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[theheavysidelair]

Send me story prompts!

Got an idea or a setting for a chunky little short story? Send it to me and I might use it as inspiration for a post.

[theheavysidelair]

«What a big boy you are.» Ian says, grabbing your belly with both hands and giving it a shake.

You feel your torso wobble gently as the ripples spread across your soft build. You blush slightly, thinking back to when you were both sprinters in high school. Ian had kept it up, and at nearly 30 he still looked almost like he did at graduation with his muscled build and chiseled face.

You on the other hand, was now nearly twice as wide as him, and your abs were covered by a round belly that covered most of your lap while sitting, and hung in front of you when you stood up.

Recently just standing was becoming a chore. You can feel the weight of ten years of poor decisions on your legs and lower back. Soon you will either have to walk a bit, or sit down.

You choose sitting down more and more. It’s hard work moving all this belly around. Much harder than sprinting ever was. At least you think so. You haven’t sprinted since high school, you don’t really run at all. The last time you did so was to catch a bus and that left you so winded the other passengers got concerned. That was almost three years ago.

Ian is still playing with your belly. When you first started putting on weight he tried to get you back into sports, but the bigger you got the more fascinated he seemed to get by your body. It started with a few casual comments, then a little poke every now and then, until he just started going for it like he did now.

You put your hands on your hips and stretch to alleviate some back-pain, but your body is screaming at you now to stop standing still.

Ian notices what you are doing, and grabs your arm.

“Let’s try a little walk, you’ve been sitting enough today.”

Reluctantly you let him lead you from your living room and into the hallway. He bends down and helps you put on shoes, it takes you a while to do it yourself these days.

He then leads you out of your apartment and into the main hallway. You take the elevator down the one floor to the entrance and head out.

This is the first time you’ve been outside in almost three weeks. The fresh air feels good, and a nice breeze keeps it from being to warm, but you are still breathing heavily already. Ian leads you straight ahead across the road and onto a little dirt road that cuts through a little wooden area. You prefer the paved sidewalk, it’s flat and predicable which is good when all you can see when you look down is your belly. There’s also plenty of benches and some nice cafes. Down the dirt road ahead there’s nothing.

You motion for Ian to turn left towards the town center but he doesn’t budge. The uneven road makes you feel unbalanced and much more aware that you no longer walk, you waddle. Your legs rub against each other, your massive thighs giving you a rounded gait.

You are getting really out of breath now. Ian is setting a much quicker pace than you usually do. He probably thinks he’s taking it slow for you though. You stop to catch your breath, but he pushes you on. When your panting turns to wheezing he does slow down a bit, but he still keeps dragging you along.

Just as you feel your legs turn to jelly a bench suddenly appears. There never used to be a bench on this road, which is the main reason you stopped using it, but here it stands none the less. You push yourself to almost speedwalk the last few steps before letting yourself collapse onto it. You feel your flab spread out and your belly rest heavily in your lap, but all you can focus on right now is breathing. After a couple minutes you notice that Ian is standing in front of you shirtless. His firm pecs and powerful abs really are just as tight and defined as they were 10 years ago. He reaches out and takes off your shirt, you’re to tired and surprised to protest. Your huge, pale gut is such a far cry from Ians rippling muscles it’s hard for you to remember you used to look exactly like that. Now you’re wide, soft and jiggly taking up more than half of a bench meant for three people.

Ian grabs your hand and puts it on his abs.

“Remember what it felt like being this fit?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“I figured. Do you know how far we just walked?”

You shake your head again.

“200 meters. We are 200 meters from your front door.”

You flinch. 200 meters? You barely made it 200 meters from your front door without a break? You used to run 200 meters in 21 seconds. You look down, your belly almost reaches your knees. You look up at Ian again. His waist is probably half as big as your leg, if not even less. He sees you looking at him and starts rubbing your belly.

“You truly are a big boy.”

He brings a chocolate bar out from his pocket and hands it to you, still rubbing your belly. Your whole body is swaying gently from side to side from the movement.

You grab the chocolate on impulse, Ian always brings you snacks and food when he comes around, and you stopped questioning it long ago. You still remember the first time he gave you a treat. You had just beaten him in the high school state championship, and he took you to KFC as a prize.

[theheavysidelair]

You reach out across him as you snuggle up, taking your usual place as the big spoon. Your hand travels across his wide stretch of backfat and find a roll. You jiggle the roll and feel the vibrations spread across his soft body. You keep reaching and soon your hand reaches his actual belly. You feel yourself sink into his soft flab as you try to reach his belly button, but soon give up. The distance has gotten too long for you. Instead you start feeling your way up to his chest. You cup as much as you can off his closest moob and search around for the nipple. When you find it you caress it gently and hear him moan softly in his slumber. He slumbers a lot these days, it's hard working living in such a massive body. You slide your hand across his massive chest and reach his face. The CPAP makes it hard to caress his chubby cheeks, but by now you know your way around all the straps and the tube. You remember well his first night with one, over 150 kg ago. It was his first major milestone, and also when you both first realised you were approaching a point of no return. There had been many milestones since, and now the big one was approaching, far beyond their initial goal, a goal they had both kept moving. It was only a matter of months now, maybe just weeks, until he would never leave this bed again. Every day it got a little harder. Every day you needed to help him a little bit more. It was nearly a year since last time he left the house. They had sold off his mobility scooter several months ago. As you lay there, feeling all the folds and rolls that had drowned out your once fit husband you felt a sense of nostalgia. It was like every inch of flab was made up of memories. Memories of meals, and snacks, of feedings and buffets. All saved and preserved on a body no longer fully capable of supporting itself. Your alarm clock goes off and you hear your husband grunt and shift. Time for midnight snacks.

[theheavysidelair]

A flight of stairs used to be no problem, you even used to run up three floors to get home faster. It's been years since you've even tried that now. Years since your twink days, when your youth and genetics provided you with all the strength and stamina you needed.

At 24 you're still young, still in your prime, so why are you all of a sudden so out of breath just walking up these three floors? You take a moment to catch your breath before you unlock the door, not wanting your roomies to see just how out of shape you've let yourself become. It came faster than you expected. You mistook being young and skinny for being fit and strong, but the weight you put on slowed you down fast. You never did any exercise, you never thought about your diet. And here you are now, stumbling into obesity, not really noticing until now how much you've let yourself go until now, when the three flights of stairs finally became too much.