Fat lover

Chapter 12

At 550 pounds, things were definitely getting harder, no matter how much Evan tried to act like they weren’t. He was slower in the mornings, clumsier getting dressed, and more easily winded by little things that once hadn’t required thought. Shoes were becoming a chore. Socks were irritating. Buttons and belts had turned into daily annoyances. Even standing long enough to get ready for work could leave him flushed and sweating before the day had properly started.

That was part of why he had begun spending more and more nights at Claire’s place. At first it had been convenience, then comfort, and now it was something closer to quiet dependence. He liked how easy she made everything feel. She had room for him, food ready for him, and a way of stepping in before he had to ask for help that kept him from feeling too embarrassed about needing it. In the mornings she would smooth his shirt into place, help fasten things he struggled to reach, and smile as though there were nothing more natural in the world than helping her huge boyfriend get dressed.

Evan knew that should have bothered him more than it did, but Claire made dependence feel almost luxurious. “You don’t need to make life so hard on yourself,” she told him one morning while buttoning a shirt over the vast curve of his stomach, fingers deft and calm where his own had grown clumsy. “Let me take care of you.” Evan gave a weak laugh and said something about turning into a disaster, but Claire only kissed his cheek and told him not to be ridiculous. Then she handed him a loaded breakfast sandwich and a giant coffee for the drive to work.

Chapter 11

The shirt ripping open at work should have been a wake-up call. Evan had bent slightly to reach for something near his desk when the strained buttons at the front of his shirt finally gave up, popping apart far enough across his stomach to expose the tight white undershirt stretched beneath. The sound alone made his face burn. He froze, one hand flying to cover the gap while a couple of nearby coworkers pretended very hard not to stare. He was enormous by then, and his work clothes had been losing the battle for weeks, but this was the first time the truth had announced itself so loudly in public. Claire, of course, was at his side almost immediately. She looked him over with concern that seemed perfectly sincere, though her eyes held a glimmer of amusement she didn’t quite manage to hide. “Okay,” she said gently, smoothing the torn shirt closed with both hands. “We are going shopping after work.” Evan muttered something about wanting to die, but Claire only rubbed his arm and told him not to be dramatic. “You just need clothes that actually fit,” she said. “That’s all.”

The trip itself was almost worse, mostly because Claire enjoyed it so much. Evan, still wildly underestimating his size, kept pulling shirts from the racks that were obviously too small before he even got them over his shoulders. Claire stood outside the fitting room smiling to herself as he struggled through one failed attempt after another, each shirt catching across his chest and stomach or refusing to come down far enough to meet at the front. “Try the bigger one,” she’d say sweetly every time he emerged frustrated. Evan resisted it until he couldn’t anymore, and when he finally got into a 6XL shirt that actually sat over his body without straining, he just stared at himself in the mirror in disbelief. “There’s no way,” he said. Claire stepped behind him, hands settling on his shoulders. “There is,” she murmured. “And you look good.” Evan shook his head, stunned that he had gotten this big, but Claire only leaned closer and smiled at his reflection. She looked delighted by his disbelief, delighted by the evidence of how thoroughly he had lost track of himself. By the time they left the store, loaded down with bags, she had him laughing again, and when she suggested stopping for a huge dinner because shopping was “so exhausting,” he agreed without much of a fight.

[The remainder of this 20-part story is available on my patreon to subscribers. Please consider supporting me if you'd like to see more!]

Chapter 10

Once they were officially together, Evan let himself stop fighting the reality of his size in any meaningful way. He was bigger than ever—so big that even he sometimes felt startled by the sheer bulk of himself when he caught an unexpected glimpse in a mirror or struggled to fit comfortably somewhere he used to drop into without thinking. But Claire was his girlfriend now, and that fact softened everything. He told himself that if putting on some extra weight was the price of being with a woman like her, it was a pretty easy trade. She was beautiful, affectionate, endlessly attentive, and seemed genuinely thrilled by him in a way no one else ever had. So what if he’d gotten huge? So what if his clothes fit badly and every week seemed to leave him heavier than the last? Claire still looked at him like he was irresistible. More than that—she seemed to like him even more the bigger he got. That made it dangerously easy to push away every moment of panic with the thought that he was still winning.

Claire encouraged that mindset at every turn. Anytime he voiced concern, she answered it with immediate warmth and a practiced sort of indulgent amusement. “You’re overthinking again,” she’d say, climbing into his lap as best she could or settling against his side while he ate. “You’re bigger, yes, but you act like that cancels out every other good thing about you.” And then she would feed him. Always. She brought him breakfast at work, made sure lunch was oversized, and whenever they spent evenings together she kept him full to the point of drowsy helplessness, cooing over how handsome he looked with his shirt stretched tight and his belly full. Evan still had that low-level worry humming in the back of his mind, still knew on some level that none of this was sustainable, but he found it easier and easier to ignore. Being with Claire felt good. Being desired felt good. And if she wanted him soft, huge, spoiled, and always eating, then part of him was happy to be exactly that. He could always get serious later, he told himself. Later, when things settled down. Later, after one more dinner at her place. Later, after the dessert she was setting in front of him now, smiling as if there were nowhere in the world she’d rather be than watching him finish every bite.

[The remainder of this 20-part story is available on my patreon to subscribers. Please consider supporting me if you'd like to see more!]

Full 19 page Comic & Story available on my Patreon =)

https://www.patreon.com/WeightGainTalesandComics

Chapter 9

By the time Evan was approaching 500 pounds, Claire was clearly satisfied. Whatever threshold she had been waiting for, he seemed to have crossed it, because she had finally started saying yes when he asked to see her outside of work. At first it was little things—takeout at her place, a movie after work, lazy evenings on her couch—but every single one of those outings revolved around food in a way Evan barely questioned anymore. She always had something ready the second he arrived: pizza, pasta, fried appetizers, bakery boxes, rich desserts lined up on the counter as if feeding him had become her favorite hobby. Maybe it had. Evan was too pleased by the fact that he had finally gotten what he wanted to examine the arrangement very closely. Claire was hot, affectionate, and now officially interested in him. If she liked him big, then maybe being big wasn’t really such a problem. That was the logic he settled into, even as his body swelled past anything he once would have considered possible.

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Chapter 8

Claire was bringing him more food than ever now, and because Evan had stopped resisting, there was nothing to slow the pace of his gain. Breakfast had turned into a daily spread: donuts, muffins, breakfast sandwiches, sweet coffees loaded with cream and sugar. By lunch she was appearing at his desk with bags of fast food big enough for two people, acting as though there were nothing unusual about watching him tear through double burgers, large fries, nuggets, and milkshakes before he was even halfway through the workday. And somehow that still wasn’t the end of it. Midafternoon snacks appeared like clockwork—chips, cookies, brownies, candy bars, little “treats” she’d press into his hand with a fond smile and a comment about how hard he worked. Evan’s desk had started looking less like a workstation and more like a place where a man simply sat and ate all day. He knew it. Everyone else knew it too. But Claire’s attention had become so intoxicating that the embarrassment barely slowed him down anymore. If anything, he was now so used to being full that the discomfort almost felt normal.

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Chapter 7

After that, something changed in Evan. He still had occasional flashes of worry when he caught sight of how full his face had become or felt the heavy drag of his stomach in his lap, but now those worries were tangled up with something else: the knowledge that Claire liked him this way, and apparently wanted him bigger still. That strange little condition she had given him should have alarmed him. Instead, it lodged in his head and stayed there. If eating more made her smile, if accepting every extra snack and oversized lunch made her eyes brighten with approval, then he wanted to keep doing it. He started leaning into it deliberately. He stopped giving token protests when she showed up with pastries in the morning. He accepted second lunches without pretending he couldn’t finish them. Sometimes he even beat her to it, joking that she hadn’t brought him enough. Claire noticed the shift immediately and seemed delighted by it. “There you are,” she said one morning as he took a third donut from the box she had set on his desk. “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending to be shy about your appetite.”

Full 19 page Comic & Story available on my Patreon =)

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Chapter 6

By then, Evan was nervous enough about his size that it had started to show in little ways Claire immediately noticed. He tugged at the front of his shirt more often, shifted in his chair when his stomach pressed too hard against the desk, and had begun glancing at his reflection in dark computer screens with a faint, unsettled frown. He had gotten very big, far bigger than he ever would have imagined just months earlier, and even he couldn’t deny it anymore. One afternoon, after polishing off the oversized lunch Claire had brought him, he leaned back with one hand spread over the thick curve of his belly and muttered, “I seriously can’t believe how big I’m getting.” Claire didn’t laugh or dismiss him right away. Instead, she stepped behind his chair, set her hands on his shoulders, and began kneading them gently until the tension started to leave him. “You’re getting bigger,” she said softly, “but that is not the same thing as looking bad. Evan, you are still unbelievably handsome.” When he looked up at her uncertainly, she smiled and leaned closer, one hand sliding from his shoulder to the front of his shirt, resting lightly against the warm weight of his stomach. “Honestly,” she murmured, rubbing slow circles through the fabric, “I think you’re gorgeous.”

Part 5

By the time the one year mark rolled around, food had stopped feeling like a treat and started feeling like the structure of Evan’s day. Claire had built that routine so carefully that he barely even noticed when it happened. Breakfast sandwiches in the morning because “you need something substantial.” Pastries with coffee because “you’re too pretty to be hungry.” A massive lunch because “you always look so cute when you’re full and sleepy afterward.” Then snacks through the afternoon, and if they worked late, dinner too. It wasn’t just how much she gave him; it was how natural she made it all seem. As if she weren’t slowly stuffing him into a bigger, heavier version of himself, but simply taking care of him better than anyone else ever had.

Evan sat at his desk one afternoon with his belt discreetly loosened under the overhang of his stomach, chewing through a second burrito while Claire leaned against the filing cabinet nearby. “I swear I can actually feel myself growing out of these shirts,” he said. Claire tilted her head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He let out a short laugh. “I’m over 300 pounds, Claire.” “And?” she said again, as calm as ever. “You’re still handsome. You’re still charming. You’re still the same Evan.”

He looked down at his body. That wasn’t quite true. He moved differently now. Slower after meals. He breathed heavier climbing the stairs. His belly was impossible to ignore, thick and round and always there, resting on his lap when he sat and brushing the edge of his desk if he leaned in too far.

Part 4

What made it so easy for Claire was that by now Evan had become almost completely dependent on her reassurance. Every doubt he had about his size, she answered. Every embarrassed glance at his reflection, every strained button, every breathless little complaint after a big lunch—she was there to reinterpret it for him before he could sit with it too long.

“You’re not getting sloppy,” she told him when he admitted none of his old pants fit anymore. “You’re filling out.” “Filling out?” Evan repeated, looking down at the broad, heavy curve of his stomach pressing against his belt. “Claire, I had to go up two sizes.” She just shrugged, totally unbothered. “And? Plenty of handsome men are bigger.” She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it almost made him feel stupid for worrying. That was her gift. She could take what should have been alarming and make it sound flattering instead.

At lunch she sat across from him in the break room while he ate a huge pasta dish she had insisted he try, plus garlic bread, plus the slice of cheesecake she had “accidentally” picked up for him on the way back. Evan kept pausing between bites, clearly feeling how full he already was, but Claire never let those pauses turn into restraint. “Don’t overthink it,” she said. “You work hard. You deserve to eat.” “I eat constantly now,” he muttered. “And you still look good,” she replied immediately. Then, with a little smile: “Very good.”

Part 3

By the six month mark, nobody in the office could pretend they hadn’t noticed how much Evan had changed. When he’d first started, he’d been the kind of handsome that turned heads without even trying—trim waist, broad shoulders, clean jawline, expensive shirts fitting him perfectly. Now he was well over 300 pounds, his face visibly fuller, his chest thicker, his stomach heavy enough that it pushed firmly against the front of every dress shirt he owned. He had started tugging constantly at the fabric over his middle, especially when he sat, because sitting made the full weight of his belly settle into his lap and strain every button.

Evan knew it was happening. He wasn’t blind. But every time panic started to creep in, Claire was there to smother it under warmth, food, and praise. “You are not some tragedy,” she told him one afternoon when he muttered that he couldn’t believe how big he’d gotten. She was standing beside his desk with a takeout bag in one hand and that easy, glowing smile on her face. “You’re still gorgeous, Evan. Just bigger.” He gave her a look. “Claire, I’m huge.” She laughed at that like he was being ridiculous. “You are not huge. You’re handsome, broad, impressive, and maybe a little spoiled.”

Part 2

A few months later, Claire had worked herself so neatly into Evan’s routine that he started expecting the little treats before she even arrived. She always knew when to appear too—midmorning when he was getting restless, right after lunch when he was getting sleepy, late in the afternoon when he looked ready to check out early. “I brought you something,” she’d say, and every single time his attention would snap right to her. Donuts one day, buttery croissants the next, giant takeout lunches after that. She always made it sound like she was helping him, spoiling him because he deserved it. “You’re too handsome to be this stressed,” she told him one afternoon, leaning against the cubicle wall while he unwrapped a second sandwich she had insisted he take. “I’m serious. You should be indulged more.” Evan smirked at that, though he was chewing too much to answer right away.

Part 1

When Evan first started noticing how often Claire stopped by his desk with snacks, he honestly thought she was just being nice. She was beautiful, confident, always perfectly put together, and she had this warm, teasing way of smiling at him that made it almost impossible to say no. “You work too hard,” she told him one Monday morning, setting down an iced coffee and a bag of pastries beside his keyboard. “You need fuel.” Evan laughed and told her she was going to ruin him, but he still reached for the biggest pastry without much hesitation. It became a pattern after that. A muffin with his coffee. Chips with lunch. Cookies in the afternoon. Claire always had some excuse. “They were free in the break room.” “I grabbed too much and need help.” “You’re the only one here who appreciates good food.”

Part 2

A few months later, Claire had worked herself so neatly into Evan’s routine that he started expecting the little treats before she even arrived. She always knew when to appear too—midmorning when he was getting restless, right after lunch when he was getting sleepy, late in the afternoon when he looked ready to check out early. “I brought you something,” she’d say, and every single time his attention would snap right to her. Donuts one day, buttery croissants the next, giant takeout lunches after that. She always made it sound like she was helping him, spoiling him because he deserved it. “You’re too handsome to be this stressed,” she told him one afternoon, leaning against the cubicle wall while he unwrapped a second sandwich she had insisted he take. “I’m serious. You should be indulged more.” Evan smirked at that, though he was chewing too much to answer right away.

Part 1

When Evan first started noticing how often Claire stopped by his desk with snacks, he honestly thought she was just being nice. She was beautiful, confident, always perfectly put together, and she had this warm, teasing way of smiling at him that made it almost impossible to say no. “You work too hard,” she told him one Monday morning, setting down an iced coffee and a bag of pastries beside his keyboard. “You need fuel.” Evan laughed and told her she was going to ruin him, but he still reached for the biggest pastry without much hesitation. It became a pattern after that. A muffin with his coffee. Chips with lunch. Cookies in the afternoon. Claire always had some excuse. “They were free in the break room.” “I grabbed too much and need help.” “You’re the only one here who appreciates good food.”

Part 3

By the six month mark, nobody in the office could pretend they hadn’t noticed how much Evan had changed. When he’d first started, he’d been the kind of handsome that turned heads without even trying—trim waist, broad shoulders, clean jawline, expensive shirts fitting him perfectly. Now he was well over 300 pounds, his face visibly fuller, his chest thicker, his stomach heavy enough that it pushed firmly against the front of every dress shirt he owned. He had started tugging constantly at the fabric over his middle, especially when he sat, because sitting made the full weight of his belly settle into his lap and strain every button.

Evan knew it was happening. He wasn’t blind. But every time panic started to creep in, Claire was there to smother it under warmth, food, and praise. “You are not some tragedy,” she told him one afternoon when he muttered that he couldn’t believe how big he’d gotten. She was standing beside his desk with a takeout bag in one hand and that easy, glowing smile on her face. “You’re still gorgeous, Evan. Just bigger.” He gave her a look. “Claire, I’m huge.” She laughed at that like he was being ridiculous. “You are not huge. You’re handsome, broad, impressive, and maybe a little spoiled.”

Part 2

A few months later, Claire had worked herself so neatly into Evan’s routine that he started expecting the little treats before she even arrived. She always knew when to appear too—midmorning when he was getting restless, right after lunch when he was getting sleepy, late in the afternoon when he looked ready to check out early. “I brought you something,” she’d say, and every single time his attention would snap right to her. Donuts one day, buttery croissants the next, giant takeout lunches after that. She always made it sound like she was helping him, spoiling him because he deserved it. “You’re too handsome to be this stressed,” she told him one afternoon, leaning against the cubicle wall while he unwrapped a second sandwich she had insisted he take. “I’m serious. You should be indulged more.” Evan smirked at that, though he was chewing too much to answer right away.

Part 1

When Evan first started noticing how often Claire stopped by his desk with snacks, he honestly thought she was just being nice. She was beautiful, confident, always perfectly put together, and she had this warm, teasing way of smiling at him that made it almost impossible to say no. “You work too hard,” she told him one Monday morning, setting down an iced coffee and a bag of pastries beside his keyboard. “You need fuel.” Evan laughed and told her she was going to ruin him, but he still reached for the biggest pastry without much hesitation. It became a pattern after that. A muffin with his coffee. Chips with lunch. Cookies in the afternoon. Claire always had some excuse. “They were free in the break room.” “I grabbed too much and need help.” “You’re the only one here who appreciates good food.”