The WG Library is Open

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 I’m 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, I’ve never been much of a seafarer, and I’m nervous about how I will cope with the ferry tomorrow morning. I’m due to arrive a little after noon.

Saturday, September 24th

I’m glad to say that I survived the ferry (no more than a fisherman’s skiff, in truth), with my dignity intact. As we approached the shore, I noticed a shift in the weather -  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, I’d 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 wasn’t 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 hadn’t 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 don’t think I’d 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 couldn’t 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 Pavlov’s 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. 

For my sins, I’ve 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. I’ve so far been finding it difficult to resist trying everything placed in front of me. Alas, this is not helped by the warm welcome I’ve 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 can’t 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 quickly…

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 I’m 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 mother’s 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.

“How are you finding it all?” he asked, swigging from a flagon of ale.

I chewed a mouthful of pork pie and swallowed heavily. “Everyone’s been very friendly,” I said. “And the island’s very beautiful, although I can’t say I’ve seen too much of it.”

John laughed. “Not the island!” he said. “Being the Boar King!”

The question almost surprised me enough to stop me eating. “The Boar King?” I asked. “All that guff at the harvest feast you mean?”

John looked more than a little affronted by the question. “It’s not just the feast,” he said. “It’s all year - you are the Boar King.”

“Ah, well then,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ve noticed too much. It’s not come up."

John laughed. There was something going on I didn’t quite understand. “It’s quite the honour, you know,” he told me. “I was one myself, the year before me and Lynn got married.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure what to reply. “Congratulations,” I settled on, lamely.

“Why do you think everyone’s been so hospitable?” he asked. “It’s because you’re our Boar King of course!”

I thought back to the treats brought to appointments, to pints bought at the pub. “I just thought everyone was being friendly,” I explained.

“Well we do our best, but you’d be doing well to get a round out of some of these tight buggers usually,” he said. He called over to the bar. “Lynn! Lynn, why don’t you bring me and the doctor some of that shepherd’s pie out? And a couple more pints.”

“I couldn’t,” I protested, as my mouth began to water at the prospect. “I’ve eaten at home, I-” John cut me off with a slap on the back and a hearty laugh, which cut short my reply. “What exactly, is the Boar King, John?” I asked after finishing my pint and starting the next. 

“Well it’s like Father Troughton said,” he explained. “As long as you’re the King, your health is the health of the island. We look after you, and the island will look after us.” He said it plainly, as if it were something every schoolboy was taught.

“Something like a May Queen, then?” I asked.

“Something like that, I suppose,” he said after thinking a while. “Except all year long of course.”

“Do I have to do anything? Make a speech or something?”

“Just sit and look pretty!” John said with a laugh. “Don’t you worry, there’ll be a couple of feast days, like at the equinox, and we’ll handle the rest.”

“And you were one?” I carried on with my questioning. “Who else? What about  the last one?”

“You see them about,” John shrugged, refusing to be pulled into giving more detail. “Your predecessor didn’t really take to it.

I wanted to ask more, but got distracted by Lynn bringing out two huge turreens of shepherd’s 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, he’d never look twice at me, being closer to his dad’s age than his, and not nearly as handsome even in my prime. Still though, I can’t 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, I’ll trust you where it comes to masses, father,” 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 aren’t I expect," Troughton said dismissively. “In a community like this, ceremony nourishes us as well as any food.”

"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 man’s 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 - I’d been avoiding them for a while now, fearing their judgement. 19 stone, or thereabouts. 19 stone! I can’t remember how much I weighed in the summer - I’ve 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 doesn’t 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 farmer’s 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.

Perry already knew Ben’s reasons for arguing this. “Just because the guy’s got a big dick…” 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. He’d trawled through every social media account of the guy and masturbated countless times, imagining taking such a sizeable manhood into his mouth.

“It’s more than that though,” Ben argued. “Dan just has that ‘big dick energy’ about him,” he explained. “If he is encouraging Luke to gain a few pounds, it’s because he’s getting off on it.”

Perry considered for a moment. “A feeder? Yeah, I could definitely picture that,” he nodded, as if everything added up. “But how do we get Luke to wake up and see that?”

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 Luke’s 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.

“These look delicious!” Ben exclaimed, seeing the slab of chocolate brownies still in their baking tray. “Did you really make these yourself?” he asked Dan, perplexed that a guy who was clearly so athletic and career-driven, could demonstrate such skills in the kitchen as well.

“My own special recipe,” Dan nodded. “They’re Luke’s favorites,” he stated, glancing over towards the living area where his boyfriend and Perry had settled down in front of the screen. “However, Luke’s suddenly decided he’s going on a diet,” he grumbled with obvious irritation. 

Ben bit into one and moaned in appreciation; the butter, chocolates and sugars filling his mouth with flavor. “These are incredible!” he exclaimed.

Dan beamed. “Have another then,” he offered, holding up a second even though Ben hadn’t 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 couldn’t 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 Luke’s 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. “You like those, huh?” he asked interestedly, leaning into the counter almost flirtatiously.

“I could eat these all day,” Ben replied, hoping that it sounded complimentary enough.

Dan sniggered, his eyes momentarily flicking down to Ben’s body. “I’d certainly like to see you try,” he nodded thoughtfully, before preloading Ben with yet another to eat. 

Ben felt his erection building. Never before had he felt under such scrutiny from Dan before. It seemed as if he had the guy’s 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.

“I’ll have to make you some more at some point,” Dan smiled as he passed Ben a glass of milk to wash it all down. “I like a man who enjoys my baking.”

“You can bake for me anytime!” Ben smiled back.

“Guys… are you coming to watch the game?” called Perry from the lounge area, staring hard at Ben as if he knew they’d been flirting. 

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 Ben’s 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 he’d long since thought of himself as a good friend, given how much he had been fantasising about the forbidden.

Dan, it seemed, wasn’t all that upset by the whole thing, explaining that the end had been coming for some time. He’d 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. ‘Do you need some company?’ Ben typed out, not wanting the window of opportunity to close. 

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 ex’s best friends. He was certainly walking a very dangerous path should Perry ever find out about these messages.

‘Sure,’ Dan replied breezily, typing out his address. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’

Dan’s apartment was every bit the ‘man cave’ 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 teenager’s 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 Ben’s reasoning even more.

Dan was sitting in his large chair, his thick thighs spread. “Want to get some pizza?” he asked casually, as if still not quite understanding why Ben had travelled all the way across town to see him.

“I’m really into you,” Ben blasted out, unable to keep it in any longer. “I think Luke was an idiot for letting you go. I know I’m a crap friend to Luke for admitting it.”

Dan nodded slowly and grinned. “That’s pretty shitty,” he nodded with amusement. “Moving in on your best friend’s boyfriend the same day they split up? You really didn’t think to at least leave it a few days? That’s… pretty bad…”

Ben hung his head, hoping that there was still an opportunity within Dan’s playful tone. “I know,” he agreed. “I’m the absolute worst.”

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 they’d 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 Dan’s 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. 

“About what I said earlier…” Ben tried, after a further hour of not discussing it.

“Look…” Dan smiled. “You really don’t want to date a guy like me. I’m not like your friend, Luke. I’m not a good person. I’m kinky; I’m horny and I like to get my own way. I’m not boyfriend material.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Ben tried, sensing things were not going his way. “I just want to see if there is anything between us.”

“Then again,” Dan considered, moving to sit next to Ben on the couch. He lifted his hand and began to stroke the hair out of the guy’s face. “Maybe you are more like me than people realise. The simple fact that you’re here proves that you’re just as selfish and opportunistic.” He paused and laughed; his smile wider than Ben had ever seen it before. “I mean…” he grinned, checking his watch, “I literally broke up with Luke less than six hours ago!” he bellowed, bursting with a smug superiority.

“I’m falling in love with you…” Ben mumbled back.

At this, Dan laughed even harder. “No you’re not!” he countered. “You’re falling in lust!” he blasted, pointing down at the obvious bulge in Ben’s pants. “You’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

Ben nodded. He  couldn’t pretend to act cool here. His actions had spoken louder than any words. “I’d do anything for you,” he replied, nodding submissively.

Dan considered what he wanted to say next. “Dating Luke was a bit of an experiment for me,” he explained. “It’s not usually how I get my kicks.”

“An experiment?” Ben asked.

Dan nodded. “An experiment, yeah. I wanted to see if I could do the things I like with a guy as fit and athletic as he was.”

“Is that why Luke was getting so..?” Ben began, not really knowing how to say it.

“Chubby?” Dan finished for him. “Yeah, that’s the reason!” He looked into Ben’s horny eyes, so eager to please him. “Do you think I’m awful?”

“No…” Ben mumbled back. “I think you’re wonderful!”

Dan laughed again, holding Ben’s head in his hands now. “I’m despicable and wicked,” he explained proudly. “I 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 I’d do the same to you in a heartbeat.”

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.

“I made this up for Luke,” Dan explained a few moments later, returning from the kitchen area now with a flask of protein shake he was rocking back and forth. “I told him it’s what I drink after my workouts, but it’s actually nothing like it!” he chuckled. “You wanna know how I fattened up your friend so quickly? These things!” he pointed proudly. “They’re 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.”

Ben didn’t 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 Ben’s head towards him, resting it against his crotch. For Ben, it was a moment of pure elation as he felt Dan’s 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.

“You want to see what it’s like when it’s hard?” Dan asked.

Ben looked up and nodded slowly. “More than anything.”

“Well then…” Dan smirked, bending to pick the flask back up and popping the flap over the sipping section, “...you know what to do.”

Ben wasn’t 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. 

Dan’s tone seemed to change in an instant. The lust and arousal echoing through everything he said. “Oh yes… that’s it!” he coaxed. “Drink it all down for me!”

With a keen eye on Dan’s 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. 

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 Dan’s extraordinary dick as his face was once again pressed into the man’s 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 ‘brain freeze’. 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. “Small!” he chuckled to himself. “We’ll soon see about that…”

Ben’s 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. “Next time…” the man teased, now putting all of his clothes back on. “Next time…”

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 Luke’s 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. He’d always been selfish and difficult, they’d told him, making it clear that he wasn’t part of their circle anymore.

“Why did you tell Luke?” Ben asked, stepping into Dan’s apartment that weekend.

“He 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,” Dan shrugged. “I don’t like secrets.” “Apart from when you’re secretly fattening someone up?” Ben shot back bitterly. He’d been annoyed by Dan’s actions and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Dan simply laughed. “Oh, I see! So you think you’re actually the innocent one here?” he mocked. “And no, I don’t do secrets, actually…” he stated firmly. “I knew that you and your friends had suspicions that I was fattening Luke up, but not one of you asked me about it,” he stated mischievously. “If you had, I would have been more than happy to explain the entire thing.” 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. “Trust me… that’s a conversation I would really, really have enjoyed!”

Ben rolled his eyes sceptically. “You’d be so embarrassed! You wouldn’t 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 again…“

“That would be so much easier for you, right?” Dan replied daringly, showing that he was more than a match for a fiery Ben. “If 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.” He stood up, seeming more imposing than ever before as he came towards Ben, then slowly stroked his cheek. “I’m a feeder… and I’m more than happy for the world to know it.”

There was a devilish twinkle in Dan’s eyes. Ben felt so easily controlled and dominated by him. Even now, his eyes snapped back to Dan’s lips, longing for the man to take him and make him submit.

Dan raised his head towards the ceiling above them. “I’M A FEEDER!” he shouted loudly to the neighbors he disliked upstairs. “I’M A FEEDER!”

“Shush!” Ben called, trying to place his hand over Dan’s mouth.

Laughing, Dan caught him and held him backwards against the back of the couch, smiling down at him victoriously. Ben couldn’t help laughing back. He’d 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. 

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.

“Do you have any fatties in your family already?” Dan asked, lying fully clothed next to a naked Ben on top of the bed sheets. He was playing with the guy’s butt cheeks, checking the bounce and wobble.

“I have a couple of very heavy cousins,” Ben replied. “A few obese aunts and uncles.”

Dan smiled, nodding as if he agreed. “I can tell,” he chirped. “This ass is getting soft as hell already!”

With that, Dan began a vigorous wobbling of Ben’s cheeks, laughing with pride. Ben didn’t 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 didn’t look at all like how Luke had done, unknowingly undergoing the same treatment. His shape was different: softer and more blubbery. To Dan, it didn’t 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 hadn’t 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. He’d 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 Dan’s 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. He’d lost count of how much he’d 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 Dan’s 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. He’d 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-lover’s 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 he’d 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. 

Flabby. It was the one word that best described Ben’s 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 Ben’s 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 Dan’s startled reaction as Ben stood there; the feeder absolutely caught off-guard by it all.

Not to be outdone, Dan smirked and took Ben’s 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 Ben’s glutes and began bouncing it as he kissed his lover in full view of anyone who may show up at any time. 

“Shall we go inside?” 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 Ben’s torso. “We can go inside as long as you promise to drink every last drop of this calorie shake I've got in my backpack,” he offered slowly.

Hastily, Ben nodded and slipped back inside, having to reach out and grab Dan’s hand to pull him in too. A full inspection of Ben’s body then ensued as Dan put his backpack down and studied every last inch of the fresh fat that had poured onto Ben’s physique.

“I’m really starting to look properly fat now, don’t you think?” Ben asked, fishing for a compliment from his man. “I’ve been eating non-stop for you.”

Dan merely raised an eyebrow and kissed him sweetly. His hand clamped over Ben’s erection and a slow, light stroke started to make the fat boy’s 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. 

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. “Come on, Fatty,” Dan coaxed him. “Anyone would think you didn’t want to suck my dick tonight…”

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. 

“Now, THAT is going to do some damage!” 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 boy’s 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. “I hope you’re still hungry,” he teased, clamping his hand over all but the tip of the shaft and moving it closer to Ben’s 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 Dan’s 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 Ben’s 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.

“The fatter you get, the better you’re going to be at taking this thing,” 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 wasn’t going to last long before he came. With only seconds to spare, he pulled out of Ben’s mouth, ejaculating all over the chub’s face as the boy greedily hung his tongue out, hoping to collect as much of it as possible.

“What’s all this?” 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 didn’t answer straight away; he was too busy checking and double-checking his sorting. “These are for now,” he declared, placing his hand on the first pile of t-shirts, shorts and sweatpants. He moved his hand over for the second pile. “These are the ones you’ll be ready for in a few weeks,” he declared, opening up a pair of folded underwear and giving Ben a brief look at their incredible width. “And these…” he raced on, not wanting Ben to jump in and talk over him, “...are the ones for next year or so,” he smiled, already picking this particular pile up. “I’ll put them at the back of your closet before I leave.”

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. Dan’s boner was standing out more and more as it grew down one of the legs of his tight gym shorts. Occasionally, Dan would rub Ben’s face into it, shoring up his commitment to serve and eat for him.

“Why do you keep looking over there?” Dan asked, noticing that Ben wasn’t 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. “Oh, I see!” he smirked. “You’re curious to see how fat you’re going to be in the next eighteen months or so?”

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 Ben’s plate on the floor. “You can look when I say,” he declared, pulling the giant dildo clean out of Ben’s butt and removing his own pants. Surely not? This wasn’t about to happen, was it? “Head down, Fatty!” the gruff man ordered, pressing Ben’s face into the cake once more until even the frosting was sliding up his nostrils. Then, with a wave of real pleasure, Ben felt Dan’s real dick starting to slide inside him for the first time. 

The man was so strong and powerful, Ben quickly realised that although the dildos had trained him to take the size, they hadn’t 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 didn’t compute it at first. The shape wasn’t 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 wasn’t a t-shirt; they were the largest pair of underwear he had ever seen; grotesque and obscene. Ben couldn’t 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 Ben’s 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 Ben’s 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. 

Between sweet little kisses on the side of his head, Dan couldn’t 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.

“You know, if you don’t want me to make you that fat, there is something you could do…” he whispered teasingly into Ben’s ear.

“What is it?” Ben asked back keenly.

Still stroking Ben’s throbbing erection, Dan didn’t reply immediately. With his free hand, he’d pulled out his cell phone and was tapping through the screens, pulling up a timer. “If you can hold back and not squirt everywhere in the next minute, I’ll let you off. You won’t ever need to get fat enough to fill those underpants,” he offered. “I’m totally serious. This is your chance, Fatty.” 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.

“Don’t cum, Piggy!” 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 eight….

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.

“Thirteen seconds!” Dan chuckled after it was all over and the fat boy lay against him still, utterly spent. “Is that really the best you can manage, Fatty?” he asked, rubbing the distended stomach now that Ben had ejaculated all over it. “That was your one chance!” he teased. “Now you’ll have to become a monstrous pig for me after all!”

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.

“You know… you shouldn’t be so nice to it,” Dan chuckled as he looked down at his fat lover sucking him off as if nothing in this world brought him greater pleasure. “My dick is the one who is making me feed you so much. You’re just encouraging it,” he teased.

Ben moaned with contentment, rolling his tongue down the shaft. “I don’t care!” 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. “What’s that, buddy?” he asked. “You want to watch the pig down his next calorie shake? Well, alright then…” he smirked, getting himself up. “You’re the boss!”

Time marched ever onward. In Ben’s 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. He’d 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 Ben’s hairstyle remain the same so that he was more easily recognised by those who hadn’t seen him in a while. He’s 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 ‘fat friendly’ his apartment was, with its large shower and open plan layout; not to mention all the fast food places nearby. It had been the guy’s 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 they’d 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. They’d look across at Ben with a mixture of awe, disgust and unrestricted amusement. Sometimes they would refer to him as ‘the pig’ 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 didn’t 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 Ben’s ass and, as such, Ben felt quite happy to stipulate that he din’t want anyone else sucking Dan off. Despite Dan’s 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.

“What’s in that shake?” 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.

“Mostly cream,” Dan replied nonchalantly. “A lot of fatties can’t digest it all that well. I just dropped lucky with this pig,” he laughed, grabbing a drooping nipple and jiggling it. “I think that’s a big reason why he’s so beautifully soft all over.”

“You can say that again!” marvelled the new guy, studying Ben’s body with fascination. “There’s not a single muscle I can see on him at all.”

Dan laughed again at that, grabbing the new, more extreme fat that was amassing at the back of Ben’s arms and making it dance. “That was exactly the look I was going for: pure lard.”

In situations like this, it always felt kinkier for Ben to be spoken about like he wasn’t there. He’d 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.

“He’s fast!” grinned the new feeder, grabbing a doughnut as he watched Dan pulling the emptied funnel away.

“Wait,” Dan ordered, grabbing the guy’s wrist as he went to push the sugary snack towards Ben’s mouth. “The pig always needs a second to…”

Up came a rolling , ferocious burp, bringing the immediate relief that Ben was well accustomed to now.

“Now you can feed him again,” Dan smiled, releasing the guy’s wrist and patting him encouragingly on the back as he set to work on stuffing even more into Ben. 

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 he’d watch with pride as they’d always want to jack themselves off across Ben’s 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. He’d 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. “She’s fully within her rights to do that,” he’d argue, watching Ben comfort-eating an enormous slice of cake. “You just don’t like it because she’s actually trying to make you do some work!” he teased, poking his lardy, overfed and lazy boyfriend in his fat tummy.

 “I just want to quit, stay at home and be your fat boy!” 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 chub’s eyes, brushing his thumb against the side of Be’s face where the fat was starting to bulge outwards, below his previous, long-forgotten jawline. “You’re not fat enough to justify that yet,” he replied.

Ben pouted, knowing that he’d have to go back to that awful place next Wednesday and Thursday. “But when will I be fat enough?” he asked, whining.

Dan looked him up and down, considering the question extremely carefully. “Five hundred pounds,” he nodded at last. “I think that would be a good stage for you to stop working.”

Perhaps Dan didn’t consider how important the number would be for Ben, but as the words left his mouth they immediately stuck in the guy’s 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 Ben’s increasingly lardy body when they came over, rocking grotesquely fattened areas back and forth, lifting and squeezing at the more extreme rolls of fat.

“He’s so much bigger and softer than I thought he’d be!” marvelled one feeder, making Dan laugh.

“It’s his huge ass, isn’t it?” Dan asked. “Everyone says the same thing.” Despite all these collaborations with other feeders, it was always the videos where Dan fucked Ben’s monstrous butt that continued to sell the best.

“He can drink it so fast!” gasped another feeder, watching the shake inside the funnel getting sucked into Ben’s body with such speed.

Dan merely stood back and smirked, knowing exactly why so much extreme blubber was packing on so quickly across Ben’s 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 guy’s 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 manger’s nose.

“I was going to quit in 30lbs anyway,” Ben reasoned, hoping more than anything else that Dan wouldn’t say what he knew he would say next.

“Well, you’d better find yourself a little job until then, hadn’t you?”

Again, Ben pouted, trying to consider how best to handle the situation. They were off on vacation in a week’s 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 didn’t 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.

“Alright!” Dan nodded, rolling his eyes upon their return and seeing that Ben was now 495lbs the following morning. “You win!” he laughed. “You don’t need to find another job.”

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 didn’t 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. He’d played the game and won, throwing his heavy body down into his wide chair and sighing in satisfaction. 

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 “haunted” 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. 

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 that’s exactly why Mack didn’t follow his best friend to the big state college. If he ever wanted to try actually dating a dude  (he’d only come out to his family and Trent’s family in high school), he needed to do it on his own. 

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,  “Sure, that sounds cool.”

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? 

“I thought this was supposed to be a Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” Mack said. 

“I said it was like a Ripley’s. But probably weirder. Or worse. Or both. That’s what’s fun about it. Either it’ll surprise us with how wild it is, or we’ll be laughing our asses off at how dumb it is. This is supposed to be some so bad it’s good shit. Just look at that ridiculous sign. ‘Beelieve It!’ Why does it have two Es?” 

“It has four Es.” 

Trent gave his companion a flat stare. “You know what I meant. Anyway, let’s get our tickets  and go in.” 

Mack shrugged. “Alright.” 

Trent knew that was Mack code for, “Let’s do this. I trust your judgement.” 

The building was garish to say the least. The ‘Beelieve It!’ 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 wasn’t quite rectangular. The dimensions almost seemed to shift  

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. 

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 guy’s 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. 

After they got their tickets, Trent whispered, “So… uh, that kid must be a basketball player,  right?”

“He can probably dunk the ball without jumping,” Mack deadpanned. It was an exaggeration, but not by that much. 

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. 

The kid scanned their tickets and gave a spiel about the self-guided tour in a monotone voice. “World’s 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 World’s Blankest. Take as long as you’d like.  We’re open ’til 9.” 

As they headed toward the first main area, Mack stared at Trent with eyebrows raised as  high as they would go. Well, Trent couldn’t actually see Mack’s eyebrows underneath the jock’s unruly black hair, but he knew that facial expression. Trent shrugged and whispered,  “Fat guys have to work somewhere, right?” 

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 wouldn’t mind posing for some with Trent. He knew his goofy friend would get a real kick out of seeing the results, even if they didn’t purchase them. 

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  “Oldest Man Alive.” 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. 

Trent laughed out loud when he spotted the World’s 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. 

“See?” Trent said. “This shit is weird in the best way.” 

Mack nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It’s fun.”

Trent got a picture pressing his butt up against the World’s Largest Eggplant. He made Mack  pose next to a giant shark that looked like it was out of a sci-fi channel movie. 

“Hey, look, it’s your dream boyfriend!” Trent joked, pointing to the World’s 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. “Go on, test your strength!” Trent laughed. 

Mack took a long look at the ridiculously proportioned figure and then back at Trent. “No.” “Aww, man,” Trent huffed. “You’re no fun.” 

“One more,” Mack said. “Then we move on. We’ll be back here later anyway.” 

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 déjà vu. They were the Tallest Man alive and the Fattest Man Alive. “The kid at the ticket booth was almost this tall,” he told Mack, looking up and up at the wax figure. There was a platform where you could compare your height. 

“Even he wasn’t this tall,” Mack replied. “No way this is real.” 

“Obviously they’re not real,” Trent laughed. “That’s not the point. The point is how ridiculous they are. Like this one.” He pointed to the Fattest Man Alive. A digital counter on the wall  behind the figure read “1047 lbs.” The empty platform next to it was also attached to a digital readout on the wall. “Come on, let’s do this one. I bet the two of us together don’t even weigh as much as his gut. Or one of his legs.” 

“Dude. No.” 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. 

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 didn’t really cover anything. And the family jewels were very well hidden anyway. The figure’s belly, complete 

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. 

Trent thought it was hilarious. “I think his calves are as big as your waist.” 

That was probably true. Mack had maintained a very trim waist despite his wide chest and shoulders. The wax figure’s huge calves hung down, completely obscuring its ankles. Its thighs were twice as wide. It was absurd. “I wanna see Bigfoot,” Mack said. “Let’s just  go and head to the cryptid area.” 

But Trent held his ground. “You said one more.” He looked up at the “Fattest Man Alive”  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. “I want to do this one.” 

Mack couldn’t go back on his word. He was always honest. He followed Trent’s gaze up to the sign. The yellow and blue almost seemed to turn clockwise behind the black letters. It made him dizzy. “Fine. One picture. I’ll pose however you want.” 

Trent pumped his fist and let out a little “Yes!” Louder, he said, “Alright, let’s see if this scale thing is fake or if it gets our weight right. “Oh, and do a muscle pose. Look really serious.  That’ll make it funnier.” 

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. 

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. “This’ll be hilarious. Oh look! The kiosk is right here!” He bounded over to see their photo. Mack peered over his shoulder. 

“Look at this!” Trent laughed as the photo came up on the screen. “This is exactly what I  wanted! Two skinny guys–” 

“One skinny, one muscular,” Mack cut in.

“–and one totally impossibly fat guy. “Look.” He pointed at Mack’s image. “Your shirt’s 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?” 

“He’s like ten of you.” 

“I’m not that small,” Trent pouted. “Hey, look.” He moved his finger above Mack. “There’s our weight. 349. Think that’s right?” 

Mack nodded. “I’m just over 200 ‘cuz I’m tall, and I’ve got these.” He flexed his biceps again.  You’re probably just under 150 ‘cuz you’re short, and you don’t have any muscles.” He pointed to Trent’s image in the photo. 

“Hey, my shirt’s just hiding my arms.” Trent tugged at his long-sleeve jean shirt. “If I took this  shirt off, we’d both be in t-shirts, and then…” 

“Then we’d see how skinny your arms really are. Just leave it on, bud.” 

Trent didn’t know why, but he couldn’t 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? 

Mack’s eyes were glued to the screen too, but he was doing mental math. “According to the  scale, that guy is three of us.” 

“Huh?” 

“It would take three of you and three of me to weigh as much as the fattest man is  supposed to weigh.” He looked down at Trent’s trim waist and skinny legs. “He’s  unrealistically huge, and you’re…” 

“I get it,” Trent huffed. “Okay, wanna go get some food? And then we can see Bigfoot.” “Cool.” 

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. 

One had a bunch of different types of loaded fries. Another had hot dogs and brats with several fried sides. Trent’s eyes were pulled toward the one with deep fried Oreos and candy bars. Mack drifted toward the one with a milkshake machine. 

Each booth’s sign and décor were as eye-searing and trippy as the building’s façade. Trent  stepped up to the one labeled “You Love it Deep Fried!” The blue and purple squiggles on the sign seemed to bend and wave when he looked at it. God, he was hungry. But he wasn’t sure what he actually wanted. He pulled out his wallet and opened up his mouth to speak,  and… 

The clerk, a chubby kid who wasn’t nearly the size of the ticket scanner, was handing him  his order. “Here’s your mega hash brown, sir. Enjoy.” 

Trent robotically reached out and grabbed the wax paper wrapper. It had a black and yellow  swirl that drew his eyes into the center. “When did I order…?” 

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. 

“Dude.” Mack snapped Trent back to reality. He was holding a big yellow cup. “Ready?” He  jerked his head toward the doorway labeled “Land of Cryptids.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” 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. “Uh, I  guess we'll get a mini light show while we’re in here,” he joked. And then the lights went out,  and the elevator was plunged into darkness. 

Trent paused, misstepped as he crossed the threshold into the hallway, and Mack nearly walked right into him. 

“Move,” the taller young man said. 

But Trent didn’t. 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 untouched 

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. 

“Dude, how many calories is that?” Mack asked as if his milkshake wasn’t even worse. “We  had lunch before we got here.” 

“Look, I know I’m not as skinny as I used to be,” Trent snapped. “But I’m not counting  calories on vacation.” Trent wasn’t big or anything. He just wasn’t a stick anymore like he’d been in school. He wondered why he’d worn these jeans today. He hardly had a belly, but the waistband dug into his middle. 

Beside him, Mack hypocritically slurped his dense milkshake and gave an exaggerated sigh.  “What flavor is that?” Trent asked. “Strawberry?” 

“Duh.” 

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 didn’t have a six-pack. He unconsciously flexed his arm muscles. He might not be lean, but he was built. 

Trent reached toward his friend. “Can I have a taste?” 

Mack snatched the cup away from Trent’s grasp and held it close to his chest. “No.” “Oh, come on. One sip.” 

“Get your own. We’ll pass the concessions again later.” 

“Fine,” Trent huffed. It was just for show. He knew how much his best friend loved a strawberry milkshake. He wasn’t 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 didn’t want a huge gut. If he did that, Mack would just call attention to the fact that Trent’s belly was looking kinda round these days. 

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 were 

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. 

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 turned… 

Trent felt pressure building up in his stomach, but then there was a ‘ping,’ and he felt better. “Dude,” Mack said. “You popped a button again.” 

Trent blushed. He knew his jeans were getting tight, but he didn’t think they were that bad.  But he’d gained a fair bit of weight since high school. He didn’t 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. 

Trent glanced at his taller friend. At least he wasn’t 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. 

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  World’s Largest Pie. The two passed through the exhibits, checking out a few they hadn’t seen yet on their way toward the concessions and the entrances to the other wings. 

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 they’d bypassed the first time. “Hey, we’ve gotta do that one,” he told Mack, pointing at an enormous wax figure that was supposedly on a scale. The sign had a cool, almost hypnotic spiral design. 

“Dude. No.” 

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. “That guy’s doing it.” The guy in question was a wavy-haired blond twink around their age who was there with his family.  “He’s cute, right? Is he your type?”

Mack didn’t answer. The guy was pretty good-looking, but he was really, really skinny. Even if he was Mack’s type, the stocky jock wasn’t so confident ever since he had started putting on weight. But the blond was cocky with a toothy grin, and he held Mack’s 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 man’s weight. 

“Fine,” Mack muttered. “Let’s do this.” He brushed past the blond twink as they traded places. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught the guy glancing back at him. 

“Show off your muscles,” Trent said as he joined Mack on the platform. “Make it silly.” 

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. 

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. “Damn,” he murmured. “I forgot my jeans were unbuttoned.” 

Mack peered over his friend’s shoulder. The unbuttoned jeans were barely noticeable. Trent was freaking out over nothing. His little gut mostly covered the front of the waistband anyway. 

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. “Shit,” he muttered. Then Mack’s eyes went to the digital number behind their slightly chubby forms. “Dude, we’re 432,” he said. 

Trent was quick to dismiss it. “That’s both of us together. Sure, we’re not so small anymore,  but that’s just college life catching up with us. It’s no biggie. Pun intended. At least we’ll never be like…” he gestured to the wax figure. “That.” 

And with that, the two headed off toward the concessions. Mack’s stomach growled. 

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 Mack 

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. “What flavor?” Mack asked his shorter friend. 

“Chocolate peanut butter,” Trent replied. 

“Gross.” 

Trent just laughed. How someone with such a sweet tooth didn’t like chocolate and peanut butter was beyond him. “Alright, where are we heading? Weird history? Hall of mirrors? Maze?” 

The stocky jock shrugged and made a noncommittal noise as he took a big bite of his hot dog. 

“Alright, weird history it is.” 

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. 

“I never see it,” Mack told him. 

“You just have to unfocus your eyes.” Trent took a few steps back and pulled Mack over to stand next to him. “Now, try to cross your eyes, and then completely relax your eyes. Don’t  try to actually look at the picture.” 

Mack humored his friend even though it never worked for him. He did his best to follow  Trent’s instructions. The colors and squiggles started to blur, and he could almost see something. It sorta looked like… 

“You saw it, right?” Trent asked as he shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “It was an ice  cream cone.” 

Mack could swear he had seen something, but he didn’t think it was that. “Whatever you  say.” He popped the last bite of his first cookie into his mouth and prepared to start the 

second one. He let out a small belch and unsuccessfully tried to pull his shirt down. He wasn’t sure why he’d worn such an old shirt. It stretched around his love handles and left a fair amount of his lower belly exposed even when it wasn’t riding up. 

Mack wasn’t the most in-shape guy, even if he did try to lift weights occasionally. He’d been stocky but fit as a teenager, but that had evaporated pretty quickly in college. He’d blown up pretty fast once he was living on campus. 

At least he wasn’t alone. Trent’s 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. 

“Dude, you’ve got a hole in your jeans.” 

“Mack,” Trent responded, “they’re ripped jeans. They’re supposed to have holes in them.” “Not right in the ass.” 

Trent blushed and reached behind himself. The seam had pulled completely apart at the thickest part of his butt. He knew he’d put on some weight, but it was a lot worse than he thought. “It’s… not that noticeable, is it?” 

“I can see what color undies you put on today.” 

“We’re grown ups now. Just call them briefs.” 

“Fine. I can see your red briefs.” 

Trent started to panic, but then he caught sight of that Magic Eye picture again, and for some reason that calmed him down. “It’s… It’s fine. Right?” 

Mack peered really hard at his friend. “Yeah. It’s fine.” 

Trent breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool. Let’s keep moving.” 

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 Trent’s eye. He felt like he’d seen it out of the corner of his eye, but he hadn’t really looked at it. 

“Check that one out!” he said with a laugh, pointing to the Fattest Man Alive. We should get  a picture next to him.” 

“Dude. No.” Mack looked down at his flabby gut. Taking a photo like that would be a celebration of fatness. He wasn’t totally ashamed of his size, but he still hoped he could lose a few pounds at some point. 

“Oh, come on. You’re no fun,” 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. “Hey,  didn’t we see that guy earlier?” 

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. 

“Do it for me,” Trent pleaded. “If you do a muscle pose like you used to do in high school,  it’ll be hilarious.” 

Mack touched the bit of bare belly that stuck out from under his shirt. The things he did in the name of friendship. “Okay, but you’ve gotta hold your belly just like the statue guy.” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

The two did their photo op, and then they popped over to the kiosk to see the results. It was kinda funny. Mack’s 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. 

“Damn,” Mack breathed, looking at the number in the photo. “524.” He took a minute to do the mental math. “We’re half his size.”

Trent laughed it off. “Combined. And anyway, he’s not real. Can you imagine seeing  someone who was actually that big?” 

Mack shrugged. “Guess not.” 

“Exactly. Now come on, let’s go do the maze.” 

“Isn’t that just for the kids?” 

“I hope not. I thought it sounded cool. The blacklight thing should make it more  interesting.” 

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 and… 

The crazy-colored signs stopped him in his tracks. It all looked so good. One more snack couldn’t hurt, right? He wasn’t 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-fried… 

Trent didn’t really have enough hands to carry the loaded fries, mozzarella sticks and extra-large soda he’d 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. 

Mack pointed to some small tables on the side of the room. “Eat now, maze after?” 

“You read my mind,” 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, “Whoa, man. Crack kills.” A rather large strip of the big guy’s wide rear was showing. 

Mack half-heartedly tried to adjust his sweats, but it didn’t 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, he’d 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 wasn’t 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, he’d be over 300 like his friend before he knew it. 

The two didn’t 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 he’d 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 didn’t do something soon. 

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. 

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. 

Mack slid his chairs back – one for each ass cheek – so he’d have room to stand up. He wondered why places like this insisted on such tiny chairs. Couldn’t anyone accommodate a 400-pound man? He put one hand on the table and braced one against the wall as he hefted himself up. “You ready?” he asked Trent. 

Mack’s 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 Trent’s bare arms. Wasn’t 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. 

“Let’s go,” Trent said once they had cleaned up their very large mess. “Time to check out  this maze.”

“It had better not be for kids, or we won’t fit,” Mack quipped. 

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. 

Trent found the entrance, a big black door labeled “Otherworldly Maze!” 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. 

“You’re blue!” Trent laughed, pointing to Mack’s 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 Mack’s belly spilled out of his shirt and covered almost the whole crotch of his pants. Trent’s own clothes looked almost black except for his jean shirt, which also glowed a faint blue. 

Trent took the lead as always. The first section was easy. It was just there to acclimate them. There weren’t any dead ends, just corners that would take you by surprise if you  weren’t 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 Mack’s soft belly bumped right into Trent’s plush lower back. 

“Dude, watch it,” Mack said as if he wasn’t the one who had rear-ended the other. 

After that, there wasn’t 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. 

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 was 

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. 

“Dead end,” Mack muttered. “You’ve gotta lead again.” 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. 

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 wasn’t getting hypnotized into thinking he couldn’t move fast, he was just 450 pounds. His movement was perfectly normal for his size. 

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. 

“That was kind of awesome,” 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. 

“Yeah. It was cool.” 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. “Dude, your moobs are out.” 

“Said the pot to the kettle,” Trent laughed. He reached out and poked Mack’s exposed chest. “You never put those things away.” 

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. “Alright, let’s go.” 

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 couldn’t move fast if he tried. 

“I’m glad that maze was fun,” Trent said, “because this room has been pretty disappointing. There’s nothing all that shocking.” 

Mack nodded in agreement. “That one looks really dumb.” He pointed at the World’s  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. 

“You’d think they’d exaggerate the proportions at least a little,” Trent agreed. He spotted a wax figure that he’d apparently missed until now. “And look at that one. It says Fattest Man  Alive, but he’s just a little on the large side.” 

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? “Lame,” he said out loud. 

But Mack’s 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. 

“Let’s do that one,” Trent said, breaking Mack out of his reverie. “Just to show how stupid it  is.” 

“Dude. No.” 

“Aww, why not?”

“Will we both fit?” 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. 

Trent looked up at the Fattest Man Alive sign with its familiar yellow and blue swirls. “We’ve gotta do it, man. We’ll fit.” He glanced dubiously at the small pedestal. “I think. Besides…  Don't you want to show off?” He jerked his head toward the blond, who was heading to the photo kiosk but kept glancing in their direction. 

Mack’s 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. “Fine. Me first, then together.” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

Before Mack stepped up, he took another look at the wax figure. The guy was pretty big, just not unrealistically so. Whereas Mack and Trent’s guts covered their crotches, the Fattest  Man’s 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 Mack’s, and even his neck was thicker. But he still felt like only a moderate exaggeration of Mack’s perfectly average body. 

Mack sucked in his gut the best he could to get between the railings and onto the platform.  It didn’t 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 – well, as far down as they would go – 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. 

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. 

Mack watched his shorter friend make his way up the ramp, facing similar problems. Trent’s 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. 

As Trent slowly turned himself around, Mack noticed just how many holes Trent had in his  jeans. Sure, all of Trent’s jeans had holes where the seams were splitting apart, but Trent’s 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 Trent’s low-riding jeans and his tiny jean shirt/vest. 

By the time the camera flashed, Trent’s partially bare ass was pressing right into the folds of  Mack’s belly. Now they just had to get off of this stupid platform – it was definitely only made for one person – so they could see their photo. The only problem was, Trent was completely wedged in between the front railing and Mack’s round, squishy body. 

“Suck in,” Trent instructed. “I can’t move.” 

Mack didn’t 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. 

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. 

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. 

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 nothing 

doing. The railing was going to seriously dig into both his belly and his love handle. Good thing he was so soft and squishy. 

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. 

Mack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “The blond guy’s watching you,” Trent whispered.  “He’s good-looking, right? Is he your type?” 

“He’s kinda little,” Mack pointed out. The blond was barely over 300 pounds. Not skinny,  but definitely on the smaller side. 

“Look, I’m just sayin’ maybe you should give him your number. You never put yourself out there. What do you think? Would you date him?” 

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 Trent’s shoulder.  “Damn. We look good.” 

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? 

“Look at that,” Trent said, pointing to the digital number behind them. “1136. How are they  gonna call that wax figure the fattest man if two regular guys are each more than half his  size?” 

Mack shook his head. “Beats me.” 

“Alright, what next?” Trent asked. “We still have to do the mirror tunnel, right?” “Dude. That means more walking.” 

“Yeah, that’s usually what you do in museums,” Trent responded. 

Mack hefted his huge, jiggly belly. “Do I look like a guy who walks around all afternoon?”

“You look like a guy who sits around on his ass eating sweets. But I’ve gotta make sure you  get out of the house sometimes.” 

Mack gestured to their surroundings. They were definitely not in a house. “Mission accomplished. Now let’s go.” 

Trent wouldn’t let it go. “Look, I’m feeling kinda winded too. Let’s sit down for a bit, and then  we can decide.” 

Mack knew better than to argue. Once Trent made up his mind, he wasn’t 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. 

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 wasn’t any more built for walking than  Mack was, even if he pretended otherwise. 

A loud belch tore through the room. Mack turned to see the cute blond, who wasn’t 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. 

Trent smirked as he watched his friend get completely distracted by the heavy blond. “So you do have a type,” he chuckled. 

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. 

Mack yawned. He’d 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. “Alright, let’s go.  Dinner time.”

But Trent noted that his friend was still staring in the direction of the bottom-heavy blond.  “Come on, big guy. We’ve gotta do the mirrors.” 

“I thought we agreed this place was lame.” Mack took a couple small steps toward the main hall and the exit. 

Trent wasn’t ready to give up. “So we have to end on a high note.” He brazenly slapped his friend’s belly, watching the ripples spread across the wide surface. “I’ll buy you a  milkshake.” 

Mack’s stomach growled. He looked back down at the table with its mesmerizing swirls… 

Mack was sitting down, taking the last gulp of his strawberry milkshake. “Thanks again for the shake,” he said. 

Trent mumbled something in response, but it was unintelligible because his mouth was full of funnel cake. He was pretty sure he’d 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. 

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 – or maybe two skinny ones – and be fine. 

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. 

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. 

“Check this one out!” 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. Mack’s breath caught. That ass was so…  big. The guy’s pants were fighting a losing battle. It was a great look on him. 

Trent nudged his friend. “Wanna follow him?” 

But not long after, they heard, “Ugh, dead end” from somewhere up ahead, and the blond came waddling back. He locked eyes with Mack, and then he looked down at Mack’s  impressively large body. “Don’t bother trying to go that way,” he said. “It gets really narrow really fast. You would hardly fit.” 

Mack took that as a compliment. He nodded and said, “Thanks.” The blond headed for the other path. 

“That’s it?” Trent whispered. “Thanks?” 

Mack tilted his head and shrugged. 

That was not the right answer. Trent shooed his friend forward. “Go. Follow him.” 

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. 

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. 

The path split again, and Trent heard a quiet “Shit” in front of him. Mack must have already lost track of the blond. “Go left,” Trent said. “The first path was right, so it’s probably not  right again.” 

They turned to the left, and Trent noticed that the mirrors on this path weren’t warped. They all looked flat. Trent gaped at his reflection. The first mirror showed him with his scruffy hair 

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? 

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 “tattoo” 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. 

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? 

“Dude,” Mack called out, “this mirror makes my tits look extra huge. Like, extra extra.” 

“Lemme see,” Trent said, turning around. But when he looked in the same mirror as Mack,  he didn’t see anything weird. Sure, Mack’s chest fell over his belly in massive, heavy folds,  but that wasn’t at all unusual. “Looks normal to me,” he told his friend. “What’s weird is…”  He was about to say how weird it was that he looked taller than Mack, but he’d finally  

beaten out his friend’s height when he had that late growth spurt senior year of high school. “What’s weird?” Mack asked. 

“Huh?” Trent had forgotten what he was talking about. He looked around. “Shit. How did we  not notice we were at a dead end?” 

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 they’d done enough walking for the afternoon. But it was too late to turn back. 

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 – both height and width – made him stand out in a crowd. 

One mirror somehow made their shirts disappear. Another made Trent’s belly look like it hung almost to his knees. That couldn’t 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 looked…  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. 

Trent spotted Mack’s 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 didn’t 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. 

And that Mack just might be friends with a stick-thin Trent who didn’t have an ounce of belly fat. Maybe there was a world out there where most guys just weren’t soft and fat. He wondered what that would feel like… 

“Dude,” Mack said, breaking Trent out of his thoughts. “Check this out. I look huge.” 

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 couldn’t 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. 

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 didn’t show any sort of warped reflection. They looked perfectly normal. 

“Are we almost done?” Mack wheezed. “I’ve gotta sit.” 

“I know, big guy, I know.” Trent really just called his friend ‘big guy’ 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. 

Trent put his hands on his hips while they waited. Or rather, he rested his hands on his love handles. He didn’t really have anywhere else to put them. Mack’s hands found their way to his chest as usual. That was his default – subtly fondling his nipples and chest fat. The door opened, and they ambled inside. 

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 – like pretty much everyone – 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. 

Mack paused to lean against the wall, but Trent whispered, “Go! Now’s your chance. Get  his number.” 

Mack knew Trent was right. He’d regret it if he didn’t say something. If there was ever a time to not be quiet, this was it. He took slow, deliberate steps toward the stranger. “Hey. Thanks  for the advice downstairs.” 

The blond turned to face him and took a long look up and down, taking in every bulge and curve. “You’re welcome. You definitely would have gotten stuck in that little hallway. You’re  even bigger than I am.” The way he said it, it was obviously a massive compliment. 

Mack blushed. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” Suddenly he wanted to back out. He was terrible at this.  But then a huge, round belly appeared by his side. 

“My friend is trying to ask for your number,” Trent told the blond. 

Mack’s cheeks heated even more, and he rubbed his neck. “Yeah. You’re cute.” 

A smile bloomed on the blond’s face. He reached his pudgy fingers into his fanny pack and  pulled out his phone. “Type your number into my phone, and I’ll text you!” As Mack typed  his number, the blond said, “I’m Evan.” 

“Mack.”

“I can’t believe a hot guy like you noticed me, Mack.” 

“You’re cute,” Mack repeated. “Seriously.” He patted Evan’s large belly. “You look like you  can eat.” 

Evan’s grin widened. “Hell yeah.” He took the phone back, checked the area code on  Mack’s number, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I was afraid you’d be too far  away to really see each other.” 

The two talked a little more, with Trent respectfully staying much quieter than usual, but then Mack's stomach grumbled loudly. “I need dinner. Now.” 

Evan nodded. “Go fill up the tank, big guy. I hope… Maybe I can eat with you sometime.” “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

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? 

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. 

“Did you have fun?” Trent asked. 

“Yeah. It was fun. Except…” 

“Except the Fattest Man Alive,” Trent finished. Mack nodded. “What was with that? He was  barely bigger than you!” 

Then, last night, Jake had come along and dispelled every last worry he had had. The old Matty hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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.

Jake’s room was so much tidier than Matty’s 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 Matty’s stomach and his groin pressing against Matty’s glutes; something firm was certainly pleased to be waking up next to him. “Morning,” the man whispered sweetly into his ear.

Matty shuffled around until he was facing Jake, the pair gazing into each other’s eyes. “Morning,” he smiled back, feeling instead like he was in some bizarre dream.

“Did you enjoy it last night?” Jake asked, grinning proudly. “I think I lost count of how many times I came.”

“Me too!” Matty chuckled, pressing his hand against Jake’s 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. “We should get up and get you some breakfast,” he smiled, spotting the time and seeing that they had both slept-in past nine o’clock. Then again, it had been a very, very late night for them both.

“I’m happy with that idea,” Matty smirked, aroused at the thought of eating in front of Jake again. 

“What time do you usually start eating?” Jake asked, running his fingers across Matty’s increasingly ball-like paunch. 

“Pretty much as soon as you leave for work in the morning,” Matty chuckled back.

Jake lightly moaned in appreciation for that idea, kissing him passionately once again. “You’re such a greedy little pig…”

Matty moaned back, launching into another horny kiss. It was the same thing that had happened last night. He didn’t know why Jake’s teasing words were having such an impact on him, but it felt as though everything that came out of Jake’s mouth was enough to make him collapse into a horny mess.

“I’m going to feed you doughnuts… pastries… hamburgers… pizzas…” Jake whispered into his ear whilst playfully taking control of Matty’s hardness. “I’m going to stuff you, bloat you, make that fat tummy stretch out…”

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, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t 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 Matty’s, 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.

“Wow, when I think of all the hours we spent training this ass up in the gym!” Jake marvelled, coming up from tonguing Matty’s 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 hadn’t 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 guy’s kinks really started to emerge properly: his fingers pinching and jiggling the chubby love handles, his hand slapping at Matty’s underexercised butt. Just like the inescapable arousal Matty had felt as he had slowly gained weight over the last year, Jake’s own kinks were just as powerful and all-consuming, whispering things into his ear that he would never dare say normally: “I’m going to make you so fucking fat…” he growled, thrusting hard and fast.

Matty moaned, enjoying this part most of all. “Oh, yeah?” 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! “What else?”

Jake’s masterful hips were pounding at such speed. “I’m going to feed you up into such a piggy. A huge, fat, round hog!”

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 he’d just had the best sex of his life. Matty leaned over and kissed him deeply. He felt Jake’s large palm grip his dick and begin gently massaging it up and down. Now it was his turn, and he’d 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.

“Your mom’s going to hate this when she finds out,” Jake had laughed as they lay in bed together.

Matty chuckled. He’d remembered his mother being hesitant about him moving back in with Jake after the accident. She’d painted a picture of him as this arrogant, over-confident narcissist that Matty had undoubtedly carried with him upon his return. They’d clashed back then. How awful to remember how close he’d 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. 

“I think they’re all going to be too distracted by how big my belly has grown to care!” Matty grinned proudly.

From behind, Jake hugged him a little tighter. “You’re welcome,” he whispered teasingly into his ear, rubbing the extra thickness that was encircling Matty’s waistline.

Matty chuckled again. He’d 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. “I think I’m ready to explore a little more of this feedism stuff,” Matty replied, enjoying how large and soft Jake’s exploring hands always made him feel.

Instantly, Matty felt Jake’s boner stiffen against his oversized butt. “Are you sure?” the man asked, having always taken a cautious approach with Matty ever since they’d started sleeping together. 

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 Jake’s own kinks were getting the better of him: when he was stuffing a doughnut into Matty’s 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. “I want you to feed me like your pig!”

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. “Are you ready?” 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.

“What’s that?” Matty asked, seeing a large, piped object being carried by his boyfriend.

“We’ve had so much fun with this in the past,” Jake grinned, handing it to Matty for him to examine whilst he continued gathering more things from the kitchen. “It’s a funnel. You put the end of the pipe in your mouth and I pour the liquid from above.”

“For beer?” Matty asked, imagining college students doing something similar at a frat party.

“Not in this instance,” Jake chuckled, holding a large jug of thick, brown liquid. “This is our special recipe. We used to whip it up all the time when we had fatties over. I never thought I’d be making a double batch up for you though,” he grinned excitedly.”

Matty’s eyes widened. He still found it difficult to believe that he and Jake had been so overtly kinky together in the past. It didn’t 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. “What is it made from?” he asked, feeling aroused by the sight of it.

“All sorts!” Jake smirked. “And all with one goal in mind…” the man whispered, bending down to kiss Matty and rub his fat little tummy.

“So, I just have to chug it?” Matty asked just before popping the pipe into his mouth and watching the funnel being raised above his head.

“That’s all you need to do,” 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. He’d had no idea that he’d swallowed so much air with it, but the relief from his tightening stomach was a pleasant sensation. “That wasn’t too bad…” he smiled, pleased that he had done it.

“That was only the warm-up…” 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 Jake’s mouth. Ben had never sucked him off as enthusiastically as Jake did. Perhaps it was Jake’s experience that made it so pleasant; every movement of his tongue about to elevate the sensations even more.

“You can’t stop there!” Matty sighed, having been seconds away from finishing before Jake stopped sucking.

“All in good time…” Jake grinned, quietly enjoying Matty’s frustration. “This is all part of the process…”

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. “Just suck it like you were doing before…” 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. Matty’s breathing was getting faster and he moaned loudly when… Jake pulled out once more.

“Oh, come on!” Matty laughed, hardly believing that Jake was doing it to him again. He was so horny, and so completely ready to climax.

“Patience, Piggy!” Jake teased, lifting the funnel yet again.

Matty hadn’t 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 Jake’s expert mouth on his dick.

Fuck! Matty’s 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.

“You’re doing so well….” Jake smiled, taking his mouth onto Matty’s dick once more.

This time, Matty knew he wasn’t going to be able to finish. He could see all the food still left on the coffee table and understood that he wouldn’t be allowed to experience that orgasm until as much of it was consumed as possible. “Feed me!” 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 Matty’s life. He could feel it all gushing with such ferocity into Jake’s 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.

“Just imagine the things I could do to your belly if you let me feed you like that every night…” 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 guy’s family had been more than welcoming.

“I always thought you two would end up together,” chuckled Jake’s mother as she saw how tenderly her son was holding Matty’s hand.

Jake leaned over and kissed him at his mother’s words. He didn’t 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 that’s 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.

“I found something when I was going through my old computer,” Jake grinned, inserting a drive into the back of their TV.

Spotting the boner pressing forward from Jake’s 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. 

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 superchub’s mouth.

“You always used to do that,” Jake explained from the side of the TV. “You said it was a good way to warm-up their mouths, ready for eating!”

Matty stared at his old, tight butt, pointing directly at the camera and lightly thrusting in the direction of the fat man’s face. He could see that he was communicating wordlessly with Jake who was now bringing in the funnel: Matty’s funnel.

Thoroughly aroused now, the large man didn’t complain as Matty’s 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.

“You’re giving me the nod to start fucking him,” 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. “You always thought it best to get a dick inside them as quickly as possible once they started feeling their belly getting full,” Jake chuckled, watching. “It distracts them!”

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 Matty’s attention, as he watched, was actually swallowed up admiring Jake. Unlike Matty’s 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 wasn’t quite as insanely built and muscular as he was today, he’d been powerful enough to manoeuvre the fat man with ease as he’d gently pounded that wide butt. The enjoyment of all that lard was evident across Jake’s face. He was in heaven, feeling it all with his hands and watching it ripple.

“Pretty hot, huh?” Jake grinned as the video ended ten minutes later.

Matty nodded. He hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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. “It’s given me quite the appetite,” he grinned, beckoning Jake over to him in the chair. He held the strong man’s hips, looking with interest at the tent-like bulge in the man’s crotch, then licked his lips. “But, maybe we should warm-up my mouth first,” he nodded, pulling out Jake’s eager erection from the gym shorts and immediately engulfing it with his greedy mouth.

Jake’s 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 Jake’s 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. “Don’t you think it’s best to be around things that are familiar if you’re still trying to recover your memories?” he’d asked.

Matty shrugged. In truth, he’d 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 wasn’t 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 Matty’s shoulders as he looked around for the final time. “We’ve had some fun in here, huh?” he chuckled. “You and I knew this was the right place for a couple of kinky fuckers as soon as we stepped inside!”

Matty laughed. “I think you were sold the moment you found those handcuffs in your closet space.”

Jake looked at him, startled. “How did you know that?” he asked.

Not even realising, Matty thought back on what he’d 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. “You told me a few months back,” he replied, not entirely sure that that was true.

“Did I?” Jake asked, immediately at ease again. “For a second there, I thought you’d remembered something.”

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. 

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. He’d 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 lover’s mouth. 

“Time for another upgrade!” Jake chuckled, holding up Matty’s discarded underwear and witnessing the wavy, overstretched elastic. “You need to let me know when these things get too small,” he smiled sweetly, kissing his naked lover as Matty climbed out of the shower. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I like it!” Matty grinned back. “It feels sexy as hell wearing stuff that I’m too fat for!”

Jake leaned in and kissed him lovingly. For the first time in Matty’s life, he was just the fat guy; not the ex-jock who’d suffered a brain injury. Here, no one knew he’d ever been anything other than the 370lb lardass he’d 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.

“I want to use my funnel when you get home from work later,” Matty stated once his impeccably dressed lover pulled out of the kiss.

“Again?” Jake smiled wickedly. “That’s the fifth time this week.”

“I know,” Matty nodded. “I’m just really enjoying these tits at the moment,” he smirked, using his towel to dry underneath them. “I need them bigger!”

Jake loved nothing more than admiring his lover’s body on show, as well as hearing how enthusiastically Matty talked about reaching even greater levels of obesity. “Well then…” he smirked, holding his fat guy by his hips and pulling him in for another kiss. “I guess I’ll be pumping you full of some more shake later,” he whispered, kissing Matty more passionately now, his hands wandering. “You’re going to be such an enormous piggy…”

Inwardly, Matty smiled to himself. He always knew when Jake was losing control of his arousal. Names like ‘piggy’ and ‘hog’ slipped out of his mouth in a way that they never did at any other time. “Hold it there…” Matty laughed. “You’ve got to leave for work.”

“Just let me call in sick and feed you all day long…” Jake growled back, leaning in again to resume kissing. “I want to play with that fat ass so much!”

Matty chuckled, pushing an eager Jake back. “It’s time for work,” he reminded him, knowing that the guy wouldn’t shake that boner all day long.

Jake frowned in disappointment, but nodded his head. “Okay… okay,” he chanted, more to himself than anyone else, trying to calm his own lust. “But you’d best be ready to chug like never before when I get back!”

Matty reached under his stomach and jiggled the entire mass of belly fat that had accumulated. “Have I ever let you down?” 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 ‘Eat up, Piggy!’ It certainly wasn’t 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 wasn’t going to be up at least a couple of pounds by the end of the week.

“You know, there’s quite a feedism scene in this city, apparently,” 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.

“Oh, yeah?” Matty smiled, gazing up at his lover. “Are you saying you’d like to start having fun with gainers again? Like before my accident?”

Jake shook his head. “I have no intentions of ever sharing you with anyone else again,” he smiled sweetly. “But I’d still get quite a buzz from showing you off at a couple of events; make a few guys jealous at how big and lardy you’ve become.”

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. “Sure, I could go for that…” 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 didn’t distract too much from the large ball-belly shape that had been gathering pace as 400lbs came ever closer. Meanwhile, Jake’s clothes were effortless. He’d 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. They’d 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 Matty’s insistence, they kept it quiet that he’d once been a feeder too. He wasn’t 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. 

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.

“So, is that guy your boyfriend?” asked one of them; a cheeky, handsome and muscular stud at least a couple of years younger than Jake.

“He is,” Matty smiled, knowing that he would disappoint the clearly kinky fat-lover.

“And… are you guys open, or…” 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. 

Matty simply shook his head.

The guy sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “You’re missing out,” he replied. “There are so many guys here who could feed you up so much fatter than you are now.”

“Is that so?” Matty asked, amused by the idea.

“We’d blow you up like you’ve never seen before,” the guy nodded, as certain as the most confident of salesmen. “Have you ever been with another feeder?”

Matty hesitated. The answer wasn’t as simple as it seemed. “Well… no,” 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.

“I bet he has loads of experience with fatties, though?” the unimpressed guy pointed across at Jake, who was finally getting served at the bar. 

Matty nodded. “Yeah…” he admitted softly. “He’s been with hundreds of them.”

Raising his eyebrows, the feeder finally shrugged, as if his point had been well made. “That doesn’t really seem fair, does it?” he sighed, slinking off before Jake came back to the table.

Matty’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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. He’d found Prince Charming all too soon, without the thrill of kissing a few frogs along the way.

“What an asshole, handing you his number like that!” growled Jake after shoving a guy away from Matty once he’d got back from the rest room one night.

“He was just being friendly!” Matty shot back, annoyed at the scene Jake had created. 

They’d left early, quietly a little cross with each other.

“I just don’t understand how he thought it was okay to give you his number,” Jake grumbled once the conversation had resumed back at home.

“Well, maybe I feel like I might have missed out on something. I don’t remember any of the kinky stuff I used to get up to,” Matty explained calmly.

Jake seemed genuinely taken aback. “What’re you saying?” he asked “You want to sleep with other feeders? That guy was a total sleaze!”

Matty shrugged. “I don’t know what I want!” he shouted. “It’s just… that fucking accident made me lose so much. I can’t help but sometimes wish I had the chance to re-experience some of the things I missed.”

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. He’d believed that talking about his doubts to Jake would make him feel better. As it was, he’d never felt worse. He couldn’t eat or settle to anything, wanting to know just how heartbroken Jake was feeling right now. He’d 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 he’d 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 Matty’s size, and one from a jewelers in the middle of the financial district.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake blasted, dumping everything on the counter top and rushing over to Matty on the couch, immediately embracing him. “I guess I never thought about things from your perspective. It never occurred to me that you might feel…”

“I was just being stupid!” Matty jumped in, ready to show Jake how sorry he was about it all.

“You know I’ll support you with whatever you want to do,” Jake nodded emphatically. “If you want to invite other feeders over, or go back to their place, we can make it work. I just don’t ever want to lose you.”

Matty was touched. “That’s never going to happen,” he replied, kissing Jake. “I love you. You’re the only one I want!”

Jake was suddenly lowering himself onto one knee and gazing up at Matty with a deadly serious look on his face. “I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” he smiled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a beautiful golden ring. “Will you marry me?”

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.

“What’s wrong?” the big stud asked, clearly alarmed.

“I’m not marriage material,” Matty whispered.

Jake’s eyes were large and innocent. “You don’t want to get married?” 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. “It’s what my mother always used to say to me,” he replied, almost breathless due to the racing of his heart. “I remember saying it to you in the car, right before the accident!”

“Matty…that’s….” Jake stuttered. “Are you saying to remember something from before?”

Still holding his forehead, Matty’s eyes were darting around the room. “I remember everything!” 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.

“Are you sure?” Jake asked, so excited that he rose to his feet, pulling Matty up with him. “Are you one hundred percent certain?”

Matty nodded and kept on nodding. “Yes!” he smiled widely. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Jake immediately kissed him, full of joy and happiness. “We need to phone your mom!” he cried, pulling out his cell phone from his back pocket.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Matty shot back. “That bitch set me up with Boring Ben!” he chuckled, now even more horrified with himself than ever before. “She can wait!”

Jake laughed hard, rubbing his own head in disbelief now and starting to pace. “I can’t believe it!” he blasted, finally returning to his spot and holding Matty’s hands lovingly. “Hello again!” he chuckled, looking straight into Matty’s eyes and seeing the old him once more. Then, suddenly, his smile dropped and his eyes widened in realisation. “This changes everything, doesn’t it?” he mumbled, gazing at his enormous lover. He stepped back, as if seeing for the first time what had happened to Matty’s perfect body in the years that had elapsed since. 

Matty’s grin was not so easily washed away. “Yes, it does,” he nodded. “Now I know, with absolute certainty, that I’m about to marry the best man… the best friend… the best feeder there is. The only one I ever want.”

Jake slipped onto his knee again and slid the ring onto Matty’s 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. “I guess we’re going shopping for a new couch!” Matty at last composed himself to say. “An extra strong one!”

Jake grabbed a roll of Matty’s lardy stomach fat and jiggled it. “Are we still doing this?” he asked, wondering how the fat man’s feelings may have changed since getting his memories back.

“Oh, absolutely!” Matty nodded, grabbing his own fat as well; marvelling at it all. 

“Should I have tried harder to stop you?” Jake asked, finally able to pose the question he had pondered for so long. Did the old Matty resent the fact that Jake hadn’t tried harder to stop his fat kinks from taking over?

“You were perfect!” Matty simply replied. “And, if I’m honest, I always knew it would end up this way… eventually.”

“You did?” Jake scoffed. “You never told me that!”

“Yeah… because I knew what would happen if I did!” Matty grinned, presenting his large, fattened body as proof. “I 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,” he laughed. “But I’d always secretly dreamed of being one of those fatties I’d watch you getting so much pleasure from fucking!”

“And you’ve given me so much pleasure!” Jake growled, arousal taking over him as he rubbed Matty’s giant stomach.

“Oh, I know I have!” Matty chuckled, enjoying the sensation of Jake’s 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. “You’re such a kinky fucker!”

“How about we destroy this couch a little more before we phone up the doctors and start telling people what’s happened?” 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.

“Oh, be careful!” Matty teased. “That’s definitely going to give me a ravenous appetite afterwards…”

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, they’d 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. He’d 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, they’d 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.

“I thought he was going to throw up at one point,” Jake chuckled as he drove them both back home that evening.

“Don’t worry!” Matty laughed. “I had it all under control. You’re too lenient on them.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?” Jake grinned, always enjoying the ‘good cop, bad cop’ dynamic they had when feeding together. “His tits were so much bigger than I was expecting!”

“Oh hell yeah!” Matty nodded. “Best tits I’ve ever played with!”

“Even better than Will’s?” Jake asked, remembering the chub they’d stuffed last weekend.

“Paul’s tits are softer,” Matty shot back, as if that answered the question completely. “I said we’d go back and fuck him again when he hits five hundred.”

Jake laughed at that. Matty was so straight talking, almost cold, with the guys they played with. He didn’t 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. “You’re such a kinky bastard!” Jake smiled, taking a sideways glance at his roommate. “I just love the way your mind works.”

“Well, I know how to get a fatty to eat, that’s for sure,” Matty smirked. “But as my mother constantly reminds me, I’m not exactly marriage-material!” He sat up in his chair a little more, spotting a gas station up ahead. “Could you pull over here?” he asked, explaining that he needed to grab a drink. “Do you want anything?” he added, already releasing his seatbelt.

“I’m good, thanks,” 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 Matty’s head hit the floor. 

When Matty came to, he’d 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 didn’t 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, Matty’s 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 wasn’t 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 wouldn’t 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.

“So…” Jake began, sitting down in the lounge area, wondering what to say that first evening back together. “Is there anything you’d like to do tonight?”

Matty shrugged. 

“How about we head to the gym for a workout?” Jake asked, knowing that Matty wouldn’t have been able to follow his usual training routine whilst staying with his parents. Hell, he didn’t even know about his usual training routine!

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Matty simply replied.

Jake frowned. Didn’t Matty know that he wasn’t looking as jacked as he usually did right now? He’d lost some of his muscular bulk in his shoulders and his waist definitely wasn’t as lean as it could be. 

Matty’s cell phone buzzed and the guy grinned as he lifted it and read the message.

“Who’s that?” Jake asked curiously, always knowing when Matty was chatting to some guy he was into. 

“It’s someone I met a few weeks ago,” Matty replied. “His folks live on the same street as my parents.”

Jake’s eyes widened and he suddenly burst out laughing. “Your parents finally managed to set you up with Boring Ben?” The thought was almost too funny to imagine.

“What? How do you know Ben?” Matty shot back indignantly. “He’s not boring! He’s sweet.”

“I can’t believe your parents finally did it! Your mom’s been trying to push Boring Ben on you for years! She’s as cunning as a fox, that one!”

“He’s not ‘Boring Ben!’” Matty scowled.

“I didn’t make up the name. You did!” Jake fired back, still unable to stop himself from laughing. “I’ve never even met the guy! Dentists aren’t usually known for being the life and soul of the party though.”

“He’s really cute,” Matty tried, showing a picture on his cell phone.

Jake had to bite his tongue. Was Matty really saving this guy’s image as his screensaver? It was almost too tragic for words. “I’m not denying he’s good looking,” he replied. “He’s just not your usual type.”

“And what is my usual type?” 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. “You just tend to go for guys with a little more… presence,” he finally answered with a smirk.

Unbeknownst to Jake, this new Matty was a lot more sensitive. He seemed truly incapable of taking Jake’s 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 didn’t improve. They no longer understood each other. Jake had anticipated that Matty wouldn’t know anything about him, but he hadn’t 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, Matty’s sense of humor was all off. He’d somehow taken on the personality of Boring Ben, making dad jokes and quips about dental hygiene that he’d obviously picked up from the guy who came over at least a couple of times a week.

“What the hell are these?” 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 couldn’t have looked more disgusted by them if he had tried.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Where did you find those?” he laughed, pulling them off the handle and trying to think which fatty they’d invited here who could have left without his underwear.

Matty seemed horrified to witness Jake holding the dirty underwear in his bare hands. “They were in the bathroom, tucked behind the cupboard.”

Nodding, Jake knew that made perfect sense. They were Fat Rob’s 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. “They belong to an ex,” Jake simplified, throwing the underwear into his own bedroom where they could cause no further offense.

“An ex?” Matty asked; his eyes bulging with shock. “You’ve got to be joking!”

Jake rolled his eyes, mourning the loss of old Matty every single day. How horrified would this version of him be to learn that he’d fucked Fat Rob’s giant butt just as hard as Jake had? Keeping that to himself wasn’t easy. There were moments when Jake wanted to destroy Matty’s 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.

“Not everyone wants to date a 150lb dentist,” Jake grumpily shot back. He could see the disgust in Matty’s face. Then he sighed, returning to his bedroom where Matty couldn’t 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 Matty’s 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.

“Come on!” Jake called out to Matty, throwing his workout bag onto the kitchen counter. “You’re coming with me to the gym. Six months off is more than enough. It’s time we started building you back up.”

Jake had meant it as an olive branch. Voluntarily spending time with Matty wasn’t his favourite thing to do. In the three months since Matty had moved back in, Jake had witnessed the guy’s 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.

“No, thanks,” Matty simply replied, biting into a piece of buttery toast and making his way to the couch to watch some trash TV.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Jake tried assertively.

“Yes you are!” Matty replied coldly. “I have no intention of working out today.”

Jake sighed and rolled his eyes. This guy was so stubborn, he wanted to strangle him. “You can’t sit on your ass all day.”

“What else am I meant to do?” Matty shot back irritably. “I can’t work. My medical license has been indefinitely suspended, and I’ve got this compensation lawsuit to prepare for.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Jake asked, still hopeful that he could show Matty how ridiculous he was being. “I thought your lawyer was sorting all that out for you?”

“She is,” Matty nodded. “But she still thinks I’ll get more if I claim I’ve got depression as well. I can evidence how active I was before, compared to now.”

“So you’re just going to sit on your ass, getting fat and lazy in the hope that you’ll get a few extra grand?” Jake blasted back. He didn’t care that he was being rude, he poked a finger into Matty’s core, trying to show him how unconditioned he was. “The old you would be horrified!”

“And who asked for your opinion?” Matty growled back angrily. “Just fuck off and leave me alone!”

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?

“I’m sorry about before,” Jake offered as he arrived home a couple of hours later to see that Matty was still in the same spot on the couch. “I hadn’t meant for things to get so heated.”

Time in the gym had always been a way to help Jake calm down when he was frustrated. After a few super heavy deadlifts, he’d 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.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matty replied, not taking his eyes off the TV; still clearly a little pissed at him.

“A peace offering,” Jake declared, presenting his roommate with a small box of pastries from the bakery across town. “I don’t think you’ve had these since your accident, but they were always your absolute favorite whenever you were treating yourself.” He shrugged, wondering whether yet another reminder of the old Matty was really the right move. “I figured your taste buds haven’t changed,” he stated, as if to explain his reasoning.

Matty accepted the gift and opened the box. “They’re huge!” he smiled happily, lifting one up and onto an already used plate he’d had in front of him. Taking a bite, he immediately moaned in appreciation, his eyes bulging as he took in all the flavors. “This is amazing!” he marvelled, quickly heading back in for a second bite.

Jake smiled. This was the first success he’d had with Matty in the entire time since the accident. Making the guy happy had made him feel good too. “I’ll pick you up some more the next time I’m heading that way then,” he nodded, pleased with himself.

“What other foods did I used to like?” Matty asked, pushing the last bite into his mouth.

Jake’s eyebrows rose. It was the first time he’d heard Matty express any curiosity about his past self. “Um…” he pondered. “Well, you always had a bit of a sweet tooth. Much more so than me. I don’t know…” he shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to go to the grocery store some time so I can point stuff out to you.”

“Sure. Shall we go now?” Matty asked, getting himself up.

Jake chuckled, looked at his watch, and saw that he did indeed have an hour or so to spare. “Sure,” he smiled. “Why not?”

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 couldn’t expect Matty to have the same fondness for him given that, in his mind, they had only lived together for a few months.

“I’m heading to the grocery store after the gym if you want me to pick anything up for you?” he asked, filling up his water bottle in the sink.

“Sure,” Matty nodded. “Can you get me a couple more boxes of that stuff?” he pointed at the now empty sugary breakfast cereal box he’d 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 he’d only bought the last box for him yesterday. “Sure,” he nodded. “Anything else?”

Matty thought some more and began texting him a list which Jake scrolled through a couple of minutes later. It was as if Matty’s 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. “I’ll sort it,” Jake nodded, heading out the door without comment.

Annoyingly, Boring Ben was parked up on the couch upon Jake’s 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.

“I need you to stop enabling Matty to pig out on all this stuff,” Ben stated, getting up to speak to Jake in the kitchen area once Matty had disappeared to the bathroom. “It’s not good for him.”

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 Matty’s mother, who had labelled him a ‘bad influence’ on her son. If only she had known how ironic that idea was…

“I agree,” Jake nodded. “But he’s a grown man. I’m not going to tell him what he can and can’t eat.”

“You don’t have to buy everything he asks you for though,” 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. “You can see it’s all having an impact on him.”

Jake frowned again. What a stupid way to put it! “You mean you don’t like him looking a little chubby?” he asked, his tone loaded with disapproval. He knew what Ben was getting at. With all Jake’s muscles and lean physique, there was no way for him to deny that he had educated himself well about nutrition. Enough to know that Matty’s diet was only ever going to have one inevitable consequence. “I thought you two were soul mates?” he parroted back at the lame guy who had never failed to make him cringe. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now that he’s getting little love handles?” he asked, almost gleefully.

“It’s not nice to see anyone getting out of shape,” Ben diplomatically answered.

“Well, if you don’t like it, that’s a conversation you’re going to have to have with Matty yourself. I’m not getting involved,” 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 hadn’t 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.

“Everything alright?” Jake gingerly asked, peeping out of his bedroom, but not committing to stepping out entirely, just in case he wasn’t wanted.

“Yeah, fine,” 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. “I’m 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 he’s just holding onto the image of what I looked like when we were first properly introduced.”

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. “You know, the old Matty really wasn’t as perfect as you’re imagining,” 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. “I could tell you some stories…”

“Oh, please don’t!” Matty shot back irritably. “I’m sick of hearing about him.”

“Fair enough,” Jake smiled.

“I just want to bury the old Matty. I’m sick of people recognising me and expecting me to know who they are,” he explained, rubbing his distended stomach as he did so.

“That’s fair enough,” Jake nodded, strangely captivated by the movement of Matty’s hand; a small spark of electricity starting to crackle in his groin.

“Do you know, you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like they’re just waiting for the old Matty to come back,” he complained bitterly.

“Well, that still took me some time to get used to,” Jake nodded, agreeing completely with him. “I think people are starting to realise now that your memories are unlikely to return. They’ll have no choice but to accept you as you are now.”

“And what if they don’t like me as much anymore?” 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. “Then, fuck them!” he declared, smiling brightly. “Just be your own version of you.”

Matty smiled and nodded, taking a bite happily. “Are you sticking around?” he asked, lifting the TV remote as if to continue the movie.

“Sure,” Jake replied. “I’m not watching this shit though,” he laughed.

“Oh, I know!” Matty chuckled back, seeming delighted to get it off the screen. “Ben has the worst choice in movies!” he declared, throwing the remote to Jake instead. “Let’s see if you can do better!”

Jake raised his eyebrows, accepting the challenge. “Prepare to be amazed!”

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 Matty’s compensation claim, Jake knew that Matty was eating through the unemployment insurance he’d taken out, in more ways than one. He’d 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 wasn’t 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, he’d 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 ‘good cop’ and ‘bad cop’. 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 home…

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 man’s 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.

“Do you want any of these?” Matty asked, systematically placing almost every item of clothing he owned on the couch.

“You’re getting rid of it all?” 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. “They don’t really feel like me,” he pondered aloud. “Plus, hardly any of them fit me any more,” 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 didn’t own anything smart or figure-hugging. He didn’t 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.

“I’ll take it all,” Jake smiled, knowing that so much of it would look great on him. However, it didn’t pass him by that this was quite a momentous moment for his roommate. Matty wasn’t looking to lose weight anytime soon. All that beautiful new chub on his body was seemingly here to stay.

“What happened to the other stud you used to hang out with?” asked one rotund guy a few weeks later, as Jake unpacked all the fattening treats he had brought along to stuff him with.

“Oh, you mean, Matty,” Jake nodded. “He actually just came into a lot of money,” he explained, grabbing a large serving bowl from the cupboard. “There was a compensation case against a gas station company which he’s just wrapped up. It’s pretty cool actually,” he continued, deciding not to elaborate any further about the accident than that. “He’s a pretty clever guy. He’s invested it all and will most likely never need to work ever again. But, as for all the feedism stuff…” Jake shrugged. “He gave it up.”

“He gave it up?” laughed the older man, greedily eying everything Jake had brought along. “Just like that?” he asked in disbelief. “But he was such a kinky little fucker! I’ve never been stuffed as hard as when he was the one pushing it all in!”

Jake chuckled at that. Matty certainly used to be a hard taskmaster. He’d 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 fatties’ mouths. “He’s just not into it anymore,” 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. “That surprises me,” he continued, despite the distraction. “A kink like his doesn’t 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!” he nodded, picking up his large, sagging stomach and jiggling it proudly. 

Jake took his cue, sliding his hand over the blubbery tummy and kissing the guy, excited to begin their evening together. Still, however, the guy’s words stuck in Jake’s mind. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps a kink like Matty’s didn’t just disappear. Perhaps it was just expressing itself in some other way? That thought was fairly thrilling…

Just like he’d done for months, Jake knew that when he came that evening, he wouldn’t 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 hog’s 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 hadn’t 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. 

With his back to the door, Matty had yet to notice Jake’s 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 hadn’t 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 Jake’s 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. “Oh, fuck!” he shouted, his eyes wide and immediately reaching down for the underwear around his feet.

“Don’t mind me!” Jake called over, theatrically covering his eyes as he made his way across the space and towards his bedroom. “You carry on! I don’t want to disturb!”

Jake’s 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. “Fuck!” 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. “Fuck!” 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. He’d 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 man’s 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. “Are these any good?” 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. “Sorry about that,” he pointed at the chair he had been sitting in; his pump bottle of lubricant still on the coffee table. “I’ve actually decided it’s time that I moved out.”

Jake held back his alarm, deciding it was best to play it cool. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled lightly. “Why? Because I caught you jerking off?” he asked, as if it was the most ridiculous reasoning he had ever heard.

Matty didn’t respond; his mortified face still saying it all.

“You act like I’ve never seen your dick before!” Jake pressed on. “Back before the accident, you and I used to jerk each other off all the time!”

“We did?” Matty asked, his eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” Jake nodded. “Two horny guys sharing an apartment together… You wouldn’t believe some of the things we used to get up to!”

“Well, I don’t remember any of that,” Matty mumbled, as if disbelieving what Jake was telling him. “I think you’re just saying that to try and make me feel better.”

Jake grinned. “Fine,” he nodded, standing up and taking a seat, slouching in the middle of the couch, spreading his strong thighs apart. “I guess we’ll need to even the score then.”

Matty followed him out of the kitchen area curiously. “What are you doing?” he asked, spotting Jake unclipping his belt. “You honestly don’t need to…”

But Jake had already fished out his hard dick and was stroking it. “See?” he smirked at Matty. “No big deal!”

Matty frowned, but an undeniable look of amusement made the corners of his mouth pick up. “You are so fucking crazy!” he chuckled, watching his friend stroking his own dick just to make him feel better. “All right! Fine!” he threw back. “I guess it was a bit of an overreaction to say I was moving out,” 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.

“Good!” Jake smiled back, slipping his underwear back over his boner and resting his hands by his sides once more.

“It’s pretty weird though, isn't it?” Matty nodded at the coffee table, still littered with all the packaging from his feasting. “I just don’t understand why this all gets me so…” he shrugged, unsure how to finish his sentence.

“Insanley fucking horny?” 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 Matty’s feet. “I know exactly what’s happening to you,” he grinned, resting his hands on Matty’s knees.

“You do?” Matty replied, swallowing awkwardly as he clearly tried hard to keep his eyes fixed on his roommate’s face, and not let them wander down to the insane erection jutting out of Jake’s underwear.

“I understand it all better than you do,” Jake nodded, sliding his hands up and onto Matty’s fat pot-belly, stroking and rubbing it gently.

Matty’s 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. 

“Do you want me to teach you why this feels so nice?” Jake asked, gently caressing Matty’s stomach as the guy slouched further into the chair for him, allowing Jake greater access to that beautifully soft and sensitive under-belly skin.

“Yeah,” Matty mumbled; his dick already pushing up the material of his sweat pants.

Jake leaned in and kissed Matty’s belly several times, making the man moan softly. Then Jake took his fingers to the sides of Matty’s stomach, getting a good handle on the skin and gently bouncing the blubber teasingly.

Matty’s 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.

“Do you want to learn why this is so unbelievably sexy for you?” Jake asked now, raising one of his hands up to flutter the soft, saggier area that had once been Matty’s 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 Jake’s face.

Jake smirked, reached behind him, and pullied out one of the large cookies left over from Matty’s feast, bringing it closer towards the guy’s mouth. “Open up, Fat Boy…” 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 Jake’s free hand pumped the lubricant into it, then gently moved across to give him even more of a treat. His whole body jolted as Jake’s large hand encased the shaft and began stroking it up and down with the lightest of touches.

“Oh…fuck!” Matty gasped, unsure how long he would be able to last with such treatment. “This feels so…”

Jake nodded, not needing Matty to say a word. “And we’re only just getting started…” he grinned, pressing the next cookie deeper into Matty’s gluttonous mouth.

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 other’s 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. there’s 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 can’t 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 doesn’t 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 it’s tough to fulfill that role when you can barely get up from the couch on your own. it’s tough to clean under an immense gut when you’re 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 haven’t managed to have anything close to “normal” sex in a very long time, but at this point, it’s 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.

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. 

Sam could feel the sweat rolling off his forehead. He took a swig from his drink but he still knew he couldn’t keep up with Duncan tonight. His muscles still ached from the previous night’s 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. “I’m out!” he gasped, feeling his legs turn to jelly as the belt beneath him quickly decelerated to a pace he only had to walk to. 

Duncan laughed. “Aw, buddy!” he mocked. “You’re not giving in already tonight, are you?”

Sam stepped off, stooping until he dropped down onto the nearest bench and tried to catch his breath. He could tell that Duncan wasn’t 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. 

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 guy’s encouragement seemed hollow and patronising, given how pathetically weak he must have looked to a toned, muscular adonis like Duncan.

“I’m taking my girlfriend away this weekend,” Duncan declared. “A nice little, romantic cabin in the woods,” he smirked, like a man who knew he was about to have a full weekend of sex. “She wanted to see the Fall colors, but I can’t see her leaving the bed much!” he joked, like Sam was just another one of his straight buddies who would clap him on the back for his great sexual prowess. 

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! “It looks nice!” he smiled.

“Have I ever shown you a picture of my girlfriend?” 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. “Here she is,” 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 Duncan’s great arm, the woman’s stomach and hips looked as though they had been inflated by a giant pump. Gorgeous Duncan’s 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. “She’s a greedy little thing!” he chuckled to himself. “She’s put on a lot of weight since I asked her out. She says she’s on a diet at the moment,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes as though he didn’t take that at all seriously. “But I’ll just pick up a tub of ice cream on the way over to her place later and she’ll still have the whole thing eaten by the time she falls asleep.”

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 Duncan’s 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 didn’t really know how to respond. Should he say something about how cute they looked together? How pretty she was? He didn’t know the rules.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Sam finally stated, feeling that he couldn’t 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. “Oh, absolutely!” he smirked, seeming to know just how much this quiet, polite twenty-two year old would love to suck him off. “She’s a very lucky girl!”

Many may have pondered Duncan’s usual choice of girlfriend. But, for Sam, the answer seemed obvious. Duncan was into that big, fat-girl look, and the fact that he didn’t 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 Sam’s quiet infatuation with him. Over the weeks, Duncan’s 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.

“How’s your girlfriend?” 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.

“We broke up,” Duncan replied casually. “She’s decided to start her weight loss journey,” he smirked, as if quoting her phrasing exactly. “And she feels that it will be a lot easier to do that if we weren’t together.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” 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. “She’s absolutely right,” he chuckled. “It’s the smartest thing she’s done since I asked her out.”

“She’s a fool, giving up a guy like you,” Sam tried to counter. He’d been wound up for the last half an hour by how beautifully tight Duncan’s 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. 

“She’s really not!” Duncan laughed even as he took a large swig from his protein supplement.

“She is!” Sam exclaimed. “If I was with a man like you, I would…” he stumbled, realising he should have thought of how he was going to finish the sentence before he’d started it. “I’d do anything,” he finally stated.

A bright but wicked smile spread over Duncan’s face. “You see, that’s exactly what I need,” he nodded, patting Sam on the back. “Someone who will just do what I say, when I say it. Is that too much to ask?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam replied, nodding his head emphatically. The feeling of Duncan’s 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 Sam’s body to head south.

“You think I could ever find someone who would do that for me?” he asked, looking straight into Sam’s eyes. “Someone 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?”

Sam swallowed. He’d 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. “Absolutely!” 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. “Here,” he offered, pushing the spout towards Sam’s mouth. “Drink.”

“What? Why?” Sam replied, caught off-guard by the request.

“Do I need a reason?” Duncan smirked, shaking the almost completely full bottle and holding it close to Sam’s 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, Duncan’s 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 Duncan’s 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 guy’s face, looking for clues about what was really going on behind those wicked, electric eyes. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow.

“Good boy!” Duncan smirked the moment the entire bottle had been drained to the back of Sam’s throat.  “That’s over a thousand calories right there!” he chuckled, patting Sam’s middle as the guy tried to discreetly burp up the air he had accidentally swallowed.

“Really?” Sam asked, surprised that a protein shake could be so ridiculously calorie dense.

Duncan nodded. “Yeah, it’s great for guys like me,” he smiled, flexing his bicep almost into Sam’s face. “Not so good for boys like you,” he laughed, squeezing Sam’s comparatively puny arm.

The weight of all that liquid was sitting heavily in Sam’s stomach. He groaned, rubbing his middle. “That’s going to take ages to work off on the treadmill.”

Duncan laughed, wrapping his big arm over Sam’s shoulders and pulling him away. “Nah, your workout is over, buddy,” he replied. “You can come help me with my reps instead.”

Inexplicably, Sam found himself doing exactly as he was told, following Duncan around from one machine to another and holding the man’s sweaty towel.

Duncan looked around, seeing that the place was still eerily quiet. “Looks like everyone’s at home watching the big game tonight,” he chuckled. “How about I give you a little treat?” he winked at Sam, already leading the way back to the changing rooms. “Sit there,” he ordered the moment they were inside. 

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 he’d 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. “Now, you stay right there!” he teased, like telling off a naughty puppy as he climbed into the open showers space. “Staaay!” he repeated, like he expected the horny Sam to jump on him at any moment. “Good boy!”

Sam could hardly believe what was happening. Of course Duncan was completely hung. He’d suspected as much from the many glimpses of the bulge he’d 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 Sam’s head for the last few months, and he was here, now, playing up to every last one of them. Look, but don’t touch.

“Towel,” 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.

“How was the show?” Duncan asked, holding the towel but still not using it.

Sam faltered. How was he supposed to respond? He’d tried and failed to hide his attraction to Duncan for months. Was it time to just be honest?

“Well?” Duncan pressed him.

“Amazing!” Sam replied. “Your body is just… incredible.”

Duncan nodded knowingly. “Do you want to suck my dick?” he asked plainly.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Well, I…” he fumbled.

Duncan laughed. “I’m just fucking with you!” he called out like a taunting bully from the playground. “You’re nowhere near ready to suck me off.” He reached his large, strong hand to hold Sam by his shoulder, suddenly more serious. “But you could be one day. Would you like that?”

Not wanting to open his mouth and reply incorrectly, Sam only nodded meekly.

“Good,” Duncan smiled. “Very good!”

The following days were a whirlwind of strange encounters and arousal. Sam would arrive at the gym to be little more than Duncan’s 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 Duncan’s hands even more, keeping the memory and fantasy of it all in Sam’s head; played out and replayed like a well worn cassette tape each time Sam touched himself.

“I see we’re making some progress at last,” Duncan smiled, poking Sam in his stomach one day. His strong, outstretched finger pressed firmly against an undeniable layer of fresh padding. Sam hadn’t intended to gain weight. Yet, by following Duncan’s 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.

“Was this what you did to your girlfriend?” Sam asked boldly; questioning Duncan for the first time about the strange requests he had made of him over the last three weeks.

“No,” Duncan chuckled, shaking his head as if Sam had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “She didn’t just throw her head back and take down anything I told her to,” he taunted, as if making fun of Sam’s unquestioning obedience. “Things are going to go a lot faster with you.”

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 might…

“You should come over to my place tomorrow night,” Duncan stated, sitting on the large seat of the chest station. “I can start taking some measurements of you and get you on my special scales.”

Sam’s heart fluttered. An invitation to Duncan’s apartment? Could this be real? “Okay,” he nodded.

Duncan scoffed, nodding down at the slight bulge that had sprung in Sam’s gym shorts. “Down boy!” he grunted, already pressing the extreme weights to start the first of his reps. “You’re not sucking my dick tomorrow. You understand?”

Sam shrank back a little, grabbing Duncan’s sweat towel to hide his groin. “Yeah, I understand,” 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 o’clock, he pressed the buzzer, feeling more excitable than ever before. 

Duncan’s apartment was every bit as Sam had imagined it to be: Plain, functional and undecorated. It wasn’t 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.

“You came,” Duncan smirked, like a lion seeing its prey simply wandering freely into its cage. “You’d best get your shirt off then so that I can get a look.”

Sam nodded. He’d expected this, pulling it off just as Duncan slipped to one of his drawers and pulled out a measuring tape.

“Nice work!” Duncan marvelled, reaching one finger to lightly stroke a new build up of fat at Sam’s side and nudging him slightly so that Duncan could get a better look at his butt. “This is pretty decent,” he nodded, complimenting himself on the progress he was making with his doting admirer. 

“Thanks,” 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. Sam’s butt was tapped impatiently until he climbed up. “You said you were one-fifty-five when I asked you a few months ago,” Duncan proclaimed; surprising Sam that he had actually retained that knowledge. “Let’s see what you are now.”

There was no dramatic climbing and balancing of numbers on Duncan’s scales. Like the man himself, they delivered the figure quickly and to the point.

With obvious amusement, Duncan delighted in reading the number out. “One hundred and seventy two!” he nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought it was going to be!” 

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?

“Relax!” Duncan scoffed at him, sensing Sam’s sudden insecurity at how quickly this was all happening to him. “You’re going to have to get used to this if you want to keep hanging out with me. That is what you want, right?” he asked, as if challenging Sam to correct him.

“Of course I do,” Sam nodded. “It’s just a… a big change,” he mumbled.

“Think of it this way…” Duncan jumped in. “If you want to be my plaything, then you’re going to have to entice me to play.” He wrapped his arm over Sam’s shoulders. “In your case, that means taking down a lot more  food and calories to really push a gut out on you. I’m talking tits, fat rolls, extra chins… the lot! That’s the sort of stuff that really gets my dick hard.”

Sam nodded, the scent and touch of Duncan, not to mention his deep, masculine voice in his ear, really spiking his arousal once more.

“I’d love for you to be that lucky person who gets to wake up next to me each morning, but that’s not going to happen with a skinny little ass like you’ve got at the moment. Are you understanding me?” Duncan asked, as if feeling that he was explaining something to a three year old.

“If I want to be with you, I’ve got to get fatter,” Sam replied, trying to show Duncan he was on board.

With a little sideways squeeze, Duncan chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re sort of getting there,” he smirked. “It’s just time to start committing yourself in the way a guy like me deserves.” 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 Duncan’s apartment, Sam would be pressed with further shakes along with deliberately fattening feasts, like pizza, takeout or whole tubs of melted ice cream.

“Maybe we should plan a little sleepover for you soon,” Duncan grinned, grabbing at a full wedge of fresh blubber on Sam’s frame and jiggling it until even Sam’s 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. “I’d like that,” 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 Sam’s 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, he’d 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. 

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. “I feel like such a fat pig today,” he groaned, draping a limp arm across his bloated stomach after that day’s pizza was finished.

“That’s because you are a fat pig!” Duncan chuckled back, slapping his big hand down on Sam’s 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 Duncan’s brilliant white underwear. He’d paid more attention to the way Duncan spoke about him when he was most aroused, repeating those names like ‘pig’ and ‘lardass’ 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 Duncan’s beautiful dick down his throat in less than a few weeks’ 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.

“THAT’S your new boyfriend?” asked an indignant colleague of Sam’s 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.

“That guy is a narcissistic asshole!” came the unexpected response, catching Sam by surprise. “He dated my cousin for almost a year and she gained almost a hundred pounds!”

“Oh, right…” Sam mumbled awkwardly, wishing he’d kept this secret to himself.

“The 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 didn’t give a shit. He didn’t care about her at all; only about getting her fatter.” He then gazed appraisingly up and down Sam’s body. “Trust me. You need to get away from him!”

Like a reality check smacking Sam in the face, he was a little quieter the next time he went over to Duncan’s place. What he was doing was utterly insane in anyone’s eyes. He’d allowed himself to amass so much extra weight and hadn’t done a slight bit of exercise in months; all to impress some guy who, in all likelihood, couldn’t care less about him.

“Come on, Piggy!” Duncan prodded Sam, seeing that he was a little slow with his meal that night. “You’ve got tits to grow for me.”

“One of my work colleagues knows you…” Sam began, deciding to just say what was on his mind. “Apparently, you used to date his cousin.”

“Oh, and let me guess… his cousin found herself piling on quite a few pounds?” Duncan asked back, clearly pleased by his own reputation.

“His cousin’s name is Ellie,” Sam nodded.

“Oh, THAT little piggy!” Duncan laughed in amusement. “Now she was a great fatty!”

“She still hasn’t been able to drop the weight,” Sam went on, recounting what he had been told by his colleague. “She’s tried everything.”

Duncan laughed wickedly. “Good! I’m glad all that time I spent secretly training up her appetite didn’t go to waste.”

“I thought you might feel a little bad?” Sam asked, surprised by Duncan’s reaction. “She’s tried every diet under the sun.”

“Pigs will be pigs!” 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. “I’m not a good person, Sam,” he stated frankly. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“No… I'm just…”

“I’m a bad boy,” Duncan spoke over him, getting closer on the couch. “If you wanted to shame me, I’m afraid it hasn’t worked. All your little story did was get me even more turned on,” he grinned, pulling down his underwear a little to reveal his naked erection to Sam for the first time.

Sam’s eyes bulged.

“Greedy boy!” Duncan laughed as Sam instinctively licked his lips. “I told you… pile on the blubber, then you can suck my dick as much as you want!”

It had been a masterclass on manipulation. Just the mere sight of Duncan’s boner had shattered all of Sam’s resolve to have a serious conversation about the man’s morals. He didn’t 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 Sam’s hand and pulling it into his own underwear until Sam’s hand was actually gripping his throbbing shaft. Was this real? Was Sam actually holding Duncan’s dick in his own hand?

“Are you going to be a good boy and stop complaining now?” Duncan asked firmly.

Sam nodded; his jaw slack from the absolute arousal he felt in doing what he was doing.

“So are you going to eat your food now? Build the fat and make me want to fuck you properly?” the man continued, guiding Sam’s hand in a slow, steady stroke of the shaft, concealed once more under the fabric of the underwear.

“I’ll get as fat as you want,” Sam heard himself saying. “I swear!” he declared, realising that he wouldn’t change this wicked side of Duncan even if he could. It was part of him, and the reason why Sam couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else.

Duncan’s hands began to linger a little longer on Sam’s 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 Sam’s fleshy upper arms and under his chin undeniably intimate. Duncan’s boner was now a constant feature, pressing up against Sam’s butt as he climbed up on the scale each week: 228lbs…233… 245…”

Some men might have carried such weight easier, but on Sam’s body, the fleshy fat pushed out of him, bloating him up like a shapeless slug. Duncan had turned him around and kissed him once he’d 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 Sam’s 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. 

“There’s just no hiding those tits now, is there?” Duncan laughed, ready to take Sam out on an official first date. He’d 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. He’d packed on twenty pounds in little over two weeks of reaching two-fifty, as if his metabolism had now completely destroyed itself.

“Maybe I should start growing a beard,” Sam pondered, still trying to correct his appearance in the mirror before they left.

“Not a chance!” Duncan chuckled behind him, kissing him sweetly on his cheeks. “I want every last inch of you on show!”

Duncan’s 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. He’d slide his hand down into Sam’s great underwear and jerk him off, or part the fat man’s 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. He’d 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 hadn’t expected them to choose the buffet place he’d 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, Duncan’s 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.

Sam’s 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.

“What have you done to me?” a lustful Sam cried out as he got home and found Duncan there, still a little sweaty from his hard workout at the gym.

“Someone had a good evening,” Duncan chuckled at the sight of Sam’s strained work shirt.

Sam didn’t 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. “What’s gotten into you, Piggy?” he asked curiously.

Sam moaned as they kissed, pulling Duncan’s hand onto his large belly and contracting the man’s 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 Duncan’s hardness inside of him in order to quench this sudden thirst.

“Little pig, little pig! Let me in…” Duncan teased, banging on the bathroom door when he could hear that Sam was almost ready to emerge.

There was a buzz in seeing Duncan’s 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: ‘Make me a Superchub!’

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 Sam’s life. His surrendering and encouragement of Duncan’s wicked intentions felt like the greatest of all turn-ons. So what if he was struggling to see his own dick anymore? Duncan’s erotic fascination with his body would ensure he was never short of receiving wave after wave of pleasure.

Even as Sam continued to grow, Duncan’s 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 Sam’s plush body, amazed at the complete lack of muscle tone and the delightful softness. He’d made it clear that he had wanted Sam’s neck entirely eliminated, so captivated was he by the expansive ring of fat that was framing his boyfriend’s 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 Sam’s 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 ‘best tits’ he had ever played with. Once over 400lbs, Duncan’s attention shifted to the large padding of fat that filled Sam’s groin, almost swallowing up his dick entirely. The skin was so sensitive to Duncan’s 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 Sam’s 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.

“What do you say, Little Pig?” 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 Sam’s chair: Duncan’s large, strong arm draped over Sam’s 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. He’d 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 Duncan’s 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 Duncan’s 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.

“Are you ready for this?” Duncan grinned, preparing to kiss him once more for the next picture to be taken by the waiter.

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 wasn’t 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.

“Really,” I protested. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Naw, Sammy. It’s all for me.” He flexed his arms. “Gotta be a big eater to keep my competitive edge.”

I tried not to drool. “Well, whatever you’re doing is clearly working.”

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 couldn’t stop staring at his full-lipped mouth, smiling as he chewed.

He must’ve burned a lot of calories playing rugby.

When he finished, he looked disappointed. I wasn’t 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.

That’s 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 didn’t 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 should’ve been.

That wasn’t the crazy part, though. The crazy part was that as soon as his hidden flab pressed against me, I got a semi.

I’d never been turned on by fat before. I didn’t know what was different now. Maybe it was the contrast. Maybe it was the fact that I’d 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. “It’s, uh, great meeting you! See you Saturday!”

***

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.

That’s 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 wasn’t 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.

I’m a great cook. It’s 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 “out of this world” or “the best meal this side of the Mississippi.” (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, he’d eat himself into a stupor and I’d 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. He’d 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.

“Guess I overdid it with the pancakes,” he said.

He meant it as a joke, but I didn’t laugh. I stepped back and finally took stock of how much he’d 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, “Fuck. I did this to him.”

And my second thought was, “Fuck. I am so turned on right now.”

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. I’d play with his belly until he stopped moaning. And then I’d 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. “I’m getting old.” 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, “I have better things to do with my time now.”

That weekend, I watched him play his last match. Surprisingly, he didn’t 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, Cramer’s 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 didn’t need the extra calories, his eating continued to increase. It was like he’d 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 couldn’t deny it anymore. He was doing this to himself. He was making himself fatter.

But when I asked him about it, he said, “What are you talking about? I’m just comfortable. With you.” (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 couldn’t wait to spill.

After wiping his mouth, I helped him from the table to the couch, where I assumed we’d 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 he’d 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.

“What are we gonna watch?” I asked.

He switched on the TV. “I figured we’d just listen to music for a while.” With the click of a button, some 80s pop filled the room.

I was fine with that.

He didn’t need to explain himself, but he did anyway. “Figured I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a movie tonight.”

“Why?”

“No reason,” 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. “Did you invite people over?”

We hadn’t seen his rugby friends in a couple weeks. I wasn’t prepared for guests.

“Mayyyybe,” he said, drawing out the word and emphasizing his Southern accent. “Can you answer it?”

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.

“Already paid for. Just leave the tip.”

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 hadn’t moved at all. He was still sinking into the couch, his belly rising and falling (and gurgling).

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“Extra hungry tonight,” he said with a post-lasagna burp. “Can’t sit up right now. Can you hand me that Coke so I can…” (Burp.) “Clear up some space?”

First of all, chugging soda wasn’t gonna clear up anything. And second of all, he couldn’t 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. “Can you…?”

I opened it for him. I attempted to hand it back, but he wouldn’t 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 I’d ever done, and we hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t tricked, but I kind of was. At the same time, I was so fucking turned on right now that I didn’t 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 could’ve 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. “You’re still hungry?”

“Uhhh,” he moaned. That was the only sound he could make. An unmistakable yes. Then he forced himself to say two words.

I couldn’t understand them.

I rubbed his stomach. “What was that?”

“No… Leftovers…”

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 wouldn’t 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.

Cramer’s 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. That’s when he started moaning differently.)

He was still awake, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t 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 Cramer’s 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

“Want me to help you to the bed?” I asked.

“Still can’t move,” he said. Then he said something that took me by complete surprise: “I can’t believe you made me into this.”

I was fully awake now. “What?”

“No. It’s great. I love being big. It’s… Well, when we met, I never thought you were so… kinky.”

“But... But... But you ordered the food!”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I’m into it now. Clearly. You pulled me in.”

Silence. I was too shocked to speak.

“Pancake breakfast,” he mumbled.

“What?” He couldn’t possibly be ready for more food!

“That’s when I figured you out,” he said. “Remember 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.”

“Is that why you quit rugby?”

He patted his stomach. “Worked wonders, didn’t it?”

This whole time, I had everything backwards. I pulled him into my kink, not the other way around. This was insane.

“Did you have fun at dinner?” he asked. “Was it everything you wanted?”

“Yes,” I said, even if I was too clueless to realize what I wanted until I got it. “It was incredible.”

“We can’t do that again for a couple more nights. I need to adjust. But once I get big enough, I’ll probably be able to handle two dinners every night. Table dinner and couch dinner. If that’s what you want…”

“That is exactly what I want.”

Satisfied with my answer, he closed his eyes and fell back asleep. I guess we weren’t 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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Her long-nailed hand ran downward, settling on one of his half-exposed cheeks. She leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear. ‘And here I thought you were going to wait until I had enough leave saved up to go with you?’ Bellatrix hissed.

Camulus rolled his eyes, Bellatrix was the last person he would take a holiday with. In fact, he’d 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.

‘Sorry Trix, I just wanted some time to myself,’ 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.

‘Oh, Cammie.’ Bellatrix stopped their walk and turned on a heel, grabbing both his long-nailed hands in hers. ‘You’re such a bad liar.’ She tilted her head and pouted her fat bottom lip. Her red eyes flaring with barely contained malevolence. ‘You’d better bring me back a present to make up for being such a bad boy.’

Camulus wasn’t listening, his ears twitched as footfalls approached them from behind.

‘Guys, guys!’ 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 ‘Him again.’

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 grin…

‘He’s not so bad,’ Camulus whispered back.

The succubus rolled her eyes, ‘Only because you find him attractive.’

‘Do not,’ Camulus lied.

Bellatrix twisted his nipple, hard. ‘Liar,’ she hissed in his ear.

‘Hey!’ Camulus called out, batting the succubus’s clawed hand away.

‘Hey!’ Jolfi panted as he reached them.

Bellatrix tapped her foot, ‘What is it?’

Jolfi either didn’t catch or didn’t care about Trix’s hostility as he leant in conspiratorially. ‘You guys wouldn’t BELIEVE it – memo just came from down below.’ He held up the scrap of leather. ‘They’ve introduced a cap!’

‘A cap?’ Camulus queried.

‘A cap!’ 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.

‘They’ve introduced a cap on killing humans whilst on leave!’ Jolfi explained.

Bellatrix moaned, ‘By the Styx – just because one Balor goes on a rampage the rest of us have to suffer?’

‘Yeah – guess so… sorry Cam, I know you were lookin’ forward to leave and all, but maybe you should just wait until this blows over...’ 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. He’d tear off the jorts that so aptly accentuated Jolfi’s assets, bend him over and -

Stop thinking about Jolfi’s ass. Stop thinking about Jolfi’s 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.

‘Of course he knew,’ the succubus shot a death glare at Jolfi before turning her gaze back to Camulus and smiling sweetly at him, ‘But he’s right Cammie, you should stay.’

Camulus shook his head, ‘I’m going.’

The succubus laughed, ‘But what are you going to do? Have sex without killing?’

The comment was flippant, but it stuck in his head. ‘Has anyone ever tried that?’ Camulus asked.

Bellatrix’s eyes went wide, ‘You mean, have sex like a human? Where’s the fun in that!’

‘Hey hey, don’t diss it sis’ – It’s not so bad,’ Jolfi countered, his cheeks blushing crimson as the two demons stared at him.  

Bellatrix grabbed Jolfi by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand. ‘Oh darling, baby sweet darling – one day when you become a full-fledged demon, you’ll understand, and if you ever call me sis again I will rip out those pretty purple eyes. M’kay?’

Camulus rubbed his chin, deep in thought. ‘I’m going to try it,’ he pronounced. 

‘WHAT?!’ Bellaxtrix screeched, dropping Jolfi to the ground and rounding on Camulus.

‘I’m going to try having sex with a mortal without killing them,’ Camulus repeated, puffing out his broad chest.

Jolfi stood, rubbing his throat, ‘Woah dude – is that like, going full vegan for an incubus or something?’

Camulus raised an eyebrow, ‘Vegan?’

‘It’s this thing some pretentious humans do – they don’t eat meat,’ Jolfi explained.

Bellatrix covered her mouth with a hand as horrified gasp escaped her. ‘Why would they do something so stupid?’

Jolfi shrugged, ‘Makes em feel better, bragging rights, some shit I don’t know.’

Bellatrix turned to Camulus, a look of serious concern in her eye. ‘Cammie, sweetie – this isn’t a good idea – sex is food to us Cubi demons - you’d effectively be starving yourself and you’re already so much weaker than me…’

Camulus lowered his brow at the succubus. Bellatrix’s opposition only strengthening his resolve. ‘I’m up for a challenge,’ he smirked.

The succubus’s 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.

‘See you in a decade dickwads!’ he hollered.

Looking down, he saw Bellatrix’s scowl and Jolfi’s big sad round eyes. Camulus sighed. He wasn’t 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 demon’s face.

He hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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.  

***

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 couldn’t 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 who’d cosplayed more than he’d care to admit, Tommy could tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t – and he couldn’t even write this off as some drunken hallucination. As tonight’s 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. 

***

‘Can I get you a drink?!’ 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-human’s waist.

‘Hey! What gives Tommy!’ shouted the bunny-jock.

‘You’ll thank me later!’ Tommy called out as he led the demon away from his friends and towards the bar. ‘What’s your drink?’ he asked.  

‘Whatever is hardest,’ Camulus flirted. The lustful demon planted his eyes upon Tommy’s 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 didn’t 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. ‘I think I need something harder,’ he whispered into the shuddering human’s ear.

‘S-sure,’ 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 throbbing….

What in the hells was he doing? He’d invited a complete stranger. No. No. Not a stranger – an actual demon back to his apartment. Not to mention he’d abandoned his friends as DD. He was dead. So dead. Morally and mortally.

‘Wait – wait. I-I. Let’s slow down,’ Tommy panted, ‘I don’t even know your name.’

Camulus lifted his head, ‘Is my name really what you want to know right now?’ he smirked, tracing his hot lips over Tommy’s navel.

Tommy nodded.

Camulus sighed, leapt off the couch and performed an elaborate bow. ‘I 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.’ The demon moved back in for a kiss.

‘W-wait!’ Tommy held up a hand defensively, ‘I-is it true?’

Camulus raised an eyebrow.

‘T-that if we have sex it’ll k-kill me?’ Tommy stuttered.

Camulus sighed again and moved to sit down on the floor. He’d been so caught up in the night he’d almost forgotten about that little wrinkle. ‘Yes. I’m afraid so,’ he nodded, brow crinkling at his own words.

‘B-but – I don’t want to die,’ Tommy pleaded.

Camulus sighed, leaned forward and rested his head against Tommy’s soft stomach, ‘And I don’t particularly want to kill you,’ he purred, tracing a nail down the curve of the human’s side. 

‘You don’t?’ Tommy asked, eyebrows raising in surprise.

The demon rolled his eyes, ‘I’m bored of killing mortals every time I fuck them, besides there was this memo.’ Tommy gave him a confused look.

‘Forget the memo - the point is that I can’t have sex without killing someone and I’m not supposed to kill anyone whilst I’m on holiday, which means I don’t get to have sex on my holiday unless I can figure out a way to sleep with a mortal and not kill them.’ Camulus threw his back into the floor in exasperation and raised a hand into the air held. ‘Every orgasm ends the same way. We drain a mortal of all their energy and they wither and die. It’s how we survive.’

Tommy looked down at the frustrated Incubus, feeling a pang of sorrow on the demon’s behalf.  I mean sure he killed people but it didn’t exactly sound like Camulus had much of a choice. ‘So – it’s like – eating for you?’ he asked.

‘Well – it’s more complex than that but yes, you could think of it the same way…’ Camulus reasoned.

Tommy walked over to the fridge and returned with a box of cold pizza. ‘Would you mind uh?’ 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, ‘Apart from being disgusting, why did you do that?’ he asked as Tommy discarded the bolus and washed his hands.

‘I didn’t consume it,’ Tommy explained. ‘I-I, I don’t 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 – with sex.’

Camulus stared at the human.

‘S-sorry – I’

‘Quiet.’ The demon clicked his fingers, muting Tommy’s voicebox. The gears in Camulus’s mind turned. It was such a simple thing – could it work? It would require a great deal of self-control but all he truly had to do was avoid swallowing the human’s 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 hadn’t been tried it before, and exactly why it might just work.

Camulus grinned. He hoped Tommy would be up for a risky experiment…

Part 2: An Experiment

‘Oh fuck…’ Tommy shuddered as the demon’s huge cock glided into his well-cushioned rear. His body seeming to open up in response to the demon’s length, as if it wanted more of him. And by the gods was there a LOT of Camulus to take.

‘S-stop – it’s too much!’ 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 Tommy’s body wanted more. It just needed a little – encouragement. He gazed into the human’s eyes. ‘Let the pain drift away – let there only be pleasure,’ the demon whispered.

Tommy stared into Cam’s swirling ember orbs, his mind going dizzy as if he’d been hit with several rounds of poppers.

The incubus leaned forward, ‘Ready for more?’ he growled into Tommy ear.

Tommy bucked his hips, sliding another inch of demon-dick inside him. He placed his hands on the incubus’s rear and pulled. ‘More…’ he moaned breathlessly.

Camulus smirked, and obliged the needy bottom.

Unintelligible moans escaped Tommy’s 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 Tommy’s 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. Tommy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and the incubus hit his spot again, and again and again.

‘You want even more don’t you?’ Camulus teased, ‘tell me you want more you greedy boy.’ The incubus grinned, driving Tommy wild by flexing his cock inside him.

‘I… I…’ Tommy panted as he struggled to remember how to form words, ‘M-more… Please. More…’

Camulus’s grabbed Tommy’s ankles and pushed his legs up further. Pulling almost all the way out, then dropped his muscular body back down against Tommy’s soft fat cheeks. He watched as the human gasped, but the demon didn’t let him catch his breath. Repeating the action again and again, faster and faster. Every slapping thrust sending ripples up Tommy’s body. His cock bounced off his lower belly and sent ribbons of precum flying everywhere. The human’s mouth went O-shaped.

The grin widened on the demon’s 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 couldn’t 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 Tommy’s butter-soft cheeks.

A long moan erupted from Tommy’s 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 demon’s hips forcing more cum out of the human’s prostate and down Cam’s guzzling throat. He looked up at the blissful human, transposing Jolfi’s 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 human’s soul was experiencing. So delicious, so perfect. All Camulus had to do was reach out and take Tommy’s soul, preserving it in its moment of ecstasy – and draining Tommy dry of everything he was, and everything he could be.

‘Ca-mu-lus…’ 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 mortal’s needy hole. Camulus tugged Tommy’s soul from his body and held its energy against his own. It screamed promises of fulfillment; it begged him to be consumed.

‘Re-mem-ber!’ 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 human’s soul snapped backward like a rubber-band.

Tommy looked at the demon with wide eyes, ‘H-holy hells,’ he gasped. Then, he collapsed backward. His body going limp.

***

‘Shit shit. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck!’ Camulus swore.

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. He’d have to contact the department. Bellatrix? No. Nooooo way was he giving that bitch the satisfaction. Jolfi. Jolfi would help him. Digging into Tommy’s bag he pulled out the human’s phone. Red occult symbols appeared into the dialing sequence.

A moment later Jolfi’s cherubic face broke into a smile on the screen. ‘Yo Cammie boi! Whassup?’

‘I fucked up!’ Camulus shouted, ‘I fucked up…’

‘What? No man! It’s not even been a day yet! Fuccck.’ Jolfi genuinely looked sad at the news, for a half-demon he really impersonated human emotions well…

Camulus paced as he talked, his words falling breathlessly his lips, ‘I know, I know I just. I met this human – he figured out my costume wasn’t a costume and he wanted to take the risk and – Fuck. I killed him Jolfi – they’re going to recall me from the holiday if I don’t sort this out. Can you help? Get a cleaning crew? Real discreet? I’ll pay whatever.’

Jolfi nodded along, his fingers already clacking away on a keyboard. ‘Hey man, don’t beat yourself up – you’re, well a demon – this, well this is normal y’know? And of course, I’ll help ya out.’

Camulus’s shoulders dropped with relief, ‘Thanks Jolfi.’

‘Anytime,’ Jolfi smiled, ‘now, turn the camera around, I need to see the body.’

Fumbling like a boomer, Camulus eventually managed to tap the right button and give Jolfi a picture the jizz-covered Tommy.

‘Uh Cammie…’ Jolfi started.

‘Yeah I know it’s bad,’ Camulus felt his cheeks reddening, ‘Fuck and yeah, I know he looks a little like you. Sorry.’

‘No no – I mean. Dude…’ Jolfi burst out laughing.

Camulus turned the phone around, ‘This isn’t funny Jolfi!’ he growled.

‘Nah man it’s fuckin’ hilarious!’ The tiefling’s pearly white smile widened.

Camulus flipped the phone back around and mashed the buttons until he got the setting right. ‘I swear to Baphomet I will come down there, rip out your baby horns and shove them up your ass!’ he screamed down at the phone.

Jolfi raised his arms defensively, as if Camulus was about to attack him through the screen. ‘Hey hey, easy Cammie. Anyway yeah. No need for a cleaning crew.’

‘What do you mean no need for a crew?!’

Jolfi shook his head, ‘Fuck Cammie - you really are as thick as two balors sometimes…Congrats man, you’re the first Incubus to sleep with a mortal and not kill them-’

‘But he’s not moving!’ Camulus interrupted, picking up one of Tommy’s arms and dropping the limp limb to exercise his point. 

The tiefling rolled his eyes, ‘Buddy. The dude is breathing; you probably made him cum so hard he passed out.’

Camulus looked between Jolfi’s grinning face and the prone human. This was a trick. Was this a trick? Jolfi wouldn’t trick him like this would he? Camulus put his ear to the human’s 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.

‘By the Styx!’ Camulus fist pumped the air, ‘I did it!’

‘Yep ya sure did,’ Jolfi smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Okay rescind the previous statement, the tiefling’s poker face needed work. Camulus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Was that, jealousy?

Jolfi turned to look behind, ‘Hey I’ve gotta go bud, Bella is loading me up with extra.’

Camulus scowled, ‘Tell that bitch if her cunt gets any tighter she’ll turn into a paladin.’ No doubt Bellatrix was punishing Jolfi to make Camulus feel guilty about taking leave.

Tossing the phone aside, Camulus nuzzled his head on Tommy’s soft chest, listening to his heartbeat and watching the human’s tummy rise and fall with each breath.  

‘Alive,’ the demon whispered.

***

A gasp escaped Tommy’s lips as the demon’s forked tongue flicked and wrapped around his cock. ‘Oh…. good morning to you too,’ he moaned. He’d 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 – and again and again and again. The incubus had made himself at home, not bothering to use his human form, or wear clothes inside Tommy’s apartment.

When Tommy’s 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 demon’s mouth fell open in shock when he heard that they’d 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 didn’t stop the demon he’d just keep going. Extracting as many orgasms as he could.

Reaching under the blankets he patted the incubus on the head. He’d called in sick the entirety of last week, but with Monday now returning and his sick-leave balance as drained as his loins – 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 Tommy’s.

Tommy used his index finger to pull the sides of the demons mouth upward, playfully trying to get him to smile.

‘It’ll be okay, I’m working from home - we can still have fun between my meetings,’ Tommy insisted.

‘Urgh fine,’ the incubus rolled his eyes. 

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. He’d 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 hadn’t 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.

‘Cam! Camulus get in here!’ he called out in panic as the number flashed up at him.

‘What’s wrong my pet?’ Camulus sidled up behind him, his ever-hard-demon-cock twitching against his rear, ‘horny again already?

‘Wait – stop. Look at me.’ Tommy pulled away.

‘I am looking…’ Camulus flirted.

‘Do you notice anything different about me?’ Tommy asked.

The incubus tilted his head and glanced at the human’s rear. ‘Well now that you say it – Your ass is – well it’s less comfortable than before.’

‘Less comfortable?’ Tommy choked.

Camulus frowned, ‘Is something wrong my pet?’

‘Y-you could say that,’ Tommy gestured at the scale, ‘I’m down fifty pounds.’

Camulus raised an eyebrow, ‘Is that a lot?’

‘In a week? It’s – Cam. Camulus. Its impossible. I-I w-what – I think – I.’ Tommy stuttered as his mind ran through his theory. Demons needed energy to survive… and since Camulus wasn’t taking it from Tommy’s soul - he was taking it from his waistline. Normally he’d be thrilled but – at the rate he was going…A few more orgasms and well…

Tommy took a deep breath to steady himself. ‘I think you’re still feeding off my energy, even if not my soul – If we keep having sex…’

‘You’ll die,’ Camulus finished the sentence. ‘Drat. Knew it was too good to be true.’ Sighing the incubus walked from the room and sat down on Tommy’s bed, his gaze on the floor. Glassy eyes miles away. He - the demon, was sad Tommy realized. 

Tommy sat himself next to Cam, and placed a hand on his thigh. ‘Hey, it’s okay – you can still stay, we just won’t be able to sleep together for a bit whilst we work this out.’

Camulus turned to him. His expression a dead ringer for a puppy dog eyes emoji.

Tommy patted his thigh, trying to reassure him, ‘But hey, you’re a slutty demon – and now you’ve figured this out, it just means you’ll have to sleep with loads of people so you don’t drain any one person too much, that isn’t so bad, is it?’

Camulus’s considered the words, his face lighting up like he was a fucking labrador who’d just heard the four-letter word starting with w.

Tommy thought about it for a moment. ‘Okay wait before you get too excited – some ground rules until we learn more. No sleeping with any twinks or jocks, they’re skinny enough already – and don’t sleep with anyone more than once,’ he reasoned.

Camulus sighed, he didn’t like restrictions. But there was also another matter. He turned to face Tommy, ‘I like sleeping with you. I don’t have to pretend to be a human with you.’

‘There will be others-’ Tommy started.

‘How long would it take for you to find the weight?’ Camulus interrupted

‘What?’ Tommy asked, ignoring the demon’s strange nomenclature.

Camulus placed a hand on Tommy’s flat stomach. ‘You said you lost fifty pounds; how long would it take to find them?’

‘Uh… I well it’s not really a matter of finding it – I’d have to put it on again through you know like. Overeating, being lazy,’ Tommy explained.

Camulus put his hand over Tommy’s and locked eyes with the human. ‘Well then I want you to find that weight again for me, can you do that for me Tommy?’

Tommy’s eye’s dilated as he stared into the swirling ember storm. The words fell out of his mouth.

‘Yes… of course I can.’

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 – 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 didn’t have those.  

With some reluctance, Camulus had gone out in human form to slake his ever-needy-lust. As agreed, he’d opted away from the skinner folk and went for the most well-padded and doughy humans he could find, which hadn’t been all that hard. Humans seemed to have gotten a lot fatter compared to the last time he was on Earth. He didn’t mind though – 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 didn’t compare to fat-boy-sex-in-demon-form - and Camulus couldn’t 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 wouldn’t try and tell the world about him, or run away screaming – well shit, he’d 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 he’d 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 wasn’t enough - he needed his human pet fatter, and faster. Clicking his fingers, he encased Tommy’s side of the room in a bubble of silence and pulled out the phone he’d 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.

‘Heeeeey! How the holiday Cam?’ the ever-joyful tiefling chirped from the electronic square.

‘I need your help,’ Camulus stated bluntly. This wasn’t the time for niceties. Urgent fattening was required.

Jolfi’s smile faltered, ‘Hey sure bud, whatever you need.’

Camulus turned the camera around to show Jolfi the oblivious human stuffing his face on the couch and explained their current predicament. ‘…So to make it safe to have sex again, I need to make the human fatter,’ he summarized.

Jolfi coughed, spluttering black coffee across the screen. ‘You what?’

Camulus rolled his eyes, ‘I need to make this human as fat as possible, as fast as possible. How do I do that?’

Jolfi wiped away the coffee with his sleeve, then stared at Camulus, as if trying to read the demon for any signs of jest. ‘Uh… well… I mean… I suppose. I could see if DGS [Department of Gluttony and Sloth] has anything?’

‘Can you check now? Please?’ Camulus insisted, tapping a hoof on the ground.

‘Uh, sure. Give me a minute.’ 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 demon’s dick began to lengthen at the thought.

Jolfi did a double-take as he looked over to the video feed. He cleared his throat, ‘Uh Abyss to Cam?’

‘Yep I’m here,’ 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, ‘SO - check your scream-mail I’m forwarding you the guidelines on fattening humans. Also check page six-thousand nine-hundred and sixty-nine, there’s extra tips on how you can mix the sins of lust and gluttony together.’

‘You’re a rockstar Jolfi, thanks so much,’ Camulus said, his eyes not leaving Tommy.

‘Anytime,’ Jolfi nodded, continuing to stare at his office crush who-was-openly-wanking-on-video-feed-at-the-idea-of-fattening-up-a-human. ‘Hey Cam – I’ve been meaning to ask,’ he started, trying to think of a way to grab the demon’s attention, ‘I’m thinking of taking some lea-‘

‘Hold that thought,’ Camulus interrupted, ‘I think the human figured out I put him in a silence bubble.’

‘Wait-’ 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 Tommy’s earlobe. ‘I’ve got some things I want to try with you,’ 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 – and it showed.

The scale lights flashed - 220lbs.

He was ten pounds fatter than when he originally met Camulus. Meaning he’d gained sixty pounds since the demon had asked him to regain the weight he’d 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 weren’t fitting right. Any muscle he’d previous had had been replaced with soft, doughy, fat.

‘Fuck’, 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 hadn’t 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 HR’s 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 didn’t even have to get up. He hadn’t left his apartment in weeks.  

Tommy grabbed a fatty love handle and shook it – a moan escaping his lips.  

They’d figured out that as long as they didn’t 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 Tommy’s widening body and only letting him cum once he’d eaten everything the demon put in front of him. It wasn’t 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, who’d 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 he’d 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. Tommy’s 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 Tommy’s 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. Tommy’s 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 demon’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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 Tommy’s greedy gullet. Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes closed in bliss.

The funnel ran dry. ‘M-more,’ Tommy whined, ‘I’m hungry!’

Camulus raised an eyebrow, ‘Gosh, someone is insatiable today,’ he purred.

Tommy pouted. The human didn’t 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 demon’s want to enable a human’s sin.

‘Okay, okay,’ the demon laughed, tousling Tommy’s floofy hair. ‘I’ll go melt down another one – usually you need a break big boy.’

Reaching around his stomach, Tommy began to paw at his cock. ‘Hurry,’ he pleaded.

Camulus smirked, admiring how effectively Tommy’s mind and body had been corrupted. Red lines decorated his lower belly, his hips flared out at the sides. His thighs were wider than Camulus’s waist. His chest rivaled that of a woman’s. Tommy had proudly announced to the demon yesterday that he’d reached 310 pounds, a full hundred pounds fatter than when they’d first met – and It had only taken four months.

Tommy’s 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. He’d twisted Tommy’s soul to the point where the incubus wondered if the human would be reincarnated as a demon in the afterlife.

As erotic as Tommy’s descent into hedonism was, Camulus was getting… concerned. They’d tentatively started having sex again a few weeks ago. The temptation to consume Tommy’s soul was still ever present when they fucked. But after hundreds of opportunities to practice he felt somewhat confident, he wouldn’t 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t seem to care about that anymore, Camulus recognized it was important to know more.

He’d reached out to Jolfi for advice of course. The tiefling was smart as a whip and always willing to help. Camulus didn’t like relying on him so much. But the truth was he missed the silly twink. Urgh. It would be easier if Jolfi moved on – 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 human’s 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 Tommy’s kitchen, placing the phone upright as the tiefling appeared on screen. 

‘Hey Jolf,’ Camulus waved as they exchanged pleasantries.

‘So vampire labs finally got back to us…’ Jolfi started. Camulus nodded along, only half listening as the tiefling started talking about Tommy’s 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 – don’t think about Jolfi’s ass.

Camulus tried to distract himself by watching Jolfi’s cherubic cheeks. They looked even more cherubic than normal. Almost like big fluffy ass cheeks attached to the side of his face – he kicked himself. Stop. Thinking. About. Tiefling. Ass. Argh! The incubus forced himself to pay attention to the words coming from Jolfi’s mouth.

‘…Dr Franken had a theory that the siphoning makes human’s bodies think they’re 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 you’re getting enough energy to survive-'

‘Hey Jolfi,’ Camulus interrupted, ‘You doing, okay?’

‘Huh – oh yeah well. You know how it is,’ Jolfi sighed. ‘Some holier than thou types arrived recently.’ He lifted his hands as he air quoted, ‘I’m a Christian I’m suppose to be in the good place, and, I want to speak to the manager! Jolfi shook his head, ‘We’re swamped man, and Trix is angrier than an armless balor. I think she kinda expected your holiday to flop and you’d be back by now.’

Camulus considered the information. ‘Sounds like you need a break, maybe you should come up here for some leave? I’m sure Tommy won't mind,’ he offered.

A glimmer of light returned to Jolfi’s eyes, ‘For reals?! Man you know I’d love that! Although – I don’t know if Bella would let me…’

‘Ask for a week and don’t worry about Bella – I’ve got some dirt on her that I’ve been meaning to cash in,’ Camulus winked.

A smile broke Jolfi’s face, ‘Fuck yeah!’ he fist pumped the air. Then, in classic Jolfi style, the energetic tiefling twink stood on his chair and spun. ‘I’m going to EARTH baby-ee!’ he shouted at the top of his lungs. As the chair swiveled around, Camulus got a view of the tiefling’s rear tucked into his tight jorts.

Oh fuck. Don’t think about – Don’t think… Camulus’s thoughts stopped. Was just the lighting or were Jolfi’s jorts snug.

Really snug.

Part 4: Jolfi-Jorts

Camulus ran a clawed hand down Tommy’s wide back. ‘You’re such a fucking fat slut,’ he growled, slapping the big boy’s 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 didn’t 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 demon’s 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 Camulus’s mind. He was still afraid of taking the risk. One slip up was all it would take… But he couldn’t 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 couldn’t ignore the barriers either. They worked together for one, and if word got out, which of course it would, Jolfi’s career, and more importantly his chance of ascension to full-fledged demon would be tanked.

‘Fuck!’ the demon roared as he erupted into Tommy. Collapsing onto the boy’s sweaty broad back as Tommy tensed his hole, milking the demon’s 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.

‘Fuck that’s hot,’ Camulus said, flexing his still-hard cock inside Tommy. The fat boy moaned, sending bits of cake all over the bed. ‘You like that big boy?’ he teased, grabbing a hunk of cake and shoving it into Tommy’s mouth. ‘Eat fat boy, grow fatter for me,’ Camulus commanded.

Tommy had stepped on the scale an hour ago and had complained the numbers confused him. Of course they did – the fat boy couldn’t 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. 

Camulus rocked his hips back and forth in the boy’s slick hole, imagining that soon he might be inside Jolfi. ‘Fuck – I need to go again; can you go again my pet?’ he purred.

‘Mmhmmhfff,’ was all he got out of Tommy.

‘Good enough.’ Camulus grabbed the boys fat ass and pulled him into doggy position. His belly hanging low, grazing against the bed. ‘Fuck, Jolfi – I can’t fucking wait. Fuck.’

***

Camulus was nursing Tommy’s somewhat-fat-buried-cock in his mouth as the sun came up the next morning. The exhausted fat boy was passed out. But that didn’t mean Camulus couldn’t give him some nice dreams.

Footsteps approached the apartment door. Camulus popped his lips off Tommy’s cock, his head whipping to the side, snake-like tongue tasting the air. The demons’ 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 Jolfi’s form. His swollen form.

‘Heeeeey!’ 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 demon’s 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 – his mesh shirt had ridden up his navel, revealing a plump lower belly roll. He averted his gaze, trying to focus on Jolfi’s face. But even there the weight gain was evident. His cherubic cheeks were rounder, fuller.

What. Why was Jolfi fat? Camulus couldn’t 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.

‘Cam? Yo, abyss to Cammiee…’ Jolfi waved his arm. Camulus didn’t 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. ‘cuse me, sorry – I was thirsty.’

Thirsty. Yes. Camulus was thirsty too. ‘You’ve gotten fat,’ he blurted out, ‘what-'

A grinning Jolfi closed the distance between them, interrupting the question by pressing his soft, sugary lips against the demon’s. For the first time in a thousand years Camulus didn’t know what to do with his hands. Didn’t know what to do with his body as Jolfi kissed him. What was happening? Who was this chubby confident tiefling wearing Jolfi’s face?

Camulus broke the kiss as the stupidest thought entered his head. ‘But – what about the department?’ he asked. As if he hadn’t already been fantasizing about throwing Jolfi up against a wall and fucking him for the past two years.

Jolfi shook his head, ‘Bella didn’t approve the leave, so I quit,’ he smirked.

Camulus’s eyes bugged out of his head. He had so many questions. ‘And – all this?’ he patted one of the tiefling’s poochy lovehandles.

Jolfi’s face reddened, his tail swishing behind him. ‘I uh – when you told me about Tommy, the siphoning, the weight gain, all of it – I figured if I got a little soft, it would grab your attention and uh - make it safe for us to, y’know – I-I may have taken it a little far….’ He stammered.

‘I’ll say…’ Camulus muttered, running a hand down Jolfi’s soft hips. His eyes widening with realization. ‘Wait s-so - you gained all this weight just so you could sleep with me?’ 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 he’d gained for Camulus. The tiefling boldly grabbed the incubus by his waist and pushed his soft stomach into the contours of the demon’s 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 demon’s lips.

Jolfi shook his head, ‘You really are as thick as two balors Cammie. I got fat so I could be with you, because,’ 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. ‘Don’t you get chickenshit on me now Jolfi – say the goddamn words,’ he pleaded. He needed to hear it. He needed Jolfi to say it.

The words tumbled from the tiefling’s lips, ‘Because I fuckin’ love you Cammie.’

Camulus kissed him. A tender soft kiss like in those stupid human movies. Jolfi bit the demon’s bottom lip like a slut and Camulus lost it. He grabbed the ex-twink by his lovehandles and ground their waists together. He felt Jolfi’s 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 demon’s neck and back, leant forward and began to lay claim to the incubus’s neck, marking it with his sharp teeth and full lips.  

Camulus moaned. He felt needed and wanted. He wanted to be Jolfi’s. 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 Jolfi’s lips. An expanding wet spot embellishing the front of his jorts. Camulus ground his hips against him, stimulating Jolfi’s 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.

‘I don’t think you were going to fit into those again anyway,’ Camulus growled as he pawed at Jolfi’s fat. Jolfi moaned in agreement.

Camulus let the tiefling’s legs drop to the floor and flipped him around. He reached forward and tugged at the flaps of Jolfi’s broken jorts, tearing the garment in half and freeing two fattened ass cheeks and a pair of plush soft thighs. Jolfi hadn’t even been wearing underwear. Hot breath tickled the back of Jolfi’s neck.

‘You slut,’ Camulus whispered.

Jolfi felt the demon’s 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 Jolfi’s 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.

Jolfi’s 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.  

Camulus got down on a knee. Bringing himself eye-level with Jolfi’s 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 demon’s face, where it belonged – right between his doughy cheeks. He let out a moan of approval as the demon’s wet tongue circled his hole.  

Breathing became an optional activity for Camulus – the pleasure of rimming Jolfi’s fat rump would sustain him. Hands grabbed, slapped and jiggled Jolfi’s fattened rear. The ex-twinks lower body undulated wildly as Camulus shook his head, motorboating Jolfi’s fat ass. Camulus imagined how much the tiefling must’ve been gorging himself day after day to grow his ass so soft and fat. He’d done this to himself of his own volition – it was undeniable. Jolfi really wanted him. Jolfi really loved him. Camulus had to prove that he was worthy of that – and he’d start by giving Jolfi as much pleasure as physically possible.

The sensation of wobbling rippling of fat spread up Jolfi’s body. He’d gotten so fuckin’ fat. He’d been using every trick in the manual he’d 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. He’d squeezed himself into those jorts because he knew it would drive Camulus insane. He thought he might’ve gone overboard, but if anything, the look of adoration and shock on the demon’s 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 now…

Jolfi whimpered as Camulus pressed his tongue against his hole. His balls were tightening. But he wasn’t 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.

‘What-’ Camulus started, never finishing the question as the chubby tiefling joined him on the ground and slid his lips over the demon’s dick.   

It was Jolfi’s turn to stop breathing as he deep throated three-quarters of the demon’s 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.  

Jolfi massaged the demon’s 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-I’m-not-the-good-boy-you-think-I-am-smirk.

Jolfi crawled up the demon’s body, straddling him with his thick thighs.

‘I may be a slut – but I’m your slut,’ he rasped.

The tiefling reached back and wrapped his hand around the demon’s 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 demon’s 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 wasn’t 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 Jolfi’s fatty ass cheeks. Digging his nails in and jiggling the doughy ex-twinks rear as he bounced on his cock.

They locked eyes. Camulus didn’t close his like he normally did, he didn’t need to imagine anyone else. He had Jolfi. He grabbed his lovehandles.

All of Jolfi.

The tiefling’s breath was heavy and ragged, but he didn’t slow his pace, a sheen of sweat glistening off his body.

‘Someone’s gotten a little unfit huh?’ Camulus smirked, grabbing Jolfi’s pudgy lower belly and giving it a shake.

‘S-shut it,’ Jolfi panted, exercising his point by flexing his ass and sending a wave of pleasure coursing through the incubus’s mind. ‘Just – Just you wait until I’m even fatter,’ he threatened.

Camulus felt his cock grow another inch. The prospect of Jolfi getting even fatter causing the floodgates break open. ‘Jolfi!’ he cried out.

Jolfi gave him a lopsided grin, ‘That’s it – cum for me – fill my fat ass Cammie.’

The demon shuddered, ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-’ Jolfi’s lips covered his, muffling his cries of ecstasy. He bucked his hips. Jolfi’s ass fluttered with each impact. The demon moaned, breaking the kiss. Jolfi’s 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 demon’s abs, whilst his greedy hole tensed rhythmically, milking Camulus for every last drop.  

Camulus was distantly aware of Jolfi’s 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 hadn’t even felt tempted to take Jolfi’s soul. How could he? Why preserve a fleeting memory of ecstasy when he could experience it again and again and again…

He would never hurt Jolfi. He would never hurt another mortal.

‘I guess having sex like a human isn’t so bad,’ 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 Camulus’s 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. Camulus’s dick still twitching and buried in Jolfi’s backside.

‘Hi Tommy,’ Camulus waved, ‘this is Jolfi, he’s staying with us for a while.’

Tommy pointed at them and giggled, ‘Hot, my turn?’ he asked.

Camulus laughed, ‘Later perhaps, if Jolfi approves,’ he stressed.

A sleepy Jolfi nodded his head aganist the demon’s chest. Content in the knowledge that no matter who the sex demon slept with now, Camulus was his.

Tommy pouted.

‘Theres ice cream in the fridge,’ Camulus pointed out. Tommy’s eyes lit up as he waddled over and pulled a tub of ice cream the size of a person’s 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. He’d really done a number on Tommy. He looked down at Jolfi’s peaceful face. He’d 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 Jolfi’s ass.

He couldn’t wait to get his new lover all caught up…

Epilogue

Deep in the abyss a figure watched the plump tiefling and the vegan incubus indulge in each other’s bodies again and again. The pair had apparently found love. How sweet for them. How – ridiculous.

Demons couldn’t 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 Jolfi’s 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?  

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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