Cellu-Light Reading

Rafa and Dolores had their first son Miguel, followed quickly by Carlos and Hector. With three growing boys to feed, Rafael was under a lot of pressure to balance every budget and keep a roof over their heads. Rafael spent countless nights pouring over numbers with churros and quesadillas in his hands. By the time they were old enough to know better, Rafa’s sons only knew him as a who weighed more than three men and overflowed and crushed almost every chair. His gains didn’t start to plateau until he had already hit 400 pounds.

Rafa raised his boys on what he called Vitamin T: tacos, tamales, tostadas, tortas, & todo lo demás, all of Mexico’s favorite fried street food. That’s what he gave to calm them down after the doctor scared them when he saw how fast they puffing up. Each one was the fattest boy in their class, and spending their afternoons in the restaurant helping their dad instead of out learning soccer was only packing on more pounds and adding rolls.

Hector was the least interested in the family business. He picked up carpentry as his new trade. He impressed some girl with how much wood he was lifting, even though his biceps were covered with so much fat they were puffier than pillows. She saw a big strong teddy bear wielding his mattress wide gut and rode those love handles until she got pregnant with Luis and Marco. Hector’s skills proved to be a smart move once the whole family realized they could finally repair and replace the dozens of chairs they shatter under their weight. The wood in his work bench still creaked every time he dared plop his blubbery body down on it.

Carlos hung around the business longer than Hector, but his interest in the numbers ended up turning him into an accountant. His university years were marked by his butt and thighs got wider and wider as he took a bite from every cooking pot in the restaurant as he studied. His ass cheeks grew until his pants were tearing apart trying to contain two Jello tins the size of beach balls. His studies paid off though. He got his degree and a girl who liked him enough to have his own son, Javier.

In the end, Don Rafa would end up passing the business to Miguel. All of Rafael’s sons were giants; Carlos and Hector had both surpassed 500 themselves. Miguel, however, was the largest. His entire adult life was spent working on perfecting his father’s recipes and learning every secret. He multiplied his dad’s greed by a young man’s appetite and found himself eating even more. Miguel had spent decades of his own life eating lard fried carnitas and refried beans.

The physical part of running a restaurant was starting to catch up to him. He was grateful that Hector and Carlos sent their boys to help him now that he had past the big 600. Even wedging himself through the old concrete doors was beginning to be a challenge. So he began to teach Javier, Luis, and Marco how to be Gigantes, just like his father taught him and his brothers. It seemed like every few weeks someone was telling a story about the school uniform they outgrew since they were working with their Uncle Miguel.  

If you go back through the past poster boys, you’ll notice a trend pretty quickly. On Saturday, they always post about how much weight they put on. And it’s not just a three pound bloat from going out for dinner. These guys are packing on dozens of pounds in 24 hours. If you’re a beefy powerlifter type, adding a hundred pounds is enough to bury all those muscles in fat and turn you into a blob with a beer gut the size of a boulder.You can imagine the kind of damage this does to some chub who’s already 50% body fat. It’s a little freaky but also kind of exciting. 

The other day I posted about it and mostly people  told me it’s just a coincidence or AI. I got a couple of gainer mutuals who were actually interested. Then the actual account sent me a DM. 

“We heard you were interested in being featured on our page! We would love to have you spotlighted this Friday.”

That’s the moment my suspicions were confirmed. Something seriously fucked up was going on. I shot back a text: “No, I never said that.”

They replied within seconds. “Great! Glad to have you on board. Sel;ect no more than four pictures and send them to us as soon as you can.”

At first, I thought I sent the wrong message, but it wasn’t an error. I was going to be the next poster boy- whether I asked for it or not. I reasoned eventually that this was the only way I could probably find out for sure what was going on with this page. I closed out Twitter and started digging through my closet. The most viral pictures of my internet life should probably be decent. I grabbed a t-shirt I knew my overhang would fall out of and a pair of shorts that ended right at my upper thigh roll. 

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I liked the way that I filled out my clothes. I spent years cramming calories down my throat so I could get to this size. I only crossed the 300 pound threshold just after the beginning of the year. I finally looked like a real fat man. I relished in the way that I could feel my body bounce with every step I took. It’s been good… but more has to be better, right? I took the pictures out on my balcony and sent them off.

Friday morning,I woke up to a DM from the account- their edited version of the pics and a simple message: “10 likes = 1 pound. Can you handle this?” I searched through and saw they posted me a couple hours ago. 47 likes and counting. Luckily I was prepared for this. I dug out my loosest pair of chinos and a button down shirt I bought once as a stretch goal. It was at least four sizes too big. I had all the confidence in the world that this combo should at least get me through work, and I could buy the right size once when my measurements calmed down for the day. Popping buttons is hot but not in front of my boss and coworkers. 

Still, on the drive to work, I could already feel that my belly was inching closer to the steering wheel. I checked the post on the way in and the likes had tripled in just two hours. A fifteen pound gain and I hadn’t even sat down at my desk. I took a deep breath and I tried to push the thought away. I started up my computer and settled in for the morning. I was growing at a rate that just barely tickled the edge of my senses. My skin itched as it stretched. There was a rumbling in my stomach as my metabolism manufactured fat at inhuman speeds. More and more of my belly pressed up against my desk. My double chin was smothering the collar of my shirt. 

My favorite work friend popped into my cubicle around 10:00 with a worried look on her face. She whispered, “I have some bad news."

I craned my neck towards her. “Bad news on a Friday?”

“Apparently the meeting that Taylor thought was next Friday at noon is actually today in two hours. She grimaced. 

“How does this keep happening? How hard can it be to read a calendar?”

 “Yeah, people were already reading them the Riot Act earlier. So you’ve got about two hours until we have to present, and we need a slideshow, O PowerPoint master.”

“Alright. Alright. Let me get to cracking.”

“Thank you! Hey, you look bigger than I remember.”

“I didn’t get that much bigger since we hung out yesterday. It’s probably nothing. Didn’t I say to let me get to work? Shoo!”

“I’m going! Thanks a bunch.” She scurried away. 

Once she walked away, I immediately checked my phone. I had more notifications than I knew what to do with. All of my friends were retweeting it and encouraging people to like it. My eyes opened wide when I saw the total number of likes: 497. In a couple of minutes, I was going to be fifty pounds heavier than when I went to bed last night. If people kept checking their feeds (instead of doing their jobs like me) I was going to be a blimp by the time of my meeting, much less by the end of the day. I grabbed two handfuls of my gut and it was blissfully soft. The delicate new fat was pushing up in between my fingers. I had to stop. I knew how this would go if I wasn’t careful. I needed to focus on this stuff for work before.

I shook off the cobwebs and locked in. I didn’t have time to look at my phone. I couldn’t afford to play with my belly. This was a serious crunch. The clients were coming in and our bosses would be there. This was the kind of meeting that could make or break careers if you played your cards right. I couldn’t afford to obsess about a Twitter trend right now. Even if I could feel the armrest starting to press into my love handles. Even if my belt was digging into the bottom of my stomach like a cat’s claw. My brain was such a mess by the time noon rolled around that my team had to come into my cubicle and shake me out of it. 

“Hey, it’s time for us to go set up in the conference room. They should be here any minute now.” someone explained. 

“Time is really flying today. Here’s hoping we don’t completely mess this up.” 

“Fingers crossed. Now come! You know they’ll be mad if we get there and we’re not ready.” The group walked away. I tried to stand up but the armrests had completely lodged themselves in my sides. I could have seen this coming. I pushed against the arms and felt my gelatinous side rolls shift but my ass never quite left the seat. Every movement I made forced the chair’s metal frame to groan and scream as it dealt with my weight. I gave it three more attempts but I was just too wide for it to let me go. My phone mocked me from my desk. A minute later, my tweet was staring back at me with a number that was unseemly. 806? No one was that popular, right? The universe was conspiring against me. I was almost 400 pounds. The limit on this chair was only 330 pounds to begin with. I was going to destroy the chair entirely by the close of business. 

An idea came. It wasn’t my favorite, but I knew it would work. I started to rock back and forth. The chair’s creaks grew louder and louder. Suddenly, a high pitch sound came from under me. Something rolled loose on the floor. I braced myself. With one shift in the chair, I came crashing down. The impact made a resounding boom I’m sure everyone on the floor could hear. Despite the abundant amounts of cushion, my ass still hurt when I fell. All around me were pieces of shrapnel from the office furniture that used to support me for eight hours a day. Farewell good and faithful servant. You did your best. 

I grabbed on the edge of my desk and pulled myself off the ground. It may be a pain to move around, but it was probably the only thing in this office sturdy enough to actually get me up. When I got on my feet, I could feel just how much bigger and heavier I had become. My arms had grown into pillows, my thighs were the size of a normal person’s waist, and the giant mass that sat along my waistline was pulling me down. I turned on my phone’s camera and saw just how much of a big fat mess I looked like today. I tugged on the shirt's corner to tuck them into my pants, and revealed that the shirt I thought was a massive tent this morning was not so impressive. It was a perfect fit, maybe even a little tight. The buttons were almost certainly not going to last hours. I briefly considered undoing the belt and realized that it might be the only thing keeping my pants from completely undoing themselves under the force of my massive torso. 

I checked to see if my slides had all been saved to the cloud and waddled to the conference room. I snuck into the room as the suits filed in. When my teammates noticed that I had come in, there were multiple loud gasps. Taylor in their infinite wisdom yelled so the whole room could hear: “Jesus Christ! You look like you ate yesterday's version of yourself. How do you grow this large so quickly?”

I scanned the faces in the room. All of these executives had their eyes trained on my growing body, waiting on a response. Taylor shrunk back when I shot a glare at them. I declared through gritted teeth:

“In the short time you have known me, I have always been big. If this is really important to you, I think we should address this in a different setting after our presentation.” Preferably the parking lot after hours. 

The slides are already up, so I directed my attention to the people who write and sign checks. I shepherded everyone through the presentation they haven’t had time to review. When we finally circled around to my portion of the project, my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I didn’t bother checking. I knew what it was. We were so close to the end, and I could sneak off to handle this situation the second this was over. 

My stomach had other plans. It swirled around processing calories I never ate. The cloth around me felt like a prison and its walls were closing in on me. I sprinted through my work, desperate to reach the end of this nightmare. I reached my last slide and transitioned into the Q&A section. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Then I felt relief across my mid section. A faint popping sound was followed by two plastic clinking sounds on the boardroom table. I looked forward and saw my worst fears confirmed. Two of my buttons had flown across the room and landed right in front of our clients. 

My buttons were passed from person to person until they landed in my hands. I was mortified. My teammates wrapped things up. The moment we were excused, I waddled out of that conference room. 

I made a beeline straight for the elevator. I already had my car keys and wallet. There was nothing in my office worth going back for. I stuck my meaty paw into my vacuum-seal tight pocket, and slowly tugged it out my pocket. Just as it reached the entrance of my pocket, the phone flew out onto the floor. I swore I was being tested. Why was this happening to me? Rather than delay the inevitable, I crouched down and heard a giant rip underneath me. The seam going across my ass and down my inner thigh had become a gash. The soft dimpled flesh on display for anyone I passed by. I picked up my phone just in time for a phone call.

My gainer friend Dawson is FaceTiming me. “Hey I saw you got featured today. Did your little theory turn out to be true?”

“It’s definitely real. Take a look.” I flip the camera and show him my reflection in the elevator doors. All my new lard was oozing out of the holes in my tight clothes like dough in a popped can of biscuits. I was so much wider and rounder than yesterday. 

“Dude, this is gainer heaven. Just a magical switch flipped and turned you into a blob.”

“I can assure this was not heaven. This whole Fat Boy Friday thing has been humiliating. I destroyed my chair at work, popped a button in the middle of a meeting, and I just ripped my pants to shreds. I’ve got to get out of here.”

Dawson took a deep breath. “I know you’re upset right now, but I want you to feel your belly in your hand. Think about all the time you have spent gorging to get big. You have the opportunity of a lifetime. The internet is taking you from a dadbod to a certified lardass. Your body is making curves and folds you’ve only seen in photos. You’ve got 1.1 thousand likes on your posts and every single one gets you closer to being a massive fatty.”

I quickly do the calculations. “I’ve put on over 110 pounds since this morning.”

“And we still have twelve hours to go. If you don’t want to spend another moment at work, who could blame you for starting your weekend early. But here’s what you are going to do with your afternoon: you are going to get in your car, stop in every drive thru and order treats until you feel better. And I better see pictures and videos of you stuffing your gullet on your Instagram stories.”

“Dawson…” I groaned. 

“I don’t want to hear it! Try Jesus, don’t try me.” He disconnected the call. The elevator finally arrived and I could feel hunger pangs start to settle in. It was time for my usual lunch binge anyway. I waddled out the building and ignored the stares of people who undoubtedly marveled at the state of my clothes. I squeezed behind the wheel of my car and felt the suspension sink under the added weight. 

I drove off to McDonald’s and ordered everything I could imagine wanting from nuggets to sandwiches, but when they handed over the bags, I immediately went for the McFlurry and dipped a handful of fries in the ice cream. The sweet and salty taste was euphoric on my tongue. I could feel it rewrite my brain chemistry. My morning melted away. All I could focus on was making an absolute pig of myself. I went live on Instagram and reviewed my haul for my followers. Mowed through greasy bag after greasy bag of food. I crammed food into me as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I didn’t care what food stains splattered on my shirt; it was already ruined. I licked my fingers clean of every crumb and sauce. After I had cleared it all, my gut was bloated beyond belief. I kneaded my hands into my abdomen and prayed my internet-enhanced metabolism would digest my feast. Despite how taut my stomach felt inside, every inch felt supple to the touch in between my fingers. The increasingly tight space between the door and the center console reminded me that the clock was running all the time.

Speaking of, nearly another two hours passed since I had last checked the tweet. The engagement was staggering. I looked into the camera and explained to my followers, 

“For those of you who don’t know, I’m today’s Fat Boy Friday Ambassador-slash- Poster Boy. For every ten likes, you put a fresh pound of fat so if you would like to see this fat fuck grow, feel free to like the post on Twitter.” I gave my blubber a good shake and watched the ripples spread across my body. “So far today I am up 140-ish pounds (after a thousand they cut the last digits off on the number of likes), which means I’m hovering around 460 pounds. There’s still another nine hours left in Friday. You all could easily get me past the 500 line by the end of the night. Let’s see what happens!”

I turned off the stream and went home. I stripped off the tatters of my ruined clothes and slipped into bed. The springs squeaked louder than I’ve ever heard. I spent the rest of the day at home getting delivery and posting videos of my growing body online.

At the end of the day, just minutes away from midnight, I went live again. The giant briefs I put on that morning were torn to shreds, but they were the only thing that even went past my thighs. Leaving the tiniest bits of fabric to cover my crotch.The elastic band was cutting so deep into me I knew for a fact that it would leave a mark if they didn’t snap on camera. It was all a pretense though; the underwear was almost completely covered by my rolls and fatpad. 

“Hello everyone! There is just three minutes left on the clock here on the West Coast until Friday is over. If you missed it, I’m the face of Fat Boy Friday and every ten likes adds a pound of fat to my voluptuous body. If you want to be a part of a real life gaining experiment, you can just like the tweet I have linked in my bio. I haven’t checked in a few hours so you can see my live reaction when I step on the brand new scale I bought this afternoon. It talks because I’m sure I can’t see the numbers past my gut. My old one had a capacity I probably outgrew before I even had my morning coffee.” I laughed at myself. 

I checked the time and saw there were still two minutes left to fill. I started to tell the story of my morning and the comments exploded. For two minutes, I felt like I was watching my skin stretch out. I was completely on display for people to gawk and admire. After some of the longest minutes of the day had passed, my watch tolled for midnight. The twelve beeps marked the end of my service. The growth switched off like a light bulb. 

“Guys it’s time.”

My feet landed with a heavy thud as I heaved myself out of bed. The walls and everything on them shook violently from my waddle across the room. My heavy breathing eliminated any chance at an awkward silence. The reverberation from my jiggling rolls across my waves of lard were impossible to ignore as they travelled. I backed up as far as possible to try to get my whole body in the frame of my bedroom mirror. I dropped the scale and turned it on. A beep alerted me it was ready. I stepped onto the platform. Several agonizing seconds passed as it calculated the full extent of my girth. I positioned the camera under my waistline to watch the digits reveal themselves on the display. 

A robotic androgynous voice rang out: “Six hundred and nine pounds.”

My eyes opened wide, my jaw dropped. Nearly three thousand people liked my post. I showed the viewers my incredulous expression. 

With the final gains in, I took a moment to appreciate my transformation. My face had gone from a slightly more full angular look to being surrounded on all sides by fat to the point that my neck had been completely consumed by rolls. My cheeks looked perpetually filled with food. My thighs were so wide and doughy, they were fighting for space. The middle of the mirror was entirely wallpapered from edge to edge by my new stomach; my love handles didn’t even fit into the picture. The shelf of my gut was pushing up the giant deformed moobs that sat on top of my chest. Above all, it was heavy. It pulled down on me like anchors from every point on my body. The fresh lard put pressure on my joints and my lungs and even suffocated my dick beyond my reach, and it was exciting. My dick was rock hard deep inside my fatpad. I could feel the deep desire in me for even more. I laughed and gave the camera a wicked smile. 

Four ghosts appeared in a haze. Each one glowing their own color. Sean’s tired eyes could hardly tell who was in front of him. When he blinked, three disappeared and left the man glowing red. The red man climbed onto the bed. The second the man touched his dick, Sean recognized him. “Matthew,” he whimpered in pleasure. 

Matthew was one of Sean’s first boyfriends after coming out. The two of them had the wildest and the most incredible sex Sean has ever had in his life. After all this time, Matthew still had the fit body he had at 20. Every part of him was tight and fit. 

Matthew’s muscles looked heavenly in his crimson glow. Every ripple of his abs, the curve of his biceps and pecs. He was a work of art, and it made Sean conscious of every minute he spent of the last five years, building and sculpting his body into something equally divine. Matthew worshiped Sean’s dick with his mouth. His tongue worked every square millimeter of his shaft. Matthew teased at him until he tasted the salty pre-cum. Sean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Matthew rode Sean’s bucking hips with his face.

Matthew let his hands explore Sean’s body. It was much smaller than when they were dating. That could be fixed. The strong legs surrounding his head softened with just a graze of his hand, so could his glutes. Matthew’s glowing red fingers puffed up his pecs into moobs. His narrow waist and abs vanished under a puddle of pudge that became a starter belly. The Adonis from his Instagram had gone to pot. 

When Sean realized that Matthew was ruining his picture perfect body, he let out a yelp. “What are you doing to me?” he yelled. Matthew didn’t respond. He simply swallowed another inch of Sean and caressed his fattening body. He grabbed onto Sean’s love handles. Matthew massaged his dick with his mouth and sucked until creamy jets erupted from Sean’s head. Sean couldn’t help but recall how much Matthew was in love with his body back then. With one chaste goodbye kiss on the lips, Matthew faded away. 

Sean closed his eyes and the thunder cracked once again. His eyes opened and a figure in green appeared. His most recent ex appeared in a tank top and skimpy shorts just as always. Every part of his Instagram-ready muscles was on full display for the swooning public.  “Mark,” Sean whispered. Mark was the one who taught him all about health and put him on this path. 

Mark introduced him to the gym. Mark stopped him from eating chocolate at his desk. Mark stopped him from buying burger combos as snacks before he came home from work. Mark stopped him from ordering family combos as personal meals. Mark stopped him from sitting down with a cake from the grocery store and eating half of it as a midnight snack. 

Mark’s green glow lingered on objects as he circled the room. The dumbbells, the elliptical, the treadmill were all covered in a green haze. When the haze disappeared, so did the workout equipment. Mark left a trail of destruction that only belonged to a fat boy. Boxes of all the foods that Sean worked so hard to quit while he was with Mark- pizza, fried chicken, doughnuts- they were all scattered on the ground. 

Mark picked up the clothes Sean had lying around. Mark took a pair of sweatpants designed for Mark’s narrow waist and stretched it out until the waistband grew three times its original size. All the pants around the room followed suit, transforming for the life of a giant. The fabric of all his pant legs where the two titanic thunder thighs met was fraying from the friction. The seam tasked with keeping both beach ball sized ass cheeks was struggling to keep it together as the pants were filled beyond capacity. The shirts weren’t faring much better. Each one was the size of a tablecloth; its shape and pattern deformed to stretch around a bean bag belly. 

Mark stepped up to the bed and blew him a kiss. With just one puff of air, Sean’s body started to inflate from just a little pudgy to outright obese. He grew a true gut that stuck out far in front of him and drooped into an overhang. Love handles developed at the bottom of a stack of chubby rolls. His thighs blew up to the size of Christmas hams. Even his face went from a chiseled masterpiece to a bubble of fat, complete with a double chin, hiding his neck. Sean lost 150 pounds while he was dating Mark, and now he could feel every single ounce coming back and weighing him down in bed. 

“Mark, you were the one who made me into who I am today. How could you do this?” Before Sean could get an answer, Mark was gone. All traces of his influencer life were gone. He was back in the shell of a life from years ago. 

Sean forced his eyes closed. He had to be dreaming; this was all just one big nightmare. A bolt of lightning filled his room once again. A roll of thunder roared so long it shook the windows. Sean opened his eyes to yet another ghostly ex standing over him with a golden aura. The lab coat and stethoscope immediately told him it was Luke. He was a wealthy doctor, more than a couple years older than Sean with platinum hair and a puffy beard. 

Their entire relationship, Sean never wanted for anything. Luke was the dream daddy. Sean was holding down a work from home job he barely had to do anything for. It left his days free to be devoted to being a gluttonous pig. It was more of a challenge for him to fight through video games with his arm elbow-deep in a party size bag of chips anyway. When Luke missed Sean at work he would send enough delivery to feed a family of five Sunday dinner. When he outgrew his clothes, he bought the nicest things they make in sizes over 6XL. 

Sean got to be his highest weight when he was living as Luke’s pet. Anyone teetering on the edge of 500 pounds picks up some complications, and Dr. Luke loved to give Sean a check up. This one started the same way. Luke pressed his stethoscope to Sean’s soft chest. Sean found himself getting tired from the exercise after just a few deep breaths. His rolls were so heavy and his gut was so expansive that his lungs were constantly fighting to expand. The fat around his neck was bringing back his sleep apnea. Now Sean was what glowed; his chest and what used to be his neck was what glowed yellow. 

Luke moved his stethoscope toward his chest and the gold sparkles coalesced around his heart. The walls of Sean’s heart were coated with fat. The muscles pounded to pump blood out to his giant growing body. The glittering specks lit up every vein as the blood circulated, but the longer Luke’s stethoscope stayed in place, the worse it got. A fat boy diet was destroying his insides. Sean’s blood sugar rose from a lifetime of soda and sweets. His blood pressure from countless carryout containers filled with the saltiest food to come out of the kitchen. There was literally too much fat flowing in his blood from constantly sucking down greasy food. 

Luke dragged his hand down Sean’s soft flabby body and all his stretch marks began to glow. There were stretchmarks along his pillowy arms and across the wide expanse of his ass and everywhere in between. Then the stretch marks started to grow. His body was inflating beyond his skin’s imagination. He was reaching the superchub size he only dreamed of back when he was growing under Luke’s supervision and with his money. Boobs that could fill and overflow double D cup bras like a firehose. Arm folds bigger than a head and thighs round enough to challenge waists with potbellies. A cellulite-ridden ass that threatened to be so wide that it could reach both sides of his bed. A round waterbed gut that was so large that it eclipsed even his new mammoth features. A generous estimate would have him at 600 pounds, and even that seemed like an obvious lie as you observed the megachub before you. 

Sean was in abject fear at the creation of his exes. Once upon a time, this was a dream. All he wanted to do was be the heaviest thing for miles around. Now he was here and it felt like being trapped in handcuffs that couldn’t get taken off. Keeping himself alive took so much energy he was drowning in sweat that trickled in between the crevices of his gelatinous body. If he wanted to even run away, he had to overload his joints with the weight of 3 baby elephants and waddle with his stomach swinging like a wrecking ball and the folds of his limbs brushing with every moment. His own fantasies had turned into a nightmare. 

Luke’s golden luster disappeared and there were no more illusions about what was happening. He was being dragged back to his past, ounce by ounce. But wait. There was one more figure to visit. What was left? Who was left? 

Indigo fog floated into the room. The drifting clouds reflected the pale moonlight. Sean looked around and sitting calmly atop the minifridge was a bearish man with a pencil tucked behind his ear. He rested his worn notebook on the curve of his stomach. “John? You too? But I was the one who brought you into the gaining world. Where is the man I met who was ashamed of how big we were?!” 

When John and Sean met, John was a typical self-loathing chub. He tried every TikTok trick and fad diet to get rid of his curves. He desperately wanted them both to slim down so they could be the perfect twink couple. This plan was religiously sabotaged by Sean, who was deep in his gainer phase and trafficked junk food into the house like a drug cartel. In their battle of wills, John caved first. He gave in to the constant takeout and snack until he became the beefy bear he is today. 

John opened his mouth, but the voices of all his exes came out in unison. “You brought me into the gaining world. You have forgotten from whence you came and have become a monster. Now you must pay the price for your hypocrisy. We are restoring you to your past life.” Thunder roared outside. The indigo clouds began to swirl around the room. John took a step forward and placed his hand on Sean’s forehead. Sean’s eyes glowed purple. 

In his mind, Sean could see memories of his gym life being wiped like smudges on glasses. Every lost workout weakened his resolve. The internet applause he got every time he showed off for the cameras died and the ego that came with it was gone without a trace. In its place was a man with a striking clarity about who he was. Sean was over 700 pounds, exponentially larger than most people on earth. He could never claim to be better than anyone. He remembered when he was half this size and the waddle from his car to the gym was enough exercise to wear him out. His idea of meal prepping wasn’t moderated portion sizes in containers anymore, it was finishing one meal and immediately wondering what he was going to eat next. He was an unabashed lazy greedy glutton, and worse, he liked it. The bigger he got, the more he wanted. 

Sean opened his eyes and saw John straddling his belly with a pint of half-melted ice cream in his hand. John tipped the edge of the container against Sean’s lips. The moment Sean tasted the ice cream- cookies and cream, his favorite flavor- something primal unlocked. He gulped the ice cream down like water in the dessert. He took the tub from Mark’s hands and poured it at his own voracious pace. He stopped only to lick up the drops that dribbled out of his mouth and crunch on the Oreo pieces. When Sean finished the last morsel, John disappeared. 

The next morning, Sean woke up to a sunny cloudless day. As far as he could tell, it was the same as every other day. His massive body nearly eclipsed his sinking bed.The CPAP machine on his nightstand whirring to keep him alive through the night. His bones were aching from the silky soft lard weighing down on his every limb. The debris from his late night binges scattered on the ground filled the air with the smell of stale grease. Friction from the folds of his thighs on his morning wood was making him horny. And horny, like all his emotions, led him to one place: hungry. 

Walter didn’t want to be one of them. The holidays had hit him pretty hard and by most estimates, he was already in need of a good diet plan before it started. October was a non-stop barrage of Halloween candy and then at the start of November, it’s all discounted. The end of November is Thanksgiving- the office Thanksgiving party, Friendsgiving, the family Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving leftovers. Before you know it, it’s December. Everyone is hosting a holiday party and offering special candies and homemade treats. If it’s Hanukkah themed, there’s destined to be doughnuts and latkes deep fried in oil. If it’s Christmas themed, anything and everything can end up being served. The month dead ends in a giant feast and a week of eating leftovers and doing absolutely nothing that might burn a calorie. The whole season was a long cycle of Walter eating a lot, folks offering him lots of food, him never saying no to food, and him eating even more.

So at the start of the year, Walter decided he would try to lose some of the 325 pounds he carried. He joined a weight loss program with centers so they could see him and pressure him into staying on track. And after just the first week, Walter was already slipping.

Walter already knew he was playing with fire when he came to the Vultures the second week of the month. He had reached his limit. All of the solid food he had eaten all day could fit in the palm of his hand. He was supposed to walk in to meet with his support group and be positive, though he’s never been so miserable. He spent all of his willpower earlier in the day when someone brought in cake for a birthday party, and they announced that they got a larger size just so he could have as much as he wanted.

When Walter saw the Vultures cooking, he knew God was pushing his buttons. The smell of burgers and fries crept through his car’s air vents. He parked away from the doors where someone might spot him, but now there was no one to protect him from the pure desire in the Vulture’s eyes. Walter thought he had been self-conscious about his size before, but that was nothing compared to having them measure him with his eyes. Every cellulite dimple on his thighs and ass, every fold stacked on his love handles to form his rotund gut, every single stretch mark was already known to them by the time he reached them.

One of them stepped up to greet Walter. He had a beard that framed his face well and captivating eyes that twinkled like the stars in the sky. “Hey my name is Oliver. What brings you in?”

Walter hated how he blurted out “the smell of that grill” before he could even think of a smart answer. Oliver and his friends chuckled at the outburst.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, “the grill gets more visitors than any of the rest of us. Why don’t I fix you a plate?”

“Thank you. You know, you all seem much nicer than people make you out to be.”

“I’m guessing your friends inside told you about us.” Walter nodded in agreement. “We’re really not that different. We just so happen to think men are better off when they’re built nice and wide. We think it’s sexy when a man likes to eat. Fat men are beautiful to us. Guys who have listened to us instead of them tend to be much happier. I know we’re going to make you happier already.”Oliver handed over a plate with two double cheeseburgers and a brown bag filled to the brim with fries. Walter could see the grease stains but he didn’t care. Walter licked his lips and devoured the burger in less than ten bites. He licked his fingers clean.

“That might have been the most delicious burger I’ve ever had. What’s your secret?”

“Well, we don’t skimp on flavor or quality. We’ll give you what you want by any means necessary. There’s no need to deny yourself with us. In fact, I think you’ll like our diet plan.”

Walter’s curiosity was piqued. “You have a diet?” 

Phase 2: How It Works

Walter had been working through his new diet for about two and a half weeks, and he still had questions. Oliver, his coach, was happy to walk him through everything.

Should I have a slice of the cake in the break room? No, have two. 

Should I have a salad for my appetizer? No, have mozzarella sticks.

Which chocolate bar should I have? Both and pick up the king size.

Oliver’s choices all felt so much more natural than Walter’s old diet. His old diet had a long list of foods he couldn’t eat that got rid of all his favorite foods. He was only allowed tiny portions at set times which left his stomach empty and mad the rest of the day. The old dietician found something new to chastise him for every single week he came in. Oliver never chastised him for eating what he liked; Oliver always wanted Walter to treat himself. 

One day, Walter was texting Oliver about all the cravings he was having while he was stuck at work. There was a big deadline coming up and he couldn’t take the time for one of his usual mid-day binges. A coworker had ordered sandwiches for the office, but that was far from enough for Walter’s big boy stomach. Walter tried to power through, but his mind kept wandering to all the meals he would normally have in an afternoon. His mind switched from burgers to fried chicken to quesadillas. He thought about the pizza and cinnamon stick combo at the place around the corner from the shop. 

At around 3 o’clock, there was a delivery for him at the front. Walter snuck downstairs and found a bunch of the Vultures holding bags of all the things he was thinking about. 

“Oliver told us that you were feeling a little hungry, so we thought we would help you out,” one of the Vultures said. 

“Oh you guys didn’t have to do this. Really! I don’t even have time to eat all this food.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand that you need to take just a few moments for your health,” another Vulture responded. “Besides, once you get some food in you, you’ll be a lot more focused and productive anyway.”

“Well when you put it like that, I can’t afford to not take a lunch break.”

Walter and the Vultures snuck into one of the nearby conference rooms and laid out the massive spread of food. Walter dove right in. His stomach was absolutely growling. When he started to feel full, those men lined up and ensured Walter ate every morsel of food they brought. They scooped up every crumb and drop of grease and put it in his mouth. 

Walter’s gut was bloated by the time he got back to his office. There were all colors of stains on his shirt. A coworker simply looked at him when he got back and asked:

“You couldn’t even bring up a bag of chips for the rest of us?”

Phase 3: Group Support

When the weather started to warm up in the spring and the coats came off, the real world started to look like after pictures. Diets and exercise started to pay off. Walter stared at photos of ripped abs and toned biceps and wandered if somewhere he had made a wrong turn. He sent a panicked text to Oliver who rushed over as fast as he could with his favorite treat- a box of doughnuts.

Walter held the box on his lap as Oliver launched into a diatribe. He wasn’t used to Oliver with lots of passion and emotion, but his heart was in this speech. Walter almost expected tears to start welling up in his eyes. 

“You have to stick with the program. I know it’s easy to lose faith when there’s all these messages telling you you’re supposed to be built like a cardboard cutout, but that's not who you are. And trying to be something you’re not is only going to make you miserable. You need to see what success looks like for someone like you. I know, you should meet some of the other guys in the program. I bet a trip to the buffet with them will have you feeling much more confident.” 

So the next evening, Walter is sitting at a table with three other dudes who were the size of planets. Oliver is sitting at the next table with one of the Vultures, some lanky dude who had an aggressively obvious boner from the moment he walked in. Oliver and the other Vulture served them eye-watering portions of whatever they asked for directly to the table so they didn’t get up. I left Walter with a lot of time to get to know the other guys.

Directly across from him was Justin, a high school teacher. He was a little like Walter- a chronic snacker. He would have snacks in between periods and while he was grading assignments and tests and some of the candy when he passed by the jars in the main office. It was an open secret among the students that bringing him a bite to eat could help boost your grade. Justin flashed the group a photo from when he decided he was going to lose the weight and consequently when he crumbled like the first cookie he got from the Vultures. He had an average build really, just a bit pudgy with a beer gut. Now that gut was an ocean of fat big enough to be used as an armrest and push his legs apart when he sat down. He confessed as he scratched at his stretch marks that the snacks from his students have grown that from his quite a bit. That morning, someone gave him a sheet of brownies and he finished the whole thing before the end of class. 

Next to Justin was Elijah, who was deep into a passionate love affair with fast food. He loved it so much that from high school through college, Elijah worked at a drive thru and abused his free food allowance. When he got a corporate job and he saw just how little of his dress clothes fit any more, he knew he had to make a change. But a body that’s used to making 2XLs look like kid’s clothes doesn’t know how to resist the grease laden siren songs. When the Vultures got a hold of him, they got him to spend all his new money indulging every desire they could fit in greasy brown bags. That’s why there’s a wrapper coming out of his too tight pocket. That’s why he’s gained the weight of a grown man in pure lard in just 13 months. The two chairs he had to push together don’t sound like they’ll make it through dinner, but there’s no way he’d fit in anything resembling a booth. 

Stuck next to Walter was Thomas. Thomas was a real glutton. He could eat for an hour straight and five minutes later start planning his next meal. Most days he ended up eating five times a day. Thomas was notorious for going to a drive thru for a snack for waiting in another drive thru. His brief moment of doubt came when he outgrew the big and tall section of his local department store. Two years later he was just fired for breaking his second reinforced office chair, and outgrowing the largest uniform  size of the supplier. Now he’s looking to officially make his waistline longer than his height. 

Walter couldn’t help but be a little bit impressed. By pure numbers, they were leaps and bounds from where they started. At the same time, they were bragging about a future that he was scared of. Didn’t this start because he was scared of forever being the massive elephant in the room? Why keep going down this road? And then they took their first bites of food and the taste does something to him. He sees what it does to the other guys. Their destiny was his and it was filled with happiness. No need to fear anything. 

Phase 4: Combined with Exercise

The countdown to Halloween was filled with one of Walter’s worst nightmares coming to life.  The elevator at his job broke down, and even worse, there was no clue when it would get fixed. Walter had gained close to 200 pounds since he had used the stairs in that building. Now he was stuck climbing a flight of stairs just to get to his cubicle.

When he opened the door of the stairwell, Walter tried to steel himself staring at the daunting concrete challenge. After all, there’s only one way to go. He grabbed onto the railing. The cheap metal groaned as he pressed on it. He hoisted his body up the first step and it felt like a triumph. Sure, it’s uncomfortable, but it’s not impossible. He can do this. Walter pushed himself up a few more steps. The folds of fat swang with every footfall. All that movement was straining the tight clothes that he perfectly positioned to cover his inflating body. Walter swore he heard seams ripping. As he approached the landing for the second floor, he started to feel the burn in his muscles. Sweat is rolling down his face. Walter summoned all the strength in his body and pushed forward to get through the door. 

On the other side of the door was the boss’s assistant, drinking her coffee. When she noticed him, she shot up out of her chair.

“Yay, Walter you made it. I have a surprise for you. Follow me, quickly.” Quickly? Walter wanted to spend the next half hour leaned up against the wall waiting on his heart rate to get back to a normal place. Walking should have been out of the question, but he didn’t have a choice. He followed the petite secretary as she began to explain, “Human Resources has reminded us that having the elevator break down causes undue stress onto you and the other ‘plus-sized’ members of our corporate family. And so as a way of compensating you for the trouble, Mr. Hartman has decided to provide you all with some snacks to start off the morning. Feel free to have as much as you want and maybe even more.”

A stack of doughnut boxes sat on the table in the middle of the break room. It looked pitiful. Worse yet, the only person sitting at the table was Rodrigo. Rodrigo had flakes of glaze all over his mouth and fingers and sprinkled down his shirt. The box of doughnuts next to him only had 3 left. Rodrigo was the de facto fat guy in our office. His belly was genuinely the size of a yoga ball and hung over his belt. If there’s leftovers to get rid of, they’re calling him first. One of the reasons I went on a diet at the beginning of the year was because O felt like I was going to be his size pretty soon.

When my boss’s secretary left, I looked at him and went, “Can you believe they’re trying to bribe us with doughnuts?”

“With how tough it was to get up those stairs this morning, we deserve it. There may not be many benefits to being fat guys, but a donut buffet all to ourselves is pretty good.”

“Still, it feels insulting. I know that I’m a little heavy but-”

“A little heavy? Bud, we’re looking at “a little heavy” in the rearview mirror. I’m very heavy and you’ve got almost 30 pounds on me. ”

“No, I mean I’ve let myself go this year but I’m not-”

“Don’t be modest. This is a safe space. You’re what? 420 pounds?” Rodrigo estimated. He was around 430 when he weighed himself last, and that was a few months ago. “I try my best to stay under the big 400, but it’s okay. We’re fat guys. We like to eat. There’s nothing wrong with that. Being fat is great! Today you got the fat guy’s dream: to get paid to sit around and eat donuts all morning. Don’t miss your big break.”

Unable to argue with his logic, Walter took a seat across from him. He grabbed a box of doughnuts and started chowing down. 

Phase 5: Success Stories

When New Year’s came and went once again, Oliver and the other Vultures invited him to a celebration for all of their clients who had major achievements in the past year. The Vultures would stop by and talk to him about how his year had gone and what his favorite fast foods had gone. Half the night, Oliver sat next to Walter and fed him treats with desire in his eyes. Every Vulture function involved a never-ending feast of good food, and Walter would know having been to so many in the past few months. 

In the last quarter of the year, it seemed like Walter was getting an invite to go to hang out with the Vulture every other week. It started off with their Halloween parties in October. Then they melted into Friendsgiving feasts and every kind of holiday something they could invent in December. The Vultures did everything they could short of kidnap him from his job to keep him eating at every hour of the day for two and a half months. With trainers and friends who were all in the program, they kept him accountable and made sure that he was always keeping Oliver happy with the stuff he was eating.

It was no surprise that Walter had managed to push past 450 by the end of the year. However the attitude shift had come as a complete surprise to Oliver. Walter was finally excited by eating. He started to like being fat. It gave him joy when he saw that he was getting bigger and fatter. Now he was a fat making machine and Oliver knew he was ready. 

Oliver came up to Walter at the end of the night with an envelope covered in dark spots made to look like grease stains. He said, “I’m really proud of you for all the work you put in this year. The guys and I have decided that you would make a great spokesperson during our membership drive this year. And it comes with a few benefits, if you’re interested.”

Lance wonders sometimes if it was exactly the same as two feeders, but the results are pretty damning. Whit was big like a parade balloon when we first met him. His weight was in the mid 300s, and he carried most of it in a round gut that walked into every room before the rest of him. She also seems to have completely beat out any impulse of picking food beyond whatever sounds good and filling (and probably fattening). On the other hand, when you look at his son Walter, it’s clear that Sarah was good about keeping her boys fed. He was a puffy guy who had a magnetic attraction to anything sweet. He was noticeably smaller than his dad though; his weight was probably still in the 200s. 

Whit and Walter started coming to Uncle Mac’s their first Thanksgiving without Sara. They said they wanted a homely holiday with all their favorite traditional foods: mashed potatoes, stuffing, and tons of gravy. They enjoyed watching regulars file in on the holiday, watching them hug on their way too and from dinner with their families. Friends crowding around the TV screen for football. The waiters treated them with all the care and love in the world. Most importantly: everyone loved their food. Whit liked hearing all the customers with their Thanksgiving plans. 

“This year we have to go to have dinner with the in-laws and the food is always brutal. It’s always some fad health food that their trainers told them will be good for them. The stuff isn’t meant for human consumption, I tell you. It’s disgusting. Might as well sneak out for a real meal so I won’t be hangry like I was last year.”

“My wife has me on a diet right now, and apparently she was serious about not letting me cheat for Thanksgiving because she had something about every morsel of food on my plate. I shouldn’t be eating this, that’s too much, don’t over do it. Like damn, this is the one day on the calendar where it is okay to over do it a little.” 

The men of Uncle Mac’s reminded them of all the joy that Sarah served them with their food, and now there was a place that appreciated fat men like them. 

After spending an evening at Uncle Mac’s, food became an emotional touchpoint for Whit and Walter. It brought back memories of happy times and made new happy ones. Food was like a constant source of warm fuzzy happy memories that they could press over and over again. And without the guided hand and home cooking of Sarah, the boys were okay with eating anything. Gone were the feasts with balanced meals and in came all the trash they could possibly want. Stacks of pizza boxes, platters of ribs, and quesadillas and burritos wrapped in aluminum foil. Delivery and take out became their best friends.  It didn’t take them long until they were regulars at all their favorite restaurants, and the cashiers knew their names. 

They’re having fun. For the first time since Sarah’s death, they are having a good time. If food is what brings them together, then so be it. Whit loved bringing home giant bags of burgers if it means getting to see his boy smile. Walter liked encouraging his dad to have a big dessert as a midnight snack before bed. Neither of them ever take the bold step of shooting down a food idea. An extra couple boxes of wings with their pizza? Why not? A stop for ice cream on the way from the grocery store? Sounds good. 

But after a while, these aren’t treats anymore. It’s the new normal. Walter and Whit systematically eroded their willpower until food was their focus all the time. They never said no. Walter bought something every time he passed a food court or a vending machine on campus. Whit was always eating the snacks in the break room. 

Day after day, week after week, the calories went in and they didn’t disappear. Whit and Walter’s chunk frames started packing on pounds at breakneck speed. The waiters at Uncle Mac’s are experts at seeing guys get big; their estimates said they were gaining somewhere around 15 pounds a month. They were spiraling out of control, faster than they could even register. It seemed that every time they stopped by, they were always squeezed into shirts that couldn’t cover their whole belly and pants tight enough to outline the rolls inside their upper thighs. Raul thought it was cute that they still tried to squeeze themselves into the normal sized booths even though they could only fit if they sat on the same side and pushed the table back.  

When the coats came off in the spring and they saw just how much rounder they had become from months of binging, the waiters at Uncle Mac’s were in  a dilemma. It was obvious that no one was willing to be honest to Whit and Walter about just how much they had grown. They theorized that their friends were apprehensive to tell them how fragile they were emotionally right now. After all, the most important woman in their lives had died just a few months ago, who were they to say ‘move on with your lives and put down the fork, you’re comfort eating yourselves into immobility’?” According to their inside straw poll, not them. The vote came out five votes to four, so they all agreed to keep their mouths shut.

Lucky for the losing side of the argument, reality finally crashed through by the next time they came in a couple months later. Someone was doing a presentation in one of Walter’s classes and they had to use a different room for the day. Unlike the sturdy industrial metal ones he was used to, these were cheap plastic with attached armrests and desks. It was still wider than a lot of other chairs with armrests, so Walter thought he stood a good chance of being able to squeeze in. He leaned back to drop his body into the cup of the chair and got stuck. Really what happened is his love handles were too wide to slide into the chair. Thinking it had just been a fluke, Walter tried to push on the creaking chair to let him settle in. He was closer, but nowhere near the bottom. The creaking of the chair got louder. Walter slowly slid down and the plastic around his ass was starting to bend and warp. Snap! Walter looked down and a big new hole appeared. Snap! Snap! Snap! Now there’s multiple holes and one of the armrests and has almost entirely popped off. Crackle! Pop! Thud! The force of Walter falling to the floor shook the whole classroom from the chairs to the walls. All of the eyes in the room began to focus on him. The window of the door was filled with people peering in to find the source of the thunderous vibration. 

When Walter came home and told his dad, the older man couldn’t help but feel bad as he searched for the scale. How could he have let things get like this? He looked down at his own body and thought about how lucky he had been to not have to go through something just as embarrassing. The yoga ball sized gut that sat in his lap all day was growing just like the pillows around his arms and moobs that kept him from ever putting them down at his size. Whit slid out the scale and let Walter step on. After a few tense seconds and a brief struggle to see the result past their billowing bellies, Walter read out:

“Error. Guess we’ve outgrown this old thing too, huh, Dad?” 

Whit nodded in response. “Yeah, I think this has a capacity of around 300, so we’re going to need something pretty serious to replace it.”

So they went into the supermarket and stood on the industrial scales before the crowd bustling around them. The dial was big enough for them to see with ease and big enough for anyone passing by to get a glimpse of the number too. Walter stepped on the scale and the needle went flying into the 300s, landing squarely at 376. Whit took a deep breath before taking his turn. The number couldn’t be any worse than the feeling of the weight on his chest when he lays on his chest, he reasoned. The step onto the platform revealed the number: 487. Just one good meal short of 500.

“Walter, I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of us and now look at us.”

“But Dad, you did take care of me. So maybe we’re not fitness models, but I’m okay. You kept joy in my life when it wasn’t a guarantee at all. If you don’t believe me, then we’ll have to go somewhere people really know us so they can tell you.”

Walter brought his dad to Uncle Mac’s and explained the whole situation. The waiters were frankly relieved to be able to talk out the guys’ weight freely. Now they could offer actually useful advice.

“There is nothing wrong to look for something comforting in the aftermath of a traumatic event like the love of your life dying. Unhealthy would be picking up drinking or crime or trying to suppress the emotions until they explode.” Taylor explained as he took their order and added an extra appetizer to the order. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with getting big and being fat. We happen to like guys that way, and we’re not the only ones.” Lance said as he dropped off their food. 

“The real problem,” Ben insisted as he passed out dessert, “is that you lived in denial for such a long time and tried to pretend you were just the same as stick thin guys. You need to live fat guy lives. You need to get clothes that fit and stop trying to sit in flimsy chairs. Listen to Raul and stop trying to squeeze in between things like your ass can’t knock things over before you know it exists. Even if you tried dieting, which I don’t think will work that well but let’s assume, you won’t be thin tomorrow. You still have to live in the giant bodies you have right now. You might as well get used to it. You’re fat guys who enjoy their food, live it up.”

Whit wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the guys at Uncle Mac’s first, but he decided to give it a try. He started small by buying a seat belt extender for his car (because it had been a long time since he got that to buckle). Then he tried using two chairs to support his weight and avoiding plastic seats. When he went a full week without hearing something creak under him, he was convinced. He invested in buying new big and tall furniture for his house, rearrange everything to get rid of the narrow corners, he even switched out his belts at work for suspenders and found out that he was a lot more comfortable and ate more when he didn’t have a belt digging into him all the time. With just a couple alterations, Whit has turned the house into a haven for the two fat boys who call it home. 

Cool air and the smell of stuffing rolled around again just three months later. Thanksgiving reappeared and the waiters were looking to see all their favorite faces. When Walter and Whit waddled in, Raul gasped. It was the kind of transformation that gainers could never get on purpose. They were gigantic. Their faces had gotten so inflated, they almost looked like different people. And when they ate, it was like they had unlocked different people. Gone were the timid guys who casually worked through half a chicken as a snack. Now they mowed through the food like true pigs. If something managed to spill out their mouth, they were coming behind it with a piece of bread and licking their fingers. They couldn’t get enough no matter how much they order.

Ben and Lance looked on as they observed what had become of the timid two who had walked in the year before looking for a little TLC. When Whit popped a button off of his shirt, a wide small spread across Walter’s face and that was the moment they knew. Walter was beaming with pride watching his dad get so big. Whit smiled back at his son. These were two more of Uncle Mac’s pigs, forever changed. 

Two Thanksgivings later, Walter and Whit were waddling through the door once again with bright smiles on their faces. They said hello to everyone they saw, now knowing the names of so many of the other regulars. As happy as they were, the sweat forming on their brow in the cool November air was proof that the distance from their car was not such a casual trip anymore. A space on the benches in the waiting area appeared for the pair of them.

Walter is now one of the biggest guys in the whole restaurant, and people treated him like the massive superchub he was. It’s an impressive feat to cross the 600 pound mark before the age of 23. The only reason he seemed to stick in some people’s minds as smaller than he actually was, was because he always came in with his dad. Whit is so big now, every step seems like a triumph. Immobility is knocking on the door all the time and there’s no telling when it will come. He still wouldn’t miss being at the diner though. 

Lance and Ben took care of their old friends and let them chow down as the food came out. Their orders were too big to fit on the table anyway, so at least this way they have time to sit and chat while they eat. 

“I can’t believe you wake up every morning and still drag your 750 pound body into work everyday. That’s dedication.” Lance said. 

“Well I like what I do, and besides how else are we going to keep food on the table if folks don’t go to work?” Whit responded. 

“This is his coded way of saying that he doesn’t want me at home taking care of him,” Walter said. 

“What do I need him home for? He’s not that much better than me at being able to pick things up off the ground or walking long or medium distances. He’s a young guy who has better things to do than hang around his old man like start his career.” Whit explained. Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ben, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Would your dad put your life on pause like that?”

Ben’s eyes opened wide. “Oh I wouldn’t trust my dad’s opinion on anything.”

“He raised you. He must have done a decent job somewhere along the way. I bet he’s proud to have a son like you walking around.”

“My dad cut me out of his life some years ago. I haven’t heard from my family in forever.”

Whit cupped Ben’s face in his hand and said, “Well know that I’m so very proud of you. I’m glad to have you as my family. I know you’re busy at work, but know you’d always be welcome at our table for Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time son. Now be a good boy and get your folks a glass of the sweet potato pie milkshake,” Whit said.

“Nick, I’ve been trying to text you for ages! What the hell-” Nic’s friend Troy yelled as he took the keys out of the door. “Why are you pigging out on pie? Where’s your costume?”

“Costume?” Nick froze in fear.

“Yes for Katy’s birthday/ Halloween party. All of us were supposed to come in costume. It starts in… 2 minutes ago. Come on, let’s go!”

“I completely forgot about it! I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You don’t have your costume from last year?”

“I can’t fit in any clothes I was wearing last year.”

Troy groaned. “Oh my God. Wait! I think I have an idea. I think I still have that body paint from game day last weekend. With a little creativity, we might be able to make this work.”

A short while later, Nick walked back into the living room and a smile spread across Troy’s face. “This feels like the absolute worst costume possible. It has to be better for me to just not show up in costume at all.”

“No way, people have to see this. It’s perfect!”

Nick’s upper body was covered in orange body paint, and even without the very expressive face drawn in black, everyone would immediately be able to call out what his costume was. The round gut bulging out over his body made for a perfect pumpkin. The ghastly smile of his jack-o-lantern followed the curve of his pudge.

“I can’t believe you expect me to just walk around shirtless all night.”

I present to you Transformers Candies. (I know, not the most original name.) They're personally crafted by men and made in my backyard factory. Each flavor was concocted by me to have their own effect on the customer’s body. The flavor names are all puns so you know exactly

Rather than test them myself, I brough them to gainer night at the local bear club. I don't have much in the way of friends, but these greedy guys were not going to turn down free candy. It was harder to get them to eat the first one by itself. They popped them in their mouth and immediately the taste was a success. “These are so good!” “It tastes amazing.”

Now time for the moment of truth. I waited patiently to see whose would kick in first, if at all. I asked them what flavor they had. The first guy flipped the wax paper and read it aloud:

“Bear’s Honey” A mild flavor drawn by the smallest of the bunch. His lithe body puffed up bit by bit from its his skeletal frame. A bit of pudge appeared on his waistline and fat seemed to trickle in, filling him out from the bottom. Thick thighs appeared to give his new stockier frame a wider base. His middle ballooned into a round firm gut with love handles. Pillowy pecs came next, first as muscle and then as flabby moobs. His arms begin to bloat from his fingers to biceps, first growing muscle then being buried in fat until the strength is only suggested. The last step was his face- chubby cheeks and a jawline converted into a double chin with a beard that stepped up his masculine look. The transformation was gradual; until it was too much to ignore.  “Holy shit, these really work!”

The rest of them flipped their wax paper and the chemicals started to do their part. “Bubble Butt Bubblegum” As a six-foot-tall super chub, people have never called him small. Despite being the owner of a belly the size of couch cushion, beyond his waistline, he was flat as a board. At least he was. When the group looked at his backside, his pants weren’t baggy. Two massive shapely globes had become a fixture just below his waistline. They were so big the seam along the back of his pants were fraying trying to hold on.

“Double Chunky Chocolate” A shiver practically ran down my spine hearing that one; things were about to get interesting. The guy reading it was the biggest of his friends. He looked like he hadn’t trusted a public chair in years. He had a giant soft gut that went most of the way to his knees, thighs wider than most people’s waists, and no neck to be found under his chubby jowls. Doubling that produced a spectacular show. Expansion at that size meant popping off the buttons to make more room and the shirt still ripping at the seams. Expansion at that size means hearing his breathing get harder with the extra stress on his lungs. Expansion at that size meant hearing the screech when the bariatric stool he travels found out that there were limits to its impressive stress.

Another group of guys walked up to us. “Hey, we’ve been watching you guys blow up, and we want in. Do you have any more of that candy?”

“Sure, there’s a bunch of other flavors like Thick Thighs Lemon-Lime, Root Beer Beer Gut, Caramel Cellulite, Plain Vanilla Dadbod-”

“Wait a second, how come you didn’t change?” One of the new guys pointed at the only one of the original group with no signs of a change.

I pity the man who tries to underestimate you. You were born into nothing and were treated as a nothing when you came to this country. I hired you as a lowly servant to do my bidding. Yet you turned our rules against its own son.

In our country, options for fun are more restricted. It is illegal for to sell alcohol and impossible to find and do drugs. Nightclubs and parties like they have in the West do not exist here. So the thing to do in our lives of excess is to eat. The place to be is a mall food court. The drive thru is the hub for our guilty pleasures. We import the world’s restaurants as status symbols.

I’ve never believed in denying myself anything unless absolutely necessary. You’ve seen how insatiable I can be. I can follow a big burger with an hours-long trip to the Chinese buffet. If an ad appears on my phone or I pass by a sign, I have to make a stop.  My appetite only seems to grow with every passing year. I call you and send you messages with food orders, and you pick surprises to leave in my boxes so even when I’m done eating, I can have a little extra. You refill the snack drawer at my work desk so there’s always a handful of my favorites to grab and graze on over hours. I'm addicted and you enable my every desire.

In our country, we’re accustomed to not doing things. Servants are a part of life. We pay people like you from across the continent to do all that we won’t. In the intense heat of the desert, we’d rather a life of being chauffeured from one air-conditioned building to another. We’d rather someone else do the heavy lifting of cleaning and cooking and construction and gardening.

It makes for a very relaxing life for us, and I’m willing to admit that I have taken advantage. When I was a kid, my parents had servants who did everything for our family. Now I have you all do everything for me. With every passing day, my legs and arms and belly get heavier and harder to move. I need help to put on socks and shoes as my stomach gets in the way. I need help to fetch things across the house, so I don’t reach my destination sweating and panting. I need some to go down all the corridors and doorways too narrow for me to slide through- the love handles got too wide and my ass sticks out too far. You always make sure I’m always taken care of.  And I’m only going to become more and more dependent on help as I grow older and bigger.

In our country, there are strict rules about how men can engage with women. There are places we cannot go together and so many things they cannot do. Even if you’re a married couple there are rules about how you can show affection. And so the men spend our days being mainly with other men, showing our affection to men, growing closer to the men in our lives. You can hold a man’s hand and kiss them in the street and it’s normal here.

Being gay might be a crime, but the rules leave lots of space for gay men to live full lives in the shadows. You always knew the power you held in the male gaze. You knew our country was filled with repressed men who dream of finding someone gorgeous and sweet like you. Oh it was so hard to resist you in the beginning; you always walk in the door with your muscles glistening from the sweat of the day, feigning you didn’t know how tantalizing you looked. You shared your irresistible smile all day as you did your tasks, putting the pieces in place to build a future where I fattened myself up beyond belief. The smaller my world girl, the bigger yours became. Migrant workers have no rights when they come, but I gave you access to as much as I could. My money became your money. My freedom became your freedom. My power became your power.

Now my life is simple.  I am four times the size of the average person. The servants burn all the calories that I would. My only outings are to gorge on rich fast food until they replace their tiny chairs with reinforced benches. I work all day to bring in money for you to buy yourself gifts. I fatten myself just as you want. I become, just as the old Persian tale says, a slave to a slave.

Yours,

“We don’t. That’s what the internet is for.” Robin was the pragmatic one who was good at planning. As a teen, he disguised his interest in gaining in sports.  He joined the football team and let the coach demand that he eat big and grow big. The whole time he knew that when he quit sports that his newly expanded appetite wouldn’t stop, but all the muscle he had gained would dissolve into fat. Now he’s so big that his old jersey wouldn’t even be able to cover the giant shelf of moobs that sit on top of his belly, but he is an absolute beast at eating contests.

Robin suggested turning our apartment into the perfect fantasy for feeders, chasers, and encouragers to watch. One glutton willing to show off every stretchmark of their six-foot wide belly already drives them wild, imagine four.

It all goes just as he said when we get our first viral clip. The four of us moving around on a bed frame turned the poor thing into tiny pieces of scrap metal in the middle of a stuffing. The sound of creaking things is practically ambient noise in a house where nothing is built to withstand the weight of even one of us. Why stop eating for that? We were enjoying  ourselves with bucket after bucket of fried chicken and fries. It was already so fattening that grease would drip down our fingers and mouths, then we had the nerve to start dipping the food in vats of cheese and gravy.

This was really Davie’s idea. He was a fat kid, so he’s been experimenting with the most pleasurable and wildest combinations of food for years. Finishing off a pint of ice cream by eating it with a couple stacks of McDonald’s pancakes? That’s normal for Davie. It’s also why his blood sugar levels are obscenely high. He doesn’t even care ever since he found out he can use insulin and turn all his worst fattening instincts to get even fatter. It’s his voice at the end of the clip, right after the bed collapses asking: “What are you guys thinking of for dessert?”

A house with four growing superchubs has certain logistical problems that have only gotten worse as we feed each other. All the walking required just to take out the trash makes it the least favorite chore in the house. But we’re also getting to the point where we need just to take care of ourselves. None of us can bend to the ground and tie our shoes. Even if we get most of our stuff delivered, someone has to be able to fit behind the wheel of the car- seatbelt extension or not.

“That’s where in person feeders come in.” Troy suggested. He’s the most conniving of the group. He literally wore his parents down until they gave up and enabled him through his teenage years. Now he’s 22 and considers a 5 minute walk an intense workout that should leave everyone out of breath and drenched in sweat like him. “Countless boys want to come experience the house. Let’s see who can really handle it. Encouragers will relish the chance to help you shower if you tell them it’s their opportunity to rub every square inch of your body and feel between your folds. They will jump at the chance to clean up if you tell them about how you made the mess by falling asleep after an hour long binge. If the price for a butler is that they call us fat ass pigs, which we already say to each other because it’s true, I think it’s worth it.”

That little tidbit is how we started getting other men in our house. The feeders would come do everything for us just as Troy wanted. Muscular men would come through the house and put down cinderblocks to reinforce the couch and clean the kitchen. The prices ended up being a little flexible. It could just be a tease here and there. Sometimes they did it to feel the folds of our belly on their head while they sucked our dicks. We would make videos with them and they would charm us completely.

The problems started when Robin and one of the feeders started getting really close. They were texting all the time and he was coming over a lot. Robbie had gotten attached, and it was evident to everyone but him. He did everything but make Pinterest boards for the wedding. The feeder wasn’t nearly as interested; he was just looking to live out some fantasies.

So it didn’t mean anything to him when Robin was gone but Troy answered the door one afternoon. It didn’t mean anything to him that he fed Troy a buffet of McDonald’s. It didn’t mean anything to him when Troy kissed him and seduced him and fucked him. It didn’t mean anything to him that they did every day of the rest of that week. But it meant something to Robin.

When Robin saw that Troy had uploaded a video of the two of them to his page, he was distraught. He chewed out Troy who could only defend himself by saying that the feeder didn’t think they were exclusive. He had a hard and heartbreaking conversation with the feeder who never once thought about how he would hurt Robin. Lastly, he came to me with a gallon jug of ice cream and a tote bag of toppings to cry on my shoulders.

The hard parts of life were fully my domain in the house. I couldn’t start trying to gain until I could support those dreams myself. At 16, I got a job at fast food chicken place and spent my checks and my late nights in high school and college munching on all the greasy food I could handle at once. The more time I had to work, the more money I had in my bank account, the more I was eating. The boys had appointed me the dad friend, and I was the one up late at night mindlessly eating a pie and paying bills with sticky fingers. I was the one who balanced the house’s budget in the morning and relaxed with a beer at night.

When boys start acting like teenagers, you need an adult to step in. I consoled Robin until the early morning, letting him eat his feelings until he fell asleep in my bed. I shook Troy down until he felt some remorse and apologized. When it was all over, Davie brought me a small bowl of ice cream, wrapped his arms around me and said,

In just a few weeks, he realized that he was eating more than ever while spending less on food than ever. He got to the end of the third month almost 25 pounds heavier than when he started. For the first time in his life, there was more than a little pudge that bulged out when he sat down.

The trick of the app though, is that it logs just how many times you passed by the drive thru or walked in a store or ordered delivery. And every single time it racked up more points, gave you more discounts, handed out more free food. Charlie was slowly but surely replacing all his meals with Sparks Bros fries and chicken nuggets and gallons of soda. The next 25 pounds came in half the time, thanks to the eyewatering amounts of grease, sugar, and sodium he was putting into his body. With all the money he was saving, he could afford to replace all the clothes he was outgrowing.

When Charlie hit the six-month mark of his experiment, he had successfully added 70 pounds onto his once small frame. His thighs and hips were much thicker and wider with stretchmarks going down from his ass. A giant yoga ball of fat sat in his lap, permanently placed on his waistline. The results spoke for themselves. Unfortunately, some might say, Charlie had also completely developed a fast food that clawed at him at all hours of the day.

The app was willing to keep going with him though. It was still sending him cheeky messages that only fed into our suspicions. You’re looking hungry! Have one more bite. You know you want it. What’s life without dessert or two? It was all just enough to keep us intrigued and opening the app. The feeder behind the code knew just what to say and do. After all, he managed to put another fifty pounds on Charlie in the next six months of the year.

Now Charlie was the resident fatso at all his local Sparks Bros. He was the guy who waddled in and worried the cooks. He was the guy who took over a booth and moved the table back so he could fit his belly in front of the table. He was the guy who always walked out with giant overloaded bags and greasy wrappers everywhere around his car. It didn’t matter what his doctor might have to say, Charlie was sure the Sparks Bros was the best thing to ever happen to him.

The background behind my reflection fade to white. Then my facial features start to inflate; my cheeks get puffier, my jawline fades, a second and third chin appear, my neck disappears. I take a step back and my reflection follows. I can see its torso now. My fit biceps and pecs are replaced by pillowy arms and moobs. A soft expansive round gut was overshadowed by the giant ass wider than a monster truck tire and tree trunk thighs that would rival an oak tree. I looked sexy as hell; I haven’t felt that good since I lost all that weight when our oldest was born.

An extra arm appears in the mirror with a spoonful of chocolate cake. I suck it off the spoon seductively and gaze lovingly at the person holding it. I pull them into views and it’s my husband, just as fit as ever but with his naturally silver hair instead of the bottle blonde he keeps to shut up the PTA moms. I gave him a kiss and it’s magical watching us together just like old times before our lives and schedules got so complicated.

Colors begin to fill in the background of my reflection. Our bedroom came into focus with a few changes. The giant board with our family to-dos was replaced with a fridge. A CPAP machine sat on my nightstand. Our mattress has all of these dents from where my fat ass has spent too much time. There were pictures of the two of us at all or life accomplishments where you can see me pile on the pounds over the years. I was living the life I had always dreamed where a hunky man fattened me into oblivion.

The attraction employee comes in behind me and says, “It doesn’t have to be a one-time deal. For just $14.99, you can have this medallion and visit this reality whenever you like.”

We pick a Saturday to get all dressed up and meet in their parking lot. Looking at us you can clearly tell that this friend group is getting to the end of an era. Someone thin trying to get in character might put on a suit with a vest, maybe add a top hat or a cane if they wanted to be funny and over the top. At our sizes, black pants that we can get on without holes or rips are fancy. Putting on a shirt with buttons is fancy. Three-piece suits are for people who will go out to wear them multiple times before they outgrow them. Even with these lax standards, our group isn’t quite up to snuff. Half of them are wearing shirts small enough that their belly hangs out the bottom, half of us have holes along the thighs from chub rub. All of us look daunted by the substantial walk from our cars to the front door.

Fifteen minutes after we arrived, we made it to the door. I wish I could have taken a picture of the hostess’s face when we arrived. Shock and horror don’t do it justice. The sight of us showing up must have been incredible. Eight of the largest and fattest men you have ever seen waddle and wobble in, completely drenched in sweat from the walk from the parking lot around the corner. The sound of their panting drowning out the specially curated soundtrack to your Instagrammable experience.

Derek took the lead and asked for his reservation. Clearly flustered, she tried to be polite. “I don’t think we have a table big enough for your party.”

Derek insists; he made the reservation over a week ago. Any restaurant should be able to accommodate a party of eight, right?

After nervously jumping from excuse to excuse, the hostess finally told him the flat-out truth. “I don’t think our dainty furniture is going to make it through an afternoon with you all. The tables aren’t wide enough, and the chairs aren’t strong enough. They’re tiny and wooden and you’re all going to be very uncomfortable.”

Derek refused to take no as an answer. He storms off to an empty table and honestly, he looks like a dad playing with his daughter’s play set. The table isn’t spread out nearly as wide as his love handles. (I can’t imagine how we would put our food on the table- we need more than a cup of tea and a saucer with a couple cookies.) He pushes two seats together and drops his body on them. Immediately the wood creaks loud enough so everyone in the spot can hear it and it doesn’t stop. Derek shifts his weight just a little bit and we can hear the warning sign for what happens next. Derek plummets to the ground surrounded by the tiny shards of the chair.

The fat on your arms and legs will keep you from moving better than any cuffs. The pendulous gut around your middle with its insatiable greed can’t fathom going without. There is only so far you’re willing to go without a meal in your mouth and a snack in hand. It’s a ball and chain as good as any other. Especially once you see the amenities, you’ll love it.

This might be a cell, but it’s much nicer than that ratty tiny apartment you pay too much for. This has a mini fridge next to your bed, a minifridge next to the couch and a full sized one- all of which will always be fully stocked no matter how much food you pull out. We also stock the many snack drawers and bowls around the room. There are snacks in the top drawer of that dresser and in a bowl in the bathroom. We will bring you whatever food you want with just an over an intercom within minutes. There are ice cold pitchers of the most milkshake ever concocted. Sure, there’s no pool or gym, but you don’t use those. You’ll get much more use of the brand new 4k television we have in here.

Can’t you picture spending time in here? Letting afternoons go by with a couple boxes of pizza on the couch while playing your favorite games. You could pop doughnut holes in your mouth while lounging in your brand-new luxury bathtub that’s complete with jets. Yeah, it is a pretty good deal. Just come live here. Feel at home in your cell and don’t think about how big you’re getting. There’s no one to care if you stain something with all the food you eat, pop a button on your shirts while pigging out, rip a seam apart with your ass or outgrow your clothes. We’ll take care of that for you. There’s no one to judge you when chairs and couches and bed frames bend and break under your weight. We’ll just fix them for you. Just relax.