#gainer story

[feeder86]

Tommy's Two Hundred

From the moment Tommy had joined the gay dating app, he’d spotted that the closest person to him geographically was a catfish. It was obvious from the little thumbnail picture that no one with a body that good could live so close by and him not know about it. The picture, showing the massive pecs and toned six pack were guaranteed to have been stolen from some straight bodybuilder somewhere in the world; but definitely not anyone who lived within at least two hundred miles of this backwards town in the middle of nowhere. The guy was probably some lonely, middle aged man seeking some attention that he did not deserve; attention that Tommy had no intention of bestowing upon him.

With his good looks and average height, Tommy soon found himself on a couple of dates with guys from the app. Some a little older; a couple still in college. He always got himself so excited before each one, having enjoyed endless kinky exchanges beforehand, back and forth. He liked it when the guys led the conversation with their horny talk, getting most aroused when they spoke about dominating him and tying him up. He gave these virtual suitors a deep, authorative voice in his head as he read out their messages, imagining the ways they’d seek their pleasure from him. In these fantasies, he built an entire persona for his dates; the way they spoke, the way they acted; the things they would do to him after getting back. He was his own worst enemy. No one could live up to such expectations. Despite being bold and brave behind the keyboard of their cell phones, the guys were never as Tommy pictured them in real life. They were polite and friendly; a little kinky perhaps, but only behind closed doors. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Tommy’s bubble to burst, leaving him stuck on a dull date with another boring Mr Average. 

As Valentine’s Day rolled around once more, Tommy felt the sting of still being single at the age of twenty-four. Friends, who thought they were being helpful, lamented about how difficult it was to understand why a guy so good looking and successful was still on the shelf. Tommy, however, knew that he just wasn’t being plain enough with people about what he was really after. He’d wasted more than a couple of years of his time on guys who were never going to please him in the ways he most wanted. If he was going to find the man of his dreams, he would need to start his dating profile from scratch.

Stripping his shirt and binding his hands with rope, Tommy posed for his new profile picture. He updated his username to include his submissive nature. Then, it was finally time to work on the profile itself. He stripped it bare of the mundane details about his favourite hobbies and movies, his education and aspirations. In their place, he went to town about his kinky interests and desires. He wanted to submit himself to someone entirely, openly and without reservations. Like a form of cosmic ordering, he outlined in great detail the sort of kinky, dominant guy he was on the lookout for, and ended by posting a further picture of his toned, naked body, wrists and ankles bound with handcuffs.

With breathless excitement, Tommy saved his changes and waited with fizzing excitement for his first messages. 

Nothing. Sure, his profile had had lots of views, but no one had felt compelled enough by it to reach out. 

Days went by. Tommy began to feel that he had made a mistake; that he had exposed himself and his kinks too openly on the app. Perhaps, rather than being turned on by his pictures and words, they were laughing at him instead; his extreme submissive fantasies, too weird and niche for anyone to actually want to meet him. Maybe the man of his horny dreams didn’t actually exist.

By the end of the second week, Tommy had made up his mind to delete the account. He gave his profile one final read, cringing as he tried to imagine it from another person’s perspective, then he stormed onto the app settings and found the exact link he needed to erase it entirely.

Just as he did so, Tommy saw a message pop up on the screen: 

‘Nice profile.’ 

Assuming sarcasm, Tommy skeptically tapped his way into his inbox and rolled his eyes when he saw that the message had actually come from the catfish profile of the guy who supposedly lived right here in town. 

‘Thanks,’ he typed back, determined that he would never be rude enough to ignore anyone who messaged him.

‘If you’re really as submissive as you claim, I’d be very interested in meeting you,’ came the next response.

Again, Tommy rolled his eyes at the fake profile picture. However, given that in five minutes time he would be deleting the app for good anyway, why not just click on the profile and take a look?

What Tommy saw next altered his perspective entirely. He didn’t care if the profile picture was a fake; a guy who could write like that, so erotically, about his desires to dominate, could look however they wanted to in real life. Tommy needed to meet them.

What followed over the next couple of hours was a kinky exchange where Tommy literally poured his heart and soul out to the mystery man on the other end. No one had ever shown such an interest in his kinks, nor drawn them out of him with such precision. So, when the offer of a meet at the coffee house in town came up, he didn’t think twice.

Sitting with his back to the door, Tommy waited patiently, but with a realistic mindset that a guy with a fake profile picture was unlikely to ever actually show up. Then, suddenly, he felt a large, warm hand land on his shoulder and a deep, masculine voice rumble into his ear. “Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t turn his head. He wanted to preserve that catfished image of the man he had been messaging for just a few moments longer. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw that very same man appear in the flesh. Tall, strapping, muscular and handsome; it was as if a beautiful, mid-twenties Greek god had just arrived in his hometown; from out of absolutely nowhere. 

“I’m Hunter,” the guy smiled, reaching out his large hand to shake.

Tommy couldn’t help admitting to the fact that he hadn’t believed Hunter’s profile pictures to be real, and Hunter nodded, saying that he had been told the same thing many times. He seemed pleased by Tommy’s appearance too, stroking his knee gently under the table as they settled into their first real conversation.

A few moments later, Hunter was up and ordering coffees for them both. Tommy turned to catch the guy from behind as he stood at the counter: so tall, with such perfect glutes and that broad back adorned with muscular shoulders. Was this really Tommy’s lunchtime date?

Hunter soon returned carrying a tray with coffees and, surprisingly, a large slice of triple chocolate cake, which he placed in front of Tommy. 

Politely, Tommy thanked him for it, even though he had not asked for something to eat and actually felt a little awkward picking at it when Hunter did not have anything himself.

“I wanted to discuss our sexual interests,” Hunter stated next, steering the conversation when Tommy seemed to be taking it down a more mundane path. “The domination and submission.”

Tommy felt his cheeks getting hot. There were another two couples close by; probably within earshot. But Hunter didn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

“What do you want to know?” Tommy replied excitedly.

“Actually, I think it's time that you listened to me instead,” Hunter replied sternly, putting Tommy in his place perfectly. “It’s lucky that I saw your profile as I don’t use that app much for meeting guys.”

“Where do you usually meet guys?” Tommy asked, sensing that Hunter had paused for him to ask just such a question.

“A few places,” Hunter shrugged, flicking through his cell phone. “These are some of my previous subs,” he offered, holding up his phone and swiping through pictures of himself next to other guys in various forms of submission to him: on their knees, bound and gagged, you name it. “Do you notice anything in particular about the guys I sleep with?” Hunter asked next. His tone was serious and it was obvious that he wanted Tommy to respond in much the same way.

The answer came to Tommy immediately, but he squirmed as he tried to think of a way to reply to Hunter, without seeming rude. “Well, you’re so…” he mumbled, gesturing towards Hunter’s powerful body and chest. “And yet, these guys here… there’re a bit…”

“They’re fatties,” Hunter stated for him; obviously not one to dress his language up. “I need you to just come out with it in the future when I ask you questions,” he stated frankly. “That’s the way I work. No bullshit.”

Tommy nodded, feeling turned on by how direct Hunter could be. Having discussed in such detail what his dream dominant would be, it was almost as if Hunter was slotting perfectly into place. 

“Why fatties?” Tommy asked, hoping that mirroring Hunter’s language would please him.

“Because fatties turn me on,” Hunter replied plainly. “I work hard to build my body up. So when I fuck a sub, I need him to be soft and doughy for me.” He reached over to the plate of half eaten cake in front of Tommy and gave it a gentle nudge. 

Tommy’s eyes bulged. Hunter wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t like to bullshit. His meaning couldn’t have been clearer. “So, you bought me the cake because…” he mumbled. He considered leaving it there and posing it as a question to Hunter, but he got the sense that the dominant hunk in front of him wanted him to just say what he believed to be true. “You bought me the cake to… soften me up.”

Hunter smiled for the first time in a few minutes and he leaned in, putting his giant hand back on Tommy’s knee. “That’s right,” he nodded, seeming to be genuinely delighted that Tommy had been frank with him. “Submission for me, is more than just slipping on a pair of handcuffs during sex. Submission is a lifestyle. It should be your entire body. You should wear it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

Feeling his heart beating faster and his palms sweating simply from hearing Hunter’s deep voice speaking at such a volume about things, without a care in the world, Tommy nodded. “I agree,” he answered. “Submission should be a lifestyle.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Hunter nodded again, his eyes now fixed on the still half eaten cake.

“Oh,” Tommy shook himself, picking up his fork again and popping the next bit of cake into his mouth. Instinctively, he apologised and Hunter did not correct him for it.

“I’m not going to lie,” Hunter stated, nodding subtly with approval. “I think this could work between us.”

“You do?” Tommy shot back with so much delight that he immediately wanted to punch himself in the face for it. “That’s cool,” he nodded, trying to seem more relaxed.

“We’ll meet at my place next time,” Hunter told him, draining his coffee as if this interview was already over. “I’ll message you on the app.”

“Okay,” Tommy replied, surprised by how fast the date was over with. 

Hunter leaned in. “And make sure you finish that cake,” he whispered into his ear. “Every last crumb.”

Having Hunter so close sent exciting electrical pulses through Tommy’s brain: the smell of his delicious aftershave, those perfect lips so near to his face. “I will,” he replied sincerely, turning to look Hunter in the face in the hope that they may end with a kiss.

Hunter held Tommy’s gaze, studying him. But Tommy knew better than to be the one to initiate a kiss. “I know you will,” the hunk replied after a few seconds. “You’ll be a good boy,” he chuckled, then turned and walked away without a second glance.

Tommy raced home feeling more elated after a date than ever before. Finally, he had found someone who seemed to relate to him on a level that no one had before. And, unbelievably, the guy was hotter than anyone else he had ever dared to dream of.

Of course, there was the one part of the date that he was less sure about. He hadn’t come across someone so into domination that they had insisted their date consume cake for them. But just because it was a little different, didn’t mean that he had to view it negatively. After all, he’d got quite a kick out of complying, hadn’t he?

“Come on in,” smiled Hunter a few days later, opening the door to his apartment. 

Just as he had stated in his messages, Hunter had not long got in from the gym and still looked a little sweaty, dressed in tight, and particularly short, shorts, together with a well-fitted compression top that showed off every detail of his exquisite body. He was even taller than Tommy realised, making him feel so insignificant standing next to him. He tried not to faint, right there on the spot.

“Rule number one,” Hunter began. “When you come here, you take your clothes off as soon as you get inside.”

Tommy stared up at Hunter, wondering if he was serious. But as the pause continued, Tommy realised that Hunter was waiting for him to comply. He fumbled for a second, then began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling more than a little embarrassed to be doing this straight away. He’d taken so long to pick out his outfit for their second date. What a waste of time that was!

“Come on, quickly!” Hunter prodded him impatiently.

Tommy kicked off his shoes, removing his pants and underwear in one go, knowing that his dick was going to be pathetically hard already. He stood there after awkwardly removing his socks, not knowing whether to cover his hardness, or act like this was normal.

Hunter nodded with approval. He reached down into the pile of discarded clothes and pulled out Tommy’s underwear, holding them up as if for inspection, and gripping the small waist between his fingers. “Cute,” he chuckled to himself, seeming to find them highly amusing.

But Hunter did not throw them back onto the floor. He carried them as he turned into the apartment, clearly expecting the naked Tommy to do the same.

Following the jock inside and admiring those fine, muscular glutes just ahead of him, Tommy had never felt so turned on in his life. It had been immediate, from the moment he stepped inside. He felt, at that moment, that he would have eaten an entire mountain of chocolate cake if Hunter had told him to.

Hunter led him to the kitchen area, where Tommy was surprised to see that the big man was busy preparing a meal for them both, despite not having even showered yet. A good meal was clearly more important to him.

“Smells delicious,” Tommy chirped politely, still unsure whether to cover his boner with his hand as he trotted in.

Hunter raised his eyebrows in recognition of his comment, but did not reply. Instead, he pulled out a chair at his table and pointed for Tommy to sit whilst he went back to stirring and serving it out. 

There was something so sexy about a man in the kitchen. There were so many things on the go and yet Hunter did not seem in the least bit flustered. Everything was under complete control. But as Tommy watched, he noticed that it was all being served onto separate, single plates; not distributed between the two of them as he had expected.

At last, Hunter pulled out a chair and positioned it directly in front of Tommy. Then he sat, spreading his strong legs and looking at his guest seriously. “I enjoyed our date, Tommy. I really did. I think you’re a nice guy and I believe that you would make a great sub for me.”

Tommy smiled back, pleased; feeling the need to tuck his hardness between his thighs whilst Hunter was being so friendly.

“But if I’m going to spend some real time with you, I need to know what you can do. I also need you to see the type of man I really am. You may not like any of what I have planned tonight. You may want to leave. And that’s fine. But at least we'll both know where we stand, and neither of us will get our hopes up, thinking that this is more than what it is.”

Tommy looked from the gorgeous man to the piles of steaming food still on the counter. He knew that Hunter would want him to think for himself and be direct. “You want me to eat this for you, don’t you?” he asked, realising that the chocolate cake slice of their first date had just been the start of whatever kinky play Hunter was into.

Hunter simply nodded. “I want to see how far you’re willing to go for me.” 

The stud sat back, lifted his arms and removed the tight compression shirt he was wearing, revealing his remarkable torso to Tommy for the first time. 

Chuckling slightly at the obviously smitten expression on Tommy’s face, the large guy leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. “Are you ready to do this for me?” he whispered into his guest’s ear, before picking Tommy’s small hands up and placing them on his strapping chest.

The hot, sweet breath on Tommy’s neck, combined with the musky scent of the jock’s body, so firm and strong, made him want to climax there and then. “Yes,” he replied obediently.

Hunter sat back again with a smirk, making Tommy’s hands fall back down. He knew exactly the effect he was having upon the boy. He reached down to the guy’s stomach and, with the back of one finger, he stroked across the light six pack that showed there. “Goodbye, little buddy,” he teased wickedly. Then he stood up, seeming to loom larger than ever without his shirt on, and brought the plates and bowls to the table. 

Armed with only a fork and a spoon, Tommy was expected to feast on all of it.

Luck was on Tommy’s side; he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Plus, Hunter was watching him, rubbing his back sweetly and advising him on what to eat next; taking him back and forth from one dish to another. But something seemed to happen about thirty minutes in. Hunter changed slightly. He’d had a laid back attitude the entire time that Tommy had been there, as if he wouldn’t have been bothered if Tommy cancelled the date and took himself home instead. Maybe he was used to that. But now he was actively supporting; up and about, fetching the furthest plates so that Tommy did not need to reach. The man’s breathing had altered as well, with deeper, more rapid intakes of breath as he watched Tommy eat. Then, with a small glance down, Tommy saw that the thickest hardness had swollen down one side of Hunter’s gym shorts. How incredible! Had Tommy really excited the dominant man that much?

“You’re doing well,” Hunter praised him; his voice deeper and more gravely than Tommy had heard it before. “I’m impressed.”

Tommy’s stretched out stomach began to really hurt about forty minutes in, yet he continued to push himself as far as he could. Some plates were clean now, which Hunter got up and replaced with some dessert items. Tommy had always enjoyed switching back and forth between sweet and savory items, so the additions to the table were more of a help than a hindrance.

Eventually, the time came when Tommy knew he would have to stop. His pace had slowed and he started selecting those easier, lighter items to make the remaining plates look at least a little emptier. “That’s it. I’m done!” he whimpered, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his painfully distended stomach.

Despite expecting cries or protests from Hunter ordering him to finish the pathically small amount of pasta he had left, or gulp down the last few melting scoops of ice cream, Hunter simply sat there, surveying the destruction on the table. “Where did you learn to eat like that?” he asked, seemingly flabbergasted.

Tommy quietly dredged up a burp to relieve some of the pressure and shook his head. “Don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve always had a pretty good appetite.”

Hunter still seemed unable to comprehend what he had witnessed. “I’ve seen some seriously fucking fat boys eat less than half of what you just put away.”

Tommy burped again and found some pleasant relief; more than he was expecting. He knew how expensive the ice cream that Hunter had served him was, and decided to finish it off after all, not wanting to see it go to waste. He could see Hunter staring at him in amazement. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I’ve always had a very fast metabolism.”

“I can soon destroy that,” Hunter growled, giving away just how horny he was. “Natural greed like this… It's incredible. And very rare!” 

“Thanks,” Tommy smiled,unsure what else to say. 

“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” Hunter asked next, wrapping a big arm over Tommy’s shoulders, like a snake about to suffocate its prey. “I know you don’t have work in the morning. I can make you breakfast.”

A mixture of relief and arousal swept over Tommy. He’d made such an effort to eat, he’d all but forgotten the fact that he’d need to catch the bus home later.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Hunter teased, as if Tommy needed persuading. He reached for a tiny bottle of lubricant in his shorts and tipped a small amount of it onto his fingertips, before gently massaging the head of Tommy’s hardness.

Tommy gasped and grabbed for the sides of his seat, as if the floor was about to cave in. Hunter was so good at this. All that eating made the oxygen catch in his chest and it took him a few seconds to get his breathing into a rhythmn as Hunter took the reins of pleasuring him. He nodded his head, not wanting to use his voice in that moment for fear of how pathetically weak and needy it might sound.

“Come on Greedy Boy,” Hunter teased him. “Let’s go take a shower together…”

“I can’t come next weekend,” Tommy grinned, addressing his coworkers six weeks later. “I’m away with my boyfriend.” 

As predicted, the whistles of delight sounded in the air as they all made a fuss at the news that their colleague was dating at last. Tommy wasted no time in sharing a picture of the two of them together, sitting in his parents’ lounge. 

“He’s hot!” blasted one of them straight away.

“He looks like he should be on a catwalk!” squeaked another.

Tommy smirked to himself. He loved the reactions he got to pictures of Hunter. Sure, people might have thought he was punching quite significantly above his weight, but he was still the one who got to be fucked by such a hunk, and not them. However, behind that handsome smile and perfect ‘boy next door’ act Hunter laid on astonishingly thick for all of Tommy’s family and friends, lay the kinkiest, most dominant lover he could have ever wished for. The things they got upto in the bedroom satisfied him completely. After years of dating boring guys, Hunter seemed to swoop in and make Tommy fall hopelessly in love with him in only a matter of days. Tommy was utterly devoted to him. And the best part was, Hunter knew it.

“You haven’t really told me much about these friends of yours we’re going to meet this weekend,” Tommy pondered, sitting in the passenger seat and noting how far out into the country they had gone on his online map.

“Well, why bother? You got along with all my other friends,” Hunter chuckled, obviously keeping something from Tommy about this trip.

Tommy sighed. “Yeah, but they were all co-workers and old school buddies. They don’t know… all the sides of your personality,” he replied diplomatically.

“Well, let’s just say, this weekend will be good for us,” Hunter smiled, leaning back and driving smoothly. “These guys are sexy as fuck, and we all like to play together. I’ve been excited to show you off to them since we first started going out. ”

“Show me off?” Tommy asked. “How so?”

“Just you wait and see,” Hunter laughed, adjusting the developing boner he was getting in his crotch. Something about this was exciting him very much. Then he reached his hand across to stroke Tommy’s thigh and brushed off some of the many wrappers from the drive-thru they had stopped at a good few miles back.

The location, when they finally arrived about two hours later, was nothing short of breathtaking. The house was set in the most charming of spots, overlooking the hills; with eight bedrooms, a pool, and the largest hot tub Tommy had ever seen. They entered, Hunter leading the way, only to see several shirtless men all standing around in the kitchen. They cheered when they saw Hunter and came over to greet him with a hug.

Tommy stood back awkwardly. He’d been so stupid in how he had imagined these men in his head. They were not at all as he had envisioned them; all of them round bellied and at varying levels of obesity; not the types of guys that someone in Hunter’s extreme, peak physical condition would have been expected to associate with. But, then again, Hunter had always said that he preferred fat guys.

“And this is my new boyfriend, Tommy,” Hunter finally stated, pulling Tommy forward to greet them all.

There was a look of surprise on all the guys’ faces. One of them furrowed their eyebrows, as if about to ask whether Hunter was being serious. Then, the first one stepped forward and shook his hand warmly; followed by the rest of them, one by one.

“That was a little weird,” Tommy whispered as the pair of them went up to the bedroom that had been assigned to them: thre master suite no less. “Did they not know that you’re dating?”

“No, they knew,” Hunter smirked, undressing himself and slipping on his tiny swim shorts to head out to the pool. “I date fat guys, remember. I’ve fucked and dominated every one of them in my time,” he continued, checking his perfect hair in the mirror. “So when I told them I was dating the fucking greediest, sexiest guy I’d ever met, they’d probably assumed you were a lot larger.”

“Wait. So do they know that you…” Tommy asked.

“These guys know everything. That’s why I was so excited for this weekend. We can just relax and be ourselves, without having to worry. I can cook mountains of food for you, just like normal, then bring you up here, tie you up and fuck you all night long,” he grinned, striding over to Tommy and kissing him. “Now, get changed,” he ordered, throwing some swim shorts at him.

“Looking good!” growled one of the men as Hunter led the way down the stairs. “I’ve never seen you looking so chiselled.”

Hunter stood and soaked in all of their comments, comically flexing and posing for them all. Then he smirked and tapped one of the guys on his gut. “I could say the same to you, buddy,” he nodded. “This overhang has really gotten a lot bigger since the last time I saw you.”

Tommy inhaled slightly with shock at Hunter’s rudeness. He looked for signs of offense, until he saw that the man instead looked mightily pleased with himself. “Paul has been feeding me a big tub of ice cream before bed every night,” he pointed over at another large bellied guy in the corner, who was obviously his partner. 

“Well, it’s really working,” Hunter smiled at him, giving him a deep, horny kiss. “I’m doing the same with this little guy,” he continued, pulling Tommy closer to him. “He was still living with his parents when I met him, but I’ve got him with me most of the time these days. That’s making things easier. Ice cream before bed is one of the things I started him on straight away,” he stated proudly.

The eyes of the men studied Tommy’s body in his swim shorts.

“I’m having to break down his incredibly fast metabolism. It’s not ideal. But if I turn him around, you can see,” Hunter explained, spinning a light and clueless Tommy around and bending him down so that his small butt faced the men instead. “There’s a little more softness forming around his lower back and…” he continued, dropping Tommy’s swim shorts slightly so that his butt cheeks showed, “...his glutes and thighs are filling up a lot more than when I first met him.”

Hunter tapped Tommy’s butt, creating a short ripple.

“Do you see it?” he asked them all.

With his head down, facing away from them, Tommy didn’t know if the guys had nodded in agreement. 

“Do you think he’s going to be quite bottom heavy then?” another of the men asked, clearly feeling that Tommy’s butt was wothy of discussion.

“Possibly,” Hunter agreed. “It’s a bit too early to tell. There aren’t many fatties in his family for me to get a good idea of how he might develop. That was one of the first things I checked. But he’s quit the gym to spend more time with me, so that should speed things up a little.”

Tommy felt his swim shorts getting pulled back up and a sweet kiss being placed on his forehead by his boyfriend. Then he was spun back to face the others, just as they all started chuckling with amusement to themselves, noticing the hardness that had developed in Tommy’s crotch during their conversation about him.

Hunter soon noticed as well and joined in the laughing, patting Tommy on his butt proudly. “He’s a kinky little fucker too!” he smirked, repositioning himself behind Tommy, rolling his big strong arms around the smaller guy’s shoulders and gently rubbing his crotch into his lover’s rear.

“I take it he’s a sub?” Paul asked from the corner.

“Of course,” Hunter shot back, gently nibbling Tommy’s ear. “One of the most obedient I’ve ever had,” he whispered. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Tommy?” he teased, reaching one arm down to stroke the hardness in Tommy’s shorts, even with all the other guys there.

Tommy’s head flopped back against Hunter’s shoulder. In this situation, he felt so crazily out of control, yet it was arousing him in ways he could not explain.

“Anyway, come on, Piggy,” Hunter finally ordered, pulling his large hand out from Tommy’s crotch. “Let’s go try out the pool.” He tapped his lover on his butt, admiring the slight flutter that spread into the guy’s thighs. “But remember, not too much exercise for you. I don’t want you to spoil all the fast food calories I bought you earlier.”

Dinner was served a couple of hours later: a vast spread of multiple dishes, prepared by the varying couples in attendance. They sat in the shade, all of them in their swim shorts, and some of the men spilling out of the tight patio chairs that the rental property had for its guests.

“You finished already, Danny?” Hunter asked the significantly overweight man across the table. “Tommy will be nowhere near finished. He’s got at least another twenty minutes in him,” he boasted.

“It is extraordinary,” one of the others nodded in agreement, seeing how easily Tommy was packing it all in. “Is this how he usually is?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hunter nodded, reaching over and spooning on another large serving of cheesy pasta, as if he was psychically linked to his boyfriend and knew exactly what he wanted. “He can go like this for every meal: breakfast, lunch, dinner… He’s also a great little snacker as well. I need to eat frequently throughout the day to keep this physique up,” he explained, tensing his large biceps. “So it’s easy to get this one eating with me, and it still never spoils his appetite when dinner time rolls around.”

“How are his family feeling about him dating a feeder?” Danny asked, eyes still on Tommy as he continued to consume.

“It’s still early days,” Hunter replied. “He’s not really started to fatten up properly yet and take shape. Plus, they absolutely love me. I have his mom eating out of the palm of my hand! I’m sure the idea that I’m fattening their son won’t cross their minds for some time yet.”

“What’s his recovery time like?” Danny’s slightly slimmer husband asked next.

“Pretty good,” Hunter nodded again. “After he’s done here, I’ll take him upstairs, jack him off and then let him sleep for a couple of hours. Then he’ll be back up and ready for something else before bed,” he laughed, rubbing his boy’s back sweetly.

Tommy listened to it all as he continued to eat. Below the table, his hardness was weeping into his swim trunks. It wasn’t at all how he anticipated the life of a submissive, but it was still absolutely perfect, hearing Hunter boast about his control over him to all his friends.

“Are you struggling there, Fat Boy?” Hunter grinned as he watched the enormous Jack trying to repack his suitcase in the middle of the lounge that Sunday.

Tommy could tell that Jack was Hunter’s favourite of all the fat guys; most likely because was the softest of them all; partly due to his shorter height, making him rounder and more spherical than the others. Tommy had been with his boyfriend long enough to know when Hunter was getting horny and he sensed the spark of arousal within him each time Jack waddled on by, dressed only in his swim trunks all weekend.

Jack wiped his brow and nodded. “I’m not as sprightly as I used to be.”

Hunter chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Harry has done an awesome job on you. All that fresh fat in that big gut…” He growled in approval, admiring it all. His hardness was getting too much for him and he pulled Tommy gently down into his crotch to pleasure him whilst they spoke.

“I think you’ve got a good one there too,” Jack nodded over at Tommy, sucking away, as ordered.

Hunter sighed with pride and slapped Tommy on his butt, as he crouched across the sofa. “He will be. He just needs time to get into my ways.”

“He looks pretty obedient to me,” Jack chuckled.

“Oh, definitely! Like I said, he’s one of the best subs I’ve ever had. Decent blow job skills too,” he sighed, really starting to feel Tommy’s work now. “I just need to take down this metabolism of his.” He gazed down at the back of Tommy’s head bobbing up and down in his crotch. “I need every part of him to submit to me.”

Jack nodded knowingly, trotting over and rubbing Tommy’s butt as well. “Don’t worry, Hunter. I know you. You’ll have him under control very soon now...”

Over the next few weeks, Tommy felt a creeping tightness in his workpants. He stared in the mirror, hardly believing that the swollen glutes and thicker thighs were actually his. In his constantly bloated state, he hadn’t noticed the disappearance of his light six pack, as a thickening layer of fat began to spread itself around his waist. In fact, it was only as he jumped down from his office chair after finding something on the top shelf of a cupboard, that he noticed the first flutter of that fat, especially in his chest. But after that day, everything seemed to spiral.

“Hunter, I need you to come to my work,” Tommy whispered down the phone.

“Why?” Hunter asked, clearly in the middle of a training session with one of his clients at his gym.

“I bent down to pick up my pen and…”

“You ripped your pants,” Hunter finished for him. “About time. Did anyone see?”

“No,” Tommy replied with relief.

“That’s a shame,” Hunter sighed in disappointment. “And now you want me to drop everything and head over to deliver some larger pants for you?”

“Yes, please!” Tommy begged, knowing that his dominant boyfriend might actually get quite a kick out of leaving him in his ripped pants all day long.

A long, excruciating two hours later, Hunter arrived at the office. Many of the female employees rushed from their desks to greet him, and Hunter flirted sweetly with them, knowing exactly what sort of effect he had on them. It was strangely arousing to see him in action, pretending to take an interest in Melissa’s honeymoon or Fran’s new grandchildren; this charming character that he portrayed with ease.

“Well, I must go, ladies,” he smiled, walking towards Tommy’s office as some of them continued to bleat on. He closed the door behind him and comically put his body against it as if to stop anyone following him in. Then he locked it, just in case. “How do you put up with such boring people?” he sighed, looking straight at Tommy.

“They absolutely adore you,” Tommy reminded him.

“I know. But they’re still fucking boring,” Hunter smirked, checking the blinds were closed properly before striding over to his chubby lover who rose from his chair to greet him with an embrace.

Immediately, Hunter seized the opportunity in those moments of weakness; his strong hands sliding down to the tear in Tommy’s pants, mercilessly ripping them open further.

Tommy’s hands slipped back surveying the damage. Now, even his underwear had been compromised as he felt cool air against his increasingly fleshy glutes. “Please tell me you brought my new pants,” he blasted in panic.

“I did,” Hunter nodded, rifling through his backpack and showing them briefly. “But it’s going to cost you,” he sniggered, now pulling out his hardness from his shorts and nodding for Tommy to lie himself on the table.

“But I’m in work!” Tommy shot back.

“All the more reason for you to stop complaining and get a move on then,” the man laughed back, stroking his thick hardness to warm it up for Tommy’s softening butt.

Tommy lay himself down, realising that one of his most kinky work fantasies was about to come true, despite feeling no less worried that there would be a knock on his door at any moment. He spread his legs, making the tear even more pronounced, then heard the thud of a supermarket cheesecake being dropped by his head and then slid underneath his nose: Hunter’s latest fascination, watching him gorge on something extremely fattening whilst fucking him.

Both of them set to work, Hunter pounding him so forcefully that the cheesecake smeared itself over Tommy’s nose and under his chin as he tried to eat it at the same time. It was clear that he needed to eat fast, save getting it on his white shirt and ending up in exactly the same sartorial predicament again. His tongue came into play, scooping it all up and then pushing whatever didn’t need chewing straight down. Hunter didn’t take long to finish, but the sweat on his brow gave away just how much he had really gone for it. He threw Tommy a pack of cleaning wipes for his face and unfolded the new pants, presenting them like a prize to his lover.

A minute later, Hunter insisted on being walked out of the office; both of them stopped on the way multiple times.

“Yes, we’d love to come over for dinner sometime, Christine,” Hunter smiled politely, both he and Tommy knowing full well that it would never happen. Hunter wouldn’t waste his free time socialising with any of these people, unless there was something in it for him.

“Whart a nice boy he is!” Christine marvelled, standing at the main entrance of the office block, watching Hunter drive off. “So polite and gentle!”

Swishing his tongue around his mouth and still tasting nothing but cheesecake, Tommy nodded in agreement. “He’s the best.”

It felt very festive, turning up at the picturesque rental cottage covered in snow. Unlike last time, Tommy knew exactly what he would be walking into as Hunter’s friends arranged their next meet up. Being from up north, renting these houses was the best way for them to meet up with Hunter, who they all found just as fascinating and intoxicating as Tommy did. 

“Someone has been eating well!” the men chuckled, seeing Tommy for the first time in almost six months.

Tommy nodded, taking his big jacket off. In the last couple of months, his cheeks had blown up in a way that was not too dissimilar to a hamster stuffing itself with seeds. Fat had spread under his chin and into his neck, always visible now that Hunter insisted that he stayed clean shaven. Hunter kissed him proudly, always delighted whenever anyone mentioned his boyfriend’s gains.

“I’m guessing you defeated that fast metabolism of his?” Danny laughed, seeing more and more of Tommy’s shape as he removed the layers of winter clothing.

“Did you ever doubt me?” Hunter smirked back, grabbing both of their bags to take them upstairs; never wanting Tommy to burn any calories unnecessarily.

“What do you weigh now?” Paul jumped in after Tommy and Hunter came back downstairs after settling into their room.

Tommy looked to Hunter, knowing that he would want to be the one to tell them all.

“We’re up 70lbs since you last saw him,” Hunter beamed, draping his big arm over Tommy’s shoulders. “I bet you can hardly recognise him with these chubby cheeks, huh boys?”

“I suppose the sweatpants come in handy these days?” Eddie asked, nodding at Tommy’s casual attire as he stood beside his muscular boyfriend.

“Um, I guess so,” Hunter pondered. “To be honest, I don’t let him wear clothes when he’s at home. Do I?” he asked Tommy in an attempt to include him, even a little, in this discussion about him.

Tommy shook his head.

“As you can probably see, his tits are starting to come in real nicely,” Hunter continued, lifting Tommy’s shirt for the boys to see. “Lovehandles are fully in shape now, and the back fat,” he rambled on, spinning Tommy around for their viewing pleasure. “I’ve had to rescue him twice in work now after he’s split his pants,” he laughed, rolling the sweatpants down so that the guys could see the transformation that had taken place in Tommy’s glutes. “And, best of all…” he went on, rapidly spinning Tommy like a ragdoll again to face them once more, “Check this out…”

The boys marvelled in unison as Hunter grabbed a thick wedge of fat that had amassed at the top of Tommy’s groin. 

“It’s hard to believe how much fat there is here, considering he’s only 220lbs at the moment,” Hunter grinned. “It’s incredible!”

“Well, we can help add to that this weekend,” Danny smiled. “It’s your first holiday season as a fatty,” he nodded at Tommy. “That’s got to be quite exciting?”

“It’s also our first one together,” Tommy replied, falling back into Hunter’s large chest.

“What are you guys doing for the big day?” Eddie asked next.

“Well, we told Tommy’s parents that we were going to my family. And then we said the exact opposite to my parents. So, basically…” Hunter smirked, pulling his lover into a cute sideways cuddle, “...this little piggy is going to be spending the day sitting on my cock whilst I feed him absolutely everything I’ve been preparing for him for the last month.”

The guys all looked at each other, clearly astounded and secretly aroused by the idea.

“Have you had much backlash from Tommy’s family now he’s getting so overweight?” Danny questioned them later, sitting at the table, waiting for Tommy to finish his meal.

“Not so much,” Hunter replied. “Now his face has started to balloon, people are certainly a lot more aware of it. But his parents aren’t as switched on as mine. My dad pulled me to the side a couple of weeks ago and told me to start going easy on Tommy.” He straightened up, about to do an impression of his father and put on a dull, stuck-up voice. “Your mother and I know exactly what you’re doing,” he began at a fast pace, poking his finger out like a school teacher. “You’ve always been forceful about getting your own way; always the bully we used to get complaints about when you were in high school. But Tommy is a nice boy; the nicest you’ve ever brought home, and you’ve got to start getting your kicks some other way. One that doesn’t involve him getting so out of shape!”

The men all laughed in unison.

“I just tell them I’m going to set up a diet plan for Tommy in the New Year,” he chuckled; setting the rest of them off. 

“Well, I can imagine exactly what sort of ‘diet plan’ you’ll have for him,” Danny smirked, knowing his friend all too well.

Hunter nodded and laughed along with them. “Yeah, this fat boy is so fucking screwed!”

Their conversation rolled on. All the while, Tommy continued to eat.

“Good boy!” Hunter sang moments later as Tommy finally put his knife and fork down; his plate cleared. “Was that tasty? That lamb dish is one of Eddie’s most fattening recipes. I should know. I taught him how to make it.”

Tommy nodded his head; utterly stuffed.

“Do you want me to take you upstairs for your pleasure time?” he asked the blubbery boy. “It’s part of his routine,” he explained to the guys. “Or would you rather have it here, so that the other fat boys can see you?”

Tommy looked around at the faces staring at him. All of the men were shirtless and some of them, like him, had come to the table wearing nothing at all. His initial thought was to go back upstairs. However, that seemed like such an effort in his stuffed state. He looked over at a cosy chair by the fireplace and nodded; “Over there.”

Initially, the other kinky guys had pretended to busy themselves whilst Hunter took Tommy over to the chair and began to rub his hardness up and down. However, their curiosity and arousal was soon gettng the better of them, one-by-one, coming to sit on the other chairs or stand nearby watching Hunter controlling his sub.

“Are you a good piggy for me?” Hunter whispered into his ear, making Tommy moan and nod. “You’ve put on so much fat for me this year. Did you see how shocked the guys were earlier? They’re all looking at you now.”

Tommy opened his eyes and looked around. What would he have said a year ago, had he imagined a scenario that was anything like this?

A curious and horny Eddie licked his thumb and began rubbing it over Tommy’s pointed nipple.

Hunter looked across with approval. “Piggy loves that now his tits have come in. He can’t get over how sensitive they are.

Danny licked his thumb and began playing with the other nipple, before Paul came along and grabbed a wedge of Tommy’s stomach fat, as if hardly believing how quickly it had developed.

“You see, you’re the star of the show, Piggy!” Hunter whispered into his lover’s ear.

Tommy’s breathing became a lot heavier as he felt his climax building.

“It’s alright, Piggy,” Hunter continued. “Don’t hold back. You can show them what I taught you to do when you climax.”

Tommy looked into Hunter’s eyes. Was it really okay to let himself go like this? But the orgasm was coming so fast and the urge to do it was becoming too much for him to resist. He gasped, letting go of his inhibition, then snorted, loud and clear, just like a pig, mimicking the tones that Hunter had taught him exactly. Jets flowed across the coffee table in the middle of the room and Tommy shut his eyes, calm at last..

As the New Year came and went, Tommy realised that his weight had spiked at an alarmingly fast rate over the holidays. Hunter had declared, looking at the vast new size of Tommy’s glutes, that it had been the best gift he had ever received. The gains did eventually slow down, but never stagnated. And so, by their first anniversary of getting together, Tommy stood next to his gorgeous boyfriend with over one hundred and ten pounds of added fat on him.

Hunter was more pleased with his own body than ever before as well. He’d spent the last few months bulking his shoulders and glutes, so that even he was outgrowing his clothes. Seeing Tommy swell so fast had given him the motivation he needed to make a real push with his weight training, and he spent much of that summer without a shirt on, both inside and outside of the apartment. He’d inherited a decent amount of money from a great uncle he had never even met, spending most of it on a new convertible and a designer watch that helped to inflate his ego even further. Their kitchen had been the epicentre of it all, with Hunter cooking himself up vast amounts of high protein meals, whilst simultaneously pouring in the butter, oils and grease into everything he made for Tommy.

Hunter’s bulking had also created the perfect excuse for Tommy’s ever swelling stomach. Hunter made no secret of how much he had to consume in order to keep up the strapping muscle on his body. “Most evenings, I’m cooking up food and portioning it out for myself for the next day,” he explained to Tommy’s aunt during their next visit. “But I think the smell of it makes Tommy hungry, and when I go to bed, I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy!” his aunt tutted with disappointment. “No wonder you’ve gained so much weight then. You need to exercise some self control.”

Hunter nodded in agreement, rubbing Tommy’s back supportively; as if this was all one great big intervention, aimed at helping him. The lies just rolled off the hunk’s tongue with such ease and he’d soon be laughing in the car at how easily they all swallowed them. “Come on, Fatty,” he whispered whilst still smiling and waving at Tommy’s extended family as they reversed off the driveway. “Look at their faces,” he laughed. “They really think you’re going to turn things around this time.”

“My aunt spoke to me a minute ago, before we left,” Tommy explained from the passenger seat. “She told me that you’re the fitness expert and that I just need to do whatever you say.”

Hunter laughed victoriously. “Good old Auntie Paula!” he roared, waving one final time to her in particular. “In that case, your fitness expert is taking you home to sit my dick while I feed you your disgustingly oversized dinner. I heard that chair squeaking when you sat on it earlier. Next time we go to see them, I’m going to make sure your fat ass destroys it!”

The summer was coming to an end, but not before the pair of them drove up in Hunter’s new car to yet another rental place for a weekend with the boys.

“I’ve got a surprise for everyone later,” Hunter joked, shirtless and with a strong arm draped over his flabby, newly 300lb boyfriend.”

“Another one?” the boys joked, having just spoken at length about their shock at seeing the swell of Tommy’s chest and underarm fat in particular.

Hunter kept them all waiting keenly. They ate their dinner, recharged and then settled down to some beers in the large lounge. “Want to see something super cute?” he finally asked them, grinning with excitement.

“Is this our surprise?” Jack immediately replied, ready to be entertained.

Hunter nodded. “Look at these!” he cooed, suddenly holding up a tiny pair of underwear he’d been hiding behind a cushion.

The boys laughed. “Awh!” they all sang back. In their world, no one wore underwear that small; even Hunter with his giant glutes and muscular thighs needed a large, or even an extra-large in many cases.

“These belonged to Tommy when he came over to my apartment for the first time,” Hunter laughed wickedly, spinning them around and holding them by the very ends of his fingertips as if to further emphasise how petite they were. “I’ve not even washed them since.”

At this, all the guys began laughing in much the same way. They passed them around, each of them marvelling at their tiny size.

“Your butt used to be so small!” Paul bellowed, draping the underwear over his large gut to show how minute they were in comparison.

Tommy stared at them, suddenly remembering how Hunter had walked off with his underwear on that first date at their now shared apartment. His perspective really had been skewed, hardly believing now that he ever wore clothes that small.

“That was only seventeen months ago, boys!” Hunter shouted, raising his arms up in the air for the admiration he was owed. “That’s how it’s done, my friends! That’s how a real feeder takes control and fattens his piggy!”

The boys all cheered in complete agreement. The transformation, the sheer speed of it all; it was breathtaking.

“He’d never get them on these days,” Eddie laughed. “Not with the amount of fat he carries on his thighs, and that huge butt of his.”

Hunter pretended to ponder the idea; theatrically raising his thumb to his chin and rubbing. “Hmm, do you really think so?” he asked, barely holding back his laughter. “I think we may need to test that hypothesis, don’t you, boys?” he called out, rousing the crowd of fat men into a chorus of cheers. 

Within seconds, Hunter had stood up and moved clear so that the other men could move in and do his bidding. Tommy was being lifed and forced out of his current underwear, feeling delighted pats of approval from some of the guys as his big, fat, doughy glutes came on show. The coffee table had been removed from the room, the music turned way down, and he was pushed into the middle of a now cleared space, with all the large, occupied chairs and sofas imprisoning it. 

Suddenly, the mood changed. Unlike the others, Hunter was standing, blocking the only path out of the room; his giant arms folded intimidatingly across his immensely powerful, shirtless chest; an inpenetrable wall; a ringleader, ready to entertain.

Even before he started, Tommy could hear little hoots of laughter all around him. He looked up at Hunter’s stern expression and his hardness throbbed uncontrollably.

“As you all remember,” Hunter began, “a short while ago, I started dating a very handsome, a very athletic, and in fact, a very pretty-looking guy…” 

His tone was so playful and full of mockery; making the other guys laugh; every single one of them. Then he reached out and took the tiny underwear from the person who had them. Although only a few feet away from him, Tommy looked up at his lover as if the giant man was standing high upon a towering pedestal. The way those cold eyes stared down at him aroused him more than anything else.

“The pride and joy of his parents…” Hunter sang, holding Tommy’s old underwear for them all to see again, “...college graduate, all round nice guy. He told me that he wanted to meet me. Practically begged me!”

Again, the other guys all laughed at that. Tommy’s first foolish mistake.

“He told me that I was the sexiest guy he had ever seen in his life,” Hunter smirked, emphasising the language and slipping a finger up into the crotch of the old unerwear, showing where Tommy’s little erection would have once pushed against them. That got him one of the biggest laughs. “And he promised me one thing…” Hunter went on. “...That he would do absolutely anything that I wanted him to.”

The guys all turned from looking at Hunter, to gazing with awe at Tommy’s fattened body: the rolls and blubber, stretch marks and sag. His complete submission was right there, before their very eyes. Hunter’s will, made flesh.

“What you’re about to see, boys, is my now disgustingly gluttonous, obese boyfriend, trying to put on a pair of underwear that he last wore the second time he met me,” Hunter declared, throwing the tiny material down at Tommy’s feet, filling his large chest with air and folding those enormous arms once more. 

Again, the fat men all laughed to themselves, some reaching in again to poke Tommy’s fleshy stomach, or tap his naked, under-exercised butt.

“Taking them off was one of his first acts of submission to me. And now,” Hunter continued, “this greedy, fat hog is about to try and put them back on for us.” He stared hard at Tommy, making him hornier still.

Tommy nodded slowly, hardly believing that this was all happening so fast. Two minutes ago, he had been snuggled into Hunter on the couch, oblivious that any of this was coming.

“Are you ready, boys?” Hunter roared at them all; rousing another cheer of excitement. He was made for this. Showmanship was in his blood. “Count the fat fucker into it for me…” he shouted at an alarming volume.

Tommy glanced at the ridiculously small underwear; his heart beating at quite the pace. He could feel the huge ring of fat under his chin as he looked down and tried to envision how best to do it.

“Three…two… ONE!” the boys all sang with the boisterous Hunter; lifting their bottles of beer up high; eyes wide and excited to see how this would all go down.

With a slight grunt from all that he had eaten earlier, Tommy bent down to pick up the underwear. There were cheers of amusement as his butt crack opened to those standing behind him. Then, turning the underwear in his hands, he lifted one leg to begin to put them on. He stumbled, feeling the fat in his butt and love handles quiver with the force he had to throw his foot down, just to keep his balance.

“Take your time, Piggy. Get it right,” Hunter reminded him in his stern tone. This show was important. These were his friends, and he had brought Tommy here to entertain them.

Tommy nodded. He started again, slipping one foot into the tiny hole and raised the material to his ankles. Now came the trickier part. He grunted, raising his other leg and miraculously slipped that inside as well. The big moment had arrived. 

Grabbing onto the tiny waistband, Tommy sucked in his stomach and heaved them up. They began soaring up his legs and then slowed dramatically. just above his knees. They were so narrow, he felt like he needed to spread his legs more to get them up; but there was no room. He pulled at them again, hearing howls of laughter all around him. The effort was almost unbelievable, and yet the underwear raised barely more than a couple of inches. Never mind his giant butt, it was his blubbery thighs that were the problem. 

On he struggled, feeling the waistband at last touching the lower part of his doughy rear. He lifted the front part easier, just managing to squish a little of his excited erection inside and then he looked up at Hunter. Had he done enough?

Hunter simply raised an eyebrow and smirked, the guys’ laughter suddenly becoming too infectious for even him to ignore. His smile spread and he laughed too, throwing his arms out and then pumping his muscular chest. Some of the men reached their congratulatory hands out to the feeder for him to shake as he walked around the space where Tommy stood. His victory lap.

“Thank you. You’re right,” he replied to their comments. “Twenty five years old, and look at it now!”

Finally, he came to stand in front of Tommy again, suddenly becoming falsely affectionate and stroking his submissive’s large, chubby cheek. “I’m so glad I met you,” he told Tommy, speaking as much to the other men who were listening in.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Tommy replied, full of love and arousal for his dominant lover.

The men all laughed at Tommy’s words and Hunter looked around at them with devilment dancing in his eyes. His perfect white teeth glistened as the widest smile grew on his face. He knew exactly what they were all thinking. Obesity was beginning to take a vice-like grip on Tommy’s body, and yet the twenty-five year old was still hopelessly under the spell of his wicked boyfriend.

“Good. I’m very glad,” Hunter nodded, lovingly tucking Tommy’s overgrown, sweaty hair behind his ears. He could never resist stroking the extensive chin fat with the back of his finger at the same time; the broad, fat face, freshly shaven as Hunter always insisted upon. “You realise that you’re going to be fatter than everybody here soon, don’t you?” he continued, explaining it to the fat boy like it was an exciting adventure they were embarking upon.

Tommy nodded.

“And that’s okay is it, Piggy?” Hunter asked, playing up to the crowds.

“Yes,” Tommy nodded again. Compliance was so easy.; submission so arousing. And this situation he was in now, so exhilarating and undenyably thrilling. Everything he never knew he needed.

Delving further into the three hundred pound zone was every bit as strange and transformative as the guys had warned Tommy as he left that weekend. Everything jiggled. Everything made him sweat. He had to accept how severely overweight he was now. It was the first thing people noticed when they met him and it was the one factor that influenced how people treated him most. He noted their tones of disapproval and impatience; their blunt answers to his questions and their indignation whenever they saw the gorgeous Hunter kissing him. He stared at pictures of the two of them at his sister’s wedding: his large, bulbous, doughy belly spreading out of his jacket and barely contained within his enormous shirt. He looked at the beautiful Hunter standing behind him, grinning proudly; no one there realising that he was laughing at them all, showing off what he had done to one of their own.

“I think it’s time you considered a new job. One where you can work from home,” Hunter declared, getting up after having fucked one of his new favourite places on his lover’s evolving body: the fat roll encompassing Tommy’s deep belly button.

Tommy nodded. “That would certainly save me a lot of time,” he agreed.

“It would also save you a lot of calories,” Hunter sighed impatiently. “I get so frustrated thinking of you burning off all my delicious breakfasts, trotting that giant ass of your back and forth to the photocopier.”

“But the girls in my office would miss seeing you though,” Tommy joked.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Another good reason to quit,” he grumbled, chugging down one of his protein shakes and drying off his sweaty body with the towel they left under the bed.

“They actually asked me to apply for a job at another one of our branches the other day,” Tommy considered, remembering how little he had considered it at the time. “Two days in the office, three at home.”

“Where?” Hunter asked with surprising interest.

“North. We’d have to move. At least we’d be closer to Paul, Eddie, and the other guys. But then, it means uprooting your life as well.”

Hunter furrowed his eyebrows in disagreement. “Look at me!” he cried. “I could get a job at any fitness place I wanted. A move away is exactly the sort of thing that we need.”

“It is?” Tommy asked, having never heard Hunter even consider the idea of moving before.

Hunter came over to Tommy, who was still sticky and sprawled out on the bed. The guy’s immense, muscular body made the bed sink slightly as Hunter sat next to him, making the fat in Tommy’s tummy jiggle and lean towards the powerful lover, as if attracted by him. “Listen. You’re now a very fat man. By this time next week, I’ll have you at over 350lbs,” Hunter explained. “But people around here don't see that. All they see is that skinny little dweeb they used to know. That handsome guy with a six pack and no ass, who couldn’t admit that being dominated would make him so fucking horny.”

Tommy chuckled. Hunter’s descriptions were blunt, but always very accurate.

“It’s time we went somewhere new. Where people don’t know about how slim you used to be. Where they will see you the way that I do: just another fat, disgustingly overfed piggy.”

Tommy exhaled deeply, feeling himself getting aroused hearing Hunter using so many of the trigger words that he usually deployed when he was getting pleasured. He nodded. Perhaps Hunter was right. Maybe it was time for a change.

“You make sure that you look after him, won’t you?” Tommy’s mother sobbed, speaking to Hunter as the pair of them stopped to pick up the last of their things and load them into the truck.

“Don’t worry, Angela. He’s in good hands with me,” Hunter smiled back. Now that Tommy had grown wide enough, the big muscular man could rub his boyfriend’s disgustingly overgrown glutes the entire time he spoke to the guy’s mother, without anyone even noticing. “Your boy will be well taken care of.”

They all hugged, with Tommy’s parents telling him how proud they were about his big promotion, as well as how much they would miss him.

“Do you think they know? Even on some level?” Hunter asked as the pair of them got back into the truck. “They have to, surely? No one is that fucking stupid, watching their son get into a relationship and suddenly gaining over two hundred pounds in just over two years!” he sniggered, surprised that no one had mentioned Tommy’s weight today; even with the daringly tight t-shirt he had made him wear.

“Perhaps, on some level,” Tommy considered. At barely average height, his 370lbs was sitting more and more on his stomach these days.  Only a few moments ago, Hunter had needed to push against his wide, overgrown butt, in full view of his parents, in order to get him back into the high removal truck they had hired for the journey. “But, if I’m honest, I don’t think they really know what’s going on.”

“So fucking stupid! It’s unbelieveable!” Hunter sighed, turning the volume way up on the stereo and pulling off his shirt as the air conditioning blasted into life. As much as he enjoyed playing the innocent boyfriend, Hunter also longed for recognition, in whatever form it came.

“Goodbye,” Tommy waved to his parents as they started pulling away. He knew they couldn’t hear him. The music was far too loud.

“Goodbye,” Hunter joined in bitterly as he started to steer. “I’ll look after your son. I’m turning him into a big fat pig, y’know!” he shouted loud and clear, although he would never be heard. “I’ll have the fat fucker at 400lbs by the time you see him this Christmas! Goodbye, idiots!”

Hunter laughed with delight at himself as they rolled down the street. He slipped on his sunglasses and opened his window, just a crack, to let in a bit of fresh air.

“Still think this is the right thing?” Hunter asked moments later, reaching for Tommy’s chubby little fingers and holding them sweetly. His question was so ambiguous, with so many different possible meanings, and an infinite amount of responses. Not that any of that mattered to Tommy. For him, there was only one possible answer to any of those questions.

“Yes,” he smiled with certainty. “Two hundred percent, yes!”

#gainer fiction #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gainer story #gainerstories #gayfeedee #gainer stories #gainerfic #gainer fic

[gainingguys]

After his knee injury he couldn’t play for a while. It’s been a hard time for him, but he found comfort in his neighborhoods Domino‘s Pizza.

When his knees finally healed he got so used to laying around all day and eating his beloved pizzas, that he was just to lazy to join his hockey team again.

Instead he spent his days with stuffing himself and watching his former teammates on TV, knowing he will never be as fit as them again, which made him so frustrated that he stuffed himself even more. At least he had his pizzas, they always cheered him up again.

#gainer stories #chub kink #gainer story #ex athlete #exjock #fattened up #gluttonous piggy #gluttony #freshman 30 #chubby #gay cub #twink to twunk

[pecanwriter]

Big Boy Mode: Activated

Themes: rapid weight gain, humiliation kink, technology-induced weight gain (so like, magic weight gain but for sci fi nerds I guess)

Words: 2947

Part: 1/?

"Hello, sir, would you like to hear about our newest product, the most revolutionary nanotechnology to date?"

Elliott really wasn't one to ever let some marketing lackey torment him with semi-logical babble about something he didn't even want to buy. But he was a technology whore, and just the mere mention of nanotechnology had him nearly salivating at the mouth.

He smiled at the promoter, stepping closer and trying to look at all the flashing screens at once. 

"Introducing SimNano or Simulator Nano. This revolutionary technology is the newest hit in terms of body augmentation and we're making record sales all around the globe."

The promoter pulled something from his pad to one of the screens. 

"The way this works, we inject nanobots into your body and connect their signature to your personalised control panel as well as a wristband, the wristband sold separately." 

He watched as on the screen a scrawny shirtless man selected a holographic projection of his body and added 50% more muscle to the model. He clicked "Active Mode" at the bottom of the screen and for a moment his entire body rippled in an unfamiliar way until he stood there completely buffed out, Captain America style.

Elliott blinked. He looked from the freshly buffed-out man to the promoter.

"How does that work?"

"The nanobots we inject into the client's system are capable of replication and imitation of any human tissue. However, they are only capable of growing, not shrinking, it's not a diet pill as many would hope so." The promoter laughed at his own poor joke.

Elliot chuckled obligingly but the phrase "they are only capable of growing" was bouncing around in his head trying to make him hard. 

"Is there a limit to what they can imitate? For example, if someone was missing a leg…?" He chose his words carefully, hoping the man would fall for his set-up and tell him exactly what he wanted.

The man's gaze flickered down to Elliot's leg and although Elliot had no such thing, he let the man assume he had a prosthetic. It was an unassuming lie, didn't hurt anyone, it was just better than even a sliver of the truth.

"Oh, they're absolutely capable of replicating a leg. As I said, they can imitate any human tissue, muscles, nerves, fat, even bones…"

When he said the f-word Elliot's cock jerked awake and he had to cover his crotch with the shopping bag he was holding.

"And are the changes permanent…?"

"No, that's not how it works, It's imitating and replicating the tissue in Active Mode, but as soon as it's Deactivated everything goes back to normal."

Elliot's cock was throbbing as he fought to maintain perfectly normal eye contact with the promoter.

"And while it's active, does it feel real or is it like a hologram or a model or…"

"Oh no, It feels absolutely real, that's why we are the leading company in…"

He prattled on but Elliot didn't listen, all he could think of was the phrase "it's only capable of growing" as his cock throbbed.

"How much is it?"

It was bloody expensive, as it turned out. Elliott put a sizable dent in the savings he was putting away to get a mortgage on a single-bedroom flat. But somehow, all he felt was excitement, there was no shame or regret to be found anywhere.

After he made his purchases he had to go to their branch store and get injected with nanobots. The syringe wasn't that big and he wondered if it would be enough firepower for what he had in mind. They scanned his body thoroughly to put the model into his pad and wristband and connect the nanobots to it. As a trial, the shopping clerk showed him how to give himself impressive biceps and everyone present at the shop oohed and awed at the result. 

The promoter was right, it felt absolutely real. The rippling Sensation Elliott saw in the video felt only like a slight cold tingling under his skin and then within seconds the impressive biceps appeared.

He deactivated his SimNano, thanked the clerk and left, struggling to walk straight with his dick pressing hard against his trousers.

When he came home he almost immediately tore off his shirt. He brought out the control panel on the band with shaking hands and clicked on the scrawny little model of himself. He moved his finger around, highlighting his midriff and ass. He clicked "expand" and then in the tissue subcategory he clicked "fat" instead of the pre-selected "muscle". You could put the desired amounts in body percentages or in units of measurement. He clicked on lbs, the most precise one, and tapped in 20(9kg). Then after a moment's hesitation, he erased it and clicked 40lb(18kg) instead.

With shaking fingers he clicked "Active Mode" and his skin began to tingle with the cold sensation. Seconds later Elliott was staring down at a round, fat gut and he could feel his boxers strain mercilessly against his expanded ass. 

He put the pad away gently and grabbed the ball of flab at his front. He was never this fat in his life, but it felt real enough, from what he could guess. He lifted the stomach and let it drop, watching it jiggle and wobble. A moan escaped him. He couldn't believe this was happening. 

Before even getting a look in the mirror Elliott fell to the couch, frantically gnawing his flesh with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He never came this hard in his entire life. 

He finally managed to pull himself up into standing, revelling in how his gut was suddenly in the way and looked in the mirror. 

He laughed, the effect was ridiculous. Although his belly and ass looked fantastic and absolutely realistic, it looked ludicrous on his scrawny body which remained unchanged.

Elliott deactivated the band and reset the model. After a moment’s hesitation, he selected his entire body “Increase by 100% body mass” and selected “fat” in the tissue category. He considered carefully and finally decided to increase his ass and gut separately on top of increasing the fat equally around his entire body. 

Elliott’s finger hovered over the band, but before clicking the Activate button he checked the measurement box again and changed 100% to 200lb. Again, before clicking it, he wavered and finally ended up changing it to 300lb(136kg) with sweaty fingers. Adding 300lb to his meagre 132lb(60kg) would put him at a glorious 432lb(195kg), a fulfilment of a fantasy Elliott had since before he was even consciously aware of it. 

Eliott pressed the Activate button.

He was still standing in front of the mirror and he let out a gasp as the nanobots went to work, making his entire body shiver with the unfamiliar coldness, the feeling much more overwhelming with tasking them to simulate 300lb instead of a measly 40 he attempted at first. 

Elliott watched with intense, nearly blinding fascination as his body rippled slightly and moments later exploded into folds and bulges and rolls, becoming an unrecognisable mountain of flesh. He stared at the enormous gut, too heavy to be completely round as it hung in front of him almost like a massive, engorged flesh apron. His face was unrecognisable, swallowed by an enormous double chin and chubby cheeks, melting into the fat around his neck seamlessly. The man in the mirror couldn’t be him, could he? It was too good to be real… The fat man lifted his arm as Elliott lifted his, only his arm never had an enormous wing of fat hanging off it and jiggling as he moved. When Elliott moved his normal arm it didn’t send his entire massive body into wobbles, but the man in the mirror sure wobbled like an impressive jello dessert. 

Elliott grabbed his gut, an enormous, almost all-encompassing mound of flesh hanging in front of him. He grabbed it, lifted it as much as he could and dropped it. The way the flesh shook and jiggled forced a moan out of him. Already half-hard again, he inched closer to the mirror. Elliott could barely move under the unknown sensation of this immense bulk and he almost stumbled into his mirror, nearly crushing it. Just the half step made his heart race with excursion and his lungs begged for air. 

This SimNano thing was worth every penny, in fact, Elliott thought they were losing money. It was too good to be real. 

He turned off Active Mode, in a few seconds staring back at this familiar skinny self with an impressive hard-on. 

Staring intently, eager to catch every little detail, he pressed Activate again. 

Watching his body explode with fat, filling out with blubber in mere seconds and leaving him unrecognisable was so impossibly erotic that he climaxed just from turning the SimNano off and on again, watching himself gain hundreds of pounds in seconds. 

After he managed to somehow climax three times within the span of an hour he decided it was enough for one day, he was starting to feel light-headed. 

He tapped Deactivate. 

Nothing happened. 

He tapped it again. Still, nothing.

He stared at the band, but it appeared to be frozen. Frantically, he started waddling unsteadily to his backpack where the main SimNano pad was. Walking across the room to his bag while suddenly 300lb heavier was incredibly difficult and equally, if not more, arousing. His giant thighs were rubbing against each other, he could feel he was hitting his enormous apron of a gut with each clumsy step… The enormous behind he’d given himself jiggled with every step and so did his soft, blubbery tits. 

When he finally made it to his back and retrieved his pad Elliott was nearly ready to collapse with how out of breath he was. 

The pad was as frozen as the band was. 

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into the mirror across the room. He was enormous, there was no way he could leave the house like this and he had a night shift at the bar today. 

It was 5 p.m., and he had work at 8, so technically, he still had time. He could just… Indulge for a while while waiting for the SimNano to unfreeze. 

Elliott laboriously waddled to the bedroom. He had a few pieces of massive clothing he sometimes wore while stuffing it with pillows and pretending he was huge. He pulled on a pair of tracksuit trousers. They could barely encompass his enormous ass. Even the biggest of his secret fetish shirts was snug on him now and his monstrous gut was happily hanging out at the bottom. 

The flat needed tidying up and he also had to cook to have something to eat after his shift when he would undoubtedly be too tired to do anything. 

He began busying himself around the house, every little chore making him hornier than the last one. Everything was a thrill, trying to wipe dust off the higher shelves and feeling how his enormous gut was hanging further and further out of his shirt, trying to wash dishes and finding that he could barely reach into the sink with the enormous mound of blubber in the front of him. When he went to clean the plastic shower door, something that he meant to do all week, he nearly got stuck in the narrow space and instead of trying to find the best angle to free himself he rubbed against the shower wall, making himself cum just with the friction against his fat body. He would’ve jerked himself off if the was any hope of reaching his penis under all that flesh, which there absolutely wasn’t.

With all the chores completed and with food prepped for later, Elliott went to check on the pad. It was still frozen. It was 7.20 pm.

He called in sick and trying not to freak out about it just yet he repositioned the mirror closer to the couch where he planted his enormous ass and began rubbing his flesh. 

There was no need to freak out, he was sure the NanoSim would reset overnight. 

*

Elliott woke up still on the couch and still as enormous as when he drifted off, exhausted by the almost constant sexual tension of the previous day. 

He tapped the band. Frozen. The pad proved to be in a similar state. 

Elliott tried calling the NanoSim Technical Support but they told him that there was nothing they could do remotely because there were health hazards involved, so he would have to come to one of their stores to get it reset. 

Which meant… Going outside as a 432lb man. 

Elliott ate his modest breakfast of a skinny man and wondered how it would look to an outsider, a guy who was nearly half-tone of blubber eating a modest portion of oatmeal. 

Before leaving the house he pulled on a beanie and didn’t shave his unimpressive stubble. There was no way anyone would recognise him, but he still didn’t want to risk it. 

His heart was pounding so hard that it was all he could hear as Elliott stepped out into the hallway. 

Usually, Elliott just took the stairs from the second floor he lived on, but there was no way he was going to take the stairs today, he could barely move with all that unfamiliar weight on him, his waddle almost a caricature of itself. 

There was a lady in the lift and when the doors opened she frantically looked between Elliott and the lift control panel informing all the passengers that the weight limit was 500lb. She was slim, but there was no way she was less than 100lb. 

“You go on” Elliott smiled at her and she pressed the button to close the door almost frantically. 

He wasn’t sure if he actually WAS 432lb or if the nanobots just made it appear so to him, but he wasn’t going to risk it. 

There was an Uber waiting for him, but Elliott had to cancel the ride when it turned out that he couldn’t fit in the car. 

With his dick painfully hard and trapped between mounds of flesh he selected a different ride, making sure it was big enough to accommodate for a massive hog like him. He barely fit and his gut filled his lap completely. The driver was visibly disgusted and Elliott’s already painfully hard dick throbbed under his apron belly. 

Waddling and puffing his way through the shopping centre to the SimNano store was the most humiliating and gratifying experience of his life. Everyone, without exception, stared at the giant man barely waddling his way through the halls, his too-small shirt riding up his enormous gut and his face flushed with the effort of putting all that blubber into motion. 

When he finally made it to the store he was heaving, his breath rasping and his entire body sticky with sweat. 

The only person in the store was the clerk, a teak-skinned man with a mop of black curls and bright, quick eyes. He was very much Elliott’s type and the fact that he had to talk to a handsome guy while his enormous gut hung out of his shirt and he was so out of breath was arousing beyond all reason. 

“Hello, I’m Omar, how can I help you?” 

“Hi, I… uff.. Sorry… I have a problem with my SimNano, the program froze last night and it’s still frozen.” He handed the man his pad, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Let’s see here…” Omar took his pad from him and when he saw the program the SimNano was frozen on he slowly looked back up at Elliott, his lips stretching into a mischievous grin. Elliott felt like his entire face was on fire. Somehow it didn’t dawn on him that the clerk would see the program he was running. If he could, he’d bolt it out of the store in embarrassment, but he couldn’t, not when he was this massive. 

“Let me just do some troubleshooting here.” Omar said, his smirk still on his face as he plugged the device into a PC and started clicking. 

“Alright,” he said a few minutes later. “It looks like I got it, but let me just check…” 

“What…”

Elliott watched with growing terror as Omar proceeded to add another 50lb(22kg) to his program and activating it. Elliott staggered back, feeling his gut hanging marginally lower, the waistband of his tracksuit digging just that much deeper into his blubber. 

“Just to double check, better to be sure.” Omar said, adding another 50 on top of that. 

Elliott had to grab onto the counter as the enormous weight started to threaten to topple him to the ground. He was heaving just from the sheer effort of standing up.

Omar’s cheeky grin was turning downright mischievous. 

“I think it’s working now.” the clerk said, bringing the program down to its original +300lb setting. 

“T-thank you…” Elliott panted, taking his pad back and thanking all the Gods that his gut hid his erection. 

As he was waddling back to the entrance Omar’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Ey, fat boy.” 

That nickname alone nearly made Elliott give an ungainly moan, right there in the middle of the shopping centre.

“Y-yes?” “Give me your number, I write NanoSim codes in my spare time and big improvement to the overall experience. I mean…. Huge improvements.” 

Omar’s grin was pure evil and Elliott was sure his own was no better as he gave the handsome man his number.

This was going to be fun. 

PART 2

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #chubby boy #wg txt #wg story #wg text #bbm #bhm #bhm weight gain #fat bhm #male feedism #Weight gain story #Weight gain txt #Weight gain writing #wouldn't we all want to have a simnano

[engeorged]

Please Feed the Bears

Words and concept by @fillthattank and @engeorged

Artwork by @badoobers

Having spent four years in teacher training college and 8 years working in shitty schools, Dan was done being a teacher. Like most of his colleagues, he loved the kids and teaching, but the red tape was killing him. He was still spending hours and hours every evening lesson planning, marking and setting goals. Even just engaging with parents through the new app the school had imposed took an hour a night now. He was done.

The job had taken his whole life. He didn’t have a social life any more, he didn’t have time for friends, let alone dating. He used to be hot! Six pack abs and thick biceps left over from his rugby days, but late night pizza orders and rushed meals whilst sat in his sofa marking had put an end to that. He wasn’t unfit as such, (he still cycled to work!) but he had a definite little pot belly now with a jiggle when he walked and his ass was forcing him to buy jeans two sizes too big.

He’d begun to put aside a little money each month to go travelling and it was now time to cash in. He gleefully handed in his resignation and booked his tickets. He was going to fulfil a life long dream and tour America. His money wouldn’t last long but he’d be able to get a little cash in hand job every few months and settle down for a bit and that should last him. All his mates did it when he was training and he was beginning to feel like he had missed out, so now was his chance. The morning of the flight came and he felt so free and so excited! He’d sold everything he had accumulated in his shitty flat, gotten rid of his bike and the keys to the flat. All he had in the world was shoved into his backpack. The world was his oyster.

Three months later

The bubble burst two weeks into the adventure when he was robbed on a metro in New York. All his cash and bank cards were gone. When he had phoned his insurance company, they had gone bust overnight and so there was no payout. He refused to phone his parents. He was 30, that would be so humiliating. And they wouldn’t be gracious about it, they had already told him this was a childish idea to go travelling on a whim like a teenager. They’d probably give him money to come home, where he’d end up living in their house for a few years whilst he did supply teaching jobs in horrific schools. No thank you, he’d sort this out himself. He got a job for a few months, cash in hand with no questions asked, doing deliveries for a pizza place in New York which gave him enough money to travel west and a constant supply of free pizza. Sure it was on the bus, and sure he’d put on a few more pounds but at least he’d done it himself. He arrived in what the bus driver called ‘Butt Fuck Nowhere’ ready to work.

He booked himself into a cheap and sleazy hotel. He had enough money for one night which meant he needed to find himself a job fast. After making a few enquiries he found the only real place to work for foreigners was in a massive theme park just on the edges of the town. He hiked his way there and found the employment office and made his case. In lieu of a formal interview, the guy looked him up and down and made his assessment. Dan was 6’5 and so being tall, tall, he would be the park's main mascot, Buster. Buster was a big bear and the costume was huge, with loads of room inside. The only upside was that his face wouldn’t be entirely covered by the costume. Instead there was a little hat with bear ears he would have to wear.

He would have to do a trial before he was offered the job for real, and the eventual pay would be $15 an hour, which didn't seem like a lot. Whilst Dan signed the contract, the boss called for his helper who was a short burly guy in his late twenties called Mitch, with a gravely voice that made it sound like he smoked 40 a day. Mitch’s eyes perked up when he saw Dan.

‘He’ll do!’ Said Mitch, his eyes hungrily taking in Dan’s face and height.

‘Hey!’ Said Dan, holding out his hand. Mitch shook it enthusiastically.

‘Hope you’re hungry!’ Said Mitch

‘What?’ Said Dan, a little confused but he began taking off his clothes ready to get into the costume. He was about to pull it on when Mitch stopped him and pushed him over to a pair of scales. ‘Step on’ Mitch encouraged him.

‘I’m a little husky at the moment!’ Dan replied nervously

‘That’s not a bad thing.’ Mitch replied as he took the reading from the digital scales.

‘Hang on? Why did you need that?’ Dan asked, realising that that was weird.

Instead of replying, Mitch just held out the costume. Dan slid it on, pulling his arms through the holes. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked and was a little baggy round his middle but it seemed to fit ok.

‘Why did you need my weight?’ He tried again as he did the zip up, but he was bundled out of the office and into the park without an answer

It was early, but already, Dan could see people walking around. He wasn't entirely sure if they were fellow employees or visitors. They weren't wearing any uniform, but they looked like adult men. Way more adult men than he'd expect at a theme park.

Years of teaching had killed most inhibitions and fear of embarrassment within Dan, so he jumped up and down, danced a bit, acted like he thought a man in a bear-suit was expected to act.

"Hey, it's Buster Bear!" he heard someone say.

Dan turned round, and waved. It was a group of guys, six he counted, looking around 30. A big variety of heights and builds, though they all looked pretty hairy.

One of the guys came running towards him.

"C'mon guys, let's bust the bear!' he said, to the others.

When the guy arrived, Dan didn't even have time to talk. The guy shoved a hot dog right into his mouth. Dan was a bit shocked, but started chewing. It wasn't a bad hot dog.

No sooner had Dan swallowed that another guy shoved a hot dog into his mouth. Dan was even more surprised, but hey, the customer is king, and he was kinda hungry anyway, so he chewed and swallowed.

The six guys proceeded to shove a hot dog each into his mouth. He wasn’t expecting that at all but as he was on probation he didn’t want to challenge it. His minder stood to the side happily watching and not saying a word. Was this a thing here? It didn’t take long but he ended up eating six hot dogs in a short space of time.

This first guy moved to feed a second one but Mitch stepped in. ‘You know the rules, big guy. Let someone else have a go. Move along now!’

Admitting defeat the six guys moved on laughing and patting each other on the back. When they were at a safe distance he turned to Mitch ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Did no one tell you?’ He laughed. ‘It’s just a cute thing we have here. When you see Buster bear you have to feed him something. It’s just for fun! You’ll get used to it!’

Dan was so confused. It was one thing giving the bear a small thing but he’d just eaten six whole hot dogs and he’d been on the job for 15 minutes! Also why were they grown ass men? Theme parks are for kids right? He wasn’t even sure what question to ask first. He opened his mouth to ask something and found a churro in it. Two young bearded guys had snuck up behind him. They happily began feeding him a big churro each. Dan was starting to feel pretty full already but he really needed this job. He’d have time to ask questions in a moment. So he played along. Rubbing his furry tummy and chewing he ate a churro from each of them.

As they walked away, clearly happy he heard one of them comment about how hot he was which gave him a little rush of pleasure, followed by a touch of embarrassment.

Turning to Mitch he formulated his question ‘Where are the kids?’

Mitch looked at him like he’d said something crazy inappropriate and just shook his head. ‘Dude this place is for adults only! Now look lively. Here comes another group of customers.

Totally confused, Dan turned and saw four guys coming towards him with huge bellies and carrying buckets of loaded fries. Before he could say anything, a chubby hand stuffed a fist full of fries into his mouth. They were hot and salty and covered in bacon and cheese and so good. He could ignore the full feeling with fries as tasty as this. A few fistfuls in, and the dudes started fighting over who got to feed him the next lot.

‘Bro wait your turn?’ The lead guy said in a thick southern accent.

‘This is my turn dick face?’ Replied a guy who looked like he could be his brother, shoving him out of the way with his fat ass.

Dan found himself amidst four angry fat guys who’d clearly had a few too many beers and his teaching skills suddenly kicked in.

‘Boys, there’s plenty of room in my tank, now just keep the fries coming!’

It calmed the situation a bit but still was a little tense. A few of the guys were squaring up to each other and getting riled up. Guided by Dan the fries were soon put away turn by turn into his filling tank. Pacified and pleased with themselves the men staggered away punching one another on the arms as they went.

The four buckets of fries on top of the hotdogs and churros suddenly weighed heavy on Dan's stomach. He belched loudly and gave his belly a rub. ‘How come you didn’t intervene man?’ He asked Mitch

‘You seemed to be handling those dumb asses pretty well yourself?’ Mitch laughed back

‘I thought it was one thing per person? You said that was the rule?’

‘Yeah but they had the golden buckets. They paid extra. They can feed you the whole lot if they want!’ Mitch explained. ‘Let’s keep going, bud!’

Dan uncomfortably followed on behind Mitch, feeling the heavy food settling as his stomach set about the task of digesting. Over the next hour or so they encountered several more guys, all keen to feed something to Buster. Dan played the part, eating up the burgers, candy apples and handfuls of popcorn. All the food they seemed to serve at this place was full-on junk food. It didn’t hurt that it all tasted so good. The pace was fast but not too bad. He felt like he was keeping up. He’d always had a big appetite and would often find himself eating his feelings when he was back in school. And he needed this job. He couldn’t bring himself to contact his parents. There were just two more hours of the trial left, he could do this. He was beginning to notice that the costume was feeling a little claustrophobic. It felt super roomy when he put it on but he was feeling the material clinging to his skin a bit now. It was super hot inside too. He could really do with something to drink. He would look for some dudes with beers or something if that was allowed.

The next encounter he had was two good looking college bros with backwards caps and muscle tees. Unfortunately they didn’t have beers but they fed Dan a funnel cake each. He’d never seen one of these before but the sweet dough tasted amazing. Afterwards though he began to feel a little uncomfortably full. The last few bites were a little hard work. He could feel grease and the pressure of food in his packed stomach reaching a slightly more painful place. When they had gone he asked Mitch if he could take a ten minute break. Mitch reluctantly agreed but said he couldn’t take the suit off. He took him behind one of the rides where they found a little bench. Dan eased himself down and instantly regretted sitting. The pressure reached a peak which made him wince and stand back up. Tentatively, he sat back down and leant back on his arms. Under the suit, he arched his back to give his belly space to expand. Mitch grinned. ‘Ready to give up yet?’

‘No man, I’m good’ Dan lied.

‘There’s pockets!’ Mitch offered smiling still

‘What?’ Dan was feeling a little light headed with how full he was feeling and he didn’t really know what Mitch was talking about.

Mitch leant over and pulled a small zip down on the side by Dan's hip. ‘If you need to give your belly a rub, there’s a small pocket. Trust me on this. You need all the help you can get before the lunch rush!’

The prospect of a lunch rush was something Dan would need to deal with in a few minutes but for now he eased his hand into the side of his costume and felt the warm flesh of his distended furry belly. He couldn’t trust himself to think back over how much food was in him, it would just make him queasy. For now he just closed his eyes and gave his tight belly a good rub.

‘Come on buster!’ Mitch said after a too short amount of time. ‘You need to be back on the tarmac!’

Begrudgingly Dan stood, admittedly feeling a little better after the rub. He could almost feel the food redistributing itself as he moved.

‘Hang on, What did you mean lunch rush?’ He asked his guide as they walked.

Mitch just smiled. ‘Happy hour!’ He repeated cryptically.

Leading the way, Mitch took Dan back into the park where they made their way to an area set up next to a steep roller coaster. A little food hut decorated to look like a large picnic basket was serving food to a long queue of guys, all who started cheering as they saw Buster Bear approaching. This made Dan's stomach lurch a little. That was a lot of guys buying food. ‘Should we keep moving?’ He asked Mitch nervously.

‘Why would we do that? This is your chance to prove you deserve the job.’ He pointed at a large wooden throne just next to the clearing. ‘Take a seat’

Reluctantly Dan shuffled towards the chair and sat down. It was surprisingly comfy and the position of the seat meant that he was nearly stood up which put no extra pressure on his already packed belly. He gulped as he realised that the design was probably on purpose.

One by one the men left the queue and joined a new one in front of Dan. They all had their fast food clutched in their hands ready to feed Buster. Mitch leant in and whispered into Dan's ear. ‘If you can survive this, the job's yours. And did you read the small print?’

Dan shook his head nervously. ‘No?’ He admitted, looking to find a way out of this. There was no way this was worth $15 an hour.

‘At the end of the day we weigh you and you get $50 per pound you put on. You get a bonus for the more food you eat!’

That changed things for Dan. He really needed that cash. He’d nearly used up the last of his money staying at the motel in town and without this job, he’d not have enough for the next few days. A few hundred dollars could really come in handy right now. He could eat a lot? What’s 10 lbs of food look like? That’s $500 dollars. Surely that could be doable? He set his jaw and nodded to Mitch ‘let’s go’

The stream of food that followed was unreal. Each guy shoved one thing into Dan's open mouth and he chewed and swallowed like his life depended on it. Corn dogs, tacos, hamburgers, onion rings and fries all disappeared down under the fur of the costume into his hidden but rapidly expanding belly. He didn’t allow himself time to consider how much food there was or how he was going to feel afterwards, he just kept the thought of the dollars ringing in his ears. Ice cream and donuts, beers and sodas all sucked down into his filling tank. The guys queuing were loving it and Dan was fully playing the part of a greedy bear. Growling and snarling as their sweaty palms pushed the calorific food into his mouth. Mitch’s face slowly turned from a smiling sneer, laughing at Dan's fate, to one of admiration. He’d been with a lot of Busters and Dan was eating like one of the best. He’d spent many an afternoon with a sorry dude in a bear costume throwing up into a bin after a shift but this guy seemed to be an absolute eating unit. Towards the end of the happy hour though he started being a little worried. This guy had eaten a lot. Like, too much. Even with the bear costume on he could see that his gut was beginning to push against the fabric.

As Dan was being fed a large chicken tender the bell went to signal the end of happy hour. Dan looked a little confused as he snapped out of his feeding frenzy. The rest of the guys in the queue all shared a collective groan as Mitch told them that the bear needed to head back to his cave for his nap whilst Dan looked on, totally dazed. As Mitch shooed away the queue, the volume of food inside Dan’s belly suddenly made itself very known. He felt the skin over his belly stretched and tight and the pressure that had built up inside him became very apparent. He had never in his whole life felt as full as he did right now. In the distance he heard Mitch talking to him. He wasn’t sure what he was saying but he nodded and allowed Mitch to help him to his feet. The new weight in front of him made him stagger a little at first as he felt the food lurch inside his belly balloon. A large belch escaped and he found himself laughing. Mitch led him through the park round the back, fortunately not encountering any more punters eager to offload some more food into his aching gut.

Coming round a little bit he found himself back in the offices, just him and Mitch, who was looking at him in a concerned way. ‘I said are you ok bud?’

Dan belched again in response. ‘I think I’m ok? I ate a lot.’

‘Yeah. You did.’ Mitch nodded in agreement. ‘You wanna take off the costume?’

Dan nodded. He went to undo the zip but found the fabric was restricting his movement. Mitch fished around under his neck and pulled the zip down to the bottom of his ribs. The rush of cool air was like heaven as he peeled his arms out of the costume. He went to pull the zipper down but his bloated midsection was now an obstacle. Pulling it out, he managed to get the zip to slide down to the underneath of his belly which pushed itself through. Dan looked up into the mirror on the wall opposite. Shocked, he saw the full extent of his four hours of being stuffed by random strangers. His belly was enormous. The furry skin stretched tight over the mass of food contained inside. Round and expansive, his belly looked like it had been photoshopped. His gut had completely filled the baggy costume.

‘Holy fucking Mac and cheese balls’ Mitch exclaimed reaching over to give his belly a poke. Even his heavy handed push hardly made a dent in it.

‘It feels like I’ve swallowed quick drying cement!’ Dan complained. ‘Help me out of this fucking thing!’

Mitch pulled the costume down round his ankles, headbutting his engorged stomach by accident. ‘Shit man, sorry!’ He said rubbing his head

Standing there in just his pants Dan couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He was enormous. His furry belly and body made him look like he was still wearing the fat bear costume.

Mitch nodded at the scales. ‘Wanna see how much we owe you?’ He asked

‘I’m gonna bankrupt you!’ Dan managed to joke as he stepped on.

Mitch whistled, clearly impressed. ‘Fuck me man. You’ve done well there today! I’d have to check but I’m pretty sure that’s a company record!’

‘Tell me man!’ Dan pleaded.

"We owe you $850 man! You’ve eaten 17 lbs of food!!’

Dan nearly passed out with shock. Taking another look in the mirror his distended belly looked like he was pregnant. Sticking out from under his ribs it rolled down in a wide curve till it tapered in where the ghost of his Adonis belt framed the underside.. All he wanted to do right now was sleep this off

‘You’ve definitely got the job!’ Mitch reassured him. ‘See you again tomorrow?’

————————————————————

If you want to continue Dans story yourself you can head here where you will find a chat bot programmed to be Dan at the end of this story!

#belly expansion #gainer fiction #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #male gaining #stuffing art #gainer story #gainer artwork #big bear

[fillthattank]

Heavyweight

A huge thanks to @plumpboybellies for requesting this story, it was very fun to write! Also, a shout out to a few friends for giving me a few ideas (you'll recognize yourselves!). This story wouldn't exist without you!

***

"I want you to move up a weight class," Colton's coach said. "I know you've been playing at this weight for a while, but you have a big frame. You'll be even better with more meat on you."

"How big do you want me?" Colton asked. 

Colton was a wrestler. 6'2'', 190 lbs, all of it muscle. His singlet hugged his lean body, highlighting every bit of definition. You could even guess the outline of his abs through the fabric.

"As big as you can? They removed the maximum weight limit a few years ago," Coach said. "Just bulk up as much as possible in the off season, we'll see how it works out after."

Colton nodded. This sounded fun.

"You'll probably have to kiss that eight-pack goodbye, but the extra muscle and all the heavyweight matches you'll be winning should more than make up for it," Coach laughed, slapping Colton's flat stomach.

Like any self respecting jock, Colton had a big appetite, but sticking to his wrestling weight meant he had to keep it under control. Every so often, Colton would overeat, whether it was wanting to impress his friends, having too much fun at a party, or just his stomach having the better of him, and he'd have to go on a brutal diet to cut back down.

This was, starting now, a thing of the past. After his meeting with Coach, Colton went to the nearest fast-food joint, and ordered 3 massive burgers from the get go. He knew he had the capacity, and now he could binge guilt-free.

Colton came back for a 4th. And a fifth. By then, his belly was bloated and stretching his shirt, making a gentle curve from under his pecs. That belly felt good, firm and heavy, a symbol of his newfound freedom.

"You sure about this?" Asked the vendor, as he ordered his 6th burger. Jocks overloading their bellies was a common occurrence, so some concern was natural.

"One hundred percent," he said, giving his bloated belly a good rub. It was starting to feel tight, but Colton knew there was room for at least one more.

Back at his flat, Colton took off his shirt, and checked out his gut. The six burgers had bloated him so much, it stuck out by a good 6 inches from under his pecs. His abs were still visible, making the belly look like a turtleshell.

This would be the last time Colton saw his abs, as he then opened his fridge, and continued his rampage. Chugging milk from the jug, eating an entire tub of grated carrots with the better part of a jar of mayo. Colton wasn't even sure of what some things were, he just ate them, and his belly stuck out even more. Not that he cared. He just wanted as much food as possible inside him.

Eventually, Colton got so bloated he had to lie down. His belly was a perfect ball now, his abs completely smoothed out by the tremendous volumes inside him. As if he'd been blown up like a balloon, except rather than air, it was solid, heavy food. His huge tank hurt, a bit, but it was a good pain. The kind you got after intense exercise, one that comes with a deep feeling of satisfaction. 

Colton stayed on his bed for a while, feeling up his tank of a belly, enjoying the fullness. He could have stayed like that all evening, but was this really his limit? He no longer had to keep his appetite under control, he could experiment a bit, right?

Still flat on his back, the bloated jock grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and ordered a pizza. His guilty-pleasure pizza, large and with all his favorite toppings, the one he always ordered when he felt down, or wanted to treat himself.

Waiting for the pizza to come was a haze. Digestion was starting to heat up his belly, to make him feel sleepy. When the bell rang, getting up was harder than expected. His gut was so heavy, his abs were so stretched, his quads working so hard to bear his weight. His stomach like a wrecking ball inside him. Maybe this was too much ?

All doubt vanished when he opened the door and smelled his favorite pizza. Colton felt the delivery guy's gaze on his muscular body and massive belly, giving him an extra confidence boost. He was a jock, and he had the muscle and the gut to eat meals smaller guys could only dream of.

Colton brought the pizza back to his bed, and ate it flat on his back, watching his musclegut rise a little bit with each slice. His stomach had probably reached capacity a while back, the jock now eating by sheer force of will. Pizza being dragged into his monster stomach by muscle memory. The pressure inside his stomach, the weight of all that food, the stretch on his abs, the heat of digestion, it was all one big dream-like haze. It wasn't a new feeling, but the stretching felt like heaven. The jock passed out not long after the last slice, using what strength was left in his tired body to give his bloated belly one final rub. This offseason was going to be fun

*

Colton woke up still bloated the next morning. He'd eaten so much even his rocket-speed metabolism hadn't been able to digest it all in one night. Weirdest of all, he was hungry. His belly didn't so much feel half full as it felt half empty.

Colton liked this. He made himself the biggest breakfast ever, and ate it all.

This became an everyday occurrence. Colton's belly was constantly bloated, and Colton was constantly eating. Each time his bloat went down a bit, he'd top it back up. And when his belly looked close to the limit, he'd force more food in the tank. He figured out a neat trick, if he rubbed the side of his belly with one finger after it got full, his stomach would be able to stretch a little more, allowing him to eat more.

Colton had no idea how fat he was or wasn't getting, or even what his weight was. He had to be constantly lugging a few dozens of pounds inside his gut, and it was so packed at all times he couldn't tell how much of it was muscle, fat, or just plain bloat.

All Colton knew is that he was indeed getting bigger, and was getting stronger. His arms were bigger, his pecs, his back, his legs, every muscle, actually, though with a big asterisk over his abs. Sure, people stared at him when he turned up at the gym looking pregnant, but their judgement turned to admiration when they saw how much he was lifting, or how much he could put away in just one meal.

*

The day before wrestling resumed, Colton checked himself out in the mirror. He looked so massive, so beefy, his big round gut looking great on his muscular frame. Colton picked up his singlet, unworn since the end of last season, looking forward to seeing what he'd be looking like for the next few months.

Putting it over his legs proved tough. Even his calves were tight, nevermind his massive quads. Colton painfully got it over his lower body, but when it reached his waist, the singlet blocked. Colton's enormous belly stuck out by about a foot over the girdle, so far out he didn't think he could pull the rest of it up without risking tearing the fabric.

Colton tried to suck in his belly. Tried, and failed. He could barely get it to stick out by a few inches less, and trying to suck it in any further made him feel he was about to throw up.

He stared at his reflection, his singlet hanging around his waist, his belly looking way too big. Maybe he'd taken the eating a bit too far? 

Colton decided to fast for the rest of the day. He needed his bloat to go down to fit in his singlet, and anyway, it would be useful to know his actual weight. Never mind that he probably had enough food still in his system to hibernate a whole winter.

The rest of the evening was miserable. Somehow, the many pounds of food inside Colton's enormous belly weren't enough. He now needed to be permanently stuffed. The overbulked jock went out on a run, the first in a while, hoping it would speed up his metabolism and help his belly deflate faster, but it just made him hungrier. And after months of non-stop overeating, falling asleep on a stomach that wasn't stuffed to the limit proved tough.

Out of habit, Colton took a pack of pancakes to eat as he cooked a monster omelette, before remembering. He miserably put the food back in the cupboards, his huge stomach begging him not to.

Getting dressed for his first day back wrestling, Colton found almost everything in his wardrobe was still tight around his belly, even empty. The jock had always liked wearing clothes that highlighted his physique, and had carried the bloated gut as a point of pride all the off-season, but now he felt almost embarrassed. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe the hunger was just putting him on edge. He settled on a baggy tank top, that was loose everywhere, but that made up by showing off his meaty arms.

Colton was driving to his wrestling practice when he snapped. He passed the same burger place he'd had his first cheat meal at. Remembered stuffing himself, how good it had tasted, how nice his belly had felt. And decided he was so hungry it was probably unsafe to drive.

"You sure about this?" The vendor said, as he ordered one burger. "Don't even want a second, big guy?"

Colton's orders had been progressively getting bigger over his offseason, so this was a sudden change. Still, a second wouldn't hurt?

Colton started eating, and this was the best a cheap burger had ever tasted. He could feel the life force coming back to him as he gorged, as the food flowed into his huge hungry belly.  He ordered a 3rd burger, then a 4th, and kept eating more and more. He needed the food. It was a matter of life or death.

The jock returned to his car with his 8 burgers comfortably packed in his big round belly. He'd worry about his singlet when he got there. His belly felt so good. And he wasn't going to perform well if he was too hungry, right?

Stepping into the locker room, Colton noticed he was way bigger than the other wrestlers. Even bigger than he expected. Guys he used to think of as massive, he now outbulked. Some had trimmed down, others had beefed up, but no one had gained as much as Colton, and he wasn't the only one to notice.

"Wow Colt', look at those guns!" said a jock.

"Bro the other heavyweights won't stand a chance," said another, feeling up his biceps and triceps. Because of his loose tank top, his arms stood out the most. And yeah, they had grown a lot bigger.

Colton was more than happy to have all the guys playing withis his big arms. His bulk had been a success, after all. The tune changed, however, when Colton took off his shirt, revealing his massive belly.

"Bro, you got pregnant or what?" 

"Damn dude, I know coach said bulk up but damn. It looks like you've done nothing but eat everyday until that belly is past its limit! That's some serious extra heft bro."

Other wrestlers stopped what they were doing, and came up to see Colton's new belly for themselves.

"I ate a lot at lunch time," Colton said, trying to defend himself.

"Yeah, and at breakfast, and at dinner, and a lot of snacking too, everyday. We can tell," one wrestler replied. Colton couldn't think of a come-back, the guy was right.

"Guys just how much do you think we can fit in here?" said one guy, passing a hand over Colton's big belly. "A gallon? Two gallons? Maybe even three gallons? It's really huge!"

The whole wrestling team was around him, playing with his belly, when Coach stepped into the locker rooms.

"You guys never seen a heavyweight wrestler, or what?" 

The other jocks stepped back. Coach walked up to Colton, eyeing up his belly. Gave it a few slaps.

"They've got a point, though. This is one big belly," Coach said, giving it a few more pats. "Go get changed, son."

Colton blushed and acquiesced. As the other jocks walked out, Colton pulled his singlet out of his bag. He hadn't eaten that much, only eight burgers, and he'd fasted before, so he was probably going to fit, right?

As last night, it was tight around his legs, the fabric straining over his bulked quads. Getting it over his meaty butt was even harder. It hadn't grown as much as his belly, but he couldn't suck it in, meaning he had to force hard.

Then came the belly. Colton sucked it in as hard as he could, pulled the singlet up, and nothing happened. He just felt really tight around the places he'd already put it on.

Colton relaxed, took a few breaths. Looked at his huge round belly on his beefy frame. The extremely tight singlet around his quads. He checked out his backside in a mirror, it looked vacuum sealed. Still, if he could get it over his butt, he could get it over his belly, right?

The jock breathed out all the air in his lungs. Sucked his gut in so hard he almost felt one of the burgers come back up. The belly still stuck out by a few inches, but Colton could now slowly inch the singlet up over his paunch. By the time he'd gotten his arms through the holes, he'd been holding his breath for so long he was about to pass out.

Colton's singlet was back on, clinging tightly to every bit of his bulked body. So tight, it was as if it had been spray painted on him. His beefy pecs, his quads, and of course his big round belly, prominent even as he sucked it in. A big change from last season. 

Pleased with himself, Colton relaxed, breathing normally once again.

crrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaack

Colton heard fabric tearing. He looked down, and saw his singlet completely torn, his bare belly sticking far out.

"Uh, Coach!" he called out, "I have a problem."

#weight gain story #male belly story #belly story #stuffing story #gainer story #ex jock #fat jock #beefy jock #overeating story #overeating #male belly #bloated jock #stuffed jock #overfed #male bloating #muscle and belly #chunky hunk #beer belly

[bulkingjourney]

"Bulking Up for the Game" -Pt 1

Tom had always been the star player of the high school football team, known for his incredible agility, lightning speed, and pinpoint precision on the field. But his coach, Coach Williams, had something different in mind for him. Coach Williams believed that to reach the next level, Tom needed to bulk up – not just in terms of raw strength, but also in sheer size. He wanted Tom to become a powerhouse, a near-unstoppable force on the field. At the time, Tom weighed in at a lean and wiry 185 pounds, and he had no idea just how transformative his journey was about to become.

The turning point occurred one day after practice when Coach Williams called Tom into his office. As Tom took a seat, Coach Williams leaned in and said, "Tom, you're already the best player on this team, but I see even more potential in you. We need you to bulk up, and I mean really bulk up – a dirty bulk."

Tom was taken aback by the request. He had never considered gaining weight in such a manner before. But he trusted Coach Williams, knowing that he had a reputation for turning promising players into legends. Coach Williams introduced Tom to a specialized training and nutrition program tailored to promote muscle gain. This program involved high-calorie meals, a variety of protein shakes, and grueling workouts that pushed Tom to his limits.

As weeks turned into months, Tom could see and feel the changes in his body. Muscles rippled and expanded across his frame, turning him into a football powerhouse. His teammates were in awe of his growing strength and size, and they could see his transformation taking shape.

However, there was one change that surprised Tom the most – his belly. As his muscle mass increased, so did his waistline. His once flat stomach started to push outward, forming a burgeoning belly. Initially, Tom was concerned about this development, but Coach Williams assured him it was all part of the plan. "That belly will give you the added leverage you need on the field," Coach Williams explained.

Tom embraced the process, even as he had to gradually upgrade his uniform. He had started with a medium-sized jersey, but as his muscles swelled, he progressed to a large, and then an extra-large. By the end of his transformation, he was wearing a 2XL jersey that barely contained his muscular frame.

As the big game approached, Tom's confidence was at an all-time high. He had become a dominant force to be reckoned with – a harmonious blend of strength, speed, and even unexpected agility for a player of his size. His belly, once an area of concern, had now become a symbol of his transformation and a testament to his dedication to the team and the sport he loved.

On the day of the game, Tom felt a new power surging through him. He was a force to be reckoned with, a blend of strength, speed, and surprising agility for his size. His belly had become a symbol of his transformation, a testament to his dedication to the team and the sport he loved.

In a thrilling match, Tom's team secured victory, and he had become an unbreakable wall on the field. His size had played a pivotal role in the win, and Tom's teammates couldn't have been more grateful for his extraordinary dedication.

After the game, Tom returned to Coach Williams, a triumphant grin on his face. "I did it, Coach," he said, patting his robust belly. "I never thought I'd bulk up like this, but I'm glad I did."

Coach Williams smiled, recognizing the pride and accomplishment in Tom's eyes. "You've become an inspiration to your teammates and a formidable player, Tom. That belly of yours? It's a badge of honor. You've shown what determination and trust can achieve."

As the season progressed, Tom's belly continued to grow, but so...

Read the rest of this story for free

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gay gainer #gainer story #football gainer #dirty bulking

[feeder86]

Aaron's Empire

“Yes?” Aaron asked abruptly, seeing that Kirk was calling him yet again.

“He says he’s full already,” Kirk replied. “He’s only had three doughnuts and now he just wants to sit and watch a movie.”

Aaron sighed. As one of his newest recruits, Kirk was more than a little needy when it came to applying the skills that Aaron had tried to instil in him. Every year it seemed like there were more and more guys moving to the city with a kink for fattening up. Although Aaron hadn’t liked it, it had always been necessary for him to outsource to other feeders when he became overrun. He simply did not have the time to tackle all the boys who got in contact with him, desperate to be fattened and submit to him.

“Did you try the trigger words?” Aaron asked. “I made a list of the nicknames Jay gets the most aroused by. They’re all on the file I sent you: ‘Fatso’, ‘Piggy’… I think he even got pretty hard at ‘Lardass’ as well,” he rambled on, trying to recall his observations from the initial feed he had done himself with Jay, three months back.

“I tried them,” Kirk shot back. “Can you come over? I really don’t know what else to do.”

Sighing in frustration, Aaron ended the call. On paper, Kirk looked set to be an awesome feeder: good looking, athletic and masculine-looking. He was one of the star players in the college football team and seemed to have that natural air of authority about him. Feeding a short, little chub like Jay should have been simple. But this was the fourth time he’d got in contact, wanting more support. Perhaps he would make a good feeder one day, but that still seemed like a long way off.

“Thanks for coming,” Kirk smiled, opening the door to Jay’s apartment and seeing that Aaron had picked up a couple of pizzas along the way. He was whispering, having not told Jay that he had needed to get Aaron over to help him.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Aaron asked, indignantly, seeing the feeder’s attire. “What is with that sweater?” “It’s cold out tonight,” Kirk mumbled back.

“So?” Aaron grumbled, taking his own shirt and pants off as soon as he was through the door. “If you want these fatties to eat, you sell them the fantasy,” he pointed at his own staggeringly built and athletic body. “They don’t need the wholesome ‘boy next door’ look putting them off,” he sighed, still amazed by how average such a sexy guy could look in something so ill-fitting. “And would it kill you to put some product in your hair?” he continued, noticing that Kirk must have come straight from the showers after his football training. 

Kirk nodded, seeming to agree that he hadn’t made enough effort. He followed Aaron’s lead, removing the offending sweater and taking off his pants, despite the slight chill in the apartment. Then he went to the tap and brushed some warm water through his hair to fluff it up a little.

“Hello there, Fatso!” Aaron smiled, leading the way into the lounge area with the pizza boxes.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight as well!” Jay smiled, actually getting up from his chair. Back when Aaron had been feeding the guy himself, the chub had been well trained to stay sitting on his blubbery glutes the entire time he was there. His shirt wasn’t even off and he was wearing actual slippers on his feet, like an old man. Had Kirk really tried to initiate a kinky feeding session when the pig wasn’t even stripped? Just how many other rules like this had the boy been letting slide?

Aaron pulled Jay into a passionate kiss. He allowed both of their hands to roam freely, and by the time they came out of it, Aaron had successfully removed both Jay’s shirt and pants. “You’re looking so big now!” Aaron smiled, taking in Jay’s fattened physique: 350 lbs of tits, belly rolls and blubber.

“I’ve gained another 2 lbs since I saw you last!” Jay boasted, grinning with pride.

Aaron smiled, despite the irritation he felt. Two pounds in an entire month? Did he really think that was acceptable? Did Kirk not challenge him on such mediocre gains? After all the hours Aaron had put in training up the guy’s appetite, back when he was little more than a twink, a two pound gain should have been just a normal part of life for him now.

“Kirk tells me you’ve not got much of an appetite tonight?” Aaron went on, sitting the fat boy back down in his chair, where he belonged. “Is there any reason why?”

Jay looked a little awkward, but smiled as he saw Kirk coming to stand beside Aaron; his toned athlete’s body now on show. “The truth is,” Jay mumbled, “I’ve got my dad and step-mom coming to stay with me this weekend. My dad’s always been somewhat critical of me since I started getting fat. I guess it sort of dampens the appetite,” he sighed.

Aaron nodded sympathetically. “I understand,” he smiled sweetly. “Thank you for being so open with me. It must be incredibly hard for you. As kinky as it is to get this fat, explaining it to your family is never easy.”

“That’s it,” Jay agreed, visibly relaxing now he had shared his concerns aloud. He sat back a little more in his chair and rubbed his tummy. “It’s hard to eat tonight when I know my dad is going to be even more disappointed in me.”

Again, Aaron smiled. He tapped Kirk’s tight butt, silently ordering him into his position, behind Jay’s chair. The next movement was about to begin.

“I really do understand,” Aaron offered lovingly. “As you can imagine, I see it time and time again with all my boys.”

Jay smiled back, with little comprehension of how many guys across the city were actually fattening up under Aaron’s watchful eye.

“But, do you know who doesn’t care?” Aaron asked next, slipping off his underwear and letting his erection spring out. “This guy here,” he pointed at his already pulsing hardness. “He couldn't give a shit about all that sort of crap. The fat boys whinge about how full they are, or how none of their clothes fit. They bitch about their families, their friends not being supportive. They talk about how much they sweat now, how out of breath they get…” Aaron went on, rubbing his boner and seeing that Jay simply could not take his eyes off it. “But this guy…” Aaron emphasised again, “...he just couldn’t give a fuck! He actually gets off on it; their complaints and genuine concerns. He just wants to see them eat and grow, fatter and fatter every single day.”

Aaron nodded to Kirk, letting him know that it was time to tap the newly aroused fatty on the head, ordering him to start sucking. Then, only a few seconds later, Jay’s mouth enveloped as much of Aaron’s dick as possible, moaning with lust as he did so.

Kirk, who was now rubbing Jay’s back encouragingly, looked across at Aaron, clearly impressed at how quickly he had turned the situation around. However, Aaron merely stared back at him in annoyance. It wasn’t just the fact that Jay had always been so pathetically weak at giving blow jobs, but why hadn’t Kirk done this? How many times had he been told these strategies to get the pigs eating when they were less keen? Sometimes their mouths just needed a little warm up; a little lubricating. “Go get the pizzas,” he ordered sternly, about to begin yet another demonstration of how to stuff a pig to his absolute limit.

After that evening, Aaron assigned Jay to another of his feeders, hoping that Jay was simply a poor fit for him. In his place, he gave Kirk a new and highly motivated second year college student who had impressed him a lot when he’d interviewed him about why he wanted to be fattened up. Perhaps seeing the fattening process from scratch might give Kirk the kick up the ass that he needed.

“Five pounds?” Aaron asked, feeling exasperated. “You’ve had three months and that;s all you’ve done to him? He’ll lose that in no time now he’s gone home for the summer!”

“He had exams and stuff, though,” Kirk tried. “I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Oh, come on, Kirk! How many times have I talked to you about stress eating? You missed a golden opportunity to really push some weight onto him there! He also tells me he’s working on a farm over the summer. How the hell did you let that happen? You know that’s too much exercise!”

“I didn’t really think it was my place to say anything…” Kirk mumbled, realising that he had messed up yet again.

“You’re the fucking feeder!” Aaron shouted, finally letting his frustration get the better of him. “Of course it’s your place to say these things to the pigs!”

Kirk sighed, disappointed with himself. “I’ll do better when I see him next. I promise.”

Aaron shook his head in disappointment yet again. He liked Kirk, he really did. He had all the hallmarks of a good feeder, with a pretty face that made everyone stop and stare. He had the sex appeal to make a guy eat if he really wanted them to. But his application of the basic feeder principles and training were utterly lost on him.

“Look, let’s just take this time as a little breather,” Aaron suggested. “I have some time off at the end of this month. You can come over to my place and we’ll do some little role plays and scenarios; stuff that should help you when your pig gets back for the new semester.”

Kirk nodded gratefully, knowing that he still had so much to learn.

“So, what is a feeder’s main objective?” Aaron asked a couple of weeks later as he led Kirk into his apartment.

The question clearly caught the football player off guard and a long pause followed before he finally answered. “That the pig eats everything we give them,” he offered, seeming confident.

Aaron shook his head. “You’re thinking too short term,” he shot back. “A feeder’s goal is, and always will be, the results: the tight pants, the fat gains, the number on the scales. That’s all that really matters. There are different ways to get there: meal plans, submission, dominance, you name it. But the feeder’s goal is always in the blubber he can pack onto his prey. Is that clear?”

Kirk nodded.

“That means that it really doesn’t matter if you never even use some of the strategies we’re going to revise today. As long as you get the results, that’s all I care about.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” Kirk agreed.

“Feeding is a sensual exercise,” Aaron began, taking his shirt off and removing his pants; still pumped from his gym workout that morning. “You’re never going to feed a pig to his full capacity unless you get the support you need. So where do you find that support?”

Kirk, who had been following Aaron’s lead and undressing, sat himself down in the guy’s feeding chair and pondered the question. “You mean I should call you?” he asked.

Again, Aaron sighed. None of this information should have been new to him. “No, Kirk! The best feeder a pig’s ever going to have is always right between his legs.” He reached out, holding the football player’s semi. “It’s the reason he first fell into gaining and it’s the thing that led him straight to you, so always make sure that you use it in the most effective way that you can,” he explained, rubbing Kirk’s dick until it stood firm and erect. “If fatty stops eating or starts slowing down, give some attention to this thing and you’ll soon see him getting hungry again.”

“Should I suck it?” Kirk asked keenly.

Aaron frowned at the silly question. “It’s entirely up to you. Just…get it hard and keep it that way. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Kirk settled a little more into his chair, enjoying this training more than the other sessions he had had with Aaron. He’d always done better with practical exercises, rather than trying to memorise the theory behind principles.

“Now, most of the time, your pig will buy his own food that he wants you to feed him. But, if ever you’re doing it, you’ve got to choose it all very carefully, thinking about the feeder’s goal… which is?” he quickly questioned.

“The results!” Kirk parroted back to him, pleased that he had remembered something at last.

“Exactly,” Aaron nodded, now pointing to the vast selection of food he had set up on the coffee table for his date with a long-term fatty who was coming over later. “Everything here is from the list I sent you back when you first started. These particular brands are all staggeringly high in calories and quickly digested.” He looked at Kirk’s blank face. “I’ll email the list over to you again then,” he simply stated, deciding not to pull Kirk up on his lack of studiousness.

“What would you start with?” Kirk asked, seeing it all spread out and presented so nicely.

“Well, that depends on your fatty’s preference. You should know what his favourites are; the things that are best to get him started. For example, what is it that catches your eye the most?”

“The cream cakes,” Kirk replied instantly.

“Very well,” Aaron smiled, picking one up. “Before I start, I look down. Is his dick hard? Yes. Are his eyes fixed on the food? Can I make him salivate?”

At that moment, Kirk swallowed a build up of saliva in his mouth.

“Pigs love to be played with. And, at the start, that’s fine. You can waft it under his nose,” he demonstrated comically. “You can dip your finger in the cream and tap it on his piggy little snout,” he joked, doing just that with Kirk. “But when the time comes to feed, you let them know that you’re serious,” he stated sternly. “Because this isn’t a game, is it? And you can’t let the fat boy treat it like one.”

Kirk slowly nodded his head.

“You get their eyes fixed on you now,” Aaron continued, ensuring that Kirk was doing just that. “They realise, you are the feeder. You are the one they are doing this for. During this time, only the two of you exist in the entire world. Pleasure and greed are the only things that have any consequence now. Nothing else.”

Kirk was absolutely silent, taking all of the information in like never before. He looked entirely fixed within the mindset of the boys he would someday feed. Out of a simple curiosity, Aaron brought the cake a little closer to the guy’s mouth, hardly believing that the jock’s jaws were unhinging. His mouth gaping open, Aaron pushed the cake beyond the point of no return, until it squished and fell upon Kirk’s tongue.

Suddenly Kirk was chewing, with his cheeks filled with cream. Had the guy completely misunderstood the concept of role-playing? Sure, the boy was always prettier than he was intelligent, but feeders didn’t do this. This food wasn’t for him. Yet his hardness throbbed every bit as much as the countless others Aaron had done this to in the past.

“Now you praise your pig,” Aaron explained, deciding to take the strange turn all in his stride and act like this was as he had planned. “You tell him how greedy he’s being; how large and fat this will all make him; how he’s going to struggle to get into his pants tomorrow.”

Kirk moaned with pleasure as the last of the cake was pushed into his mouth. He licked Aaron’s fingers clean; his greedy eyes now turning to the other items on the table. Intuitively, Aaron reached across and found the next item, holding it until it was ready and then pushing it deep inside the athletic boy’s mouth.

“Your pig is going to get thirsty pretty quickly, so you need your drinks to hand. These need to be equally high in calories,” he smiled, cracking open a can of soda. “Not too cold,” he stated cautiously. “Everything should flow. We hit them hard and fast while they’re in the zone.”

Kirk took the can of soda and chugged it in one.

Still determined not to show even the slightest bit of surprise, Aaron simply continued his tuition. “Don’t be tempted to just feed the pig what he likes,” he cautioned, seeing that Kirk’s eyes had fallen back onto the cream cakes. “We want to keep mixing up those flavours and textures, pouring in the liquid calories and making the pig wait for those favourites.”

Kirk nodded, accepting whatever was fed into his mouth.

“Always, ALWAYS keep an eye on his dick,” Aaron insisted, taking his hand to Kirk’s hardness and rubbing it for short, gentle periods. “He’s going to want to climax, but it’s your job to make him wait. You do not let him touch himself! His dick belongs to you. You call the shots. And the pig isn’t getting his pleasure until he’s completely stuffed.”

At this, Kirk seemed to redouble his efforts, eating faster and greedier than even before. He’d slipped perfectly into the role; indistinguishable in his apparent lust to feed. His stomach was bloating up, yet still he feasted.

“By this point, your pig is going to be completely disoriented. He’s lost track of what he’s eaten and he has no idea what’s coming next. He’s already massively overdosed on calories, but because of the speed you’re delivering it all to him, his brain hasn’t caught up yet. This is the stuffing ‘window of opportunity’, and you’ve got to push the fatty hard until it closes.”

The food on the table was quickly disappearing. It had been a few months since Aaron had fed a young athlete of Kirk’s stature; almost forgetting how much boys like this could gorge.

“You’ll know when it’s time to stop. The pace slows and they wince at the stretch. But any sign of heaving and you’ve already taken it too far,” Aaron stated. “You make them look you in the eyes again as you take their dick in your hand. You make them say ‘thank you’ for doing this to them, even though they might, even now, be starting to regret how much they have eaten. You tell them what a greedy pig they have been; what all those calories are going to do to their body.”

Kirk was already pulling a face as he felt his orgasm building.

“Now you make them rub their big ol’ tummy,” Aaron ordered, grabbing at Kirk’s limp wrist and placing the boy’s large hand on the top, and most swollen part, of his bloated stomach. 

Immediately, the jock’s hand began to explore that new, tightly-packed and solid shape; all so beautifully timed as his pleasure was about to peak.

“And as tough as it is to admit… this moment… the fatty’s actual climax; it’s really not about the feeder,” Aaron whispered now. “It’s about the pig realising what he’s done to HIMSELF; how completely fucked he is for getting so turned on, eating like he has for you.”

Kirk’s breathing was so erratic, with short, squeaking moans escaping from his lips every couple of seconds.

“You make the fat boy look you in the eye. Do what you want inbetween. You can make him promise to get fatter for you, make him oink like a pig, or force a final doughnut into his greedy little mouth; it really doesn’t matter,” he breathed, holding Kirk’s stare with a vice-like grip. “Just let the pig know that you see him for exactly what he is; that he can’t hide it anymore. That he is, and will always be, your greedy hog.”

A massive jet released from Kirk’s crotch, followed by several others, until an almost unfathomable amount of the boy’s excitement had covered his chest and splashed itself all over Aaron’s feeding chair. Yet more stains that would never come out.

Kirk’s charge was assigned a new feeder when he returned to college after the summer. Aaron had made the decision that the boy, who had been so keen to fatten up when Aaron had interviewed him, had been messed around enough by an inadequate feeder. In fact, Aaron had come to realise that Kirk wasn’t even that. Sure, Aaron had flipped feeders into gainers in the past. He even joked that most feeders came with an expiry date, when it would all become too much for them and they’d long for the blubber to be added to their bodies instead. But, Kirk was such a simple boy. Did he even realise yet that he was destined to become a fatty?

“I’m guessing you’ve played some good football in your time,” remarked Kirk’s football coach, heading over to speak to Aaron after he had seen the guy watching his boys play.

“Is it that obvious?” Aaron smiled, knowing that most people assumed he was some sort of football player, given his statuesque height and build. He shook hands with the guy, knowing just how to handle men like these, immediately inventing a backstory for himself in the game that would give him a lot more credibility with the coach. He folded his arms in the same way as him, mimicking the body language and slowly engaging the man enough so that he visibly relaxed more in his company; believing every word he said.

“So just one little broken ankle and that was your entire future NFL career gone?” the coach asked, full of sympathy.

“I think about it every single day,” Aaron lied, shaking his head bitterly. “But you’ve got some decent talent on the field here,” he smiled, pointing to the spot where all the young guys had last stood before heading in to shower.

“They’re okay,” the coach agreed, sounding unconvinced. “We’ve certainly had stronger teams in the past.”

Aaron nodded, as if he knew what he was talking about. “There was one who really caught my eye; the really tall one who spent most of the time over there,” he pointed.

“Kirk?” the coach asked. “Yeah, he’s a good player. Not necessarily the brightest guy I’ve ever come across. He’s quite versatile and plays in a variety of positions. I wouldn’t say he exactly excels in any of them though.”

“Have you ever thought about playing him as an offensive tackle?” Aaron asked. “From what I saw today, he looks more suited to that than anything.”

At this, the coach winced. “You should see some of the guys from the other teams in our league who play in that position. Kirk may be tall and strong, but he’d be dwarfed if he had to go up against them.”

“Bulk him up then,” Aaron shrugged, deciding to lift his arm and show off his bicep. “It’s what my coach did for me. It was the best thing that ever happened for my career. Before the ankle…” he added.

The two men discussed the idea for a little while longer, but Aaron had no intention of hanging around just in case Kirk came out and came over, giving the game away that they knew each other. Instead, he simply planted the seed and left it there to grow.

“When am I getting a new pig?” Kirk asked a couple of weeks later, settling into Aaron’s feeding chair.

“When I think you’re ready,” Aaron lied. “Which reminds me,” he smiled, pulling out his phone and playing a video to the football hunk. “Your last assignment’s new feeder sent me this. He’s getting great results with your old pig. Look at the blubber in that tummy now. His six pack is completely gone!”

“He looks completely different!” Kirk marvelled.

“That’s not even the best part,” Aaron chuckled, waiting for the section in the video when the pig turned and bounced his butt cheeks. “His new feeder says he’s never seen anything like it. It’s like the muscle just completely vanished and been replaced by pure blubber. Look at those thighs too! He’s going to be so bottom heavy!”

“That can’t be the same guy,” Kirk protested. “He didn’t gain like that for me.”

“Well, it’s all about finding the right technique that works for your pig,” Aaron explained, undressing himself and grabbing the supplies from the kitchen.

Kirk had followed his lead, kicking his shirt, sweatpants and underwear to the side and sitting himself back down again. An obvious coating and ring of light blubber sat around his middle from all the sessions Aaron had conducted with him in the last few weeks, but it wasn’t time to acknowledge that with him just yet.

“This is the shake and suck technique,” Aaron went on. “It’s the method that helped your old pig get that huge ass of his. I made this shake up this morning, so it’s had plenty of time to lose the chill.” Aaron heaved, lifting a huge gallon container of thick liquid and putting it on the coffee table with a bump. “You’ve had it plenty of times before. You know what’s in it,” he smirked.

“Yeah, but…” Kirk mumbled, looking at the size of the container. “I’ve only had the odd flask of it when we’ve been training. No one could drink that much of it.”

“That’s where this funnel comes in so handy,” the feeder smiled, lifting it up for Kirk to see. “It stops the pig from ending the chug the moment he starts to feel a little uncomfortable, and so it gives us a lot more control over how much we want the fat boy to take down.”

Kirk’s erection had returned. His legs twitched and he looked down suggestively at it. “What about the sucking part of this method?” he asked, knowing that no one gave a blow job like Aaron.

“It’s called the ‘shake and suck’ technique,” Aaron laughed. “As in… one BEFORE the other!” he teased, noting that Kirk appeared aroused enough to begin. “All you need to do is hold this flask, like this,” he instructed, resting Kirk’s head backwards into the chair at the same time. “Then just, chug away until the funnel is emptied.”

From his position, standing behind the feeding chair and looking over Kirk, Aaron could fully appreciate the gentle loss of definition in the boy’s stomach muscles. Today’s session was going to do so much more serious damage! He lifted the container and let it glug outwards, filling the funnel held steady by the athlete underneath. Just as instructed, the naive boy began swallowing it all up, even as Aaron continued to pour; never letting it get below half-way.

At the first break, Kirk moaned loudly, rubbing his enlarged stomach. Then he burped, long and coarsely, until he at last felt more comfortable. “Fuck!” he sighed. “How much of that stuff did you just pour in? I thought it was never going to end!”

“There’s plenty more, don’t you worry!” Aaron laughed, turning so that he could feed his own erection into Kirk’s mouth. “This is something you can only do at the start of this technique,” Aaron explained. “And you’ve got to go gentle. You can’t be making your pig gag when there’s all that fattening liquid in his stomach.”

Aaron could tell that Kirk was at last starting to learn some of the blow job skills he’d been taught in recent weeks. Aaron exhaled and felt his eyes widen. Shit, this guy was actually pretty good!

“And that’s enough of that,” Aaron smiled, pulling out before he lost his composure. “Back to business!” he ordered, placing the funnel back into Kirk’s hands. “This second chug has to be shorter, and the next one will be shorter again,” he explained, already pouring from the now considerably lighter container and looking down to check that Kirk’s hardness wasn’t faltering.

At the end of the second chug, Kirk moaned once more and gave off a long fog-horn like burp. However, this time his stomach was so rounded and stretched, actually resembling a belly for the first time. Without even prompting, Kirk’s hands began exploring it as Aaron engaged in a gentle first suck in his crotch. Not that Aaron would ever have told him, but already over two thirds of the gallon of gainer shake was gone.

“Depending on your pig, this method can take all day. And that’s fine,” Aaron nodded. “The main thing is, we want that shake inside them.”

Automatically, Kirk rested his head back again the moment he felt ready. The third session began and Kirk was soon enjoying the rewards of having Aaron’s lips around his erection once more.

“A pretty effective technique, huh?” Aaron laughed, just stopping as Kirk seemed about to climax.

“Let’s finish this thing!” Kirk grunted, throwing his head back and knowing that the end was near. Fuck the consequences. He needed that orgasm soon.

“You want me to take on another pig?” asked Jack, one of Aaron’s most capable feeders, a few weeks later. “That’s two in the last six weeks!”

Aaron nodded apologetically. “I know. I would do it myself, but I just don’t have the time. His name’s Peter; twenty-two, already chubby; great little appetite when I interviewed him. He wants pushing hard, and he’s kinky as fuck. I think you’ll have a lot of fun with him,” he summarised, showing Jack a picture before sending over the contact details.

“Cute!” Jack smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay with letting me have all the fun?”

“I just know you’ll do a great job,” Aaron chuckled, slapping the guy on his back.

Jack simply smiled back knowingly. “I bumped into Kirk the other day. He told me you haven’t given him a pig in months.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Well, there are reasons for that.”

“You’re flipping him, aren’t you?” Jack pressed. “Kirk tried to tell me that his coach is bulking him up to play a new position on the field, but there’s no denying your handiwork on that little paunch of his. That’s where most of your time is going these days, isn’t it?”

“Possibly,” Aaron smirked, liking how direct Jack could be at times. “I’m throwing everything at him and I’ve yet to find a single one of my moves that doesn’t work on him.”

“Does he realise?” Jack asked.

“What do you think?” Aaron laughed, knowing that he didn’t need to hide his wicked side with a guy like Jack. “I’ve even got him writing up an assignment for me on the ‘feeder training’ he’s had in the last few weeks! He’s coming round this evening for the ‘Funnel, Fuck and Flip’ exercise.”

Jack chuckled. He’d only met Kirk a handful of times, so could hardly pity the guy if he had fallen into one of Aaron’s typical games. “So when are you going to make your move on him?” he asked.

“Soon,” Aaron smiled. “He’s almost ready now… Just one last little push!”

Later that evening, Kirk bent himself against the table with his legs stretched. His stomach was hard and swollen with gainer shake, drooping down as his head was held only inches above a decadent three-layered chocolate cake.

“Not many guys can hold an erection like I can,” Aaron explained, having pushed himself inside Kirk’s tight butt hole with a lot less wincing from the athlete than in previous weeks. “So don’t worry if you struggle with this move when you’re feeding a fatty this way.”

“Okay,” Kirk mumbled back, breathing deeply as his body tried to get used to the sheer size of Aaron’s thick hardness inside of him. “I think I’ll be ready in a second,” he whispered.

“Good,” Aaron replied, trying not to laugh. He leaned a little more over Kirk’s broad back. “Now, messy pigs adore this one. All I’m going to do is gently lower your head into the cake before I start fucking you.”

“So the pig has to try and eat whilst he’s getting pounded?” Kirk asked.

“That’s the idea,” Aaron smirked.

“Is that even possible?” Kirk asked again.

“I guess you’ll soon find out,” Aaron chuckled, checking that Kirk was ready and then pushing his head gently into the cake so that his entire face was covered in frosting. “Good Piggy!” he called out, already starting to fuck him. Despite the many fatties he’d worked on over the years, few were ever as thrilling as this!

A few weeks later, Kirk had arrived at Aaron’s in a somewhat distracted mood. “Coach says I’ve put on too much fat in my bulk, and that it’s affected my performance on the field.”

“Of course you have,” Aaron shrugged, getting himself undressed as Kirk did the same. “How else am I supposed to teach you about how to tease a fat ass properly? You can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.”

Kirk seemed to consider this.

“Now is the time when you can really get to grips with your pig’s trigger words. Some of them love being called out on being a pig, whereas others are not keen. Some don’t even like teasing at all.”

“So you ask them what words they like to be called?” Kirk asked.

“No,” Aaron sighed, wondering how he ever thought that Kirk could make a good feeder. He simply had no intuition at all. “You try the words out and see what works best. Which ones suit them? Which ones get them the hardest? That’s the way I figured out yours.”

“I have trigger words?” Kirk shot back in surprise.

“Of course you do. All FAT BOYS do,” Aaron smiled, poking Kirk in his doughy middle, making the guy’s hardness bounce. “‘Fat Boy’: the name works on you every time. I never could have got you to complete that pot of whipping cream last week without it.”

“Fuck!” Kirk marvelled, perhaps realising for the first time just how much Aaron had actually burrowed into his head. “Are there more?”

“Of course there are,” Aaron nodded. “There are movements too. Like when I cup your glutes and give them a little bounce,” he demonstrated, giving Kirk’s butt cheek the lightest of wobbles. “See?” he asked, nodding down at Kirk’s weeping erection. “You’ve been so firm and athletic your whole life, this is a completely new experience for you. The feeling of fresh fat invading your body. It’s why being called a ‘fat ass’ works so well on you too.”

Aaron kissed him deeply as he continued to jiggle the boy’s glutes. Kirk’s breathing was hot and heavy; more aroused than ever he had been so early into their sessions. This was new and exciting.

“Few people would spot it in you; partly because you're so broad and muscular. But you’re also a very submissive boy,” Aaron continued.

“I am?” Kirk asked. “I thought feeders had to be mostly dominant?”

At this Aaron sniggered. “Oh, come on, Kirk!” he smiled, still bouncing the soft glutes. “You’re no feeder.”

Kirk closed his eyes to appreciate the feeling of his jiggling butt cheeks. “What am I then?” he whispered, sounding like he was finally ready to hear the truth.

Aaron placed his mouth right next to Kirk’s ear and whispered back, deploying the boy’s ultimate trigger word. 

“You’re my big, fat HOG!”

Just like that, Kirk moaned like he had been shattered into a thousand pieces. He pulled Aaron into him and kissed him with more passion than ever before.

“You’re going to quit football for me,” Aaron demanded, immediately seizing the moment as Kirk had surrendered himself; a part of him released and fully conscious for the first time.

“I’ll do anything!” Kirk agreed, allowing himself to be pushed into the feeding chair; another stuffing about to commence.

“Good!” Aaron grinned. “Because you’re moving in here with me too. I’m taking a six month sabbatical from the other fatties. I want to see what I can do when I just devote myself to one little hog, twenty four hours a day. How far can I take them?”

Kirk looked down at his stout little belly and his eyes filled with lust. “I’m all yours!”

#gainer stories #gainerstory #gayfeedee #gayfeeder #gainer story #gainerstories #gainerfic #gainer fiction #gainer fic #gay feedee

[gainingguys]

This guy went from the face of a global dating platform to a grumpy cop in only two years. It all started when he discovered those „magic donuts“ a friend recommended. 🍩

#magic weight gain #instant weight gain #feeder fantasy #gainer story #fit2fat #chubby guys #fattened up

[thegainingdesk]

Two Night Stand

Just as Howard had guessed, the young man was loitering in the changing rooms when he entered. He'd seen the slim man watching him his entire set, changing from treadmill to elliptical to standing bike to keep a clear eyeline to Howard at all times.

Howard wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd found that he attracted more than a fair few men as he'd put on weight these past few years, and the gym was the perfect place to show off his developing figure. He couldn't exactly boast a powerlifter build, per se, but he had enough muscle underneath all the fat that he could show off how much weight he could lift, and enough to keep most of his fat in a firm, round gut at his center with comparatively less flab elsewhere on his body. Coupled with a thick dark beard and a thick pelt of coarse body hair, he often had twinks lining up for the opportunity to call him ‘daddy’; not something he was thrilled about at the grand age of thirty-four, but also not something he was in a rush to correct anyone wanting to fuck him over.

Howard made a show of getting changed and faced out into the changing rooms towards the young man, giving him a clear view of the spectacle. He lifted his shirt up slowly, allowing the hem to drag itself up over the curve of his gut, revealing the dark swirls of hair covering the mound of fat and his deep belly button. Once the shirt slid off his gut and Howard pulled it over his head, he looked over to see the man looking directly at him. He winked and the man hurriedly looked away; Howard made sure to maintain eye-contact, making sure to catch him each time he gave another quick glance. Howard reached down and hefted his gut a few times before reaching down further and giving his package a squeeze; that caught the man's attention alright, and this time he held his gaze, staring intently at Howard's gut.

“Not getting changed yourself then?” Howard called across the changing room.

The young man swallowed hard, before lifting up his shirt to reveal a tight, thin torso, with the faint outline of a six pack and a fine dusting of hair. He was about Howard's height, just slightly shorter than average, but more wiry than Howard had ever been, with prominent ribs and collar bones, and a prominent Adam's apple. Despite his short height, he was so thin he almost looked lanky. He was handsome, Howard thought; dark blond hair, a crooked smile and a nose that looked like it had been broken and not set properly at some point. “Just catching my breath,” the man replied.

Howard smirked and bent to pull down his shorts. He tried to make it sexy, but honestly, these days it was a struggle just to bend down around his gut and his shorts caught on his thick thighs, making him shimmy them down unceremoniously. By the time he stood back up, panting softly, the young man’s long erection was tenting his own shorts obviously.

Howard reached down and adjusted his balls in his boxers, partly for show, partly genuinely for comfort. “Fancy joining me in the showers?” he said casually. “I’m finding I've been getting really sweaty recently.” He felt himself growing hard. He knew he'd lost a few inches to his expanding fat pad, and he'd not been able to see his own cock under his gut for years, but he knew he still boasted an impressive manhood.

“I uhh… okay.” The man's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He coughed and tried again, deeper this time. “Yes, I mean. I'd like that.”

“I'm Howard,” Howard introduced himself as he walked past the man and around the corner to the showers.

“Guy,” the man answered. Howard could hear him follow behind him obediently.

“Nice to meet you Guy,” Howard said, turning on one of the shower heads and pulling his pants off. He handed them to Guy, who held them, dumbstruck for a moment, before lifting them up to his face and sniffing deeply. “You like this gut, Guy?”

Guy nodded, not taking Howard's boxers away from his face. His eyes were trained downwards; Howard knew that from this angle, his gut covered his crotch almost entirely, so he must be staring at his fat.

Howard stepped back into the stream of water, and rivulets began to flow over his tits, round his gut, down his rounded thighs and calves. “Would you like to touch this gut, Guy?”

Guy hurried to throw down Howard's boxers and pull his own shorts and underwear down; he was so hard and the motion so fast that his dick slapped up and hit his abs with a soft thwack. He stepped forward and ran his hands across Howard's love handles, squeezing them and using his fingers to dapple the soft skin and the fat underneath. He slipped his fingers beneath, into the crease above Howard's hips, and leant down to place one of Howard's nipples in his mouth, sucking for a few moments.

He pulled away. “You're so…” he began. He leant back in, kissing Howard's neck, his shoulders, his chin. Each kiss was paired with a small poke from Guy's fingers; Howard realised he was searching for pockets of fat around his body.

“Big?” Howard whispered. “Heavy? Wide? Manly?”

“Fat,” Guy finished. “You're so fat.”

Howard chuckled. “And you like that, do you? You like how fat I am?” Guy nodded. “Why don't you show me how much you like it then?” Howard nodded past his gut, down towards his crotch. Guy looked around nervously. “Now you're nervous?” Howard asked. “Don’t worry, most people rush straight off after the gym at this time. Besides, everyone knows this is the gay hookup gym, no-one would bat an eyelash.”

Guy swallowed hard and Howard licked his lips at the sight of his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his wiry neck. He looked around once more, nodded nervously, and sunk to his knees. Howard grew even harder as he felt Guy push his fat pad back to reveal more of his length, something he’d only realised men had started doing since he’d hit twenty stone or so. He shuddered slightly as he felt Guy’s warm mouth envelop his hardness for a few seconds, before pulling back and pushing Howard’s soft underbelly away and readjusting his position, trying to find a way to suck Howard off around all of the fat in the way.

Howard leant his head back and moaned. While Guy seemed to be taken by surprise with the practicalities of sucking off a fat man, he clearly had a few tricks up his sleeve, and enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Within a few minutes he was near climax and began to thrust himself into Guy’s mouth, who made some satisfying grunts of discomfort in response.

Just as Howard began to cum, pumping his load down Guy’s pretty throat, someone walked into the shower and the younger man jumped back so that the rest of Howard's cum sprayed across his chest and dribbled down his chin. Guy flushed red and turned away towards the wall, frantically wiping away the splatters of semen.

“Don't mind me,” Charlton, one of the gym's regulars, said as he stepped under the shower head on the other side of Howard. “I'd join you, but my husband says I've got to stop fucking people at the gym.” He leant around Howard's mass to peer at Guy’s arse. “How do you get all the cute ones Howie?”

Howard moved over to Guy and cupped his arse, bending down to his knees himself. “How about it?” he asked. “Fancy an audience?”

Guy gave a small shake of his head and continued to scrub at himself. Howard stood back up, bracing against his knees and straining as he did so. He stepped away from Guy and began to wash himself, taking the signal that the younger man had lost interest, for now.

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Guy said quietly after a while. Howard looked over and grinned as Charlton laughed.

“Just like me to ruin the fun!” Charlton said. He waved his dick over at the two of them. “Howie, you've got my number, let me know if you'd like a third later.”

Howard grabbed Guy’s wrist and led him out the shower. He nudged the small pile of their wet shorts and underwear with his toe. “Grab those,” he told Guy. “We can go to my flat, it's not far.”

Guy struggled to keep his hands off Howard on the short drive and in the lift up to Howard's floor. As he unlocked the door, Guy was already pulling Howard’s t-shirt up and undoing his belt for him, kissing his neck as he did so. Howard pulled him through to the bedroom and pushed him towards the bed, and Guy dutifully began stripping.

Howard kicked his trousers off and pulled a condom out of the drawer by his bedside table. “You're going to have to put it on me,” he told Guy. “Awkward with this thing in the way.” He thumped his gut a few times to illustrate his point. “Unless you want to top?”

Guys tongue practically fell out of his mouth at this, and he hurriedly pulled the condom out of the packet. “No, I'm happy to, you know, or whatever.” He sunk down to his knees and stared up at Howard over the crest of his gut. “It's so hot that you can't put this on yourself.”

“I mean I can,” Howard grumbled. “It's just easier to get someone else to do it.” He felt Guy roll the condom over his shaft and smooth out some air bubbles.

“How do you want me?” Guy asked. He turned towards Howard and stood waiting, his hard-on pulsing slightly.

Howard nodded towards the bed. “On the edge. However’s most comfortable for you.”

Guy climbed onto the bed, stretching his thighs wide to present his hole to Howard. Howard squirted some lube onto his fingers and ran them over Guy’s crack, before slipping a couple of fingers in and massaging for a moment or two. Guy arched his back and sighed.

Howard lined himself up with Guy as best he could, and pushed himself forward. His cock missed the mark and instead bounced painfully off of one of his cheeks. Howard winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Difficult to aim with this thing in the way.” He patted his gut.

“God that's hot,” Guy sighed.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Howard grumbled to himself. Maybe he did need to lose a little weight.

“We could try a different position?” Guy suggested. “Cowboy style, maybe, or it might help if we both lie on our sides?”

“No!” Howard snapped. “No, I can, I can do it,” he said, more calmly. He'd be damned if he’d gotten too fat to top someone properly. He fished under his gut and grabbed his equipment, using his hands to guide himself in. He found his mark and slid in slowly, as Guy moaned softly and pushed back against Howard's crotch.

The two men began to rock in sync, building up a rhythm. Howard's gut slapped into Guy's back, the claps ringing like a metronome. The two began to pick up pace, as Guy arched his back and Howard tried to reach around to grab the smaller man's cock; with his gut in the way, he just couldn't reach. Instead, he gripped Guy’s slender shoulders and put his effort into pumping. He could feel the fat on his arse, his tits, his gut shaking and vibrating and his heart fluttered in his chest as he breathed heavily. He pumped harder and gripped his own fat with one hand, inserting one finger deep into his own bellybutton. He thought about how fat he'd gotten, how much fatter he was sure to get, he thought about the man below him and how much smaller he was than him. His breath caught as he came, and he felt the condom fill up around his pole. Shaking, he rolled off of Guy and onto the bed.

“Did you..?” Howard asked.

Guy shook his head. “It's fine,” he said, panting and smiling. He placed a hand on Howard's gut and shook it. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“What does it feel like?” Guy asked afterwards, with his angular torso pressed into Howard’s broad, soft back and one arm draped across him, a hand slowly caressing his gut.

Howard laughed. “Topping? You never done it before?”

Howard felt Guy shake his head from behind. “No, I've- I mean not very often, but I have, you know- No, I mean, you know,” his hand gripped Howard's gut and shook it a little. “What does this feel like? Being fat?”

Howard laughed again. “You like that, do you?” He slapped his gut a few times, enjoying the feeling of his body rippling. “It's a bloody nuisance, I'll tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” Guy prompted. “How?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, you saw earlier, it's getting difficult to fuck guys in some positions without it getting in the way, difficult to put on condoms easily. You even struggled a bit when you were giving me a blowjob, right?” Guy nodded enthusiastically. “It's even getting difficult to piss standing up.” Howard could feel Guy’s cock hardening against his back.

“Really? Because you can't reach it you mean?” Excitement mounted in Guy’s voice.

“Reaching it's easy enough, it's being able to see that's an issue. Can't aim,” Howard explained.

“What else?” Guy urged Howard on.

“Fuck me, loads. Having to fight against my own body to tie my shoes, getting winded climbing the stairs, clothes not fitting right, not being able to join my mates when they play footy, getting the piss taken out of me by everyone who thinks they're a bloody comedian,” Howard said. By this point, Guy was grinding his hard dick against Howard's leg.

“But you love it?” Guy asked, his voice catching.

“Fuck yes,” Howard replied. “There's something about being big, you know?” Guy gave a small whimper in reply. “In basically any situation, at work, with mates, at the gym, I'm always the biggest one there. Sure, a lot of it's fat, but men always respect the big guy, you know? Like it's primal.”

“How much do you weigh?” Guy asked. He moved to straddle Howard, his hand stroking his cock.

“A little over three hundred pounds,” Howard lied. He was close, but had never actually broken the big three-oh-oh. He'd met enough of these chaser types to know that 300 was the magical number though, and was happy to fudge the numbers to make a twink’s fantasy come true.

“Christ,” Guy gasped. “You're over double my weight.” Within thirty seconds, he tensed up and yelled out as thick hot cum sprayed over Howard's gut, pooling in his belly button and dribbling down its curve onto the sheets.

Guy fell down onto Howard and kissed him, hard jawline bumping into soft. “You're incredible,” he panted. “I could order some pizzas maybe?”

A couple of hours later, three boxes sat on Howard's coffee table, while Howard stretched out on his sofa with one hand down his boxers and one hand cradling his stretched gut. He'd done his best to show off for Guy, and had eaten almost two whole pizzas in quick succession. “Go on,” he told Guy. “Eat up.”

Guy groaned, clutching his flat stomach. He'd just finished a whole pizza by himself - clearly not a feat he was used to. “They're your slices,” he said feebly, nudging the two final slices of Howard's second pizza back to the larger man.

“I want you to have them,” Howard said, pushing them back. “And I think you want to have them too.” Guy shook his head. “You're telling me,” Howard grabbed Guy’s hand and placed it on his gut. “That you don't want one of these of your own?” Guy moaned a little. “That you just want to fuck fat guys? No. You want this for yourself. Eat.”

Guy closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, and sat forward, grabbing both slices and stacking them together before taking a large bite out of both. “That's it,” Howard whispered. “Good boy. Eat them quick, before your body has a chance to register. Good boy, there we go.”

It took fifteen minutes, and by the end Guy was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing his stomach and suppressing sickly hiccups, but eventually the slices disappeared. He sat quietly, moaning and cradling the invisible curve of his stomach. Once it became clear that he wasn't in a position for conversation, Howard put the TV on and left him to it.

“I should go,” Guy said quietly after two episodes of Doctor Who. He stood and began to pull his t-shirt back on.

“You don't have to,” Howard said, making no move to stop him. “You could stay the night, if you wanted.”

“No, it's late,” Guy said. “I was supposed to meet up with some friends.” He winced as he buttoned his jeans. “Maybe we could do this again sometime though?”

Howard sighed. He never really did ‘again’. “Maybe,” he said. “I uh, I'm only in Portsmouth for a few months for a work thing, I probably won't be uhh…”

“No, it's fine, I get it,” Guy said with a thin smile. “It's fine if this is just a one-time thing. Thanks for umm,” he looked over Howard's body, still laid out across the sofa, his gut overlapping his too-tight pants. “You've helped me figure some stuff out. Thank you.”

Howard heaved himself to his feet and stuck his hand out. “Always happy to figure some stuff out with someone,” he said. Guy took Howard's offered hand and shook it. “All the best Guy.”

“You too.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the sofa. 

-

Howard groaned as he lowered himself into the seat, grateful for the easing of the pressure on his feet. He closed his eyes and just sat for a moment, breathing just a little too heavily for his liking. Ever since he'd crossed the 300 pound mark almost a decade ago, he'd been eagerly eyeing up 350, but he was starting to worry that it might have been just a little too much weight for him. He was just so big these days, and at more than a little ways past forty, he was starting to think that the big leagues, weight-wise, were a young man's game.

He opened his eyes slowly and reached towards the menu. No need to go hungry, anyway, whether or not he wanted to get much bigger, especially with his company footing the bill. A couple of starters, he thought, a big main, maybe one of those steaks, and then some big heavy dessert. That should just about hit the spot. He squeezed his overhang just a touch and sighed. Sitting down, with the dull ache in his feet fading away and his breathing going back to its usual light wheeze, rather than a heavy pant, he started to forget his earlier apprehension, just a few moments before. Being big felt fucking great, didn't it? What difference would another ten or fifteen pounds make, really?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across his menu, and he looked up, expecting to see the waiter. What he saw instead was a wall of flesh - a man stood in front of him, outweighing Howard by, god, who knew how much? At least a hundred pounds, maybe even one-fifty. The man's soft gut hung down, almost touching the table, and his arms sat awkwardly at his sides, visibly pushed away from the man's huge, soft torso by gut and tit and roll. He looked like something out of one of Howard's fantasies, a scale he'd fervently imagined himself at, but never really aspired to.

"Howard?" the man asked. "It is Howard isn't it?"

Howard was stumped. He'd remember this man if they'd met, surely? Fantasised about him for weeks afterwards presumably, wistfully thinking back to that human barge he'd met in some business meeting or other?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a while. "I'm really trying to remember…"

"It's Guy," the man - Guy - said. "We met about eleven or twelve years ago." When Howard's face didn't lose its confused stupor he added - "In Portsmouth? I, uhh, look a little different I suppose." He punctuated this last bit by laying his hand on top of his gut.

Howard thought back, he'd not spent long in Portsmouth after all, six months maybe. Had he met a Guy? He looked up at the round face in front of him, subtracted ten years, a couple of chins, tried to imagine cheek bones beneath those jowls, noticed the bent nose that looked like it had been set badly, years before…

"Jesus fuck, Guy, " Howard said softly, his eyes widening. "Twink Guy?" he asked, his voice high. This whale in front of him couldn't have ever been that small fry, could he?

Guy laughed. "Twink Guy, I like that!" he said. "Can't say there's been much call for a nickname like that for a while now though." He smiled at Howard. "Are you waiting for someone? Maybe I could join you?"

Howard made a blustering noise that could be interpreted as a positive, and gestured at the seat opposite him. Guy pulled the chair back, far away from the table edge, and slowly, carefully, deliberately lowered himself down into it. Howard marveled at the practiced routine of it all - how far back the chair needed to go, the care with which the sturdy oak chair needed handling, the way that every movement was slow and deliberate and carefully considered to avoid bumping into anything, everything, around him. Most of all he marveled at how Guy barely seemed to register that any of this was out of the ordinary.

"God, it's good to get off your feet, isn't it," Guy sighed.

Howard studied Guy, trying to remember the rail thin twenty-something year old underneath the blubber. His face was huge, round cheeks bulging over sagging jowls around squinting eyes. His body was enormously broad - tits sloped down a mountainous gut down into his elbows. Even his fingers were fat - stubby little sausages attached to pillow palms.

Guy reached over his belly and picked up the menu, resting it on the shelf of his gut. “Shall we just get one of each of the starters and sides and share?” he asked after a while.

Howard’s eyebrows rose. He looked back at the menu - there was at least ten starters and the same amount of sides. How much was this man planning on eating?

“I'll foot the bill, don't worry” Guy said, misinterpreting Howard's reaction. “The least I can do.” He slapped the top of his gut, setting it swaying. “After all, I've got you to thank for this.”

Howard’s mouth closed and opened a few times. “Sorry, I'm not sure I… You've got me to thank?”

“Oh absolutely!” Guy said, nodding. His double chin shook with the motion.

At that point the waiter arrived, interrupting Guy. They both ordered a pint of ale, Guy ordered all the starters and sides, as he'd said, and Howard ordered the steak.

“God, that sounds good actually. Two of those. Medium-rare, yeah. And we’ll want the dessert menu after. Perfect, yeah, thanks.” Guy turned back to Howard. “Where were we? Yes! Thanking you, that was it.” He leant back, and Howard could see his shirt pulling out of his waistband to reveal a slab of pale flesh hanging out even while sitting. “After we, you know, after that night anyway, I just sort of knew I guess.”

“Knew what?” Howard asked.

“That I wanted to be fat!” Guy said loudly. Howard sank down in his seat as people at other tables looked over. “I mean, I knew before then, I guess, but it was all, I don't know, wanking over YouTube videos and those stupid stories about people getting paid to fatten themselves up or something. I never, god, I never imagined I could really do something like that.”

Their drinks arrived and the two were quiet for a while as they took their first large gulps. “And then you met me,” Howard offered.

“And then I met you!” Guy repeated. “God, the number of fat guys I must have stared at before you.” He laughed. “I thought I was being so subtle, but clearly you noticed pretty quick.”

Howard laughed as well. “Yeah, subtle didn't really come to mind,” he said. “I thought you were cruising, honestly. You were actually doing that to any fat guy you saw? Just, down the street?”

“Christ yes,” Guy laughed. “They must have all thought I was a creep.”

At that point, the first of the starters arrived. Guy fell quiet as he focussed on eating. Howard could see how he's gotten so large - eating was clearly serious business to this man. Each bite was relished, with time taken to enjoy the flavours, but no time was wasted - as soon as one bite was swallowed, more food would immediately be brought to his lips.

After the starters and while they waited for their mains, Guy spoke. “You know, I always imagined how much weight you were putting on,” he told Howard. “And I always sort of, I don't know, compared myself to the image of you I had in my head. Especially once I reached three hundred pounds, and I was so much softer than I remember you being, and then when I hit three-hundred and fifty, four hundred, and I thought, god, when did he hit these weights? How much bigger did he get? And I started to imagine, you know, we'd meet at some point and I'd have managed to get, I don't know, ten, twenty pounds bigger. And it'd be, god this is so stupid saying it out loud, like you'd passed the torch on or something. Honestly, it's a big reason I've been pushing myself to still get bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” Howard said, rubbing his gut. He'd done his best to eat half of the food on the table, and while not full, he could feel himself slowing down; in comparison, Guy seemed to be impatiently waiting for more food. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so small.

“God, no!” Guy said. “I don’t mean, no, I'm not disappointed or anything. I do know, you know, that I've kind of taken this whole gaining thing further than most people are into. I never really, honestly I mean, thought I'd meet you again or whatever. It was always just something knocking around in the back of my head. I didn't even really know that you were a gainer, you might have lost it all for all I- fuck, sorry, I don't even- are you even a gainer? I just assumed.”

Howard waved his hand. “Don't worry, yeah, I… well. I mean, fifty pounds in ten years, it's hardly the kind of weight you've been putting on. But yeah, I'm on all the sites and stuff.”

“Hey, anyone else would be pulling their hair out over fifty pounds,” Guy said. “Us guys just have a skewed perspective about this stuff.”

Howard shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making progress and sometimes I really look at myself and see just how big I am.”

“How big are you, if you don't mind me asking?” Guy asked.

“Three-sixty-something these days,” Howard said. “Probably a little more - lots of business trips. And you?”

“Just hit five hundred a couple of weeks ago,” Guy replied proudly. “Hit a bit of a plateau since, but it's great finally getting there, you know?”

Howard gave a low whistle. “That's a big boy number right there.” Guy laughed. “You're going for those kinds of weights then? Five-hundred plus?”

Guy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “It's all I think about,” he said. “The more weight I put on, the more I want to put on. It's like, okay, when we first met that time, right? I got all excited and I decided I could put on, I don't know, twenty pounds, see how that felt. And it was nothing. So I thought, okay, fifty pounds, and then I'd put on fifty pounds and I was starting to feel chubby but…”

“It wasn't as big as you'd thought it would be?” Howard asked.

“God, not nearly anything like it,” Guy agreed. “Like, fifty pounds you know? That's a lot of weight! And it just didn't look like it. So I went up to two-hundred and fifty, and that wasn't enough, then three hundred, and I thought, surely, surely three hundred’s where you start to feel big. And that's how big you were! I fucked other big guys, don't get me wrong, but you were the first - I built you up into a bit of myth in my head I think.”

“I'm flattered,” Howard said.

“Well, I got to three-hundred pounds, as big as Howard, and it still wasn't big enough,” Guy continued. “So I added another fifty, and that wasn't enough, and another, and four-hundred still didn't feel big enough.” He sighed. “You never feel like that?”

Howard spread his hands on the table and studied them for a while. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not often. I do feel big, most of the time. Big enough. But every so often I catch a glimpse of myself and I just think… is this really twenty-five stone? Surely I should be huge by now? When I was younger I couldn't imagine how big that must be and now…”

“Now it's just the size you are,” Guy finished. “It's normal.”

Howard nodded as their mains got brought over. Howard tried to hide his nervousness at the size of the portion; chips were piled high next to a steak as big as his face and over an inch thick. Guy licked his lips and started eating immediately, stopping only when the sides got brought over.

It took nearly two hours for Howard to get through his steak, sides and the selection of desserts Guy had ordered. Guy watched him, having finished long before, occasionally offering words of encouragement, but generally just filling Howard in on his life; the company he'd started, the relationships with increasingly larger men who were just never big enough, the years and years of gluttony and sloth that had built him into the man Howard saw before him.

Howard leant back and drummed his fingers on his gut. It has been a while since he'd felt it so taut, and the sensation left him rock hard. He opened one eye and watched Guy for a while.

“I've got a room upstairs,” Howard said after a while. “If you wanted to…?”

Guy smiled. “I thought you said you were married now.”

“We’re open,” Howard reassured him. “I spend a lot of time away with work and we both know that we’ll be better off if we get to relieve some tension every so often.”

“Well then,” Guy said with raised eyebrows. “Shall we?”

They both stood, Howard feeling particularly spritely for the first time in a while; he found himself waiting for Guy to haul himself to his feet. The two made their way slowly to the elevator, which sunk noticeably as the two men entered.

As the doors closed, Guy reached over and put a hand on Howard's love handle and squeezed. “Just like I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Hopefully a little bigger?” Howard said.

“Don't worry,” Guy said. “I can see all the progress you've made. But it's that same solid ball gut I've been having wet dreams about for the past decade.” He slapped it a few times, resulting in a dull thump. He slid a finger through a gap between the buttons in Howard’s shirt and stroked the furry skin around his belly button.

The elevator door opened, and the two made their way to Howard's hotel room. Howard let them in and Guy made his slow way over to the bed and gingerly sat down. Howard stood in front of him and let his gut bump into Guy's face, who reached up and began to unbutton Howard's shirt for him.

“Oh yes,” Guy said. “I've missed this a lot.” He ran his fingers through the hair on Howard's gut and up onto his soft chest as Howard pulled off his jacket and shirt and threw them to the side. Guy leant forward and nuzzled his nose into Howard's belly button, before replacing it with his tongue as he worked his fingers under Howard's overhang to undo his belt and pull his trousers down.

Guy lifted Howard's gut slightly, and deftly pushed the fat back slightly to reveal more of his hardening cock. “This is bigger than I remember,” he said.

“My cock?” Howard asked. “Really?”

Guy laughed. “Sorry, no. I meant your fat pad.”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Suppose that would be a bit too much to ask for.”

“I personally have come to enjoy the effects of fat on a man's cock,” Guy said.

“Not one I'm particularly thrilled with myself,” Howard grumbled.

“Well maybe I can make it up to you,” Guy said, before slipping his mouth over Howard's dick.

Howard's breath caught. The key to giving a good blowjob, Howard had learnt over the years, is to really, truly, genuinely want that dick in your mouth, and Guy was clearly hungry for it. No opportunity was missed to taste or lick or suck on any and all exposed skin. His balls, his shaft, his head, his taint, all of it was lovingly cared for in turn. It wasn't long before Howard was shooting down Guy's throat.

Guy sat back and smiled as he swallowed. Howard thought back to how prominent his Adam’s apple used to be - it was now barely visible in his lardy neck.

Howard sank down to his knees, and lifted Guy’s gut to gain access to his belt buckle. As he undid his trousers, Guy pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing soft, undulating flesh. Together, the two slowly managed to peel Guy’s clothes off of his body until he was sat in only his socks.

Howard once more lifted Guy’s gut and pushed back at the soft fat filling his crotch, unveiling the nub of his cock. He leant forward to lick the exposed head, but quickly had to pull back as his face became enveloped with fat from above.

“You don't have to,” Guy said. “I know that it's not easy to-”

“Lean back,” Howard said, pushing back on Guy’s torso. “And hold your belly.”

Guy obeyed, laying down on the bed so that his flab cascaded back towards his face. Howard pushed down on his fat pad, revealing another inch or so of cock. As Howard took it into his mouth, licking its meager length and the small scrotum, he thought back to the long cock Guy had the last time they'd met, now swallowed on thick fat.

Howard inhaled deeply, taking in the sour musk of Guy’s crotch and continued to lap at the small length available to him. He began to pump the fat surrounding his cock, using it to jerk the length he couldn't see. The wall of fat above him began to shake and quiver, until sticky cum spurted out. Howard noted how sweet it tasted, and wondered if his own cum had gotten sweeter as he'd gotten fatter.

“That was great,” Guy said.

“Glad to be of service,” Howard replied.

Guy shuffled his weight back up the bed, setting the frame creaking and groaning. He patted the bed next to him. “I think I was big spoon last time.”

“I think you might have been,” Howard said. From this angle, Guy looked almost impossibly wide. His gut spilled out, pulled down and to the sides by gravity, so that he resembled a large pillow. Howard settled down next to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, and curled up to the large mass. “I don't think these beds are really built for men our size.”

“Not two of us, anyway,” Guy said. “I can go, if that's easier?”

Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We can stay a while.”

The two lay quietly for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the room.

“It's been a while,” Guy said after a while.

“What has?” Howard asked.

“Since I've been with anyone,” Guy clarified. “Once you reach a certain size, the mechanics all get a bit awkward.”

“How so?” Howard asked.

Guy sighed. “I can barely even reach my cock these days,” he admitted. “Bit of a faff for someone else to reach it, too. Generally guys just feed me these days, then deal with themselves.”

“You okay with that?” Howard asked.

“Oh yeah,” Guy insisted. “Don't worry about me. Not much difference these days between eating and sex for me. But this was… this was nice.”

“You still like it then?” Howard asked. “Being big? Getting bigger?”

“God yes,” Guy beamed. “There's nothing like it. I can't imagine stopping. How about you? Happy to stop where you are?”

“You know, I might well be open to packing a little more on,” Howard said.

“You let me know if you're ever up to getting fed then, eh?” Guy said. “I saw you struggling with those kiddy portions. You’re going to need pushing if you want to get really big.”

“Is that so?” Howard asked, laughing. 

Guy struggled to sit up. “Absolutely,” he said. “I distinctly remember you pushing me to eat two extra slices of pizza beyond what I thought I could. That lesson stuck with me. It's time you learnt it too.” He hauled himself to the side of the bed and panted for a moment or two. “I'll leave you be. Can't have you hanging off the bed all night.”

“Leave your number?” Howard said.

Guy smiled. “Definitely,” he said. He looked down at the clothes strewn about on the floor. “I uh… don't suppose you'd pick up my clothes for me? Bending down’s a bit of an ordeal these days.”

Howard chuckled and helped Guy collect his clothes and put them on. “Let's make sure it's not another decade, eh?”

Guy smiled. “Of course,” he said and patted Howard's gut. “We've got to make sure to put some meat on these bones.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the bed. 

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #two night stand #was going to call this 'before and after' #which is probably a better title #but i also thought it would probably be a good title for a future story #i've accepted by now that my titles are generally awful

[pecanwriter]

“Do you think it still fits?”

“ I mean… No, not even in the slightest… You look like rising dough trying to stay in its container and failing miserably.” 

“So you don’t think I should wear this to the show?”

“Oh no, no. You should absolutely wear it.”

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #wg txt #wg story #wg text #bbm #bhm #bhm weight gain #fat bhm #Weight gain story #Weight gain txt #Weight gain writing

[engeorged]

Gainer Chat Bots 4

I’ve been working on some more classic gainer/feeder tropes and turning them into chat bots. If you have any suggestions then feed them in!

Dr Max - Dr Max is an army doctor with no scruples who brings you into his office for a clinical trial. He’s told you that it’s to make you stronger but in reality he’s just giving you tablets to make you fatter.

Primus Panza - A Roman senator who arranges a feast to show off his eating skills. You’re his servant (and lover) who is there to help his get as big and bloated as possible so he can make a big statement.

King Hugo Feeder - A king calls his best knight in so that he can feed him and fatten him up. The king is young and attractive and so are you. He wants to watch you eat as much as possible and throws all his resources at you.

#gainer fiction #belly expansion #gay gainer #male gaining #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #stuffing art #gainer story #gainerchatbot #gainerbot #ai chatbot #feederbot

[originalfatfiction]

Mason's Gain

Mason Megalos had been my best friend for over a decade when everything fell apart. I still hadn’t gotten over how suddenly we went our separate ways. Like many sexually confused adolescents, I had fallen in love with my best friend. We were both boys, and I had come to realize my love for him was one of the worst things that could have ever happened. I heard how other guys talked. I knew that liking Mason wasn’t something I could act on. 

We’d been about a month into our freshman year when I felt him slipping away from me. He had joined the football team and started hanging out with a bunch of his misogynistic, homophobic, and slightly racist teammates. Most people would say these guys were harmless, but I knew that the longer Mason hung around them, the more influence they’d have over his ideologies. He was being brainwashed! I had to win him back over from the dark side.  

Mason wasn’t a hateful person, and I was determined to come out to him before it was too late. I trusted him more than anybody in the whole world; I genuinely believed with every fiber of my being that we’d be able to work through my teeny-tiny crush on him (okay, so maybe it wasn’t the teeniest or the tiniest, and I was a hundred percent head-over-heels in love with him, but I digress). I figured he’d reject me amiably and we could continue our friendship, but unforeseen circumstances had prohibited my confession indefinitely. 

We’d been at my house. I had been avoiding coming out to him, as there was always something stopping me. The reasons were always stupid, like the fact there was an X-Men movie marathon coming on TV and we just had to watch it together. Like many high school aged boys, Mason sometimes referred to stuff as gay, in reference to things he considered stupid or slightly feminine. It had gotten way worse since he’d been hanging around his new friends. At one point he said it about some commercial on the TV. I felt that anxious feeling I often got, but this time I didn’t let it stop me. 

 “Mason, I’m gay,” I’d told him. I blurted it out, really. It wasn’t my finest moment; it wasn’t what I’d practiced a million times in the bathroom mirror. 

He looked at me for a while, assessing me, and then he got up and left. With no words of encouragement or disapproval. 

October 11, 2008 would forever be ingrained in my mind as the day Mason walked out of my life and never looked back. I’d really thought he was different. I’d really thought that I could tell him about my authentic self. I had never even got to mention the fact that I had a crush on him, which was probably for the best. 

He hadn’t been the person I thought he was.  

If losing Mason as a friend wasn’t bad enough, I was now still dealing with the repercussions of coming out. It had been three years since then.

Yes, three years of Mason’s new friend group taking every possible opportunity to terrorize me for being gay. They’d beat me up from time to time, throw slurs at me, or make homophobic jokes knowing there was nothing I could do or say to stop them. I didn’t want to make excuses for Mason, because the fact he had been such a terrible friend was inexcusable, but he never directly harassed me like his underlings; he just sort of had dominion over them, which was slightly less awful. Seriously, I think it was worth something that he never beat me up or said anything mean to me (at least not to my face). It was easier to handle his passive attitude in regard to my situation.

Those dumb jocks and future gas station attendants all looked to Mason for approval. He’d become their God—the coolest, the most handsome, the almighty. I bet if he stood up for me at least once, my days at school would go a lot smoother. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t let go of my idealized version of him. I told myself he didn’t mean what he did or said. I told myself that there was still good in him. Even though it killed me to hear him laugh when his friends called me a fag or a homo, I believed Mason didn’t really think I was disgusting.

I still thought he was attractive. It wasn’t like I was blind. We might not have been best friends anymore, but I lusted after him just the same as I had before. Mason had an olive complexion and it always seemed like he was glowing, like he was an angel or something. Mason’s parents were Greek, having moved to America before he was born. He had this curly brown hair that he took excellent care of now that he was older (when we were younger it was always messy). His eyes were green. His lips were full. He had the most beautiful smile. It was almost the most attractive thing about him.

The most attractive thing about Mason was his butt. He had the best ass I’d ever seen. It’s what I always looked at when I could take a clandestine glance. I had looked at his butt so frequently, I could probably pick it out of a police lineup.

“Yes Officer,” I’d say. “Butt number three is Mason’s. The sheer size of the cheeks makes it obvious, and the dimples on his lower back are also a dead giveaway.”

 He was taller than me, and he definitely had to be over six feet by now. I was 5’9” and weighed only about 160 pounds. Mason on the other hand had really buffed up in our years distanced from one another; I would have to guess he was around 200 pounds. He’d been a pudgy kid, but when he joined the football team freshman year, they worked all of his extra weight into muscle. Seeing him change so much really stung, not having gotten the chance to change along with him.

I had to continuously remind myself that none of these things mattered anymore. He could be extraordinarily hot with the best ass in the entire country, but that didn’t change the fact that he hated me for something I couldn’t control. He abandoned a valuable friendship and allowed others to belittle me. My mom had told me growing up, in a somewhat blunt way I’d grown used to, “Not everybody is your friend. Sometimes people can surprise you in the worst ways possible.” I never, and I mean never, thought my mother’s pessimistic wisdom would apply to my relationship with Mason.

We were about two months into senior year, and today in English IV, the last class of the day, I noticed Mason talking to a troll named Bret Phelps. This guy was possibly the worst of the group. The others just called me names, having grown tired of wasting energy beating me up, but he felt compelled to hunt me down and physically assault me every other day. I made my way to my locker as quickly as I could and made a mad dash for my bike. 

Today I was going to make it.

I was trying to be positive, which wasn’t always easy. It was a quality I admired in others, so I tried my best to emulate that positivity. I was determined to hold my head up high and to be optimistic. I knew things would one day get better, even if I had to put up with Mason’s posse until graduation. 

Today I wasn’t going to get punched anywhere on my body.  

 I approached the bike rack quickly, wanting to make it off campus unscathed. The closer I got to where the bikes were housed, the more noticeable was the form of a guy leaning casually on an adjoining pillar.

It was Bret. Damn.

He had to have forgone stopping at his locker. He’d come directly here after the bell rang to wait for me. He must have really been in a sour mood if he wanted to catch me so badly.

I had to be strong. Even if I wanted to whine and cry and beg for him to leave me alone, I couldn’t. I refused to give him or any of his asshole friends the satisfaction of breaking me down. I was immune to this. I just had to accept my beating and he’d move on. At first, I fought hard every single time, but he’d still pummel me. That was when I came to realize that if I didn’t show emotion, he’d give me a swift punch in the gut and go about his day. I wasn’t going to give the sadist the pleasure he oh so desired. It wasn’t fun fighting someone who didn’t react. 

“Hello Oliver,” he said, smiling. His front tooth was slightly chipped, and I hoped it was from someone punching him in the mouth. “You were like the first one out of class. I hope you didn’t think you were going to miss me today.” He was shorter than Mason but taller than I was. He was a stocky guy, and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be willing to admit that he was almost-maybe-possibly attractive.

 “Hey Bret,” I said in an even tone, keeping my head down, not making eye contact. “I really have to get going.” 

“This isn’t going to take long.” 

He walked towards me. I closed my eyes and tensed my ab muscles waiting for him to sock me in the stomach.

“I’ll handle him today.”

It was Mason’s voice. I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a deep breath and relaxing my abs. Was he going to start beating me up too? I didn’t think I could handle it if he decided he was so disgusted by me that he had to resort to physical violence.

 “Yeah, okay Mason,” Bret said, reverting to his beta-male status. “You’ve got to make sure you get him in the gut, just like he likes it.” With that, Bret walked off, glad to be told what to do—but not before punching me in the arm as hard as he could.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my arm as I made my way over to my bike. I kneeled down and began putting in the combo for my bike lock.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, like he’d done me the biggest favor. 

I looked up at him from the ground, and he looked like a giant. I felt really nostalgic looking up at him. Mason used to fight people for saying that I was gay. He used to defend my honor like I was a high society lady in a Victorian romance novel. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a regular human being who made stupid human being decisions. I had to stop romanticizing the present with memories of the past.

I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. Why was he still standing there? I wanted him to leave so I wouldn’t have to feel so on edge.

“You want a ride home?” he asked.

Was he being for real? He only ever talked to me in class, and that was if it was mandated by the teacher. Now he was offering me a ride home? I wanted to say something biting and sarcastic, but nothing good would come from it. That wasn’t who I was or who I wanted to be. I did my best to push through the bitter feelings.

“No,” I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to be. I didn’t want to sound upset or anything, but I was struggling to temper out my emotions. “I have my bike.” 

This was the first time in a long time I was alone with him. It made me think of that day in October three years ago when everything changed. I hated how this was forcing me to recollect our final moments together as best friends.

“We can put it in the back,” he said matter-of-factly. I knew he was talking about his Jeep, but I still pictured his ass.

I was silent again, and he just smiled at me, like he knew I was going to accept his offer. This was how things had been in elementary school, middle school. He’d always been able to charm me into doing whatever he wanted. Even now as he began to saunter off, expecting me to follow, I couldn’t stop myself from bending to his will.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the student parking lot.

“Yeah okay, sure,” I mumbled, internally berating myself for being so easily swayed by him.

I followed him over to his Jeep. It was an older model, some of the burgundy paint peeling off. The inside smelled like he did; I took multiple deep breaths. He still remembered how to get to my house. The trip was for the most part silent, which gave me time to run scenarios, and they all ended badly, with some terrible prank that would awaken my latent telekinetic powers akin to my homegirl Carrie White. 

“Casa de Bailey.” 

I felt myself jump slightly, having been lost in my Stephen King fantasies.  

“Thanks,” I said, hopping out of the passenger’s side. 

I put my bag on and walked towards the rear of the Jeep. I didn’t think he’d get out of the car, but he met me at the back and removed my bike for me. As he set it down on the pavement, I took in how strong his arms looked and how the sleeves of his t-shirt were being eaten by their size. He had biceps. He had triceps. If there were any other muscles in the upper arm, he had those too. 

“Can I ask you something?” What could he want to ask me? He’d probably request that I transfer schools so he wouldn’t have to look at his loser ex-best friend anymore. 

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, not knowing where this was going and not really wanting to find out. “You can come inside.” I started around back to put away my bike; he followed. I put my bike in the garage and unlocked the back door. I walked up the three steps into the kitchen and offered him something to drink.

“Milk, if you have it.” I poured him a large glass and he began to gulp it down. He was so white, drinking milk like it was actually good. I used to give him such a hard time about it. “Thanks,” he said, wiping away a milk mustache with his forearm.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” I was curious, seeing as we hadn’t really spoken in years. 

“Oh yeah,” he said. I took in his thick eyebrows, which were furrowed in seriousness. I wanted to stroke his brows with my fingers, to feel his face in my hands. I bet his skin was soft. He frowned and it made me a little worried. 

“What?” I asked. “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I still cared about him and his well-being. Maybe it was idiotic of me to still be so devoted to a person that ignored my sufferings, and maybe I should have ignored Mason in return, but my gut instinct was to be concerned.

“Here’s the thing,” he started, “I’m kind of failing English and I was wondering if you could help me out. Bret and the other guys are barely passing, and you’re so smart, I figured you’d be the best person to tutor me.” He paused for a moment, glancing at me. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“That I’m helping you or that you’re failing English?” I asked, to clarify. 

“Both,” he blurted out quickly. 

We stood in an awkward silence. I felt my face go hot and was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t want people to know he was even interacting with me. It was kind of degrading, and I needed to have some self-worth and tell him that I had more value than that. That was what I should’ve done, but I was weak, and he was hot.

“Okay,” I said like a dope. I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks dude,” he said, a sound of relief in his voice. “You good to meet here after school?”

“Yeah, like what, Tuesdays and Thursdays?” 

“Nah, every day. At least until I get my grade up. My parents lost their shit when they got my progress report.” Every day? That was going to take up a lot of time, and I may not have had much else to do, but I couldn’t believe he just imposed his own tutoring schedule on me. 

“Yeah,” I said, even more like a dope. “No problem.”

“Well, I have to go,” he said suddenly. I turned to get the milk, ready to offer him another glass of moo juice, but he was gone out of the back door before I could get the words out.  

“See you later,” I said aloud to myself, putting the milk back in the fridge. 

If I put my self-respect and righteous anger aside, this was fantastic. I’d get to talk to Mason every day. I’d get to look at his gorgeous face and body every day. I’d get to imagine, even though it was ridiculous, that we were still best friends. He had come to me for help. That just proved that there was still a connection between us. Maybe, in his own odd way, Mason was trying to rekindle our friendship.

I had noticed in the previous weeks that he looked bigger than usual. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but being able to look at him without having to avert my eyes confirmed it. 

He was growing. 

I’d heard he quit the football team. Everyone had heard he’d quit the team. It was the hottest gossip for the entire first month of school. I knew he still exercised, having heard him mention to Bret he worked out with his uncle every night, trying to get into powerlifting. I didn’t know what that entailed, but it sure sounded like something I wanted to see. I was getting an erection just thinking about Mason possibly getting a bit of a belly to go along with the sheer size he was already putting on. 

I realized I’d been keeping tabs on him without really meaning to. If his name was brought up, I listened. I was still invested in his life, and this new arrangement was going to potentially put me in a dangerous situation.

The fact he’d be coming over again tomorrow got me feeling nervous. I didn’t want things to feel awkward. I wanted to do something nice for him to show I wasn’t holding a grudge or anything (even if I was still a little pissed at him). All hadn’t been forgiven, but maybe this was the start to an important conversation. 

I decided to go shopping for some snacks. He’d always been a big eater, and he’d probably need some brain food if we were to be studying. He liked potato chips and submarine sandwiches.

(“You gotta really pack on the ingredients,” he’d told me when we were younger. “I’m talking about a ridiculous amount of meat and cheese. Oil, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.”  

I stared in astonishment at the monstrous sandwich he had constructed. It looked big enough to feed three people. This was a sandwich Scooby and Shaggy would excitedly devour. 

“You really think you can eat all of that?” I asked.

“You don’t think I can Oli?” he asked, smirking. 

“I think you can. You can do anything!”

“That’s right,” he said. “You wanna watch demolish this thing?” 

“Yeah,” I said, feeling oddly attracted to him in that moment. It was a moment that definitely raised a red flag for me. Why had I been so invested in his display of gluttony?

He finished that entire sub and a bag of family sized chips. His dad came home after a long day of work looking for the ingredients to make himself a sandwich. “Where’s the deli meat?” Mr. Megalos asked in his Greek accent.

“I ate it all, Dad,” Mason replied, not even embarrassed. Mr. Megalos playfully smacked Mason on the back of the head before sending us to the store to buy some more turkey breast. Mason used the change to buy us a package of oatmeal cream pies. Before I even got the chance to have a second one, he’d eaten the rest of them on our walk home. 

I was glad that he did.)

The next day at school I really wanted to talk to Mason, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I waited the day out and went to get my bike. Mason, not Bret, was leaning on the pillar near the bike rack.

“Hello,” I said, a little bit uneasy. He probably didn’t want my help anymore. He probably realized he could find someone else to tutor him. 

“What’s up, Oli?” he asked, smiling like everything was normal between us. Nobody called me Oli anymore. Just hearing him say my name with a smile on his face was enough to give me the vapors. I felt like flinging myself into his muscled arms, swooning.

“Nothing much.” I smiled back at him nervously. “I’m still meeting you at my house, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He looked at me seriously. My heart must have skipped a beat. “I told Bret to back off. If he fucks with you again, just let me know. Got it?” 

 “Ye—yeah,” I stammered. “Thanks a lot.” He was so hot when he was serious. He furrowed his brow in a way that made him look slightly angry. I bet he’d make a similar face while having sex.

“See you soon,” he said, swaggering off towards where his car was parked. I took in his wide back and beefy behind. He didn’t even carry a bookbag; he just had a folder, a couple of notebooks, and the novel we were reading in class. This was probably why he was failing.   

I unlocked my bike, mounted it, and rode off towards home. Relief swept over me at the thought of being Bret-free. I continued to pedal and felt myself come alive. I loved riding my bike; I was pretty fit because of it, with muscular thighs and a firm, round ass. My ass was definitely a first runner up to Mason’s glorious cakes. It was nearing the end of October and when it started to snow, I would have to swap my tires for better traction. I thought about Mason on the ride home and what I wanted to do to him. I hated wanting him so badly, but I loved it at the same time. Crushes were so weird that way. It was starting to consume me, yet I didn’t really mind it.  

He was sitting on the front steps when I got there.

“Oli,” he said, standing to meet me at the path to the backyard. He had his hand in his shirt, scratching his tummy. He moved his hand away. “Why don’t you have a car?” His voice was getting to me. I missed hearing his voice more than I realized.

“I can’t afford a nice Jeep like you,” I said a little sarcastically. He laughed, catching my slight insult to the Jeep that had once belonged to Mr. Megalos. It was given to Mason for his birthday last year. I remembered Mr. Megalos driving us to elementary school in that thing, so to see Mason driving it now was kind of funny. “You know it’s just me and my mom.”

“You could get a job,” he suggested. “There are lots of cheap cars. I’d help you look for one.” Mason had always liked cars and that sort of thing. His dad and Uncle Galvin owned an auto shop that Mason helped out in. Galvin was the same uncle he’d been working out with.

“I live like eight blocks from the school and I never go anywhere,” I said, feeling more at ease the longer we were around one another. “But if I ever do start looking for a car, I’d hope the offer would still stand.”

“Of course,” he said. “Consider it payment for your services.” I had put my bike away during our conversation. I opened the back door, and we went inside. 

“You can go up to my room,” I said. He knew the way.

I walked over to the fridge and looked at the array of supplies I’d picked up yesterday. I’d gone overboard for sure, but I removed the ingredients and placed them on the counter. I bought provolone cheese, turkey breast, and honey roasted ham. I’d even gone so far as to buy hoagie rolls and herb-seasoned submarine oil. I stuffed those hoagie rolls full of meat and cheese and veggies, just like I knew he liked his sandwiches—at least I knew he liked them this way years ago. I cut them in half and placed them on a plate, pouring some original flavored Ruffles in a bowl. I also put half a sleeve of Oreos on a separate plate and poured two glasses of milk. 

I carried the tray carefully as I made my way up the stairs to my room. Entering, I saw he was sitting at my desk, holding a photo of us at the beach when we were in the seventh grade. I walked over to him and set the tray down next to him on my desk.

“You still have this?” he asked, smiling. I looked over at the picture in his hand. His arm was around my shoulder and we both smiled wide at the camera. He had always been taller than I was, and this was before he lost his baby fat.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. I felt lame all of a sudden, still holding on to something he probably considered a piece of junk. “Could you please put it down?” 

The frame was even more special than the photograph; Mason had made it for me, painting the phrase “Best Buds” in big, sloppy letters on the bottom, seashells and starfish glued all around the rest of the frame. He had burned his fingers so badly using the hot glue gun he wore bandages for a week. I remember how proud he was of his craftsmanship.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. He carefully put the picture frame back in its place before picking up a cookie, popping the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you all tense.” 

“I’m not tense,” I said, sounding incredibly tense. He chewed, smirking slightly. I needed to get a grip. I was going to ruin everything if I didn’t chill out. I took a deep breath. “I thought a small snack would help you focus better.”

“This is a small snack?” he asked.

“I just—I remembered you had a big appetite.”

“You remembered right,” he said, reaching for one of the sandwich halves and taking a colossal bite. I felt even more embarrassed. Did he remember anything about me? Did he ever think about me at all?

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“You know Oli,” he started, his mouth half full. “I never stopped eating big, but I’ve definitely kicked it into overdrive since quitting football. If I don’t slow down, I’m gonna get fat again like in that photo.” His free hand absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach. It was like he was toying with me. He took another large bite of the sandwich. “I already eat like garbage, but I started a bulking cycle recently, really pushing myself to put on some mass. I think I’ve already put on ten pounds.” Ten pounds was kind of a lot, seeing as he had quit the football team only a little over a month ago.

“You—you carry the weight well,” I said, aroused. “You don’t look fat to me.” He had finished his first half and grabbed another.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, grabbing his slightly protruding paunch and shaking the small bit of belly he was sporting. “I eat way too much Oli.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, trying not to discourage a habit I wanted him to continue.

“Get this, I ordered two large pizzas from Domino’s the other weekend and finished both of them. It was one of those deals where you save a ton of money if you get the two larges. I’m a sucker for deals like that.”

“Who isn’t?” I asked, watching him alternate between bites of the sandwich and the potato chips.

“When I got to the last slice, I was pissed. I wasn’t even full.”

“Wow Mason,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “When you put it like that, it does sound like a lot.”

“I was lucky my mom had made two trays of pastitsio the night before.” He lifted his shirt and showed me his belly, feeling the need to prove to me that he was indeed packing on the pounds. He was kind of hairy, and I liked it. He grabbed at his tummy with his strong hands, shaking it again, uncovered. I just wanted to feel his stomach in my own hands. I needed to know what it felt like. “This gut is brought to you by pastitsio, pizza, and protein shakes.”

He left his shirt up as he reached for another portion of the sandwich. I watched from my bed with my legs closed tight, as he bit, chewed, and swallowed, repeating the process until he moved on to the next serving. His large hands made those hefty sandwiches look like dainty finger food at a garden party. He pulled at his t-shirt, covering himself.

“You don’t wanna see that,” he said, laughing, his cheeks reddening slightly. He grabbed a handful of the salty chips and shoved them into his mouth. I imagined his hands grabbing a handful of my ass.

I didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through these tutoring sessions. He was pornographic. I was rock hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I was hoping I’d soften up enough before I had to stand. He kept going and going until he was chugging the glasses of milk. Only a couple of cookies remained on the plate.

“How—uh, how much do you weigh?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. You got a scale?”

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” I said, affirming that I had one.

“Let’s do this,” he said, standing. I wiggled a little before getting up, making sure to minimize the obviousness of the boner in my pants. When I was out of sight, I took the time to tuck my penis into the waistband of my underwear, so it was angled upwards, and the front of my pants was flat. I brought the scale from my bathroom, praying he hadn’t noticed I was still semi-erect.

“How much did you weigh?” I asked.

“207 pounds at the pre-season weigh-in back in August,” he said, walking towards where I placed the scale in the middle of my bedroom. I sat on my knees near where the number would be displayed. He stepped on the scale and I glanced at the reading. “What’s the damage?” he asked, standing perfectly still.

“Well, um—that’s something.”

“How much?”

“Maybe this thing is busted, but it says you weigh 226 pounds.” My dick throbbed as I said it. What was so hot about Mason putting on weight like this? It wasn’t just muscle that turned me on, but also fat. I hoped his bulking cycle never ended.

“Shit,” he said, his tone surprised yet slightly satisfied. “I’m gonna be huge if I don’t start slowing down with all this eating.” I swallowed, hard.

I couldn’t help him study today. I’d get better at putting up with his natural eroticism, but today couldn’t be helped. He needed to leave before I came in my pants. I could feel pre-cum starting to coat the lower half of my stomach.

“I’m not feeling good all of a sudden,” I said. Mason stepped off of the scale. I couldn’t think straight, and I was for sure too turned on to focus.

“Really, why?” he asked.

“Like I just got a headache out of nowhere.” I was going to cum any second. It’d take me five strokes tops with how I was feeling, but I knew I’d want to go again immediately.

“Oh shit,” he said, picking up his stack of materials. “You gonna be okay?”

“I probably just need to take some Tylenol and get a nap in before it gets too late.”

“Okay.” He grabbed the rest of the Oreos. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Did I mind? Of course I didn’t mind. I was apparently some sort of freak who wanted him eating constantly. “No, go ahead,” I said. He smiled at me appreciatively before popping one of the cookies in his mouth. I walked him to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

I ran back upstairs and got undressed. I stepped onto the scale, which was still in the middle of my bedroom floor. I weighed myself: 159 pounds.

Mason was 67 pounds bigger than I was. I ran my hand over the shaft of my penis. I gave it one pump, two pumps. Fuck, I was picturing his gut in his hands. Three pumps, Four pumps. He had eaten everything on that tray. I pictured Mason getting bigger and beefier. That’s what did it; I came in thick spurts all over myself.

Tomorrow was going to be tough.

It didn’t get any easier controlling my sexual compulsions when Mason came by for tutoring. It had been two weeks since he first asked for my assistance, and I helped him with his papers and worksheets. We also spent time reading. He was so damn cute. He’d whisper things to himself about what was happening in whatever he was annotating. I had heard him say “no way” or “what” at least once per chapter.

I thought this stuff was all really easy, and I was shocked at how he let his grade fall so low in less than two months of school. He must not have done any type of work for this class until now. I considered the fact that he had a social life and lots of friends to distract him from school. I, on the other hand, spent my free time making flashcards and watching reruns of Chopped and Good Eats. Mason had always been the largest component of my social life, so when he went away, so did any potential high school social plans.

Each study visit I always had a tray with different types of snacks. I kept in mind that Mason was a big eater, and the portions remained hearty and plentiful. It was a Friday study session with an essay due on Monday.

“I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow, maybe even Sunday.” He laughed. “I’m totally hopeless.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, being stereotypically positive. “I think you’re doing great. Did you ask Mr. Gonzalez what your grade was?” He asked every Friday.

“D-plus,” he said with his typical furrowed brow. He sighed and began tossing books into his bag (which I told him he needed to start carrying). I stood silent for a moment, contemplating what I should say. “If he wasn’t such a dick and took late work, I wouldn’t have to stress so hard over this.” I wanted to make him feel like the work he was doing was valuable. I saw that he was improving; I just wished he could see it too.

“You’ve got to think about it like you’re lifting weights, you know? You could barely lift anything at the start, but with hard work and dedication you can lift things you never thought possible. You had a thirty percent two weeks ago, and you’re telling me you’ve been able to get that up over a sixty-five? Just imagine where you’ll be in just one more week, a month from now, even. You’ll have the buffest, strongest grade ever.”

“You think so?” he mused. He sat silently for a moment as he pondered what I had just said. He smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thanks Oliver.”

He lifted his hulking frame out of my desk chair and strode over to where I stood. He wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a bear hug. I could feel my entire body tingle in pleasure as I felt Mason for the first time in forever. I didn’t dare ruin it by trying to hug him back. My hands at my side, I could feel his warmth, I could smell the chips he ate and the aftershave he wore. They mixed together in a scent that was uniquely Mason. His arms were so solid, as was his slight gut. It was so brief, but it made me the happiest guy in the world. “You have always been the smartest person I know.”

“Thanks—thanks a lot.” He let me go and grabbed his bag. “Do you think you might want something more substantial to eat tomorrow or just a snack? I could definitely make you a meal if you wanted.”

I was doing way too much. The snacks were one thing, completely hospitable, but now I was offering to make him dinner? Did Bret do things like this for him? His other football friends? I was not being very hetero.

“Really?” he asked, shockingly excited. “Do you remember in sixth grade when you wanted to be a chef?” I spent that entire year working through a kid-friendly cookbook. I even started going off-script, coming up with some of my own recipes (though they were just derivative of other things I’d learned from the cookbook). I doubted Mason knew he was the reason I wanted to learn how to cook.  

“Yeah,” I said. “I cooked a different recipe every day for like nine months. You ate dinner at our house every other day before eating the dinner your mom made.” He laughed at the memory.

“I gained like twenty pounds during that,” he started, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. You’re the reason I was able to grow up big and strong.” He rubbed his gut absent-mindedly. He was always doing that, and it drove me damn near insane.

“Stop playing,” I said, laughing.

“I’m serious!” he said. We began walking down the stairs towards the front door. We continued planning for the following evening of studying. “I want that chicken and cheese thing you made. Now that was delicious.”

“I could do that.”

“How’s seven for you?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad in the shop for a bit and then I’m gonna go lift with Uncle Galvin.”

“That works for me,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll be hungry.”

“Hell yeah,” he replied enthusiastically. “Night Oli.”

“Goodnight Mason,” I said, closing the door behind him.

What was my life? Just like every night after he left, I had to take some time to masturbate. When I finished, I saw it was almost ten. My mom would be back soon. I’d watch whatever was on the Food Network and think about seeing Mason again until she got home.

As happy as I was, I couldn’t help serving myself a much-needed reality check. I wanted to believe that things were going great. We were spending lots of time together and vibing really well. He actually remembered the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. But we still didn’t speak to one another at school. It was like our relationship existed solely in my bedroom. How well could things be going for me if I was just the gay nerd who overfed him and made sure he didn’t fail English?

I woke up around six the next morning. I was definitely an early bird, getting that worm and whatnot. I took a quick shower and styled my hair. It was thick and black. I used a coconut oil cream to make it curl. It was kind of short, only about three or four inches long, but I thought it looked pretty decent. I had brown eyes and brown skin. My complexion was the color of a caramel hard candy. Both of my parents were black. My dad’s parents were from the South. My mom’s mother was from Jamaica and her dad was from Philadelphia. 

I grabbed the basket for my bike and sent my mom a text. She wouldn’t be up until around eleven, and even after that she’d be out of the house running errands before work. I was going to the store for the ingredients in my dish.

It wasn’t that long of a bike ride to the grocery store, and I’d been making the trip more frequently since I decided Mason needed to be catered to with each visit. I shopped for a while, budgeting things out, and choosing other side dishes. I got everything on my list and remembered I wanted to pick up some ice cream for after dinner. I was going to get a pint of Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion. It used to be Mason’s favorite flavor, and I was willing to bet he still loved it.

I turned back and made my way to the frozen food section. It was near where they kept the eggs and milk and cheese. I noticed Bret with some serious bed head grabbing a gallon of 2%. I snatched the ice cream from the freezer and ran for the checkout, praying he hadn’t seen me. I wanted to hurry the cashier along, but she was a kind older woman who had always been nice to me.

“You sure do grocery shop a lot,” she said, laughing. “You’re such a little thing, but you eat so much. But that’s how young men are. Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”

I conversed with her, trying my best not to appear rude, but I really didn’t need to encounter Bret on the weekend. I paid for my stuff and left the store. I went and unlocked my bike, setting it upright so I could put the groceries in the basket.

Before I could take off, I felt someone grab the hood of my hoodie. I fell backwards, my bike falling to the ground. The food rolled out onto the sidewalk.

I looked up from the pavement at Bret smirking down at me. He had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a Jackson High football sweatshirt. I normally would have just taken whatever beating he had for me, but I was fed up. Today was supposed to be a good day. I was going to make Mason his food and he’d compliment me, and I could live in my delusions for just a little while longer.

I got to my knees before standing straight up. I pushed him as hard as I could, and he stumbled back slightly. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I shouted, kind of embarrassed by how high my voice got.

“Oh, it’s on, you fag,” Bret spat at me. He set the jug of milk he’d been carrying on the sidewalk. “I’m sick of looking at you and your pink fag bike.”

“My bike is red,” I shouted. I didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea what I should do next. We looked at one another intensely.

“Red,” he said as he drew me closer to his body, yanking on my hoodie. “Or pink,” he continued. Punch in the stomach. “You’re still a fucking homo.” Punch. Punch in the mouth. Punch. Punch in the nose. Punch in the cheekbone. Punch. Another punch in the gut. I was panting as he threw me to the ground. I thought I was going to barf. 

“Fuck—you—,” I managed to get out, catching my breath. I had gotten used to my one punch in the stomach a day. This was taking me back to sophomore year when our altercations left me with a new bruise every day. He didn’t seem phased by what I said, just continuing to smirk at me.

“I sure am glad I drank the last of the milk now.” He laughed, stooping to grab his milk, and walked over to his Dodge Charger.

I gathered the scattered items and checked to make sure they were all okay. They were. I put everything back in the basket. I took a few deep breaths before mounting my bike. I rode home and took another shower.

I didn’t want to dwell on the experiences of the morning. I put on some music and spent the rest of the time before I had to start cooking doing laundry and other chores around the house. One beating didn’t mean the world had to stop moving. This was nothing new.

I started cooking around five-thirty, so it would be ready when Mason got here. About five minutes after seven the doorbell rang.

“Hey Mason,” I said, happy to see him. I smiled a little too wide and felt my lip begin to bleed again. It was only a little. I licked the blood away.

“What the fuck Oli?”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I got beat up all the time. This really was not a big deal. After high school I would never have to deal with this sort of thing ever again.

“You look like shit,” he said angrily. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“You’ve seen me like this before. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” he said, eyebrows furious. “Who was it? Who did this? I swear to God if you say Bret after I told him not to touch you anymore.”

“It’s fine, really.” I didn’t want to make this into a whole thing. I had spent the entire day trying to forget about it so that we could have a good time eating and studying together. I wanted him to just leave it alone. I wanted him to stop pretending like he actually cared about what happened. I’d been getting my ass kicked for over three years and he’d never so much as batted an eye.

“Oliver,” he pushed.

“The food is going to get cold, so let’s just go and eat.” I walked away from the front door towards the kitchen, hoping he’d follow. That was when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. We stood there for a moment. His strong, masculine hands held my upper arms firmly. He looked at my bruised cheek, my busted lip. He brought his mouth to my forehead and kissed it softly. It felt like we were standing there for hours but it couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds. “Mason—.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. 

He let go of my arms and hesitated a moment before running out to his Jeep and driving off. Had he really just kissed me? I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty sure there was lip to forehead action.

After that Mason never called or texted me, and he didn’t show up to school on Monday. I managed to avoid Bret after school and decided to take Mason his homework. He really hadn’t missed all that much, but I really wanted to see what that kiss was about. I also wondered if he worked on the essay for English class at all. I hadn’t been busting my ass for him to start failing again. It was a longer bike ride, but I made it to his place in about twenty minutes. I rang the doorbell and Mason’s kid sister Agatha answered the door.

“Oliver! Oliver! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down before reaching out for a hug.

“Hey Aggy,” I replied, embracing her. She was thirteen now. I was eighteen, my birthday at the end of September, but Mason was nineteen. His birthday was in July. It was a secret I swore to take to the grave. It was the reason why he never invited classmates to his birthday parties growing up. When he told me about why, it was like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. It was like he was Matilda or something. Mr. and Mrs. Megalos had been remarkably busy helping members of their family immigrate, starting their auto repair business, and welcoming Aggy into the world. They straight up forgot to register him for school. They waited so long that the district said he’d have to wait for the following school year. Mason never told anyone how old he was. He didn’t want people to think he failed a grade. He also didn’t want people to think he had bad parents.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll have to catch up soon, but is Mason home?”

“He’s sick,” she said with a pair of air quotes. “I know he’s lying. Sick people don’t eat as much as he does. You can go upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

I made my way upstairs, shocked by how little had changed in their house in three years. I stood outside Mason’s door, nervous about having to discuss what happened on Saturday. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? What if he wanted to pretend it never happened at all? It was now or never. I opened the door to his room. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I’d forgotten to knock. I shouldn’t have been so careless.

“Ah!” Mason yelped, looking over at me in his doorway.

He was naked, but that wasn’t the most outrageous part. There were a ton of reasons why he could be naked and alone in his room. This was his house after all. But he knelt at the side of his bed, dick in hand and a sex toy in his ass. It was definitely the hottest thing I’d ever seen in person, but still a major shock. His ass was just made to take phallic objects. There was so much of him to take in, from the powerful arms to the beefy ass to the bloated gut. I was frozen, staring at his dick and then the sex toy he’d removed from his asshole. He tossed it in a shoe box and shoved it under his bed.

“Oliver, close the door!” he said hurriedly. I turned around and closed the door quickly. He probably wanted me on the other side of it. “I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”

“Mason, look, I’m really, uh—really sorry,” I said, turning back around and staring at him as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. All I could think about was how big his butt was. He probably did a ton of squats. His legs were hairy, as were his forearms and chest. I could tell his sessions in the gym were paying off, seeing as everything about him was getting absolutely massive. But man, his gut had really grown. He was getting fat. Fatter than when he showed me his belly the first time. He must have been eating constantly. The after-school snacks I prepared for him couldn’t have been pumping him up this much. I knew he said he was bulking, but did he mean to be getting so large?

“I brought your homework,” I said. My voice was shaking. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should probably go.” What was going on? He was into butt stuff? Was he gay? I’d heard that some straight guys were into anal. They’d have their wives and girlfriends peg them with strap-ons. I couldn’t process this right now with him in front of me. I turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called. “Can I have the work?” How was he so calm? I took off my bag and pulled out the folder where I’d put all the materials he’d need. I stood there, folder in hand, unable to walk towards him. He walked over to me, his dick still semi-erect bobbing freely in the basketball shorts. His thighs were like tree trunks. His chest was broad, and his nipples were slightly bigger than I’d seen on other guys, kind of puffy. Overall, he was looking much fleshier. I needed to focus.

“Sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I handed him the folder with the assignments. He reached out to grab them and I took in his mammoth forearms. Mason was a man. He wasn’t my chubby best friend from elementary school anymore. “I didn’t come in on purpose. I swear.”

He had kissed me on Saturday. I remembered my real reason for coming over. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up now. I had to let it go. He was just some conflicted straight boy who’d put this and any other gay feelings behind him. He’d marry some girl, have some kids, and she’d peg him well into old age. Me and this whole situation would become a distant memory.

He moved closer to me.

I moved back slightly.

He moved closer to me again.

“Mason, what’re—?” I didn’t know why I came here. I should have just ignored it. He dropped the folder on the ground and pulled me closer to himself.

“I haven’t been honest with myself,” he whispered, looking at me seriously. “Or with you.” I swallowed. He kissed me—on the lips this time. I felt them for the first time on my own lips. This was authentic lip to lip action. I wanted to grab his ass. I wanted to touch his belly. I wanted everything with Mason, but something was stopping me. He pulled away and looked at me again. “I think—I think that I’ve always wanted this.”

He was waiting on me to say something, and I could tell he started to worry. As much as my body ached for him, my mind was conflicted.

“I should go,” I whispered softly, afraid of how’d he’d react to this rejection. It was clear I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. He just took a step back, his lower lip trembling like he was about to cry. I was an idiot. I left his room, closing his door behind me. I was moving pretty quickly now, needing to put as much distance between us as possible so I could clear my head.

“Later Aggy!” I called, opening their front door. I was on my bike and out on the street in a matter of seconds. I pedaled hard, so hard I could feel the burn in my legs.

I made my way home and into my room. I wouldn’t be able to think with the erection I had. I was rock hard the entire bike ride home. I had always been an avid masturbator, but recently it had gotten out of hand.

When I finished, I tried to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t as simple as Mason and I being able to fool around. Where were things going to go now? Would he come out? Would he want to date me? If Mason just wanted to experiment with me, I couldn’t do it, even if part of me wanted to be used by him. I’d spent the last three years allowing myself to be mistreated, and I was not ready to swap one form of degradation for another.

I finished my homework in a daze, not too sure of what I actually completed. I went to bed feeling absolutely miserable.

The next day, I avoided Mason like the plague. I felt wrong, like he really had been sick, and he was making a huge mistake. I went the whole day avoiding him. I didn’t even look in his direction, so I had no idea if he was looking in mine. After school I made my way to my bike. I had to get home. I just needed to be alone to think some more. I set down my bag and started to put in the combo for my bike lock.

I fell forward.

Someone had kicked me in the back as I was kneeling. I turned and saw that it was Bret. Of course it was Bret. He wasn’t alone today. Standing slightly behind him were these other football guys named Bill and Zeke. I wished my eyes were deceiving me, but Mason was there too, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I tried to finish unlocking my bike, but Bret kicked me again and I fell forward once more. I looked up at Mason, the giant I had idealized for so long. He looked away. Bret said something obscene, but I was too intensely focused on Mason to catch exactly what was said. Our eyes met and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

I hated Mason.

I stood up after finally getting my bike unlocked. I mounted it and tried to ride off. I was stopped and pushed over. I wondered why no teachers or staff members tried to intervene. There had to be at least one nearby. I had ripped my jeans when I hit the pavement. I tried to get up. They were all calling me names and laughing. Mason stood silent, their all-powerful leader.

I tried to ride off again and this time I got away. I was crying, but I was too far away from them to see me. I felt like I was nothing, an empty shell peddling home. Mason was—I didn’t know what he was. I didn’t know who he was anymore. We had gone down two completely different paths, and I had thought they were meeting back up. It was stupid of me to believe that. Our paths were only going to continue diverging.

I went around back and put my bike away before going inside to think about Mason some more. The way he looked away when I needed him had me seething. I pulled off my sneakers and the ripped pair of jeans. I hadn’t cut my knee at all, so that was something to be happy about. The doorbell rang. I sat on the sofa hoping they would go away. The bell kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

They weren’t going away. I was reaching my boiling point. I just needed to be alone, at least for an hour or so. I ran to the door and pulled it open aggressively.

“Can I help you—?” I asked, before registering who had been ringing the doorbell.

“Hey.” It was Mason. “Can I talk to you, please?” He looked down at my legs. I was in nothing but a t-shirt and pair of black briefs. I didn’t even care. I was still livid.

“What?” I asked harshly. “Did you come to beat me up too? I could have sworn you made the first move yesterday. But if you find it appropriate to pin all faggish activity on me I’m willing to carry the burden.”

“I’m so sorry, Oli.” I felt myself weaken. No. I needed to remain strong. His eyebrows were furrowed; his eyes were sad. Those sad, green eyes had gotten their way numerous times when we were younger.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” I began to close the door. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” he called, using his weight to keep the door open. “I’m not finished. Can I come in?”

“No,” I said, trying my best to stand my ground. “I hope you fail English. I hope I never have to look at your stupid face ever again.”

“Oli,” he pleaded. He looked at me again with those sorrowful eyes. I hesitated for a moment, but then I moved out of the way so he could enter the house. He brought his beefy frame through the door.

“I’ve got to know,” he started, blushing. “Why did you run out yesterday?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, when I was, you know—uh masturbating.” I stood silent, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to hear. I really wasn’t too sure what his angle was anymore. Did that incident mean something to him or not? “Is it because you don’t like how I look? I know I’ve gained some weight. I’m just trying to get some more size, and I’ll lose the extra padding eventually. I’ll start losing it right now if that’s what it takes for you to be attracted to me.”

“Your appearance has absolutely nothing to do with why I left yesterday,” I said honestly. He really thought that was the only reason I left? Had he not considered the entire situation? The last three years of our lives?

“It doesn’t?” he asked, taken aback. “Well, I’m not sure but I think I might be—you know, gay. And—and I have all these feelings for you. Hanging out with you again has only helped me confirm what I knew all along. I missed my best friend, Oliver.”

“Mason—,” I started before he cut me off.

“I’m probably not even your type. That’s so fucking pretentious of me to assume you even think I’m attractive.”

“Mason, listen,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I always believed you didn’t mean to hurt me. I held out hope that we could at least one day be friends again. But the thing that happened Saturday, and then walking in on you yesterday. It just made me angry.”

He was still looking at me seriously, taking in everything I was saying, really trying to hear me out.

“Angry that you felt you couldn’t have talked to me sooner. Angry that you thought we could just sort of hook up? I don’t really know what you thought, but it doesn’t feel like you even tried to think about me at all.”

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his eyes watering. “I fucked up. I’m a pussy. I’m sorry Oliver. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t take it, looking at him with tears streaming down his face. I’d never seen such a big man cry before, and it made me feel like I needed to give him a hug. But if I didn’t stand up for myself now, I’d always be walked all over.

“When you asked me to help you with your English work do you remember what you said to me?” He shook his head no. “You told me that you didn’t want people to know you were associating with me. I felt so worthless, but I did it anyway because—because you’re still one of the most important people in my life.”

“I’ll never make you feel worthless ever again,” he said, his voice serious and honest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance.”

I crossed my arms, considering what he said. I believed him. I was scared that I believed him. What if I trusted him and got hurt even worse than before?

“I want us to be together,” he said, sniffling. “Being with you makes me feel good, and I want to feel good all the time.”

“I—I think that I want to be with you too,” I said, looking away from him, unsure of if it was a good idea to relent so easily.

“Really?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

It was building up inside of me, the love I had for him, the confession that had been left unsaid years ago. I felt it coming out, like word vomit.

“I love everything about you,” I started, still unable to look at him, “the way your eyebrows do that thing and the way you eat and don’t stop. And if you like bulking and powerlifting I don’t mind that. I think you look amazing and—and, I don’t know, Mason, if you gained more weight, I would still be attracted to you. Get as big as you want, really.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Oliver. You’re probably one of the best-looking guys in school and you’re attracted to me? Girls hate that you’re gay.” He took a deep breath. “I have never felt the same about girls that I do about you. I think about you every day.”

“I’m not kidding,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re hot and—and I would even want you to get bigger. I don’t know how to explain it, but the fact that you’re getting bigger makes me really—you know.” I felt like such a weirdo. So much was happening all at once. “I’ve never thought you’ve looked so good.” It felt like the time I told him I was gay. I wondered if he’d just walk out like he had then.

“You’d be okay with me being bigger? For real?” he asked. I felt a slight amount of relief. He hadn’t walked out.

“Yes,” I said, my body tense with nerves. “I would.”

“I like this, being bigger. I always have,” he said. It was silent for a moment. “I want to be bigger. I want to get stronger. This size is something I would’ve never gotten if I kept playing football.” He laughed nervously.

“What?” I asked.

“You sure you’re okay being seen with some big monster?”

“I don’t think you could ever be a monster.” He walked towards me and kissed me so fast I almost fell over. He was huge, like a big teddy bear, and I loved it. I really did, a hundred percent. He laughed, kissing me through the tears on his face. He held me close to him, my dick pressing against him through my underwear.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I guess you’re my boyfriend,” he said seriously. “If you’re okay with that.”

My whole body felt intensely warm. It was like I was in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I’d crashed my bike on my way home and I was in a coma, my consciousness somewhere between earth and the great beyond.

Something weighed heavily on me and I was afraid to bring it up. I wanted to squeal with joy and cry tears of relief, but I had to make sure we were on the same page. I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone.

I was quiet, not sure how to ask Mason what was on my mind. I think he hated when I got all silent like this. He was a much more direct sort of person.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just—am I, uh—is this a secret?”

“No,” he said, eyebrows serious. “I hate you even had to consider that. You’re never going to be a secret in my life ever again.”

I was his boyfriend.

He was my boyfriend.

We were boyfriend and boyfriend.

The next day in school Mason talked to me in every class. He sat with me at lunch. He stopped at my locker with me. He was trying very hard to prove to me that he was serious. He meant what he said about making it up to me for the last three years.

“Mason, what the fuck is your problem?” Bret asked disgustedly. “This whole day you’ve been acting weird.” Bret looked over at me, obviously insinuating that I was what was weird. English class had just ended, and Mason was going to give me a ride home, and not because he wanted something from me, just because he wanted to be around me. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked, feigning ignorance.

“The fag, Mason. The fag.” Bret spat the word fag like it was a disease.

“I don’t think you should use that word anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear you using that word or making jokes or putting your hands on Oliver ever again. You or anybody else, so spread the word.”

“Are you in love with him or something?” Bret asked, trying to get a rise out of Mason.

“I might be, yeah,” Mason replied seriously. Bret’s eyes widened before he began to laugh hysterically. “We’re dating.”

“Mason, you are hilarious.” Mason leaned over towards me. He brought his face incredibly close to mine before he touched my lips softly with his own, kissing me. It was a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, but it made me feel exposed. I’d barely kissed anyone before and never in public. “You’re taking it too far dude. That was gay as hell.”

“Probably because I’m gay.”

“You’re—you’re not joking? You’re a fag too?”

“Yep,” Mason said, wrapping his beefy arm around me. “And watch your language, dude. There’s only so many times I’m going to tell you.”

Bret ran off, probably to go tell someone. By tomorrow every single person in the school would know. I wondered what people would say. I hoped Mason would be all right. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest decision.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, still thinking about him kissing me in front of Bret.

“It’s not like you’re my secret boyfriend.” He smiled and I melted.

He took me home and we went inside. We were going to study and hang out for a while. He told me that he wanted to spend so much time together that I’d get sick of him. I told him that’d never happen. And he said that meant we’d just be stuck with each other. We were in the second week of November, and the weather had cooled considerably. I volunteered to make hot chocolate and he happily accepted my offer. I also provided a plate of chocolate chip cookies I’d made the night before.

“Thanks,” he said as I handed him the drink. He sipped it carefully, making sure to collect the mini marshmallows. He must’ve gotten too excited because some of it spilled onto his lap. He stood quickly.

“Aw shit,” he said.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing to grab some paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of pissed I wasted some of my hot chocolate.” I laughed at his serious expression, telling him that I was more than willing to make him another mugful. We sopped up the bulk of the liquid with the paper towels, but he let me know he didn’t like the moist feeling.

“I don’t want it to soak into my underwear.”

He popped open the button of his jeans with a sigh of relief. He pulled them down and stood in my kitchen in a pair of navy boxer briefs. “I’ve got to get some new jeans.” He sure wasn’t modest. I was getting hard looking at his big hairy thighs. He could crush someone’s skull with those things. I kind of wanted my skull crushed.

“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” I said, still staring at his legs. “Maybe a pair of basketball shorts.”

“I’m good like this if you don’t mind,” he said, standing before me like a Grecian statue.

“No way. I don’t think I can control myself looking at you with your legs out like that.” He laughed, jokingly telling me that I was weird.

“They’re just legs,” he said, grinning at me. He’d always loved showing off, and I had always been a willing observer. “And who says you need to control yourself?”

“It’s not just your legs,” I said, getting excited. “It’s your ass. I’ve been looking at your butt for years.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder back at me. The fabric of his underwear separated each cheek, making his ass look even juicer. I wanted to take a bite out of it, my mouth watering at the sight of how much weight he was carrying back there. “If you’ve been checking it out for years, how’s it looking nowadays?”

“Phenomenal,” I said, zoning out. I was completely mesmerized. There was nothing that could break me out of this trance.

“You can grab it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, like he didn’t know if what he said was okay. Was he testing my attraction to him? Who wouldn’t want to squeeze his meaty ass? I walked closer to where he stood, my hands cupping the ass I’d only ever dreamed of touching since I knew I liked men. I jiggled it slightly, impressed by how I could still feel the muscle underneath its fatty outer layer.

“It definitely feels bigger than I thought it would,” I said, still touching him.

“I do a lot of squats,” he said, laughing apprehensively. “I think it’s gotten bigger these last couple of weeks. Working out with my uncle and eating like I do has changed my body faster than I thought it would.”

He turned around, and I noticed he was hard. He looked down at his penis straining against his boxer briefs and then away from me, biting his lower lip nervously. I bet his muscle-gut blocked some of his lower half from sight. How long would it be before he wouldn’t be able to see his dick when he looked down?

It was nice that he physically reacted to me feeling him up, but was he expecting something more? Would he want to bottom? Was he prepared for that today? I had wondered when things would become more sexual between us. We’d known each other for so long, but not as sexual beings with lots of sexual urges.

I turned away from him, walking towards the freezer. I couldn’t take the awkwardness. I grabbed the ice cream from a few weeks ago that he never got to eat.

“Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion,” he exclaimed gleefully.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it.” I grabbed a spoon, handing it to him along with the pint of ice cream. The little container in his large hand was really cute. He peeled off the lid and dug into the dessert greedily. This probably wasn’t enough ice cream to satiate him. He walked casually over towards a counter, pressing his butt up against it. He leaned back and ate spoonful after spoonful. He licked the spoon slowly after each mouthful.

Was he putting on a show for me? Like when we were younger?

“That was good,” he said after less than ten minutes of eating. A now empty container sat on the counter next to him. He gave a satisfied belch and put his hands on his slightly bloated middle.

“You really know how to eat,” I observed.

“It’s probably weird,” he started, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, making sure not to meet my gaze, “but it kind of turns me on sometimes.”

“It’s not weird.”

I made my way to where he stood against the counter, reaching out and placing my hands on the sides of his middle. We both stood there, silently aroused. I could hear his breathing—in and out, in and out. I lifted his t-shirt. He rested his hand on my shoulder as I massaged his gut. He gave a satisfied moan that made my dick twitch.

“This feels really good.”

“It does?” I asked. I was on cloud nine, finally getting my hands on his gut after fixating over it for weeks. I could see he was getting hard, and I couldn’t believe he happened to be on the same wavelength as I was. I knew he said he liked being bigger, but I didn’t realize he liked it in this way.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” he whispered breathily, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned, unable to suppress the expression.

I was feeling bold, wanting to take further control of his pleasure. He could be in charge of everything else in our lives, but in this moment, I knew I was the one who could call the shots. I slid one of my hands down under his gut, sliding it into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to get his consent before I continued.

He just moaned again, whimpering as my hand wrapped around his erection.

“Tell me you want me to do this,” I commanded.

“I want it, Oliver,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his boxer briefs, so I had easier access to his penis. It was above average size and thick, but I was bigger and for some reason that really turned me on. I stroked him gently, enjoying how it pulsated in my hand. I noticed he relaxed his stomach muscles and his gut pushed forward some more. I looked up at his face and he looked back, his eyes glazed over. Fuck, was that a hot expression.

I stopped for a second, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling out my own dick. I stroked us both off, moving nice and slow. With both of my hands now occupied elsewhere, Mason took it upon himself to massage his stomach.

“That belly is looking real good,” I said, watching his expression carefully. He looked—pleased! His eyes were closed, but he got that grin on his face again. He grabbed his gut by the sides and gave it a shake.

He was close and I could tell. Seeing him so aroused was turning me on more than I thought possible. I was going to push him over the edge.

“Fuck Mason, I can only imagine how big your gut is gonna be a few months from now.”

It was a risk, but it paid off. He shot a huge stream of cum across the kitchen floor. He looked at me now, his eyes still had that glazed-over look and he fell to his knees. He grabbed at my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear.

“Whoa, Mason, what’re—?”

He licked the head of my penis holding the shaft in his somewhat rough hand. His mouth was warm, and he worked my dick with unexpected finesse. Looking down at the top of his head, I took in his curly brown hair. I couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was on his knees giving me head. I also couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was Mason of all people.

“Mase, I’m coming.” He removed my dick from his mouth, and I felt cum erupt from inside of me so forcefully I got lightheaded. It wasn’t until I was completely finished that I was able to take in what had occurred. Mason was still on his knees, his face covered in my cum. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t seem like everything was okay. He got off of his knees, pulling up his underwear. We cleaned up in silence. He got my cum off his face, and I got his cum off the floor. He was the one who broke the silence. “That was weird.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he said, looking down at the kitchen tiles. “What was with that stuff you were saying?”

“Did you not like that?” I asked, feeling less confident than I had been during our sexual encounter. Things were shifting back into their regular alignment. Me being awkward. Mason being intimidating.

“I just—when we talked about me being bigger, you didn’t just mean muscles, did you?”

“I—I, uh, there’s nothing wrong with being bigger.”

“Were you just saying that because you figured out that’s what I’m into?” he asked. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself to be attracted to me like this.”

“Mason,” I started, “I think it’s more than obvious we like the same thing. I don’t know how we lucked out like this, but that gut you’ve got is definitely sexy.” He just laughed.

“Oli, c’mon,” he said. “You’re legit gorgeous. You could be an underwear model or something, I mean, damn, your quads are amazing.” I laughed. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and pulled me forward. He rested his masculine hands on my ass, like I had always wanted. “And this bubble butt is something else.”

“I’ve got to know Mason. When did you start thinking you might be gay?”

“The day you told me,” he said. I pushed myself away from his solid body.

“What?”

“Yeah, you coming out to me was really confusing. And I figured I should avoid you for a little while to figure things out—I didn’t think it’d be three years though, sorry.”

I just laughed. We’d missed out on years together. There really was nothing to do but find the humor in the situation, because otherwise it would be too sad to think about.

“I started watching gay porn freshman year and I bought that sex toy about a year ago.”

“You’re something else,” I said. “I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

He smiled and it just felt like it got easier to breathe. I ended up making him another mug of hot chocolate before throwing his jeans in the washing machine. Being domestic with him was turning me on, but then again, anything involving Mason was a turn on. I was starting to feel more peaceful. Mason and I would keep talking and figuring things out about this relationship. We had time. We finally had time.

Christmas break came after what felt like an eternity. Of course, people were talking about me and Mason. We could hear their not-so-whispered remarks every single day. He ignored it and held my hand through it all, which really meant a lot to me. He was an incredible person.

Mason had been so liked by everyone, that it was odd to see his old friends ignore him or mumble fucked-up things under their breath when he was nearby. I didn’t know how he could take it, falling so far from the graces of the popular crowd. I had always been on the outskirts, so I couldn’t really understand what he was going through.

We’d made it through Thanksgiving unscathed. It was a little sad we couldn’t spend the holiday together, but Mason hadn’t come out to his family and I hadn’t told my mom we were dating. He’d pushed himself incredibly hard these last couple of weeks, so if he wanted to ease into telling his parents, I wasn’t going to complain.

But that tranquility Mason was experiencing at home was short lived. If the entire high school knew Mason was gay, there was only a matter of time before word got back to people’s parents. Those parents talked to other parents, and those parents talked to Mason’s parents.

The first night of break, Mason was confronted by his father about what he’d heard from a customer in his auto shop. I hated the look on Mason’s face when he told me this story. It was heartbreaking. It felt like it was all my fault.

Mason’s dad threw him out. Mr. Megalos took him up by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the front door. Well, he grabbed his collar, yes, and likely pulled him by it, but I doubted he could actually lift Mason to throw him anywhere. His mom let him back in of course, but he packed a bag and left. He’d shown up on my doorstep a little before midnight. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“They found out,” he said. And I knew. I knew his heart was probably in a million pieces.

“Oliver, who is at the door?” My mother walked into the foyer, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. She’d gotten in from work about an hour ago and had just finished with some self-care. I was glad she’d just taken a bath, because I needed her to be in a good mood.

“Mom, it’s Mason,” I said.

“Well look at that,” she said, taking him in for the first time in three years. “What has Katerina been feeding you?” Mason gave a half-hearted laugh, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house.

“It’s, uh, good to see you Ms. Bailey.”

“Mason, you can go up to my room while I talk to my mom.”

My mom raised her eyebrows at this, watching as Mason walked towards the rear of the house where the stairs were. That was when the begging began. She had me on my knees.

“You know he can’t stay here Oliver.”

“Mom,” I pleaded, my voice somewhat whiny. “He needs this. He’s my best friend. Please.” She laughed, and I knew it was because she didn’t consider Mason to be my best friend anymore. I hadn’t mentioned him in years; the last time she’d brought him up, I blew up at her.

(“Oliver, sweetheart, you don’t want to invite Mason to celebrate your birthday with us?” I was turning sixteen and I hadn’t talked to Mason in nearly eleven months.

She knew something had been off between us, as Mason hadn’t been to our house since I came out to him.

“It’s just another day,” I replied, feeling especially mopey. “He’s probably busy anyway.”

“I could call Katerina,” she suggested. “If you boys had a falling out, we can get things back on track. He’s been your best friend since first grade.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t know how to navigate how I was feeling. There was just so much shame and sadness that I hadn’t really taken the time to unpack.

“Can you just shut up?” I demanded. “We aren’t friends anymore, okay? It was my fault. There’s no way to fix it, so can you please just drop it?” I stormed off to my bedroom after that. I spent the rest of my sixteenth birthday alone crying in my bedroom. It was definitely a low. I knew the only reason my mom didn’t come after me was because it was my birthday. If it were any other day and I spoke to her like that, I’d probably be dead.)

“Oliver, we just can’t. You need to let his family work out whatever problem they’re dealing with.”

“Mom, if—if he can’t stay, I’ll leave with him,” I said, being dramatic.

“No, you won’t,” she replied, laughing. She was calling my bluff.

“I will,” I said, trying my best to win her over. “We’ll wander the streets, sleep in his Jeep. I might even have to become a prostitute to scrape by. We’ll drop out of high school. Do some drugs. Is that what you want Mom? I really don’t think it is.” I sounded like I was describing the plot of some made-for-TV movie.

“Oliver,” my mother said with a theatrical groan, massaging her temples. She obviously wanted to laugh at my monologue, which I knew would play into my favor. “If Katerina and Adrian come to take him home, we aren’t going to fight them on it, do you understand?”

She smiled at me gently. She was legit the best mother in the entire world. She probably only relented because she had just gotten in from work (and she’d had her bubble bath and a glass of wine). She worked as a nurse during a shift that went from three until ten-thirty, and that was when the hospital didn’t ask her to come in early or stay late.

“Yes, thank you!” I actually jumped for joy, clasping my hands together in gratitude. “You won’t even notice that he’s here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “He needs to sleep in your room because I don’t want him on my sofa. We just got that thing last year and the way he’s looking, it’d be sunken in within the month.”

I just laughed, promising Mason would not be allowed anywhere near her sofa. She likely assumed Mason was not gay. I knew right away that Mason had been outed to his family, but I didn’t make that information privy to my mother. When explaining why he needed to stay with us, I just sort of said his dad was mad about him quitting the football team and putting on some weight. I had been planning on telling her we were dating, but it was probably a good thing I hadn’t mentioned it.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind the floor for a little while.”

“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, walking towards where her bedroom was on the first floor. The second floor was an addition, and the only thing up there was my bedroom and a bathroom. “Mommy is tired. They want me to come in early tomorrow, so you kids need to keep it down.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “Goodnight best mom in the entire universe.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling under her breath. “Tell Mason it was nice seeing him again.”

I made my way to the rear of the house and ran up the stairs to my room. I closed the door quietly.

“She said you could stay here until you’re able to work things out with your family.” I was smiling at him, but that excitement was short-lived. This wasn’t some slumber party. He was here because he couldn’t be at home.

“Thank God,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“She said you have to sleep in here,” I said in mock-apology. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll have to share a bed.”

“Well damn it,” he replied. “I guess if there’re no other alternatives.” He got off of my bed and walked towards me. He put his arms around me slowly and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him—which had gotten considerably more difficult post-Thanksgiving. I kissed him a little bit longer before pushing him away.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to cull my arousal. We could not have sex right now. I felt weird about doing things like that with my mom in the house. I totally wouldn’t be able to focus.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to think about it,” he answered. “I’d rather make out with my boyfriend—among other things.”

“We have to wait until tomorrow, or my mom will hear and freak out,” I said seriously.

We’d masturbated together a few more times since the first experience in the kitchen. He’d given me head a few more times, and I reciprocated that as well. But we hadn’t done the actual deed. With him living here for an unknown amount of time, especially during winter break, we were likely going to go all the way.

“We can be quiet,” he whined. I was so turned on by the fact he enjoyed being intimate with me. Hearing him beg for it almost had me relenting.

“It will be better tomorrow,” I said, walking over to my laundry basket and throwing my shirt into it.

“Fine,” he pouted before smiling. “But don’t expect me to let go of you all night.”

We got into the bed and he kept his promise. At least for this night, the first time we ever were going to sleep together in the same bed, he had me pulled closely into his beefy body. My full-sized bed was just right, but at the rate Mason was growing, I didn’t think it would be just right for long.

I knew he didn’t want to talk about what happened with his dad, at least not yet, so we enjoyed one another in silence. Before long, I could hear him gently snoring behind me. He was very warm and that made me feel so calm, that before long, I was also fast asleep.

I was awake a little after six and immediately got up to take a shower. Mason was still sleeping even after I finished my shower, so I went to make him breakfast. I had made hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. He was still sleeping when I finished around nine.

I ate with my mom and she let me know she was going to spend the morning shopping with my grandmother. She would be home this afternoon to take a nap and get ready for work. After she left, I went to wake up Mason.

He sat up quickly when I mentioned there was breakfast waiting for him downstairs. He got out of bed. He was wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs and a white undershirt. His thighs were huge and strong looking. His ass was barely contained by the ash-colored fabric. His belly pushed the small shirt up a bit, around his belly button. His arms looked massive, and I wanted to grab ahold of them and never let go.

Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.

“You can use the bathroom and come down for breakfast,” I said finally, regaining focus.

“Okay,” he said, sleepy eyed, scratching his tummy. He went off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I heard the flush of the toilet, then the sink turning on and off, and about five minutes later he exited the bathroom, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. We made our way downstairs.

Looking at the table, there was a ridiculous amount of food for one person. Even with what my mother and I ate, there was way too much for Mason. I’d used almost an entire bag of potatoes for the hash browns. I’d have to get another carton of eggs, having used the ten that we had in the fridge. The toast was buttered, and the bacon was crisp. I’d definitely been excited while cooking, thinking with my dick and not my head.

“I realize now this is an excessive amount of food.”

“I didn’t get to eat dinner last night,” he said. “I’m starving.”

He wasn’t kidding. He really was.

Mason tackled the spread like a competitive eater. He took a piece of toast and carefully folded it in half before adding some of the other ingredients, making a sort of taco. He did this until the eight pieces of toast were gone. He then ate what was left of the eggs and hash browns with hot sauce. He drank two big glasses of milk too. I didn’t realize how much he could eat. I was sitting at the table across from him.

It was after breakfast. My mom wasn’t home. We could finally have at it.

“You ate all of it,” I said, touching my boner underneath the table. I was wearing a pair of running shorts that came about halfway up my thigh. I was easily able to access my dick.

“Yeah,” he said, his face going red. “I didn’t have dinner and I was really hungry and it tasted so good.” He placed his hands on his belly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt, failing to keep it down. Majority of his clothes had begun to fit this way. “I guess you were wrong about the whole me getting fatter thing.”

“I was not wrong,” I said, standing. He took in my massive erection and smiled, relief showing on his face.

“We really are a pair of sexual deviants, huh?” I walked to his side of the table and grabbed his hand. He stood up, looking down at me for a moment. He scooped me up and held me in his powerful arms. We looked at one another for a moment. His eyebrows were so serious it made me laugh. He joined in and we laughed hard for a few moments.

“I got excited,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re so excited. It means it’s not just me.” Still in his arms, he made his way towards the stairs and ran us up to my room.

In a flurry, our clothing items flew off our bodies. His t-shirt, my shorts. My sweatshirt, his boxer briefs. We stood completely naked in the middle of my bedroom, and it was all sort of surreal.

“Oli, you’ve got a body like a porn star.”

“You may not be as defined as I am, but I’d much rather see you in a porno.” He laughed.

“We could be in one together,” he said, joking. “It’d be the only video I’d ever need for the rest of my life.”

I smiled at him, my hands on his waist. I enjoyed how he’d begun to spread out. His gut hadn’t been like this back in October. He was developing love handles, with little stretch marks around where his torso met his hips.

My hands moved to his biceps and he flexed them for me. My dick jumped at how solid his arms were, craving his body. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

He nodded.

I grabbed a condom and lube from a box in my closet. I didn’t think I’d ever get to use these things, and here I was about to use them with Mason. He moved onto the bed and he put his ass out for me.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“No, but I’ve seen a lot of porn,” I said truthfully, almost half-regretting my honesty. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“No,” he said. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before I kissed you.” I had made out with some guys before, but I didn’t want to spoil how sweet that was. Something about this whole situation was kind of empowering.

“I’ll be gentle,” I said, trying to be suave. Sure, I had seen my fair share of pornography, but seeing something and executing something were two very different things. I didn’t want to be bad at it. I was always the passive, quiet one and I had to admit, I enjoyed the idea of being the dominant one in the bedroom.

I lubed up my penis as well as his asshole. I slapped his butt, enjoying the sound it made. I did it again and he gasped softly. He arched his back a little, accentuating the size of his ass.

I entered his beautiful ass slowly. I started with just the head, not wanting to hurt him. He was breathing loudly, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. I moved slightly, pushing a little more of myself into him, and felt a tingle go throughout my whole body. Mason continued gasping and whimpering and breathing loudly as I slowly pushed more and more of my dick inside of him.

“Christ!” he yelped. I stopped moving.

“Do you need me to stop?” I asked.

“Fuck, Oli,” he said, panting. “It’s starting to feel good. Keep going.” I did as I was told and bucked my hips back and forth, the sound of my upper thighs slamming against his fat ass creating a sort of beat. About halfway through he started tugging at his dick, moaning loudly as he came. That did it for me, and after a few more strokes, I filled the condom with my cum.

I was sure if someone were watching it would have looked awkward, but I didn’t care at all. I had never felt closer to a person. I had never felt closer to Mason.

Actual sex was way better than masturbating.

“Are you okay?” I asked, removing the condom and throwing it in my trashcan.

“That felt really good.” Mason was still panting. I walked over to the bed where he was laying down and laid next to him. “I was worried there for a second, but little Oli sure knows what he’s doing.” I laughed.

“That was possibly the best experience of my life,” I said. He rolled over on top of me, straddling me, and covered my face with kisses. I loved it.

“How much do you weigh now?” I inquired, feeling his weight pressing me down.

“Get the scale,” he said, swinging himself from on top of me. I got off of the mattress and made my way to the bathroom. I got the scale and set it in the center of my bedroom. He placed his large feet on the scale, and I read the number.

“283 pounds.” In less than three months, Mason had gained nearly sixty pounds. I was getting hard again just thinking about where he’d be three months, six months, a year from now. I stepped on the scale next, also getting off on how much more he weighed than I did. It read 160 pounds and a little extra. 123 pounds. Mason was 123 pounds bigger than me.

“You’re fucking tiny,” he said in disbelief, looking down at the number displayed on the monitor. “I never realized how little you are." I turned my naked body to face him and gestured to my flaccid cock, which admittedly, was still pretty big.

“I wasn't talking about that,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t weighed 160 pounds since the fifth grade.”

“Do you not like me being skinny?”

“I find your skinniness to be quite the turn on.” He kissed me, grabbing my ass. “And if we’re being honest, you store all your weight in just the right places.” I didn’t know why that made me so flustered, but it did. I felt my face go hot. I liked that he thought I had a nice ass.

“I’d have to say the same goes for you,” I said.

“I hope to get much bigger,” he said, stepping back from me. He flexed his arms and I felt myself getting hard again. He knew what he was doing, turning me on. He turned around, so I could look at his wide back and juicy butt. He was damn near a wall. He turned back around and looked at me with extreme intensity.

“What’s with that look all of a sudden?”

“I want to be able to keep you safe, Oli. I’m going to be big enough to protect you from everything.” I was so turned on again. He was adorable.

“Thanks Mason,” I said, reaching out to embrace him. We stood together for a few minutes before we took a shower and got dressed. Throughout the day Mason ate all the snacks we had in the house. We went shopping and stockpiled food in my bedroom. He didn’t want to let my mother know he was constantly inhaling food. We did have to keep all the milk he got in the fridge. I wondered what my mom would say about it. Two weeks of him eating this way and he’d get huge.

Holiday break could only last the two weeks; I knew it could only be two weeks, and yet the morning classes were to resume, I was an anxious mess. Mason’s constant eating slapped another ten pounds onto his beefy frame, putting him at 293 pounds. Everyone was going to notice. He was gigantic. He was still incredibly muscular underneath his recent gain though, only making him appear even wider.

The only time Mason was away from me was when he’d go to meet with his uncle to lift weights. Galvin told Mason he didn’t care that he was gay, and that Mason’s dad would come around soon. It meant a lot to Mason that his uncle still supported him.

Mason’s arms were big and strong, and his thighs were probably so large to hold up his massive bubble butt. His belly pushed up all his shirts and buttoning pants was just a waste of time, so he wore sweatpants and the biggest sweatshirt he could find. I felt bad. This day was going to be bad. He looked good to me of course, but everyone was going to stir up trouble. I didn’t want to go to school.

He drove us to school that morning and things were fairly similar to the way they were before break. That’s not to say people weren’t making comments, but there was nothing too out of the ordinary. Things were actually bearable until lunch.

We sat together, eating lunch amidst the stares of our nosy classmates. I had a fruit salad, some fries, a grilled chicken sandwich, and a banana. Mason had bought three slices of pizza, fries, chicken tenders, and three milks. It was like he didn't care about what was happening at all—all the stares, all the names, the comments, and dirty looks.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, eating a few fries, but not really feeling all that hungry. My stomach was in knots. He was already on his second slice of pizza.

“Well, I mean you kind of move your mouth in a gnawing motion after placing food in there. Like this—,” he said, taking a colossal bite and chewing theatrically. I laughed loudly. He was so dumb sometimes, able to make a joke that could distract me from my negative feelings. He smiled at me and started on his chicken tenders.

“I meant all of the people,” I said, clarifying what I was sure he knew I was originally referring to.

“I just don’t care,” he said seriously. “I wasted three years of my life caring about what other people thought. It’s 2012. Being gay shouldn’t be this big of an issue. I let other people tell me being gay was wrong. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He gulped down his second milk, nibbling at his remaining fries. His sweatshirt exposed a bit of belly as it set in his lap. “I love you, Oli. I just think about that and I don’t even notice everybody else.”

He loved me? I knew I loved him too, but we hadn’t said it before.

“I think I’ll try that,” I said. “Thinking about how much I love you.” I thought I was supposed to be the one thinking positive? I was proud to call Mason my boyfriend.

I opened my banana and heard an increase in laughter. I looked over at Bret pointing at me.

“You thinking about Mason’s dick?” he called, causing his table to erupt in laughter again. I forgot not to get a banana. I hadn’t eaten a banana at school since freshman year. I moved the banana away from my lips, visibly distraught. It was so embarrassing being made fun of in front of Mason.

“Can I have that?” Mason asked as he smiled at me. I handed him the banana. “Thanks.” He put it in and out of his mouth suggestively, making a ridiculous face as well. He then shoved the whole thing in greedily. He had me doubled over in laughter again. He was so absurd sometimes. He chewed and drank the last milk.

“Mase, you’re so goofy.”

“Thanks. That was so good,” he said loudly, for Bret and his cronies to hear. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. Was I falling even more in love with him? He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “I’m still hungry. I think I got too used to you keeping me well-fed. I’m going to get a cookie.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a bite out of my sandwich. I felt better. Better than ever. I was almost done with my sandwich when Bret came over. That positive feeling didn’t stand a chance.

“What’s up faggot?”

“I don’t care what you call me.” I stood, looking to find Mason so we could spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. We could study for English. Anything would be better than having to stay around Bret for an extended period of time. Bret placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me back into my seat.

“I don’t give a fuck what you care about.” I looked up at him from my seat. He narrowed his blue eyes at me, making him look like a rat. This guy really hated me. I stood up again and turned to walk away, kind of afraid of what he was going to do to me. “I hate what you are. You did something to Mason.”

“Like what?” I asked, turning to face him. Did he think I was blackmailing Mason? Threatening him with violence? Casting love spells?

“I don’t know.” He took a cupcake from a tray on a neighboring table. He looked down at it for a moment, likely pausing for dramatic effect, before he slammed it into my face. “But I don’t like it.”

I’d spent years dealing with this sort of treatment from Bret, but for some reason this was actually getting to me. We were in the middle of the cafeteria and nearly everyone was looking at us now. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to take Mason’s words to heart. But he hadn’t experienced just how awful I’d been treated. I warily scrapped some of the frosting from around my eyes.

“Oh shit,” one of the girls nearby mumbled to the friend she was sitting with.

I turned, watching as Mason made his way over to where Bret and I stood. I saw his eyes travel from my face to Bret’s. Mason calmly set his cookies on the table next to me and pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The whole cafeteria was silent. It was like every sound had been magically muted.

“Mason,” I said nervously, trying to pull him away from Bret. “We need to go study for the Spanish quiz. We have to go now.” Bret was no match for Mason, and everyone else was still too afraid to even try and fight him. Mason was going to get in trouble. He used to get into fights all the time. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him pummel other assholes.

Mason yanked his arm from my grasp easily. Everything happened so fast, but I don’t think Bret landed a single blow on Mason. After about three minutes, I saw Bret was all purple and bloody.

“Fucking bitch!” Mason spat, his voice intense like the roar of a grizzly. The school security officers were coming. “You lay a hand on my boyfriend again and you’re dead.”

“Come on!” I pulled his sweatshirt and he finally stormed out.

“I should have killed him,” he said angrily, nostrils flared. He was breathing heavily.

“Okay, so yeah, Bret’s the worst,” I started, picking cupcake out of my eyebrows, “but I don’t think life in prison is going to solve anything. It’s not worth it.”

“I know, you’re right,” he said, his breathing slowing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt by him anymore.”

“By a cupcake?” I asked jokingly, trying to calm him down further.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

He leaned against a row of lockers. This wasn’t going to go unchecked by the school. They’d call his parents over this. He might even get suspended.

“I forgot my fucking cookies!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I could totally make you some!” This side of Mason was really hot, but I knew he wasn’t feeling great about the whole situation. As sexy as angry-Mason was, I still preferred when he was happy.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?” I asked, trotting behind him. He was making his way towards the exit. We ditched Spanish and English. I had never ditched a class before, and I felt like a fugitive.

He pulled up outside of my house.

“I’ll be back,” he said. I nodded and got out of the Jeep. He drove off. I had never seen Mason so upset. I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with what Bret represented. Bret was a past that Mason wanted to forget. I knew Mason still struggled with guilt about how things had been between us the last three years, and I tried to assure him I had let that stuff go, but I knew he thought about it a lot. I didn’t know how to emphasize to him I wanted to just move on. High school would be over soon, and I would get to start the important years of my life. He had read an article about teen suicide in the LGBTQ+ community a few weeks ago. He looked sick after he finished it. I remember he looked at me seriously and said, “You could’ve killed yourself.”

Mason returned. He had gone to the gym. I looked at him and saw his huge arms and thighs looked pumped. He went to my bathroom and took a shower. I sat on the bed waiting. He exited the bathroom in a towel. His belly hung over the pink fabric. He dropped the towel revealing a beautiful ass. He looked so huge. Bret hadn’t stood a chance this afternoon.

I was always semi-erect around Mason but looking at him naked in front of me had me fully hard. He walked over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He leaned his body against mine. I could hear him breathing. I felt him press into me bit by bit. He was kind of whimpering, like a big Mastiff puppy.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” he said.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I placed my hand on his monstrous thigh, squeezing it gently. “You stood up for me today, and I’m still hard thinking about how hot it was.” He grabbed me, pulling me close and passionately kissing me.

He ended up on his back in the bed and I ended up giving him head. It was the least I could do for how he stood up for me. And Mason couldn’t help himself, so I ended up getting head in return. But then I couldn’t help myself and found myself with his dick in my mouth again. It was a cycle that I didn’t really want to see broken.

That fight with Bret didn’t go unchecked by school administration. Mason’s parents had to come have a meeting with the principal and the dean. Both he and Bret were let off with warnings, but the school made it very clear that they could not protect Mason from the law next time, considering he was nineteen and Bret was only seventeen.

He moved back home after that, which was honestly kind of sad. We’d only gotten to live with one another for less than a month. He and his father did finally start talking again, but Mason told me it was strained conversation.

Nobody messed with us again until Valentine’s Day. In our school there was a fundraiser where a person could purchase a flower to send to a friend or crush or romantic partner. Of course, I had never gotten one, but Mason used to get tons of them every year. I went to buy one and I wrote a card for it. I wrote: Mason, I love you. Yours forever, Oliver.

I thought it looked sophisticated and mature. I paid the two dollars, took the carbon copy receipt, and went to class. I wondered if he even thought about those stupid flowers. Then I wondered if he got me one. I was getting all excited thinking about it, but I knew to keep my expectations in check.

I met him before first period. We were working when the flowers were delivered. I didn’t expect one this period. They measured out the number of flowers a person was to receive and equally distributed them throughout the day. If a person were to receive only one rose, they’d get it during their last period of the day. But I got one anyway, in first period, which meant I had more coming. There was no name. It was a card with one word: Faggot.

Mason looked at me to see who it was from, but I quickly put it in my pocket. “I hope you’re not cheating on me,” he joked, smiling at me.

“Of course not!”

“Well, why can’t I see the card?”

“It’s mine,” I said. This was likely Bret fucking with me again. I could not let Mason know about this. He might actually kill Bret this time, and I didn’t very much think orange was Mason’s color. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” he replied sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He was mad. Throughout the day I got the flowers with the same card. With each one, Mason got more and more unnerved. I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. At lunch he didn’t say a word. He ate a lot extra so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. I didn’t want him to see them. We couldn’t afford another incident like when he beat Bret to a pulp over a cupcake. He’d go berserk if he knew what was happening.

We walked to Spanish in silence. I got another card, and it said the same thing, but with a name—Bret. Surprise, surprise. I knew it was him. Nobody else would go so far to harass someone. Mason gave me a look of death and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to go home. English came and I got my first nice flower all day. It said: I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world. Love, Mason.

I put that one in a separate pocket. Mason had gotten his first flower, which I was assuming was the one I purchased for him. He scanned it over and over. I hoped he liked it. Maybe it would make up for not showing him the Bret cards. I looked up at him and smiled. He stood up and stormed out; I followed. I heard Bret laughing as I entered the hallway.

“Mason! Wait up, what’s wrong? Mason!” He turned to face me. I saw he was trying to think about what to do. He pushed me into a locker, and it felt like he was getting ready to punch me.

“You—,” he started. He pulled out the card and read. “‘It’s over, Mason. I’ve gotten you back for three years of absolute torment. Did you really think I’d ever want to be with you, especially now? You’re a joke.’” Mason hadn’t stopped growing since moving back home. He was up another ten pounds, putting him at 303 pounds. I loved every ounce of him. I would never send that. I hoped he’d be smart enough to realize that.

“Please don’t hit me,” I exclaimed, flinching. He didn’t. Thank Jesus; he could have given me internal bleeding or something.

“I’d never put my hands on you,” he said angrily. Now he was mad and offended.

“I would never send that,” I said, pulling out the carbon copy receipt. “Look.” I handed him the card and he read it, looking relieved.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. He was getting worked up. I had a bad feeling. “I knew you didn’t send this, and it still got me emotional. I’m so sorry for pushing you. I’d never hit you. I swear I wouldn’t. But those cards you’ve been getting all day have really fucked with my head.” I reached into my pocket and handed him the cards. I hadn’t wanted him to see them, but at this point I had to be honest.

“These are the cards I’ve been getting all day, okay?” He read them and really went insane, heading for the exit.

“Mason, we’re going home, yeah?”

“Hell no. We are waiting for Bret and this is going to end today. Oliver, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I might just kill him.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Not if it’s after school.” That was ridiculous. He’d so still get in trouble. We passed through the doors leading outside as the afternoon announcements came on.

“You can’t do this Mason,” I said, trying my best to calm him down. “You’ve got to let this go.” The bell finally rang and two minutes later kids surged out of the building. He ran right at Bret who had been describing what he had done to two of his own beta-males. Bret was knocked to the ground.

Bret looked up at Mason from the ground. Mason was in a t-shirt alone. We hadn’t stopped at our lockers. The sleeves in the underarm area ripped with the advanced movement of his huge arms. Mason leaned over and punched him, harder and harder.

He stood straight up, hovering over Bret who was still laying on the pavement. “You ever fuck with us again, you’ll get your ass kicked worse than this.” There was a group around us, which formed a circle. Mason then spoke to them, turning every so often. It was almost like we were in the Colosseum, Mason a gladiator orating to the spectators.

“I like men,” Mason began. “But don’t let that confuse you. I can still fuck up anybody who steps to me or my boyfriend.” People were hanging on his every word. It was amazing.

“And this bitch over here,” Mason continued, gesturing towards Bret, “Has the weirdest fucking obsession with us. He went out of his way to send my boyfriend flowers all day today. I guess you could say he has a little crush.” This had people laughing now. “Babe, you should thank him for the flowers, but do let him down easy.”

“Uh, thanks for the flowers,” I said, uneasy having been put on the spot, but excited to be standing up to Bret in front of everyone for the first time. “But I’ve already got a boyfriend, so maybe you could find someone else.” The circle erupted in a resounding ‘Ohhhh!’ and lots of laughter.

“So who started this?” Mason asked the bloodthirsty spectators.

“Bret!” the crowd shouted. “Bret! Bret! Bret!” Mason started to walk off and I followed close behind him. The crowd parted so we could pass. I had never wanted to fuck him more than now. We could still hear people chanting and laughing as we made it to his Jeep.

Once inside, he drove towards my house, eyes focused intently on the road. His stomach growled loudly. There was a slight pause after the growling ceased, and then we both laughed loudly.

“Now I’m starving,” he said. I knew exactly what I wanted to make him.

As soon as we made it to my house, I started cooking. Mason went off to take a shower, saying something about needing to cool off. The whole situation with Bret still had him slightly heated. I was definitely still wound up from that encounter too, but not in the same way as Mason. Just thinking about how he’d stood up for the both of us had me soaking through my briefs. I’d been hard for some time now, ever since Mason’s whole ‘Are you not entertained?’ bit.

I cooked and cooked and cooked until I ended up making much more food than I thought we needed. It was just the two of us, but I’d made enough for five. I just couldn’t control myself when cooking for Mason. I loved seeing how much he could put away, how pleased his face would be when he ate an excessive amount of food.

I made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. It was a dumb concept that I came up with back in middle school during the early days of my culinary exploration. The main component was a mozzarella-stuffed chicken breast that I would deep fry. I served it with macaroni and cheese. And, even though I knew it was overkill, broccoli covered in a cheese sauce (I’d even made a dozen rolls, and no, they weren’t cheese stuffed). It was a lactose-intolerant person’s worst nightmare, but Mason had never had any problems with dairy. He probably couldn’t go on living without it. I made five of those chicken breasts, a huge serving dish worth of broccoli, and enough mac and cheese for a family of four.

About an hour later he came lumbering down the stairs. I’d just finished plating the food, with parsley and everything. He sat at the table, shirtless, and I took in his quarter-sized nipples. His pecs were still firm but had a nice layer of fat over them. My mouth didn’t water when I thought about dinner, but Mason’s tits had me almost drooling all over myself. I never would have thought he would be this big. I set his plate and silverware in front of him, and then the basket of rolls.

“I made too much,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said, smiling up at me from his seat at the table, “especially since you made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special.” I felt my face go hot. It meant a lot to me that Mason remembered the name of this meal, but I needed to come up with a new one. Something that wasn’t so embarrassing. I wasn’t twelve anymore.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” I said, walking towards the fridge and pouring him a glass of milk.

“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time getting started. He didn’t even use silverware to eat the chicken breast, simply picking it up and taking a large bite, pulling the meat away from his mouth causing an impressive cheese pull.

In this moment, watching him happily eat, I realized that Mason hadn’t really changed all that much since we were younger. Yeah, he was over a hundred pounds bigger and six inches taller, but he was still the same silly, considerate, sometimes hot-headed guy I’d always had a crush on.

I must’ve been staring, because he looked up from his plate, catching my gaze. He stopped racing through the food on his plate, eating more slowly.

“What’re you staring at?” he asked, chewing, stabbing a broccoli floret with his fork. “You haven’t even started eating yet.”

“I just really love you,” I said honestly. “I can’t help staring.”

“C’mon Oli,” he said, his face reddening, “You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not!”

“Well, I love you too,” he said, his face still flushed. “I’m really lucky, you know? Who’d ever think a guy like you would be interested in me.”

Whoa—Mason was always surprising me. My initial assessment wasn’t completely fair to him. Mason had changed. In a way that was really significant.

He’d become more courageous.

He was brave enough to come out, to date me, to change his body in a way that wasn’t considered conventionally attractive. Even if all the things I loved about him from our youth were the same, I was fortunate enough to be able to love the man he was becoming as well.

I stood, going to refill his plate. He ate this serving just like the first, like if he didn’t get it all down fast enough someone might come and take it away. I sat down and watched, picking at the portion I’d set aside for myself. I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea how he ate so much. He’d eat a roll every so often. I was able to refill his plate once more, and he ate that with the same amount of gusto. He got up the excess cheese that remained on the plate with the last roll.

“Fuck, that was just as good as I remembered.” He leaned back, placing his hands on his belly, rubbing it gently.

“Can—uh, can I do that?” I asked. He grinned.

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said, turning in the chair away from the table. He spread his legs, waiting for me. I went to the other side of the table as he pushed away from it. I knelt on the ground and rubbed his bloated gut, my hands traveling to his sides so I could squeeze the love handles pushed up by his underwear.

I moved toward his broad chest, squeezing the flesh there as well. Fuck, there was just so much of him. He was only wearing underwear, so I saw he was getting hard. I leaned forward, and began to kiss his belly, licking around his navel. His stomach tensed and relaxed.

“You like this gut?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“I love this gut,” I replied. His dick jumped in his underwear.

He stood, pushing me back slightly. I looked up from beneath his belly, and it made me think about that day at the bike racks a few months ago. I’d thought of him as a giant then, but compared to what I was looking at now, that version of Mason was minuscule.

Mason removed his dick from his boxers, and I leaned forward, resting my mouth at the base of his penis above his balls. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of his skin after a shower. I licked his shaft slowly, raising a hand to feel the heft of his belly above me. It didn’t need my support, as it was a solid sphere that hadn’t gotten large enough yet to droop. I thought about that phrasing and it sent me to another level of arousal. Large enough yet. Mason would likely be bigger than this soon. 300 pounds was the point where most guys would fight to get their waistlines in check, but I knew Mason didn’t care about that. He’d want more, and I wanted to help him.

I heard him moaning above me, one of his hands grabbing my hair, the other on the side of his gut. “Fuck, Oli,” he grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

I stopped and stood up.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

He agreed to head up to my room, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing me ravenously first. He loved kissing, and I definitely wasn’t against it, but we hadn’t moved yet. Mason was still kissing me. On my neck. My forehead. My cheeks. He reached for his penis, but I stopped him.

“Upstairs,” I reiterated.

He nodded. His eyes had that glazed over look again. He followed me to the staircase, and as I ascended, I heard the stairs creaking loudly as he heavily padded up after me.

I wanted to fuck him with all I had. Each time I wanted more and more to have the best sex ever, and each time it was the best sex ever. I didn’t know if it was because we were getting better at it or the fact that our relationship was becoming so much more serious, but whatever it was, I hoped it continued.

He pulled off his boxers and leaned over my desk, his beefy forearms resting on top. His strong legs were spread apart, and his knees were slightly bent. In this position, his stomach seemed more noticeable. It hung down, round and bloated. I wanted to cradle it in my hands from behind.

I slid on a condom and carried the lube over to where he was waiting for me. I covered my dick in the slick substance before gently massaging his hole. “I’m ready,” he breathed. “I want it, Oliver.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed onto one of his love handles as I led my member inside of him. This ass was everything. I’m pretty sure he worked it out extra hard because he knew I loved it so much. Seeing my hands cradling his meaty cheeks was unreal. I didn’t have abnormally large hands, but he had such a massive ass, they looked almost feminine. I pushed my entire dick inside of him, thrusting back and forth more forcefully than I had before. He moaned and moaned—saying my name, telling me how good it felt. I felt the tingle I came to expect wash over me. I wasn’t sure if it was endorphins or what, but I was close to finishing and feeling amazing.

He took a sharp intake of breath, shooting cum across the front drawers of my desk. I pushed hard a few more times. I’d never felt so good before. I came loads, my legs turning to jelly for a few moments, almost causing me to lose my balance. “Aw, fuck,” I managed to get out, grabbing his hips gently.

We moved over to the bed and laid back. His belly moved up and down.

“That gets better and better,” he panted.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He rolled over on top of me. I loved that, the weight of his fat body pressing into me. It was incredible. He just laid there, kissing my face and neck until I had to tap out. He rolled back over, smiling.

The next thing I remember was waking up. We’d fallen asleep. It was now around eight. I tried to shake him awake.

“Mason,” I said. “Mason wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

“Mason,” I laughed, “You can’t stay here. Your parents will wonder where you are.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” he said into a pillow. “Let them wonder.”

“But our homework,” I said half-heartedly, also not in the mood to complete any schoolwork or send him on his way. I got up and checked my assignment book. Nothing was due tomorrow. I locked my door and got back in bed. He turned so I could place my head on his chest. He had his arm wrapped around me. I could have stayed like that forever.

Mason dozed back off almost immediately, but I laid awake thinking.

We only had a couple of months left in senior year. I’d gotten into my first-choice university and all of my safety schools, but there was definitely something that had me reconsidering going away to a four-year university. I didn’t really have any idea of what I wanted to major in. Nothing in the traditional sense was appealing to me. I didn’t want to be a teacher or a lawyer or a nurse.

Being with Mason reignited a passion that had laid dormant for years. I loved being in the kitchen and perfecting different recipes. Attending culinary school might be what I want to do post-graduation. It might have been youthful optimism, but I could see myself one day owning a restaurant.

Mason was going to the college thirty minutes from where we lived. I knew there was a program near him that was accredited and offered lots of opportunities for growth. I could feel myself getting excited by this idea. I hadn’t even been this excited opening up my college acceptance letters. This passion had to mean something. It just had to.

I could do it. I would do it! I’d always longed for a life outside of high school, and now I was starting to see that life more clearly. Even if the future was a mixed bag of possibilities, I knew one thing for certain.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Mason.

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

[cellu-lightreading]

Pure Greed

It was all a coincidence really. Jamie's friends took him on a vacation, and a few drunken afternoons produced a flurry of content of him shirtless on his socials. He was twerking on the beach and eating all kinds of food. As he watched it back, he was a little embarrassed. The internet isn't usually kind to guys like him with double chins that eclipse their necks and waistlines wider than adults are tall. When he checked his phone and saw that his phone was blowing up, he was nervous that trolls had come to attack him. That's not what he found. 

Hundreds of likes materialized overnight with a comments section overflowing with support and love. Not exactly body positivity comments, more swarming sexual admirers. There were heart eyes and eggplants and peaches. They said they liked his soft gut and his giant dimpled ass. They were drooling over how much he could eat instead of criticizing all the junk he was stuffing in his mouth. 

At breakfast, Jamie decided to share the phenomenon on his post. No one could quite explain how these legions managed to find him of all people, but one friend had one idea of why they were so obsessed with him. 

"They're called feeders or encouragers." Brandon said "When they see a big fat guy not promising to lose weight, they're like moths to a flame. You filming yourself stuffing yourself is like porn to them."

"How do you know all of this?" Jamie asked. 

"'Cause they swarm the comments of all my favorite fitness influencers going on a dirty bulk in the winter. They go rabid watching a dude's abs melt away for a few months and then get disappointed and disappear in the spring when it's time to cut. Actually, this is a pretty good opportunity for you if you play your cards right. These guys will literally throw money at you just for being fat. Now that they've slashed your hours at work, you can probably string these guys along to keep the bills paid."

"I don't know how I feel about selling my body."

"You're not exactly doing porn. You don't even really have to get naked. All you have to do is be fat and get fatter."

"Get fatter? I just clocked in at 375 the other week! I can't afford to get bigger!"

"Considering we're the ones paying for your stay this weekend, I'd argue that you can't afford not to get bigger."

A few days after getting home, Jamie decided to give making content a try. He wasn't really sure what to do so he started with something basic every influencer did nowadays: a get ready with me video. He started the video from bed, letting the people see him heave his body out from under the covers. He slept shirtless normally so that might be something. He showed himself buttoning up his uniform shirt around his large frame and hoisting his pants around his thighs. He got a little self-conscious thinking about the ways his clothes tended to get stuck around his folds and how tight they looked in places. He pushed the thought away and started on breakfast. Normally, he didn't eat all that much for breakfast, at least not compared to his other meals. He didn't really get that hungry in the morning, preferring to keep things simple with some toaster waffles and bacon. He thought half the box of waffles was pretty moderate considering how small they were; there were only ten in the box to begin with. After licking up the syrup, Jamie ended the video with a wave and a smile hoping he was enticing enough. 

Jamie closed the app out and forgot about it. Work usually kept him very occupied, so there wasn't a lot of time to check his phone. It was only at the end of the day when he got a call from Brandon that he thought to open the app at all.

"I'm genuinely curious: you really call five waffles and half a pack of bacon a light breakfast?" he asked Jamie incredulously. 

"Yeah? I'm usually not quite full after that."

"Oh it's no wonder they're reacting well to this."

"How well?"

"Like two thousand likes plus a never ending stream of comments."

"No way!"

"Yeah and this comments section...honestly is pretty obscene. I definitely feel like some of these would make you uncomfortable, but still no fatphobic trolls so that's a win. People are definitely fans of you. They think you are the sexiest thing ever."

"I still can't believe this is a thing."

"It is absolutely a thing and it is happening to you. Lots of people hoping you'll keep making content, and you're already getting people offering to pay for you to eat stuff. I honestly feel like you should show them what you normally eat before you do all that."

"But I'm hurting now. The cash would be good to have now. You have no idea what I can do with that kind of money."

"I think I’m starting to." He said to himself. Then he asked, "Aren't you the same guy who was nervous about putting yourself out on the internet?"

"I am, but $40 is $40. I go through a lot of money in food and things like that. It would be pretty neat if I really could get a little help around here."

"Well, how does this sound? Take the offer, go have a good time. Don't deny yourself anything for the next month. Every time you want something, have it. You don't have to push yourself, just show off your normal life- and get it on film."

Jamie accepted the challenge. He took pictures and videos of every time he ate. Within the first week, Brandon was shocked to find out just how much food went towards keeping Jamie as big as he was. When he said breakfast was light, he wasn't kidding. He was ingesting thousands of calories just from the vending machine while he worked at his desk. One night he ate an entire party-size lasagna by himself and then remarked that "he still had a little space left, maybe dessert would finally top him off." He went to his freezer, grabbed a pint of ice cream he filled with all sorts of treats and toppings and ate it until he was licking the container. The scariest part to Brandon was that most of his videos felt like a confessional; no one was supposed to know all the eating he does, especially not the people in his real life- i.e. Brandon. Jamie was increasingly comfortable admitting to his new internet friends all of his favorite treats and tricks. That's how Brandon found out people put crushed Doritos on pizzas. 

By the time their little challenge was ending, Jamie was on camera complaining how his jeans were getting a little tight. When the two of them met up at a function for a mutual friend, the conversation quickly veered off toward their project.

"You know, I had a lot of fun following your advice in the last month. I don't know when was the last time I got to have so much fun guilt free."

"Really?" Brandon asked. He thought back to a video where Jamie went back to a restaurant after their friend group left to have a second round of food. "I'm glad you've got a new space to do that now."

"Yeah, and the fans are really getting into it. They've got all kinds of food suggestions and the money never stops pouring in. They've been really supportive.”

"Speaking of ‘supportive’, how to put this delicately, has it gotten any harder for some of the things around you to physically support you and your new hobby?"

"Is this your coded way of asking me if I gained weight?"

"Yeah, I'm trying not to be really rude about it in public."

"It's fine. But it has gotten a little harder to wear anything with buttons, nothing wants to close anymore. I've easily put on 15 pounds, maybe even a whole 20."

"20 pounds in a month is pretty fast."

"That's why I was so nervous to start this. My body is an expert at putting on weight."

"So I see. Do you think you'll cut back down to something a little more manageable or-"

"No, I don't think the fans will like that too tough. That's like the one thing that gets them really jumpy. Every time I bring up the word diet or cutting, the comments get flooded with messages about how beautiful I am at this size and begging me not to lose weight."

"And this doesn't concern you at all?"

"I mean at the end of the day, they are people on the internet and this is my body. I get the final say on decisions I make with my body. I can always just lose the weight, right?"

"But it doesn't bother you that people are begging you to get fatter?"

"Honestly, no." Jamie laughed. "Like it sounds weird, but I kind of enjoy it. I mean, look at me. With no extra effort on my part, I gained 20 pounds in a month. If I'm going to keep getting fatter, I might as well do it with people who appreciate me this way."

"If you say so. As long as you're okay with it."

"Yeah, it's fine. All this talking about the channel is making me hungry though and I know I smelled something good earlier. What do you say we check out the snack situation?"

Sooner than expected by all, Jamie was planning on celebrating his first gainer milestone- 400 pounds. Jamie was a little surprised at the number, but his reaction surprised himself more. For a while, the idea of reaching the 400s was enough to send him into a crash diet of nothing but carrots and celery for a couple of weeks until a strong craving hit him right when he was starving. His willpower would fall apart in dramatic style, and his weight would continue its upward trajectory. This time, Jamie accepted it. It was shocking to know he had reached it with so little effort on his part. He expected to reach the 400s in the holidays, not from an extra trip to the vending machine at work. In fact, he didn't feel that much bigger crossing over the line. 

While Jamie might not be excited, his followers were very excited to get the news. They begged to see him step on the scale and watch the magic number appear and sent some extra money to celebrate the accomplishment.. When Jamie saw how big the donations were, he knew he had to try to do something special.  He had exactly one idea, but it made him a little nervous.

"So to... celebrate 400 pounds, I thought I would treat you all to a little sneak peak behind the scenes of the real life behind the fat man. This stuff annoys me, but you all seem to love it so I think you'll have a fun time. These are 4 of my big fat problems." 

Jamie started off by showing his followers the pile of clothes he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. Every article of clothing in the pile was something he had destroyed just from being too fat. Shirts with the buttons popped off, belts where the buckle had been torn off, pants where his thighs had worn down the fabric from rubbing together all the time while he was walking and waddling everywhere, and everything where a seam ripped in defeat from holding back too much fat. More embarrassing than how he knew he was never going to fit back in those sizes, was how he had destroyed those clothes so no one else would ever get to wear them either. Trying to get them fixed would mean admitting that he had done all that damage to these clothes. To complete the exercise, Jamie put on an outfit from the bottom of the pile that looked smaller than he last remembered. The sweatpants were once the pants when he was too bloated to fit his normal clothes until his thighs made a heart shaped hole around the crotch. Years later, he could hardly get them around his legs. The fabric still felt delicate around the inside of his thighs, thin enough that he could practically feel the skin on tthe other leg through his pants. When he made the mistake of reaching for a shirt on the ground, the pants ripped apart all the way up to his ass. Jamie decided that was enough. 

Number 2 was in his dining room. Jamie had a set of chairs that used to be his favorites in the house. He keeps them hidden now because he had two of them collapse under his weight in one night in the middle of a party. He won't use any of them anymore to save himself the embarrassment of using a chair that doesn't match. It doesn't hurt that even if he wanted to sit in one now, the arms on the chair are so narrow that he wouldn't be able to fit his ass in between. Jamie knew his followers would want the painful proof, so he gently lowered his rear end into one. First came the pinch of the arms skewering his doughy flesh, but the more he tried to unload his body in the seat, the more the arms relented against his flesh until they snapped off. With the arms no longer in the way to help slow down the inevitable, all of Jamie’s body plopped in the chair. The chair immediately protested with a loud symphony of moans and creaks. Jamie thought he might be safe from the ultimate embarrassment. He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair. Before Jamie could even process what was happening, the chair disintegrated into splinters underneath him. 

Number 3 was deceptively simple: tying his shoes. It took so much effort to do every morning that Jamie actively dreaded the idea that they would get undone during the day. With a large gut permanently sitting in the middle of his body, reaching all the way around to his feet was a challenge. Every day he would try in vain to reach over his belly to tug on his shoes. Getting it done often required contorting his body into ridiculous shapes to bring his leg closer. When he was done, it often left him breathless and tired enough that he considered slides for the rest of his life. 

The last segment of his video involved going jogging outside. In the early spring, the weather was a fairly mild temperature, but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at Jamie. Jamie purposefully made it short- just one lap around his cul-de-sac.  There was no delusion that he would go far when this would already be one of his longest runs in years. He recorded how his tits and ass and belly all bounced around with every footfall. By the time he was back at his house, Jamie was wheezing and panting. His shirt was wet all over and his face was drenched in sweat. Just a few yards had the ability to completely destroy him. With that, Jamie decided that he had enough. 

Jamie posted and it was a runaway success. All around the clock, Jamie was getting comments online. They cheered him on and told him how beautiful they thought he was. They weren't afraid to tell him just how hot that video was to them. The more comments he read, the more assured he felt that he made the right decision. Why be ashamed of something that made everyone love him more? Maybe this was where he belonged all along. His followers tripled within two weeks. He promised his followers that he would eat whatever they paid for. Jamie tried to sweeten the pot for them too, "If you look back in the archive, you all can tell what kind of guy you're working with when I make promises like that. I eat all sorts of junk and stuff myself whenever I get a chance. I'm also probably not going to burn all of that exercising. If my last video didn't make it clear enough, cardio is not something that has a regular place in my life. So feel at ease, knowing your money is going to a very good cause." Jamie gave his stomach a couple of pats for the camera. 

Suddenly, money started coming in like a water hose. Money was coming into his account, gift cards were getting sent to his email, and presents were showing up at his door. Jamie had full-on supporters now. They were all in, engaging with him whenever he wanted to be there. If he was considering being lazy or having a little extra dessert, someone was always there within seconds to tell him to do it. If he wasn't sure about finishing his meal, there was always a little encouragement waiting for him in his messages. 

His new supporters also came with a bit more edge. They were more willing to speak their mind about the kinds of food he should be eating: fattier, more flavorful, more. They introduced him to shakes; they gave him new concoctions to try to actively help push a few more pounds onto his already very generous frame. It was a new step for him to take. All this time, he hadn't been trying to gain, the weight had found him from trying to have fun. This had all been an adventure in people enjoying who he already was. The last 25 pounds were already a big shock for him, what would happen if he really opened the floodgates and started actively gaining weight? What would people say?   

Nothing he hadn't heard before, something deep inside told him. It was scary to admit, but people had been comfortable saying all kinds of crazy things to him about his size for a long time. 400 might have been a new threshold of big, but he'd been fat enough to draw the ire of folks for hundreds of pounds now. The stares, the jokes, the dire warnings of health concerns, and the snide remarks were already fixtures in his regular life. No one would care if he put on a little more weight, they had already written him off as fat. The only person's opinion that matters is his own...and he was having fun. 

Jamie made a video taste testing some gainer shake recipes for the very first time. His mouth watered watching all these delicious ingredients get added to the blender. He chugged one after another before he came to the realization that each one of those glasses was the calorie equivalent of a full day's eating. "Maybe I overdid it," he admitted on camera.  The comments assured him he was on the right path. 

One evening a few months later, Jamie was meeting up with his friends to celebrate a birthday. He was trying to inhale the rest of the McDonald's he had picked up on the way in his car. When he heard a tap on his window, he was startled. Brandon was leering in. Jamie rolled down the window. 

"Jamie, are you actually eating in the parking lot of a restaurant that you're about to enter?"

Jamie looked to the pile of food on the passenger seat and accepted lying was not an option. "Yes."

"Oh my God." 

"Look, I know this isn't the best look, but I had to do something. My appetite has been growing a lot lately-"

"From the amount of stretching your stomach's been doing for the channel."

"-and I don't want to pig out at every meal that I have in public. I already eat more than everyone else, I don't need to keep adding fuel to the fire. You and I both know they really only tolerate all of this," Jamie jiggled his belly, "because we've been friends for such a long time."

"Yeah, but you've got to admit that this is getting out of hand. You've gained like a hundred pounds in the last year or so, and when you started this you were worried about how big you already were."

"But when I started this, I was also deeply insecure about the idea of even showing my body in public. Now I have people in my life who are genuinely excited about me doing the things I love the most and are happy to see me be me."

"I'm not sure this is you guiding you along. Feels a little more like the tail wagging the dog. "

"Brandon, you know my life better than anyone at this point. I want you to think back to my videos. Have you ever seen me this happy in my life?"

"No. I want to say I have, but I haven't."

"Exactly. Believe me when I tell you that I'm okay. I'm enjoying myself. I'm in control of the situation. I wouldn't still be doing this if I didn't like it."

"Okay, but I think you should know you're starting to get to the deep end of all this stuff. I'm not going to be able to help you so much as you keep growing."

Jamie didn't take that as a warning at the time. He was more than content to catch up on Brandon's life while he ate. He had dessert after dinner and a midnight snack. Jamie kept on, knocking back gainer shakes like it was water.  The only thing that gave him pause came while he was on the watch out to hit 500. Jamie went to his manager after his desk chair broke in a second place in one month. It had been a bit of a fight to get them to give him a big and tall chair in the first place back when he was cresting 300 and breaking it was not going to lead to a pleasant conversation. 

"Look, I understand that we live in a body positive society now and the company is really trying to work on being more inclusive, but this is too much. We can't keep doing this. It might be easier to swallow the fact that you are now too big for a big and tall chair if it wasn't clear to everyone that you're also spending more time eating in your work day than actually working. Every paper that crosses your desk leaves with crumbs and grease stains and your numbers are slipping to the point that you're now last in the division. It's time for you to go."

Suddenly, Jamie was back in a crisis all over again. This time, though, he already had a lifeline. Donations had reached a fever pitch in the past few weeks and it was only going to keep increasing. The only real problem was that Brandon wasn't going to be able to help him find a new avenue to expand his business. Jamie turned to his followers, telling them all of his woes with the hope a savior would emerge. 

He got another warning in his direct messages from another gainer. "Be careful what you wish for. The bigger you get, the more you're going to find people who are serious about this. The dark end of this community will drag you in if you're not prepared to handle it. There are guys who will keep pitching in with a meal or two, and guys who will take over your life." 

That was what we had in mind when he met with Tom. Tom was a slender man who wore a dark suit and a sly smile. Tom had watched his videos since the very beginning. The bigger he got, the more active he had become in the comments. 

"It's such a pleasure to get to meet you in person. I wish it was under different circumstances."

'Well these don't have to be sad either.”

“I didn’t say they were sad; I only wish they were different. I think every man of your… stature should be excited by the prospect of leaving your job to spend the rest of your days eating and having a good time.”

“Well I don’t know if it’ll be the rest of my days.”

“I can’t imagine after this little experiment you’ll be begging to be back working a 9 to 5.”

“I can’t imagine I’ll enjoy being unemployed.”

“It’ll help when you stop thinking of yourself as unemployed and more as a full-time content creator.”

“Right…what's the catch?”

A few months later, Jamie was living in the lap of luxury. Tom hired someone to come around every day to take care of chores and get him whatever food he wanted. (Tom had also hired him to ensure that food was now always within arms reach and Jamie did as little physical labor as possible.He would get a bonus ever time he could sneak in appetite stimulant or weight gain shakes into his diet) Jamie spent the first couple weeks just testing his new helper on the lengths they would go for his every craving. He never found something he wanted that wouldn’t show up for him in multiple greasy bags ready to be devoured. Catering pans filled with burritos or lasagna would show up whenever he wanted. 

Jamie was glad for the extra hands around the house because it meant he could devote all his time to his favorite hobbies. He could binge watch shows and play video games for days. The internet would graciously supply him with any kind of entertainment to keep his mind distracted while giant bags of chips disappeared into his maw. 

The best part, Jamie thought, was having Tom around. All the nagging voices of his coworkers were replaced with Tom’s. He would come over when he got a break or after work, usually toting a bag filled with Jamie’s favorite treats. While Jamie shamelessly licked his fingers and the bag for every morsel, Tom would whisper into his ears how sexy he found him. He would tell Jamie how proud he was every time he found fresh fat and stretch marks while he caressed his body. Whenever Jamie got nervous and embarrassed about outgrowing clothes, Tom would celebrate and order in the finest meals he could find. Tom had transformed unemployment into being the best thing that ever happened to him. 

Time slipped away and pounds piled on. The bubble of indulgence burst when Brandon paid Jamie a surprise visit. The helper opened the door slightly and Brandon barged in. 

“Jamie, I think there’s something you should- dear Lord! What the hell?” Brandon took in the full extent of Jamie’s new level of obesity. He would check in on videos occasionally, but months had passed since he last saw him in person.  “The camera really doesn’t do justice on how big you look.”

“That’s what Tim says too. He says I’ll waste away if I’m not careful.” Jamie let out a nervous chuckle that shook his bean bag sized belly. 

“Brandon, do you know how much Tim is keeping from you? Do you even know how much you weigh?”

“Well I got fired around 500 and we just did a milestone video not too long ago, so I figure I should be in the early 600s.”

“That milestone video was for 700 and that was six months ago.”

“Well time sort of gets away from you when you don’t have to be at work five days a week. But I’m making the best out of the situation. I’ve got great TV and these delicious snacks that honestly taste like butter and sugar.”

“It probably is just lard and sugar,” Jamie said. “And this isn’t raising any red flags for you? Aren’t you worried about fitting through doors anymore?”

“Not since we widened them all. I had a few incidents where I got stuck.”

“A few?”

“Well the first time, I thought it was a freak accident, but then it kept happening and each time it was harder for me to get out. There was one time Tim was going to grease me up to get me out the door with some butter, but I had already eaten it all during a feeding session.”

“And again, you’re okay with all this? A man just emerges from the internet and you let him feed you off a cliff?”

“Honestly, it didn’t take as much convincing as you might think. Tim has this belief that just some people were born to be fat and that’s it. That being fat is our role to play in the world. And like I probably could’ve gone into the job market and fought for another boring job I don’t even like just to make ends meet, but my other option was to be perfectly fine doing exactly what I want to do. I enjoy eating and lounging around all day and the more I do it, the bigger I get, the more money I make to spend on food and fun stuff. Outgrowing clothes, furniture, my car- it’s all just a part of my life at this size. It’s been a part of my life for years now, decades almost. And the price to pay- the stuff that my doctors used to say to scare me- I’ve made my peace with it. I’ve spent too much trying to be scared by it already. One more cake isn’t going to make the difference.”

“Give up, he’s already made up his mind.” Tim said, emerging without warning. “This is who he is now. He’s settled completely into a life of being fed and pampered. Now all he wants in life is to keep growing for me and his subscribers. That strong-willed guy you used to know is gone. He’s accepted life as a fat boy. .’

The doorbell rang. The caretaker opened the door and in came a man in a polo with a gigantic grease stained brown paper bag. The smell of all kinds of food filled the house. Jamie looked at Brandon who was licking his lips. Brandon couldn’t contain his excitement. Brandon said, stunned, “This is really your life now. This is what fills your life with happiness. Do you even have any of your mobility left?”

“Of course I do. Look, I’ll go fetch my mid-afternoon snack from the kitchen myself.”

“Snack?”

Brandon rocked back and forth, trying to get some momentum. For a brief second, he made it off the chair. Then the momentum switched directions. The weight of a family of four slammed into the sofa. The wooden frame underneath let out a scream before the whole left side broke into pieces. 

“Are you okay?” Tim yelled out. 

“Let me help you back up.” Jamie stretched out his hands. 

“No, I can get up by myself.” Brandon tried the trick again. He rocked back and forth and hauled himself up with a mighty groan. Breathlessly, he said, “I told you I could do it.”  

Brandon waddled slowly towards the kitchen. Every thunderous step shook the house, rattling anything not nailed down. It was hypnotizing watching the dimpled folds of his body pillow-sized thighs brush past each other. His gut swung like a pendulum back and forth out of the bottom of his shirt. Every movement made his shirt slide further up his belly until it was blocked by his chest. The sound of his panting was hard to ignore as it grew louder. It didn’t seem like a long distance from the sofa to the kitchen counter, but when Brandon got there, it was like he had completed a marathon. Everyone was stunned by the sight, except for Brandon. 

“All of this is for me, right?” Brandon said, catching his breath, “I’ve been hungry since I finished my second round of lunch an hour ago.”  Brandon tore apart the bag and stuffed a fistful of seasoned fries into his mouth while he rifled through the containers. 

#gainer story #gainer fiction #gay gainer #wg story #bhm #encourager #glorifying obesity #death feederism