#I’m a powerlifter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegainingdesk · 22 days

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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

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jeewrites · 2 months

Text

Hold Fast | Ch. 3 - Curdles

Series Masterlist

Rating: M for language, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

Summary: We leave the gym! A little bit of angst (that resolves by the end of the chapter)!

A/N: There are things I’m not tagging to avoid giving away the story. Please remember this is a work of fiction. See the endnote for content warning/spoilers. Tyty to @bloviating-vy for being the best beta.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: no y/n, reader has a nickname, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie in her late 30's described as short and she has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar called Redfly's, Pope owns a gym, reader's mother is a menace, a lot of Frankie POV oops, use of Daddy but not like that

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[text conversation]

😻🐟: Dinner Friday? Pick you up at 7? 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🎉🎉 😻🐟: Gonna to take that as a yes

🏋🏻‍♀️: 💃🏻💃🏻 😻🐟: Uhh, I don't do dancing

🏋🏻‍♀️: 💃🏻 = I'm excited for Friday 😻🐟: roger that 🫡

😻🐟: 💃🏻💃🏻 😻🐟: Did I do that right 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🎉🎉

It's been a week. Time crawled despite your full patient load. Frankie had texted you about dinner on Monday, but you hadn't heard from him since. It's not like you were great with texting either, seeing patients all day and charting in between, as fast as your fingers could humanly type. And the last thing you needed was for him to be texting and flying.

His last text had you chuckling between patients, a half smile ghosting your lips for the rest of the day. Your co-worker remarked on your good mood and you let it slip that you had a date you were looking forward to, before you remembered why you kept your romantic life private. What does he do? Is he also a doctor? Did you land another surgeon? What do your parents think? Does he want kids? Show us a picture!

As much as you liked and cared about the other physicians at the shared practice, they were also all mothers of young children, busy with playdates and the whirlwind of family life. The group practice was set up so the physicians could work part-time while also raising their babies. As the sole single and childless physician of the practice however, it felt like they lived vicariously through you sometimes. Well intentioned but prying questions into your love life or your life in general (what do you do with all that free time?). When you first started at the practice you declared any discussion about your failed engagement off limits. To distract from the drama of that whole part of your life, you sometimes offered up bits about your online dating adventures much to their interest and amusement. That is, until you heard, "I'm so glad I don't have to date anymore" for the millionth time. Ugh.

As you scarf down the last of your lunch on Friday, you feel your phone vibrate, alerting you to a new message. You take a quick peek, smiling when you see it's from Frankie. Your smile falls the next moment as you open the text.

😻🐟: have to raincheck on dinner sweets 🏋🏻‍♀️: is everything ok?

A text bubble appears after you respond, “...” flickering for what feels like eternity before disappearing. Your stomach curdles in concern and disappointment, was he okay? You didn't think he had his daughter this week. Was she ok? You were so looking forward to dinner with Frankie, especially after your last disastrous date with someone from the dating apps.

Frankie was still interested, right? He had hung around for your entire bench workout on Saturday until he absolutely had to go pick up his daughter from his mom's. He had been so protective at the gym when Mike was being an absolute douchebag.

Although he was also protective of Chloe too, that irritating voice in your head, your mother's voice, reminded you. As you sigh, staring at the phone willing him to respond, your favorite nurse Suze pokes her head into the break room alerting you of your next patient that arrived early.

"Ok, be right there," you respond, trying to keep an upbeat tone as you shove your phone and disappointment into your pocket and throw your trash away.

Frankie isn't sure when was the last time he slept more than two consecutive hours since Wednesday. Fuck, Delta-Force Ops Training was easier than this. First, Vanessa had texted Sunday morning, begging Frankie to keep Gabi this week, her week, for some opaque reason related to work being extra busy and Vanessa needing more time for herself. I never ask you for favors, Francisco, Vanessa had guilted him over the phone.

Frankie figured with his work schedule working in his favor this week, he could keep Gabi and have his mamá watch her on the days he flew and on Friday evening so he could still take you out to dinner. His grand plans came crashing down when Gabi started fussing Wednesday, clinging to Frankie and refusing to go to sleep alone. At breakfast she seemed ok, like maybe she just had a cold or something. By dinner time she was burning up, refusing to eat or drink anything. Snot nosed, congested cough, and crying unless he held her. So he did, rocked her all night in her little toddler bed. Waking up to check her temperature, listen to her breathing, was she getting enough oxygen? and jolting awake at every whimper, cough, or cry.

Gabi's congested cries snap Frankie’s attention back to her as he smooths her matted curls away from her face. She's still feverish to the touch and absolutely miserable. He briefly considers calling Vanessa in his desperation, but could already hear her biting response laced with resentment and anger. Why are you bothering me, Francisco? You're not doing me a favor by calling me when you agreed to keep her. You're the parent with custody right now, so fucking parent already.

This is the first time Gabi has gotten this sick when he had her on his own. Was this the flu? Did she have RSV? Why wouldn't she eat anything? Why couldn't the pediatrician's office fit her in this afternoon?

Call first thing tomorrow if she's doing worse and the Saturday on-call pediatrician can see her, the nurse's aide at the doctor's office tells him before relaying additional instructions on keeping Gabi comfortable and what signs to look for if she needs to go to the ER. It's only after Frankie hangs up the phone that he realizes it's Friday afternoon. He's supposed to take you out in a few hours.

Fuck.

He carefully sets Gabi down and tucks her blankets in around her before walking to the kitchen to wolf something down (when is the last time he ate something?) and text you. He hopes you'll understand he isn't blowing you off, that he really does want to take you out. You'll understand right? You have to know how much he likes you, admires you, is drawn to you anytime you are in the same place together, just wanting to be in your captivating presence. He still thinks you are miles out of his league, too smart, too pretty, too alive, to waste your time on a washed up someone like him with so. much. baggage.

The fatigue hits him from left field as he texts you to cancel. Eyelids like lead weights despite the bright afternoon sun. As he reads your text response and tries to type his own reply, Gabi lets out a pained cry that sends his fried nerves into overdrive. He drops his phone on the kitchen counter to rush to her side. He tucks her back into his arms, soft words for comfort, and gently rocks her and himself into a hazy half sleep.

It is still light out when you finally get home from work, but the apartment feels dark and cold for the first time since you left Chase and moved here. Your safe haven feels... lonely now. Too quiet. A single empty coffee mug sits on the small dining table, a ring of tacky coffee dried on the inside, abandoned where you left it as you rushed out the door this morning.

You flop on your small couch and text Frankie one more time asking if he is okay. The silence you usually welcome sits heavy — dense and gray — as you wait for a response. When none comes, you consider showing up at Redfly's to hangout with Benny and the guys, but you realize you'd have to explain why you are there and not out to dinner with Frankie. This is what Chloé must have meant when she was worried things would get complicated.

You need to get out of your apartment, out of your head, before you drown in the silence. You consider for half a second, phone in hand and thumb hovering over a dating app icon, maybe you should respond to the dozen or so messages in your inbox, before you click your phone off. No, you didn't want to make it more messy and you are just reacting. Running from fucking feelings that spread like tendrils down your spine and around your chest the more you think about Frankie and the way he looked at you with those big brown eyes, listened to you, and showed you that he was, is, interested. There has to be a legitimate reason he canceled on you tonight.

So you decide to do what you always do when you need to work out your big feelings. You go work out your muscles. Bigger muscles to handle bigger feelings. Release the not good enough, never good enough insecurities bubbling up and move through them rep by rep. Between a rare work shift tomorrow and the rest of the guys gathering at Redfly's, it feels like as good a time as any to get your SBD day in. You won't have to worry about getting in that monster of a workout after working six days in a row. Small blessings and all that. You pack extras of your favorite snacks.

"Who do we have on tap today?" you ask Suze as she comes around the corner to your work station. You cup your oat milk latte in both your hands, willing the espresso to work faster. Working Saturdays still sucks even if it is only every six weeks instead of every week. The parents are usually more freaked out and the cases often more severe. Fingers crossed you won't have to admit anyone to the hospital today. At least you got paired with your favorite nurse and you both worked together well as a team.

"Just the one kiddo with RSV-like symptoms so far. Dad's been calling since Thursday afternoon trying to get in for us to see her. Seems really worried, neither of 'em have slept much. Looks like mom is the one who usually brings her in, parents are divorced, and this is Dad's first time here." She continues with a list of symptoms she collected from the parent, adding her own observations and vitals she'd taken before you thank her and grab the tablet with the patient's chart on it to head to the exam room.

Suze lowers her voice before adding,“Oh, and between you and me, the dad is gorgeous.” Suze gives you a freckled smirk before heading back to the front. You flash her your best O, rly? face before you both break into maniacal giggles as quietly as possible. Suze always makes the work day better, you think as you make your way to the exam room.

You take a deep breath outside the door, glance at the patient's first name, and flip on your doctor demeanor as you knock on the door. At the muffled come in, you swing the door open and start to say Hi, Gabriella, I'm Dr. — before you realize you're looking at a distraught and disheveled Frankie cradling his daughter in his arms.

Was he dreaming? Did he forget to wake up and take Gabi to the doctor's? Why did the pediatrician look so much like you? Frankie rubs his eyes and looks up from his seat in the exam room chair. Nope, it is you standing there, white coat on and stethoscope around your neck looking like an angel despite the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Sweets?" he croaks. Ok, yeah, he definitely didn't forget to wake up because he can't wake up if he hadn't fallen asleep. He's sure he sounds as sleep deprived as he looks.

"Frankie?" you ease the door shut and step towards him.

Gabi lets out a congested cry and clings tighter to Frankie when she sees you approach.

"Shh, bebita, it's ok. The doctor's here to help you feel better," Frankie soothes, voice tinged with desperation.

He needs you to help Gabi feel better so he can feel better too. He looks up at you and catches you with knitted brows, chewing your lower lip for a moment before your face smooths, like you thought something over and made a decision.

You squat down to eye level with Gabi, "Hi Gabriella, I'm Dr. Sweets."

Gabi eyes you warily, "My. Name. Is. Gabi." Sniffles punctuate each word.

"Nice to meet you Gabi. Can you come sit up here for me?" you ask as you move to pat the exam table. Gabi buries her face into Frankie's flannel, shaking her head no no no.

"Oh, right, uh... she's been going through a big stranger danger phase," Frankie explains. He's worried you'll think he's the worst father, unable to get his daughter to comply.

"That's perfectly normal at this age," you reassure him, stepping back to give Gabi some space.

You hesitate for a moment before looking at Frankie and continuing, "It's kind of a gray area, treating someone or someone's kid I know... uh, socially." You pause for a moment, glancing at your tablet, appearing flustered. "But, um, I know it's Saturday and I don't want Gabi to have to wait until Monday to see someone if I can help her now. You okay with that, uh, Mr. Morales?"

Frankie nods with understanding, after panicking for a moment in his exhaustion, thinking that you are going to kick them out because he was supposed to take you out yesterday. Was that just yesterday? Also, “Mr. Morales” made him feel old.

"Ok then, please hop up on the exam table with Gabi for me then," you direct him, smooth doctor demeanor back on, as you pull the rolling stool over to the wall mounted monitor adjacent to the exam table. You pull up Gabi's chart on the screen and glance over the information.

"How about we chat a little bit about how Gabi's doing before we work on the stranger danger?"

Frankie grunts in agreement and stands with a groan before moving to sit on the exam table with Gabi. The exam table paper crinkles under his weight as he settles onto the table, checking to make sure Gabi is comfortable. You chat with him, running through his concerns, Gabi's symptoms, all the while warmly affirming the care he's given Gabi. He finds himself relaxing into the conversation as you lead him through your questions with a gentle and comforting voice. Everything is going to be fine. I'm going to take good care of Gabi. You did a great job taking care of her, Frankie. Delicate pecks on the keyboard as you document in Gabi's chart while also monitoring Gabi's body language towards you.

"Well, I think I have everything I need besides giving Gabi a once over," you conclude with a reassuring smile, standing up slow and steady, as Gabi continues to eye you, a miniature furrow in her brow identical to her father’s. Gabi burrows her face back into Frankie's flannel.

You offer soft words to Gabi who continues to shake her head “no” into Frankie's shirt before flicking your eyes up to Frankie as if to ask for his permission.

"How about I give your Daddy a quick check up and make sure he's healthy first?" you ask Gabi, a hint of playfulness in your voice, as you look to Frankie to confirm he's okay with it. You could do whatever you want to him if it would help you help his little girl, he thinks. Stab him with a needle and take his blood for all he cares.

Gabi pauses her head shaking and peeks out at you, soft brown curls falling over her eyes.

"Promise it's not going to hurt him, like it's not going to hurt you sweet pea," you soothe.

Gabi looks between Frankie and you with a bit more curiosity than suspicion. Frankie's heart swells as you talk to her with soft patience, explaining what the different scopes are used for, before demonstrating on Frankie, shining a light into his eyes, asking him to open wide and say aaaahhh, so you could look at his throat. Gabi giggles when he lets out an exaggerated aaaahhhh! He hopes he remembered to brush his teeth this morning.

Through it all, you worked through Gabi's stranger danger, peeling back layer after layer with your playfulness with the utmost patience and care. Frankie can feel Gabi relaxing her grip on his shirt, softening to you. He can feel the remaining tension he was holding in his stomach slowly unravel at your light touches and soft praise as you pretend to assess him and give gentle words of explanation to Gabi.

When you click on a disposable tip on the otoscope to check his ears, you let out a mock gasp “What's this?” that has Gabi climbing out of Frankie's arms as you magically pull a small stuffie out of his ear.

"Can you hang on to this little guy for me and keep him safe?" you ask her with your serious face on. Gabi nods and makes grabby hands before settling back into Frankie's lap facing forward towards you and hugging the stuffie within an inch of its life.

"I'm going to take a look at your ears now Gabi, okay?" you ask as you receive the smallest little nod from her. She allows you to check her eyes and throat as well. You note the redness in her throat before praising her extra loud aaaahhhh! Frankie's pretty sure you're a toddler whisperer at this point.

As you pull the stethoscope from around your neck, Gabi looks up and shrinks at the new equipment. Just going to use this to listen to your heart beat and how you're breathing, sweetpea, you explain, but Gabi starts to shake her head “no” again.

You pause for a beat before digging around the small toy box underneath the exam table before pulling out a play stethoscope. Now we have matching ones, you say as she abandons the stuffie for the new toy. You show her how to put the ear tips in her ears holding the diaphragm against Frankie's chest over his heart. Can you hear your daddy's heartbeat? Does it sound like a thump thump thump? Gabi nods with wide eyes and delight. He's relieved it's Gabi listening to his heart and not you as his heart started to race at your light touch to his chest.

It's smooth sailing after that. Gabi allows you to complete the physical exam, taking deep breaths on cue as you listen to her lungs, before you sit back down on your rolling stool. As you add to the electronic chart, Frankie catches your small grin as Gabi continues to play with the stethoscope, smooshing it against his cheek, nose, then forehead.

After a few more pecks on the keyboard, you turn to Frankie to give him your diagnosis (no, it's not RSV, thank goodness), but another viral bug that mimicked some of the symptoms of RSV. It’s been making the rounds in the community, but Gabi should recover within the week. As you move to discuss detailed care instructions and prescriptions to help alleviate Gabi's symptoms, Gabi tires of playing with the stethoscope and turns to you instead, arms outstretched.

Frankie can tell you're surprised as Gabi makes the universal toddler motion for "up." You pause before rolling over on the stool. Gabi leaps at you as you get closer and you manage to catch her in your arms despite your surprise. She immediately settles into you, tucking her head under your chin and plopping a thumb into her mouth, anchoring her other little hand on the shoulder of your white coat.

"No more stranger danger," you joke with an amused smile as Gabi cuddles into you with a sniffle.

You finish delivering the care instructions to Frankie as you rock Gabi, double checking with Frankie if he has any questions or further concerns. You reaffirm what a great job he did with Gabi the last few days, a balm to his frayed nerves and self-doubt. He could wrap himself in your reassurance and gentle patience, your soft, gentle words healing him. Is this what falling in love with you feels like?

"You can call the office if something changes or she gets worse," you offer, voice quieting. "Or you know, call me."

Frankie nods, relieved Gabi doesn't have RSV, doesn't need to go to the hospital, but also so moved seeing you with Gabi in such an unexpected situation. Your incredible care and patience for his baby girl, all softness and gentleness from your words to your touch. This side now melds with his experiences with you at Redfly's, at Pope's, the flirty fun side of you and raw strength he knows you possess. It makes him dizzy to think about the multitudes within you that he's experienced so far and hopes to experience more of it. Soft, strong, playful, and so fucking brilliant.

"I'll walk you out to the front where Suze can finish up and get everything sorted," you instruct as you stand and walk for the door. Frankie sees Gabi's grip tighten on your shoulder as you move. Baby girl does not want to leave. As you approach the exit to the waiting room, Gabi fusses, burying her head in your chest, not wanting to leave. Clinging to you as if she didn't spend half the visit hiding from you in Frankie's shirt.

"I know, sweet pea," you comfort. "Just having too much fun with Dr. Sweets, hmm?"

"Don't wanna go," Gabi pouts, refusing to look at Frankie. "I see you tomorrow?"

You look at Frankie for a beat before responding, "Well, if it's okay with your Daddy, I can stop by tomorrow and check on you. Maybe bring you some tasty chicken noodle soup? Would you like that?" Gabi nods “yes” into your shoulder.

"Sweets, uh, Dr. Sweets, you don't have to do that," Frankie balks. You've already done so much, he thinks.

You look up at him with soft eyes, "But I want to. If you're okay with it."

"Wanna see Doc-tah Weee," Gabi whines, pronouncing your name like weee!

"Okay, but you gotta go home with your Daddy first," you say as you manage to untangle yourself from toddler limbs before handing Gabi over to Frankie. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?" before you boop Gabi on her nose and hand her the stuffie. "Take good care of him for me until then." Gabi clutches the stuffie and nods.

"Hey," Frankie places his free hand on your forearm as you turn to go. "Thank you. So much."

"Take care of yourself too, Morales," you murmur, patting his hand and returning his gaze before heading back to your work station.

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Endnote/SPOILERS: medical jargon, mention of needles and blood once, Frankie’s daughter Gabi gets sick and he cancels his date with you without explaining why. Frankie takes Gabi to see the weekend/on-call pediatrician and it’s you. Frankie falls more for you as he sees you interact with his baby girl.

👉👈 A little nervous as the story leaves the gym (we'll be back!), but I have such fun, sweet things planned for them. As always, comments and reblogs give me lifeee and keep me writing. I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal @burntheedges @darkheartgatita @enretrogue @titabel @copperhalfcent

#hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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