#gay wg fiction

[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

[exerotica]

The White River

Explicit 18+, Instant Weight gain, Cum Inflation, M/M, Sexual Themes

His soft belly slammed into my forehead as his cock pierced the back of my throat, making me gag. Every time his cock filled my throat, my lips met his pubes and pressed into the fat surrounding his cock, molding it to my mouth forming an almost perfect seal. For a brief moment, every time he pushed himself into me, my mouth, his cock, and that delicious layer of fat formed the perfect union of gluttony and lust. Saliva and precum coated the corners of my mouth and dripped down his balls onto the hardwood floor.

Years of hard work in the gym and on the field made his thighs into two solid enormous pillars. The food he (and sometimes I) shoved into his mouth every day for the past year have made his legs an impassable wall of muscle and fat. Once you were on your knees and they towered above you, there was no choice but to follow their commands. My face was the size of a grape compared to the heaps of meat that greeted me with every thrust. My mind melted every time I looked up.

Seeing anything besides his hairy fat underbelly, thighs, and cock was almost impossible when my mouth was full. When he pulled back, I caught quick glimpses of thick man tits which flanked his face, showing off his double chin and chubby cheeks. I could feel his burps, moans, and his overstuffed belly slosh and grumble when my face was full of cock. His fat acted like an antenna broadcasting all his delicious sounds directly into my skull, ordering my brain and cock to submit to this fat beast.

His body was all my brain knew in this moment. There were no thoughts or acknowledgement of the world beyond him, beyond serving his will and wants. His moan echoed throughout my head as his muscles spasmed and his blubber quaked. Cum shot into the back of my mouth as his fat commanded me to take every drop. A white river formed into my throat as cum dropped into my stomach and my belly’s pressure increased. I could feel myself expanding, my tight belly flowing outwards and starting to point my erection down to make room. 

What used to be empty space above my cock was now a small overhang formed of cum. The size of a soccer ball, I could hear my body groaning and gurgling trying to find room for the constant stream of his spunk. Cum began flowing past his cock out of my mouth, streaming down my neck, my chest, and finally crossing over my belly and finally meeting my cock. I could barely handle all the pressure in my gut, my hands gripped at my now jiggly cum coated gut trying to relieve the stress.

As I choked on his cum and cock and held my massive belly in my hands, I looked down and couldn’t find my cock. My mind screamed and my belly muscles contracted as my cock exploded. My cock slapped against my fat cum tank with every pump, which made every pump more intense and mind-melting. As the flow stopped from both of us, I withdrew my mouth, and his fat wet cock flopped against his monstrous thighs. I spit the last drops of his cum out of my mouth and collapsed onto the bed. My gut was reaching for the ceiling and as I looked down, I couldn’t see anything other than the top of my belly. I wrapped my arms around my bloated mis-section and sighed, a deep burp floated out of my mouth. He got down and wrapped me up in his massive arms. Our two overstuffed bellies pressed into each other, glued together with our cum, and we drifted off into sleep.

[420faggyactivities69]

You were a young, good looking girl. Or so you were told. Your long blonde hair fell gracefully on your bony bony shoulders. Your defined cheekbones gave you a sharp look. Your skinny waist made you quite the catch in the eyes of people around you.

But you weren't happy, were you? The long hair didn't feel right. Neither did the feminine face or the skimpy outfits you wore to show off your tiny body.

So you choose to pursue happiness instead and admitted to yourself that you're not the girl you're pretending to be. You chopped off the hair into a messy mohawk and dyed it bright colors, got piercings and tattoos, traded your tiny dresses and heels for oversized leather jackets, rough jeans and combat boots. It took years but you eventually even got on testosterone. The changes made you ecstatic. You gained muscle mass, your body hair grew and got darker, your voice deepened....

And you became hungry. All the years of denying yourself the pleasure of food in order to fit into a box caught up to you and for the first time you ate freely. After all, you were basically going through a second puberty and that's just how teenage boys get, right?

They chug bear, tear into a steak, devour plates after plates of chicken wings, fries, pizzas, whatever they can get their hand on. You were no different. You ate everything in sight and soon it started catching up to you.

Your small waist blended into your wide hips, giving you a more boxy, manly appearance. Your thickening thighs tore through your old feminine skinny jeans and became the perfect resting place for your softened belly. Your arms got huge and mixed with the muscle mass you still got they gave you almost bear like appearance. You could easily go out without binding because your tits now just looked like moobs.

Nowadays, you as much as catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and can't help but get horny. The body you worked so hard on makes you wet just thinking about it. You made it yourself out of flesh that was unfit for you and you did it one shot and one stuffing at a time.

Tell me boy, doesn't it feel nice? To finally become one of the big men you always admired? Doesn't the low vibrator of your voice in your throat make you excited? Don't you want to get that tummy to jiggle even more?

I know you want this.

So eat up

You were never meant to be a small girl anyway

[gainingfiction]

Heavily Used

Summary: This is a bit experimental (or weird), and maybe a bit predictable, but I had fun writing it. This is a story about an important relationship in a fat guy’s life, and the risk of taking things for granted. It’s also a story about coping (or not coping) with change.

Hope you enjoy!

~

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can only handle so much. It’s one thing to be taken for granted, that’s something we all have to live with. It’s just the total lack of acknowledgment, or even awareness that I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna snap and call it quits.

A little bit about me: I’m stylish, polished, and pretty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. Born in Poland, but my background is Swedish—I’m European, at heart. The name is Anders, but no one actually calls me that. I’m not super high-maintenance, once you figure me out, but everyone needs a little attention from time to time. Some tending.

Especially living with Max.

I’ve known Max for a while, and he’s not a bad guy. He can be a little rough sometimes, and maybe a little careless, but it doesn’t come from a bad place. I think it’s just a lack of self-awareness. And let’s be honest, that’s a common problem among pretty-boy jocks.

The trouble with Max is that he’s not the pretty-boy I once knew. He’s changed… he’s grown. I mean, he’s literally grown. Grown by about a hundred pounds, if I had to guess, and counting. Over the course of our time together, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his ass, and I’ll admit, it’s a great one. But, boy, he’s got a lot more ass for me to handle these days.

It’s not insurmountable, not yet at least. But I’m worried it’s getting there.

It started out simply enough, the innocent midnight snacks and occasional takeout treats. No problem, right? Twunks can afford to indulge a little, especially a hot commodity like Max. But then, you get comfortable. You settle into a routine, you let yourself go. That’s the thing about creatures of beauty: one minute you’re the hottest guy in town, trim and toned, with a golden tan and handsome face and perfect, silky hair. The sort of guy who only seems to exist in a Hollywood version of reality. But then, inevitably, something happens. Sometimes tastes change, or maybe you’re the one doing the changing.

I won’t deny, I’m not in the same shape I was when I entered Max’s life for the first time. Any long-term relationship comes with the normal wear-and-tear. Max, though, has taken it to a whole new level.

The little snacks become big snacks. The extra meals go from “occasional” to “frequent” to “everyday”. Gluttony takes over. A 32-inch waist becomes a 36-inch waist becomes a 40-inch waist; size-small shirts are discarded in the back of the closet, soon joined by ill-fitting mediums, and then by larges, stretched out of shape by a gut that won’t stop getting bigger. Max used to flit around the apartment like a bird; now he lumbers like an elephant, heavy footfalls and a slow, waddling gait. His own warning system—you can hear him coming.

On paper, I know I should be trying to help lighten the load. And it’s not like I’m totally unappreciated; there are days when he comes home from work, legs tired and arms loaded down with takeout, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy to have me. But it doesn’t last long. Once dinner’s over, I’m back to being ignored while he sits on the couch, gorging himself in front of the TV, until he comes around again to stuff his face at the next meal. Which, to be fair, is pretty often these days.

It sounds cruel, the way I talk about his escalating weight, his increasingly-indecent greed. I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish he’d consider how it might affect me. I have to live with him, and he’s starting to cramp my style. But it’s not like I can say anything. I just have to sit there in silence, while he eats and eats, grows and grows, piling on pound after excess pound. And the way he eats, moaning and licking and slurping… it’s downright pornographic.

250 starts to feel like a lowball as the months go by. He’s pushing me to my limits without even realizing it. I’ve never had to deal with a guy this fat before, a guy whose big, round bubble butt would hang over the side of even the most substantial chair. And I, personally, am not “substantial”. I’m pretty thin; it’s just how I was made. I thought Max was made that way, too.

I start trying to make my frustration known, but like I said, I can’t just come right out and say something. So I try a little subtlety; a small groan every now and then when he throws himself down at the dinner table for another round of hedonism. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He just keeps upping the ante.

And upping just about everything else: his pants size, his portion sizes, the size of his monster-truck ass and thunder thighs. They press together whenever he sits down, now, lard against blubber. Not like in the old days when his legs were lithe and lean. His moobs bulge against every tank top, his pudgy arms pack his sleeves, his love handles blossom over the top of every waistband like ripening tropical fruit.

In occasional moments of self-pity, I hazard a guess: how much does my man weigh now? 275 pounds? 300? Is he even trying to do something about it? Clearly not. He never works out anymore, unless you count working up a sweat over a third (or fourth, or fifth) slice of cheesecake. I honestly wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me. Or test me. But I know that’s crazy—like I said, sometimes I truly doubt he even thinks about what it’s like for me.

But the problem is getting harder to ignore; he really throws his weight around these days. He heaves himself up off the couch. He rests a hand on the front of his bulging belly, barely restrained by some poor, threadbare top, back arching forward from the strain of it all (he’s not a tall guy, which makes his increasingly S-shaped silhouette even more pronounced). He trudges from the living room to the kitchen and drops himself in front of the table like an anvil. When he sits down, his ass, spilling out of some indecent pair of jean shorts, spreads out like lava blanketing some hapless Roman hamlet.

Some nights, I strain underneath him, feeling absolutely crushed by his sheer weight, boundless mass bearing down on me with the force of gravity. How big is he now? I wonder, as I listen to him moan and groan with pleasure. 325? 350? Could he really have gained over 200 pounds? How could he not realize what he’s doing to himself—what he’s doing to me?

He’s just so oblivious. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I’ve been starting to make noises about how uncomfortable I am, how much I’m struggling with his extra weight. But, as always, it falls on deaf ears. His tight little butt has become a pair of vast, ponderous globes, his abs and lats and obliques are encased in a spare tire that belongs on an 18-wheeler, his tits bulge out and dangle towards his armpits. And he just. Keeps. Going. 

Keeps eating. Keeps gaining. Keeps expanding.

Things reach a boiling point before dinner one night. I can see him piling up the table, unboxing some outrageous quantity of food for his secret nightly mukbang. Well, secret except for the consequences, which anyone with eyes could notice. “There’s a man who likes his food” would be such a trite, vapid observation that it doesn’t even need saying. He doesn’t just “like” his food, he lives for his food. Food is practically a part of Max’s identity at this point.

He’s starting to lower his colossal ass to sit, and I can tell this is it. Tonight’s the night. Fuck it, I’m done. He’s well past 350 pounds, and that’s too much weight for me to handle.

Maybe he’ll appreciate me more when I’m not around. Hejdå, Max, it was nice knowing you! At least, it used to be.

~

Max sat on the floor, rolls of fat still wobbling from the jarring motion of his fall. His chair had been complaining for a while now—squeaking and groaning every time he sat down—but he hadn’t expected it to actually break. What a load of bullshit! He wasn’t even that fat!

He looked around at the splintered wood, soreness radiating across his ass—and not in a fun, post-fucking kind of way. At least his buttocks were nicely-padded. When he was bony, a slip on the ice hurt like all hell.

He was glad he was alone, or this would have been super embarrassing. At least no one was around to see him smash that chair like a pro-wrestler in a grudge match. He knew he’d been overdoing it, but this wasn’t his fault. How could it be, surely he wasn’t that big? Just a little out of shape, in need of a few good workouts to shed some winter weight. It was just the cheap IKEA furniture he bought.

With a grunt, he started the process of heaving his monumental form to a stand. As he started to gather his momentum, he glanced at the ruined seat and frowned. He actually liked that chair. It was pretty comfortable.

At least, it used to be.

(Author’s Note: don’t forget to rotate your dining chairs!)

[thespiderpig1999]

My first post on this account! This is me! All 220lbs of me! Enjoy!!! 😈

[makemebigandimmobile]

I wanna put my entire WG live, well when I become to fat to walk, I wanna stream everything so all of you poeple that get off to me struggling can get a full 24/7 view if my growth~ you can watch to Break my bed, being stuffed and finally when my heart gives out ❤️

[fatfables]

Selection of Weight Gain Stories

Camp Shawn (Part One)

Shawn is a lazy overweight teen with a bad jerking habit and terrible attitude. When his parents decide to send him off to a fat camp in Indianna to lose weight and learn some discipline he is horrified, but it's his Mum and Dad who are in for a shock.

This is the first part of 'Camp Shawn' my full length weight gain novel. 25,000 words. Contains; stuffing, bloating, gaining, farting and competitive eating, and more.

Big Ben

Set in London in the early 90's, Big Ben, tells the story of an overweight unemployed alcoholic who meets his dream boyfriend. His feelings of guilt soon start to get the better of him when he starts to feed up his much younger lover. Is Ben the sinful old pervert that he believes himself to be?

5,000 words. Contains; stuffing, feeding, drinking, smoking, death feederism, and more.

Gainfully Unemployed

Kyle California is one of the hottest young gainers online. His videos get tens of thousands of hits and his OnlyFans is blowing up as quickly as he is. He loves the attention and money that he gets from his subscribers as his belly and income continues to swell. But is all of this attention good for him?

2,000 words. Contains; gaining and stuffing.

Long Island Liberals

Dr Steve Stringer meets Benji a friend of his son's who cruises the public toilets at Jones Beach State Park. Benji is tall and broad and big bellied. The pair soon develop an infatuation that put's Dr Stringer at odds with his personal and professional beliefs about public health and the U.S. obesity epidemic.

1,500 words. Contains; gaining and stuffing.

[cellu-lightreading]

Pure Greed

It was all a coincidence really. Jamie's friends took him on a vacation, and a few drunken afternoons produced a flurry of content of him shirtless on his socials. He was twerking on the beach and eating all kinds of food. As he watched it back, he was a little embarrassed. The internet isn't usually kind to guys like him with double chins that eclipse their necks and waistlines wider than adults are tall. When he checked his phone and saw that his phone was blowing up, he was nervous that trolls had come to attack him. That's not what he found. 

Hundreds of likes materialized overnight with a comments section overflowing with support and love. Not exactly body positivity comments, more swarming sexual admirers. There were heart eyes and eggplants and peaches. They said they liked his soft gut and his giant dimpled ass. They were drooling over how much he could eat instead of criticizing all the junk he was stuffing in his mouth. 

At breakfast, Jamie decided to share the phenomenon on his post. No one could quite explain how these legions managed to find him of all people, but one friend had one idea of why they were so obsessed with him. 

"They're called feeders or encouragers." Brandon said "When they see a big fat guy not promising to lose weight, they're like moths to a flame. You filming yourself stuffing yourself is like porn to them."

"How do you know all of this?" Jamie asked. 

"'Cause they swarm the comments of all my favorite fitness influencers going on a dirty bulk in the winter. They go rabid watching a dude's abs melt away for a few months and then get disappointed and disappear in the spring when it's time to cut. Actually, this is a pretty good opportunity for you if you play your cards right. These guys will literally throw money at you just for being fat. Now that they've slashed your hours at work, you can probably string these guys along to keep the bills paid."

"I don't know how I feel about selling my body."

"You're not exactly doing porn. You don't even really have to get naked. All you have to do is be fat and get fatter."

"Get fatter? I just clocked in at 375 the other week! I can't afford to get bigger!"

"Considering we're the ones paying for your stay this weekend, I'd argue that you can't afford not to get bigger."

A few days after getting home, Jamie decided to give making content a try. He wasn't really sure what to do so he started with something basic every influencer did nowadays: a get ready with me video. He started the video from bed, letting the people see him heave his body out from under the covers. He slept shirtless normally so that might be something. He showed himself buttoning up his uniform shirt around his large frame and hoisting his pants around his thighs. He got a little self-conscious thinking about the ways his clothes tended to get stuck around his folds and how tight they looked in places. He pushed the thought away and started on breakfast. Normally, he didn't eat all that much for breakfast, at least not compared to his other meals. He didn't really get that hungry in the morning, preferring to keep things simple with some toaster waffles and bacon. He thought half the box of waffles was pretty moderate considering how small they were; there were only ten in the box to begin with. After licking up the syrup, Jamie ended the video with a wave and a smile hoping he was enticing enough. 

Jamie closed the app out and forgot about it. Work usually kept him very occupied, so there wasn't a lot of time to check his phone. It was only at the end of the day when he got a call from Brandon that he thought to open the app at all.

"I'm genuinely curious: you really call five waffles and half a pack of bacon a light breakfast?" he asked Jamie incredulously. 

"Yeah? I'm usually not quite full after that."

"Oh it's no wonder they're reacting well to this."

"How well?"

"Like two thousand likes plus a never ending stream of comments."

"No way!"

"Yeah and this comments section...honestly is pretty obscene. I definitely feel like some of these would make you uncomfortable, but still no fatphobic trolls so that's a win. People are definitely fans of you. They think you are the sexiest thing ever."

"I still can't believe this is a thing."

"It is absolutely a thing and it is happening to you. Lots of people hoping you'll keep making content, and you're already getting people offering to pay for you to eat stuff. I honestly feel like you should show them what you normally eat before you do all that."

"But I'm hurting now. The cash would be good to have now. You have no idea what I can do with that kind of money."

"I think I’m starting to." He said to himself. Then he asked, "Aren't you the same guy who was nervous about putting yourself out on the internet?"

"I am, but $40 is $40. I go through a lot of money in food and things like that. It would be pretty neat if I really could get a little help around here."

"Well, how does this sound? Take the offer, go have a good time. Don't deny yourself anything for the next month. Every time you want something, have it. You don't have to push yourself, just show off your normal life- and get it on film."

Jamie accepted the challenge. He took pictures and videos of every time he ate. Within the first week, Brandon was shocked to find out just how much food went towards keeping Jamie as big as he was. When he said breakfast was light, he wasn't kidding. He was ingesting thousands of calories just from the vending machine while he worked at his desk. One night he ate an entire party-size lasagna by himself and then remarked that "he still had a little space left, maybe dessert would finally top him off." He went to his freezer, grabbed a pint of ice cream he filled with all sorts of treats and toppings and ate it until he was licking the container. The scariest part to Brandon was that most of his videos felt like a confessional; no one was supposed to know all the eating he does, especially not the people in his real life- i.e. Brandon. Jamie was increasingly comfortable admitting to his new internet friends all of his favorite treats and tricks. That's how Brandon found out people put crushed Doritos on pizzas. 

By the time their little challenge was ending, Jamie was on camera complaining how his jeans were getting a little tight. When the two of them met up at a function for a mutual friend, the conversation quickly veered off toward their project.

"You know, I had a lot of fun following your advice in the last month. I don't know when was the last time I got to have so much fun guilt free."

"Really?" Brandon asked. He thought back to a video where Jamie went back to a restaurant after their friend group left to have a second round of food. "I'm glad you've got a new space to do that now."

"Yeah, and the fans are really getting into it. They've got all kinds of food suggestions and the money never stops pouring in. They've been really supportive.”

"Speaking of ‘supportive’, how to put this delicately, has it gotten any harder for some of the things around you to physically support you and your new hobby?"

"Is this your coded way of asking me if I gained weight?"

"Yeah, I'm trying not to be really rude about it in public."

"It's fine. But it has gotten a little harder to wear anything with buttons, nothing wants to close anymore. I've easily put on 15 pounds, maybe even a whole 20."

"20 pounds in a month is pretty fast."

"That's why I was so nervous to start this. My body is an expert at putting on weight."

"So I see. Do you think you'll cut back down to something a little more manageable or-"

"No, I don't think the fans will like that too tough. That's like the one thing that gets them really jumpy. Every time I bring up the word diet or cutting, the comments get flooded with messages about how beautiful I am at this size and begging me not to lose weight."

"And this doesn't concern you at all?"

"I mean at the end of the day, they are people on the internet and this is my body. I get the final say on decisions I make with my body. I can always just lose the weight, right?"

"But it doesn't bother you that people are begging you to get fatter?"

"Honestly, no." Jamie laughed. "Like it sounds weird, but I kind of enjoy it. I mean, look at me. With no extra effort on my part, I gained 20 pounds in a month. If I'm going to keep getting fatter, I might as well do it with people who appreciate me this way."

"If you say so. As long as you're okay with it."

"Yeah, it's fine. All this talking about the channel is making me hungry though and I know I smelled something good earlier. What do you say we check out the snack situation?"

Sooner than expected by all, Jamie was planning on celebrating his first gainer milestone- 400 pounds. Jamie was a little surprised at the number, but his reaction surprised himself more. For a while, the idea of reaching the 400s was enough to send him into a crash diet of nothing but carrots and celery for a couple of weeks until a strong craving hit him right when he was starving. His willpower would fall apart in dramatic style, and his weight would continue its upward trajectory. This time, Jamie accepted it. It was shocking to know he had reached it with so little effort on his part. He expected to reach the 400s in the holidays, not from an extra trip to the vending machine at work. In fact, he didn't feel that much bigger crossing over the line. 

While Jamie might not be excited, his followers were very excited to get the news. They begged to see him step on the scale and watch the magic number appear and sent some extra money to celebrate the accomplishment.. When Jamie saw how big the donations were, he knew he had to try to do something special.  He had exactly one idea, but it made him a little nervous.

"So to... celebrate 400 pounds, I thought I would treat you all to a little sneak peak behind the scenes of the real life behind the fat man. This stuff annoys me, but you all seem to love it so I think you'll have a fun time. These are 4 of my big fat problems." 

Jamie started off by showing his followers the pile of clothes he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. Every article of clothing in the pile was something he had destroyed just from being too fat. Shirts with the buttons popped off, belts where the buckle had been torn off, pants where his thighs had worn down the fabric from rubbing together all the time while he was walking and waddling everywhere, and everything where a seam ripped in defeat from holding back too much fat. More embarrassing than how he knew he was never going to fit back in those sizes, was how he had destroyed those clothes so no one else would ever get to wear them either. Trying to get them fixed would mean admitting that he had done all that damage to these clothes. To complete the exercise, Jamie put on an outfit from the bottom of the pile that looked smaller than he last remembered. The sweatpants were once the pants when he was too bloated to fit his normal clothes until his thighs made a heart shaped hole around the crotch. Years later, he could hardly get them around his legs. The fabric still felt delicate around the inside of his thighs, thin enough that he could practically feel the skin on tthe other leg through his pants. When he made the mistake of reaching for a shirt on the ground, the pants ripped apart all the way up to his ass. Jamie decided that was enough. 

Number 2 was in his dining room. Jamie had a set of chairs that used to be his favorites in the house. He keeps them hidden now because he had two of them collapse under his weight in one night in the middle of a party. He won't use any of them anymore to save himself the embarrassment of using a chair that doesn't match. It doesn't hurt that even if he wanted to sit in one now, the arms on the chair are so narrow that he wouldn't be able to fit his ass in between. Jamie knew his followers would want the painful proof, so he gently lowered his rear end into one. First came the pinch of the arms skewering his doughy flesh, but the more he tried to unload his body in the seat, the more the arms relented against his flesh until they snapped off. With the arms no longer in the way to help slow down the inevitable, all of Jamie’s body plopped in the chair. The chair immediately protested with a loud symphony of moans and creaks. Jamie thought he might be safe from the ultimate embarrassment. He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair. Before Jamie could even process what was happening, the chair disintegrated into splinters underneath him. 

Number 3 was deceptively simple: tying his shoes. It took so much effort to do every morning that Jamie actively dreaded the idea that they would get undone during the day. With a large gut permanently sitting in the middle of his body, reaching all the way around to his feet was a challenge. Every day he would try in vain to reach over his belly to tug on his shoes. Getting it done often required contorting his body into ridiculous shapes to bring his leg closer. When he was done, it often left him breathless and tired enough that he considered slides for the rest of his life. 

The last segment of his video involved going jogging outside. In the early spring, the weather was a fairly mild temperature, but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at Jamie. Jamie purposefully made it short- just one lap around his cul-de-sac.  There was no delusion that he would go far when this would already be one of his longest runs in years. He recorded how his tits and ass and belly all bounced around with every footfall. By the time he was back at his house, Jamie was wheezing and panting. His shirt was wet all over and his face was drenched in sweat. Just a few yards had the ability to completely destroy him. With that, Jamie decided that he had enough. 

Jamie posted and it was a runaway success. All around the clock, Jamie was getting comments online. They cheered him on and told him how beautiful they thought he was. They weren't afraid to tell him just how hot that video was to them. The more comments he read, the more assured he felt that he made the right decision. Why be ashamed of something that made everyone love him more? Maybe this was where he belonged all along. His followers tripled within two weeks. He promised his followers that he would eat whatever they paid for. Jamie tried to sweeten the pot for them too, "If you look back in the archive, you all can tell what kind of guy you're working with when I make promises like that. I eat all sorts of junk and stuff myself whenever I get a chance. I'm also probably not going to burn all of that exercising. If my last video didn't make it clear enough, cardio is not something that has a regular place in my life. So feel at ease, knowing your money is going to a very good cause." Jamie gave his stomach a couple of pats for the camera. 

Suddenly, money started coming in like a water hose. Money was coming into his account, gift cards were getting sent to his email, and presents were showing up at his door. Jamie had full-on supporters now. They were all in, engaging with him whenever he wanted to be there. If he was considering being lazy or having a little extra dessert, someone was always there within seconds to tell him to do it. If he wasn't sure about finishing his meal, there was always a little encouragement waiting for him in his messages. 

His new supporters also came with a bit more edge. They were more willing to speak their mind about the kinds of food he should be eating: fattier, more flavorful, more. They introduced him to shakes; they gave him new concoctions to try to actively help push a few more pounds onto his already very generous frame. It was a new step for him to take. All this time, he hadn't been trying to gain, the weight had found him from trying to have fun. This had all been an adventure in people enjoying who he already was. The last 25 pounds were already a big shock for him, what would happen if he really opened the floodgates and started actively gaining weight? What would people say?   

Nothing he hadn't heard before, something deep inside told him. It was scary to admit, but people had been comfortable saying all kinds of crazy things to him about his size for a long time. 400 might have been a new threshold of big, but he'd been fat enough to draw the ire of folks for hundreds of pounds now. The stares, the jokes, the dire warnings of health concerns, and the snide remarks were already fixtures in his regular life. No one would care if he put on a little more weight, they had already written him off as fat. The only person's opinion that matters is his own...and he was having fun. 

Jamie made a video taste testing some gainer shake recipes for the very first time. His mouth watered watching all these delicious ingredients get added to the blender. He chugged one after another before he came to the realization that each one of those glasses was the calorie equivalent of a full day's eating. "Maybe I overdid it," he admitted on camera.  The comments assured him he was on the right path. 

One evening a few months later, Jamie was meeting up with his friends to celebrate a birthday. He was trying to inhale the rest of the McDonald's he had picked up on the way in his car. When he heard a tap on his window, he was startled. Brandon was leering in. Jamie rolled down the window. 

"Jamie, are you actually eating in the parking lot of a restaurant that you're about to enter?"

Jamie looked to the pile of food on the passenger seat and accepted lying was not an option. "Yes."

"Oh my God." 

"Look, I know this isn't the best look, but I had to do something. My appetite has been growing a lot lately-"

"From the amount of stretching your stomach's been doing for the channel."

"-and I don't want to pig out at every meal that I have in public. I already eat more than everyone else, I don't need to keep adding fuel to the fire. You and I both know they really only tolerate all of this," Jamie jiggled his belly, "because we've been friends for such a long time."

"Yeah, but you've got to admit that this is getting out of hand. You've gained like a hundred pounds in the last year or so, and when you started this you were worried about how big you already were."

"But when I started this, I was also deeply insecure about the idea of even showing my body in public. Now I have people in my life who are genuinely excited about me doing the things I love the most and are happy to see me be me."

"I'm not sure this is you guiding you along. Feels a little more like the tail wagging the dog. "

"Brandon, you know my life better than anyone at this point. I want you to think back to my videos. Have you ever seen me this happy in my life?"

"No. I want to say I have, but I haven't."

"Exactly. Believe me when I tell you that I'm okay. I'm enjoying myself. I'm in control of the situation. I wouldn't still be doing this if I didn't like it."

"Okay, but I think you should know you're starting to get to the deep end of all this stuff. I'm not going to be able to help you so much as you keep growing."

Jamie didn't take that as a warning at the time. He was more than content to catch up on Brandon's life while he ate. He had dessert after dinner and a midnight snack. Jamie kept on, knocking back gainer shakes like it was water.  The only thing that gave him pause came while he was on the watch out to hit 500. Jamie went to his manager after his desk chair broke in a second place in one month. It had been a bit of a fight to get them to give him a big and tall chair in the first place back when he was cresting 300 and breaking it was not going to lead to a pleasant conversation. 

"Look, I understand that we live in a body positive society now and the company is really trying to work on being more inclusive, but this is too much. We can't keep doing this. It might be easier to swallow the fact that you are now too big for a big and tall chair if it wasn't clear to everyone that you're also spending more time eating in your work day than actually working. Every paper that crosses your desk leaves with crumbs and grease stains and your numbers are slipping to the point that you're now last in the division. It's time for you to go."

Suddenly, Jamie was back in a crisis all over again. This time, though, he already had a lifeline. Donations had reached a fever pitch in the past few weeks and it was only going to keep increasing. The only real problem was that Brandon wasn't going to be able to help him find a new avenue to expand his business. Jamie turned to his followers, telling them all of his woes with the hope a savior would emerge. 

He got another warning in his direct messages from another gainer. "Be careful what you wish for. The bigger you get, the more you're going to find people who are serious about this. The dark end of this community will drag you in if you're not prepared to handle it. There are guys who will keep pitching in with a meal or two, and guys who will take over your life." 

That was what we had in mind when he met with Tom. Tom was a slender man who wore a dark suit and a sly smile. Tom had watched his videos since the very beginning. The bigger he got, the more active he had become in the comments. 

"It's such a pleasure to get to meet you in person. I wish it was under different circumstances."

'Well these don't have to be sad either.”

“I didn’t say they were sad; I only wish they were different. I think every man of your… stature should be excited by the prospect of leaving your job to spend the rest of your days eating and having a good time.”

“Well I don’t know if it’ll be the rest of my days.”

“I can’t imagine after this little experiment you’ll be begging to be back working a 9 to 5.”

“I can’t imagine I’ll enjoy being unemployed.”

“It’ll help when you stop thinking of yourself as unemployed and more as a full-time content creator.”

“Right…what's the catch?”

A few months later, Jamie was living in the lap of luxury. Tom hired someone to come around every day to take care of chores and get him whatever food he wanted. (Tom had also hired him to ensure that food was now always within arms reach and Jamie did as little physical labor as possible.He would get a bonus ever time he could sneak in appetite stimulant or weight gain shakes into his diet) Jamie spent the first couple weeks just testing his new helper on the lengths they would go for his every craving. He never found something he wanted that wouldn’t show up for him in multiple greasy bags ready to be devoured. Catering pans filled with burritos or lasagna would show up whenever he wanted. 

Jamie was glad for the extra hands around the house because it meant he could devote all his time to his favorite hobbies. He could binge watch shows and play video games for days. The internet would graciously supply him with any kind of entertainment to keep his mind distracted while giant bags of chips disappeared into his maw. 

The best part, Jamie thought, was having Tom around. All the nagging voices of his coworkers were replaced with Tom’s. He would come over when he got a break or after work, usually toting a bag filled with Jamie’s favorite treats. While Jamie shamelessly licked his fingers and the bag for every morsel, Tom would whisper into his ears how sexy he found him. He would tell Jamie how proud he was every time he found fresh fat and stretch marks while he caressed his body. Whenever Jamie got nervous and embarrassed about outgrowing clothes, Tom would celebrate and order in the finest meals he could find. Tom had transformed unemployment into being the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Time slipped away and pounds piled on. The bubble of indulgence burst when Brandon paid Jamie a surprise visit. The helper opened the door slightly and Brandon barged in. 

“Jamie, I think there’s something you should- dear Lord! What the hell?” Brandon took in the full extent of Jamie’s new level of obesity. He would check in on videos occasionally, but months had passed since he last saw him in person.  “The camera really doesn’t do justice on how big you look.”

“That’s what Tim says too. He says I’ll waste away if I’m not careful.” Jamie let out a nervous chuckle that shook his bean bag sized belly. 

“Brandon, do you know how much Tim is keeping from you? Do you even know how much you weigh?”

“Well I got fired around 500 and we just did a milestone video not too long ago, so I figure I should be in the early 600s.”

“That milestone video was for 700 and that was six months ago.”

“Well time sort of gets away from you when you don’t have to be at work five days a week. But I’m making the best out of the situation. I’ve got great TV and these delicious snacks that honestly taste like butter and sugar.”

“It probably is just lard and sugar,” Jamie said. “And this isn’t raising any red flags for you? Aren’t you worried about fitting through doors anymore?”

“Not since we widened them all. I had a few incidents where I got stuck.”

“A few?”

“Well the first time, I thought it was a freak accident, but then it kept happening and each time it was harder for me to get out. There was one time Tim was going to grease me up to get me out the door with some butter, but I had already eaten it all during a feeding session.”

“And again, you’re okay with all this? A man just emerges from the internet and you let him feed you off a cliff?”

“Honestly, it didn’t take as much convincing as you might think. Tim has this belief that just some people were born to be fat and that’s it. That being fat is our role to play in the world. And like I probably could’ve gone into the job market and fought for another boring job I don’t even like just to make ends meet, but my other option was to be perfectly fine doing exactly what I want to do. I enjoy eating and lounging around all day and the more I do it, the bigger I get, the more money I make to spend on food and fun stuff. Outgrowing clothes, furniture, my car- it’s all just a part of my life at this size. It’s been a part of my life for years now, decades almost. And the price to pay- the stuff that my doctors used to say to scare me- I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve spent too much trying to be scared by it already. One more cake isn’t going to make the difference.”

“Give up, he’s already made up his mind.” Tim said, emerging without warning. “This is who he is now. He’s settled completely into a life of being fed and pampered. Now all he wants in life is to keep growing for me and his subscribers. That strong-willed guy you used to know is gone. He’s accepted life as a fat boy. .’

The doorbell rang. The caretaker opened the door and in came a man in a polo with a gigantic grease stained brown paper bag. The smell of all kinds of food filled the house. Jamie looked at Brandon who was licking his lips. Brandon couldn’t contain his excitement. Brandon said, stunned, “This is really your life now. This is what fills your life with happiness. Do you even have any of your mobility left?”

“Of course I do. Look, I’ll go fetch my mid-afternoon snack from the kitchen myself.”

“Snack?”

Brandon rocked back and forth, trying to get some momentum. For a brief second, he made it off the chair. Then the momentum switched directions. The weight of a family of four slammed into the sofa. The wooden frame underneath let out a scream before the whole left side broke into pieces. 

“Are you okay?” Tim yelled out. 

“Let me help you back up.” Jamie stretched out his hands. 

“No, I can get up by myself.” Brandon tried the trick again. He rocked back and forth and hauled himself up with a mighty groan. Breathlessly, he said, “I told you I could do it.”  

Brandon waddled slowly towards the kitchen. Every thunderous step shook the house, rattling anything not nailed down. It was hypnotizing watching the dimpled folds of his body pillow-sized thighs brush past each other. His gut swung like a pendulum back and forth out of the bottom of his shirt. Every movement made his shirt slide further up his belly until it was blocked by his chest. The sound of his panting was hard to ignore as it grew louder. It didn’t seem like a long distance from the sofa to the kitchen counter, but when Brandon got there, it was like he had completed a marathon. Everyone was stunned by the sight, except for Brandon. 

“All of this is for me, right?” Brandon said, catching his breath, “I’ve been hungry since I finished my second round of lunch an hour ago.”  Brandon tore apart the bag and stuffed a fistful of seasoned fries into his mouth while he rifled through the containers. 

[thiccschief]

Coach's Big Secret, Pt. 1

Part one of three.

This story idea popped into my head the other day, can't wait to write the second part! As always let me know what y'all think!

Contains rapid male weight gain, sexual themes, bloating. Slight inflation themes, but mostly weight gain.

After practice, the team slowly leaves the locker room as they get dressed and head home. Coach asked you to stay after and discuss some things with him, so you hit the showers to kill some time and then return to the locker room. Now the only one left, you begin to get dressed. As you squeeze into your pants, you pray that Coach will finally let you cut after this bulk he’s had you on.

Since the college rugby season started a month or so ago, Coach has had you on an intense bulking diet. Or at least, that’s what he calls it. To you it feels like more of a dirty bulk… Regardless, you went from about 220 pounds at the start to about 240 pounds on your 6’ frame. Your belly and love handles have become noticeable in your shirts, as well as your pecs which are starting to look a little more like tits, which the other guys on the team have been teasing you about relentlessly. Hopefully, you think, Coach is going to tell me I can start focusing on turning this into muscle.

As you manage to squeeze into your tee (which barely conceals your pudgy belly) Coach Johnson walks in the locker room. At 40, Coach Johnson is a handsome man who is 6 '2 " with a bit of a dad bod. He’s always been a likeable and easy to get along with coach, but can still make the boys on the team fall in line when he needs to.

“Hey champ! Great work out there today.” Coach says, as he walks up to you. “Thanks for waiting for me, I had to wrap some things up.”

“No problem, Coach!” you reply. You notice his eyes dart quickly to your belly and then back up. “What did you want to discuss with me? Am I doing okay on the team?”

“Of course! Sorry bud, I didn't want you to think that at all. I actually wanted to tell you I’m proud of your results! It looks like you’re following my diet guidelines well!” He makes a gesture toward your body.

“I’ve been trying, for sure” you reply. “I know you want what’s best for me and the team. I was wondering, though, how much do you want me to keep bulking before I can start the cut? I feel like I’m starting to get a little fat…”

Coach quickly interjects “Not at all, champ! It may seem unconventional, but you’re on the road to becoming a star athlete! You’ve gotta trust me on this one. You wouldn’t wanna let down me and the team, would you?”

“No sir…”

“Good. Now, back to what I was going to ask you. As a congratulations on your progress, I wanted to see if you would want to try that new buffet in town? They’re doing a special with unlimited barbeque! You can get your protein in, and then some. My treat!” Coach says this with his usual enthusiasm, and you feel like you can’t say no.

“Thanks Coach! Sounds great!”

“Good, let’s head out then! I’m starving.” Coach says this with his usual friendly smile, but you feel like he’s more enthusiastic about this than normal. Maybe he really is just hungry.

You follow Coach out to his pickup truck and climb in the passenger seat, and he starts driving. You chat with him about the team and the game coming up next weekend. Once the two of you arrive, you find a table then set out for the buffet. Coach was right… this grand opening special is no joke! There’s brisket, pork, chicken, you name it. And not to mention the sides. You’re a sucker for some good mac and cheese, and this looks like the good stuff…

After pursuing the buffet, you return to the table to find Coach already seated with a modest portion of brisket and veggies on his plate. In stark contrast to his, your plate is piled high with a barbecue sandwich, more meat, some veggies, a massive serving of mac and cheese, and some pecan pie to top it off.

“Damn, son. It’s a good thing this place has big plates! You’ve got quite the appetite tonight.” Coach says with some hearty laughter. “Glad to see you’ve taken my diet to heart.”

You can feel your face growing red with embarrassment as you sit down and begin eating. “Yeah, I feel like I get a lot hungrier now… gotta get those calories in if I want to build some muscle I guess!” You reply with nervous laughter.

“That’s right! Well, let's eat!” Coach says and begins eating his own meal, occasionally glancing at your plate as if monitoring your progress.

You both make small talk about rugby as you eat… or at least Coach does. You’re doing a little less speaking as your mouth is near constantly full of food. As if coming out of a trance, you finally near the end of your meal, and attempt to stifle a burp as you realize how full you actually are. “Shit, coach… I think my eyes may have been a little bigger than my stomach tonight…” you laugh nervously as Coach grins at you.

“C’mon big guy! Can’t let that go to waste! Besides, you need the calories for building muscle, remember?”

“I… yeah… I’ll try…” You stammer as you pick the fork back up and force yourself to finish off your plate. Finally done, you lean back in the booth and put your hands on your full belly. “Damn, *burp* I’m stuffed… that was so much food…”

“And you took it like the champion you are!” Coach says, grinning still. “You know, I think you have what it takes…”

“Huh?” You’re almost too full to focus on what he’s talking about. “Have what it takes for what?”

“I’ve been working on a new way to provide nutrition for athletes trying to bulk up. I haven’t tried it out yet, but I think it would be a great addition to your regimen. You’re clearly committed to doing what it takes for the team. It’s the first of its kind so it’s a little difficult to explain… I think it would be easier to take you to my house and show you.” Coach is speaking in a low tone as if he doesn’t want to expose his new invention.

“I uh… ok Coach… I trust you.” Still nearly too full to function, Coach offers to help you out of the booth and you two make your way to his truck. As he climbs in the driver’s seat you catch a glimpse of what looks like a boner in his khakis, but it’s hard to tell in the dimly lit parking lot.

Coach lives on a large property on the outskirts of your small town. Once you two arrive, he pulls his truck to the back of the lot to what looks like a large garage/workshop building. He guides you inside the side door, and cuts on the lights.

“Here she is! It may not look like much, but this thing is going to transform the way we look at nutrition!” Coach, beaming with pride and excitement, gestures to what looks like a large steel tank labeled “Mass Plus” to the side of the large room. Next to the tank is what appears to be a long, black garden hose. The center of the room is cleared, and there are miscellaneous tools and equipment along the walls.

“Y’know Coach, I never thought of you as the mad scientist type…” you say, trying to process the scene.

Coach laughs and replies “Never judge a book by its cover, son! So the first part is simple. I’ve been working hard to develop a formula that instantly provides results and helps athletes bulk up. The second part is… well… shall we say, outside the box? You see, in order for this formula to be most effective, it has to be absorbed straight into your digestive system. Which means it has to enter the body through… atypical means.”

“Respectfully, Coach, are you saying it has to go up your ass!?” You reply, bewildered. This has to be a fucked up dream…

“Always direct to the point! Yes, it has to be taken like that. But think about it, is it really the craziest thing you’ve heard someone do for their physique? And besides, this is completely between you and I. What happens here won’t be shared with anyone. Now, you trust me, right? This will be great for your performance on the field. It’ll take your bulk to a whole new level!” Coach walks over to the hose reel and picks up what looks like a… buttplug… shaped nozzle at the end of the hose.

While completely shocked by everything happening so fast, there is a part of you that is, for some reason, curious to try this out… Besides, Coach is always looking out for you and has your best interests in mind! He hasn’t steered you wrong yet!

While holding the nozzle, Coach walks over and picks up a bottle of lube and begins applying it to the nozzle.

“Alright champ, go ahead and drop your pants for me, and come over here to the middle of the room. Don’t be shy, it’s not like I haven’t seen all of you in the locker room already.”

Your heart racing with apprehension and curiosity, you follow Coach’s instructions. He walks up behind you and you feel his gentle yet strong hand between your shoulder blades, signaling you to bend over. You close your eyes and brace for impact, then feel the cold, large nozzle slide into your ass. You can’t help but let out a small yelp as you feel it enter.

“Just breathe, big guy. You’re doing great.” Coach says in a low tone. “Almost there…”

You feel it finally stop moving as Coach instructs you to stand back up straight.

“Damn that thing is… huge…” you say, trying not to reveal how good it actually felt.

“We’re just getting started, champ! Alright, step two…” Coach says as he grabs a remote.

You hear a beep as Coach fiddles with the remote and suddenly you feel the nozzle expand in your ass as if it’s being inflated. You can’t help but let out a small moan as it touches your prostate then stops.

“This formula is incredibly potent, can’t risk any of it leaking…” Coach says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Alright, time for the main event! I’ll go easy on you to start.”

You hear another beep, and hear what sounds like a pump in the large tank come to life. After a few seconds, you feel a warm liquid entering you from the nozzle.

“Oh shit… I can feel it…” you say softly, transfixed by the sensation.

“Good! We’ll keep it on low for now. Also- due to male anatomy, this will likely also cause some level of arousal. Don’t be embarrassed, just go with the flow, okay big guy?” Coach says gently, as he quickly glances at your now rock hard cock.

While this is embarrassing, there’s no way to hide it now… “Yes sir…” you reply, meekly.

“Oh, I almost forgot one more thing!” Coach says as he walks to one of the corners of the room, and returns with a full length mirror on wheels. “This way you can watch the magic happen!”

Looking in the mirror, you can already see some of the effects of the experimental solution. Your already tight shirt is beginning to ride up as your belly fills with the creamy liquid. But your pecs also look… bigger? You turn to the side and realize your thighs and ass are also ever so slightly thicker as well!

“Coach! I think this is making me… fatter? Is that supposed to happen?”

“Don’t worry about it, champ. It’s all part of the bulk, remember? Besides… I think we both know you like it.” Coach has that devious grin again, as he walks up and playfully pokes your jiggly belly.

“W-what… are you talking… about?” You stammer, completely flustered, the machine still pumping creamy mass gainer into you.

“Well… your teammates and I were talking about how it seems like whenever they tease you about how much of a fatboy you’re becoming… you always get hard. Don’t you?” Coach says, giving your dick a playful squeeze.

Mortified and bright red with embarrassment, you know there’s no way of denying this one…

“And… what if I were to tell you… I think it’s hot too? Seeing you turn into a lardass, that is.” Coach says in a low tone, giving your belly a hard smack and watching as it shakes in recoil. “Watching you put on weight over the past month… and seeing you struggle to keep up with the team at practice… I gotta say, bud, it really gets me going.” Coach pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the floor, revealing his hairy chest. “So, I’ll level with you. That tank right there? It’s not quite a normal mass gainer recipe. It’s mainly your standard heavy cream. With a few… additives… to make it work quicker.”

“I… it’s… what…” Everything is happening so fast, you can barely formulate a sentence. But it’s true, you do want this. And from Coach… it just makes it even more arousing.

“Shh… just enjoy it, big guy. Alright, I think that’s enough of the beginner setting. Let’s see you REALLY pack on some pounds!” Coach presses another button on the remote and you can feel the flow of cream intensify.

Part two is here.

[donistheone]

The Scale

Summary: Eric, a recent college grad with a healthy appetite, is desperately trying to keep himself underneath the threshold of “obesity”. As he religiously keeps track of his weight and works out, he still craves junk food and his clothes are no longer fitting properly. Something isn’t adding up…

Eric threw himself down onto his old leather couch and turned on the TV, sighing with relief after his long day. He had started the day at his doctor’s office for his annual check-up, which hadn’t gone well. He knew that sitting in his office snacking had caught up with his waistline, and he no longer had the muscular and fit body he’d been so proud of in college. 

It had been a year since Eric graduated with his degree in business, and he had recently replaced all of his 32’ pants with 34s. What he hadn’t realized was that over the past year, he had packed quite a lot of weight onto his 6’1” frame. Eric was devastated that morning to hear the doctor tell him he weighed 220 pounds, 30 pounds heavier than he had been only a year ago. The doctor had been direct with Eric, smiling as he told him that he had gained too much weight too quickly, and that with a BMI of 29.0, he was tantalizingly close to a BMI of 30.0, or obesity. The doctor had happily informed Eric that he needed to take action to lose weight or else, at the rapid rate he was growing, he would cross this terrifying threshold very soon.

Sitting on his couch, Eric looked down at his belly, which peeked out in the gaps between the buttons of his strained size L shirt. His stomach growled, and Eric frowned. “Shut up!” he muttered to himself crossly. He needed to lose weight, and he wasn’t allowing himself to be hungry. After his appointment, he had skipped his usual breakfast order of 2 egg McMuffins from McDonalds, and he went into work with a determination to not snack at all. He ordered a salad for lunch, and had worked out for the first time in a year after his shift had finished. On the way home, he bought healthy ingredients and a scale to keep track of his weight. He wasn’t going to allow himself to cross the threshold to obesity, no matter what.

Eric had watched 2 episodes of his favorite show when he decided he had to eat something. After all, he was used to constant snacking, and he had barely eaten all day. He paused his show and walked over to the kitchen and threw together a low calorie salad with cucumber, lettuce, and tomato. “I feel like a fucking rabbit” he thought to himself as he nibbled a piece of lettuce. “Do normal people eat like this??”. 

Having not satiated his hunger at all, Eric miserably rose up from the couch and walked to the bathroom. He timidly stepped on his new scale, praying that all of the suffering he had endured throughout the day had at least been worth it. The scale displayed 219 in glowing red letters. “I’ve already lost a pound!” Eric shouted, pleased with himself. Just then, his stomach once again growled in protest. It seemed to have a mind of its own, and Eric could no longer tolerate the hunger pains. He remembered he had leftover pizza from last night, and while it wasn’t the healthiest option, he couldn’t stand the idea of eating more vegetables. He walked over to the fridge and opened the door, but then realized with dismay that he had finished the entire Domino’s XL pizza last night. Ravenous and desperate, Eric opened the DoorDash app on his phone and ordered his usual double cheeseburger meal from Wendy’s. 

Half an hour later surrounded by burger wrappers and an empty 64oz soda cup, Eric’s urgent hunger had been satiated, but he had made a terrible mistake. Panicking, Eric got up and looked at himself in the mirror, burger grease dribbling down his chin. His chest was puffy, and his gut was distended, jutting out far in front of him. He quickly stepped on his new scale, and sighed with annoyance when it read 221. Some quick googling informed him that his BMI was still under 30.0.  “Maybe I gained a couple of pounds back already, but at least I’m still technically not obese” he told himself. 

Eric woke up the next morning and immediately made his way to the bathroom and stepped on his scale. 220. “Ha! Looks like sleeping is a great way to lose weight!” He smirked at himself in the mirror and raised his arm into a muscle pump, ignoring the slight drooping of flab that had been solid muscle less than a year ago. “We’re going to really start losing weight today!” His 34” inch jeans obscenely clinging to his ass, he walked to his car, got in, and turned on the engine. 

At work, Eric decided that to avoid a repeat of the manic frenzy of eating that had happened last night, he would allow himself to have a few of his usual snacks to tame his hunger. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a few Twinkies and a family size bag of Doritos, munching slowly while he filled out his reports. He stopped by the gym on the way home, taking no notice of how his belly slightly eased its way out from underneath his tight gym clothes as he lifted weights. 

After his exhausting workout, Eric flopped onto his couch and picked at a salad. Putting the mostly uneaten meal aside, he weighed himself in the bathroom. 222. “How is this possible!” He yelped. He had been trying so hard to lose weight and avoid obesity, but it was so challenging! He didn’t even understand how he had gained weight over the course of the day, since he had only had a few snacks, and he had even done a thorough weight lifting routine! Defeated, he got onto his computer and calculated that he would be considered obese at a weight of 228 pounds. Six measly pounds lay between him and obesity. He sat in front of his computer for a moment, miserable and deep in thought. He gently rubbed his grumbling belly, his hairy paunch briefly visible. He then abruptly ordered an XL Domino’s pizza on his phone. He couldn’t stand being hungry, and a little treat wouldn’t affect his weight too much. As long as he weighed less than 228 pounds, he told himself, then he couldn’t be officially obese. 

After the pizza, Eric had demolished a half gallon of cookie dough ice cream in a particularly gluttonous moment, and then followed it with a dozen donuts. He had gone to sleep happy and absolutely stuffed to the brim. That morning, he had woken up, taken in the evidence of the previous night scattered across the floor, and cursed himself for allowing such a feeding frenzy to happen yet again. He had then reluctantly weighed himself, expecting the worst. 

222 was the number that flashed up on the scale. “Holy hell!” he thought merrily. “I was sure that I would have gained at least a couple of pounds after what happened last night!” The scale revealed that he hadn’t gained a single pound. It was a miracle! Joyous, he went into his closet and picked out a large pink polo shirt and his new favorite 34” brown chino pants. He was so thrilled to not have gained any weight that he didn’t notice how his thick thighs rubbed together viciously, straining against the seams of his pants. He didn’t notice how his belly peeked out of his polo shirt ever so slightly, or the new small layer of fat beginning to form underneath his chin. 

---

Eric walked into work two weeks later feeling ecstatic. The scale still read 222 pounds, even though he had completely abandoned his new diet of salad two weeks ago. Clearly, his workouts lifting weights at the gym were enough to balance out the calories of his extravagant evening meals. He binged on his favorite foods every night, but the scale continued to not change. He did have to buy a few new XL shirts and some 36” chinos, but when you build so much muscle, of course you might need to go up a size or two! He had found a way to conquer the looming threshold of obesity. He slowly lowered himself into his seat, not noticing the way his ass filled up his chair more than it used to. “Why would anyone want to eat salad when they could avoid obesity by eating anything they want?” he thought to himself smugly as he scarfed down another family size bag of Doritos. He leaned over to his phone and ordered a burger from Wendy’s for lunch. He was hungry, and he didn’t want to starve, after all!

---

About a year later, Eric lumbered into the doctor’s office for his annual check-up. His 44” jeans slipped down his wide legs and he quickly yanked them back up, the action making his entire body jiggle. His belly flopped out of the bottom of his new 3XL shirt. He had continued to eat whatever he wanted and lifted weights every day. Sure, he was lifting less than he had a few months ago and he wasn’t doing as many reps as he used to, but at least he still hadn’t become obese! After a few months of his new weight maintenance routine, his scale still reported a weight of 222 pounds, and he eventually stopped weighing himself since the weight never changed. 

The doctor looked up, and gaped in shock. “Eric?!” he cried. “Is that you?”. Eric looked at the doctor and frowned. “Yes, of course it’s me!” he replied. The doctor stared at Eric for a moment, looked at his medical report, blinked, and then shook his head. “Get on the scale,” he ordered. Eric proudly stepped on the scale, his hairy belly grazing the wall, and smiled at the doctor. “I’ve been on a diet and working out over the last year. I haven’t lost any weight, exactly, but I think you’ll be pleased nevertheless!”. The doctor laughed and grabbed Eric’s protruding belly. “Pleased? Remember last time you were here, I informed you that you were nearing obesity and you needed to get in shape? Well, it seems like you certainly have been busy since our last meeting.” The doctor smirked and pointed at the reading on the scale.

340

“A BMI of 44.9!” the doctor bellowed. Eric turned towards the doctor, belly and tits wobbling, and mouth agape in surprise. “But….but…. “ The doctor smacked Eric’s ass. “Yes, that’s a big butt alright!” he cackled. Eric’s cheeks burned red as he realized he had gained a whopping 120 pounds over the last year. All of those binges had made him gain so much weight! And he had foolishly thought that he hadn’t gained any weight at all… 

“But the scale said I still weighed 222 pounds!” he blurted out. The doctor looked at him and sighed. “Did you remember to change the batteries, fatty?”

The End

[quads4days]

The Halloween Harvest: Prologue

Prologue: The Weight of Tradition

In the quiet town of Croft Hollow, nestled deep within the shadow of ancient hills, Halloween was more than just a celebration of pumpkins, costumes, and candy. It was the town’s lifeblood, the hinge upon which its very survival depended. Every October, as the leaves turned fiery and the air chilled with the bite of autumn, the townspeople of Croft Hollow prepared for the Harvest Feast—a ritual as old as the town itself.

When the veil between worlds thinned, the ancient gods of gluttony and indulgence stirred from their slumber. For centuries, the town had honoured them with offerings: outsiders, strong and proud, lured into the feast, fed to the point of immobility, and sacrificed to keep the old gods appeased. In return, Croft Hollow had thrived—its people lived prosperous, slender lives, untouched by the darkness that lurked just beyond the hills. But that prosperity came with a price.

This year, the weight of time had begun to press heavily on the townspeople. The signs had come gradually at first—loosened belts growing tighter, faces fuller in the mirrors, the subtle yet undeniable spread of flesh that came with each passing week. The townsfolk, once slim and trim, had begun to swell. It started with an extra softness around the middle, a tightening of shirts that had fit just fine the season before. But as the weeks ticked by, the changes became more pronounced. Men who had once worn their trousers with ease now found their bellies hanging over their waistbands. Women who had prided themselves on their lithe figures now saw their dresses straining against thicker hips and heavier thighs.

The town blacksmith, once a strong and wiry man, now found his hammer harder to swing, his arms thickened with a layer of softness that had never been there before. The baker, always surrounded by the temptation of her goods, had noticed her apron strings pulling tighter around her expanding waistline. And the children—once full of energy—seemed slower, weighed down by an inexplicable lethargy that had crept into their bones. It was as if a great heaviness had fallen over the town, not just in body but in spirit.

The townspeople whispered about it, in hushed tones, as they gathered in the marketplace, their arms laden with extra bread, extra meat. They knew what was happening. The old gods were stirring, growing impatient. The curse that bound the town was coming to claim them, just as it had every century before. If the Harvest Feast did not take place—if the gods were not given their due—their growing weight would be the least of their concerns.

Without the sacrifice, the townsfolk’s gains would not stop. Their bodies, already softening, would continue to swell. What had started as a harmless extra inch around the waist would become a rapid, uncontrollable expansion, their limbs bloating, their bellies swelling, until they too became immobile, unable to rise from their beds, trapped in their own flesh. And then, the real punishment would begin. The town would fall into darkness—sickness, famine, ruin. The weight of their greed would consume them all, body and soul.

There was no escaping it. The old gods’ hunger could only be sated one way.

And so, they prepared. The townspeople worked with an urgency they hadn’t felt in decades, dressing their homes with eerie decorations, lighting jack-o’-lanterns at every corner, and setting tables for the feast. Each knew that time was running out, that if they failed to complete the ritual, their growing bodies would be consumed by the curse they had so long avoided.

The mayor, Sam, whose once sharp jawline had grown softer with each passing week, called an emergency meeting in the town hall. His belly, now noticeable even under his formal robes, jutted out as he stood at the head of the room, his voice trembling with barely contained fear.

“The feast must be perfect,” he said, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his buttoned vest straining against his newly fattened waist, as though holding himself together. “The offerings... they must come soon.”

He glanced nervously at the townsfolk gathered before him, each of them larger than they had been last year, their faces betraying the same gnawing fear that plagued him. They all knew what was at stake. This was not just about tradition anymore. It was about survival.

And so, they set their plan in motion. Invitations were sent, the bait carefully laid for the unsuspecting outsiders who would soon arrive—strong, fit, and oblivious to the true nature of the Harvest Feast. They would be lured in by promises of competition, indulgence, and prizes, unaware that they were walking straight into a trap. A trap that would save Croft Hollow, but doom them to the fate the town so desperately sought to avoid.

The people of Croft Hollow felt the curse tightening around them with every passing day. Their bodies were reminders of what was coming. The feast was not just about the gods—it was about ensuring the curse would pass over them for another century. Without it, their growing bellies would be only the beginning.

As the blood moon approached, and the air grew colder, the townspeople knew there was no time left. The Harvest Feast would happen, or they would be the ones paying the price, their bodies growing larger and larger until they, too, became part of the offering.

The streets buzzed with preparation, but beneath it all was the unspoken fear that gnawed at every heart: they were running out of time.

[andopandor]

Rebound/Be Round

A gay gainer story

---

"He's fucking shallow. Fuck him," Emmett mutters to himself as he downs yet another beer.

The bartender watches the dejected university student sympathetically from behind the counter. With his job, you learn to recognize the characteristic signs of heartbreak. Emmett is a young man of average height, with brown eyes and a bit of a beer belly. Handsome, if a bit disheveled at the moment. At Emmett's request, the bartender dutifully brings another pint.

Emmett gratefully accepts the drink and glances around the bar, hoping that nobody he knows will see him like this. He sees a tall, broad-shouldered man around his age sitting in the corner, messy brown hair and a day's worth of stubble on his jawline. Emmett tries to figure out why the man looks so familiar...

---

Across the room, Jack is drinking after a long day on the construction site. It's Friday, and payday, and he's taken the opportunity to get a little drunk. He looks up and notices a man staring at him from the barstools. Jack also needs a moment before realizing it's Emmett, his best friend from high school. He'd grown some facial hair and a bit chubbier, but he had the same warm eyes and cute face.

Jack stands and finds his way through the crowded bar. When he finally reaches the counter, he smiles widely. "Hey buddy! It's been way too long," he says. "How's life treating you these days? Still studying engineering?"

They had gone separate ways after high school, when Emmett left town for university while Jack continued into trades. They'd kept in touch on social media, but only barely.

Emmett sighs, a sadness in his eyes that's unfamiliar to Jack. "Oh, you know, same old, same old," he says, half-heartedly returning Jack's smile. "Just been buried in textbooks and papers lately." He gestures vaguely at the bar and the beer in front of him. "Needed a break, I guess."

Jack leans in, looking concerned. "Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I mean, I know it's been a while since we've chatted, but you're still my oldest friend. What's really going on?"

Emmett glances around the bar before finally meeting Jack's eyes. "It's just... things with Mark. He broke up with me."

"Oh," Jack says, surprised. "I'm so sorry to hear that, man. When did that happen?"

Emmett shrugs, looking down at his beer. "A couple of days ago. I thought things were going well, but yeah, no. He was seeing someone else behind my back."

Jack winces. "No way man. You're smart, attractive, funny... He's seriously giving up on the perfect man."

"It's just... he said..." Emmett hesitates, but Jack encourages him to continue. "It's just he said I was gaining too much weight." He takes a long sip of beer, trying to push the emotions back down. "I mean, I know I've put on a few pounds since first year, but come on. I've always been a bigger guy. It's not like I've changed as a person."

Jack's face darkens. "What a piece of shit. You deserve so much better." He puts a hand on Emmett's shoulder. "You know I've got your back, buddy, right?" He looks at his friend thoughtfully, trying to find the right words to comfort him. "Besides, the weight... looks good on you," he finally says, blurting out the words without quite meaning to. "You've always been bigger than the average guy, and it's, uh, it's attractive." He flushes. "I mean, not that I'm into, you know... just... never mind."

Emmett looks up at Jack, slightly confused. He searches Jack's face for any sign of insincerity, but there is none. "Thanks Jack, I appreciate it," he says, eager to move past the awkward moment. "It's just been tough lately, you know?" He takes another sip of beer. "But it's nice to have someone to talk to about it."

Jack nods, thinking. "Hey, I know it's late, but do you maybe wanna grab dinner? We have a lot to catch up on. Besides, you shouldn't be drinking alone at a time like this." He gives Emmett a reassuring smile. "My treat."

"Sure, dinner sounds great... I am getting hungry. Thanks, Jack."

"Great! There's an amazing Italian restaurant just down the block."

They both finish their beers and head out into the cool evening. As they walk to the restaurant, Emmett already begins to look a bit more cheerful. Jack steals sidelong glances at his old friend. He would never say it out loud, but Emmett does seem a lot thicker than he was at their graduation.

---

The Italian restaurant is bustling with activity, the scent of olive oil and garlic filling the air. The men find their way to a cozy booth in the back and glance over the menu, considering what to order. Emmett's stomach rumbles as he reads. Jack pretends not to notice, but assures Emmett that he can order whatever he wants - it's payday after all.

But when the waiter arrives, Emmett only orders a side salad. Finding this strange, Jack orders the Chef's Special, which includes three different kinds of pasta and nearly half a loaf of garlic bread.

Emmett seems shocked by the size of the order. "You sure you can handle all that, Jack?" he asks with a chuckle.

Jack only grins. "Oh, I've got a big appetite tonight, Emmett. And I figure if I don't finish, I can ask a friend for help."

As they wait for their food, they continue to talk and catch up, laughing and teasing each other like old times. For both of them, it had been a long time since they felt this comfortable around someone. Jack hadn't realized how much he had missed Emmett.

Halfway through his meal, Jack pushes his plate away, unable to eat another bite. Emmett had finished his salad long ago. He looks longingly at Jack's plate, still piled with food.

Jack laughs. "Please, help yourself! I'm finished."

Emmett gratefully pull's Jack's plate over, beginning to dig into the delicious pasta. "Thanks Jack," he says between bites. "I haven't been eating much since... well, the breakup. But this food is really good."

Jack leans back in the booth, watching Emmett eat with a satisfied smile. "No worries, buddy. You don't want to waste away just because of that jerk. You deserve to have a proper meal and to feel good about yourself again."

Emmett shrugs, but continues devouring the pasta.

"You know," Jack says, then hesitates. He never would say this sober. But he's not. "I think you're perfect just the way you are. And I'm not just saying that because of what Mark said. One of these days you'll meet someone who appreciates you for you."

Emmett looks up from his food, giving Jack a skeptical look. "Maybe," he admits, "but I doubt it." He sighs. "I mean you're like the only one who thinks that. Too bad you're straight..."

Jack looks into Emmett's eyes, considering. The noise of the restaurant around him fades away.

"Actually," he says, taking a deep breath. "I'm bisexual."

Emmett pauses mid-chew. "Really??"

Jack nods, swallowing hard. "I've never really told anyone. But... you've been honest with me and I wanted to be honest with you." He gently touching Emmett's hand. "I know you're still getting over Mark, and if you're not interested, that's okay. But I just wanted to tell you."

Emmett stares at their joined hands for a long moment, then up at Jack eyes. "I mean..." he trails off, trying to process this information. "I mean I've kind of always had a crush on you , you know."

Jack smiles shyly. He leans in closer. "And I mean it when I say you've gotten so much hotter since we graduated," he says, glancing down at Emmett's belly. "It's really fucking sexy actually."

Emmett feels a blush creep up his neck. He searches Jack's eyes, finding only honesty and desire. He takes a shuddering breath. "You really mean that?" he whispers.

"I really do," Jack says, his voice low and husky. "You're so gorgeous, Emmett. And I've kind of been fantasizing about something." He leans in even closer, whispering. "I wanna feed you."

Emmett nods slowly, strangely excited by Jack's desires. He had always been concerned with keeping thin, but now... a thrill runs through him. "You'd... you'd want to do that? You'd like me.. that way?"

"Yeah," Jack says, touching Emmett's thigh under the table. "I want to see you eat, to see you grow."

Emmett swallows hard, feeling heat pooling in his groin. "Okay," he breathes. "Okay, let's do it." He takes in the surroundings, trying to compose himself. "But c'mon Jack, not now. We're in public."

Jack laughs. "Fine," he says, leaning back. "My place is just a few blocks from here."

---

After Jack settles the bill, Emmett follows Jack back to his apartment. The warmth inside him abates the cold night air. The pasta settles comfortably in his belly, and, for the first time, he isn't worried that he's eaten too much. As they step into Jack's living room, he can't help but notice how it's much cozier than Mark's bleak minimalist apartment.

Jack turns to face Emmett. "So," he says, noticeably excited, "are you ready to eat?"

Jack has never really cooked for another man before, but he's eager to show off his culinary skills. He fries up some bacon and creamy chicken with mashed potatoes. He also throws a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, for good measure. The aromas fill the air, making Emmett's mouth water in anticipation.

"There you go," Jack says, placing a plate in front of Emmett and sitting down across from him.

"Uh... can I get a fork?" Emmett asks.

Jack smirks. "No. That's my job." He uses his own fork to scoop up some food from the plate. "Open wide."

Emmett dutifully opens his mouth and takes a bite of bacon, savoring the taste. It's very tasty, and he can't help but feel pleased knowing that Jack prepared this meal just for him. "This is amazing," he manages to mumble between mouthfuls.

Jack beams. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." He continues to feed Emmett as the chubby man rubs his belly contentedly.

Many bites later, Emmett moans. "Okay, I'm stuffed. I really couldn't eat anymore."

Jack coaxes another scoop of mashed potato in Emmett's mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Seriously," Emmett groans with his mouth full. He pats his bloated stomach. "I'm packed ."

Jack nods. "Okay, fine," he says reluctantly. "You can go lie down on the couch to digest. I'll join you in a minute."

Emmett stumbles into the living room, feeling rounder and heavier than he's ever been. He collapses into the soft couch, stomach aching but satisfied. He releases a belch and massages his belly, unbuttoning his jeans to give it some more room.

Several minutes pass, and Emmett begins to wonder where Jack is. Soon enough, the brawny man comes into the room with a tray of fresh cookies. "I hope you have room for dessert," he smirks.

Emmett knows he shouldn't but... they look and smell so good. "Ughhh," he groans. "Just one, okay?"

Jack settles beside Emmett. God, he looks big, sprawled out on the couch like this. Jack massages the man's hairy belly where it peeks out from above his jeans. With his other hand, Jack gently touches a cookie against Emmett's lips.

Emmett savours the warm soft dough on his tongue. "Alright, this is fucking delicious," he sighs.

"Thanks," Jack smiles. "You know, I just... like taking care of you." He glances up at Emmett and brushes a crumb out of his beard. "I never want to stop caring for you."

Emmett's heart skips a beat. "I don't want you to, Jack," he whispers. He reaches out, tracing a finger along Jack's jawline.

Jack closes his eyes, leaning into Emmett's touch. "Good," he breathes, his voice low and husky. "Because I want to do so much more than just feed you."

Jack moves his hand down the trail of hair leading towards Emmett's crotch, feeling Emmett's dick grow hard against his belly. They lean closer to each other, their lips mere inches apart.

"Show me." Emmett whispers.

The men's lips lock in a heated kiss, desperate from years of pent-up desire. Their bodies press against each other, Jack's sculpted by manual labour and Emmett's swollen with beer and high-calorie food. Jack's hands roam up and down Emmett's shirt, grabbing his lovehandles and playing with his bellybutton.

Emmett moans against Jack's lips, feeling new sensitivity in his engorged gut. Every inch of him tingles with pleasure as Jack's hands explore his figure.

Jack pulls away from the kiss for a moment, panting heavily as he gazes at Emmett's enlarged stomach. He undoes the buttons of Emmett's shirt and tosses it aside. His fingers are cool against heated skin as they trace circles around his navel. And then lower, down the curve of his belly.

"God, you're so hot," Jack murmurs, continuing to tease and touch. His fingers venture lower still, wrapping around Emmett's aching erection. Emmett moans deeply as Jack begins to stroke.

"That's it," Jack whispers. "Let me take care of you." Emmett feels Jack's breath hot against his chest as the man begins to kiss his neck, his nipples, his belly button. All the while continuing to stroke Emmett's cock. He feels about to explode.

Just when Emmett thinks he can't take it anymore, Jack lips are back on his lips, Jack's eyes staring deep into his.

"Cum for me," Jack whispers. Emmett reaches orgasm and shoots over his bloated belly.

Emmett collapses back against the couch, spent and satisfied. He sighs. "That was... amazing."

Jack kisses Emmett again. "We're not done yet."

"We're not?"

Jack laughs. "There are still eleven cookies left."

[thespiderpig1999]

You want to get fat? Here’s what you need to do:

1. High carb, high fat and low protein diet!

2. Liquid calories are your best friend!

3. Fizzy drinks (not diet) are ideal!

4. Whole milk and heavy cream!

5. Add butter and cheese (when appropriate) to your meals for extra calories!

6. Have your main meals of breakfast, lunch and dinner but also snack throughout the day!

7. Be as lazy as possible! Become a gamer to keep you sat on your ass all day!

8. Train your mind to associate food with pleasure! Do this by only pleasuring yourself when full or even eat while you’re pleasuring yourself!

9. Let fellow gainers encourage you! And tease you if that’s what you’re in to!

10. Track your weight! Not too often but perhaps once a fortnight! Let the increasing numbers motivate you to keep going!!!

If you have anymore tips, leave a reply below!

[makemebigandimmobile]

I want like 40 dude to just feed and fuck my flabs and belly button as they stuff me full of food and junk until my lil heart gives out as I'm covered in there thick gooey cum and grease~

DM open if anyone wants to be that feeder/feeder's~ ❤️

[fatfables]

More Than Jake

Columbus, Ohio, 2042.

Jake Joseph-Jackson, thirty five years old, 678 lbs, sits in his armchair in his house. He is dead. His favourite sixth wave ska band is still playing on his antique record player. The upbeat tempo of the triple trombones is ill-befitting the scene. The lively record continues to spin, pumping out songs in major key, unlike his heart. His bloated face is as grey as the November sky outside. Rain drizzles down his window. Piss drizzles down his inner thigh and stains the cushion of his chair. Only three minutes earlier he had been singing along to the lyrics of his new favourite song. Now jaundice is setting into his bare swollen feet. Whatever he was doing before is irrelevant, for Jake it is over.

The heart attack was massive and came without warning. He felt it, but only for a few brief seconds. The worst pain ever, followed by….. His eyes are open, sunken. His teeth stained yellow by Cheez-Its and cigarettes. The TV is on but muted. Jake still has a TV. If he had known he might have questioned. He had been promised. Promises worth no more than the shit in the sewer below him. The inevitable conclusion of a life of excess. Another dead fat Surplus loser.

All his best friends were gainerheads. That’s how he’d gotten into it, like so many others. Where were those friends now? The carpet was as brown as his chair. A teen with low self-esteem he had found comfort in food and solace in his size. Sexual attention based on his growth. It fed him. Gaining was his life, it had taken over it. It took it. This was the life he’d chosen?

The wind blew his letterbox open. It slammed closed with a bang. He still has a letterbox. The sixty ounce cappuccino next to him is now cold. Who wants a cold cappuccino? The chair sags under his weight. Whoever comes to take him out will not thank him. The only son of a single mother he was born by caesarean section. Cut into and out of the world. When he was young he had believed himself to be a hero, a liberator of the obese. Now he was the one who had been liberated. Thick dry grey lips, unkissed. The trumpet played. The carpet once cream, from the 2000’s, browned from age and the reality of death where he sat. A scene of misery punctuated by bass and treble. 

He had bought the house with his inheritance. He had considered himself fortunate when his Mom died young. He had no one to not care for him. His gainer friends would just consider him weak. Not worthy of more. Giving in at only 678 lbs? They were clearly superior. They would continue to eat, and continue to grow. Continue to gain more than Jake. His phone buzzes. The delivery is five minutes away. It doesn’t matter, his card was precharged. 

[chunkylechonk]

Weight of the Cards

“Can I please check your ID, and be sure to have your entrance fee ready before entering the room,” the casino employee said. 

Ethan stepped forward nervously, his shoes sinking into the plush carpet. As he handed over his driver’s license to the clerk, his ears caught the faintest click from somewhere nearby. He glanced behind him, but the cacophony of lights and sounds from the rest of the casino were like an ocean, swallowing a single drop of rain. When he turned back, the clerk was smiling at him widely. “And can I see your chips, sir?” 

Only managing a grimace in return, Ethan held up two: a blue 10 written in the middle of the checkered disks. They were all that were left of a very bad night, a very bad couple nights if he was being honest, and he needed to change his luck quick. So when another guest, an older man with a graying beard and wearing a flashy, purple chrome-colored shirt, told him about this secret poker table in the backroom of the casino, Ethan had felt it may be his only chance.

The clerk took the two chips and glanced at them before dropping them into a slot by his side. He smiled again as he handed back Ethan’s ID. “Your chips will be waiting at your seat. I hope you enjoy your time with us and that you win big.”

He stepped aside, ushering Ethan past the desk and towards the velvet curtain draped across the doorway. Lifting his hand, Ethan took a deep breath before he pushed through the threshold, the old man’s words coming unbidden to his mind. You’ll definitely gain more than you ever imagined. Pulling the heavy curtain back, he hoped that the man was right. 

The backroom was rather small, dominated by the poker table at its center. It was structured differently than Ethan would have expected: with the dealer in a hollow space in the middle; the players spaced around the origin at regular intervals. A large circle light hung overhead, illuminating the table while casting shadows across the rest of the room. Ethan squinted slightly, and saw a fully-stocked bar in the back corner. The bartender stood behind the counter, cleaning the inside of a glass with a rag. Upon spotting Ethan looking his way, he gave a slight bow, gesturing for him to approach the counter

Ethan walked over and perched nervously on the edge of one of the barstools there, glancing around at some of the other figures in the room. He turned back to the bartender’s welcoming smile, just as wide as the employee’s outside. The man flipped the glass he was cleaning into the air, simultaneously turning around and grabbing a crystal decanter from the shelf behind him. Before Ethan could even comprehend what was happening, the man turned back around, his hand out palm-down, and caught the glass perfectly on his knuckles. His smile could have lit up the entire back room. 

“First time here, buddy?” the bartender queried as he poured a thin stream of amber liquid into the glass. A coaster materialized in his hand next; the glass placed on it and slid in front of Ethan before he could respond. He ruefully took the glass, feeling a mixture of awe and embarrassment.

“Is it that obvious?” Ethan said, chuckling softly into his glass as he took a sip. The whiskey set his mouth on fire and scorched a trail as it slithered down his throat. Trying to save face, he masked his cough by continuing. “I don’t know why I feel like I’m going to get murdered back here or something.”  

The bartender laughed, inclining his head for Ethan to take another drink, which he did with marginally more success. “Nah, the regulars may seem intimidating, but they love new blood back here. Makes things exciting.” Grabbing the glass from Ethan’s hand right as he drained the last bit, he winked as he poured some more. “Besides, we only murder the guys who aren’t so cute.”

Ethan blushed, sure his cheeks were already aflame from the liquor in his stomach. “Thanks. I definitely feel a little out of my depth right now. Being the only newbie here doesn’t make me feel much better.” 

The man chuckled and casually waved toward the poker table behind them. “Don’t worry, newbie, I’m sure you'll grow into it.”

Feeling a little encouraged meeting a friendly welcome, Ethan stood with his second drink and approached the poker table, assuming that the single empty chair that was available must be for him. As Ethan drew near, the other men around the table turned to look at him, and Ethan felt a cold sweat running down his back. There were five others already there, and it seemed that Ethan had been the last to arrive.  

The first person he noticed was the older gentleman that had invited him to this secret rendezvous. He lounged back casually in his seat, with his purple suit jacket unbuttoned and thrown open. The man to his left was dressed much more subdued: a simple black polo shirt that bunched up where it was tucked into his tan, pleated pants. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, with a neat haircut and glasses that slipped down his nose slightly. The next participant was only slightly more remarkable, and he occupied the chair that was to the right of Ethan’s. He had twisted slightly to see who had come in, and Ethan took in the plain T-shirt, which was stained and hugged his protruding belly awkwardly. His neck was obscured by an extra padding of fat, and when he turned back around, his ill-fitting jeans and ample posterior gave Ethan a view of his ass crack. Honestly, the guy would have fit in much more plopped in front of a game console than at this supposedly exclusive meeting. 

When Ethan sat down, his chubby neighbor gave him a nod before pensively looking back at his phone, both of his stout thumbs tapping furiously away at the keyboard. Ethan sipped his drink and glanced to his left at the other two players that sat with them. 

The Asian man on his left was dressed impeccably, his suit tailored to show off the strong upper body and powerful legs that he had attained. On his wrist was a large gold watch, and several rings decorated his fingers. Ethan felt inferior sitting next to the guy, even though earlier today he had thought his outfit rather stylish, perhaps in a more understated kind of way. The man didn’t even glance his way, but Ethan suspected that the way he leaned forward, showing off his defined profile and sharp jawline, was a cunning way of showing off. But as he finally looked at the final player, he completely forgot about the stunning man to his left. 

This guy had to be at least 400 lbs, and he dominated the space as if he relished every bit of his size. There was no sign of the man’s chair underneath him, as it was completely engulfed by the wide stance he had to take to accommodate his massive belly. It hung heavily to sit in his lap, further accentuated by his baby blue shirt, tucked in and tracing the curve of his body. Suspenders of a darker shade bowed out on either side, and the stranger had one hand resting gently on the top of his belly, the other holding a cigar up to his lips. He let out a dense cloud of smoke from his mouth, blurring his rounded face, his bushy eyebrows giving him expression of a gentle scowl. His eyes pierced through the flimsy veil as he regarded Ethan, taking a long drag of his cigar. When Ethan’s eyes made it up to meet his, the man had already looked away, as if he was not interested in his presence at all. 

After a few more minutes, the dealer in the middle of the table deftly passed out two cards to the six players, his silence slightly unnerving Ethan. Unlike the other employees who were all smiles, the dealer’s wide-brimmed hat with the light directly overhead cast deep shadows across his face. Once their cards were in hand, the dealer uncovered the first two cards of the deck, beginning the first round. He was beginning to wonder if no one was allowed to speak, and if they were even playing with the same rules as regular poker, until the man that had invited him to this game suddenly spoke up. 

“Since I have the honor of going first, figured I’d introduce myself to all you lovely bastards I’ve not seen before. Name’s Quentin, and you best remember it,” he gave a cheeky smile as he threw two red chips into the center, “cause I’m the one gonna rob all ya out of heart and home.” Leaning back, he put his hands behind his head and laughed heartily to himself as his neighbor gave him a sour look.  

Ethan was surprised by the quiet voice of the next player, which carried a heavy Mexican accent. He simply told them his name, Angel, sniffing and pushing up his glasses as he threw his own chips into the pile. Next was Ethan’s chunky neighbor, whose name was Billy. As the guy leaned forward to place two chips in the center, Ethan noticed that his shirt clung to his sides, and when he sat back again his shirt had risen to reveal a thin strip of pale belly fat. It bulged over the waistband of his pants, looking soft and malleable. He had to look away quickly, since it was his turn and he hadn’t even looked at his cards yet. Scrambling, he quickly matched the bet and introduced himself to everyone, earning a mock salute from Quentin and a long look from Arthur. Great way to start getting back your winnings, he berated himself, downing the rest of his alcohol for liquid courage. 

The remaining two men matched the bets, introducing themselves in order as Yu-jun and Arthur.  The first game continued from there, and Ethan had a fairly bad hand once he glanced at his cards. He wasn’t even sure if this poker game had the same rules as he was used to. The chips he had started with seemed to have no basis, and the others around the table all had a varying amount. After all the cards were revealed, he only had a pair, while Quentin lauded his luck, having attained a full house that let him snag all the collected chips. Arthur reached over and clapped the victorious man on the back, seemingly unbothered by his loss. The second round went a little better for Ethan, but his hand still wasn’t enough against Arthur, who this time won with three of a kind. 

The players took a short break, and Ethan counted his chips. He had started with one-hundred seventy-eight pieces collectively, for whatever reason, and now was down twenty. He was wondering how much he could lose before cutting his losses when the dealer began giving out extra chips to the players: a black chip for Quentin, a yellow for Arthur, and blue for Ethan. He hadn’t expected that, though looking around the others didn’t seem at all surprised. A light tap on his shoulder caught his attention; the friendly bartender from before was standing behind him, his soothing smile instantly setting Ethan at ease. 

“Every couple rounds there’s a short intermission to allocate winnings and reward the players who have been playing well,” he explained, leaning past Ethan and filling his empty glass without asking for confirmation. “Each hand earns you points based on value, regardless of the outcome. At the end the top three players are awarded extra chips. Think of it like a bonus for playing well and maybe for luck as well. Even if you’re beaten by a better hand or simply a bluff, you still can earn something just because you had a good draw.”

Ethan graciously acknowledged the advice, awkwardly trying to twist around and meet the man’s eyes  “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I would survive without you.” He instantly cursed his choice of words, blaming the two drinks he’d already had for his tongue slip.  

But the guy chuckled and patted his shoulder, resting it there and slowly massaging his arm. Ethan hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, but didn’t pull away from the reassuring touch. We’re all just here to drink and have a good time. I have a feeling you’re going to win big before the night is over. ”

As the bartender drifted away to fill other drinks, Ethan turned back and his eyes fell on Quentin across the table. His jaw dropped. The man was still sitting languidly in his chair, his arms resting across the sides. But he’d suddenly acquired a substantial belly protruding from his center; a perfect sphere that stuck out several inches past his chest. The buttons of his shirt were still holding on, but large diamonds of exposed flesh were appearing between the ones at the crest of his midsection, revealing the peppering of white hair that also covered his stomach. Although mostly covered by his shirt, his chest was pressed against its confines as well, both nipples showing through the straining fabric. 

Ethan had no idea what had happened. He was positive that the guy who had invited him had not been this overweight, either before or during the game. But Quentin seemed unbothered, talking to Arthur at his side and laughing at something he was saying. Arthur also looked slightly bigger, although it was hard to tell with his already substantial size. Ethan felt that his belly had bowed out a little further; his underbelly encroaching just a little bit more into his lap. His jowls looked larger as well, rounding out his face and adding to his chubby appearance. Looking at the pair, acting as if nothing was amiss, Ethan felt like he was losing his mind.

The games continued shortly thereafter, and Ethan was definitely beginning to feel the effects of the strong drink. The entire room seemed to take on a hazy appearance, as if Ethan was looking at things through the sweltering mirage of the desert. He felt laser focused on the cards in his hand, but the edges of his vision warped and blurred. He was still watching the two men across from him however, noticing that everytime Quentin leaned forward to reach for his chips his belly looked even bigger. He glanced at the others, but no one else was exhibiting drastic physical changes at the moment. But the atmosphere had indeed changed, with all the participants bantering and joking more than before as they played through a couple games, chips exchanging hands repeated after each one. 

Again, they took a brief intermission, and Ethan took a moment to look at his total chips. He had earned the second place reward this time, which had bumped his total up to one-hundred ninety-eight. He was excited that he had finally made progress from where he had started, and the excitement made him shift in his chair. Then he shifted again, wiggling back and forth a few times, struggling to find a comfortable position. His slacks were hugging his waist awkwardly, which he hadn’t noticed before. Ignoring the sensation, Ethan figured he just hadn’t noticed before due to how nervous he had been. The third glass of whiskey he had over the last few games was helping him relax a lot more and enjoy the game. 

Billy, silent for most of the games and slowly losing more and more, grabbed his attention. With a sense of deja vu, Ethan was again left flabbergasted by the sudden change of the guy sitting next to him who was definitely not Billy. Gone was the chunky, awkward guy, whose clothes, once ill-fitting, had gone in the opposite direction and had turned baggy on his lean frame. His body had lost the layer of fat that had buried it, revealing skinny arms and a slim face. He no longer looked like that greasy nerd from a few moments ago; now Ethan would say Billy looked leaner than he was. He snapped out of his musing when Billy held a blue chip in front of his eyes.

“I’m backing out dude. I thought I'd give you a little gift on my way.” The stranger, who must have been Billy, handed a chip to Ethan, standing up as he did so. “You’re doing pretty well, but I heard that you’re new here, so I’ll give you a heads up. ” He gestured to the other men remaining, the movement illustrating how different his body was from mere moments ago. “It doesn't seem like anyone has explained to you what they’re betting with here. I would ask before it’s too late.” Holding up his pants slightly so they didn’t fall down, Billy waved and walked toward the exit. 

Hearing the sounds of another goodbye behind him, he turned and saw Yu-Jun standing to leave. The suave businessman had also changed drastically. His tailored suit hugged his body as at least twenty extra pounds of pure muscle had attached to his frame. His biceps were as big as grapefruits, and his shoulders were so broad that everyone could see the muscle definition through the material. Arthur shook the guy’s hand before Yu-Jun left, and as he turned he noticed Billy standing to leave as well. Ethan saw his eyes scan the guy’s body, like a wolf discovering a new source of prey. He strode toward the smaller guy and draped his muscular arm around Billy’s diminutive frame; his cocky smirk on full display as he basically corralled Billy toward the exit. As they walked out of the back room, Yu-jun leaned down to whisper something in Billy’s ear as his hand ghosted down to rest possessively on the guy's ass. 

Ethan stared at the blue chip he’d been given. He rolled it across his knuckles to collect his chaotic thoughts before placing it in the pile with the rest of his earnings. As he did though, Ethan began to feel a strange sensation in his stomach. At first he thought he had imagined it, but a growing pressure was building up behind his belly button. Looking down, he watched as his shirt began to creep up his stomach that was growing before his eyes. His waistband began digging uncomfortably into the underside of the new roll of flab. The way it bulged over his waistband reminded him ominously of Billy earlier that night. Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes, but when he reached down and grabbed the accumulated fat in each hand, he knew it was real. At a complete loss, he gave it a shake, watching the way his softer body bounced.

What the fuck just happened to me? Ethan’s mind was reeling, trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Nothing strange had preceded the change, the only thing he had done was add the extra chip to—. 

It suddenly all clicked into place. The number of chips Ethan had started with, the number feeling vaguely familiar for some reason; the discrepancy between each player's initial totals; the sudden changes he had witnessed the others incur, and the smaller one he had just experienced. Before he’d left, Billy had said he didn’t seem to know what they were betting with, as if it would be anything else besides money. But it was, and suddenly the bartender’s words from earlier took on a completely different meaning: I have a feeling you’re going to win big before the night is over. It wasn’t money they were playing for; it was actual weight. 

A deep voice intruded upon his sudden revelation, and Ethan looked up to see Arthur considering him. He inhaled deeply from his cigar, allowing the smoke to trickle from the corners of his lips before he spoke again. “So, did you figure it out, boy?”

The authority of his voice and stature left Ethan no alternative but to nod mutely and accept the bizarre situation he found himself in. Maybe it was the drink that was making him more malleable to the possibility. Maybe it was the way Arthur still had not broken eye contact, making him feel like a mouse being assessed by a lion. The larger man at last looked away and motioned to someone behind Ethan. He rapped his fingers on the tabletop, and the dealer began passing out cards as the bartender slid smoothly next to Ethan’s side. Arthur’s eyes were back on him as the server deftly poured more of that amber whiskey into his glass. “Let me elaborate while we play the next few rounds.”

The four remaining players each grabbed their cards as Arthur continued to speak. “I’m sure Quentin didn’t explain sufficiently when he invited you here tonight. However, I assure you his phrasing wasn’t meant to mislead you. I can tell you’ve realized we’re betting the weight on our bodies during this game, but just like any other game, you can cash it out when the betting is finished. Every ten pounds is ten thousand dollars.” Ethan almost dropped his glass as he had been about to take a drink, eliciting a laugh from Quentin. Arthur simply smiled, “Not a bad deal, is it?”   

 As he had been listening, the bartender had eased his way to stand directly behind Ethan, resting both hands on his shoulders. Like before, he began to apply pressure and massage Ethan’s wound up muscles, sending waves of electricity through him. The sensation made him relax physically, and he could barely focus on the game as Arthur spoke again. “Of course the money is nice, but some of us here don’t play simply for that. It’s the weight that we’re really after.” He placed his hands on the large expanse of his belly as he said that. “This feeling of being one of the biggest men in the room is simply intoxicating, and then coming here and feeling your clothes shrink before your eyes as you grow even larger. Feeling the fat start to bury you as it envelops your arms and legs, causes your ass to expand, and your gut to swell out in front of you.” Ethan could feel Arthur building up to something important as he lifted his heavy belly and let it thump heavily into his lap. His dress shirt looked basically painted on to the giant orb of lard it contained—it was basically see-through—which Ethan could not help but be enraptured by. 

“Then again, getting big isn’t the only thing that we enjoy. Watching other guys come in here and leave twice as large can be pretty arousing too.” As he said that, he reached for the top button of his shirt and undid it. “Let me get a little more comfortable so I can show you what I mean.”

One by one, Arthur undid the buttons on his dress shirt to reveal his monstrous belly. It seemed even bigger now that it had been set free. While the bottom appeared soft and hung agonizingly over the waistband of his pants, the top of his gut was firm and shone in the low lighting. The shelf his belly formed met with his pecs, although they were so soft that his nipples sagged down and formed a deep crease underneath. With his suspenders now framing his chest, Arthur’s pecs were squished together, highlighting his already significant man tits. 

He discarded his shirt and gestured to Quentin, who had been watching the entire scene with a devilish grin. Taking the queue, Quentin stood and quickly stripped off his own straining shirt, showing off his new spare tire, though it felt dwarfed by Arthur’s giant mass. Then he began to unbutton and shuffle out of his pants, allowing everyone to see how much his body shook as he worked himself out of the tight material. The jockstrap he wore matched the purple jacket he’d worn earlier, making it seem like he knew this would happen tonight. It was also tight, causing his love handles to flood over the straps. He seemed to have accumulated most of his weight in his lower body: his thighs looked positively doughy with the excess pounds, and the two giant spheres of his ass added to the width of his frame. Obviously reveling in everyone’s stares, he sauntered over to Arthur, draping his arms around the bigger man’s shoulders and playfully squeezing his pillowy tits.  

Ethan had not been able to tear his eyes away the entire time, completely enthralled by the men and the constant stimulation of the bartender. Arthur turned his attention to Ethan once again. “So boy, do you like what you see as well? Does it turn you on seeing these fat bodies we’ve earned and grown tonight?” He reached behind him and almost lovingly caressed Quentin’s belly where it hung by his side. In a daze, Ethan could only nod silently again. 

A smirk grew on Arthur’s face, as if his confession were some sort of prize to him. He pointed to Angel, whom Ethan had completely forgotten was still present. “That’s exactly how our little Angel used to feel as well.” Little was said in a mocking tone, as Angel had swelled to at least 250 lbs without Ethan even noticing. The quiet man was breathing laboriously as he leaned back in his seat. His body seemed made for taking on weight, spreading across his whole body and making him look absolutely rotund. His neck had been swallowed by a double chin, and his previously baggy polo barely reached down to his belly button. By watching Angel’s gentle ministrations to his belly, he could tell it was extremely soft.

“You and Angel should be at about the same size after that last game,” Arthur said, motioning to Angel to shift seats and sit beside Ethan. The fat boy heaved himself upright, and he pushed his glasses up subconsciously as he waddled to Ethan’s side. He had completely forgotten about their games, but now he saw the dealer holding a yellow chip out for him to reward his playing the past few rounds. Feeling numb, he placed it in his pile, raising his total to two hundred forty-eight. He distantly registered Quentin and Angel getting the other two chips, though only he seemed to have reached a new maximum. At first he was confused why Arthur had said they were the same size. His next words clarified, “Just sit back and look at our little Angel over there, so you can get a sense of what you're in for.” 

His chair was turned to face the other man, and similar to before, Ethan began to feel a growing discomfort in his stomach. He gripped his flabby midsection, and felt as new fat began to fill him from the inside. In a matter of seconds he had grown a proper beer belly, the additional weight straining his shirt. Unlike last time, however, fat also began forming across other areas as well. He stared at the mirror image of Angel as his chest puffed up and fat crept under his armpits, forcing his arms to rise and somewhat hug his frame. Ethan could see the chubby face he now felt on his own, and Ethan caught the glint of delight in Angel’s eyes as he watched. The discomfort of his pants digging into his belly was becoming unbearable, and as his thighs were barraged by the onslaught of fat as well, he feared his pants might fray and burst apart. Especially his rear, which had completely filled his seat, was threatening to break out. 

The other men watched Ethan’s body grow with rapt attention. The bartender had stepped back as the changes had wracked through his body, but now leaned close to his ear. “Let’s give these heavyweights what they want, shall we?”

At first, Ethan didn’t understand. But as he was turned back towards the others, hands reached down to the hem of his tight shirt, and he allowed his arms to rise and his shirt to be pulled off. The fabric brushing against his enlarged nipples stole a slight moan from his lips. Now shirtless, he gazed down at his belly as the bartender set to work kneading the excess fat. Bright red marks zigzagged down his sides, and Ethan had the sudden image of being like a dumpling stuffed to the brim in its packaging. 

In his drunken state, Ethan simply sat there for a while and took in the events as they unfolded in front of him. As his belly was fondled from behind, Angel also began squeezing his own fat, causing his shirt to ride up even higher. Two more chairs were brought over to them, and Arthur sat heavily in one of them. The other seemed to be for Quentin, but the eccentric man instead perched on the other man’s leg. Their bellies squished together deliciously as Quentin leaned into Arthur, kissing him deeply and feeling up his body. Arthur responded by grabbing the man’s bulbous rear and pulling him in closer; the movement showcasing Quentin to the other two. 

When they parted, Arthur grinned before clicking his fingers at the bartender, who had still been groping Ethan. Like a conductor directing his band, the employee instantly ceased, rushing around the group and giving each of them a glass of clear liquid. Once all four men had a drink in his hand, Arthur raised his glass for a toast, “To new friends, well-played games, and all we gained tonight!” Everyone cheered and downed the strong drink, before succumbing to the debauchery around them. 

 It was clear that Arthur was in complete control of the night. After all, that was why Ethan had been instantly intrigued by him when he’d laid eyes on his massive figure. With an outstretched hand, he was able to convey his desires, receiving a new cigar without a single word. A glance at Angel saw him remove his shirt completely, finally allowing the others to appreciate his girth. Quentin decided to take his seat and sidled up to the Mexican man’s side. He whispered something Ethan couldn’t hear, but the message was clear as he wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist, grabbing handfuls of fat as the guy groaned in pleasure. 

Turning back to Arthur, the man seemed to decide Ethan had been a spectator long enough. Those puppeteer hands beckoned him silently, bringing him into his sphere of power. Arthur placed a hand on the front of Ethan’s gut, his meaty hands exuding warmth as he traced slow circles around its circumference.

“Did you gain everything that you imagined, boy?” Before Ethan could even answer, Arthur took a long drag on his cigar. He firmly grabbed Ethan’s chin and drew him in, locking lips with him and letting the accumulated smoke overwhelm his senses. Ethan instantly grew lightheaded, both from the kiss and the high of the smoke. Arthur repeated the exchange, only pulling back at the last second to let the last remnants of the smoke wash over Ethan’s face. When it was clear, Ethan looked to see Arthur’s eyes on him. “You may have acknowledged that  you liked all of this,” he said, gesturing at his exposed body, “now it’s time you showed us how much.”

Fully under his spell, Ethan allowed himself to finally let go, diving down towards Arthur’s enormous belly. He realized as his face met the warm expanse of flesh that this was what he’d wanted from the beginning. From afar, it was simply impossible to fully appreciate how large Arthur was. Ethan kissed the furthest part of his belly, realizing that it surged out so far Arthur physically could not reach this part of his body anymore. That idea turned him on even more, and he pressed himself further into the obese man, sinking into his body. Short hair tickled his nose as he roamed across Arthur’s gut, planting kisses wherever he went. 

His movements also made it clear how much his own body had changed. Leaning forward so much, Ethan could feel his belly straining painfully against his pants. Refusing to pull away, he reached desperately to unbutton his pants, but the mass of his own fat obscured the buttons. 

Arthur must have noticed the movement, because when he separated from the man, the bartender had appeared again by their side. He coyly pushed Ethan to lean back and suck in his gut, allowing him to kneel down and reach between his legs to undo his suffering pants. Ethan felt instant relief as the button was freed and he breathed out heavily, not realizing that his belly had been held back so much. It flooded forward several inches to push against the bartender’s head, whose eyes rose to stare with obvious lust at his doughy middle. But he seemed to retain his composure and simply took Ethan’s pants off fully, stepping aside for Arthur to access him again.

The two fat men kissed passionately, and Arthur grabbed Ethan by the budding love handles he’d acquired. “I knew we’d found a keeper as soon as you walked in.” He took a deep breath and jiggled Ethan’s belly, watching the new fat bounce and ripple across his whole body. “I got a way of sensing these types of things. You can try to fight it if you want, but you’re nothing but a fat boy now.” He reached up and caressed both of Ethan’s nipples. They had become larger and more pointed, and just like before the stimulation to them elicited a deep moan from the smaller guy. “Cash all this weight out, but you’ll be back. Just like the rest of us, it’s not about the money anymore.” He pushed Ethan down to suck on his nipple, sighing as his tongue darted hungrily around it. “All we want is to be fat.”

As Arthur said it out loud, he knew in his heart that he did want to be this fat—no, even bigger—for the rest of his life. He imagined himself getting to be as big as Arthur: expanding out in all directions, having to widen his stance whenever he stood or even sat to accommodate his gigantic belly, losing definition all over his body as his arms, legs, and even his face got swallowed with lard. Maybe he would cash out fifty pounds or so tonight, but he would always keep a little paunch for him to play with. Over time, he might even start these games as large as Arthur did. The thought instantly got him hard, and he grabbed a chunk of his own blubber in excitement. Arthur was right, it wasn’t just about getting fatter; he looked at the three gorgeous butterballs around him and felt like he might swoon. Who else might eventually wander through that velvet curtain? 

“I think you might have found yourself a regular,” Ethan agreed, tickling Arthur’s chubby cheek playfully. He glanced over at Quentin and Angel, the former of whom was behind the other and devilishly bouncing his belly while kissing his neck. They both looked up at his words and nodded in acquiescence, obviously turned on by everything as well. “Although, I might give you a run for your money one day, big guy.” He compared his belly next to Arthur’s: smaller for now, but it was only his first night. “I have a good feeling that I’ll grow into this.”

The four men lost themselves to pleasure the rest of the night. The jumbled dings and sounds of slot machines and rolled dice filled the air outside the room, masking their moans of pleasure and indulgence. When they finally exited that room, no one but the grinning employee at the partition knew what had just happened that night. Ethan cradled two blue checkered disks in his hand as he left: the number 10 etched into the center of both. Though they were small, he knew they were by no means insignificant. They were an investment into his future.