The Bakery: Chapter 13
The months between Mexico and the wedding passed in a blur of expansion and excess.
Sweet Haven opened two new locationsâone in the downtown business district, another near the university campus. Paul was constantly traveling between sites, managing contractors, training new staff, negotiating leases. Adam handled the administrative side from his office at the original location, coordinating schedules, managing inventory, reviewing financials.
The business was thriving. They were making more money than Adam had ever imagined. And through it all, Adam kept eating.
He had stopped tracking a long time ago. He didn't count calories or weigh himself regularly anymore. He just ateâpastries throughout the day, massive lunches with Pablo, dinners with Paul that stretched for hours. His body expanded steadily, inevitably.
By late May, with the wedding just weeks away, Adam knew he was well over 400 pounds.
The suit arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.
Adam was in his office when Paul brought in the garment bag, his expression carefully neutral.
"It's here," Paul said, laying it across Adam's desk.
Adam felt his stomach drop. He'd almost forgotten about the suitâthe one they'd ordered back in January when he was 347 pounds. That felt like a lifetime ago.
"Try it on," Paul said gently.
Adam stood, his belly swaying heavily, and unzipped the bag. The suit was beautifulâcharcoal gray, perfectly tailored, expensive fabric. He pulled out the pants first, holding them up.
They looked impossibly small.
"I don't thinkâ" Adam started.
"Just try," Paul said.
Adam pulled off his sweatpants and stepped into the suit pants. He got them halfway up his thighs before they stopped. No amount of pulling or adjusting would get them higher. The waistband was at least six inches too small to close around his belly.
"Fuck," Adam whispered, his face burning.
He tried the jacket next. He couldn't get his arms through the sleeves. The fabric strained across his back, the buttons nowhere near meeting across his chest and belly.
Adam stood there, half-dressed in a suit that didn't fit. The wedding was in three weeks. Three weeks, and he had nothing to wear. Paul saw the panic on Adam's face.
"Hey." Paul's hands were on his shoulders, his voice calm. "It's okay."
"It's not okay. The wedding is in three weeks and I can't fit into my suit and I don'tâ"
"Adam. Look at me."
Adam met Paul's eyes.
"This is not a problem," Paul said firmly. "This is just a thing that needs to be solved. I'll call the tailor today. We'll get it retouched. Or we'll order a new one. Or we'll find something off the rack. Whatever we need to do, we'll do it."
"Butâ"
"No buts. You're getting married in three weeks. You're going to look incredible. And I don't care if we have to spend ten thousand dollars on a custom suit made in a week. We'll figure it out."
Adam felt something loosen in his chest. Paul wasn't angry. Wasn't disappointed. Wasn't even surprised. He was just... solving the problem.
"I'm sorry," Adam said quietly.
"For what? For gaining weight?" Paul's hands slid down to Adam's belly, gripping the soft flesh. "I'm not. I love you exactly like this. And I want you to feel good on our wedding day. So we'll make it work. To be frank, I am in part responsible for that."
Paul kissed him deeply, his hands possessive on Adam's body, and Adam felt the anxiety drain away.
It was just a suit. Just fabric. It didn't matter.
Pablo walked into the break room that afternoon, and Adam did a double-take.
He'd seen Pablo regularly over the past few months, watched him lose weight steadily, but somehow it hadn't fully registered until now.
Pablo was 200 pounds. And he looked like a fucking fitness model.
His arms were cut and muscular, veins visible under his skin. His chest was broad and defined, his waist narrow, his abs visible through his tight t-shirt. His face was lean and angular, his jawline sharp. He moved with easy confidence, his body light and powerful.
He looked like he could be on the cover of Men's Health.
"Jesus," Adam said. "You look incredible."
Pablo grinned, flexing his bicep. "Thanks, man. Hit 200 this morning. Lost 120 pounds total."
"That's insane."
"Yeah. Feels good." Pablo grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, his movements quick and efficient. "How are you feeling? Wedding's coming up soon, right?"
"Three weeks. And I'm... nervous."
"About what?"
"Everything. My family. How I look. Whether I can even stand for the whole ceremony." Adam's voice was tight. "I'm over 400 pounds now. I can barely walk without getting winded. And my family hasn't seen me in over a year. They know I gained weight, but they don't know how much."
Pablo sat down across from him, his expression serious. "You want my honest opinion?"
"Sure."
"Your family's going to be shocked. They're going to stare. Some of them are going to say shitty things, either to your face or behind your back. And it's going to suck."
Adam felt his chest tighten.
"But," Pablo continued, "Paul loves you. You love him. And you're happy. That's what matters. Anyone who can't see that can fuck off."
Adam nodded, feeling tears threaten again. "Thanks."
"Anytime." Pablo stood, stretching. "And heyâif anyone gives you shit, I'll kick their ass. I'm ripped now. I can take them."
Adam laughed despite himself. "I'll keep that in mind."
Philip walked into the bakery just before closing, and Adam heard the voices before he saw what was happening.
"Oh my God, is that Philip?"
"Holy shit, dude, what happened to you?"
Adam looked up from his desk to see three young men standing near the counterâearly twenties, skinny, fashionably dressed. They were staring at Philip with a mix of shock and cruel amusement.
Philip's face was bright red. He was wearing a hoodie that was too small, unable to cover his stretchmarked belly, his jiggly thighs straining against his jeans to their limit. He looked like he wanted to disappear.
"IâI work here," Philip said quietly.
"Yeah, we can see that." One of the guysâtall, with bleached hairâlooked Philip up and down. "Jesus, man. You used to be so hot. What happened?"
"I don't know. I justâ"
"You got fat," another one said, laughing. "Like, really fat. How much have you gained? Fifty pounds? A hundred?"
"I don'tâ"
"Dude, your belly is huge. And your face. You have a double chin now." The bleached-hair guy reached out and poked Philip's stomach. "Wow. That's all fat. You're like a completely different person."
Philip stood there, frozen, his face burning with humiliation. He didn't fight back. Didn't defend himself. Just took it.
Adam felt a surge of anger, ready to intervene, but then he saw Pablo.
Pablo was standing near the kitchen door, watching the scene unfold. And he was smiling.
Not a kind smile. A predatory one. He was enjoying this.
The three guys eventually left, still laughing, and Philip stood there for a moment, his shoulders slumped, his breathing heavy.
Pablo walked over, his hand sliding possessively around Philip's waist. "You okay?"
"No," Philip whispered.
"Good." Pablo's voice was low, rough. "Come with me."
He led Philip toward the back storage room, and Adam watched them go, feeling uneasy, but for some reason he felt his cock twitch.
Adam stayed late that evening, finishing some paperwork. The bakery was closed, the lights dim, the building quiet.
And then he heard it.
Moaning. Grunting. The unmistakable sound of rough, aggressive sex.
Adam stood, his heart pounding, and moved toward the back storage room. He knew what what happening. He knew he shouldn't look. Knew he should leave. But he couldn't help himself.
He peered around the corner.
Pablo had Philip bent over a stack of flour bags, his pants around his ankles, his hoodie pushed up to expose his soft, pale back. Pablo was fucking him hardâharder than Adam had ever seenâhis movements brutal and punishing.
Philip was drenched in sweat, his body shaking, his face pressed against the bags. And he was covered in donut powderâwhite and sticky, clinging to his skin, mixing with the sweat.
"You liked that, didn't you?" Pablo growled, his hand gripping Philip's hair. "You liked your little twink friends seeing how fat you've gotten. Seeing what a pig you are now."
"Yes," Philip gasped. "Yes, fuck, yesâ"
"Say it. Say you're a fat pig who loves being humiliated."
"I'm a fat pig," Philip moaned. "I love being humiliated. I love that they saw me. I love that they knowâ"
Pablo fucked him harder, his other hand sliding around to grip Philip's belly, squeezing the soft flesh. "You're almost 300 pounds now. And you're still gaining. And you won't stop."
"I know," Philip whimpered. "I can't stop. I don't want to stopâ"
"Good. Because I'm not letting you stop. I'm going to keep feeding you. Keep fucking you. Keep making you fatter until you can't even recognize yourself."
Philip came with a cry, his body convulsing, and Pablo followed moments later, his movements rough and possessive.
They stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, Philip's body limp and trembling.
Then Pablo pulled out, his hand gentle now on Philip's back. "You did good."
"Thank you," Philip whispered.
Adam backed away slowly, his face burning, his cock painfully hard in his pants. Whatever was happening between Pablo and Philip, it was twisted, but incredibly erotic.
The anxiety about his family hit Adam hardest at night.
He'd lie in bed next to Paul, his belly pressing against the mattress, his breathing labored, and think about the wedding. About his parents seeing him for the first time in over a year. About his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins. About the looks on their faces when they saw what he'd become.
He'd probably gained over 250 pounds since starting at the bakery. He could barely walk without getting winded. He couldn't fit into normal chairs. He couldn't see his feet. He couldn't tie his shoes.
He was enormous. Unrecognizable.
And his family was going to see all of it.
"What if they hate me?" Adam asked one night, his voice small in the darkness.
Paul rolled over, his hand finding Adam's belly. "They won't hate you."
"They might. They might think I'm disgusting. Or that you're taking advantage of me. Or that I've ruined my life."
"Have you?"
Adam was quiet for a moment. "No. I'm happy. I'm happier than I've ever been."
"Then that's what matters." Paul's hand moved in slow circles over Adam's belly. "And if they can't see that, if they can't be happy for you, then fuck them. You don't need their approval."
"I know. But I still want it."
"I know." Paul kissed his shoulder. "But you have mine. And that's not going away. Ever."
Adam felt relieved. Paul always had the right words to calm him down. He reached for his next cookie.
Derek came into the bakery on a Saturday afternoon, and Adam heard the whir of the motor before he saw him.
He looked up from the register to see Derek maneuvering a mobility scooter through the doorâred, sleek, clearly expensive. Derek was sitting heavily in the seat, his belly spilling over his lap, his thighs pressed against the armrests.
He'd gained even more weight since Adam had last seen him. He had to be close to 500 pounds now.
"Hey," Derek said, his voice breathless from the effort of steering. "Long time."
"Yeah. Hey." Adam came around the counter, his own belly swaying heavily. "Nice scooter."
"Thanks. My boyfriend got it for me. Early birthday present." Derek patted the armrest. "I can't really walk much anymore. My knees are fucked. And I get winded after like ten steps. So... this helps."
Adam nodded, feeling a strange mix of recognition and arousal. This was the trajectory he'd seen in Derek before. The path he was on himself.
"How much do you weigh now?" Adam asked.
"About 480. Give or take." Derek's tone was matter-of-fact. "I've kind of stopped caring. My boyfriend likes me like this. And honestly, it's easier to just... accept it. You know?"
"Yeah. I know."
Derek looked Adam up and down, his eyes lingering on Adam's belly. "You're getting there too. How much are you now?"
"Just over 400."
"Damn. You caught up fast." Derek smiled. "Looks good on you, though. You seem happy."
"I am."
"Good. That's what matters." Derek adjusted his position in the scooter, his belly shifting heavily. "I'm not gonna lieâthis is my life now. I don't leave the house much. I order everything online. I spend most of my time on the couch or in bed. And I'm okay with it. My boyfriend takes care of me. Feeds me. Fucks me. And I'm happy."
Adam felt his cock stir. This was his future. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. He could see it so clearlyâhimself on a scooter, or housebound, completely dependent on Paul. And the idea scared him, but it also aroused him.
"I'm getting married in a few weeks," Adam said.
"Congratulations. To Paul?"
"Yeah."
"He's a good guy. He'll take care of you." Derek started to maneuver his scooter toward the door. "Good luck with the wedding. And heyâif you ever want to talk, or just... compare notes, hit me up. It's nice to know someone else who gets it."
"Thanks. I will."
Derek left, the motor whirring, and Adam stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of his own body, the inevitability of his trajectory.
He was definitely going to end up like Derek.
Adam and Paul entered their new house. Paul had found it through a realtor who specialized in accessible propertiesâa single-story ranch with wide doorways, reinforced floors, an open floor plan. The master bathroom had a walk-in shower with grab bars and a built-in bench. The kitchen had lowered counters and extra space for maneuvering. There was even a small elevator installed for future use if needed.
It was expensive. But Paul didn't hesitate.
"This is it," Paul said as they walked through for the first time. "This is where we're going to live. Where we're going to build our life."
Adam felt tears prick his eyes. The house wasn't just accessibleâit was designed for someone who was immobile. Or close to it. Paul was planning for Adam's future. For a future where Adam couldn't walk easily, couldn't navigate stairs, couldn't fit through normal doorways.
Paul was building a life that assumed Adam would keep growing. Keep gaining. Keep becoming more dependent.
And he was doing it with love. With commitment. With absolute certainty.
"I love it," Adam said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Good. Because it's ours." Paul pulled him close, his arms barely reaching around Adam's bulk. "I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel safe. And I want you to know that no matter how big you get, no matter what happens, I'm here. This is our home. Forever."
Adam kissed him, tasting salt from his own tears. "I love you."
"I love you too. Every inch of you."
They closed on the house two weeks before the wedding, and Paul immediately started furnishing itâreinforced furniture, a custom king-size bed with extra support, a couch wide enough for Adam to sprawl comfortably. Everything was chosen with Adam's size in mind.
It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him.
Adam was washing himselfâa process that had become increasingly difficult as his belly grewâand his hand slid down to where his cock should be.
And found nothing.
He pressed his hand into the soft flesh of his lower belly, feeling around, searching. His cock was thereâhe could feel it, buried deep in the fatâbut it was completely invisible. Swallowed by his body. His belly hung so low, his thighs were so thick, that his cock had disappeared entirely.
He couldn't see it. Couldn't reach it easily. It was just... gone.
Adam stood there, water streaming over his body, feeling a strange mix of shock and arousal.
His cock was gone. The part of him that had once been a source of prideâseven and a half inches, thick, impressiveâwas now buried under hundreds of pounds of fat.
He was functionally dickless.
Paul stepped into the shower behind him, his hands sliding over Adam's belly. "You okay?"
"I can't see my dick anymore," Adam said, his voice shaking slightly. "It's completely buried."
Paul's hands moved lower, pressing into the soft flesh, searching. "It's there. Just... hidden."
"I can't even reach it. I can't jerk off anymore. I can'tâ"
"Hey." Paul turned Adam around, his eyes serious. "Do you need to?"
Adam blinked. "What?"
"Do you need your dick? To feel good? To come?"
Adam thought about it. About the sex they'd been having lately. About how he came nowânot from his cock being touched, but from being fucked. From Paul inside him, moving, the pressure and friction and fullness. From his own fat rubbing against itself, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming.
He didn't need his dick anymore. His body had found new ways to feel pleasure. New ways to come.
"No," Adam said slowly. "I don't need it."
"Then it doesn't matter." Paul's hands gripped Adam's belly possessively. "You're still you. You're still sexy. You're still mine. And I'm going to keep making you feel good. Every single day."
Paul kissed him deeply, his hands everywhere, and Adam felt his body respondâhis buried cock twitching, his whole body shaking.
He came later, Paul inside him, his fat rubbing and shifting with each thrust, the pleasure building until it was unbearable. He came without his cock being touched at all, his body shaking, his mind blank with ecstasy. His orgasms were now magnitudes stronger than they every were when he was hung.
