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Your wife was pretty mean and specific about how to make u balloon…

You liked to cheat her and she planned a slow but steady revenge, and she couldn’t ask to a better person: your former massage therapist u don’t even remember (good for us!), because u chose another one all of a sudden…

She said no women allowed among my personnel except you (me): play with him and fool him to the point of making him feel the one in charge. Push him in becoming an asshole, serve him and then leave him in his mediocre position of an insecure fat fuck in denial. She really wanted to get back whatever you took from her but, still, keep you close to her to enjoy the show, and control you like a kid with no will power.

That was the general plan, but to make it with food… she must be a real bitch, u got caught and messed with the wrong one, I have to say. It was fun though to fatten u and see the sexy hunk, young husband of a sexy successful woman, grow and grow, taking for granted not only his body, but his attractiveness and power on others..

How do you feel now that no one would even look at you and that you sweat at every staircase? In your case not even money can bring back your respect because your wife has worked on it as well, and she brags you around like her mindless horny puppy, that is not even good to fuck anymore. It’s no coincidence that you lost your job and became a home-stay husband… you liked the idea anyway… enjoy spare time, lay on the sofa, do garden and garage workouts… all too good to be true, in fact your wife hired a gardener and didn’t accept any sports gear that you would have never used after some month, because you were not going to anymore. Suddenly it looked like going back to your teen years: feeling like a furniture piece in a house where everything was under control, your wife control.

But I was there to help you, we had immediately a bond and you know I’ve been there to serve you special treats and massages to your tired muscles.

Overtime you got stuck at home with nothing to do but eat and play video games… a dream but too lonely and your wife didnt help. You suffered the lack of attention from the world and started to rely and use your personnel for that. It’s incredible how you were able to be mean and dominant but this was soon ending. You would ask for anything and your wife was still there and really good to make you believe you were right! The few time she was at home she would put u at work doing useless tasks and then organise parties full of addictive food - meaning leftovers for you - and treat you like a trophy kid for the occasion, waiting for her orders, and making you feel part of her accessories.

You had to wear what she ordered and behave good, otherwise no gift later… that's when the collar became your, sorry her signature, stating to the worls that she owned you. How you shifted from being a manly strong husband cheating on her and pretending daily sex to accepting sweet treats is something we still laugh about with your personnel, but still you accepted and liked secretly a bossy woman… and thats also what you looked for when you were cheating on her: women that took control of you and led you to feel relaxed and free from the duty of the everyday masc macho man. Sometimes sex between the two of you still happened, but hardly, once you weren’t anymore as powerful and attractive as before, but still u were in denial and not realising that…

Do you remember, when you begged me to suck your fat covered cock… poor you, it was enough to be fucked by your own male sexy housekeepers to make you satisfied, even more when you accepted to bate them in order to win dessert…

Something happened in you since living like that was slowly becoming harder to manage… you could barely choose even your lunches since grocery shopping was a task for waiters. And your lonely daily life found in extra treats a little happiness and it became soon a norm. After all, your metabolism has always been incredible and now you were married and your finance and sport career ended up in nothing as per everyone. Your metabolism was so fast that it slowed in no time and soon the worst jiggly fat started to cover your once defined six pack and make your butt larger and larger. Down there u liked and regretted that feeling but to overeat became so satisfying that losing your fit body seemed at first a minor thing, especially because in your mind it was meant as just a starting soft belly and nothing more. But portions became increasingly tasty and bigger, even though you didn’t notice, and always enriched with oil, dressings, extra hidden fat calories that made everything more caloric.

Your wife started to threaten you at the first sign of softening and, at the same time, played sexy tricks with you that awakened your horniness, but still didnt fuck you… frustration was increasing in you and food made u feel powerful since it was the only thing that arose your wife attention, even though not in a good way. In no time the bloat became an overhang and you became a fat ass who jerked off alone while everyone had to massage and still treat you like a boss there… I was the only one allowed to help you and I always brought you extra food and made you feel hot and dominating… you liked that and somehow pretended that from me. Working in the middle of fit boys, though and having them caring for you as u were not an unattractive fatty but a sexy daddy made u believe we all respected you and wanted you more than anything. Moreover, the feeling that fit guys were not that interesting compared to you helped in believing that you had something… You were looking for validation and a boost to your self esteem was needed. I gave u everything u needed and look a you now: heavy breathing and not so athletic anymore to fuck like before… but u believed u were spreading sexiness around and we all followed your wasted mind… surprisingly, when I started to play with your nipples and you new found manboobs and the jiggly belly, your felt a mix of shame and excitement that represented a moment during which something clicked in your mind in the planned direction.

Poor fatty, Now you want me to call u piggy because that excites you more than anything, since it’s the only thing that, u believe, makes your wife mad, and you hard rock. Me cooking for you was your new power weapon in your hands. Ordering food anytime and making everyone crazy was your way of dominating and you didn’t even realize that for that you had no money limitations like before.

Once you spent 3000 € in one day for food and we are not talking about expensive gourmet specialties but of the cheapest calories on the market… that we carefully selected among the worst and fattening ones. It seemed like you were not aware but I believe that you perceived that and liked it because it fastened the way you could gorge and grow.

Once u said to me that you were full as fuck and complained about your deformed tattoos while checking their new shape under the sweaty rolls. The guys told me also that you even started to ask them to flex for you and to find clothes like theirs and spend time togheter in addition… what’s happening here, all of a sudden are u attracted by your male waiters???

Your answer was crazy and made me realise that we could push forward and like crazy your gaining race. So, being bigger made you feel more manly and dominating, but at the same time you started to envy their bodies at the point that being fed by them while touching their flexing biceps made u hard and more horngry. Not even your wife planned the bromance stuff and how big and embarrassing you would have become… now she is still playing the part of the crazy person, and me I’ve been told to leave as my work here is done….

Your wife has left your too, found a new young bf and still talks about you telling everyone the messy pig you became. She shows your pics to men and women and their reaction is priceless. Especially looking at before/after pics and at you in comparison to fit boys. But the most exciting pics are those that exposed you while eating as a pig around and being fed as a merciless porker… everyone know now who to talk to to send you food. Since you became even more larger you became even more obedient… and after the divorce and my leave you found yourself alone and powerless and surrounded by your former waiters that were leaving soon too.

That's what your wife didn't prevent: that you could become a paid porker and be the bin for your former waiters. They took over you one day because they were tired of being used by you and by your mean ways of behaving. So, after you insisted more and more about using them to steal their sexiness just by living close to them, they started to use you on purpose and brought you to a new place. Your obedience left everyone speechless. For a burger you would have sucked all of them and you accepted to be their occasional secret ass and their collared puppy Since gaining, in fact, the larger waistline and the bigger butt changed your sensible areas and to bottom - something he discovered thanks to me during our old massage sessions - that became a real need to satisfy for him.

He was attracted by the idea of him being still like them, but just a year ago, and somehow still belonging to the cool guys gang. Now he couldn't live withouth them and without feeling like an obedient porker, whose pictures and online channels circulated, transofrming him from a sexy asshole to a porky poor foodslave who presented himself as a strong man... He really believed that actually, but look at his wide belly, the only strong thing there is the support underneath and the belief that the double chinned fatty believe he's in charge and still attractive...

Becoming Milky Muscle

Niku breathes deeply, eyes half lidded as his sight almost swirls. The ropes dig into Niku's thick bulky body, suspending his bared body in the corner of the collection room. His thoughts were so murky, there was no way to tell how many hours have passed. Or was it days?

A deep whining escapes Niku's lips as a wave of pleasure pulses briefly through him. His heaving pecs quiver. Drops of white leak from his nipples, streaming down the bulging flesh in thin white streams. A man in white enters the room, holding a clipboard.

"It's time for your extraction."

or…How to Dance With the Devil and Not Lose a Leg

This is an answer to a question I get asked frequently. I thought it was long overdue I wrote a response.

Diabetes is not the end of gaining. In fact for some, diabetes marks the beginning of their serious weight gain. Many gainers I know have had diabetes for years or even decades and have continued to gain well past 400 or even 500 pounds. These people are not legless cripples; in fact, many are gainers you all know and follow on Tumblr, YouTube, or other sites. They just haven’t told you since talk of diabetes is the third-rail of gaining. (And anyway it’s really nobody’s business but theirs.) I asked a few of these diabetic gainers for help in writing this post.

Diabetes is a manageable disease. Very manageable. Easily manageable. Despite this, most people with diabetes do not manage it…

Let’s have a little update for 2026.

So my partner is (pretty badly) T2 diabetic and has been for about a decade now. I’ve gotten to watch the changes over the years. I was just diagnosed mildly T2 diabetic a few months ago. His mom’s also diabetic. So I’ve been around this for a while now, with different paths for all of us.

Also note that this is the path I took and he took over the years. What you do when may be a different in 2026; they’re coming out with new drugs and different techniques (when you try what drugs) literally all the time for this.

1) At first they’re just gonna start you on a pill like Jardiance, an SGLT2 inhibitor. 1 pill a day, that’s it, real easy. The only side effect is that I have an increased risk of a UTI, so I’m supposed to drink lots of water. (I do seem to be more thirsty on it.) (That’s all I’m on. Hopefully it’ll work to lower my A1C & then that’ll be it for me!)

2) If that doesn’t work, they may start you on Metformin as well. I forget the type of med it is, but it’s incredibly common for diabetes treatment. Gives some people diarrhea and/or nausea while they get used to it, but that usually goes away anywhere from a few days to 2 weeks. My partner takes 2 pills of it, 2x a day for 4 pills total.

3) They may throw a GLP-1 agonist in there, possibly after all that, but possibly first. Yes, I know we all know them as weight loss drugs, but they started as diabetic drugs, and they are REALLY GOOD at controlling blood sugar. Really, REALLY good when you’re finally on the right one for you. You may end up trying a number of them to get the one that’s just right for you. Don’t despair; not everyone loses weight on them. My partner not only hasn’t lost any weight on any of the ones he’s been on, he’s GAINED weight on one of them! Most GLP-1 agonists are one shot a week; some are pills, and I think there’s one out there that’s 1 shot a day. The needles, you can’t even feel them unless you get unlucky and you happen to hit a nerve.

4) If all that doesn’t work, I think there’s a couple of other pills they can try (sulfonylureas?)

5) If THAT doesn’t work, THEN they try insulin.

First you try a long acting insulin that you take 2x a day. It’s probably gonna be the Lantus Solostar (if you’re in the USA. I haven’t seen any other brands.) it’s the shape and size of a marker. it’s a simple injector; you put a pen needle cap on the end, dial up the amount you’re supposed to take, stick it in you, push the button, wait 5 seconds, then take it out & discard the needle. Simple. No messing around with measuring doses from vials or large needles.

6) If that doesn’t work, at that point they switch you to a short acting insulin. In this day and age, it’s rare to be doing it by hand anymore (that is, starting out doing it by hand; folks who are long well managed doing it by hand may continue doing that.) You will be getting a CGM/pump combo with an infusion set.

The CGM, Continuous Glucose Monitor, is a little sensor that sticks on your body 24/7 and constantly reads the glucose in your fluids (NOT actually in your blood.) It usually goes on the back of your upper arm. There’s a number of brands and they last different amounts of times. My partner’s used to last a week but they literally just came out with a new model that lasts for 2 weeks. (They’re still working the kinks out of that model.) CGMs keep you from having to stick yourself up to 6 times daily to manually take your blood sugars.

Your insulin pump uses short acting insulin to deliver both a basal & a bolus. A basal is the 24/7 background drip of insulin your body needs all the time. A bolus is an extra bonus amount insulin you give yourself before you eat to make up for the carbohydrates in your food. You enter into the pump the amount of carbs you’re eating & it figures out how much insulin to give you and boluses accordingly. Your insulin pump also is the monitor that shows you what your sugar levels are according to your CGM. They also have graphs so you can see how you’re doing over time, etc. Modern CGMs work with pumps to constantly change what your basal is according to your sugar readings. (This was not the case in the mid 2010s in the USA. It hadn’t been approved yet.) The interface is quite simple and quite idiotproof, very much on purpose. They are also the most bug-free devices I’ve ever seen. Some pumps even let you give them firmware upgrades for better functionality. My partner’s went from having to test his sugars manually 1-2 times daily to only having to do it 1x when you first put your CGM in to calibrate the new sensor. The CGM talks to the pump via Bluetooth. And yes, it can talk to his phone if he wants it to.

The infusion set goes from your pump to your body. It’s a reservoir that goes into the pump, a little tube, and a part that sticks to your skin and goes into your body to deliver the insulin. My partner’s infusion set used to last 3 days before he had to change it out, but they just came out with a new model that lasts a week. He has to put a new reservoir with more insulin in roughly daily (YMMV on that.) It takes about 5 mins to fill a reservoir from the vial of insulin and then put it in the pump.

There are models that have pump, reservoir and infusion set in one unit. (It may even include the CGM?) I’ve only seen T1 and children use this, though. I don’t think it works well for T2s, esp not folks who use a lot of insulin.

Honestly, the biggest problem with diabetes, once you figure out the combo that works for you, is dealing with pharmacies & insurance. 2nd worse is your CGM or infusion set coming out of your body early (which might happen less with someone less sweaty. Also, they make all sorts of sticky tapes, adhesives, etc. for this. Including one specifically for very active diabetics called GrifGrips. Comes in like a hundred different colors, shapes, and designs.)

You really DO have to stay on top of it though and take it seriously. It’s not just hands and feet that can be damaged; my partner has internal organ damage that’s irreversible because he didn’t take it seriously enough at first and let it go too long. (And an organ that you don’t realize has nerve endings. You’d be surprised where in your body there’s nerves.)

i sat down with my family in order to have lunch, and now i’m already way too used to the way they look at me the moment i enter the room

i know they’re looking at the way my shirt hugs my body tighter each time, i know they can’t help but wonder how much prettier it was when my face wasn’t surrounded by a double chin and puffier cheeks - is that some chocolate on my finger? was i eating something sweet up there in my room?

we had a big pot of stew on the table, and i filled two plates - but it wasn’t enough

old me used to be afraid of doing what i was about to do, but new me just doesn’t care - hunger needs to be satisfied, and i don’t care what it might take, and shame is definitely not something i’ll pay attention to

i get up and declare to them that i’ll quickly go to the nearest gyros restaurant and buy myself another lunch

i know they immediately started talking about it the moment i left the house, but once again, the hunger was insatiable, and i was just so excited to put it in my gut so all the food i already ate could properly mix

i put on a jacket which is quite snug now - can’t remember when that became something i’d have to get used to, but oh well

i enter the gyros shop, and the guys working there already know what to give their big customer - the biggest gyros with everything they can add

they can’t help but notice the way i impatiently look at them preparing it, they can already see the hypnotized look in my eyes, i basically follow their hands whenever they add something, and all i keep thinking about is how all of that greasy, caloric junk food will satisfy the beast i became

the moment i come back home, i eat like the beast i’ve already mentioned - fries are falling from the gyros along with meat, but still, that only means i’ll have something to put in once i finish everything else

and i do it, oh how i do it - i collect all the stuff which fell out, and the only thing which will soon fall as well is me, after i get so bloated and full from this uncontrolled mission that i have - eat, eat, eat, and the moment i can’t do it anymore, i’ll eat some more, because hogs like me need to not be able to put on their shirts or underwear

Pete was getting fat. More specifically, his girlfriend was getting him fat.

He’d been my best friend ever since we started college, and were designated as roommates. It was just a coincidence, but something clicked between us. Around that time, he broke up with his highschool girlfriend. It was rough on him, and while he spent the next few months hooking up with as many girls as his good looks would allow, I could tell he was unhappy. So, when I met a girl I thought he’d get on with, I thought I’d have a shot at setting them up. 

I invited them both to some fast food place near campus. As Pete was wolfing down his massive burger, she said she wasn’t really hungry, and asked if he wanted to finish hers. When she started feeding him and rubbing his belly, I made up some excuse to leave, knowing I’d succeeded. Pete did not come back to our flat that night.

All of a sudden, Pete went from serial womanizer to committed boyfriend, which stirred up a lot of gossip. But most people weren’t talking about his sudden conversion to monogamy, no. They were talking about his belly. Pete’s belly was getting bigger each day. From having a sturdy but lean build, he now looked like he had a balloon under his shirt at all times. Even when wearing clothes that had been pretty baggy, his round belly was still visible at all times. Whenever his girlfriend was with him, she could never keep her hands off Pete’s big gut, and when he was without her, Pete was constantly playing with it. 

As his roommate, I got to see every bit of it. Almost every night, he’d come back with a bloated belly. And because he was outgrowing his clothes, he spent more and more time shirtless, letting his gut take up more room. Hugging his belly, he’d tell me how she’d cooked this massive meal, or how they’d ordered enough to feed a family of 10, and how he’d eaten it all. He’d jokingly complain about how fat he was getting, but I could tell he was enjoying it.

One evening, he came back so stuffed he could barely stand. 

“You okay, Pete?” I asked, watching him stumble in with the biggest bloat I’d ever seen.

Pete burped.

“I’m okay, bro,” he said, not sounding okay, “I just *buuuurp* had this big meal.”

Pete moved his hand to slap his belly, as he often did, but chose not to. As if he was afraid of what would happen if he hit his belly too hard. He tried to take off his shirt, but ended up getting it stuck over his head. His bare belly was sticking out by over a foot, looking tight as a drum. I’d seen the fabric of his shirts look that tight, before, but never his actual belly.

“Hey, I’ll help you,” I said. As I helped him pull his shirt off, Pete rested his weight against me, almost making us both lose balance.

“Thanks bro,” he said. “Feels better now.”

“Pete, no offense, but your belly looks like it’s about to pop! Like I know you’ll eat anything she gives you, but it looks almost dangerous, at this point.”

“I said, I’m fi…” Pete suddenly clutched his mouth. His belly jolted.

I carefully moved a hand towards his belly. Boy was it full. It wasn’t so much me touching his belly, and more the huge volume of food inside his stomach pressing against my hand with all his strength. 

“Holy shit, this thing feels like it’s about to explode!” I said

That wasn’t an exaggeration. Slowly, I passed my hand over his enormous belly, trying to be as gentle as possible. There was no give to his belly, not that I wanted to try poking it. His tank was rock hard, his navel almost flat from all the food it was trying to contain.

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a loud burp came out. His stomach shifted a bit, but the burp barely did anything to the tremendous pressure inside his belly. This was going to be a long night.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you lying down,” I said. I laid him down on the side, so that there wasn’t any weight pressing against his belly, and laid down behind him, always keeping a hand on his stomach. No longer having to support as much weight, his core muscles relaxed. I continued slowly rubbing his belly, as he slowly started digesting.

“That feels good, bro,” Pete said, half asleep. “Just keep going.”

Despite my best efforts, Pete’s girlfriend wouldn’t hear anything about her “feeding her boyfriend too much”.

The fattening only continued from there, Pete essentially remaining in a constant food coma all the time. His girlfriend wouldn’t let him go more than an hour without eating some sort of baked good she made for his growing belly.

“Bro, I love my girlfriend and my food, but sometimes it’s just too much. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m kind of sick of eating!” Pete groaned out as he cradled his overfull belly during a rare moment of clarity.

I didn’t know what to say, aside from offering to rub his bloated gut again, just like I had for the past few weeks. After my lack of advice, Pete withdrew and resigned to his gluttonous fate.

Pete and I didn’t interact much during the last few weeks of the semester, save for a few belly rubbing sessions, when Pete was too stuffed to move much. He went home for Christmas break about 40 pounds heavier, most of it landing in his now ridiculously round potbelly.

Towards the end of break, I went on Instagram and saw a post from Pete’s girlfriend cradling his plump belly captioned: “Look’s like I accidentally knocked up Pudgy-Petey over here! I love keeping this boy well-fed and happy!”

I felt a little bad, seeing the way Pete’s life now revolved around his ever-growing gut and the fact that I was to blame for setting them up. Then I thought of how happy he seemed, to not have to worry about keeping up appearances and only worrying about keeping his ever-growing belly stuffed full. I was happy for him, and looked forward to many more belly rubs next semester with Pete and his plump tummy.

In recent years, the market for male breast enlargement has seen a surge in interest. While the topic may still be considered taboo, advancements in the field have paved the way for safe and effective methods, including male breast enlargement pills. These revolutionary products offer a non-invasive and discreet solution for those seeking to enhance their chest area. In this article, we will explore the process of male breast enlargement using pills, breaking it down into five simple steps.

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In no particular order:

1. Replace everything you can with the higher calorie version. This may seem obvious but also consider alternative ingredients and increasing quantity of ingredients, for example swapping milk or water with heavy cream, adding double the butter that’s called for, etc. I know that that’s a no-brainer but it really does make a difference if you’re cooking a lot at home.

2. Surround yourself with snacks. When I shop and get a bunch of snacks, I just leave the grocery bag next to where I sit on my couch. Cookies, chips, poptarts, pastries, hand pies, you name it. So any time I’m feeling peckish or I’m just bored and need something to do, I have something within arms reach. I can mindlessly pack away an extra couple thousand calories a day this way and not even notice.

3. Create smaller goals. This one can be a little challenging, of course we all want to hit our ultimate goal as quickly as possible. But it’s so easy to get discouraged when you’re looking at a number that seems so far away. Breaking your goals up into manageable chunks makes the process quicker and more successful than lamenting over not gaining “fast enough” and losing steam. It also gives you reason to celebrate more often than if you’re only looking forward to the next 50-100lbs. For example, say you’re starting on 01/01 at 300 and your ultimate goal is 350. For the month of January your goal is to hit 310, for February it’s 320, and so on and so forth. That way you’re only really “pushing” for the gain for a few days at a time, if you even need to push at all. I hope that makes sense lol

4. That belly tapping thing actually works, lightly tap above your navel and continue tapping as you move from center to left. It may take a couple rounds of this, but in less than a minute you should feel your stomach start feeling empty again. It really really works, it’s also great for when you’re stuffed to the point where another bite will make you sick - just do the tapping thing and the pain and nausea dissipates. I don’t know the science behind this but it’s something I use on a weekly basis and has been a lifesaver.

5. Diet soda. I’ve always been a Diet Coke addict but I’ve found in my gaining journey that the days I drink Diet Coke I am OBSESSED with sweets and sugary treats. Otherwise I’m not too into sweet things, but when I’m chugging aspartame? Oh god it’s game over, I’d eat straight sugar if I had to.

6. Buy the bigger clothes in advance and wear them. This one is hit or miss, cause I love feeling my clothes bursting at the seams, but on the other hand it takes a lot of effort to get super fat and maintain it, so being comfortable as possible is also a must. I do wear the super tight ones still too, but I alternate depending on the day. If you have clothes that are (temporarily) loose on you, not only will you be comfortable but you’ll also have the added benefit of feeling yourself outgrow those too, which to me is more impressive than outgrowing something that was already a little snug.

7. Preset meals; if you’re a fast food junkie like I am and eat every one of your meals out of a greasy brown bag, this is a game changer. Spend a little time making lists of what you like from fast food places and their respective calorie counts. Then come up with realistic 2000+ calorie meals from that. Not stuffings so much as just a casual everyday lunch. So if you know that you need to hit a minimum calories per day, it’s super quick to order exactly what you need and you don’t have to put any effort into it. A lot of apps let you save your favorites to a separate list anyhow.

8. Fast food apps. If you don’t have a rewards app for every fast food place in a 20 mile radius of your home, are you even a feedee? All jokes aside, the amount of free or deeply discounted food I get every day is insane and I am so proud of my points balances lol this is one of my top hacks, I eat so much fast food anyway why wouldn’t I reap the rewards from that?

9. Eat before bed. Most of my eating happens within 2 hours of me falling asleep at night. I would conservatively say half of my daily calorie intake happens in the evening. It works, do it.

Get huge, get happy. Get happy, get horny. Get horny, get hungry (and huge).

Rinse and repeat.

Feel your potential grow with every beat. "Muscle Feedee: Time to Bulk" isn't just a hypnosis track—it's your mental gym partner, pushing you beyond limits you never knew existed.

Sink into a state where your mind and muscles connect on a deeper level.

As the gentle suggestions take root, experience the primal satisfaction of nourishing your body for growth. Every calorie becomes purposeful. Every meal becomes an opportunity.

This powerful audio experience combines cutting-edge hypnotic techniques with motivational cues designed specifically for those dedicated to their bulking journey. Whether you're struggling to consume enough calories or need that extra psychological edge to stay consistent, this track reprograms limiting beliefs and instills a healthy relationship with the food that fuels your transformation.

Embrace the hunger. Embrace the growth. Your body is ready to become the powerful physique you've always envisioned.

Part 1 Part 2

The following weeks were a blur for Peter and Damian. They ate, worked, made love, and ate some more. They were two true lovebirds until the inevitable day came for Peter to board his plane to Dubai. His shirts had grown snug, but he wore them proudly, a silent testament to Ahmed and the journey he was on for him.

When he arrived at the compound, he was greeted by an imposing figure: Vladimir, a towering man in a polo that stretched tightly over his frame, hinting at a similar weight gain regimen. His heavy Eastern European accent broke the silence. “Welcome. Your bags will be taken to your room. Let’s get to work.” Without further ado, they climbed into a golf cart and began weaving through the estate. Peter was struck by the sheer scale of it. It felt vast, opulent—almost overwhelming.

They arrived at a building that was clearly a medical facility, its sleek design at odds with the warmth of the estate. It was beautiful in its aesthetics but unmistakably clinical, leaving Peter slightly uneasy. Vladimir ushered him into an office—a stunningly designed doctor’s room that still managed to give off an air of intimidation. “Undress to your underwear. The doctor will be here shortly,” Vladimir said before stepping out.

Peter complied, sitting awkwardly on the examination bed until the doctor entered. The man almost took Peter’s breath away—it was the same doctor, still strikingly handsome, with an aura of authority bit this time he also sported a belly.

The doctor wasted no time. “Good morning, Peter. I hope your flight was pleasant.” Before Peter could answer, the doctor had moved on. “Let’s check your blood pressure.”

"Normal," the doctor muttered to himself. “Great. Now step on the scale.”

Peter complied, curious yet apprehensive. “Good work, Peter. You’ve reached your goal.”

“Can I know how much?” Peter asked, anticipatory excitement in his voice.

“No,” the doctor replied curtly. “That’s for Ahmed to reveal. I’m just here to inform you of your new goal. You’ll be here for the next four weeks, during which you’ll gain the same amount of weight you’ve just gained in the past month.”

Peter’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Then I must know how much I’ve gained!”

The doctor, unfazed, simply said, “No.” With a quick press of a button, Vladimir reappeared. “Escort Peter to his room,” the doctor instructed.

Peter, frustrated and confused, tried with Vladimir. “Why won’t he let me know my weight?”

Vladimir, ever stoic, replied, “That’s Mr. Ahmed’s decision.”

“Where is Ahmed?” Peter asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

“You’ll see him at dinner,” Vladimir said simply.

Back in the main building, Peter was shown to his room—an opulent space that felt both familiar and extravagant. It was the same room he had stayed in during his first visit. “Lunch is served in the dining hall, and Mr. Richie will join you,” Vladimir announced. “You’ve got two hours to yourself. Would you like me to show you the pool?”

"Yes, please," Peter replied.

"Please use the provided robes when traveling to and from the pool," Vladimir advised. "It prevents slipping on the marble floors and avoids catching a cold from the air conditioning while wet. The dining dress code is smart casual. Beyond that, feel free to wear swimwear at your leisure."

Peter noticed his luggage had already been unpacked and expertly arranged in the walk-in closet. Among his clothing hung a stunning Arabian robe, tailored to perfection. Intrigued, he tried it on, marveling at how luxurious it felt. Vladimir then led him through the estate, pointing out significant areas: the open gym in the first courtyard, a formal middle courtyard, and finally, the third courtyard—a paradise of lush greenery, serene pools, and exquisite lounging spaces.

“Enjoy. What can I bring you?” Vladimir asked.

“A tea, please,” Peter said, still absorbing the beauty around him.

Minutes later, Vladimir returned with a trolley bearing a gleaming silver teapot and an elaborate tower of macarons and pastries. Peter curiously bit into one of the macarons, savoring the flavor. Before he realized it, he was devouring the entire tray, stuffing his mouth greedily. The pastries disappeared within minutes, leaving Peter so full and content that he dozed off on the lounger.

About an hour later, he was awakened by voices. Across the pool stood a striking man with an open robe, his tanned frame muscular but softened by a noticeable belly. The man waved and approached him.

“Hey there, mister,” he greeted warmly. “You’ve been out for at least an hour. I’m Jack, a friend of Ahmed’s. You’re Peter, right?”

Peter nodded, taken aback, and instinctively flexed his belly. Jack chuckled. “Relax, man. We don’t judge here.”

Peter exhaled, feeling more at ease. He noticed his tray had been refilled—an unspoken cue. Jack smiled. “Eat up, big boy. They don’t waste food around here.” With that, he stepped away, heading to the other side of the courtyard.

Shortly after, Vladimir emerged. “Lunch is in thirty minutes,” he informed Peter.

Peter couldn’t resist the temptation to dig into the refreshed tray, managing to indulge in a few more macarons before heading to his room to change. When he arrived at the dining hall, the table was set for two. Moments later, Richie entered, greeting Peter with a hug and a congratulatory pat on his belly.

“Well done!” Richie said, grinning.

“You too, I guess,” Peter replied, noting Richie’s own expanded waistline.

“Yeah, I’m nearly at my goal,” Richie said proudly.

“Lunch is served!” another assistant declared, presenting them with appetizers. They started slow, but each subsequent course pushed their limits. The main course—a perfectly cooked ribeye paired with butter-laden mashed potatoes—demanded persistence. By the time dessert arrived—a massive Matilda chocolate cake—Peter recognized it instantly. It was double the portion he had struggled through weeks ago on the boat.

“Do you think…?” Richie began hesitantly.

Peter smirked. “Yes.”

“Okay, let’s do it!” Richie exclaimed.

They tackled the dessert with determination. It was a challenge, but they finished. Exhausted, they retreated to the pool, where assistants served lemonade and snacks. Though full, they succumbed to the polite but insistent offers.

Dinner finished, and Ahmed finally addressed Peter formally. “Congratulations, Peter.”

Peter, emboldened, asked, “So tell me, by how much?”

Ahmed smiled. “Twelve kilos, exactly.”

Peter smirked with satisfaction.

The blissful routine continued for two weeks, with Peter reveling in constant eating, light exercise in the gym with Richie, and luxurious relaxation by the pool. But one night, an intense bout of heartburn disrupted the paradise. It lingered into the day, worsening as diarrhea set in. Unable to hold anything down, Peter sought help from Vladimir, who brought him to the doctor.

The doctor examined him, noting a fever and elevated heart rate. “It’s likely a flu. Rest for a day or two,” he instructed, sending Peter back to bed with light soup for sustenance, though Peter couldn’t keep even that down.

By nightfall, his fever spiked, and he began hallucinating. He awoke in a sterile hospital-like room, hooked up to monitors with a nasal tube in place. Vladimir entered, gently lifting Peter’s head to give him water. “Your body is exhausted. Rest is what you need,” he said with surprising tenderness.

The next morning, the doctor returned. “Good morning, Peter. Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better,” Peter replied.

“Good. We’ll keep you under observation a little longer before restarting your program,” the doctor explained.

Peter recoiled. “Restart? But I can’t—I want to stop this immediately!”

The doctor’s expression remained neutral. “That’s not up to you or me. That’s Ahmed’s call.”

“Can I see him?” Peter pressed.

“I’ll inform him that you’ve requested a meeting,” the doctor said before leaving. Peter lay back, unease bubbling under the surface.

Doc left, and another giant of a man entered, pushing a trolley. "Breakfast," he grunted, his heavy Eastern European accent unmistakable. The tray held a mass-gainer shake, a bowl of oatmeal with fruit, and a generous serving of scrambled eggs. "I will remove the tube. Hang in there. Take this pill," he instructed, holding a small tablet in front of Peter’s mouth.

Peter blinked at him, confused. "Who are you?"

"My name is Tarek. Now eat." He pressed the pill closer, his stern gaze unwavering. "Don’t make me force it."

Reluctantly, Peter took the pill and washed it down with water. Frustration and anger seethed inside him—he had no appetite. He poked at the scrambled eggs but felt nauseous after a single bite. The oatmeal was slightly better, but after a few spoonfuls, he felt uncomfortably full.

Half an hour later, everything changed. His stomach growled loudly, a visceral hunger taking over. Without thinking, he grabbed the bowl of eggs, devouring it in seconds, followed by the oatmeal. He downed the thick shake, gulp after gulp, until the tray was spotless. Bewildered, Peter realized—the pill must have been an appetite stimulant.

However, his newfound hunger made him restless. Desperate for answers, he got out of bed, dragging the monitor—still attached to him—across the room. Luckily, the monitor had wheels, allowing him to wander. He quickly discovered he was on the second floor, overlooking a sleek, modern courtyard.

In the corridor, he noticed a partially open door. Quietly, he pushed it further and stepped inside. His gaze instantly landed on two feet stretched out in a bed, followed by the unmistakable figure of Tarek standing nearby. Tarek noticed him, his expression darkening as he strode toward Peter.

"You are not allowed here," Tarek growled, firmly gripping Peter’s shoulders and steering him back to his room. There was no room for argument; Tarek’s strength was overwhelming. Once back in the confines of his room, Peter slumped with frustration, his mind racing. He wanted answers, but his phone was nowhere to be found.

Stepping into the hall, Peter shouted for Tarek, who soon appeared, visibly irritated. "No phones here," Tarek barked.

"But I’m bored!" Peter protested.

"Watch TV," Tarek replied. "I’ll bring snacks."

Minutes later, Tarek returned, pushing a massive trolley piled high with treats—chips, candy, macarons, and more. Peter eyed the array suspiciously, deciding to skip the suspiciously appetizing macarons. Instead, he reached for a few Reese’s and started Netflix. Despite the distraction, unease bubbled in his chest—Who was the man in the other room? Why wasn’t he allowed a phone? And why were they so intent on making him eat?

Hours passed. Tarek returned, this time with a burger, fries, and an enormous milkshake. "The perfect Netflix lunch," he declared with a smile. "Oh, you barely touched the snacks!"

"My body’s rejecting it," Peter muttered.

"No worries." For a moment, Peter felt relieved—until Tarek produced another pill.

"Eat this," Tarek demanded.

Peter refused, shaking his head warily. Tarek’s expression turned stony. With shocking force, he shoved Peter back onto the bed, trying to force the pill into his mouth. Peter struggled, but it was like fighting a brick wall. "I want to see Ahmed!" Peter shouted, his desperation echoing in the room.

Tarek paused. "First, lunch," he said coldly.

Realizing he had no choice, Peter promised to eat. He took a few reluctant bites of the burger, nausea threatening to overwhelm him, and stopped. When Tarek returned and saw the half-eaten meal, he didn’t argue. Instead, he silently grabbed a syringe, injecting something into Peter's shoulder. Peter could only gasp before slipping into unconsciousness.

When he awoke, it was dark. A feeding tube had been reinserted into his nose. He groaned, falling back into a fitful sleep.

By morning, he found himself strapped to the bed, leather restraints biting into his wrists. Panicking, he screamed for help. Tarek entered, calm and implacable as ever. "No one is here. Just me." He leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. "Are you ready to eat?"

"Call Ahmed!" Peter shouted, voice cracking with fear.

Tarek ignored him. "Are you ready?" he repeated. When Peter refused, Tarek connected a glass bottle filled with liquid nutrition to the feeding tube. Once again, Peter’s world faded into black.

When he woke, he was free of restraints. Knowing better than to stay put, he ventured into the hallway once more. Returning to the room he had explored earlier, he peeked inside and froze. Jack, Ahmed’s friend, was bound to the bed, a feeding tube pumping food into him. His stomach was grotesquely bloated, like a balloon about to burst. Horrified, Peter slipped away as voices approached, hurrying back to his own room.

Moments later, Tarek appeared. "Follow me," he said.

Peter was ushered into a sleek office where Doc and Vladimir awaited him. "Step on the scale," Doc instructed. Reluctantly, Peter obeyed.

"Very good," Doc murmured, satisfaction in his tone. "Vladimir, take him to Ahmed, he has reached his goal.”

Reached his goal? Peter got confused, looked at his belly and saw that it grew increasingly.

Led into a wing Peter hadn’t seen before, he felt a strange tension in the air. When he entered Ahmed’s office, the man greeted him warmly. "Peter!" he exclaimed. "I’m so happy to see you. I was worried!"

Peter frowned. "Worried?" He gestured at his now-bulging stomach. "What the hell is this? I didn’t agree to this!" I was sick!

Ahmed’s expression turned serious. "You made a commitment, and we made sure you reached your goal. Truthfully, I wanted to give you time to rest and restart—but the decision wasn’t mine to make."

"Whose decision was it?"

Ahmed hesitated. "Michael’s."

Peter’s stomach dropped. "Michael?" He whispered the name like it burned his tongue.

Ahmed nodded. "Your car will arrive in a few hours. You deserved your rest now.

Rest? How could he rest? His mind spun with rage and disbelief—and an idea began to form. If Michael had orchestrated this, Peter would need a plan of his own.

Back in NYC, Peter was at the gym with Richie, both focused on reaching their personal goals. Peter’s strength was fully back, but he still had some lingering belly fat to lose. Richie’s belly was like a balloon now.

While spotting him on a bench press, Richie said, “Hey man, I know about your plan with Michael, but what if we also work on getting your numbers up? Are they paying you again for this?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know… probably. But i’m gonna lose the weight and I’m not getting fat again. That’s non-negotiable.”

Richie chuckled. “Don’t worry, man. I’m not saying that. But I seriously think you’ve got the potential to pack on some serious muscle. With the right supplements, you could grow into a beast. What do you think?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “If you’re suggesting steroids, I’m not interested.”

“No, no,” Richie said quickly. “I’m not talking about that. I’ve got access to some new peptides. They show amazing results. I’m planning to use them myself, especially because this gut of mine is getting way out of hand. If I don’t fix it now, I’m afraid it’ll never go away. Plus, I need to get my numbers up too—or my investment’s going nowhere. So, what do you think?”

Peter hesitated but finally said, “Alright… let’s give it a shot.”

The following morning, they both took their first injection. Workouts became instantly more intense—they felt stronger, more energetic, and better overall. Later that day, Peter stood in front of a mirror and, for the first time in months, noticed his shape returning. His shirt even buttoned up without straining. Progress, at last.

When Peter went to the weight room to record his numbers and send them to Ahmed, he unexpectedly ran into Michael. It was their first time crossing paths since the breakup. Michael’s face betrayed a subtle blush as he offered an aloof, “Hi.”

Peter locked eyes with him and coolly replied, “Hi,” before stepping on the scale.

Later that morning, Peter received an email from Ahmed: *“Are you gaining weight again?”*

Peter replied, *“Yes. Just temporarily.”*

Ahmed responded, *“Great.”*

Not long after, Michael sent Peter a surprising text: *“You look good, mister.”*

Peter read it but didn’t reply.

With Damian overseas, Peter had settled back into his old routine. Two months in, and after one month of using peptides, his body had undergone a transformation. Pumped, ripped, and lean, his belly fat had nearly vanished. Richie, on the other hand, had bulked up significantly, but there was little evidence that his infamous gut had shrunk. On the contrary.

That day, as Peter weighed himself in the corner of the gym, Michael walked in again. Peter noticed the spark in Michael’s eyes as he looked him over—up and down. Taking the opportunity, Peter casually asked, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Michael replied. “And you?”

“It’s nice to see you around more often,” Peter said, testing the waters.

“Likewise,” Michael stammered, cheeks slightly pink.

Just as Peter hoped, Michael later texted him: *“You’ve been looking really great lately. How’s life?”*

Peter responded: *“Good! I’ve been focusing on other clients, giving me more time to focus on myself as well. And you?”*

*“Good too,”* Michael replied. *“I just got back from Europe, so now I’m focused on establishing my life here again.”*

After that exchange, things went quiet—for days. Then, on weigh-in day, they crossed paths again. Peter was on the scale, his physique more impressive than ever, when Michael entered. Peter greeted him confidently, “Hi, Michael. Nice to see you again.”

Right afterward, Michael texted: *“I’d like to see you again—outside the office.”*

Peter hesitated but replied, *“I need to think about this.”*

The next day, flowers arrived at Peter’s place, along with a text: *“I’m sorry for how I ended things between us. Can I take you out to dinner?”*

Peter responded: *“Taking me out won’t undo the heartbreak, but… it’s a start.”*

Michael replied, *“You’re right. I’ll do better. How about dinner at Emilio’s?”*

Peter agreed: *“Sure.”*

As the evening approached, Peter pondered what to wear—he wanted to make an impression, to drive Michael absolutely wild. He chose one of his sharpest tailored shirts, some well-fitted chinos, and the cologne Michael always loved. The peptides and workouts had paid off—his shirt clung to his sculpted chest, and his pants perfectly framed his newly-defined physique. He left the top three buttons of his shirt undone and smirked at his reflection. He was ready.

When Peter arrived at Emilio’s, Michael’s eyes sparkled as they roamed over him. “You look incredible,” Michael admitted. “I’m so happy to see you again. I hope we can start fresh.”

Peter raised a hand. “Let’s not rush into things,” he warned. “I’ve built a life now—a *good* life. Back then, you were controlling, and when you tossed me aside, it took a long time to recover. I’m not sure how I’ll protect myself if that happens again.”

Michael looked genuinely remorseful. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll prove that I can do better.”

Peter gave a small smile. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? You were—are—the love of my life. But let’s take this slow.”

They ordered dinner, with Peter deliberately taking charge. “Let’s share the oysters and foie gras,” he suggested. “Then pasta and an entrecôte to split.” He even managed to convince Michael to eat most of the meal, including dessert. By the end of the night, Michael was slightly tipsy, giving Peter the upper hand.

Peter called a ride and sent him home in an Uber, victorious.

The next morning, Peter followed his regular routine, feeling quite satisfied with how things were progressing. He shared a laugh about it with Richie. Michael was noticeably absent from the office that day, prompting Peter to text him:

**Peter:** *Hangover?*

**Michael:** *Haha, yes.*

**Peter:** *Hungry?*

**Michael:** *Very much so.*

**Peter:** *Say no more.*

Thirty minutes later:

**Michael:** *Damn, Peter! That’s a ridiculous amount of food.*

**Peter:** *Let’s get rid of that hangover. I need you fit for tonight.*

**Michael:** *Tonight? I can’t, I’ve got a dinner.*

**Peter:** *I bet you can make it a quick aperitif meeting at 5 pm—then I’ve got you for dinner.*

**Michael:** *Damn, okay… let me see.*

**Michael:** *Alright, 8:30 pm at my place.*

**Peter:** *Perfect.*

Peter went for a 15 km jog before taking a quick shower and grabbing Thai food on his way. To round out the meal, he purchased a bottle of Coca-Cola, Coke Zero, and two slices of peanut butter cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. Before heading into Michael’s building, he swapped out the Coke Zero with regular Coca-Cola, then made his way inside.

When Michael opened the door, his eyes widened. "Wow, Peter! That’s way too much food!"

Peter chuckled. “No worries. Any leftovers can be tomorrow's lunch.”

What Michael didn't know was that Peter had secretly crushed a quarter of an appetite enhancer and mixed it into the Coke. As they sat down, Peter poured himself and Michael a glass—but refrained from drinking his.

It didn’t take long for Michael to devour the food, finishing it within minutes. Peter wasted no time and leaned in, starting to pleasure him. Michael climaxed almost instantly.

Still catching his breath, Michael asked, "Is there dessert?"

Peter smirked, pulling out the cheesecake. “Your favorite.”

They shared the cheesecake—or rather, Michael ate both pieces while Peter pretended to be too full after a bite. The evening ended in bed, where, between kisses, Michael admitted, “I’m so glad to have you back. And I love how incredible you look lately—your new physique is amazing.”

The next morning, Peter was up early and hit the office gym as usual, training alongside Richie. On his way back to the office, he bought a box of donuts and left them on Michael’s desk with a handwritten card. When he swung by later, Michael was already two donuts deep.

“Do I see you tonight?” Peter asked casually.

“Yeah!” Michael mumbled through a mouthful of donut.

From then on, Peter made it his goal to subtly add something unhealthy to Michael’s diet each day. This wasn’t easy, considering Michael’s strict calorie counting for the past year.

By the third week, Peter noticed a shift. That morning, he timed his visit to the weighing room to coincide with Michael’s routine. While pretending to organize some gym equipment, he overheard Michael grumbling to himself: “Damn it! These 2 kilos won’t budge anymore.”

When Michael emerged, Peter acted like nothing had happened. “See you tonight?” he asked nonchalantly.

Michael sighed. “Yeah, sure. But let’s just grab a salad, okay?”

Peter nodded. “Of course.”

Rather than risk suspicion, Peter brought salad as promised—but ensured the dressing contained a crushed appetite enhancer. As expected, Michael inhaled the meal, then grew restless, asking for dessert. Peter handed him a “protein shake,” secretly enriched with cream.

Minutes later, the restlessness persisted. “I need something to eat. Is there anything in the house?” Michael asked.

Peter shrugged. “Not really. What do you want?”

“I don’t know… Pretzels or M&M’s, maybe.” Michael frowned.

“I can run to the deli if you want.”

“Yeah, do that, please!”

Peter returned with family-size bags of chocolate-covered pretzels, M&M’s, and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Michael’s eyes lit up. He dove into the snacks like a man possessed—half the M&M's bag was gone before Peter even managed to scoop some ice cream into bowls.

It was a sight to behold. Michael was in a frenzy, alternating between ice cream, pretzels, and M&M’s, consuming everything so fast it was almost surreal. When he finally slowed down, Peter leaned in to kiss him, and the two ended up in bed.

Over time, Peter's plan began showing results. Michael was gaining weight. First, his tailored shirts became snug, followed by buttons struggling under pressure when he sat down. Eventually, he abandoned some of his pants altogether, unable to button them. Yet, Michael remained blissfully unaware of Peter’s schemes.

Peter, meanwhile, was transforming into a muscle-bound powerhouse. Michael adored it, showering Peter with compliments and expensive gifts.

Richie was spending less time at the office gym, preoccupied with the nearing completion of his own gym construction. By then, Peter had developed enough expertise to train on his own.

One day, after an intense workout, Peter and Richie headed to the showers. When Richie stepped out, Peter froze in surprise.

“Damn, bro—you’re huge,” Peter murmured, staring at Richie’s bloated belly and massively pumped physique. Richie looked like a blown-up bodybuilder.

Richie gave a knowing smile. “Yeah, it’s wild. I won’t lie—being this big has its challenges. I need an oxygen machine at night, and I haven’t seen my dick in ages. But hey, it pays off big.”

Peter smirked, flexing in the mirror. The sight aroused him.

“Man, you’re making excellent progress too,” Richie said, nodding approvingly.

Peter grinned. “Michael loves it. No way I’m stopping now—let’s see how far we can take this.”

Richie chuckled. “I’m with you, man.”

As Peter's deadline approached, he received an email from Ahmed:

**Subject:** Incredible Work

*Hey Peter,*

*You’ve been doing an amazing job and have exceeded all our expectations. The progress you’ve made with Michael is something we haven’t been able to achieve in years. We want to reward your hard work with a larger bonus than what was initially agreed upon. On top of that, we’ll be recommending you for a promotion to the board. In our eyes, you’re ready to take the next step.*

*Also, I’d like to invite you to spend the summer at my my Saint Tropez house—no strings attached.*

*Best regards,*

*Ahmed*

Peter responded promptly:

**Subject:** Thank You

*Dear Ahmed,*

*Thank you so much for your generous offers. I’m thrilled by the news of the bonus and the potential promotion. I also gladly accept your kind invitation and would love to visit the house sometime soon. You’ll hear back from me shortly to coordinate.*

*Best regards,*

*Peter*

Not long after, Peter received another email, this time from Patrick Preston:

**Subject:** Follow-Up Discussion

*Dear Peter,*

*We’ve received an email from our UAE client regarding your work. I’d like to invite you for a lunch meeting as soon as possible to further discuss their request. Please let me know your availability.*

*Best regards,*

*Patrick Preston*

Peter quickly replied:

**Subject:** Meeting Availability

*Dear Patrick,*

*Thank you for your email. I kindly propose tomorrow for the meeting.*

*Best regards,*

*Peter*

Ten minutes later, Peter received a response from Patrick’s secretary.

*Subject: Lunch Meeting Confirmation*

*Dear Peter,*

*Mr. Preston expects you tomorrow at The Bistro for your lunch meeting.*

Just as Peter finished reading the confirmation, Michael burst into his office with a curious expression.

"Peter, what did you *do* to get such a glowing endorsement from Ahmed?"

Peter leaned back in his chair with a slight grin. "I’ve just been hitting my targets," he replied matter-of-factly.

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Well, clearly you’ve done much more than that. They’re demanding a promotion for you, Peter. We’ve *never* had a request like this before. Patrick will fill you in tomorrow, but trust me—it’s huge."

With that, Michael added with a smirk, "Oh, by the way, I just got back from the tailor. I’ve gone up three sizes! Dating you is officially fattening!"

Peter stood up from his desk, walked over to Michael, and gently wrapped his arms around him, resting his hands on Michael’s growing belly. He kissed him softly and said, "You’ve never looked better."

The next day, Peter felt a mix of excitement and nerves as he arrived at The Bistro for his lunch with Patrick. When he entered, Patrick was already seated and greeted him warmly.

"Peter," Patrick began, "the company is absolutely amazed by what you’ve accomplished."

He paused briefly before continuing, "Ahmed has granted us an extraordinary investment, but there’s one condition: *you* must lead his medical investment branch in the UAE. It’s a huge promotion, Peter. You’ll be managing a team, overseeing multiple Designated Individual Projects (DIPs), and working at a completely different level."

Patrick leaned back in his seat, watching Peter's reaction. "This opportunity involves relocation, but we’re fully supportive of the move. Plus, if for any reason you want to return within two years, we’ll rehire you with the same benefits and seniority."

Over the next hour, they discussed the details of the opportunity over a hearty meal. By the end of it, Patrick, who had indulged perhaps a bit too much, reclined slightly in his chair and patted his now full stomach.

"So, Peter," he asked, grinning, "What do you think?"

Nope.

There’s a place called The Club not far from our university. Everyone knows about it. Lots of people hang out there, and everyone knows that if you go up to the host and say, “I can handle it,” you’ll be pregnant by evening. I don’t know where it came from, but everyone knows about it. In fact, some of my classmates have even gotten pregnant. It’s very lucrative. The pregnancy lasts three months, and for giving birth, you get between $100,000 and $200,000, depending on how many babies you can carry to term.

To be honest, I don’t understand why I waited until I was 23 to finally make up my mind. I’m about to graduate from college, so I decided there was no point in putting it off any longer.

I’ve always been proud of my body. But, to be honest, I’ve always gone crazy whenever I saw round bellies. I’ve always wanted to be a surrogate, but I was too shy about it. More than that, I’ve always wanted to be the biggest surrogate. To have a belly of simply inhuman proportions. But I knew perfectly well that it was impossible and would remain only in my fantasies. Or would it?...

Anyway, I made up my mind. I thought everything would be all fancy and formal, with paperwork, contracts (champagne?). But no. It was ridiculously simple. I walked up to the front desk, called over the host (fuck, he was handsome). I told him the secret phrase, and after that, he led me into the bedroom.

The guy fucked me so hard that no contract could ever describe it. Sparks were flying from my eyes. He fucked me nonstop for 6 hours. I’d lost count of how many times he came. And how many times I came... But with every time, he pumped more and more cum into me.

By the seventh hour, he was exhausted, and I was starting to think I was about to burst. I couldn’t even imagine that my stomach could hold that much cum. We lay there for about five minutes to catch our breath. The guy walked me out and didn’t even kiss me after sex like that!

In the locker room, he just gave my full belly a gentle pat and said,

“You're the first one I've been able to fill up like this. They say the amount of cum a stud can produce depends entirely on the recipient. Now, for the first time, I understand what that means.”

The guy flashed his dazzling smile and sent me home.

“Get used to the size. I think I’ll be seeing you again.”

He couldn’t have been more right.

I limped back to my apartment and went to bed, completely exhausted. I passed out and, for the first time in my life, slept for 13 hours straight.

In the morning, I went back to the mirror, and only then did I realize what I had done. My life would change forever.

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Lemon Zest - A lemon cake with lemon zest and a tangy lemon buttercream cream on top. Garnished with a candied lemon. ✨This cupcake has an added quickening spell. This results in a rapid pregnancy, growing to full term within an hour with labor quickly following. Because of the speed of the pregnancy, the number of babies cannot be predicted. Perfect for those on a strict time schedule or simply just impatient!✨

Strawberry Shortcake - A vanilla cake filled with a strawberry purée and topped with a light whipped cream frosting. ✨This cupcake gives you temporary weight gain without any pregnancy. Results differ per person, but most common areas are the belly, hips, and thighs. The affected areas will become soft and full while the magic is active. Perfect for those looking for a physical change without any further symptoms!✨

Salted Caramel - A vanilla caked filled with gooey caramel and a salted caramel buttercream. Topped with a caramel drizzle and a sprinkle of flaky salt. ✨This cupcake has an added slowing spell, resulting in a pregnancy that lasts much longer than a standard pregnancy. Time varies for each individual, with a minimum of 12 months and a maximum of 36 months. Like with rapid pregnancy, the time manipulation makes the number of babies unpredictable. Perfect for someone looking to stop and smell the roses!✨

Funfetti - A vanilla caked filled packed with colorful sprinkles and topped with vanilla buttercream and more sprinkles! A vanilla cupcake plus whimsy! ✨This cupcake results in a standard pregnancy with a twist! That twist being triplets! Perfect for someone who is bored of the same old thing and looking to shake it up!✨

Cookies and Cream - A chocolate cake with Oreo buttercream cream and topped with a whole Oreo. ✨This cupcake results in an asymmetrical twin pregnancy where each baby will develop at a different pace. As the developmental differences between the twins grows, there will be visible unevenness in the belly and will make one fairly unstable on their feet. It will also result in two separate childbirths. Perfect for those seeking a truly unique experience!✨

Coconut Cream - A vanilla base with coconut flakes baked in and a fluffy coconut buttercream ✨This cupcake results in a perma-pregnancy. You will immediately enter late stage pregnancy that results in no birth; instead remaining pregnant until the magic wears off (usually 9 months but results can vary) Perfect for those looking to enjoy the process of pregnancy but have no plans for the future! (Been there too)✨

S’mores - A dark chocolate cake on top of a gram cracker base and topped in a toasted marshmallow frosting. ✨This cupcake result in a fantom pregnancy. Your body will fully believe it is pregnant, creating identical symptoms and changes as true pregnancy. However, there will be no baby or labor. Perfect for those wanting to experience pregnancy but not willing to fully commit. ✨

i sat down with my family in order to have lunch, and now i’m already way too used to the way they look at me the moment i enter the room

i know they’re looking at the way my shirt hugs my body tighter each time, i know they can’t help but wonder how much prettier it was when my face wasn’t surrounded by a double chin and puffier cheeks - is that some chocolate on my finger? was i eating something sweet up there in my room?

we had a big pot of stew on the table, and i filled two plates - but it wasn’t enough

old me used to be afraid of doing what i was about to do, but new me just doesn’t care - hunger needs to be satisfied, and i don’t care what it might take, and shame is definitely not something i’ll pay attention to

i get up and declare to them that i’ll quickly go to the nearest gyros restaurant and buy myself another lunch

i know they immediately started talking about it the moment i left the house, but once again, the hunger was insatiable, and i was just so excited to put it in my gut so all the food i already ate could properly mix

i put on a jacket which is quite snug now - can’t remember when that became something i’d have to get used to, but oh well

i enter the gyros shop, and the guys working there already know what to give their big customer - the biggest gyros with everything they can add

they can’t help but notice the way i impatiently look at them preparing it, they can already see the hypnotized look in my eyes, i basically follow their hands whenever they add something, and all i keep thinking about is how all of that greasy, caloric junk food will satisfy the beast i became

the moment i come back home, i eat like the beast i’ve already mentioned - fries are falling from the gyros along with meat, but still, that only means i’ll have something to put in once i finish everything else

and i do it, oh how i do it - i collect all the stuff which fell out, and the only thing which will soon fall as well is me, after i get so bloated and full from this uncontrolled mission that i have - eat, eat, eat, and the moment i can’t do it anymore, i’ll eat some more, because hogs like me need to not be able to put on their shirts or underwear