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Lucas avoided the "workout" videos on his phone and kept his hands busy with a new hobby of sketching, trying to divert the energy.

By the second week, however, the discipline began to fade. He found himself staring at the pantry, not with hunger, but with a nostalgic longing for that specific, manic euphoria that accompanied a post-orgasm binge. He missed the way the chicken Alfredo tasted like a religious experience, the way a simple bag of chips became the most important thing in the universe. He wasn't just craving food; he was craving the *intensity* of the hunger that only followed the act.

The breaking point arrived on a Tuesday afternoon, signaled not by a sudden urge, but by a crushing, suffocating boredom. Lucas found himself scrolling through his phone, his thumb hovering over a saved folder of videos he had promised to delete. The images were vivid, the movements rhythmic and hypnotic, and suddenly the air in the room felt too thick to breathe. He tried to remember Simon’s clinical voice, the warning about the weight and the health risks of these inexplicable binges, but the memory was a thin shield against a tidal wave of desire. His skin felt too tight for his body, and the silence of the apartment, once peaceful, now felt like an invitation to succumb.

He didn't even make it to the bed. He collapsed against the hallway wall, his breath coming in jagged gasps as he gave in. The release was violent and sudden, a volcanic eruption that left him shaking and depleted. For a few seconds, he felt a surge of triumph—he had finally broken the tension. But then, the familiar, predatory void opened up in his gut. It wasn't just hunger; it was a physical vacuum, a gravitational pull that demanded to be filled immediately or he would simply cease to exist.

Lucas didn’t walk to the kitchen; he scrambled, his feet sliding on the hardwood as he practically dove toward the refrigerator. The transition from pleasure to desperation was instantaneous, a chemical flip of a switch that erased everything—Simon’s advice, the tight fit of his jeans, the looming three-week check-up—leaving only a screaming, primal need for calories. He tore open the fridge door with such force that the jars of condiments rattled. He didn't look for a plate or a bowl; he didn't have the patience for the luxury of utensils.

He started with a leftover platter of deli meats and cheeses, shoving slices of ham and thick wedges of brie into his mouth in clumps. The salt hit his tongue and triggered a frantic surge of dopamine, making him crave even more. He reached for a jar of olives and tipped the entire contents into his mouth, including the brine, swallowing it in one massive, jagged gulp. His stomach, which had been relatively flat just minutes prior, began to stretch and pull, but the sensation only seemed to fuel the fire. He felt like a starving animal that had stumbled upon a feast after a year in the wilderness.

The deli platter was barely a memory before he was raiding the freezer. Lucas found a frozen lasagna, still in its cardboard tray, and shoved it into the microwave with trembling hands. He couldn't wait for the timer; he stood there, staring at the rotating plate, his breathing heavy and shallow. As soon as the beep sounded, he tore the plastic film off and dug in with his fingers, the scorching pasta searing his tongue, but he didn't care. He welcomed the burn. It was the only thing that matched the intensity of the hunger clawing at his gut. 

As he gorged himself, a strange, hazy euphoria settled over him. The food didn't just taste good; it felt like it was filling a hole in his very soul. He moved from the lasagna to a tub of potato salad, then to a bag of frozen peas that he ate raw and frozen, the icy pellets crunching between his teeth. He was moving in a blur, a mechanical cycle of reach, grab, swallow, repeat. He felt his stomach expanding, pressing firmly against the waistband of his underwear, creating a taut, rounded swell that would have terrified him if he weren't so consumed by the feast.

By the time the frenzy slowed, Lucas was slumped against the kitchen cabinets, his chest heaving. The silence of the apartment returned, but it was no longer the peaceful silence of the attic; it was the heavy, oppressive stillness of a crime scene. He looked down at himself. The waistband of his boxers had rolled down beneath the curve of his stomach, which was now a hard, protruding dome that felt as though it had been inflated with a bicycle pump. He tried to shift his weight, but the sheer mass of the meal made any movement a laborious effort. He felt an alien sensation—a tightness in his skin that hadn't been there a few weeks ago—and a deep, pulsing ache in his abdomen that signaled he had pushed his capacity to the absolute limit.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the empty lasagna tray and the scattered remnants of the deli platter, a mixture of profound satisfaction and genuine terror washing over him. He had failed. He had completely surrendered to the cycle. The fear of the three-week check-up began to gnaw at him, but it was a distant, intellectual worry compared to the physical reality of his bloated gut. He wondered if Simon had known this would happen. The doctor's expression during the home visit—the wide eyes, the shaky voice—suggested that Lucas wasn't just a medical anomaly, but a temptation.

The realization didn't hit Lucas while he was fasting, but in the quiet, shameful aftermath of his relapse. As he lay on the kitchen floor, his stomach a tight, drum-like sphere pressing against his spine, he remembered the way Simon had looked at him during the home visit. He recalled the doctor’s gaze—not one of professional concern or clinical detachment, but a focused, almost hungry appraisal. Simon hadn't just been observing a symptom; he had been admiring the result. The way the doctor’s voice had shaken, the way his eyes had lingered on Lucas’s burgeoning midsection, and that unmistakable tension in his own trousers—it wasn't just surprise. It was desire.

Lucas shifted slightly, a small groan escaping his lips as his bloated belly protested the movement. He thought about the "recommendation" to stop masturbating entirely. At the time, it had sounded like medical advice, but now, in the haze of his food coma, it felt like a challenge. Simon knew exactly what happened when Lucas gave in. He knew that the only way to achieve this specific, rounded fullness was through the ritual of release and the subsequent binge. By telling Lucas to stop, Simon had essentially set a timer on a pressure cooker, knowing that the eventual explosion would result in a version of Lucas that was softer, heavier, and more indulgent. He didn't want Lucas to be healthy; he wanted to see how far this biological glitch could go.

The realization didn't just settle in; it ignited. If Simon’s professional facade had been cracking under the weight of Lucas’s appetite, then the three-week check-up wasn't a medical appointment—it was a reveal. Lucas looked down at the soft, rounded swell of his stomach, the skin stretched tight from the lasagna and deli meats, and felt a sudden, rebellious surge of pride. If the doctor found his gluttony captivating, why fight it? The "abstinence" period hadn't been a cure; it had been a seasoning process, making the eventual crash more violent and the resulting growth more rapid.

He decided right then to lean into the glitch. He wouldn't just "try" to stop; he would weaponize the cycle. The goal was no longer to maintain his waistline, but to maximize it. He wanted to walk into that office—or better yet, welcome Simon back into his home—as a transformed version of himself. He imagined the look on Simon's face when he saw that the "medical anomaly" had blossomed into something substantial, something soft and heavy that would make the doctor’s clipboard tremble in his hand. It became a game of escalation: how much could he pack onto his frame before the deadline?

The following Tuesday, Lucas didn't just give in; he orchestrated the collapse. He spent the afternoon meticulously stocking his pantry, treating it like a logistics operation. He bought family-sized bags of pasta, crates of heavy cream, and three different kinds of cake from the local bakery, stacking them in the cupboard like ammunition. The anticipation became its own kind of foreplay. He spent hours in a state of focused agitation, his mind looping back to the sight of Simon’s toned thighs and the way the doctor had looked at his stomach with a mixture of shock and raw attraction.

The ritual was no longer a secret shame, but a deliberate act of expansion. When he finally stepped into the bedroom, the air felt charged. He didn't rush this time. He took his time, savoring the tension, letting the desire build until it was an all-consuming fire. When the release finally hit, it felt more powerful than ever, a psychic trigger that slammed a door shut on his willpower and flung open the doors to his appetite. The void in his gut didn't just open; it roared.

Lucas didn't even bother with the kitchen light. He navigated the dim hallway by instinct, his breathing heavy and erratic, his stomach already beginning to cramp with a hunger that felt less like a need for food and more like a demand for mass. He didn't start with the leftovers this time; he went straight for the heavy artillery. He tore into a gallon of whole milk, the cold liquid sliding down his throat in huge, desperate gulps, before moving on to a family-sized tray of macaroni and cheese. He didn't use a fork. He scooped the creamy, cheesy pasta into his mouth with his hands, the same frantic, mechanical rhythm he had established during his first relapse.

The transition was seamless. One moment he was a man struggling with a medical condition; the next, he was a biological vacuum. He demolished the macaroni and immediately pivoted to the bakery cakes, shoving thick slabs of chocolate fudge and vanilla cream into his mouth. The sugar hit his bloodstream like a drug, heightening the euphoria of the binge. He could feel his skin stretching, his abdominal muscles—once a point of pride—now acting as a soft, yielding cradle for the sheer volume of food he was forcing inside. Each bite felt like it was adding a layer of luxury to his frame, a heavy, warm density that made him feel grounded and powerful.

The days leading up to the final check-up became a blur of calculated indulgence. Lucas stopped pretending to fight the cycle; instead, he treated it like a training regimen. Every few days, he would trigger the binge, filling his apartment with the same heavy, calorie-dense foods—creamy pastas, buttery pastries, and gallons of full-fat milk. He discovered that the longer he waited between releases, the more violent the hunger became, and the more his body seemed to absorb the excess. His clothes were the first to signal the change. His favorite jeans had become impossible to button, the denim straining against a belly that no longer just bloated after a meal, but remained a soft, persistent curve even when he woke up.

By the final Friday, Lucas felt a strange, heavy lethargy in his limbs. His movements had slowed, and there was a new, rhythmic jiggle to his midsection that accompanied every step. He spent the morning in a state of anticipation, wearing a pair of oversized sweatpants that hung precariously low on his hips, allowing his stomach to spill over the waistband in a pale, soft roll. He didn't trigger the cycle that morning; he wanted to be in a state of lingering, half-sated fullness when Simon arrived, a physical testament to his lack of restraint.

The chime of the doorbell sounded like a starting pistol. Lucas took a slow, deliberate breath, feeling the way his stomach pressed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, the fabric straining across a midsection that had transitioned from a temporary bloat to a permanent, plush weight. He didn't rush to the door; he didn't want to appear eager, only inevitable. As he opened it, he caught a glimpse of Simon, who was dressed in an athletic polo and those same devastatingly short shorts, though today they seemed to struggle even more against the sheer mass of his quads.

Simon’s professional greeting died in his throat. His eyes didn't go to Lucas's face; they dropped instantly, locking onto the soft, protruding curve of Lucas’s belly that pushed prominently past the waistband of his sweatpants. The doctor’s clipboard was held loosely, his knuckles white. He didn't say a word for several seconds, his gaze tracing the rounded silhouette of Lucas's new frame with an intensity that felt almost tactile.

"I... see you've had some difficulty following my recommendations," Simon finally managed, his voice lower and thicker than it had been during the first visit. He stepped into the entryway without being asked, the door clicking shut behind him. He didn't look at the living room or the kitchen; his focus remained anchored to the soft, pale expanse of Lucas’s midsection. The air in the small apartment suddenly felt heavy, charged with the same electric tension that had driven Lucas to his latest binge.

Lucas didn't apologize. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, consciously letting his stomach relax and spill further over the waistband of his sweats. He watched the way Simon’s pupils dilated, the doctor's gaze traveling from the curve of his belly up to his flushed face and back down again. The clinical pretense was gone. Simon wasn't looking at a patient; he was looking at a masterpiece of indulgence, a physical manifestation of a craving that both men now shared in different ways.

Simon didn't bother with the clipboard. It clattered to the hardwood floor, forgotten, as he stepped into Lucas's personal space. The clinical distance he had maintained for weeks collapsed in a single, heavy stride. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and pressed his palm firmly against the soft, yielding curve of Lucas’s stomach. He didn't just touch him; he sank into him, his fingers digging into the plush weight that Lucas had cultivated with such singular focus. A low, guttural sound escaped Simon’s throat—a noise that was far more predatory than professional.

"You didn't listen to a word I said," Simon whispered, his voice sounding strained, almost desperate. He didn't wait for an answer. He lunged forward, his mouth crashing against Lucas's in a kiss that tasted of raw, unbridled hunger. There was no tenderness in the movement, only an urgent need to possess. Simon’s hands migrated from the belly to the waistband of the sweatpants, yanking them down with a sudden, forceful motion that left Lucas exposed and shivering. The contrast was stark: Simon’s hard, sculpted muscle pressing against Lucas’s new, soft abundance.

They didn't make it to the bedroom. The momentum carried them back against the hallway wall, the same spot where Lucas had first broken his abstinence. Simon lifted him, his powerful thighs straining as he hoisted Lucas up, the soft weight of Lucas’s midsection bunching and folding against Simon’s toned torso. Lucas let out a sharp, needy moan, his legs locking around Simon's waist, feeling the sheer power of the man's grip. The friction of skin against skin, the heat of their combined breathing, and the crushing pressure of their bodies created a sensory overload that eclipsed everything else.

The act was frantic and desperate, a collision of two different kinds of appetite. Every thrust was punctuated by the rhythmic, soft slap of Lucas’s stomach against Simon’s chest, a sound that seemed to drive the doctor into a frenzy. Simon was obsessed with the weight of him, his hands constantly kneading, squeezing, and gripping the pale flesh of Lucas’s hips and belly, as if he were trying to mold the softness with his own strength. Lucas clung to him, his fingers digging into the thick muscles of Simon's shoulders, his head lolling back against the wallpaper as he succumbed to the overwhelming physical presence of the man.

The release was a violent, shuddering event that left both men breathless and trembling against the wall. For a moment, they stayed locked together, the only sound the frantic thrumming of their hearts and the heavy, synchronised rasp of their breathing. Simon’s face was buried in the crook of Lucas’s neck, his grip still bruisingly tight around the soft swell of Lucas’s waist. As the peak faded, the familiar, predatory vacuum suddenly opened in Lucas’s gut. It hit him like a physical blow, a sudden, agonizing hollow that made his vision swim and his stomach cramp with an intensity that far surpassed any of his solitary binges.

He let out a low, guttural moan of distress, his body instinctively arching. The hunger was no longer just a craving; it was a screaming demand for mass, a void that threatened to swallow him whole if he didn't fill it immediately. He could feel the void pulsing in time with his heartbeat, a raw, animalistic need that made his mouth water and his head light. He looked at Simon, his eyes clouded with a haze of desperation, his expression one of pure, unadulterated starvation.

"Help me," Lucas gasped, the words barely escaping his throat as he slid down Simon’s body, his legs giving out under the sudden, crushing weight of his appetite. He landed on the hardwood with a heavy thud, his stomach protruding, a pale and hungry dome that seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart. He didn't want to walk to the kitchen; the mere idea of the distance felt like an impossible journey. He looked up at Simon, his eyes wide and dilated, pleading. "Simon, please. I can't... I need to eat. Now."

Simon didn't move to help him up. Instead, he hovered over him, his gaze fixed on the way Lucas's belly trembled with the force of the hunger cramps. A slow, dark smile spread across the doctor's face. He didn't reach for a hand to pull Lucas up; he reached for the nearest available source of sustenance—a bowl of oversized, cream-filled donuts that had been sitting on the hallway console table, a remnant of Lucas's morning preparations.

"You're absolutely starving," Simon whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of clinical fascination and raw desire. He picked up a donut, the glaze glistening under the hallway light, and held it just inches from Lucas’s lips. "Open up."

Lucas didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his mouth snapping shut on the pastry with a desperate, animalistic intensity. He didn't even chew properly, swallowing the heavy mass of dough and cream in two jagged gulps. The sensation of the food hitting his stomach sent a jolt of electricity through him, but it only served to widen the void. He let out a whimpering sound, his hands clutching at Simon’s muscular thighs, pulling the doctor closer, begging for more.

Simon didn't stop at one. He fed Lucas the donuts in a rhythmic, relentless cadence, watching with a predatory intensity as Lucas’s throat worked in heavy, desperate swallows. The doctor’s other hand remained firmly planted on Lucas’s stomach, feeling the internal turmoil of the digestive system trying to keep pace with the onslaught. He could feel the belly tightening and stretching in real-time, the soft flesh straining to accommodate the sudden influx of sugar and dough. The sheer gluttony of the moment was a drug to Simon; he wasn't just feeding a patient, he was fueling a transformation.

"That's it," Simon murmured, his voice vibrating with a dark satisfaction. "Fill it up. Give me everything you've got."

The donuts were barely a prelude. Once the bowl was empty, the void in Lucas’s gut didn't just remain; it expanded, screaming for something denser, saltier, and more substantial. He was a passenger in his own body, his mind completely eclipsed by the primal demand for mass. He scrambled to his feet, his movements clumsy and heavy, and practically dragged Simon toward the kitchen. The doctor followed with a slow, deliberate stride, his eyes never leaving the way Lucas’s stomach swayed and bounced with every desperate step.

The kitchen had become a shrine to excess. Lucas didn't look for a plate; he went straight for the heavy cream and a giant pot of leftover pasta he had prepared that morning. He tipped the pot over, the creamy noodles sliding into his mouth in massive, steaming clumps. He was eating with a frantic, rhythmic desperation, his breathing coming in ragged gasps between mouthfuls. The sensation was overwhelming; the pasta felt like it was filling a cavernous hole, but the more he shoved inside, the more the hole seemed to grow.

Simon didn't intervene to slow him down; instead, he became the curator of the carnage. He moved through the kitchen with a focused, athletic grace, opening cabinets and pulling out everything that could be consumed in a hurry. He popped open jars of mayonnaise and dumped them into the pasta, stirring them in with a fork before shoving the reinforced mass back toward Lucas’s waiting mouth. He brought over a platter of thick-cut ham and slices of brie, watching with a dilated gaze as Lucas tore through them, the food disappearing into a void that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

The physical change was happening in real-time. Lucas’s stomach, already plush and soft, was expanding into a hard, taut sphere that pushed aggressively against the air. He felt the skin of his abdomen stretching, a tight, tingling heat that signaled he was reaching a critical volume. Every time he swallowed another mouthful of creamy pasta or a slab of cheese, he felt the internal pressure mount, his belly growing more prominent, more rounded, until it was a heavy, protruding weight that forced him to lean back just to balance himself.

The pressure became a physical presence in the room, a heavy, pulsing density that made Lucas’s breath come in short, shallow hitches. He was no longer just eating; he was inflating, his midsection ballooning outward with every calorie-dense swallow. He reached for a gallon of whole milk, chugging it with a desperation that bordered on violent, the cold liquid sliding down his throat to fill the gaps between the dense pasta and heavy creams. As he finished the jug, a loud, guttural groan echoed from his gut, a sound of sheer biological strain that vibrated through his entire frame.

Simon was mesmerized. He stepped closer, his hand returning to Lucas's belly, not to comfort him, but to feel the tension. He pressed his palm against the apex of the curve, and his breath hitched when he realized the skin was as tight as a drum. The softness had been replaced by a hard, stretched tautness. "You're actually doing it," Simon whispered, his voice trembling with a dark, clinical ecstasy. "You're pushing the limit."

Lucas let out a strangled sound, a mixture of a moan and a gasp, as the last of the milk settled. He was beyond the point of satiety; he had crossed into a territory of sheer, physical overload. He tried to take a step toward the counter for more, but his center of gravity had shifted so drastically that he stumbled, his legs feeling heavy and uncoordinated. He collapsed backward against the kitchen island, his legs splaying out, leaving him propped up by the granite edge. His stomach didn't just protrude now; it dominated his entire silhouette, a massive, trembling mound of flesh that rested heavily on his thighs.

The void had finally closed, but it left behind a crushing weight. Lucas lay there, chest heaving, his breath coming in shallow pants because there was simply no room for his lungs to expand fully. He felt a strange, humming vibration in his gut, a biological aftershock from the sheer volume of food he had processed in a matter of minutes. He looked up at Simon, his eyes glazed with a food-induced stupor, his face flushed a deep, warm red.

Simon didn't speak for a long time. He simply stood over Lucas, his chest heaving in sync with the other man's labored breathing. The doctor's eyes were locked on the immense, trembling sphere of Lucas's abdomen, watching the way the skin shimmered under the kitchen lights, stretched to a translucent, precarious tightness. Slowly, Simon knelt on the hardwood floor, his muscular thighs framing Lucas’s sprawled legs. He reached out with both hands, not tentatively this time, but with a possessive, heavy grip, kneading the sides of the protruding mound as if testing the structural integrity of the feast.

"This is... unprecedented," Simon murmured, his voice a low rumble that Lucas could feel vibrating in the air. "The rate of absorption, the sheer volume... your body isn't just taking it; it's claiming it. It's welcoming it." He leaned in, pressing his ear against the taut curve of Lucas's belly. He listened to the violent, churning symphony of digestion, the loud, wet gurgles and pops of a stomach struggling to process a mountain of cream and gluten. Simon closed his eyes, a look of pure, visceral satisfaction crossing his face. He wasn't just observing a medical anomaly anymore; he was worshiping a transformation he had helped orchestrate.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the rhythmic, heavy churning of Lucas’s gut. He felt like a fallen monument to gluttony, pinned to the floor by the sheer mass of his own indulgence. Every time he exhaled, his stomach seemed to settle deeper into his lap, a heavy, warm weight that made him feel sluggish and blissfully incapacitated. The euphoria of the binge was fading into a profound, aching lethargy, leaving him in a state of sensory suspension.

(Male wg fiction) lucas moans as he finishes. Hot streams covering his abs while he strokes his rock hard cock. He just got off work and decided to finish his day with a little “self care”. He goes to clean up and takes a shower when all of a sudden he gets really hungry. He already ate dinner but there was some leftovers in the fridge so he figured he could just eat the rest of those. But as he continued to shower his hunger grew stronger. His stomach started to hurt as it growled like he hadn’t eaten in days. He finished up in the shower and popped the leftovers in the microwave. Lucas ran to the pantry and popped open a bag of chips to eat while he waited. He wasn’t sure if he would still be standing by the time the microwave finished. He shoved handfuls of chips in his mouth, crunching loudly. They were the best chips he’d ever had, and he couldn’t stop himself from stuffing more chips into his mouth. By the time his food was done, the bag of chips was nearly empty. Lucas hardly noticed though. He was still so hungry. He tore open the Tupperware and dug into the chicken Alfredo he made earlier. It somehow tasted even better than it did when it was fresh. Lucas moaned with pleasure as he ate bite after bite of the delicious pasta. Before he knew it, the pasta was gone. Lucas finally started to feel full, but just to be sure, he finished off a pint of ice cream that had been sitting in his freezer for a few weeks. Lucas went to bed stuffed, not knowing what had just started inside him.

A couple days later, he woke up with morning wood, like usual. Today he decided to relieve himself and jerk off to start his day. A few minutes later he was finished, and walked into the kitchen to grab breakfast. Still naked, he grabbed bacon and frozen waffles from the fridge. He started to cook a few pieces of bacon and he popped two waffles in the toaster but as they were cooking, he started to get hungry. He figured he’d just eat a bowl of cereal while everything cooked. He grabbed a big bowl and filled it to the brim with his favorite - Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He munched quickly on his cereal and his waffles finally finished. He grabbed them and sat them on his plate before returning to his cereal. Soon the cereal was gone and he ate the waffles with his hands, shoving the whole thing in his mouth at once. For some reason he was still starving so he put more waffles in the toaster and took the bacon off the stove, eating almost immediately before putting a few more pieces back on. But once again he had nothing to eat while everything was cooking so he poured himself another bowl of cereal. Before he even realized, the entire box of waffles, the entire pack of bacon, and the whole box of cereal were empty. His hunger finally subsided and he was STUFFED. He rubbed his bloated gut confused as to where his giant appetite had come from.

about a week later, he was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, grabbing the small layer of pudge that was growing on his abs. “Jesus” he whispered to himself. “I gotta stop these binges…” later that night, when he was lying on the couch about to go to bed, a super hot video of a guy doing a workout routine popped up on his phone. Lucas couldn’t help himself. He unbuttoned his slightly tight pants and got to work. A few minutes later he was finished and like usual, starving.

as he was finishing his third bowl of ice cream, a thought popped into his head. He only ever got insanely hungry like this after he jerked off. He brushed it off but he decided to keep the thought in the back of his mind and get himself some more ice cream.

The next day he decided to test his theory. He was still fairly full from dinner so he figured if the hunger came back again, there would definitely be a correlation. Like usual, he jerked off… then tore through his pantry like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was like after he finished, he would go into this weird trance where the only thing on his mind was food. He needed to eat right then and there, no questions asked. When he was done rampaging through his pantry he laid on the couch rubbing his painfully stuffed gut. He decided to schedule a doctors appointment for tomorrow to see if they could help him.

“Yup. seems like you’re up about fifteen pounds since your last visit. Is that all from the past couple weeks?” The doctor asked. “Yeah it came out of nowhere” Lucas replied. “No changes to your diet or lifestyle?” The doctor asked. “Weeellll…” Lucas replied shakily. “There’s this thing that’s been happening every time I… um… every time I uhh… y’know… jerk off…” the doctors expression changed. “And what might that be?” “It’s kinda hard to explain but I basically get super hungry right after I uhh… finish.” The doctor stared at him for a moment. “And that’s where this weight came from?” “Yes.” The doctor wrote a couple things down on his clipboard then looked at Lucas. “Ok. I’m going to run a couple more tests but I think our best course of action will be a home visit. I advise you to refrain from masturbating until Friday around noon. I’ll come by your house and see if it would be more helpful for me to experience this firsthand.” The doctor gave Lucas a friendly smile and left the room.

after painfully waiting and not jerking off all week, Friday had finally came. There was a gentle knock at the door and Lucas opened it nervously. There was the doctor, in a tight tshirt that perfectly hugged his toned body, and shorts that were just barely too short. They left his meaty thighs out on display. He even had a snake tattoo on his left thigh that was peeking out from beneath his shorts. Lucas gulped. He was so much hotter than he was in that doctors coat. His figure got lost in there. Lucas welcomed him in and the doctor formally introduced himself as Simon. “Let’s get started!” Simon said enthusiastically. “So, have you eaten recently?” Simon asked. “A few eggs and some sausage about an hour ago” Lucas replied. “Perfect”. The men then went into Lucas’s room to begin what they really came for. Lucas laid on his bed and Simon sat politely in a chair next to him. “Please masturbate and do what your body wants to when you finish. Don’t try to suppress any of these hunger urges you mentioned. I want to see your normal experience.” Simon pulled out a clipboard as Lucas got to work. It was actually pretty easy for him to finish. He hadn’t jerked off all week, plus when he would glance over at Simon and see his bulging muscles under his shirt, he got some extra motivation.

it was officially December, meaning it was finally the busiest season of the bakery. Business had never been this good, and Ben was baking extra to compensate. 3 trays was the new standard for Luke’s taste testing, and it was extremely obvious. Luke’s weight had skyrocketed, his clothes stretching and busting at the seams, his thighs rubbing together when he walked, and his enormous round gut that entered the room before he did. The rest of his body had definitely grown, but his gut was the star. It was perfectly round, almost levitating over his waistband.

Luke awoke one morning to see Ben in his room. “Jesus!” Luke shouted when he saw. “Sorry.” Ben replied. “Just wanted to let you know about your promotion!” Ben said excitedly. Luke sat up in bed (struggling of course) and turned towards Ben. “You are officially able to do the work from home method!” Ben shouted gleefully. Luke’s eyes grew wide as Ben explained that he would come by, drop off Luke’s 3 trays, come back around lunch to collect the reviews and the empty trays, and then come by one more time when the bakery closed to drop off any leftovers. Luke looked down at his gut and rubbed it slowly as Ben dropped off his trays. “Fuck…” Luke murmured as Ben left.

the days started blending together as Luke continued to excel in his new position. He hardly ever left his bed now, only to go to the bathroom and to pick up his DoorDash. He didn’t even bother getting dressed. He only wore underwear that got tight two sizes ago to cover his dick. His growing globe of a gut almost did that for him though. Luke would never ever tell anyone this, but deep down, he almost liked what was happening to him. He had always been lazy, and now, he hardly had to move a muscle and he had an easy job with decent housing. He really couldn’t complain that much. Sure he never saw himself having a giant gut protruding out of him, but he knew his abs were bound to disappear sooner rather than later. Luke decided he wanted to be even lazier though…

about a year later, Luke had become completely immobile. Ben had to hire someone to feed Luke, to wash him, empty his bucket, and change the channel at Luke’s request. He was treated like royalty, and the guy Ben hired was gorgeous. He had a perfect body and strong hands, with sort brown hair and perfect teeth. His name was Sam and him and Luke had started dating about a month ago and it was going great. Sam loved his mountainous blob of a boyfriend, and he kept him happy. He would suck him off while he ate, he would ride Luke’s dick (because it was honestly impossible to do it any other way), and on the rare occasion Luke got full, Sam was there to help.

Luke awoke groggily to his alarm and slowly rolled out of bed. He stretched and yawned before making his way to the bathroom. He had passed out immediately after his morning shift after shoving dozens of pastries down his throat, and he set an alarm to wake him up for his night shift. Ben had started making Luke work two shifts a day. One in the morning to test the new pastries, and one in the evening to finish all the leftover pastries that didn’t sell. Luke was hesitant to accept the night shifts at first, but Ben offered to pay overtime and he could really use the money.

Luke used the bathroom then looked in the mirror to fix his hair. “Jesus…” he whispered to himself. His reflection looked noticeably wider than he remembered. He moved his hands down to his stomach and rubbed it. It was round and bloated, with a thin layer of peach fuzz beginning to grow. Luke was noticeably thicker, with his belly being the star of the show. He continued to stare at himself for another minute or two before getting dressed and heading in to work.

Ben had already closed up shop and headed home for the night so Luke decided to just take all the leftover pastries back to his apartment so he could at least be comfortable while he ate. He grabbed the two trays full of the sweets and walked back to his apartment. He set the trays down on his bed, flipped the tv on, pulled off his tight shirt, then plopped down on the bed. He absentmindedly ate the pastries while watching some stupid movie. His body was getting used to all the sugar he was eating and his stomach didn’t hurt after eating all the pastries anymore. His rounding gut rose and fell with each breath, and he eventually finished the last pastry on the tray.

as Luke continued to watch the movie, his phone vibrated and he looked at it to see a text from his old situationship. His name was Kyle and he was absolutely gorgeous. Muscles from head to toe and a perfect face. Luke decided he didn’t have much else to do so he invited him over. Shortly, Kyle arrived and knocked on the door. “Jesus” Kyle muttered as Luke swung the door open. Luke had forgotten he was still shirtless so there was no way he could hide the extra pounds he put on. “Been eating well?” Kyle asked cautiously as he sat on the bed. “Yeah… I uhh…. Work at the bakery next door. I’m the uhhh… taste tester” Luke answered hesitantly. They chatted a bit more before starting to kiss and rip off each others clothes. Luke pressed his softened frame against Kyle’s rigid abs and kissed passionately. Kyle moved his way down and began to take Luke in his mouth. He had to push Luke’s legs out a little further to get all the way down though. His thighs were a little wider than Kyle remembered.

it had been almost a month since Luke started working at the bakery, and he couldn’t have been happier. He got to live in an apartment for free, he lived right next to work so he didn’t have to commute, and he had the best job ever. All he did was clock in, eat a shit ton of delicious pastries, and clock out to take a nap. There was one glaring issue though. Luke had finally started to pick up on the extra weight that was slowly piling onto his midsection. He’d put on about 10 - 15 lbs and his skinny frame had started to soften. He knew it was bound to happen, but he didn’t think it would add up so quickly. He sighed as he pulled on his sweatpants and headed into work.

“since the holidays are coming up I’m gonna need you to work a little extra for a couple months, got it?” Ben said when he saw Luke. “Well what does that mean?” Luke asked worriedly. “Well I’ll be making more pastries that you’ll need to test, and I’ll need you to continue to eat the entirety of each pastry. One bite doesn’t encapsulate the work of art that is my baking. Understood?” Luke placed his hand on his newly softened gut and shuddered. But there was no way he was losing this job. It was perfect. “Yup. Sounds great!” Luke said with a fake smile.

he sat down in the office and Ben brought in the usual tray full of pastries. Luke got right to work but before he could even finish the first one, Ben came back with a second tray full. Luke gulped. Luke wearily ate the delicious food and gave honest answers on his worksheet. He made his way through the first tray like usual and moved on to the second. He was already starting to get full so he knew he had to move quickly. He would shove the entire pastry in his mouth and fill out the sheet while he chewed. Luke groaned as he ate, feeling the pressure in his stomach grow as more and more sugar was dumped inside. After the final pastry he leaned back in his chair and breathed heavily. Luke didn’t notice but his shirt had ridden up to his belly button to reveal the bottom of his swollen middle.

Luke sighed as he continued scrolling through job applications. He’d just graduated college and couldn’t secure a job for the life of him. His lease ended at the end of the month and there was no way he was moving back in with his parents. When he came out two years ago they practically treated him like he was invisible and that he was just going through some kind of phase.

eventually he came across an application to be a taste tester for a bakery. Luke clicked on it and looked at the description. “In desperate need of a young man with a big appetite willing to make sure all baked goods are up to standard. Free housing included with job.” Luke’s eyes lit up. Free housing? He immediately started the application and filled out all of his info before getting to the final step. “Please submit two photos of yourself with no shirt on, one from the front and one from the back.” Luke stopped. “The hell?” Why would they need pictures of him? He was about to close the application before he thought about the free housing part of the job again. “Anything is better than living with my parents…” Luke sighed and took off his shirt. He went into the bathroom to take his pictures. His strong body had been toned by sports and the gym since high school. Luke hade been active and fit for his entire life. He flexed and took the pictures, showing off his toned abs and strong arms.

Luke awoke the next morning to an email from the bakery he applied to. “Hello Luke! This is Ben from big boy’s bakery! We’re reaching out to inform you that you have been hired as our new taste tester! Please come in today for training.” Luke almost screamed when reading, but he quickly contained his excitement and got dressed. He headed down to the bakery soon after and walked inside. A strong man was standing behind the counter. He looked like he worked out everyday, but he wasn’t afraid to eat either. His stomach was just beginning to push against the tight apron he was wearing. “Ah! You must be Luke! I’m Ben, your new manager!” The man spoke up. He gave Luke a tour of the bakery and led him to his housing that came included with the job. It was just out behind the bakery, literally connected through a short hallway. It was a small apartment that had a bed, kitchen, and a tiny bathroom. It was super cramped but anything would be better than living with his parents. Next, Ben showed Luke to his station where he would be working. It was a room in the back of the bakery with a couch, a tv, a Table, and some pictures of pastries on the wall. “You ready to get started?” Ben asked still grinning.

luke sat down as Ben left and quickly returned with a tray of pastries. All unique and all looked delicious. Luke’s mouth watered. “Ok so these are all new recipes I’m experimenting with, and I need you to eat each one and then fill out the feedback form. Got it?” Ben asked. Luke nodded and Ben left the room. There were small labels next to each pastry, and Ben decided to start with “raspberry chocolate croissant” he took a bite and the pastry melted in his mouth. It was flaky, buttery, and the filling was to die for. Luke practically moaned as he took another bite. He finished, then turned to the paper on his right. He had to rate it out of 10, list any changes he would like to see, then add any additional notes or particular flavors that stuck out to him. Luke gave the croissant an incredible rating and then moved on to the next pastry.

before long, Luke had finished the entire tray of pastries and given a review to each one of them. His stomach was bloated from all the sweets, but he got off the couch and looked for Ben. “Done already?” Ben asked as Luke opened the door. “Yup!” Luke smiled. “Great! Well that’s all for today so I will see you tomorrow at 8!” Ben gleamed.

about a week into his new job, Luke was happier than ever. He couldn’t imagine a better job. He woke up, walked about 20 feet to the bakery, sat on the couch and ate a tray of delicious pastries while watching his favorite shows. He usually only worked for an hour or two and then Ben would send him home. A couple times, Ben even sent him home with a few pastries that weren’t selling well.