” a horny Jed proclaimed. “He absolutely destroyed his twink body for me!”

Scotty smiled, realising that that was exactly what he had done, surrendering his whole body in the hope of Jed dominating him one more time. More than ever, he wanted Jed to take him, turning slightly so that he could show the muscular boy his glutes, swollen and enlarged. He put his weight on one foot, making one glute bulge and then the other. He reached his hands behind, bouncing the fleshiness, then spreading them apart. 

That was the last thing that Jed could take, ripping off his clothes and launching himself upon Scotty; starting to make love to him. Unlike last time, there was a horny urgency to the whole thing. It felt like barely a minute had gone by before Jed was moaning in his ear as he came inside him; simultaneously stroking Scotty up and down his shaft and making him squirt absolutely everywhere.

“Fuck!” Jed moaned collapsing on top of Scotty, still fully inserted inside of him. He seemed completely spent and satisfied; much like Scotty himself. The pair lay there for a minute or two, laughing blissfully whilst everyone else drifted off; the music returning to the usual volume. “I’m going to need to do that again later,” Jed explained, finally rolling off Scotty.

“Fine by me,” Scotty beamed, only now realising that his socks were still on. After all those months of gaing, he knew he was going to make sure that he stayed there for as long as Jed would have him.

Jed had been insatiable, fucking him twice before bed that night and another, more rapid and sweaty affair the next morning. “How’s the lovely Roy these days?” Jed asked, spooning Scotty lovingly from behind afterwards. 

“He’s fine,” Scotty replied. “A bit grumpy. I’m lucky I don’t see him so much these days. I usually work with the other staff.”

“What a surprise!” Jed chuckled. “So Roy’s not as nice to you now that you’re a chub?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a chub,” Scotty replied. “I don’t look that much different. I don’t think it’s the reason why Roy’s been a bit off with me.”

Jed laughed, kissing his neck. “You’re so sweet and naive,” he whispered, holding Scotty like his own little plaything. “But you’re absolutely a chub now,” he teased. His flaccid penis was starting to get hard again, pressing gently between Scotty’s butt cheeks. “Everyone can see what a little porker you’ve turned into.”

Sensing Jed’s arousal was making Scotty feel more than a little horny himself. He didn’t know why Jed’s teasing and name-calling did it for him so much, but accepting what was said to him felt like the most beautiful submission. It was easy to lean into it. “So, Roy doesn’t like me anymore because I got so fat for you?” he asked. “Because I turned into a chub?”

Jed’s hardness was continuing to build. He started gyrating his hips and nuzzling into Scotty’s neck even more. “Say that again…” Jed moaned into his ear.

“I’m a chub,” Scotty repeated, feeling Jed’s hand stroking his semi encouragingly as soon as the words left his mouth. He moaned. There was so much more he wanted to do to turn Jed on; to submit himself to him.

“How does it feel being a fatty now?” Jed went on, enjoying his mastery over him.

Scotty moaned. How did it feel? He had the hottest guy in the world trying to make him squirt for the second time that morning, all because he’d gained so much weight for him. “Fucking amazing!” he blasted.

“Then gain more for me,” Jed ordered, seeming to have greater control over himself now than he had the previous times they had started to make love.

“You want me to get even fatter?” Scotty asked, finding it hard to even think straight with all  the stimulation. He rolled slightly, needing to look Jed in the eyes to see if he was serious. “How much fatter?” he asked, finally meeting Jed’s calculating stare.

“As fat and as blubbery as I want,” Jed answered, expertly keeping Scotty hard without climaxing, “I want you to be what I’ve been looking for my entire life. I want you to be my ultimate sub.”

“I want to be your sub,” Scotty nodded.

“Then you know what you need to do, right?” Jed asked him seriously; without a hint of humor or joviality in his face.

Getting back into the old routine wasn’t difficult. Jed had been overtaken by wild lust when Scotty had explained all the routines he had previously set up for himself in order to ensure he was consistently overdosed with calories and reduced his active periods. It made Scotty feel excited and validated that he had done so well in following Jed’s wishes. All he had expected was one last fuck from the hunk, yet here he was, with several messages from the guy on his cell phone and a hook-up planned for later that week. Gaining weight, doing as Jed asked, it had all opened up doors for him that Scotty didn’t know existed. He ripped open the lid of the whipping cream and began pouring. Chug, chug, chug. Just as Jed would want.

A few more weeks went by and the noticeable changes in Scotty’s body were the subject of many stares at Jed’s usual weekend party at his apartment. Perhaps it was all the cream Scotty had been drinking, or the consistent manner with which he had pushed himself to gorge, but the plush extra weight had settled itself squarely on his new gut and further softened up his chest. He looked genuinely bloated, as if his face and chins had yet to catch up to the tank that was being manufactured below. Jed also said that he could see it building in his butt and thighs, patting the glutes like a proud owner.

“You should hear some of the things Jed says about you when you’re not here,” whispered Jed’s other submissive, Sebastian, trying to get a moment alone with Scotty at the party. “He’s absolutely lost it.”

“How do you mean?” Scotty asked, helping himself to a beer. He didn’t feel in any way alarmed by the dramatic concern Sebastian seemed to be showing. He knew that none of Jed’s other subs liked him. They were jealous of how much of his time Scotty took up and the fact that Jed appeared only to have eyes for him whenever he was around.

“Scotty…” called Jed from across the room as he was chatting to someone else; never really letting him out of his sight. “Remember to snack on those breadsticks, baby.”

Sebastian waited until Jed’s eyes were away from them before he started speaking again. “I’m not sure you realise how into this Jed actually is,” he resumed whispering. “He’s obsessed about your weight. He talks constantly about your calories and how to ensure you don’t move around too much or exercise. It’s all he ever wants to discuss with the other guys.”

Scotty gnawed on a breadstick, enjoying the thought of Jed getting so aroused by him, even when he wasn’t around. 

“He showed me some kinky underwear he wants to make you actually grow into. I’m not joking. They were enormous!” he emphasised. “I think… I think he actually wants to make you… morbidly obese,” Sebastian finally stated.

Scotty looked at him, wondering what game the guy was trying to play. Was he trying to scare Scotty off so that things could return to normal around here? Sebastian had always been one of Jed’s favorite subs due to his surprisingly heavy, oversized rear. Was getting rid of Scotty his way of ensuring Jed paid him more attention instead?

“And?” Scotty asked defiantly.

Sebastian seemed taken aback. “And?” he repeated back to him. “Dude, look at yourself!” he demanded. “He’s had you eating the entire time you’ve been here. You’re seventy pounds fatter than you were when you met him!”

“Is everything alright, honey?” Jed asked, striding over and placing his large arm directly over his favorite lover’s shoulders. He stared at Sebastian, seming to sense what had been said.

“Your sub doesn’t really approve of what you’re doing to me,” Scotty answered him obediently, happy to throw Sebastian under the bus.

Jed straightened up a little, seeming more imposing by the second. “Is that so?” he asked Sebastian with a slight menace to his voice. The whole room quietened.

“He was telling me about some underwear you’ve bought for me to grow into,” Scotty further added, enjoying seeing Sebastian squirm.

“You tried to ruin the surprise for my fat boy?” Jed laughed, despite being clearly irritated.

“I was just…” Sebastian tried to defend himself. “I wasn’t sure that he knew everything!”

Jed tutted and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, Seb!” he sighed. “You know that you’ll have to be punished, don’t you?” he asked the submissive boy.

Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “I do?” he asked hopefully.

Scotty felt a little tap on his butt and heard a whisper in his ear for him to go and sit on the big chair by the TV. Jed strutted to his refrigerator and opened the door, pulling out an enormous expensive-looking cream-covered chocolate cake on a large tray. “My pig needs feeding,” he explained disinterestedly, passing Sebastian the tray even though the young, relatively chubby submissive seemed genuinely surprised by the weight of it. “Make sure he eats it all,” he grinned. 

For a moment it seemed like Sebastian was ready to rebel. Jed’s face lit up at the silent challenge.

“Tell my pig I want him big, fat and greedy,” he demanded. “Otherwise… there’s fifty bucks by the front door. Take it and leave,” he smiled.

Sebastian huffed, walking with the tray over to Scotty and getting down on his knees. Then, in one single movement, he scooped his hand into the cake, filling his palm with it, before thrusting it towards an eager Scotty’s face. “Eat up!” he ordered, thoroughly defeated as Scotty began gorging from his hand.

The other dominant men in the room came over to pat Jed on the back. He’d handled the situation well; both his boys were now doing exactly as he wanted. Indeed, Jed looked on with pride, picking at Sebastian’s technique the entire time and laughing with the others in the room. “Don’t forget the frosting!” he called out, watching his two subs pleasing him like this. Needless to say, it was Scotty that had the honour of making it into his bedroom that night, leaving Sebastian to head home, unfulfilled.

Scotty couldn’t quite get over the quiet hostility towards him in work as he showed up for his shifts whenever Roy was around. Despite always dressing well for his increasing size with shirts and pants that fit properly, Roy would scowl at him as he began to take up more and more space behind the bar. “Move your ass!” the guy would shout across to him whenever he got in the way now, hiding him in the back to organise the stock as often as he could.

Jed would often come in during a shift, smiling extra brightly if Roy was ever there. No more free drinks were given, no protective swooping in from Roy to ensure Scotty stayed out of harm's way. “Do you like the improvements I’ve made?” Jed would goad him, pointing at Scotty’s chubby glutes as he trotted about serving the others.

“No, I don’t,” Roy simply replied, not wanting to even give Jed the satisfaction of looking him in the eye.

It all gave Jed such a thrill. “Well, that’s too fucking bad!” he’d laugh, sipping his beer and turning back to check out the guys in Roy’s club. He knew Roy would never bar him from coming in here. Given the way he looked, just having him there drew people in. It made perfect business sense.

At the end of the shift, Jed would be there, waiting to walk his property back home to his place. He’d be sure to kiss and handle him whenever Roy was about, always explaining that a take-out delivery was already on its way for when they got back.

“Is it bad that I would love to fuck you in front of your boss?” Jed laughed later, admiring his chub as he hungrily gorged for him after the shift.

Scotty laughed and nodded his head. “I’d say that would definitely get me fired!”

“So?” Jed asked seriously. “I was looking at the data from your smartwatch on my cell phone earlier. You got far too many steps in walking backwards and forwards behind that bar tonight. Why do you think I had to order you the extra garlic bread?”

Scotty swallowed, appreciating how erotic it was that Jed took such a keen interest in every aspect of his life; wanting to dominate all of it. “You want me to quit?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Jed nodded. “I need you to sit on that fat ass of yours more if I’m going to grow it out like I want.”

“But what would I do for work? I couldn’t afford my rent,” Scotty fretted.

Jed looked around his large penthouse apartment. “You’d move in here with me instead. I need you to give me twenty four hour access to all that blubber. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

It was already a done deal. After some simple seduction, playing with Scotty’s newly sensitive nipples, Jed had him messaging Roy, quitting his job right there and then. Then he messaged the boys he shared a place with, letting them know he was giving up his room. When the morning came, Jed had one of his minions head over to Scotty’s place and clear out his room; most of the clothes heading straight off to charity.

Scotty was expecting to be set up in Jed’s spare room and was surprised to learn that he was actually going to be staying in Jed’s own bedroom with him. The kinky hunk had bought himself the largest bed he could find and wasted no time in taking Scotty’s ever expanding and always softening butt anyway he could.

The effects of not working had been speedy. Under Jed’s orders, the amount of calories Scotty was consuming through liquids had dramatically increased. Each night Jed would study the chub’s body, captivated by the new stretch marks. Three hundred pounds had been a kinky goal for so long, yet it came and went rather rapidly under the new regime. There were new rolls and fleshy areas forming all over his frame. His body had become a playhouse to the handsome man he had been ensnared by, and he simply couldn’t imagine anything being more thrilling. Jed was insatiable. Walking around in only a tight pair of briefs pretty much guaranteed that Jed was going to fuck him wherever he was in the apartment. Several times, Scotty had walked by as Jed was on his cell phone making a business call. He’d been stopped in his tracks, purposefully bent over the desk and gently pounded without Jed ever losing his train of thought whilst speaking with the client.

The other subs, like Sebastian, had started to pile on a few pounds, making Jed laugh at their desperation for attention. Although many of the other dominant guys who hung out at Jed’s parties were no longer attracted by Scotty’s flabby form, the fat boy was still shown off in all his glory regardless; poked, prodded and teased for letting Jed transform him like this.

Derek was the only other dominant guy who seemed to really get off on the unusual form of domination Jed was mastering over his prey. Jed sought his advice often, being a few years older and the only one with any sort of experience in handling growing chubs.

“Every time I look at that butt I think it can’t get much bigger,” Derek marvelled, witnessing Scotty trotting over to join them on the couch. “And yet, there it is… fatter every week!” he laughed alongside Jed.

Jed grinned proudly, sliding his muscular arm over Scotty. “It’s almost the biggest ass I’ve ever fucked now,” he nodded, happy to take full credit.

“And just remember that scrawny little shit we watched you fuck all that time ago!” Derek chuckled.

“Just under eighteen months ago,” Jed nodded, mindlessly bouncing Scotty’s sagging chest as his huge arm draped over the boy’s shoulders. “He’s still shit at giving blow jobs, though,” he laughed, remembering how uninspired he had been that first night.

“Train him,” Derek shot back, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most simple thing in the world. “It’s a lot easier with chubs.” He looked across at Scotty and all the fat he was now carrying in his face; a giant ring of fat under his chin. “They’re greedy little fuckers. Every last one of them. It’s simple.”

As suggested, Jed unbuckled his pants and spread his legs, fishing out his oversized erection for Scotty who was getting down onto the floor as if to start sucking him off.

“The thing with fatties,” Derek began, “is that they have saliva glands which are a lot easier to activate than most people.”

“Mmm! Wet, sloppy blow jobs!” Jed chuckled, looking at Scotty’s greedy little mouth. He reached out his hand, pinching the sides of Scotty’s mouth until his lips opened and his cheeks bulged.

“I hear your pig has quite the sweet tooth?” Derek asked, collecting a cupcake from the side and passing it to Jed who held it in his hand. “Just waft this under his nose to start with.”

Jed smirked and followed the advice. Instinctively, Scotty went to take a bite and was stopped by a very loud ‘no’ from both Jed and Derek; scolded like a naughty puppy. “Just smell it, Piggy!” Jed ordered.

Jed and Derek watched him with fascinated curiosity. Then, all of a sudden, they both simultaneously burst into laughter, almost making Scotty jump. It took Scotty a few moments to work out why they were chuckling. Had he swallowed his building saliva without even realising?

“It works every time with a fatty!” Derek laughed. He reached out and scooped a little of the frosting from the cupcake and smeared it over the tip of Scotty’s nose. “You need the pig to keep smelling it if you want it to keep producing the saliva.”

Jed was smiling excitedly, delighted by the tutoring. He reached out his large hand and lowered Scotty’s mouth onto his hardness, sighing with pleasure as the wet tongue began its work. Next,  Derek handed him a warm pizza slice from the box that had just arrived. Jed lowered it, holding it close to Scotty’s face as he sucked. Derek adjusted Jed’s hand a little, ensuring that the scent would be easily picked up by Scotty’s nose.

“Fuck!” Jed cried, jumping a little as a fresh wave of saliva lubricated his erection, allowing Scotty to slide his mouth effortlessly over as much of it as he could fit into his mouth. “This is fucking awesome!”

Derek smiled, resting his hand on Jed’s large shoulder. “You put in the hard work developing your pig’s appetite,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Now you can just sit back and enjoy it!”

Word was spreading that Jed was close to climaxing and the horny guests gathered around to watch, just as Jed liked. He moaned as loudly as Scotty had ever heard him, pulling out at the last minute so that everyone could see the giant jets as he came.

Thoroughly satisfied, slouching and exhausted, Jed lay there with a wicked smile plastered across his face. Scotty grinned, pleased to have been the reason for it. Not being able to please Jed with his mouth had been a constant source of shame for him. He reached out, picking the drooping pizza slice out from Jed’s hand and began nibbling. Jed watched on with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

The crowds attending Jed’s parties began to evolve. Pretty soon, Derek wasn’t the only admirer of the hunk’s hard work with Scotty. Other chub lovers, and the guys who were getting fatter for them, started replacing those more casually kinky men who used to be invited. Scotty found himself sucking down a greater variety of calorie shakes as the new acquaintances in this group gave Jed a variety of recipes to prepare for him. At over three hundred and fifty pounds, Scotty didn’t feel he had much to prove to these guys, nor the starter chubs they brought along with them. The focus became more about the food, which suited Scotty fine. His appetite and capacity was something everyone always complimented Jed for, elevating the hunk’s status to new heights.

Jed held Scotty from behind, one hand holding up his chubby neck in a way that pushed forward his double chin; his thumb gently caressing his cheek. Jed’s other hand gripped mercilessly onto his belly fat, jiggling and shaking it for all to see. “At least three shakes a day and these are the sorts of gains you can expect,” he told them all. “Have high expectations at all times. That’s how you grow out your pigs.”

Despite being a submissive, amongst the other fatties, Scotty felt he had a much greater status. He’d done it all, after all. They’d all seen the video someone had taken the first time Jed had fucked his skinny little butt, and they had all witnessed for themselves the monstrous appetite he could display for Jed’s pleasure. When he hit four hundred pounds, the submissives had all been ordered to feed him whilst the others watched on, shouting out orders.

Although Jed still went out to pick guys up when he pleased, never missing out on one of Roy’s ever skinny employees, it was always Scotty he came home to. When they went out to the gay venues together, the big jock never shied away from showing his affection and always sought a seat for his increasingly rotund lover in whichever bar they went to.

“Roy keeps on staring,” Jed chuckled, whispering into his fat boy’s ear. “When he goes out next, you’re going to have to move faster than I usually let you.”

Scotty nodded, excited to give Jed this fantasy. When instructed, he heaved his fat body up quickly and trotted behind his lover. Once inside the bathroom, Jed had undressed completely in the time it had taken Scotty to open his pants and pull them down enough to show his blubbery ass cheeks.

This was it: the final piece of the jigsaw, letting Jed take him here, in the place he had once worked. Kinky boys had already gathered around them, keen to watch Jed and his giant hardness at work. No doubt Roy would notice and follow in soon to throw them all out. But what did it matter? He hadn’t been Roy’s boy for a long time. 

He was Jed’s.

[phatcattt]

Pov: your roommate gained 50 pounds since you started rooming together and he keeps mindlessly rubbing his belly 🫃

More

[engeorged]

NSFW gainer chat bots 1

I’ve been asked a few times to take my chat bots over to spicychat.ai as they specialise in more nsfw chats. I’ve taken three over and I’ll take some more in the next week or so. Let me know if there are any more you’d like to see on that platform. You need to sign up for the website but it’s free if you don’t wanna pay the subscription.

Pete Cornfed - 6’6 of corn fed beef arrives at your farm after seeing an advert for a farm hand. He’s dumb but eager to work and at the end of the day will eat everything you can cook for him.

Coach Giovani - a hairy ball gutted bear of a man, Coach Giovanni calls you to his office to help you improve your game. He’s got some specific ideas that involve you gaining a ton of weight.

Taylor Trustfund - your impressive husband is 6’5 with blue eyes and works in finance. Recently he’s been gaining a few pounds on to his muscular frame. What happens next is up to you.

[thiccschief]

Taking a Few for the Team

I've always had a fantasy about a sports team breeding one of the players, transferring all their fat to the one player. It's a work in progress, but here's the first part! Contains male weight gain & sex, and some bloating/gas.

Part two is here.

Exhausted, Aaron made his way out of his last class of the semester. Walking outside onto the cold winter afternoon, he admired how nice the snow looked across his college campus. Unfortunately, there was no snow on the indoor soccer field. His coach had insisted that the team practice tonight one last time before winter break.

Even though he only considered himself to be an average player on his team, Aaron enjoyed soccer. It was nice to have something going on other than his classes, and Aaron got along well with his teammates. His best friend Jess would always poke fun at him asking when he was going to hook up with the other players since they always acted so gay around each other. He didn’t mind though, since they were all cool with him being out as gay. His teammates would joke about it sometimes but only ever in jest.

He made his way back to his apartment he shared with Jess to grab his soccer bag, then he was off to practice. It went like any other, but near the end his coach made a point to tell all the boys they had better make sure and watch what they ate over the holiday break. “I don’t need you all to have to go harder at practice than you already will when you get back.” He figured he was being self-conscious, but Aaron felt like that statement had been directed at him. He was sure the coach made the most eye contact with him when he said that to everyone.

At 5’11 and fairly muscular, he was still definitely athletic. But with exams and everything going on, Aaron found himself stress eating more than usual. He had gained about 10 pounds since the start of the semester. It didn’t bother him, if anything it was just a good bulk that he could cut and gain some muscle mass if he hit the gym hard enough over the break. But his already small uniform shorts were definitely struggling with his slightly larger butt. His tops were definitely tighter too, but if he sucked in his belly it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Shit, I was really looking forward to eating good the next couple of weeks,” said Jared in the locker room after practice. “But you guys heard him, if I can’t then you can’t either.”

Jared is the team captain, who Aaron had a crush on. He was tall and muscular, and somehow ever so slightly tan even in the winter. He was assertive but also kind and understanding. It’s no wonder the team looked up to him.

“My girlfriend’s mom makes the best desserts! What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him” complained Trevor. With a great sense of humor, he and Aaron were pretty good friends. Aaron was also a pretty good wingman for Trevor, which he appreciated. 

“Yeah it’ll be hard. I’m not sure what I’ll do when my mom makes her famous pork roast. But think of how much better shape we’ll be in compared to the other teams once spring season starts” said Jared.

“Shit, you two are making me hungry” said Aaron as he took off his top.

“Look, just don’t overdo it, man” said Jared. Aaron could have sworn that Jared shot a quick glance at Aaron’s belly, but just like before he tried to write it off as being self-conscious.

He finished changing and headed back out into the cold night. On his drive home, he thought about his workout plans for the break. Like most of the other guys, he and his family both lived nearby to the school, so it’s not like he would have to give up the gym for a month. But also in the back of his mind, he knew that it wouldn’t matter, he probably wouldn’t go anyway.

—----------------------------

The last couple days of break came faster than he expected. Aaron was seriously not ready for classes and soccer practice to start back up again. In between hanging out with Jess and also his family, Aaron had spent a few nights drinking beers and playing video games with Trevor. It was nice to become closer as friends. But also, to hang out without feeling pressure from the team about somehow gaining more weight. He knew Trevor didn’t care, but Aaron was terrified about how he was going to explain to the coach why he could barely squeeze into his shorts and jersey.

Trying it on before their practice that night, Aaron could see in his mirror that there was now no hiding the fact that he did not spend a minute in the gym all month. Or that he had completely ignored his coach’s advice not to overindulge in his mom’s delicious cooking. His shorts were straining to cover his now very round ass, and his jersey was completely showing off his new belly and love handles. His pecs were now larger looking as well. “Dammit!” he muttered to himself. He was definitely a little chubby now. But even though he was nervous about his team’s judgment, somehow he felt a bit sexier? He’d always liked men with some meat on their bones, but had never really considered that look for himself. But damn, something about how he was filling out his uniform made his shorts even tighter…

But without much time to think about it, he rushed out the door to get to practice. Somehow he was already running late.

After getting to practice, Aaron was relieved. It looked like all the other guys had spent the holiday more or less exactly like he did. Especially Jared, who now had a bit of a pudgy belly along with slightly pronounced love handles under his jersey. He liked to wear a smaller size to show off his muscles Aaron suspected, but now it was just showing off his mom’s many desserts he had eaten.

Coach definitely noticed the guys’ different physiques as well, and seemed irritated that the team was doing their exercises slower than usual. At the end of practice, after a short conversation with Jared, the coach pulled all the guys into a quick meeting.

“Look, I know I told you boys not to overdo it with eating over the break…” said the coach, with an exasperated tone in his voice “but this is ridiculous. We are going to have to do something about it.”

“Yes coach…” the team said meekly, knowing full well what they had done.

“So here is the deal. Jared and I have come up with a plan to get you boys back in shape in time for spring season. Be ready to do whatever it takes! That’s it for today’s practice, but it won’t be as easy next time!”

While changing in the locker room, Aaron reflected on what coach had told them. ‘Do whatever it takes?’ Aaron was already dreading the next practice and he hadn’t even left this one. Being the chubbiest one on the team, he knew whatever coach had in store was not going to be easy.

“Way to go, fatass” Trent said angrily, poking Aaron in his soft belly. “Now we are going to have to work out twice as hard because of you.” Trent was a player that could get pretty heated in the game, but Aaron had never had Trent get confrontational with him off the field. So this was definitely a first that Aaron didn’t know how to handle. 

“I… I don’t…” stammered Aaron, blushing a little in embarrassment. He didn’t know what to do.

“Whoa calm down man” Trevor came and stood between the two. “Look, we’ve all put on a few over the holiday. I know I at least have a little beer belly now.” Trevor said, making a point to grab the little bit of belly fat he had gained and laughed. “It’s all good. We’ll get back in shape in no time.”

“He’s right, it’s not the end of the world” chimed in Jared. “Coach and I put a plan together, and it’ll definitely be faster than a normal training regimen. We should do great this season.”

“And how the hell are we going to pull that off?” demanded Trent “Other than working out twice as hard, what are we supposed to do?”

“We haven't worked out the formula just yet, but I’m sure we can do it. Just listen to me and coach. We have a plan.” said Jared, with more of his assertive-team-captain tone than before. He was still positive as usual, but Trent could tell this conversation was over.

Formula? That was an odd choice of words, thought Aaron later that night. What did he mean?

All Aaron knew was Trent poking his belly and calling him a fatass earlier was somehow… insanely hot. Fuck, why was it so hot!? If Trevor hadn’t stood in front of him, his boner in his boxer briefs would have been on full display for the whole team to see. Thankfully his normally eight incher was now slightly smaller from his new encroaching fat pad.

That night, he beat himself off grabbing his belly and playing that scene over and over in his head…

The next day, Aaron got a group text from Jared.

'Hey everyone, team meeting tonight at my place. Be there at 7.'

'Damn' Aaron thought to himself. 'What is so important we couldn't have gone over it yesterday?!' 

Regardless, team meetings at Jared's house usually ended up being more of a kickback than a meeting. The guys all usually brought a few beers, snacks, and some video games to enjoy after whatever team business was discussed. Jared's family had moved away but kept the house so he could live in it while he finished college. This made it the perfect place for them to all hang.

After pulling up to Jared's quiet suburban home, he headed down to the large basement living room, where the team usually hung out. It had multiple sofas and plenty of space for the whole team.

He was surprised to find that he was the last one on the team to arrive.

"Hey man! Didn't know you had it in you to be on time to anything" Aaron said jokingly to Trevor as he sat on the couch next to him.

"Dude what are you talking about? Jared said to be here at six th-"

Trevor was immediately cut off by Jared who jumped up and started the meeting.

"Glad to see you all could make it." Jared said, standing and facing everyone. "I wanted to go over the plan coach and I made to get us all in shape. We are very excited but it's going to take every guy on this team doing his part."

Jared held up a protein shaker bottle filled with an ivory liquid. It just looked like any other protein shake. "Coach and I consulted with some people in the chemistry department and formulated a unique protein shake mixture for each of you. It's highly concentrated and is specially formulated to last longer than a normal shake. Because of this, we probably only have to drink it once a week. So every week starting today, we will all drink it together, that way I know nobody is slacking."

"Seriously?!" Chimed Trent "you have to babysit us about it?"

"No you don't understand. It's just way easier this way." Said Jared. He seemed annoyed that Trent would say something like that, as if he should have known better.

"Anyway, we are still working on the flavors. So let me know what you guys think!" Jared handed everyone a bottle with their name on it.

Aaron gave it a couple shakes then put the bottle up to his mouth and took a big sip. The shake was… delicious. It was so sweet and rich and nothing at all like those nasty protein shakes he was used to.

"Fuck that's good." "Hey man, what's in this?" "Damn it's just like ice cream…" the other guys clearly enjoyed theirs too.

"Glad y'all like it. Anyway, that's the meeting. Once you finish your shakes, I've got plenty of beers in the fridge." Said Jared with a grin on his face. "One more thing. We noticed when we were testing it, sometimes the shakes can make you a little… bloated."

As if on cue, Trevor let out a long *buuUuuUURRP* followed by some hearty laughter from the rest of the guys.

"Look if this gets us in shape like you say it will, a couple burps won't kill me" joked Trevor.

"Oh don't worry, it'll work just fine." Said Jared.

The team came prepared with the usual snacks, beer and video games. They were broing out just like any other team meeting before long.

20 minutes later…

—---------------------------

The guys started getting really gassy. Being a soccer team that spent tons of time together, an occasional fart or burp was not new for the boys. It was always followed by laughter at the expense of the perpetrator, but this was different. The teammates were all feeling way more bloated than they had ever been. ‘Hopefully these shakes are worth it…’ their faces seemed to say.

At first they seemed to be a little embarrassed about it, but after a few minutes of laughing at each other they were letting it all out. All the boys at this point were occasionally farting and burping. Aaron noticed that the boys’ cheeks were becoming a little flush as well. They were also starting to get hard. Rock hard. Aaron noticed that everyone on the team had a boner visible through their shorts by now. Even himself.

All the guys were blushing as they started noticing the strange effects of this protein shake they had been given.

"Yeah sorry guys, it has some odd side effects" said Jared.

Aaron felt super flustered. The guys knew he was gay, but staring at all their protruding manhoods felt like a step too far. He got up to go to the bathroom, but as he did…

"Hey... Has anyone else noticed how fat Aaron's ass is?" Said Trent

"You're joking right?" Aaron said in disbelief.

"Like, seriously huge..." said Trent, as he stroked his cock through his shorts.

"...hey!" Aaron was completely shocked. This… didn’t feel like their normal banter.

"I'm serious!" Said Trent. "Has it always jiggled this much??" He got up and gave Aaron’s ass a huge smack. Even through his shorts, you could see it shake in recoil.

Come to think of it, Aaron thought, was it usually that jiggly? Was this another bizarre effect of these shakes?

The next thing he knew, Trent grabbed Aarons shorts and pulled them to the ground.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed Trent "That ass is fucking insane!"

"What the fuck is going on here!?" yelled Jared "Get your *buuuURP* hands off my teammate!"

Trent grabbed Aaron's cheeks and squeezed. His fingers sank deep into the soft flesh, which he loved. He pushed Aaron firmly between the shoulder blades, the boy bracing himself on the couch. Trent mimed fucking Aarons ass in front of the team, causing an uproar of laughter.

“Hey man, chill out!” Exclaimed Jared. “I told you how this was going to work.”

Jared grabbed Trent by the collar of his shirt and pulled him away. But then quickly dropped his own shorts and stood behind Aaron.

It all happened so fast Aaron didn’t have a chance to move. From being shocked about what Trent had done to him, to being frozen by seeing Jared act so dominant. Aaron just watched in shock as he was still bent over the couch. But he didn’t really want to move, either. He was starting to feel unusually calm.

The next thing he knew, Jared reached for some lube that was on the side table, and rubbed it on his huge rock hard cock. Wait… Aaron thought to himself, was that lube always there? Why would Jared leave it out like that?

Aaron also noticed that Jared’s balls were looking massive, as if they were a pair of oranges. 

“Get ready, fatass” moaned Jared. He gave Aaron’s jiggly ass a good slap and then grabbed him by his love handles.

Aaron felt a tingle through his body. He had never had a dick in his ass before. But he had always fantasized about it. This was a very weird night so far, but he’d be lying if he said he had never fantasized about having handsome, tall, fit, dominant but gentle Jared pound his tight (and now fat) ass.

His ass relaxed as if on queue, and Jared easily slipped in. Aaron moaned quietly at the sensation of having his first dick inside him.

He could hear Jared burping as he slid back and forth. The guys were definitely getting gassy because of their shakes.

Aaron groaned as Jared began to go deeper and harder. He was so turned on by this. He didn’t care that his whole team was there. He didn't mind the gas or the loud farts that Jared was letting out. In fact, he liked it. There was something about being taken by his team captain, called names and fucked in the ass that made him feel so incredibly horny.

Jared was thrusting really hard now and Aaron could feel Jared’s huge balls colliding with his own. It was so hot feeling Jared’s fat cock sliding in and out of his ass.

"Fuck, yeah, fuck me, I love it!" whined Aaron, leaning forward on the couch.

Jared continued to pound away, slamming Aaron's asshole relentlessly. He was so focused on Jared that he forgot the rest of the team was in the room, watching and stroking their cocks to Aaron and Jared.

"Come on, you fat bitch, take my dick! *BUuuuuUP* You're gonna be our team slut now!" yelled Jared.

Aaron nodded his head in agreement as Jared pounded away.

“Fuuuck…” was all Aaron could let out between his moans. He had never been so aroused. All he wanted at this point was to feel Jared release his huge load inside him.

"Take it, take it all… Take my load!" cried Jared, as he came inside Aaron's soft stomach. Aaron felt him gushing inside him. It felt like he was cumming forever, to the point where Aaron began to feel a slight pressure inside him from all the sloshing cum.

When Jared was done, he slowly pulled out of Aaron's ass. “Don’t let that go to waste, fatboy��  he said as he slapped Aarons’ dribbling ass. He started laughing as he looked at Aaron's now rounder and softer belly. Aaron looked as if he had instantly put on 10 pounds. "Damn, did I do that? You look even fatter now"

"It feels... tight" said Aaron, out of breath. "But it's amazing." He put a hand on his belly and felt not only Jared's cum sloshing around but also a softer layer of fat beneath his sweaty skin.

"I definitely feel less bloated now," said Jared with a grin, "you guys should try it" he said to the rest of the guys.

Aaron looked up and noticed Jared’s balls were normal sized now. Jared also looked like he… had lost weight? How was that possible? He looked like he was back to his toned, muscular body that he had before break. But Aaron was still in too much of a daze to think much more about it. He wanted to cum himself but his belly was too tight to focus.

The other boys all looked hesitant but something told Aaron that they all wanted to fuck him and unload their cum in him just like their team captain did.

Part two

[badoobers]

Illustrations I did for @engeorged’s story The Influencer Part 2!

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[5xlwriter]

Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Model

Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddog’s Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. I see this as a double response to the prompts Runway Ready and Wardrobe Woe.

“Thanks for your time, Brett,” I said, feigning a smile as I looked up from my clipboard. “We’ll call you!”

The muscle-bound hunk nodded cockily and pulled back on his stringy gymrat vest, giving us one last glimpse at his abs in the process before turning and leaving the audition room. His firm glutes shifted in his shorts as he vanished through the doors. I sighed.

Of course, there was no denying that Brett was absolutely gorgeous. He knew it, I knew it, anyone who saw him knew it. And while I might be tempted to call him up for a hookup, there was no way he was getting a callback for this show. He just didn’t have the right look.

The designer, Cherish Misère, was dark, edgy and honestly, kinda goth. There’s a lot that can be achieved with makeup and styling, of course, but nobody’s going to buy that with a jock like Brett. We were looking for skinny guys, with longer slender limbs and angled faces that we could make gaunt with contouring. Brett just didn’t fit the bill - and neither did many of the other hopefuls I’d seen that day. Ugh, Cherish was gonna kill me.

I huffed another deep sigh as I flipped the page on my clipboard, and then was stopped in my tracks at the photo attached to the next profile. That curly brown hair, those sharp, boyish features, those dark, arresting eyes… Tristan!

What a godsend! Tristan was absolutely perfect for the show. Cherish would eat him up, and all the clothes would fit like they were made for him. He and I had been students together. We’d studied Media & Communications and had gotten along well, but drifted in the couple of years since we graduated. He’d always modelled to raise funds when we were at uni, seeming to never need to hold down a real job as a result - but the last I heard, he was now skyrocketing up the corporate ladder, while I was sat here auditioning himbos for D-rate shows at the Fashion Week Fringe. It’s the sort of thing that would usually fill me with so much embarrassment that I’d find an escape route - we gays always compare ourselves to our peers - but in this instance, I didn’t care. I was just glad to finally have found some actual talent! The day was not a complete waste after all.

“Bring in the next one,” I called to my assistant and tried to make myself look as relaxed as possible. I was going to feign surprise, like I’d been caught off-guard. I needed to look busy and important. I sat up straight, eyes fixed on my clipboard until I heard someone shuffle in front of me.

“Hey, Rick!” He announced. His voice was just as I remembered it, but… maybe a touch deeper?

I looked up, ready to burst into a big smile and announce what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again. But then, I really was caught off-guard. My thoughts ground to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause as my brain scrambled to register what was going on.

My assistant intervened. “Um, Rick, this is…”

“—Tristan!” I interjected, finally managing the smile I’d been preparing, though I’m not sure how convincing it came off. “What a surprise!”

The surprise was that Tristan was fat. OK, that was maybe a little dramatic - he wasn’t fat fat. But I guessed him to be at least 50 or 60lbs heavier than the 135lbs he listed on his modelling profile - which made him gay fat. I couldn’t believe it!

I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I was a little ashamed to admit that part of me loved seeing perfect Tristan let himself go like this. He had always been nothing but kind to me, so it was completely mean-spirited of me, but I couldn’t help being jealous of all his achievements. It was nice to finally have one up on him, having maintained my own figure - heck, maybe even improved it? - since graduating.

On the other hand, there was no way I could cast Tristan with him looking like this. I could tell just by looking at him that it would take a small miracle to squeeze him into anything Cherish made, which meant I’d just lost my star model just as quickly as I thought I’d found him.

That, I had to worry about later. For now I had to finish this encounter with my old friend, let him down without hurting his feelings, and maybe find out what had caused him to blow up. Maybe he was depressed?

He didn’t look depressed. He was smiling that famously enchanting smile of his, which now showed off the beginnings of a double chin. I made my way over to give him a hug.

“Heh, I thought you didn’t recognise me!” He said as he wrapped his softer arms around me. He was squishy all over.

“Of course I recognise you,” I said, trying to brush it off. “It’s so good to see all of you— I mean, to see you, it’s so good to see you…” Fuck.

Tristan didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, then he didn’t seem to mind. I was happy with either. We pressed on with the pleasantries, Tristan telling me about his latest promotion whilst I did my best to make my own job sound interesting. In truth, it was great catching up with him… Tristan was just so charming, and even with his fuller figure he just exuded a confidence and charisma that was unlike anyone I’d ever met… perhaps even more so then I remembered? He was definitely flirty, and somehow I found myself flirting back despite him no longer being my type.

I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened… Maybe it was witchcraft. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was just that trademark smile that he kept flashing me, undampened by his rounder face…

“I think you’d be a great fit!” I said, the words leaving my mouth without my permission. My brain protested but my lips kept moving. “We’ll see you Monday for the fittings, so we can get things taken in if we need to.” What the fuck was I saying? What was I doing?

As Tristan left with his paperwork, I caught the confused look on my assistant’s face and buried my head in my hands. Cherish was going to fucking kill me.

***

Monday came around fast. In that time, I’d managed to assemble a motley crew of gangly young men to model Cherish’s collection. None of them had walked a runway in their lives, nor did they really have the face card needed for a career in modelling, but they were the best I could rustle up with Fashion Week on the horizon.

We’d started the morning with runway rehearsals and trying to get some charisma out of these boys was like getting blood from a stone. I was relieved that Tristan hadn’t shown up. I figured he had come to the realisation that he quite literally wasn’t a good fit for this, and had decided to silently slink away, saving me a difficult conversation. Now all we had to do was avoid each other for the rest of our lives!

But no, it was never going to be that easy. Tristan arrived late, commanding attention as soon as he entered the studio, smiling and greeting his fellow models as he finished off the remainder of a large smoked salmon bagel loaded with cream cheese. Now there was someone with charisma. He didn’t even try. Nor did he try to excuse his tardiness. “We both know I don’t need practice at this!” he laughed warmly when we had a quiet moment together.

And he was right. He stomped the runway like a pro, showing each of the confused wannabes how it was done. He was the elephant in the room; he didn’t belong; and yet, he was putting them all to shame. I watched bitterly as he walked back up the length of the runway, noticing the slight jiggle and bounce in his body with each deliberate step he made. Ugh, I was not looking forward to this conversation…

Later, as we prepared for the session with wardrobe, I pulled Tristan to one side.

“Listen, Tristan, I need to talk with you,” I said, trying to sound both relaxed and in control. “You know I think you’re amazing, but I don’t think this is the right gig for you…”

Tristan raised an eyebrow for a moment, not sure what to make of what I’d said, before he burst out laughing. “Ha, yeah, good one Rick. Don’t worry, I’ll help the other guys get the hang of it. It’s not rocket science.”

I frowned. “No, Tristan, you don’t understand…” Ugh! I hated this! “I’m serious. I don’t think you’re the right… fit…” I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his round midsection when I said it - only for a fraction of a second, but Tristan was quick enough to catch it.

“Oh…” he said, looking down at his body for a moment. “You think I’m too fat?” He looked hurt. I’d never seen him not radiating charm and confidence, but in the moment all of that dissipated. He looked like a little lost puppy. “I know I’ve gained a few… I’ve been working flat out at the office… But I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“It’s not!” I blurted out in a panic, desperate to backtrack. “You look great! Better than ever, actually. You look really healthy. That’s super in right now!” It was all lies, and I hated myself for it, but seeing that famous smile return to his face made it worth it.

And so Tristan was whisked off to wardrobe, where we tried to squeeze him into some of the pieces. I thought maybe, if we went with something layered, we could disguise his bulked up body and it might be OK. I was wrong.

Tristan was wearing a black ripped vest, designed to be tight even on a slender model, but practically painted onto him now and emphasising the ball of flesh at his waist. The fact it was ripped made him look like he’d burst out of it. When he moved his arms too high, a little slither of soft flesh would peek out the bottom. He wore a big leather trench coat, down to the floor, which I figured would do a lot of the heavy lifting in making Tristan look presentable - except, we couldn’t fasten it shut over his middle. And on his bottom half, he just wore his underwear and socks, as absolutely nothing that Cherish had designed would slide over his newly thickened thighs and ass.

Fortunately, Tristan may have been oblivious to how much he’d grown, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to work. Quietly, he wrestled himself out of the tight garments we’d given him and began to change into his own clothes. I kept my distance and tried to focus on the other boys. Later, as Tristan was leaving, I followed him out.

“Hey Tristan,” I called. “Wait up!” He turned to face me, and was still smiling, but he looked tired and pensive.

“Thanks for the opportunity, Rick! Sorry it didn’t work out.” He said, before surprising me by tapping his softer middle. “Guess I’ve been neglecting the gym!”

“Don’t worry about it, T,” I said. “You still look great and you can definitely work it off — if you want to,” I paused for a moment, hesitating as I decided whether to say what I was about to say. “Or… In the meantime, my friend runs this other company…” I handed him the card.

“Max Macdonald - Plus Size Agency”, Tristan read off the card. He sounded unsure and I thought I might have offended him again, but eventually he pocketed the card. “Thanks, Rick,” he said, giving me a quick hug. “See you around!”

***

As it happened, I never did see Tristan again. It had been four years since our awkward encounter when I found myself in a bar, catching up with my old friend Max, who I also hadn’t seen in years. Being an adult sucked!

Max had been vocally admiring a large man at the bar, telling me in great detail why this stranger’s corpulent body was so superior to the kind of talent I represented. (I’d learned my lesson and played to my strengths, now I had my own agency and was exclusively representing muscle-bound Greek Gods for high-profile names.)

None of it surprised me. Max had always been unashamedly into big guys, despite being in good shape himself. I’d seen him go through many boyfriends - usually they were varying degrees of fat, but sometimes there was a twink or two. They’d soon start to bulk up around him and usually this was when they wised up to his feeder ways and dumped him. He didn’t seem to care, and I always loved that about him. I definitely didn’t share his tastes, but I respected his unabashed commitment to them all the same.

And it seemed to be working out for him! After all, it was his love of big men that had led him to start the plus size agency that was now getting him contracts all over the world.

“Oh my god!” Max said, nearly spitting out his beer as a memory seemed to hit him like a truck. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you!” He was laughing hysterically and I pressed him urgently for more details. Max was a great storyteller and I found myself eager to hear his tale.

“A few years ago, I was approached by this dude,” he started. I nodded. “He was young, super handsome and charismatic like no one else! He told me you’d sent him.” I paused, knowing instantly that he was talking about Tristan, though I didn’t let on. I wanted to see where this was going.

“He said he was interested in some modelling with me. I told him, ‘look man, you’re gorgeous and you’ve got it, but you’re not exactly plus size’…” He took another swig of his beer. “He was like 200lbs at most. At most!”

I laughed along. “Haha, yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t really know where else to send him. He was too fat for us, but clearly not fat enough for you!” I took a sip of my drink, feeling a little bad for leading Tristan towards more rejection.

“Not then he wasn’t!” laughed Max. I didn’t like the tone in his voice… it was… mischievous. He was relishing in this story. “But I bumped into him a couple of years later at a chub event downtown. I didn’t recognise him at first but he came right over and introduced himself… all 350lbs of him!”

“No fucking way!” My mouth dropped to the floor as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, trying to imagine how big a 350lb person would look… How big a 350lb Tristan would look! That more way more than twice the size he’d been at uni.

“Yes way, he was just in a jock strap and a leather harness, shaking and jiggling all over the dance floor. There was no hiding it. He wasn’t the fattest person there by a long shot - a couple of guys were almost twice as big as him - but everyone in the joint wanted to fuck him.” He sat back and smiled smugly, looking very pleased with himself.

I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” he said, a big grin on his face. “And it was great. Like really great. Man, I had to fucking work for it though. He asked if we could stop for something to eat on the way back to my place - and we did, three times!” He clearly found the story hilarious. “I paid for the lot… Worth it though!”

I was in shock, no longer finding it funny but trying my best to play along. I couldn’t believe that had happened. Maybe Max was just exaggerating. 350lbs? Surely not…

“So, did you end up signing him?” I asked.

“Nah,” said Max, looking a little solemn before finishing his drink. “When I woke up the next day, he’d vanished without a trace and I never saw him again…”

I was about to interject, to empathise for Max, and to tell him how shitty that was, but Max held up a hand to stop me. He wasn’t finished. That big grin had returned to his face and he fished his phone from his pocket.

“I never saw him again until last week…” he said, quickly navigating his home screen to pull up one of his fetish community apps. It didn’t phase me - like I said, Max had always been very open about this stuff.

“I was swiping through the other day when I saw this prize-winning pig…” he was practically giggling as he showed me the phone screen. It was a video, captioned with just two words: “Almost 500lbs”, with a pig nose emoji for emphasis. In the video, an absolutely enormous man was wearing a far too tight black half-zip sweater over a black t-shirt. He was standing close to the camera, with his head cut off by the frame. The strained clothes clung tightly to every curve, roll and fold on his fat frame: his giant tits threatened to burst out of the sweater (the zip of which would never fasten around his fat neck), while about 20cm of pure fat belly hung out the bottom, his gluttony on full view.

Why was Max showing me this? There was nothing to suggest this was Tristan. I became increasingly convinced that this was a practical joke. There was no way that someone who used to look like Tristan now looked like… this.

But then, the whale in the video took a few steps backwards as he jiggled his huge gut for the camera, and his fat face came into view. My world stopped for a moment: it was Tristan, no doubt about it.

Had I seen this veritable blob in the street, I would never have recognised him as my old friend. But I had been primed to see him, and see him I did: even though his sharp and boyish features were now buried under blubbery cheeks, there was no mistaking the charismatic allure of those eyes, which now seemed small and beady in his fat face. All the movement in his gut caused a loud burp to erupt from his mouth, and the smile that followed it as he looked upon his body with appreciation was unmistakably his. Even when being absolutely disgusting, something about Tristan was still so confident, so irresistible… he was magnetic.

“These are the clothes I was wearing when we first met back up,” he said to someone off screen, who chucked back. I recognised that laugh… “Can you believe that was only a year ago?”

“No,” came the familiar voice, as two arms entered the frame and began to pull off Tristan’s clothes, revealing his flabby body in all its perverted glory. The arms and voice belonged to someone older than Tristan by about 15 years. They were reasonably toned and thick with hair, and the strong-looking hands took big handfuls of Tristan’s tits and flesh, shaking it and making his whole body wobble. Then the anonymous figure moved into the screen, kissing Tristan on his big, fat cheek.

I almost dropped Max’s phone and had to do a double take. Was that our fucking professor?! He looked a little older than I remembered him, which was natural, but I was sure it was him.

“…but you’re nearly 100lbs bigger since then, so that’s not surprising,” he said seductively, bringing a cream filled bun up to Tristan’s lips. His mouth opened dutifully and made short work of the pastry, which got swallowed down into his giant gut.

“And why do you think that is?” huffed Tristan, rubbing his belly and stifling another burp. He looked so cocky and sure of himself… more than that, he looked like he was worshipping himself.

“Because,” said our old professor. “You’re a spoiled piggy who gets whatever he wants.”

[letsgetbigger]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[pecanwriter]

Big Boy Mode: Activated

Themes: rapid weight gain, humiliation kink, technology-induced weight gain (so like, magic weight gain but for sci fi nerds I guess)

Words: 2947

Part: 1/?

"Hello, sir, would you like to hear about our newest product, the most revolutionary nanotechnology to date?"

Elliott really wasn't one to ever let some marketing lackey torment him with semi-logical babble about something he didn't even want to buy. But he was a technology whore, and just the mere mention of nanotechnology had him nearly salivating at the mouth.

He smiled at the promoter, stepping closer and trying to look at all the flashing screens at once. 

"Introducing SimNano or Simulator Nano. This revolutionary technology is the newest hit in terms of body augmentation and we're making record sales all around the globe."

The promoter pulled something from his pad to one of the screens. 

"The way this works, we inject nanobots into your body and connect their signature to your personalised control panel as well as a wristband, the wristband sold separately." 

He watched as on the screen a scrawny shirtless man selected a holographic projection of his body and added 50% more muscle to the model. He clicked "Active Mode" at the bottom of the screen and for a moment his entire body rippled in an unfamiliar way until he stood there completely buffed out, Captain America style.

Elliott blinked. He looked from the freshly buffed-out man to the promoter.

"How does that work?"

"The nanobots we inject into the client's system are capable of replication and imitation of any human tissue. However, they are only capable of growing, not shrinking, it's not a diet pill as many would hope so." The promoter laughed at his own poor joke.

Elliot chuckled obligingly but the phrase "they are only capable of growing" was bouncing around in his head trying to make him hard. 

"Is there a limit to what they can imitate? For example, if someone was missing a leg…?" He chose his words carefully, hoping the man would fall for his set-up and tell him exactly what he wanted.

The man's gaze flickered down to Elliot's leg and although Elliot had no such thing, he let the man assume he had a prosthetic. It was an unassuming lie, didn't hurt anyone, it was just better than even a sliver of the truth.

"Oh, they're absolutely capable of replicating a leg. As I said, they can imitate any human tissue, muscles, nerves, fat, even bones…"

When he said the f-word Elliot's cock jerked awake and he had to cover his crotch with the shopping bag he was holding.

"And are the changes permanent…?"

"No, that's not how it works, It's imitating and replicating the tissue in Active Mode, but as soon as it's Deactivated everything goes back to normal."

Elliot's cock was throbbing as he fought to maintain perfectly normal eye contact with the promoter.

"And while it's active, does it feel real or is it like a hologram or a model or…"

"Oh no, It feels absolutely real, that's why we are the leading company in…"

He prattled on but Elliot didn't listen, all he could think of was the phrase "it's only capable of growing" as his cock throbbed.

"How much is it?"

It was bloody expensive, as it turned out. Elliott put a sizable dent in the savings he was putting away to get a mortgage on a single-bedroom flat. But somehow, all he felt was excitement, there was no shame or regret to be found anywhere.

After he made his purchases he had to go to their branch store and get injected with nanobots. The syringe wasn't that big and he wondered if it would be enough firepower for what he had in mind. They scanned his body thoroughly to put the model into his pad and wristband and connect the nanobots to it. As a trial, the shopping clerk showed him how to give himself impressive biceps and everyone present at the shop oohed and awed at the result. 

The promoter was right, it felt absolutely real. The rippling Sensation Elliott saw in the video felt only like a slight cold tingling under his skin and then within seconds the impressive biceps appeared.

He deactivated his SimNano, thanked the clerk and left, struggling to walk straight with his dick pressing hard against his trousers.

When he came home he almost immediately tore off his shirt. He brought out the control panel on the band with shaking hands and clicked on the scrawny little model of himself. He moved his finger around, highlighting his midriff and ass. He clicked "expand" and then in the tissue subcategory he clicked "fat" instead of the pre-selected "muscle". You could put the desired amounts in body percentages or in units of measurement. He clicked on lbs, the most precise one, and tapped in 20(9kg). Then after a moment's hesitation, he erased it and clicked 40lb(18kg) instead.

With shaking fingers he clicked "Active Mode" and his skin began to tingle with the cold sensation. Seconds later Elliott was staring down at a round, fat gut and he could feel his boxers strain mercilessly against his expanded ass. 

He put the pad away gently and grabbed the ball of flab at his front. He was never this fat in his life, but it felt real enough, from what he could guess. He lifted the stomach and let it drop, watching it jiggle and wobble. A moan escaped him. He couldn't believe this was happening. 

Before even getting a look in the mirror Elliott fell to the couch, frantically gnawing his flesh with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He never came this hard in his entire life. 

He finally managed to pull himself up into standing, revelling in how his gut was suddenly in the way and looked in the mirror. 

He laughed, the effect was ridiculous. Although his belly and ass looked fantastic and absolutely realistic, it looked ludicrous on his scrawny body which remained unchanged.

Elliott deactivated the band and reset the model. After a moment’s hesitation, he selected his entire body “Increase by 100% body mass” and selected “fat” in the tissue category. He considered carefully and finally decided to increase his ass and gut separately on top of increasing the fat equally around his entire body. 

Elliott’s finger hovered over the band, but before clicking the Activate button he checked the measurement box again and changed 100% to 200lb. Again, before clicking it, he wavered and finally ended up changing it to 300lb(136kg) with sweaty fingers. Adding 300lb to his meagre 132lb(60kg) would put him at a glorious 432lb(195kg), a fulfilment of a fantasy Elliott had since before he was even consciously aware of it. 

Eliott pressed the Activate button.

He was still standing in front of the mirror and he let out a gasp as the nanobots went to work, making his entire body shiver with the unfamiliar coldness, the feeling much more overwhelming with tasking them to simulate 300lb instead of a measly 40 he attempted at first. 

Elliott watched with intense, nearly blinding fascination as his body rippled slightly and moments later exploded into folds and bulges and rolls, becoming an unrecognisable mountain of flesh. He stared at the enormous gut, too heavy to be completely round as it hung in front of him almost like a massive, engorged flesh apron. His face was unrecognisable, swallowed by an enormous double chin and chubby cheeks, melting into the fat around his neck seamlessly. The man in the mirror couldn’t be him, could he? It was too good to be real… The fat man lifted his arm as Elliott lifted his, only his arm never had an enormous wing of fat hanging off it and jiggling as he moved. When Elliott moved his normal arm it didn’t send his entire massive body into wobbles, but the man in the mirror sure wobbled like an impressive jello dessert. 

Elliott grabbed his gut, an enormous, almost all-encompassing mound of flesh hanging in front of him. He grabbed it, lifted it as much as he could and dropped it. The way the flesh shook and jiggled forced a moan out of him. Already half-hard again, he inched closer to the mirror. Elliott could barely move under the unknown sensation of this immense bulk and he almost stumbled into his mirror, nearly crushing it. Just the half step made his heart race with excursion and his lungs begged for air. 

This SimNano thing was worth every penny, in fact, Elliott thought they were losing money. It was too good to be real. 

He turned off Active Mode, in a few seconds staring back at this familiar skinny self with an impressive hard-on. 

Staring intently, eager to catch every little detail, he pressed Activate again. 

Watching his body explode with fat, filling out with blubber in mere seconds and leaving him unrecognisable was so impossibly erotic that he climaxed just from turning the SimNano off and on again, watching himself gain hundreds of pounds in seconds. 

After he managed to somehow climax three times within the span of an hour he decided it was enough for one day, he was starting to feel light-headed. 

He tapped Deactivate. 

Nothing happened. 

He tapped it again. Still, nothing.

He stared at the band, but it appeared to be frozen. Frantically, he started waddling unsteadily to his backpack where the main SimNano pad was. Walking across the room to his bag while suddenly 300lb heavier was incredibly difficult and equally, if not more, arousing. His giant thighs were rubbing against each other, he could feel he was hitting his enormous apron of a gut with each clumsy step… The enormous behind he’d given himself jiggled with every step and so did his soft, blubbery tits. 

When he finally made it to his back and retrieved his pad Elliott was nearly ready to collapse with how out of breath he was. 

The pad was as frozen as the band was. 

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into the mirror across the room. He was enormous, there was no way he could leave the house like this and he had a night shift at the bar today. 

It was 5 p.m., and he had work at 8, so technically, he still had time. He could just… Indulge for a while while waiting for the SimNano to unfreeze. 

Elliott laboriously waddled to the bedroom. He had a few pieces of massive clothing he sometimes wore while stuffing it with pillows and pretending he was huge. He pulled on a pair of tracksuit trousers. They could barely encompass his enormous ass. Even the biggest of his secret fetish shirts was snug on him now and his monstrous gut was happily hanging out at the bottom. 

The flat needed tidying up and he also had to cook to have something to eat after his shift when he would undoubtedly be too tired to do anything. 

He began busying himself around the house, every little chore making him hornier than the last one. Everything was a thrill, trying to wipe dust off the higher shelves and feeling how his enormous gut was hanging further and further out of his shirt, trying to wash dishes and finding that he could barely reach into the sink with the enormous mound of blubber in the front of him. When he went to clean the plastic shower door, something that he meant to do all week, he nearly got stuck in the narrow space and instead of trying to find the best angle to free himself he rubbed against the shower wall, making himself cum just with the friction against his fat body. He would’ve jerked himself off if the was any hope of reaching his penis under all that flesh, which there absolutely wasn’t.

With all the chores completed and with food prepped for later, Elliott went to check on the pad. It was still frozen. It was 7.20 pm.

He called in sick and trying not to freak out about it just yet he repositioned the mirror closer to the couch where he planted his enormous ass and began rubbing his flesh. 

There was no need to freak out, he was sure the NanoSim would reset overnight. 

*

Elliott woke up still on the couch and still as enormous as when he drifted off, exhausted by the almost constant sexual tension of the previous day. 

He tapped the band. Frozen. The pad proved to be in a similar state. 

Elliott tried calling the NanoSim Technical Support but they told him that there was nothing they could do remotely because there were health hazards involved, so he would have to come to one of their stores to get it reset. 

Which meant… Going outside as a 432lb man. 

Elliott ate his modest breakfast of a skinny man and wondered how it would look to an outsider, a guy who was nearly half-tone of blubber eating a modest portion of oatmeal. 

Before leaving the house he pulled on a beanie and didn’t shave his unimpressive stubble. There was no way anyone would recognise him, but he still didn’t want to risk it. 

His heart was pounding so hard that it was all he could hear as Elliott stepped out into the hallway. 

Usually, Elliott just took the stairs from the second floor he lived on, but there was no way he was going to take the stairs today, he could barely move with all that unfamiliar weight on him, his waddle almost a caricature of itself. 

There was a lady in the lift and when the doors opened she frantically looked between Elliott and the lift control panel informing all the passengers that the weight limit was 500lb. She was slim, but there was no way she was less than 100lb. 

“You go on” Elliott smiled at her and she pressed the button to close the door almost frantically. 

He wasn’t sure if he actually WAS 432lb or if the nanobots just made it appear so to him, but he wasn’t going to risk it. 

There was an Uber waiting for him, but Elliott had to cancel the ride when it turned out that he couldn’t fit in the car. 

With his dick painfully hard and trapped between mounds of flesh he selected a different ride, making sure it was big enough to accommodate for a massive hog like him. He barely fit and his gut filled his lap completely. The driver was visibly disgusted and Elliott’s already painfully hard dick throbbed under his apron belly. 

Waddling and puffing his way through the shopping centre to the SimNano store was the most humiliating and gratifying experience of his life. Everyone, without exception, stared at the giant man barely waddling his way through the halls, his too-small shirt riding up his enormous gut and his face flushed with the effort of putting all that blubber into motion. 

When he finally made it to the store he was heaving, his breath rasping and his entire body sticky with sweat. 

The only person in the store was the clerk, a teak-skinned man with a mop of black curls and bright, quick eyes. He was very much Elliott’s type and the fact that he had to talk to a handsome guy while his enormous gut hung out of his shirt and he was so out of breath was arousing beyond all reason. 

“Hello, I’m Omar, how can I help you?” 

“Hi, I… uff.. Sorry… I have a problem with my SimNano, the program froze last night and it’s still frozen.” He handed the man his pad, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Let’s see here…” Omar took his pad from him and when he saw the program the SimNano was frozen on he slowly looked back up at Elliott, his lips stretching into a mischievous grin. Elliott felt like his entire face was on fire. Somehow it didn’t dawn on him that the clerk would see the program he was running. If he could, he’d bolt it out of the store in embarrassment, but he couldn’t, not when he was this massive. 

“Let me just do some troubleshooting here.” Omar said, his smirk still on his face as he plugged the device into a PC and started clicking. 

“Alright,” he said a few minutes later. “It looks like I got it, but let me just check…” 

“What…”

Elliott watched with growing terror as Omar proceeded to add another 50lb(22kg) to his program and activating it. Elliott staggered back, feeling his gut hanging marginally lower, the waistband of his tracksuit digging just that much deeper into his blubber. 

“Just to double check, better to be sure.” Omar said, adding another 50 on top of that. 

Elliott had to grab onto the counter as the enormous weight started to threaten to topple him to the ground. He was heaving just from the sheer effort of standing up.

Omar’s cheeky grin was turning downright mischievous. 

“I think it’s working now.” the clerk said, bringing the program down to its original +300lb setting. 

“T-thank you…” Elliott panted, taking his pad back and thanking all the Gods that his gut hid his erection. 

As he was waddling back to the entrance Omar’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Ey, fat boy.” 

That nickname alone nearly made Elliott give an ungainly moan, right there in the middle of the shopping centre.

“Y-yes?” “Give me your number, I write NanoSim codes in my spare time and big improvement to the overall experience. I mean…. Huge improvements.” 

Omar’s grin was pure evil and Elliott was sure his own was no better as he gave the handsome man his number.

This was going to be fun. 

PART 2

[feeder86]

Guy and a Gain

“Sure, she’s cute. But she can’t give a decent blow job to save her life,” Guy shrugged, checking out the girls on the dancefloor with his football buddy, Rich. 

“You’ve slept with her already?” Rich asked, always impressed by Guy’s prowess. 

“Of course I have. Look at her. She’s the prettiest girl in here by far,” he nodded down at her. “But she has no instincts when it comes to giving head. She’s been my biggest disappointment since I arrived on campus.”

“I’m sure she could learn,” Rich shrugged, still taken with the girl. He was tall and broad and enough of a catch for her. However, he didn’t have the natural good looks, strapping build and height that made it so effortless for Guy to pick up whoever he wanted on a night out.

“If you want her, go buy her a drink,” Guy shrugged. “But I’m telling you, you’ll be disappointed. If it’s a decent blow job you’re after tonight, you can’t go wrong with a fat girl. They’re always out to please. Gay guys too - awesome at taking a dick in their mouth.”

“Dude!” Rich shot back, taking a step back in horror. “You’re telling me you’re gay?”

Guy laughed, rolled his eyes and shook his head. He strapped his big arm over Rich’s shoulders and pulled him back in. “Don’t be that guy,” he stated warningly. “Not if you and I are going to be friends. It’s not the nineties. You hear what I’m saying?” he asked, turning his head to Rich. There was no denying which of them would win in a fight, so he wasn’t about to take some outdated homophobic shit just because the idiot came from some backwards ghost town in the midwest. “I love sex. And I stick my dick wherever it feels good. That’s just the kind of man I am.”

Rich seemed to get that he’d been out of line and he nodded respectfully. All the boys on the football team looked up to Guy, not just for his sporting capability and strength, but because he genuinely didn’t seem to give a crap about what others thought about him. He was smart and sharp; perfectly suited to the business degree he was studying. “So who’s given you the best time since we started college?” he asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Guy chuckled. “I have this skinny little geek in the room next to mine. You could tell he was a total virgin until I came along, but… fuck me! The boy is a natural when it comes to sucking. And so convenient, right next door. I don’t even have to knock.”

Rich nodded; his world view was a little less narrow than it had been a few minutes ago and he now seemed genuinely interested in his team mate’s extensive experiences in the bedroom. They chatted a bit more, until Guy saw the girl he wanted that night. Short, round and eyeing him like crazy. He’d give her a night she’d never forget!

“She was a bit of a noisy one last night,” Mikey grumbled, sliding into the kitchen area the next morning.

Guy laughed and tore a large bite out of his toast with his teeth. “Sorry, buddy,” he laughed. “I forgot you nerds all go to bed at 9am.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and poured himself some cereal. It was rare that they ever got the kitchen space to themselves like this, but Guy was always up for his gym session, no matter what time he went to bed. He sat there, hunched at the breakfast bar, his damp clothes sticking to his enormously muscular body. Even unshowered and stinking of sweat like this, he knew he could still get his favorite neighbor, Mikey, to go down on him in a microsecond.

“I noticed you brought home another fat girl,” Mikey commented next, grabbing the last of his own fresh milk that Guy had left him, after downing most of it post-workout. “You’re making quite a habit of this.”

Guy rose to his feet and laughed, dropping his plate in the sink for Mikey to clean up after him and grabbing the boy by his hips from behind. “Spying on me, huh?” he whispered teasingly. The boy was at least half a foot shorter than him, melting the moment he was touched. “Jealous, perhaps?”

Mikey moaned as he felt Guy’s lustful hands slide into his crotch to check how hard he was. “I just thought…” he mumbled, “some people find it odd when athletes like you date the fat girls.”

“Because I really give a shit about what people think, don’t I?” Guy chuckled back, peeling back Mikey’s shorts so that his tight glutes were exposed. “I could fuck your skinny little ass later if you think it might balance things out a bit?” he teased. He strolled off to the refrigerator, leaving Mikey to cover himself back up before anyone else came in, perusing the shelf of food Mikey had bought for himself yesterday and seeing if there was anything he wanted to help himself to. “Just because you eat like a little sparrow...,” he sighed, seeing the boring items within and taking a large pot of yoghurt to eat in his bedroom, “... it doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.”

Later that evening, Guy lay back on Mikey’s bed, his head swirling from the intensity of the orgasm after shooting down his geeky neighbor’s throat. He’d never admit to his face how good Mikey was at this, but of the scores of people he had slept with since coming to college, Mikey was the only one he’d made a habit of going back to.

“How was that?” the keen boy asked; his eyes watering from having taken Guy so far down his throat.

“Average,” Guy lied, wishing the nerd would be quiet a few moments longer and allow him this period of pure bliss.

“Not like the fat girls you bring home with you then?” Mikey asked.

Guy opened his eyes and sighed, sitting up. “Are you still going on about that?” he grumbled, pulling his underwear back up his muscular legs and raising his butt to get them all the way up.

“I kinda wanted to ask you something?” Mikey tried next, in an oddly serious tone.

Again, Guy sighed impatiently. “What is it?”

“These fat girls you go after… do you ever get horny thinking about them… y’know… getting even fatter?”

Guy raised an eyebrow. What sort of an odd question was that? He shrugged his shoulders, deciding not to commit to an answer and see where the hell Mikey was going with this. “Why do you ask?”

Mikey seemed emboldened by Guy’s response, getting up from his kneeling position on the floor and sitting on the chair by his desk. “It’s just… sort of a fantasy of mine,” he explained.

“Me fucking fat chicks?” Guy asked sceptically? He realised he knew so little about what genuinely got Mike going.

“No. Not that,” he replied, shaking his head. “There’s just something so kinky and submissive about getting fat for someone; becoming soft and out of shape.”

Guy looked across, even more puzzled, despite doing his best to hide it. “You eat less food than anyone else I know,” he shot back. “You won’t be getting fat anytime soon!”

Mikey nodded, as if Guy had hit the nail right on the head. “Exactly!” he smiled. “Imagine if someone pushed me to get fat for them! If some dominant guy made me eat all the things that forced my body to grow and grow for his own pleasure. How fucking sexy would that be?”

Nodding, Guy considered the idea. “You’re definitely submissive enough,” he agreed, standing and pulling up his sweat shorts. 

“You’re not going to tell anyone I told you that, are you?” Mikey asked, suddenly panicked.

“Who the fuck do you think would be interested?” Guy laughed. “People are allowed to have kinks, y’know? You need to lighten up a little!”

Mikey nodded back in agreement. Neither of them socialised within the same circles anyway. Guy was nothing if not liberal when it came to all things to do with sex. It was water off a duck’s back.

Mikey didn’t mention the subject the next time Guy went over for his servicing, despite being surprisingly chatty about his day afterwards. Guy listened out of a vague politeness as he stretched out on Mikey’s comfortable bed and watched the TV screen in the background. He could relax around Mikey. The guy didn’t take any of this too seriously and never got clingy or sentimental. Sex was sex.

In fact, it was only as Guy spotted Mikey in the corner at a frat house party, that he realised he had never actually seen Mikey outside of the dorms until then. Their lives were so disconnected, with the exception of the thin wall that separated their dorm rooms. He waved politely, following the other athletes through to the kitchen, where the usual fun and drinking games took place.

Later that evening, with a circle of women swarming around him, Guy looked over to see a boy looking in Mikey’s direction. Tall, slim and not unattractive, he gave Guy the distinct impression that he was interested in the nerdy boy. “Does anyone know who that one is?” Guy asked the girls.

“That’s just Aiden,” one replied. “He’s got a crush on that guy over there,” she pointed at Mikey. “They're on the same course together or something.”

Aiden? That name rang a bell. Guy was sure he’d heard that name mentioned by Mikey a few times in the past. It surprised him how little he had actually considered Mikey’s life outside of their casual fucking. Of course Mikey was going to pique someone else’s interest at some point. Guy wasn’t the type to get into a relationship, but perhaps Mikey would be. Then what would happen? No more awesome blow jobs for a start. Normal people weren’t good at sharing.

“Hey, Mikey!” Guy suddenly shouted from across the room, catching sight of Aiden moving in, as if to make his move. “Come grab a drink with me.”

Mikey smiled and diligently headed over. There, Guy wrapped a big arm over his slim shoulders and slipped a shot into his hand. Guy himself didn’t drink, never needing alcohol to make him fun at a party and refusing to fuck his training up with toxins that could impact his progress. There he stood, guarding the boy from any who may try to come near. Ten minutes was all they stayed after that, walking back to the dorms so that Aiden couldn’t sneak his way towards Mikey when Guy wasn’t looking.

“Are you coming in?” Guy asked, opening the door to his own bedroom and inviting Mikey inside. 

“I’m honoured!” Mikey joked, having never been invited into Guy’s room before. He stepped over the threshold, into the dungeon of mess, sweat and sex.

The idea of Aiden had plagued Guy’s mind, suddenly making him realise just how much he had taken Mikey, and his awesome sucking skills, for granted. A gesture was required; a way to show the boy that his pleasure was important too. Guy stood in the middle of the room, planting his feet solidly and pulled the geek into him; kissing him passionately in an almost romantic manner. “Did you like that?” he grinned afterwards, knowing how well he could seduce when he wanted to. He pulled off his shirt and went in again, this time guiding Mikey’s hands to explore his muscular chest. He needed Mikey to know what an absolutely perfect specimen he was if the boy was going to be asked out by Aiden soon; let him see what he would be missing out on if he got into a relationship. “Let’s take off your clothes,” Guy whispered next, undressing Mikey himself until his pants and underwear fell around his feet and he stood there naked, erect and longing for him.

Mikey seemed to appreciate how different this all was. Guy was the first to admit that he never really put the effort in when it came to his sessions with the boy next door. Then, when Guy started sliding his large hand up and down Mikey’s hardness, the skinny boy moaned like he could climax at any time.

Guy had no intention of losing his fuck buddy. For the last hour, he’d been plotting how best to handle the situation, settling upon something he decided he could give Mikey better than anyone else. He threw open his closet door where a mirror rested on the other side, now reflecting Mikey perfectly back at himself.

“Who’s that skinny little shit in the mirror?” Guy teased him, looking like a monster of pure muscle stood behind him.

In the mirror, Mikey watched Guy’s hand slowly sliding up and down his hardness; his lust filled eyes half closed and his jaw slack.

“I want you to do something for me,” Guy whispered next. “I want you to drink my protein shakes,” he nodded backwards to the little minibar that also served as a bedside table for him. “Five hundred and eighty calories each,”

Mikey turned and looked up at him, as if the reflected version was merely a mirage. “You want me to drink all your shakes?” he asked, as if worried he had misunderstood.

“Yeah, I do…” Guy nodded down at him. “Every last drop.”

Guy could feel Mikey almost quivering with arousal. He bent down to his little fridge and popped the lid on one of his shakes.

“You know what these will do to you, right?” Guy grinned. “These aren’t made for skinny little dweebs like you. Boys who drink these and don’t exercise… they start to…” he whispered, keeping Mikey hanging on his every word. “...They start to get a little fat!””

Mikey nodded with absolute submission; his hands twitching to take the bottle from Guy’s large hand.

“Say goodbye to the skinny boy,” Guy laughed, nodding at the reflection once more, before twisting the mirror slightly so that the angle changed. Then he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. He spread his legs, pulling Mikey to sit into his crotch with his back resting against his strapping chest. Cleverly, Mikey could still see everything in the mirror as Guy’s hand rose up his neck, tipping his head back so that it rested on his muscular shoulder. Then those strong fingers pressed into Mikey’s cheeks, opening the jaws and turning Mikey’s mouth into the perfect pouring hole for the shake.

The mixture was cold. Guy took his time, adding a little at a time, as if making Mikey work for it. He theatrically rubbed the boy’s throat, like he was encouraging a good swallow; then went straight back to work on that aching erection. Once one bottle was down, Guy could reach with his giant arm span down into his minibar for the next, without even having to move Mikey. Then, down went another, and another.

“Can you see what’s happening?” Guy whispered, rubbing a hand over Mikey’s bloating stomach.

“It looks so big!” Mikey moaned back, with Guy having to pull his hand away from the boy’s erection once again in order to stop him climaxing.

“This is what you’re going to grow for me,” Guy demanded. “Every day, everything you eat… all for me.”

Mikey moaned so loudly now, it felt almost cruel to deny him his orgasm any longer. “Yes!” he nodded emphatically. “I swear. I absolutely swear!”

Guy only needed to touch him for a few seconds and the eruption that followed was more explosive than any he had ever seen a guy make. He looked at the splatter above the headboard behind them and chuckled. It was almost as high as he could get it himself. This was certainly a strange kink that Mikey had, but Guy felt that he had made his point well. No one was going to indulge this geek in his fantasies about weight gain; at least, not like Guy could. So why would Mikey need to look for connections anywhere else?

A few days later, Guy did a double take as he looked on Mikey's shelf in the refrigerator for food he could steal after his workout. Gone were the boring, sensible ingredients, replaced with high carb options, sugars and high fat dairy. Guy almost thought he was just confused, until he checked out the cupboard that Mikey kept for himself as well, finding a similar story. He frowned in confusion, wondering whether people had reorganised the kitchen space, until the encounter with Mikey nights before came back to him. Was the boy actually going to have a go at gaining a few pounds? How cute was that? But would this mean that Guy would have to buy more of his own food whilst Mikey was going through this little phase of his? 

The normally fresh and clean smell of Mikey’s room was tainted by spices and the sweaty, grease stained food containers that piled up on the boy’s desk. Mikey himself looked bloated and sluggish, his stomach stretched so much that he was obviously in some discomfort. Guy looked down at him, trying to hold back a laugh. “Someone’s been enjoying himself!” he teased.

Mikey nodded. “If I’d have known you wanted to stop by tonight, I’d have saved the pizza so you could watch me eat it all for you.”

Guy wondered what on Earth Mikey expected him to get out of watching him eat a pizza. Was it supposed to be kinky? Like the protein shakes? Perhaps it was part of the submission aspect. All the same, it sounded more than a little dull. But this was Mikey’s kink and Guy was hardly about to shame him about it. On the contrary, how exciting that the otherwise vanilla boy was actually doing something that he genuinely found thrilling. “We’ll have a little fat belly on you in no time!” he smirked, reaching down to pat the clearly overstuffed stomach.

Like a flip switching in Mikey’s mind, the boy instantly became more aroused. Guy took notice, rubbing the stomach more and more, until Mikey finally fished out Guy’s boner and set his magic mouth to work.

“Have you seen Mikey recently?” asked Hannah, a former conquest of Guy's and the girl who lived across the hallway. “He’s seriously packed on the Freshman Fifteen.”

“You probably just saw him after he’d had a meal,” Guy replied knowingly. “He tends to eat a lot in one go. He gets bloated.”

Hannah shook her head, not accepting the excuse in the slightest. “This was first thing in the morning. He has actual love handles!” she stated emphatically.

Now it was Guy’s turn to shake his head. He’d only been in to play with Mikey a few days before the Spring Break and he hadn’t noticed any sign of love handles before then.

Hannah laughed. “Seriously!” she chuckled. “I’m not making this up.”

Guy marched down the corridor and knocked on Mikey’s door, making Hannah laugh as she stayed in the kitchen. “Wakey, wakey!” he called out, knowing that the boy was rarely up at this time on a Saturday. In the short space of time that it took a groggy Mikey to get out of bed, the door clicked unlocked and in Guy went, closing the door behind him. The dark, hunched form of Guy’s drowsy neighbor slipped straight back into bed. Instead, Guy strolled over to the window and threw them open dramatically. “Time to get up!” he teased. 

As light flooded the room, Guy could see the mess of wrappers and containers that was testament to how much Mikey had been overfeeding himself since he arrived back on Wendesday night. He laughed to himself, picking up some of the mess and putting it on the boy’s desk. Then, knowing that it would frustrate Mikey, he reached for the duvet and yanked it away with full force, uncovering the entirely naked boy lying on his front underneath.

Guy’s eyes flew to the little rounded pads of flesh on Mikey’s side, the skin starting to crease and mark the area more clearly: love handles, without a shadow of a doubt. “Ho, ho!” he blasted in amusement. “Look at you!” he marvelled, reaching his big hand down onto his neighbor’s glute and finding it was squishy and significantly bouncier, with clearly added mass to it. “Someone is actually getting chubby!” he teased, absolutely astonished with the difference. That skinny little ass was gone, replaced with something much more meaty and even a little feminine.

Despite his tiredness, Mikey wrigged with arousal at the touch as Guy began playing with the softness that even spread down into his thighs. He rolled over; his erection already sizable as he tried to open his eyes and look towards Guy, even with the harsh light coming in through the window behind him.

What was happening to Mikey’s chest? Guy inspected further. The nipples seemed softer and the blubbery build up in the boy’s love handles was further spread across his stomach, deepening his belly button. “Stand up,” Guy demanded. “I want to look at you properly.”

Mikey did as he was told, Guy placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, guiding him over to the mirror, so that he could see all angles at once.

“Fuck!” Guy laughed, seeing what a transformation had been silently happening behind his back. He felt proud. The biggest complaint people had about Mikey, here in the dorms, was that he was a fairly dull and boring person. Well, look at him now! This was hardly boring. The kinky little fucker was actually doing something none of them would ever have the guts to do. “I’m pleased,” Guy told him honestly, looking at his face in the reflection. “How does it feel for you?”

At this Mikey’s hands began exploring himself, grabbing at the fat and jiggling where he could with the tips of his fingers. “Amazing!” he whispered back, bursting with arousal.

“Well then…” Guy smiled, placing his hand back on Mikey’s chubby glute: his favorite new feature by far. “...You have to keep going,” he stated. “Keep eating and eating. Add more and more fresh fat onto this frame of yours.”

“I will,” Mikey nodded back obediently. “If it’s what you want. I’ll keep going as far as I can!”

Guy had never seen Mikey’s dick dribbling with arousal so easily. If this weight gain and submission was what aroused him so much, there was no way he could let it stop. “It’s what I want,” Guy agreed. “I want you to grow a proper fat belly, just for me.”

The pair kissed. Guy had never felt Mikey moan and collapse into him quite so much; like a ragdoll, ready to be played with.

“I know what’ll help…” Guy laughed, pulling down his pants and tugging on his own semi-erection until it was pumped and hard. “Let’s lubricate your throat ready for a full day of eating,” he joked cheekily.

Immediately, Mikey slipped to his knees. His jaws opened and he hungrily took the whole of Guy’s enormous erection down his throat like no one else on campus could. It took Guy by surprise each time, how instantaneous the pleasure was. He had to spread his legs a little more and reach one hand out to steady himself on the wall for fear that he may fall over. He didn’t need to press Mikey’s head into his crotch. The boy needed no guidance in the slightest. It was all just so perfect.

An involuntary moan escaped Guy’s lips. Now that his fuck buddy was getting fat, he wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to steal him away. Mikey’s mouth was all his.

No one on campus was aware that Guy and Mikey were anything more than casual acquaintances, and so no one was cautious about discussing Mikey weight gain around Guy. The overall feeling was one of amusement. In many ways, it was understandable. Mikey had indeed been incredibly thin at the start of the year and he was heading towards the summer looking significantly softer and padded. For the most part, Guy simply ignored it, or tried to move the conversations away. He wasn’t about the campus drama and the behind the scenes bad-mouthing like some of the others. Sure, people were going to talk, but they didn’t have the full story in the same way that Guy did.

The final football game of the season arrived and Guy was pumped for it. He didn’t get nervous like the others seemed to. He was also bigger than everyone else on the field, not weighed down by excess weight, making him lighter on his feet than the opposition ever expected from him. He’d been buzzing the entire morning, heading to the gym for a full session despite the advice from his coach to rest that morning. He simply had too much energy to spare. He knocked on Mikey’s door wondering whether the boy was up for a little fun before he had to leave. Unlike everyone else in the dorms, Mikey never came down to the games. He simply wasn’t into sports, and that was fair enough. In fact, Mikey seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that it was even taking place that day, answering the door and ushering Guy inside excitedly.

“Look what I bought!” the chubby boy smiled, leading Guy over to his desk where a large, round cake sat waiting for a party of twenty people to come in and start feasting upon it. “I’m going to try and eat it all this afternoon!” he beamed.

Guy chuckled to himself, seeing the erection already pressing against Mikey’s sweatshorts. “You go for it, buddy!” he smiled, clapping the boy on his back. His enthusiasm for overeating and putting on weight was almost infectious at times. He lifted the plastic lid and swept his finger around the edge, gathering a decent amount of cream which Mikey excitedly sucked off.

“Do you want to feed it to me?” Mikey asked, pulling his shirt off to reveal his softening torso.

Inwardly, Guy sighed with disappointment. How long would that take? He had to leave in twenty minutes or so, and if Mikey’s mouth was going to be occupied that entire time, there was no chance of a quick blow job. 

“How about…” Guy began, lifting his own shirt off and dropping his shorts and underwear, “...we both have a little fun at the same time?”

“What did you have in mind?” Mikey asked, watching as Guy pulled out the lubricant from the drawer and squirted it into his hand.

Guy looked down at him with a smirk. Then he reached a hand into Mikey’s crack and began preparing the area, making the boy moan with arousal as his large fingers brushed and gently penetrated. Mikey pulled down his underwear to help him and was soon leaning into it so much that Guy could give him a decent warm up.

Having a firm press down on his back, Mikey obediently slipped onto all fours. Guy reached for the cake and placed it underneath the boy’s face. “Ready?” he asked, reaching for Mikey’s jaw, as if loosening it up for better movement and stretch.

Mikey’s eyes were on the prize. His head was lowered down into it, perhaps more than he was expecting, his nose now pressing into the sponge and his tongue lapping it all up with ferocious speed.

Guy assumed his position, grabbing a condom, sliding his hardness into Mikey’s gaping butt and sighing with pleasure. As blessed as most people told him he was with such a large dick, Guy found he was rarely allowed to settle into his own good rhythm when penetrating. There was simply too much of him to handle. WIth Mikey, however, the boy just seemed to relax so much, it was like total freedom for Guy. After wincing the initial time they had tried this, Mikey took to it with ease. He was the only one Guy could properly deliver what he referred to as a ‘thorough pounding’.

Through the mirror, Guy could see that Mikey’s face was now covered in cake as he tried to gorge himself at the same time as his body was getting pumped from behind. Guy laughed, happy to take the control that Mikey offered up so willingly. “Come on!” he chuckled. “You can do better than that!” he called out encouragingly, seeing Mikey’s tongue scrabbling about trying to lick up as much as he could.

The fat on Mikey’s back had really come a long way since they had last done this. The love handles in particular seemed to ripple and bounce out of sync with the rest of his body. The bones in his shoulder blades were less severe and an emerging softness appeared to be forming just under his arms. However, the boy’s butt was the centerpiece; the way it was spread so wide and felt so much softer to the touch as Guy gripped on.

A moan started emanating from Mikey. In the mirror, his eyes were rolling up into his head. He began oinking - actually oinking, as he continued to gorge himself. Guy sped up. There was nothing he got off to more than seeing someone else genuinely getting lost in the moment. Mikey was letting go like never before.

“That’s it!” Guy cried out. “Oink like a pig!”

Without even a hand anywhere near his own hardness, it was obvious that Mikey was climaxing. His face fell upon the cake and he groaned louder than he ever had during sex before. The whole thing made the pleasure build upon Guy with rapid speed; almost taken by surprise as he felt himself squirt.

Guy wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. He’d rarely felt so completely satisfied before. He pulled out, stopping only momentarily to chuckle at the wide, gaping hole he left behind, then unpeeled the condom and began dressing himself. The mess was everywhere, cake smashed into the carpet that would take some time to scrub out.

“Thanks for that,” Guy smiled, looking down at the fat boy who had rolled onto his doughy rear and not even attempted to clean any of the cake off his face yet. He too seemed to be enjoying momentary bliss, grabbing at the first roll of his fattened stomach like it was the most precious thing in the world. Guy’s work was done here.

During the summer months, Guy had sweet talked his way into an internship with a local company, hoping to boost his CV for when he finished his degree in a further two years. He didn’t need to be told that his pretty face would be an asset for the company, but he was surprised at how much more he was interacting with the clients than the others in his position. A well fitting shirt and a tight pair of pants never failed to make things easier for him to charm pretty much everyone he was around. He’d briefly dated a couple of girls, wanting to experience the steamy ‘summer love’ of his old high school days. However, Guy was not about to settle down for anyone.

Mikey, meanwhile, had taken a job at a fast food restaurant back in his hometown; returning to campus that year looking like he hadn’t stopped eating the entire time. Quite a few of them had applied to stay in the dorms and been successful, but there was still plenty of fresh meat for Guy to enjoy about the place.

Guy remembered being quite taken aback when he saw the full stomach on Mikey after their time apart. It had morphed from a tight paunch to a full starter gut, complete with pointed and juicy-looking nipples. Had the boy seriously eaten nothing but fast food all summer? A simple rub of Mikey’s stomach or jiggle of his fleshy rear never failed to get the new chub horny, and Guy was all in for that. He thought back to the previous year and how forward he’d had to be with shy Mikey just to let him know that he was interested. Sex had not been a part of Mikey’s life before then, and now look at him: his entire body turned into a playhouse of his kinkiest sexual fantasies! Guy felt nothing but pride.

“You knew Mikey from last year, right?” asked Samantha, a clearly high-maintenance fresher girl who had moved in last week. “Maybe you can get through to him.”

“Why?” Guy asked, wondering what seemed to be so urgent.

“You need to let him know that we don’t want to see his belly hanging out anymore. He’s just bent down into the refrigerator and I had about four inches of his butt crack staring back at me!”

Guy laughed. “Is that all?” he sighed in relief. “I thought something was wrong.”

Samantha exhaled in shock. “Something is wrong!” she blasted. “He can’t be allowed to keep walking around in clothes that are that tight! It’s disgusting!”

“Leave him be,” Guy shrugged. “You don’t need to be around him if you don’t want to.”

“There are some guys who make fun of him on his course,” Samantha pressed on. “If he’d just wear a damn sweatshirt or something to try and make himself look like less of a target, I’m sure they’d leave him alone.”

At this, Guy stood up from his chair, suddenly filled with anger. “Who’s been making fun of him?” he demanded, ready to go and see to them, right there and then.

“Mikey is the one who needs speaking to!” Samantha shot back. “Go ask him who the guys are. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

Shaking his head with annoyance, Guy stormed down the corridor and let himself into Mikey’s room without even knocking. The boy was sitting at his desk, still pushing a large tray of cream cakes he had collected from the refrigerator when he had offended Samantha so much. He turned in surprise, seeing Guy bursting in on him like this.

“Who’s making fun of you on your course?” Guy asked, closing the door behind him.

Mikey smiled; his chubby cheeks and chin showing all the more. “Oh, you heard about that?” he chuckled. “A couple of the new freshmen: Dan and Alec.”

“You’ll need to point them out to me,” Guy demanded, clearly annoyed. “I’ll soon sort them out.”

Mikey’s face was one of pure amusement. “Not everything is a problem that needs fixing,” he simply replied, pushing a cream cake into his mouth.

“What is it they say to you?” Guy pressed on.

Mikey chewed and swallowed. “Oh, lots of things!” he giggled. “Fat Boy, Pig, Piggy, Lardass!”

Guy could feel his heart beating faster with frustration However, Mikey seemed entirely relaxed and happy. “Wait a minute…” Guy stopped him. “Is this one of those things..?” he pondered. “Are you… Do you get off on this? The guys treating you that way?”

Mikey raised his eyebrows cheekily, not needing to say anything further.

“That’s why your clothes are so tight this year, isn’t it? You actually want people to comment?” Guy asked next, feeling like he had delved further than ever before into the mind of his part-time lover.

Again, Mikey only pressed a cake into his mouth and smirked.

Guy felt all the pent-up frustration in him release. A great wave of affection for Mikey swept through him and he reached out a hand to pull the chubby boy up from his chair, leaning him back into his great arms like he was trying to seduce him all over again. “You’re the kinkiest little fucker I’ve ever come across,” he smiled with delight. “You know that right?”

Mikey swallowed and grinned back. “You started this,” he stated, rubbing his easily accessible belly fat as his overly short t-shirt rode up.

Guy looked down at the boy’s gut and nodded. “I sure did!” he teased. “And what a good piggy you’ve turned out to be!” he smirked, trying the word out now he knew a little more about how it excited Mikey.

The chub seemed to melt into him further. They kissed and then quickly undressed for the inevitable.

The Spring was upon them once again as Guy invited Mikey over to his room for a quiet evening together. Mikey always seemed more aroused to be in Guy’s room for whatever reason. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Guy had fucked and pleasured so many people between those sheets of his. The large athlete was sitting propped up against the headboard, romantically caressing Mikey as he leant against his naked chest and watched a movie with him.

Watching movies was not usually Guy’s thing. He’d often been accused of having an attention difficulty in school, making him restless and troublesome in class, despite the high grades he always came away with. But here, with Mikey, Guy felt complete relaxation, rubbing that fat stomach that had been grown for him and laughing together at the funny parts of the picture.

“There’s actually a gainer event happening not too far away in a couple of months,” Mikey explained, scrolling through his cell phone.

“When is it?” Guy asked. “I can take you.”

Mikey mumbled nervously. “I’m not so sure it’s my thing…” he fretted. “I’d be too nervous.”

At this, Guy laughed. “Nervous? You?” He rubbed Mikey’s large stomach. The boy was now a full one hundred and twenty pounds heavier than he had been when the pair met over eighteen months ago, standing at a full two hundred and sixty pounds despite his fairly average height. He’d battled name-calling, family disapproval and public wardrobe malfunctions aplenty. “You’re the bravest person I know.” 

Again, Mikey grumbled in disagreement.

Guy quickly did an internet search on his cell phone and found it himself. “There!” he declared a minute later, putting his cell phone back on the bed beside him. “Two tickets. One for me, and one for my lardass!” he teased, kissing Mikey on the back of his head and squeezing him once more. “I’lll book us a nice hotel later too.” Picking up a few modelling jobs had definitely helped make Guy’s life a little easier of late, and there was no one who deserved a treat more.

As the date approached, Mikey had gone into a frenzy of calorie consuming, determined to look the part for a gainer event. The boy was just a frustrating couple of pounds shy of three hundred when Guy took his chubby little hand and led him inside. 

Guy had never seen so many huge men in the same room and they eyed him suspiciously until they saw that his hand was placed appreciatively on Mikey’s broad butt as they stood to the side of the dancefloor.

“There are still quite a few small guys,” Guy whispered to Mikey, who had been worried about not being fat enough for weeks. “A few dad bods with only a little gut to show for themselves.”

Mikey nodded, feeling better and more relaxed as others started coming up to them, wanting to know their story.

“That person’s been checking you out all night,” Guy nodded over at a slender and handsome man in the corner.

“No he hasn’t,” Mikey shot back.

“Trust me, when people aren’t checking me out, I notice,” Guy replied. “He’s definitely interested in you.”

Mikey smiled, rather flattered.

“Who knows, he might be open to a little…” Guy winked, having learned recently that Mikey had a small fantasy about having a threesome. Guy waved his arm and beckoned the man over to them, despite Mikey’s nervous protests.

The admirer introduced himself as Henry and he admitted to having attended plenty of these types of events in the last few years. “What’s your weight?” he asked Mikey; an outrageous question in any other circumstances but these.

Guy jumped in to answer. “He’s just hit three-twenty,” he lied. He was only one hundred and forty pounds two years ago.”

“That’s impressive!” Henry nodded, clearly more interested than ever.

“He’s been a high achiever his whole life,” Guy smiled, wrapping his strong large arm over Mikey’s shoulders with pride.

Henry wanted to know more about their situation and circumstances. Were they an item? Was it casual? Was Guy really a feeder? But when the time came to ask him if he wanted to come back to the hotel with them, Henry did not decline. They stopped for takeout on the way, with Henry very clearly getting off on how much Mikey was able to eat: being so assertive with the chub, clearly setting high expectations from the start. Then they all headed back, making every pleasurable second all about Mikey; just as he deserved.

At the end of another summer, Guy and Mikey embarked upon their final year of college. Mikey’s weight had continued to creep up, with his face now properly framed by a large double chin and his upper arms finally starting to puff up and broaden him up a bit.

“I actually met up with Henry a couple of times this summer,” Mikey explained casually as the pair of them lay awkwardly facing each other on the narrow single bed in Guy’s room.

Guy instantly felt ashamed of the giant wave of jealousy that washed over him. He’d slept with a countless number of people during their casual sex games of the last two years, yet he begrudged Mikey even this little thing in return. Still, he tried not to show his feelings, diligently asking questions and smiling encouragingly, as if this was all positive news.

“Henry really knows how to push me to eat,” Mikey went on. “I’ve never eaten as much in my life! And it was all the type of stuff that he knew would only make me fatter.”

Guy nodded, concealing the inadequacy he felt. He’d never really been what Mikey had wanted. He only knew the absolute basics of the feedism kink Mikey was so into and had, for the most part, got away without having to sit through many of the tedious feeding sessions Mikey seemed to enjoy so much. This whole affair with Mikey had started because Guy hadn’t wanted anyone to take the champion blow-job boy away from him, yet he had unknowingly opened the floodgates during that fairly average threesome he had been a part of back at the gainer event. “Are you meeting up with him again?” he asked casually.

“He’s coming here in December,” Mikey squeaked excitedly. “But he’s given me strict instructions to continue to eat and grow before then. I honestly think he wants me to be absolutely huge!”

Guy smiled back at him, despite the sadness he felt. Mikey was undoubtedly slipping away from him.

That December, Guy had been away with the football team during the weekend of Henry’s visit. Even so, Mikey’s weight had continued to increase at an almost alarming rate, both before and after the feeder had called over. It had been spurred on by the many messages and video calls the pair had made, despite the great geographical distance between them. Guy had so many other things on his mind, he tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him, but he was never fully successful. Mikey himself was now entirely unrecognisable, coated with giant amounts of fat all over his body. His frame had widened, with fat spilling out from his round gut and his nipples sagging right onto his swollen midsection. He walked slowly about the campus, usually carrying a backpack filled with fattening supplies from the nearby supermarket in order to further his weight gain. Likewise, Henry had begun ordering fast food to the dorms, increasing Mikey’s intake even more and ensuring that the boy had surpassed three hundred and eighty pounds by April.

Guy knew that he couldn’t get away with avoiding Henry a second time when he stopped by for an entire week that Spring, just before the final exam season got underway. The conversation was polite, but it was obvious that Henry wanted more time alone with Mikey, rather than having Guy tagging along.

“Let’s be real…” Henry stated at the end of the week, taking advantage of the fact that Mikey had gone to the bathroom at the restaurant he was treating the two of them to a meal at. “You’re not actually a feeder, are you?”

“What does that matter?” Guy shrugged. “I’ve done pretty well getting Mikey’s weight up. He would still be that skinny little twig if it wasn’t for me.”

Henry shook his head and laughed. “No he wouldn’t!” he replied dismissively. “Mikey is a fat boy, through and through! I’ve never come across anyone like him. If you hadn’t been there, he would have found some other excuse to start piling the pounds on. It’s just in him. He’s meant to be absolutely enormous.”

Guy didn’t have a response. In reality, he’d known as much from the very beginning. Mikey had never needed much encouragement to overeat, and he’d always seemed propelled to fatten by some force greater than a basic kinky subservience kink to Guy himself.

“I’m going to ask him to move with me to Phoenix when he finishes college next month,” Henry announced; his tone one of uncompromising assertiveness.

“Phoenix?” Guy gasped in alarm. “But I’ll never see him!”

“What the hell did you think he was going to do when he finished college? You’ve got a job lined up here in the city, but what is there for Mikey? He doesn’t have any family here. You really expected him to just hang around for you?”

Guy exhaled, knowing that they couldn’t carry the conversation on with the fattened Mikey trotting back towards the table. He ground his teeth together, wondering how best to fight this plan to uproot Mikey’s entire life and move him to Phoenix. But then he witnessed the boy’s delight the next day as Henry made the offer, and witnessed the tears days later as Henry had to leave him once more. It was over. Mikey had found the one he was really meant to be with.

“You’ll come and visit me, right?” Mikey asked as Guy dropped the last of Mikey’s stuff in the back of Henry’s truck a few weeks later.

“Of course I will,” Guy nodded, trying to hold back on how cut up he felt that his time with Mikey was now over. “Just you try and stop me!”

The pair hugged warmly.

Next, Henry came up and shook Guy’s hand. Despite the silent animosity between them, there was an air of respect. Henry had been right, after all. Mikey needed a lot more than Guy could give him. This was the life that the fat boy coveted and deserved. But Henry was no idiot either. He knew what Guy was giving up; that he had fallen in love with the boy, and that his love was not returned; at least, not in the same way.

“Come on, Fatso!” Henry smiled, patting Mikey on his wide, blubbery butt. “We’d best hit the road.”

Guy stood looking into the distance long after the truck went out of sight. One very massive chapter of his life had just ended, and another was about to begin.

[big-snack]

Ghostface and The Captured Hunk

It was well past midnight. Mark lay sprawled out in his king sized bed. He had always been athletic, his blonde hair cropped short, his physique was nothing short of sculpted perfection. Tall and imposing, his muscular frame seemed to have been carved from stone. His broad shoulders and powerful arms bulged with thick, defined muscles, the kind that only came from years of relentless training. His chest was broad and solid, tapering down to a set of chiseled abs that rippled with every subtle movement. Covered in a light dusting of hair, his body exuded a primal strength, accentuated by the way his veins stood out under his skin, pulsing with raw power.

Mark woke to the sound of heavy footsteps creaking across the wooden floor of his secluded cabin.

His body was tense beneath the covers as he listened to the unnatural silence that followed.

He sat up slowly, his heart racing. The soft glow from the moon barely lit up the room, casting pale shadows across his face. His jaw was clenched, and his deep blue eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of what had disturbed him.

A loud crash echoed from the kitchen.

Mark's stomach dropped. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checked for a signal—nothing. Typical. Out here in the middle of the woods, he’d always told himself it was peaceful, an escape from the noise of life. But right now, it felt like isolation, pure and simple.

Mark only slept in his underwear. He swung his tree trunk legs out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. Moving as quietly as he could, he grabbed the wrench from his toolbox by the door. His hands, rough and calloused, wrapped around it tightly as he crept into the hallway, the wood creaking under his weight.

The cabin was small, barely more than a few rooms, but it suddenly felt like a labyrinth. Each step he took felt louder than the last, his ears straining for any sound. His mind raced, replaying the crash in the kitchen, imagining what could be waiting for him.

Then, he saw him.

At the end of the hallway, just barely illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the windows, stood a figure in black robe. The familiar white mask stared back at him, the empty, soulless eyes of Ghostface. Mark could tell this Ghostface was strong, tall, and burley. This man's stature was incredibly intimidating. He could've easily been a lineman on a football team.

Mark’s chest tightened. He froze, gripping the wrench so hard his knuckles turned white. The masked figure didn’t move—just tilted his head, slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Mark took a step back, but Ghostface didn’t give him a chance to think. In a flash, he charged down the hallway.

Instinct took over. Mark swung the wrench, but Ghostface dodged, sending Mark stumbling against the wall. Before he could catch his breath, Ghostface was on him, pressing him into the wall, a gloved hand gripping his throat, but it was more seductive than threatening.

Mark struggled, using every bit of his strength, but Ghostface was fast and relentless. The masked man raised his knife, gleaming in the low light, and brought it down.

With a burst of adrenaline, Mark twisted, the blade barely missing his chest and cutting into his shoulder instead. Pain shot through him, but he shoved Ghostface off and ran, not looking back as he bolted out the door into the freezing night air.

Behind him, the door slammed open again.

Ghostface was coming.

Mark sprinted through the woods, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his heart pounded in his chest. The icy air stung his skin, but the pain in his shoulder kept him focused, adrenaline surging through his veins. He darted between trees, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and Ghostface.

But he could hear him. The heavy footsteps behind him deliberate and unhurried like the killer knew exactly where Mark was headed There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Panic clawed at him, but he couldn't stop

Just when he thought he was gaining ground, Mark's foot caught on a hidden root. He went down hard, his body slamming into the cold earth. Dazed, he tried to

scramble back to his feet

but it was too late.

Ghostface was on him

A gloved hand grabbed him by the back of the neck,

yanking him up with brutal force. Mark struggled

throwing wild punches, but Ghostface easily dodged

them, slamming him against a nearby tree. His vision blurred, pain radiating through his body as Ghostface pinned him in place.

Mark kicked out, landing a blow to the killer's knee, but it barely slowed him down. The last thing Mark saw was the glint man straddling on top of him. His world went black.

When Mark woke, his head throbbed like a drum, the dull ache spreading through his entire body. He tried to move, but his arms were bound tightly behind him the rough rope biting into his wrists. He was slumped on a bed, his legs aching from being in the same position for too long. He blinked, disoriented, his surroundings coming into focus. The room was dark and warm, the smell of cookies filling the air. Which was very odd for Mark. A single flickering bulb hung from the ceiling, casting dim, uneven light across the space. It looked like a

basement--bare walls, no windows, and no way out. His chest tightened with fear.

Mark's muscles strained as he tried to loosen the ropes around his wrists, but they wouldn't budge. He was trapped. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. He had to think. had to figure out a way out of here.

Then he heard it--the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

His heart stopped

The slow, deliberate creak of each step echoed through the room. The door at the top of the stairs groaned open, and there he was. Ghostface standing at the entrance to the basement, his dark hulking figure looming in the faint light, he stepped down slow and purposeful, the His belly was so big it was jiggling with each step.

Mark's breath caught in his throat. He pulled harder at the ropes, his muscles burning with effort, but it was no use. He was completely helpless. As Ghostface descended the final step, he paused, tilting his head just as he had in the hallway, as if savoring the fear.

Mark's mind raced. This was it. He was trapped, no way out, and Ghostface was going to finish what he'd started

The masked figure approached him, silent and

methodical. Mark's pulse roared in his ears as Ghostface crouched down in front of him, bringing the mask inches from his face. The dark eyes behind the mask stared into Mark's, and in that moment, Mark realized something-this wasn't just about killing him Ghostface was playing withhim.

"You're mine, now" Ghostface uttered through the voice modulator.

A gloved hand reached out, slowly tracing his hand along Mark's cheek the cold rubber sending a shiver down his spine. The killer was taking his time, dragging out the terror.

Mark swallowed, trying to keep the fear from swallowing him whole, but it was no use. He was trapped, and Ghostface had all the time in the world,

Ghostface pulled out a long black tube with a funnel attached.

"I hope you're hungry, stud. You're about to get filled" whispered Ghostface.

Part 2 Coming Soon 🎃

[thegainingdesk]

Two Night Stand

Just as Howard had guessed, the young man was loitering in the changing rooms when he entered. He'd seen the slim man watching him his entire set, changing from treadmill to elliptical to standing bike to keep a clear eyeline to Howard at all times.

Howard wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd found that he attracted more than a fair few men as he'd put on weight these past few years, and the gym was the perfect place to show off his developing figure. He couldn't exactly boast a powerlifter build, per se, but he had enough muscle underneath all the fat that he could show off how much weight he could lift, and enough to keep most of his fat in a firm, round gut at his center with comparatively less flab elsewhere on his body. Coupled with a thick dark beard and a thick pelt of coarse body hair, he often had twinks lining up for the opportunity to call him ‘daddy’; not something he was thrilled about at the grand age of thirty-four, but also not something he was in a rush to correct anyone wanting to fuck him over.

Howard made a show of getting changed and faced out into the changing rooms towards the young man, giving him a clear view of the spectacle. He lifted his shirt up slowly, allowing the hem to drag itself up over the curve of his gut, revealing the dark swirls of hair covering the mound of fat and his deep belly button. Once the shirt slid off his gut and Howard pulled it over his head, he looked over to see the man looking directly at him. He winked and the man hurriedly looked away; Howard made sure to maintain eye-contact, making sure to catch him each time he gave another quick glance. Howard reached down and hefted his gut a few times before reaching down further and giving his package a squeeze; that caught the man's attention alright, and this time he held his gaze, staring intently at Howard's gut.

“Not getting changed yourself then?” Howard called across the changing room.

The young man swallowed hard, before lifting up his shirt to reveal a tight, thin torso, with the faint outline of a six pack and a fine dusting of hair. He was about Howard's height, just slightly shorter than average, but more wiry than Howard had ever been, with prominent ribs and collar bones, and a prominent Adam's apple. Despite his short height, he was so thin he almost looked lanky. He was handsome, Howard thought; dark blond hair, a crooked smile and a nose that looked like it had been broken and not set properly at some point. “Just catching my breath,” the man replied.

Howard smirked and bent to pull down his shorts. He tried to make it sexy, but honestly, these days it was a struggle just to bend down around his gut and his shorts caught on his thick thighs, making him shimmy them down unceremoniously. By the time he stood back up, panting softly, the young man’s long erection was tenting his own shorts obviously.

Howard reached down and adjusted his balls in his boxers, partly for show, partly genuinely for comfort. “Fancy joining me in the showers?” he said casually. “I’m finding I've been getting really sweaty recently.” He felt himself growing hard. He knew he'd lost a few inches to his expanding fat pad, and he'd not been able to see his own cock under his gut for years, but he knew he still boasted an impressive manhood.

“I uhh… okay.” The man's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He coughed and tried again, deeper this time. “Yes, I mean. I'd like that.”

“I'm Howard,” Howard introduced himself as he walked past the man and around the corner to the showers.

“Guy,” the man answered. Howard could hear him follow behind him obediently.

“Nice to meet you Guy,” Howard said, turning on one of the shower heads and pulling his pants off. He handed them to Guy, who held them, dumbstruck for a moment, before lifting them up to his face and sniffing deeply. “You like this gut, Guy?”

Guy nodded, not taking Howard's boxers away from his face. His eyes were trained downwards; Howard knew that from this angle, his gut covered his crotch almost entirely, so he must be staring at his fat.

Howard stepped back into the stream of water, and rivulets began to flow over his tits, round his gut, down his rounded thighs and calves. “Would you like to touch this gut, Guy?”

Guy hurried to throw down Howard's boxers and pull his own shorts and underwear down; he was so hard and the motion so fast that his dick slapped up and hit his abs with a soft thwack. He stepped forward and ran his hands across Howard's love handles, squeezing them and using his fingers to dapple the soft skin and the fat underneath. He slipped his fingers beneath, into the crease above Howard's hips, and leant down to place one of Howard's nipples in his mouth, sucking for a few moments.

He pulled away. “You're so…” he began. He leant back in, kissing Howard's neck, his shoulders, his chin. Each kiss was paired with a small poke from Guy's fingers; Howard realised he was searching for pockets of fat around his body.

“Big?” Howard whispered. “Heavy? Wide? Manly?”

“Fat,” Guy finished. “You're so fat.”

Howard chuckled. “And you like that, do you? You like how fat I am?” Guy nodded. “Why don't you show me how much you like it then?” Howard nodded past his gut, down towards his crotch. Guy looked around nervously. “Now you're nervous?” Howard asked. “Don’t worry, most people rush straight off after the gym at this time. Besides, everyone knows this is the gay hookup gym, no-one would bat an eyelash.”

Guy swallowed hard and Howard licked his lips at the sight of his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his wiry neck. He looked around once more, nodded nervously, and sunk to his knees. Howard grew even harder as he felt Guy push his fat pad back to reveal more of his length, something he’d only realised men had started doing since he’d hit twenty stone or so. He shuddered slightly as he felt Guy’s warm mouth envelop his hardness for a few seconds, before pulling back and pushing Howard’s soft underbelly away and readjusting his position, trying to find a way to suck Howard off around all of the fat in the way.

Howard leant his head back and moaned. While Guy seemed to be taken by surprise with the practicalities of sucking off a fat man, he clearly had a few tricks up his sleeve, and enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Within a few minutes he was near climax and began to thrust himself into Guy’s mouth, who made some satisfying grunts of discomfort in response.

Just as Howard began to cum, pumping his load down Guy’s pretty throat, someone walked into the shower and the younger man jumped back so that the rest of Howard's cum sprayed across his chest and dribbled down his chin. Guy flushed red and turned away towards the wall, frantically wiping away the splatters of semen.

“Don't mind me,” Charlton, one of the gym's regulars, said as he stepped under the shower head on the other side of Howard. “I'd join you, but my husband says I've got to stop fucking people at the gym.” He leant around Howard's mass to peer at Guy’s arse. “How do you get all the cute ones Howie?”

Howard moved over to Guy and cupped his arse, bending down to his knees himself. “How about it?” he asked. “Fancy an audience?”

Guy gave a small shake of his head and continued to scrub at himself. Howard stood back up, bracing against his knees and straining as he did so. He stepped away from Guy and began to wash himself, taking the signal that the younger man had lost interest, for now.

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Guy said quietly after a while. Howard looked over and grinned as Charlton laughed.

“Just like me to ruin the fun!” Charlton said. He waved his dick over at the two of them. “Howie, you've got my number, let me know if you'd like a third later.”

Howard grabbed Guy’s wrist and led him out the shower. He nudged the small pile of their wet shorts and underwear with his toe. “Grab those,” he told Guy. “We can go to my flat, it's not far.”

Guy struggled to keep his hands off Howard on the short drive and in the lift up to Howard's floor. As he unlocked the door, Guy was already pulling Howard’s t-shirt up and undoing his belt for him, kissing his neck as he did so. Howard pulled him through to the bedroom and pushed him towards the bed, and Guy dutifully began stripping.

Howard kicked his trousers off and pulled a condom out of the drawer by his bedside table. “You're going to have to put it on me,” he told Guy. “Awkward with this thing in the way.” He thumped his gut a few times to illustrate his point. “Unless you want to top?”

Guys tongue practically fell out of his mouth at this, and he hurriedly pulled the condom out of the packet. “No, I'm happy to, you know, or whatever.” He sunk down to his knees and stared up at Howard over the crest of his gut. “It's so hot that you can't put this on yourself.”

“I mean I can,” Howard grumbled. “It's just easier to get someone else to do it.” He felt Guy roll the condom over his shaft and smooth out some air bubbles.

“How do you want me?” Guy asked. He turned towards Howard and stood waiting, his hard-on pulsing slightly.

Howard nodded towards the bed. “On the edge. However’s most comfortable for you.”

Guy climbed onto the bed, stretching his thighs wide to present his hole to Howard. Howard squirted some lube onto his fingers and ran them over Guy’s crack, before slipping a couple of fingers in and massaging for a moment or two. Guy arched his back and sighed.

Howard lined himself up with Guy as best he could, and pushed himself forward. His cock missed the mark and instead bounced painfully off of one of his cheeks. Howard winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Difficult to aim with this thing in the way.” He patted his gut.

“God that's hot,” Guy sighed.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Howard grumbled to himself. Maybe he did need to lose a little weight.

“We could try a different position?” Guy suggested. “Cowboy style, maybe, or it might help if we both lie on our sides?”

“No!” Howard snapped. “No, I can, I can do it,” he said, more calmly. He'd be damned if he’d gotten too fat to top someone properly. He fished under his gut and grabbed his equipment, using his hands to guide himself in. He found his mark and slid in slowly, as Guy moaned softly and pushed back against Howard's crotch.

The two men began to rock in sync, building up a rhythm. Howard's gut slapped into Guy's back, the claps ringing like a metronome. The two began to pick up pace, as Guy arched his back and Howard tried to reach around to grab the smaller man's cock; with his gut in the way, he just couldn't reach. Instead, he gripped Guy’s slender shoulders and put his effort into pumping. He could feel the fat on his arse, his tits, his gut shaking and vibrating and his heart fluttered in his chest as he breathed heavily. He pumped harder and gripped his own fat with one hand, inserting one finger deep into his own bellybutton. He thought about how fat he'd gotten, how much fatter he was sure to get, he thought about the man below him and how much smaller he was than him. His breath caught as he came, and he felt the condom fill up around his pole. Shaking, he rolled off of Guy and onto the bed.

“Did you..?” Howard asked.

Guy shook his head. “It's fine,” he said, panting and smiling. He placed a hand on Howard's gut and shook it. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“What does it feel like?” Guy asked afterwards, with his angular torso pressed into Howard’s broad, soft back and one arm draped across him, a hand slowly caressing his gut.

Howard laughed. “Topping? You never done it before?”

Howard felt Guy shake his head from behind. “No, I've- I mean not very often, but I have, you know- No, I mean, you know,” his hand gripped Howard's gut and shook it a little. “What does this feel like? Being fat?”

Howard laughed again. “You like that, do you?” He slapped his gut a few times, enjoying the feeling of his body rippling. “It's a bloody nuisance, I'll tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” Guy prompted. “How?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, you saw earlier, it's getting difficult to fuck guys in some positions without it getting in the way, difficult to put on condoms easily. You even struggled a bit when you were giving me a blowjob, right?” Guy nodded enthusiastically. “It's even getting difficult to piss standing up.” Howard could feel Guy’s cock hardening against his back.

“Really? Because you can't reach it you mean?” Excitement mounted in Guy’s voice.

“Reaching it's easy enough, it's being able to see that's an issue. Can't aim,” Howard explained.

“What else?” Guy urged Howard on.

“Fuck me, loads. Having to fight against my own body to tie my shoes, getting winded climbing the stairs, clothes not fitting right, not being able to join my mates when they play footy, getting the piss taken out of me by everyone who thinks they're a bloody comedian,” Howard said. By this point, Guy was grinding his hard dick against Howard's leg.

“But you love it?” Guy asked, his voice catching.

“Fuck yes,” Howard replied. “There's something about being big, you know?” Guy gave a small whimper in reply. “In basically any situation, at work, with mates, at the gym, I'm always the biggest one there. Sure, a lot of it's fat, but men always respect the big guy, you know? Like it's primal.”

“How much do you weigh?” Guy asked. He moved to straddle Howard, his hand stroking his cock.

“A little over three hundred pounds,” Howard lied. He was close, but had never actually broken the big three-oh-oh. He'd met enough of these chaser types to know that 300 was the magical number though, and was happy to fudge the numbers to make a twink’s fantasy come true.

“Christ,” Guy gasped. “You're over double my weight.” Within thirty seconds, he tensed up and yelled out as thick hot cum sprayed over Howard's gut, pooling in his belly button and dribbling down its curve onto the sheets.

Guy fell down onto Howard and kissed him, hard jawline bumping into soft. “You're incredible,” he panted. “I could order some pizzas maybe?”

A couple of hours later, three boxes sat on Howard's coffee table, while Howard stretched out on his sofa with one hand down his boxers and one hand cradling his stretched gut. He'd done his best to show off for Guy, and had eaten almost two whole pizzas in quick succession. “Go on,” he told Guy. “Eat up.”

Guy groaned, clutching his flat stomach. He'd just finished a whole pizza by himself - clearly not a feat he was used to. “They're your slices,” he said feebly, nudging the two final slices of Howard's second pizza back to the larger man.

“I want you to have them,” Howard said, pushing them back. “And I think you want to have them too.” Guy shook his head. “You're telling me,” Howard grabbed Guy’s hand and placed it on his gut. “That you don't want one of these of your own?” Guy moaned a little. “That you just want to fuck fat guys? No. You want this for yourself. Eat.”

Guy closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, and sat forward, grabbing both slices and stacking them together before taking a large bite out of both. “That's it,” Howard whispered. “Good boy. Eat them quick, before your body has a chance to register. Good boy, there we go.”

It took fifteen minutes, and by the end Guy was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing his stomach and suppressing sickly hiccups, but eventually the slices disappeared. He sat quietly, moaning and cradling the invisible curve of his stomach. Once it became clear that he wasn't in a position for conversation, Howard put the TV on and left him to it.

“I should go,” Guy said quietly after two episodes of Doctor Who. He stood and began to pull his t-shirt back on.

“You don't have to,” Howard said, making no move to stop him. “You could stay the night, if you wanted.”

“No, it's late,” Guy said. “I was supposed to meet up with some friends.” He winced as he buttoned his jeans. “Maybe we could do this again sometime though?”

Howard sighed. He never really did ‘again’. “Maybe,” he said. “I uh, I'm only in Portsmouth for a few months for a work thing, I probably won't be uhh…”

“No, it's fine, I get it,” Guy said with a thin smile. “It's fine if this is just a one-time thing. Thanks for umm,” he looked over Howard's body, still laid out across the sofa, his gut overlapping his too-tight pants. “You've helped me figure some stuff out. Thank you.”

Howard heaved himself to his feet and stuck his hand out. “Always happy to figure some stuff out with someone,” he said. Guy took Howard's offered hand and shook it. “All the best Guy.”

“You too.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the sofa. 

-

Howard groaned as he lowered himself into the seat, grateful for the easing of the pressure on his feet. He closed his eyes and just sat for a moment, breathing just a little too heavily for his liking. Ever since he'd crossed the 300 pound mark almost a decade ago, he'd been eagerly eyeing up 350, but he was starting to worry that it might have been just a little too much weight for him. He was just so big these days, and at more than a little ways past forty, he was starting to think that the big leagues, weight-wise, were a young man's game.

He opened his eyes slowly and reached towards the menu. No need to go hungry, anyway, whether or not he wanted to get much bigger, especially with his company footing the bill. A couple of starters, he thought, a big main, maybe one of those steaks, and then some big heavy dessert. That should just about hit the spot. He squeezed his overhang just a touch and sighed. Sitting down, with the dull ache in his feet fading away and his breathing going back to its usual light wheeze, rather than a heavy pant, he started to forget his earlier apprehension, just a few moments before. Being big felt fucking great, didn't it? What difference would another ten or fifteen pounds make, really?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across his menu, and he looked up, expecting to see the waiter. What he saw instead was a wall of flesh - a man stood in front of him, outweighing Howard by, god, who knew how much? At least a hundred pounds, maybe even one-fifty. The man's soft gut hung down, almost touching the table, and his arms sat awkwardly at his sides, visibly pushed away from the man's huge, soft torso by gut and tit and roll. He looked like something out of one of Howard's fantasies, a scale he'd fervently imagined himself at, but never really aspired to.

"Howard?" the man asked. "It is Howard isn't it?"

Howard was stumped. He'd remember this man if they'd met, surely? Fantasised about him for weeks afterwards presumably, wistfully thinking back to that human barge he'd met in some business meeting or other?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a while. "I'm really trying to remember…"

"It's Guy," the man - Guy - said. "We met about eleven or twelve years ago." When Howard's face didn't lose its confused stupor he added - "In Portsmouth? I, uhh, look a little different I suppose." He punctuated this last bit by laying his hand on top of his gut.

Howard thought back, he'd not spent long in Portsmouth after all, six months maybe. Had he met a Guy? He looked up at the round face in front of him, subtracted ten years, a couple of chins, tried to imagine cheek bones beneath those jowls, noticed the bent nose that looked like it had been set badly, years before…

"Jesus fuck, Guy, " Howard said softly, his eyes widening. "Twink Guy?" he asked, his voice high. This whale in front of him couldn't have ever been that small fry, could he?

Guy laughed. "Twink Guy, I like that!" he said. "Can't say there's been much call for a nickname like that for a while now though." He smiled at Howard. "Are you waiting for someone? Maybe I could join you?"

Howard made a blustering noise that could be interpreted as a positive, and gestured at the seat opposite him. Guy pulled the chair back, far away from the table edge, and slowly, carefully, deliberately lowered himself down into it. Howard marveled at the practiced routine of it all - how far back the chair needed to go, the care with which the sturdy oak chair needed handling, the way that every movement was slow and deliberate and carefully considered to avoid bumping into anything, everything, around him. Most of all he marveled at how Guy barely seemed to register that any of this was out of the ordinary.

"God, it's good to get off your feet, isn't it," Guy sighed.

Howard studied Guy, trying to remember the rail thin twenty-something year old underneath the blubber. His face was huge, round cheeks bulging over sagging jowls around squinting eyes. His body was enormously broad - tits sloped down a mountainous gut down into his elbows. Even his fingers were fat - stubby little sausages attached to pillow palms.

Guy reached over his belly and picked up the menu, resting it on the shelf of his gut. “Shall we just get one of each of the starters and sides and share?” he asked after a while.

Howard’s eyebrows rose. He looked back at the menu - there was at least ten starters and the same amount of sides. How much was this man planning on eating?

“I'll foot the bill, don't worry” Guy said, misinterpreting Howard's reaction. “The least I can do.” He slapped the top of his gut, setting it swaying. “After all, I've got you to thank for this.”

Howard’s mouth closed and opened a few times. “Sorry, I'm not sure I… You've got me to thank?”

“Oh absolutely!” Guy said, nodding. His double chin shook with the motion.

At that point the waiter arrived, interrupting Guy. They both ordered a pint of ale, Guy ordered all the starters and sides, as he'd said, and Howard ordered the steak.

“God, that sounds good actually. Two of those. Medium-rare, yeah. And we’ll want the dessert menu after. Perfect, yeah, thanks.” Guy turned back to Howard. “Where were we? Yes! Thanking you, that was it.” He leant back, and Howard could see his shirt pulling out of his waistband to reveal a slab of pale flesh hanging out even while sitting. “After we, you know, after that night anyway, I just sort of knew I guess.”

“Knew what?” Howard asked.

“That I wanted to be fat!” Guy said loudly. Howard sank down in his seat as people at other tables looked over. “I mean, I knew before then, I guess, but it was all, I don't know, wanking over YouTube videos and those stupid stories about people getting paid to fatten themselves up or something. I never, god, I never imagined I could really do something like that.”

Their drinks arrived and the two were quiet for a while as they took their first large gulps. “And then you met me,” Howard offered.

“And then I met you!” Guy repeated. “God, the number of fat guys I must have stared at before you.” He laughed. “I thought I was being so subtle, but clearly you noticed pretty quick.”

Howard laughed as well. “Yeah, subtle didn't really come to mind,” he said. “I thought you were cruising, honestly. You were actually doing that to any fat guy you saw? Just, down the street?”

“Christ yes,” Guy laughed. “They must have all thought I was a creep.”

At that point, the first of the starters arrived. Guy fell quiet as he focussed on eating. Howard could see how he's gotten so large - eating was clearly serious business to this man. Each bite was relished, with time taken to enjoy the flavours, but no time was wasted - as soon as one bite was swallowed, more food would immediately be brought to his lips.

After the starters and while they waited for their mains, Guy spoke. “You know, I always imagined how much weight you were putting on,” he told Howard. “And I always sort of, I don't know, compared myself to the image of you I had in my head. Especially once I reached three hundred pounds, and I was so much softer than I remember you being, and then when I hit three-hundred and fifty, four hundred, and I thought, god, when did he hit these weights? How much bigger did he get? And I started to imagine, you know, we'd meet at some point and I'd have managed to get, I don't know, ten, twenty pounds bigger. And it'd be, god this is so stupid saying it out loud, like you'd passed the torch on or something. Honestly, it's a big reason I've been pushing myself to still get bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” Howard said, rubbing his gut. He'd done his best to eat half of the food on the table, and while not full, he could feel himself slowing down; in comparison, Guy seemed to be impatiently waiting for more food. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so small.

“God, no!” Guy said. “I don’t mean, no, I'm not disappointed or anything. I do know, you know, that I've kind of taken this whole gaining thing further than most people are into. I never really, honestly I mean, thought I'd meet you again or whatever. It was always just something knocking around in the back of my head. I didn't even really know that you were a gainer, you might have lost it all for all I- fuck, sorry, I don't even- are you even a gainer? I just assumed.”

Howard waved his hand. “Don't worry, yeah, I… well. I mean, fifty pounds in ten years, it's hardly the kind of weight you've been putting on. But yeah, I'm on all the sites and stuff.”

“Hey, anyone else would be pulling their hair out over fifty pounds,” Guy said. “Us guys just have a skewed perspective about this stuff.”

Howard shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making progress and sometimes I really look at myself and see just how big I am.”

“How big are you, if you don't mind me asking?” Guy asked.

“Three-sixty-something these days,” Howard said. “Probably a little more - lots of business trips. And you?”

“Just hit five hundred a couple of weeks ago,” Guy replied proudly. “Hit a bit of a plateau since, but it's great finally getting there, you know?”

Howard gave a low whistle. “That's a big boy number right there.” Guy laughed. “You're going for those kinds of weights then? Five-hundred plus?”

Guy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “It's all I think about,” he said. “The more weight I put on, the more I want to put on. It's like, okay, when we first met that time, right? I got all excited and I decided I could put on, I don't know, twenty pounds, see how that felt. And it was nothing. So I thought, okay, fifty pounds, and then I'd put on fifty pounds and I was starting to feel chubby but…”

“It wasn't as big as you'd thought it would be?” Howard asked.

“God, not nearly anything like it,” Guy agreed. “Like, fifty pounds you know? That's a lot of weight! And it just didn't look like it. So I went up to two-hundred and fifty, and that wasn't enough, then three hundred, and I thought, surely, surely three hundred’s where you start to feel big. And that's how big you were! I fucked other big guys, don't get me wrong, but you were the first - I built you up into a bit of myth in my head I think.”

“I'm flattered,” Howard said.

“Well, I got to three-hundred pounds, as big as Howard, and it still wasn't big enough,” Guy continued. “So I added another fifty, and that wasn't enough, and another, and four-hundred still didn't feel big enough.” He sighed. “You never feel like that?”

Howard spread his hands on the table and studied them for a while. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not often. I do feel big, most of the time. Big enough. But every so often I catch a glimpse of myself and I just think… is this really twenty-five stone? Surely I should be huge by now? When I was younger I couldn't imagine how big that must be and now…”

“Now it's just the size you are,” Guy finished. “It's normal.”

Howard nodded as their mains got brought over. Howard tried to hide his nervousness at the size of the portion; chips were piled high next to a steak as big as his face and over an inch thick. Guy licked his lips and started eating immediately, stopping only when the sides got brought over.

It took nearly two hours for Howard to get through his steak, sides and the selection of desserts Guy had ordered. Guy watched him, having finished long before, occasionally offering words of encouragement, but generally just filling Howard in on his life; the company he'd started, the relationships with increasingly larger men who were just never big enough, the years and years of gluttony and sloth that had built him into the man Howard saw before him.

Howard leant back and drummed his fingers on his gut. It has been a while since he'd felt it so taut, and the sensation left him rock hard. He opened one eye and watched Guy for a while.

“I've got a room upstairs,” Howard said after a while. “If you wanted to…?”

Guy smiled. “I thought you said you were married now.”

“We’re open,” Howard reassured him. “I spend a lot of time away with work and we both know that we’ll be better off if we get to relieve some tension every so often.”

“Well then,” Guy said with raised eyebrows. “Shall we?”

They both stood, Howard feeling particularly spritely for the first time in a while; he found himself waiting for Guy to haul himself to his feet. The two made their way slowly to the elevator, which sunk noticeably as the two men entered.

As the doors closed, Guy reached over and put a hand on Howard's love handle and squeezed. “Just like I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Hopefully a little bigger?” Howard said.

“Don't worry,” Guy said. “I can see all the progress you've made. But it's that same solid ball gut I've been having wet dreams about for the past decade.” He slapped it a few times, resulting in a dull thump. He slid a finger through a gap between the buttons in Howard’s shirt and stroked the furry skin around his belly button.

The elevator door opened, and the two made their way to Howard's hotel room. Howard let them in and Guy made his slow way over to the bed and gingerly sat down. Howard stood in front of him and let his gut bump into Guy's face, who reached up and began to unbutton Howard's shirt for him.

“Oh yes,” Guy said. “I've missed this a lot.” He ran his fingers through the hair on Howard's gut and up onto his soft chest as Howard pulled off his jacket and shirt and threw them to the side. Guy leant forward and nuzzled his nose into Howard's belly button, before replacing it with his tongue as he worked his fingers under Howard's overhang to undo his belt and pull his trousers down.

Guy lifted Howard's gut slightly, and deftly pushed the fat back slightly to reveal more of his hardening cock. “This is bigger than I remember,” he said.

“My cock?” Howard asked. “Really?”

Guy laughed. “Sorry, no. I meant your fat pad.”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Suppose that would be a bit too much to ask for.”

“I personally have come to enjoy the effects of fat on a man's cock,” Guy said.

“Not one I'm particularly thrilled with myself,” Howard grumbled.

“Well maybe I can make it up to you,” Guy said, before slipping his mouth over Howard's dick.

Howard's breath caught. The key to giving a good blowjob, Howard had learnt over the years, is to really, truly, genuinely want that dick in your mouth, and Guy was clearly hungry for it. No opportunity was missed to taste or lick or suck on any and all exposed skin. His balls, his shaft, his head, his taint, all of it was lovingly cared for in turn. It wasn't long before Howard was shooting down Guy's throat.

Guy sat back and smiled as he swallowed. Howard thought back to how prominent his Adam’s apple used to be - it was now barely visible in his lardy neck.

Howard sank down to his knees, and lifted Guy’s gut to gain access to his belt buckle. As he undid his trousers, Guy pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing soft, undulating flesh. Together, the two slowly managed to peel Guy’s clothes off of his body until he was sat in only his socks.

Howard once more lifted Guy’s gut and pushed back at the soft fat filling his crotch, unveiling the nub of his cock. He leant forward to lick the exposed head, but quickly had to pull back as his face became enveloped with fat from above.

“You don't have to,” Guy said. “I know that it's not easy to-”

“Lean back,” Howard said, pushing back on Guy’s torso. “And hold your belly.”

Guy obeyed, laying down on the bed so that his flab cascaded back towards his face. Howard pushed down on his fat pad, revealing another inch or so of cock. As Howard took it into his mouth, licking its meager length and the small scrotum, he thought back to the long cock Guy had the last time they'd met, now swallowed on thick fat.

Howard inhaled deeply, taking in the sour musk of Guy’s crotch and continued to lap at the small length available to him. He began to pump the fat surrounding his cock, using it to jerk the length he couldn't see. The wall of fat above him began to shake and quiver, until sticky cum spurted out. Howard noted how sweet it tasted, and wondered if his own cum had gotten sweeter as he'd gotten fatter.

“That was great,” Guy said.

“Glad to be of service,” Howard replied.

Guy shuffled his weight back up the bed, setting the frame creaking and groaning. He patted the bed next to him. “I think I was big spoon last time.”

“I think you might have been,” Howard said. From this angle, Guy looked almost impossibly wide. His gut spilled out, pulled down and to the sides by gravity, so that he resembled a large pillow. Howard settled down next to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, and curled up to the large mass. “I don't think these beds are really built for men our size.”

“Not two of us, anyway,” Guy said. “I can go, if that's easier?”

Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We can stay a while.”

The two lay quietly for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the room.

“It's been a while,” Guy said after a while.

“What has?” Howard asked.

“Since I've been with anyone,” Guy clarified. “Once you reach a certain size, the mechanics all get a bit awkward.”

“How so?” Howard asked.

Guy sighed. “I can barely even reach my cock these days,” he admitted. “Bit of a faff for someone else to reach it, too. Generally guys just feed me these days, then deal with themselves.”

“You okay with that?” Howard asked.

“Oh yeah,” Guy insisted. “Don't worry about me. Not much difference these days between eating and sex for me. But this was… this was nice.”

“You still like it then?” Howard asked. “Being big? Getting bigger?”

“God yes,” Guy beamed. “There's nothing like it. I can't imagine stopping. How about you? Happy to stop where you are?”

“You know, I might well be open to packing a little more on,” Howard said.

“You let me know if you're ever up to getting fed then, eh?” Guy said. “I saw you struggling with those kiddy portions. You’re going to need pushing if you want to get really big.”

“Is that so?” Howard asked, laughing. 

Guy struggled to sit up. “Absolutely,” he said. “I distinctly remember you pushing me to eat two extra slices of pizza beyond what I thought I could. That lesson stuck with me. It's time you learnt it too.” He hauled himself to the side of the bed and panted for a moment or two. “I'll leave you be. Can't have you hanging off the bed all night.”

“Leave your number?” Howard said.

Guy smiled. “Definitely,” he said. He looked down at the clothes strewn about on the floor. “I uh… don't suppose you'd pick up my clothes for me? Bending down’s a bit of an ordeal these days.”

Howard chuckled and helped Guy collect his clothes and put them on. “Let's make sure it's not another decade, eh?”

Guy smiled. “Of course,” he said and patted Howard's gut. “We've got to make sure to put some meat on these bones.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the bed. 

[engeorged]

The Bear and the Mountain

My life has always been defined by achievement. I sailed through university, completing a master’s degree in less than six months. I was confident in my intelligence and my looks—black hair, green eyes, and a constant carefully trimmed stubble that suited me. People often called me attractive, and I believed them, but I tried not to let it turn into arrogance. I just knew I had what it took to succeed.

After sailing through university, (I know I sound douchey but I’m just stating the facts) I launched a startup that took off almost immediately. In a few short years, I’d built it up and sold it for an eight-figure sum. I should have felt on top of the world, but instead, I felt empty. I had achieved everything I set out to do by the age of 27, yet something was missing. My life was a series of successes, but none of them brought me any meaning or satisfaction. Life was just a bit to easy.

In search of meaning, I tried everything. I spent time in Buddhist retreat lodges, seeking enlightenment through meditation. I pushed myself to the limits with extreme sports, hoping the adrenaline would fill the void. I even subjected myself to the intensity of sweat lodges, enduring the heat and discomfort in the hope of a breakthrough. Nothing worked. I was left more frustrated than ever.

Eventually, I decided to take a different approach—one that involved solitude and nature. I planned a solo trek through one of the most remote mountain ranges in the U.S., thinking that maybe the isolation would force me to confront whatever was missing in my life. The trek was challenging, but I was used to pushing myself. That was, until the seventh day, when everything changed. I was faced with a ravine and I definitely should have known better, but halfway up I slipped on a loose rock and tumbled to the bottom, breaking my leg badly and covering myself in deep cuts. I tried to move but I was trapped. I tried calling for help but I was literally in the arse end of nowhere. Stranded, in pain, and utterly alone, I realised just how precarious my situation had become.

After nearly a day of lying helpless, my hope dwindling with each passing hour, I heard heavy footsteps. Relief washed over me as a figure emerged from the dense forest. He was tall, powerfully built, and had a thick, bushy beard. There was something imposing about him, yet his presence calmed me. He introduced himself as Bear, and despite my dire circumstances, I couldn’t help but notice that beneath the wild exterior, he was remarkably handsome. His eyes, sharp and clear, held a depth that suggested he understood far more than he let on.

Bear turns out to be a man of very few words and after a few minutes of observing the situation and without a word, he lifted me onto his back as if I weighed nothing and began to carry me through the forest. I’m not gonna lie, it was actually pretty hot! The guy smelt so good too.

We arrived at his cabin, a beautiful structure powered by wind turbines and surrounded by the raw beauty of nature. Inside, the cabin was cozy and welcoming, filled with handmade furniture and intricate wood carvings. Bear set me down on a bed, and the exhaustion from the pain and stress overtook me; I passed out almost immediately.

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the room. It was rustic yet comfortable, with wooden beams running across the ceiling and a large stone fireplace on one wall. Soft, natural light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. The bed I lay in was firm but comfortable, and the smell of pine filled the air. But what truly stunned me was my leg. It was expertly set in a splint, immobilized with a level of precision that was astounding. My head and arms, too, had been carefully treated, stitched up with surgical skill. I traced the stitches on my head and arms with my fingers, marvelling at how neat they were. There was more to Bear than he was letting on.

Bear had not only saved my life but had done so with an expertise I hadn’t expected. The man who appeared so rugged and wild had the hands of a surgeon. I wanted to thank him, to ask him how he’d learned these skills, but when I looked around, Bear was nowhere to be found. Instead, next to the bed, there was a tray filled with food—a hearty stew, freshly baked bread, and fruits. My stomach growled, and though I was puzzled by Bear’s absence, I couldn’t resist the urge to eat.

As I ate, I couldn’t help but feel content. The food was incredible—rich, flavourful, and comforting in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Each bite seemed to melt away the tension I’d been carrying. The bread was warm and soft, perfect for soaking up the thick stew. The fruits were sweet and refreshing, a perfect complement to the savoury dishes.

Yet, as I savored the meal, something nagged at me. It was strange that Bear had disappeared so suddenly. I hadn’t heard him leave, and there was no indication of where he might have gone. Still, the cabin was secure, and the food brought me so much comfort that I pushed the thought aside. I was too content, too satisfied to worry about where Bear had gone or why he hadn’t said anything.

As the last bite of food settled in my stomach, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, heavier than anything I'd felt in days. The warmth of the cabin, combined with the fullness in my belly, made my eyelids droop uncontrollably. I didn’t fight it; the soft bed beneath me was too inviting. Within moments, I drifted off, my mind lulled into a deep sleep by the rhythmic crackling of the fire.

When I awoke, the room was bathed in the soft light of early evening, and the fire had been stoked back to life. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I saw him—Bear, standing near the foot of the bed, a tray of food in his hands. His presence, so solid and quiet, filled the space, and I felt a strange mix of relief and unease.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost like the sound of distant thunder. He set the tray on the small table beside the bed. The smell of warm, hearty food wafted up to me, making my stomach gurgle in anticipation, despite the fact that I had eaten only hours before.

“Yeah… a bit,” I replied, still groggy but slowly coming back to full awareness. I shifted slightly, wincing at the dull ache in my leg. It was then that I noticed Bear's gaze was softer than before, though just as unreadable. He was watching me closely, assessing my condition.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bear began, his tone even, as if he were discussing the weather. “With the way things are right now—snow, ice, unpredictable winds—there’s no safe way to get you out of here for at least six weeks, maybe more. The mountain’s too dangerous to navigate, even for me.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. Six weeks? I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I’d be here that long. But before I could react, Bear continued, his voice calm and reassuring.

“I know it’s not what you expected, but I’m happy for you to stay here with me until it’s safe to leave. You’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”

There was a certainty in his voice that made it hard to argue. Despite the odd circumstances and the isolation, something about Bear’s offer brought me a strange sense of comfort. The idea of staying here, under his care, didn’t seem so bad—especially after everything I’d been through so far. My leg throbbed again, a reminder of how helpless I was in this situation. Maybe, just maybe, staying wasn’t the worst option.

I glanced at the tray of food he’d brought—another generous helping, more than I thought I could manage. But the smell was intoxicating, and I found myself reaching for the fork without thinking.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, accepting both the food and the offer with a mix of apprehension and gratitude.

Bear gave a small nod, then turned to tend to the fire, his broad back facing me as he stoked the flames. I couldn’t see his face, but something in his posture told me he was at ease with the arrangement, perhaps even a little pleased. As I took the first bite of the new meal, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next six weeks would bring.

The days blended together as I continued to recover. Bear’s presence was elusive—he was rarely around when I was awake, but every time I stirred, there was more food waiting for me. It became a routine of sorts: I’d wake up to find a fresh meal by my bed, eat my fill, and drift back to sleep. I began to wonder if I was imagining him, but the expertly prepared food and the meticulous care I received were real enough.

Over time, I started noticing changes in my body. At first, it was subtle—my clothes began to feel snug, especially around the waist. I told myself it was just temporary, a result of being bedridden and inactive. But as the days passed, the changes became more apparent. My belly, once flat and firm, was now rounding out, pressing against the fabric of my shirt. It felt strange, yet I tried to convince myself that it was nothing to worry about. After all, I was healing, and once I was back on my feet, everything would return to normal.

Despite these thoughts, I couldn’t deny the pleasure I found in the food. Each meal was a masterpiece—perfectly seasoned meats, creamy potatoes, and desserts that were impossible to resist. I found myself looking forward to the meals, eagerly anticipating the next dish that would appear beside my bed. My appetite grew with each passing day, and with it, my belly grew too.

One evening, after another large meal, I decided to investigate. I ran my hands over my stomach, feeling the firmness of my belly beneath my skin. It was rounder, fuller than it had ever been before. The sensation was both unsettling and oddly comforting. I couldn’t deny that I was putting on weight, but I wasn’t ready to fully accept it either. It was easier to tell myself that it was just temporary, that it was a side effect of healing, and that soon I’d be back to my old self.

But deep down, I knew something was changing. The combination of solitude, indulgence, and the strange, almost mystical care I was receiving from Bear had set me on a different path—one that I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront just yet.

I woke up one morning feeling strangely energised. The routine of waking, eating, and sleeping had begun to feel monotonous, but today something was different. As I sat up in bed, I noticed something new at the foot of it—crutches. Handmade, with sturdy wood and comfortable grips, they were unmistakably Bear’s work. The craftsmanship was remarkable, each detail carefully considered, and I realised that Bear must have spent considerable time making them for me. I looked at the handles and saw a small family of carved bears catching tiny wooden salmon jumping from the curves of the crutches.

Excited by the prospect of moving around on my own again, I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My leg still ached, but the splint held firm, and with some effort, I managed to stand using the crutches. It felt good to be upright again, to be able to explore beyond the confines of the bed.

The cabin, as I saw it for the first time beyond my bed, was a work of art. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and paintings, depicting scenes of wildlife and nature. The furniture, all handcrafted, exuded warmth and comfort. There were shelves lined with books, maps, and various trinkets that spoke of a life lived in harmony with the wilderness. The fireplace crackled softly, filling the room with a gentle warmth.

As I hobbled around, taking in the surroundings, I couldn’t help but notice how my body felt heavier, more cumbersome. My belly, once flat and toned, now hung over the waistband of my pants, a soft and unfamiliar weight. I caught my reflection in a window and was startled by the sight. My midsection had undeniably thickened, the result of a week of indulgent eating and inactivity. The roundness of my stomach was undeniable, pressing against the fabric of my shirt in a way that felt foreign and uncomfortable.

I tried to push the realization aside, telling myself it was just temporary. But there was no denying the evidence. The steady supply of rich, hearty food had left its mark on me. I felt a pang of discomfort, not just physically but emotionally. I was a man who had always been in control, and now, control seemed to be slipping away.

As I explored the cabin, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was a strange sensation, as though Bear was there, observing me, but I couldn’t see him. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I turned to look around, but the cabin appeared empty. Still, the feeling persisted, a silent presence that was both comforting and unnerving.

Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen. It was as beautifully crafted as the rest of the cabin, with a large wooden table at its center. To my surprise, Bear was there, standing by the stove. His back was to me, but I could see the muscles in his broad shoulders working as he stirred something in a pot. The aroma that filled the room was mouthwatering, a rich blend of spices and roasting meat.

This was the only the fourth time I’d seen Bear since he rescued me. He was still the same imposing figure, tall and powerful, his beard thick and wild. But there was a gentleness in the way he moved, a careful precision as he prepared the meal. I watched him for a few moments, marveling at how effortlessly he commanded the space, how naturally he seemed to belong here.

Bear turned slightly, and for the briefest moment, our eyes met. There was something in his gaze that I couldn’t quite place—an intensity, a quiet watchfulness. He nodded toward the table, indicating that I should sit. I obeyed, lowering myself into one of the chairs, the crutches propped beside me.

Bear brought the food to the table—a feast that made my mouth water just by looking at it. There were roasted vegetables, a thick stew brimming with chunks of meat, and freshly baked bread that was still warm from the oven. He served me generously, filling my plate to the brim, before sitting down across from me.

We ate together in silence, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates. The food was, as always, incredible. Each bite was a burst of flavor, and despite my earlier discomfort about my weight, I found myself eating with gusto. The food was just too good to resist.

As we ate, I felt Bear’s eyes on me, watching my every move. It was unsettling at first, but as the meal progressed, I began to feel something else—an unspoken connection between us. It was as if Bear was studying me, understanding me in ways that I hadn’t even begun to understand myself. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was charged, filled with an unspoken bond that was slowly forming between us.

By the time the meal was over, I was full to the point of bursting. My belly, already swollen, now pressed even more insistently against my shirt, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret the meal. Bear cleared the dishes with the same quiet efficiency, and as he worked, I realized that my feelings toward him were shifting. There was more to this man than I had initially thought, and I was beginning to feel drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected.

After the meal, Bear disappeared into another room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sat there, feeling the weight of the food in my stomach and the weight of the growing connection between us. Something was happening here, something I didn’t fully understand yet, but I knew it was important.

As I made my way back to bed, my belly heavy and full, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next days would bring. The cabin had become more than just a place of recovery—it was becoming a place of transformation. And Bear, the enigmatic man who had saved me, was at the centre of it all.

The days turned into weeks, and the cabin, once a place of temporary refuge, became my entire world. The outside world seemed distant, irrelevant, as I settled into this new rhythm of life. My leg was healing slowly, and with Bear’s crutches, I could move around more freely, though I still spent much of my time resting. But it wasn’t just my leg that was changing; my body was transforming in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Each morning, I’d wake up to the smell of something delicious wafting through the cabin. Bear’s cooking was exceptional, and I found myself eagerly anticipating each meal. There was always a generous spread—thick, savory stews, roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and rich, decadent desserts. The food was comfort itself, warm and filling, and I couldn’t help but indulge.

As I ate, I became increasingly aware of my body’s changes. My once-flat stomach had now grown round and heavy, a firm dome that swelled more with each meal. My shirts, which had fit me perfectly when I first arrived, were now stretched tight across my midsection, riding up to reveal a line of soft hair trailing down to my belly button. The waistband of my pants dug into my sides, leaving red marks on my skin, but still, I ate. I told myself it was just temporary, that I’d shed the weight once I was able to be more active, but deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.

I couldn’t deny the growing attraction I felt toward Bear. It was an attraction born not just from his rugged good looks or his self-sufficiency, but from something deeper, something about the way he carried himself. Bear was a man of few words, but his presence was commanding. There was an intensity to him, a quiet strength that I found irresistibly compelling. I began to crave his approval, his attention, though he never said much.

Bear watched me closely during our meals, his gaze intense and unreadable. At first, his silence made me uneasy, but as time went on, I began to interpret it as a form of attention, a sign that he was observing me, even if he wasn’t speaking. I found myself wanting to impress him, to catch his eye in some way. I started to eat more, pushing myself to finish every last bite, hoping that he would notice.

In those moments, I felt a strange satisfaction as my belly grew fuller and rounder. There was something about Bear’s quiet attention that made me want to show off, to prove something to him, though I wasn’t entirely sure what. I’d stretch after a meal, subtly arching my back to accentuate the curve of my stomach, hoping he’d see how much I had eaten, how much I had grown.

It became a game of sorts—an unspoken challenge between us. I’d eat until I was uncomfortably full, then stretch or shift in my chair, allowing my shirt to ride up and expose my swollen belly. Each time I did, I could feel Bear’s eyes on me, though he never commented. The tension between us grew with each passing day, and I found myself increasingly drawn to him, eager to elicit a reaction, even if it was just a lingering glance.

One evening, after several weeks of this routine, Bear prepared an especially large feast. The table was laden with food—platters of roasted poultry, glazed hams, bowls of mashed sweet potatoes swimming in gravy, freshly baked rolls, and a massive apple pie that filled the cabin with its sweet, spiced aroma. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as I sat down, the sheer amount of food both daunting and thrilling.

As we began to eat, I could feel Bear’s eyes on me, watching as I loaded my plate with more food than I thought I could handle. I dug in with enthusiasm, the flavors rich and satisfying. The chicken was tender and juicy, the potatoes smooth and buttery, and the rolls practically melted in my mouth. I ate and ate, determined to finish everything on my plate and then some.

With each bite, my belly expanded, pressing harder against the confines of my clothes. I could feel the tightness increasing, the fabric straining as I continued to eat. I was full—painfully so—but I kept going, motivated by the silent presence of Bear across the table. I wanted him to see how much I could eat, how much I could take in, how much I was willing to grow for him.

When I finally couldn’t eat another bite, I leaned back in my chair, my stomach round and bloated, pressing up against the edge of the table. My shirt had ridden up completely, exposing the full expanse of my swollen, hairy belly. I stretched my arms overhead, feigning a casual movement, but really I wanted Bear to see—to take notice of the way my belly jutted out, heavy and full.

Bear’s eyes were on me, his gaze intense as ever. He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at me, I knew he was watching, taking in every detail. I held his gaze for a moment, my heart pounding, then slowly lowered my arms and settled back into my seat, feeling the weight of my bloated belly resting on my thighs.

Bear remained silent, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made me think he understood. He got up slowly, clearing the table as he always did, and though we didn’t speak, I felt as if something had shifted between us—an unspoken understanding that this was about more than just food.

As I made my way back to bed that night, my belly aching from the sheer volume of food, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I had pushed myself to the limit, and though Bear hadn’t said anything, I knew he had noticed. That silent connection, the way he watched without speaking, was enough to keep me going, to keep me wanting more.

A few days later and after a particularly heavy lunch, I felt the familiar pull of sleep. My belly was stuffed to capacity, swollen and heavy from yet another feast, and I couldn’t resist the lure of an afternoon nap. I made my way back to bed, sinking into the soft mattress, my body surrendering to the weight of the meal and the warmth of the cabin. As I drifted off, the last thing I thought about was Bear—his quiet presence, his intense gaze, and the way he watched over me without saying a word.

I woke up a few hours later, the sun hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. My stomach still felt heavy, the remnants of the meal sitting comfortably in my gut. I stretched slowly, wincing slightly at the tightness in my midsection, before sitting up and realizing that the cabin was unusually quiet. Normally, I would have heard Bear moving around, cooking or working on something. But today, there was nothing—just the sound of the wind outside and the crackling of the fire.

Curious, I decided to get up and look for him. Using the crutches Bear had made for me, I carefully made my way down the stairs and into the main room, but there was no sign of him. The kitchen was empty, the stove cold. It was strange—I had grown so accustomed to his presence, to the idea that he was always somewhere nearby, that his absence felt almost unsettling.

I wandered around the cabin, checking the other rooms, but still, there was no sign of Bear. Finally, I decided to venture outside. The late afternoon sun bathed the clearing in a warm, golden light, the air crisp and fresh. I felt a slight chill as I stepped out onto the porch, the cool breeze brushing through the holes made by the buttons on my shirt as my protruding stomach pushed them out.

That’s when I saw him.

Bear was standing in the clearing, a few yards away from the cabin, chopping wood. He had taken his plaid shirt off leaving his torso fully exposed and I was not disappointed. His broad, muscular back glistened with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the sunlight. His powerful arms, thick with muscle, moved with precision as he swung the axe, the blade slicing cleanly through the logs with effortless power. Each movement was fluid, controlled—his body a study in strength and grace.

I stood there, transfixed by the sight of him. Bear was a man of imposing size, and seeing him like this, shirtless and in his element, made him seem even more formidable. His chest was broad and thick, covered in a mat of dark hair that trailed down to his stomach, which was flat and defined, a stark contrast to my own soft, rounded belly. His biceps bulged with each swing, his forearms corded with veins as he gripped the axe handle.

His entire physique was the embodiment of raw, primal strength—his torso a canvas of hard muscle, honed by years of living off the land, working with his hands, and surviving in the wilderness. There was no doubt that this was a man who had mastered his environment, who thrived in the harshest conditions. His beard, thick and wild, only added to the ruggedness of his appearance, framing his strong jaw and emphasizing the sharpness of his features.

But it wasn’t just his physical power that captivated me; it was the way he moved, the way he seemed so utterly in control of everything around him. There was a quiet intensity in his movements, a confidence that came from knowing his own strength. It was mesmerizing to watch.

As I stood there, watching him work, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. There was admiration, certainly—how could anyone not admire such a powerful figure? But there was something more, something deeper. I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected, an attraction that went beyond the physical. It was the combination of his strength, his self-sufficiency, and the quiet way he cared for me, even as he kept his distance.

Bear hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a moment, I considered going back inside, letting him continue his work undisturbed. But something kept me rooted to the spot, a need to stay, to watch, to be near him. I took a few steps forward, careful to be quiet, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

As I moved closer, I could see the details more clearly—the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each swing, the droplets of sweat that slid down his chest, the rise and fall of his breath. There was something almost hypnotic about the rhythm of his movements, a primal energy that seemed to pulse in the air between us.

Finally, as if sensing my presence, Bear paused in his work. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. His gaze was intense, penetrating, as if he could see right through me, straight to the thoughts and feelings I tried so hard to keep hidden.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. My shirt was stretched tight across my belly, the fabric straining to contain the fullness that had developed over the past weeks. Compared to Bear, I felt soft, weak, but the way he looked at me made it clear that he saw more than just my physical appearance.

Bear didn’t say anything—he never did—but there was something in his eyes, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection that had been growing between us. He nodded once, a small gesture, before turning back to his work. I watched as he resumed chopping wood, the moment passing, but the feelings it stirred in me lingering long after.

I stood there for a while longer, letting the sight of him burn into my memory, before finally turning to go back inside. As I walked back to the cabin, my heart was pounding in my chest, a mixture of excitement and something else—something deeper, more profound, that I wasn’t quite ready to name.

The following morning, light filtered softly through the cabin windows, casting a golden glow over everything. I had become accustomed to waking up this way—slowly, with the warmth of the fire in the hearth and the smell of breakfast already beginning to waft from the kitchen. But today, something was different. There was a heaviness in the air, a tension I couldn’t quite place. Bear had been quiet, more so than usual, and as I made my way downstairs on my crutches, I found him standing by the door, staring out into the clearing.

I hesitated, feeling a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. “Good morning,” I said softly, trying to read his expression. He didn’t turn to look at me, just kept his gaze fixed on something far in the distance.

“The weather’s changing,” Bear said finally, his voice low and rough. “Conditions will be good for travel soon. The day after tomorrow, I can take you back down the mountain.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew this day would come, but hearing it out loud felt like the ground was shifting beneath me. I had been so consumed by the strange, quiet life we had built here that I hadn’t fully considered what it would mean to leave. To go back to my old life, to a world that now felt distant and unimportant.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil I felt inside. “That’s… great,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded hollow, even to me.

Bear finally turned to look at me, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, I searched his face for any hint of what he might be feeling—relief, sadness, anything—but there was nothing. He was as stoic as ever, his expression giving nothing away.

“Is that what you want?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I immediately regretted it, feeling foolish for needing reassurance, for wanting to know if he wanted me to stay as much as I suddenly realized I wanted to.

Bear’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes glistening in the low light. But he didn’t answer, just gave a slight nod as if the decision had already been made. Then, as if the conversation hadn’t happened, he turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, feeling lost and dismayed.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, trying to process what was happening. The idea of leaving, of going back to a life that felt meaningless in comparison to what I had found here, filled me with a deep sense of loss. But even more than that, I was confused by Bear’s reaction. Did he want me to stay? Did he feel anything for me at all? The thought of leaving without knowing the answer gnawed at me.

That night, as I lay in bed, my mind raced. I couldn’t just leave like this, not without some sign, some acknowledgment of what had been growing between us. An idea began to form in my mind, reckless and desperate, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. If words weren’t going to get through to Bear, maybe actions would. Maybe if I pushed myself, showed him how much I was willing to do, I could finally get him to react.

I decided that the next day would be my last chance, and I would make the most of it. I would eat as much as I possibly could, more than ever before, until there was no way Bear could ignore me. Until he had to acknowledge what was happening between us.

The next morning, I woke with a sense of determination. I had a plan, and I was going to see it through, no matter what. When I made my way downstairs, Bear was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh pancakes filled the air, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Bear glanced at me briefly, his face as blank as ever. I could tell he sensed something was different, but he didn’t say anything. He just placed a plate in front of me, piled high with food—eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and pancakes dripping with syrup. It was a feast in itself, more than I would normally eat in a day back home, but this was just the beginning.

I dug in, eating with more enthusiasm than I had in weeks. The food was as delicious as always, each bite rich and satisfying. I ate quickly, shoveling food into my mouth as fast as I could, determined to finish everything on my plate. My stomach started to fill up, the familiar tightness building in my midsection, but I didn’t slow down. I kept going, piling more food onto my fork, swallowing each bite with determination.

Bear didn’t say a word as I ate, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed, concerned, or something else entirely, but it didn’t matter. I had committed to this, and I was going to see it through.

When I finally finished, my stomach was already distended, pressing against the waistband of my pants. But I wasn’t done. I pushed my plate forward, giving Bear a determined look.

“More,” I said, my voice firm despite the fullness in my belly.

Bear raised an eyebrow but complied without a word. He piled more food onto my plate, another helping of everything, and I started again. This time, each bite was harder to take, the food sitting heavily in my gut, but I didn’t let that stop me. I could feel my belly swelling, the fabric of my shirt stretching tight, but I kept eating, determined to show Bear just how much I could take.

When breakfast was finally over, I was stuffed beyond belief. My belly was round and bloated, pushing out so far that it felt like I could burst, but I also felt a strange sense of pride. I had done it. I had eaten more than I ever thought possible, and I wasn’t finished yet.

I spent the rest of the morning resting on the couch, letting my stomach settle, knowing that lunch would be just as big a challenge. Bear kept his distance, but I could feel his eyes on me every so often, as if he was checking to see how I was doing.

Lunch came all too quickly. This time, Bear served up a spread of sandwiches, thick slices of bread stuffed with meat, cheese, and vegetables, along with a side of crispy fries. My stomach was still heavy from breakfast, but I didn’t let that deter me. I attacked the food with the same determination, forcing myself to eat every last bite, despite the growing discomfort.

With each bite, my stomach expanded further, the tightness in my belly increasing until it was almost unbearable. I could feel my shirt riding up, exposing the swollen curve of my gut, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was eating more, showing Bear just how much I could take.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was in a daze. My stomach was so full and heavy that I could barely move, but I knew this was my last chance. Bear had outdone himself for dinner—roast boar, roasted potatoes and vegetables gravy, rolls, pies and a huge chocolate and custard brioche for dessert. The table was groaning under the weight of the food, and I knew I had to finish it all.

I ate slowly this time, savoring each bite, even as my stomach protested. I could feel every inch of my belly stretching, the skin taut and aching, but I kept going. Bear sat across from me, silent as always, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I finished the last bite of cake. I leaned back in my chair, my belly so full and distended that I could hardly breathe. My shirt had ridden up completely, leaving my swollen belly exposed, round and taut like a drum. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my thighs, the skin stretched so tight that it felt like I might split open.

Bear stood up slowly, his gaze fixed on my bloated stomach. He walked around the table and stood in front of me, his expression unreadable. My heart was pounding in my chest, a mix of fear and anticipation, but I didn’t say anything. I just looked up at him, waiting.

Then, without a word, Bear reached down and placed a hand on my belly. His touch was firm but gentle, his fingers pressing into the firm, swollen flesh. I sucked in a breath, the sensation of his hand on my overstuffed stomach sending a shiver through me.

Bear didn’t speak, didn’t ask if I was okay. He simply took a piece of leftover bread, slathered with butter, and brought it to my lips. Without thinking, I opened my mouth, letting him feed me, my body responding to his command. He pushed the bread into my mouth, his fingers brushing against my lips as he did, and I chewed slowly, feeling the food settle heavily on top of everything else.

But Bear wasn’t done. He kept feeding me all the leftovers he could get his hands on, piece after piece, each one pushing me further beyond my limits. My belly was so full that I could feel it pressing against the table, the skin stretched so tight that it ached with every breath. But I kept eating, swallowing every bite he offered, my body trembling with the effort.

is eyes never left mine as he continued to feed me, each spoonful a slow, deliberate act. My belly, swollen and heavy, lay like a massive weight on my torso. I could feel every inch of it, tight and firm, my skin stretched to its limit. I shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but it only made me more aware of just how full I was. Yet, despite the discomfort, or maybe because of it, I found myself craving more.

Finally, when I thought I couldn’t take another bite, Bear set the spoon down. His hand moved to my belly, resting on the roundness of it, his fingers splayed across the taut skin. I inhaled sharply at the touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against the coolness of my overstretched stomach. He didn’t say anything, just traced his fingers over the curve of my belly, as if admiring his work. The sensation sent a shiver through me, a mix of pleasure and something deeper, more primal.

Without a word, he helped me to my feet, guiding me outside into the crisp night air. The sky was clear, the stars bright and endless above us. I felt the cold against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that radiated from my overstuffed belly. We lay down on the soft blankets he had spread out, my belly rising like a small hill between us. I could hardly move, every breath a reminder of how full I was, but I didn’t care. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Bear settled beside me, his arm draped over my swollen stomach, his touch reassuring and solid. The night was quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire inside the cabin and the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing. As we lay there under the stars, the night stretched out before us, endless and full of possibilities.

I thought back to how I had ended up here—how the search for something more had led me to this remote mountain, to this man, and ultimately, to myself. I had sought out the wilderness to challenge myself, to find meaning in my achievements and push my boundaries. But in the end, it wasn’t the extreme sports or the spiritual retreats that had given me what I was looking for. It was this—lying under the stars, my belly stuffed to the max, feeling the warmth of Bear’s body beside me.

I had found something here, something I hadn’t known I was searching for. Not just in Bear, but in the quiet, unspoken connection we shared, in the way he had cared for me, fed me, pushed me to my limits in a way I hadn’t expected. I had found a peace I didn’t know I needed, a contentment that came from letting go of control and simply being.

As the stars twinkled above us, I let out a slow, satisfied breath, feeling the weight of my belly press down against me, grounding me. I had come to the mountains looking for something, and I had found it, even if it wasn’t in the way I had imagined. And as sleep began to take hold, I realized that I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

[bellybud]

What do you mean twinkies make me fat?🤔🤔