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The documents contained in this collection came into the possession of the British Museum of the Occult and Esoteric as part of a bequeathment from the estate of legendary collector of paranormal artefacts, Agnes Thredwell, to whom the museum expresses its deep and eternal gratitude.
Presented here are transcripts of unbound pages from the diary of Dr James Davison covering the period of September 1966 to September 1967. As the pages are not bound, and due to what appears to be water damage, there are large gaps between entries in places and some entries are incomplete; the museum presents the pages in the order kept by Ms Thredwell. For readability, Dr Davison's medical notes and sundry other notes have been omitted. Viewings of the original pages in full are available upon request.
It is not clear how Ms Thredwell came into possession of the pages (as is the case of so much of her collection) nor are the documents' veracity clear. While many details of Dr Davison's existence up to the late summer of 1966 can be confirmed, many of the other people and even places detailed within cannot be traced with any certainty. Whether this is because the diary and related documents are a work of fiction, or because they have been edited to maintain anonymity, is unknown.
Fragment
 - said he would call the police. I pleaded with him, told him my life would be ruined. He demanded money for his silence, more than I can afford to pay. I will have to-
Entry interrupted
Thursday, September 22nd
Tomorrow will mark my first day in my new home - Hardy, a small island in the Channel, not much more than a modest village and a collection of farms and fishermen, with a population of 150 or so. Despite its size, Hardy is quite prosperous in its own way, and something of a hub of agriculture, providing the few nearby islands with much of their fruit and veg and even sending some to the mainland. This is thanks to its somewhat anomalously warm climate - when I asked some locals at the inn Iâm staying for the evening, answers came as either hand-waved explanations about peculiarities in ocean currents or ominous warnings about local legends and pagan gods. The latter was met with a chorus of good-hearted laughter but I noticed a few patrons avoiding my eyes.
After the events of this summer, I hurried to find a posting - Hardy had done without a doctor for some few weeks, and I required a new start, as far away as I could manage. It promises to be a change from the life I have come accustomed to in London, but a welcome one perhaps; regardless, I did not have much say in the matter.
I ate lightly - some chicken, cabbage and a few mouthfuls of new potatoes - and went to bed early. In truth, Iâve never been much of a seafarer, and Iâm nervous about how I will cope with the ferry tomorrow morning. Iâm due to arrive a little after noon.
Saturday, September 24th
Iâm glad to say that I survived the ferry (no more than a fishermanâs skiff, in truth), with my dignity intact. As we approached the shore, I noticed a shift in the weather -Â the wind died down, the temperature creeped ever so slightly up, even the clouds seemed to part. I remarked on this to the ferry captain, who avoided my gaze and grumbled. By the time we reached the small dock, Iâd felt the need to remove my jumper.
I expected a small greeting party when I arrived on Hardy, but it seems that the whole island turned up! I had arrived during the island's autumn equinox harvest festival, which it seems is quite the event in these parts. As a new resident to the island on this auspicious day, I was hailed as the guest of honour - rather gratifying, I must say. I wonder if these harvest celebrations were the source of the murmurings about pagan worship - not so surprising for an island that relies on farming for its wealth.
The young children of the island, led by a young woman (the school teacher, I presume), placed a crown made of apples, wheat sheafs and root vegetables onto my head, and danced around me like a maypole. Some strapping young men appeared and snapped up my luggage (thankfully to my lodgings, it seems!) and then I was led in a procession away from the small harbour and down the coast. I turned back to call my thanks to the ferry captain, but saw that he had already set off again.
I quickly forgot the odd manners of the ferry captain on the walk. The children continued to dance around me, and even some older residents joined in, singing folk songs I wasnât familiar with - all about fields and crops, cider and ale, apples and pigs. Some of them drank messily from tankards, some gathered in small laughing groups, young couples hung at the back or lurked amongst the trees for privacy. After a short while, my bad knee began to give me grief. The path was paved, but roughly so, and it began to climb. I enquired how much further it was to go, and a woman assured me we were nearly there. I gritted my teeth against the building ache.
It was only while speaking to this woman that I noticed that people had begun to don masks - rough masks hewn from wood, or stitched from scraps of cloth, or moulded out of papier mache. Some were fashioned into the shape of leaves, or flowers, a few of livestock; one wooden mask was painted with a rather charming landscape, eyes peering out from the horizon.
Finally we reached a small clearing in some trees, where some tables and chairs were set up with a veritable feast atop. I was directed to a chair in the middle of a long table, where I gratefully collapsed, rubbing my aching knee. I realised that my assumption earlier was wrong - the whole island hadnât come to meet me. Where I was sat, I was flanked by half a dozen men - each was huge, easily over twenty-five stone - perhaps more. I marveled - I donât think Iâd ever seen one man of such a size as even the smallest of the men, while the largest - I staggered to think of his weight. Thirty stone? Thirty five? My mind couldnât wrap itself around the scale of them. Each seemed to overflow the large oaken chairs that seemed specially made to support men of such stature - I myself was placed in such a chair, and felt like a child between the arms further apart than my elbows could comfortably rest.
Other smaller tables were dotted around, and everyone began to take their seats. "We have once again reached this equinox on our fine isle, my friends!" The vicar's voice came suddenly from behind me, causing me to jump. "Another year in which this rock, so precariously perched in the ocean, has cared for us as its children. Another bountiful harvest, provided by our hard work and the soil to which we owe so much." His voice was deep, crisp and loud. This was met with cheers and cries of "here! here!" around the tables.
The vicar spread his arms out, so that I could see them in my peripheral vision, and continued. "And here we have welcomed our Boar King for this year!" Loud cheers erupted around me. "Newly arrived to this isle, but no less welcome for that fact. King Boar, your majesty, may your health be the health of the island!" With that the vicar moved around me to pick up a large clay jug of what appeared to be cider from the table in front of me. He bowed to me briefly, before turning away and pouring the entire jug at the roots of an apple tree behind me, by far the largest tree in the small copse, its bows shading me. With that, music started up and the crowd burst into conversation and laughter. The vicar gave me a small smile and moved to his seat.
I sat dumbfounded. Had it not been for the vicar's dog collar and black clerical shirt, I'd have sworn I had just witnessed some pagan ceremony. My shock must have been clear to see on my face because one of the men - the one to my immediate left, a man with a dense beard and a circumference surely measured in yards - leaned over and spoke as he picked up a chicken leg.
"I'm sure a lot of our customs must seem strange to you," he said, his mouth full of food, his large chin wobbling as he spoke. He smelt of apples and honey. "There's a lot goes on in these isles that goes way back, back before even the Romans came to Britain. Traditions are important on a little island like this; all we've got is each other and the land." He introduced himself as John Baker, the landlord at the local pub, The Boar and Suckling Pig, and I gave my name to him. He gave me a queer look, one I couldn't quite place. I can hear his next words now echoing in my head, despite their simpleness.
"You must be hungry, after such a long journey."
At the word 'hungry', I felt the most queer, intense hunger of my life, as if one of Pavlovâs poor dogs. I can't quite account for it, having never been a heavy eater, and usually the stress of travel tends to numb my appetite. But last night I was ravenous. I feel a vestige of that hunger still, and I ate far more of breakfast than I usually would do this morning. I have put it down to the effect of sea air and the unseasonable warmth, although I am somewhat unconvinced with this explanation, even though it is my own.
I fell on the food like a wolf, grabbing food without looking and putting it to my mouth without even putting it on my plate, if I could help it. My school housemistress would have been horrified to see such behaviour from one of her boys, and I felt a small part of my mind attempting to remind me of my manners.
Looking back I feel quite mortified of my actions, but at the time it felt wholly natural, and certainly not out of place with the actions of those around me, particularly the rotund men I shared a table with. Still, I cannot convince myself that anyone else ate quite so much or with quite so much vim as myself.
I drank heavily of the cider from the jug in front of me. Not having much of a sweet tooth, usually the sickly sweetness doesn't hold much appeal, but in my gluttonous state it tasted of ambrosia. I drank tankard after tankard, leaving the inside of my mouth coated in sugar, and my brain pickled in alcohol.
I can distinctly remember the start of the evening; my arrival, the vicar's ritualistic words, the taste of the sumptuous feast. After that, my memory grows hazy, and the evening becomes a jumbled carousel of images in my mind - the sound of cheers as I ate and ate and ate, seemingly without end; the feel of my stomach, distended and full and heavy, even as I reached for more food; an image of a golden apple being plucked from the great tree at the centre of the grove and shoved forcefully in my mouth by a handsome young man.
This last part must have been a dream, but I can't quite shake the image. It doesn't quite make sense to me, and yet it feels in some way in keeping with the rest of the strange evening.
At some point, I must have been helped to my new home, as I awoke in the house that had been arranged for me ahead of time. Odd dreams - I was being chased through fields by some great ferocious boar, running in that odd heavy, slow way that always seems to happen in dreams. Despite running up a hill towards a circle of standing stones, once I passed the first few stones I stumbled and found myself wading chest-deep through the sea. At this point the boar caught me, swallowing me whole, and I awoke. Apt payment for my greed, no doubt.
Miraculously, I am feeling well, with no ill effects from the cider. My stomach however, feels leaden and full, and I decided to forego my traditional morning walk to allow myself to digest. My stomach is still distended even now, an effect I don't think I'd ever see on myself. Despite this, as soon as breakfast was placed in front of me, I found my appetite quickly returned and the plate was empty before I knew it.
As agreed prior to my arrival, the house adjoins my doctor's practice and is fully furnished and, I was surprised to see, with a fully stocked larder, filled to the rafters with food. My belongings had been brought here, and I was surprised to see that my great 'Boar King' crown and cloak had been left, displayed proudly on the coat stand by the door.
I have been provided with a housekeeper, one Mary Tennant, a stern woman who appeared in my house this morning before I even awoke. I informed her I had no need of her services, or the desire to pay for them, but she informed me that she was paid for by the village, and that like it or not she is here to stay. Judging from breakfast, her cooking is top notch and her cleaning is fastidious such that it borders on intrusive, so I am not inclined to kick up a fuss.
As it is a Saturday, I intend to take the weekend to acquaint myself with my new home, before beginning practice proper on Monday. As ever when I make such statements, I expect I will be besieged all of today and tomorrow with ailments, accidents and asks to check rashes, but for now that is my plan. As a start, I will go to The Boar and Suckling Pig, to try and find out who I can return my ill-gotten crown and cape to and more formally introduce myself to my new patients. Hopefully the walk may help to remedy the heaviness I feel in my stomach.
Saturday, October 1st
Despite my worries, my first weekend on Hardy passed without incident or malady. In fact, all week I have had very few patients for anything but routine practice. Some elderly patients with mild rheumatism; a diabetic receiving his prescription of insulin; a gentleman my own age who complained of some shrapnel, gained during the second world war, which tended to give him some grief with the changing of the seasons - I gave him some topical and general analgesics and suggested some simple exercises I use with my own knee, a similar shrapnel injury. The most dramatic thing to have happened was a teenager who had sprained his ankle during a game of football.
I am aided, such as it is needed, by my practice nurse, Annabelle McCoy. A young girl, but capable and resourceful. I understand she all but ran the practice between my predecessor leaving and my arrival. I must find her more responsibilities and opportunities, if she is open to them; a young woman of her talents is wasted in such a small and healthy community.
In fact, most of the residents of Hardy seem to be of the utmost physical condition. Even my elderly patients seem to come to me only as a matter of course, and those few with long-standing medical conditions manage them well and without detriment to their lifestyle or wellbeing. Indeed, I have noticed that all of the residents are slim and fit, with the exception of only the small cabal of men that I noticed on the day of my arrival and at the strange feast. These men seem even larger when encountered during daily life and contrasted with their slimmer counterparts - they are almost monstrously, unbelievably fat. Hardy does not seem to allow for anyone between these two states.Â
For my sins, Iâve hardly been a paragon of healthy living myself since my arrival. My appetite, always slight, has been stoked by my new home and I seem afflicted by some constant, gnawing hunger. The effect of fresh sea air, I expect, and of the absolutely exquisite local fair. I have been told time and time again by the residents of Hardy that the island's produce is some of the best I will find, and I have not yet met with evidence to the contrary. They all credit the quality of the soil, the expertise of the men and women who work the land, the blessings of the land and the sea. Iâve so far been finding it difficult to resist trying everything placed in front of me. Alas, this is not helped by the warm welcome Iâve received - everyone I meet seems determined to feed me up and to make sure I sample all of the food the island has to offer - several of my patients have even brought food to their appointments for me to eat!
The worst culprit by far has been Mary, my housekeeper. I have asked her several times to provide lighter meals, yet each meal seems larger than the last. I suppose I canât blame her really, when I find myself finishing each and every bite, even when the last few seem almost torturous. These titanic meals are then bolstered by snacks that seem to appear next to me throughout the day - more worryingly, they seem to disappear just as quicklyâŚ
I have tried on several occasions to avoid the constant bombardment of food by retiring to the local pub, the Boar and Suckling Pig. The locals, for all of their insistence of feeding me up, are a friendly bunch, and have welcomed me with open arms; none more so than the landlord and lady, John, the huge boulder of a man I met upon my arrival, and his wife Lynn, a tiny slip of a woman who seems to think Iâm about the size of her husband, judging by the rate at which she places sandwiches, pies and a twice whole cheese boards in front of me - seemingly a new plate of food for each pint I drink.
I really must curb these growing habits - my unrelenting appetite, my attraction to the Boar and Suckling Pig. My motherâs chastisements to my father about his growing waistline ring in my ears.
Friday, October 28th
I have returned again and again to The Boar and Suckling Pig, despite my best intentions. Indeed, I am now there more frequently, and now find myself there every night, and at the weekends most of the day. I seem drawn there - I have tried to avoid it, to stay inside, to go for walks in the opposite direction, but I begin to feel some odd tugging in my gut and find myself making some excuse or other to make my way there.
Each night Mary prepares me some great pile of food, usually more than I'd eat in a whole day or even two, always rich and fat-filled, and I laboriously make my way through it. Finally, I sit back, fingers massaging the domed paunch of my stomach that's begun to develop, and I wonder at both my ability and inclination to finish it all. Just as I determine that this will be the last night of such gluttony, Mary will bring out a dessert - a whole tart or cake more often than not, sat in a lake of cream or custard - and any such thoughts will leave my mind.
Then once Mary leaves for the evening, I make my slow, strained way to the Boar, where I find myself downing seven, eight, nine pints of the wonderful locally produced ale, sat in the corner while locals sing folk songs I can never quite place. Each night some handsome farmer or fisherman will take it upon himself to introduce himself to me, buying me pint after pint, encourage me to soak it all up with a stream of snacks from behind the bar, and I inevitably end up swaying home to collapse in my bed and dream of their strong arms around me, their rough beard on my face, their thick cocks up my arse.
One night last week, after my third or fourth pint John Baker waddled up to me and collapsed next to me on one of the sturdier benches that seem to have been installed purely for his use, and for the other few huge men that are his companions.
âHow are you finding it all?â he asked, swigging from a flagon of ale.
I chewed a mouthful of pork pie and swallowed heavily. âEveryoneâs been very friendly,â I said. âAnd the islandâs very beautiful, although I canât say Iâve seen too much of it.â
John laughed. âNot the island!â he said. âBeing the Boar King!â
The question almost surprised me enough to stop me eating. âThe Boar King?â I asked. âAll that guff at the harvest feast you mean?â
John looked more than a little affronted by the question. âItâs not just the feast,â he said. âItâs all year - you are the Boar King.â
âAh, well then,â I said. âIâm not sure Iâve noticed too much. Itâs not come up."
John laughed. There was something going on I didnât quite understand. âItâs quite the honour, you know,â he told me. âI was one myself, the year before me and Lynn got married.â
âOh,â I said, unsure what to reply. âCongratulations,â I settled on, lamely.
âWhy do you think everyoneâs been so hospitable?â he asked. âItâs because youâre our Boar King of course!â
I thought back to the treats brought to appointments, to pints bought at the pub. âI just thought everyone was being friendly,â I explained.
âWell we do our best, but youâd be doing well to get a round out of some of these tight buggers usually,â he said. He called over to the bar. âLynn! Lynn, why donât you bring me and the doctor some of that shepherdâs pie out? And a couple more pints.â
âI couldnât,â I protested, as my mouth began to water at the prospect. âIâve eaten at home, I-â John cut me off with a slap on the back and a hearty laugh, which cut short my reply. âWhat exactly, is the Boar King, John?â I asked after finishing my pint and starting the next.Â
âWell itâs like Father Troughton said,â he explained. âAs long as youâre the King, your health is the health of the island. We look after you, and the island will look after us.â He said it plainly, as if it were something every schoolboy was taught.
âSomething like a May Queen, then?â I asked.
âSomething like that, I suppose,â he said after thinking a while. âExcept all year long of course.â
âDo I have to do anything? Make a speech or something?â
âJust sit and look pretty!â John said with a laugh. âDonât you worry, thereâll be a couple of feast days, like at the equinox, and weâll handle the rest.â
âAnd you were one?â I carried on with my questioning. âWho else? What about the last one?â
âYou see them about,â John shrugged, refusing to be pulled into giving more detail. âYour predecessor didnât really take to it.
I wanted to ask more, but got distracted by Lynn bringing out two huge turreens of shepherdâs pie. My train of thought was lost as I ate.
Sunday, October 30th
The effect of all this gluttony and sloth are beginning to be seen on my waistline. Always a slender man, I have had to ask Mary to let out my trousers this evening. I have grown familiar with the feeling of too tight clothes, a too full stomach and a stomach rounded out and pushing against my shirts. This is no mere bloat either; genuine fat has marshalled itself around my body - my thighs, my chest, my arse, and most of all at my increasingly heavy belly. My increasing weight is already clearly obvious through my constricting clothes, to anyone who would care to so much as glance at me.
I am writing this entry after dinner (roast pork belly with all the trimmings). Despite all I have written in this entry, despite the painful heaviness in my gut, I know I will soon leave for The Boar and Suckling Pig, where my fattening will continue unabated. I do not know what has come upon me. I do not know if I want to find out.
Fragment
- a third dinner at the Boar - a full roast dinner with a plate of cheese and apple and pear crumble for afters. Despite my increased appetite of late, I surprised even myself with how much I ate this evening. Clearly all this fresh sea air is doing wonders for me. Not so much my waistline though. I really must -
Entry interrupted
 Thursday, November 3rd, 1966
I am getting hairier, I'm sure of it. I was first made aware of it last week, when Annabelle asked me whether I'd forgotten to shave as she packed away for the day. I had shaved that morning, as it happened, but it shouldn't have made all that much of a difference - I have only ever been able to grow only the wispiest and thinnest of beards.
As soon as she had gone, I rushed to a mirror. Sure enough, my face was covered with a dark 5 o'clock shadow, something I'd never seen on my own face. I rubbed my hand across my face, revelling in the coarse roughness. It had been a look I'd always admired on other men, and always regretted not being able to attain myself.
In the days since, I've noticed my sudden late on-set hirsutism is not contained merely to my face. Previously, my chest only had a few sparse patches of hair dotted about, with a thin line leading down from my navel. Now, I have thick black hair like wires across my entire chest, and a thick line leading down my newly plush middle, before it fans out below my belly button. Each day I feel I can see the hair on my arms get darker and thicker.
There's been other changes too. A change in my natural odour to a rich, manly musk. It's terrifically erotic, and I've grown accustomed to lifting an arm in private moments and burying my nose into my own pit to take a sniff. My limp, too, ever present for the past 21 years since Berlin, has gotten better. Not completely gone, no, but better, and I'm sure that even the spiderweb scar which marks the epicentre of my injury is fading. The other day I realised as I got into bed that it might have been the first time in two decades I hadn't complained of any pain throughout the day. My sudden recovery is part of a general improvement in my health - I feel stronger, more energetic, in a way I haven't felt since my twenties.
I blush to discuss the final change, even in this private journal. Each night after I stumble back from the Boar and Suckling Pig, and increasingly before I go as well, I've found my hand following the path carved by my new body hair, down, down, down to the now dense thicket of pubes, and gripping my hard cock. I've become positively insatiable of late, needing release multiple times a day. This on its own might be unremarkable, and could be chalked up to the general improved health I have enjoyed recently. No, what is remarkable is what my hand finds. I am now almost certain that my penis, previously perfectly average, has grown. It is difficult to tell, increasingly nestled as it is in my new dense bush of pubic hair, and threatening to be hidden beneath the gathering dome of fat above, but my hand sits differently around it now - the fingers further spaced, my grip wider.
I am enjoying a veritable second puberty in all regards, it seems. While I find it unbelievable, and know that it is medically impossible, I cannot deny the changes are anything but welcome.
My weight has continued to increase along with my sudden hormonal shift. Perhaps the two are linked - the same good living feeding my body in more ways than one. My torso is now covered in a layer of fat, a soft paunch bulging out over my waist.
I regularly resolve to take action against this expansion, but it is in vain. I tell myself that I will eat less, replace fatty meats, heavy breads and potatoes with light vegetables and more fish, but I again and again find myself stuffing myself at the Boar, or after a trip to the bakers, or in my own quarters. I found an old bicycle in a shed in my garden and cleaned it up, but it has since gone unused. I am sure this second issue is down to the geography of the island; almost everything is contained in one neat village, with the rest of the island given over to farms of various kinds. I have no reason to go further than a 15 minute walk, my practice being conveniently located in the centre of the village, and should I wish to explore further I would find very little to interest me.
And so I have remained in the village that I have come to know so well, returning to the same haunts again and again. This usually means the Boar, but I've been invited to a number of houses where I've received, if anything, an even greater stuffing than I've become accustomed to at the pub.
Sunday, November 20th
I've recently discovered a new attraction to the Boar and Suckling Pig, not that I needed any more. I've built up something of a rapport with Lynn and John's son, Jack. An affable young man in his late twenties, he is startlingly handsome. Dark blonde hair atop a face that is all strong features composed of straight lines and with lightly golden skin the colour of fresh grown wheat that seems to almost glow. His blue eyes twinkle with laughter, his perfect jaw is sketched in three confident lines, his arms bulge in his shirts as he pulls a pint, and I have to force myself to turn away when he bends to wipe a table, the curve of his arse presenting itself through tight trousers. In short, I am a middle-aged fool besotted with a man at least fifteen years my junior. I sternly tell myself off each night, remembering my hasty flight from London. I think of him as I wrap my hand around my cock, remembering the events that necessitated that self-same flight.
I spoke to Jack last night during an uncommonly quiet spell at the bar. I flatter myself to think he was being anything other than polite, but I really do think we have a certain frisson, even if it is purely platonic (much to my chagrin). He was telling me about his role as master of the orchards on the island, and how he'd press cider from the apples himself. He passed me some of this year's press, and despite cider not usually being to my taste I could appreciate the mix of sweetness and sharp tang.
"It's quite an important job on the island really," he told me, puffing up his chest proudly; I tried to ignore the small bump of his nipples pressed against his shirtfront. "We grow some of the best apples in the British isles here. It's the soil that does it, see." By now, I had lost track of all the miracles performed by Hardy soil. "But then, you'd know all about our apples, wouldn't you?"
I was struck with a sudden flash of remembering. An apple pushed into my mouth that first night on Hardy. Biting into it so that the sweet, crisp juices filled my mouth and ran down my chin. I can remember so little about that night; could it have been Jack holding that apple? I am beginning to think that I remember his face, but am wise enough to know that this is more likely than not a false memory I have recreated after the fact.
As I left, Jack handed me what he assured me was one of the finest apples of the year, with a peculiar look on his face. As I wrapped my fingers around myself afterwards, I bit into it, remembering that night, remembering Jack's strong hands as he handed it to me, remembering the sharp, heady cider he'd made. I moaned around the apple as I came, my fingers digging deep into the soft lard that is growing at my middle.
Fragment
- convinced that Jack really is paying me special attention, fool that I am. I tell myself that even without this growing gut of mine, heâd never look twice at me, being closer to his dadâs age than his, and not nearly as handsome even in my prime. Still though, I canât ignore the way he looks at me, the way he sneaks me free pints and snacks, the way he seems to always find some excuse to strike up a conversation. After all, maybe he likes the older man, the fresh swirl of chest hair spilling from my shirts, my stronger arms and thighs, the bulge that is undeniably growing in my-
Entry interrupted
Sunday, December 18th
This morning as I finished my breakfast, an increasingly time-consuming affair, I received a summons to the vicarage, Mary bustling into the dining room holding a small slip of paper. I excused myself from my habitual Sunday amble around the village (how the mighty have fallen! In the space of a few short months I have gone from a daily jog to a weekly amble) and attempted to find suitable attire that would cover my increasing girth.
My recent expansion has focussed mainly on my belly, and it is now a true gut, sitting spherically at my centre, pushing out in every direction and beginning, ever so subtly, to droop. I have taken to wearing a simple shirt during my surgery open hours, having to forgo a tie as I can no longer get the top button closed on any of them, and opting not to wear a jacket to avoid the constant uncomfortable pinch of it on my flesh below my arms. Mary appeared one morning recently with a small hamper of larger clothes, but these too are growing tight. Today, I thought I should dress up for my summons, and took out a tweed jacket inherited from my father that had never fit, being far too large. I now cannot get it closed over my heaving stomach. His old coat too, I had to leave open, my gut now leading the way as I walked through the village. Looking in the mirror, I am shocked to see how much I look like my father - my childhood was filled with my mother chastising him for his weight, and now I seemed to have not just caught him up, but even overtaken him, all in a few short months.
I took the scenic route to the vicarage, attempting to convince myself that the additional five minutes walk could do anything to quell my growth. In truth, I fear it may have merely stoked my appetite. I arrived to find Father Troughton stood outside the vicarage waiting for me, wearing his cassock fresh from Sunday service.
He spread his arms out towards me as I approached, just as he had done that first night. "The Boar King himself, leaving his court to visit the masses." Just as before, his voice was deep, clear and loud, obviously a man who spoke for a living.
I gave a wan smile at his jest. "Well, Iâll trust you where it comes to masses, father,â I said.
He gave a thin smile which didn't reach his eyes. He led me inside to a sitting room, where a young blonde woman poured me a cup of tea and placed a large lemon drizzle cake in front of me, before leaving the room, all in silence. On what is developing into instinct, I picked up a slice of cake.
"I have never seen you come to our Sunday service?" Troughton said, one eyebrow raised. It was phrased as a statement, but clearly posed as a question.
"I'm not a Christian, I'm afraid," I replied honestly.
"Many of my parishioners arenât I expect," Troughton said dismissively. âIn a community like this, ceremony nourishes us as well as any food.â
"I'll have to come along to one," I offered, trying to cover up my seeming faux pas. "Perhaps one of the Christmas services."
He sniffed contemptuously and looked down his long, thin nose at me. "We have far more pressing matters before we come to such frivolous festivities."
I couldn't help but laugh at this. "Surely as vicar, Christmas must be one of the busiest times of the year for you?" I asked.
He waved a hand dismissively. "The island celebrates of course. But what I have asked you here to discuss is our winter solstice celebration."
I tried to hide my confusion at a vicar prioritising a pagan festival over a Christian one. "Ah, well now," I said, picking up my third slice of cake. "I have been told a little about it."
"And what have you been told?" He remained unmoved, perfectly controlled in everything he did or said.
"Well, it's another feast," I said. "And I'll be there in my role 'the Boar King'." This last part I held my hands up and made finger quotes, laughing a little.
Father Troughton's nostrils flared and his eyes widened by a matter of millimeters, but the effect on his face was momentous. The holy man looked like the devil had come upon him. "And what exactly is so funny about your position?"
I was taken aback. "I'm sorry. I meant no offence," I said. "It's simply that it's such a strange custom. I've never seen anything like it. Almost like a May Queen, but a middle aged man instead of a young girl."
"You may find our customs strange, but you would do well to respect them, if you are to last long here on Hardy," he said. His voice was unchanged, still perfectly measured, but somehow now positively dripped with rage. He stood suddenly, and moved to the window.
"I'm sorry," I told his back after I finished my slice of cake and picked up another. "Really I am. I meant no disrespect."
"The health of the Boar King is the health of the island," he said, looking out through the window. "As above, so below; the first principle of alchemy and the most important."
I was taken aback; almost, but not quite, stopping in my chewing of cake. "I wouldn't expect a man of the cloth to speak so casually about alchemy."
He once again sniffed. "Perhaps you wouldn't," he said, his voice still crystal clear, despite being turned away from me. "Some ideas are larger than mere denomination."
"I don't think that Christianity and alchemy can be considered simple denomina-" I started saying, but he cut me off.
"Perhaps I should put it in terms you might understand. In scientific terms, perhaps, doctor?" Troughton took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders a little. "An island is like a living organism. This organism is made up of many parts - cells, tissues, organs. Bone and flesh and blood. Each is useless without the others, and only exists to serve the whole. Hardy is made up of the soil, the trees, the people. All these parts are useless without the others, and so we must all live to serve each other part of the whole as best we can." He turned to me now and moved to loom over my seat. "The Boar King is the beating heart of Hardy." He reached a hand down and placed it over my own heart, his hand pushing into the layer of fat that had accumulated there. I froze with my hand outstretched for another slice of cake. "A healthy heart means a healthy body. You can appreciate that doctor, I'm sure."
I nodded, although I don't think I truly understood all he was saying. I understood his words yes, the ideas he was talking about. But his tone suggested there was far more than I could hope to grasp - were these traditions really so important? My confusion at the manâs intensity was mounting. He took his hand off of me and moved back to the window. I picked up another slice of cake.
"When you arrive at the winter solstice later this month you will perform your duty," he said. "Your duty to the island, to the community, to the organism that is Hardy. The heart will beat. Am I understood?"
"Yes." My voice came out as barely a whisper. I cleared my throat. "Yes," I said, more loudly this time. "Father," I added, thinking it would please him.
He spun around, his face as passive as when he greeted me that morning. "Excellent. Lucy?" he called through to the other room. "You'll pack up the rest of the cake for our guest, won't you?" I looked to the plate of cake to realise it was empty. I opened my mouth to tell Father Troughton so, but the young girl from before, Lucy, came in holding an entire new cake. She placed the plate down in front of me and quickly wrapped it up in muslin. "Don't worry about the plate, we have plenty others," the vicar said. He turned to a desk at this point and started writing on some loose sheets of paper. I took this to mean that I was dismissed, and took my leave.
I have just looked up from my writing to realise that this next cake is also finished, my hands grasping in air. Soon, Mary will call me down for my first dinner. I am shocked at how casually I write these words. "First dinner." As if it is some accepted idea. I suppose, for me, it has become so.
Thursday, December 22nd
I have seen many a man go to seed over the years, both in my personal life and my professional life. I have never seen a man do so as thoroughly, rapidly, or enthusiastically as I am doing so now.
I have grown incrementally larger by inches since my last full entry, in every direction, on every part of my body. My clothes, previously tight, now strain obscenely against my body. The other day I dared to use the scales in my practice - Iâd been avoiding them for a while now, fearing their judgement. 19 stone, or thereabouts. 19 stone! I canât remember how much I weighed in the summer - Iâve been trying to convince myself that perhaps it could have been as much as 14 or 15 stone. Not only is this unlikely, but it doesnât give much reassurance either way - is over a stone a month really the lowest rate I can hope for? The scale only goes up to 25 stone, and I have been told by John Baker that the truly enormous men of the village use a scale by the docks used to measure the day's catch to weigh themselves. I expect he is joking, but cannot imagine how else they would do so. John tells me he weighs around 40 st! Over 550 lb! I comfort myself that I am not yet weighing myself like so many catches of the day, at least, no matter how preposterously I seem to be expanding.
I am trying to find the time to meet with Jean Whittaker, a woman in the village who makes men's clothes, but every spare moment I am compelled to eat. The moments I muster up the will to do anything other than attend to my practice or my stomach, some villager or other will appear with a tray of freshly baked pork pies, or an entire roast chicken for me to eat. Even as I write this, I am eating a tin of scones provided by some farmerâs wife or other. Mary has prepared them for me with huge dollops of clotted cream and what I believe is two whole jars of strawberry jam across them all.
I am scared. I am scared of the intentions of the islanders, of the dark implications of my role as King Boar, of the vicar's words which still ring in my head, of alchemy and beating hearts. Most of all, I am scared of myself. Why can I not stop myself? Why do I seem to enjoy it so? Why am I willingly walking towards my fate, whatever it may be? The village intends to fatten me like a pig and I am providing them with ample crackling.
Today is the winter solstice, and as such my doctor's practice has closed, although I would likely see only a patient or two regardless. Mary has just called me through to the dining room for lunch. I expect it to last several hours until I am expected to go to the solstice ceremony. Despite myself, and all I have eaten, I am hungry.
I write this is some state of duress, but feel I must make a record of the events of last night.
I collected my great crown and cloak, which I was told would be required for the ceremony, and made my way to the Boar and Suckling Pig. Outside the front, a large crowd of people stood, all in masks, as in September. Father Troughton was closest to me, the only one not wearing a mask. Wordlessly, he took my vestments of office, and motioned for me to turn around. Once done, he placed the crown on my head and cloak on my shoulders. It was only then that I realised that the crown, despite being made of various fruits and flora, is looking as fresh as ever. Perhaps it is varnished, or otherwise preserved? But no, I think that it is not.
Father Troughton started walking ahead, and I followed along, and the parade of people began to sing quietly. Someone passed me some bird leg - goose perhaps? - to snack on, which I did so unthinkingly as I walked. As I finished it, and as the sun began to set, the crowd approached the church, or more specifically, the great long hall that stood behind it; the setting sun was framed by the gap between the two. Despite the warm weather Hardy generally enjoys, I still wouldn't want to sit outside in the December chill.
Inside the hall, tables were laid out in much the same way as they had been during the autumn equinox, with one long table down the middle, and smaller round tables around the outside. I was led to the back of the hall, and seated at the head of the long table, while everyone else quickly found their seats, but remained standing.
As last time, Father Troughton stood and spoke, his voice ringing around the large hall. "People of Hardy! We come here together on the longest night of the year. Others may see only this - the dark, the cold. But we know what is to come! After darkness will come the light, as it always does! And we will be there together again when it comes! We are here by the grace of Hardy, and by the grace of each other!" A cheer filled the room here.
"But of course," Troughton continued, "we are also here by the grace of our Boar King!" Another cheer, louder this time. "His health is the island's health, and may it continue to be so!" As last time, he picked up a large clay jug of cider and walked the length of the table towards me. Unlike last time, there were no trees in the hall to make his libations to, so instead when he reached me, he gripped the back of my head with one strong hand like a claw and tipped it back, and poured the jug into my upturned mouth.
I was so shocked that at first I didn't move, simply focussing on swallowing so as not to choke as liquid spilled across my chin and down my chest. As the flow continued, I gathered enough of my wits to resist, but at the first sign of struggle I heard Troughton call for others, and strong arms fastened around my arms and at my jaw, holding me still. I worried about breathing, but found I could quite comfortably drink without interruption by breathing through my nose.
The flow finally stopped and Father Troughton walked away without a word, the hands holding me breaking free. I slumped forward, shaking, gasping for breath, holding my tight stomach. I turned to Jack, sat next to me, who was diligently filling my plate. "Last time that was poured on a tree."
Jack merely shrugged. "That was to thank the island for a strong harvest. This is an offering to the Boar King." With this he turned to me. "Eat."
Despite the impossible amounts of cider in my gut, I obeyed. I ate as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. I ate with even more enthusiasm and determination than I had done even in my most impressive of recent feasts. I ate and I ate and I ate, and all the while, Jack brought me food, stroked my shoulders, gave me encouragement. Throughout the evening, islanders of every age came up to me to rub my gut, to run their hands along some part of my body, to grab a chunk of flesh, as if for luck. Each of them appraised me like some farm animal at market, turning to each other and discussing weight, or body shape, or my appetite. Through it all, despite my mind screaming in protest at the absurdity of the situation, I ate.
I sat there for hours, as the hall grew dark and my flesh swelled. At one point, a button fired off my shirt, followed by another, and another, my body collapsing forward to fill the fresh space as each did so. I did not stop eating. At one point, someone reached under my gut to mercifully undo my belt and trousers for me. I did not stop eating. At one point, I stopped feeding myself, and instead simply tipped my head back and allowed others to bring me food, feeding me or once again pouring cider down my throat. I did not stop eating.
The celebration lasted well into the night, possibly into the early morning, and I heard around me the sound of celebration and community. Finally, food stopped being placed into my mouth, and I sat gasping for breath. Slowly I looked down to see that every plate had been cleaned, every morsel of food devoured. I hope that others had eaten, but I cannot honestly be sure.
As I sat, my breathing heavy, my hands slowly massaging my heavy gut, Jack walked up to me holding a golden apple. Despite my fullness, despite all I had eaten, my mouth opened and my cock rose. Jack crouched down in front of me. "Oh great King Boar," he said to me, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I present to you this offering from the orchards. May your reign be bountiful." With that he placed the apple firmly into my mouth, and I bit down, juices escaping down my chin. The hall burst into cheers. Jack held the apple as he fed the rest to me, until only a small core remained, which he placed into a small silk pouch.
With that, the ceremony was over, and the villagers started to file outside. Jack moved to one of my sides and another equally strong young man moved to my other, and they hoisted me up. I tottered on my feet, but stayed upright. Slowly, ever so slowly, they walked me out of the hall, across the village, and into my house.
Once in my bedroom, they placed me down into bed, and Jack turned to the other man, telling him he could go. Gently, being careful of my swollen middle, Jack undressed me. I was sure he must have noticed how erect I was, as my cock's growth has continued along with the rest of my body, and it is now quite impressive. I cannot tell you whether my arousal came from my state of being gorged to my limit, or Jack's administrations. It was probably both.
I am sat now in my study dressed only in my dressing gown, as try as I might, none of my clothes will now fit. I know it is a medical impossibility to grow so much in one night, even to have eaten so much in one night, but I can only trust the evidence of my own eyes. Mary is out fetching me larger clothes. Apparently Jean Whittaker, the village tailor, has been at work producing clothes that "should fit me for a while longer". I asked whether I am expected to outgrow these next set of clothes. Mary did not provide me with an answer, but I know it already.
Mary has left me with an enormous breakfast, filling several plates. Despite my gluttony last night, I expect I shall finish it all.
Sunday, January 1st, 1967
While the feasting of the winterâs solstice beggars belief, my eating has barely let up across the Christmas and New Years period. It seems as if each night a different family has invited me around to sup with them, ignoring my protestations that I had already eaten dinner, ignoring the tautness of my gut, the strain of my new clothes. Previous Christmas feasts, which I once would have considered gluttonous to the extreme, now pale in comparison to even my most customary of meals. This year, while at the Bakerâs I swear that I ate a full turkey to myself, more even than John, huge though he is.
This was followed up by New Years at the Boar. I stayed there until the sun rose, all the while eating and drinking; I lost count of the pints somewhere around 20. It didnât quite match the gluttony of the winter solstice, but I still ate more than I might have once done in a week. The locals sang songs all evening, and I even tried to join in with a few of the ones that have become almost familiar.
My weight gain can no longer be ignored or written off as a result of healthy living and a healthier appetite. Where once my stomach was trim, a huge round gut now reaches out in front of me and bowing out to the sides. My lower body fills any space provided to it; my rear has begun to squeeze uncomfortably between arm chairs, my thighs put other menâs waists to shame. My chest, which I once never thought about, is beginning to develop into true breasts; not quite like a womanâs, but sloping down underneath my arms.
I have not dared weigh myself. I know that I cannot possibly have gained any appreciable amount since I found myself at 19 stone and yet, all the evidence tells me otherwise - that, if anything, I have been putting on weight faster than ever. I worry I may even be over 21 or 22 stone by now.
I cannot let this state of affairs continue any further. If I cannot convince the residents of Hardy to stop their feeding, if I cannot convince myself to exercise, to curb my own appetite, I will simply have to leave the island.
Even writing this now, I cannot quite convince myself. I feel a strange draw to the island, a perverse pleasure in my growing flesh. I find myself growing panicked when considering leaving, even though I know I must. If nothing else, I must learn more about this strange island I have begun to think of as home.
Sunday, 22nd January
Where are all the other Boar Kings?
It is a foolish question perhaps - the Boar Kings can hardly be missed. But there are six. Six. Six men from a yearly tradition. There is a line of photos at The Boar and Suckling Pig, going back before the first world war, and Iâve determined that the group of overswollen, overfed men are all that remains on the island of the collection. You wouldnât expect all of them to still be about, but still, six. What has happened to the rest of them? The last one? They canât all have left the island. What will happen-
Entry interrupted.
Wednesday, 1st February
An opportunity for information came today. I have attempted to ask questions to residents in the Boar and as they come to my practice, but none have been forthcoming; I receive the same vague explanations of fertile soil, clean sea air and a culture of hospitality.
Today, Edward Hartnell came to see me at my practice with a complaint about a rash on his arm. Hartnell is one of the small (in number at least) group of fat men that populate the island; by my reckoning the youngest, barely out of his twenties, but by no means the smallest. He seemed to fill my office; when he sat his gut reached out to his knees, when he stood the whole space seemed to darken.
I checked his rash, a minor thing from some reaction to some plant or other; I gave him some ointment, and then convinced him to stay for a check-up.
âNever needed a check-up before,â he grumbled when I brought it up.
âWell, better to be safe than sorry,â I said. âParticularly for a man of your size.â I offered him one of the scones from the heaping plate that Mary had provided me this morning.
âHmmph.â He eyed me up for a moment. âPâraps,â he conceded with a shrug of his broad, sloping shoulders as he took one of the scones. My stomach lurched as the food left my reach, even though I knew more would be brought before lunch. I hastily picked up my own to cure my cravings.
I did a few cursory tests, barely focussing, noticing far more readily the frequency with which my gut bumped into his, such was the lack of space between the two of us. His heart rate and pressure were on the higher range of normal, but nothing Iâd be concerned about for a slimmer patient, no signs of diabetes or high cholesterol, no complaints that Hartnell could report. I lacked scales fit to weigh him, but what would they have told me? That he was monstrously obese? I didnât need numbers to tell me that.
As I finished up, I decided to push my luck. "I hear you were a Boar King some years back," I said, as nonchalantly as possible.
He gave a small nod in response and looked at me in silence for a while, seeming to appraise me. âHowâs it treating you?â he said eventually.
I gestured down at myself. Once again I was beginning to outgrow my new clothes; my shirt clearly outlined my round, soft gut and chest and my trousers dug in at my waist and strained around my thighs. âYou can see for yourself,â I said, forcing a small laugh.
He nodded. âMmm. What is it? February? Aye, youâre making good progress Iâd say,â he replied.
I swallowed. Progress towards what, I wondered? I decided to change tact. âYou would have been young,â I said. âWhen you were Boar King. An odd choice, maybe.â
"I can't say I know how that decision gets made myself,â he replied. âAge âanât got much to do with it, far as I can see.â
âAh, Iâd just assumed, I suppose,â I said. âAll the others seem my age or older.â He didnât reply. âAnd all the other previous Boar Kings? Where are they? Surely there should be more of you, of us, if it's an annual tradition, and not all old men?"
His face grew dark. "I'd say we should be fairly easy to spot, wouldn't you? I take it I've got a clean bill of health then doctor?" He stood. "If that's all."
He left the room, taking his time at the door to rotate his grand body and position himself carefully, so that he could fit through. Still, I noticed that his sides brushed the frame. Is that my fate? Doomed to not even fit into my own doctor's surgery? How long do I have until that point?
I ate the remaining scones quickly, out of nervous compulsion. I called Annabelle through, checked I had no more appointments for the morning and left to collect some more food to tide me over.
Friday, 3rd February
I am sat in the Boar and Suckling Pig, grazing on a huge plate of sandwiches after my second dinner and supping my seventh or eighth pint of ale. While I am always aware of my growing capacity, I occasionally take note of just how much Iâve managed to eat and am genuinely shocked.
John Baker came to sit with me for a while as I ate. Iâm continually impressed by the ability of some of the furniture to handle such weights, but despite some groans and creaks from the chair, it held up admirably.
âHad a chat with Ed earlier,â John said.
âEd?â I repeated between bites of lamb chop.
âHartnell,â he clarified. âCame to see you the other day.â
My eyes widened. Iâd hoped my questioning wouldnât get followed up. I hastily wiped my mouth. âAh, yes,â I said, my voice shaking a little. âI just thought he could tell me a little about this whole King Boar thing.â I gestured feebly down at my body by way of explanation.
John laughed, a great booming sound that sent his flesh wobbling. âIâm sure it all seems a little odd from an outside perspective!â he said. âItâs all just a silly little tradition really.â
âWell, Iâm about the effect of that silly little tradition on my body,â I said, sounding braver than I felt.
âOh, itâs nothing really!â John insisted. âWe just like to make sure the King is well fed.â He leaned over and took a slice of bread, thick with butter, off my side plate. My stomach lurched at the lost food. âI could have a word, get everyone to cut down on the food a little?â he asked.
I shook my head urgently and could feel my developing double chin shake a little with the motion. âNo, no,â I said. âIâll be fine. Just all a little odd.â I looked around and leaned in as best as I could with my stomach pressed against the table. âThereâs some other effects as well,â I said quietly.
John laughed again. âFine food and good air will do that to you!â he said. âA lot of people find theyâre a lot healthier once they get to Hardy.â
âPeople move here often then?â I asked, jumping on the comment. The bar seemed to quieten, just a touch and Johnâs smile faltered just a little.
âOften enough,â John replied curtly. âNot a lot of people choose to move to a little island like this.
âWhat about people leaving?â I asked. âIâve not met the Boar King before me, or heard much about the previous doctor.â I could feel eyes on me from around the room. I nervously shovelled food into my mouth.
âAye, they both left alright,â John said. He heaved himself to a standing position, the strain evident on his face. âYou enjoy all those other little effects, eh?â he clapped his hand on my shoulder as he passed and I saw him go speak to a group of other men, Edward Hartnell and another previous Boar King amongst them. Shortly after Lynn Baker brought me a sticky toffee pudding for dessert.
The âother effectsâ Iâd mentioned to John continue unabated. I now have chest hair spilling out of the top of my shirts, and between gaping shirt buttons; I have chosen to stop shaving, and where once I could only grow a few hairs I now have a thick and full beard; my knee is almost completely pain free, and indeed I am shocked it can withstand my increased weight at all; finally, my genitals, could I see them over my gut anymore, seem positively huge, although the length of my penis has somewhat shrunk recently with fat above beginning to engulf it.
Perhaps he is right. I should just enjoy this strange transformation, as much as I can. Indeed, it seems I have little choice in whether it continues.
Sunday, 5th February
I have made a terrible mistake.
I finished up at the Boar on Friday after a few more pints, my stomach bloated and swaying. A few villagers bid me goodbye and patted my gut; not an especially notable thing, they often do so, almost for luck. As I slowly made my way on the short walk to my house I noticed a gravy stain down my shirt and onto the shelf of my gut. So preoccupied was I with the stain that I barely noticed that my front door was slightly ajar; I suppose I thought either Mary or Annabelle had left it open when they left for the day.
I walked up the stairs, unbuttoning my soiled shirt as I went, the stairs creaking alarmingly under my weight. As I reached my bedroom, I was met with a young woman, stood stark naked in the middle of the room. I yelped out in shock and jumped, setting the furniture shaking as I landed.
She was pretty, as women go. Slim, blonde, pert breasts, wide hips. All things I understand that most men enjoy but that do nothing for me.
I spluttered and stammered for a while, my hands gripping my shirt where I had been unbuttoning it, my head firmly turned away.
âNo need to be nervous,â she said, moving towards me and putting her hands on my chest, her fingers swirling through the hair there. I backed away into the wall. I realised as she spoke that I recognised her; it was Lucy, the young woman who had served me cake at the vicarage a couple of months prior.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â I managed to ask eventually.
âSome people said you were a little upset about being the Boar King. Asking questions,â she said. âThey thought I could come help calm you a little.â She once again placed her hands on my chest. They were cold. I tried to back away but was already against the wall, so I gently moved her hands away. âThereâs no need to worry,â she said smiling. âNo one will say anything, and youâve prescribed me the pill yourself, so you know thereâs no risk.â Sheâd been to see me a few weeks ago to ask about going on the contraceptive pill; Iâd noted at the time how unembarrassed she was in the asking, as she explained that she was seeing young James Eccleston, the butcherâs son, a handsome man with a pleasant round face and lean limbs.
âWhat about James?â I asked. âIt sounded like you were getting quite serious.â
She waved her hand. âHe doesnât mind!â she insisted. âNot for the Boar King.â She traced her nails along the arc of my sides. I shivered and darted around her, as much as I can dart at all these days. She followed me.
âYouâre very pretty,â I explained.
âThank you sir,â she responded.
âIâm just not very interested,â I said as gently as I could. âPlease put some clothes on.â
âOh!â she said with a smile. âDo you prefer dark hair? Or perhaps someone your own age?â
I shook my head. âNo, no, please, you donât understand,â I begged. âThereâs been some misunderstanding. Thereâs no need for anyone to come to me. Iâm perfectly happy. Iâm sorry I was asking so many questions, really. Iâm very happy being the Boar King.â
âThe island provides the King Boar with whatever he wishes,â Lucy replied with a gentle smile. âI can come tomorrow with some of the other girls and you can choose from us all then.â
âNo, no, really. No girls!â I protested. âIâm not interested in anything from any girls. Please. Please leave.â
âOh.â Lucy said simply. Her head tilted to the side, and a small smile spread across her face. âMaybe one of the boys from the village then?â
âNo, sorry Lucy, no.â My heart dropped. âSorry, I didnât mean that. No. Itâs more that I donât often sleep with women.â Bile began to rise in my throat. âBut of course I like women!â I insisted. âIf I were to sleep with someone, it would of course be a woman.â
âThatâs alright sir,â Lucy said calmly. âWeâve got some of those types. Iâll ask one of them to come.â She turned around and began to collect her clothes, putting them on casually, as if she hadnât been naked and propositioning me moments before, as if she hadnât just accused me of being a poof.
âLucy please, you donât understand.â I followed her out of the room.
âWe just hadnât realised you were one of those types sir,â she said. She looked back with a smile as she did up her cardigan. âI wouldnât have come otherwise.â She walked down the stairs and I lumbered after.
âPlease Lucy,â I insisted. âYou canât tell anyone, please, you mustnât.â
âHave a good evening sir,â she said, before leaving and closing the front door. I sunk down to sit on the steps and put my head in my hands.
What have I done? How did I let myself be so foolish? After everything I went through in London, having to leave in disgrace like that? My life could have been ruined then, and I had to escape to an island in the arse end of nowhere to try and put it back together. Where can I go now? Where else is there beyond the edge of the world?
Iâve not left my room all weekend, just panicked and worried. Maryâs been bringing me food which Iâve been dutifully eating. Perhaps sheâs picked up on my mood because the stream of food seems faster than ever. Perhaps sheâs heard, and sheâs trying to empty out her larder before Iâm kicked off of the island.
Tuesday, 7th February
It seems I may have overreacted. Yesterday morning I forced myself to bathe, get dressed, and make my way down to my surgery. As I walked past Annabelle, she greeted me in her usual manner, which I returned.
As I squeezed myself past her however, she piped up nonchalantly. âLucy, down at the vicarage, mentioned that she thought she might have left her stockings in your room.â
I choked. âWhat? No, I wouldnt- How would it have-â
âOh, donât worry Dr Davison, she explained it all,â Annabelle said with a cheery smile. âNo oneâs fussed.â
I struggled to respond, and chose to silently bundle myself into my office instead. I collapsed down into my chair, earning a particularly ominous creak. It was best not to say anything at all, I resolved. Maybe Lucy hadnât said anything, beyond that sheâd come to my room and Iâd turned her away. Maybe sheâd not even told people Iâd rejected her advances. It is, I suppose, better to let everyone assume Iâm some filthy old pervert than it is to let them know the truth.
I went about my day as best I could. I used to be unable to eat at all when I was nervous or stressed; I remember I once went a week during a particularly stressful Michaelmas term at medical school having only eaten a few grapes a day. These days, nerves seem to increase my appetite.
Eventually after a day of dropping sauces on patient records, getting crumbs all in the medicines store, and belching in poor Mrs Kettlehamâs face while I checked a mole for her, I forced myself out and to the Boar and Suckling Pig. The only comments made were asking where Iâd been - a bad chill, I told them. I chatted to John and Lynn for a bit while I ate beef ribs, and played a spot of darts with some of the farmers.
I walked home after seven pints, congratulating myself on my restraint. I opened my front door, popped into the kitchen to pick up a plate of homemade biscuits that Mary had left for me, and then made my way upstairs.
Jack Baker was lying on my bed waiting for me. He was fully naked, fully erect, fully gorgeous. He was laid as if he belonged there, one arm behind his head revealing a tuft of golden brown armpit here, a trail of soft hair leading down to a golden brown forest of pubes, one leg raised bent, his long thick cock leaning against it, as if to frame it.
I stared for a moment, before reminding myself to look away. âWhat are you doing here Jack?â I stole another glance. His face had a lazy half smile on it.
âLucy said I should pop by,â he explained casually. âThat she wasnât really your thing, and that maybe Iâd be more up your alley.â He laughed quietly to himself. âOr that maybe youâll be up mine, eh? Plenty of time to figure that out later.â
I turned back to look at him. My own erection was growing. âWhat do you mean Jack?â
He stood up and walked towards me, his cock leading the way and bouncing with each step. âYou know what I mean James,â he said simply. He took the plate of biscuits out of my hands and placed it on my dresser.
âWe canât,â I said as he approached. He began to unbutton my shirt. âItâs illegal.â
Jack laughed. âGod James, really?â he said. âI didnât think youâd go in for all that.â Shirt fully unbuttoned, he tugged hard to pull my shirt tails out of my trousers. âWe certainly donât on Hardy.â
âBut, but-â I stammered.
âBut nothing James,â Jack said. He lifted a biscuit from the plate and raised it to my lips. âDo you want this? Do you want me?â
I bit the biscuit, looked him up and down, nodded. He grinned and knelt down in front of me. I felt him lift my gut, and struggle to unbutton my trousers, a struggle I am only too familiar with myself. When he finally managed to get them undone, he let them fall to my ankles along with my briefs, and he whispered âyour majestyâ before I felt his lips close over me.
He brought me to a finish before guiding me over to the bed, where he entered me as he fed me the plate of biscuits.
Heâs asleep upstairs as I write this and eat breakfast. Mary made some oblique comment about the bedding, but nothing more.
Sunday, March 4th
Life has been all but idyllic these past few weeks with Jack. He has spent each night with me, and during weekends most of the day. I finish my practice for the day, eat my first dinner, go over to the Boar where Jackâs parents seem perfectly happy with the arrangement, and I waddle back to my house where Jack waits for me, deliciously sweaty from a day in the orchards, and feeds me all night as he buggers me, or less often, while I bugger him.
My growth has, of course, continued unabated. I worry that it may in fact have even sped up; whereas previously my constant gorging had been contained to the day, now Jack has introduced food to the bedroom, feeding me until I fall asleep and then waking me up with food pressed against my lips.
My exact weight is as mysterious as ever, but I would be surprised if I am not well over 25 stone - I cannot be sure of a precise number. I have not yet dared suffer the indignity of making use of the heavy duty scales by the dock used by fishermen for their catch and the ex-Boar Kings for their weights. Fat cascades off each part of my body; my limbs, my chest, my face. My belly, once so firm and spherical, now droops down, so that Jack has to lift it to access me in the night. I am surprised by how cold it all is; while I am certainly well insulated, while touching my soft fat itself my fingers are met with a soft dough cold as a cellar. I have taken to approaching furniture gingerly, as Iâve seen the other Boar Kings doing, as I can keenly feel the wood strain beneath me. Jean Whittaker has just made one of her, by now, many clothes deliveries, and so for now my clothes permit me some comfort, although Jack has asked me to wear some of my old clothes to show off my corpulence to him.
Despite my increasing girth, I find myself less concerned. While, yes, it is unexplained, the people of Hardy genuinely seem to mean me no harm, and at least I am made comfortable as I expand. And as far as I can tell, I remain healthy. No heart concerns, no aching joints, no back issues. I am simply larger.
The spring equinox was last night. Once again my practice was closed, as was much of the island. I spent the day at the Boar, where Jack was working to help his parents during the holiday. He made sure to bring me a stream of food and ale as I sat. I protested weakly, knowing how much I would be made to eat later, but ultimately consumed everything he brought to me.
A little after 5 oâclock, some villagers brought the cloak and crown of the Boar King. By God, I remember when I first wore that blasted cloak and it draped over me like a curtain; now it sits perfectly across my wider back and shoulders. I was led out of the pub and to a decorated wagon, pulled by a clydesdale. Plates of food were passed to me. The rest of the village followed along singing as I was pulled along, with the previous Boar Kings carried in two larger, plainer wagons pulled by two clydesdales apiece.Â
The journey took longer than I was expecting, striking straight across the island and away from the coast. I resolved to take in the views and try and not think about the odd ceremony which was to come. The land sloped up gently towards the a large hill at the centre of the island; for the first time since my arrival I could see some kind of structure at the top, which as we approached resolved into some standing stones; it seems as if it was only the central circle of some larger complex of stones, as we passed other huge stones as we climbed the hill. I twisted my body as far as it allowed to get better views, trying to discern if some seemed to be the types of burial cairns Iâd seen before in the West country and Wales. It made for quite the haunting setting, surrounded as I was by a procession of masked people.
Our destination was the stone circle at the top of the hill itself. From up close, the stones seemed huge, over twice the height of a tall man. Just outside the circle, tables were set up with food piled up on them. I was led to my seat at the head of the table as the sun touched the horizon, and light streamed between the stones to where I was seated between long shadows.
âMy fellow people of Hardy!â Father Troughton boomed. âThe dark winter has passed, and bright summer beckons! Once again, Hardy has provided for us, sustained us, protected us. We come here to give thanks, and ask once more for Hardy to share with us its bounty, as we share our bounty with its King Boar.â He picked up a heavy earthen jug, and I braced myself, remembering the cider being poured over me last time. Instead Troughton walked past me, to the stones behind, and poured it at the base of the westernmost one with the setting sun framing it.
As before, I became ravenous. While my hunger has become prodigious, even I was astonished by how much I ate, how much I wanted to eat. I started off grabbing anything and everything I could reach and shovelling it into my mouth with my bare hands, hardly noticing the taste, hardly giving myself chance to chew. Jack was there, making sure food was always in easy reach, until my stomach became too stuffed and I slumped back, when he started feeding me food directly. At one point he picked up a jug of gravy and poured it directly into my mouth.
My clothes became tight. My swelling stomach rose above me as it filled with food. In return my shirt buttons strained and then broke, and I asked Jack between mouthfuls to undo my belt and trousers. I could barely stand my hunger during the brief pause while he struggled with my heavy gut, until an old man pressed some meat into my hands which I tore into. By the time I was finished, even my shirt sleeves and trouser legs felt tighter.
It grew dark and I carried on eating. Fires were lit in the stone circle and in braziers along the table. In the flickering light the piles of food slowly dwindled and then finally was finished. Jack approached me holding a single perfect golden apple. He slid a finger under my chin and played with the fat there for a moment before raising my head up.
"Oh great King Boar," he said quietly, so that only I could hear him. "I present to you this offering from the orchards. May your reign be bountiful." He pushed the apple into my mouth and I bit down, staring into Jackâs eyes as its juices rolled down my chins and neck.
Almost immediately everyone there seemed to jump to action, clearing away dirty plates and the tables and chairs, loading them onto carts stood just outside the circle. Jack called some men over who helped to heave me to my feet. âThose clothes must be uncomfortable,â he told me, running a hand along my side before grabbing my shirt and beginning to remove it. I shook my head but he continued stripping me, until I was dressed only in my underwear and cloak and crown. The men helped me into the decorated wagon, two men in front pulling on my arms and two men behind me pushing my rear from behind. Jack covered me with some blankets and kissed me on the lips, before taking the reins and driving the wagon back down the hill.
When we made it back to the village, Jack led me upstairs, and laid me in bed. He took me in his hand and pleasured me as I fell asleep. I felt his stubble against my ear as he whispered to me. âYou did well tonight,â he told me. âYour majesty.â
Fragment
- has suggested I reduce my hours at the practice. Iâm a little indignant at the suggestion, but see the sense in it; Annabelle handles most of the few patients we get ably, and I canât deny that my work has become cumbersome with my added weight.
Still, I worry about his motives behind the suggestion, and even more I worry that it will just leave me with even more time to idle about stuffing-
Entry interrupted
Saturday, April 15th
While I have become used to the temperate climes of Hardy, it has been surprisingly warm these past couple of weeks. Jack has assured me it is barely warmer than any spring he can remember though, and has suggested that perhaps I am feeling the effects of being covered in a thick layer of insulation - it is difficult to argue with him.
Nonetheless, he suggested a swimming trip today to cool me down and packed me into the back of the Land Rover he uses for work along with three full picnic hampers. With the village being so self-contained, Iâve not had any need to sit in any vehicle since coming to Hardy, with the exception of the wagon during the spring equinox, which was of course much slower. My entire body rocked and wobbled as the car drove down country lanes, no part of me able to stay still. By the time we arrived, my whole body felt sore, having been shaken with such force. Jack, of course, had barely noticed anything.
We eventually arrived at a natural cove to the north west of the island. Jack hopped out and opened my door for me, helping me down. The path down to the cove was easy; a shallow slope along some rocks. Even this I struggled with, not being able to see my feet; each time I lost my footing, my entire body shook. I dread to think what would happen if I fell at my current weight. I am grateful at how well my knee has healed.
The cove was small, no more than 100 yards across. A couple of rowboats were secured under an overhang of a cliff on one side, and the entire thing faced a nearby island a mile or two away. âItâs uninhabited,â Jack explained. âJust a few men manning the lighthouse, see.â He pointed the tower out towards the south.
After Jack fed me the contents of the first picnic hamper, he tried to convince me to swim. I tried to protest, I really did, but itâs almost impossible to say no to him once he flashes that smile and starts to take off his clothes. A part of me knows this is all only because heâs fulfilling some perceived duty to the island and the Boar King, but.. Well, but in the moment itâs difficult to remember. And if heâs acting, well heâs a bloody good one, by my reckoning! And that cock, god, that thick, beautiful cock, more often than not hard as oak - is that lying too?
Swimming is an odd proposition at this size; not unpleasant to be sure, but odd. Itâs the first time in months that Iâve felt light in any way, and all my new fat brings a tremendous buoyancy, while the added momentum made it difficult to swim - each movement fights against inertia, each limb moved almost independently of the fat encasing it, my gut pulled against the motion of my torso.
I couldnât help but think back, suddenly, to that first dream Iâd had my first night on Hardy - of a great boar chasing me into the sea, and how it devoured me whole before I woke up.
As we left, I made a silent note of the route back to the cove, the rowboats kept to one side, and the small island tantalisingly close. I fear the island is preparing to swallow me whole.
Tuesday, April 18th
Annabelle, I decided, was my best chance at finding out more information, and gaining an ally. My nurse and I have grown close over the months, and Iâve grown to trust her, as I hope she has me. More than that though, I know sheâs not local to Hardy - she grew up on one of the nearby islands, and did her training in Canterbury. She, like me, is here to do a job, no more and no less.
I waited until after Mary came to collect my plates after lunch - in part because I knew we were unlikely to be interrupted by someone delivering yet more food, and in part, I am ashamed to say, because I knew I would be less distracted by hunger.
âThe last doctor,â I started casually. âWhat was it? Patridge, Portland-â
âDr Pertwee,â she replied, pausing in writing up a supply order. We were running low on antibiotics.
âPertwee, Pertwee, that was it.â I tried to sound nonchalant. âDid he help you with this? Managing stocks, ordering, you know.â
âNo,â Annabelle replied, her voice growing a little terse. âIâve never known a doctor to. Itâs a nurseâs job. Is there some problem? I wasnât aware Iâd-â
âNot at all! Not at all! Youâve not done anything wrongâ I hastily interrupted. âI just wanted to check I wasnât increasing your workload. You do so much around here and a chap at my old practice used to do his own stocks, thatâs all. Didnât want to assume anything.â My voice was growing meek, my plan falling apart.
âThis was in London was it?â Annabelle asked.
I smiled. She seemed perfectly happy to continue the conversation. âLondon, thatâs right. Highgate.â She gave a small hum in reply, but no more. I let the room fall into silence for a while.
âHe was the old Boar King, wasnât he?â I asked eventually.
Her head snapped towards me. âWho said that?â
I shrugged. âSomeone down the pub,â I bluffed. âLynn, maybe.â
âWhat difference does it make?â Annabelle asked.
âNone really. Just curious.â The atmosphere in the room was growing icy. âIs that why he left Hardy?â I asked. âDidnât enjoy the whole thing?â I was pushing my luck, I knew.
âHe wasnât well suited to the island,â came the reply. Iâd heard it before.
âBut where is he now?â I pressed.
âHe wasnât well suited to the island,â Annabelle repeated, icily.
Recognising my mistake, I made my excuses and left to go find a snack.
Fragment
 - smallest of all the previous Boar Kings, to be sure, but still, Iâm shocked Iâm bigger than him. How much does he weight? 30 stone? No, he canât be. I canât be. But I know I am. Iâm just so big now.
For the past few of weeks since I made my enquiries with Anabelle, the islanders have grown frosty towards me. Even Jack, attentive as he is, seems less affectionate, more controlling.
This is the final straw though. This has all gone too far. I should never have let myself get so enormous. Iâm leaving tonight.
Thursday, May 25th
It was foolish to try, I suppose. Even at the peak of my fitness I doubt Iâd have managed it.
I convinced Jack I needed to do some paperwork for the surgery, and sent him off to the pub without me; he and Mary made sure I was well supplied with food before leaving. Once theyâd gone, I struggled to put my shoes on, collected the few supplies Iâd gathered (a torch, a blanket, some food and a change of clothes) and crept out to Jackâs land rover parked just outside. I made my way to the cove heâd taken me to and stumbled my way down to the rowboats, and dragged one out to the shore.Â
Climbing into the boat was my first sign Iâd not thought my daring escape through well enough; it tipped precariously as I got in, almost capsizing entirely. While it was built to hold multiple people, and I thankfully am still only worth no more than three, I represented those three people all stepping into the boat all at once. I fell in and braced myself as it rocked. Once it had settled, I dragged myself over to one of the benches, took up the oars, and began to row.
While I am significantly less mobile than I once was, my strange transformation has left me strong and robust. I found I could row for quite some time, and made good progress. Every so often I would strain to turn around and check I was still headed roughly for the dim outline of the island opposite and the flashing light of the lighthouse there. I was thankful that the weather remained calm and that the moon was near full.
I got close. I got so close. Another twenty minutes perhaps, and Iâd have gotten ashore, and from there I could have gotten to the lighthouse and got help. Perhaps it wouldnât have mattered. Perhaps the lighthouse keepers would be in on it too.
I was picked up by one of the local fishing vessels and taken back to the island, and my house.
Mary laid out breakfast as usual, and Jack appeared halfway through and gave me a kiss on the cheek as if nothing happened. No questions about his land rover, no comment on my lie last night. No-one has said anything; not Annabelle, no-one at the Boar, not a single person has so much as acknowledged their King Boar getting picked up out at sea.
They donât trust me now though. Iâm being supervised, escorted from place to place. Theyâre coming up with reasons of course; Annabelle following me as I moved from room to room during the day, Mary walking me to the Boar saying she needed to pick something up from Lynn, Jack walking back with me arm-in-arm. I am being babysat. I will not be allowed to try and leave again.
The solstice was last night. I took the day off from my practice - I donât work all that many days now, usually just a day or two a week. Annabelle manages perfectly well with the few patients there are, and Iâm just too cumbersome to get about now. I waddle now, rather than walk, squeeze myself through doors, and have to maneuver myself around patients to make sure I can get close to them without my gut getting in the way - god forbid what would happen if I needed to treat one of the previous Boar Kings. I am smaller than only two or three of them now - Iâve overtaken the rest.
I spent the day at the Boar, sat outside in the shade of the oak tree just behind it. By the time Jack came to collect me, I was quite drunk; I was keen to dull my senses for the grotesque spectacle I was soon to make of myself. I was led east, into a small wood; the masked parade stopped in a small clearing and I was placed on a chair carved out of a tree stump.
Father Hardy was already there, holding a large clay jug. I cringed, knowing what was to come. âPeople of Hardy!â he cried. âToday is the longest day of the year, and we come here to celebrate. We have all toiled hard, through the cold, the dark, and these halcyon days are our reward.â He turned towards me. âBoar King, your reign has been as bountiful as you are ample.â My cheeks grew red at that. âMay your health continue to be the health of the island.â
With that he grasped my head, tilted it back and poured the cider into my mouth. I closed my eyes and focussed on not choking, as my face grew sticky and my stomach grew leaden. Once he had finished, I sat back, giving into what I knew was about to come. Immediately Jack and some other men-
Entry interrupted.
Monday, July 17th
It seems silly really, writing a diary while Iâm under lock and key, but I feel like I must at least keep a record of whatâs happened to me. Whatâs going to happen to me. Theyâve set some guards at the front door, just some lads from the village, no more than fourteen; I could barrel past them easy enough, send them flying, but whatâs the point? Where would I go? No, theyâre not really a guard at all, but a message.
It all started on Saturday at old Mabel Carrutherâs funeral, poor dear. Sheâd drifted off in her sleep at the grand age of 97 - theyâd called me to pronounce her dead in the morning. I was brought a black suit that fit, and I lumbered along to the church in the morning, sweating in the summer heat. Once I walked in I realised - it was the first time Iâd been in the church, despite my promises to Troughton to pop along to a service or two. And then, after a moment, I realised that it was the first funeral since Iâd arrived on Hardy - the first death. The thought sent me reeling. Whatever is going on, itâs working. Iâm being fattened up for the health of the island, and the island is keeping everyone hale and hearty.
It was a fairly standard chapel and service, all things considered. Troughton perhaps went on longer about Mabel âreturning to natureâ and âthe bounties of lifeâ than Iâd usually expect, but nothing especially out of the ordinary. The chapel was adorned with crosses and saints in the stained glass, and Troughton made the usual sacraments.
As the precession walked outside after the service, I dutifully huffed my way slowly behind everyone else. As I got to the door however, I realised, this was the first time Iâd been alone since my ill-fated escape attempt. I hung back as everyone moved towards the graveside. There was no hope of escape, I knew, but this was Troughtonâs domain - surely I could find something here, some information perhaps.
I made my way to the vestry as my starting point. It was a small room, with a door leading up to the church tower. I quickly rifled through some notes, largely accounts and notes for services. I read through some, discarding them as soon as it was clear what they were, until I heard a sound - someone coming back into the church. Clearly my absence was finally noticed. In a panic, I pushed through the door to the tower and began to climb. The stairwell was narrow, and my sides brushed the walls, and at points I had to squeeze myself up. I focused on keeping my footing on the shallow steps, unable to see my feet as I was. At the top of the steps, I paused to listen - it didnât sound like anyone was following me. I opened the door, twisting my body slightly to make it through the doorway.
The room was bright, and larger than I was expecting. On the opposite side of the belfry was a table covered in a dark green cloth. As I approached, I saw a boarâs head, staring blankly, a simple brass cup, and a book with the âThe Boar Kingâ on the front in flaking leaf. I picked it up and flicked through as quickly as I could.
It only went back until 1950, and seemed to contain notes on each Boar Kingâs reign. I flicked to the back to find pages all about me - notes about my weight, how often I needed new clothes, what Iâd been eating, who Iâd spoken to, questions Iâd asked, my escape attempt. Morbidly I flicked back. Dr Sam Pertwee, it seems, did not meet the standards of the island. The pages were filled with disappointment about how little he was gaining, reaching a mere 22 stone by the end of the year. When the autumn equinox rolled round, they killed him.
There werenât details about how, just some lines about how the island had ârejectedâ him, and that the body had been taken care of. It couldnât have been more than a few hours, if not less, before my arrival.
I flicked back, wanting to read more, wanting to find out how other Kings had survived, but as I did so, the bells above me suddenly rang out. I spun around to find Father Troughton with his hand on one of the ropes, his face dark with fury. He said something I couldnât hear over the ringing of the bells, and pointed one long finger at me. From behind him, men from the village filed through and grabbed me, pulling me across the room and back down the stairs. Jack was there. I looked into his eyes, asked him why. He looked away
They brought me to my house, and Iâve been here since. Every hour or so, someone brings a platter of food, and watches until I eat it all. Both nights, this only stopped around midnight, and people arrived again at 6 am. It seems that, with their secret out, they are more determined than ever to fatten me up.
Troughton came yesterday.
âDo you really think you matter in any of this?â he asked. His posture was rigidly upright, his nose was upturned.
âYou seem to think I matter enough to do all this,â I said, gesturing through the window to the two plump housewives who were acting as my guard that afternoon.
Troughton gave a short, cruel laugh. âHardy has had its Boar King for centuries. Hardy has flourished for centuries,â he snapped haughtily. âYou think your little escape attempts can change anything? Weâve tried to be nice - to make you feel welcome, gave you your little bugger boy to keep you happy. But soon it will be autumn, and I can be rid of you and weâll have a King Boar who appreciates his position.â
âYou're mad,â I said. âYou're all mad.â Troughton smiled. âYou think that by fattening me up for the slaughter you can, what, play god?â
Troughton laughed. âPlay god? No, no.â He reached out and cupped one of my round cheeks, his long fingers tracing the ring of fat that disguised the boundary between my face and neck. âWe are creating one.â
August
I have been here for a month or so now. Iâve lost track of days.
Theyâve stopped bothering to furnish me with clothes as I outgrow them. Lynn Baker has been by with a few items from John, but even these are growing worryingly tight. Whatâs the point of clothes anyway, at this point? I donât see anyone, outside of the deliveries of food, and they donât care what I look like. From the front, my genitals canât be seen anyway, hidden beneath the great overhang of my gut.
I am overflowing. I overflow clothes, furniture, even my own body. When I sit, my gut overflows onto my thighs, my love handles overflow past my hips, my breasts overflow underneath my arms. I am as much a prisoner of my body as I am of the meager guard left at my door.
I havenât seen Jack since the funeral. I wonder if he cares. I wonder if he ever really did.
Saturday, 23rd September
The equinox arrived.
I wasnât aware of it until the sun rose. Iâd lost track in my feasting and my growing.
Jack came, and for a moment my heart rose. He smiled at me, kindly, and kissed me on the lips, before collecting the crown and cape of the Boar King, and placing them on me.
I struggle to remember what came next. I cried, I think, and begged, as he led me outside. I think he told me he loved me.
It seemed as if the whole island was there to meet me. This time, there were no masks. Some of them looked at me with cold, uncaring eyes; some seemed to look at me almost kindly; some looked away. I was led, naked, down the streets in silence apart from my yells and pleading, until we came to the shore.
As they led me onto the docks, I suddenly realised what was about to happen, and I made one final attempt to run away. I tried to twist out of their grasp, to use my weight to push through the crowd, but there were too many of them, and I was too weak. Men pulled me to the end. The water below was dark and frothy; I knew that on this side of the island the seafloor dropped away suddenly, and the water here was deep even just a hundred or so yards from the shore as we were.
Father Troughtonâs voice carried from the shore. âOh great Boar King, your health has been the health of the island! As we have fed you, the island has fed us. Now, we leave it to the island to make its final judgement.â With that, the men behind me shoved, and I fell into the water.
I didnât feel the cold at first - it was too sudden, too shocking. I hoped for a brief moment that my fat would help me float, but instead I sank steadily into the darkness and I could feel water entering my lungs. I twisted and flailed, trying to find which way was up, knowing how little time I had.
As I lost consciousness, a great shape loomed out of the darkness - a great boar, charging towards me. It crashed into me, and swallowed me whole.
Suddenly, I was being pulled onto some rocks, vomiting out sea water. It seems the current had pulled me back to shore; the island had deemed its Boar King worthy. Jack ran up with a towel and helped me dry as best as we could.
âI knew,â he whispered to me. âI always knew youâd be found worthy, even from that first day.â
His father came up to me with some clothes and helped me dress. âLetâs see what the damage is,â he said, and led me back towards the docks. I instinctively pulled back, but Jack held my hand and pointed to where they were leading me - the weighing scales. I resisted for a moment, scared of what they would, but then gave in. It had been done now, hadnât it? Why not put a number to my grotesquery.
A cheer went up as I stood on the scales. âFive hundred and eighty pounds!â John bellowed. I felt faint. âThatâs the biggest of all of us!â he said. I looked down at myself. I could believe it. The other past Boar Kings came and shook my hand, ingratiating me into their not so small circle.
At some point I was led to a cart which carried me and the other Boar Kings up to the same clearing as when I first arrived. I placed a hand against the huge apple tree. I could feel warmth radiate throughout it, and there was a pulsing within, as if a heart was beating.
We got settled at our long table, an empty chair to my right. I was worried, for a moment about not having eaten, but realised with some surprise that the intense hunger that had plagued me for the last year had abated.
Eventually, a procession arrived, all in masks and singing. Jack made his way over to me, smiling. He was wearing a crown of apples and wheat, and had a great cape of boar skin draped over his shoulders.
Father Troughton held out his arms, spoke of the harvest and of the island and the new Boar King. He poured a jug of cider onto the roots of the apple tree, and Jack began to feast.
Ben had noticed it. Of course he had. Youâd have to be blind not to see how chubby Luke had grown since heâd been dating Dan. The guy had sprouted a little paunch and his handsome face had swollen up with chubby cheeks within only a few short months. Dan: the one who usually kicked all their asses at basketball and had competed in three gruelling triathlons in the last two years. The changes had been significant and the other friends muttered bitterly as they saw Dan slyly pushing food on Luke, or discouraging him from training.
âItâs so fucking obvious what heâs doing!â grumbled Perry as he and Ben left the bar one evening after Luke had been convinced by his boyfriend to grab some fast food before they both went home. âI donât understand why Luke puts up with it. If I had a guy doing that to me, thereâs no way Iâd still be dating him. Canât he see how overweight heâs getting?â
Ben nodded quietly in reply, not really wanting to comment.
âDanâs obviously so insecure, he thinks fattening Luke up means he wonât leave him for someone else,â Perry continued complaining.
At this, Ben could not keep silent and he scoffed in disagreement. âNo way!â he shot back. âDanâs the least insecure person Iâve ever met!â
Perry already knew Benâs reasons for arguing this. âJust because the guyâs got a big dickâŚâ he laughed, having drooled with Ben in the past at how much meat the guy was obviously packing.. With such an athletic frame, Dan always seemed to wear tight little shorts that clung, almost indecently across his groin; the bulge of a very substantial dick almost constantly on display. Ben himself had become obsessed with it. Heâd trawled through every social media account of the guy and masturbated countless times, imagining taking such a sizeable manhood into his mouth.
âItâs more than that though,â Ben argued. âDan just has that âbig dick energyâ about him,â he explained. âIf he is encouraging Luke to gain a few pounds, itâs because heâs getting off on it.â
Perry considered for a moment. âA feeder? Yeah, I could definitely picture that,â he nodded, as if everything added up. âBut how do we get Luke to wake up and see that?â
Ben mumbled; no idea coming to mind. If he was ever lucky to be with a guy as handsome and hung as Dan, there would be absolutely nothing that could ever persuade him to give him up.
The atmosphere was tense the next time Ben went over to Lukeâs place to watch the big game. Luke seemed displeased by the amount of food Dan had prepared and brought over with him; his voice betraying an icy frostiness whenever he needed to speak to him.
âThese look delicious!â Ben exclaimed, seeing the slab of chocolate brownies still in their baking tray. âDid you really make these yourself?â he asked Dan, perplexed that a guy who was clearly so athletic and career-driven, could demonstrate such skills in the kitchen as well.
âMy own special recipe,â Dan nodded. âTheyâre Lukeâs favorites,â he stated, glancing over towards the living area where his boyfriend and Perry had settled down in front of the screen. âHowever, Lukeâs suddenly decided heâs going on a diet,â he grumbled with obvious irritation.Â
Ben bit into one and moaned in appreciation; the butter, chocolates and sugars filling his mouth with flavor. âThese are incredible!â he exclaimed.
Dan beamed. âHave another then,â he offered, holding up a second even though Ben hadnât eaten even a third of the original brownie.
Smiling, Ben took it nonetheless, holding it in his hands as he chewed through the first. His horny mind couldnât help wanting to please Dan. It was as if he turned to complete mush every time they were alone together. Dan had come straight from the gym; leg workout complete, both thighs pumped and imposing in his trademark tight shorts.
Dan fussed around tidying up in Lukeâs kitchen, clearly not wanting to join his grumpy boyfriend in the living space. Then he turned and smiled as he saw Ben had started a third brownie. âYou like those, huh?â he asked interestedly, leaning into the counter almost flirtatiously.
âI could eat these all day,â Ben replied, hoping that it sounded complimentary enough.
Dan sniggered, his eyes momentarily flicking down to Benâs body. âIâd certainly like to see you try,â he nodded thoughtfully, before preloading Ben with yet another to eat.Â
Ben felt his erection building. Never before had he felt under such scrutiny from Dan before. It seemed as if he had the guyâs entire attention as he nibbled and consumed the fourth large brownie. Ten years he had been friends with Luke, but he knew he would throw it all away if he ever got the chance to have a night with his boyfriend.
âIâll have to make you some more at some point,â Dan smiled as he passed Ben a glass of milk to wash it all down. âI like a man who enjoys my baking.â
âYou can bake for me anytime!â Ben smiled back.
âGuys⌠are you coming to watch the game?â called Perry from the lounge area, staring hard at Ben as if he knew theyâd been flirting.Â
Ben looked back at Dan and rolled his eyes, disappointed that this flirting session had come to an end. Seeming to sense his wild attraction to him, Dan chuckled back, then lifted another brownie and passed it to him with a devilish grin on his face.
Butterflies fluttered in Benâs tummy for the rest of that afternoon, catching little glances from Dan that went unnoticed by the other two. The man had suddenly become the most attentive host imaginable, supplying Ben with more of the treats he had brought along for the ungrateful Luke. If only, Ben thought to himself... If only he had a man as sexy as Dan, he would do absolutely anything for him; whatever it took to get that dick up and horny for him.
The delightful news that Dan and Luke had split came a couple of weeks later. Ben knew that he was betraying his friends by messaging Dan, but heâd long since thought of himself as a good friend, given how much he had been fantasising about the forbidden.
Dan, it seemed, wasnât all that upset by the whole thing, explaining that the end had been coming for some time. Heâd enjoyed the ride, but now it was time to move on. He thanked Ben for getting in touch, but his tone was one of finality; as if he never anticipated seeing, or hearing from him again. âDo you need some company?â Ben typed out, not wanting the window of opportunity to close.Â
A few, torturous minutes passed by. Did Dan think Ben was despicable for taking his chances like this? Perhaps he had expected a little more loyalty from one of his exâs best friends. He was certainly walking a very dangerous path should Perry ever find out about these messages.
âSure,â Dan replied breezily, typing out his address. âIâll see you shortly.â
Danâs apartment was every bit the âman caveâ that Ben had pictured in his head. Lacking style and coordination, there were weights across the floor and a series of cheap posters on the walls, more akin to a teenagerâs bedroom. The man opened the door with a bemused expression to see that Ben had actually arrived, strolling casually ahead to the sofa to clear some space so that the guy could sit down. The musky scent of an athlete was clouding Benâs reasoning even more.
Dan was sitting in his large chair, his thick thighs spread. âWant to get some pizza?â he asked casually, as if still not quite understanding why Ben had travelled all the way across town to see him.
âIâm really into you,â Ben blasted out, unable to keep it in any longer. âI think Luke was an idiot for letting you go. I know Iâm a crap friend to Luke for admitting it.â
Dan nodded slowly and grinned. âThatâs pretty shitty,â he nodded with amusement. âMoving in on your best friendâs boyfriend the same day they split up? You really didnât think to at least leave it a few days? Thatâs⌠pretty badâŚâ
Ben hung his head, hoping that there was still an opportunity within Danâs playful tone. âI know,â he agreed. âIâm the absolute worst.â
With an overwhelming tone of authority, an emboldened Dan sat up proudly, insisting that they order in pizza and speak no more about it. The delivery was fast, although theyâd accidentally sent double the amount of everything Dan had said he was ordering. There was so much of it, with no means of keeping it, given that Danâs refrigerator was playing up. And so, Ben did what he could to get as much of it eaten as possible; promising to take one home with him later as well.Â
âAbout what I said earlierâŚâ Ben tried, after a further hour of not discussing it.
âLookâŚâ Dan smiled. âYou really donât want to date a guy like me. Iâm not like your friend, Luke. Iâm not a good person. Iâm kinky; Iâm horny and I like to get my own way. Iâm not boyfriend material.â
âIâm not asking you to marry me,â Ben tried, sensing things were not going his way. âI just want to see if there is anything between us.â
âThen again,â Dan considered, moving to sit next to Ben on the couch. He lifted his hand and began to stroke the hair out of the guyâs face. âMaybe you are more like me than people realise. The simple fact that youâre here proves that youâre just as selfish and opportunistic.â He paused and laughed; his smile wider than Ben had ever seen it before. âI meanâŚâ he grinned, checking his watch, âI literally broke up with Luke less than six hours ago!â he bellowed, bursting with a smug superiority.
âIâm falling in love with youâŚâ Ben mumbled back.
At this, Dan laughed even harder. âNo youâre not!â he countered. âYouâre falling in lust!â he blasted, pointing down at the obvious bulge in Benâs pants. âYouâre obsessed with me, arenât you?â
Ben nodded. He couldnât pretend to act cool here. His actions had spoken louder than any words. âIâd do anything for you,â he replied, nodding submissively.
Dan considered what he wanted to say next. âDating Luke was a bit of an experiment for me,â he explained. âItâs not usually how I get my kicks.â
âAn experiment?â Ben asked.
Dan nodded. âAn experiment, yeah. I wanted to see if I could do the things I like with a guy as fit and athletic as he was.â
âIs that why Luke was getting so..?â Ben began, not really knowing how to say it.
âChubby?â Dan finished for him. âYeah, thatâs the reason!â He looked into Benâs horny eyes, so eager to please him. âDo you think Iâm awful?â
âNoâŚâ Ben mumbled back. âI think youâre wonderful!â
Dan laughed again, holding Benâs head in his hands now. âIâm despicable and wicked,â he explained proudly. âI play games and I do whatever it takes to get myself off. I put almost fifty pounds of pure blubber onto your unsuspecting friend, and Iâd do the same to you in a heartbeat.â
Ben felt like he was being seduced as Dan leaned in for the gentlest and most sensual of kisses. Despite all the guys he had slept with in the past, Ben could never have imagined that this would have been the most erotic moment of his life to date. Dan was taking him with an expertise that seemed impossible to escape from.
âI made this up for Luke,â Dan explained a few moments later, returning from the kitchen area now with a flask of protein shake he was rocking back and forth. âI told him itâs what I drink after my workouts, but itâs actually nothing like it!â he chuckled. âYou wanna know how I fattened up your friend so quickly? These things!â he pointed proudly. âTheyâre full of fats, sugars, calories and even appetite enhancers. The idiot trusted me so much that I managed to get as many as three of them down him in a single day.â
Ben didnât react, which seemed to please Dan, who placed the flask down for a second and stood directly in front of his prey. With one large hand, he gently pulled Benâs head towards him, resting it against his crotch. For Ben, it was a moment of pure elation as he felt Danâs giant manhood against his cheek and breathed in the manly scent of the guy he had fantasised about for so long. He moaned, moving his head so that he could nuzzle in deeper; like it was the moment he had longed for his entire life.
âYou want to see what itâs like when itâs hard?â Dan asked.
Ben looked up and nodded slowly. âMore than anything.â
âWell thenâŚâ Dan smirked, bending to pick the flask back up and popping the flap over the sipping section, â...you know what to do.â
Ben wasnât completely sure he was going to take the flask until it was resting in his hands. Dan was nodding at him, silently urging him to continue. Then, in one swift motion, Ben took it to his mouth and began pouring the sweet, sickly mixture down his throat.Â
Danâs tone seemed to change in an instant. The lust and arousal echoing through everything he said. âOh yes⌠thatâs it!â he coaxed. âDrink it all down for me!â
With a keen eye on Danâs package, Ben could see an instant visible twitching and swelling underneath the material of the tight shorts. Whatever his expectations were, the mass that was growing within was far, far greater and impressive. He swallowed harder and faster, draining it all: eventually holding the emptied flask above his outstretched tongue, as if longing for one more drop to fall onto it.Â
Dan removed his shirt and pulled down his shorts, standing there in just his underwear. Now Ben was only one layer of fabric between his lips and Danâs extraordinary dick as his face was once again pressed into the manâs groin. Then, Dan was returning to his refrigerator; his sexy, beefy butt disappearing momentarily. He returned a moment later with two more flasks, shaking them up in his hands.
Ben had undressed himself entirely in the seconds that he was alone, resulting in a pleasurable growl from Dan as he handed over the next shake.
Clearly straight out of the cold, the next shake was much harder to swallow without bringing on âbrain freezeâ. In some ways, Dan seemed to get off to this even more, seeing the deliberate pushing Ben was doing to complete the task he had been set. The man reached down and picked up Ben's emptied underwear, sniggering as he saw the size written on the label inside. âSmall!â he chuckled to himself. âWeâll soon see about thatâŚâ
Benâs stomach was completely bloated by the end of the third shake. At one point, a completely uncontrolled burp rolled up from his throat, gargling loudly. Yet even this seemed to please Dan, who at last pulled out his erection and slapped Ben across the cheeks with it playfully. Ben turned his face, trying desperately to slip it into his mouth. However, he was only allowed to kiss the head, before Dan cruelly pulled it back into his underwear once more. âNext timeâŚâ the man teased, now putting all of his clothes back on. âNext timeâŚâ
It was exactly one week later when Ben was suddenly bombarded by a flurry of messages from his angry friend, Luke. Dan had let the news of their encounter slip when collecting the last of his things from Lukeâs place and, as a result, had just kicked off the biggest rift that Ben had ever known amongst his friendship group. Suddenly everything was fair game; old arguments from years ago resurfacing and not a single person willing to step up and defend him. Heâd always been selfish and difficult, theyâd told him, making it clear that he wasnât part of their circle anymore.
âWhy did you tell Luke?â Ben asked, stepping into Danâs apartment that weekend.
âHe asked me outright whether there was something going on with us. Perry had been stirring by the sounds of things. He was going to find out sooner or later,â Dan shrugged. âI donât like secrets.â
âApart from when youâre secretly fattening someone up?â Ben shot back bitterly. Heâd been annoyed by Danâs actions and he wasnât afraid to show it.
Dan simply laughed. âOh, I see! So you think youâre actually the innocent one here?â he mocked. âAnd no, I donât do secrets, actuallyâŚâ he stated firmly. âI knew that you and your friends had suspicions that I was fattening Luke up, but not one of you asked me about it,â he stated mischievously. âIf you had, I would have been more than happy to explain the entire thing.â The thought seemed to turn him on and his thick thighs twitched with arousal at the scenario that played out in his head as he sat back casually on his sofa. âTrust me⌠thatâs a conversation I would really, really have enjoyed!â
Ben rolled his eyes sceptically. âYouâd be so embarrassed! You wouldnât want anyone to know the types of things you get off to; the amount of chocolate pastries I had to eat yesterday just to get a glimpse of your dick againâŚâ
âThat would be so much easier for you, right?â Dan replied daringly, showing that he was more than a match for a fiery Ben. âIf this was just some sly, quiet little kink that only went on behind closed doors⌠A couple of pounds every few months to keep me satisfied.â He stood up, seeming more imposing than ever before as he came towards Ben, then slowly stroked his cheek. âIâm a feeder⌠and Iâm more than happy for the world to know it.â
There was a devilish twinkle in Danâs eyes. Ben felt so easily controlled and dominated by him. Even now, his eyes snapped back to Danâs lips, longing for the man to take him and make him submit.
Dan raised his head towards the ceiling above them. âIâM A FEEDER!â he shouted loudly to the neighbors he disliked upstairs. âIâM A FEEDER!â
âShush!â Ben called, trying to place his hand over Danâs mouth.
Laughing, Dan caught him and held him backwards against the back of the couch, smiling down at him victoriously. Ben couldnât help laughing back. Heâd been out-manouvered for sure. It was exactly why he found Dan so irresistibly attractive.Dating a bad boy meant always being at least one step behind, and constantly on his toes. Ben allowed himself to be kissed, even though he knew where it would lead. Another three shakes sat on the counter, waiting for him. Dan had talked about training him up to take down four, or even five of them soon. Maybe then, Dan would finally follow up on his promise to let him suck him off.Â
The shakes themselves were fine and Ben found he was able to stretch his stomach out in a way that clearly delighted Dan. However, it was the appetite enhancers that interfered with his normal life the most. Ben had woken at two in the morning, his stomach churning with hunger, only satisfied by three bowls of cereal. Still he nodded his head, signalling Dan to collect the flasks. It was time to get the bad boy very turned on indeed.
âDo you have any fatties in your family already?â Dan asked, lying fully clothed next to a naked Ben on top of the bed sheets. He was playing with the guyâs butt cheeks, checking the bounce and wobble.
âI have a couple of very heavy cousins,â Ben replied. âA few obese aunts and uncles.â
Dan smiled, nodding as if he agreed. âI can tell,â he chirped. âThis ass is getting soft as hell already!â
With that, Dan began a vigorous wobbling of Benâs cheeks, laughing with pride. Ben didnât need telling that his ass had grown. He could feel it in everything he wore. A great expansion had begun from behind, spreading into his hips and love handles. If he had expected his body to resist a little longer, or start by storing the fat only on his stomach, he had been sadly mistaken. He didnât look at all like how Luke had done, unknowingly undergoing the same treatment. His shape was different: softer and more blubbery. To Dan, it didnât matter. Fat was fat, and this was his fat; the fat that he had pushed onto Ben himself. With each pound and fluttering of lard, he seemed to grow stronger and more assertive with him.
Ben raised his butt up slightly as Dan teased him with the dildo he wanted to train him with that day. It had been his promise, should he get four of the shakes down before five in the afternoon: Dan would at last begin training him to take that giant manhood of his. However, Dan explained that it was something that would take time. Ben could be broken in, but not straight away, and the building up period could be time consuming. Given that Ben hadnât been with anyone for over six months, Dan had wanted to start him off with something just slightly larger than the average, lining up the dildos in his collection until they resembled something that matched his own monstrous size.
Ben had always been the submissive one in the bedroom and being penetrated always seemed to flick a horny switch inside him that made him want to relax and surrender himself entirely. With Dan, that meant an added opportunity for him to take advantage by handfeeding him from a box of doughnuts whilst simultaneously working the stretching hole. Heâd already pushed himself so hard to get Dan to do this to him, but now the calories were being pumped in at an even faster rate. His own submissive fantasies started to run away with him. All of Danâs extreme desires to transform his body became ever more kinky to him. Yes, he wanted that giant, fat ass that Dan could fuck. Yes, he needed to grow the tits that Dan would get off to playing with so much. Heâd lost count of how much heâd eaten already. Even bloated as it was, his stomach still seemed to have endless capacity; only realising how much he had overdone it after he had been allowed to climax, rubbing his tight, overstretched stomach until well beyond midnight.
Ben had known about Danâs upcoming business trip for quite some time. He had hoped to be able to pack on enough lard to entice Dan into fucking him before he left, yet that deadline had come and gone. What surprised Ben the most during those four weeks without Dan was how insatiable hungry he was most of the time. Feeding himself made him hard. Heâd taken to limiting his activity and attempted to take all that he had learned since being with Dan in order to create a truly momentous spike in his weight during the period of his almost-loverâs absence.
What turned Ben on so much was how obviously horny Dan was in his messages. He was bossier than ever, requesting certain pictures and poses to be sent to him. Giant fast food orders arrived late into the evening, sent from a lustful Dan, held up in the bedroom of his motel. Ben would do his best to gorge upon it all, knowing that Dan would be stroking that beautiful dick of his as he watched video after video of him; stomach bloating more and more. It had helped that he had managed to find some of the appetite stimulants that Dan often crushed up and put into his shakes; otherwise, the whole thing might have been considerably more challenging. Some nights he fell asleep with half a slice of pizza still in his hand. More than a few times heâd spent the entire night on the couch, waking in the morning with his usual morning wood and jacking himself off as he continued to gorge upon the rest of the cold pizza.Â
Flabby. It was the one word that best described Benâs new body. Devoid of any new muscle, his skin became significantly softer and began to loosen itself from the normal shape of his body, held up by an insulating layer of pure blubber. The little pot belly had been forming for some time, but now it was the top of Benâs belly where he really noticed the changes. It felt as if an entire new roll of fat was forming under his chest; one that he could already very easily grab onto and jiggle. His nipples had started drooping and it felt strange to feel the new fat pushing so relentlessly from his chest, underneath his arms and swelling into his shoulder blades.
Although it would have been sexy to have Dan undress him as he came over for the first time since he had returned from his business trip, Ben knew that his body had a certain shock factor to it after such a transformative few weeks. Dan arrived to find Ben was completely naked as the door was opened to him. That moment was pure kinkiness, watching Danâs startled reaction as Ben stood there; the feeder absolutely caught off-guard by it all.
Not to be outdone, Dan smirked and took Benâs hand, pulling his naked form out into the hallway of the apartment building where he kissed him with a calm passion, not inclined to rush in the slightest. A large hand cupped one of Benâs glutes and began bouncing it as he kissed his lover in full view of anyone who may show up at any time.Â
âShall we go inside?â Ben whispered nervously, trying and failing to hide how nervous he felt. Although he had initiated this nakedness, he had never expected to be exposed for quite this long.
Dan smirked once more and kissed him slowly again, his hands now pinching at the fat that was encircling Benâs torso. âWe can go inside as long as you promise to drink every last drop of this calorie shake I've got in my backpack,â he offered slowly.
Hastily, Ben nodded and slipped back inside, having to reach out and grab Danâs hand to pull him in too. A full inspection of Benâs body then ensued as Dan put his backpack down and studied every last inch of the fresh fat that had poured onto Benâs physique.
âIâm really starting to look properly fat now, donât you think?â Ben asked, fishing for a compliment from his man. âIâve been eating non-stop for you.â
Dan merely raised an eyebrow and kissed him sweetly. His hand clamped over Benâs erection and a slow, light stroke started to make the fat boyâs knees quiver from the exciting pleasure. When Dan finally pulled out the contents of his backpack, it was clear to Ben that he had agreed too quickly to consume the shake that had been prepared. The container it was in had been vast. Only Dan, with his large, strapping shoulders, would have been able to carry it so effortlessly on his back all the way here. Out came the funnel as Ben merely stared in horror at it, knowing how much he had already bloated himself that morning in order to look as plump and rounded as he did at that moment, ready for Dan.
As instructed, Ben lay back in his chair and tiled his head back. Well used to the mouth of the funnel between his teeth, he was at least relieved that the mixture was not as cold and difficult to swallow as some of the previous shakes he had been given. Dan sloshed the great mixture full to the very top of the funnel and topped it up mercilessly. At the end of the first round, the funnel was lifted and Ben sat up slightly, just as a furious blast of gassy air rolled up his throat at top speed, making him roar like a dinosaur. The relief had been incredible. Belly rubs and kisses came next and Ben was surprised to see that over half of the large shake mix had already been pumped into his body. As such, he knew that as he lay back for round two, the expectation was for him to finish every last drop.Â
Swallowing was harder now, the process more laboured and difficult. Yet Dan waited patiently, without mercy, topping up the funnel until he could toss the old, emptied container away. âCome on, Fatty,â Dan coaxed him. âAnyone would think you didnât want to suck my dick tonightâŚâ
His eyes flashing with hope, Ben began pushing harder than ever. After what had felt like minutes of zero progress, the funnel at last seemed to feel lighter; the levels receding.Â
âNow, THAT is going to do some damage!â Dan hooted with delight as he pulled the funnel out and grinned at how well Ben had done to complete his task. More roaring burps rolled up from the boyâs throat and he tried to shift himself to get comfortable with such an incredibly distended stomach. Yet, down below, his erection remained as concrete-like as ever as he saw Dan unzipping his fly and pulling out his own epic hardness for the horny boy who had just obeyed him so well. âI hope youâre still hungry,â he teased, clamping his hand over all but the tip of the shaft and moving it closer to Benâs lips for the first time. Ben could hardly believe that it was soon sliding over the end of his tongue and he moaned in appreciation of having even a tiny fraction of Danâs dick in his mouth. He knew Dan would not allow any more of it, and that was understandable. If the big man tried to push it too close to Benâs throat, he could easily end up vomiting after the amount of shake he had just consumed; something that Dan would never permit. He wanted every last calorie in there, working its magic.
âThe fatter you get, the better youâre going to be at taking this thing,â Dan declared, appreciating how much effort Ben was putting in to try and pleasure him with only the tip of his dick to suck. It was obvious that he wasnât going to last long before he came. With only seconds to spare, he pulled out of Benâs mouth, ejaculating all over the chubâs face as the boy greedily hung his tongue out, hoping to collect as much of it as possible.
âWhatâs all this?â Ben asked a couple of weeks later as Dan arrived at his apartment, quietly unloading a whole stack of clothes from large shopping bags, as well as his backpack. Silently, Dan seemed to be arranging them all into three very distinct piles.
Dan didnât answer straight away; he was too busy checking and double-checking his sorting. âThese are for now,â he declared, placing his hand on the first pile of t-shirts, shorts and sweatpants. He moved his hand over for the second pile. âThese are the ones youâll be ready for in a few weeks,â he declared, opening up a pair of folded underwear and giving Ben a brief look at their incredible width. âAnd theseâŚâ he raced on, not wanting Ben to jump in and talk over him, â...are the ones for next year or so,â he smiled, already picking this particular pile up. âIâll put them at the back of your closet before I leave.â
All afternoon, as Ben ate, gorged and jiggled his fat for Dan, he continued staring at that pile of clothes just visible through the ajar door to his closet, wondering. With his mind a little distracted, he was somehow able to eat more than usual. Danâs boner was standing out more and more as it grew down one of the legs of his tight gym shorts. Occasionally, Dan would rub Benâs face into it, shoring up his commitment to serve and eat for him.
âWhy do you keep looking over there?â Dan asked, noticing that Ben wasnât concentrating on the giant cream cake at his face as he was down on all fours, ass up and getting trained with the final size dildo. Dan stood up to get a better look, pulling open the door and noticing the pile of clothes from earlier. He laughed to himself. âOh, I see!â he smirked. âYouâre curious to see how fat youâre going to be in the next eighteen months or so?â
Ben nodded, his mouth covered in cream and his drooping stomach aching with the stretch.
Dan picked up a folded t-shirt and dropped it by Benâs plate on the floor. âYou can look when I say,â he declared, pulling the giant dildo clean out of Benâs butt and removing his own pants. Surely not? This wasnât about to happen, was it? âHead down, Fatty!â the gruff man ordered, pressing Benâs face into the cake once more until even the frosting was sliding up his nostrils. Then, with a wave of real pleasure, Ben felt Danâs real dick starting to slide inside him for the first time.Â
The man was so strong and powerful, Ben quickly realised that although the dildos had trained him to take the size, they hadnât prepared him to keep his balance whilst this was all happening. Fat rippled and jiggled with each thrust and Ben dropped his forehead onto the plate for extra support; sucking and licking at the cake from that position. Everything had been so incredibly worth it for this moment, Ben realised, finally finishing his dessert and surrendering further by dropping his chest onto the floor too; only his wide rear still aloft.
Dan was getting close to climaxing; Ben could hear it in his breathing and soft moans. In a fast, almost panicked tone, he ordered Ben to unfold the clothes and look, as if he only had seconds to spare before he would finally finish. Ben pulled himself up a little, bravely lifting one arm to unfold the t-shirt. His brain didnât compute it at first. The shape wasnât right for a t-shirt. He unfolded further, realising that there was a lot more material than he had anticipated. Then, suddenly, the realisation hit him. This wasnât a t-shirt; they were the largest pair of underwear he had ever seen; grotesque and obscene. Ben couldnât even picture an ass being large enough to ever fill them, let alone his own. He must have gasped in shock and horror, for that was the moment that Dan came, moaning loudly and triumphantly. The pleasure chemicals in his brain must have been pumping furiously, for he laughed heartily at the reaction even after he pulled himself out of Benâs butt. With his strong arm, he pulled Ben back to a sitting position on the floor and positioned himself just behind. He leaned Ben back into his strong chest as he filled his hand with lubricant before strapping one hand onto Benâs dick, like it was a necessary chore that needed completing. Ben was always ridiculously easy to bring to orgasm this way, but today he was still trying to take in what he had seen: what Dan truly expected of him.Â
Between sweet little kisses on the side of his head, Dan couldnât help continuing to burst into small bouts of laughter still. He could tell how stunned Ben was: the sheer giant size he was expected to fatten to.
âYou know, if you donât want me to make you that fat, there is something you could doâŚâ he whispered teasingly into Benâs ear.
âWhat is it?â Ben asked back keenly.
Still stroking Benâs throbbing erection, Dan didnât reply immediately. With his free hand, heâd pulled out his cell phone and was tapping through the screens, pulling up a timer. âIf you can hold back and not squirt everywhere in the next minute, Iâll let you off. You wonât ever need to get fat enough to fill those underpants,â he offered. âIâm totally serious. This is your chance, Fatty.â Then, with a decisive tap, the man began the counting.
Ben tried to breathe heavily. His stomach was so round and stretched, he could hardly see what Dan was doing to him below his waist, but he knew that it felt so damn good. His body shuddered, his shaft getting more and more sensitive.
âDonât cum, Piggy!â Dan whispered into his ear.
Ben closed his eyes and tried with all his might to hold back. Fifty seconds, that was all he needed to keep strong for. Forty-nine⌠forty eightâŚ.
Ben grunted as all hope escaped him. He moaned and whimpered as he felt the first shoot hitting just below his belly button, then a more ferocious fountain-like squirt landed heavily, just below his nipple, followed by several others.
âThirteen seconds!â Dan chuckled after it was all over and the fat boy lay against him still, utterly spent. âIs that really the best you can manage, Fatty?â he asked, rubbing the distended stomach now that Ben had ejaculated all over it. âThat was your one chance!â he teased. âNow youâll have to become a monstrous pig for me after all!â
After that day, Dan stopped holding back on fucking him. Ben became obsessed with it; that feeling of such a massive hardness inside him. Dan could hold an erection inside of him for an insane length of time, sitting him on his lap and feeding him an entire meal whilst deeply buried. Ben felt as though he had been given the keys to the castle, spending hours over the coming weeks, sucking, massaging and pleasuring that giant dick. He wanted to serve it with reverence and respect, always knowing that he had to eat heartily to watch it explode.
âYou know⌠you shouldnât be so nice to it,â Dan chuckled as he looked down at his fat lover sucking him off as if nothing in this world brought him greater pleasure. âMy dick is the one who is making me feed you so much. Youâre just encouraging it,â he teased.
Ben moaned with contentment, rolling his tongue down the shaft. âI donât care!â he sighed, resuming his pleasurable task.
Dan pulled his hardness back from Ben, holding it up with his hand and pretending to talk with it. âWhatâs that, buddy?â he asked. âYou want to watch the pig down his next calorie shake? Well, alright thenâŚâ he smirked, getting himself up. âYouâre the boss!â
Time marched ever onward. In Benâs eyes, his butt had lost that cute, rounded plumpness as it became significantly wider and flabbier. Fat from the love handles melted into it and the blubber in his thighs could occasionally rub uncomfortably. Heâd considered growing a beard to try and mask the massive influx of fat that seemed to be launching a full-on assault on his neck. However, Dan had been quite insistent that he would never permit it, even insisting that Benâs hairstyle remain the same so that he was more easily recognised by those who hadnât seen him in a while. Heâs begun carrying a lot more fat at the tops of his arms, and the fat that had spread into his chest had altered his shape considerably. No matter where Dan grabbed at him now, the man was likely to be able to hold a nice wedge on fat that he had pumped into him.
Ben had assumed that his family would have had more to say about the matter. However, they were each so captivated by Dan and how openly affectionate and attentive he was with him, they seemed to close their eyes and ears to all else. Dan actually found amusement in how far Dan could push things, deliberately overfeeding Ben in front of them and selecting clothes for him to wear that were clearly an unflattering fit.
When Dan asked him to move in with him, Ben had leapt at the chance without a second thought about his waistline. Ever since they had got together, Dan had boasted about how âfat friendlyâ his apartment was, with its large shower and open plan layout; not to mention all the fast food places nearby. It had been the guyâs ultimate fantasy to keep a guy well fed and enormous in his own home. It had been a goal he had worked towards for years, unafraid to step over people at work in order to get those promotions and boost his income to fund it. Since theyâd got together, Dan was starting at his third new company and had encouraged Ben to drop two days a week in his own job.
Ben had always known that Dan was active on websites that allowed him to express his kinks. He knew that Dan had spoken to people, both before and during his time with Ben, about the things that really turned him on. There were guys all over the city who were into this, if you looked hard enough. Ever the enterprising businessman, Dan had realised that the ever increasing contrast in body shapes between them was a perfect selling point to make some extra cash. Ben found it so kinky to think of people watching him getting fucked by Dan. Without fail, the strong man was always rougher and more vocal whenever they were recording. Guys would come up to Dan in the street and shake his hand. Theyâd look across at Ben with a mixture of awe, disgust and unrestricted amusement. Sometimes they would refer to him as âthe pigâ just as Dan did on camera. During those instances, Ben felt like a fat whale. But for the majority of the other times, the 340lbs of his blubbery body didnât feel like much at all. Perhaps it was because Dan always spoke of greater and greater numbers and the more extreme features of obesity. Certainly, Ben had expected to feel considerably more lardy at this point that he actually felt.
Collaborating with others had always felt like a kinky next step. Dan had made it fiercely clear that no one else would ever be allowed to fuck Benâs ass and, as such, Ben felt quite happy to stipulate that he dinât want anyone else sucking Dan off. Despite Danâs spectacular body, it was always Ben who was the star of the show. Strapping feeders arrived, ready to collaborate and watch Ben feast. Sometimes they would push doughnuts in whilst Dan pounded, or they would pinch, jiggle and stimulate him as Dan fed him instead.
âWhatâs in that shake?â one handsome twenty-two year old up-and-coming feeder asked as Ben busily swallowed from the funnel that Dan was holding above his head.
âMostly cream,â Dan replied nonchalantly. âA lot of fatties canât digest it all that well. I just dropped lucky with this pig,â he laughed, grabbing a drooping nipple and jiggling it. âI think thatâs a big reason why heâs so beautifully soft all over.â
âYou can say that again!â marvelled the new guy, studying Benâs body with fascination. âThereâs not a single muscle I can see on him at all.â
Dan laughed again at that, grabbing the new, more extreme fat that was amassing at the back of Benâs arms and making it dance. âThat was exactly the look I was going for: pure lard.â
In situations like this, it always felt kinkier for Ben to be spoken about like he wasnât there. Heâd actually had no idea what his shakes were made up of, but now that he had heard that it was mostly cream, he sucked harder, enjoying the taste.
âHeâs fast!â grinned the new feeder, grabbing a doughnut as he watched Dan pulling the emptied funnel away.
âWait,â Dan ordered, grabbing the guyâs wrist as he went to push the sugary snack towards Benâs mouth. âThe pig always needs a second toâŚâ
Up came a rolling , ferocious burp, bringing the immediate relief that Ben was well accustomed to now.
âNow you can feed him again,â Dan smiled, releasing the guyâs wrist and patting him encouragingly on the back as he set to work on stuffing even more into Ben.Â
Very often, Dan could take a back seat to all this; seeing himself as the mentor to these younger guys who would build upon his work and take things even further with the next guy who was unlucky enough to cross their path. Then heâd watch with pride as theyâd always want to jack themselves off across Benâs increasingly enormous belly.
At 400lbs, Ben was permitted to drop another day of work per week. With a new manager making her presence known, Ben disliked his job intensely now. Heâd come home with stories about how awful she had been, only for Dan to chuckle at how out of touch Ben seemed about the world of real work. âSheâs fully within her rights to do that,â heâd argue, watching Ben comfort-eating an enormous slice of cake. âYou just donât like it because sheâs actually trying to make you do some work!â he teased, poking his lardy, overfed and lazy boyfriend in his fat tummy.
 âI just want to quit, stay at home and be your fat boy!â Ben countered, trying to use a cute voice that often helped to get him his own way.
Dan laughed, seeing straight through it. He gazed lovingly into the chubâs eyes, brushing his thumb against the side of Beâs face where the fat was starting to bulge outwards, below his previous, long-forgotten jawline. âYouâre not fat enough to justify that yet,â he replied.
Ben pouted, knowing that heâd have to go back to that awful place next Wednesday and Thursday. âBut when will I be fat enough?â he asked, whining.
Dan looked him up and down, considering the question extremely carefully. âFive hundred pounds,â he nodded at last. âI think that would be a good stage for you to stop working.â
Perhaps Dan didnât consider how important the number would be for Ben, but as the words left his mouth they immediately stuck in the guyâs brain like a slip of paper held up by a thousand drawing pins. On his days off, Ben began editing the videos and collaborations they had made to encourage new subscribers. With a global audience, he had kinky guys offering to send food over no matter the time of day. And, with eighty-five pounds still to gain, Ben accepted every time, without fail. Also on his days off, he had nothing to do but eat, sleep and prepare himself for when Dan would arrive back, unbuckle his pants and immediately start to pound him, as if releasing his own stresses from a day of managing people. One thing was certain: the larger Ben grew, the louder and faster Dan seemed to finish as he entered him. He took pride in taking their kinky guests on a tour of Benâs increasingly lardy body when they came over, rocking grotesquely fattened areas back and forth, lifting and squeezing at the more extreme rolls of fat.
âHeâs so much bigger and softer than I thought heâd be!â marvelled one feeder, making Dan laugh.
âItâs his huge ass, isnât it?â Dan asked. âEveryone says the same thing.â Despite all these collaborations with other feeders, it was always the videos where Dan fucked Benâs monstrous butt that continued to sell the best.
âHe can drink it so fast!â gasped another feeder, watching the shake inside the funnel getting sucked into Benâs body with such speed.
Dan merely stood back and smirked, knowing exactly why so much extreme blubber was packing on so quickly across Benâs body; puffing up his huge arms, filling up his inner thighs. The increasingly rotund boy had been weighing himself daily. With such a great paycheck, Dan had hired a cleaner to do the housework three times a week, ensuring that Ben could focus his attention on what appeared to be his sole purpose in life.
Rather than being cross, Dan merely laughed when he heard that Ben had lost his job during the staff cutbacks. The guyâs entire body screamed laziness and when Ben spoke of his work, he did so with an air of entitlement that Dan knew would get up any mangerâs nose.
âI was going to quit in 30lbs anyway,â Ben reasoned, hoping more than anything else that Dan wouldnât say what he knew he would say next.
âWell, youâd better find yourself a little job until then, hadnât you?â
Again, Ben pouted, trying to consider how best to handle the situation. They were off on vacation in a weekâs time and, perhaps, if he worked hard enough, he could be close enough to the big number that Dan would feel compelled to let him off trying to find a new job. Despite his promises, he didnât attempt to find anything else, focusing on his eating and diet instead. When on vacation, even Dan was delighted to see just how much Ben was gorging and feasting, aiming for that all important spike in his weight.
âAlright!â Dan nodded, rolling his eyes upon their return and seeing that Ben was now 495lbs the following morning. âYou win!â he laughed. âYou donât need to find another job.â
Ben grinned from ear to ear. He already had so many fresh video ideas to celebrate his new weight, he knew that he could easily make up for his lost income in no time at all. He smirked, watching his gorgeous, hung boyfriend put on his suit and leave for his day at the office, knowing that he himself didnât have to be anywhere at all. Instead, he looked around at the fancy apartment that they shared, gazing out at the incredible views across the city. Yes, this was certainly the life that he deserved. This was the existence that he had chased from the moment he went after Dan, even back when the guy was dating his friend, Luke; a choice none of his friends had ever forgiven him for. But what did that matter? Who was the winner now? None of them would ever live in a place like this and not have to go out and work. Heâd played the game and won, throwing his heavy body down into his wide chair and sighing in satisfaction.Â
(Collab between me and boeckman on Deviantart who wrote this amazing story)
âDude. I thought you said this place would be cool.â Mackenzie Yoon was not impressed. The tall young man stared at the cheesy sign with no expression on his face. He looked out of place on the boardwalk. He was dressed as if he had just stepped out of a gym, just like always.Â
âFun,â Trent corrected. âI said it would be fun, Mack. Big difference. If itâs all stupid shit, itâll still be fun because we can laugh at it.âÂ
The two were an odd pair. Trent was the doer who dragged the stoic jock out to experience the world. He was lean and wiry, and he still dressed exactly the way he used to when he was the class clown in school. He insisted that his ripped jeans were still stylish, and he swore he would wear his trusty Converse until the soles fell apart. Despite his slightly below-average height, Mack could always spot him in a crowd thanks to his signature yellow beanie.Â
By all accounts, Mack should have been a standard jock. He had played multiple sports throughout school, and he practically had a mini home gym in his apartment. But his reserved nature had alienated him from most of his teammates. Instead, he had gravitated toward his neighbor, who could somehow always convince him to go on weird adventures. At first, it was wandering through the âhauntedâ woods on the other side of their neighborhood. Once Trent could drive, it was exploring abandoned warehouses, and then after high school, it was random road trips.Â
But this was more than just a road trip. This was a celebration of their recent graduation from college. Trent had gone away for school, while Mack had stayed close to home. Trent had joked that Mack would be a lost puppy without him, but thatâs exactly why Mack didnât follow his best friend to the big state college. If he ever wanted to try actually dating a dude (heâd only come out to his family and Trentâs family in high school), he needed to do it on his own.Â
But now, the two were up to their old shenanigans. They were both single and untethered at the moment, and they both needed one big, awesome vacation before they officially went from being students to being cogs in the machine. Trent had planned a road trip taking them in a loop that covered every state in New England. Mack shrugged and said, âSure, that sounds cool.â
Trent had googled the weirdest sights to see, creepy haunted buildings, and former tourist traps that had passed their prime. That last one had yielded the building that now stood before them. The question was, had it ever been in its prime?Â
âI thought this was supposed to be a Ripleyâs Believe It or Not,â Mack said.Â
âI said it was like a Ripleyâs. But probably weirder. Or worse. Or both. Thatâs whatâs fun about it. Either itâll surprise us with how wild it is, or weâll be laughing our asses off at how dumb it is. This is supposed to be some so bad itâs good shit. Just look at that ridiculous sign. âBeelieve It!â Why does it have two Es?âÂ
âIt has four Es.âÂ
Trent gave his companion a flat stare. âYou know what I meant. Anyway, letâs get our tickets and go in.âÂ
Mack shrugged. âAlright.âÂ
Trent knew that was Mack code for, âLetâs do this. I trust your judgement.âÂ
The building was garish to say the least. The âBeelieve It!â sign had white letters on an eye-searing neon psychedelic swirl, and the façade had diagonal stripes in colors that did not match the sign at all. There was something about the whole thing that was like an optical illusion, as if the building wasnât quite rectangular. The dimensions almost seemed to shift Â
depending on where you looked, so that one moment it looked taller, and then it looked wider, and then it looked slanted, like the whole thing was leaning to the right. That part was pretty cool.Â
There was a ticket booth built into the outside wall, so Trent led the way over. He stepped up to the glass and came face to face with some guyâs chest. He looked up and up until he finally made eye contact with a ridiculously tall teenager. These types of attractions always had high schoolers making some summer money, but usually they were just regular pimply, gawky guys, not freaks of nature.Â
After they got their tickets, Trent whispered, âSo⌠uh, that kid must be a basketball player, right?â
âHe can probably dunk the ball without jumping,â Mack deadpanned. It was an exaggeration, but not by that much.Â
The lobby was just as wild as the outside. The walls were covered in jagged black and yellow spirals that would make you dizzy if you stared too long. The ticket scanner was another bored teen, but this one was sitting down⌠on a pair of stools. Trent had never seen anyone so fat.Â
The kid scanned their tickets and gave a spiel about the self-guided tour in a monotone voice. âWorldâs Blankest Blanks are in the front. Concessions are in the middle. The mirror tunnel, blacklight maze, land of cryptids, and hall of weird history each branch off from concessions and circle back around to the Worldâs Blankest. Take as long as youâd like. Weâre open âtil 9.âÂ
As they headed toward the first main area, Mack stared at Trent with eyebrows raised as high as they would go. Well, Trent couldnât actually see Mackâs eyebrows underneath the jockâs unruly black hair, but he knew that facial expression. Trent shrugged and whispered, âFat guys have to work somewhere, right?âÂ
The two friends made their way to the first main exhibit. It was set up kind of like a weird wax museum. Most of the figures had a platform next to them where you could get your picture taken. Mack at least had no interest in paying for a novelty photo, but he wouldnât mind posing for some with Trent. He knew his goofy friend would get a real kick out of seeing the results, even if they didnât purchase them.Â
The place was not crowded, but there were a few families, couples, and small groups wandering around, interacting with the different exhibits. Mack pointed to a sign touting the âOldest Man Alive.â The wax figure wore only a little earth-colored toga, and he was stooped with a beard that went nearly down to his waist. There was a spot where you could compare your height with the shriveled figure.Â
Trent laughed out loud when he spotted the Worldâs Largest Bear, a stuffed polar bear the size of a Volkswagen bus. Some kids were posing for a photo as if it was chasing them.Â
âSee?â Trent said. âThis shit is weird in the best way.âÂ
Mack nodded in agreement. âYeah. Itâs fun.â
Trent got a picture pressing his butt up against the Worldâs Largest Eggplant. He made Mack pose next to a giant shark that looked like it was out of a sci-fi channel movie.Â
âHey, look, itâs your dream boyfriend!â Trent joked, pointing to the Worldâs Strongest Man. The wax figure looked like it was based on a Photoshopped picture of a bodybuilder, and Trent had a feeling that the original image might be pretty racy. The figure was holding a giant barbell, and there was an identical barbell on the otherwise empty platform next to it. âGo on, test your strength!â Trent laughed.Â
Mack took a long look at the ridiculously proportioned figure and then back at Trent. âNo.â âAww, man,â Trent huffed. âYouâre no fun.âÂ
âOne more,â Mack said. âThen we move on. Weâll be back here later anyway.âÂ
That was a fair point. Trent headed toward the hallway leading to the concessions area. There were two last exhibits flanking the passageway, and they gave Trent a weird sense of dĂŠjĂ vu. They were the Tallest Man alive and the Fattest Man Alive. âThe kid at the ticket booth was almost this tall,â he told Mack, looking up and up at the wax figure. There was a platform where you could compare your height.Â
âEven he wasnât this tall,â Mack replied. âNo way this is real.âÂ
âObviously theyâre not real,â Trent laughed. âThatâs not the point. The point is how ridiculous they are. Like this one.â He pointed to the Fattest Man Alive. A digital counter on the wall behind the figure read â1047 lbs.â The empty platform next to it was also attached to a digital readout on the wall. âCome on, letâs do this one. I bet the two of us together donât even weigh as much as his gut. Or one of his legs.âÂ
âDude. No.â Mack agreed that the weirdness of the exhibits was part of the charm, but this one was extra weird. Someone had put a strangely intense amount of work into making the folds of fat realistic on the wax figure. The figure rose a little taller than Mack, and it was utterly enormous. Impossibly big. More than twice the size of that massive kid scanning tickets in the lobby.Â
The wax figure wore a little strip of white fabric that went down from its shoulder and tucked under its belly. Mack figured it must be for modesty, but it didnât really cover anything. And the family jewels were very well hidden anyway. The figureâs belly, completeÂ
with flabby folds, hung all the way down to its dimpled knees. Its hips were somehow even wider than its belly, with love handles and moobs that stuck out equally far. The arms were positioned at a wide angle, not because of a particular pose but because its enormous moobs and huge, flabby arms were fighting for space.Â
Trent thought it was hilarious. âI think his calves are as big as your waist.âÂ
That was probably true. Mack had maintained a very trim waist despite his wide chest and shoulders. The wax figureâs huge calves hung down, completely obscuring its ankles. Its thighs were twice as wide. It was absurd. âI wanna see Bigfoot,â Mack said. âLetâs just go and head to the cryptid area.âÂ
But Trent held his ground. âYou said one more.â He looked up at the âFattest Man Aliveâ sign. Like most of the signs, it had a spiral design behind the letters. This one was yellow and blue. It almost seemed to move when he stared at it. âI want to do this one.âÂ
Mack couldnât go back on his word. He was always honest. He followed Trentâs gaze up to the sign. The yellow and blue almost seemed to turn clockwise behind the black letters. It made him dizzy. âFine. One picture. Iâll pose however you want.âÂ
Trent pumped his fist and let out a little âYes!â Louder, he said, âAlright, letâs see if this scale thing is fake or if it gets our weight right. âOh, and do a muscle pose. Look really serious. Thatâll make it funnier.âÂ
Mack always looked serious. He stepped up on the pedestal with Trent following close behind. He raised his arms up and flexed, straining the fabric of his t-shirt.Â
Trent glanced to his side and then hit a complimentary pose, curling his fists and doing his best to flex his nonexistent muscles. He laughed as he stepped off the platform. âThisâll be hilarious. Oh look! The kiosk is right here!â He bounded over to see their photo. Mack peered over his shoulder.Â
âLook at this!â Trent laughed as the photo came up on the screen. âThis is exactly what I wanted! Two skinny guysââÂ
âOne skinny, one muscular,â Mack cut in.
ââand one totally impossibly fat guy. âLook.â He pointed at Mackâs image. âYour shirtâs riding up so that your Adonis belt is showing. That makes the huge guy look even more ridiculous. Can you imagine anyone even half his size?âÂ
âHeâs like ten of you.âÂ
âIâm not that small,â Trent pouted. âHey, look.â He moved his finger above Mack. âThereâs our weight. 349. Think thatâs right?âÂ
Mack nodded. âIâm just over 200 âcuz Iâm tall, and Iâve got these.â He flexed his biceps again. Youâre probably just under 150 âcuz youâre short, and you donât have any muscles.â He pointed to Trentâs image in the photo.Â
âHey, my shirtâs just hiding my arms.â Trent tugged at his long-sleeve jean shirt. âIf I took this shirt off, weâd both be in t-shirts, and thenâŚâÂ
âThen weâd see how skinny your arms really are. Just leave it on, bud.âÂ
Trent didnât know why, but he couldnât stop examining the photo on the screen. Mack looked so good, the way his shirt rode up, and his Adonis belt disappeared into his baggy gray sweats. And the way his shirt strained over his muscles, and that coolly aloof expression. How was he single?Â
Mackâs eyes were glued to the screen too, but he was doing mental math. âAccording to the scale, that guy is three of us.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
âIt would take three of you and three of me to weigh as much as the fattest man is supposed to weigh.â He looked down at Trentâs trim waist and skinny legs. âHeâs unrealistically huge, and youâreâŚâÂ
âI get it,â Trent huffed. âOkay, wanna go get some food? And then we can see Bigfoot.â âCool.âÂ
The stripes, squiggles and spirals theme continued into the concessions area. There was a surprising number of different booths, each with different types of food and drink.Â
One had a bunch of different types of loaded fries. Another had hot dogs and brats with several fried sides. Trentâs eyes were pulled toward the one with deep fried Oreos and candy bars. Mack drifted toward the one with a milkshake machine.Â
Each boothâs sign and dĂŠcor were as eye-searing and trippy as the buildingâs façade. Trent stepped up to the one labeled âYou Love it Deep Fried!â The blue and purple squiggles on the sign seemed to bend and wave when he looked at it. God, he was hungry. But he wasnât sure what he actually wanted. He pulled out his wallet and opened up his mouth to speak, andâŚÂ
The clerk, a chubby kid who wasnât nearly the size of the ticket scanner, was handing him his order. âHereâs your mega hash brown, sir. Enjoy.âÂ
Trent robotically reached out and grabbed the wax paper wrapper. It had a black and yellow swirl that drew his eyes into the center. âWhen did I orderâŚ?âÂ
Trent had to work to tear his eyes away from the colorful wrapper. He took a bite of the fried treat, and his eyes nearly rolled up in the back of his head. That was damn good. Perfectly salty and potato-y.Â
âDude.â Mack snapped Trent back to reality. He was holding a big yellow cup. âReady?â He jerked his head toward the doorway labeled âLand of Cryptids.âÂ
âYeah. Yeah, letâs go.â The doorway turned out to lead to an elevator. As the elevator door opened, Trent took another bite of his snack, and Mack slurped on his milkshake. The moment the door closed behind them, the lights started flashing different colors. âUh, I guess we'll get a mini light show while weâre in here,â he joked. And then the lights went out, and the elevator was plunged into darkness.Â
Trent paused, misstepped as he crossed the threshold into the hallway, and Mack nearly walked right into him.Â
âMove,â the taller young man said.Â
But Trent didnât. Instead, he turned back to look at the inside of the elevator. When did the door open? He must have zoned out during the boring, uneventful elevator ride. As he finally moved enough to let his friend out of the elevator, he looked down at the untouchedÂ
fried snack in his hand. He took a bite of the giant hash brown, and his eyes nearly rolled up in the back of his head. That was damn good.Â
âDude, how many calories is that?â Mack asked as if his milkshake wasnât even worse. âWe had lunch before we got here.âÂ
âLook, I know Iâm not as skinny as I used to be,â Trent snapped. âBut Iâm not counting calories on vacation.â Trent wasnât big or anything. He just wasnât a stick anymore like heâd been in school. He wondered why heâd worn these jeans today. He hardly had a belly, but the waistband dug into his middle.Â
Beside him, Mack hypocritically slurped his dense milkshake and gave an exaggerated sigh. âWhat flavor is that?â Trent asked. âStrawberry?âÂ
âDuh.âÂ
Mack had very specific tastes. Once he decided on a favorite flavor, that was his only flavor. Strawberry milkshakes were a weakness for him. He put a hand on his slightly soft middle. Those milkshakes were probably part of the reason he didnât have a six-pack. He unconsciously flexed his arm muscles. He might not be lean, but he was built.Â
Trent reached toward his friend. âCan I have a taste?âÂ
Mack snatched the cup away from Trentâs grasp and held it close to his chest. âNo.â âOh, come on. One sip.âÂ
âGet your own. Weâll pass the concessions again later.âÂ
âFine,â Trent huffed. It was just for show. He knew how much his best friend loved a strawberry milkshake. He wasnât actually surprised that Mack was getting possessive of the sweet treat. He resisted the urge to make a jab about how Mack should have fewer milkshakes if he didnât want a huge gut. If he did that, Mack would just call attention to the fact that Trentâs belly was looking kinda round these days.Â
The Land of Cryptids was a long curving hallway that constantly sloped slightly downwards, gradually taking them back down from the second floor to the first. As they walked through the exhibits, Trent munched on the candy bar, and Mack slurped on his shake. There wereÂ
blurry bigfoot photos and a model of a yeti. There was a whole section for the Loch Ness Monster and other huge creatures that lived in the various lakes and seas of the world. Now this was the stupid shit they were here for.Â
Trent polished off the last bite of his snack. That really hit the spot. He went to throw the wrapper away, but the yellow and black swirl caught his eye again. He could swear it was twisting into a spiral that turned and turned and turnedâŚÂ
Trent felt pressure building up in his stomach, but then there was a âping,â and he felt better. âDude,â Mack said. âYou popped a button again.âÂ
Trent blushed. He knew his jeans were getting tight, but he didnât think they were that bad. But heâd gained a fair bit of weight since high school. He didnât just have a belly. A soft roll drooped over the top half of his waistband. When his mom saw him before graduation, she had not so diplomatically said he was getting chunky.Â
Trent glanced at his taller friend. At least he wasnât the only one who had sort of let himself go. As they walked through the rest of the hallway, Mack kept having to pull his t-shirt down in an unsuccessful attempt to cover the bottom of his own little belly.Â
After the duo passed a bunch of stuffed jackalopes, they found themselves back in the circular wax museum. On this side, there were replicas of the supposed bakers of the Worldâs Largest Pie. The two passed through the exhibits, checking out a few they hadnât seen yet on their way toward the concessions and the entrances to the other wings.Â
Trent felt like he needed one more funny photo op before they moved on, although he was a little self-conscious about photos lately. He spotted one exhibit that theyâd bypassed the first time. âHey, weâve gotta do that one,â he told Mack, pointing at an enormous wax figure that was supposedly on a scale. The sign had a cool, almost hypnotic spiral design.Â
âDude. No.âÂ
But Trent was not one to give up easily. The supposed Fattest Man Alive looked totally ridiculous. And he saw the perfect opportunity to pull Mack in. âThat guyâs doing it.â The guy in question was a wavy-haired blond twink around their age who was there with his family. âHeâs cute, right? Is he your type?â
Mack didnât answer. The guy was pretty good-looking, but he was really, really skinny. Even if he was Mackâs type, the stocky jock wasnât so confident ever since he had started putting on weight. But the blond was cocky with a toothy grin, and he held Mackâs eye as he posed next to the enormous wax figure. If the digital numbers on the wall were accurate, he was a tiny fraction of the fattest manâs weight.Â
âFine,â Mack muttered. âLetâs do this.â He brushed past the blond twink as they traded places. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught the guy glancing back at him.Â
âShow off your muscles,â Trent said as he joined Mack on the platform. âMake it silly.âÂ
Mack did not do silly. But he knew if he just flexed, Trent would probably find it hilarious. Especially if the pose made his gut stick out. That thought made Mack blush, but he hit the double-bicep pose anyway.Â
Trent eagerly hopped off the platform and stood behind the blond, waiting for his turn at the kiosk. Mack followed. He heard the twink say something about needing an afternoon snack. Once Trent had access to the screen, he sucked in a breath through his teeth. âDamn,â he murmured. âI forgot my jeans were unbuttoned.âÂ
Mack peered over his friendâs shoulder. The unbuttoned jeans were barely noticeable. Trent was freaking out over nothing. His little gut mostly covered the front of the waistband anyway.Â
Mack was more concerned about the rather large strip of gut hanging out from under his shirt. It was pale and rounder than he had realized. âShit,â he muttered. Then Mackâs eyes went to the digital number behind their slightly chubby forms. âDude, weâre 432,â he said.Â
Trent was quick to dismiss it. âThatâs both of us together. Sure, weâre not so small anymore, but thatâs just college life catching up with us. Itâs no biggie. Pun intended. At least weâll never be likeâŚâ he gestured to the wax figure. âThat.âÂ
And with that, the two headed off toward the concessions. Mackâs stomach growled.Â
Mack stared at all the trippy signs, not wanting to choose. So many things looked good. Soft-serve ice cream and giant cookies and huge bags of candy⌠And then Trent was walking up to him holding a familiar yellow cup and what looked like a churro, and MackÂ
was holding a bag of Twizzlers in one hand and a sprinkle sugar cookie in the other. Weird. He must have zoned out waiting for his food. âWhat flavor?â Mack asked his shorter friend.Â
âChocolate peanut butter,â Trent replied.Â
âGross.âÂ
Trent just laughed. How someone with such a sweet tooth didnât like chocolate and peanut butter was beyond him. âAlright, where are we heading? Weird history? Hall of mirrors? Maze?âÂ
The stocky jock shrugged and made a noncommittal noise as he took a big bite of his hot dog.Â
âAlright, weird history it is.âÂ
The hall was pretty boring. There were a few wax figures, but it was mostly just pictures and plaques. Trent found his delicious churro and shake a lot more interesting than reading about a bear carrying ammunition in World War II. He opened up the lid of the shake and dipped the churro right in. There was one kind of interesting section on the history of optical illusions. It had a blurb about the Magic Eye picture craze in the 90s, and there was a huge Magic Eye poster on the wall.Â
âI never see it,â Mack told him.Â
âYou just have to unfocus your eyes.â Trent took a few steps back and pulled Mack over to stand next to him. âNow, try to cross your eyes, and then completely relax your eyes. Donât try to actually look at the picture.âÂ
Mack humored his friend even though it never worked for him. He did his best to follow Trentâs instructions. The colors and squiggles started to blur, and he could almost see something. It sorta looked likeâŚÂ
âYou saw it, right?â Trent asked as he shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. âIt was an ice cream cone.âÂ
Mack could swear he had seen something, but he didnât think it was that. âWhatever you say.â He popped the last bite of his first cookie into his mouth and prepared to start theÂ
second one. He let out a small belch and unsuccessfully tried to pull his shirt down. He wasnât sure why heâd worn such an old shirt. It stretched around his love handles and left a fair amount of his lower belly exposed even when it wasnât riding up.Â
Mack wasnât the most in-shape guy, even if he did try to lift weights occasionally. Heâd been stocky but fit as a teenager, but that had evaporated pretty quickly in college. Heâd blown up pretty fast once he was living on campus.Â
At least he wasnât alone. Trentâs belly was trying to escape his shirt too, and his jeans were painted onto his ass and thighs. The shorter guy stuffed some more fries into his mouth and took a step forward, and Mack heard a loud rip.Â
âDude, youâve got a hole in your jeans.âÂ
âMack,â Trent responded, âtheyâre ripped jeans. Theyâre supposed to have holes in them.â âNot right in the ass.âÂ
Trent blushed and reached behind himself. The seam had pulled completely apart at the thickest part of his butt. He knew heâd put on some weight, but it was a lot worse than he thought. âItâs⌠not that noticeable, is it?âÂ
âI can see what color undies you put on today.âÂ
âWeâre grown ups now. Just call them briefs.âÂ
âFine. I can see your red briefs.âÂ
Trent started to panic, but then he caught sight of that Magic Eye picture again, and for some reason that calmed him down. âItâs⌠Itâs fine. Right?âÂ
Mack peered really hard at his friend. âYeah. Itâs fine.âÂ
Trent breathed a sigh of relief. âCool. Letâs keep moving.âÂ
Mack followed his friend, putting one thick thigh in front of the other. He kept having to pull at his sweats, which were riding down. He felt a bit self-conscious, but he still shamelessly took big bites of his second sugar cookie, quickly making it disappear.
Before long, they were back in the middle, walking between wax figures on their way back toward concessions to pick their next path. They had already seen most of the exhibits in the room, but one extra ridiculous one caught Trentâs eye. He felt like heâd seen it out of the corner of his eye, but he hadnât really looked at it.Â
âCheck that one out!â he said with a laugh, pointing to the Fattest Man Alive. We should get a picture next to him.âÂ
âDude. No.â Mack looked down at his flabby gut. Taking a photo like that would be a celebration of fatness. He wasnât totally ashamed of his size, but he still hoped he could lose a few pounds at some point.Â
âOh, come on. Youâre no fun,â Trent whined. As he spoke, someone else stepped onto the platform for a photo. The digital scale readout blinked and changed from 0 to 187. âHey, didnât we see that guy earlier?âÂ
Mack took a look at the blond guy as he stepped off the pedestal. His shirt was pretty tight around his slightly rounded midsection. Mack vaguely remembered seeing him elsewhere in the museum, or whatever this place was. He was kinda cute.Â
âDo it for me,â Trent pleaded. âIf you do a muscle pose like you used to do in high school, itâll be hilarious.âÂ
Mack touched the bit of bare belly that stuck out from under his shirt. The things he did in the name of friendship. âOkay, but youâve gotta hold your belly just like the statue guy.âÂ
âThatâs the spirit!âÂ
The two did their photo op, and then they popped over to the kiosk to see the results. It was kinda funny. Mackâs muscle pose looked silly when his arm muscles were clearly covered in a layer of fat. And his shirt rose up to expose his belly button. Trent had a fair amount of visible belly, too. And his lower belly fat had pushed open his fly, revealing a sliver of his red briefs.Â
âDamn,â Mack breathed, looking at the number in the photo. â524.â He took a minute to do the mental math. âWeâre half his size.â
Trent laughed it off. âCombined. And anyway, heâs not real. Can you imagine seeing someone who was actually that big?âÂ
Mack shrugged. âGuess not.âÂ
âExactly. Now come on, letâs go do the maze.âÂ
âIsnât that just for the kids?âÂ
âI hope not. I thought it sounded cool. The blacklight thing should make it more interesting.âÂ
Trent led his friend into the concessions area. The plan was to just walk right through. After all, they had already stopped for snacks twice. Trent had gotten a giant hash brown and a milkshake and a churro andâŚÂ
The crazy-colored signs stopped him in his tracks. It all looked so good. One more snack couldnât hurt, right? He wasnât exactly little. He had to feed the tank. He unconsciously patted his belly. Yeah, he could stand to eat a little more, especially if it was deep-friedâŚÂ
Trent didnât really have enough hands to carry the loaded fries, mozzarella sticks and extra-large soda heâd just been handed. He looked over and saw that Mack was having a similar issue with his apple hand pie, and king-size Snickers and his second strawberry milkshake of the afternoon. Well, they would find a way to make it work. Probably by scarfing some of their treats down before they moved on.Â
Mack pointed to some small tables on the side of the room. âEat now, maze after?âÂ
âYou read my mind,â Trent replied. He followed behind Mack as his friend shifted his bulk and headed over to the nearest table. When Mack leaned slightly forward to set his things down, Trent said, âWhoa, man. Crack kills.â A rather large strip of the big guyâs wide rear was showing.Â
Mack half-heartedly tried to adjust his sweats, but it didnât do much. His expansive backside blended right into his back fat and love handles, so his pants were always riding down. Ever since he passed 300 pounds, heâd stopped really caring how his pants fit.
Trent set his own things down, noting with amusement that even the little round tables matched the psychedelic swirl theme. As he settled his own hefty butt into the chair, he lamented that the seating wasnât a little more accommodating for big guys. Not that he was as big as Mack, but he had an awful lot of weight in his lower midsection, specifically his lower belly and rear. As he sat down, his mostly exposed belly spilled into his lap. If he kept snacking like this, heâd be over 300 like his friend before he knew it.Â
The two didnât talk much as they ate. Well, Mack was always quiet except for the loud sounds of munching and slurping, punctuated by the occasional belch. As Trent finished the last of his chicken fingers and set the empty tray on top of the empty fry tray, he wondered how heâd gotten into this cycle of overeating. Sure, he loved food, and he was partial toward anything fried, but he was already a big guy, and he was headed toward being massive if he didnât do something soon.Â
Trent took a long swig of his soda, eyes still focused on the remains of his large snack. The swirls on the tabletop seemed to move under the empty tray. Purple and blue and green filled his vision.Â
Trent set down his cup and let out a loud, unselfconscious belch. Mack smirked. Trent looked again at the empty containers that had piled up on his side of the table: a fry tray and a chicken-finger tray and an onion ring tray. Whenever he thought about how much food he could eat, he felt a weird sense of pride. He grabbed his last treat, a deep-fried Oreo.Â
Mack slid his chairs back â one for each ass cheek â so heâd have room to stand up. He wondered why places like this insisted on such tiny chairs. Couldnât anyone accommodate a 400-pound man? He put one hand on the table and braced one against the wall as he hefted himself up. âYou ready?â he asked Trent.Â
Mackâs slightly smaller friend was still gaining his balance. Trent claimed that his ass and belly evened each other out, making it easier for him to move around. Mack thought Trent wobbled just as much as anyone who was north of 350. For half a second, Mack was surprised to see Trentâs bare arms. Wasnât he wearing a long-sleeve shirt? But then he remembered. Trent had cut the sleeves off of that jean shirt ages ago when his arms stopped fitting in the sleeves. He liked that thing too much to get rid of it, even if it hardly even counted as a vest these days.Â
âLetâs go,â Trent said once they had cleaned up their very large mess. âTime to check out this maze.â
âIt had better not be for kids, or we wonât fit,â Mack quipped.Â
Trent just chuckled, hiding his very real worry that Mack might get stuck somewhere in the dark maze. The taller guy was awfully big both back to front and side to side, so if there were any tight corners, it could pose a problem.Â
Trent found the entrance, a big black door labeled âOtherworldly Maze!â in neon pink, purple, and yellow-green. He opened it up, and sure enough, the other side was completely dark except for the blue-purple glow emitting from a few blacklights that illuminated small corners of the floor and ceiling. When the door closed behind Mack, they were shrouded in darkness except for the glow of their own clothes.Â
âYouâre blue!â Trent laughed, pointing to Mackâs sweatpants, which glowed a faint blue, and his t-shirt, which looked almost cerulean. Of course, there was a huge gap between the garments where Mackâs belly spilled out of his shirt and covered almost the whole crotch of his pants. Trentâs own clothes looked almost black except for his jean shirt, which also glowed a faint blue.Â
Trent took the lead as always. The first section was easy. It was just there to acclimate them. There werenât any dead ends, just corners that would take you by surprise if you werenât carefully watching the glow of each blacklight to look for corners. But then it turned into a proper maze with multiple choices. Trent walked straight into a wall, and Mackâs soft belly bumped right into Trentâs plush lower back.Â
âDude, watch it,â Mack said as if he wasnât the one who had rear-ended the other.Â
After that, there wasnât room for the two big guys to switch spots, so they just shuffled around in place, and Mack took the lead. He was more methodical than Trent, and they seemed to be making good progress. Just as Mack was wondering how much more maze there was, he wandered into a whole new section. Here, there were colorful neon spirals on the walls that glowed neon in the blacklight.Â
The wall designs should have made things easier since they made the walls more visible, but instead, they were disorienting. Mack would pass a green swirl and a pink one and belatedly realize that there might be an opening in the wall between them. And with nothing to look at except the vivid spirals, his eyes were playing tricks on him. At one point, he wasÂ
so focused on a spiral in front of him that he walked right into the wall. His expansive belly and massive moobs squished right into the spiral.Â
âDead end,â Mack muttered. âYouâve gotta lead again.â He huffed and puffed as he turned himself around in a half-circle to follow Trent. He shuffled along with heavy footfalls. His hand unconsciously went up to one of his moobs. His shirt had rolled all the way up to expose them. He thought about trying to pull the too-small shirt down to at least cover his chest, but then he thought, nah. It was what it was.Â
Trent also felt disoriented by the colorful patterns in his field of vision. Every time he stared too long at one of the spirals, he felt a little slower and heavier. But that was just his imagination, of course. He was, after all, slow and heavy. He wasnât getting hypnotized into thinking he couldnât move fast, he was just 450 pounds. His movement was perfectly normal for his size.Â
Trent had honestly worried that the maze would be way too easy, but it was actually an interesting challenge. And not just because of his size. If anything, the place had done a good job of making the maze accommodating toward big guys like him and Mack. It never felt cramped except when they ran into a dead end and had to maneuver their combined hundreds of pounds of fat back toward the correct path.Â
âThat was kind of awesome,â Trent said as he opened the door back into the side of the wax figure room. He shielded his eyes as he gingerly stepped back into the light. Well, as gingerly as a hefty guy like him could.Â
âYeah. It was cool.â Mack had to pause, put his hand against the wall, and catch his breath as the door closed behind him. Only Trent could talk him into doing this much walking in a single day. He was not an active guy, to say the least. Mack took a good look at his more adventurous friend. âDude, your moobs are out.âÂ
âSaid the pot to the kettle,â Trent laughed. He reached out and poked Mackâs exposed chest. âYou never put those things away.âÂ
Mack felt⌠something⌠when his friend touched his huge, heavy chest. His belly hung low, and his ass and thighs were thick and wide, and his arms were big and flabby, but his chest might be his favorite part of his size. Sure, the flab pushed out to the sides, getting in the way of his arms, but it was so soft and sensitive.
Mack pulled his hand away from the wall and psyched himself up to do some more walking. âAlright, letâs go.âÂ
The two young men really took their time moving between the various exhibits. Trent always claimed he moved slowly because Mack got winded so easily, but Mack knew Trent couldnât move fast if he tried.Â
âIâm glad that maze was fun,â Trent said, âbecause this room has been pretty disappointing. Thereâs nothing all that shocking.âÂ
Mack nodded in agreement. âThat one looks really dumb.â He pointed at the Worldâs Strongest Man, which was pretty huge but not weird or anything. A massively built shirtless man in ripped shorts stepped onto the pedestal next to the wax figure and effortlessly lifted the prop barbell.Â
âYouâd think theyâd exaggerate the proportions at least a little,â Trent agreed. He spotted a wax figure that heâd apparently missed until now. âAnd look at that one. It says Fattest Man Alive, but heâs just a little on the large side.âÂ
Mack shook his head. The supposed scale readout on the wall said the guy was barely over a thousand pounds. That was the craziest number they could come up with? âLame,â he said out loud.Â
But Mackâs attention stayed on the Fattest Man exhibit when a cute blond guy stepped up onto the empty pedestal for a photo. He was pretty small, barely 300 pounds, and only a bit of his belly was visible below the hem of his shirt, but at least the shirt was skin-tight. His belly jiggled an awful lot as he stepped down off the platform. Damn. Mack was starting to feel things.Â
âLetâs do that one,â Trent said, breaking Mack out of his reverie. âJust to show how stupid it is.âÂ
âDude. No.âÂ
âAww, why not?â
âWill we both fit?â It was a valid question. There was a circular railing around the platform. It might fit one regular-sized guy or a couple skinny guys, but two regular-sized guys was a stretch.Â
Trent looked up at the Fattest Man Alive sign with its familiar yellow and blue swirls. âWeâve gotta do it, man. Weâll fit.â He glanced dubiously at the small pedestal. âI think. BesidesâŚÂ Don't you want to show off?â He jerked his head toward the blond, who was heading to the photo kiosk but kept glancing in their direction.Â
Mackâs usually stoic face slid into a smirk. His hand unconsciously went to his round belly. He was probably the biggest guy in the room. He could show that little blond what a real man looked like. âFine. Me first, then together.âÂ
âThatâs the spirit!âÂ
Before Mack stepped up, he took another look at the wax figure. The guy was pretty big, just not unrealistically so. Whereas Mack and Trentâs guts covered their crotches, the Fattest Manâs belly covered his thighs. His moobs draped low and extended far to his sides in a way that made Mack jealous. His legs were a whole lot bigger than Mackâs, and even his neck was thicker. But he still felt like only a moderate exaggeration of Mackâs perfectly average body.Â
Mack sucked in his gut the best he could to get between the railings and onto the platform. It didnât do much, but it was enough. Still the metal railings pressed into his gut and love handles as he passed through. Once he was fully on the platform, he let out a heavy sigh. As he put his arms down at his sides â well, as far down as they would go â his straining sleeves rolled up over the thick pudge of his flabby arms. At the same time, the hem of his shirt finished rolling all the way up over his chest, bunching up just below his neck.Â
Mack grabbed a moob in one hand and a handful of belly in the other. Those were the signs of a man who could eat. Once the photo snapped, he gestured for Trent to join him.Â
Mack watched his shorter friend make his way up the ramp, facing similar problems. Trentâs lower belly swayed side to side just a little with every step. He tried turning sideways to get past the railings, but the size of his round, partially exposed ass just made it worse. Although he weighed less than Mack, his fat pooled around the middle of his shorter frame, making him just as big around as the taller young man.
Mack tried to scoot back to make room for Trent, but his thick ass ran right into the railing behind him. As Trent put his full weight onto the platform, standing belly to belly with his friend, his whole front seemed to soften and droop just a little more. Trent did his best to rotate to face the camera, but it was tough work.Â
As Trent slowly turned himself around, Mack noticed just how many holes Trent had in his jeans. Sure, all of Trentâs jeans had holes where the seams were splitting apart, but Trentâs thighs looked like sausages that had popped big holes in the casings. Trent finally got himself repositioned, and Mack averted his eyes from the very large display of crack between Trentâs low-riding jeans and his tiny jean shirt/vest.Â
By the time the camera flashed, Trentâs partially bare ass was pressing right into the folds of Mackâs belly. Now they just had to get off of this stupid platform â it was definitely only made for one person â so they could see their photo. The only problem was, Trent was completely wedged in between the front railing and Mackâs round, squishy body.Â
Mack didnât think he had even another inch to back up, but he tried. The results were not pretty. He leaned back too far, nearly losing his balance. While most of his weight was in his front, his love handles, back fat, and upper arms were not lightweight. He raised his arms up, waving frantically to regain his balance. As he got back a little bit of stability, one of his hands grazed his moob, and it just stayed there. He started absently fondling his very large nipple. God, that felt good.Â
Meanwhile, Trent had a brainwave. He could use the railing and work with it instead of against it. He grabbed his expansive belly and hefted it as high as he could. On his third attempt, he managed to slide the lower roll of flab over the railing. That cleared several inches for him to step forward, leaning his bulk over the surprisingly sturdy metal rail.Â
Still draping his flab over the railing, he inched sideways, carefully sliding his bulk off of the platform. Soon he was standing on the little ramp, free from the confines of the pedestal. He wobbled his way forward, feeling his jiggly fat shake as usual.Â
Now Mack just had to get off the platform. He had gotten on, so he could get off. Right? But he could swear the railing closed tighter around his bulk than before. Weird. He got up to the front and braced his hand on the railing, turning slightly sideways. There was nothingÂ
doing. The railing was going to seriously dig into both his belly and his love handle. Good thing he was so soft and squishy.Â
Mack huffed as he waddled down the ramp to catch up with his friend. The blond was done checking out his photo at the kiosk, and now he was not so subtly watching Mack and Trent as they made their way to the kiosk.Â
Mack wasnât the only one who noticed. âThe blond guyâs watching you,â Trent whispered. âHeâs good-looking, right? Is he your type?âÂ
âHeâs kinda little,â Mack pointed out. The blond was barely over 300 pounds. Not skinny, but definitely on the smaller side.Â
âLook, Iâm just sayinâ maybe you should give him your number. You never put yourself out there. What do you think? Would you date him?âÂ
Maybe if the guy gained a couple hundred pounds, Mack thought. He just shrugged noncommittally. He made his way over to the kiosk and peered over Trentâs shoulder. âDamn. We look good.âÂ
Trent had to agree. He had a sexy crease that went across the lower part of his belly, folding in at the navel. Mack loomed large behind him. The taller young man took up so much space. How was he single?Â
âLook at that,â Trent said, pointing to the digital number behind them. â1136. How are they gonna call that wax figure the fattest man if two regular guys are each more than half his size?âÂ
Mack shook his head. âBeats me.âÂ
âAlright, what next?â Trent asked. âWe still have to do the mirror tunnel, right?â âDude. That means more walking.âÂ
âYeah, thatâs usually what you do in museums,â Trent responded.Â
Mack hefted his huge, jiggly belly. âDo I look like a guy who walks around all afternoon?â
âYou look like a guy who sits around on his ass eating sweets. But Iâve gotta make sure you get out of the house sometimes.âÂ
Mack gestured to their surroundings. They were definitely not in a house. âMission accomplished. Now letâs go.âÂ
Trent wouldnât let it go. âLook, Iâm feeling kinda winded too. Letâs sit down for a bit, and then we can decide.âÂ
Mack knew better than to argue. Once Trent made up his mind, he wasnât going to back down. And Mack did need to sit as soon as possible. He was not built for this much activity. Trent started shuffling toward the concessions area, and Mack followed behind. For once, they bypassed the food stands and went straight to the tables. One had bigger, sturdier chairs that felt made just for them.Â
Mack dropped his weight into the chair with a grunt. He was not standing up anytime soon. As usual, his belly engulfed his lap, and his huge chest sat heavily on his stomach. He absently rubbed the crease between his moob and his belly. Across from him, Trent took off his beanie and dabbed at his sweaty forehead. He wasnât any more built for walking than Mack was, even if he pretended otherwise.Â
A loud belch tore through the room. Mack turned to see the cute blond, who wasnât quite as small as Mack had thought before. He had some meat on his bones after all. His big, round belly was mostly exposed, as was only right for a bigger guy. And his pants were barely holding on over his thick thighs and massive ass. Mack felt a familiar stirring.Â
Trent smirked as he watched his friend get completely distracted by the heavy blond. âSo you do have a type,â he chuckled.Â
Mack blushed, which was very uncharacteristic for him. He watched as the blond stood up and headed toward the entrance for the mirror tunnel. His eyes stayed on that fat ass as it swayed away.Â
Mack yawned. Heâd done too much walking for his nearly 600-pound body. He heaved himself up, spreading his thick thighs wide and pushing off of the table. âAlright, letâs go. Dinner time.â
But Trent noted that his friend was still staring in the direction of the bottom-heavy blond. âCome on, big guy. Weâve gotta do the mirrors.âÂ
âI thought we agreed this place was lame.â Mack took a couple small steps toward the main hall and the exit.Â
Trent wasnât ready to give up. âSo we have to end on a high note.â He brazenly slapped his friendâs belly, watching the ripples spread across the wide surface. âIâll buy you a milkshake.âÂ
Mackâs stomach growled. He looked back down at the table with its mesmerizing swirlsâŚÂ
Mack was sitting down, taking the last gulp of his strawberry milkshake. âThanks again for the shake,â he said.Â
Trent mumbled something in response, but it was unintelligible because his mouth was full of funnel cake. He was pretty sure heâd gotten one of every fried treat they offered here. The two quickly polished off their small snacks and got ready for the final leg of the tour. They shuffled toward the door, moving slowly and deliberately. They both had a tendency to misjudge their size, knocking into chairs or trash cans with their hips or bellies.Â
The door led to an elevator that went one floor down. Apparently, they were serious when they called it a tunnel. Luckily, the elevator was plenty big enough for both of them. Mack glanced at the capacity out of habit. 2,500 pounds. They could fit one more regular-sized adult â or maybe two skinny ones â and be fine.Â
The elevator door opened into a brightly lit space that started as a relatively narrow space completely lined with mirrors before opening up into a wide space further ahead. Trent maneuvered himself out of the elevator, scooting one tree trunk thigh in front of the other. The first few mirrors were completely flat, just showing the pair of very round men ambling down the hallway. Then they got to the silly stuff.Â
Mack huffed a little chuckle when he saw himself with absurdly wide hips and a relatively narrow chest. The next mirror had a pretty much opposite shape, making his moobs look extra huge and his legs look impossibly skinny.Â
âCheck this one out!â Trent laughed, pointing to a mirror that made their bodies look really compact with huge, stretched out heads.
The hall opened up into a larger space that split in two at the far end. The warped mirrors did all sorts of funny things to their reflections. On the other side of the rounded space, the blond from before was taking the lefthand path. Mackâs breath caught. That ass was soâŚÂ big. The guyâs pants were fighting a losing battle. It was a great look on him.Â
Trent nudged his friend. âWanna follow him?âÂ
But not long after, they heard, âUgh, dead endâ from somewhere up ahead, and the blond came waddling back. He locked eyes with Mack, and then he looked down at Mackâs impressively large body. âDonât bother trying to go that way,â he said. âIt gets really narrow really fast. You would hardly fit.âÂ
Mack took that as a compliment. He nodded and said, âThanks.â The blond headed for the other path.Â
That was not the right answer. Trent shooed his friend forward. âGo. Follow him.âÂ
Mack did as instructed. It was useless to argue once Trent made a decision. Besides, Mack was more than happy to follow that perfectly wide, round ass. The only problem was, the blond was a bit smaller and a lot faster than Mack. Still, the huge, heavy guy moved as quickly as he was able.Â
Trent walked behind his friend, laughing internally at how relatively fast Mack could move with the right motivation. Usually, Trent only saw Mack go that fast if there was a promise of candy.Â
The path split again, and Trent heard a quiet âShitâ in front of him. Mack must have already lost track of the blond. âGo left,â Trent said. âThe first path was right, so itâs probably not right again.âÂ
They turned to the left, and Trent noticed that the mirrors on this path werenât warped. They all looked flat. Trent gaped at his reflection. The first mirror showed him with his scruffy hairÂ
looking all messy and no yellow beanie to be found. He frantically reached for his head to make sure his favorite hat was still in place. It was. What kind of crazy illusion was that?Â
Mack was looking at the mirrors on the other side, equally confused. One mirror showed him with a tattoo on his huge belly. At first, he thought the âtattooâ was drawn directly onto the mirror, but when he grabbed his gut and shook, the tattoo moved and wobbled. When he moved to the next mirror, the tattoo was gone.Â
Trent stared at a mirror trying to figure out what looked so weird about his reflection. Finally, it dawned on him. It made him look at least as tall as Mack, maybe an inch taller. That was weird. Right?Â
âDude,â Mack called out, âthis mirror makes my tits look extra huge. Like, extra extra.âÂ
âLemme see,â Trent said, turning around. But when he looked in the same mirror as Mack, he didnât see anything weird. Sure, Mackâs chest fell over his belly in massive, heavy folds, but that wasnât at all unusual. âLooks normal to me,â he told his friend. âWhatâs weird isâŚâ He was about to say how weird it was that he looked taller than Mack, but heâd finally Â
beaten out his friendâs height when he had that late growth spurt senior year of high school. âWhatâs weird?â Mack asked.Â
âHuh?â Trent had forgotten what he was talking about. He looked around. âShit. How did we not notice we were at a dead end?âÂ
The two tall, obese young men slowly made their way back to the most recent split in the path. They paused to catch their breath. Maybe Mack had been onto something when he said theyâd done enough walking for the afternoon. But it was too late to turn back.Â
This time, Trent took the lead. Thankfully, this section seemed to just snake around in curves rather than branching off. It had more of those seemingly plain mirrors that showed impossible illusions. One made Trent look shorter than his friend, although the next showed him several inches taller than Mack like normal. Trent loved how much his size â both height and width â made him stand out in a crowd.Â
One mirror somehow made their shirts disappear. Another made Trentâs belly look like it hung almost to his knees. That couldnât be right. He reached under his belly just to make sure he could still reach the unbuttoned crotch of his pants. He could, just barely.
They came around a bend, and the next mirror really threw Trent for a loop. He lookedâŚÂ skinny. Utterly tiny. His shirt went all the way down his torso, covering his whole flat stomach. Who dressed like that? And yet, there was something oddly familiar about the image, something that tickled his brain.Â
Trent spotted Mackâs reflection in that mirror, and he really short-circuited. In the crazy warped reality of the mirror, Mack was⌠muscular. Like, with pecs and biceps and stuff. Just about the only part of the reflection that looked like the real Mack was the unruly black hair. Suddenly it hit him. He knew with absolute certainty that somewhere out there in the multiverse, there was a Mack who didnât get big like a normal guy. A Mack who dieted to stay lean and who worked out every day. A Mack who only ate sweets when he was splurging.Â
And that Mack just might be friends with a stick-thin Trent who didnât have an ounce of belly fat. Maybe there was a world out there where most guys just werenât soft and fat. He wondered what that would feel likeâŚÂ
âDude,â Mack said, breaking Trent out of his thoughts. âCheck this out. I look huge.âÂ
Trent turned to see the mirror Mack was looking at, and Mack did look huge. So did Trent. He laughed, and Mack gave him a questioning glance. What was more absurd, having a belly almost down to his knees, or having no belly at all? There was no question. Trent couldnât imagine ever being skinny. He looked over at his best friend, whose belly and moobs took up most of his body. Mack, muscular? It was a crazy thought.Â
Trent shuffled forward to the next mirror. This one showed their bellies almost down to their knees too. It also showed them in shorts that were almost completely hidden by their bellies. Finally, they must be getting to the end of the mirror maze. They were back to mirrors that didnât show any sort of warped reflection. They looked perfectly normal.Â
âAre we almost done?â Mack wheezed. âIâve gotta sit.âÂ
âI know, big guy, I know.â Trent really just called his friend âbig guyâ out of habit. They were around the same size these days, and they were both a little above average. Trent was feeling winded too.
Trent turned and found another mirrored wall. It was another dead end. But then he noticed the elevator buttons. The elevator door was disguised as another mirror. Clever. He pushed the button.Â
Trent put his hands on his hips while they waited. Or rather, he rested his hands on his love handles. He didnât really have anywhere else to put them. Mackâs hands found their way to his chest as usual. That was his default â subtly fondling his nipples and chest fat. The door opened, and they ambled inside.Â
The door opened upstairs in the wax figure room, and there was the handsome blond, not far away, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. Like Trent and Mack â like pretty much everyone â he needed an awful lot of breaks in between walking. He wore no shirt, of course, but he had a fanny pack strapped across his very wide torso. The strap dug into his back fat.Â
Mack paused to lean against the wall, but Trent whispered, âGo! Nowâs your chance. Get his number.âÂ
Mack knew Trent was right. Heâd regret it if he didnât say something. If there was ever a time to not be quiet, this was it. He took slow, deliberate steps toward the stranger. âHey. Thanks for the advice downstairs.âÂ
The blond turned to face him and took a long look up and down, taking in every bulge and curve. âYouâre welcome. You definitely would have gotten stuck in that little hallway. Youâre even bigger than I am.â The way he said it, it was obviously a massive compliment.Â
Mack blushed. âOh. Uh, thanks.â Suddenly he wanted to back out. He was terrible at this. But then a huge, round belly appeared by his side.Â
âMy friend is trying to ask for your number,â Trent told the blond.Â
Mackâs cheeks heated even more, and he rubbed his neck. âYeah. Youâre cute.âÂ
A smile bloomed on the blondâs face. He reached his pudgy fingers into his fanny pack and pulled out his phone. âType your number into my phone, and Iâll text you!â As Mack typed his number, the blond said, âIâm Evan.âÂ
âMack.â
âI canât believe a hot guy like you noticed me, Mack.âÂ
âYouâre cute,â Mack repeated. âSeriously.â He patted Evanâs large belly. âYou look like you can eat.âÂ
Evanâs grin widened. âHell yeah.â He took the phone back, checked the area code on Mackâs number, and breathed a sigh of relief. âOh thank god. I was afraid youâd be too far away to really see each other.âÂ
The two talked a little more, with Trent respectfully staying much quieter than usual, but then Mack's stomach grumbled loudly. âI need dinner. Now.âÂ
Evan nodded. âGo fill up the tank, big guy. I hope⌠Maybe I can eat with you sometime.â âYeah. Iâd like that.âÂ
Evan waved goodbye, and Mack and Trent very slowly made their way out of the museum and back to their car. Well⌠SUV. Who was small enough to fit in a car?Â
They passed the ticket scanner out front. He was almost as big as Mack had been in high school. He had potential to get nice and huge in the next couple years.Â
âDid you have fun?â Trent asked.Â
âYeah. It was fun. ExceptâŚâÂ
âExcept the Fattest Man Alive,â Trent finished. Mack nodded. âWhat was with that? He was barely bigger than you!âÂ
âRight? Thereâs gotta be bigger people than that. Iâm not that huge.â
It was the direction of the light that first alerted Matty to the fact that he wasnât in his usual bed. Draped over his middle and lying flat against his swollen stomach was Jakeâs large hand; with the wildly handsome, athletic man fast asleep, spooning him from behind.
This closeness was something Matty had started to believe he would never experience again. In truth, he had felt so lonely ever since these strange feelings of arousal had begun sweeping over him as he overate and continued to put on weight these last few months: the sensation of his clothes getting tighter and the changes to his body that he saw in the mirror. His last boyfriend had been as lean as they came, yet the building contrast between them had heightened Mattyâs arousal enough that he kept up the relationship long after he knew things werenât going to work out; continuing to gorge himself and soften even after heâd asked him to slow down. Heâd believed himself to be an oddity; the only person in the entire world to get so turned on at the sight, sound and feeling of stuffing his face to such an unreasonable extreme.Â
Then, last night, Jake had come along and dispelled every last worry he had had. The old Matty hadnât been quite so pristine and perfect after all, so it turned out. He had once been a feeder and got off thousands of times watching other men doing this to themselves. All these feelings he had tried to label as freaky and disgusting within himself were just an expression of who he had always been. But Matty wasnât a feeder anymore. Of that much, he was sure. The sensation of overeating and feeling his body responding over time was too exciting to ignore. That knock on the head had rebooted his system entirely, as well as his kinks.
Jakeâs room was so much tidier than Mattyâs own; everything tucked neatly away behind the vast closet doors. Here, there were no snacks hidden away in the bedside cabinets and no stack of dirty dishes at the side of the bed. The fact that he was even here seemed completely bewildering to him. How had things with his roommate taken such a sudden and dramatic shift?
Jake was stirring now, his hand moving with appreciation across Mattyâs stomach and his groin pressing against Mattyâs glutes; something firm was certainly pleased to be waking up next to him. âMorning,â the man whispered sweetly into his ear.
Matty shuffled around until he was facing Jake, the pair gazing into each otherâs eyes. âMorning,â he smiled back, feeling instead like he was in some bizarre dream.
âDid you enjoy it last night?â Jake asked, grinning proudly. âI think I lost count of how many times I came.â
âMe too!â Matty chuckled, pressing his hand against Jakeâs truly astonishingly toned body.
The pair kissed, their hands further wandering and exploring.
Jake sighed and rolled onto his broad back, wiping his face with his hands as if he too could hardly comprehend that this was all happening. âWe should get up and get you some breakfast,â he smiled, spotting the time and seeing that they had both slept-in past nine oâclock. Then again, it had been a very, very late night for them both.
âIâm happy with that idea,â Matty smirked, aroused at the thought of eating in front of Jake again.Â
âWhat time do you usually start eating?â Jake asked, running his fingers across Mattyâs increasingly ball-like paunch.Â
âPretty much as soon as you leave for work in the morning,â Matty chuckled back.
Jake lightly moaned in appreciation for that idea, kissing him passionately once again. âYouâre such a greedy little pigâŚâ
Matty moaned back, launching into another horny kiss. It was the same thing that had happened last night. He didnât know why Jakeâs teasing words were having such an impact on him, but it felt as though everything that came out of Jakeâs mouth was enough to make him collapse into a horny mess.
âIâm going to feed you doughnuts⌠pastries⌠hamburgers⌠pizzasâŚâ Jake whispered into his ear whilst playfully taking control of Mattyâs hardness. âIâm going to stuff you, bloat you, make that fat tummy stretch outâŚâ
It seemed almost pathetic to Matty how quickly he was climaxing again. It was as if Jake had opened some invisible portal into the deepest, darkest portions of his brain, casting spells in his ear that made his whole body sing with pleasure.
Despite disappearing to the gym for an hour or so, Jake returned with more snacks and treats than ever before. They relaxed for the afternoon, letting a grim rainstorm pass by watching the classic movies Matty had no recollection of ever seeing. Jake seemed to be conscious of not coming on too strongly. Matty got the sense that he had been more aware of his own feelings for significantly longer. In contrast, Matty had decided, up until twenty-four hours ago, to sign off romances altogether. Things had been so disastrous with Ben and, now that he had so much money in the bank, heâd be lying if he said he wasnât worried about some gold digger trying to steal his heart. That was partly why it seemed so inconceivable that Jake was the one trying to win his affections. Handsome, athletic, built and strong, Jake was the complete package. His monthly wage had outstripped Mattyâs, even before the accident. In fact, if there was one thing Matty was certain of, Jake was the last person in the world who would ever pursue him for his cash.
âWow, when I think of all the hours we spent training this ass up in the gym!â Jake marvelled, coming up from tonguing Mattyâs butt as he lay on his front in bed. He tapped the glutes, watching the softness flutter, so completely opposite to how it had been just over a year earlier.
Matty smiled to himself and lifted his butt up a little more so that Jake could get his tongue in even deeper. He hadnât entertained the idea of bottoming for Ben, but the way that Jake spoke about the contrast between his old body to now, it all just made him feel so kinky and submissive.
When the time came, Jake eased himself in slowly and moaned gently in his ear at how good it felt to be inside him. The man was so strong and powerful, yet he managed to make it all so gentle and loving. It was only as he got closer and closer to climaxing that the guyâs kinks really started to emerge properly: his fingers pinching and jiggling the chubby love handles, his hand slapping at Mattyâs underexercised butt. Just like the inescapable arousal Matty had felt as he had slowly gained weight over the last year, Jakeâs own kinks were just as powerful and all-consuming, whispering things into his ear that he would never dare say normally: âIâm going to make you so fucking fatâŚâ he growled, thrusting hard and fast.
Matty moaned, enjoying this part most of all. âOh, yeah?â he asked back, wanting to hear even more. How thrilling that he could make such a composed, disciplined man like this succumb to such extreme arousal! âWhat else?â
Jakeâs masterful hips were pounding at such speed. âIâm going to feed you up into such a piggy. A huge, fat, round hog!â
Matty smiled brightly at that, oinking like a pig, just as he had done many tmes before when gorging himself alone in recent months. Then he heard Jake gasp at the intensity of his orgasm, pushing his dick in as deep as possible as he came. The man collapsed onto the bed not long afterwards, panting hard and grinning like heâd just had the best sex of his life. Matty leaned over and kissed him deeply. He felt Jakeâs large palm grip his dick and begin gently massaging it up and down. Now it was his turn, and heâd never been in more capable hands.
Besides all the kink and sex, Matty was enjoying spending time with Jake as the weeks went on. The man seemed genuinely besotted by him; thoughtful and tender. He listened carefully, sending sweet messages throughout the day and always finding ways to connect with him through their shared sense of humor. There had never been any conversation about them making things official; it had simply just evolved that way.
âYour momâs going to hate this when she finds out,â Jake had laughed as they lay in bed together.
Matty chuckled. Heâd remembered his mother being hesitant about him moving back in with Jake after the accident. Sheâd painted a picture of him as this arrogant, over-confident narcissist that Matty had undoubtedly carried with him upon his return. Theyâd clashed back then. How awful to remember how close heâd come to moving out and missing out on how their connection had evolved in the last few months. He could tell from the way Jake looked at him how desperately in love he had fallen. Perhaps he always had been.Â
âI think theyâre all going to be too distracted by how big my belly has grown to care!â Matty grinned proudly.
From behind, Jake hugged him a little tighter. âYouâre welcome,â he whispered teasingly into his ear, rubbing the extra thickness that was encircling Mattyâs waistline.
Matty chuckled again. Heâd had the ride of his life over the past two months and was carrying an extra 20lbs on his belly and butt as a result. âI think Iâm ready to explore a little more of this feedism stuff,â Matty replied, enjoying how large and soft Jakeâs exploring hands always made him feel.
Instantly, Matty felt Jakeâs boner stiffen against his oversized butt. âAre you sure?â the man asked, having always taken a cautious approach with Matty ever since theyâd started sleeping together.Â
Matty turned around and nodded, kissing Jake sweetly on the lips. He was more than sure. This was exactly what he wanted, realising that he was never more aroused than when Jakeâs own kinks were getting the better of him: when he was stuffing a doughnut into Mattyâs mouth as he fucked him; when he was uncontrollably aroused at how out of shape his lover getting; when he was outright telling him that he wanted to see him getting fatter and fatter. âI want you to feed me like your pig!â
The sound of the blender had been a little frustrating the next evening as Matty tried to ignore it, playing his video game with his headphones on. Jake had been so horny since he got home from work, having picked up a great load of supplies from the grocery store on the way. Undressed down to only his underwear, a large tent pressed out of his crotch, the sight of which was making Matty hornier than ever to begin.
At last, Matty felt his headphones being gently lifted and a kind, whispering voice in his ear. âAre you ready?â Jake asked him sweetly.
Matty immediately quit his game and switched the TV off. Gentle music sounded from the speakers and he sat there, having been told there was no need for him to get up.
âWhatâs that?â Matty asked, seeing a large, piped object being carried by his boyfriend.
âWeâve had so much fun with this in the past,â Jake grinned, handing it to Matty for him to examine whilst he continued gathering more things from the kitchen. âItâs a funnel. You put the end of the pipe in your mouth and I pour the liquid from above.â
âFor beer?â Matty asked, imagining college students doing something similar at a frat party.
âNot in this instance,â Jake chuckled, holding a large jug of thick, brown liquid. âThis is our special recipe. We used to whip it up all the time when we had fatties over. I never thought Iâd be making a double batch up for you though,â he grinned excitedly.â
Mattyâs eyes widened. He still found it difficult to believe that he and Jake had been so overtly kinky together in the past. It didnât seem to match the grown-up, responsible character he first remembered meeting only a year ago. The fact that they had had this whole other kinky life together before was almost too strange to comprehend. âWhat is it made from?â he asked, feeling aroused by the sight of it.
âAll sorts!â Jake smirked. âAnd all with one goal in mindâŚâ the man whispered, bending down to kiss Matty and rub his fat little tummy.
âSo, I just have to chug it?â Matty asked just before popping the pipe into his mouth and watching the funnel being raised above his head.
âThatâs all you need to do,â Jake calmly replied behind him.
There was a gurgling sound as the liquid began slopping inside the funnel above. Matty could see the cool liquid filling the pipe in front of his face, then suddenly felt it force its way into his mouth. Instinctively, he swallowed quickly, enjoying the sweet taste of it on his tongue. Fuck! This stuff was thick! There was something so obviously fattening about it: the creaminess, perhaps. He could feel it filling up his stomach in no time at all.
Matty was surprised at how loud his burp was after he had finished. Heâd had no idea that heâd swallowed so much air with it, but the relief from his tightening stomach was a pleasant sensation. âThat wasnât too badâŚâ he smiled, pleased that he had done it.
âThat was only the warm-upâŚâ Jake grinned back at him, placing the funnel down on the coffee table and not caring about the rogue drips that fell onto the wood.
Matty exhaled as his dick was taken so expertly into Jakeâs mouth. Ben had never sucked him off as enthusiastically as Jake did. Perhaps it was Jakeâs experience that made it so pleasant; every movement of his tongue about to elevate the sensations even more.
âYou canât stop there!â Matty sighed, having been seconds away from finishing before Jake stopped sucking.
âAll in good timeâŚâ Jake grinned, quietly enjoying Mattyâs frustration. âThis is all part of the processâŚâ
Matty watched as Jake reached across to the tray of doughnuts and began stuffing one into his mouth. With his free hand, he was gently stimulating his dick, but never enough to get him as close as he had been before. âJust suck it like you were doing beforeâŚâ Matty quietly encouraged him after the fourth doughnut had been swallowed down completely.
Jake nodded and resumed his work. The intense pleasure was immediate, perhaps even heightened by the wait. Mattyâs breathing was getting faster and he moaned loudly when⌠Jake pulled out once more.
âOh, come on!â Matty laughed, hardly believing that Jake was doing it to him again. He was so horny, and so completely ready to climax.
âPatience, Piggy!â Jake teased, lifting the funnel yet again.
Matty hadnât realised that there had been a second batch hidden behind him. This time, he was more determined than ever to get it all down even faster than before, hastening the return of Jakeâs expert mouth on his dick.
Fuck! Mattyâs stomach felt tight. Never in his life had he burped as ferociously as he did when the pipe was finally removed again. It was as if his paunch had transformed into a solid, round beach ball out in front of him, and he rubbed it, trying to soothe the almost painful distension.
âYouâre doing so wellâŚ.â Jake smiled, taking his mouth onto Mattyâs dick once more.
This time, Matty knew he wasnât going to be able to finish. He could see all the food still left on the coffee table and understood that he wouldnât be allowed to experience that orgasm until as much of it was consumed as possible. âFeed me!â he pleaded, desperate to consume as much of it as he could. His belly had never felt so tight and extreme in his life. It was the most erotic thing he had ever known.
The final result, a full half an hour later, was the most intense and extreme orgasm of Mattyâs life. He could feel it all gushing with such ferocity into Jakeâs mouth. His entire body felt utterly spent and exhausted. He was a giant, overstuffed balloon, too bloated to even consider getting up from his chair.
âJust imagine the things I could do to your belly if you let me feed you like that every nightâŚâ Jake chuckled, gazing down at the pitiful chub below him.
Despite his discomfort, Matty nodded in true understanding. This was it. This was the way he was going to get truly, monstrously huge!
In the coming weeks, Matty felt his world opening up even more. Jake had been proud to show him off as his boyfriend to so many of his other friends, and the guyâs family had been more than welcoming.
âI always thought you two would end up together,â chuckled Jakeâs mother as she saw how tenderly her son was holding Mattyâs hand.
Jake leaned over and kissed him at his motherâs words. He didnât mind anyone knowing how besotted he was. Yet, there was also a large selection of tasty treats just sitting in the refrigerator, waiting to be stuffed into Matty as soon as she went home. Perhaps thatâs what made this all so exciting for him. Jake had fed and stuffed so many guys in the past, but never within a real relationship. He enjoyed the pampering and spoiling, the weekly weigh-ins and the constant reassessment of everything Matty wore.
âI found something when I was going through my old computer,â Jake grinned, inserting a drive into the back of their TV.
Spotting the boner pressing forward from Jakeâs shorts, Matty knew he was going to enjoy whatever gold his boyfriend had uncovered. He watched eagerly as a video file, dated two years previous, came up on screen.
A horny, grinning Jake arrived on the TV; a giant, 500lb man waving to the camera from behind him. Then from the side, Matty himself emerged: toned, muscular and strong.Â
Matty gasped. He had seen so many pictures and videos of himself before the accident, but never this version. He watched as the old him gently pushed the heavy man into the chair, then up he had climbed onto the arm rests, pressing his thick, iron dick into the superchubâs mouth.
âYou always used to do that,â Jake explained from the side of the TV. âYou said it was a good way to warm-up their mouths, ready for eating!â
Matty stared at his old, tight butt, pointing directly at the camera and lightly thrusting in the direction of the fat manâs face. He could see that he was communicating wordlessly with Jake who was now bringing in the funnel: Mattyâs funnel.
Thoroughly aroused now, the large man didnât complain as Mattyâs dick was replaced with the end of the funnel hose. Together, Jake and Matty had been a well-oiled machine. Once one of them had finished feeding him something, the other would seamlessly take the reins. Jake had often passed comment on how fast stuffings could really bloat a guy up before his brain had a chance to comprehend how overstuffed his stomach was; now Matty could see that tactic well underway.
âYouâre giving me the nod to start fucking him,â Jake explained now, as Matty had started stroking Jake's hardness to get it super pumped and ready for the next stage; part of the show to keep their enormous prey horny and hungry. They both lifted the fat man out of his chair and escorted him into the bedroom; an eager Jake returning seconds later to collect his cell phone to record it all. âYou always thought it best to get a dick inside them as quickly as possible once they started feeling their belly getting full,â Jake chuckled, watching. âIt distracts them!â
Matty laughed, hardly believing this video even existed. He knew Jake wanted him to see how good a feeder he had once been; his signature move, stuffing doughnuts in with his erection and making them suck the sugar off. But Mattyâs attention, as he watched, was actually swallowed up admiring Jake. Unlike Mattyâs brutish manner, Jake was so gentle and sweet with the guy. His eyes had lit up and he stroked and played with all their lard and, even though he wasnât quite as insanely built and muscular as he was today, heâd been powerful enough to manoeuvre the fat man with ease as heâd gently pounded that wide butt. The enjoyment of all that lard was evident across Jakeâs face. He was in heaven, feeling it all with his hands and watching it ripple.
âPretty hot, huh?â Jake grinned as the video ended ten minutes later.
Matty nodded. He hadnât cared for seeing himself posing as a feeder, arrogant and entitled as he came across. But, witnessing Jake getting so much pleasure from fucking such a huge man had made Matty fall even more in love with him. There wasnât a ceiling with how far Matty could go with this kink. He could get as fat as he liked and Jake was still going to cherish every single pound. âItâs given me quite the appetite,â he grinned, beckoning Jake over to him in the chair. He held the strong manâs hips, looking with interest at the tent-like bulge in the manâs crotch, then licked his lips. âBut, maybe we should warm-up my mouth first,â he nodded, pulling out Jakeâs eager erection from the gym shorts and immediately engulfing it with his greedy mouth.
Jakeâs moans were all Matty wanted to hear: the pleasure of a man who was genuinely going to help him transform into exactly what this version of him needed to be.
With Jakeâs career taking off, talk about moving to a new city was on both of their minds. Matty had agreed straight away that he was ready for a change, yet Jake was still hesitant on his behalf. âDonât you think itâs best to be around things that are familiar if youâre still trying to recover your memories?â heâd asked.
Matty shrugged. In truth, heâd long given up any hope for that. Two years had gone by and nothing of note had happened. Sometimes he could feel his brain animating old photographs and inserting details from stories he had been told, trying to make him believe he was making progress. However, the simple truth was, one way or another, he wasnât ever going to be the man he once was. Why hold himself back for a ghost?
Once the decision was made, the whole apartment was packed up in a matter of weeks, its soul ebbing away as each box was taken downstairs and into the truck. Jake stood, his arm over Mattyâs shoulders as he looked around for the final time. âWeâve had some fun in here, huh?â he chuckled. âYou and I knew this was the right place for a couple of kinky fuckers as soon as we stepped inside!â
Matty laughed. âI think you were sold the moment you found those handcuffs in your closet space.â
Jake looked at him, startled. âHow did you know that?â he asked.
Not even realising, Matty thought back on what heâd said. How had he known about the handcuffs? In his head, his brain was already reconstructing a series of images and an imaginary storyline to match the event. âYou told me a few months back,â he replied, not entirely sure that that was true.
âDid I?â Jake asked, immediately at ease again. âFor a second there, I thought youâd remembered something.â
For a second there, so had Matty.
It had turned out that a new city was exactly what the pair of them had needed. Life felt exciting, with more to explore, bars to visit and restaurants to try. The music scene was bigger here and the winter not as harsh. For the first time ever, Matty enjoyed having a balcony overlooking the most expensive zip code in the city.Â
With so many new take out places to try, it was no surprise that Matty was experiencing the biggest spike in his weight in months. Pants had tightened, buttons were straining and his double chin was constantly on show. Heâd even considered growing a beard to try and mask it a little more. However, Jake had loved it, stroking it proudly each time he fed something into his loverâs mouth.Â
âTime for another upgrade!â Jake chuckled, holding up Mattyâs discarded underwear and witnessing the wavy, overstretched elastic. âYou need to let me know when these things get too small,â he smiled sweetly, kissing his naked lover as Matty climbed out of the shower. âI donât want you to be uncomfortable.â
âI like it!â Matty grinned back. âIt feels sexy as hell wearing stuff that Iâm too fat for!â
Jake leaned in and kissed him lovingly. For the first time in Mattyâs life, he was just the fat guy; not the ex-jock whoâd suffered a brain injury. Here, no one knew heâd ever been anything other than the 370lb lardass heâd become. And that was a thrill all of its own. The new neighbors gave Jake a pondering look, wondering what such an attractive man was doing with someone so overweight. The last 40lbs had added so much additional fat to his chest, swelling under his armpits and into his face. He loved how puffy and soft his arms had become, with even his hands appearing to be those over an overfed fat guy.
âI want to use my funnel when you get home from work later,â Matty stated once his impeccably dressed lover pulled out of the kiss.
âAgain?â Jake smiled wickedly. âThatâs the fifth time this week.â
âI know,â Matty nodded. âIâm just really enjoying these tits at the moment,â he smirked, using his towel to dry underneath them. âI need them bigger!â
Jake loved nothing more than admiring his loverâs body on show, as well as hearing how enthusiastically Matty talked about reaching even greater levels of obesity. âWell thenâŚâ he smirked, holding his fat guy by his hips and pulling him in for another kiss. âI guess Iâll be pumping you full of some more shake later,â he whispered, kissing Matty more passionately now, his hands wandering. âYouâre going to be such an enormous piggyâŚâ
Inwardly, Matty smiled to himself. He always knew when Jake was losing control of his arousal. Names like âpiggyâ and âhogâ slipped out of his mouth in a way that they never did at any other time. âHold it thereâŚâ Matty laughed. âYouâve got to leave for work.â
âJust let me call in sick and feed you all day longâŚâ Jake growled back, leaning in again to resume kissing. âI want to play with that fat ass so much!â
Matty chuckled, pushing an eager Jake back. âItâs time for work,â he reminded him, knowing that the guy wouldnât shake that boner all day long.
Jake frowned in disappointment, but nodded his head. âOkay⌠okay,â he chanted, more to himself than anyone else, trying to calm his own lust. âBut youâd best be ready to chug like never before when I get back!â
Matty reached under his stomach and jiggled the entire mass of belly fat that had accumulated. âHave I ever let you down?â he teased.
Later, as Matty settled down for his first meal of the day, he chuckled at the thought of Jake trying to cope in work, knowing that his huge lover was just at home, feeding himself fatter. A whole tray of novelty doughnuts arrived before lunch, with a note inside that read âEat up, Piggy!â It certainly wasnât unusual for Jake to make these little offerings and gestures, but it never failed to amuse Matty, thinking how hard Jake would have been putting that order in from his computer at work. And, with all this enthusiasm surrounding him, there was no way Matty wasnât going to be up at least a couple of pounds by the end of the week.
âYou know, thereâs quite a feedism scene in this city, apparently,â Jake commented as he sat back on the couch gently stroking the hair of a bloated, overstuffed and oversexed Matty, lying with his head on his lap.
âOh, yeah?â Matty smiled, gazing up at his lover. âAre you saying youâd like to start having fun with gainers again? Like before my accident?â
Jake shook his head. âI have no intentions of ever sharing you with anyone else again,â he smiled sweetly. âBut Iâd still get quite a buzz from showing you off at a couple of events; make a few guys jealous at how big and lardy youâve become.â
Matty chuckled at that. He loved to be shown off. Since moving here, Jake had taken them to the coast on more days than he could count; belly swollen up like a beach ball and paraded around in overly revealing swimwear. âSure, I could go for thatâŚâ he nodded, knowing that it would be a great incentive to help him overeat tomorrow.
It was almost surprising how much input Jake wanted on the outfit Matty was to wear for their first feedism event, held in a small kink bar across the city. Something tight fitting, but not too extreme; something that stretched across the butt to emphasise its width, but also didnât distract too much from the large ball-belly shape that had been gathering pace as 400lbs came ever closer. Meanwhile, Jakeâs clothes were effortless. Heâd worked hard on building up even more mass in his shoulders at his new gym and the perfectly fitted shirt draped across them like it was custom made. Theyâd never looked so contrasting, nor felt so excited for a night out.
From the moment they walked in, the pair garnered attention. Some recognised Jake from a few of years earlier when he had been prolific on the gainer socials, searching for potential matches for him and the old Matty to fuck and play with. On Mattyâs insistence, they kept it quiet that heâd once been a feeder too. He wasnât interested in explaining how well he had fattened himself up, nor the reasons for his great shift. All he wanted was to be seen as the enormous fat guy he could at last feel himself becoming. It aroused him to think that people could assume he had always been so lardy; that he had struggled to control his appetite and keep his weight in check, failing constantly until he had become such a spherical guy, dating the kinkiest of feeders.Â
And, oh! There were plenty of feeders in that night! Matty could feel their eyes staring at him keenly, like wolves hunting out their prey. Whenever Jake disappeared to get more drinks, one or two would come up to him and express their delight in his perfectly fat body.
âSo, is that guy your boyfriend?â asked one of them; a cheeky, handsome and muscular stud at least a couple of years younger than Jake.
âHe is,â Matty smiled, knowing that he would disappoint the clearly kinky fat-lover.
âAnd⌠are you guys open, orâŚâ the guy rambled on. He had that cheeky look in his eyes that he knew he could use to ask the most outrageous of questions and still get away with it.Â
Matty simply shook his head.
The guy sighed and shrugged his shoulders. âYouâre missing out,â he replied. âThere are so many guys here who could feed you up so much fatter than you are now.â
âIs that so?â Matty asked, amused by the idea.
âWeâd blow you up like youâve never seen before,â the guy nodded, as certain as the most confident of salesmen. âHave you ever been with another feeder?â
Matty hesitated. The answer wasnât as simple as it seemed. âWell⌠no,â he stuttered. Without his memories from before two and a half years ago, he could genuinely say that he had no feedism experience with anyone other than Jake.
âI bet he has loads of experience with fatties, though?â the unimpressed guy pointed across at Jake, who was finally getting served at the bar.Â
Matty nodded. âYeahâŚâ he admitted softly. âHeâs been with hundreds of them.â
Raising his eyebrows, the feeder finally shrugged, as if his point had been well made. âThat doesnât really seem fair, does it?â he sighed, slinking off before Jake came back to the table.
Mattyâs mind pondered the thought over the next few weeks. Jake was the best lover and boyfriend he could ever ask for, but was Matty doing himself a disservice by not experiencing what it was like with other feeders? Jake had made it abundantly clear that his old days of sleeping around with as many fatties as possible were long behind him. He didnât want to invite anyone else into their relationship. He was settled, monogamous and deeply satisfied with his lot. But how could Matty say that he was happy to let go of all other possible experiences? He didnât even know what else he could be missing out on.
Nagging doubts began to gnaw away at him. The more feedism events they went to, the more Matty became certain that there was an aspect of his life he had missed. Heâd found Prince Charming all too soon, without the thrill of kissing a few frogs along the way.
âWhat an asshole, handing you his number like that!â growled Jake after shoving a guy away from Matty once heâd got back from the rest room one night.
âHe was just being friendly!â Matty shot back, annoyed at the scene Jake had created.Â
Theyâd left early, quietly a little cross with each other.
âI just donât understand how he thought it was okay to give you his number,â Jake grumbled once the conversation had resumed back at home.
âWell, maybe I feel like I might have missed out on something. I donât remember any of the kinky stuff I used to get up to,â Matty explained calmly.
Jake seemed genuinely taken aback. âWhatâre you saying?â he asked âYou want to sleep with other feeders? That guy was a total sleaze!â
Matty shrugged. âI donât know what I want!â he shouted. âItâs just⌠that fucking accident made me lose so much. I canât help but sometimes wish I had the chance to re-experience some of the things I missed.â
Jake got up, shaking his head in disgust, then took himself to bed, leaving Matty all on his own to question whether he had just ruined everything.
Jake had already left for the gym before Matty woke up the next morning. Heâd believed that talking about his doubts to Jake would make him feel better. As it was, heâd never felt worse. He couldnât eat or settle to anything, wanting to know just how heartbroken Jake was feeling right now. Heâd been a fool to gamble his entire relationship based upon the idea that he could one day be fed by some other feeder. Jake was the only one who could ever make him happy, and heâd known that from the start.
Jake arrived back about midday, breathless, as though he had been running about the city all morning. He carried bags of treats from expensive patisseries, expensive clothing outlets that still catered for Mattyâs size, and one from a jewelers in the middle of the financial district.
âIâm so sorry,â Jake blasted, dumping everything on the counter top and rushing over to Matty on the couch, immediately embracing him. âI guess I never thought about things from your perspective. It never occurred to me that you might feelâŚâ
âI was just being stupid!â Matty jumped in, ready to show Jake how sorry he was about it all.
âYou know Iâll support you with whatever you want to do,â Jake nodded emphatically. âIf you want to invite other feeders over, or go back to their place, we can make it work. I just donât ever want to lose you.â
Matty was touched. âThatâs never going to happen,â he replied, kissing Jake. âI love you. Youâre the only one I want!â
Jake was suddenly lowering himself onto one knee and gazing up at Matty with a deadly serious look on his face. âIâve wanted to do this for the longest time,â he smiled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a beautiful golden ring. âWill you marry me?â
Matty suddenly felt like his head had been kicked by a horse. His brain swirled on a spin cycle and when his eyes finally focussed in again, Jake was holding his face sweetly, his eyes full of concern.
âWhatâs wrong?â the big stud asked, clearly alarmed.
âIâm not marriage material,â Matty whispered.
Jakeâs eyes were large and innocent. âYou donât want to get married?â he asked, his voice full of hurt in that moment.
Matty held his forehead, unable to believe what was happening to him as he dropped down onto the couch with Jake. âItâs what my mother always used to say to me,â he replied, almost breathless due to the racing of his heart. âI remember saying it to you in the car, right before the accident!â
âMattyâŚthatâsâŚ.â Jake stuttered. âAre you saying to remember something from before?â
Still holding his forehead, Mattyâs eyes were darting around the room. âI remember everything!â he blasted. The doctors had told him that if his memories were to return, they could do so in dribs and drabs, and that it was all a very gradual process. No one had ever suggested to him that it could happen like this: all at once and in pristine condition.
âAre you sure?â Jake asked, so excited that he rose to his feet, pulling Matty up with him. âAre you one hundred percent certain?â
Matty nodded and kept on nodding. âYes!â he smiled widely. âYes! Yes! Yes!â
Jake immediately kissed him, full of joy and happiness. âWe need to phone your mom!â he cried, pulling out his cell phone from his back pocket.
âOh, I donât think so!â Matty shot back. âThat bitch set me up with Boring Ben!â he chuckled, now even more horrified with himself than ever before. âShe can wait!â
Jake laughed hard, rubbing his own head in disbelief now and starting to pace. âI canât believe it!â he blasted, finally returning to his spot and holding Mattyâs hands lovingly. âHello again!â he chuckled, looking straight into Mattyâs eyes and seeing the old him once more. Then, suddenly, his smile dropped and his eyes widened in realisation. âThis changes everything, doesnât it?â he mumbled, gazing at his enormous lover. He stepped back, as if seeing for the first time what had happened to Mattyâs perfect body in the years that had elapsed since.Â
Mattyâs grin was not so easily washed away. âYes, it does,â he nodded. âNow I know, with absolute certainty, that Iâm about to marry the best man⌠the best friend⌠the best feeder there is. The only one I ever want.â
Jake slipped onto his knee again and slid the ring onto Mattyâs chubby finger; his face serious, showing that this was something he was adamantly committed to. They kissed yet again, dropping onto the sofa where the springs finally gave their final, fatal squeal, and one side of the cushioned seat dropped without any strength left in it.
The pair laughed hard and long; utterly exhilarated by everything; happier than they had ever been in their entire lives. âI guess weâre going shopping for a new couch!â Matty at last composed himself to say. âAn extra strong one!â
Jake grabbed a roll of Mattyâs lardy stomach fat and jiggled it. âAre we still doing this?â he asked, wondering how the fat manâs feelings may have changed since getting his memories back.
âOh, absolutely!â Matty nodded, grabbing his own fat as well; marvelling at it all.Â
âShould I have tried harder to stop you?â Jake asked, finally able to pose the question he had pondered for so long. Did the old Matty resent the fact that Jake hadnât tried harder to stop his fat kinks from taking over?
âYou were perfect!â Matty simply replied. âAnd, if Iâm honest, I always knew it would end up this way⌠eventually.â
âYou did?â Jake scoffed. âYou never told me that!â
âYeah⌠because I knew what would happen if I did!â Matty grinned, presenting his large, fattened body as proof. âI used to fantastise about it all the time when we were out playing together. It was⌠maybe⌠not something I imagined happening this soon⌠Hitting 450lbs before my thirtieth birthday was not exactly on my to-do list,â he laughed. âBut Iâd always secretly dreamed of being one of those fatties Iâd watch you getting so much pleasure from fucking!â
âAnd youâve given me so much pleasure!â Jake growled, arousal taking over him as he rubbed Mattyâs giant stomach.
âOh, I know I have!â Matty chuckled, enjoying the sensation of Jakeâs strong hands feeling him up. It was always the same: rubs turned to kisses, turned jiggles; until strong Jake was so horny he could hardly string a sentence together. âYouâre such a kinky fucker!â
âHow about we destroy this couch a little more before we phone up the doctors and start telling people whatâs happened?â Jake asked, standing briefly to remove his shirt, pants and underwear, before climbing back onto the lardy specimen still sprawled out on the cushions. He could slide his dick into any roll of fat, press that soft skin over his hardness and climax with ease.
âOh, be careful!â Matty teased. âThatâs definitely going to give me a ravenous appetite afterwardsâŚâ
âDonât you worry about that,â Jake smirked, beginning to worship the fat body before him. âNow youâve got your memories back, weâve got twice the feeder expertise on hand to keep you nice and stuffed all day longâŚâ
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Jake was trying to breathe slowly and control himself as he thrusted in and out of the 450lb lardass leaning over the table and bracing for him. Each movement sent ripples of blubber across the guyâs back and the sheer width of his butt was arousing Jake to the point that he was close to losing control. Theyâd spoken to this fatty online several times before tonight. Both of them had seen pictures of the progression: from a chubby dad-bod, into the impressively super-sized specimen he was today; Paul was a feederâs dream.
Jake looked up, seeing his handsome roommate having fun with Paul at the other end, feeding him doughnuts and pushing them further into his mouth with his concrete dick. âCome on, PiggyâŚâ he teased. âChew and swallow!â
Jake grinned at the sight, despite knowing that Matty was going to have to take it easy. Between the pair of them, they had stuffed Paul hard that night already. Even for a 450lb hog, theyâd coaxed an insane amount of food into him. The last thing they wanted was to overdo it now.
Paul was in his element, leaning his big butt into Jake so that he could be fucked even deeper. Heâd had many feeders over the last few years, but never two at the same time, and never such handsome, athletic guys. Jake and Matty had met in the gym over four years ago and only came to realise their shared interest when they had both been trying to flirt with the same stout-bellied chub who had rocked up for a few weeks one January. Since then, theyâd taken an apartment together, trained each other up to their peak fitness and marketed themselves as the ultimate feeder duo. The complete contrast between their own impressively muscular, lean physiques, and these blubbery guys, never failing to make them both climax spectacularly.
âI thought he was going to throw up at one point,â Jake chuckled as he drove them both back home that evening.
âDonât worry!â Matty laughed. âI had it all under control. Youâre too lenient on them.â
âOh, you think so, huh?â Jake grinned, always enjoying the âgood cop, bad copâ dynamic they had when feeding together. âHis tits were so much bigger than I was expecting!â
âEven better than Willâs?â Jake asked, remembering the chub theyâd stuffed last weekend.
âPaulâs tits are softer,â Matty shot back, as if that answered the question completely. âI said weâd go back and fuck him again when he hits five hundred.â
Jake laughed at that. Matty was so straight talking, almost cold, with the guys they played with. He didnât just expect them to eat for him on the night; he wanted them to keep on growing for years afterwards, in the hope that he would return to see them one day. âYouâre such a kinky bastard!â Jake smiled, taking a sideways glance at his roommate. âI just love the way your mind works.â
âWell, I know how to get a fatty to eat, thatâs for sure,â Matty smirked. âBut as my mother constantly reminds me, Iâm not exactly marriage-material!â He sat up in his chair a little more, spotting a gas station up ahead. âCould you pull over here?â he asked, explaining that he needed to grab a drink. âDo you want anything?â he added, already releasing his seatbelt.
âIâm good, thanks,â Jake replied, pulling into the forecourt and stopping the car. It was such a chilly night, he was hopeful that this would be the last stop they would have to make before getting back.
Jake watched it all happen in absolute horror. Out Matty strutted from the car, making his way towards the door when, all of a sudden, his feet slipped from underneath him. A large, unseen glazing of ice had covered the small area he was walking across. Then, there was a great crack as Mattyâs head hit the floor.Â
When Matty came to, heâd seemed dazed, but otherwise fine. The ambulance had arrived in good time and, although he was confused, Matty seemed like he was taking it all in his stride as his neck was braced and he was loaded into the back of the ambulance.
Jake didnât see much of Matty after that night. Things had gone downhill rapidly. There had been many days in the hospital and, after the retrograde amnesia diagnosis, Mattyâs family had obviously wanted to take over things. Matty had returned to his childhood home as his family desperately tried to jog his memory with photo albums and tales from long ago. Jake stayed in good contact with the family, realising, as time went on, that Matty wasnât actually making any progress at all. He was still just as clueless about his past as he had been the morning after the accident three months ago.
Jake tried to fix the apartment up and make it nice for when his roommate returned. He quite agreed that it was time for Matty to start living his own life again, with or without his memories. He knew it wouldnât be the same anymore. Whilst Matty had known his name and a few other details, he had no comprehension of anything else about his life, nor the person he had been. Jake was now nothing more than a stranger.
âSoâŚâ Jake began, sitting down in the lounge area, wondering what to say that first evening back together. âIs there anything youâd like to do tonight?â
Matty shrugged.Â
âHow about we head to the gym for a workout?â Jake asked, knowing that Matty wouldnât have been able to follow his usual training routine whilst staying with his parents. Hell, he didnât even know about his usual training routine!
Jake frowned. Didnât Matty know that he wasnât looking as jacked as he usually did right now? Heâd lost some of his muscular bulk in his shoulders and his waist definitely wasnât as lean as it could be.Â
Mattyâs cell phone buzzed and the guy grinned as he lifted it and read the message.
âWhoâs that?â Jake asked curiously, always knowing when Matty was chatting to some guy he was into.Â
âItâs someone I met a few weeks ago,â Matty replied. âHis folks live on the same street as my parents.â
Jakeâs eyes widened and he suddenly burst out laughing. âYour parents finally managed to set you up with Boring Ben?â The thought was almost too funny to imagine.
âWhat? How do you know Ben?â Matty shot back indignantly. âHeâs not boring! Heâs sweet.â
âI canât believe your parents finally did it! Your momâs been trying to push Boring Ben on you for years! Sheâs as cunning as a fox, that one!â
âHeâs not âBoring Ben!ââ Matty scowled.
âI didnât make up the name. You did!â Jake fired back, still unable to stop himself from laughing. âIâve never even met the guy! Dentists arenât usually known for being the life and soul of the party though.â
âHeâs really cute,â Matty tried, showing a picture on his cell phone.
Jake had to bite his tongue. Was Matty really saving this guyâs image as his screensaver? It was almost too tragic for words. âIâm not denying heâs good looking,â he replied. âHeâs just not your usual type.â
âAnd what is my usual type?â Matty demanded sceptically, clearly offended now that Jake claimed to understand him better than he understood himself. It was a frustration so many people probably elicited in him these days, given that he knew so little about what he had been like before the accident.
Jake hesitated. It was perhaps a little early to be bringing up their shared kinks; the fact that they had both seen each other ejaculate more times than most other roommates was something that could definitely wait for another day. âYou just tend to go for guys with a little more⌠presence,â he finally answered with a smirk.
Unbeknownst to Jake, this new Matty was a lot more sensitive. He seemed truly incapable of taking Jakeâs teasing in his stride, getting up and retreating in a huff back to his bedroom and not emerging again for the rest of the night.
Things with Matty didnât improve. They no longer understood each other. Jake had anticipated that Matty wouldnât know anything about him, but he hadnât expected that Matty would return as such a startlingly different person. Things that would have made Matty laugh before, now made him bristle with annoyance. Likewise, Mattyâs sense of humor was all off. Heâd somehow taken on the personality of Boring Ben, making dad jokes and quips about dental hygiene that heâd obviously picked up from the guy who came over at least a couple of times a week.
âWhat the hell are these?â asked Matty, holding up a pair of supersized underwear with the end of the mop handle and holding them outwards, as far away from himself as possible. With a hand holding his nose, Matty couldnât have looked more disgusted by them if he had tried.
Jake raised an eyebrow. âWhere did you find those?â he laughed, pulling them off the handle and trying to think which fatty theyâd invited here who could have left without his underwear.
Matty seemed horrified to witness Jake holding the dirty underwear in his bare hands. âThey were in the bathroom, tucked behind the cupboard.â
Nodding, Jake knew that made perfect sense. They were Fat Robâs underwear, thrown carelessly over their shoulders when the three of them had soaped the big boy up in the shower before feeding him like a hog. That must have been at least six months ago now. He really should clean behind that cupboard more!
It was clear that Matty was still waiting for an answer, as if some deep offense had been caused that needed to be immediately rectified. âThey belong to an ex,â Jake simplified, throwing the underwear into his own bedroom where they could cause no further offense.
âAn ex?â Matty asked; his eyes bulging with shock. âYouâve got to be joking!â
Jake rolled his eyes, mourning the loss of old Matty every single day. How horrified would this version of him be to learn that heâd fucked Fat Robâs giant butt just as hard as Jake had? Keeping that to himself wasnât easy. There were moments when Jake wanted to destroy Mattyâs perfect vision of his past self: the handsome doctor, the loyal son, the smartest guy in the room. Matty believed he had been everything his parents had told him he was. He had no idea that Jake knew the real version of him better than anyone else.
âNot everyone wants to date a 150lb dentist,â Jake grumpily shot back. He could see the disgust in Mattyâs face. Then he sighed, returning to his bedroom where Matty couldnât judge him any further.
A few weeks later, Jake listened out in his bedroom until he heard that Boring Ben was leaving. What had started as apathy had become a deep dislike. Seeing so much of Ben reflected in Mattyâs behaviour made it difficult not to hold the guy personally responsible for the devolution of the person Jake had got on best with in the entire world. Ben was so straight-laced and dull. And now, unbleievably, so was Matty.
âCome on!â Jake called out to Matty, throwing his workout bag onto the kitchen counter. âYouâre coming with me to the gym. Six months off is more than enough. Itâs time we started building you back up.â
Jake had meant it as an olive branch. Voluntarily spending time with Matty wasnât his favourite thing to do. In the three months since Matty had moved back in, Jake had witnessed the guyâs muscle mass further deplete. Softness had begun to gather in his core and his butt was losing that muscular strength to resemble glutes that were a lot more doughy. He owed it to the old Matty to get him back in shape.
âNo, thanks,â Matty simply replied, biting into a piece of buttery toast and making his way to the couch to watch some trash TV.
âIâm not taking no for an answer,â Jake tried assertively.
âYes you are!â Matty replied coldly. âI have no intention of working out today.â
Jake sighed and rolled his eyes. This guy was so stubborn, he wanted to strangle him. âYou canât sit on your ass all day.â
âWhat else am I meant to do?â Matty shot back irritably. âI canât work. My medical license has been indefinitely suspended, and Iâve got this compensation lawsuit to prepare for.â
âWhatâs that got to do with anything?â Jake asked, still hopeful that he could show Matty how ridiculous he was being. âI thought your lawyer was sorting all that out for you?â
âShe is,â Matty nodded. âBut she still thinks Iâll get more if I claim Iâve got depression as well. I can evidence how active I was before, compared to now.â
âSo youâre just going to sit on your ass, getting fat and lazy in the hope that youâll get a few extra grand?â Jake blasted back. He didnât care that he was being rude, he poked a finger into Mattyâs core, trying to show him how unconditioned he was. âThe old you would be horrified!â
âAnd who asked for your opinion?â Matty growled back angrily. âJust fuck off and leave me alone!â
Furious, Jake walked away and grabbed his bag, slamming the door behind him. Everyone always felt so sorry for Matty, but the truth was, the guy was just an asshole! It had been months now, without the slightest improvement. The old Matty was gone and was never coming back. What loyalty should Jake have to a ghost? If Matty was determined to date nerds and let himself go, why should he even bother to try and stop him?
âIâm sorry about before,â Jake offered as he arrived home a couple of hours later to see that Matty was still in the same spot on the couch. âI hadnât meant for things to get so heated.â
Time in the gym had always been a way to help Jake calm down when he was frustrated. After a few super heavy deadlifts, heâd found his anger abating and his more rational mind being able to speak up. This Matty was not the same guy as the best friend Jake had adored so much. His expectation that Matty would aspire to be the exact same person as he had once been was as frustrating for him as it was for Matty. This new man needed to find his own path and make his own mistakes. And he deserved to do it surrounded by people who supported him unconditionally.
âDonât worry about it,â Matty replied, not taking his eyes off the TV; still clearly a little pissed at him.
âA peace offering,â Jake declared, presenting his roommate with a small box of pastries from the bakery across town. âI donât think youâve had these since your accident, but they were always your absolute favorite whenever you were treating yourself.â He shrugged, wondering whether yet another reminder of the old Matty was really the right move. âI figured your taste buds havenât changed,â he stated, as if to explain his reasoning.
Matty accepted the gift and opened the box. âTheyâre huge!â he smiled happily, lifting one up and onto an already used plate heâd had in front of him. Taking a bite, he immediately moaned in appreciation, his eyes bulging as he took in all the flavors. âThis is amazing!â he marvelled, quickly heading back in for a second bite.
Jake smiled. This was the first success heâd had with Matty in the entire time since the accident. Making the guy happy had made him feel good too. âIâll pick you up some more the next time Iâm heading that way then,â he nodded, pleased with himself.
âWhat other foods did I used to like?â Matty asked, pushing the last bite into his mouth.
Jakeâs eyebrows rose. It was the first time heâd heard Matty express any curiosity about his past self. âUmâŚâ he pondered. âWell, you always had a bit of a sweet tooth. Much more so than me. I donât knowâŚâ he shrugged. âI guess weâll have to go to the grocery store some time so I can point stuff out to you.â
âSure. Shall we go now?â Matty asked, getting himself up.
Jake chuckled, looked at his watch, and saw that he did indeed have an hour or so to spare. âSure,â he smiled. âWhy not?â
Jake wondered whether Matty would keep in touch with him once his massive compensation payout came through and he was able to get his own place. Although things had improved massively in the last few weeks, he couldnât expect Matty to have the same fondness for him given that, in his mind, they had only lived together for a few months.
âIâm heading to the grocery store after the gym if you want me to pick anything up for you?â he asked, filling up his water bottle in the sink.
âSure,â Matty nodded. âCan you get me a couple more boxes of that stuff?â he pointed at the now empty sugary breakfast cereal box heâd left on the side.
Jake had gotten good at biting his tongue. There was no nutritional value in the cereal Matty was after and, besides that, he could have sworn heâd only bought the last box for him yesterday. âSure,â he nodded. âAnything else?â
Matty thought some more and began texting him a list which Jake scrolled through a couple of minutes later. It was as if Mattyâs food choices had regressed to the point that it was a menu put together by a six-year old child: beige foods, high in sugar, high in carbohydrates, and even higher saturates. âIâll sort it,â Jake nodded, heading out the door without comment.
Annoyingly, Boring Ben was parked up on the couch upon Jakeâs return a couple of hours later. Matty rose to his feet, delighting in the fact that Jake had managed to find everything he had requested; ripping open a box of cookies and heading back to the couch.
Jake frowned, noticing Ben giving him a disapproving sideways glance as he continued to unpack and restock the refrigerator. He got it: Ben was never going to like him all that much. After all, he was a handsome guy who just so happened to be living with his boyfriend. There was bound to be more than just a little jealousy and insecurity at play.
âI need you to stop enabling Matty to pig out on all this stuff,â Ben stated, getting up to speak to Jake in the kitchen area once Matty had disappeared to the bathroom. âItâs not good for him.â
With limited patience for Ben and his dire warnings about cavities, Jake merely rolled his eyes. Ben had always had an attitude with him, no doubt inherited from Mattyâs mother, who had labelled him a âbad influenceâ on her son. If only she had known how ironic that idea wasâŚ
âI agree,â Jake nodded. âBut heâs a grown man. Iâm not going to tell him what he can and canât eat.â
âYou donât have to buy everything he asks you for though,â Ben shot back, swinging open one cupboard door to see that, inside, it was loaded with all the things they both knew Matty would gnaw through in no time at all. âYou can see itâs all having an impact on him.â
Jake frowned again. What a stupid way to put it! âYou mean you donât like him looking a little chubby?â he asked, his tone loaded with disapproval. He knew what Ben was getting at. With all Jakeâs muscles and lean physique, there was no way for him to deny that he had educated himself well about nutrition. Enough to know that Mattyâs diet was only ever going to have one inevitable consequence. âI thought you two were soul mates?â he parroted back at the lame guy who had never failed to make him cringe. âDonât tell me youâre having second thoughts now that heâs getting little love handles?â he asked, almost gleefully.
âItâs not nice to see anyone getting out of shape,â Ben diplomatically answered.
âWell, if you donât like it, thatâs a conversation youâre going to have to have with Matty yourself. Iâm not getting involved,â Jake declared, raising both his palms to show that he was done with this debate. Finally finished in the kitchen, he headed back into his room to finish his book, away from the cliched, straight romantic comedy movie that Ben had put on the TV.
Jake was about a chapter away from the end when he heard tense voices sounding from the lounge. If only that damn movie hadnât been so loud, he might have been able to make out more of what was being said. As it was, it was only when he heard the apartment door slam shut that he realised things had gotten so bad that Ben had actually left.
âEverything alright?â Jake gingerly asked, peeping out of his bedroom, but not committing to stepping out entirely, just in case he wasnât wanted.
âYeah, fine,â Matty replied, despite his flustered face; slouching on the couch and sipping his can of soda. His stomach looked as bloated as Jake had ever seen it, pressing unflatteringly against the material of his t-shirt; the coffee table loaded with the discarded packaging of much of what Jake had picked up from the supermarket only an hour earlier. âIâm just sick of people expecting me to still be that perfect Matty from before the accident. I thought Ben understood who I was now, but heâs just holding onto the image of what I looked like when we were first properly introduced.â
Jake sighed. He was too invested now to be able to walk away. He stepped inside and dropped down on the couch, seeing that Matty needed someone to offload to. âYou know, the old Matty really wasnât as perfect as youâre imagining,â he smiled, appreciating how hard it must have felt for Matty to live up to the idolised man everyone had made him out to be. âI could tell you some storiesâŚâ
âOh, please donât!â Matty shot back irritably. âIâm sick of hearing about him.â
âFair enough,â Jake smiled.
âI just want to bury the old Matty. Iâm sick of people recognising me and expecting me to know who they are,â he explained, rubbing his distended stomach as he did so.
âThatâs fair enough,â Jake nodded, strangely captivated by the movement of Mattyâs hand; a small spark of electricity starting to crackle in his groin.
âDo you know, youâre the only one who doesnât treat me like theyâre just waiting for the old Matty to come back,â he complained bitterly.
âWell, that still took me some time to get used to,â Jake nodded, agreeing completely with him. âI think people are starting to realise now that your memories are unlikely to return. Theyâll have no choice but to accept you as you are now.â
âAnd what if they donât like me as much anymore?â Matty asked.
Perhaps it was instinct, or maybe it was the blood pumping south, but Jake found himself picking up a lone doughnut from the table and handing it to Matty. âThen, fuck them!â he declared, smiling brightly. âJust be your own version of you.â
Matty smiled and nodded, taking a bite happily. âAre you sticking around?â he asked, lifting the TV remote as if to continue the movie.
âSure,â Jake replied. âIâm not watching this shit though,â he laughed.
âOh, I know!â Matty chuckled back, seeming delighted to get it off the screen. âBen has the worst choice in movies!â he declared, throwing the remote to Jake instead. âLetâs see if you can do better!â
Jake raised his eyebrows, accepting the challenge. âPrepare to be amazed!â
Thankfully, Boring Ben had been retired to the history books after that night. As the months progressed and no further developments had been made on Mattyâs compensation claim, Jake knew that Matty was eating through the unemployment insurance heâd taken out, in more ways than one. Heâd continued to gain weight, particularly in his stomach area. The speed of it was quite remarkable, Jake had seen it all before of course, but never in someone who wasnât purposefully trying to fatten himself up. Then again, sometimes Jake convinced himself that fattening up was exactly what Matty was trying to do to himself. With his fuller face, heâd been delighted to head out to the grocery store and not be noticed by people. His lawyer had also seemed pleased, according to Matty; upping the expected payout figure each time she saw him.
In reality, Jake knew he was just projecting his kinks onto poor Matty. Having chosen to leave the old version of his friend in the past, Jake had decided against telling the guy about all the kinky things they used to get up to together. Rather than bringing guys home, Jake had gotten used to going to their place instead. But, without Matty there, the dynamic was entirely different. Now he had to play both âgood copâ and âbad copâ. Matty had been so good at pushing those fatties to eat; the thrill he had gotten from seeing them reach the extremes of greed was always a delight to see. But now Jake was going solo, and the experiences seemed less and less memorable each time. Besides, some days it was more erotic just to be at homeâŚ
With no job to speak of, Matty spent his days playing video games or watching crappy daytime TV. One simple look in the trash or recycling and it was easy to track what he was eating. The sugars, the carbs and saturates, they were all far too extreme. Matty's softer middle began sprouting outwards under his still visible pecs. Shapely and rounded, his belly was everything Jake had always loved about seeing a former jock gain weight; the manâs glutes and thighs still sturdy enough to carry it all around with ease. Before the accident, Matty had never worn a shirt around the house. Afterwards, he had covered himself up all the time. Now, however, an emerging confidence in his body was evident once more.
âDo you want any of these?â Matty asked, systematically placing almost every item of clothing he owned on the couch.
âYouâre getting rid of it all?â Jake asked, alarmed by the sudden, drastic clearout.
A pot-bellied Matty nodded, picking up one of the stylish shirts the old him had loved. âThey donât really feel like me,â he pondered aloud. âPlus, hardly any of them fit me any more,â he shrugged, patting his protrusive paunch without any hint of remorse.
Jake nodded, understanding completely. The new Matty was more of a sweatpants and baggy t-shirts guy. Without work to go to each day, he didnât own anything smart or figure-hugging. He didnât care so much about how he came across, and he was more than happy to strut about the apartment with his stomach out; that delightful, rounded paunch on full display.
âIâll take it all,â Jake smiled, knowing that so much of it would look great on him. However, it didnât pass him by that this was quite a momentous moment for his roommate. Matty wasnât looking to lose weight anytime soon. All that beautiful new chub on his body was seemingly here to stay.
âWhat happened to the other stud you used to hang out with?â asked one rotund guy a few weeks later, as Jake unpacked all the fattening treats he had brought along to stuff him with.
âOh, you mean, Matty,â Jake nodded. âHe actually just came into a lot of money,â he explained, grabbing a large serving bowl from the cupboard. âThere was a compensation case against a gas station company which heâs just wrapped up. Itâs pretty cool actually,â he continued, deciding not to elaborate any further about the accident than that. âHeâs a pretty clever guy. Heâs invested it all and will most likely never need to work ever again. But, as for all the feedism stuffâŚâ Jake shrugged. âHe gave it up.â
âHe gave it up?â laughed the older man, greedily eying everything Jake had brought along. âJust like that?â he asked in disbelief. âBut he was such a kinky little fucker! Iâve never been stuffed as hard as when he was the one pushing it all in!â
Jake chuckled at that. Matty certainly used to be a hard taskmaster. Heâd loved witnessing the extremes of gluttony and felt it his duty to stretch out the stomachs of the fatties they had fucked as much as possible. Jake remembered how horny Matty would get, even in the grocery store, as they picked up every fattening treat they planned to push into their fattiesâ mouths. âHeâs just not into it anymore,â Jake shrugged, keen to move on as he pulled off his shirt to reveal his startlingly strong torso.
The gainer looked pleased at the sight, his eyes dewy with lust. âThat surprises me,â he continued, despite the distraction. âA kink like his doesnât disappear into thin air. Believe me, I tried! Twenty years I attempted to deny the fact that I just want to be a huge hog!â he nodded, picking up his large, sagging stomach and jiggling it proudly.Â
Jake took his cue, sliding his hand over the blubbery tummy and kissing the guy, excited to begin their evening together. Still, however, the guyâs words stuck in Jakeâs mind. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps a kink like Mattyâs didnât just disappear. Perhaps it was just expressing itself in some other way? That thought was fairly thrillingâŚ
Just like heâd done for months, Jake knew that when he came that evening, he wouldnât be thinking about the fatty in front of him; it would be the image of Matty and his extra 75lbs of pure fat that would penetrate every one of his thoughts, building his arosal until he finally orgasmed, deep inside this hogâs ass.
A few more weeks went by before it happened. With a network outage at the offices, Jake had sent his team home to work for the afternoon. It hadnât occurred to him to give Matty the heads up that he would be back early. He simply strolled into the apartment to hear music blaring, with Matty sitting in his chair in front of the TV screen.Â
With his back to the door, Matty had yet to notice Jakeâs arrival. He was eating something, discarded packaging and full bottles of soda filling up the coffee table at his feet. However, it was the manner in which he was eating that first struck Jake as being srange: speedy, full bites, as if he hadnât eaten in weeks. Down went the bottle of soda in impressive giant gulps, then, back the man went to gorging himself on even more. Matty was masturbating; Jake could tell by the rapid movement of his shoulder and arm.
Not usually one to be clumsy, the sight of Matty had captured Jakeâs attention so much that he partially missed the counter as he tried to put his bag down, sending it crashing onto the floor.
Immediately alerted, Matty turned around, his mouth smeared with chocolate sauce. âOh, fuck!â he shouted, his eyes wide and immediately reaching down for the underwear around his feet.
âDonât mind me!â Jake called over, theatrically covering his eyes as he made his way across the space and towards his bedroom. âYou carry on! I donât want to disturb!â
Jakeâs heart was pounding as he closed the door behind him. He looked down at his crotch, seeing that his boner was already pressing against the material of his black dress pants. âFuck!â he whispered to himself in horny disbelief. Every kinky fantasy he had ever had about Matty staying at home all day had just come true. There was no denying that he had just witnessed that guy getting off on stuffing himself stupid with food. No wonder Matty's stomach had been blossoming with such speed in recent months!
Jake ran his hands through his hair and paced about his bedroom, not knowing what he should do. He yanked off his tie and gave himself some more room to breathe around his neck. âFuck!â he marvelled again, hardly believing everything he had just seen. Gazing at himself in the mirror, he saw his large, powerful chest rising up and down. Heâd never experienced lust quite as all consuming as this before. His brain had left the building.
Matty was leaning over the kitchen sink, cleaning up his mouth when Jake came out of his room moments later. Dressed in only a pair of sweat pants, the manâs love handles had never looked curvier; the formerly muscular glutes developing a width to them that was almost too exciting to believe. Jake took a seat at the breakfast bar, trying to act casual and style the conversation out. âAre these any good?â he asked, pointing to the new brand of doughnuts Matty had bought and almost completely consumed that afternoon.
Matty turned around, clearly still embarrassed. He sighed and slowly made eye contact with Jake. âSorry about that,â he pointed at the chair he had been sitting in; his pump bottle of lubricant still on the coffee table. âIâve actually decided itâs time that I moved out.â
Jake held back his alarm, deciding it was best to play it cool. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled lightly. âWhy? Because I caught you jerking off?â he asked, as if it was the most ridiculous reasoning he had ever heard.
Matty didnât respond; his mortified face still saying it all.
âYou act like Iâve never seen your dick before!â Jake pressed on. âBack before the accident, you and I used to jerk each other off all the time!â
âWe did?â Matty asked, his eyes wide. âSeriously?â
âOf course!â Jake nodded. âTwo horny guys sharing an apartment together⌠You wouldnât believe some of the things we used to get up to!â
âWell, I donât remember any of that,â Matty mumbled, as if disbelieving what Jake was telling him. âI think youâre just saying that to try and make me feel better.â
Jake grinned. âFine,â he nodded, standing up and taking a seat, slouching in the middle of the couch, spreading his strong thighs apart. âI guess weâll need to even the score then.â
Matty followed him out of the kitchen area curiously. âWhat are you doing?â he asked, spotting Jake unclipping his belt. âYou honestly donât need toâŚâ
But Jake had already fished out his hard dick and was stroking it. âSee?â he smirked at Matty. âNo big deal!â
Matty frowned, but an undeniable look of amusement made the corners of his mouth pick up. âYou are so fucking crazy!â he chuckled, watching his friend stroking his own dick just to make him feel better. âAll right! Fine!â he threw back. âI guess it was a bit of an overreaction to say I was moving out,â he nodded, plopping himself back in his chair, understanding that there were certain things he would never need to feel so embarrassed about in front of Jake.
âGood!â Jake smiled back, slipping his underwear back over his boner and resting his hands by his sides once more.
âItâs pretty weird though, isn't it?â Matty nodded at the coffee table, still littered with all the packaging from his feasting. âI just donât understand why this all gets me soâŚâ he shrugged, unsure how to finish his sentence.
âInsanley fucking horny?â Jake asked, smirking playfully. He stood up again, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it down on the couch behind him. Then he pulled down his dress pants and stepped out of them, before kicking the coffee table out of the way and kneeling down at Mattyâs feet. âI know exactly whatâs happening to you,â he grinned, resting his hands on Mattyâs knees.
âYou do?â Matty replied, swallowing awkwardly as he clearly tried hard to keep his eyes fixed on his roommateâs face, and not let them wander down to the insane erection jutting out of Jakeâs underwear.
âI understand it all better than you do,â Jake nodded, sliding his hands up and onto Mattyâs fat pot-belly, stroking and rubbing it gently.
Mattyâs breathing got heavier. His eyes misted over with lust and he threw his head back for a moment, briefly lost in the ecstasy of it all.Â
âDo you want me to teach you why this feels so nice?â Jake asked, gently caressing Mattyâs stomach as the guy slouched further into the chair for him, allowing Jake greater access to that beautifully soft and sensitive under-belly skin.
âYeah,â Matty mumbled; his dick already pushing up the material of his sweat pants.
Jake leaned in and kissed Mattyâs belly several times, making the man moan softly. Then Jake took his fingers to the sides of Mattyâs stomach, getting a good handle on the skin and gently bouncing the blubber teasingly.
Mattyâs jaw lowered and an involuntary moan of arousal rose out of him as he felt the wobbling of all the lard that had invaded his waistline.
âDo you want to learn why this is so unbelievably sexy for you?â Jake asked now, raising one of his hands up to flutter the soft, saggier area that had once been Mattyâs pec.
Matty nodded, then shifted to pull his sweatpants and underwear down from underneath him, unashamed to show how raging his erection was as it thrusted upwards, closer to Jakeâs face.
Jake smirked, reached behind him, and pullied out one of the large cookies left over from Mattyâs feast, bringing it closer towards the guyâs mouth. âOpen up, Fat BoyâŚâ he whispered seductively.
Matty smiled broadly. He looked gratefully at his roommate, knowing that he was in safe hands. Then, his obedient, greedy mouth widened and he moaned once again as the sugary underside of the cookie hit his moist tongue. He watched keenly as Jakeâs free hand pumped the lubricant into it, then gently moved across to give him even more of a treat. His whole body jolted as Jakeâs large hand encased the shaft and began stroking it up and down with the lightest of touches.
âOhâŚfuck!â Matty gasped, unsure how long he would be able to last with such treatment. âThis feels soâŚâ
Jake nodded, not needing Matty to say a word. âAnd weâre only just getting startedâŚâ he grinned, pressing the next cookie deeper into Mattyâs gluttonous mouth.
Matty may have lost all his previous memories. But, at long last, he was the feeder fat remembered.
mutual gaining couple that just canât stop growing together.
it all began with boundless excitement. however it happened, whether through feabie, tumblr, or just by chance out in the world, they're together now, and they both want to get fatter. maybe they both started rather small, maybe one was a little bigger than the other. regardless, they both had crazy fantasies sure, but neither thought theyâd ever get THAT big. they each had busy lives, things they thought they valued and wanted to preserve. and despite the pounds quickly starting to show, they both believed, eventually, self-control would win. theyâd both have a moment of clarity, both simultaneously realizing âokayâŚweâve had our fun, but things have gotten a little out of handâŚletâs tone things down. diet, exercise, find a weight range that works for each of us, and weâll still find ways to have our funâŚâ
but as the weights creep up, as those clothes tighten and new wardrobe pieces display added Xs, as that furniture creaks, as daily step counts dwindle, that moment of clarity keeps being delayed. those mitigation strategies, dieting, exercise, nothing ends up sticking. maybe one of them tries to start going to the gym, at least for some light treadmill action. but those gym clothes arenât fitting, and the entire process of getting ready proves to be as exhausting as the actual exercise. getting up from the couch, getting changed, squeezing into the car or into public transportation, actually getting through the front door, all before finally arriving at a treadmill. all of that proves to be a workout on its own, so by the time our porker starts to waddle along on the lowest speed theyâre already gassed. maybe they manage another gym trip or two after this initial endeavor, but it quickly falls by the wayside. a failed attempt to slow down the train, something that inevitably becomes jerk off material for them both. âremember when you/I tried to start going to the gym? what a silly ideaâŚâ
because really, how could either of them expect to stop something theyâve both wanted since the day they were born? maybe theyâve had feedist flings before, maybe not. maybe theyâve tried gaining before, maybe not. but both have now found themselves in the relationship theyâve always dreamed of, with the person theyâve always dreamed of, someone who shares not only their sexual fantasies, but wants the same things out of life. theyâre both experiencing a different kind of clarity, a growing wave of self-fulfillment. it all feels so right. this is everything they've ever wanted. when you've achieved your greatest dream, why would you ever give it up?
sure thereâs been challenges, thereâs been sacrifices. work for both of them has gotten more complicated, office clothes/uniforms are being outgrown too quickly, coworkers have been gossiping, maybe a piece of workplace furniture has already given way under a tubby bottom. social lives have fallen by the wayside as hangouts with friends seem to always be cancelled last minute in favor of yet another mutual stuffing session. and when one of them does manage to get out for a fun time, theyâre always met by concerned stares, awkward attempts at asking âis everything okay?â more active things, hikes, walks in the city, ice skating. things they both used to do with friends are just not feasible now for either of them. maybe they get an invite to an event involving one of those things and itâs a total disaster. wardrobe malfunctions due to a closet in desperate need of sizing up, anything more than a few feet resulting in sweating, heavy breathing. maybe theyâre still at a size were such activity would be completely feasible, but only through a regular gym habit that neither of them have. so they come home to their partner, upset, embarrassed, but unavoidably turned on.
the two of them deal with these emotions like they deal with everything: food and sex. and they both understand all these challenges, they go through it all together. they understand these desires, and what happens when they start becoming reality. the love between them grows deeper, the connection even more co-dependent, relying on one another for comfort and support, both emotional and literal, physical support. they help each other get dressed, get out of bed, basic tasks made so much harder from simple laziness and gluttony. they make subtle adaptations, adjustments. the more active friends simply become acquaintances, occasionally texting or falling out of contact completely, while the others appear content with hangouts requiring as little physical activity as possible. the two of them begin reaching out to local feedist circles and making online connections, finding others near them with the same lifestyle, others who âget itâ and are experiencing the same challenges. they find remote jobs, take online courses to help them change careers if necessary. maybe one of them, or both, starts selling feedist content, maybe eventually making enough from this that one of them, or both, can avoid to quit working all together. new, more sedentary hobbies are picked up if they hadnât been already. gaming, movies, model building. cooking and baking skills are picked up as well if they havenât already. thereâs always baking in the oven, always something bubbling on the stove, always something delicious in the slow cooker. constant taste tests, one of them waddling over to the bed or couch demanding the other try this new recipe. they host constant dinner parties, both with new feedist friends and old friends who don't seem worried with what's happening, accepting and aware of the fact that our two tubsters have never been happier. whether itâs all been on purpose or not, theyâve stopped fighting, they've stopped trying to live in ways that contradict with who they truly are and what they truly want.
so all of this continues on, day after day, month after month. because of all of those adjustments, that promised moment of clarity just never happens. our gainers continue living this way, falling deeper and deeper into this new world they've made for themselves. it had in truth happened long along, but their lives now completely revolve around around gaining. heavier weights, once thought to be fantasy, are now talked about as inevitable. they had weight goals before, but instead of casually working towards them, adjusting both speed and scope as life got in the way, the main focus of daily life becomes reaching those goals. things speed up, accelerating at a pace neither of them thought was possible. maybe they switch between feeder and feedee from time to time. one of their gains takes precedence, takes up more of both of their attentions. maybe that's always been the case, maybe one of them has always been the main "feeder" and the other the main "feedee." but no matter what dynamic exists between them, both continue to get fatter and fatter. both simply want to keep growing, and to make sure the other continues to grow. leaving the house has become increasingly rare for both of them. every day becomes an endless, hedonistic blur. all day gaming sessions, movie and tv show marathons. grocery and fast food deliveries every few hours. if they aren't having sloppy, sweaty sex, at least one of them has a hand down their pants at any given moment, with the other hand grabbing onto something soft, whether its one of their rolls or one from their fellow glutton. the cooking and baking continues, both have gotten quite gifted and each has multiple recipes that they've mastered, both taste and calories maximized. but the simple fact is that they've started to outgrow their kitchen. only one can be there in it at a time, and even though it's become a tight squeeze. standing for long enough to finish cooking something become impossible long ago, and the amount of official kitchen chairs that have been broken is already too many to count. all the furniture that can be reinforced, has been. they've ordered a custom made, reinforced, double bariatric bed, with a one ton weight limit. not a day goes by when at least one of them doesn't get off to the thought of breaking it. the point of no return was passed long ago. diets and exercise are attempted from time to time, but always with the clear intent of failure, just another way to enjoy their size, just another way to remind them of where things are at now. whatever lives they had before this relationship began are gone now, and they couldn't be happier. the next step is moving to a new place, one with every possible amenity to make what's coming next as easy as possible. they even make sure there's a guest bedroom. they both know why.
it's a few years in now. the only activities they get up to are eating, fucking and playing with each otherâs blubber, often all three at the same time. anything else either one of them gets up to is just a distraction. it's hard to focus on playthrough 10 of fallout new vegas when you feel your gut brushing the carpet as you sit on the struggling sofa. or when your lover comes waddling in with the morning's fourth pipping bag of bavarian cream. it was always there, but perhaps the biggest challenge one of them would've had to just slowing this all down or even stopping it, was each other. maybe there was a couple other genuine attempts, like that gym fiasco. but now that they're both full immersed in this lifestyle, neither can find the strength to support the other in these attempts. and its not on purpose, thought diet and weight loss sabotage are fantasies they share. it's just...the food doesn't stop. the other person shows no desire to join you, and you love that about them. both of you go days without leaving the house. how could one ever expect to lose weight in such an environment? especially when that's the kind of environment they've both been dreaming to live in? why would you want to give that up? how could you ever?
no matter what the dynamic was before, one of them eventually takes over as a primary feeder and caretaker, their own gains slowing down a significant amount. thereâs definitely a size difference between them of at least 150-200lbs. the bigger one is a complete couch potato, barely managing more than 50 steps a day, regularly consuming 8,000 calories every day, everything being provided for them. the smaller one? the only thing that gets them off the couch is the desire to get more food for their piggy. this is just enough motivation to get them off the couch to waddle to their now larger, yet still tight kitchen or outside to pick up food deliveries. the big one canât seem to find the energy to even get up for these things, despite wanting the small one to keep ballooning as well. but the small one doesnât seem to mind one bit, even as those clumsy waddles get harder and harder by the day. this was a natural step. eventually, one of them was going to give in completely a little quicker, accept the inevitable a little faster, while the other still clings to some degree of normalcy. and one of them has to stay mobile. at least for now.
the big one unsurprisingly hits immobility first, but those last steps had been taken long ago by that point. they'd both made preparations long ago to get ready for this moment, and it allows the big one to settle into such a life comfortably. the small one is perfectly content caring for their now positively blob-like partner, but itâs tough to fulfill that role when you can barely get up from the couch on your own. itâs tough to clean under an immense gut when youâre too weak and flabby to even come close to lifting it all the way. the small one manages despite the difficulty, being a caretaker keeps them from reaching immobility thanks to the added physical activity and despite the need for frequent breaks, but only for now. the small one's appetite hasn't changed, and the clock is ticking. they havenât managed to have anything close to ânormalâ sex in a very long time, but at this point, itâs just the frantic squishing together of flab, chubby fingers grabbing rolls, sweaty folds slapping, desperate humping and grinding, huffing, puffing, moaning. luckily, the whole scenario is so incredibly erotic to them that just a couple minutes of this is all it takes, enough jiggling reaches sensitive, buried genitals, to bring thunderous orgasms. and while the small tried to clean them both up after, it become clear to them both after a particular session that it's just impossible now. so they both reach out, asking in those feedist circles they'd become key members of, and eventually find a local feeder, one who appears beyond excited to care for such a gargantuan couple, and make sure they can keep this all going. after a hangout at the couple's place, and the heaviest menage a trois of all time, they all click, and soon the feeder moves in to that extra bedroom, quickly taking over as caretaker. everything is given over to the feeder, all the remaining responsibilities these two butterballs have. the small one slows down. no more waddling around, no more struggling to take care of the big one despite how much they loved doing so. it's all coming full circle.
the small one sits down next to their quadruple digit parter, in the center of their massive bedroom, one that they almost never see the outside of. large windows provide plenty of natural light. itâs snowing outside. the small one takes a look at the thick blankets of snow being laid outside, thinking those mightâve be the last steps they ever take. they smile at the thought, and stuff a donut into their mouth, the sweetness sending shivers down their spine and between their legs, and reach over to do the same to their partner. the feeder steps in, placing another donut into the small oneâs mouth, and then another to the big one. back and forth, back and forth, an elaborate funnel set-up hanging above them, the sound of a blender getting their afternoon shakes ready. itâs finally the small one's turn to relax, to sit, to grow and swell, to let themselves let go of those final responsibilities, to fully give into mindless hedonism alongside the love of their life. both have had to stay in some form of control, ensuring the other is cared for, ensuring life can continue as is. even the big one, despite reaching a bed-bound state first, remained somewhat aware, retained as much responsibility as they could. but now, they both can just let go. there's nothing in the way now. their true dreams have now been realized. just the two of them, nothing but fat, food, and more, more, more. the small one gives the big one a kiss with glaze coated lips as their feeder, having stood up to retrieve the gallons of shake that await these happy fatties, looks on, equally as joyful, thinking to themselves, "they just couldn't stop, and now they never have to."
Summary: Everyoneâs wondering why youâd come to a world-renowned ski resort if youâre too fat to ski. If only they knewâŚ
Happy Olympics to all who celebrate! Thought of a quick little thing while I was watching some skiing. Just some slice-of-life cuteness, if that's your thing!
~
Dallas was a sight as he sat in the sun overlooking the beautiful alps that surrounded the ski lodge. There were several people sat outside at the various tables at the bottom of the mountain, but Dallas was the only one with his coat unzipped, exposing his hanging, voluminous gut to the elements, with only an overtaxed t-shirt protecting him from the biting chill of the wind.
He sat proudly, letting his impressive gut hang towards his crotch, between his meaty thighs. The t-shirt, though doing itâs best, had ridden up a touch, exposing the slightest bit of his smooth skin to the elements. Despite the breeze, he wore a content smirk on his round face, flush with the warmth of his fat-insulated body, and the copious amounts of cider heâd been downing throughout the morning. He nevertheless vainly pulled at the hem of his shirt, giving his proud belly a loving rub, and his overhang a tender heft, causing a snooty huff from a woman who had been staring disdainfully a few tables over.
Dallas didnât mind though, as he flagged over one of the staff, requesting yet another cider, as well as an impressive second lunch order in under an hour. The other man did his best to maintain a professional neutral expression, but even he raised an eyebrow as he took Dallasâ thermos to refill it. Dallas watched him leave with an amused smirk, adjusting himself in his creaking seat, trying to mask his arousal at the fact that yet another member of the staff didnât seem to recognize him.
âDid you look up from your trough long enough to watch me ski, piggy?â
Dallas looked up with a start, smiling as he saw it was his husband, Ian, leering down at him as he unfastened his helmet. Ian grabbed a chair and moved it up beside Dallas, slumping into it with a huff as his hair flopped into his eyes, slick with the sweat of a few hours of skiing. Dallas was perspiring a little as well, from the effort of digesting everything heâd eaten since his husband had hit the slopes that morning.
As Ian sat, collecting his breath, he placed a hand affectionately onto Dallasâ prominent belly, giving it some aggressive shakes. His smirk grew as he felt how much less it jiggled than it had earlier in the day. He nestled into his husbandâs double chin, kissing the fold tenderly.
âYeah - I saw you,â Dallas said, if only to keep himself from moaning into his loverâs soft caress. âYouâd go faster if you tucked your arms in, instead of flapping them around like a duck!â
Ian gave Dallasâ belly a harsher smack. âHar, har,â he said, before the two leaned into each other and took in the view.
The view was truly gorgeous. It had snowed the evening before, and at just past noon, the sun shone beautifully off of the snow-packed hills, and the weighed down evergreen trees that dotted the sliding trails. Ian had taken some absolutely stunning photos from the top of the mountain that he would show Dallas later, though they both knew he was more familiar with the sights than Ian was.
âDoes it feel weird being back?â As he said that, Ianâs hand moved up from Dallasâ belly, feeling the hard metal of Dallasâ gold medal underneath his shirt.
Just a year prior, Dallas had stood at the base of this same mountain, on a podium with the same Olympic gold wrapped around his neck. Considered a generational talent in downhill skiing, he had, over a career that spanned 3 Olympics, and dozens of international competitions, never once placed below the podium. Until he left that podium, and his professional career, many considered him the fastest skier in the world.
And here he sat, at the base of a particular mountain that he had never lost an event in his entire life. Gorging on food and cider, never once even considering climbing onto the ski lift. Ian had begged him to at least do the beginnerâs slope, so they could see just how his fat gut had transformed the top athlete into an uncoordinated oaf. But he refused.
He had denied himself his truth for so long - won so many awards and medals that sat, unwanted, in boxes in his closet, when all he had ever wanted was to be fat and happy. And fat and happy people sat on their widening asses, drinking and licking their plates clean. It was athletes that kept themselves firm and lean and disciplined, and he certainly didnât look like an athlete.
It was enough for the both of them though, when the front desk attendant, who had personally provided room service to Dallas every time he used to compete here, and knew him by name, hadnât recognized him. Had in fact looked him in the eye and asked the former Olympian if he had ever skied before.
Dallas looked at the slopes. He looked at the thing that the world had assumed he had conquered. The thing that had actually stood insurmountably in his way, before turning to his husband. The man that had seen what he had actually wanted. Who had given him what he had actually wanted, wrapped in over 100 pounds of fat.
âNah, it doesnât feel weird. But it does make me think about how big Iâll be the next time weâre back!â
Sam couldnât know why Duncan had taken to hanging out with him at the gym. Although he had always been fit and athletic, Sam had never been deemed worthy enough to hang out with the jocks back in high school. Perhaps, on some level, even Duncan knew this; leaving the body-building guys to head over and chat to Sam as he started up the treadmill.
Not everyone liked Duncan at this gym. Of this, Sam was acutely aware. Many thought the guy arrogant and narcissistic. Heâd seen folks actively roll their eyes whenever Duncan strutted in: dressed to display his beautifully sculpted body, shoulders back and perfect posture, towering above everyone else. âHeâs got one of those smarmy faces Iâd love to punch,â grumbled one older guy after Duncan had laughed at his technique on the press up bar.
âYourâre here five minutes early today,â Duncan smiled, checking his watch. âYou couldnât wait to see me tonight, huh?â he winked at Sam, never failing to make him blush with the playful flirtation that constantly poured out of the guyâs mouth. Even if Duncan hadnât been the straight alpha male that he was, Sam didnât think he could ever have brought himself to flirt back. He was a stuttering, fumbling mess whenever Duncan turned on the charm: a constant source of amusement to gym hunks like him, whose playful sexual appetite seemed to exude from every pore of his body.Â
On the treadmill, Duncan talked about himself, effortlessly chatting away even as the set programme automatically increased the speed of the belt, the whole machine raising up and down with the incline.Â
Sam could feel the sweat rolling off his forehead. He took a swig from his drink but he still knew he couldnât keep up with Duncan tonight. His muscles still ached from the previous nightâs workout. He was sore and depleted. He smashed his hand down on the button to lower the speed, cancelling the exercise programme he had started with Duncan. âIâm out!â he gasped, feeling his legs turn to jelly as the belt beneath him quickly decelerated to a pace he only had to walk to.Â
Duncan laughed. âAw, buddy!â he mocked. âYouâre not giving in already tonight, are you?â
Sam stepped off, stooping until he dropped down onto the nearest bench and tried to catch his breath. He could tell that Duncan wasnât really disappointed at him for quitting. This seemed to be what he liked best about coming to the gym: showing everyone else how much fitter and more capable he was than the rest of them; increasing the speed of the treadmill even now, just to demonstrate how easy it all was for him. Only a light coating of sweat showed against his broad, powerful chest, making him look even more imposing and awe-inspiring.Â
After ten minutes, Duncan found him again, strutting across and taking over as Sam struggled to set up the weights for his chest press. Even after such an intense cardio session, Duncan handled the giant metal discs with ease, barely making them clatter once as he expertly slid them onto the bar. Without being asked, he stood behind to catch the bar should Sam struggle to complete the full reps. It was a favor Sam had no hope of reciprocating, given how extreme the weights Duncan lifted himself. Even the guyâs encouragement seemed hollow and patronising, given how pathetically weak he must have looked to a toned, muscular adonis like Duncan.
âIâm taking my girlfriend away this weekend,â Duncan declared. âA nice little, romantic cabin in the woods,â he smirked, like a man who knew he was about to have a full weekend of sex. âShe wanted to see the Fall colors, but I canât see her leaving the bed much!â he joked, like Sam was just another one of his straight buddies who would clap him on the back for his great sexual prowess.Â
Sam nodded and smiled as Duncan flipped his cell phone around to show him a picture of the place he had booked: stunning social media fodder and very expensive-looking. How Sam envied that girlfriend! Oh, the things he would have done to experience a dirty weekend with Duncan! âIt looks nice!â he smiled.
âHave I ever shown you a picture of my girlfriend?â Duncan asked, clicking through his gallery and smirking as though he was trying to find a picture that was safe to be shown in public. âHere she is,â he finally declared, flipping the cell phone around again.
Sam tried his best to conceal his surprise. It was the large double chin that made his eyes bulge slightly. Short and round under Duncanâs great arm, the womanâs stomach and hips looked as though they had been inflated by a giant pump. Gorgeous Duncanâs girlfriend was undoubtedly obese.
Seeming to know exactly what Sam was thinking, Duncan turned the cell phone back around and smiled in delight at the image he had shown. âSheâs a greedy little thing!â he chuckled to himself. âSheâs put on a lot of weight since I asked her out. She says sheâs on a diet at the moment,â he chuckled, rolling his eyes as though he didnât take that at all seriously. âBut Iâll just pick up a tub of ice cream on the way over to her place later and sheâll still have the whole thing eaten by the time she falls asleep.â
Duncan chuckled to himself once more, staring at the image some more: their dramatically contrasting bodies; the outline of an ever so slightly erect bulge pressing against the tight material of Duncanâs gym shorts; an image that Sam would undoubtedly be touching himself to later on when he tried to recall it in his mind in the privacy of his own apartment. But, right now, Sam didnât really know how to respond. Should he say something about how cute they looked together? How pretty she was? He didnât know the rules.
âSheâs a lucky girl,â Sam finally stated, feeling that he couldnât leave it a second longer to reply. He regretted his careless phrasing immediately. He always tried to hide his attraction to Duncan so carefully, yet it always tumbled out of him in awkward moments such as these, every single time.
Duncan grinned from ear to ear. It seemed impossible that such a handsome face should exist atop of such a fine,perfect body. âOh, absolutely!â he smirked, seeming to know just how much this quiet, polite twenty-two year old would love to suck him off. âSheâs a very lucky girl!â
Many may have pondered Duncanâs usual choice of girlfriend. But, for Sam, the answer seemed obvious. Duncan was into that big, fat-girl look, and the fact that he didnât try to hide that preference only seemed to increase his sexual appeal. Having a crush on a guy was one thing, but knowing that that man was also a kinky, horny devil was adding a whole new layer to Samâs quiet infatuation with him. Over the weeks, Duncanâs shared images of his girlfriend only seemed to show her becoming rounder and rounder. Yet the man stood proud, knowing that he was the mastermind behind all of it.
âHowâs your girlfriend?â Sam asked one week. It was a habit he had got into after that one time Duncan had shown him a picture of himself with his girlfriend at the beach. Shirtless and sculpted, Sam had wanted to burn the image onto his retina for all eternity. Maybe, one of these weeks, another such shirtless image would be shown to him, providing that he kept asking about what Duncan had been up to with his girlfriend.
âWe broke up,â Duncan replied casually. âSheâs decided to start her weight loss journey,â he smirked, as if quoting her phrasing exactly. âAnd she feels that it will be a lot easier to do that if we werenât together.â
âOh, Iâm so sorry!â Sam shot back; his face full of sympathy. The gym was oddly quiet that evening and the lack of people suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Duncan furrowed his eyebrows. âSheâs absolutely right,â he chuckled. âItâs the smartest thing sheâs done since I asked her out.â
âSheâs a fool, giving up a guy like you,â Sam tried to counter. Heâd been wound up for the last half an hour by how beautifully tight Duncanâs gym shorts were; not forgetting the musky scent of his pumped body. The fact that the guy was now single was sending jolts of pure lustful fantasies to soar through his brain, no matter how impossible it was that they would ever come true in real life.Â
âSheâs really not!â Duncan laughed even as he took a large swig from his protein supplement.
âShe is!â Sam exclaimed. âIf I was with a man like you, I wouldâŚâ he stumbled, realising he should have thought of how he was going to finish the sentence before heâd started it. âIâd do anything,â he finally stated.
A bright but wicked smile spread over Duncanâs face. âYou see, thatâs exactly what I need,â he nodded, patting Sam on the back. âSomeone who will just do what I say, when I say it. Is that too much to ask?â
âI donât think so,â Sam replied, nodding his head emphatically. The feeling of Duncanâs large hand on his back just made him want to say whatever he believed the man would most want to hear. Perhaps that was why Duncan was keeping it there, causing all the blood in Samâs body to head south.
âYou think I could ever find someone who would do that for me?â he asked, looking straight into Samâs eyes. âSomeone who would eat what I told them to eat? Wear whatever clothes I thought suited them best? Someone who would really care about keeping my dick hard as much as possible?â
Sam swallowed. Heâd had a few homoerotic chats with straight guys back in college, but this was actually making his heart race and his skin turn clammy with sweat. âAbsolutely!â he answered a little more timidly. Fuck! Was Duncan really talking about his dick? That perfect, oversized bulge Sam had swooned over for months?
Raising an eyebrow, Duncan went to take another drink from his protein shake and then stopped. He looked at it for a second, then back at Sam. âHere,â he offered, pushing the spout towards Samâs mouth. âDrink.â
âWhat? Why?â Sam replied, caught off-guard by the request.
âDo I need a reason?â Duncan smirked, shaking the almost completely full bottle and holding it close to Samâs mouth.
Wanting nothing more than to keep this sexually charged conversation going, Sam reached out his hands to take the bottle as he tilted his head to take a sip. However, Duncanâs large hand did not move to let him take the flask. Instead, the muscular hunk was pouring it in, with Sam awkwardly dropping his hands to the side instead. His lips clamped around the spout Sam had the odd sensation of subservience, like he was committing an act not too dissimilar to sucking Duncanâs actual dick. Yet, as he swallowed, the big man seemed to have no intention of letting him stop until every last drop was gone. Sam searched the guyâs face, looking for clues about what was really going on behind those wicked, electric eyes. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow.
âGood boy!â Duncan smirked the moment the entire bottle had been drained to the back of Samâs throat. âThatâs over a thousand calories right there!â he chuckled, patting Samâs middle as the guy tried to discreetly burp up the air he had accidentally swallowed.
âReally?â Sam asked, surprised that a protein shake could be so ridiculously calorie dense.
Duncan nodded. âYeah, itâs great for guys like me,â he smiled, flexing his bicep almost into Samâs face. âNot so good for boys like you,â he laughed, squeezing Samâs comparatively puny arm.
The weight of all that liquid was sitting heavily in Samâs stomach. He groaned, rubbing his middle. âThatâs going to take ages to work off on the treadmill.â
Duncan laughed, wrapping his big arm over Samâs shoulders and pulling him away. âNah, your workout is over, buddy,â he replied. âYou can come help me with my reps instead.â
Inexplicably, Sam found himself doing exactly as he was told, following Duncan around from one machine to another and holding the manâs sweaty towel.
Duncan looked around, seeing that the place was still eerily quiet. âLooks like everyoneâs at home watching the big game tonight,â he chuckled. âHow about I give you a little treat?â he winked at Sam, already leading the way back to the changing rooms. âSit there,â he ordered the moment they were inside.Â
Again, Sam only did as he was told; his brain working overtime trying to catch up with what was happening to him. At the very least, he knew heâd had some fantastic views of Duncan working out to masturbate to when he got home later.
With the satisfied grin of a man who knew he was the ultimate fantasy of so many, Duncan began undressing himself for the showers, slipping off his underwear and pointing a finger straight at Sam. âNow, you stay right there!â he teased, like telling off a naughty puppy as he climbed into the open showers space. âStaaay!â he repeated, like he expected the horny Sam to jump on him at any moment. âGood boy!â
Sam could hardly believe what was happening. Of course Duncan was completely hung. Heâd suspected as much from the many glimpses of the bulge heâd had over the last six months of knowing the guy. His dick was an absolute genetic masterpiece.
Soaping up his muscular body, Duncan seemed to drink in the quietly lustful glances from Sam. Round and round, Duncan massaged his pecs and ran his hand up and down his tight, chiseled stomach. Those big hands then reached down into his groin, scrubbing his shaft just a little too long not to be playing with it, at least a little. He turned gently, giving Sam a look at his perfectly sculpted back and deliciously pert and muscular butt cheeks. It was as if the man had known every last sexual fantasy that had wandered through Samâs head for the last few months, and he was here, now, playing up to every last one of them. Look, but donât touch.
âTowel,â Duncan ordered, reaching his hand out as he returned from the showers, still just soapy enough to give his body that perfect, glistening shine.
Duncan jumped to attention, delivering right away. Finally, an opportunity to stand close to that statuesque, naked body.
âHow was the show?â Duncan asked, holding the towel but still not using it.
Sam faltered. How was he supposed to respond? Heâd tried and failed to hide his attraction to Duncan for months. Was it time to just be honest?
âWell?â Duncan pressed him.
âAmazing!â Sam replied. âYour body is just⌠incredible.â
Duncan nodded knowingly. âDo you want to suck my dick?â he asked plainly.
Samâs eyes widened. âWell, IâŚâ he fumbled.
Duncan laughed. âIâm just fucking with you!â he called out like a taunting bully from the playground. âYouâre nowhere near ready to suck me off.â He reached his large, strong hand to hold Sam by his shoulder, suddenly more serious. âBut you could be one day. Would you like that?â
Not wanting to open his mouth and reply incorrectly, Sam only nodded meekly.
âGood,â Duncan smiled. âVery good!â
The following days were a whirlwind of strange encounters and arousal. Sam would arrive at the gym to be little more than Duncanâs assistant, following him around the place and watching him lift. As many as three large water bottles filled with protein shakes were pressed into his hand at timed intervals, coaxed into drinking them all by an uncompromising Duncan. The place was always too busy for another peep show in the shower, yet that seemed to only play into Duncanâs hands even more, keeping the memory and fantasy of it all in Samâs head; played out and replayed like a well worn cassette tape each time Sam touched himself.
âI see weâre making some progress at last,â Duncan smiled, poking Sam in his stomach one day. His strong, outstretched finger pressed firmly against an undeniable layer of fresh padding. Sam hadnât intended to gain weight. Yet, by following Duncanâs orders each night, he must have been consuming an incredible amount of extra calories. It had messed with his head and thrown his usual routine, eliminating all workouts from his routine and making him hungry later in the evening when the tight bloat of all those shakes finally wore off.
âWas this what you did to your girlfriend?â Sam asked boldly; questioning Duncan for the first time about the strange requests he had made of him over the last three weeks.
âNo,â Duncan chuckled, shaking his head as if Sam had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. âShe didnât just throw her head back and take down anything I told her to,â he taunted, as if making fun of Samâs unquestioning obedience. âThings are going to go a lot faster with you.â
Sam swallowed. So this was a sexual thing for Duncan. He was getting the same thrill out of pumping him with calories as he had with his ex. That must mean that there was at least a chance that Duncan mightâŚ
âYou should come over to my place tomorrow night,â Duncan stated, sitting on the large seat of the chest station. âI can start taking some measurements of you and get you on my special scales.â
Samâs heart fluttered. An invitation to Duncanâs apartment? Could this be real? âOkay,â he nodded.
Duncan scoffed, nodding down at the slight bulge that had sprung in Samâs gym shorts. âDown boy!â he grunted, already pressing the extreme weights to start the first of his reps. âYouâre not sucking my dick tomorrow. You understand?â
Sam shrank back a little, grabbing Duncanâs sweat towel to hide his groin. âYeah, I understand,â he nodded, not wanting to overstep and ruin his chance.
The next evening, Duncan had told Sam to be at his place for eight. Sam had arrived early, waiting outside on a bench just around the corner so as not to appear too keen. Then, at exactly eight oâclock, he pressed the buzzer, feeling more excitable than ever before.Â
Duncanâs apartment was every bit as Sam had imagined it to be: Plain, functional and undecorated. It wasnât at all a place for him to bring girls home to seduce them. This was quite simply the control room from which Duncan organised his life; his wet suit from his water sports adventures hanging on a hook on the bathroom door, a large cardboard box of protein powders used as a makeshift coffee table, as well as several free weights and kettlebells lined up against one wall. A small TV sat in the corner but something told Sam that this was something the big man rarely actually used.
âYou came,â Duncan smirked, like a lion seeing its prey simply wandering freely into its cage. âYouâd best get your shirt off then so that I can get a look.â
Sam nodded. Heâd expected this, pulling it off just as Duncan slipped to one of his drawers and pulled out a measuring tape.
âNice work!â Duncan marvelled, reaching one finger to lightly stroke a new build up of fat at Samâs side and nudging him slightly so that Duncan could get a better look at his butt. âThis is pretty decent,â he nodded, complimenting himself on the progress he was making with his doting admirer.Â
âThanks,â Sam smiled back, making Duncan laugh at him. The big man shook his head and rubbed his forehead, finding amusement in the fact that Sam would actually thank him for all this flabby softness that was quietly invading his body.
Out came the scales, placed on the firm kitchen floor. Samâs butt was tapped impatiently until he climbed up. âYou said you were one-fifty-five when I asked you a few months ago,â Duncan proclaimed; surprising Sam that he had actually retained that knowledge. âLetâs see what you are now.â
There was no dramatic climbing and balancing of numbers on Duncanâs scales. Like the man himself, they delivered the figure quickly and to the point.
With obvious amusement, Duncan delighted in reading the number out. âOne hundred and seventy two!â he nodded. âThatâs exactly what I thought it was going to be!âÂ
Sam stepped off, feeling his body. Had he really gained seventeen pounds of fat in just over three weeks? And, more than that, was the change really so obvious that Duncan had been able to predict the exact number with ease?
âRelax!â Duncan scoffed at him, sensing Samâs sudden insecurity at how quickly this was all happening to him. âYouâre going to have to get used to this if you want to keep hanging out with me. That is what you want, right?â he asked, as if challenging Sam to correct him.
âOf course I do,â Sam nodded. âItâs just a⌠a big change,â he mumbled.
âThink of it this wayâŚâ Duncan jumped in. âIf you want to be my plaything, then youâre going to have to entice me to play.â He wrapped his arm over Samâs shoulders. âIn your case, that means taking down a lot more food and calories to really push a gut out on you. Iâm talking tits, fat rolls, extra chins⌠the lot! Thatâs the sort of stuff that really gets my dick hard.â
Sam nodded, the scent and touch of Duncan, not to mention his deep, masculine voice in his ear, really spiking his arousal once more.
âIâd love for you to be that lucky person who gets to wake up next to me each morning, but thatâs not going to happen with a skinny little ass like youâve got at the moment. Are you understanding me?â Duncan asked, as if feeling that he was explaining something to a three year old.
âIf I want to be with you, Iâve got to get fatter,â Sam replied, trying to show Duncan he was on board.
With a little sideways squeeze, Duncan chuckled softly. âYeah, youâre sort of getting there,â he smirked. âItâs just time to start committing yourself in the way a guy like me deserves.â He pulled off his shirt and reestablished the sideways hug; their two naked torsos side by side for the first time.
Within a further week, Sam had been banned from the gym by Duncan. Now, these late evening home visits had become the natural progression. At Duncanâs apartment, Sam would be pressed with further shakes along with deliberately fattening feasts, like pizza, takeout or whole tubs of melted ice cream.
âMaybe we should plan a little sleepover for you soon,â Duncan grinned, grabbing at a full wedge of fresh blubber on Samâs frame and jiggling it until even Samâs puffy nibbles moved against the rhythm.
Sam nodded keenly, gazing with admiration at the mostly naked Duncan, but for his underwear, having arrived when the guy was fresh from the shower. âIâd like that,â he smiled, knowing that the new tire of belly fat that was starting to encircle his own waist was giving Duncan the very slightest of boners. Three shakes down and almost an entire extra large, meaty pizza, his capacity for consuming was increasing by the day. A good thing, considering there was a full tub of ice cream sitting at the side for him afterwards as well.
Without the gym, all the extra calories seemed to hang off Samâs body in blubbery masses. There was that new roll across his stomach and oozing into his love handles. Then there was that new softness under his nipples and the embarrassing chub that had arrived under his chin. His butt had softened and widened, along with the tops of his thighs and, more recently, the tops of his arms too. In his everyday life, heâd started buying and wearing larger clothes. That was, apart from when he was seeing Duncan. At those times, Sam made the decision to keep dressing himself in those old, ever tightening pieces that were beginning to look nothing short of ridiculous on him. It was the longest foreplay of his life, enticing Duncan bit by bit as his body swelled outwards in just the way he liked. He found he could play up to it. Hiding his burps was less effective than letting them out, for Duncan smiled broadly and clapped him on the back each time he let one go.Â
Once the fat had started properly jiggling in the love handles, shirtless Sam made endless excuses to head to the bathroom or walk himself back to the kitchen, allowing Duncan to observe the free movement of fat across his body. âI feel like such a fat pig today,â he groaned, draping a limp arm across his bloated stomach after that dayâs pizza was finished.
âThatâs because you are a fat pig!â Duncan chuckled back, slapping his big hand down on Samâs new gut and rubbing in a firm, harsh and unsympathetic manner.
Sam smiled, pleased that he was getting this sort of response now; an erection clearly pressing against Duncanâs brilliant white underwear. Heâd paid more attention to the way Duncan spoke about him when he was most aroused, repeating those names like âpigâ and âlardassâ when he talked about himself and finding that it was all bearing fruit when it came to getting Duncan turned on. Perhaps, with this continued progress, he could have Duncanâs beautiful dick down his throat in less than a few weeksâ time.
People were surprised when Sam began telling them he was seeing someone. Perhaps it was because it was so clearly obvious that he was in the worst shape of his life. His certainty that Duncan would soon give in to his clear attraction to him allowed Sam to relax a little, flashing a picture of the man to those who asked about him. The more he talked about Duncan as if he was his, the more Sam needed to make it happen, doubling up his portions to keep his waistline expanding in the way that Duncan wanted.
âTHATâS your new boyfriend?â asked an indignant colleague of Samâs as he took in the picture Sam was showing him.
Sam smiled and nodded. He was well used to these types of reactions now. Duncan was so impossibly hot, it was easy to question how anybody could land him, let alone a now 220lb Sam.
âThat guy is a narcissistic asshole!â came the unexpected response, catching Sam by surprise. âHe dated my cousin for almost a year and she gained almost a hundred pounds!â
âOh, rightâŚâ Sam mumbled awkwardly, wishing heâd kept this secret to himself.
âThe guy clearly gets off on it. I remember trying to talk to him about cutting down on the treats he was feeding her. He clearly didnât give a shit. He didnât care about her at all; only about getting her fatter.â He then gazed appraisingly up and down Samâs body. âTrust me. You need to get away from him!â
Like a reality check smacking Sam in the face, he was a little quieter the next time he went over to Duncanâs place. What he was doing was utterly insane in anyoneâs eyes. Heâd allowed himself to amass so much extra weight and hadnât done a slight bit of exercise in months; all to impress some guy who, in all likelihood, couldnât care less about him.
âCome on, Piggy!â Duncan prodded Sam, seeing that he was a little slow with his meal that night. âYouâve got tits to grow for me.â
âOne of my work colleagues knows youâŚâ Sam began, deciding to just say what was on his mind. âApparently, you used to date his cousin.â
âOh, and let me guess⌠his cousin found herself piling on quite a few pounds?â Duncan asked back, clearly pleased by his own reputation.
âHis cousinâs name is Ellie,â Sam nodded.
âOh, THAT little piggy!â Duncan laughed in amusement. âNow she was a great fatty!â
âShe still hasnât been able to drop the weight,â Sam went on, recounting what he had been told by his colleague. âSheâs tried everything.â
Duncan laughed wickedly. âGood! Iâm glad all that time I spent secretly training up her appetite didnât go to waste.â
âI thought you might feel a little bad?â Sam asked, surprised by Duncanâs reaction. âSheâs tried every diet under the sun.â
âPigs will be pigs!â Duncan merely grinned back, obviously delighted that Ellie was still as large as ever. Then he sighed, seeing that Sam continued to be unsatisfied by his response. âIâm not a good person, Sam,â he stated frankly. âOr have you forgotten that?â
âNo⌠I'm justâŚâ
âIâm a bad boy,â Duncan spoke over him, getting closer on the couch. âIf you wanted to shame me, Iâm afraid it hasnât worked. All your little story did was get me even more turned on,â he grinned, pulling down his underwear a little to reveal his naked erection to Sam for the first time.
Samâs eyes bulged.
âGreedy boy!â Duncan laughed as Sam instinctively licked his lips. âI told you⌠pile on the blubber, then you can suck my dick as much as you want!â
It had been a masterclass on manipulation. Just the mere sight of Duncanâs boner had shattered all of Samâs resolve to have a serious conversation about the manâs morals. He didnât care how long he had to wait, nor the cost to his waistline in the process, Sam was going to wrap his lips around that beautiful dick one day. It was something Duncan appeared to know all too well, reaching for Samâs hand and pulling it into his own underwear until Samâs hand was actually gripping his throbbing shaft. Was this real? Was Sam actually holding Duncanâs dick in his own hand?
âAre you going to be a good boy and stop complaining now?â Duncan asked firmly.
Sam nodded; his jaw slack from the absolute arousal he felt in doing what he was doing.
âSo are you going to eat your food now? Build the fat and make me want to fuck you properly?â the man continued, guiding Samâs hand in a slow, steady stroke of the shaft, concealed once more under the fabric of the underwear.
âIâll get as fat as you want,â Sam heard himself saying. âI swear!â he declared, realising that he wouldnât change this wicked side of Duncan even if he could. It was part of him, and the reason why Sam couldnât imagine wanting to be with anyone else.
Duncanâs hands began to linger a little longer on Samâs body after that day. A playful tap on his softening butt would lead into a firm hand cupping his glutes as he swallowed his first shake of the day. Belly rubs became longer and more intense, the strokes along Samâs fleshy upper arms and under his chin undeniably intimate. Duncanâs boner was now a constant feature, pressing up against Samâs butt as he climbed up on the scale each week: 228lbsâŚ233⌠245âŚâ
Some men might have carried such weight easier, but on Samâs body, the fleshy fat pushed out of him, bloating him up like a shapeless slug. Duncan had turned him around and kissed him once heâd hit two-fifty. The moment had caught him by surprise; so tender and even romantic. Nine months of this crazy kink-fuelled alliance and at last he had been kissed. It was almost an old-fashioned courtship when looked at from another angle. But then that timeless image was shattered, with Duncan immediately pushing Samâs head down and into his crotch, allowing Sam to suck him off for the first time ever. How long had the man had this goal in his head to get Sam to two-fifty? Had Sam known that this was the target, he would have ensured he got there at least a couple of months earlier.Â
âThereâs just no hiding those tits now, is there?â Duncan laughed, ready to take Sam out on an official first date. Heâd chosen the restaurant, had his hair styled differently and bought himself a new shirt that showed off his pecs to perfection. Meanwhile, Sam was struggling to make himself look anywhere near presentable to go out. His shape was so different to so many other guys; his naturally narrower frame carrying the fat in giant moobs and widening his butt into a shape that almost seemed quite feminine. However, his gut was unmistakably masculine, arching outwards even beyond his chest. Heâd packed on twenty pounds in little over two weeks of reaching two-fifty, as if his metabolism had now completely destroyed itself.
âMaybe I should start growing a beard,â Sam pondered, still trying to correct his appearance in the mirror before they left.
âNot a chance!â Duncan chuckled behind him, kissing him sweetly on his cheeks. âI want every last inch of you on show!â
Duncanâs mindset seemed to be changing. He talked about them as if they were a real couple, and discussed vacation plans far off into the future. Heâd slide his hand down into Samâs great underwear and jerk him off, or part the fat manâs butt cheeks to allow himself entry. Was Duncan actually smitten by him? Was this a real, content version Sam had never known actually existed?
At some point, once Sam was around 300lbs, it finally happened. Heâd been at a celebratory meal with his work colleagues to congratulate themselves on signing up a major new client after months of preparation and effort. Sam hadnât expected them to choose the buffet place heâd been to with Duncan on multiple occasions, but as he ate, he suddenly found himself getting hornier and hornier. Usually, by the end of the third plate, Duncanâs strong hand would be rubbing his thigh under the table, coaxing him to push further. Yet, even without Duncan there, Sam could feel his arousal spiking as his work shirt tightened around his middle.
Samâs colleagues thought it amusing to see Sam heading back up for so much more food. Even Frank, the senior manager, who was at least fifty pounds heavier than Sam, had long since given up eating. Perhaps that was the reason he was so aroused. Duncan had always told him how fat and greedy he was getting. Now Sam could see how completely true that was, surrounded by normal folks with average appetites; so different to his own, a man who had been fattened and stuffed for over fourteen months. He had no concept of correct portion sizes left in his brain; his only usual reference for normal eating habits being Duncan, who also constantly ate in order to maintain his strapping, muscular physique.
âWhat have you done to me?â a lustful Sam cried out as he got home and found Duncan there, still a little sweaty from his hard workout at the gym.
âSomeone had a good evening,â Duncan chuckled at the sight of Samâs strained work shirt.
Sam didnât even reply. He unbuckled his pants the moment the door was closed, dropping them, along with his super large underwear, down to the floor. He grabbed his already hard erection and began tugging it in the way he had wanted to do for the last two hours. The pleasure was immediate, his eyes rolling up into his head.
Laughing, Duncan headed over. âWhatâs gotten into you, Piggy?â he asked curiously.
Sam moaned as they kissed, pulling Duncanâs hand onto his large belly and contracting the manâs fingers so that it pinched the copious amount of blubber. There had been some shift in him that he could not describe. He went upstairs to prepare himself, knowing that he needed nothing more than Duncanâs hardness inside of him in order to quench this sudden thirst.
âLittle pig, little pig! Let me inâŚâ Duncan teased, banging on the bathroom door when he could hear that Sam was almost ready to emerge.
There was a buzz in seeing Duncanâs face as Sam stepped out wearing the little pig nose he had picked up from the joke store on the way home. He watched Duncan move a step back and take in the words Sam had written across his large belly in quick-drying face paints: âMake me a Superchub!â
Without a single word exchanged, Duncan kissed and made love to him with a horny urgency that resulted in one of the best orgasms of Samâs life. His surrendering and encouragement of Duncanâs wicked intentions felt like the greatest of all turn-ons. So what if he was struggling to see his own dick anymore? Duncanâs erotic fascination with his body would ensure he was never short of receiving wave after wave of pleasure.
Even as Sam continued to grow, Duncanâs unflinching dedication to his own body was admirable. The man had participated in, and won, two body building competitions; his achievements fuelled in part by his deep sexual arousal by the ever increasing contrast between him and his lover. Duncan could spend hours rubbing, patting, jiggling and tapping at Samâs plush body, amazed at the complete lack of muscle tone and the delightful softness. Heâd made it clear that he had wanted Samâs neck entirely eliminated, so captivated was he by the expansive ring of fat that was framing his boyfriendâs face. Everything was a turn on for him: the little involuntary grunts Sam made as he shifted his weight, the unflattering fit of even well-sized clothes, as well as the disgusted reactions of those who had not seen him in some time.
Duncan would pose for him after each gym session, perfecting the professional stances that displayed his insane muscle best. In return, Sam would recline his chair and allow the stud to push handful after handful of delicious cake into his greedy mouth; lubricated down his throat by a pot of pure cream.
The weight in Samâs chest felt unreal as the fat began to form giant sacks that nudged their way under his arms, lifting them outwards. It was the greatest benefit of having a bisexual boyfriend, as Duncan worked them to perfection, claiming them to be the âbest titsâ he had ever played with. Once over 400lbs, Duncanâs attention shifted to the large padding of fat that filled Samâs groin, almost swallowing up his dick entirely. The skin was so sensitive to Duncanâs touch, Sam had little comprehension of just how many calories he willingly consumed as his man fondled him there, getting a better grip on his hardness than Sam could ever hope to achieve on his own now.
Perhaps, given such erotic fixations, people may have expected their relationship to fizzle out. However, as Samâs butt widened and his gut began pressing outwards and even sagging slightly, it was clear that Duncan had no intention of going anywhere. It was the lifestyle he longed for most; working hard in the day, working out in the evenings and then coming home to his grotesquely overindulged lover; stuffing him with food in a way that made both of them climax with ease. It was obvious how surprised others were when Duncan proposed, but not to Sam. He knew his man better than anyone else on the planet: his dreams and desires, his goals and ambitions.
âWhat do you say, Little Pig?â Duncan grinned, holding out a ring as he got down on one knee in the middle of the restaurant as a startled gathering of folks watched on from other tables, just as Sam knew Duncan would want.
Stuffed to the gills, Sam nodded, hearing the vague, half-hearted and unsure applause from the strangers that surrounded them. The kiss was deep and passionate as Duncan enjoyed every last moment to show Sam off in public like this. The man had handed his cell phone to the waiter, asking him to take a photo of them together as he stooped over Samâs chair: Duncanâs large, strong arm draped over Samâs shoulders, his other hand resting affectionately on the shelf of the enormous belly he had grown on him. This was it for Duncan; his ultimate fantasy coming true. There had been a reason why Duncan had stuffed him so much before popping the question. Heâd wanted Sam as bloated and round as possible before this picture was taken of them together. The picture that would soon be shown off to all of Duncanâs friends, colleagues and gym buddies as he proudly displayed the gigantic, lardy blob he intended to marry.
But, as Sam smiled, feeling that gentle, affectionate rub of Duncanâs kinky hand on his fat stomach, he knew that marriage to such a man was only going to do one thing to his waistline. Perhaps that would have worried him some time ago. But, even now, he could feel his erection building with just the first images of what he would soon look like flooding his brain. He turned his head back to Duncan, gazing at those perfect lips he wanted so desperately again.
âAre you ready for this?â Duncan grinned, preparing to kiss him once more for the next picture to be taken by the waiter.
âYou bet I am!â Sam nodded keenly; closing his eyes and surrendering.
This story was based on a reader suggestion by @lessof. Thanks so much for the idea!
***
It was hard to make friends in Lewiston. Iâd been there a whole month and still felt like an outsider.
People say that small towns are friendly. And they are. All the cashiers and shop assistants greeted me with a friendly, âMorninâ, yâall! Howâs it goinâ!â Stuff like that. But I was starting to think that it was just surface friendliness. People were polite and smiley, but I still couldnât figure out how to break through and make an actual connection.
Plus, there wasnât a real gay scene in Lewiston. I couldnât find any gay bars or clubs or anything.
Eventually, I just bit the bullet and redownloaded Grindr on my phone. I wasnât looking for a hookup. Just a friend or two.
A few guys popped up in my area, but they were all older and intimidatingly kinky, from what I could tell.
Then I found Cramer. At first, I thought his profile was fake. No one in Lewiston looked that perfect. He was a 6â3â rugby player, packed with muscle and jarringly handsome. He had the right amount of scruff and very kind eyes. His photos showed off his body without being thirst traps. Plus, he was my age (26), and he didnât live too far away.
It felt too good to be true, but I contacted him anyway. We exchanged texts and agreed to meet at a cafĂŠ and see what happens.
He said that he wasnât interested in a hookup, either, but again, I didnât know if I entirely believed that.
So yeah, it was best to meet in a public place in the middle of the day. If he ended up being a creeper who made his photos with AI, then Iâd run out of there.
But when I saw him, nervously sipping a cappuccino at a corner table, I knew his photos were real. If anything, they didnât do justice to just how muscular and dashing he really was. My heart melted, both at his good looks and the fact that he seemed endearingly nervous.
I headed over and introduced myself. âHey. Iâm Sammy.â
He shook my hand. Very strong grip. âCramer. Wow, you're even more handsome in person. I was worried youâd be a creeper.â
I laughed. âSame!â
We hit it off right away. Neither of us ordered food (just coffee) and we went through the typical getting-to-know-you talk. He grew up in Lewiston (which explained his slight drawl), and he loved everything about his hometown. Everything except the gay dating scene, of course. He assured me that the area wasnât homophobic (anymore), just very insular.
I asked him about what he did for fun around here, and he went on and on about his rugby team. I found it wild that Lewiston of all places would have sports other than football, but apparently rugby was pretty big here. Not sure why. He played on a local team a couple times a week, which explained his beefy physique.
Once we both accepted how well the date was going, he suggested that we order food. (He paid.) I got a sandwich, but he ended up ordering two breakfast plates and a slice of cheesecake.
âReally,â I protested. âIâm not that hungry.â
âNaw, Sammy. Itâs all for me.â He flexed his arms. âGotta be a big eater to keep my competitive edge.â
I tried not to drool. âWell, whatever youâre doing is clearly working.â
That made him blush.
The rest of our conversation came fast and easy, but after a while, it felt like I was doing most of the talking. Cramer responded when he needed to, but with all that food in front of him, he mostly ate. The guy had a mouth on him. Let me tell you. It was hypnotic how steadily (and how joyously) he shoveled in his food.
I couldnât stop staring at his full-lipped mouth, smiling as he chewed.
He mustâve burned a lot of calories playing rugby.
When he finished, he looked disappointed. I wasnât sure if it was because our date was ending or because he just wanted more food. I hoped it was the former.
We agreed to meet again that weekend to go on a real, non-coffee-shop date. Then we said our goodbyes and hugged.
Thatâs when the craziest thing happened. I loved being enveloped in his muscular arms. I loved the warmth radiating off him. Most of my exes had been slim like me, so it felt wonderfully comfortable to be held by someone so big.
But I also noticed⌠squishiness.
His entire body was made of hard, solid edges, except his stomach. That was soft. He didnât have a gut or anything, and he looked nothing but V-shaped with his shirt on, but there was a definite layer of pudge where his abs shouldâve been.
That wasnât the crazy part, though. The crazy part was that as soon as his hidden flab pressed against me, I got a semi.
Iâd never been turned on by fat before. I didnât know what was different now. Maybe it was the contrast. Maybe it was the fact that Iâd just seen him joyfully pack himself with food and now I was feeling the effects.
Whatever the cause, this one flaw in an otherwise perfect man really got me going.
I pulled away a little too quickly. âItâs, uh, great meeting you! See you Saturday!â
***
Cramer and I were soulmates. I knew that by our third date. I was watching him play rugby, just absolutely dominating. He was a beast. The strongest, fiercest guy on the field.
But then after the match, I ran over to congratulate him with a hug. (Still hard-muscled and soft-bellied, with enough sweat to make a squish noise when we connected.) He proudly introduced me to his teammates, which made my heart flutter.
Then, on the way to his car, we passed a baby bird chirping in the grass. Without thinking, he ran over, scooped it up in his big hands, and put it back in its nest. Then he jogged back to me and acted like nothing happened.
Thatâs when I fell for him hard. His contradictory body (solid yet squishy) was a lot like his personality. He was a demon on the field but a tender, caring softie underneath.
Perfect combo.
We went back to his place and made love for the first time. My hands were all over him, especially his middle. And yet again, he alternated between forceful and gentle in ways that sent jolts of excitement through my body.
Yeah, he was a keeper.
***
Our relationship progressed very fast. A couple more dates and we were officially dating. (Not like either of us had a lot of prospects around here.) He brought me into his friend group of jocks and country boys, and while I had zero in common with any of them, they accepted me like a brother. And because I wasnât all that happy with my new place, I moved into his mobile home after a month of seeing him.
My family back in California thought I was crazy, but when you know, you know.
Living together came with some definite advantages. It was close to my work. We had a nice yard with a little creek running behind the property. I got to spend all my extra time with him.
And I got to cook. A lot.
Iâm a great cook. Itâs a passion for me. None of my exes were all that impressed, but Cramer acted like he was living with Julia Child or something. Everything I made for him was âout of this worldâ or âthe best meal this side of the Mississippi.â (He had his go-to phrases.)
I never lost the thrill of watching him eat, and the fact that he took so much joy in my food compelled me to keep trying new things and surprising him with treats. He never, ever said no.
Many nights, heâd eat himself into a stupor and Iâd rub his packed stomach to ease the pain. I got to play with his squishy middle and make him feel more comfortable. Win-win.
***
After three months of living together, he popped his first button. Heâd just gotten dressed for work after a hearty pancake breakfast. I was helping him tie his tie. And then I felt something shoot against my crotch. We both looked down at the same time and saw his pants spread open at the zipper.
âGuess I overdid it with the pancakes,â he said.
He meant it as a joke, but I didnât laugh. I stepped back and finally took stock of how much heâd thickened. My constant attention was making him fat.
His V-shape was gone, ruined by budding love handles. And his stomach, which used to be soft and flat, was now bulging forward and causing creases in his work shirt.
My first thought was, âFuck. I did this to him.â
And my second thought was, âFuck. I am so turned on right now.â
I pushed him against the wall and kissed him. My hands went straight to his sides and squeezed.
He was an hour late to work that day.
***
After that, I stopped buying so many snacks. I stopped using so much butter. I stopped encouraging him to eat seconds (something I'd unintentionally been doing a lot). I didn't want to be a bad influence.
Plus, I was a little scared of how turned on I was by his belly.
Despite my efforts, he just kept growing. If anything, his gains sped up. He didn't just go for seconds anymore. He went for thirds and fourths. I never said no if he asked for more.
And our belly rubs went from occasional to daily. Our evenings usually ended with us on the couch. Iâd play with his belly until he stopped moaning. And then Iâd stretch out next to him, using his belly as a warm, hairy pillow. It was comfortable, and I loved hearing the tummy gurgles.
***
Six months into our relationship, he quit rugby. He said it was getting harder for him now. âIâm getting old.â Those were his words.
But it had nothing to do with age. It had to do with the new layer of fat that was weighing him down.
I tried to talk him out of it. He loved rugby. Plus, it was great exercise.
He pulled me close, showered me with kisses, and whispered, âI have better things to do with my time now.â
That weekend, I watched him play his last match. Surprisingly, he didnât struggle at all. If anything, his extra heft made him more of a powerhouse. His stomach jiggled when he ran, and he grunted more, but otherwise, he was as strong and capable as the first time I watched him play.
Afterwards, we had a huge dinner at our place. Us and his teammates. They all begged him to reconsider, and a few gave me cold glances, as if I was the reason he quit. But outside of that, it was a joyful, food-filled evening. Everyone stuffed themselves, but none more than Cramer. I think he was showing off.
***
With no more exercise to burn off the calories, Cramerâs entire body changed. His arms and legs thickened while keeping their muscular curves. A ring of neck fat appeared under his stubble. And his belly went from noticeable to absolutely undeniable.
Even though he didnât need the extra calories, his eating continued to increase. It was like heâd transferred his motivation on the field to the dinner table. He treated eating like rugby, messy and sweaty and determined.
I gave up telling him to slow down. He did what he wanted, and I was happy to watch him go.
I continued using his belly as a pillow every night after sex, letting his deepening gurgles lull me to sleep. Who needs a white noise machine when you can just listen to your fat boyfriend digest?
As the pounds piled on, I couldnât deny it anymore. He was doing this to himself. He was making himself fatter.
But when I asked him about it, he said, âWhat are you talking about? Iâm just comfortable. With you.â (As if that explained how much food he ate and how rapidly he was expanding.)
Merely four months after quitting rugby, he lost his ex-jock shape. The fat had finally taken over and all his muscular(ish) edges were gone. His arms no longer flared at the biceps. His calves sloped into cankles. And his gut, once so big and round, was finally starting to droop. The only parts of him that still hinted at his former athleticism were his wide shoulders.
***
By the middle of summer, well into his post-rugby life, Cramer was undeniably obese.
We just finished dinner. I made a couple trays of lasagna and he scarfed it all down (aside from one small slice for me) with even more determination than usual.
There was something different that day. He kept smiling at me, fighting through the pain in his stomach but looking like he had some kind of secret that he couldnât wait to spill.
After wiping his mouth, I helped him from the table to the couch, where I assumed weâd do our usual thing: watch TV and snuggle.
He sat with a grunt. Once I made sure he was comfortable and his two-liter Coke bottle was within reach (just in case), I stretched out next to him and lowered my head onto his comfy belly pillow. His shirt was slightly damp with sweat, a tell-tale sign that heâd expended a lot of effort at dinner. His tummy gurgled like a distant whale song. It would get louder, though. Once more of the lasagna settled.
âWhat are we gonna watch?â I asked.
He switched on the TV. âI figured weâd just listen to music for a while.â With the click of a button, some 80s pop filled the room.
I was fine with that.
He didnât need to explain himself, but he did anyway. âFigured I wouldnât be able to concentrate on a movie tonight.â
âWhy?â
âNo reason,â he said in a way that told me there was definitely a reason.
His rumbling got louder in my ear, mixing perfectly with the Whitney Houston track playing from the TV.
It was only eight, but I already felt my eyes getting heavy. I was too comfortable.
Then our doorbell rang and I shot straight up. âDid you invite people over?â
We hadnât seen his rugby friends in a couple weeks. I wasnât prepared for guests.
âMayyyybe,â he said, drawing out the word and emphasizing his Southern accent. âCan you answer it?â
I nervously went to the front door and opened.
There was a delivery guy outside with five bags of take-out Chinese in his hands. I looked over my shoulder at Cramer, who was smiling at me.
âAlready paid for. Just leave the tip.â
I did what he said, too confused and horny to truly understand what was going on. In the time it took me to bring the bags to our coffee table, Cramer hadnât moved at all. He was still sinking into the couch, his belly rising and falling (and gurgling).
âWhatâs this for?â I asked.
âExtra hungry tonight,â he said with a post-lasagna burp. âCanât sit up right now. Can you hand me that Coke so I canâŚâ (Burp.) âClear up some space?â
First of all, chugging soda wasnât gonna clear up anything. And second of all, he couldnât get up because he was already overstuffed. There was no way he could handle any more food.
But I handed him the bottle anyway. He grabbed it weakly and tried to twist open the cap. Stopped. âCan youâŚ?â
I opened it for him. I attempted to hand it back, but he wouldnât take it. He just closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and waited.
So we were doing this. He wanted me to feed him.
My cock flushed with warmth. What was I doing?
This was by far the kinkiest thing Iâd ever done, and we hadnât even talked about it first. It just⌠happened. I started to think (as I raised the bottle closer to his greedy lips) that this was what Cramer had wanted all along. On our first date, he seemed like a wholesome, normal, small-town guy who liked exercising and wasnât into anything taboo. He lowered my defenses and let me fall in love with him, but deep down, he always wanted a man to make him fat. That had to be it. He eased me into this very moment.
In a way, it was a dark realization. I wasnât tricked, but I kind of was. At the same time, I was so fucking turned on right now that I didnât regret a single thing.
So I tilted the bottle against his lips and he started chugging. He was going fast, suckling like a baby on a bottle, so I tilted it up a bit more. Trickles slid down the edges of his mouth. Coke dampened his already sweaty shirt. He downed half the bottle before I stopped.
He couldâve kept going.
Then I placed it to the side and pressed both hands against his straining belly. It was rumbling enough to vibrate under my palms. âYouâre still hungry?â
âUhhh,â he moaned. That was the only sound he could make. An unmistakable yes. Then he forced himself to say two words.
I couldnât understand them.
I rubbed his stomach. âWhat was that?â
âNo⌠LeftoversâŚâ
Fuck.
I was hard.
After that, my body took over. My brain was too overloaded to think straight. I grabbed the container of kung pao chicken, pressed my body against him, and fed him with my hands. Piece by piece.
There was pain on his face, but he wouldnât stop eating. A few times, he burped as he swallowed. His stomach was louder than it had ever been. A constant, gurgling churn.
The Mongolian beef? Done.
The pork-fried rice? Done.
The rest of the Coke? Guzzled.
The egg rolls and wontons and noodles and shrimp? All gone.
After a full hour of feeding, dripping, and a grab-bag of noises coming out of him, we were finished. I pushed the last piece of orange chicken into his mouth. My forcefulness was gone now. I came in my pants five minutes before, and now I was tingly all over.
Cramerâs shirt had ridden up to his chest, exposing a belly that looked so round and painfully tight that I was afraid to touch it.
But I did. I kissed his belly on its upper crest, and it responded with the loudest, deepest gurgle yet.
Then I grabbed a towel and carefully wiped him down. I pulled off his sweatpants and cleaned his crotch, too. (Not sure when he erupted. Probably sometime during the pork-fried rice. Thatâs when he started moaning differently.)
He was still awake, but he couldnât move. Couldnât even open his eyes.
I got comfortable next to him, draped my hand across his gut, and fell asleep.
My boyfriend had just made me into his feeder, and I loved it.
***
In the middle of the night, a violent tummy-rumble jarred me awake. I sat up and kissed Cramerâs cheek. Music was still playing from the TV, so I switched that off.
Cramer lazily tilted his head toward me and half-opened his eyes
âWant me to help you to the bed?â I asked.
âStill canât move,â he said. Then he said something that took me by complete surprise: âI canât believe you made me into this.â
I was fully awake now. âWhat?â
âNo. Itâs great. I love being big. Itâs⌠Well, when we met, I never thought you were so⌠kinky.â
âBut... But... But you ordered the food!â
âYeah,â he said, smiling. âIâm into it now. Clearly. You pulled me in.â
Silence. I was too shocked to speak.
âPancake breakfast,â he mumbled.
âWhat?â He couldnât possibly be ready for more food!
âThatâs when I figured you out,â he said. âRemember that? It was the day I popped my first button. Before that, I noticed how you kept touching my stomach and goading me into eating seconds. I thought food was your love language. But that moment, seeing how you looked at me, I knew you wanted me fat.â
âIs that why you quit rugby?â
He patted his stomach. âWorked wonders, didnât it?â
This whole time, I had everything backwards. I pulled him into my kink, not the other way around. This was insane.
âDid you have fun at dinner?â he asked. âWas it everything you wanted?â
âYes,â I said, even if I was too clueless to realize what I wanted until I got it. âIt was incredible.â
âWe canât do that again for a couple more nights. I need to adjust. But once I get big enough, Iâll probably be able to handle two dinners every night. Table dinner and couch dinner. If thatâs what you wantâŚâ
âThat is exactly what I want.â
Satisfied with my answer, he closed his eyes and fell back asleep. I guess we werenât gonna go to the bed.
I stretched out next to him and lowered my head onto my favorite pillow. His gurgles practically whispered goodnight.
The End
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No how is that possible, surely this scale must be broken, faulty perhaps I think as I squish away my stomach fat to read the scale.
How have I gained more than 150 pounds in my year abroad, I remember weighing myself when I checked my baggage. What was I âŚ. 110 ..115 something, well not anymore because if that scale isnât wrong Iâm 280lbs. ThatâŚThat makes me undeniably fat, I gasp as I turn to assess the damage in my bedroom mirror, a mirror which I appear to now have outgrown as my sides are cut from view and replaced by only a wall of fat. I mean I look more like Tomas than myself, but assessing the damage I look properly bigger than him, no one would believe it now but before I left for Budapest I was quite in shape, not ripped or anything but compared to the average American I was quite slim. But I guess thatâs all gone now, I admit as I begin to examine my overfed frame. Holy hell I used to have pecs now I look at my poor pecs swollen beyond recognition, my nipples puffy and round as I pinch them, and I will admit my arms wonât that toned before but as I try to flex my arms I get nothing but jiggle from them. Even staring at my face leaves quite a shock as my fat round face stares back at me, its cheeks chubby and its double chin large, but of course, the biggest wrecking ball to my self-esteem has to be this tank of a thing. The only word that I can think to describe it is obese, I used to have abs (well faint abs) but this beast of a thing is another question. It jiggles and quivers as I try to suck it in and wish it away, how had I become so used to it to not notice how fat I had become.Â
Turning my head to my closest, I jog over to see if anything I had would even be able to cover my doughy figure. Shirt after shirt fails, all my favourite going-out tops stretched out and torn as I pull my hardest on them to try and cover my cavernous belly button, nothing fits all snapping back and rolling up leaving my fat gut on display. It's not long till I give up, halve hastily because I know it's fruitless and halve because I simply physically canât. Iâm almost panting by the time I crash down on my bed, red in the face and already broken into a sweat. How had I let it get so bad?
The Karmans lived in a humble house in the outer skirts of their village, not too far of a commute to the nearby townsâ butcher and bakery where Mr and Mrs Karman respectively worked, their humble house meant I would be spending the year bunking with Tomas in room already too small for his size. I hadnât minded Tomas, only a couple of years older it appeared that he was more than glad to share his room with a stranger, and being an only child myself meant it didnât take much time for us to brother up to each other.Â
It was at that dinner on that first night when should I have realised what I was getting myself into, with Mrs Karman bringing out her traditional goulash, a dish so captivating my mouth still waters about it now. But of course, after a long day of travel, I didnât notice the inflated portion sizes as Mr Karman served me, making sure to give me the best pieces of fresh bread. Over the dinner we worked out my working arrangements, I was to spend the first half of the week working in the bakery with Mrs Karman and the second half in the butcher with Mr Karman. Tomas had recently left their family business, fed up with his parents and had been shadowing the townâs trailer, leaving ample space for me to fill. Afterwards, as they showed me the rest of their previous host students, I had no idea why I had failed to notice how much rounder they each looked throughout their stay.Â
To others life in the village might have seemed boring, a tad dull perhaps but to me, I was eager to explore this traditional Hungarian village and I wanted to do it the right way. No social media, no doom scrolling, no nothing, all that I had left was my digital camera and a weekly phone call with my dad back in Florida.
Work in the bakery had started slow, Mrs Karman had little faith in me to begin with leaving me to only man the front, but of course, as the weeks went past and her trust grew in me, I was finally allowed to step into the kitchen and help to roll the dough and monitor the oven. Mr Karman on the other hand, had decided the best way for me to start was to throw me right in, leaving many complaints in Hungarian being hurled my way in the first couple of days. This of course too became less and less as I became more competent in my Hungarian and my butchering skills. All of this had been great but the real treat had been the food, from Monday to Wednesday I had strudels, chimney cakes and scones at the tips of my fingers. Free for me to snack and grab upon whenever the morning traffic dwindled - which was quite often, and of course from Thursday to Friday my choice of meats that Mr Karman always prepared to fuel him up doing the day as well as a plethora of smoked sausages and salami to nibble on whenever I wanted to. This of course didnât include the beers, that Tomas would supply with me on Friday and weekend nights, those nights quickly became a highlight of my weeks, here Tomas was eager to show me all the dark beers they drank. Each one is more filling and stronger than the next, leaving most of the weekends to recover from our hangovers. It was on these nights were Tomas was proud to show up the American he had living with him, and it was where I first laid eyes on Jozef. To put it kindly Jozef was the kind of man that would fill my teenage wet dreams, he was tall, dark and handsome with muscles that couldn't be covered and thick curly body hair that seeped out everywhere. Later, after a couple of several pints I had drunkenly asked Tomas whether he knew if I was Jozefâs type, and I donât know if it had been the beers or the question but Tomas couldnât help but burst out laughing, saying in the best English he could summon between bursts of laughter âyou.. you too smallâ
Other than the language border I had grown quite close to Tomas, close enough to show off my skill in the water when we stripped and went swimming in the lakes, I was happy to tell him about my swimming meets and galas, to which he always fond quite a bore.
Stating âYou can be so American sometimes, enjoy yourself leave all that stuff over thereâ he said splashing a chubby arm into the distance.Â
His blankness left me stumbled maybe I should give it a break , with all the hours spent working the gruelling the early morning runs seemed less and less enjoyable especially when followed by a day of working.Â
It had been on this day when I remember first admiring Tomas's size, well maybe not admiring more examining it. It had been when we were sunbathing to dry off, as naked as the day we had been born, two very stark images. I could see now that without his layers Tomas was more fat than muscle like he appeared. His white skin was taut as it browned in the sun, it wasnât a surface area not covered in fat, and I guess it was true that fat guys had small penis as I saw him stretch out his foreskin to waken his shrivelled penis. He must have caught me staring as he flirtatiously saidÂ
âyou like what you see Americanâ in his best American accent, to which I replied âNo just wondering what it must be like to be soâ and I rubbed my flat stomach to not want to say the word fat.Â
âOh youâll seeâ or âOh why donât you seeâ he chuckled as he jiggled his fat in the sun, however my ears had been partially filled with water so I couldnât quite translate.Â
But I guess now, I knew what he must have meant to say, as Iâm sure to him he could see it all unfold. Newly determined to enjoy village life I swiftly cut back on my exercising deciding to enjoy the extra hours of sleep I gained in the mornings and evenings, however, I certainly didnât cut back on my eating to compensate. And how could I, it would have been rude to not finish my meals served to me by the Karmans, plus maybe I had picked up quite a sweet tooth while working in the Baker. As well as all that the food had just been so filling, so delicious so sweet and so rich to cut back on, I was Hungry after all I had to eat the Hungarian way and besides I wasnât going to have access to such food like this back in Ohio. So while the Hungarian summer reigned I continued to indulge myself, eating more than my first share, gobbling down on baked goods and delicious meats and washing it down with beers. I paid no attention to how bloated I got after meals as I listened to Mr Karmanâs tales, nor did I pay any attention to the number of deep-fried pateirs and bit down into as Mrs Karmanâs taught me new recipes. And I of course didnât count the number of rounds of beer we drank as Tomas ordered another and then another, I was in bliss so why was I to care?
So of course it wasnât long till I started to carry an extra softness where my abs were, a fuller arse where my tight butt was and some rounder arms where my biceps once flexed. But it didnât stop there as the summer heat raged and free time was spent lazing around at the lake snacking on whatever Mrs Karman had packed for us, I couldnât muster up the energy to run in the scenic Valley or hike the woody mountains, it was just too hot, that's what Tomas said as well as walked to the lake picnic basket full.Â
But although the heat killed my motivation to work out, it certainly didnât kill my appetite as I gobbled down goulash, chicken paprikash and krumpil and snacked up on gundal pancakes, tortes and shortbread. Looking back at this digital it was evident to see where all that food was going, mainly straight to my belly, thighs and even budding love handles, the extra softness I was carrying on my abs grew and grew as I plopped confectionary after confectionary down my mouth. In this digital, it must have only been a month or two but I already looked rounder and fuller in the lake pics, my smile gleaming as I bit down into a round piece of flatbread covered in pork fat, while my stomach rolled into itself as I reach for another. But of course, I didnât stop there, too addicted, too infatuated with Hungarian food to put my foot down and control myself. Even after my third month when my t-shirts were noticeably tight and my underwear even tighter, I still remember Mrs Karman's soothing sentiment that went down like honey as she passed me a 4th chimney cake âHave to beef you up for Hungarian winterâ she giggled, she even went through the effort to leave out some of Tomas old clothes that night with a note, âsaying all yoursâ.
Maybe if I had just stopped there, if I woke myself up from my blissful indulgence, and had just lost those 15 extra pounds I wouldnât have let it bloom into another 100 pounds of fat which Iâm carrying now, officially obese and borderline morbid.Â
But it seemed although I had been paying no attention to my budding beginner belly and full arse, someone else had. As later that week still clad in my tighter clothes, it seemed that I was saying all the right jokes to Jozef, and after only a round or two we had already parted from the group and it wasnât long till he was humping me dry. And What I thought was only a one-night fling however quickly spiralled over the months to spontaneous days where he would appear in his old Ford taking me away for days out, eager to show me Budapest he knew, to which there was no better to learn than through its foods he said his deep manly voice. Always stopped at cafes and bistros and ordered the âvery bestâ as he said it, which mainly always translated to the very most. There are these photos taken by a passerby of the two of us, itâs in some restaurant somewhere after a long meal, I wrapped up with Jozefâs strong arms looking well deep in his eyes, him staring straight at the camera, grinning - I only notice now that his hands are planted firmly on my belly stuffed and round poking out from under my shirt.Â
As summer ended, the heat lingered in the valley, and I was fast getting used to my Hungarian life, it had only taken 5 months but Mrs Karman was finally allowing me to bake recipes under her watchful eye. She had very strict criteria one imperfection and the whole dozen was thrown out - well not thrown out per se, left in the back to snack on, which always emptied by the end of the day. Mr Karman also had simpler practices although it was obvious he wasnât impartial and purposely sabotaged a cut allowing us to snack on it while we worked. Tomas always popped up at the end of the shift, hands full of fabrics and garments, we had grown quite close over the last couple of months, bonding over pretty much everything, partially food. The pair of us simply liked to eat, and we were lucky to be supplied by a new endless supply, in fact we almost grew quite competitive over meals seeing you could devour more - all just playful games of course, with Tomas mainly winning. Although I did notice I had packed on a few pounds, I was in no way close to Tomas's size and weight, this helped diminish my gains, my abs had faded and my thighs seemed thicker but that was nothing compared to fat boy number 1, I told myself as I reached over for another roll beating Tomasâs greedy arms.
By All Saints Day, summer was officially long gone and the air certainly felt it, however, one place I certainly didnât feel was when I was lying in Josefâs bed. I had grown quite in love with Josef, I loved nearly everything about him, his seductive mouth that he used to cover me with kisses, the smell of sweat that clung to him after a long day of work or most importantly his sex drive. I had never met a guy so horny all the time, constantly pumping me full. And not to make matters worse, he was such a gentleman after spooning me for hours even getting up to bring in food in bed,Â
âThe very best for my very bestâ
He loved to say as he plopped a pile of food on me, I was course too over heels to notice any connection. So infatuated was I by Josef that I might have packed on another 30 pounds alone because by month 6, all I can see in these pictures, is the foundation of my fat now. In one of the last visits to the lake, before it froze after, the 3 of us stood there naked to the world, except now I can see that my body looks more like Tomas than Jozef. All traces of athleticism were gone, instead replaced with fresh fat, in only 6 months I had transformed myself from a relatively in-shape guy to a borderline fatty. And this photo is the most shocking, from my love handles to my round extended belly I simply look fat, and there Josef is smiling, his hand around my back and if I can remember right clasping on my meaty arse cheeks. Josef of course wasnât a bad boyfriend, I never went without when I was with him, he always kept me in the conversation whenever I was meeting his parents or close friends, and he insisted on making sure my plate was always refilled. Hungarian culture he told me as he passed another loaf of bread drizzled in cheese and he never went a day without him keeping his hands on me always feeling my curves, massaging them, kneading them. How could I even think two ways about my body, when I was with a man who simply was glued to my body?
But still I could have stopped there, and lost the weight, however I was always in shape growing up, never watching what or how much I ate, I never had to control myself I simply didnât know how to, so of course I made no effort to limit myself, showed no restraint, never turned down an extra serving, and how could I was to happy to care.
Needless to say by the halve point of the trip I wasnât fitting into any of the clothes I had packed at the start of the trip. Jeans couldnât be pulled up, t-shirts ripped at the sides, however from their cheap materials and the hot Hungarian sun, I wrote those off as un of my wrongdoings. Maybe if I didnât have to option to wear some of Tomasâs old clothes I would have shown some concern, but why would I? Tomas's clothes were roomy and comfortable, and it's not as he minded he was more than glad, even when I started to rock his old underpants, he would often say I was becoming a mini-him, and now looking back on it I realised what he meant.
If I had any thought in my head, I would have thought that the Karmans were purposefully fattening me up or knew how fat I was getting and was keeping it secret. They never mentioned my weight or picked up my growing laziness they encouraged me, I was allowed to miss the hour of the working day most days and I was let home early on slow days. Never did I have to stay behind and clean up or do anything strenuous. Or maybe they were just being good hosts happy to indulge their guests, either way, the damage was done, officially 278lbs is what the scale says. I canât even imagine what everyone's gonna say about me back at college, my spot on the swim team is long gone.
Fuck I curse out as I see an old pic of me only desk, what have I done to him, whatâs my dad gonna say heâs such a health nut freak. What is he gonna say when he come home and see the pig of a son? To make matters worse nothing fits, I resulted in wearing a pair of old sweatbands, although I can feel the elastic band tight around my waist. Giving up unpacking I collapse onto the bed that groans under my weight and reach over for my camera, it seems I had gotten up to winter, the real damage to my bodyÂ
As anyone could expect, when winter began, my weight only really started to snowball, the cold wintery days and chill mornings, left only the fireplace and food to keep me warm. Coming from Florida meant I had never truly experienced such coldness before let alone all the snow, even with my added padding I still felt the cold to my bones. Luckily for me, it seemed Mrs Karmann had the perfect recipe - hot stews and thick steaming goulash, she was always happy to keep a fresh pot brewing for me whenever I got back from outside I always made sure to beeline to the kitchen to help myself to a serving.Â
The combined snow and coldness truly killed all my desire for weekly runs which had already grown quite rare in themselves, and as the holiday season ramped up it wasnât like I had the spare time to do anyway, both the bakery and the butchers were packed day in and day out. Everybody getting in their holiday shopping, it was exhausting but luckily the pay was good, and by pay I meant food, the Karmans happily allowed me to eat whatever I wanted showing no restraint. And eat I certainly did, as the holiday season reigned over the village, I could not help but get swopped up in the holiday mania, in the chocolate-coated cakes, the thick sugar-coated doughnuts and steaming apple pies all in reach of my pudgy arms. Not to mention my promotion at the bakery to prime taste tester nothing was sold unless I gave it my approval. I could spend hours resting in the back, trialling new cakes and cookies with my feet up happily stuffing myself and not even question it. I must have been getting fatter by the week shovelling down trays of baked goods and delicious, I ate with no restraint as if I was a pig getting fattened up for Christmas dinner. And looking at this photo from Christmas Day I certainly looked more like a pig than a human, it is a photo taken by the fire Iâm fast asleep having stuffed myself full after Christmas dinner, my belly now a proper gut, round and solid, my moobs filled out my chest as if I had boobs. My face is round and plump the look of indulgence written all across me as my guts peak out from under my shirt. Josef is in the back towering over me, his thick muscular frame all on display, a part of me blames him for all this damage, he showed no disdain to my piling figure, in fact I think he encouraged it, always buying my gifts in the shape of chocolates and cakes. I must have grown quite in love with him by the holidays and it shows in this picture of the two of us, where it looks like I gained all the relationship weight. I wasnât the tallest so my extra weight made me e look even more and more stout especially when stood next to the towering Josef. But truthfully my chubby frame was truly all my own doing, I had built up quite an appetite which only expanded in the festive period. It was I who reached over more seconds, it was me who finished whole trays of baked goods and it was I who gladly finished old meat trimmings. My drinking certainly wasnât helping either, I must have been drinking a couple of pints a night of thick Hungarian beer, it wasnât odd for me and Tomas to come stumbling back drunk our bellies full of beer and our stomachs hungry for food. And when the shops closed for the year there was nothing else left to do apart from sit on my enlarged arse and pig out with Tomas.
I think by the end of my 8th month in Hungry I must have gained 20 pounds alone, because, in these NYE photos, I am positively plump, packing on more than my share of my holiday weight, so much so that Mrs Karman had been wise and had already made all my presents this year in the shape of clothes. And in this photo, I look like one of the family adorned in their attire and packing on ample extra pounds. To Josefâs desire, I had even grown a beard which must have been covering my dimpled face and chins. âYou my Americanâ âmy all-round Americanâ âmy piggyâ, he would call out doing sex as he frantically thrusted into me, I paid it no attention he was after all a pig farmer so there must have been nothing wrong with it I told myself. And I could see how much he enjoyed it, I even let him call me his pig when we werenât even having sex. Too blinded by his good looks to even think straight, and Iâm not proud to admit this but I even indulged him in some of his fantasies, of him feeding me in the bedroom with no hands just pure pigging out. He loved it, and I loved seeing his face when I chowed down on doughnuts and cakes - what a fool I had beenÂ
The turning of the new year, left me with only 4 months left in Hungary, the idea of cutting down and shifting my holiday weight didnât even enter my mind, especially with all the compliments I would get working in the shops, âAh American your looking more and more like usâ old ladies would giggle. This was what I came here for, right, to experience proper Hungarian culture so what if I was a bit rounder I was simply playing the part I told myself not knowing I had already packed on over 100 pounds of fat in my cultural exchange so far. I didnât care that my lithe frame was starting to cement my added poundage. I saw no real reason to cut down, there were no snide remarks or comments, so as the new year began, I saw no need to make any resolutions, I had a loving boyfriend, a great roof over my head and even better food.
I think however by the end of January my weight gain was becoming more and more alarming, I purposely chose shorter paths, delayed going my stairs, and even more reluctantly started to ponder my new size. The Karmans had no scale so I had no idea how much weight I had piled on, but alarm bells were ringing, for starters, my feet were slowly eroding to by expanding middle, and even some of Tomas's bigger clothes were starting to feel tighter and tighter, not to mention how out of breath I got whenever I tried to quickly jog somewhere. Not knowing who to ask, I remember asking Josef about it, I think we had just made love and I plucked up the courage to ask.
âBabe do you think Iâm getting fatter
He lay there for a bit, pondering what to sayÂ
âBabyâ he broke his silence with âall thisâ he said as he grabbed my gut âis love, look at how happy you are, here in Hungary, with meâ he joked fleeing his biceps âYouâre just adjusting to your new lifeâ
I never felt more in love with him than in that moment, he knew just to say
âBaby let me worry about what you eat and doâ Josef said a couple of days later, âif this extra weight is bothering you, Iâll shave it off you in no time.
I donât know why, I didnât see the wolf under his sheepish clothing, but how could IÂ
âI mean Iâm in great shape, eat like me and be stacked in muscle and strengthâ
After that point my weight didn't even enter my mind, Josef had swept any fears way out of my mind, He controlled whatever I ate when I was him and made sure as he said to âfeed me rightâÂ
The rest of my time in Hungary I made sure what he said and desired, I couldnât help myself, this was one of my favourite photos from the whole year taken by Tomas who caught us outside a pub at midnight, Josef was caught leaning done kiss me. He of course looked handsome, his strong arms wrapped around my face as he bent down, his face glaring over mine, his dark brown eyes looking only at me. Now miles away, I look at the whole picture taken in how I looked that night, and boy does reality hit hard, I must have already downed a couple of pints that night, my standing on my tippy toes, my body illuminated under the street light. The comparison is almost comical, a muscular giant bending down to kiss an obese lump, every part of me is fat, my thighs look trunks, my arses like balloons and the biggest offender was my gut, hanging out in front me extending 10 or 12 inches in front of me. And it hurts knowing that the gut in front of me in my bedroom is even bigger and rounder.
For as I entered my last 2 months the new reality of having to leave Hungary dawned on me, I ate with pure greed knowing all of this was going and I couldnât help myself. I was hungry all the time needing to be fed, my stomach would grumble after meals begging to be full and of course, I abided. Never had I thought about cutting back only making the most of what time I had left too blind to see that I was too far to turn back, I wanted to eat everything I was going to miss twice and drink every beer thrice.Â
It was the last week before I flew back, and the weather had taken a turn for the better, warranting one last trip to the lake, Tomas and I just like we did in the beginning, Josef wasnât due to join us for a couple of hours. When he did he insisted we take a photo of the pair of us, he had the most unbelievable grin, and staring at the photo I can see why.Â
It's a photo of two fat guys sure, but on close inspection one of the fat guys is smaller than the other and more in shape, heâs fat and has a gut but he looks square finished off a string upper body and slight definition, the other guy on the other hand is on the different end of the spectrum of being fat. His gut is round and large overhanging his shorts expanding in all directions, his belly button sags surrounded by stretch arms, and his chest is filled with two sagging lumps of pectoral fat - his nipple is puffy and stretched. His arms look weak and chubby, fat-filled and sagging. His face completes the body a stuffy beard fails to hide the roundness of his face, filled with lard and fat. You can tell which one was me and the other Tomas.Â
Before I flew back, I had been quite emotional, about leaving the Karmans and Josef there always told me I come back whenever I wanted to but I knew this was goodbye for a long time my time was up, and as the flight took off and I looked down on Hungry for the last time I knew I was always going to leave a part of myself there.
Except it seemed that I hadnât left enough, as the sound of my dadâs car can be heard in the driveway, I know its too late now to do anything no sit-ups are gonna shift my extra 150 pounds of fat.
âSon is that you my dad calls?Â
âComingâ I yell, throwing on my largest piece of clothing despite it being too smallÂ
However as I walked down to meet my dad, it seemed my health nut had gone off the nuts, and replaced them with doughnuts, he looked positively fat, of course, no way near to my size but still, it seemed we had the past year of our lives doing.Â
âCome here sportâ my dad yells as he bulls me into a bear hugÂ
âSeemâs like someone packing on a fewâ
âA few Dad, try 150poundsâ I laugh back
âRooky numbersâ he jibes back
âCome on let's order some takeoutâ
EpilogueÂ
College is over, finally graduation took a lot of me, or most truthfully piled more on to me. It seemed I codlin quite break my Hungarian influence over the past year, of course I was met with some odd stares when I got back and my place on the swim team was long gone, but it truly didn't faze me.Â
Especially not when I was texting my Hungarian boyfriend all day, snapping him pics of me, it was under his naughty influence I packed on another 50 pounds alone this year, oh well it was worth it, and it even better knowing hâs gonna enjoy it for himself in a short few hours when his planes lands.Â
That was becoming more and more of a thing for Alan. Ever since graduating college and stopping his daily sports activities as he focused on his career, he had started to eat more, and his weight crept up over the past couple of months. He saw it, and he knew that he didnât fit within the body standards his gay friend group tended to push. But the food tasted so good and pushing himself to work out to burn it all off was getting harder by the day, and by the pound. But still, he has only put on like 20 pounds. Eventually heâd start getting back in the gym and rejoin his skinny friends.
He noticed they all looked at the sliver of belly that his costume revealed whenever he lifted his arms above his shoulders all night. He swore he heard some snickers off to the side when it happened too. It made Alan feel like shit, so he ate more fucking candy. And by the end of the night, he was drunk, full of peanut butter cups and chocolate bars, and, in a foul mood, he stomped out of the house into the dark of the suburban streets. Alan lived just a few streets away, and even thought it looked like rain, he figured he could make it if he walked at top speed.
Of course, when youâre drunk you donât often take your drunkenness into account when calculating walk speed, and Alanâs full belly didnât help matters either. Just then, right about when this story started a couple paragraphs ago, there was a bolt of lighting that lit up the quiet street, illuminating a house Alan had never seen before. It was a big manor, much bigger than the surrounding houses, and if it wasnât painted black, whatever color it had rotted away to the point where Alan couldnât tell what it could have been. Alan has made this trip countless times and couldnât remember seeing a house anything like this one, but as the flash faded, he noticed it had its outdoor lights still on, way after the rest of the neighborhood has turned theirs off.
Then the thunder struck that shocked Alan so bad he let out a yelp and instinctually ran to the spooky manor since it was the only house he could see with signs of life within. He ran â well, to the best of his inebriated ability â up the rotted steps and made it to the covered wrap-around porch just as the rains let loose. It was a downpour, the kind of thing that only lasted half an hour at most but would let loose a monthâs worth of water in that short time. Panting on the porch, Alan rang the doorbell and hoped against hope that the person answering wouldnât be a weirdo.
The man who came to the door was one of the biggest men Alan had ever seen. Alan, not a short man himself, was barely above belly level on this behemoth. And height wasnât his only virtue, the man had a thick torso, a lot muscle gave it shape but was also a good amount of lard on the manâs body. His arms naturally rested out from his torso, pushed out by the fat deposits sliding over from his man boobs and the impressive circumference of his upper arms. All of this hidden under a festive black and orange flannel button down that just barely fit his proportions. His legs werenât quite as massive as the upper part of his body, but there was definitely enough meat there to support all the weight on top, and Alan could see just a hint of the bubble butt the man seemed to be sporting. A counterweight clad in white sweatpants, Alan thought.
The manâs jowls jiggled just a bit, along with his double chin as the man looked Alan up and down. It was a brief glance, really. Alan justified the look in his head as a caring attention to his state of wetness, though maybe there really was something more to the gaze. A hunger perhaps, hidden under a thin veneer of civility. Alan wasnât paying attention enough to notice that hunger if it was there, though, as he jumped again at another clap of thunder from the sky.
âI hope you didnât get too wetâ the man in the manor growled.
Alan was shocked at the depth of the manâs voice. There was something else beyond the deep bass notes of the voice as well. An animalism that nearly crept out of its cage but was just held back by some civilizing force in the man. Taken aback, Alan eventually managed to eke out a few words, âNo, I just made it before it got too bad.â
âHere, come on inside. We can get you a nice cup of hot chocolate to warm you up and you can tell me how you came to be on my porchâ the man said, already turning to go deeper into the large, foreboding house. As he turned, Alan couldnât help but check out his ass, confirming that it was nearly a match for the manâs belly. Alan should have been disgusted, as he had heretofore been strictly into twinks and twunks, but here was this giant man, almost inhuman in his size in more ways than one, and Alan couldnât look away from the way the sway of the manâs fat ass as he entered the house and followed behind the big guy.
Alan could just barely hear the man explain that heâd make some of his special brew as the two of them entered the kitchen. If there was another person in the place, they were expert hiders. For how big the house seemed on the outside, the inside was almost cozy, full of fuzzy textures and nice, soft lighting. It really set a contrast to the imposing outside of the house. Alan was still looking around the house when the man handed him a mug full of warm, dark brown liquid. There was no way he could have already made the hot chocolate in the time he was in the house, Alan thought. Maybe he just had some already brewing and decided to share. Yeah, that must have been it.
A soft vapor lifted out of the mug, the hot liquid clashing with the slightly cool air in the kitchen. Alan, perched on a stool that was maybe a hair too big for him, brought the mug up to his nose and sniffed in deeply. The aroma was heady. He was no expert, but it seemed like this wasnât your typical store-bought hot chocolate. There was something extra in here, he could have sworn. He was about to ask when the man interjected.
âLike I said, itâs my special brew. Itâs perfect for nights like this.â The man gestured out the window, and continued, âYou know, new friends and all.â
Were we new friends, Alan thought? Maybe. Even the smell of the chocolate (and whatever else) had calmed him down from his terrifying trip down the suburban lane, and he was about to bring the mug to his still chilled lips when the man grabbed his arm, spilling a bit of the liquid onto his pirate costume. He had almost forgotten he was wearing that silly outfit. He felt a little self-conscious about his belly peeking out from beneath his shirt until the manâs soothing voice put him at ease.
âDonât worry about that, we can clean it up in a second, but first we need to toast. To new friends, new experiences, and new selves.â
Alan barely paid attention to what the man said, he just knew that the voice saying the words was enough to keep him from being concerned about the flimsy costume. He wasnât ever going to wear it again anyways, right?
âYeah,â Alan agreed, with more gusto than he expected to, âto all of that.â And with that, he started to sip at the chocolate. Well, he began sipping. But he found that once he started he couldnât really stop. So it turned to chugging, and then, after just a few seconds, slurping. The heat of the liquid meant nothing to Alan. It was just the right temperature. Not too hot, but not at all cold. Special brew indeed.
The man just watched Alan suck down the oversized mug of hot chocolate. It was not the first time heâd seen this kind of reaction to his potent recipe. The man would never reveal its secret concoction but suffice to say that it wasnât just hot chocolate. Soon Alan would realize that too, but it would be too late for him. The man just smiled at Alan and waited for him to come up for air.
Alan, gulping down the last mouthful, smacked his lips and let go a nice, big, sigh of relief. His night had gone poorly up until now, with shitty friends and shittier weather, but finally this big beefy dude had taken him in and given him the best drink of his life. Alan was calm, full, and happy. He let a wide, goofy smile stretch across his face, and the man reciprocated.
âDid you enjoy your drink?â
âI sure did!â
âAnd are you concerned about your shirt? The mess?â Alanâs outfit felt tighter, as if the spilled liquid had shrunk the cheap costume. Was that how that worked? Alan couldnât say. He was feeling too good to question the laws of physics.
âNo, not really.â
âGood. Well, let me grab us a bite, Iâll refill your mug, and we can go into the living room to get to know each other better. Iâve got a scary movie on and those are always better to watch with friends.â The manâs smile widened even farther, reaching an almost uncanny level. But Alan was not inclined to care too much about weird smiles. He was focused on getting another mug of hot chocolate and seeing what movie was on. He was a horror fiend and hoped it would be a good one. If it was, maybe he really had made a friend on this fateful night.
The man grabbed a bag of chips and some dip, somehow managed to wrap his big mitt around both mugs of his secret stuff, and led Alan into a room they must have passed on their way to the kitchen but Alan could not remember seeing. Maybe he was too focused on the manâs hot ass, Alan thought, and then thought how weird it was that he thought that such a fat ass was hot, then forgot about it all and just smiled to himself again, noticing only the small chub forming in his too-tight lycra pants. Normally heâd be concerned about throwing a boner in a strangerâs house but tonight he was too happy with how his evening had proceeded to care much about anything but his companion.
âIâm Alan, by the way,â Alan said in a softer than usual voice.
âOh, nice to meet you Alan. Iâll be sure to shake your hand once I put all this down,â the man huffed.
âCool, no problem.â Alan didnât notice that the man didnât give his name.
It was some hours later. The two had scarfed down a whole bag of chips, plus most of the candy that was sitting in a big bowl on the table, presumably for trick-or-treaters earlier in the night, but suspiciously full if it was indeed for that purpose. No matter, it was all in Alan and the manâs stomach. Or, more accurately, it was mostly in Alanâs stomach. The chips too, almost all ended up in that location. Over a couple John Carpenter movies, Alanâs hand kept reaching for more chips and sweets, a potent combo, in between sips of his second and third mugfulls of hot chocolate. His belly had grown from ex-jock to full-chubster levels, rounding out, pushing out, forcing the thin shirt to creep up until it revealed his belly button while his pants crept down, wedging between his widening belly and his thickening crotch.
His hard-on hadnât dissipated. In fact, it had only grown thicker, longer, and stronger. He made no attempts to hide it, however, as all of his brainpower was focused on eating and taking in the sights. Those sights began with the movies on the manâs giant tv, but soon he began sneaking glances at the man sitting next to him, also in skin-tight clothes and with what must have been the biggest crotch anybody had ever sported. Alan just couldnât look away from his savior, or his saviorâs belly, breasts, and bulge to be more specific.
Alan started chewing with his mouth open somewhere in the early minutes of The Thing. He was beyond caring if it was rude. Closing his mouth took up too much time, and that time could be spent eating. He hadnât even gotten up since he had sunk into the nice, comfy couch next to the man who was hosting him. Every time his cup ran out of hot chocolate (and something else?), the man seemed to sense it somehow and got him a refill. All this eating and drinking without moving really allowed him to sink even deeper into the couch throughout the night until he was unsure if he could get up even if he wanted to. Though he didnât want to. He just wanted to stare at this specimen of a man and fucking eat.
By the end of The Thing he had stopped even eating effectively. The man had put on a new movie, something called From Beyond, and brought out some ice cream, a rich, creamy mix of peanut butter and chocolate with an unidentifiable but incredibly tasty sauce on top. It tasted like a more flavorful version of the already incredibly tasty hot chocolate, and the cool temps of the food made him keep drinking more of the hot liquid. God, this was the life, he thought for a moment, before he realized that he could be eating instead of thinking and dispensed with the latter altogether. He kept swallowing, though now sometimes he didnât get everything down his throat and sometimes what was left over from what he shoved into his mouth dripped out of his mouth and onto his now incredibly protruding belly.
His shirt was bunched up over the big gut he was now sporting. He could feel the cold drips of ice-cream he drooled onto it briefly, but they soon crept up to body temp and melted even more from the furnace of his digestive system working in overdrive. He had started to grab at it, kneading it like dough because it felt so good, and it seemed like it made more room for his constant barrage of food and drink. His pants had started to dig into his waist as that part of his body increased in corpulence, the thin ribbon of elastic pulling tighter and tighter until it snapped.
The event of his pants loosing elasticity was enough to get Alan to pause for a moment, looking down at his still jiggling belly. The sight should have shocked him out of his stupor, but by then nothing could achieve that task. He just grunted in bemusement and went back to shoveling ice cream, candy, and chips into his mouth. He had forgotten about anything else by now. He was just a blob of fat, enough muscles to eat, and a boner bigger than he had ever imagined poking up at his belly, the fat gut almost covered his bigger, harder dickâs extended length.
The man looked over and saw Alanâs glassy eyes as they stared forwards, at the tv but not really aware of it if the manâs prior experiences were to be trusted. His tricks had worked their magic. Alan wasnât the only guy the man had done this to, nor would he be the last. But there was something about the (barely) sentient lump of lard slouching on the couch next to him that made him stand out from his soon-to-be compatriots. A certain eagerness to let go that the man had usually needed to do more to coax out of his prey. Alan must not have been too happy in his prior life, the man thought, if he gave into his urges so easily and so fully. And boy was he ever full. Alan let loose a long, healthy burp, mindlessly patted his chest with a messy fist, and kept eating. If you could call what Alan was doing âeatingâ anymore, that is. âDigging into food and pulling out a handful to shove into his throat,â sure, maybe tasting it on the way by but by no means savoring anything anymore. Alan was fully consumed with the act of consuming.
Outside the storm somehow hadnât stopped, the rainfall reaching what must have been near-flood. As the rain fell outside, Alanâs belly and breasts had finally shredded the shitty store-bought outfit down the middle. His flimsy shirt hung open as the fat continued to pour onto his ever-increasing body. His pants had split too, long ago, down each side so there was a layer beneath his widening ass and just barely covering his crotch, his thick pole now pushing it up like a circus tent. Had he been cognizant he might have been concerned about his hard-on lasting more than four hours like those commercials said, but Alan was a being purely focused on eating now, barely even human. His only awareness of outside events was when his gracious host swapped out an empty plate of candy and snacks for a fully stocked one. Yes, Alan was growing more aware of the dull ache of his erection, but it was nothing compared to his all-consuming hunger.
It was time for the final entry in the movie marathon, the man decided, so he got up and put on The Stuff. He brought out along with it his own gooey white mixture, a huge unlabeled plastic tub full of it. It was his secret weapon, a mix of cream, sugar, Boost, sweet rum, a potent THC/CBD blend and the manâs own cum and sweat. Small drops of the stuff had been placed in Alanâs hot chocolate, and a good dollop to his ice cream tubs, but now he was going to be subjected to the full, undiluted potion, and it was going to turn the already lardy young man into a round mound of bliss and fat.
Alanâs mind was next to gone, so he didnât notice the man affixing a funnel to his mouth that strapped ever so tightly around Alanâs fat head. The pressure was nice, if anything, calling attention to Alanâs blissed out state and ever fatter body. In some deep recess of his mind, Alan recalled seeing guys who were so fat their heads were twice as wide as they should be. He knew somehow that he wasnât there yet, but if he could register surprise anymore, he might have at the fact that he was turned on by the idea of his head getting that large. He was lost in this thought when he sensed the man lifting a large bucket above Alanâs head. Having nothing but vague memories, the feeling of his body pressing against the couch and itself, and his increasing hunger rattling around in his brain, he could only barely connect that the new strapped-in funnel and the manâs positioning could mean that his hunger would soon subside.
And he was right. The man started slowly pouring the full-strength mixture down the funnel, his buff arms covered in a layer of soft fat strong enough by far to hold the heavy bucket and its contents above Alanâs head until it was empty. He knew from experience that the young man would soon level up his gulping capacity to get as much of the stuff into his body at once. That meant he would consume more and more of it at once, and the back half of the bucket would go much faster than the front half. The manâs only concern was whether or not he had reinforced the couch enough to handle what Alan was soon to become. He had done this whole rigamarole several times before, but none with such a natural as Alan. He wondered, in fact, if one bucket would even be enough for the mound of fat on the couch below him. Ah, the pleasures of experimentation.
Alan, unwitting subject in more ways than one, sat waiting for that first drop. In front of him the slimy ooze Stuff was eating people alive. On the couch, he waited to gulp down some stuff of his own. Wait. Was that it? He distantly heard a splashing sound, distinct from the constant rain that had been pelting at the weird old house for hours now. This sound was deeper, gloopier. Simultaneously he noticed a heavier pull on his head from the funnel attached to his mouth. The gravity of the funnel and stuff was enough to pull Alanâs head as far forward as it could go, smushing his skull and face into the rolls of accumulated fat that used to be his neck.
And then! Oh, and then, finally, the sweet, slightly salty taste of the stuff hit his tongue. Oh wow. Fuck. It was the nectar of the gods. It was everything he had ever had to eat. It was the taste of love and of desire and of sex and of drinking a tall glass of cool water on a hot afternoon and of eating the best meal at your favorite restaurant and of getting incredibly high and of getting drunk out of your mind but with none of the bad parts. It was bliss. It was the touch and smell and taste of the hottest men alive all playing and kneading your fat body. It was a thousand blowjobs by seasoned pros. It was a million cocks hitting your prostate at once. It was the satisfaction of a full stomach. It was the pleasure of an overfull stomach. It was the heat and intensity of being bloated to capacity. It was quite literally mindblowing.
Alan, if such an entity still existed in the way it had only hours ago, no longer had any thoughts. Nor memories nor emotions. He had only desire left. The desire to be fatter, more blissed out on the stuff that was still pouring into his belly via the funnel firmly affixed to his mouth. If he once had a thought about the plausibility of any of the nightâs events they were long gone. His life was here now. On this couch. Sucking down this stuff until there was nothing left to suck. Growing and growing and growing, though there was no way he could tell anymore what exactly was happening to his body. He only felt blissful expansion everywhere. If he never had a thought again in his life, it would be too soon.
The man looked down on his experiment, still pouring the stuff out of the bucket. There was a little over a half of the bucket left, and this was his favorite part of the whole procedure. He could see Alanâs body expand by the second now. It grew and grew and grew, the stuffâs delicate mixture ensuring that his proportions grew without fully ruining the young manâs skin. There were stretch marks, of course, and not just in the belly and under the arms where they usually appeared but literally all over Alanâs body. But, and this had taken dozens of iterations, there was still plenty of pale white skin on which the red stretch marks stood out. He could explain it, but who cares. He just enjoyed it.
And then, at the halfway mark, as Alan experienced the infinite pleasure of the stuff in his mind and across his body, the man saw Alan convulse over and over again as he finally came. The man leaned over to try to see if he could spot Alanâs dick anymore. It was vanished deep within the recesses of his thunder thighs and fat pad, all of which were then covered by the bloating belly that laid on top of them. The man could see a thick river of cum run out onto the floor below the couch. The stuff did that too, it made everything bigger and better. The man had long since installed a collection device underneath the floorboard so that when he got his subjects to this point he could harvest their cum and use it in further experiments.
The man knew that Alanâs brain had been broken by the stuff by now. There was only the task of keeping him fed and milked now. As the first bucket dripped out its last drop, the man used a free hand to slap and grope at Alanâs rolls. He pushed a finger as far as he could into Alanâs soft side and got as far as his wrist before meeting the end of the elasticity of his skin. In prior experiments such a test was ended by running into the young menâs rib cages but this time the ribs were nowhere in sight. The man smiled as he first dropped the empty bucket before stripping. This was his favorite part, the final stage of his experiment.
His theory had always been that the more pleasure his sexual partner felt, the more pleasure he would feel. His first experiments started in college, when he had fucked his roommate after they had both gotten high and drunk and stuffed themselves full of chips and pizza. It was the hardest he had ever cum in his life up to that point, and he chased that feeling for the remainder of his time at school, hopping from partner to partner, switching up variables and positions and everything he could think of. Yet nothing had topped that first time with his roommate. There was something about hitting every possible button both he and his partner shared that turned it into a special event.
But his roommate had wanted a traditional family and a traditional life and only allowed the man (whose name was Mike, by the way), to ârun his experimentsâ every so often. There was love between them, but it wouldnât last, Mike knew. So he switched his major to chemistry and biology and started experimenting with what he thought of as the stuff, based on an old movie he had seen with his roommate one âexperimentalâ afternoon. He knew the stuff had to be a combination of alcohol and weed, that was crucial for getting in the right mindset and spurring on a binge session. The state of being high, drunk, and stuffed to capacity overrode any experimental participantâs ability to focus on anything other than pleasure. But there was still the problem of love.
He had found dozens if not hundreds of men at his college to try out his stuff. Some of them were gay to begin with, others found themselves open to experimentation on that front after trying this cool new drug Mike claimed heâd discovered. All of them were eventually high and drunk enough to be into the experience of fucking or getting fucked by a guy. But none of them had fallen in love with Mike. Lust, sure. Lust was easy. Deep friendship was possible and even likely for some few of the subject, particularly those who were already into getting stoned or drunk, or who were already what Mike discovered were called gainers, or those who were turned on by the act of gaining weight. But still none of them were true lovers for Mike. And Mike wasnât in love with any of them either. At least not yet.
Mike wasnât sure when it happened, but eventually, over the course of many fun nights experimenting with guys all around campus, he began to find the bloated nature of his subjects to be extremely hot. It was something like operant conditioning he finally realized as he was rubbing a sexy guyâs hard, fat belly. You fuck enough guys who are thick all around thanks to the rest of your experiment and it turns out youâve conditioned yourself to find such a sight attractive. The guys were too far gone to care about their unconventional body at the moment of their mating and so found themselves to be entirely fine with Mikeâs heavier and heavier groping of their bodies. Some, Mike found to his delight, would like it so much that they signed up for another go round or two or three, and in each successive meeting he found himself getting harder and harder when he realized his stuff hadnât just blown them up for a one night thing but also encouraged them to keep stuffing themselves between experiments. It was a vicious cycle inside Mikeâs mind. Heâd fuck a guy after feeding him more food than he could possibly imagine, then heâd squeeze and massage and grab at his subjectâs new belly, then the next time theyâd meet up that belly would have become soft and malleable and able to fit even more food, at which point the cycle started over again.
The guys he lovingly thought of as subjects seemed to be cool with this development in their own bodies, a newfound or reinforced taste for the good times provided by drinking and smoking weed waxing over any concerns they might have had about maintaining societal beauty standards. The stuff, it seemed, was mildly addictive. Mike observed this across several subjects and might have been concerned about the ethical consequences of using the always-improving stuff on them given its addicting nature but whenever he asked the subjects if they wanted to continue their experiments they always said yes, a small glint in their eyes often accompanied by a quick glance to Mikeâs crotch.
Mike was sure to avoid ingesting the stuff himself outside the experimental boundaries. He knew if he tried every version he concocted of the stuff as he made it he would become so addicted to it that it would take over his life and heâd never find the perfect mixture. So he resigned himself to only having half the dose heâd put in his subjectâs drinks and forced himself to go to the gym between sessions so he could work off some of its effects. Mike loved to bloat up as much as anybody else, but he knew that until his subjects were subjected to the stuff, they might not have the shifted standards of beauty they would eventually come to develop. Soon he was a big strong man with plenty of muscles that were enhanced by a soft layer of fat covering every part of his body.
With the gym sessions came the realization that guys gave off a particular smell as they worked out, a musk that sent certain other men over the edge into a haze of lust and desire. He found not a few of his subjects at the gym, stacked jocks and scrawny first timers alike. They were drawn to his musk, a potent scent that he could enhance by not showering for days at a time. And, after months of finding guys drawn to him who turned out to be âstraightâ at least before his encounter with them, he realized that his own small doses of the stuff had superpowered his natural odors so much that nobody could resist them for long. The real experiments started to feature intense underarm, crotch, ass, and, for the repeat subjects, fat pad crease sniffing sessions. Both Mike and his subjects would find each otherâs smells to be like the stuff itself in a distilled form. It got them high and drunk and hungry, more even than the stuff itself.
Mike started to put his gym sweat into the stuff itself. That proved to be a game changer. It strengthened the personal connection between him and his subjects because one of the ingredients came from him directly. Heâd sop up the sweat his body left on the gym equipment with a towel and then ring it out into a beaker where heâd let it sit in the sun, developing a fine aged quality. When he put it into the stuff, he noticed a marked uptick in both the bliss he and his partner felt as well as how much they could stuff into their gullet. Something about the post-workout sweat made them feel exponentially hungrier like they had just worked out, especially when added to the already munchifying effects of the weed and alcohol. It was the next step towards the perfect version of the stuff, but there was still something missing.
The final ingredient came accidentally. Mike was sitting in his dorm room, idly jerking off to the memory of his prior night with one of his long-term subjects. He had found himself jerking off in front of the window in his dorm room and as he came, he realized that right below his dick was the beaker full of gym sweat. It was too late to stop it from getting cross contaminated and before he knew what he was doing he picked up the beaker and made sure the rest of his jizz went directly into it. When next he brewed his concoction it smelled even better. The musk of the sweat was mixed with the sweet-sour smell of his cum, both flavors enhancing the mix of food and drugs that he had already emulsified within the prior versions of the stuff. He almost downed the whole mixture himself, right then and there. It would have been a disaster, he thought. He needed to be able to observe its effects on somebody else, preferably somebody who was already addicted to the stuff and its sweat-enhanced versions for a while.
So he got out his phone and texted his best friend in the world, one of his first non-roommate subjects, John. John had grown big and fat thanks to the stuff, and he wouldnât have it any other way. He was the first person Mike had told about his experiments after one of his early sessions, a confession Mike had feared would lose him a new but strong friendship. Instead, it only heightened it, as John was already a gainer and a pothead. He was chill about the whole thing, and every month or so he hit up Mike for an âexperimentâ night. When John got the text that there was a brand-new addition to the stuff he couldnât wait to see what it was and what effect it would have on him.
Mike had gone grocery shopping, getting all of Johnâs favorite munchies. Instead of hiding the stuff in a drink like he normally did, he instead greeted John at his dorm with a shot of the stuff in a glass and an armful of fattening foods. John looked at Mike only briefly before taking the shot, inviting the man into his dorm, and closing the door behind him. Then he took the shot and his eyes went wild. His pupils blacked out, his stomach rumbled, and he lunged at Mike, making him drop all of the food in his arms. As he gripped and grabbed at Mikeâs body, John used on hand to rip open a carton of ice cream and started to scoop it out with his hands, either not feeling or not caring about the cold temperature on his bare skin. Mike found it to be incredibly hot as John couldnât help but smear himself and the other man with melted ice cream as John desperately tried to strip the two of them down to their skin. Mike found his bearings and laughed along with the blissed-out John as he helped with the confusing buttons and zippers and sleeves involved in the stripping process.
The two men were as hard as they had ever been and came almost instantly just from the sensation of the stuff and their skin rubbing against each other as they ate the rest of the ice cream. But that was only the beginning of the night. They watched porn with each other after cumming just from eating several times. They rubbed all over each otherâs expansive bodies, and Mike could have sworn he actually saw John growing before his eyes. The night ended with everything Mike had brought to Johnâs dorm fully consumed, along with delivery pizza and Chinese and innumerable loads of stuff-enhanced cum. John passed out on the floor of his dorm, his body nearly twice as thick as it had started the night. Mike knew success when he saw it, and when he woke up on Johnâs bed in the morning, jerked off over his fat body one more time. It was done. He had cracked the code. The stuff was complete.
But Mike had no one to celebrate with. He never saw John again. He heard his friend had moved out the next day, dropped out of college and went back home halfway across the country. John blocked Mikeâs number so calls and texts wouldnât go through. Mike spent the next week alone in his dorm room, his roommate having long since moved out when he saw how the experiments were only growing along with the manâs sexual appetites. The people in the rooms on either side could hear equipment smashing and Mikeâs wails of despair. He had found it. He had discovered what he spent years trying to make. And he blew it in a fit of overeager excitement. John had clearly woken up and discovered his new, way fatter body. Maybe he was even still feeling the cravings. And it had scared him so deeply that he gave up everything he had in his life to get away from Mike.
As a punishment for himself, Mike decided to give up the dream. He would never recreate the highs of that night, heâd never find somebody so perfect, never rediscover just the right mixture of stuff to bring everyone involved to such pleasurable bliss. So he just completed his degrees, including a Masters and a Ph.D. in biochemistry. He found a job at a pharmaceutical company making boring drugs that saved lives or whatever. He built up a sizable fortune for himself and retired at the age of 35. And then, having decided heâd punished himself enough by eschewing all worldly pleasures for over a decade and a half, he started purchasing the necessary equipment again. He repurposed the basement, living room, and kitchen to become his lab, experiment room, and restaurant-level cooking center. He used all of his knowledge he developed in making those boring drugs he made for a living to recreate and refine the stuff. He could have turned it into a perfect little pill if he wanted to, but, remembering the failures of his past, he decided that the best path was the safe path and stuck with the creamy white liquid.
He started putting ads online asking for stoners and gainers who were down to experiment with something new to come to his house. He laid out all of the experimentâs parameters for them, asked what they were comfortable with and stopped his experiments before going too far. He developed some relationships like the ones heâd had in college with his subjects, but he had also developed a monk-like ability to stop himself before going too far, even if heâd had a few drops of the stuff himself during a given experiment. If the guy wasnât into it or started to get uncomfortable, Mike would politely show him the door.
The stuff was once again perfect. And over the course of hundreds of experimental nights, he had found a formula for its application that was basically perfect. Heâd start off slow, just a drop in a cup of whatever liquid his subject liked to drink. That would lead to overeating and a pleasant buzz. Then it would be time for a bowl of ice cream and with a dollop of the stuff spread over top of it. That would take things to the next level, bypassing whatever societal or bodily limits the subject had. It would start visibly packing on the pounds too as the subject wouldnât be able to stop eating. Their thought processes would slow and transform towards only the acquisition of pleasure. And then, just when they thought they were done with it all and almost about to cum, Mike would take out a full bucket of pure stuff. It took several tries to figure out the right equipment to use at this stage and the proper pouring method, but he did finally get it down. The subjects would lose the capacity to think at all about halfway through the bucket, at which point theyâd cum and cum as they guzzled down the rest. The first time this happened, Mike was dumbstuck. Was it permanent? What could he do with all the cum? The cleanup was a mess. But eventually he realized that the cum was useful in the manufacturing of the stuff itself, and so he started to develop ways of collecting it that wouldnât interfere with the effects. The subjects required total freedom to do what their body willed them to do, so he couldnât strap a tube on their dicks or anything. Instead he developed a sophisticated collection method involving slightly slanted floorboards and small slats between them that ran to a tank in his basement. There was still clean up require, of course, but if he did his job right the men would want to do that clean up themselves, eventually waking up enough out of their stupor to lie their newly fattened bodies on the floor and lick up the remaining cum of their own volition. This would prolong the effects for a while but not permanently, as the subjects would eventually come to and be given the choice to go back to their daily lives with some cash to buy desperately needed new clothes.
Mike was pleased with this setup, and he could have kept it going for the rest of his life. Sometimes the subjects came to live with him for a while, the two or three or four of them using smaller doses of the stuff to heighten their sexual escapades to another level. But Mike still needed something. He needed the connection he had found with his long-lost John, the deep personal knowing of each other that they had experienced that one night he took things too far too fast.
When Alan showed up that dark and stormy night, Mikeâs house was empty of prior subjects. Heâd had a long fling with a guy for a full year, but eventually they grew tired of each other. It was sad, but only briefly. Once youâd had a loss like the one Mike had in college, nothing else quite compared. He greeted Alan with a smile and a hope that this young, wet man could be his next subject. Alan seemed amiable enough, and there was something familiar about his face, the way he carried himself. He was sad, Mike could see, deep on the inside. He needed a release. So Mike, moving against his principles for the first time since that fateful night, started the carefully controlled procedure with the stuff. It worked like a charm, like all the other guys who left the manâs house satisfied in more ways than one. He responded even more than most, in fact, to the effects of stuff, his mind and body changing more and more rapidly than any other Mike had seen before. The man was dropping his clothes and getting hard when he finally figured it out.
This Alan was familiar for a very good reason. Now that he was all fattened up thanks to the stuff, Mike could see what had to be a family resemblance. Alan was Johnâs son. It made Mike tear up for a moment. His friend had gone on to live a full life. Heâd had a son who, despite his sadness, could live equally fully, as Mike had so clearly proven tonight. He knew it was wrong to have given Alan the stuff, but the gnawing, hidden resemblance had subconsciously forced Mike into action that had paid off beautifully. It also made sense out of Alanâs response to the stuff. He didnât quite know how, but Alan must already have some of the stuff inside of him, a permanent change in John that had passed down to Alan. The lack of the stuff was why he was so sad. There was something missing, something he couldnât fathom. John would never tell his son of how or why he was as big as he was, and somehow Mike knew John had never truly lost the weight heâd put on that night. Alan had the genes for the stuff, and he happened upon its source.
Mike came all over Alan when he realized this. Alan was who he was looking for his whole life. A guy he could devote all of his love and attention to, who could receive all of it as well. A guy whoâs body and mind aligned perfectly with his own because of the influence of the stuff before he was even born. They were truly made for each other. It made Mike so happy, so horny, that he abandoned his usual progression of sexual experiences with his subjects and just laid on top of Alanâs round body. Alan didnât need any stimulation to keep coming himself, every twenty minutes or so his refractory period would end and heâd cum just from his mindless bliss. Alan must have felt Mike lying atop him, but there was nothing he could do about it in his state of utterly mindless pleasure.
Alanâs brain had broken beyond the temporary break all the other subjects had experienced. Heâd need the stuff from now on, on a cellular level, just to live. Eventually Mike studied Alan enough to figure out exactly what different doses of the stuff would do to Alan, which would totally bliss him out as happened tonight, and which would allow him to maintain some level of cognitive stability in order to have conversations and even exist in the world as a normal person. Because of Alanâs modified DNA, his base state was somewhere near the end of the usual ice cream stage for most subjects. He was dumb and floating on a cloud of stoned bliss without the influence of the stuff. But with just the right amount of stuff he could operate near his prior levels of intelligence and ability. It allowed him to live a normal life if he wanted to. Mike eventually offered to give Alan a lifetime supply of the stuff for free if Alan decided he wanted to leave for whatever reason. But by that point, after months of experimentation between the two of them and along with it time to develop a deep love and affection for each other, Alan couldnât think of a reason to leave for good. Sure he didnât want to live his life in the house, but there was always the love of the kind older man to bring him back.
Alan became part of Mikeâs continued experimentation in furthering the pleasure they could both feel. Sometimes that involved a third or fourth party joining in, sometimes it was a continuous blowjob that saw both men coming into each otherâs mouths, each instance of which would spur the recipient on to produce ever more cum, slowly inflating the other with their cum. It turns out their repeated sexual intercourse led Mike to start to change on a cellular level also. He retained his smarts, but he needed the stuff and Alanâs cum for nutrition. They were always happy to serve each other. Mike gave up his gym routine as well, finally giving into what the stuff could do for him in full. He figured he had found the love of his life and no longer absolutely needed to seduce and appeal to men who might have more traditional body standards. His muscles didnât entirely melt away, but they were packed under ever-increasing layers of fat. He loved it. Alan loved it. They loved each other.
Synopsis: Your family canât believe how much youâve changed, but you donât care. It doesnât matter if they think itâs disgusting how fat youâve gotten, youâre into that shitâŚ
Your mother had been grinding her teeth from the moment they got to the buffet and saw that you had started without them.
You had always been a bit of a stressor for your family, even back when you were a kid. You were the loud, rambunctious, stereotypical jock in a family of otherwise buttoned-up academics. There hadnât been a week where your mom wasnât yelling about the state of your room, or your dad wasnât grumbling about the dents in his car from all of the hockey pucks and baseballs that slammed into it. And it seemed like it wasnât a week where you didnât antagonize your sister with your bad B.O, or your burps and farts, or your dating all of her friends just to annoy her.
But back then, you were at least successful, not the slobbering hog that sat before them. The buffet certainly wasnât the nicest in town, but it was high class enough that the backwards cap, skin-tight cut-off shirt, overtaxed athletic shorts (With your jockstrap visible underneath) and ratty sneakers you were wearing was grossly inappropriate.
You were dressed similarly to how you dressed back then, though given the several hundred pounds of fat you had gained since you had led all of those high school teams to victory, it was because you chose to be. Not because you were still wearing your high school gear.
Your long, greasy, unwashed hair hung down your back to your shoulders, framing your massive round face. Your eyes were dull and beady, swallowed up in the fat of your face. Your mouth, on the rare chance it wasnât busy stuffing some obscene amount of calories into your body, hung open from the weight of your face, and due to the fat of your cheeks pinching the airways in your nose. The slight upturn of your nostrils had been cute when you were a child, but it now made you look even more pig-like than you already were. The patchy, unkempt beard you had been growing doing nothing to hide the now triple chin you had grown, or the sauces of everything you had eaten so far tonight.
That triple chin had forced you to cut a little extra room into your shirtâs neck hole, along with the sleeves you had also cut off to better expose the gigantic, jiggling mass of rolls that made up your torso. The massive moobs that wrapped around your chest sagged nearly to your elbows, forcing your arms to an angle that made your favourite pass-time, eating, more and more of a hassle. The hem of the shirt occasionally showed a sliver of belly, which you had had to stuff into the largest pair of shorts you owned in order to keep it from hanging past your knees at dinner.
Your ass cheeks, spread across two chairs were, in a word, massive. An inch or two of your sweaty, hairy crack had slowly slipped out over the night, thanks to your habit of leaning into your plates and plates of food. Your unwashed jockstrap had, at some point, revealed its band, letting anyone unlucky enough to catch a glimpse know that your ass was completely bare beneath your shorts.
âReally, another fucking plate?!â
Your father hadnât been fuming quite as silently as your mother, but heâd grown bolder with his comments each time you struggled out of your seat to go back to the buffet. Watching you fall back down, exhausted after your tenth trip, was clearly infuriating to him, but seeing that you had grabbed three plates this time, instead of the âusualâ two, set him off.
You just smiled as best as you could, rubbing the uppermost part of your gut.
âWhat? Itâs⌠UUURRPPâŚ,â you interrupted yourself with an obnoxiously loud belch, turning heads from even four tables away. âItâs âAll-You-Can-Eatâ for a reason!â
Your parents simply stared, as if the response was reason enough to gorge yourself for hours. They looked at each other as you continued to stuff yourself, slowly now, having nearly reached your capacity. Getting angry at you didnât work, being earnest didnât work. Trying to scare you didnât work. In all honesty, had it not been your birthday, they would have never been seen at the same table as you while you acted like this. They were completely at their wits end about how to get you to stop.
âSo,â your sister said, raising her head from her phone to look at you for the first time that night, a disgusted grimace on her face, âare you just going to be a disgusting, fat loser for the rest of your life?â
Somehow, despite the lack of conversation, the table got even quieter. Your mother went bug-eyed. Your father bit his cheek to hold back a bark of a laugh.
You turned to your sister, not bothering to stop chewing your mouthful of cheeseburger. She got to watch your half-hearted twist in your seat, and see you massive moob sag even further out of the side of your shirt. You let yourself finish chewing and, as you grabbed another, you matched her look with a smug, self-satisfied look of your own.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â
âOh come on, youâre disgusting!â She exploded, earning her looks from the nearby tables. âYou smell like a pig, and you donât fucking wash yourself - or canât! Your fatter every time we see you and you donât fucking care. And I know youâre all alone and pathetic, because who in their right mind would want to fuck you?â
You laugh, big and hearty, with the most of a third burger mid chew in your mouth. Your mother looked as though she would dry-heave at the sight.
âOh sis - Iâm just as hot as I was in high school!â
She rolled her eyes, âOh, donât lie! Even if you found someone stupid enough to think youâre hot - no oneâs getting with a jobless, college dropout!â
All you could do was smirk harder, happy that she had teeâd you up so well.
âHey! I only had to drop out because they took away my athletic scholarshipâŚâ
âBecause you got too fat to play!â Your dad exclaimed, finally angry enough to stop holding back. âYou spent all year smoking weed and abusing your meal plan, and you came home 80 fucking pounds fatter! You took the one, single thing you ever worked at, and you wasted it in less than a year!â
âCalm down, dear,â Your mother stammered, seemingly the only one at the table aware of the looks you were all attracting.
âNo!â he cried. âI didnât raise an obese slob! Iâve had to sit and watch this embarrassment eat himself fatter and fatter for years - and I will not sit here and keep watching it!â
At that, he threw himself out of his chair, sending it clattering to the ground behind him. He tossed a couple of crumpled up bills on the table before storming away, leaving an uncomfortably silent wake behind him.
Your sister took the opportunity to leave as well, but she leaned in as close as she dared to mock you to your face. âYou always acted like you were hot shit - so itâs nice to get a little glimpse every now and then about how much better my life is than yours,â She dropped her gift, a gift card to this very restaurant that she bought when she walked in, and left.
âHappy birthday, loser!â
Now alone with your mother, you turned to her as she too rose from her seat and, surprisingly, crossed over to you, grabbing your hand before you could grab the last of the fries on your final plate.
âIâm just worried, you know that right? All of this⌠What youâre doingâŚ,â she stammered, unsure of herself. âYouâll end up alone, or worse!â
You looked up, seeing the worry on her face. In that moment, you ignored your meal, taking your other meaty hand to hold her hand with both of yours.
âMom, you know me. Iâm obnoxious. Iâm kind of an idiot. I reek of bravado - but I have never, ever stopped myself from enjoying myself to the fullest! No matter what they were saying - or even what you say - I know Iâm hot, I know Iâm wanted, and I know what Iâm doing.â
Your mother held your gaze for what felt like a very long time. She took you, and your words in, looking intensely at your face. And somehow, miraculously, a flicker of understanding flashed across her eyes. She signed and gingerly leaned over, squeezing your fat shoulders into a side-hug.
âHappy birthday.â
And then she left to follow the rest of your family, the slightest bit of tension lifted off of her shoulders.
With a look of bewildered joy, you turned to where you had hidden your phone in the centerpiece of the table. The hundreds of horny fetishists that had been watching you stream the entire dinner were filling the chat with emotes and donations.
Fattyfinder: $100 donation - Get dessert, pig
Chubsub99: Sit on my face with that ASS, king!
OBEARsityEpidemic: AWWW SHE CARES! <3
BearTopper: $50 donation - Thatâs how a HOG shows off!
Anonymous45634: I wish I was fat enough for my family to crash out *drools*
As you finished off every last bit of food that you and your family had left on the table, a chubby waiter approached cautiously. He had been your waiter the whole night, but he had made himself scarce over the course of dinner, clearly put off by the whole production. Though, as you eyed him on approach, noting the blush of his cheeks, the way his eyes scanned the immensity of your body, and the way he held a menu suspiciously over his crotch, you quickly changed your assessment of him.
âUm⌠My manager suggested, well, not reallyâŚ,â He started. Clearly, actually being so close to you without your family as a buffer was making him nervous. âHe, ah, he wants you to leaveâŚâ
You stare at him, giving him a once over, with a look like a wolf would give a sheep. That got him breathing heavy, and made him a little more forthcoming.
âAh, I was watching⌠While I was on my break. The stream, I meanâŚâ He said, causing you to smile broadly.
âChubsub99?â
His hands fly to his face as it goes beat red. The motion sends the menu heâd been guarding his junk with clattering to the ground, giving you a great view of its modest, rockhard status.
âHowâŚ?â
âThe angle of the camera doesnât show off my ass, so only someone in the restaurant can see how much of it is showing out of these shorts,â You say, struggling to rise from your seat. You hold out an arm and he instinctively grabs it, straining to give you the support to stand.
âTell you what, Chubsub, if you run back and fill as many to-go boxes with cake as you can for me, Iâll sit on you until youâre begging for me to stop.â
âGod youâre hot,â was all he managed to say before he ran off.
You just smiled as he left, smacking your gut to release yet another burb.
This story is an original work of fiction that was created and edited without the use of AI.
Shoutout to artist @Soft5ku11 for help with proofreading!
Part 1: A Demon's Holiday
Camulus faced down the long hallway. His head swiveled from side to side, ember orange eyes darting to every shadow. An exit sign flickered above a glass door on the hallâs far end. Rhythmic red light pulsing beyond it.
Freedom was one hundred strides away.
Cloven hooves echoed off slate tiles, driven by powerful muscular thighs as Camulus burst into motion.
Fifty paces. A sultry voice whispered his name.
Thirty. A shadow darted past him.
Twenty. The red light dimmed as coalescing shadow took form before him. No! He was so close!
Ten. Camulus ground his heels into the ground, chipping the stone. His face stopping a mere inch from the almost-naked-red-skinned-woman.
âAwhâŚCammieâŚâ the woman pouted. âI canât believe you were going to go on long service leave without saying goodbye.â A forked tongue slid from her mouth, snaking forward to playfully slap him on the cheek.
Camulus sighed as Bellatrix the succubus hooked her arm into his. With a hand on his lower back, she used her incredible strength to turn him away from the exit. She walked them around and around in small circles, keeping the glass door close. Camulus ground his teeth; the bitch was edging him. Â
Her long-nailed hand ran downward, settling on one of his half-exposed cheeks. She leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. âAnd here I thought you were going to wait until I had enough leave saved up to go with you?â Bellatrix hissed.
Camulus rolled his eyes, Bellatrix was the last person he would take a holiday with. In fact, heâd wanted a demon-free holiday and had tried to keep his departure a secret from most of his co-workers, especially Bellatrix. But the Department of Lust and Hedonism was a hive of gossip. He gave the door a forlorn glance. So much for secrecy.
âSorry Trix, I just wanted some time to myself,â Camulus lied. Truth be told he was excited to spend some time amongst humans. They had a way of being so present in the moment, their short-lived lives driving them to constantly experience new things. He wanted to see their cute expressions of pleasure and bliss as he corrupted their minds and bodies. It was almost a shame that having sex with mortals ended in their death. Mortal souls were sustenance to Incubi after all.
âOh, Cammie.â Bellatrix stopped their walk and turned on a heel, grabbing both his long-nailed hands in hers. âYouâre such a bad liar.â She tilted her head and pouted her fat bottom lip. Her red eyes flaring with barely contained malevolence. âYouâd better bring me back a present to make up for being such a bad boy.â
Camulus wasnât listening, his ears twitched as footfalls approached them from behind.
âGuys, guys!â called a voice. From down the hall a curly-haired tiefling dashed towards them, a piece of flat leather tucked under his arm.
Bellatrix growled under her breath âHim again.â
Camulus watched the office intern approach. Jolfi had been one of the few people he had told about his leave. His dark hair bounced around his small horns as he ran. He mostly resembled a youthful human, if you looked past the purple-hued skin and bright indigo eyes. His soft cherubic cheeks and clear complexion spoke of a sweet innocence that was rare in demon-kind, but there was mischief behind those eyes, and the way his lips pulled into a lopsided grinâŚ
âHeâs not so bad,â Camulus whispered back.
The succubus rolled her eyes, âOnly because you find him attractive.â
âDo not,â Camulus lied.
Bellatrix twisted his nipple, hard. âLiar,â she hissed in his ear.
âHey!â Camulus called out, batting the succubusâs clawed hand away.
âHey!â Jolfi panted as he reached them.
Bellatrix tapped her foot, âWhat is it?â
Jolfi either didnât catch or didnât care about Trixâs hostility as he leant in conspiratorially. âYou guys wouldnât BELIEVE it â memo just came from down below.â He held up the scrap of leather. âTheyâve introduced a cap!â
âA cap?â Camulus queried.
âA cap!â Jolfi nodded energetically.
Bellatrix snatched the engraved leather off Jolfi. A squeal of horror erupting from her lips as she ran her eyes over the runes etched into its surface. Her hands glowed orange. The leather erupted into flames, crumpling to dust in her hands.
Camulus looked between the pair, confusion furrowing his brow.
âTheyâve introduced a cap on killing humans whilst on leave!â Jolfi explained.
Bellatrix moaned, âBy the Styx â just because one Balor goes on a rampage the rest of us have to suffer?â
âYeah â guess so⌠sorry Cam, I know you were lookinâ forward to leave and all, but maybe you should just wait until this blows over...â Jolfi looked at his feet as he spoke, glancing up at Camulus from under his eyelashes, his tail swishing nervously behind him. The sweet scent of his arousal permeating the air, as it often did when the two were near each other.
Camulus imagined throwing the tiefling twink up against the wall then and there. Heâd tear off the jorts that so aptly accentuated Jolfiâs assets, bend him over and -
Stop thinking about Jolfiâs ass. Stop thinking about Jolfiâs ass. Camulus repeated in his mind as he felt his own arousal building. The mantra backfired as more images of Jofli-in-jorts played over in his mind. Tieflings whilst part demonic, were still mortal, and he preferred this silly twink alive.
âOf course he knew,â the succubus shot a death glare at Jolfi before turning her gaze back to Camulus and smiling sweetly at him, âBut heâs right Cammie, you should stay.â
Camulus shook his head, âIâm going.â
The succubus laughed, âBut what are you going to do? Have sex without killing?â
The comment was flippant, but it stuck in his head. âHas anyone ever tried that?â Camulus asked.
Bellatrixâs eyes went wide, âYou mean, have sex like a human? Whereâs the fun in that!â
âHey hey, donât diss it sisâ â Itâs not so bad,â Jolfi countered, his cheeks blushing crimson as the two demons stared at him. Â
Bellatrix grabbed Jolfi by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand. âOh darling, baby sweet darling â one day when you become a full-fledged demon, youâll understand, and if you ever call me sis again I will rip out those pretty purple eyes. Mâkay?â
Camulus rubbed his chin, deep in thought. âIâm going to try it,â he pronounced.Â
âWHAT?!â Bellaxtrix screeched, dropping Jolfi to the ground and rounding on Camulus.
âIâm going to try having sex with a mortal without killing them,â Camulus repeated, puffing out his broad chest.
Jolfi stood, rubbing his throat, âWoah dude â is that like, going full vegan for an incubus or something?â
Camulus raised an eyebrow, âVegan?â
âItâs this thing some pretentious humans do â they donât eat meat,â Jolfi explained.
Bellatrix covered her mouth with a hand as horrified gasp escaped her. âWhy would they do something so stupid?â
Jolfi shrugged, âMakes em feel better, bragging rights, some shit I donât know.â
Bellatrix turned to Camulus, a look of serious concern in her eye. âCammie, sweetie â this isnât a good idea â sex is food to us Cubi demons - youâd effectively be starving yourself and youâre already so much weaker than meâŚâ
Camulus lowered his brow at the succubus. Bellatrixâs opposition only strengthening his resolve. âIâm up for a challenge,â he smirked.
The succubusâs jaw dropped.
Taking advantage of her shock, Camulus unfurled leathery orange wings from his back and dove for the door. Bellatrix might have been stronger, but Camulus had always been a better flier. He pushed through the glass door and ascended into the air, turning midflight to stick out his tongue and grace his workplace with a pair of upturned middle fingers.
âSee you in a decade dickwads!â he hollered.
Looking down, he saw Bellatrixâs scowl and Jolfiâs big sad round eyes. Camulus sighed. He wasnât about to delay this holiday for the sake of an office crush he could never act on. He turned away, beating his wings and rising further towards a pulsing red portal. The smoke-filled abyssal air rushing past his face stealing away the thoughts of the tiefling as he rose, up and up and up.
To Earth.
***
Camulus opened his eyes. Lights of every hue danced all around him. The beat of some-form-of what-passed-for-music-this-decade mashed against his eardrums. The sweet aroma of sweat, drugs and sex permeated this obscene den of hedonism. A crooked smile crossed the demonâs face.
He hadnât shifted to his human form for his first night on Earth, wanting the humans to see him in all his demonic glory, and more importantly wanting to feel pleasure as only a demon could. Afterall it was the one night of the year, and one of the only places on Earth he could get away with it.
Gawking crowds parted way as Camulus jumped up onto a podium. The incubus rubbed a hand down his chiseled abs and flexed his nearly-naked glutes. People were staring, admiring the realism of his costume. It wasnât long before humans were all over him. His lips finding the mouth of a scantily clad jock dressed as a bunny. The grabby paws of a werewolf-daddy-bear cupped his ass, as the teeth of a vampire twink nibbled at his neck.
Halloween was the best. Â
***
From across the nightclub Tommy-the-human-dressed-as-a-devil stared at the demon dancing, or rather grinding, against two of his friends. He couldnât quite believe his eyes. It HAD to be a costume, right?
Right?
But the more he watched, the more he was convinced. That was no human. As a fantasy nerd whoâd cosplayed more than heâd care to admit, Tommy could tell the difference between what was real and what wasnât â and he couldnât even write this off as some drunken hallucination. As tonightâs designated driver he was stone cold sober.
He looked around, nobody else seemed to notice or care that there was an actual demon in the nightclub. An extremely hot, sexy demon Tommy corrected. Probably an incubus. With a rising concern, curiosity and a rising cock, he cast aside his caution and approached the dancing demon.Â
***
âCan I get you a drink?!â a round-faced human wearing a devil costume shouted over the throbbing music.
Camulus wandered his eyes over the human. He scoffed, no self-respecting devil wore that much red. The devil-boy was cute if somewhat out of place amongst the throngs of mostly-jocks and-twinks that littered the club. His shiny outfit stretching over plump lovehandles. But his dark curls made him look a bit like a pudgy-less-demonic-version of Jolfi.
He locked eyes with the human, noting the expression. A mixture of fear, curiosity and arousal. Camulus smirked, the human had figured him out, but instead of running, they had approached him. With his own curiosity piqued, Camulus untangled himself from a throng of very disappointed men, gliding down off the podium and wrapping his arm around the pudgy-devil-humanâs waist.
âHey! What gives Tommy!â shouted the bunny-jock.
âYouâll thank me later!â Tommy called out as he led the demon away from his friends and towards the bar. âWhatâs your drink?â he asked. Â
âWhatever is hardest,â Camulus flirted. The lustful demon planted his eyes upon Tommyâs plump backside as the human leant over the bar. Tommy handed him a shot glass. Camulus sculled the liquor. Pure vodka. How was one supposed to get drunk of such a piss-weak drink? Never mind. He didnât really care about the drink. He tossed the empty glass aside and grabbed Tommy by the waist, pulling their bodies together. Smiling impishly as he felt the devil-boys telltale arousal. âI think I need something harder,â he whispered into the shuddering humanâs ear.
âS-sure,â Tommy stuttered.
***
Tommy reclined on the couch, his devil outfit long since discarded except for a pair of fluffy red horns that the demon has insisted he keep on. Hot lips traced his neck and collarbone, moving downward to his chest, then downward further towards his throbbingâŚ.
What in the hells was he doing? Heâd invited a complete stranger. No. No. Not a stranger â an actual demon back to his apartment. Not to mention heâd abandoned his friends as DD. He was dead. So dead. Morally and mortally.
âWait â wait. I-I. Letâs slow down,â Tommy panted, âI donât even know your name.â
Camulus lifted his head, âIs my name really what you want to know right now?â he smirked, tracing his hot lips over Tommyâs navel.
Tommy nodded.
Camulus sighed, leapt off the couch and performed an elaborate bow. âI am Camulus, demon of the midnight realms. I am, as I believe you have guessed, an incubus. I have come to Earth for holiday. You may call me Cam.â The demon moved back in for a kiss.
âW-wait!â Tommy held up a hand defensively, âI-is it true?â
Camulus raised an eyebrow.
âT-that if we have sex itâll k-kill me?â Tommy stuttered.
Camulus sighed again and moved to sit down on the floor. Heâd been so caught up in the night heâd almost forgotten about that little wrinkle. âYes. Iâm afraid so,â he nodded, brow crinkling at his own words.
âB-but â I donât want to die,â Tommy pleaded.
Camulus sighed, leaned forward and rested his head against Tommyâs soft stomach, âAnd I donât particularly want to kill you,â he purred, tracing a nail down the curve of the humanâs side.Â
âYou donât?â Tommy asked, eyebrows raising in surprise.
The demon rolled his eyes, âIâm bored of killing mortals every time I fuck them, besides there was this memo.â Tommy gave him a confused look.
âForget the memo - the point is that I canât have sex without killing someone and Iâm not supposed to kill anyone whilst Iâm on holiday, which means I donât get to have sex on my holiday unless I can figure out a way to sleep with a mortal and not kill them.â Camulus threw his back into the floor in exasperation and raised a hand into the air held. âEvery orgasm ends the same way. We drain a mortal of all their energy and they wither and die. Itâs how we survive.â
Tommy looked down at the frustrated Incubus, feeling a pang of sorrow on the demonâs behalf. Â I mean sure he killed people but it didnât exactly sound like Camulus had much of a choice. âSo â itâs like â eating for you?â he asked.
âWell â itâs more complex than that but yes, you could think of it the same wayâŚâ Camulus reasoned.
Tommy walked over to the fridge and returned with a box of cold pizza. âWould you mind uh?â he asked, holding a slice towards the demon. Camulus clicked his fingers, causing a small flame to erupt from his fingertips. Tommy bit into the now-warmed pizza, chewing it several times. Then instead of swallowing he spat out a goopy-half-chewed ball into his hand.
Camulus frowned, âApart from being disgusting, why did you do that?â he asked as Tommy discarded the bolus and washed his hands.
âI didnât consume it,â Tommy explained. âI-I, I donât know it was stupid idea - I was trying to show you I could taste the food, enjoy it, without consuming it. I thought maybe it could be like that for you â with sex.â
Camulus stared at the human.
âS-sorry â Iâ
âQuiet.â The demon clicked his fingers, muting Tommyâs voicebox. The gears in Camulusâs mind turned. It was such a simple thing â could it work? It would require a great deal of self-control but all he truly had to do was avoid swallowing the humanâs soul. He could taste it, savor it, bask in it. But would have to deny himself the final pleasurable act of consumption, something quite alien to a demon. Which was exactly why it probably hadnât been tried it before, and exactly why it might just work.
Camulus grinned. He hoped Tommy would be up for a risky experimentâŚ
Part 2: An Experiment
âOh fuckâŚâ Tommy shuddered as the demonâs huge cock glided into his well-cushioned rear. His body seeming to open up in response to the demonâs length, as if it wanted more of him. And by the gods was there a LOT of Camulus to take.
âS-stop â itâs too much!â Tommy whined after several more inches entered him.
Camulus held himself there and looked down. Tommy was doing very well, eight of twelve inches. But he could sense Tommyâs body wanted more. It just needed a little â encouragement. He gazed into the humanâs eyes. âLet the pain drift away â let there only be pleasure,â the demon whispered.
Tommy stared into Camâs swirling ember orbs, his mind going dizzy as if heâd been hit with several rounds of poppers.
The incubus leaned forward, âReady for more?â he growled into Tommy ear.
Tommy bucked his hips, sliding another inch of demon-dick inside him. He placed his hands on the incubusâs rear and pulled. âMoreâŚâ he moaned breathlessly.
Camulus smirked, and obliged the needy bottom.
Unintelligible moans escaped Tommyâs lips as the remaining three inches of hot, pulsing demon-dick filled him. His own cock spiderwebbing a line of precum between the tip of his throbbing cock and his pudgy stomach. Sharp teeth decorated Tommyâs neck with hickeys, a forked tongue sent pleasurable tingles rushing up and down his spine.
Camulus arced his hips backward, then thrust forward, effortlessly gliding back in. Tommyâs eyes rolled into the back of his head and the incubus hit his spot again, and again and again.
âYou want even more donât you?â Camulus teased, âtell me you want more you greedy boy.â The incubus grinned, driving Tommy wild by flexing his cock inside him.
âI⌠IâŚâ Tommy panted as he struggled to remember how to form words, âM-more⌠Please. MoreâŚâ
Camulusâs grabbed Tommyâs ankles and pushed his legs up further. Pulling almost all the way out, then dropped his muscular body back down against Tommyâs soft fat cheeks. He watched as the human gasped, but the demon didnât let him catch his breath. Repeating the action again and again, faster and faster. Every slapping thrust sending ripples up Tommyâs body. His cock bounced off his lower belly and sent ribbons of precum flying everywhere. The humanâs mouth went O-shaped.
The grin widened on the demonâs face. Pudgy boys were always the neediest, greediest sluts.
Tommy's head thrashed side to side as the pleasure peaked. His whole body shone with a sheen of sweat. He never wanted this feeling to end. Just when he thought the pleasure couldnât get any greater, Camulus reached forward and grabbed his dripping member. Rubbing a single finger over the slick tip as he continued to drive into Tommyâs butter-soft cheeks.
A long moan erupted from Tommyâs lips as a brain-frying orgasm lit up every synapse. Cum fountaining from his cock.
The demon leant forward, taking the spurting cock into his mouth, whilst simultaneously continuing to drive his 12-inch-demon-cock into Tommy. His tongue furling and unfurling around the head, milking Tommy for every drop. Every thrust of the demonâs hips forcing more cum out of the humanâs prostate and down Camâs guzzling throat. He looked up at the blissful human, transposing Jolfiâs cherubic face onto him.
With a sloppy pop, Camulus slid his mouth off the cock and quieted the humans fever-pitched moaning with a searing, messy kiss. Closing his eyes, he moaned into the kiss. His own cock pulsing with need as he basked in the raw pleasure the humanâs soul was experiencing. So delicious, so perfect. All Camulus had to do was reach out and take Tommyâs soul, preserving it in its moment of ecstasy â and draining Tommy dry of everything he was, and everything he could be.
âCa-mu-lusâŚâ A distant voice called out with comically separated syllables.
But the voice was lost on the demon, as his own cock went completely rigid and unleashed a torrent of hot cum into the mortalâs needy hole. Camulus tugged Tommyâs soul from his body and held its energy against his own. It screamed promises of fulfillment; it begged him to be consumed.
âRe-mem-ber!â Tommy called out.
Remember? Remember what? Oh shit.
Camulus opened his eyes and pushed himself off the human, sliding his cum-slick-cock out and breaking the physical contact between them. The humanâs soul snapped backward like a rubber-band.
Tommy looked at the demon with wide eyes, âH-holy hells,â he gasped. Then, he collapsed backward. His body going limp.
He had ruined his holiday on his first night. Experiment fucked up. He looked over at the slack-jawed-jizzed-covered Tommy. Gods. He needed a clean-up crew stat. Maybe if he acted fast enough, he could get away with it.
Shit. Heâd have to contact the department. Bellatrix? No. Nooooo way was he giving that bitch the satisfaction. Jolfi. Jolfi would help him. Digging into Tommyâs bag he pulled out the humanâs phone. Red occult symbols appeared into the dialing sequence.
A moment later Jolfiâs cherubic face broke into a smile on the screen. âYo Cammie boi! Whassup?â
âWhat? No man! Itâs not even been a day yet! Fuccck.â Jolfi genuinely looked sad at the news, for a half-demon he really impersonated human emotions wellâŚ
Camulus paced as he talked, his words falling breathlessly his lips, âI know, I know I just. I met this human â he figured out my costume wasnât a costume and he wanted to take the risk and â Fuck. I killed him Jolfi â theyâre going to recall me from the holiday if I donât sort this out. Can you help? Get a cleaning crew? Real discreet? Iâll pay whatever.â
Jolfi nodded along, his fingers already clacking away on a keyboard. âHey man, donât beat yourself up â youâre, well a demon â this, well this is normal yâknow? And of course, Iâll help ya out.â
Camulusâs shoulders dropped with relief, âThanks Jolfi.â
âAnytime,â Jolfi smiled, ânow, turn the camera around, I need to see the body.â
Fumbling like a boomer, Camulus eventually managed to tap the right button and give Jolfi a picture the jizz-covered Tommy.
âUh CammieâŚâ Jolfi started.
âYeah I know itâs bad,â Camulus felt his cheeks reddening, âFuck and yeah, I know he looks a little like you. Sorry.â
âNo no â I mean. DudeâŚâ Jolfi burst out laughing.
Camulus turned the phone around, âThis isnât funny Jolfi!â he growled.
âNah man itâs fuckinâ hilarious!â The tieflingâs pearly white smile widened.
Camulus flipped the phone back around and mashed the buttons until he got the setting right. âI swear to Baphomet I will come down there, rip out your baby horns and shove them up your ass!â he screamed down at the phone.
Jolfi raised his arms defensively, as if Camulus was about to attack him through the screen. âHey hey, easy Cammie. Anyway yeah. No need for a cleaning crew.â
âWhat do you mean no need for a crew?!â
Jolfi shook his head, âFuck Cammie - you really are as thick as two balors sometimesâŚCongrats man, youâre the first Incubus to sleep with a mortal and not kill them-â
âBut heâs not moving!â Camulus interrupted, picking up one of Tommyâs arms and dropping the limp limb to exercise his point.Â
The tiefling rolled his eyes, âBuddy. The dude is breathing; you probably made him cum so hard he passed out.â
Camulus looked between Jolfiâs grinning face and the prone human. This was a trick. Was this a trick? Jolfi wouldnât trick him like this would he? Camulus put his ear to the humanâs chest. Ignoring the fact he was getting cum all over his cheek. That was a snack for later.
Heartbeat. Tommy had a heatbeat.
Camulus bolted upright and pulled Jolfi back into view.
âBy the Styx!â Camulus fist pumped the air, âI did it!â
âYep ya sure did,â Jolfi smiled, but the smile didnât quite reach his eyes. Okay rescind the previous statement, the tieflingâs poker face needed work. Camulus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Was that, jealousy?
Jolfi turned to look behind, âHey Iâve gotta go bud, Bella is loading me up with extra.â
Camulus scowled, âTell that bitch if her cunt gets any tighter sheâll turn into a paladin.â No doubt Bellatrix was punishing Jolfi to make Camulus feel guilty about taking leave.
Tossing the phone aside, Camulus nuzzled his head on Tommyâs soft chest, listening to his heartbeat and watching the humanâs tummy rise and fall with each breath. Â
âAlive,â the demon whispered.
***
A gasp escaped Tommyâs lips as the demonâs forked tongue flicked and wrapped around his cock. âOhâŚ. good morning to you too,â he moaned. Heâd had half expected Cam to leave him after the first or second night. But had been surprised to wake up next to the insatiable incubus every single day for the past week. Or more accurately, he looked down at the mound of bedsheets bobbing up and down, awoken by him.
Camulus for his part was reveling in the fact he could have sex with a human and not kill them, and had re-performed the experiment with Tommy again, and again and again â and again and again and again. The incubus had made himself at home, not bothering to use his human form, or wear clothes inside Tommyâs apartment.
When Tommyâs cum-drained balls needed rest, the pair would talk. The demon was quite open about his life in the abyss and Tommy, who was definitely a nerd, would note his answers in a little diary for posterity. In turn he helped Camulus learn modern human technology and gave the demon updates on recent human history. The demonâs mouth fell open in shock when he heard that theyâd elected that one again.
Tommy groaned as Camulus slurped down his morning load. He writhed as the incubus continued to lap as his cock like a lollipop. He knew from experience if he didnât stop the demon heâd just keep going. Extracting as many orgasms as he could.
Reaching under the blankets he patted the incubus on the head. Heâd called in sick the entirety of last week, but with Monday now returning and his sick-leave balance as drained as his loins â he needed to return to work. A concept that only made the Incubus groan with boredom. Camulus rose up through the sheets to rest his pouting face next to Tommyâs.
Tommy used his index finger to pull the sides of the demons mouth upward, playfully trying to get him to smile.
âItâll be okay, Iâm working from home - we can still have fun between my meetings,â Tommy insisted.
âUrgh fine,â the incubus rolled his eyes.Â
Tommy leapt from the bed and trotted into the bathroom. He rubbed the glass of the steamy-post shower window as he brushed his teeth, noting the sunken bags under his eyes, and his unshaven, unkempt hair. Heâd been a bit too busy having mind-blowing demon-sex on a near-hourly basis to look after himself. He pulled a razor over his jawline, being careful not to cut it.
Wait. Jawline?
Tommy grasped his chin. He hadnât had a jawline since the pandemic, when stress eating had seen his rear end go from a twinky size 30 to a robust 36. Grabbing a towel he rubbed away more condensation to give himself a clear view of his body. Since when could he see his ribs?! He pulled a dusty scale out from a cupboard.
âCam! Camulus get in here!â he called out in panic as the number flashed up at him.
âWhatâs wrong my pet?â Camulus sidled up behind him, his ever-hard-demon-cock twitching against his rear, âhorny again already?
âWait â stop. Look at me.â Tommy pulled away.
âI am lookingâŚâ Camulus flirted.
âDo you notice anything different about me?â Tommy asked.
The incubus tilted his head and glanced at the humanâs rear. âWell now that you say it â Your ass is â well itâs less comfortable than before.â
âLess comfortable?â Tommy choked.
Camulus frowned, âIs something wrong my pet?â
âY-you could say that,â Tommy gestured at the scale, âIâm down fifty pounds.â
Camulus raised an eyebrow, âIs that a lot?â
âIn a week? Itâs â Cam. Camulus. Its impossible. I-I w-what â I think â I.â Tommy stuttered as his mind ran through his theory. Demons needed energy to survive⌠and since Camulus wasnât taking it from Tommyâs soul - he was taking it from his waistline. Normally heâd be thrilled but â at the rate he was goingâŚA few more orgasms and wellâŚ
Tommy took a deep breath to steady himself. âI think youâre still feeding off my energy, even if not my soul â If we keep having sexâŚâ
âYouâll die,â Camulus finished the sentence. âDrat. Knew it was too good to be true.â Sighing the incubus walked from the room and sat down on Tommyâs bed, his gaze on the floor. Glassy eyes miles away. He - the demon, was sad Tommy realized.Â
Tommy sat himself next to Cam, and placed a hand on his thigh. âHey, itâs okay â you can still stay, we just wonât be able to sleep together for a bit whilst we work this out.â
Camulus turned to him. His expression a dead ringer for a puppy dog eyes emoji.
Tommy patted his thigh, trying to reassure him, âBut hey, youâre a slutty demon â and now youâve figured this out, it just means youâll have to sleep with loads of people so you donât drain any one person too much, that isnât so bad, is it?â
Camulusâs considered the words, his face lighting up like he was a fucking labrador whoâd just heard the four-letter word starting with w.
Tommy thought about it for a moment. âOkay wait before you get too excited â some ground rules until we learn more. No sleeping with any twinks or jocks, theyâre skinny enough already â and donât sleep with anyone more than once,â he reasoned.
Camulus sighed, he didnât like restrictions. But there was also another matter. He turned to face Tommy, âI like sleeping with you. I donât have to pretend to be a human with you.â
âThere will be others-â Tommy started.
âHow long would it take for you to find the weight?â Camulus interrupted
âWhat?â Tommy asked, ignoring the demonâs strange nomenclature.
Camulus placed a hand on Tommyâs flat stomach. âYou said you lost fifty pounds; how long would it take to find them?â
âUh⌠I well itâs not really a matter of finding it â Iâd have to put it on again through you know like. Overeating, being lazy,â Tommy explained.
Camulus put his hand over Tommyâs and locked eyes with the human. âWell then I want you to find that weight again for me, can you do that for me Tommy?â
Tommyâs eyeâs dilated as he stared into the swirling ember storm. The words fell out of his mouth.
âYes⌠of course I can.â
Part 3: Gluttony, Lust and Hedonism
It had been two weeks since Tommy had agreed to put on weight for Camulus. So far according to the electronic-flat-square-on-the-ground Tommy had found five of his lost fifty pounds. Apparently, that was good â but Camulus had done the math. At the rate it was going it would take the human five months to gain fifty pounds. Patience was a virtue, and demons didnât have those. Â
With some reluctance, Camulus had gone out in human form to slake his ever-needy-lust. As agreed, heâd opted away from the skinner folk and went for the most well-padded and doughy humans he could find, which hadnât been all that hard. Humans seemed to have gotten a lot fatter compared to the last time he was on Earth. He didnât mind though â it was a nice change of pace. In fact, the demon had to confess he was developing quite the appetite for bigger boys.
But as exciting as fat-boy-sex was, it didnât compare to fat-boy-sex-in-demon-form - and Camulus couldnât use his demon form if he expected the human to survive the encounter, that would risk discovery, and discovery risked cutting his holiday short. So, unless he could luck out and find another chubby human like Tommy, who wouldnât try and tell the world about him, or run away screaming â well shit, heâd just be back in the same position he was with Tommy within a few weeks, needing to fatten them up.
Camulus let out a big sigh. This whole vegan thing as heâd taken to calling it was easier said than done. He glanced over at Tommy, the human had his eyes glued to a wide-flat-screen and was munching on a packet of potato chips. It wasnât enough - he needed his human pet fatter, and faster. Clicking his fingers, he encased Tommyâs side of the room in a bubble of silence and pulled out the phone heâd obtained from a particularly well-off hook up. Or well. Stolen. No self-respecting demon bought what you could steal.
Occult runes flashed across the screen.
âHeeeeey! How the holiday Cam?â the ever-joyful tiefling chirped from the electronic square.
âI need your help,â Camulus stated bluntly. This wasnât the time for niceties. Urgent fattening was required.
Jolfiâs smile faltered, âHey sure bud, whatever you need.â
Camulus turned the camera around to show Jolfi the oblivious human stuffing his face on the couch and explained their current predicament. ââŚSo to make it safe to have sex again, I need to make the human fatter,â he summarized.
Jolfi coughed, spluttering black coffee across the screen. âYou what?â
Camulus rolled his eyes, âI need to make this human as fat as possible, as fast as possible. How do I do that?â
Jolfi wiped away the coffee with his sleeve, then stared at Camulus, as if trying to read the demon for any signs of jest. âUh⌠well⌠I mean⌠I suppose. I could see if DGS [Department of Gluttony and Sloth] has anything?â
âCan you check now? Please?â Camulus insisted, tapping a hoof on the ground.
âUh, sure. Give me a minute.â Jolfi glanced over his shoulder, checking the coast was clear.
Camulus dropped the phone to the side as Jolfi clacked away on his keyboard. He watched as the human scrunched up an empty chip packet, tossed it to the side and immediately reached forward to pull a fresh one for the pile of snacks in front of him. Tommy was such a good pet. Fattening himself up so that they could fuck again. The demonâs dick began to lengthen at the thought.
Jolfi did a double-take as he looked over to the video feed. He cleared his throat, âUh Abyss to Cam?â
âYep Iâm here,â Camulus raised the phone back up from his lap. His free hand gliding downward to grasp his cock, shamelessly stroking himself as he watched Tommy shovel down chips.
Jolfi blushed as the video feed began to wobble. He cleared his throat, âSO - check your scream-mail Iâm forwarding you the guidelines on fattening humans. Also check page six-thousand nine-hundred and sixty-nine, thereâs extra tips on how you can mix the sins of lust and gluttony together.â
âYouâre a rockstar Jolfi, thanks so much,â Camulus said, his eyes not leaving Tommy.
âAnytime,â Jolfi nodded, continuing to stare at his office crush who-was-openly-wanking-on-video-feed-at-the-idea-of-fattening-up-a-human. âHey Cam â Iâve been meaning to ask,â he started, trying to think of a way to grab the demonâs attention, âIâm thinking of taking some lea-â
âHold that thought,â Camulus interrupted, âI think the human figured out I put him in a silence bubble.â
âWait-â cried Jolfi as Camulus hung up.
With a click of his fingers the demon dismissed the silence bubble around the human. He walked over, his bobbing cock leading the way. Straddling Tommy, he put his tempting length right in his face. Tommy looked up at the demon, leaned forward and flicked his tongue over the tip. Camulus shuddered, both of them clinging to threadbare self-control not to go further.
The demon leaned forward, grinding his cock against the human. He nibbled at Tommyâs earlobe. âIâve got some things I want to try with you,â he whispered. The human whimpered under him.
This was going to be fun.
***
Tommy stared into the mirror; clutching is protruding stomach. He was so full. Camulus has really pushed his limit tonight. Correction, the demon had pushed his limit every night for the past six weeks â and it showed.
The scale lights flashed - 220lbs.
He was ten pounds fatter than when he originally met Camulus. Meaning heâd gained sixty pounds since the demon had asked him to regain the weight heâd siphoned off him. Tommy bit his bottom lip. He used to care about trying to staying in shape, exercising to at least retain a modicum of fitness and now...He turned to the side, grabbing the fat on his stomach and shaking it.
His cock twitched. Gods. He felt so soft. Much softer than the extra ten pounds should have made him. Had the incubus drained him of his muscle too? Or had his muscles atrophied because demon had essentially banned him from non-essential movement? He turned around and stared at his doughy wide rear. Probably both, he reasoned. No wonder his underwear werenât fitting right. Any muscle heâd previous had had been replaced with soft, doughy, fat.
âFuckâ, Tommy gasped as his cock twitched again. He grabbed, lifted and dropped one plump ass-cheek, eyes going wide as the spherical fat-filled balloon fluttered uncontrollably. No wonder Camulus hadnât been able to keep his hands off his rear.
He turned back to face the mirror. A pulsing erection stuck out from his body at a right-angle. Why was getting fatter making him so horny? Why did it feel so good? Fuck.
Throb. A bead of precum dripped from his cock. His mind replayed the events of the past few weeks.
Cam had taken his phone last month, hacked into his bank account and added an eye-watering amount of money to it. The next day Tommy had quit his job with a two-line email, not bothering to answer HRâs frantic calls.
Spreading his stance to put some distance between his thick thighs, Tommy closed his fist around his cock and began to tug, watching his body jiggle in the mirror.
With his new-found freedom and buckets of cash, Tommy had planted his rear on the couch and started ordering takeout multiple times a day. Camulus had run downstairs to collect the deliveries so Tommy didnât even have to get up. He hadnât left his apartment in weeks. Â
Tommy grabbed a fatty love handle and shook it â a moan escaping his lips. Â
Theyâd figured out that as long as they didnât touch when either of them came it prevented the siphoning. So Camulus made Tommy eat and wank at the same time. Whilst the demon would flick his wicked tongue over his nipples, suck and lick his neck and nibble at his fatty upper thighs. Teasing every erogenous zone on Tommyâs widening body and only letting him cum once heâd eaten everything the demon put in front of him. It wasnât the same as full-blown demon-sex, but it had driven both of their desire levels up further, which had only made Camulus push more and more calories into Tommy.
His hand glided back and forth over his cock, faster and faster. He reached behind himself and squeezed a handful of ass fat.
Camulus had picked up tips from other fat boys he fucked, finding out what had made them so fat. One ex-college jock had told him of how weed had blown him up and gotten him kicked off the football team. So now Tommy, whoâd never tried an illicit drug before meeting Camulus, was getting sent into a hungry dazed stupor on a regular basis.
Tommy flicked his cock against his swollen gut, sloshing the gainer shake inside him.
Another fatty had told Camulus heâd drunk shakes full of cream to deliberately gain weight. The excited demon had returned with a giant-ass blender (which of course he had stolen) and had quickly become a master-shake mixer. Tommyâs eyes had widened in horror as he saw the astronomical amounts of sugar and fat that were going into those shakes. But he drank every drop, he wanted to be a good boy for Cam.
On nights like tonight where Tommy was left so full he was whimpering in pain, which was every fucking night. The incubus would rub his hands over Tommyâs bloated tummy, using his demon powers to take away the pain and send him off to sleep. Only to wake him up with a funnel, and more gainer shake a few hours later.
His breath hitched, his balls tightened. Tommyâs entire life had turned into a deluge of endless pleasure without consequence. The wires of gluttony and lust were getting crossed in his brain. Food turned him on. Intimacy made him hungry.
It was out of control. No - he corrected, it was in the demonâs control.
Tommy had handed over control of his body to a literal sex demon who wanted nothing more than to make him as fat as possible as fast as possible. He didnât recognize his life. But truth be told he had a hard time caring, as long as the pleasure kept coming. Sixty pounds in two months. A pound of fat a day. How much bigger would he be in another month? Two? Six?
What would he look like a year from now?
Tommy gasped. Ropes of sticky cum gushing from his cock and splattered the mirror. He collapsed back against the wall, panting for breath. He slapped his gut and smiled.
He didnât bother to wipe up the mess as he walked to the kitchen, raiding the fridge for a cute thousand-calorie snack. A small voice in his mind pleaded with him to stop gorging himself at every waking moment. Telling him that he could just maintain his weight to protect himself from the siphoning. But a stronger, baser part his mind argued;
Why stop when you could have more?
***
An empty half-gallon tub of ice cream lay empty on the bedside table. Camulus held the funnel as the last of the melted ice cream slid into Tommyâs greedy gullet. Adamâs apple bobbing, eyes closed in bliss.
The funnel ran dry. âM-more,â Tommy whined, âIâm hungry!â
Camulus raised an eyebrow, âGosh, someone is insatiable today,â he purred.
Tommy pouted. The human didnât seem to care that he was more than fat enough now. In fact, he wanted to keep going, and so did Camulus. The-all-consuming lust and pleasure that Tommy was experiencing was only growing as his body did, and it was a demonâs want to enable a humanâs sin.
âOkay, okay,â the demon laughed, tousling Tommyâs floofy hair. âIâll go melt down another one â usually you need a break big boy.â
Reaching around his stomach, Tommy began to paw at his cock. âHurry,â he pleaded.
Camulus smirked, admiring how effectively Tommyâs mind and body had been corrupted. Red lines decorated his lower belly, his hips flared out at the sides. His thighs were wider than Camulusâs waist. His chest rivaled that of a womanâs. Tommy had proudly announced to the demon yesterday that heâd reached 310 pounds, a full hundred pounds fatter than when theyâd first met â and It had only taken four months.
Tommyâs attitude had shifted too. Gone was his intellectual curiosity, replaced by lust and greed. Gone were his worries, replaced by pleasure. Gone was his polite nature, replaced by bratty entitlement. Camulus felt like a proud parent, his human pet embodied five of the seven deadly sins; lust, gluttony, greed, sloth and pride. Heâd twisted Tommyâs soul to the point where the incubus wondered if the human would be reincarnated as a demon in the afterlife.
As erotic as Tommyâs descent into hedonism was, Camulus was getting⌠concerned. Theyâd tentatively started having sex again a few weeks ago. The temptation to consume Tommyâs soul was still ever present when they fucked. But after hundreds of opportunities to practice he felt somewhat confident, he wouldnât accidentally kill Tommy, or anyone else for that matter, as long as they were fat enough to withstand the siphoning of course.
But there was the rub. Tommy wasnât losing any weight, no matter how many times they had sex. In fact, if anything his weight gain had was accelerating. Even with the amount Tommy consumed, it defied their current understanding of the siphoning process. Whilst Tommy didnât seem to care about that anymore, Camulus recognized it was important to know more.
Heâd reached out to Jolfi for advice of course. The tiefling was smart as a whip and always willing to help. Camulus didnât like relying on him so much. But the truth was he missed the silly twink. Urgh. It would be easier if Jolfi moved on â found some other nice tiefling or human. Although the thought of Jolfi with someone else filled Camulus with a weird, weird emotion that he did not like.
The tiefling had peppered Camulus with questions about the humanâs habits, how much he ate, what he ate and when. He'd also asked some very specific questions about their sex life in addition to requesting a blood sample from Tommy. Camulus had shrugged and provided it all. All for science he guessed.
As if on cue Camulus felt his phone ring. He left Tommy in the bedroom to entertain himself and sat himself down in Tommyâs kitchen, placing the phone upright as the tiefling appeared on screen.Â
âHey Jolf,â Camulus waved as they exchanged pleasantries.
âSo vampire labs finally got back to usâŚâ Jolfi started. Camulus nodded along, only half listening as the tiefling started talking about Tommyâs incubus-induced metabolism crash.
Jolfi looked tired Camulus noted. No, he corrected. Jolfi looked exhausted. Bags under his eyes. His shoulders seemed to slumping. His voice drained of passion.
Damn Bellatrix must really be on his ass. Shit â donât think about Jolfiâs ass.
Camulus tried to distract himself by watching Jolfiâs cherubic cheeks. They looked even more cherubic than normal. Almost like big fluffy ass cheeks attached to the side of his face â he kicked himself. Stop. Thinking. About. Tiefling. Ass. Argh! The incubus forced himself to pay attention to the words coming from Jolfiâs mouth.
ââŚDr Franken had a theory that the siphoning makes humanâs bodies think theyâre chronically starving so they store everything they eat. Apparently, that also makes them resistant to the siphoning process in the future, cuz their bodies start fighting to hold onto the energy they have. So the good doctor said to tell you to keep fucking other humans to make sure youâre getting enough energy to survive-'
âHuh â oh yeah well. You know how it is,â Jolfi sighed. âSome holier than thou types arrived recently.â He lifted his hands as he air quoted, âIâm a Christian Iâm suppose to be in the good place, and, I want to speak to the manager! Jolfi shook his head, âWeâre swamped man, and Trix is angrier than an armless balor. I think she kinda expected your holiday to flop and youâd be back by now.â
Camulus considered the information. âSounds like you need a break, maybe you should come up here for some leave? Iâm sure Tommy won't mind,â he offered.
A glimmer of light returned to Jolfiâs eyes, âFor reals?! Man you know Iâd love that! Although â I donât know if Bella would let meâŚâ
âAsk for a week and donât worry about Bella â Iâve got some dirt on her that Iâve been meaning to cash in,â Camulus winked.
A smile broke Jolfiâs face, âFuck yeah!â he fist pumped the air. Then, in classic Jolfi style, the energetic tiefling twink stood on his chair and spun. âIâm going to EARTH baby-ee!â he shouted at the top of his lungs. As the chair swiveled around, Camulus got a view of the tieflingâs rear tucked into his tight jorts.
Oh fuck. Donât think about â Donât think⌠Camulusâs thoughts stopped. Was just the lighting or were Jolfiâs jorts snug.
Really snug.
Part 4: Jolfi-Jorts
Camulus ran a clawed hand down Tommyâs wide back. âYouâre such a fucking fat slut,â he growled, slapping the big boyâs ass and watching it jiggle. Tommy moaned something unintelligible, whether due to the fact he had a face full of cake or because the throbbing demon-dick in his ass was making him see stars, he didnât know.
It had taken longer than expected for Jolfi to get his leave negotiated, but tomorrow was the day, tomorrow Jolfi would be here. The wait had been torture for Camulus and rapture for the hapless Tommy and every-plus-sized-gay-man-in-a-ten-mile-radius who had become a beneficiary of the demons pent up lust for his office crush. Images of Jolfi flashed through the demonâs mind. His mischievous smile, his bouncy curly hair, and of course that ass in tighter-than-normal Jolfi-jorts.
The possibility of sleeping with Jolfi had become more real in Camulusâs mind. He was still afraid of taking the risk. One slip up was all it would take⌠But he couldnât help but wonder. Would the sparks that had been flying between them for the past few years finally erupt? Or was it destined to be an unending flirty dance? Would he even want Jolfi after they slept together or was it just because the tiefling had been forbidden fruit for so long? He couldnât ignore the barriers either. They worked together for one, and if word got out, which of course it would, Jolfiâs career, and more importantly his chance of ascension to full-fledged demon would be tanked.
âFuck!â the demon roared as he erupted into Tommy. Collapsing onto the boyâs sweaty broad back as Tommy tensed his hole, milking the demonâs cock for every drop.
The fat boy turned his head toward Camulus, giving him a dumb vacant smile as his greedy hands shoveled more cake into his mouth. Apparently, there was something to be said for the phrase, cumming your brains out when it came to having sex with an incubus a few thousand times. All those mind-blowing orgasms had robbed Tommy of much of his higher thought processes. Camulus felt a bit guilty, but at least Tommy was happy.
âFuck thatâs hot,â Camulus said, flexing his still-hard cock inside Tommy. The fat boy moaned, sending bits of cake all over the bed. âYou like that big boy?â he teased, grabbing a hunk of cake and shoving it into Tommyâs mouth. âEat fat boy, grow fatter for me,â Camulus commanded.
Tommy had stepped on the scale an hour ago and had complained the numbers confused him. Of course they did â the fat boy couldnât see the numbers over his belly. 365 pounds Camulus had read out. Tommy had more than doubled his post-siphon weight in less than six months. A shocked look had passed over his face. Almost like a moment of recognition of what was happening to him. Camulus had gone on offense, smothering that glimmer of reason with a healthy dose of hedonism, pulling the fat boy into the bedroom and stuffing him from both ends until he was a dazed-drained-cum-filled-cake-filled-mess.Â
Camulus rocked his hips back and forth in the boyâs slick hole, imagining that soon he might be inside Jolfi. âFuck â I need to go again; can you go again my pet?â he purred.
âMmhmmhfff,â was all he got out of Tommy.
âGood enough.â Camulus grabbed the boys fat ass and pulled him into doggy position. His belly hanging low, grazing against the bed. âFuck, Jolfi â I canât fucking wait. Fuck.â
***
Camulus was nursing Tommyâs somewhat-fat-buried-cock in his mouth as the sun came up the next morning. The exhausted fat boy was passed out. But that didnât mean Camulus couldnât give him some nice dreams.
Footsteps approached the apartment door. Camulus popped his lips off Tommyâs cock, his head whipping to the side, snake-like tongue tasting the air. The demonsâ eyes went wide, he bolted upright and dashed for the door, yanking it open to see the indigo eyes of his favorite tiefling, hand raised, about to knock. His eyes going wider still as he appraised Jolfiâs form. His swollen form.
âHeeeeey!â Jolfi cheered, breaking into a smile and wrapping his arms around the stunned incubus in a hug.
Instinctively Camulus pulled the tiefling closer. His hand coming to rest comfortably on one of the tieflings plump hips. It took every ounce of his willpower not to squeeze it. The hug ended far too soon. Jolfi started talking, Camulus went on autopilot, inviting Jolfi in and taking his bag. The tiefling bent over to take his shoes off. The demonâs brain short-circuited.
Jolfi was wearing those jorts. But were tight. Way too tight. Did Jolfi not realize that his lower thighs were puffing out of them like overbaked muffins? Did he not realize his fatty hips were actually drooping over the sides of his waistband? Camulus had only just recovered higher thought processes when Jolfi doffed his jacked revealing a mesh t-shirt that was at least three sizes too small. The see-through material stretched over his body, cupping lower belly and plush lovehandles.
Since when did Jolfi have lovehandles!?
Camulus guided Jolfi to the couch and fetched him a drink. Pouring him a huge glass of calorific sugary soda. The demon almost shattered the glass in his hand as he turned back around to view the reclined Jolfi â his mesh shirt had ridden up his navel, revealing a plump lower belly roll. He averted his gaze, trying to focus on Jolfiâs face. But even there the weight gain was evident. His cherubic cheeks were rounder, fuller.
What. Why was Jolfi fat? Camulus couldnât bring himself to move out from behind the kitchen counter as all the blood in his brain rushed to his cock. The tiefling yammered away. Camulus put the glass down on the counter and ogled him in silence.
âCam? Yo, abyss to CammieeâŚâ Jolfi waved his arm. Camulus didnât respond, his brain still trying to process the fact that the tiefling-twink-was-no-longer-a-twink. Jolfi jumped up from the couch and swiped the glass from the bench, guzzling the nearly-entire-litre of sugary empty calories in one go.
Camulus whimpered, his dick leaking a little.
Jolfi brought a hand to his mouth as a light burp escaped him. âcuse me, sorry â I was thirsty.â
Thirsty. Yes. Camulus was thirsty too. âYouâve gotten fat,â he blurted out, âwhat-'
A grinning Jolfi closed the distance between them, interrupting the question by pressing his soft, sugary lips against the demonâs. For the first time in a thousand years Camulus didnât know what to do with his hands. Didnât know what to do with his body as Jolfi kissed him. What was happening? Who was this chubby confident tiefling wearing Jolfiâs face?
Camulus broke the kiss as the stupidest thought entered his head. âBut â what about the department?â he asked. As if he hadnât already been fantasizing about throwing Jolfi up against a wall and fucking him for the past two years.
Jolfi shook his head, âBella didnât approve the leave, so I quit,â he smirked.
Camulusâs eyes bugged out of his head. He had so many questions. âAnd â all this?â he patted one of the tieflingâs poochy lovehandles.
Jolfiâs face reddened, his tail swishing behind him. âI uh â when you told me about Tommy, the siphoning, the weight gain, all of it â I figured if I got a little soft, it would grab your attention and uh - make it safe for us to, yâknow â I-I may have taken it a little farâŚ.â He stammered.
âIâll sayâŚâ Camulus muttered, running a hand down Jolfiâs soft hips. His eyes widening with realization. âWait s-so - you gained all this weight just so you could sleep with me?â he asked, sounding more like a schoolboy asking his crush out on a date than a literal sex demon.
Jolfi peeled off the skin-tight mesh shirt. Revealing every inch of added pudge, every roll, every curve. All the fat that heâd gained for Camulus. The tiefling boldly grabbed the incubus by his waist and pushed his soft stomach into the contours of the demonâs abs.
Camulus panted. Jolfi was taking the lead and it was hot. So fucking hot. The tiefling stared into his eyes, his breath tingling over the demonâs lips.
Jolfi shook his head, âYou really are as thick as two balors Cammie. I got fat so I could be with you, because,â he turned away, his confidence seeming to waver.
Camulus grabbed Jolfi by the chin, turned his head back and stared directly into his pretty indigo eyes. âDonât you get chickenshit on me now Jolfi â say the goddamn words,â he pleaded. He needed to hear it. He needed Jolfi to say it.
The words tumbled from the tieflingâs lips, âBecause I fuckinâ love you Cammie.â
Camulus kissed him. A tender soft kiss like in those stupid human movies. Jolfi bit the demonâs bottom lip like a slut and Camulus lost it. He grabbed the ex-twink by his lovehandles and ground their waists together. He felt Jolfiâs rock-hard need begging to be free of the tight jorts. But not yet, the tiefling had chosen to torture him with those jorts, so he could suffer in them for just a little longer.
Using his demonic strength, Camulus hefted Jolfi up by his substantial thighs.
Jolfi wrapped his arms around the demonâs neck and back, leant forward and began to lay claim to the incubusâs neck, marking it with his sharp teeth and full lips. Â
Camulus moaned. He felt needed and wanted. He wanted to be Jolfiâs. He wanted to show Jolfi just how much he needed him. He pushed Jolfi back up against the wall. Pulling the tiefling by the hair to expose his neck and marking him in return.
A pleading, needy gasp fell from Jolfiâs lips. An expanding wet spot embellishing the front of his jorts. Camulus ground his hips against him, stimulating Jolfiâs cock through the fabric.
A clatter followed a pop as a button tumbled to the floor. The pair paused, staring at the spinning metal circle on the ground.
âI donât think you were going to fit into those again anyway,â Camulus growled as he pawed at Jolfiâs fat. Jolfi moaned in agreement.
Camulus let the tieflingâs legs drop to the floor and flipped him around. He reached forward and tugged at the flaps of Jolfiâs broken jorts, tearing the garment in half and freeing two fattened ass cheeks and a pair of plush soft thighs. Jolfi hadnât even been wearing underwear. Hot breath tickled the back of Jolfiâs neck.
âYou slut,â Camulus whispered.
Jolfi felt the demonâs huge cock rest against his bare crack. He ground his ass backward.
Camulus groaned in pleasure, but pulled back, leaving the naked Jolfi against the wall. He ran his eyes over Jolfiâs gloriously fattened body. Burning the image of this moment into his brain forever. His eyes moved lower and lower down the pear-shaped tiefling. Settling on the object of so many fantasies.
Jolfiâs round, expanded-extra-plus-sized-fat, bubble butt. A hand joined his eyes as he caressed the smooth butter-soft flesh. Jolfi arced his back, sticking his bottom out and looking at Camulus from over his shoulder. Â
Camulus got down on a knee. Bringing himself eye-level with Jolfiâs fattened globes. Jolfi shivered as the demon panted over his bare cheeks.
Enjoying the worship but impatient with need, the tiefling reached back and pulled Camulus forward by one of his horns. Planting the demonâs face, where it belonged â right between his doughy cheeks. He let out a moan of approval as the demonâs wet tongue circled his hole. Â
Breathing became an optional activity for Camulus â the pleasure of rimming Jolfiâs fat rump would sustain him. Hands grabbed, slapped and jiggled Jolfiâs fattened rear. The ex-twinks lower body undulated wildly as Camulus shook his head, motorboating Jolfiâs fat ass. Camulus imagined how much the tiefling mustâve been gorging himself day after day to grow his ass so soft and fat. Heâd done this to himself of his own volition â it was undeniable. Jolfi really wanted him. Jolfi really loved him. Camulus had to prove that he was worthy of that â and heâd start by giving Jolfi as much pleasure as physically possible.
The sensation of wobbling rippling of fat spread up Jolfiâs body. Heâd gotten so fuckinâ fat. Heâd been using every trick in the manual heâd sent to Camulus to fatten himself up, and had applied the answers the demon had given him about his sex life with Tommy, what and how the human ate, to himself. Heâd squeezed himself into those jorts because he knew it would drive Camulus insane. He thought he mightâve gone overboard, but if anything, the look of adoration and shock on the demonâs face told him that he could have gone even further. That thought played in his mind. He imagined himself even fatter, growing his body bigger for Camulus. He smirked. If the demon thought his ass was big nowâŚ
Jolfi whimpered as Camulus pressed his tongue against his hole. His balls were tightening. But he wasnât ready to be done yet. Bucking his hips backwards, Jolfi used his considerable rear to knock the incubus flat on his back. He turned and glared down at the demon who lay propped up on his elbows.
âWhat-â Camulus started, never finishing the question as the chubby tiefling joined him on the ground and slid his lips over the demonâs dick. Â Â
It was Jolfiâs turn to stop breathing as he deep throated three-quarters of the demonâs huge cock.
Camulus gasped as Jolfi bobbed his head up and down. His throat bulging with demon-dick. Never in his existence had someone been the one to make so many of the first moves on him like this. Â
Jolfi massaged the demonâs pulsing member with his throat until it was sloppy and wet. Camulus smacked his fist against the kitchen floor. Shattering a tile as Jolfi ran his lips all the way up his shaft and popped off his cock. He held his wet dick in one hand, looking up from under his eyelashes to lock eyes with the demon. A cheeky tongue poking out of his smirking mouth to lap at the oozing precum.
Camulus knew he was in trouble. It was that smirk, the mischievous-Iâm-not-the-good-boy-you-think-I-am-smirk.
Jolfi crawled up the demonâs body, straddling him with his thick thighs.
âI may be a slut â but Iâm your slut,â he rasped.
The tiefling reached back and wrapped his hand around the demonâs pulsing cock. Then in a single fluid motion he lifted his hips, placed the drooling cockhead at his wet entrance and sat his fat ass down.
The demonâs eyes nearly popped from his head. Jolfi gasped, as all twelve inches of demon dick slid inside him. Camulus panted and smashed his fist against the floor again and again. He wasnât going to last long.
Jolfi grinned at the demon and began to gyrate his hips back and forth.
Camulus bit his bottom lip, thrashing his head side to side. He grabbed Jolfiâs fatty ass cheeks. Digging his nails in and jiggling the doughy ex-twinks rear as he bounced on his cock.
They locked eyes. Camulus didnât close his like he normally did, he didnât need to imagine anyone else. He had Jolfi. He grabbed his lovehandles.
All of Jolfi.
The tieflingâs breath was heavy and ragged, but he didnât slow his pace, a sheen of sweat glistening off his body.
âSomeoneâs gotten a little unfit huh?â Camulus smirked, grabbing Jolfiâs pudgy lower belly and giving it a shake.
âS-shut it,â Jolfi panted, exercising his point by flexing his ass and sending a wave of pleasure coursing through the incubusâs mind. âJust â Just you wait until Iâm even fatter,â he threatened.
Camulus felt his cock grow another inch. The prospect of Jolfi getting even fatter causing the floodgates break open. âJolfi!â he cried out.
Jolfi gave him a lopsided grin, âThatâs it â cum for me â fill my fat ass Cammie.â
The demon shuddered, âOh fuck, oh fuck, oh-â Jolfiâs lips covered his, muffling his cries of ecstasy. He bucked his hips. Jolfiâs ass fluttered with each impact. The demon moaned, breaking the kiss. Jolfiâs hole tensed like a vice. Camulus arched his back, shooting his load deep inside his new lover. Jolfi screamed his name, spurting hot cum all over the demonâs abs, whilst his greedy hole tensed rhythmically, milking Camulus for every last drop. Â
Camulus was distantly aware of Jolfiâs soul erupting in ecstasy. But he stayed fully present in the moment. Watching as Jolfi arced his back and feeling the half-demon's sharp nails run down his chest. Exhausted, tubby tiefling collapsed forward. Camulus ran a hand through his curly dark hair and kissed the top of his head. He hadnât even felt tempted to take Jolfiâs soul. How could he? Why preserve a fleeting memory of ecstasy when he could experience it again and again and againâŚ
He would never hurt Jolfi. He would never hurt another mortal.
âI guess having sex like a human isnât so bad,â Camulus chuckled. Jolfi turned his head up at him and smiled. A soft, genuine contented smile.
The sticky couple lay there for a long moment until a noise turned Camulusâs head. A groaning shuffling sound as Tommy lumbered into the living room to see the post-coital-cum-covered-couple laying naked on his broken kitchen floor. Camulusâs dick still twitching and buried in Jolfiâs backside.
âHi Tommy,â Camulus waved, âthis is Jolfi, heâs staying with us for a while.â
Tommy pointed at them and giggled, âHot, my turn?â he asked.
Camulus laughed, âLater perhaps, if Jolfi approves,â he stressed.
A sleepy Jolfi nodded his head aganist the demonâs chest. Content in the knowledge that no matter who the sex demon slept with now, Camulus was his.
Tommy pouted.
âTheres ice cream in the fridge,â Camulus pointed out. Tommyâs eyes lit up as he waddled over and pulled a tub of ice cream the size of a personâs head out of the freezer before dragging his fat ass back to the bedroom.
Camulus shook his head as he heard the human moan from the other room. Heâd really done a number on Tommy. He looked down at Jolfiâs peaceful face. Heâd make sure Tommy was well looked after. He was the reason he could be with Jolfi after all.
Camulus cupped the tieflings comparatively smaller ass. A smirk crossed his face as he daydreamed about growing Jolfiâs ass.
He couldnât wait to get his new lover all caught upâŚ
Epilogue
Deep in the abyss a figure watched the plump tiefling and the vegan incubus indulge in each otherâs bodies again and again. The pair had apparently found love. How sweet for them. How â ridiculous.
Demons couldnât love. Camulus was just using that poor misguided tiefling. Soon Jolfi would end up like that pathetic human Tommy. Fat, stupid and useless. Would Camulus really love that?
A clawed had lifted the scrying orb. A pouty grimace reflected off its surface.
What if Jolfiâs demon blood protected him from that fate? What if the flame of their love was real? What if that idiot Camulus had inadvertently discovered a way for demons to love?
What would that mean for demon-kind? Â
The figure tightened her hand. The orb cracked and shattered, plunging the room into a welcoming darkness.
Bellatrix giggled.
Flames could always be snuffed out.
***
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When you start testosterone, you are scared of gaining weight and becoming fat. Thankfully, you have a great therapist who encourages you to challenge your fears... and then to embrace them.
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Story TWs: internalized fatphobia, manipulation, gaslighting
***
200 pounds.
You looked into the mirror. Ever since you started taking testosterone, your hunger spiralled out of control. As a result, you gained 30 pounds in the last six months, and you were now looking at a decidedly more masculine, and yet also chubbier version of you. You loved all the changes that testosterone brought â the hairier body, the slightly different face shape, the voice that was about to crack â and yet, this is not how you imagined yourself to be. In your fantasies, youâd transform into a handsome guy, not⌠this. Chubby all over, with a slightly protruding, pudgy belly and the beginnings of a double chin. Of course this is how itâs going to end for me, you thought. All the other trans guys will end up gorgeous and Iâll be the ugly fatso.
***
âIâm⌠I guess Iâm just afraid that Iâll end up ugly. Iâm already getting there.â Thatâs how you finished your long monologue during one of your many therapy sessions. Your therapist was great, she helped you so much with accepting and embracing your trans identity, but right now, you felt like you were hitting a block.
âI think itâs worth to deconstruct the idea of âuglyâ a little bit more,â she said presently. âWhat comes to your mind when you think about yourself as âuglyâ?â
âWellâŚâ You blushed. âFat. Thatâs what comes to mind. Iâm really not trying to be fatphobic, but like⌠Iâm scared of being fat. Sweaty. Out of breath all the time. Outgrowing all my clothes. You know. Ugly.â
Your therapist nodded stoically and scribbled something down in her notebook. âInternalized fatphobia is difficult to overcome,â she pointed out. âAfter all, weâre surrounded by it. And trans men and trans-masculine people in particular are under all that pressure to fit into some intangible ideal of âmasculinityâ. So much pressure to look âfitâ, to become even more masculine that cis men. Feeling like only becoming a conventionally attractive guy would somehow âjustifyâ their transition⌠Does that ring true to you?â
Your mouth hung open. She had such a way with words! âYeah,â you choked out. âYeah, thatâs all so true. I could never put it into words so well.â
She gave you a small smile. âI have a suggestion, and you can tell me if itâs something that sounds good to you, okay?â
You nodded.
âLetâs try to dig deeper into your fears. Say, imagine that the worst thing youâre fearing actually happened. You gained a lot of weight, youâre undeniably fat, and you donât fit into male beauty standards. What in particular about that situation are you afraid of?â
âWellâŚâ You paused, thinking hard. âI guess that people will mock me. That theyâll say I âruined myselfâ with transition.â
âAnd tell me, why would you be concerned by opinions of people who would say such things?â
âI⌠I donât know.â You sighed. âI guess I shouldnât really care about assholes. But Iâm also scared that my friends wonât like me anymore. That any potential partners wouldnât want me.â
âFear of rejection is very understandable. But also, tell me â would you like to be a friend or a partner to someone who would reject you over weight gain?â
âI⌠I guess not. So youâre saying that it could be a test of sorts? Like, if someone stops liking me because of how I look, they werenât my real friend in the first place?â
She smiled. âExactly. And that brings another suggestion.â
âYeah?â
âMaybe instead of just imagining what would happen in your worst case scenario, you could try living it out.â
âUm⌠in what way?â
âYou said you were experiencing hunger. Why not embrace it? Why not enjoy the process of your transition, something youâve always wanted to experience? Donât look around at what others might think. Live your life to the fullest.â
âYou mean⌠eat a lot? And what if IâŚâ
ââŚgain weight? Then circle back to the thought experiment we did earlier.â
ââŚI see.â You nodded. âI guess⌠I can tryâŚâ
She gave you a radiant smile. âPerfect. That concludes our session today. I will see you next week!â
***
The burger was calling to you.
The dietary information was scary, though. This combo would have 2,500 calories in total. Only for one meal.
Your stomach growled.
Donât hold back, you reminded yourself again, just as you had done many times before. Itâs been a month since that fateful therapy session, and the therapistâs advice was definitely bearing fruit. You just had to size up, and your scale showed 220 pounds as of today.
Every day, youâd look into the mirror and remind yourself that you shouldnât care what people thought. That the idea of linking fatness to ugliness was messed up.
And every day, a slightly fatter version of you was looking back.
You experienced two hard moments during that time. First, when you realized that you didnât have to look down anymore for your double chin to be visible. That gave your face an undeniable fatty quality, and you were acutely aware that it was the first thing people would notice about you. The second moment came when your belly, which up to that point had been protruding from your midsection in a larger and larger spare tire, suddenly started hanging over your waistband. It was unexpected and a bit upsetting, as half of your pants suddenly stopped fitting, and you had to figure out how to wear the rest of them â under your belly, letting it hang out and peek out from underneath your t-shirts, or over it, squeezing yourself like a fat sausage in a tight casing?
Thankfully, your therapist had been very supportive throughout both of those moments. She challenged your ideas of embarrassment and ugliness, and encouraged you to embrace what she called âyour true natureâ. You werenât quite sure what that meant, but every time a session ended, you felt better about yourself, so you decided it was a good thing.
And it was truly very useful to embrace all that T hunger. Over time, it only seemed to be growingâŚ
***
âWelcome,â your therapist said with a bright smile.
You opened your mouth, but only let out a huff. You plopped yourself on the sofa, your belly spilling over your waistband and covering your upper thighs. You felt sweat trickle down your neck and pooling between your rolls.
âWhat would you like to talk about today?â
You took a couple minutes to catch your breath, then you said, âI⌠huff⌠I guess how different my life is now.â
âPlease describe it.â
âI⌠I guess I embraced my fears. Iâm 300 pounds now.â You looked down at your blobby body. âI was scared of becoming that, and now here I am. I have a double chin, a large belly, and I canât even tell when it escapes my shirt. Itâs just hanging out most of the time.â You paused to adjust your t-shirt, only for it to roll up the dome of your belly within seconds. âI wear 5XLs, I canât shop in regular stores anymore. Iâm constantly hungry and when I eat, I pig out, Iâm just so ravenous, I donât even care. I caught myself with sauce smeared over my face many times.â
She nodded, beckoning you to continue.
âMy skin is constantly greasy and sweaty. It doesnât look great. And honestlyâŚâ You blushed. âI heard so many trans guys saying how great it is to get⌠well, you know⌠a bit of a dick. I guess Iâm never really going to see mine. Cause thereâs so much fat there.â
âThatâs nothing to be ashamed of.â
âI know. But still⌠I wonder if it hasnât gone too far. I mean⌠I barely move, to be honest. Itâs just so uncomfortable. Like, I had to walk to your practice, that wasnât more than five minutes, and I couldnât even catch my breath⌠Everything jiggles. My thighs rub together, itâs painful. Maybe I should reign it in after all?â
Your therapist shook her head adamantly. âIâm so proud of you,â she said.
âHuh? Why?â
âYou truly conquered your fears! You grew so much,â she said with a warm smile, and you werenât sure if she meant psychological, or physical growth. âAnd see, was it so scary?â
âI â I guess not. Though it was a bit scary the other day when I realized I couldnât tie my shoes anymoreâŚâ
âOh, but thatâs nothing. Bodies change over time, and we adapt. You have been so determined and so resilient throughout your journey, Iâm sure you wonât be conquered by some minor setbacks! And from what youâve been telling me, your friends are mostly accepting of you. See?â
âI⌠I guessâŚâ you said uncertainly. âSo youâre saying, I shouldnât stop?â
âWhy would you stop, if youâre doing so well?â
âI⌠I supposeâŚâ
Your stomach growled. That was another âsetbackâ. You just finished a meal an hour ago, and you were already hungry.
Your therapist chuckled. âIt looks like someone is a hungry boy. Why donât you help yourself to a couple donuts?â
You blushed. Lately, youâve been feeling like your transition â transformation, really â was leading you to some new end goal. Not just a boy, but a big boy. Fat boy. Hungry boy.
Almost on autopilot, you reached for a donut.
***
âHuff⌠huff⌠damn!â
Your pants wouldnât button. This was the last button up pair you owned anyway, with all the rest of them being sweatpants bought in that embarrassing âold dudeâ store, ugly 7XLs found somewhere in a dark corner of that shop. This was mostly your sense of style now: enormous black or blue sweatpants and tent-like white t-shirts which over time acquired some faded stains from multiple condiments you consumed daily. Still, any time you stood up, your belly hung out of the t-shirts anyway, the wobbly hang swaying pendulously with each of your thunderous steps.
You wiped your sweaty forehead. You could wear your sweatpants to the next session, it didnât matter anyway. Some time ago, you asked to switch to online sessions. It was easier that way. Your life has become very different when you realized you couldnât fit behind a steering wheel and a five-minute trip to a bus stop took you now fifteen to twenty minutes, with breaks. Your therapist agreed enthusiastically, saying that it was very important for you not to overwork yourself and to be comfortable in your own body.
Speaking of which⌠it wasnât that you were psychologically uncomfortable. A lot has changed in your outlook, and at some point you simply had to adjust to the thought that you were now a full-fledged fatty. As to physical discomfort, though? That was almost always there, as you were always outgrowing something, from a piece of clothing to your chair. Every week, you would find out that you were now too fat for yet another activity. That was simply the way of things.
With a soft grunt, you kicked off your treacherous pants and pulled up the trusted pair of sweatpants, the ones with a huge ketchup stain at the front. You tried to pull it over your lowest belly roll, but after some consideration, decided against it, letting the belly hang unobstructed. You had five minutes until the start of your session, and you were afraid you were going to be late. After all, your laptop was in the living room, and you were still sitting on the bed in your bedroom.
âOkay, you can do it,â you hyped yourself. âOne, two⌠three!â
You rocked back and forth, your bedframe creaking. You firmly gripped the edges of a nearby cupboard and with great effort, pulled yourself up. Your arms were shaking, fatty rolls on your upper arms wobbling as you stood. Your centre of gravity shifted and your belly hung down, covering your fupa and upper thighs. You calmed your breathing and started waddling to the living room.
On your way there you propped yourself against the wall, already tired. Your chubby foot accidentally knocked over something. Your new industrial scale.
You sighed. You guessed you should weigh yourself, not just for the sake of curiosity, but also because knowing the exact number fit the overall âaccepting your true natureâ thing. Slowly, you stepped on the scale. You couldnât read the number, but you had a setting there that allowed a robotic voice to read it to you instead.
â457 pounds.â
âOof,â you only managed. Shit. You were enormous.
When you finally managed to waddle to your desk and check the time, you were five minutes late to the session. You cursed under your breath and plopped onto your chair, your sides hanging off the edges (you removed the armrests long ago). You quickly logged onto the proper page. The screen greeted you with a recording of your beet-red, fat face.
You definitely looked way more masculine now, two years into taking T. You also looked like a pathetically fat dude, with your jowly face and lips squished by round cheeks, eyes slitted and partly obscured by fat, and two proud chins sitting below your first one. With some degree of embarrassment, you noticed a dollop of sauce in the corner of your mouth. The embarrassment was much weaker than it would have been a while ago. So what of it? You thought. Iâm just embracing my true nature.
With a ping, your therapistâs screen popped into life.
âI â huff â sorryâŚâ You started. âFor being â huff â lateâŚâ Your voice lowered over the course of the years, but it was also very breathy now, no matter what.
âNo need to apologize,â your therapist said cheerfully. âI do understand you now have⌠much more to carry.â
âYeahâŚâ You blushed even further. âIâm 457 pounds today.â
âOh my god, congratulations! Iâm so happy for you. How do you feel?â
âHuff â heavy.â You chuckled.
âNo wonder. How has your mobility been?â
âUh, not great. Standing up is really hard now. My knees hurt. I canât really reach over my belly anymore. Sometimes I just want to stay in bed all dayâŚâ
âIs this something that speaks true to you?â
âHuh? What do you mean?â
âWould you, deep down, really like to stay in bed all day?â
âI⌠I guessâŚâ You scratched your spotty cheek. âBut I guess I should also move at least a little⌠I donât want to lose all my mobilityâŚâ
âYou donât want to, or the society is pressuring you not to?â
âHuh⌠I never thought about it like thatâŚâ
âThere is a lot of pressure in our society to be productive. But you must know that a personâs worth doesnât lie in how much they accomplished. You are valuable simply because you exist.â
âYeah, but how does thatâŚâ you wanted to ask how it had anything to do with losing mobility, but you quickly lost the train of thought. After all, your therapist had such a way with words. And she helped you so much with self-acceptance. These days, any time you looked into the mirror, youâd simply shrug and accept yourself as a fatty.
âI am so proud of how far youâve come,â she continued. âIt has been a long journey, and I know it wasnât often the easiest one. I remember how you told me about breaking your first chair, or that day you had an argument with your friend over your weight. But look at you know. You probably would have been terrified two years ago of what youâve become, and yet, now, you accept yourself as your true nature: an extremely obese young man.â
Your heart beat faster. Was that really who you had become? A 450-pound lardass who could barely stand?
Yeah.
That was you. You couldnât deny it any longer.
âI⌠yeah,â you admitted, blushing. âI am so fat. And Iâm okay with that. Iâm okay with gaining weight all the time, and with being hungry and pigging out. Iâm okay with my clothes not fitting, and with outgrowing chairs and doorways. Iâm a fatty.â
âThat you are.â Your therapist smiled warmly. âWhy donât you celebrate your journey? Reward yourself a little? I bet you are tired.â
âYeah⌠all the time.â
âWhy donât you stay in bed for a week? I can help with accommodating your needs, we have a special program for that. You can rest, relax, watch your favourite shows, eat your favourite food⌠lots of itâŚâ
âMmmâŚâ you murmured. The vision seemed heavenly. At the same time, you knew that if you allowed yourself to lie in bed and gorge for a week, youâd probably have tremendous problems with getting up after.
But then again, wasnât that the whole point? To accept your urges and needs, and to satisfy them? You have defied society by transitioning, and now you were defying it by becoming a fat, barely mobile blob.
âYeah⌠okay. Iâd like that,â you said.
âSplendid. Let us make some preparations then, big boy.â
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Two stories in one week? Wow! I decided I needed a Halloween story on the day of. I tried to get it done in time, but I'm an hour into November my time. Enjoy anyways!
Synopsis: Happy Halloween! Help yourself to some sweet treats. Please Take One, and have a great night!
âLook, a candy bowl!â
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when he noticed a small witchâs cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said âPlease Take Oneâ.
We both loved Halloween, but for different reasons. I loved spooky movies, trick-or-treating, haunted houses, all of the classic stuff. Owen loved it for the Mean Girls reasons. The costume parties and being dressed up as sexily as a twink could be. You could tell by our couples costumes. I was in a good quality Batman suit that showed off all of my muscles, while Owen was wearing just enough fabric to call it clothing, with cat ears so he could be âsexy Catwomanâ. My insistence that Catwoman was already sexy when she was in a form-fitting catsuit that would have offered some measure of protection from the cold, night air had fallen on deaf ears, so he currently had my cape wrapped around him for warmth.
All this to say itâs surprising when Owen lets out a little squeal of excitement and takes the whole bowl of candy and keeps walking.
âWhoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take oneâŚâ
Owen rolls his eyes as he unwraps a chocolate.
âOh, come on Bryson, itâs 2 in the morning! Thereâs no kids still out trick-or-treating at this time of night,â He said, before popping the chocolate into his mouth and starting on another one. âPlus, I was dancing all night, flexing these sexy little abs for my man, and I could use a treat!â
He revealed his admittedly sexy abs, swinging his slim hips back and forth, before laughing and popping another chocolate into his mouth.
I couldnât help but chuckle. Owen always had a way to keep me from getting upset with him, mostly by getting my dick to think instead of my head, like right now. I wrapped my big arms around his little shoulders while he worked his way through some more candy, letting him know how turned on he got me by pressing myself into his back.
âBut still, Owen, what about their bowl?â
With a mouth full of chocolate, Owen groaned. âIâll bring it back tomorrow, Bry! Itâs like, 10 feet from our house!â
It wasnât, but it was pretty close. We were already walking up to our door only a few moments later. And, admittedly, there were so few chocolates left in the bowl that Owen had already finished it, saving one of my favourites for me.
Once inside, Owen quickly dropped the cape, along with what little costume he had on, except the ears, and turned to me, seductively feeding me the last chocolate.
âNow, why donât you show Catwoman a good time, BatmanâŚâ
~
âLook, a candy bowl!â
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when he noticed a small witchâs cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said âPlease Take Oneâ.
We both loved Halloween. Owen was a real costume party lover, while I loved the more traditional, spooky Halloween activities, but over our time together, we learned to appreciate each otherâs favourite parts of the holiday. Thatâs probably why it wasnât as surprising as it would have been a few years ago to see Owen so excited about Halloween candy.
Once upon a time, Owen had been a tiny, sexy twink that would hang off of me, pulling me to parties to show off his gym bro, beefcake boyfriend to all of his friends. And while I grew to enjoy those parties, we also started spending plenty of time at home, relaxing and getting to know each other better. Thatâs how I found out Owen had a bit of sweettooth, and how I found myself encouraging it during the holidays with chocolates and candy.
The, shall we say, results of feeding that sweettooth, did nothing to keep Owen from a sexy costume, as we walked down the street in matching Batman and Catwoman costumes. Mine fit well, showing off all of my muscles. Owenâs catsuit fit great, if a little snug around the middle. I got to take in the bit of the chub that had grown around his hips and ass when he jiggled ahead of me and grabbed the whole bowl of candy.
âWhoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one,â I said, struck briefly with a strange sense of deja vu.
Owenâs round face turned a pout. âAh, Bry, Iâm hungry! I spent too much time dancing and missed out on most of the snack table at Monicaâs!â
I couldnât help but smile. Owen knew I couldnât say no to those chubby cheeks. He had been a little embarrassed about gaining some relationship weight, but my admittedly enthusiastic reaction to having more of him to grab and jiggle was something he quickly began to enjoy - and take advantage of.
âWell⌠So long as you bring it back when youâre doneâŚâ And suddenly, I get to see the dimples on his smiling face. God, he was hot when he was thinner, but heâs become downright adorable with a couple dozen extra pounds.
Overcome, I heft him into my arms with a grunt and carry him the rest of the way to our door. Heâs loving the display, laughing and cuddling up into my shoulder while he pops candies into his mouth. Owen stretches up to kiss me, and I can taste the chocolate mingle with the alcohol on both of our breaths.
Owen still had a few chocolates left when I tossed him onto our bed, but as I peeled off his tight costume and showed my appreciation to every inch of his thick body, he made quick work of them, moaning the entire time.
~
âLook, a candy bowl!â
My boyfriend, Owen, and I were walking home from a party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when I noticed a small witchâs cauldron outside of a house. It had clearly been full of candy at the start of the night, but had been picked over until only a couple of handfuls remained. On a sign beside it, in flowing script, said âPlease Take Oneâ.
Owen loved a party, especially a Halloween party, but even heâd admit that he probably over did it tonight. My big, beautiful man was waddling slowly by my side. His thick thighs and wide ass usually slowed him down, but all of the dancing, and the frequent breaks to raid the snack table, was clearly taxing his knees more than usual. I had nearly convinced him to stay in and watch some scary movies, but the guy was made to shake it on the dance floor. And my man had a lot to shake.
We were sort of dressed in a couples costume, with my fit, strong body filling out a Batman costume in all the right ways, while Owen had skewed more towards catboy than Catwoman, wearing a thin, mesh crop top and matching black booty shorts, along with cat ears and a collar with a bell. I had joked that heâd make a better Penguin than Catwoman, but I wasnât going to talk Owen out of being sexy. He knows how showing off his body gets me going.
I was doing my best to support him, letting him lean on me as we rounded the corner towards our home, my big, muscled arm across his back, occasionally squeezing his equally large, flabby arm. Thatâs why I called out the candy bowl. The walk to the party had already been pretty hard on Owen, so I knew that heâd need a reward for all of the walking on the way back. I donât know why I didnât think he would immediately go for the whole bowl, but I canât say it was surprising that he did.
âWhoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one,â I smirked, as if his gluttony was somehow unexpected. âWeâre going to have to replace those cat ears with pig ears if you keep this up!â Somehow, despite my jokes, I couldnât shake the feeling that I had said something similar once, though I meant something different back then.
Owen just rolled his eyes and got to work on the easiest candies to unwrap, stuffing them into his hungry mouth as quickly as he could. God, he knew how to get me going. Heâd told me once, when we were starting to date, that he had been a twink before he got fat, and it never seemed less true than when he was eating. He was ravenous all the time. But now, while heâs putting on a show for me, the idea that he was ever anything more than a decadent pig seems impossible.
I feel myself getting hard and antsy just watching him slobber over handfuls of candy and chocolate. Owen lets some of the chocolates warm a little in his hand before stuffing them in, letting some of the melted pieces smear across his mouth and bulging cheeks. He side-eyes me, proud that heâs practically making me drool at the sight of him.
As we reach our door, I snatch a candy out of the bowl, quickly putting it in my mouth. I donât chew or swallow - I didnât even bother taking the wrapper off. I just wanted to see what heâd do.
His mouth hangs open, turning his big double chin into a triple. âBryson, these arenât yours!â
âWellâ theyâre not yours either!â I say, removing the candy from my mouth before unwrapping it and hand-feeding it to him. âIâm going to have to return that bowl because you stole it piggy, remember?â
Owen just huffs, satisfied that his ill-gotten treasure was safely returned. He heads inside, turning his hips slightly, almost without thinking. Heâd started brushing his hips against most doorframes, and acted accordingly whenever his supersized ass was coming or going. He tried to make a beeline for the couch, but I quickly grabbed his meaty arm.
âNope, bed. If you pass out on the couch, you know I canât get you to the bedroom anymore!â
Tired, yet satisfied, Owen made a show of grumbling as I lead him down the hall. He was much too tired to get too hot and heavy, but I helped him out of his skimpy outfit, taking the opportunity to jiggle every hanging roll, straining my muscles to lift up his massive gut to tickle around his fatpad.
Afterward, I went back to the front door, where Owen had abandoned the candy bowl. Noticing that there were still three candies still in there, I quickly popped them into my mouth before heading out to put the bowl back before anyone noticed it was gone.
~
âLook, a candy bowl!â
I was standing outside of my boyfriend, Owen, and my front door, after seeing the last of our guests out of our party late Halloween night (Technically early November), when I noticed a small witchâs cauldron outside of a house down the street. It clearly would have been full of candy at the start of the night, but judging by how many trick-or-treaters we got, it probably still got some candy in it. I could faintly see what was probably a âPlease Take Oneâ sign on it.
I looked out to either end of the street. No oneâs around. In fact, most peopleâs light-up decorations have already turned off, and the street was completely dead of activity. I take a second, think things through a little longer than thereâs any reason to. Then I jog down the street to grab the bowl and bring it back to my man.
I feel crazy betraying the sanctity of trick-or-treating traditions, but we had eaten through all of our snacks and treats. I loved Halloween, and all of the spooks and scares and smiles that come with it. Owen did too, but he also loved a party. Not that youâd tell by looking at him. My massive man didnât let the sheer expanse of his gut, or his meaty arms, fatter than most peopleâs thighs, or the rolls of fat all along his back, keep him from a good time, even if the good times needed to come to him more than they used to.
Now, itâs pretty easy to command attention when you take up most of the space in the room, but Owen was always the center of attention in the clubs, and that hadnât changed, even if heâd outgrown the clubs. He spent the night in his personal loveseat, presiding over the party like a god, with his cat ears on his head and shorts that were completely obscured by the exceptional amount of fat that had been lovingly grown around his middle. He never strayed too far from any bowl of chips, candy, or chocolate, except on the rare occasion that the playlist played a song so fire that he would have no choice but to rise to his feet laboriously and sway from side to side until he got too tired and slumped back down. And ate.
Upon arriving at the bowl, I smile as I realize that I was right. Though itâs not much, thereâs still a few handfuls of candy left to share. I take a second to catch my breath, taking the opportunity to munch on a candy or two, before I quickly head back.
Didnât expect a quick jog down the street to get me so winded. I think to myself that I should probably get more serious with the gym, not that Iâd ever been too serious with the gym. As someone whoâd much rather sit around at home watching a movie, itâs probably no surprise that Iâm not the fittest, but I at least had a semi-consistent gym schedule before dating Owen. Yeah, I had never been one for the treadmill, even back then, but maybe I need it if 60 seconds down the street and back can get me bent over, hands on my knees like I am right now.
I probably would have fit better in my Batman costume with a better gym routine too, not that Owen complained. He actually laughed out loud at how small the generic âone-size-fits-allâ costume was. I had spent the entire party with the zipper in the back only halfway zipped up. Thankfully the cape covered it up. I would have also liked it if I had the muscles to properly stretch the sleeves the way my pot belly stretched out the middle.
Itâs just so hard around Owen. He knows every button to press. Whether itâs wobbling every inch of his own body, enticing me with its movements like a birdâs mating dance, or itâs his constant poking and jiggling of my own expanding flesh, whispering words of encouragement with a proud, satisfied smirk.
Heâs wearing that same smirk when he watches me walk back inside, pot of proverbial gold under my arm.
âWhoa, babe! What are you doing? The sign says to only take one!â
When he says that, I feel strange. Like that was something he had already said before. Or⌠Had I said it? When? Back when Owen was a twink with my muscular arm draped over him? But Owenâs been chubby his whole life, and supersized for as long as Iâd known and loved him. And IâŚ?
âWell, are you sharing them, or not?â Owen asks, oblivious to the confusion that slips my mind as soon as he speaks again.
I smile, and hand the bowl to Owen, before getting down on my knees in front of him. His great, sagging gut is in the way, but as he begins to munch and moan through his sweets, I push my way underneath it, hefting it up as much as I can, until I find a salty treat of my own within the fat between his gigantic thighs.
~
~
~
It takes a few more nights, caught blissfully unaware in the time loop, before the two men respect the card, with its beautiful, flowing script. More precisely, once Owen grew too large to leave his home, it was Brysonâs own growing gluttony that eventually pushed Owen into immobility.
Then it was only another night or two before Brysonâs new, supersized body became too lazy to walk across his lawn, much less down the street.
The two men loved each other, and they loved Halloween. Even if Bryson needed numerous days to put up the same amount of Halloween decorations a fitter man could put up in an afternoon. And even if Owenâs sexy costumes were only able to be appreciated by a party of one. As much as he liked a good party, he had always been too fat to be accepted in the clubbing scene. At least, he was nowâŚ
On the night that they were finally free, they had dressed as Batman and Catwoman. Brysonâs last pair of black shorts were so tight that the stitching was separating, but he needed to stuff the lowest few inches of his cumbersome gut into the waistband so that his too-small Batman graphic tee looked closer to a short crop top instead of obscene. He had opted just for the mask, without the cape, as it meant that the fattest parts of his face, his chipmunk cheeks and rolls of fat he called a neck, wouldnât need to struggle to be contained.
Owen, meanwhile, had a much simpler costume. A pair of cat ears sat on a band in his hair. He was entirely nude otherwise, something that wasnât surprising for a man that had outgrown practically all clothing some time before. He had ordered several yards of nearly translucent, black fabric, which he draped luxuriously over his expansive mass of gelatin, almost intentionally incapable of covering most of his body. With the slope of his belly hanging past his knees, arms so fat they had long begun to lose their full range of motion, and hips, miraculously, wider than all of the rest of him, that wasnât a hard feat to accomplish.
But they were happy. Ordering copious amounts of pizza and wings to sate them while they worked through their favourite scary movies and avoiding the trick-or-treaters who approached their door, having eaten each and every candy in their home before the first of them had ever arrived.
And the witch who cursed her cauldron of candy was also happy when she returned to her home late the next morning, as all but a few handfuls of candy had gone to such good boys and girls the night before, who each took only one piece each.
She was unaware that, only a few doors down, the friendly, obese man and his even bigger boyfriend had been the peak of fitness just the day before. She was relieved that they seemed to prefer staying in on Halloween.
They didnât look like the kind of people who stopped at just one pieceâŚ
Synopsis: Some goal weights are meant to be passed. Some are not - but theyâll get passed anywayâŚ
When people ask what itâs like, being my size, being so big? I always tell them the truth:
Iâm too fat to get to my bedroom now.
Thereâs other problems, sure, but thatâs the one that really makes peopleâs eyes bug.
And I donât mean that getting fat got me lazy, or that I get too tired climbing the stairs to the second floor of my home. I donât mean that I have to waddle sideways to get through the door. I donât mean that my bedroomâs too small to be comfortable moving around in it.
I mean that I canât lift my super-sized legs high enough off the ground to use the stairs.
Itâs not a chore to get to the second floor of my own damn home - itâs physically impossible. There arenât that many people who can say that. âYeah - Iâve effectively trapped myself in my own living room because I got too fat to lift my feet three inches off the ground.â Thatâs no oneâs life but mine.
And yeah, you heard me right - trapped in the living room. Thereâs a bit of a raised lip to get to the kitchen, and if I donât focus and push myself to actually lift my feet, Iâll trip on it and be stuck on the ground until a few of my friends can come over to help me up. Thankfully the bathroom is level with the living room.
Sure, I can also âtechnicallyâ leave the house - but the front door has a step. Iâd be stuck outside if I ever did. Plus, Iâd probably be arrested for public indecency because I donât have any fucking clothes that fit.
You know 300 was my goal weight? My first one anyway. I was 160 when I graduated high school, real lean, but just a bit of softness around the middle for my height. Gained 25 pounds during undergrad, lost it, gained it back, plus an extra 15. Plateaued for a few years. Long enough to start to see 200 as my base weight instead of 160. Realized I liked the weight. Like, really liked it. Figured I could gain some more. Just to see. 300 is 100 pounds heavier than 200, so it seemed like a good enough number as any.
And fuck, getting to that number was fantastic. I denied myself nothing. Drive-thru visits every day, finishing all my friends' leftovers. Feeling myself get softer, jiggling my gut in the mirror, stressing out all of my jeans. Hearing my friendsâ jokes and comments about my fat body as I grew to be larger than every one of them, as I grew to be âthe fat friendâ.
And I could feel it tax my body. More than two flights of stairs got me winded, and I needed a break climbing the steps to my friendsâ apartments. I sold my bike after a year when I realized my ass had outgrown the seat. I had just gotten fat enough where my thick thighs were starting to modify my walk into something resembling a waddle. Spending anything more than an hour on my feet made them sore when it used to take most of the day. I was constantly hungry when I used to be able to go hours without eating before. And it was hot, feeling all of these changes, feeling myself turn into something different. Feeling fat.
But not too fat.
I didnât want to stop. That was my real problem back then. I hit a weight that I was comfortable with. I was fat - often, but not usually the fattest at any store or restaurant, but not fat enough to have ârealâ fat people problems. But it felt too good. I didnât want to stop eating. I probably could have at that point, but it felt too good to stop.
Plus, 320 pounds was so close, and then Iâd have doubled my starting weight. Might as well, right? And I did. Overshot it by about 15 pounds (Foreshadowing for later, I guess). Figured, I was close enough to 350, might as well go for it. Overshot that goal too, and gained a few worried glances from my friends when I started breathing heavy just trying to keep up with their skinny asses. Started avoiding my friends who didnât live in buildings with elevators. Wasnât trying for 400, but ended up getting closer to that then 350, so I said, fuck it, might as well.
Overshot that too.
By that point, being fat was really starting to impact my life. I was relegated to big and tall stores, and their limited styles. Started wearing slip-on shoes because my fat feet were outgrowing sneakers, my fat legs were too heavy to bring my fat feet up to my fat lap to tie shoes, and my fat gut was blocking my fat arms from reaching my fat feet when theyâre still on the ground. I had to fucking change careers, for god sake, because I needed to stand up for hours at a time, and I couldnât fucking do it. And then, I broke my desk chair at my new job and had to get a bigger one.
And I was still.
Fucking.
Hungry.
I wasnât even trying to hit 500 pounds when I blew past that. Seeing an error message on a plus size scale sent me spiraling. You know youâve gone too far when shit for fat people stops fitting you anymore. And that was when big and tall stores still carried clothes in my size!
Of course, I have a good group of friends, and they wanted to help me out. None of us were athletes or gym people, but we made a commitment to help work some of this weight off. They joked about needing to lose some pounds themselves, but we all knew that hanging out with my fat ass is why most of them were over 250 pounds now. I was grateful to have such good friends. Shame none of us new jack shit about weight loss.
None of us had a gym membership before, and it was only after getting us all set up with one that we realized that treadmills have weight limits. So does the stairmaster. And the rowing machine. I could have probably fit in the squat rack, but none of us knew how to weightlift, so we werenât doing any of that either. Walks in the park seemed like a good alternative, except for the strategically placed benches, all of the food vendors along the way, the nearby pubs and restaurants, and my alarming inability to avoid stopping at each of them.
It turns out that losing weight is actually pretty difficult when youâve purposefully destroyed your metabolism, ruined your tastebuds with grease and salt, and gotten yourself addicted to sugar and chocolate. Who knew? Because the truth is, I probably could have dropped some weight, or at the very least kept myself below 600 pounds, if I didnât get hard stuffing myself. Or if I hadnât been jerking off to how fast my gut was growing for years. Or if all of the fat rolls that had covered up my cock, jiggling violently with every pitiful workup attempt, werenât getting me hard like the vibrator I had started using after I couldnât reach it with my hands anymore.
You know, if I hadnât already made myself too fat.
After every activity we tried that someone half my size could do without thinking, let alone struggle with to the point of exhaustion, I gorged myself on take-out afterwards. After another failed attempt to touch my toes, or, letâs be honest, touch my belly button, my gut would rumble with hunger.
And my friends, god bless them, tried to get me to eat healthier. Starve me to death is more like it. Offering me slim-fasts and watery smoothies instead of soda and beer, replacing our usual bar hangouts with trendy health-food shops and trying to do more things that donât revolve around food, no matter how hangry I got.
It was almost a blessing when I found out that most of them were stopping off at the usual drive-thrus afterwards. Turns out even they were sick of arugula and spinach and low-fat yogurt. Of course, I found out when we all ended up trying to go to the same one, meaning they knew I was stuffing myself despite their efforts. Well, theyâre hypocrites if they bring it up, and it ended up really deflating their efforts to keep me fit enough to participate in society. Oops.
We all still hang out. All the time actually, especially since Iâve kept getting fatter and canât always stand up or take care of myself anymore. I wouldnât have been able to set up my living room with a bed, or move all of the stuff I needed from upstairs. Hell, If they werenât in the house with me when I, shall we say, âfailedâ, to go upstairs for the first time, things could have been bad.
And thatâs my life. Basically an invalid in my own home. My friends transformed into my caretakers, even as they hang out with movies and games, joining me in feeding their own fat bodies, as well as mine. I donât go outside, my world becoming increasingly centered on my bed, wrapping a too-small blanket around myself to preserve my modesty from people who need to set up an inflatable pool for me because Iâve outgrown my shower. Thereâs nothing I do to fill my day other than eat and wait for more food to eat.
There was a point where I could have had both. A fat body to play with. Thick thighs and back rolls to explore. The feeling of a straining, stuffed gut full of food. But also hanging out with friends at a bar. Going out for walks in the park. Probably would have done some more dating, too. Back before I tipped the proverbial scale too far in one direction. Before I couldnât let myself enjoy it because of my desire for more. Before I got too fat.
And honestly, as I lay on my bed, recovering from my failed attempt at standing, coming to the realization that itâs been a few weeks since Iâve left my bed without someone helping me, which means I wonât be able to grab a toy to relieve my hard, straining cock, I can a feel a part of me that still wants more.