#fictionalstories

After Calle graduated from university he landed a job at an accountancy firm in his hometown Stockholm. He is a young, fit and handsome guy and at 23 years old he realized that he was too young to just sit behind a desk and spend his good years there just to climb the corporate ladder. He decided to save most of his money and go for a two years finance master in NYC. He worked his ass off, woke up at 7am go to the gym, made overtime and gets home at 9pm for the next day to be the same. After a year he got admitted at a very fancy private business school and left for two years to the States. His parents were not rich but supported him where they could and promissed him to pay his dorm room the first year. In his dorm he met his roommate Peter, a handsome slender tall guy that was about to start his senior year. Peter was a year younger then Calle and clearly worked-out quiet often.

September

Peter told him he would be going to a members only club that evening and asked Calle to join, his old roommate Damian from a a year ago invited him. In the bar Damian warmly hugged Peter, that was surprised Damians new look. Damian was dramatically larger than a year ago. His sixpack was burried under a big prominent belly. Peter patted Damians belly jokingly, saying that life was good to him. Damian had landed a job at an investment banker. Damian told the two guys that it was heaven on earth, there is a huge gym with heavy weights, they pay for everything, have amazing lunches, dinners and parties and most of the guys are gay as the two founders are gay too. They make sure you have everything you need. They are generous on bonuses and let you travel often. They even have a tailor coming in every three months. Damian adviced Peter to keep an eye out as the two founders often recruited their new employees from this club. Damian also asked if Peter already found a new boyfriend, but Peter told him no, he said that was looking for a 6`3 finance guy with a thrust fund. Damian laughed and said that a few of his colleagues fit the profile and would introduce them. Damian said that he was still single too but the office was a candy store for single gays.

Damian introduced a couple of his colleagues to Peter and Calle. They were all very friendly and handsome. All were pretty big guys, not unfit but most were carrying pretty big bellies, like ex-jocks that still often lift heavy weights in the gym. Funny what a good tailored suit can do, even unattractive guys look better with a good suit. Not all his colleagues were gay but they liked the attention and kept the booze flowing. Bottle after bottle was ordered and fried snacks kept on coming. Peter was talking to a guy he knew from their school that also worked with Damian. And Calle was talking to Diego, an older guy that worked for the company the longest. As the night progressed the guys were getting drunk and were challenging eachother to eat more and more snacks. Calle and Peter drank but kept it moderate. 

Peter and Calle woke up the next morning and Peter suggested a workout and a breakfast. After the workout Calle saw Peter’s body naked, it was nice and buff. Not too ripped but a sixpack was visible and two huge pecs very prominent. His dick was massive too. In a diner Peter ordered a protein loaded breakfast and Calle copied his order. They were talking about the guys they met. Peter mentioned that he was surprised to that Damian got so big in only a year. Damian used to be that star athlete of campus and showed a picture, he was indeed a catch. But looked like he completely let go.

Also the other guy used to be very fit but gained a lot of weight since working at the investment bank. Peter said that he couldn’t understand how someone gets so fat when you have a gym and good caterer. 

Oktober

Classes started and the following weeks Calle and Peter only saw eachother in the gym, at night in their room and on Fridays for after work drinks on Fridays. After a month Damian invited Peter and Calle again and they went to the members club again. Damian walked in, clearly bigger than last month.

Peter greeted him and poked his belly, telling him to join the office gym more often like they did. Damian laughed it away, he told him not to worry, it’s just the first few years. They want me to attent every client lunch and dinner and the assistants bring constant flows of snacks and drinks. He just needs to get back on track soon as soon as he reached his annual targets in order to get his bonus. He introduced Calle to Andy, a young big guy that had been working at the firm for a few years now. Calle was struck and started flirting. There was something about a nice suit, big muscular guy with a big fat gut. He never really had a type but thought he found it.

And it was mutual, Andy was all over Calle. He was doing everything he could to impress Calle. Bought him champagne, caviar, showered him with compliments. Calle was getting increasingly tipsy and clearly impressed by Andy. Andy invited him home, Calle willingly agreed. Andy drove a very fancy Porsche. Before heading home he wanted to go through the drive-in. He ordered a massive amount of food before asking Calle if he wanted some too, Calle said no. Andy was surprised and said, if you want bigger muscles you need to fuel them. Calle smiled but was persistent.

Before they reached Andy’s house, Andy already devoured 3 Big Macs and a big coke. At home he inhaled a family sized box chicken nuggets and the fries. When he was almost full he flushed it down with a big milkshake. He finally was full and started kissing Calle. Calle was aroused by the greedy guy. Andy undressed Calle and liked what he saw. A ripped 25 years old Scandinavian hunk with a big dick. He started sucking him and right before Calle was about to come he started undressing himself. His fancy tailored outfit hid a an impressive body. Broad shoulders, thick arms, huge pecs that rested on a big round belly, tree trunk legs and an amazing round ass. Calle couldn’t hold himself and jumped onto the big guy. Andy lifted Calle like it was nothing and turned him on his belly. He lubed his dick and entered Calle. It was pain and pleasure combined. It didn’t take long until both of them came. They feel asleep after and the next morning Calle woke up by the smell of fresh bacon. He saw Andy in his underwear cooking, he immediately turned hard again. A big muscular ass, treetrunk legs and footballerlike torso. Andy told him to contain himself, he first wanted breakfast. Breakfast was 10 scrambled eggs, a pound of bacon and a thick protein shake. Calle took a protein shake and some coffee. The shake was thick and sweet. He asked Andy what it was, it was his magic muscle potion. It was mass gainer, peanut butter, creatine, macadamia nuts and full fat chocolate milk. It was delicious but Calle was full after a few sips. Andy drank the rest. He started kissing Calle and orderen him to suck him off. When he came he said it was time to go. Andy told him he would love to see him but he will be in Dubai for the coming 6 weeks so he will let him know when he’s back. He will close a big deal and get his targets for the year. 

Calle went back to his dorm and was in love. When he came back he found Damian in his bed. Damian and Peter blushed when Calle came in. Stammering about what had happened, it was clear that the two had a romantic night. Calle laughed and proposed to go to the gym. The two guys agreed and got out of bed. Butt naked, Damian had a strong body with a nice chest, thick legs and a round gut. Not as Andy but not bad. Damian wanted to use some of Peters gym clothes but when putting it on he forgot how fat he got. He couldn’t even get the shorts over his round ass. I offered him a stretchy grey sweatsshort that was skintight on him and a tanktop that hardly covered his belly. The sight was hot but Calle had to pretend not to care. Damian was an attraction in the gym, all his former buddies came to say hi. The lifts that he had were strong, it was clear that the office gym was being used. They only eat too much Calle assumed.

The next week he didn’t hear anything from Andy. He assumed he wasn’t interested. Right before Peter and Calle were getting drinks in a bar on Friday the week after Andy texted and said, where are you going? Ill order you a bottle of champagne. Calle told Peter and Peter said, lets make the best of it and lets go to a fancy place. At the bar he mentioned Andy and the bartender put the bottle on a private table, enjoy guys! And the two had a fun night. 

November

The weeks progressed and Calle and Peter both hardly heard from their “dates”. Both were abroad and very unavailable. But after almost 6 weeks, as Andy promissed, he texted Calle that he was back in town and would love to see him. Maybe Peter and Calle could come to the members club that night. Peter didn’t hear from Damian and was down but he would join. At the club the two found Damian and Andy chatting, both were bloated and possibly fatter than 6 weeks ago. Peter was upset that Damian didnt text him but gave him a hug. And Andy hugged Calle rough. Calle was happy to see him but also concerned, his big friend got much bigger in such short of time.

Calle looked at Andy’s belly, Andy saw his look and told him that closing the deal meant that he had lunches and dinners every day for the last 6 weeks. But he closed the deal, reached his target for the year and will receive a bonus as big as a new apartment. Damian told Peter the same. Calle and Andy went home after a short while, both aroused and couldn’t wait to have more sex.

On the way Andy drove to the drive-in again. Calle asked him if he wasn’t big enough. Andy told him not to worry, he likes to be big and bossy. And in the office the bigger guys are seen as more senior. He also said that if he didn’t like it, Calle could just go home. But Calle liked it but also realized that this lifestyle wasn’t healthy on the long run. Andy realized that but he would retire before its unhealthy and he ordered even more than last time. The sex was insane again. And the next morning Calle woke up with the smell of bacon again. This time it wasnt only eggs and shake, Andy had orderen fresh pastries  too. He devoured it like it was nothing. His belly was bloated and he had a hardon. He ordered Calle to lay on his belly to be fucked again. CAlle couldnt wait. That Saturday they stayed in and the day was a blur. It was filled with food, Netflix and chill. Calle felt home and loved pleasing Andy. Andy was constantly stuffed and Calle liked it. 

Sunday night Calle returned to his dorm and found Peter. Peter was excited to share that Damian introduced him to his manager and that he might get an introduction. Everyday that week Andy and Calle saw eachother, Andy picked up Peter from school and they went to fancy restaurants. Andy payed for everything and was known in every restaurant they went to. Andy ordered massive amounts of food and was a treated like a king wherever they went to. It was amazing to be together. On Friday they went to the club again were Peter and Damian were as well. They had a fun night. Andy told Calle that he would have to go to Dubai again for a last minute deal before the year would end. It would mean that he probably would stay there until Christmas and return home. He offered Calle to stay in his apartment and use his car in the meanwhile. Calle was excited and sad. That night Andy and Calle had another night together loaded with food and sex. The morning after Calle dropped Andy off at the airport. He picked up Peter from his dorm to make a tour. Damian invited the two at the members club again. They were greeted by Damian and his colleagues. Peter was struck by a guy he never saw before, he flirted from the corner of his eyes but felt guilty as Damian was there too. But the guy was bold and came over, he told Damian to introduce them. Damian was struck and introduced him as Michael, the founder of the bank. Michael was a tall handsome guy, somewhere in his 30s or beginning 40s. He was the most handsome guy he had ever seen even with the little belly he carried. He was skinnier than most of the guys that worked for the firm. Peter stammered, and introduced himself. They were chatting away about economics and politics. Calle left as he couldn’t get a single word in, even Damian couldn’t even talk with them. So Damian left as well. 

Peter and Michael left for another bar and kissed that night. Peter went to his dorm by himself as Calle was in Andy’s apartment. He went to the gym the next day and received a text from Michael, Dinner tonight? Peter was excited and confirmed. Damian texted only to say that he was leaving for Europe and will be back before Christmas. Peter wished him good luck. He met Michael in a fancy sushi place. They had a very fun evening. They kissed again and Michael dropped him off at his dorm. Peter texted the next day to thank him and he immediately got a reply asking, Dinner at my place tonight? He confirmed. Michael and Peter had a very nice evening for two. They kissed and had a romantic night in bed. Michael was all over Peter, he loved every bit of Peters perfect sculpted abs and muscular young body. And Peter loved Michaels ex-jock look. The hot pecs and the cute round beer belly, a round ball of fat. Michael said, promise me that you will never get fat. Peter said, i wont, im fat to vain and active. Michael said, dont let my employees challenge you. Live is not a competition. 

The next morning Michael said to Peter, listed, I wanna keep seeing you and I know you want to have a meeting with the recruiter but I have a better idea. You will work on my team, don’t let anyone know about us. You will be in my assistant team but no one can know that I’m gay as most of our clients are Arabs. It’s just parttime so you can finish your uni and then we will discuss the future. Peter confirmed. The next day he got an email with instructions and a NDA that said that everything discussed and send is highly confidential. Especially anything Michael says or does.

Calle was enjoying Andy’s apartment. He went to the gym, cooked, studied and enjoyed the luxury apartment. He hardly heard from Andy but Andy showered him with gifts instead. A new laptop, flowers, perfume, those things. He heard that Peter was hired as Michaels assistant and realized that they would probably hardly see eachother. He invited him over to celebrate. That night they agreed that Peter would get Calle in the firm too as soon as Calle would be at his finals. That would take at least another year or so. 

Peter arrived the first day at his job, he met the other assistant, two very pretty girls in expensive clothes and blowdried hair. It was a beautiful office that was one wing of the building. It looked like a classic French livingroom equiped with lounge corner, meeting room, 4 desks, a main desk and private bathroom and shower. They explained the daily program and what Michael expected. When Michael arrived they had his coffee and some pastries waiting. He came in in gym clothes, stepped on the scale and one of the girls wrote it down. He went into his own shower, got dressed and explained the agenda. All the new info was tiring for Peter. Michael took him out for lunch and ordered a chicken salad for Peter and steak and frites for himself. It was fun and Peter liked how dominant Michael was. Michael expected Peter to study during office hours, go to the gym everyday and see him at his house every night. Eventhough Michael sometimes had late night meetings. It was a tough schedule but Peter liked it. Together with the girls they planned Michaels whole life and informed him on all the reports. They were a secluted area of the company. Only during meetings they saw other people. Peter and the girls were expected to take notes on important meetings. He learned about all the projects. Also the projects overseas were discussed. The amounts of money they discussed were insane. Million after million of revenue came in to invest. The food buffets around those meetings were insane, he saw all the guys digging in. Their own assistants sometimes even brought in milkshakes or pastries. They were just constantly eating and working. Even if they were behind their desks they were pampered. Peter and the girls were forbitten to eat. Even Michael hardly touched it. Andy and Damian were also discussed during the meetings. Their accounts were bringing in the biggest amounts.

When he came home Michael ordered him to step on the scale. Peter was surprised. He asked why and Michael said, i just dont want you to get fat. From now on you I will weight you every day. You are only allowed to add muscle. Peter agreed and was layed on his belly and got fucked by Michael. His dominance was very exciting. 

December

The days and the weeks flew by and Peters body was getting better due to his health regime and all the gym visits. Michael stayed the same although he might have gained a few pounds but Peter didnt mind.

It was the last week before Christmas and Andy asked Calle to pick him up from the airport. Calle made sure that they had a romantic dinner at home together. At the airport he was surprised when he saw Andy. Andy was clearly bigger again.

The surprised was brushed off when Andy hugged him. It was so nice to see him back and they went home. They had very passionate sex bit Andy felt much bigger on top of Calle. He was even out of breath at some point. The fell asleep in eachothers arms right after. The morning after Calle had breakfast for Andy but it wasnt enough. Andy ordered in some more pastries. Calle suggested to go to the gym but Andy had other plans with Calle and took him back to bed. That night they went to the club again where they met Damian. Damian had also clearly gained more weight. Calle decided not to say anything to either of them. Peter walked in a saw Damian and Andy, his eyes popped out of their sockets. He was suprised to see both guys so fat. Calle said, I know what youre thinking.

Peter replied saying that there most be something going on as everyone in the company is eating like there is no tomorrow. But everyone is so secretive and as im Michaels assistant no one tells me anything. Calle said, you on the otherhand look amazing! Beefed up! Peter blushed and replied, yes, Michael is very strict on his assistants. But I like it.

March

As the new year rolled in Peter and Calle were working their asses off, gym, school, work, relationships. Now that they had boyfriends they hardly went out. Andy was out on a business trip for two full months. They tried facetime a few times but he was always with others. After 8 weeks Calle picked him up and was couldnt believe his eyes. He new Andy grew but this time the amount of weight was insane. Andy saw his face and said, sorry babe, it got out of hand. The growing will soon stop Andy replied. 

During those two months Peter and Michael practically lived together. Michael decided everything Peter ate. While Michael had a more relaxed eating lifestyle Michael had Peter on a very strict protein diet. The office caterers made sure to prepare a very calculated meal program. In restaurants Michael orders everything for Peter. Peter only had to agree and show up. Peter and Michael had both their work and their private life. No one in the office new about. Peter’s body was perfectly sculpted and Michael’s stayed the same. Still everyday he stepped on the scale. After a while Peter became more persistent about Michael obsession with the scale. Michael said, someday I will explain. 

April

After three months of traveling Damian was back in town invited his two buddies to the club. When they showed up they first didn’t recognise Damian. Untill he started waving. He was huge, he gained even more weight than Andy. The two guys said, its time to explain something. Damian said, soon it will be done. They said that it was the third time someone told them that, they demanded more information. Damian said that the only thing he can say that it involves an insane amount of money. He was sweating. But the two guys were confused but happy to have sort of an answer. As the night continued the three guys got increasingly more tipsy. Before he knew it Damian blurred out that there would be a new job opening as a junior account manager and Peter would be perfect. Peters eyes lit up. In three months right before summer they would hire someone. When Peter got home he saw Michael and told him about he opening. Michael hardly reacted and said that he didnt know about it but if he wanted it he should apply. They didnt have sex like normally and just went to bed. The next morning Peter asked why he wasnt excited, Michael replied, saying that he knew his employees and didnt really want Peter to be part of it. Besides, they would probably see eachother much less. Peter hadnt thought about that that. But he did want to start his carreer somewhere good. He did send in his application to start the hiring process.

It was already end March and Andy got back from another month of traveling. He was again bigger. Calle didnt even mention it. He was just happy to see his big boyfriend back. They went out for dinner and got pretty tipsy. Andy ordered the biggest steak on the menu and had 3 desserts.

His buttons were almost popping after the third dessert. The sight made Calle horny. Andy saw Calle’s excitement and had a hardon under the table and quickly asked for the bill. At home they ripped off eachothers clothes amd had amazing sex. That night Andy had trouble sleeping, his weight made him struggle breathing. Calle said, I love you, i think youre sexy but maybe its time to lose weight. Andy said not yet. Calle asked why, Andy said, i a few weeks I can tell you. Calle got upset, he said, Andy, tell me whats going on. This cant continue. Andy said, ok but I have a very strict contract with big punishments if I share info, so i will share some bit not all. The risk is too big. Calle agreed. So I have this client the invests millions and millions of dollars into the bank. As soon as I reach a certain weight he will invest a $100.000.000 and I will receive a kickback of $5.000.000. Calle was silent. He said, jezus, this is not a joke, it’s your health. Andy said absolutely but if I continue this for a few more months I have enough money to retire and do whatever I want. Calle said, ok and how much more do you need gain? Andy said, if I gain 50lbs in the coming two months i reached my goal. Calle was struck. Both couldnt sleep anymore and Calle started scrolling online about weight gain. The next morning Calle had a plan, I will help you. I ordered mass gainers, peanutbutter, and an oxygen machine. You will be huge within these 2 months but promisse me you will keep going to the gym. Andy agreed.

That morning they went to Starbucks and ordered the creamiest and largest coffee, eggmuffins and a few pieces of pie. Andy ate willingly. The afternoon Calle went for a run and got home all sweaty with a big bag of McDonalds. Andy ripped of Calle’s shirt and wanted to fuck his perfect ass but said, only after you finished this. Andy laughed and started. He was full halfway but saw Calle taking his shirt off. He kept pushing himself and started to feel sick. It hurt he moaned, Calle said, comon big boy, you can do this. He kept pushing and after last bite he layed himself on the bed. His belly bloated and pushed out like a big ball of fat. Calle started stroking his dick. He didnt have to do a lot before Andy came and fell asleep. Later that day Calle woke him up, get up big boy, we’re gonna do groceries. They went to Wallmart and loaded in pounds of steaks, butter, mayonaise, heavy rich cakes, tubs of icecreams and XL buckets of Nutella. When they got home the massgainers had arrived too. Calle started by making a Nutella gainershake with some vanilla icecream. It was the sweatest and thickest shake Andy had ever had. But he drank half a liter of the calorie loaded shake. It kept him full until dinner. Calle served him a huge steak fried in a insane amount of butter. He baked potatoes and served them with buckets of mayo. Eat up big boy, we have a dessert waiting for you and lifted his shirt. Andy started eating. The extra fat made him feel full extra fast. But he kept going. As soon as he devoured the big piece of steak Calle came in with a big peanutbutter chocolate pie. If you eat this fast enough you’ll be lucky he said. He started digging from the whole cake. He hardly chewed the rich cake. When he slowed down Calle gave him mountain dew to wash it away. Half way the cake he gave up, his bloated belly showed from under his t-shirt. Calle undressed him and ordered Andy to fuck him. After only a few thrusts Andy could hardly breath. He came again within minutes and fell asleep. 

These new feeding sessions became the new routine. Andy wasnt traveling that month and went to the office for gym and meetings. The meetings had big buffets and his colleagues were challenging him to eat bigger meals. At night Calle waited with huge rich dinners finished with calorie loaded mass gainer shakes. Every day he would put in a bit more nutella and mass gainer. The dessert was Calle. Often Andy was too out of breath and just had to lay on his back while Calle did the work. Sleeping went much better now that Andy had his oxygen machine. During the weekends Calle went to the gym, went to Wallmart and picked up mountains of burgers. At home he made huge shakes for Andy while he was devouring the burgers. They were finished with sex and cupcakes.  

Halfway through April Peter got an invitation for a meeting with the recruiter. Michael asked if he really wanted it, Peter said yes. Ok said Michael, i will write you a recommendation, but you will not gain weight or we will be over. I do not want a fat boyfriend. Peter was confused, and said of course not. I will keep doing my daily routine. Michael said, ok I will keep weighing you and I don’t wanna hear you complaint if things go grim. A few days later he went into the office early and had a meeting with the recruiter. He was offered a drink and a pastry that he declined. Then he had to sign a contract. He was not allowed to talk about any of the information. The recruiter said that he received the recommendation, you must be good if the boss writes you one. The meeting was tough, they roasted him. They kept asking how he would deal with demanding clients. He kept saying that he would do anything but they were hesitant. After the meeting they said that they would need at least two weeks to see all the applicants and that they will call him after that. When he saw Michael that night he raised his concerns about his interview. Michael said that it was a very demanding job and that he should really think about if he is ready to change his whole life. It’s easy now with Michael, and if he wants he could even get a bit more responsibility and a raise. It sounded appealing and he will think about it. 

May 

The weeks were a blur for Andy, he was used to eating large meals with his clients but this was new. Calle challenged him in every way. He had never felt as full as Calle’s feeding sessions. Every meal stretched him to a new limit. The meals got more calorie dense every day. And their sexlife has never been this good. Calle pushed all his buttons. He felt his body grow every day. Sometimes he would panic if he saw his reflection in the mirror. He has never been stick thin but there were times that he was flaunting a sixpack on the beach. The reflection made him panic about his health more than his appearance. Calle made his large frame feel sexy and masculine. The gym sessions kept him strong. Calle was the only one that was allowed to see the scale, besides, Andy couldn’t see past his belly any longer. This made Calle more in charge of his body. 

Peter got a call from the recruiter, saying that he was through to the next round but it was a long shot. The next meeting would be in two weeks. They mentioned that they were still doubting if he really wanted it but the second meeting would be an assignment, he would receive learning material within a few days. Michael had become colder and colder towards Peter. They didn’t have sex that often any more and Michael aften went out late at night. Sometimes he would ask the other assistants if there were other guys in Michaels agenda but they said that there weren’t. When he received the material for the interview he immediately started reading. During his regular work and the meetings Peter attended in the office Peter tried to reach out to a few of the senior accountmanagers, to see if they had tricks. Unfortunately they werent really interested. They just did their thing, presented their numbers, went to the buffet, and went on with their day behind their desks or at client meetings. He thought that they must be under a lot of pressure if they didnt even have time to socialize with juniors. That day he bumped into Andy in the office. Andy was huge, he was clearly fatter but his muscles were also bulking. He was sweating and of breath from his walk from the parking towards his desk. Peter offered to get him something and Andy replied that he saw that there was an Oreo cheesecake in the kitchen and that he would looove a big piece with a Frappuccino with a double shot of mocca caramel from the coffeeshop. Peter understood the assignment and realized that if he wanted more info he would have to get it. And so he did. He went down to the coffeeshop, ordered a XL Frappuccino and cut a ridiculously large piece from the cake and brought it to Andy. When it was in front of Andy he said, ok now tell me, how do I get the job. Andy first replied with his mouth full that he wasn’t allowed to talk about it. Peter took away the plate and treathened to throw it in the bin. Andy greedily said, ok ok, I will give you some info but first give me the plate. Peter handed him a fork with a big chunk and said, step by step mister. Andy said ok, never say no to anything they offer you. Peter cut off a second large chunk. Andy said, be aware that they own you as long as you work for them and tell them that you will be submissive to their demands. A third chunks was got off, now tell me Andy, what do you mean. Andy said, if you’re lucky clients will only kiss sometimes, if you’re unlucky you might have to lose that perfect sixpack. Now thats the end, I shared more than im allowed. Peter gave him the rest of the cake and left his office. He was confused, how can they own someone he thought? And was that the reason why so many of the seniors were fat? He wondered. 

The morning before the interview Michael had already left for the office. Peter was nervous and insecure, he started realizing that all the food and the weight gain of his Damian and Andy was part of their deal. He didn’t want to lose Michael but he did want a promotion. He decided to see where it would go. Right before the interview Andy walked up to him, saying, listen Peter, whatever they offer you, just take it. They will ask silly questions but they wanna see how far you will go. He became even more nervous. He walked in the room and saw two guys he had never seen, they introduced themselves but he forgot their names, he was struck by their handsome appearance. He understood that they were from the Middle Eastern office and they told him that his role would focus on the Middle Eastern clients. One of them called to the reception and ordered coffee, within a few minutes they brought in three cups of coffee. Then the assistant brought in a large tray of millionaire shortbread. The assistant only offered Peter and Peter took one. The assistant put the tray in front in of Peter and left. They started chatting and the two guys were incredible charming. They discussed all kind of subjects. From fancy clothes to food to cars and watches. They kept offering the shortbread seductively and hospitable. Peter ate willingly, since dating Michael he hardly ate something sweet and let alone unhealthy. He started to feel full but kept stuffing the shortbread in. After what must have been an hour they asked what he wanted for lunch, one of them mentioned to order some steak for the protein goal. Peter said to join the steak. The conversation went easy and friendly and at the moment he finished the plate of shortbread the same assistant came in and prepared the table for the lunch. It was prepared with real solver and expensive linnen napkins. Shortly after he came in with a trolly with heath lamp and a huge piece of prepared steak and started cutting the big piece of meat. Another assistant came in with a plate of salade and served the three man, in the meanwhile the first assistant served the steak, perfectly cooked. He got served a big portion and saw that the guys were served half of what he had. The other assistant the came in with a large bowl of fries and served it on top of his plate and put a bowl of mayonaise next to it. They kept the conversation running and slowly ate their food. Peter wanted to make sure he ate everything so he didn’t disappoint. He kept thinking about Andy’s remark. He felt uncomfortably full and let out a sigh after finishing half of the meat. The assistant came in and served he the exact amount of meat and another mountain of fries. Peter started to become nervous and started sweating a bit. He asked for a drink, so he could wash away easier. He brought in a big glass of coke. Peter saw the two guys grinning to eachother while he was struggling to stuff in the meat and fries ik his mouth. He could only hear them talking about staying abroad often but could hardly respond as he tried to eat as fast as he could.

The moment he wanted to give up one of the guys said, I hope you enjoyed it and saved some room for dessert. Grinning more. Peter’s forehead was drenched by sweat and could only knot yes. The assistant took away his unfinished plate and topped up his coke which he happily sipped from for some relieve. The guys asked, are you ready to take on the job? Peter wanted to reply but the assistant came in with big bowl of chocolate mouse. The assistent scooped a big portion on his plate. Peter knotted and started eating the mouse. He just wanted the conversation to be over. They brought out the contract and put it in front of him. We will give you some time to read. He started reading but could hardly focus. It mentioned salary increase, bonusses, transport, representation, clothes. It was blurry as he was too full to think. He was looking for a pen, one of the guys walked back it and said, looking for this? The assistant came in behind him and gave and put the big bowl of mouse in front of him. The guy said, let’s see how far you can get before you can sign. Peter wanted to throw up but realized it eating or nothing. His stomach was aching and he sweating all over, but he kept eating. He became a mess, there was chocolate all over his face. As soon as the last bite was in his mouth he was handed over the pen and signed. He collapsed and fell in a food coma on. A few minutes later Andy woke him up and said, hi there partner. I just got informed that you will take over my Middle East clients, I will prep you and in two weeks you will join me for a trip to Dubai. 

He was happy but only wanted to lay down. He called in sick and went home for the rest of the day. When Michael got home later that night he congratulated Peter, he said, I will give it a chance but remember what I told you. Now get undressed so I can congratulate you properly. The next morning Peter woke up still bloated, Michael told him to step on the scale. Michael wrote it down and ordered him to go to to the gym and a run today. Peter felt embarrassed but agreed. 

In the office Peter met up with Andy to go over all the details. Peter started asking all kinds of questions, but Andy told him to wait and see. That day the tailor came into the office and started taking Peter’s sizes. He said something like to make his clothes bigger as he new by experience that newbies would gain a bit of weight in the beginning. Peter told the tailor to just go for his regular sizes as he would not gain weight. The tailor just laughed. Andy told him to make sure to bring swimwear too. He would be in the heat for at least 4 weeks. 

June

The two weeks before Peter’s departure were a blur. All the things he had to arrange and go over with Andy and his normal assistant work for Michael. Ever since he signed the offer Michael was all over him, every spare minute he wanted sex. Like it would be the last time. On the day of his departure Michael hugged him and said take care. Andy and Peter boarded the plane and made themselves comfortable in the large businessclass seats, they even looked small when Andy sat down. When they arrived in Dubai there was a Rolls Royce waiting for them. It drove out of the city towards a big compound. They were greeted by a handsome butler and each brought to a room. Through the windows of a hallway in on of the side buildings of the compound he saw a huge outside gym. He saw a big handsome guy with a trendy oversized gymshirt, mist be the trainer Peter thought. When they arrived at their suites the butler told them to relax the rest of the day and be dressed for dinner. Andy knew his way around and asked if he could get some lunch as he was starving. He also suggested to eat it at the pool. Their wing had it’s own pool. The butler suggested that Peter would have some lunch too. Andy said to quickly change to swimwear. They sat down on two comfy lounge chairs. Two handsome servers brought a trolley with two large burgers and fries and a big milkshake, just how you like it Mr. Andy.  They both dug in and Andy almost inhaled the food. Peter didn’t even have one third when Andy finished already. Andy told Peter to hurry as dessert will be served soon. Peter started to eat faster but couldn’t handle the pace. Halfway through his plate dessert was served, two large bowls of fresh tiramisu. Andy lounged back on the chair and balanced his bowl on top of his belly. His belly was a sight. Peter was surprised by the mountain of fat. He got aroused by Andy’s masculinity. Andy ordered Peter not to slow down. When Peter started his tiramisu Andy already ordered a second one and some ice cream to top it off. The moment Peter finished his dessert Andy suggested a nice nap.

At dinner they were awaited by their client. Ahmed, a handsome beefy guy. He greeted Andy with a hug. He said well Andy, by the looks of it you deserve the investment. So walk with the butler so he can take your measurements. Peter why don’t you join them so we will take yours too. Andy undressed to his underwear and stepped on the scale. He could not see what it said but the butler wrote it down. Peter did the same. If said 90kg, that was 10kg heavier than when he first started dating Michael he thought. His body was perfectly sculpted by bulging muscles.

They got dressed again and went back to Ahmed that was waiting for them with a buffet filled with appetizers. He ordered them to dig in. They piled their plates and sat down. Now start eating said Ahmed. They dug in while Ahmed shared the results. Now Andy, congratulations, as proposed we will invest $100.000.000 as soon as you reached your goalweight of 170kg and even gained 10kg more. You will receive a personal kick-back of $5.000.000. Peter suddenly realized what was happening. The client was playing a sadist game and wanted to see how far people would go for money, it clearly worked. Peter froze and realized that it was his turn now as he would take over from Andy. He couldn’t eat any more. Ahmed made Andy another offer, as you will be here to guide Peter to take over from you, we will offer you another personal kickback of $500.000 for every kilo you gain the coming 4 weeks. Andy smiled, he said, that will cost you hehe. 

Now Peter, as you know your first target is an investment of $1.000.000. We are willing to invest that if you gain at least 5kg the coming 5 weeks. Your personal kickback will be $100.000 if you can reach that. Every 100grams above that will add another $10.000. Peter almost got sick hearing the offer. He hardly ate and spoke during the dinner while Andy devoured plate after plate. he got increasingly bloated during the dinner. He was finally full after three huge bowls of chocolate mouse. Ahmed excused the two and let them get back to their rooms. He told them to be ready after breakfast tomorrow for a few days on his yacht. He told the butler to prepare their luggage.

While they walked back to their room, Andy said, Peter, it doesnt matter how you gain the weight, if it’s fat or muscle or both. Just do it. If you leave without the investment they will put you on London clients and they are more grimm. They will want you to date them or worse and the investments are not that lucrative. There is a gym on the compound with a full time personal trainer, he can also help you gain weight. He might even have some bodybuilding tricks for that.

Peter told Andy that Michael doesn’t want a fat boyfriend. Andy said that he was in the same situation as he used to date Michael too, so let me tell you a story. Michael want two things, money and a hot twink boyfriend. He will dump you when you gain weight or get old but will shower you with bonusses if you make him more money. Think about it. 5 to 10 years of these clients and you can retire. He will dump you in 5 years anyway because you will be too old for him too. And Michael has a an agreement with the Arabs too, 15 years ago when Michael started the company he was sculpted like a god. They made him gain weight too in order to invest in his funds. They offered him a kickback of $25.000.000 if he gained 50kg in total, and guess what, he did. And to top it off, they pay him a $1.000.000 a year not to lose any weight. And they still have an offer for him for $500.000 for every kilo he gains. But he is vain enough to just take the annual million. Instead of him gaining more he sent his boyfriend to the Arabs. It was the guy before me. A beautiful young muscular man, Eric. He sold Eric’s soul and body. They invested $500.000.000 and Eric blew up to 400kg. Within 10 years Eric was unrecognizable. He was a prize hog, and was hardly mobile. Eric became an eating money machine. After the first 10kg Eric got dumped by Michael and I came in his place.

But Eric was a money maker for Michael. The kickbacks were not that lucrative for Eric, the kickbacks went to Michael instead of Eric himself. Eric was still blindly in love with Michael and did everything Michael wanted. Eric got fatter and fatter and fatter. The Arabs loved it. Eric had fun too, he sometimes stayed in the compound for months in a row. But after 10 years Eric had to retire, he could hardly perform and walking became a problem too. He is now locked away somewhere in the South of France where Michael has a house and makes sure he’s well taken care of. Probably is still doesn’t know how much money Michael made out of him. Im sure Michael feels guilty about it. Since Eric the kickbacks come to us directly. We can even negotiate. If you like you can even start an affair here, but be warned, shut up about everything that goes on around here. And don’t become like Eric but play the game better. Do what you have to do and think of yourself. Thats what Michael does too. Now get some sleep, we will talk more during breakfast and then we will get on the boat tomorrow.

Daniel, 21, was living a life most men could only fantasize about. Handsome, wealthy, and a successful male model, he seemed to have it all. As the face of Canovo, a luxury fashion brand founded by his late grandfather, Daniel’s image illuminated every prominent billboard in town. But beneath the polished exterior of his jet-setting lifestyle lay a more complex reality. Since his grandfather’s passing, the family’s empire rested squarely on the capable shoulders of his mother, Catherine. While she managed the brand with grace and precision, Daniel was being groomed to one day take over. For now, he juggled finalizing his master’s degree, managing the company’s social media, and spending most of his time living on the sprawling family estate.

Catherine, at 46, was a striking beauty and an icon in her own right. A devoted single mother, she’d raised Daniel alone after losing her husband—Daniel’s father—in a devastating car crash when her son was just 2 years old. Instead of rebuilding her personal life, Catherine threw herself into preserving the legacy of Canovo, ensuring its steady growth and securing its status as a top-tier brand. For two decades, she had played the roles of CEO, grieving widow, and dedicated mother—juggling the delicate balance effortlessly, winning over both customers and the media. Catherine was hailed as the perfect blend of elegance and strength, the media’s sweetheart, beloved and admired by all. But as Daniel became more independent, Catherine found herself with something she hadn’t had in years: time.

It was at a Canovo-sponsored fashion event that she met Luca—a 30-year-old, darkly charming Italian model. Their chemistry had been electrifying, and the two quickly began to date. Before long, the tabloids picked up the story, splashing pictures of their outings across headlines. Daniel learned about their relationship like everyone else—through the media—and while he initially had no strong opinion about it, his first encounter with Luca left him unsettled.

The dinner Catherine invited her son to attend confirmed his unease. Luca, with his finely tailored suit and sculpted charm, was everything you'd expect from a male model. But despite the superficial elegance, Daniel sensed something off. During the evening, Luca was attentive—too attentive—to his mother, showering her with compliments and basking in her approval. But Daniel couldn’t ignore the subtle arrogance that leaked through in interactions with the staff. The way Luca disregarded their efforts grated at him—it was all too contrived. When Catherine later asked him what he thought, Daniel kept his reservations mild, only saying, “I’m not sure about him, but I hope you know what you’re doing.” Her response shocked him: “Don’t worry, Daniel. He’s just a toyboy for now.”

That nonchalant admission didn’t ease Daniel’s concerns. If anything, it unsettled him even more. As the weeks went by, Catherine and Luca’s relationship only intensified, and Daniel grew increasingly frustrated. It wasn’t just the barrage of paparazzi photos documenting their every move; it was Luca’s constant presence in their lives. When Daniel tried to escape the media circus by retreating home on weekends, he couldn’t avoid them. Their relationship was everywhere, from the tabloids to the very walls of the house he grew up in.

Daniel couldn’t stand overhearing their intimate moments. He hated the way their passionate escapades echoed through the corridors of the estate, infiltrating his thoughts. His discomfort boiled over one morning when, groggy from sleep, he entered the kitchen to grab some coffee only to find Luca standing there—completely naked.

Luca’s sculpted physique, which seemed straight out of an ad campaign, should have been another reminder of Daniel’s picture-perfect world. But instead, it turned his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy he felt—he had no desire to compete with this man on the grounds of looks or charm. It was something deeper, something instinctive. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Luca was more than just a “toyboy,” as his mother so casually dismissed him. What Daniel saw in Luca’s eyes wasn’t simply affection for Catherine; there was calculation there—a hunger that seemed to extend far beyond the boundaries of their romantic relationship.

For the first time in his life, Daniel felt something new: suspicion. It lingered like an unwelcome guest, growing stronger by the day.

Despite being only nine years older than Daniel, Luca effortlessly stole the spotlight wherever he went. At every party Catherine and Luca attended, the paparazzi captured their every move, leaving Daniel feeling sidelined. Once the center of attention and his mother’s confidant, Daniel had now become an afterthought. Even communication with Catherine was sporadic since her priorities revolved around Canovo’s skyrocketing success and Luca’s charming presence. The brand was booming like never before, with high-profile collaborations and celebrities flocking to wear Canovo just to bask in Luca's magnetic aura. Dressed in Canovo head to toe, Luca personified the opulence Daniel used to embody, deepening Daniel’s sense of displacement and envy.

Daniel couldn’t ignore how Luca’s meteoric rise outshone him, and the jealousy gnawed at him. Feeling emotionally alienated, he turned to food for comfort during his nightly study sessions. The chicken and broccoli routine that had sustained his sculpted physique gave way to a different kind of indulgence—ice cream, pizza, chocolate, or anything that temporarily dulled the sting of inadequacy. Each media appearance Luca made sent Daniel further into a spiral. The consequence of his frustration manifested clearly in his physical appearance. His famous six-pack disappeared, replaced by a softened figure that no longer fit Canovo's standard for models—a reality Daniel tried desperately to deny.

One night, he returned home after a party, fatigued and already wrestling with his diminishing self-image, only to be confronted by Catherine. “Sweetie, are you okay?” she asked gently but hesitantly, her piercing gaze noticeably shifting to his figure. “I see you’ve gained some weight… Is this temporary? Because we have a new photoshoot coming up.” Daniel froze, consumed by panic and shame. Rather than confronting the root of the problem, he plunged further into distraction, partying nonstop and indulging in junk food during late-night binges. It wasn’t long before the media began commenting on his transformation. Headlines like "Who Ate All the Pies?" began circulating, accompanied by unflattering paparazzi shots of his bloated midsection. The public ridicule reduced Daniel to tears as he drowned his sorrows in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

The final blow came when Catherine made a devastating decision. As founder and creative force behind Canovo, she decided to replace him as the face of the brand. “It’s not personal, Daniel. It’s just business,” she explained with forced neutrality. Yet, the betrayal cut deeply, leaving him unmoored. Stripped of his position and wracked with self-doubt, Daniel vowed to reclaim his identity and standing in the industry. Determined to move forward, he sought the guidance of model agent Jack Baker—a tough, no-nonsense figure renowned for crafting comeback stories. Jack didn’t sugarcoat the situation. “Listen, man, you need to get your life in order. Lose this gut, hit the gym, and let your trainer whip you back into shape. You don’t have time to mope if you want your career back.”

Taking Jack’s advice to heart, Daniel embarked on an arduous journey to rebuild himself. The road wasn’t easy; the initial months were riddled with sweat, tears, and moments of self-doubt. Half a year of relentless discipline and grueling workouts finally paid dividends. Daniel shed the weight, regained his toned physique, and emerged more confident than ever. His efforts restored his reputation, landing him numerous modeling gigs and reigniting his buzz in the industry. Gradually, the paparazzi returned to him, capturing his triumphant return to the limelight. No longer tethered to his mother’s authority, Daniel now walked red carpets as his own man, often alongside Jack, his mentor and ally. Parties were no longer about reclaiming lost recognition; rather, they became emblematic of his independence.

Even so, the dynamic between Daniel, Catherine, and Luca remained strained. Daniel harbored resentment toward Luca, the man who had displaced him both professionally and personally. Catherine, ever enamored with fame, adored the attention Luca brought to her world, though she admired her son’s resurgence and growing autonomy. Luca, meanwhile, continued to bask in the limelight, craving Catherine’s approval while seeming indifferent to Daniel’s guarded animosity.

Then, one evening, at a party Catherine missed due to an out-of-town commitment, something unexpected caught Daniel’s attention. As he mingled with friends, Jack stood nearby chatting with others when Luca approached out of the blue. After a brief greeting with Daniel, Luca engaged Jack in conversation. At first, Daniel dismissed it as routine socialization, but as he observed their interaction, an uneasiness crept in. The exchange between Luca and Jack didn’t seem strictly professional—it carried an air of flirtation that Daniel couldn’t shake. Brows furrowed, Daniel made a mental note to keep this peculiar dynamic on his radar.

The encounter left him wondering: was there more to Luca’s charm than met the eye? And how might this discovery shift the tangled relationships surrounding him? Whatever the answer, Daniel resolved to proceed cautiously, knowing the path to reclaiming his life involved managing not only his professional aspirations but also navigating his complicated personal ties.

A few days later, a similar situation unfolded, but this time it was even more blatant. Unable to ignore it any longer, Daniel confronted Jack. Jack admitted, "Well, to be honest, he’s been messaging me almost every day lately. I have to say, I like the attention," he added with an unapologetic grin.

Daniel frowned, his tone sharpening. "Jack, I hope you know what you're doing. Luca's with my mom, and honestly, I think he’s a parasite."

Jack shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unfazed. "We’re all adults, Daniel. We can make our own decisions."

The response caught Daniel off guard. He was genuinely shocked—less by Luca’s apparent flirtations than by Jack’s indifference. For the first time, Daniel felt a pit of unease. And although he didn’t yet have a plan, he knew he couldn’t sit idly by.

Luca’s behavior increasingly gnawed at Daniel’s conscience. Troubled by the idea of Luca’s apparent lack of boundaries—and his mother’s obliviousness to them—he decided to confront her. Feeling it was his responsibility to protect her, Daniel picked up the phone and laid out his observations, leaving nothing unsaid.

Rather than the response he expected, Catherine sharply rebuffed him. "Daniel, this sounds like nothing but jealousy," she snapped. "And honestly, it’s beneath you. I thought you’d have more grace." Her words cut deeper than he thought possible. She even brushed off the issue with a promise to discuss the matter further when her business trip concluded in three months. "Until then," she added curtly, "drop it."

Daniel was frustrated but silenced. He had no choice but to bide his time.

However, with Catherine gone, Luca was quick to make himself at home—far too at home, in Daniel’s eyes. He moved into the estate, transforming it into his personal playground. Daniel observed with growing irritation as Luca lounged lazily day after day, exploiting the luxurious amenities and the hardworking staff. He treated the estate like a five-star resort, leaving dirty clothes strewn around, abandoning food waste wherever he ate, and shamelessly dipping into Daniel’s mother’s collection of expensive wines and liquors. Nights turned into wild parties marked by loud music and excessive drinking; mornings were slow recoveries by the pool, interspersed only with gym selfies and incessant socializing.

Their beloved housekeeper, Maria, wasn’t spared the chaos. She began pulling Daniel aside more frequently, venting about how unbearable Luca’s behavior had become. "He’s bossy, rude, and doesn’t clean up after himself," she lamented. "The staff is at its wit’s end."

Daniel reassured her quietly, "Hang in there. This will get better… he’ll slip up. Just wait."

The tipping point for Daniel came when he stumbled upon an Instagram post. Jack’s modeling agency had announced the signing of none other than Luca. Daniel frowned in disbelief, scrolling through the photos. Jack had betrayed him—and for what? He was certain this wasn’t about Luca’s so-called talent but rather Jack’s desire to get Luca into his bed.

Burned by Jack’s betrayal and disillusioned by his mother’s blindness, Daniel realized that open confrontation wouldn’t work. He’d learned that the hard way. It was time to be strategic—to beat Luca at his own game.

And so, Operation Luca began.

Daniel discreetly met with Maria and the kitchen staff, instructing them to prepare heavier, fattier, and more indulgent meals—playing into Luca’s love for rich food. Dishes were laced with excessive butter and cream, each bite a small act of silent rebellion. Two weeks later, Daniel began to see the results: Luca’s formerly lean and gym-chiseled abs softened, giving way to the beginnings of a slight belly. He smirked to himself—it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him motivated.

Encouraged, Daniel upped the ante. He quietly replaced Luca’s protein powder in the pantry with a mass-building formula specifically designed for bulking. Every shake or smoothie Luca made for himself worked against his supposed fitness goals. Simultaneously, Daniel ensured the house remained stocked with greasy snacks, sugary treats, and lax post-party breakfasts, knowing that Luca’s lengthy hangovers would coax him into indulgence. Day by day, Luca gorged himself, unaware that his cravings were being carefully orchestrated.

For Daniel, the results were satisfying, though he took sick enjoyment in watching Luca’s complaints pile up. In near-daily phone calls to Catherine, Luca whined relentlessly: about missing her, about how "hard" life was without her around, and about how he was struggling with Daniel’s supposed "mean-spiritedness."

To Daniel, it was nauseating. Each lie Luca fed his mother was another blow to his patience. But he wasn’t done yet. Revenge, after all, was best served slowly—and heavily garnished with indulgent calories.

Four weeks into his mother's business trip, Daniel received a strange message from a bartender he knew. It read, *"You need to get over here now. You’ll want to see this."* Puzzled and uneasy, Daniel hurried to the bar, where the bartender pulled him aside into the backroom. Without saying a word, the bartender played a CCTV clip that showed Luca—Daniel's supposed ally—and Jack locked in a passionate kiss. The betrayal stung, but Daniel masked his emotions, asking calmly, *"Where are they now?"*

“They’re still here,” the bartender replied, gesturing toward the lounge.

Steeling himself, Daniel walked back into the bar, slipping into his usual charming demeanor as though he hadn't just seen the incriminating footage. He spotted Luca and Jack at their table, sharing quiet laughter, oblivious to his presence. Only when Jack caught sight of Daniel did the mood shift. Both men froze, guilt flickering across their faces. But to their surprise, Daniel didn’t lash out. Instead, he approached them with an unsettling friendliness, delivering a subtle but pointed reprimand disguised as playful banter. He wore a smile, but underneath, his mind was already devising a plan—a way to regain control and enact his quiet revenge.

Determined to humiliate Luca, Daniel played the long game. He invited Luca to dinner that evening, pretending to extend an olive branch. Over the next few weeks, Daniel ensured that Luca was plied with endless snacks, rich meals, and alcohol, subtly encouraging him to let himself go. When Luca began gaining weight, Daniel took full advantage, orchestrating scenarios that made it harder for him to stop. With every failed workout attempt, every return to the comfort of his bed, Daniel tightened his grip, always ensuring there was a steady supply of indulgent food waiting for Luca to consume.

By the time three months had passed, Daniel's plan was complete. Catherine, Daniel’s mother, returned from her trip to find Luca slumped poolside, bloated, disheveled, and surrounded by the remnants of his gluttonous behavior—empty wrappers and spilled drinks. Her confusion quickly turned to disgust. She struggled to reconcile the image of the once-chiseled, poised Luca with the intoxicated, out-of-shape man in front of her.

“What happened to you?” she demanded, her disappointment palpable. *"Get up and clean yourself—sleep it off. I can't deal with this right now."*

While Catherine remained unaware of Daniel’s manipulations, she continued to express her frustration with Luca across the following days. She pleaded with him to regain his shape before an upcoming fashion show where he was supposed to shine as the face of Canovo. Desperate to salvage both his reputation and their strained relationship, Catherine made the hard decision to leave again for another business trip, instructing Luca to stay elsewhere for two weeks until he could "get it together."

But even without Daniel pulling the strings, Luca spiraled further. He missed his fitting, skipped workouts, and succumbed to his newfound laziness and constant appetite. On the day of the fashion show, it was clear that Luca was in no condition to return to the spotlight.

Sensing an opportunity to reclaim his former glory, Daniel skillfully stepped in to fill the vacant spot. His poise, experience, and sharp instincts electrified the runway, surprising everyone in attendance. By the time the final model had walked, Daniel was chosen to close the show—a coveted position that solidified the show's success. The collection garnered critical acclaim, and Daniel was reinstated as the star and main face of Canovo.

Luca, on the other hand, faded into the background, his downfall complete. Meanwhile, Daniel stepped off the runway with a triumphant smile, basking in the glory of his carefully executed revenge. His plan had worked perfectly: he regained everything he had lost, leaving Luca to grapple with the consequences of his own choices—or so it seemed.

Weeks turned into months as Luca's pleas to return to the estate became a haunting routine for Catherine. His relentless WhatsApp messages filled her phone, begging for just one chance. Despite her better judgment, she couldn’t resist the pull of their undeniable physical chemistry. Catherine eventually caved and let Luca back—just for one night.

That night, Luca did what he knew best, rekindling their connection in a way that reminded her of their past passion. Though he was no longer the fit, chiseled model she once adored, his ability to charm and satisfy hadn't waned. He used every ounce of his charisma to worm his way back into her life, and, for reasons she couldn’t fully articulate, she agreed to give him one more chance. But what Luca didn’t know was that Daniel—the quiet observer in the estate—held a devastating secret that could obliterate him entirely.

The following morning, Luca strolled into the estate’s kitchen shirtless, his gut hanging over his shorts. He was unrecognizable from his former self—a far cry from the lean, muscular model who once commanded attention. Grinning smugly, he sat at the table and dove into a pile of pancakes Maria had prepared. He exuded misplaced confidence, oblivious to the storm brewing around him.

Daniel, quietly eyed him with a subtle smirk. He handed Luca a colossal shake, brimming with mass gainer and heavy cream. Placing it firmly in front of him, Daniel quipped, “Drink this, fat boy.”

Luca choked on a bite of pancake, glaring up at Daniel with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, Daniel cut him off, sliding his phone across the table. On the screen was a damning photograph—Luca locked in a kiss with Jack, a younger model, at a party weeks earlier.

The room seemed to freeze as Daniel leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper: “I’m in control now. Play along, or Catherine sees this.”

The threat was as sharp as a blade cutting through Luca’s inflated ego. His bravado shattered in an instant. Caught between shame and desperation, he nodded in resignation, knowing he couldn’t risk losing his place in the estate. It wasn’t just Catherine he’d lose—it was the opulent lifestyle he’d clung to, despite being a shadow of his former self.

Daniel wasted no time asserting his dominance. “Maria,” he called out. “Bring in the food.”

Moments later, Maria appeared with trays piled high with waffles, pancakes smothered in butter and syrup, and stacks of chocolate-drizzled French toast. Daniel ordered Luca to finish every last bite, and with a defeated sigh, he obeyed, eating in miserable silence. His once-pristine modeling physique seemed further away by the second.

When the plates were empty, Daniel pressed another shake toward him. “Drink this one too.” Luca complied, though his stomach churned. Stuffed and bloated, he was barely able to waddle to the pool, where he collapsed into a chair and drifted off to sleep under the midday sun.

The cycle of gluttony continued relentlessly. Maria prepared meal after meal, towering buffets of rich, decadent food, and Luca was forced to consume it all under Daniel’s watchful eye. Pancakes turned into deep-fried platters, shakes grew thicker and heavier, and any semblance of control Luca had over his life dissolved with each bite.

Days stretched into a haze of indulgence and humiliation. Daniel reveled in orchestrating Luca’s downfall, feeding off his victim’s misery. With every calorie consumed, Luca’s once-prized modeling physique expanded, and his career disintegrated further into memory. Shame engulfed him, yet he couldn’t resist the estate’s comforts—or Daniel’s threats.

One evening, as Catherine’s return to the estate neared, Daniel put the finishing touch on his master plan. He drove Luca to a nearby KFC and ordered the largest menu possible—buckets of fried chicken, sides of biscuits and gravy, and an extra-large shake. The pair continued toward the beach, where Daniel instructed Luca to get out of the car.

“Take this,” Daniel said, shoving the food into Luca’s arms. “Walk down to the sand and sit there.”

Luca hesitated but obeyed, feeling uneasy as he trudged across the beach. Sweat trickled down his face under the intense sun, and as he finally settled on the sand, he peeled off his shirt in discomfort. At that precise moment, a paparazzi photographer—tipped by Daniel—snapped away, capturing Luca in his bloated, disheveled state, gorging on fried chicken like a man who had fallen from grace.

The photos circulated online the very same evening, sparking a media frenzy. Headlines blared across news sites: *“Not-So-Model Behavior!”* *“Luca Packs on the Pounds!”* *“Who Ate All the Pies?”* Social media lit up with memes mocking his unrecognizable appearance.

But the final blow came the next morning when the largest online tabloid published not only the beach photos but also the clip of Luca kissing Jack. The combination was devastating, and Luca’s reputation was wiped out in an instant.

Catherine returned to the estate later that day. Daniel greeted her calmly, unsure of how she would react. When she saw the headlines scrolling across her phone, her fury was immediate. “Maria,” she snapped. “Pack his things. He’s out.”

Turning to the estate’s security team, she declared, “Make sure he’s never allowed back here again.”

As Maria hurried toward the master bedroom and packed Luca’s stuff, Catherine softened her tone and addressed her son. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. Please give me some time to get over all this.”

With that, she dove into the pool, letting the cool water wash away her frustration, and retired for an afternoon nap. Luca, disgraced and banished, disappeared from their lives that day—never to be seen again.

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?"

Part 1

When they arrived on the boat, they were accompanied by two other men—the trainer, Richie, and Mehdi. Richie was a striking Austrian man with blond hair and a deep tan. Peter had noticed Richie earlier when they arrived at the compound; from what Peter could see, Richie had been bulking, as his belly noticeably pushed out against his oversized t-shirt. Up close, Peter realized it was a very dirty bulk, as the shirt failed to hide his ballooning midsection. Despite this, Richie’s broad chest and massive arms hinted that he had likely been a serious bodybuilder not too long ago. Mehdi was introduced as Ahmed’s good friend. If anything, he was even more handsome than Ahmed but had a larger, more imposing frame. His belly was also prominent, and his arms were impressively thick.

PHOTOS RICHIE and MEHDI

The butler informed Andy that everything was ready on board and glanced at Peter with a mischievous grin, making Peter blush. Something about the moment felt charged, though Peter couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Ahmed told them to relax and feel at home during their stay, adding they could order anything they desired. The cabin crew escorted Andy and Peter as they toured the yacht.

The yacht had four levels:

- The lowest level was reserved for staff, supplies, the kitchen, and other necessities.

- The first level was communal, featuring a dining room, living room, gym, cinema, and other shared spaces.

- The second level housed six large guest suites. The luxurious accommodations left Peter in awe—he had never seen anything remotely like it before. Andy, however, was already familiar with the grandeur, having visited numerous times in the past.

- The top level was Ahmed's private sanctuary—off-limits unless specifically invited. A guard stood stationed at the staircase at all times.

When they arrived at their suites, their luggage had already been unpacked. Waiting for them was an opened bottle of champagne and a large tin of caviar paired with brioche. A card read: *“Welcome aboard! Please enjoy this snack before lunch.”* Andy knocked on Peter’s door, holding his own tin of caviar, and said, "Let’s eat quickly, and as soon as we’re at sea, we’ll change and lounge at the pool during the ride."

When Andy put on his swim shorts, he realized just how much weight he’d gained since the last time he’d worn them. The skintight trunks clung to his body, but he simply laughed it off and took another big gulp of champagne.

Lunch was served on the communal deck, and Richie joined as well. The starters included various fried savory pastries and salads. Peter noticed Ahmed was served a more moderate portion and skipped the fries, while the rest of the group eagerly inhaled their food. The main course was a massive steak, and dessert was a trolley stocked with four different pies. Andy picked two slices, which turned out to be enormous portions. Mehdi and Peter each took one, but Richie attempted to decline dessert entirely. Ahmed, however, insisted Richie have three slices, smiling as he remarked, "You have the gym to yourself most days, so you’ve got time to burn it off—and your muscles need fuel."

Richie blushed at being called out but didn’t protest further and accepted the order. When Andy finished his second portion, Ahmed instructed the waiter to bring another round of pie for the four men. Though Richie was still struggling with his second piece, another plate with three more slices was set before him. Peter felt for him but stayed silent, grateful he had only ordered one slice himself.

After lunch, Ahmed outlined the itinerary for the next two weeks: a cruise around all the emirates, with occasional cultural stops. Beyond scheduled activities, they were free to do as they pleased—using all onboard facilities—and were only required to join the three daily shared meals. "Even Richie is at your service," Ahmed added with a grin before addressing Andy directly. "And if you need bigger trunks, let me know what you’re after, and I’ll send someone to get them." Andy laughed and replied, "Ah, yes, please. I’d like two pairs—XXXL, extra-short shorts—in black and blue from Orlebar Brown."

They moved to the deck and were served tea and bite-sized pastries while lounging on deck chairs. Peter noticed the tea's distinct sweetness, remembering that this was how it was traditionally served in Arab countries. Richie took off his shirt, revealing his bulkier frame. Andy teased him, joking, "At this rate, you’ll look like me in no time!" Ahmed chuckled and added, "That’s the whole point." Embarrassed, Richie quietly ate the snacks but eagerly reached for more when served.

Exhausted, Peter fell asleep in his chair for about two hours. Upon waking, he attempted to find his suite but got lost in the corridors and accidentally walked into a room marked *staff*. Inside, he found Leo, a steward whom he hadn’t encountered before, eating from a bucket of chocolate ice cream. Leo’s mouth was coated with chocolate, and his tight polo lifted to reveal a round, hairy belly. Clearly startled, Leo quickly put down the bucket and cleaned his face, stammering, "Hi, I’m Leo. How can I help?"

Peter explained he was lost, and Leo guided him back to his room. Leo’s appearance struck Peter—muscular but with a belly and love handles clearly visible under the snug polo. Peter couldn’t deny the feelings that surfaced during their brief encounter.

Inside Peter’s suite, he found a fresh plate of macarons waiting for him. He tried one, and they were addictive. One led to another, and within five minutes, while changing into his swimwear, he had consumed about ten macarons. On his walk to the pool deck, he turned back to his room to grab more, stuffing three into his mouth before taking five more. They were gone in seconds.

At the pool, Mehdi joined him. His tight swim shorts stretched over his firm ass, looking like two halves of a soccer ball. Mehdi greeted him, chuckling, "You must’ve found the macarons,” while gesturing at crumbs on Peter’s face. Blushing, Peter responded, but Mehdi reassured him. "Don’t worry—they’re addictive. I can never stop once I start."

Just as Peter confessed he felt like a pig, Leo appeared with a platter of eight fresh lobster rolls. Mehdi whispered, "We’re probably supposed to finish them all." Trying not to overthink, Peter stuffed roll after roll into his mouth as Leo waited nearby, refilling their lemonade regularly.

That evening, Peter returned to find the macaron plate in his suite had been refilled. By the time he refreshed himself and changed for dinner, he had finished them all—at least 30 in total—and hadn’t even noticed the flavors.

Dinner was a buffet of rich appetizers and creamy pastas. Quietly eating amidst the others, Peter’s already-full stomach stretched uncomfortably as the stewardesses and Leo coaxed them to add more food to their plates. Afterward, they were ushered into the movie room, where they each received a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Peter struggled but somehow finished it, only to be handed a second pint halfway through the movie. Surprisingly, despite being stuffed, it slid down effortlessly.

As Peter reflected on the day, he couldn’t help but question the irresistible cravings and the unusual dynamics aboard the yacht, wondering what lay ahead on this opulent but curious journey.

The next morning, Peter woke up early, feeling bloated from the previous day's indulgence. Motivated by guilt, he decided to lift some weights. To his surprise, Richie was already in the workout area, his bloated belly appearing even larger than the day before. Richie spotted Peter and cheerfully invited him to join in. After adjusting the weights, Peter began his workout, quickly realizing he was lifting heavier than usual.

"I can’t do cardio," Peter said breathlessly, "I’m expected to gain weight."

"Oh, I know," Richie replied with a grin. "We all are. Literally on the same boat. I can help you, though—got some mass protein powder if you need a push."

Peter agreed, intrigued. Richie disappeared and returned moments later with a large cup filled with a thick protein shake. Peter gulped it down and was surprised by how delicious it was. After their workout, they went up to the pool to cool down, where they were served coffee and an Italian breakfast cake. As they chatted, Peter asked Richie about his whereabouts during dinner the night before.

"I was invited by Ahmed for a private dinner," Richie explained casually. "We talked business—he’s interested in funding my plans to open a gym."

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Peter. But before he could think too deeply, a stewardess approached them, informing them that breakfast would be served in 20 minutes. Peter’s stomach sank—if breakfast was still to come, then this wasn’t it. Richie noticed his expression and burst out laughing.

"Ha! Pace yourself, man," Richie teased with a chuckle.

They quickly got dressed and made their way to the dining area, where Andy and Mehdi were already grazing on the lavish buffet. All day long, they were served incredible food, every moment of downtime filled with yet another extravagant spread. Peter realized that they were eating nearly 24/7, leaving them perpetually bloated.

After a few days, Peter received an unexpected summons from Ahmed for his own private dinner. Nervously, he arrived at the meeting and was immediately asked to undress and step on a scale. Ahmed turned the screen toward himself, making sure Peter couldn’t see the number.

"Very well," Ahmed said, nodding approvingly. "Now, let’s eat."

The dinner was lavish, with five courses served at a relentless pace. Just when Peter thought it was over, an enormous chocolate cake was placed before him. Panic set in—was he really expected to eat an entire cake on his own? Determined to make an effort, Peter dug in, eating with abandon as sweat began to drip from his face. After finishing over half of it, he finally pushed the remainder aside and leaned back in his chair, exhausted.

"I knew you were new at this," Ahmed said sternly, "but I’ve seen you eat. You can do better."

Ahmed grabbed a piece of cake and aggressively pushed it into Peter’s mouth, forcing him to keep eating. To his surprise, Peter felt a mix of humiliation and excitement at Ahmed’s dominant behavior, spurring him to keep going. Piece by piece, Ahmed fed him the remaining cake until only a quarter was left. Peter began gagging, overwhelmed, but Ahmed’s cold warning stopped him in his tracks.

"You throw up, and I’ll bring out another cake," Ahmed growled, "and we’ll start this whole show over."

Peter calmed himself, rallying his focus. Ahmed made an enticing offer: "$50,000 cash if you finish this."

With adrenaline pumping, Peter nodded. Ahmed urged him on, feeding him piece after piece until the entire cake was gone. Exhausted and stuffed beyond belief, Peter could hardly process Ahmed’s approving words.

"Well done," Ahmed said, pressing a button. "You just devoured 20,000 calories and earned yourself $50,000."

A bodyguard entered, handing Peter a suitcase filled with cash. As Peter left the room, he walked with heavy steps, emotions swirling—pride, shame, confusion. What had he just done? What had he gotten himself into? He barely made it to his bed that night and lay awake, unable to sleep.

The second week brought a change of pace, with the group touring various towns across the Emirates. At each stop, they were greeted with lavish buffets and dinner shows. Andy, in particular, seemed to thrive. Wherever they went, he was the largest man in the room, earning admiration and attention. People even touched his belly as though he were some kind of god. Andy basked in the glory, eating like there was no tomorrow. Peter, on the other hand, had mixed feelings. His growing waistline made him increasingly self-conscious, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what Michael might say. But also Richie’s belly… the poor athlete absolutely blew up these past few weeks.

By the third and fourth weeks, Richie, Peter, and Michael found themselves alone back in the compound, finally with some downtime to focus on work. But the looming departure reminded Peter of the expectations hanging over them. On the morning they were set to leave, a doctor arrived to weigh them. The doctor was incredible handsome and fit.

When Peter stepped on the scale, the doctor offered no details but handed over an envelope.

"I think Ahmed will be very satisfied," the doctor remarked cryptically. "You’re expected back in four weeks. This envelope contains your next task—open it when you get home."

At the airport, a company car awaited them, ready to take them back home. When Peter arrived at Michael’s place, he found only a note: *Welcome home. I’m in St. Tropez. See you soon.* Alone in his own bed the next morning, Peter finally stepped on his scale, and what he saw sent him into a panic—he had gained 12 kg in one month. This couldn’t be true. His heart raced as he opened Ahmed's letter.

The message inside was clear and cold: *Congratulations. You have exceeded your target, gaining 12 kg in four weeks. Your investment is approved, and your kickback fee will be wired to your account. You are expected back in four weeks. Gain at least the same amount before your return, and the investment and kickback will double. Gain even an ounce less, and there will be no extra.*

The letter threw Peter into turmoil. Michael's absence stung; was he avoiding him? More importantly, Peter realized he had no time to waste if he wanted to meet the next target—though the question lingered: *Did he really want to?*

He was restless and texted Andy. Andy replied and told him he was in the club. When Peter arrived in the club he saw Andy. With his normal clothes on he looked even bigger.

When Peter arrived at the office later that day, one of the assistants informed him that Michael’s business partner, Patrick Preston, had invited him out for lunch. The familiar faces of Andy and Damian were absent, leaving Peter feeling isolated behind his desk. Realizing he hadn’t eaten yet, Peter checked the office pantry, where he found a box of doughnuts marked with a note: *Enjoy!*

Pouring himself a coffee, Peter grabbed two generously filled doughnuts—one with Nutella, the other with thick custard. Before he knew it, both were devoured, prompting him to return for another. As he made his way back, he bumped into Damian, who was busy digging into the doughnuts himself.

"Hey, big guy!" Peter greeted cheerfully.

Damian turned around, his mouth stuffed with doughnut and jelly filling smeared comically across his lips. He swallowed quickly and grinned, patting his own belly.

"You did well!" Damian said, eyeing Peter’s obvious weight gain as he reached for another doughnut.

They shared experiences, laughing as they unintentionally polished off a dozen doughnuts between them. Damian mentioned Patrick in passing, painting him as a tall, handsome, but ruthless figure in the company.

Hours later, Peter was called again by an assistant—there was a company car waiting downstairs. Arriving at the restaurant, he spotted a tall man waiting at the bar with his back turned. Approaching cautiously, Peter introduced himself.

"You must be Peter," the man replied, turning around with a welcoming smile.

Damian hadn’t been wrong. Patrick Preston was stunningly tall and incredibly handsome. But to Peter’s shock, Patrick’s huge round belly protruded unapologetically—a stark contrast to his slender back view. As they were led to their table, Patrick began speaking, his tone casual and engaging.

"Please, call me Patrick," he said. "I’ve heard great things from Andy about you. The client is eager to see you again. But," Patrick paused as the waiter began placing dishes on the table, "you’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet."

The waiter brought out the first course: a terrine of foie gras served with toasted brioche. Patrick gestured for Peter to start eating. As Peter tentatively picked up his fork, Patrick announced, “Andy’s taking a break for a while. Since you’ve made such a strong impression, you’ll be handling his clients effective immediately.”

Peter nodded, his nerves amplifying every word, though his stomach churned—more from the weight of the conversation than the foie gras. He was already feeling uncomfortably full thanks to the doughnuts he’d inhaled earlier that morning. The waiter swiftly cleared the plates and brought out the second course: twelve shrimp croquettes.

Patrick continued speaking about the clients, but Peter could hardly focus. Mechanically, he ate the croquettes, ignoring their greasy richness, as his anxiety climbed. Then Patrick broke the flow with an unsettling shift in tone. “I also have some bad news,” he said, pushing the remainder of his own croquettes toward Peter. “Michael won’t be seeing you anymore. He sends his best and says he believes you’ll do great.”

Peter froze. He forced himself to chew as Patrick elaborated with a brisk detachment. Michael had arranged for Peter to live in an apartment for the next six months but expected him to move out of his place immediately. The waiter returned, placing a beautifully plated confit of duck with orange sauce and mashed potatoes on the table. The flavors were exquisite, but Peter barely tasted them, his thoughts elsewhere.

Dessert was served: a large bowl of chocolate mousse. Peter, drowning in an emotional fog, ate in silence. When he finished, the waiter returned, giving him a second portion. And then a third. Patrick leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth casually. “I hope everything’s clear. Take the day off to move your things. A van will be there at 6 p.m.”

Peter nodded mutely and left, tears stinging his eyes. The thought of Michael’s abrupt rejection hit him like a punch to the gut. By the time he was back home, however, sorrow turned into a mechanical determination. He packed his belongings, wiping away tears, and by 6 p.m., two men arrived to load everything into a van. By 8 p.m., he had unpacked just enough to arrange for a pizza to be delivered. Alone in the apartment, he spotted a text from Michael: *“Sorry.”*

The next morning, Peter forced himself back to work. “Let’s do this,” he muttered. He knew he’d need to put on 12 more kilograms to meet his next professional target. Spotting a tray of cupcakes in the office pantry, he started stuffing them into his mouth, feeling ridiculous yet resigned. After grabbing a second round, he couldn’t help but think about how unfairly the women at the office seemed to have it easier with their “normal” clients. He dialed Andy for answers.

“Why are you taking a break?” Peter asked.

Andy sighed. “I promised Calle. He’s worried about my weight, so I’m stepping back for now.”

Minutes later, Calle called Peter directly. “Hey, wanna grab lunch?”

When Calle arrived, Peter was halfway through an enormous sandwich. Mouth full, he gestured at the food and blurted some half-comprehensible explanation. Calle laughed and said, “I get it. I’ve heard all about it from Andy. No judgment. But, wow—you’ve really packed on a belly.”

Peter self-consciously patted his stomach and smirked. “Twelve more kilos to go.”

“And then what?” Calle prodded.

“Then I’m asking for normal clients,” Peter replied, half-joking.

Calle chuckled knowingly. “They’ll never let you. You’re too ‘unique’ for them to pass up. But hey, maybe you’ll get lucky. In the meantime, let me give you Andy’s secret shake recipe: two scoops of mass gainer, half a liter of vanilla ice cream, and a few heaping tablespoons of Nutella or peanut butter.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but laughed. “That’s insane.”

“It works, though,” Calle chuckled. “Just make sure this is really what you want—it’s… a lot.”

After work, Peter stopped at the supermarket. His cart brimmed with ice cream tubs, Nutella, and mass gainer. Back home, a massive KFC order awaited him. He ate until he could barely move. For dessert, he blended Calle’s shake recipe, sipping it down in strained gulps before collapsing, bloated and exhausted, onto his bed.

The next day at work, Peter crossed paths with Damian, who was devouring a cupcake like his life depended on it. “Want one?” Damian asked, handing Peter a treat without waiting for an answer. “This isn’t all—I’ve also got a family-sized tub of Magnolia banana pudding. You want half?”

Peter hesitated, already full, but Damian didn’t take no for an answer. Peter shoveled down his share, marveling at how Damian ate in a hypnotic rhythm, bite after bite. As Peter struggled, Damian patted his belly. “Eat up, big guy. We’ve got goals.”

By evening, Peter reluctantly joined Damian for a workout, still groaning from the day’s food. In the locker room, he was stunned to see how much Damian had grown. The once-toned ex-jock was now sporting a massive gut, stretched taut with faint marks.

“Dude,” Damian grinned, eyeing Peter’s softened belly. “That looks hot.”

Peter blushed, and Damian stepped closer, sparks igniting between them as they began kissing. They broke apart when someone entered, both fumbling into their workout clothes, tension thick in the room.

After a tense workout, they went home together, ordering XL pizzas and devouring them alongside buffalo wings and ice cream before surrendering to their mutual attraction. In the afterglow of their intimacy, Damian confessed, “I’ve always cared for you more than I let on. But when you became Michael’s protégé, I thought you were out of reach.”

Peter hesitated, then admitted, “I didn’t know. But… maybe we can try now?”

Damian smiled. “Let’s see where this weird job takes us. But for now, let’s hit our goals.”

They opened another pint of ice cream, blending it into a calorie-packed shake. Damian handed it to Peter, encouraging him to gulp it down, whispering promises that mixed seduction with hunger. Peter, torn between discomfort and desire, swallowed through the pain, letting Damian’s mouth guide him. He came like he had never had before.

“You look incredible, man," Ricky whispered to Adam in the locker room, admiration thick in his voice.

“Thanks, Ricky. You’re looking great too," Adam replied with a grin, his toned physique glistening under the fluorescent lights.

Ricky sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I’m doing my best, but honestly, my goal is to have a physique like yours. You’re absolutely massive.”

Adam chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “It took years of discipline—ten, to be exact. But trust me, you’ve got potential. Stay consistent, and you’ll get there.”

Ricky nodded but frowned. “That’s the thing. I feel like I’ve hit this plateau. My lifts are stagnant, and when I try to up my calorie intake, I just… bulk up too fast, and it ruins my abs. It’s frustrating.”

Adam tilted his head thoughtfully. “I can help. We’ll tweak your routine and fix your diet. Plateaus happen, but with the right adjustments, you’ll start progressing again.”

Ricky hesitated but nodded, his admiration for Adam growing. Adam, meanwhile, peeled off his workout gear to shower, revealing a body so sculpted Ricky could only stare in stunned silence. He wasn’t sure why his chest tightened—it wasn’t like he was into guys—but something about Adam just radiated confidence and power.

The next morning, Adam met Ricky at the gym with a large tub of mass gainer powder tucked under his arm.

“Here,” Adam said, setting the container down on a bench. “Step one: finish this. It’ll give you a boost for your lifts and help pack on serious muscle. Then, we’ll move on to the next level.”

Ricky eyed the tub warily. “I don’t know, man… I’m worried this’ll make me lose my abs.”

Adam crossed his arms, his tone firm but supportive. “Listen, Ricky. You told me you wanted to look like me, right? This is what it takes. Trust the process—or I can’t help you.”

Ricky reluctantly agreed. “Okay, fine. I’ll give it a shot.”

That day, Ricky made his first shake after hitting the weights, then took another before bed. By the next morning, to his surprise, his entire body felt alive—tingling with energy and strength. He even managed to add more weight to his lifts during his workout.

Each day, Adam checked in on him, correcting his form during exercises and offering tips. Ricky always noticed how confident Adam was, how his touch guided him just right. Every time Adam’s hand brushed his arm or lower back, Ricky felt a warmth creep up his face—a blush he couldn’t seem to control.

After three weeks, Adam pulled Ricky in front of the mirror in the locker room. “Dude, check this out. It’s working!” Adam said proudly, standing beside him.

Ricky’s heart sank as his eyes scanned his reflection. “What the hell,” he muttered, poking at his midsection. “My abs are gone!”

Adam slapped him on the back with a laugh. “Good. That means it’s working. Abs will come back after we’re done bulking. How far are you through the tub?”

Ricky hesitated, his voice faltering. “Uh, about halfway, I think… but are you *sure* this is the right way to do it?”

Adam’s grin didn’t waver. “Absolutely. The changes will come faster in level two, trust me.”

Though still unsure, Ricky gave a small nod. As much as he doubted, there was no denying the progress in his lifts and the growing admiration he felt for Adam. For better or worse, he decided, he’d trust the process.

Ricky’s workouts were getting better and better. Despite his belly swelling noticeably, the rest of his body was growing bigger as well. His muscles were filling out, clothes straining against his thickening frame. Adam, Ricky’s gym buddy and self-appointed mentor, kept a close eye on his progress. Ricky didn’t mind the attention—in fact, he loved it. He was starting to love how his body was changing too, even the growing gut that hung between his powerful torso and legs.

Three weeks later, Ricky’s tub of mass gainer ran out. Frustrated, he turned to Adam after his workout one day and asked, "Okay, now what? What's next?"

Adam simply smirked. "Come meet me at my car after your workout."

When Ricky stepped out of the gym, he saw Adam’s black Land Rover parked across the lot, headlights flashing. He approached and slid into the passenger seat. Adam leaned over, lowering his voice with a seriousness that made Ricky hesitate.

"So," Adam said, holding up a pre-loaded syringe, "are you ready?"

Ricky hesitated, nerves flaring. But then he nodded. "Yes," he replied softly.

Adam didn’t waste a second. He jabbed the needle into Ricky’s shoulder. "Good. Time to get serious," Adam said, his eyes gleaming. "For the next month, you’ll come to my car every two days to get your shot. If you’re consistent and prove you’re ready, I’ll give you your own supply so you can handle it yourself."

The next morning, Ricky woke up feeling invincible. For the first time, he had almost no soreness after his workout. In fact, he felt so good that he caught himself admiring his reflection in the mirror—and to his own surprise, he didn’t even mind the growing belly. His muscles looked dense and powerful, his arms and chest fuller than ever before. The rush stirred something primal in him, and before he knew it, he was jerking off just from looking at himself.

Later at the gym, he felt unstoppable. His lifts were stronger, his energy through the roof. Compliments started pouring in from other gym-goers, especially the guys, which only fueled his drive. The high was undeniable, but so was the lingering heat in his body—an unrelenting, almost unbearable horniness. He found himself jerking off multiple times a day, sometimes even between classes or workouts.

Two days later, Ricky met Adam in the car again. This time, Adam showed him how to use the syringe on his own. "Here’s enough for the whole month," Adam said, handing him a small box of vials. "It’s $400. Pay me when you can."

Ricky handed over the cash early the next morning, eager to stay on track. That month flew by in a whirlwind of intense workouts, relentless hunger, and a libido that was getting harder to control. Some days, Ricky had to relieve himself four times just to stay focused. But the results spoke for themselves—his physique was transforming. He looked bigger, more muscular, and more intimidating than ever.

There was only one thing bugging him: his gut. As the weeks passed, it seemed to grow faster than the rest of him, throwing off the aesthetic he wanted. One day at the gym, Adam walked over and complimented Ricky on his physique. Ricky, cranky from a mood swing, shot back, "Yeah, but look at this gut. It’s ruining everything."

Adam shrugged casually. "So what? You’re not prepping for a contest. Who cares?"

"I care," Ricky grumbled. "I’m going on holiday soon. I want to show off."

Adam sighed. "Fine, add more cardio to your routine. That’ll help."

That evening, Ricky tried jogging for the first time in months. He barely made it ten minutes before his knees started protesting. Disheartened, he switched to incline walking on the treadmill the next morning and stuck to it for an hour. He repeated the process every day for a week, but saw little to no change.

Frustrated, he turned to Adam again. "This isn’t working," Ricky admitted. "I need to fix it, and soon."

Adam looked at him carefully. "Alright," he said, "you’re ready for the next step. But this is serious. You can’t mess around with this stuff."

He handed Ricky a tub labeled *Formula X*. "This stuff will literally flush the fat out of your system," Adam explained. "You stir a scoop into your coffee, and an hour later—bam. You’d better have a restroom nearby. But listen to me: don’t mix this with alcohol, or it’ll cancel out the effects. And don’t use it without the roids—your body needs the extra muscle mass to stabilize everything. Got it?"

Ricky nodded, clutching the tub like it was some kind of holy grail. He felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension—he was stepping even deeper into uncharted territory. But if it brought him closer to the perfect body he imagined for himself, he was willing to take the risk.

The next morning, Adam's prediction had been right—it *was* a mess. Ricky had found himself spiraling into something he wasn’t prepared for. He spent the week obsessively watching his body for changes in the mirror, noting with satisfaction as his belly shrank and his muscles became more defined. He felt powerful, almost invincible, and incredibly ready to show off his new physique.

However, by mid-week, Ricky found himself needing another supply of "Ana." The stuff was working, but his body was hooked now. He asked Adam, his gym buddy and supplier, to hook him up again. Adam was reluctant at first, warning Ricky about overdoing it, but eventually, he agreed. The next day, Adam slipped Ricky a small box in the locker room. In return, Ricky slipped Adam some rolled-up cash under the bench.

Suddenly, the moment froze.

"FREEZE! POLICE!" barked an unmistakeable voice. It felt like the room tilted. Ricky’s heart sank as two plainclothes detectives stormed in, guns drawn. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Ricky and Adam were cuffed in front of the other stunned gym-goers. As they were escorted through the back exit of the gym, Ricky realized he’d been watched. Maybe it was those guys who always hung around the squat racks. He glanced at Adam, who looked pale and furious. Whatever happened next, Ricky knew this wasn’t going to end well.

When the formal interrogation began, Ricky was a mess of nerves. One detective leaned in close, practically breathing in his face. “Listen, Ricky. We know you're just a user. But if you don’t cooperate with us, we'll charge you with possession of controlled substances. That’s a third-degree felony. Five years in prison. Minimum.”

But Ricky had called his brother, a defense lawyer, who arrived quickly and pulled Ricky aside. “Listen,” his brother said, voice low but firm. “They’re offering you a plea deal. You give them the name of your supplier, and they’ll drop the possession charges. Just pay a fine, the steepest one, and you’ll walk out of here within the hour.”

Ricky cracked. The pressure of looming jail time and the sight of Adam’s cold glare while his lawyer whispered furiously in his ear was too much. Eventually, he confessed and signed the deal.

That evening, Ricky trudged out of the station, free but deeply shaken. Adam refused to meet his gaze. Ricky felt a twinge of shame and guilt, but another part of him rationalized—it was the only choice, right? He boarded his flight to Europe the next morning, hoping the trip would help him reset.

Ricky landed in Marbella and tried to focus on forgetting the mess he'd left back home. After a long nap at his luxury hotel, he spent his first day doing nothing but lying in bed. On the second day, though, he forced himself to go to a beach club. At beach he had by far the best of all men. But in reality he felt sluggish, cranky, and far less energetic than usual. The steroid withdrawal was hitting him hard.

At the beach club, Ricky indulged in everything: massive platters of grilled seafood, creamy desserts, and cocktails served in fresh pineapples. The food gave him a temporary rush of happiness, but he overdid it and ended up painfully full. He dozed off on his beach lounger, the sun masking his discomfort.

As the days passed, Ricky struggled to stick to any kind of healthy routine. At first, he tried cutting carbs and focusing on protein, but the persistent low mood that came with steroid withdrawal made him crave comfort foods. By the time he reached Italy, he was devouring pasta, gelato, and buttery bread without restraint. Each day, his meals grew larger, his self-discipline slipping further. His stomach swelled noticeably, and the tight T-shirts he once loved strained against his softer, growing physique.

After weeks of indulgence, Ricky’s belly had fully taken over his once-chiseled abs. His libido, dulled for weeks by withdrawal, finally started to return when he arrived in Italy. Feeling emboldened by the sparks of his old confidence, Ricky flirted with a handsome local man and invited him back to his hotel room. But when it came time to perform, the mixture of alcohol, withdrawal, and his own insecurity left him embarrassed and frustrated—he couldn’t get hard. The man left with an awkward goodbye, and Ricky broke down. He ordered a massive bowl of ice cream from room service, eating directly from the carton as tears streamed down his face.

The next morning, Ricky woke up sticky from melted cream, his belly bloated and sore. Yet something shifted in him. He looked down, noticed his body responding to his reawakened sex drive, and, for the first time in weeks, felt a strange, cathartic clarity. His morning release felt like purging months of guilt and shame. He resolved to make a fresh start.

Ricky spent the remainder of his trip trying to shake off the emotional weight. He traveled to Paris, London, and Saint-Tropez, where he finally met up with his college friends. By now, his body was fully unrecognizable. His swim trunks stretched over his pudgy midsection, and his polo shirts clung uncomfortably. His jeans didn’t even come close to buttoning anymore, forcing him to buy bigger clothes. His friends laughed, giving him a hard time about how their former gym-obsessed buddy had turned into, as one of them joked, “one of the normal guys.”

Back in the U.S., Ricky returned to his old gym after eight weeks away, dreading the reactions of the regulars. To his surprise, most people didn’t react much at all. A few greeted him warmly: “Hey man, welcome back.” But there was no judgment, no whispering. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Still, Ricky felt self-conscious. His first workout was miserable—he was out of shape, weak, and the extra fat on his body made moving feel clumsy.

“This fat has to go,” Ricky thought. “But this time… I’ll do it the right way.”

The next morning, Ricky walked into the locker room—and froze. It felt like the world turned to slow motion. Adam was stepping out of the shower—but Adam wasn’t the same. His once-ripped physique was gone, replaced by a soft, heavy frame. His face was rounder, his belly hung low, and his arms were thick but undefined.

“Hi, Ricky,” Adam said casually, grabbing a towel. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ricky struggled to respond, his guilt bubbling to the surface. “H-hey, Adam… I—I’m sorry. For everything,” he stammered.

Adam grinned, an almost mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t sweat it,” he said with a wink. “But you owe me something.”

Ricky blinked. *Owe him?* He nodded hesitantly, unsure of what Adam really meant.

"How did you get out?"Ricky asked, his curiosity evident as he sipped his soda.

Adam leaned back against the café booth, a flicker of a grin on his face. "Well," he began, "I knew a few police officers. Helped them with their fitness, you know? So, they pulled some strings. With a bit of luck, I managed to dodge jail time. Just ended up with parole and a big fine." He gestured to his gym bag. "So, I'm staying clean. As you can see."

"Good for you," Ricky said with a nod. "How’s it working out?"

Adam chuckled, patting his stomach. "The only issue is this belly. I can't motivate myself to eat clean anymore."

Ricky smirked and leaned forward. "Well, same here. Got a little soft myself."

Adam's eyes appraised Ricky, lingering for a beat too long. He smiled playfully. "You look... cute, though. Friendlier. Tanned."

Ricky flushed, and for a moment, they simply exchanged looks, letting the weight of unspoken words hover between them.

"Maybe we should grab dinner tonight," Adam suggested. "Catch up properly. Ivy, at 8?"

Ricky nodded, suppressing a smile. "Sounds good."

At precisely 8 p.m., Ricky stepped into Ivy. His eyes immediately landed on Adam, who was waiting at the bar. Dressed casually in fitted jeans and a plain white tee, Adam looked remarkably different from the gym—more relaxed yet somehow even more striking.

As they sat down, cocktails in hand, Ricky tilted his head. "I didn't know you were gay."

Adam took a sip of his drink, looking unfazed. "I'm not, really. I was just... focused on my fitness and hustle before. That was my world." He paused, his gaze steady. "I didn't know you were gay either."

Ricky shrugged, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. "I guess I’ve been a late bloomer. Kissed some girls back in school, but mostly focused on school and working out. Then I met you, and… well, my body kind of clued me in."

Adam blinked, momentarily surprised. His cheeks tinged pink. "Wow," he muttered, smiling bashfully.

"Not that it matters," Ricky said with haste, taking another sip to hide his nerves.

Over cocktails and plates of tapas, they talked easily, their barriers gradually dissolving.

"You never slept with anyone, though?" Adam asked, his voice low as their conversation veered into more intimate territory.

Ricky sighed. "Tried once over the summer, but... well, let's just say my body decided not to cooperate. It was embarrassing."

Adam gave him a knowing look. "Hey, it happens," he said gently.

By dessert, Adam turned the conversation lighter. "You’ve got to tell me… what’s your day job?"

Ricky laughed as if caught off guard. "Oh, nothing that interesting. Im doing my masters and I’m living off my thrustfund. What about you?

Adam smiled. "I own a couple fitness apps and supply sports supplements. Keeps me busy, but I'm really flexible time-wise."

"That explains… everything," Ricky said with an exaggerated look of realization.

Adam laughed loudly and ordered another drink, followed by impulsively more food. The night ended in the parking lot, their lips locking passionately under the faint glow of the streetlights. Ricky’s entire body trembled.

The next morning, they ran into each other at the gym. The workout was intense, though the sexual tension between them nearly derailed their focus.

"You want dinner again tonight?" Ricky asked as they cooled down.

Adam grinned. "Sushi? We could use some protein."

Dinner turned into a feast of massive sashimi plates, sushi rolls, and a shared bottle of sake. One thing led to another, and soon Ricky found himself in Adam's car, hands pinned, lips locked. Hours later, Ricky lay sprawled out in Adam's bed, marveling at the Malibu ocean view while the smell of coffee and breakfast wafted through the room.

Their days quickly fell into an indulgent routine: gym, feasting beyond their fill at upscale restaurants, and passionate nights tangled in the sheets. Slowly, a shift began. Adam’s meals became heavier, portions larger, and protein-packed shakes were a constant.

“Should we throw in some cardio?” Ricky occasionally asked, wary of their escalating habits.

Adam just waved him off. "Not feeling it. Besides, I like you better this way—bigger."

At first, Ricky laughed it off. But then he started noticing the way Adam watched him: the pride in his eyes every time Ricky ate more or packed more weight onto the bar. The suggestions started turning into subtle demands.

“Mass gainer is your friend now,” Adam declared one night, sliding over a thick, calorie-dense shake.

Ricky hesitated. "Why are you pushing this so hard?"

Adam grinned mischievously. "Because I want you bigger. And I’m doing it with you." He flexed a bicep for emphasis.

At first, Ricky found it thrilling—an adventure of sorts. His body grew rapidly, his shirts tightening and biceps straining against the sleeves. But after a month, he was conflicted.

“Adam,” Ricky said one night after yet another food-filled photo shoot for a supplement campaign. “I don’t know if I want to keep doing this.” Im getting way too fat. And you too.

Adam’s face darkened. “Don’t worry about me, but you don’t have much of a choice, Ricky.” You need to pay back something.

The words hit hard. Ricky stormed out, needing space, but his swollen body struggled with the Malibu heat. Thighs rubbed together painfully, and he was soon out of breath. Adam found him sulking on the curb and pulled up in his car.

"Get in," Adam insisted.

Reluctantly, Ricky did.

The tension between them deepened as Adam revealed details about unspoken obligations and threats from entities “above him.” You messed up their whole steroid game and they want their investment back.

So this is it for now. A few more weeks of growing and then they can use your face foe their latest product.

Despite Ricky's concerns, the two doubled down for one final push, consuming massive amounts of food, supplements, and even appetite-enhancing pills. Their bodies swelled—muscles bolstered by not only intense gym sessions but also relentless overfeeding.

Ricky's transformation culminated in another photo shoot. Standing in front of the camera, his body almost unrecognizable, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had become a colossus of mass and strength. Yet underneath, he felt resentful and trapped.

"The boss is satisfied," Adam told him one morning, phone in hand. His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed something deeper. "You're free now."

Part 1

Carlos entered the room again, accompanied by one of the guards. He took a seat across from Tarek, his face calm but purposeful.

**Carlos:** Are you ready to talk now?

**Tarek:** Okay, fine. I admit it—I made a bad investment and lost money in crypto. But it wasn’t £5 million!

**Carlos:** Then why is Jamie so angry?

**Tarek:** It’s a complicated web. So, Jamie has two sons—Kay and Day—Irish twins. They’re nearly identical, but their physiques are the key difference. Kay’s a bodybuilder, huge and muscular, while Day is a professional model with a leaner, polished look. I had a scheme with Kay, the bodybuilder.

**Carlos:** What kind of scheme?

**Tarek:** Alright, here it is. I was selling steroids and peptides in upscale gyms around Dublin. Jamie was the supplier, and he owned a shady pharmaceutical factory that churned out the products we sold. The factory was rigged—producing way more than the legal quota, if you catch my drift. We catered to high-end clientele, particularly the LGBTQ+ community. I microdosed peptides myself and worked with a personal trainer, Raymond, who was already loving the roids and didn’t care about being ripped at first.

We were practically walking advertisements, with sculpted bodies that made the products we sold irresistible. I did the ripped guys, Kay did the bodybuilders en Raymond did the weightlifters. Anything for the right price—even the occasional harder substance upon request.

Believe it or not, I used to look like a Greek statue. It's hard to tell now, but I had the perfect body back then.

**Carlos:** Keep going.

**Tarek:** Things were fine for a while. But then Raymond wanted to compete as a bodybuilder, and he went all-in—far too aggressive with the steroids. He gained weight uncontrollably, bulked too fast, and couldn’t cut it down in time. His career collapsed before it began, and his steroid usage caught up to him financially. He took out a bank loan for contest expenses, thinking he’d earn it back with prize money, which never happened.

Kay, Jamie’s son, got impatient waiting for Raymond’s cut. He pressured me to pay up. That’s when I came up with a plan for Raymond to make money fast. I convinced him to start a live cam show on Onlyfans. We branded it around fitness and bulking advice, with some private sessions for extra cash. It worked like a charm—Raymond paid off his debts quickly.

But there’s the twist—I kept the money he handed me and tried to flip it through crypto investments, thinking I’d double it. Instead, I made a bad move and lost it all, so now I owed Kay **and** Raymond—£30,000 each.

**Carlos:** And that shut down your whole operation?

**Tarek:** Exactly. Raymond banned me from the gyms until I paid him back, which meant I couldn’t sell anymore. Kay got even angrier, and I couldn’t see a way out. Desperate, I tried to reach Jamie through his other son, Day—the model.

**Carlos:** What happened with Day?

**Tarek:** I confided in him, told him the story, and—well, one thing led to another, and I started sleeping with him. He tried to intervene with Kay and Jamie, but they were both adamant: I needed to pay what I owed. That’s when Day made me an offer. He gave me £60,000 to cover the debt.

**Carlos:** Debt solved, right? So how does this spiral into £5 million?

**Tarek:** I thought I was out of the woods. To pay Day back, I started my own OnlyFans account and decided to step up my peptides and workout so I beefed up “The Lebanese Monster.” You know why I called it like this… It was basically private videos: solo performances, underscored by my fitness persona. Surprisingly, it blew up. And also my physique pumped up really well. The money poured in, and I quickly raised the funds to repay him.

But I got greedy. The returns were coming fast, and I thought I could multiply it even further through crypto investments. This time, I struck gold—I doubled my money. Day saw this and became greedy himself. He wanted to invest, too.

Soon, the stakes escalated. Jamie got involved when he saw how lucrative the OnlyFans setup and crypto pairing was. Between Day, Kay, and Jamie, we were moving enormous sums—often six figures at a time. I helped Kay launch his own account, playing up his bodybuilding niche—fetishists flocked to him. He grew even bigger, both physically and financially. Jamie backed this enterprise, pumping cash into us, using it to launder his own money through crypto. At one point, Jamie himself invested £1 million, which we tripled in no time.

Day was blowing up, too. He got a major fitness spread in a magazine and started filming his progress toward the shoot. That landed him a £200,000 Nike contract. But Nike wanted him bulked up by at least 10kg for a more rugged, athletic look. Raymond stepped in again, doubling Day’s peptide dosage. And the results were phenomenal—Day exploded online, driving even more demand for our steroids and peptides.

Nike loved him. They offered an exclusive £1 million deal for a year, contingent on Day maintaining his new build. So, of course, Day stayed on the peptides, which fueled even more sales. Things were snowballing—big money, big bodies, big risks.

Kay, meanwhile, continued growing into a literal beast, embracing his role as the fetishized bodybuilding icon. He wasn’t just bulking; he was monstrous. He didn’t shy away from explicit content, either—he was all-in, and the fans were eating it up.

But then, after securing a few large orders, the pharmacy got raided by the police. It had to shut down entirely. That was a disaster for us. Not only did we lose our supply chain, but we also had to refund all the down payments we’d collected. With little choice, we decided to cash out on the crypto we'd been sitting on. But fate wasn’t done with us yet—on the very day we needed it most, the market crashed. We lost it all. Every pound, every shred of hope.

It was, in every sense, a perfect storm. To make matters worse, with no access to peptides anymore, we all started gaining weight—fast. For most of us, that wasn’t so bad, just an inconvenience at worst. But for Day? It was catastrophic. He was deep in debt, owing £1 million, and the clock was ticking. None of us could help; we were broke. That’s when Jamie stepped in to bail him out. I still don’t know what Jamie promised or gave up, but it was enough to keep Day out of trouble—for now.

PHOTOS Ray, Kay, Day, Tarek

After that, I decided I’d had enough. I packed up what little I had left and left Dublin behind for the familiarity of London. That’s when I met you. And now, here we are.

Carlos: *That’s… a lot. It sounds plausible, sure. But why didn’t you tell me all of this when we first met?*

Tarek: *Honestly? Because I never expected things to get this far.*

Carlos: *Well, I think we’re done here. I can’t see you anymore—it’s too much.*

Tarek: *I understand. But… what am I supposed to do now?*

Carlos: *You need to figure that out. Fast. Maybe you should talk to Day, though don’t expect him to forgive you.*

Tarek: *Wait, what? How do you even know about Day? And Jamie?*

Carlos: *You don’t want to know.*

Tarek: *No, I do. Tell me.*

Carlos: *Fine. Let’s just say I trade in chemicals.*

Tarek: *Chemicals?*

Carlos: *That’s all you need to know.*

Carlos exhaled sharply, pacing for a moment before turning to face Tarek again.

Carlos: *Listen. You can stay here, in this room, until this storm blows over. It’s not safe for you to be wandering around right now. But you can’t leave—not yet.*

Tarek: *Thank you. I—can I at least have my phone back?*

Carlos: *Yes, but don’t do anything stupid. If you make things worse, I’m not helping you.*

That night, Tarek lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His mind raced with thoughts of how he was going to fix this mess. He had nothing left—no safety net, no allies, just his phone and a growing sense of desperation. On a whim, he opened his OnlyFans account. Remarkably, it was still active. Hundreds of unread messages from fans greeted him, many asking when he’d post new content with his Lebanese monster, or eat, or…

Tarek hesitated for a moment, then started replying. He posted a poll for his followers: *"What would you like to see in my next live session?"* Within minutes, votes poured in. Out of curiosity, he scrolled through the other accounts he had access to. Raymond caught his attention—he was still doing private cam sessions and had grown even bigger. His follower count had exploded, and so had his earnings.

A notification popped up: *"£1,000 for a private jerk-off session with your monster."* Desperate times called for desperate measures. Tarek accepted. Ten minutes later, his bank account was £1,000 richer.

The next morning, emboldened by his success, Tarek ordered a lavish breakfast and streamed himself eating it—completely naked. Tips flooded in. Requests for private videos surged. He started charging £500 for group sessions, and within hours, he had £25,000 sitting in his account. Flush with cash, he ordered an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet for dinner and devoured it live on cam, generating even more income.

By the following morning, his inbox was flooded with over 150 requests for live cam sessions. Tarek obliged, juggling an endless stream of private videos, live streams, and meal binges. Each day brought more fans, more requests, and more money. He capped out at around 300 requests per day—earning an eye-watering £150,000 every 24 hours.

But the money wasn’t the only thing growing. Tarek had become accustomed to his luxurious imprisonment—ordering indulgent meals, lounging in opulent comfort, and gorging himself day and night. His body swelled with each passing day, a testament to his new lifestyle. Fans loved it. They begged for more. And Tarek, caught up in the whirlwind of cash and approval, gave them everything they asked for.

Still, despite his newfound wealth, Tarek couldn’t ignore the nagging thought that this was only a temporary reprieve. The storm outside was far from over. And somewhere, Day—and perhaps Jamie—was waiting.

**After seven days, the guard arrived in Tarek’s room and announced, "Carlos calls for you."**

Escorted to the presidential suite, Tarek found Carlos waiting for him, lounging in a silk robe. Carlos's eyes widened, surprised by Tarek's transformation — he had grown significantly larger. Without hesitation, Carlos pulled him closer and took control, their connection raw and primal.

When they were finished, Carlos leaned back, catching his breath. "I have news. Jamie and I agreed to postpone the payment by two months. Until then, you’re mine."

Tarek smirked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Hold on — I’ve been working. In the last few days, I’ve made around £900k. At this rate, in six weeks, I can pay off everything, including 10% interest."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, impressed but suspicious. "And no shortcuts? Nothing stupid?"

Tarek chuckled, patting his stomach. "Well, I’m getting fat because of it, but who cares?"

Carlos laughed. "Sounds good. So I’m sponsoring this growing empire of yours?" And can still use the Lebanese monster privately?

Tarek shrugged with a grin. "Ehm... yeah. Though, the room service bill might be, uh, a bit higher than usual."

Carlos waved dismissively. "That’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But for now, no wandering outside. Let me speak to Jamie first; a few more days of patience won’t hurt."

**The next morning, Tarek indulged in yet another colossal breakfast buffet.** As he lounged under the weight of eggs, pastries, and pancakes, his phone buzzed with a new message: someone offered £5,000 for a private feeding session. He declined immediately — Carlos would never allow it.

His subscriber count continued to soar, and their demands grew bolder. Almost every lunchtime, Tarek was summoned back to Carlos’s suite for another wild encounter before being sent back to his room, sated and exhausted. The afternoons were spent at the hotel pool, where Tarek lounged in the sun, completely stuffed, occasionally dozing off.

**Two weeks into this unusual arrangement, Carlos asked for updates on the numbers.**

Tarek grinned as he refreshed the dashboard. "£350k so far!"

Carlos clapped his hands together, pleased with the progress. "You know what? I’ll pay Jamie his first £1m now. Consider this a vote of confidence. And since you’re doing so well, you can stretch your legs — get some fresh air outside."

Excited yet apprehensive, Tarek planned his outing for a change of pace. The next morning, after his first cam session, he surprised Benny at the gym.

"Dude!" Benny exclaimed, stopping mid-rep. "What the hell happened to you? You’re completely letting yourself go! Why are you doing this?"

Tarek laughed nervously, gripping his bloated midsection. "Well… it’s my new boyfriend. He’s into this."

Benny raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I hope he’s worth it, man. I mean, I hope you’re getting *something* out of this mess."

They tried working out, but it was a disaster. Tarek struggled through a pathetic attempt at lifting weights, drenched in sweat and visibly uncomfortable. Afterward, Benny pulled him aside.

"This isn’t working. You need to show up tomorrow and fix this," Benny warned.

Tarek nodded, though deep down he knew he wouldn’t return anytime soon. As he left the gym, he stopped by Harrods and bought every pie he could find. Back at the hotel, he set up his camera and began devouring the desserts one by one, naked and unapologetic. His subscribers loved it. That night, another tempting offer came in: £10k for a private feeding session. Tarek was intrigued but declined again, loyal — for now — to Carlos.

**The next few days were indulgent chaos.** Instead of gym visits, Tarek roamed London, collecting cakes from every famous pastry shop. Lunch cam sessions became increasingly decadent, and dinners were feasts of pizza, kebabs, sushi — whatever he craved.

Two weeks of this gluttony later, Benny called to check in. "Dude, are you gonna turn things around or what?"

"You’re right, man," Tarek lied smoothly. "I’ll pop by tomorrow."

The next morning, Tarek overdid it. Fully stuffed and barely able to move, he reluctantly dragged his aching body to the gym. After a pitiful attempt at lifting weights, Benny shook his head, sighing. "This isn’t working for you. Come back tomorrow, and try again."

Tarek nodded but knew better. On returning to the hotel, he noticed something strange: the guards had disappeared. When he kicked off his lunch session, another message popped up — this time offering £25k for a private feeding session. The sender refused to reveal their face, claiming, *“You know me well.”* Tarek declined again.

Later that night, an even bolder offer arrived: £50k — final. Tarek hesitated but replied: *"The Ritz. Room 513. Tonight at 10 PM."*

**At 10:15 PM, the reception called.** "Your guest is here."

Tarek froze — he had forgotten to ask who it was. Opening the door cautiously, he was stunned. Standing there was Day. His ex. And a much heavier version of him.

"Day?"

Day grinned, stepping inside with a massive cake in hand. His eyes landed on Tarek, sizing up the change in his ex. "You broke my heart, Tarek. But now I think I get it. Let’s do this— together."

Before Tarek could respond, Day set the cake down and pulled up a second chair. Tarek turned to his subscribers, activating the camera. "Hey guys, I’ve got company tonight — someone you might recognize. He’s grown a little bigger too. And guess what? We’re sharing this beast of a cake."

Together, they polished off the cake, laughing and rubbing each other’s bloated bellies as the viewers flooded the chat with messages. That night brought an explosion of new subscribers and sky-high views, proving that excess — and surprise guests — always sold well.

The next morning, Carlos summoned Tarek again. His tone was decisive: “We’re going to Marbella. You’re coming with me.”

Tarek, flustered, moved to get dressed, but he quickly realized none of his clothes fit anymore—his joggers were the only exception. Panic set in, and he called Carlos for help.

“Relax,” Carlos said coolly. “We’ll sort you out when we get there. Don’t stress over clothes.”

True to his word, when they arrived in Marbella, Carlos led Tarek straight to Zara. He smirked as they browsed the racks. “If you outgrow it all in a month, it’s not a big deal. Easy to replace.”

Tarek nodded in agreement, though he felt a pang of shame at how quickly his body was changing. His followers flooded his phone with curious messages—where was he? What was he doing? A whirlwind of clout-following activity surrounded him daily now. Later that evening, he posted an update—a breezy scene showing off the luxurious villa, the glittering pool, and his lavish surroundings.

The next morning, back in his room, the servant staff brought in a feast for breakfast. The sheer abundance of food was staggering—far more than he’d ever seen or eaten. He indulged without restraint, until his belly ached and left him light-headed, almost passing out from the overindulgence. Still, his fans went wild when he shared clips of his meal, his bloated contentment stealing the spotlight.

From that day forward, the pace of excess picked up. Tarek spent his days lounging by the pool and livestreaming marathon eating sessions three times daily. The servants were constantly at work preparing endless streams of food. Carlos came and went, weaving himself into Tarek’s routine with calculated precision. There were intervals, moments where Carlos's desires took precedence—intimate encounters that punctuated the chaos of Tarek’s new existence.

As the days stretched on, Tarek’s body grew exponentially. Every movement became a labor; even simple tasks like catching his breath or achieving release became increasingly challenging. He felt the strain, but the surge in followers, the attention, the allure of his rising status was intoxicating.

One evening, he approached Carlos tentatively, opening up about his physical struggles, the mounting debts, and his desire to regain some control over his life. “I want to pay everything back,” he admitted, his voice hesitant.

Carlos countered sharply, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and manipulation. “Listen, I want you close to me. I *like* you like this—fat. I want to see you get even bigger. I’ll pay Jamie back for you; you keep the money you've made. How’s that for a deal?”

Tarek hesitated, unsure how to respond. Before he could answer, Carlos’s mood shifted violently. “Ungrateful,” he spat, storming out of the room.

The next morning, Tarek awoke to find that Carlos had left. For the first time in a while, there was no cam session, no audience waiting for him. Frustrated and uncertain, he decided to venture into Marbella to find new clothes. The heat bore down on him as he waddled toward the car, sweat streaming before he’d even reached his destination. His guards, ever watchful, asked him for directions.

But Tarek froze. He realized he couldn't face the outside world in his current condition—not like this. Ashamed and defeated, he ordered them to turn back.

Back in his room, the servants had already set up the lunchtime feast. As soon as they left, Tarek sat down and began eating. The urge came back—uncontrollable, undeniable, fueled by indulgence and desire. He facetimed Day, another friend in his orbit, and together they reveled in mutual excess, eating and indulging until their exhaustion took hold.

Carlos returned later that night to find Tarek sprawled out in bed, his belly swollen and taut, his energy spent. A glimmer of hunger and lust appeared in Carlos’s eyes as he approached. He ran his hands over the bloated belly, sparking a response from Tarek’s tired body. Before long, Carlos had taken control once again, pulling Tarek into another cycle of indulgence and submission.

Days blurred together, filled with meals, cam sessions, and Carlos’s demands. One evening, Carlos surprised Tarek by leading him to a private room filled with an extravagant display of cakes and desserts.

“I want you to eat this. All of it. Just for me,” Carlos commanded.

Tarek’s stomach turned at the sheer volume before him, panic flashing in his eyes. “I’ve never eaten so much at once,” he stammered.

Carlos didn’t care. He began feeding Tarek piece by piece, ignoring his protests. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll obey. No contact with Day or anyone else. Is that clear? This is *our* arrangement.”

Tarek, mouth stuffed, could only nod weakly. The power dynamic was undeniable; he was trapped in this cycle, unable to resist. As Carlos continued, Tarek’s body gave way to another wave of arousal, his sense of protest slipping further and further away.

Afterwards, Carlos brought Tarek upstairs, where another night of indulgence and submission unfolded. Tarek’s body struggled under the pressure, but Carlos issued a stark warning: “If you throw up, we start over. Keep it down.” Tarek obeyed, barely holding himself together, succumbing to exhaustion as he fell into a deep sleep.

As the days turned to weeks, Tarek appeared online less and less, offering brief glimpses of his dramatically transformed physique. In private, he had become Carlos’s “pet”—a prisoner of indulgence, growing fatter and more dependent with every passing day. And while parts of him burned with shame and doubt, another part reveled in the attention, the decadence, and the twisted affection of the man who had so completely reshaped his life.