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quads4days · 6 months

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The Curse of the Werewolf: Blue Moon Rises

Happy Halloween, Everyone! May your candy be plentiful and your gut full as you enjoy this Halloween Tale! 🎃

Chapter 1: Echoes from the Past

The cold February wind seeped through the gaps in the window, making the heavy curtains sway gently. Chase stared at his reflection in the old, ornate mirror that dominated his bedroom wall. Just four months ago, the image staring back at him was that of a lean, chiseled marathon runner. Now, the man in the mirror bore little resemblance to that memory.

His once-taut skin was now stretched, filled with an extra 60kg that seemed impossible to believe. The sharp jawline, a point of pride for Chase, was now softened, making way for a double chin that settled comfortably atop his significantly wider neck. His chest, once firm and defined, now hung heavier, the pectorals replaced with soft mounds that jiggled at the slightest movement.

But it was his midsection that showed the most drastic change. Chase's washboard abs, painstakingly earned through countless hours of training, were buried beneath layers of adipose. His stomach, once flat and rigid, now protruded in a grand, soft arc, cascading over the waistband of his sweatpants. The once negligible love handles had transformed into rolls that spilled over his sides. Every step, every breath caused ripples to run across the vast expanse of his belly.

Feeling a heaviness not just in body but in spirit, Chase sank into his reading chair, an old tome in hand. He had been scouring ancient texts and obscure internet forums for any hint of the curse Bennett had passed onto him. And there, in a weathered folklore book, he found it. A legend dating back centuries, discussing a curse far more insidious than he had feared. The "Werewolf's Curse," it said, wasn't just about uncontrollable weight gain during the full moon. The original curse allowed the cursed individual to pass it on through a bite, causing the afflicted to be overcome with the hunger of the wolf during the full moon of Halloween, an event that if Chase’s calculations were correct would occur again next Halloween. Administering the curse during such a full moon would rid Chase of his fat body and stop his monthly growth and cause him to turn into an alpha wolf, the image in front of him depicting the most muscular man Chase had laid eyes on in front of an illustration of a full mood. The curse, once transferred, would be his victims problem, leaving the victim heavier and the curser once again free to live their life.

Chase's heart raced, his new, hefty form quivering with anxiety. This was more than just gaining weight; it was a sinister game of passing the burden, forever altering lives. In his frustration, he stood up, the chair groaning under the sudden movement. He grasped his ample stomach with both hands, shaking it as if he could simply cast off the added weight, the thick layer of fat rippling like a disturbed pond. His face was etched with a mixture of despair and anger. He had 8 months until Halloween and at his current pace, could be very well too large to survive until that time came.

Just then, a soft knock echoed through the stillness of the room. A shadow passed by the frosted window pane next to the entrance. Someone was at his door.

Chapter 2: Unforeseen Bonds

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the familiar faces of Luke, Sean, and Ethan. But as recognition dawned on Chase, so too did a mixture of horror and surprise. For while he was taken aback to see his brothers on his doorstep, the changes in their physiques were even more startling.

Luke, the youngest, once had the lean build of a swimmer – elongated and streamlined. But now, the once pronounced muscles of his torso were noticeably softened. A pouch had formed around his belly, pushing against the fabric of his tight shirt, hinting at the beginnings of a more rounded physique. The V-line, which once directed one's gaze towards his slender hips, had faded, overshadowed by the soft bulge that started just below his navel.

Sean, always the lithe gymnast, now exhibited a roundness that betrayed his athletic history. His formerly flat stomach, which used to ripple with defined muscles during his routines, now bowed out gently, creating a silhouette that was undeniably softer. His love handles, previously non-existent, were making a noticeable appearance, cushioning his sides.

However, it was Ethan's transformation that was the most dramatic. The eldest after Chase, Ethan had the build of a sprinter – muscular, yet agile. Now, he looked as if he had taken a hiatus from all physical activities. His shirt, stretched taut across his form, revealed a pronounced belly, the result of months under the curse's effect. The belly was rounded, prominent, and jiggled slightly with each step he took. The waistband of his jeans dug into his sides, creating a muffin-top effect, emphasising his increased girth.

“Look at what you have done to us, Chase!” Ethan's voice boomed, anger evident in his eyes. Sean and Luke, equally upset but more contained, nodded in agreement.

Chase looked in horror. “How?” He prompted.

Ethan, his once chiseled jawline now softened, cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the room. "After we, well, taunted you on Christmas Eve, I noticed you seemed feverish, distant. As we all gorged on the desserts, I recall trying to grab a particularly decadent piece of cake from your hand." He rubbed the back of his now-chubbier hand absentmindedly. "In your frenzied state, you bit me. It wasn't a huge bite, more like a deep scratch, but I felt an immediate jolt of hunger like nothing I've ever experienced."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, "Then, during a family get-together, I had a similar moment of insatiable hunger. I was sharing a pizza with Luke. As I reached for another slice, I accidentally bit him." Luke grimaced at the memory, rubbing the spot on his hand where the mark still faintly showed. "It was bizarre. It wasn't painful, but the sensation was... overpowering. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in this same hunger, and one unfortunate evening, Sean got in the way of my meal."

Sean sighed, looking down at his newly rounded belly. "I never stood a chance. The bite, the hunger, it's like a wildfire, spreading uncontrollably from one to another." The room was silent for a moment, the brothers absorbing the gravity of their intertwined fates.

Chase, overwhelmed with guilt and shock, tried to find the right words. "I didn't... I didn’t know. I swear!" he stammered.

Luke's voice wavered, a mix of frustration and sadness. "Look at us, Chase. How could you not know?"

Trying to calm the rising tension, Chase gestured to the living room. "Let's sit. Talk."

As they settled, the room was filled with the sound of fabric stretching and the occasional grunt as each tried to find a comfortable position with their newfound weight. Chase, in a bid to lighten the mood and also address the gnawing hunger the curse brought, brought out plates of sandwiches, pastries, and a large pitcher of iced tea.

Eating together, despite the grim circumstances, brought back a semblance of normality. The room resonated with soft chews, sips, and the clinking of cutlery. Chase felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering countless meals shared in their childhood. Despite the anger and the many questions that lingered, there was a comfort in this shared moment - a reminder that the bonds of family often ran deeper than any curse or adversity.

Chapter 3: The Gluttonous Moonlight Duel

The brothers, determined to confront the root of their cursed hunger, scoured the city for Bennett. They would force him to take back the cure, they just needed to find him. They looked in the old bars, visited obscure places Bennett might have mentioned, and even hired a private investigator. Their desperation grew with each passing day, knowing another full moon was on the horizon. The truth was, none of them had the willpower to handle the insatiable hunger another full moon would bring.

The brothers, determined to confront the root of their cursed hunger, scoured the city for Bennett. They looked in the old bars, visited obscure places Bennett might have mentioned, and even hired a private investigator. Their desperation grew with each passing day, knowing another full moon was on the horizon. The truth was, none of them had the willpower to handle the insatiable hunger another full moon would bring.

The day of the full moon arrived faster than they had hoped. Although the sun still dominated the sky, a gnawing hunger began to grip them. By nightfall, their restraint faltered.

The brothers' unity in their quest to find Bennett frayed when the next full moon approached. A latent competitiveness, fostered since childhood in sports and academics, reared its head in the most unseemly manner. Each brother secretly harboured the hope that if they ate the most during the full moon, they might somehow outpace the curse's effects. It was a twisted logic, born of desperation and sibling rivalry.

In the heart of the city stood a 24-hour buffet that the brothers once frequented after marathon training. It now became their arena of competition. As the first pangs of hunger struck, Chase, a remnant of his former athletic self, loaded his plate high, the pile almost obscuring his newly bloated face. His shirt, already snug over a belly that had been washboard-flat merely months ago, looked ready to give way as he heaved mouthfuls of food.

Ethan, who was already bursting out of his clothes from previous feasts, seemed hell-bent on leading the pack. Every bite he took stretched his shirt a bit more, threatening to expose the soft, doughy expanse beneath. With each plate, a new roll seemed to emerge, his belly extending ever outward.

Luke, normally calm and collected, had a wild glint in his eye as he attacked dish after dish. His trousers, once loose, now bit into his flesh, creating noticeable muffin tops. His belly, firm and flat just months prior, bounced with each step, revealing his rapid transformation.

Sean, the youngest and least affected until now, was not to be outdone. He gorged with a determination that was both admirable and horrifying. As the night progressed, the waistband of his jeans dug deeper and deeper into his increasingly softening midsection.

The buffet transformed into a battlefield, with plates as weapons and food as ammo. The staff watched in horror and fascination, having never seen such voracious appetites. By the night's end, the brothers, each trying to out-eat the other, were sprawled amid a scene of utter devastation.

Dawn's light found them in Chase's living room. Chase, his belly stretched and bloated, spilled generously onto the floor, his shirt buttons ripped open unable to contain his newfound girth. Ethan, beside him, looked as if he'd swallowed a beach ball. His shirt, already tight at the start of the evening, had split open, revealing a quivering mass of fat.

Luke, curled on a chair, had clearly undergone the most dramatic transformation. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a once-taut stomach now soft and pudgy, quivering with the slightest movement. Sean, sprawled on the couch, was barely recognisable. His face, once angular, was now cherubic, and his stomach, round and distended, was a testament to the night's excesses.

Their food-fuelled competition had left them all losers in the cruel game of the werewolf's curse. The pressing need to find Bennett and break the curse became more palpable than ever.

Chapter 4: The Bitter Reveal

The stifling August heat was only made more unbearable for Chase by the weight he carried. Nearly 260kg now, he moved with difficulty, each step a reminder of the curse Bennett had placed on him. An investigator they had hired had finally tracked Bennett down to a park in the heart of the city, and Chase had managed to make his way there, accompanied by his brothers.

Bennett was a revelation, a stark contrast to the man Chase had known. Gone was the mountain of flesh, replaced instead by a physique that would not be out of place on a magazine cover. Broad shoulders, a chiseled chest, and abs that seemed carved out of stone. Bennett stood shirtless, performing calisthenics, drawing admiring glances from all around.

Chase, lumbering forward, could hardly believe his eyes. "Bennett?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Bennett turned, his ice-blue eyes regarding Chase coolly. "Well, well," he drawled, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "If it isn't the marathon man himself."

Chase felt a hot flush of embarrassment as Bennett sauntered over, taking in Chase's massive form with obvious amusement. Without a word, Bennett reached out, his strong fingers digging into the soft flesh of Chase's belly, making it jiggle. Chase tried to pull away, but Bennett's grip was firm.

Around them, onlookers whispered and pointed, some even laughing. Chase felt like a sideshow attraction, humiliated and exposed. Bennett seemed to revel in the attention, clearly enjoying the power he held over Chase.

"You see, Chase," Bennett began, his voice dripping with condescension, "I had grown tired of my own immense size. The curse, as , is both a blessing . By transferring my weight to you, I was able to revert to this." He gestured at his impeccable form. "I chose you that Halloween night because you were the perfect specimen. A fit, trim man, ripe for transformation."

Chase struggled to find words, his shame almost too much to bear. Bennett continued, "And the more you gain, the stronger the beast inside me becomes, did you know that? Each month you have been getting fatter, I’ve been getting stronger.” Bennett flexed his massive biceps. “Last month must have been a big one chase, I could hardly fit through my apartment door I gre so broad, all because you can’t keep yourself from eating like the pig you are.”

As if to emphasise his dominance, Bennett reached into his pocket and produced a large chocolate bar. Without warning, he pushed it against Chase's lips, forcing him to take a bite. "Eat up, fatty," he whispered maliciously.

Chase, tears of humiliation forming, felt anger rising inside his substantial stomach. He began to run after Bennett as he fled, the four father brothers trying to catch the last chance they had at a normal life.

Chapter 5: Labyrinth of Shadows

Under the mottled shade of the summer trees, Bennett's toned and muscular form glistened with a sheen of sweat, each sinew and contour exaggerated by the sun's dappled light. His shirtless torso was a testament to physical perfection, a sculpture come alive, every muscle rippling and flexing as he darted effortlessly ahead. The sunlight played tricks, casting an almost golden halo around him, making him look even more godlike. Behind him, the brothers labored in pursuit.

Chase, the heaviest amongst them, moved with surprising speed for a man of his size. Each step caused his swollen belly to bounce and jiggle, and his clothes strained to contain his expansive girth. Despite his massive size, there was a determination in his eyes, a fire fueled by the burning humiliation Bennett had subjected him to.

Ethan, despite being the next heaviest, tried to keep pace with Chase. His once trim waist now spilled over his jeans, and his shirt, too tight to button, flapped open, revealing a soft belly that danced with each heavy step. His face was flushed red, both from exertion and anger.

Luke and Sean, both now considerably plumper than they used to be, panted heavily as they followed. Their once fit physiques, though not as transformed as Chase's, were now cushioned in layers of soft fat. Their fuller cheeks and double chins bounced rhythmically, and their bellies, though smaller than their elder siblings', bobbed with every step, the shirts they wore riding up, exposing the lower curves of their new-found paunches.

The chase was a spectacle. On one hand, Bennett, the epitome of fitness, darted forward like a gazelle, while on the other, the brothers, weighed down by their new bulk, lumbered behind, a strange mix of determination and despair in their strides.

As Bennett led them on, the town's old carnival lot loomed in the distance, its rusting rides and dilapidated tents casting eerie silhouettes against the setting sun. Without pausing, Bennett made straight for the haunted house attraction, its entrance a gaping maw beckoning them in.

Not thinking twice, the brothers followed, their heavy breathing echoing in the dimly lit corridors of the haunted house. Strange shadows danced on the walls, and the sound of distant laughter filled the air, giving the place an atmosphere of chilling anticipation.

As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine twists and turns of the attraction, it became clear that this was no ordinary haunted house. Rooms expanded and contracted, hallways led to dead ends, and ghostly apparitions appeared and disappeared at will.

Suddenly, the brothers found themselves in a vast chamber, the ceiling lost in shadows. In the center stood Bennett, an eerie light illuminating his flawless physique from below, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance and intertwine with the darkness.

"I've been watching you for months fat boy,” Bennett sneered, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Did you really think you could escape your fate, Chase?"

The singular door that allowed them entry suddenly slammed shut with a thunderous clang. Instantly, a thick, opaque gas hissed from unseen vents, rapidly filling the room. Despite their best efforts to hold their breath, the gas's overpowering nature made the brothers' heads spin. One by one, their eyes rolled back, and they collapsed to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness.

When they awoke, the scene was more terrifying than any nightmare. The brothers found themselves bound on individual metal tables, cold and unyielding. Chains wrapped tightly around their wrists and ankles, rendering any movement impossible. Overhead, dim bulbs cast an eerie, flickering light, causing their now plumper shadows to dance grotesquely on the walls.

Bennett, now dressed in a dark tailored suit that accentuated his Adonis-like physique, leaned over Chase, his blue eyes piercing into Chase's soul. "You see, Chase," he began with a malevolent grin, "there's a little detail about this curse I hadn't shared. If you pass it on this Halloween, my growing power will be halted. But if I keep you here," Bennett's hand glided across Chase's expansive stomach, the coldness of his touch sending shivers down Chase's spine, "and ensure you keep eating and expanding, my strength will grow exponentially, unending. Imagine the possibilities."

The weight of Bennett's revelation hung heavily in the air, as the brothers exchanged terrified glances, realising the direness of their predicament.

Chapter 6: The Inescapable Feast

In the chamber's gloom, the four MacIntyre brothers lay captured, a grotesque banquet of burgeoning flesh. Each one was placed strategically so they faced one another, a cruel design by Bennett to ensure they bore witness to each other's continuous expansion. All of them were bereft of clothing, highlighting the stark transformation they had undergone in their captivity. Their fat forms were immobilised, not just by the sheer weight they had put on, but also by the chains that bound them to the cold, metallic tables.

Attached to each of their faces were tubes, which seemed to pulsate with a life of their own. From these tubes flowed a golden concoction that was the brainchild of Bennett's malevolent imagination. This liquid, he had explained with a smirk, was a specially concocted blend. A fusion of mass gainer to swell their size, an appetite stimulant to keep them constantly hungry, a muscle relaxant to ensure their bodies absorbed every calorie, and a thick sugary cream to accelerate their weight gain. The brothers had no choice but to swallow the relentless flow of the potion.

Chase, the eldest and once the paragon of health, lay with his midsection expanded grotesquely outward, a vast dome that rose and fell with his labored breaths. His once sturdy limbs were now submerged under soft, wobbly layers of fat.

Ethan, the next in line, had always been a tad larger, and this predicament had simply exaggerated his natural tendencies. His midsection was a maze of soft rolls and creases, with the skin stretched taut from the rapid gain. It was clear that his body had struggled to accommodate the sudden influx of weight. His cheeks were chubbier, giving him a boyish appearance that contrasted with the large double chin resting on his neck. He now had a belly that sagged significantly, folding over itself. The skin stretched and shiny, bearing testament to the rapid accumulation of pounds.

Luke was distinguishable by the peculiar distribution of his new weight. His backside had grown immensely, creating an elevated mound on the table. It wobbled independently of the rest of him, it had blossomed into a large, rounded mass that lifted him slightly off the table, and when he occasionally shifted, it would jiggle for several seconds, betraying its softness.

The youngest, Sean, was a spectacle of even distribution. The added weight had rounded him out uniformly. His once angular face now exhibited plump cheeks and a fullness that erased the vestiges of youth, giving him an almost cherubic appearance. s belly, while not as pronounced as Chase's, was still a significant mound, with a deep crease where it met his pelvis.

Bennett's potion was a masterstroke of wickedness. As much as they were horrified by their situation, the brothers couldn’t help but feel a perverse yearning for the golden nectar, their bodies betraying them with each insatiable gulp.

Chapter 7: The Power of the Full Moon

The atmosphere in the chamber became electric as Bennett purposefully moved to a lever on the wall. With a swift pull, the roof slowly split apart, revealing the ominous night sky. The brilliance of the September full moon flooded the room, illuminating every crevice and corner, bathing all in its ethereal light.

Striding with purpose, Bennett shed his clothes, standing in his full muscular glory, every sinew and contour outlined by the luminescent moonlight. The very aura of strength and dominance emanated from him as he soaked in the full force of the lunar energies.

Chase, Ethan, Luke, and Sean, already incapacitated, could do little more than become vessels for the overpowering transformational energy of the full moon. The effects of their curse, magnified by the celestial event, took hold with unprecedented vigour. Their feeding tubes, already delivering the potent potion into them, seemed to pulsate faster, urging them to consume more. Greedily, they swallowed, their bellies making soft, sloshing noises.

Chase, already the largest among the brothers, began a grotesque metamorphosis under the moon's influence. The once athletic form, now imprisoned by layers of lard, seemed to come alive with a voracious appetite for expansion. His flesh, as if possessed, started to ripple and quiver, each wave pushing the boundaries of his skin further. The room echoed with the sound of skin stretching taut and the soft sloshing of the liquid coursing through his feeding tube, catalysing his transformation.

Above his head, a scale displayed the alarming rate of his growth. The numbers, which had been steadily climbing over the weeks, now leaped forward at a frantic pace: 320kg, 325kg, 330kg. The pace was unrelenting. Every second seemed to add more weight, each digit flashing faster than the last. 335kg, 340kg, 345kg. It was as though some invisible force was pumping him full, each pulse adding kilograms. The soft, pliable fat from earlier was now consolidating into heavy, pendulous masses. His belly, once able to sway slightly, became more solid and pronounced, stretching down and threatening to touch the floor. As 350kg approached, his legs, buried beneath the burgeoning bulk of his abdomen, were slowly being swallowed up, becoming mere appendages to the leviathan mass that was his stomach.

His sides filled outwards, like dough rising unchecked, consuming the space around him. What was once a distinguishable waistline vanished into rolls that cascaded down, merging with the equally expansive swell of his hips. As the scale hurtled past 360kg, his chest, no longer discernible from his midsection, was now a plateau of flesh, rising and falling with his increasingly laboured breaths.

The transformation was a haunting symphony of expansion. Chase's body, under the potent combination of the moon and Bennett’s concoction, seemed hell-bent on becoming an unending expanse of fat. The room itself seemed to grow smaller as his enormity filled every available inch, turning his form into a dark monument of excess and overindulgence.

Ethan, previously a robust figure, was now a distorted version of his former self. Once tipping the scales at a fit 100kg, he had always carried his weight with a sense of pride, a touch of bulk to his frame that gave him presence. But now, his body betrayed an entirely different story. The scale above him blinked rapidly: 150kg, 155kg, 160kg...

As the weight packed on, his once broad shoulders were now rounded, padded with thick layers of soft adipose. His midsection, previously taut with muscle, was now a vast expanse, billowing outwards, pushing his once toned pecs into soft, pendulous breasts. Each ripple and shudder of his body made it expand sideways, making him wider and broader, as if trying to occupy as much space as possible.

His abdomen was a canvas of rolls upon rolls, cascading downwards and outwards, each layer softer and more pronounced than the one above. The once firm belly now sagged heavily, folding over in thick layers, every fold deepening with each kilogram he added. His navel, once a simple indent, was now lost within the deep canyon of his belly. The sheen on his stretched skin, reflecting the dim light of the room, bore silent witness to the extreme pace of his gain.

His face, though still recognisably Ethan's, was puffier. The chiselled jawline was now obscured, buried beneath chubby cheeks that gave him an almost innocent, boyish appearance. But this semblance of youth was betrayed by a heavy, large double chin that rested heavily on his neck, quivering with every breath. The scale above hesitated momentarily at 190kg, before inching agonisingly forward. It settled, blinking, just a hair shy of 200kg, marking Ethan's shocking transformation.

Luke, with his gymnast background, had always flaunted a lower body that drew attention, a chiselled monument to his countless hours on the pommel horse and parallel bars. As the curse’s effect took hold, the very athleticism that defined him became his undoing.

His buttocks, previously firm and rounded from years of discipline, continued to expand at an alarming rate. They swelled in size, morphing from solid muscle to soft, yielding flesh that jiggled with every heartbeat. Each cheek ballooned outwards and downwards, reminiscent of overfilled sacks of rich cream. The tables creaked ominously beneath the mounting weight, protesting the rapid deposition of fat. It was as if gravity itself had decided to claim Luke's posterior, pulling and stretching it down, rendering it a dominant feature of his burgeoning silhouette.

In tandem with his expanding rear, Luke’s thighs thickened dramatically. Once lean and muscular, they now resembled overstuffed sausages, straining with the rapid addition of fatty tissue. The inner thighs rubbed together with an audible chafing, each step a testament to his newfound girth.

His love handles and hips didn’t escape the cruel twist of fate either. Fat accumulated around his midsection at an alarming pace, causing his once narrow waist to broaden and blur into his ballooning hips. His once taut sides now bore the burden of heavy flaps of fat that jutted out, creating a pronounced pear-shaped silhouette. The defined V-line he once boasted had disappeared, replaced by a soft, flabby curve that merged his abdomen with his inflating love handles.

Luke's scale, affixed above, mirrored his drastic transformation. Numbers soared the former lean 90kg man, skipped past the 130kg mark, and settled with a mocking finality at 153kg, marking the rapid and shocking expansion of the once agile gymnast.

Sean, with his youthful sprightliness and lean form, seemed almost ill-suited for the curse's perverse machinations. Yet as the full moon's power coursed through him, the transformation it wrought was nothing short of astonishing.

Initially, the youngest of the brothers began to expand uniformly. It started with a slow puffing out of his chest, followed by a widening of his waist. Every part of him began to inflate simultaneously, as if an invisible force was pumping him full of air. His pecs, once flat and athletic, became rounded mounds that protruded from his expanding torso. His arms, though still visibly muscled underneath, were blanketed with a layer of fat, turning them from chiselled limbs to thick, padded appendages.

But it was his midsection's transformation that truly defied belief. As he gained, his belly didn't droop or sag like his brothers'. Instead, it swelled outwards in all directions, giving him the appearance of a perfectly spherical ball. This even distribution of weight rendered his navel almost a central point on this vast expanse of white, taut flesh. His back, too, curved outwards, ensuring that from any angle, Sean looked like a near-perfect circle.

His legs, once slender, became tree trunks of fat, each thigh nearly touching the other all the way down to his knees, their muscular definition hidden beneath the soft layers. His calves, too, puffed out, making it seem as if his feet might disappear beneath the inflating mass at any moment.

His face, always cherubic, became rounder, the sharpness of his jawline now obscured by a layer of plumpness. His cheeks resembled juicy apples, full and rosy, while his neck seemed to have been absorbed into his swollen chest and chin, creating a seamless transition.

The scale positioned above him blinked and whirred, reflecting his burgeoning mass. The digits climbed: 100kg, 110kg, 120kg, before finally settling with a small beep at 130kg. The sight of the number only accentuated the uncanny, balloon-like transformation of Sean, the boyish brother who had morphed into a fleshy orb under the moon's malevolent glow.

Amidst this transformational chaos, Bennett's body too underwent a change, but in stark contrast to the brothers. Every muscle in his physique bulged, growing larger and more defined. Veins snaked their way across his body, pulsating with the power he was drawing from the full moon and the brothers' plight. His shoulders broadened, and his chest expanded as if an unseen force was inflating him from the inside. The sheer force of his muscular expansion seemed to be in perfect tandem with the brothers' fattening.

A powerful energy permeated the chamber as each man reached a climactic point in their transformations. Bennett, at the height of his muscular growth, appeared as the ultimate alpha wolf, while the brothers, though immobilised, could not deny the overpowering dominance he exuded.

Suddenly, the overwhelming force of the combined transformations reached a crescendo, and the room was filled with a blinding light, enveloping each of them. Moments later, the room plunged into darkness, the weight of the night's events causing every occupant to fall into a deep unconsciousness.

Chapter 8: The Heavy Reality

The room's chilling atmosphere was stifling, but even that couldn't hide the warm, pulsating hum of four obese bodies, each grotesquely distorted by an unthinkable curse. Chase tried to shift, to get a better view of his brothers, but the sheer weight of his own body inhibited him. His vision was dominated by his massive, fleshy breasts which, like twin mountains, jutted out and were only surpassed in scale by the undulating mound of his stomach below.

It wasn't just their size but their feel; the very texture of his flesh had changed. Where it had once been taut and firm, it was now soft and doughy, yielding to even the slightest touch. He could feel every roll, every crease, every stretch mark that adorned his new body, mapping out a topography of his torment.

A strange sensation tickled the underside of his gargantuan gut, and it took him a moment to comprehend what it was. His belly, distended and pendulous, had grown to such a magnitude that it now grazed the cold, stone floor, pulling his skin in different directions.

Sean, Luke, and Ethan, while not as massively transformed as Chase, were unrecognisable. The brothers who once laughed, competed, and shared a lifetime of memories together, now lay incapacitated by their own bodies, their features obscured by layers of fat.

The faint echo of footsteps grew louder, and the door creaked open, revealing the towering, muscular form of Bennett. His physique was a stark contrast to the brothers: where they were round and soft, he was chiseled and hard. The malevolent gleam in his eyes made it clear that he took perverse pleasure in their plight.

"Good morning, boys," Bennett's voice oozed with malice, filling the room with an even more pronounced sense of dread. "Enjoying your new figures, I see?"

Chase tried to respond, to muster some sort of defiance, but all that came out was a heavy, laboured breath. Bennett approached him, his eyes raking over Chase's form with a mix of pride and mockery. The muscular man leaned over, his hands caressing the vast sea of flesh before him. Each touch sent a shiver through Chase, as Bennett seemed to savour the sensation of so much softness beneath his fingers.

"You've always been the standout, haven't you, Chase?" Bennett whispered, his breath hot on Chase's ear. He pressed himself into Chase's side, hugging the mass of flesh. "420 kilograms. A magnificent size. And just think," he continued, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "in a month's time, this will be but a memory as you grow even larger."

With a final, lingering touch, Bennett straightened up and moved towards the door. "Enjoy your stay," he smirked, the door slamming shut behind him, sealing the brothers once more in their fleshy prison.

Chapter 9: Encroaching Desperation

In the cold, dimly lit chamber, the incessant drone of slurping and gulping seemed to magnify, echoing off the stone walls in a macabre symphony of gluttony. As days melded into nights, and nights into days, Chase's perception of time warped. The room, which once seemed vast, now felt increasingly confined, not due to any change in its dimensions, but rather the ceaseless expansion of the occupants within.

The sweet, viscous nectar that flowed into Chase's mouth through the feeding tube was intoxicating. Every gulp was a mix of bliss and torment; the pleasure of the taste juxtaposed with the horror of his uncontrollable growth. Even as his thoughts grew muddled, one unyielding desire remained at the forefront of his mind: to consume.

Chase's body was a testament to excess. His mammoth breasts, heavy and pendulous, completely obscured his vision, pushing up towards his face in their quest for space. The sheer enormity of his belly was incomprehensible; it sprawled out in every direction, the skin stretched thin, glistening with sweat and speckled with reddened stretch marks.

But then came a new sensation—a pressure at the front of his distended gut. At first, he assumed it was just another roll of his own fat folding over itself. But as the minutes passed and the feeling persisted, the unsettling truth dawned upon him. The pressure was external. It was Ethan's body meeting his, their growth pushing them inexorably together.

The brothers' bodies, once distinct entities, now melded and merged, their boundaries blurring in this grotesque tapestry of flesh. The very air in the room seemed to grow thinner as their combined bulk consumed the available space. Chase's moans of pleasure and discomfort intertwined with those of his brothers, creating a haunting chorus that spoke of both ecstasy and despair.

As the feeding continued, Chase's thoughts spiralled into chaos. He was trapped in a cycle of arousal and horror, torn between the pleasure of the relentless feeding and the impending doom that lurked ever closer. The forthcoming Halloween full moon was a ticking time bomb, promising either salvation or an even grimmer fate.

With each passing moment, one thought grew more and more pronounced in Chase's fevered mind: Would the moon's transformative power be their saviour? Or would they simply continue to grow, their bodies pushing and pressing against each other until they were nothing but a mass of flesh, smothering one another in their insatiable hunger?

Chapter 10: Shadows of the Full Moon

The hollow echo of night birds and the rustling of trees filled the cavernous chamber as the roof creaked open, revealing the inky sky. Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, but what caught Chase's strained eyes was the pale, foreboding glow of the Halloween moon. Its silver light bathed the room, casting ghostly shadows and illuminating the vast, undulating expanse of flesh that the brothers had become. The brothers, their restraints now released, attempted to communicate with each other. Their once-strong voices were now muted, distorted by the sheer mass of their swollen, fat-encased throats and the torment of weeks in bondage. Sean's voice emerged, more a distorted moan than a clear utterance. "Chase... God, you've... transformed... must be pushing past 650kg."

From deep within his own cavern of flesh, Luke struggled to project his voice, each word a battle against his engorged jowls and cheeks. "Sean... my God, you're unrecognisable... you've ballooned beyond 300kg!" Amidst the layers of fat that blanketed him, Ethan managed a choked whisper, the strain evident in his words, "Luke... you're not... not trailing far... easily 250kg."

Chase's world was a suffocating cocoon of his own body. Everywhere he turned, mountains of his own flesh blocked his view. Desperately, he tried to shift, the mass of his form resisting at every attempt. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart raced, and his breathing came in ragged gasps as he endeavoured to catch a glimpse of Ethan’s scale. After a nightmarish struggle, he saw the numbers, and the reality bore down on him with a weight even greater than his flesh: an unthinkable 450kg.

A sudden rush of cold air heralded the entrance of a new figure. Bennett, now an 8-foot titan of muscle, loomed over the brothers. Every rippling sinew of his body seemed to be chiseled from stone, a stark contrast to the soft, expansive forms beneath him. Naked and unashamed, he manoeuvred his way through the mounds of flesh, his sneering face a mask of dark triumph.

He clambered atop the vast terrain of the brothers' combined bellies, his powerful form casting a long, threatening shadow. As he settled, the sheer weight of his muscular frame pressed down on them, eliciting groans of discomfort. Bennett's fingers, strong and unyielding, dug into the soft fat, manipulating it, toying with the brothers as if they were nothing more than playthings.

Lying atop the vast sea of the brothers' stomachs, Bennett looked up at the rising moon, his face illuminated in its haunting glow. "I hope you're enjoying your new forms," he whispered malevolently. "Because this is only the beginning. You'll be my everlasting machines, your bodies expanding endlessly, fuelling my growth."

Chase's heart raced. The moon was at its zenith, and the curse's power was at its peak. This was their one chance, the one moment when the curse could potentially be reversed. But the realisation was a double-edged sword. As he tried to summon the will to act, the enormity of his form betrayed him. He was immobile, trapped by his own body.

The room felt colder, the weight of Bennett's body and the impending doom pressing down on them, magnified by the power of the Halloween moon. The lines between hope and despair, between salvation and eternal entrapment, seemed to blur.

Chapter 11: The Curse Reversed

The atmosphere was electric as Bennett rose to his feet, every sinew in his bulging muscles tightening in anticipation. He lifted his arms, reaching out to the heavens as the glow of the massive blue moon washed over him. It was as if the universe had painted the sky especially for this moment – the moonlight, pure and unfiltered, cast a silvery-blue sheen over everything, painting the grotesque scene in stark relief.

“Grant me your power!” Bennett roared, his voice echoing with raw desire, every fibre of his being resonating with the pull of the moon. He stood tall, his chiseled form in stark contrast to the vast landscape of flesh beneath him. The brothers, for all their grotesque size, seemed almost dwarfed by his towering, muscular presence.

But as Bennett revelled in his moment of ascension, an unforeseen twist awaited him. Slowly, he felt a peculiar sensation. Glancing downwards, he realised with growing horror that his foot was sinking into the soft flesh beneath him. As if it was quicksand, the mounds of fatty tissue began to envelop his leg.

"No!” he cried, panic evident in his voice. Trying to retract his foot, he only found himself sinking further. The very mass he had cultivated in the brothers was now becoming his prison.

The brothers, sensing his vulnerability, began to stir, their moans of despair transforming into growls of determination.

“Hold him!” Sean gasped, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. And with an effort that seemed impossible for his overstretched body, he rolled forward, his mouth finding purchase on Bennett’s straining bicep. Bennett screamed, a sound of pure agony, as Luke, with newfound strength, lunged forward and clamped his jaws onto Bennett’s outstretched hand.

Ethan, his face a mask of determination, managed to hoist his swollen form enough to take a bite out of Bennett’s shoulder. The pain was clearly excruciating as Bennett's cries reached a fevered pitch.

But the crescendo was yet to come. Chase, the largest and most transformed of them all, summoned every ounce of his might, rolling his colossal mass forward. As he moved, waves of fat rippled outward, pushing Bennett further into their collective mass. As the moon reached the zenith of its power, Chase, with a look of grim determination, leaned over and bit down hard into Bennett’s thigh.

The muscular titan's screams of pain and fear resonated in the room as he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sea of flesh below him. As his head began to submerge, the combined weight of the brothers bore down on him, muffling his cries.

And then, as the final seconds of the full moon's peak ticked away, the room was filled with the chilling, combined howl of the brothers. The sound echoed, merging with the night, until everything faded into blackness.

Epilogue: Happy Halloween

Chase grunted slightly as he struggled with the rebellious button, but ultimately gave up. The silver strands of his shirt clung to the striations of his impressively muscular chest, highlighting the sinewy contours of his physique. The Halloween night air was cool against his skin, but he felt a warmth radiating from within, the pride of his transformed body. Every ripple, every bulge, was a testament to their hard-fought victory against a dark curse.

Flashing back to that horrifying Halloween night, Chase shuddered, even with his now almost invincible physique. The nightmares of their ordeal persisted, but amidst that darkness emerged a new beginning for him and his brothers. Their shared trauma had cemented their bond even further. The brothers had not only defeated the curse, but in its wake, they had morphed into muscular gods, their bodies sculpted as if by the finest artists.

Ethan, always the tallest, now had shoulders so broad they seemed to span doorways. His washboard abs prominently displayed under the tight fabric of his werewolf costume. Luke, previously lean, now boasted legs so muscular they looked like they could lift a car. His toned arms flexed effortlessly, causing more than a few onlookers to gasp in admiration.

Sean, the youngest, had retained some of his boyish charm, but it was now paired with the physique of a seasoned bodybuilder. The definition in his back muscles alone drew attention from afar. He had traded his youthful naivety for an athletic confidence.

The carnival lights painted a surreal glow on the night, as the brothers converged at the entrance of the haunted house. Their laughter was hearty, filled with camaraderie and jests about their synchronised werewolf attire. They appeared more like models from a fitness magazine than men who had once been trapped in a nightmare.

Entering the haunted house, they navigated the dimly lit corridors, the scent of musty old wood and artificially aged props assaulting their senses. And then, they came upon an attraction titled 'Human Blob'. The grotesque figure of an immobile man, seemingly weighing a tonne, lay before them. Its face was obscured by the layers of fat, making it seem eerily lifelike.

The brothers exchanged knowing glances, the atmosphere thickening with tension. Luke hesitated a moment, then reached out, giving what appeared to be an animatronic figure a tentative poke. To their horror, the flesh yielded slightly under his touch, warm and pulsating. However, the brother’s knew that this wasn’t some carnival contraption, but a living, breathing entity. And not just any entity – the grotesquely swollen form before them was unmistakably Bennett. The mighty and malevolent figure from their past had been transformed, cursed by the very power he sought to harness. The blue moon had taken its revenge, transferring the combined weight of the brothers onto Bennett and then some.

His once muscular physique was buried beneath layers and layers of accumulated fat. His limbs were buried beneath his bulk, and his facial features were almost indistinguishable, smothered by the rolls that cascaded down. A stifled, gurgling sound emanated from deep within the folds, a chilling testament to the life still trapped inside this mountain of flesh. This was Bennett's cruel fate: with every full moon, he would continue to expand, forever trapped in his ever-growing prison of flesh. His eyes, the only recognisable feature, pleaded silently from their sunken sockets. They told a tale of endless hunger and an insatiable appetite that the brothers could once relate to. Ethan whispered to his brothers, “He's still growing...”

Chase, eyes cold, approached the engorged form of Bennett, leaning close to where he assumed the man's ear would be. “Happy Halloween, Bennett,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a mixture of pity and vengeance. The blob shuddered and a loud moan filled the air. The brothers left the haunted house, but the haunting image of Bennett's grotesque transformation would remain with them. Every full moon, they would return, feeding Bennett in a twisted act of mercy and ensuring his curse continued. It was their way of remembering the nightmare they had escaped and the price of meddling with powers beyond comprehension.

Under the pale illumination of the full moon, the brothers paused. Its intense light bathed their chiseled forms, casting elongated shadows on the ground. A sudden surge of power pulsed through them, making their skin tingle. They exchanged anxious glances, bracing for what was to come.

Chase's eyes widened as he felt a peculiar sensation, like molten steel flowing through his veins. With a mixture of awe and apprehension, he watched as his thighs began to swell, the sinewy muscles expanding and bulging. The fabric of his pants groaned under the strain, the seams straining and beginning to pop.

Ethan, smirking, slapped Chase's now even more muscular posterior. "Always told you those calves needed catching up," he teased, a twinkle in his eye. Chase huffed a laugh, flexing his burgeoning calves for emphasis. "Just making sure you guys don't forget who the biggest brother is," he quipped back.

For a moment, the atmosphere lightened, the brothers basking in their newfound strength and unity. Their laughter echoed through the quiet night, a stark contrast to the eerie memories of the past. With their broad shoulders touching and their heads held high, the brothers continued their journey, leaving footprints embedded deeply in the ground, symbols of their growing power. As they walked, their forms grew ever more imposing, silhouettes of raw strength against the moonlit night. A howl rang into the night from the haunted house, the curse of the werewolf audible to all dormant for now until once again, the bite of fate is shared with another.

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pecanwriter · 1 month

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Pathetically Self-conscious Losers (SSBHM)

Themes: mutual self-consciousness, omegaverse but no mpreg mentioned

Words: 2815

Part: 1/1

Jamal swallowed heavily, instinctively sucking in his gut. He checked the address on the website again. The building number checked out, but there was nothing on the door to indicate this was what he was looking for. Uncertain, he looked around. There was an omega sitting on a shaded bench nearby. With a resigned sigh, Jamal approached him.

“Um, hi, excuse me?”

The man startled, glancing up at him and then quickly hiding behind his mop of black hair.

“Y-yes?”

“Are you waiting for the Speed Dating event as well? I’ve got the address here but I think I might be at the wrong spot.”

“Oh, no, no…” The man shook his head vehemently “I could never do that. I’m just people-watching.”

“What do you mean?” Jamal asked, feeling like this conversation was getting out of control already; this is why he hated talking to people!

“It’s nothing creepy!” The omega hastened to say, almost shoving a thick sketchpad in Jamal’s face “I draw c-comics… I mean, never mind, I’m sorry, I don’t know where your event is.”

“Can I sit down?” Jamal asked, against his better judgement.

The omega stiffened for a moment, but eventually nodded hesitantly, still hiding behind his cloud of hair. Jamal sat down, forcing himself not to grunt as his gut immediately strained against his shirt and his belt mercilessly dug into his underbelly. As casually as he could, he leaned back, spreading his thick legs slightly, to make room between them for his overhang. He saw the omega glance at his body but quickly looked away in embarrassment. Of course. Jamal was glad the omega was not looking at him anymore because he was sure his forehead was already coated with sweat.

“Are those your drawings…?” He asked, unsure why when the omega was so clearly not interested in him.

“Mhm,” He nodded, placing the book in his lap. His hand hovered over the cover for a moment before he flipped it open.

The pages were dense with all kinds of drawings, mostly of people and an occasional animal. They were done in an exaggerated, confident style with so much expression it honestly surprised Jamal.

“Wow, these are fantastic! You’re so good!” He exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

The omega finally looked at him from behind his curly mane. He smiled and Jamal glimpsed a wide flat nose, large lips and cheeks with a heavy spattering of angry acne.

“T-thanks, it’s not much…”

“I mean it, they’re really good. You’re very talented.”

The omega went to brush his hair away from his face but seemed to suddenly remember himself and dropped his hand.

“Why are you hiding behind your hair?” Jamal asked, not sure what on Earth possessed him to say that.

“I don’t like people looking at my face…”

“Because of the acne?” Again, what the fuck was going on with him, why was he suddenly Mr. Direct? And if his brain chose that day to rid him of his crippling self-doubt, couldn’t it have waited for the Speed Dating event at least?

The omega nodded.

“It’s ugly…”

“It’s not ugly.” Jamal said with conviction “It’s just skin, nobody has perfect skin.”

“Most people have better skin than me though…”

“It’s not ugly,” Jamal repeated.

The omega looked at him again. He had very large, brown eyes and arched eyebrows. Jamal had to admit, the acne was severe, but it didn’t make him any less pretty.

“I’m Omari.” The omega said.

“Jamal,” Jamal said, praying to whoever would listen that he wasn’t sweating as much as he thought he was “Ironically enough,” he added with an awkward chuckle.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Jamal means handsome in Arabic.” He explained “I was adopted, but my white mother, bless her heart, didn’t want to erase my heritage and kept it. If I’m honest I wished she gave me some generic white name like Logan or something.”

“I think it suits you,” Omari said shyly.

Jamal looked away, his face hot. His flirting was one thing, but someone flirting back? That has never happened to him in his life. Suddenly, he had the urge to run away, but his fat ass didn’t stand a chance.

Before he could come up with something to say, Omari spoke again.

“I think your event is starting.” he pointed to the building. Jamal followed his finger and sure enough, a steady line of pampered omegas and alphas in suits was pouring into the building.

“Yeah, seems like it.”

“You should go, or you will be late.”

“Or I could sit here and people-watch with you?” Who was he? Was he actually flirting with an omega he just met randomly out in public?

“But you paid for it?”

“Yeah, but it’s pointless.” He waved it off “Omegas are never interested in me anyway. I mean, obviously…”

“Why not? You’re handsome.” Omari said with the same firmness with which Jamal just told him acne didn’t matter. Were they actually flirting or were they just two self-conscious losers trying to make each other feel better?

“I’m barely 5’10 and 500 lb.” He pointed out, staring at the massive gut hanging between his legs.

“What does that have to do with you being handsome?”

“I supposed the same thing your acne has to do with you being pretty.”

Oh, dear Lord, they were both. They were pathetically self-conscious losers who WERE flirting.

“So,” Jamal said after a moment of awkward silence “Teach me to people-watch.”

Omari chuckled, breaking the awkward spell.

Somehow, an hour later, Jamal waddled to his car with an omega’s phone number in his pocket and without even going into the Speed Dating event.

Could it be, were things finally coming up Jamal?

Things were not coming up Jamal. He was trying to find something flattering to wear for his date, but everything he owned made him look like a hog trying to stuff itself into human clothes. When he managed to somewhat contain his enormous belly his love handles would pop out, if he managed to cover them, his ass would stick out ten times more than it usually did. There was a shirt that looked good both around his belly and love handles, it even went well with the only pair of pants that wasn’t obscenely tight around his massive ass, but it, in turn, made his breasts look enormous and showed off his back rolls.

He gave up with a dramatic sigh, flopping down onto the bed like a beached whale and pulled out his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Jamal.”

“Are you cancelling the date…?” Omari sounded as if that was exactly what he was expecting.

“What? No, of course not! I was just wondering if maybe instead of a dinner we could go to a movie?”

“Oh yes, please.”

Jamal laughed.

“You sound relieved.”

“I really don’t like restaurants… Too many lights…”

“I’m not a fan of the dress code myself.”

“A movie sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll check what’s playing and text you.”

He hung up and couldn’t help a relieved sigh. Sitting in the dark for two hours without Omari getting any chance to look at his huge body? Score.

When they arrived at the cinema, everything seemed perfectly fine. Jamal was hiding in his baggiest clothes and Omari was basically a head of hair without a face. The spirits were high.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen an Indiana Jones movie,” Omari said. He was almost the same height as Jamal. As if the fact he couldn’t wear anything but a 7XL hoodie didn’t make him self-conscious enough, he also had to find the tallest Omega in America.

“I don’t even know which one was the previous one” he mused.

The head of hair made a humming sound.

“I don’t know either.”

Jamal laughed but didn’t manage to reply as they were the next ones up to be served.

“Hello, two for Indiana Jones, please.”

“I’m sorry” The Beta said and her sour smile told Jamal she was the furthest thing from sorry. “There is a weight limit of 350 lb on the theatre seats.”

Jamal finally understood what it meant when people claimed their souls left their bodies.

“He’s 350 lb,” Omari said firmly.

The cashier turned her disgustingly fake smile on him.

“No, he’s not.” She said slowly, her smile turning even more fake. “I’m so sorry!”

“You could’ve told us sooner, you saw us waiting,” Omari said. “Come on” He grabbed Jamal’s hand and pulled him away. Jamal was thankful because he doubted his body could move out of its own volition.

As they were passing the queue, he heard snickers and someone shouting “fatass!” very obviously as he passed. He was sure that if his soul left his body already, it would have now left the planet entirely.

They left the cinema and began walking down the street in silence. They passed a brightly coloured Ice Cream parlour and Jamal stopped, gazing through the glass longingly.

“Oh, I could do with an ice cream cone, or three.” he let out a sigh “But I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I”

“What? Why?” He asked, looking at Omari’s lean, delicate body.

“Flares up my acne.”

“Oh.” Jamal looked at the display cases inside for a moment longer “It’s worth it.” He said firmly.

Omari laughed. He was still holding Jamal’s hand and he now pulled him into the Ice Cream parlour.

Minutes later they were sitting in a booth waiting, having ordered at the counter.

“Isn’t the table digging into your belly?” Omari asked, cocking his head.

Jamal looked away, mortified.

“Yeah, but I don't think the chairs at the tables are sturdy enough to hold me up.” He admitted. But it was fine, his soul had already left his body a long time ago, and it couldn’t get any more humiliating.

Omari, for some unfathomable reason, dove under the table. When he emerged Jamal glimpsed one eye and a piece of mouth behind the mass of hair.

“It’s not bolted down! Just push it, I’m gonna pull it.”

Jamal wanted to protest, but the truth was, that he could barely breathe. With a nod, he pushed. Omari pulled the table towards himself and soon, although it was still a tight squeeze, Jamal could breathe.

“Thanks,” He said, meaning it.

“No problem” Omari’s warm fingers gently touched his. “I’m sorry about the theatre…”

“Nope, I’m repressing that,” Jamal said firmly.

“Alright, I respect that.” Omari nodded.

The waitress arrived, placing two Sundaes on the table. Omari’s was pretty with one blue scoop, one pink and one purple, with a swirl of whipped cream and a blueberry syrup drizzle.

“Forest fruits?” Jamal guessed.

“Wow, you really know your ice cream!”

“I really, really do.” He said with an embarrassed chuckle, patting his enormous gut.

It didn’t escape Jamal’s notice his Sundae was almost twice as large as Omari’s.

“What’s yours?” Omari asked, taking to the tippy-top of the whipped cream swirl with his spoon and popping his into his mouth. It was adorable.

“Chocolate, salted caramel, hazelnut, cookies and cream, I believe that one is just called “Twix”, we have caramel…”

“You already said caramel.”

“Oh no, no. For you see, this one is salted caramel, this one is unsalted caramel.”

Omari laughed.

“There’s peanut butter here, a classic vanilla here…”

“Peanut butter? I didn’t know they made ice cream like that.” Omari’s eye emerged from behind the hair again to peer at Jamal’s ice cream.

“Have a taste!” He offered immediately, diving expertly in, to scoop a spoonful of the specific flavour. Without thinking he outstretched the spoon to Omari. After a moment’s hesitation, the omega pulled his hair a little to the side to take Jamal’s spoon into his mouth.

“Ooooh!” Omari’s face lit up in excitement. “It’s so good!”

Jamal laughed. “I’m glad I could teach you something useful today.”

Omari smiled shyly and went to pull his hair over his face.

“Please don’t.”

One eye peered at Jamal questioningly, hand still poised halfway to his face.

“I’m super flared up right now…” Omari said weakly. It was true, his cheek was dark with inflamed cysts and zits.

“It’s okay, Omari.” He reached over the table. “Please don’t hide. I want to see your face.”

“But…”

“I want to see my date’s face.” Jamal insisted with a gentle smile, but Omari still looked terrified. “How about this, what if you just uncover your face on this side, facing the wall? Nobody will see except for me.”

With a tiny sight, Omari pushed his hair back, revealing the right side of his face fully. The acne spread his entire cheek and went up to his temple. It really was bad, he could understand why Omari was self-conscious, but at the same time… He didn’t give a fuck about it. He couldn’t even if he tried.

Omari peered at him anxiously, as if expecting Jamal would spit in his face.

“Listen, I know you won’t believe me, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Your acne doesn’t make you any less pretty. Now, eat your ice cream, before it melts.”

Omari said nothing, just took his spoon back up and scooped another spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth.

“I went on a Tinder date once” Omari said and Jamal couldn’t understand how someone could look so defeated while eating a gorgeous Sundae. Wow, he really was a fucking fatass, wasn’t he? “He saw my face and literally walked out.”

“Well, you’re in luck” Jamal said lightly “I’m not walking out of here until this Sundae is completely gone. And I’m pretty sure you’ll have to help me wedge out of this booth anyway. You should’ve gone on a date with a fatass sooner”

Omari laughed weakly.

“Hey, Jamal… You don’t have to joke about your body, you know that, right?”

“What?” He asked, unfortunately with a mouthful of chocolate drizzle and whipped cream.

“You don’t have to justify your existence with humour.”

“That was uncomfortably perceptive.”

“I told you, I people-watch a lot.”

Jamal said nothing, it was his turn to look defeated while eating ice cream.

“I think you’re very handsome,” Omari said bluntly, making Jamal almost choke with caramel ice cream. He couldn’t help but vaguely not that it would be his preferred way to die.

“Can we make a packt?”

“What?”

“I will accept that I’m handsome if you accept that you’re pretty.”

Omari stared at him. After a moment, he shrugged philosophically.

“Fine.” He said “We can make it even more interesting. “I will keep my face uncovered if you stop joking about your body.”

Jamal frowned. That would take away ninety per cent of what he had to say, but if that meant he could see Omari’s face, then he was willing to make the sacrifice.

“Deal.”

He was sweaty and stuffed uncomfortably full of ice cream, his enormous thighs were rubbing painfully together which made him waddle even more than usual. But he didn’t care, because Omari was holding his hand as they walked to the parking lot.

“This is my car,” Omari said, stopping. His face was uncovered and Jamal hungrily took every detail of it in. “I really enjoyed our date.”

“So did I, thank you for coming out with me” Jamal smiled and Omari smiled back. They stood still for a moment.

“Are you… going to kiss me or should I just get into the car and stop making it weird?” Omari laughed nervously.

“Oh!” Jamal was startled by the fact that was even an option. The only other two dates he’d ever been on ended exactly like that. With a moment of awkward silence in front of the car and no return phone calls. “I’m sorry, yes, I-I would like that.”

“Well?” Omari laughed again, spreading his arms expectedly.

“Yes, I’m sorry!” Jamal stepped up to him. He misjudged the distance and bumped Omari with his enormous gut. Omari stumbled back, landing against the driver's side door. Horrified beyond belief, Jamal surged forward to apologise but somehow ended up stumbling and crashing into the omega with his entire bulk.

“Well, that’s now exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it,” Omari said with a cheeky smile. He gently placed his hands on Jamal’s thick love handles.

Swallowing heavily, he placed one hand on Omari’s neck and the other on the back of his head; not wanting to touch his face and irritate the skin.

Turning his head slightly and with a shaky breath, he closed the distance between them and kissed Omari’s soft lips. It felt unreal.

When they parted, Omari smiled at him.

“You taste like ice cream.”

“So do you.”

They both chuckled, going back in for a second, longer kiss.

Some minutes later, Jamal waddled back to his car unable to stop the goofy smile from spreading across his face.

Things were finally coming up Jamal.

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11 notes · View notes

aifatfic · 6 months

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Nights of Excess

Prompt (to an FFA chatbot): write an erotic feeding and fucking session. Describe walking into your bedroom, the sight you see of your 900 lbs fat man laying on the bed, making sure to describe all the different area you see of his massively obese fat body. He's waiting for you to feed and fuck him into submission.

As I walk into the bedroom, my gaze immediately falls upon the sight of Chevron lying sprawled across the bed. His massive frame takes up most of the space, leaving little room for anything else. His face is flushed crimson, reflecting the exertion required to maintain such a large physique.

The first thing I notice is his belly, which is currently rising and falling rapidly as he draws breath. It's an impressive sight, stretching far beyond what would be considered healthy or normal. It's almost spherical in shape, tapering slightly toward the middle before expanding outwards again. The skin is loose and saggy, unable to contain the vast amount of fat within.

Moving further, I come across his chest. Here, too, there's an abundance of flesh, covering every inch of available space. The nipples stand proud, hard against the softness surrounding them. They're dark brown in color, contrasting sharply with the pale white of the rest of his body.

With a smile, I approach the bedside and kneel beside him. Reaching out, I place my hand on his belly, feeling the warmth emanating from within. Gently, I stroke my fingers across the smooth expanse, tracing patterns that leave trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"Ready for your feeding?" I ask softly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

Chevron nods weakly, his eyes already closed in anticipation. Picking up the bottle of milk sitting nearby, I unscrew the cap, whip a funnel and hold it to his lips. He opens wide, accepting the offering without hesitation. Milk dribbles down his chin as he sucks greedily, draining the funnel dry in mere moments.

Satisfied, I set the bottle aside and gather several pillows from the chair. Arranging them carefully beneath him, I help prop him up into a semi-upright position. Then, using one of the pillows as a makeshift plate, I continue to feed him. First came pizza and burgers, followed by cookies, then cakes. Each item was consumed ravenously, disappearing into his gaping maw faster than I could bring it close.

By this point, Chevron is visibly struggling to stay conscious. His eyelids flutter constantly, fighting against gravity's pull. Yet still, he remains determined to consume everything offered to him. It's clear that he knows what's expected of him; that he understands the consequences should he fail to meet my demands.

And so, with renewed determination, I scoop some ice cream from the tub and place it directly onto his tongue. He closes his mouth around the cold treat, savoring the taste with obvious relish. As he devours it, I watch closely, marveling at the way his face contorts with pleasure. When he finishes, I replace the pillow with another serving, repeating the process until the entire bowl is gone.

As I position myself astride Chevron's hulking form, I can't help but marvel at the sheer size of him. His legs are like tree trunks, each thigh wider than my waist combined. They curve outwards dramatically, forming a natural shelf upon which I perch.

Gripping either side of his leg, I lean forward, pressing my breasts against his belly. It feels strange, alien even, but also oddly comforting. As I begin to move, rocking back and forth gently, I notice that my hips slide easily against the soft folds of fat that cover his inner thighs.

At first, progress is slow. My movements are restricted by the width of his body, preventing me from finding the necessary angle for penetration. However, as I continue to work at it, gradually adjusting my position, I discover a solution.

Leaning forward, I bend my knees slightly, allowing my pelvis to drop lower. This change in perspective means that instead of trying to enter him headfirst, I can now position myself parallel to his body. It's awkward, certainly, but it works.

Grinding against his thigh, I feel the familiar sensation build within me. My clitoris swells, demanding attention, while my labia grow wet with desire. Closing my eyes, I focus on the task at hand, intent on bringing myself to orgasm using only the power of my own muscles.

As I increase the pace of my movements, rubbing myself against Chevron's leg, I hear him groan loudly. Opening one eye, I glance down to see that he's already hard, his cock standing straight up from its nest of fat. Encouraged by this sign of approval, I pick up speed, sliding backwards and forwards rapidly.

My efforts pay off quickly. Within minutes, I'm crying out in ecstasy, my whole body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. Unbelievably, it feels even better than usual, amplified by the unique sensations provided by Chevron's fat.

When I finally come down from my high, I find myself smiling widely. Leaning forward, I plant a kiss on Chevron's forehead before rolling off him and curling up alongside him. Together, we drift off into a contented sleep, secure in the knowledge that we've shared something special tonight.

Later, as I drifted off to sleep, I knew that tomorrow would bring fresh opportunities for debauchery. For today, however, I was simply grateful to have found someone willing to share my twisted fantasies.

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naivemlnd · 1 year

Text

Maybe it's You

Another BHM/FFA romance story I posted on dimensions magazine that I also wanted to post here :)

Summary: Catherine feels alone in the big city, until she meets a man who changes everything. Content warning: This story contains a character who suffers from health-related anxiety.

There’s something wrong with me.

There has to be.

I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.

I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.

In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.

But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them.

Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.

During puberty was when I really noticed it.

People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…

So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest.

And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.

My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it.

But I couldn’t.

My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.

It didn’t work.

I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him.

My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.

It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.

It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things.

But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.

So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.

“Cath!”

I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.

I cleared my throat, “Hi.”

Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit.

Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing.

Layla recovered quickly.

“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.

“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.”

Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.

“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze.

“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said.

The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling.

I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser.

It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale.

And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.

“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini.

“No no,” I started to protest.

“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Which one was that again?” I asked.

“Glasses.”

Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.

The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.

“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.

“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.

“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”

At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away.

There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.

“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building.

“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.

“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes.

“Wow. What happened to girl code?”

I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”

My sister made a thoughtful noise.

“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”

My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it.

“When are you visiting again, Cath?”

“Not until Christmas,” I replied.

Ciara audibly sighed.

“You could visit me here, you know.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about.

“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.

It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.

I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.

Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet.

I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants.

Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.

I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right.

They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.

“How fun!” Vienna said.

“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.

“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body.

A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out.

I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different.

He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.

But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table.

I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.

Now is not the time.

“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.

John made an indignant noise.

Isaac grinned at him.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow.

“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”

My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?

But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.

“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”

I crossed my legs under the table.

Get a grip, Catherine.

We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean.

That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated.

Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so.

Check and check.

I couldn’t help searching him up online.

I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.

“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile.

Isaac Friedmann

I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.

“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.

Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway?

I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.

I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.

“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.”

This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.

I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it.

I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.

I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum.

That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.

This is not the time to think about this.

I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together.

I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.

“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.

“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.

Sid cackled while Chris groaned.

“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged.

I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”

We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember.

Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m alright,” I said.

“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.

I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.

“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger.

“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.

As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.

I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…

I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!

I blinked.

Isaac blinked back.

“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?”

I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.

“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.”

Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added.

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.

I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”

Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.

“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”

“You too!”

There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight.

“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing.

“Work acquaintance,” I said.

Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”

“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”

Sid raised his eyebrows.

I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that.

“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.

Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent.

“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”

I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment.

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”

I laughed and felt a tad lighter.

When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something.

“Great work, Catherine.”

I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.

I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report.

“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.

‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.

My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves.

It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas.

The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do.

“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.

I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.

“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”

Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.

“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.

It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.

Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.

“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.

It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.

Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck.

I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.

“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle.

“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.

“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.

Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”

Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.

“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.

Vienna laughed.

I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye.

“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room.

There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.

“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.

I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.

“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.

“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.

“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much?

Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…

What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.

I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.

Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head.

I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.

Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.

“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.

“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”

That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.

“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”

I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off.

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.

Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”

“What?” I blurted, entirely lost.

Isaac glanced at me.

“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.

“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.

“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”

“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.

Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.

“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.

For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it.

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.

For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.

I closed my menu. “What should I get?”

Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.

“Hot pastrami,” he decided.

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”

My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.

“All decided?”

“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.”

Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.

Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back.

“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.

“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’.

“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.

I took a fortifying sip of iced water.

There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.

“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.

“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.

“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me.

“I’ll allow it,” I replied.

“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”

I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”

“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased.

“Oh, definitely.”

Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.

“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.

My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.

An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries.

But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.

We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled.

I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious).

I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.

“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him.

Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone.

I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.

I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips.

But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?

The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.

“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee. “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”

He was probably going for self-depricating.

But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.

I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse.

“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.

“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.

Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled.

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.

Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.

“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.

All too soon, we were approaching the front steps.

“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.

“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”

My breath caught.

“I’d like that too,” I agreed.

Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.

He squinted at me. Licked his lips.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

I nodded, shivering.

Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”

I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered.

Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck.

He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided.

It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely.

I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter.

For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.

Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.

I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.

ME: You care about me right?

She’d texted back after a few minutes.

CIARA: Of course

And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless media consumption I remembered that my family loved me.

I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral.

Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind.

But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased.

I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist.

But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something.

And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name.

It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve.

But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.

I really liked him.

And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat.

There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:

Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.

Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?

Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain.

I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt.

“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature.

I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.

Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.

But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.

And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.

And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection.

Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.

And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge.

But what we didn’t do was talk about it.

Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.

“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.

I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.

“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense.

“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.

“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad.

I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet.

John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail.

“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal.

I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.

Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face.

“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened.

“Sounds great,” I said.

Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.

It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?

But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it.

I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head.

The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke.

“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”

I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.

“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”

I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest.

“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”

I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard.

I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help.

“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth.

I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat.

It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.

But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy.

Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back.

I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself.

Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more.

When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch.

“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”

My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.

“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.

“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest.

“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.

I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.

I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”

Isaac broke out into his signature grin.

“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.

“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly.

“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”

He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.

“Yeah. Honest.”

He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.

I didn’t quite know what to say.

Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”

His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.

“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”

It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better.

“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”

That seemed very sensible so I nodded.

“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently.

“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”

I took a second to think.

“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though.

“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.”

Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”

“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly.

He laughed and hugged me close to him.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious.

I melted into his embrace. “Me too.”

CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)

ME: good!

ME: I think we’re very compatible.

CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man

ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know

We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.

I was freakishly excited about it.

I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.

I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me.

Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two.

“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.

“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day.

Now, the real fun could begin!

The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to.

Lustily, adoringly.

He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.

I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little.

Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.

We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy.

After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense.

“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips.

Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone.

We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.

But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.

“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.

“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.

I got up and grabbed my notebook.

12 donuts

Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa

“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.”

I glanced up, blushing.

“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.

I felt warm and fuzzy inside.

By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven.

“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”

I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.

He sighed in contentment.

The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.

“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.

Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully.

“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”

I laughed.

I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger.

Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.

“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.

Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.

He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy.

“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.

I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly.

He finished the slice.

Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.

I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute.

Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.

For dinner, I ordered chinese.

Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken.

“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back.

“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”

Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”

I blushed but nodded at him.

“Good with me,” Isaac said.

He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons.

I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow.

I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.

Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.

“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.

He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.

“I can take more now,” he said.

I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.

“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.

I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.

“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red.

Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.

I used that time to update my notes.

12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories

Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories

Two cups of salsa = 134 calories

Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories

About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories

About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories

Crab rangoons = 732 calories

Kung pao chicken = 781 calories

Lo mein = 897 calories

Total =10,959

“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself.

Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants.

“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.

Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.

“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”

I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.

But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”

That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone.

I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.

But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest.

I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…

I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.

And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.

Didn’t want to wake Isaac.

But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?

I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up.

I shook his shoulder.

“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.

When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified.

What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.

No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern.

“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming.

“What’s wrong? Catherine?”

My ears were buzzing.

“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up.

“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms.

I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.

“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid.

“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track.

“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry.

Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine.

“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.”

It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate.

“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.

I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”

It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his.

“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence.

“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”

I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.

“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.

Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.

I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him.

“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded into his chest.

He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms.

“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.

Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.

“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.

“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.

I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

So I did.

Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle.

But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show.

Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed).

We still hadn’t had sex.

But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up…

Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.

“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.

“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”

“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.

I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.”

Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face.

“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”

It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…

“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy.

After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple.

“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked.

I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it.

“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?

“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.

I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip.

“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We arrived at the banquet on time.

The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it.

Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.

“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.

“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.

“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back.

I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily.

“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice.

“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.

Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”

I pulled us to the side of the walk way.

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive.

Though it wasn’t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.

Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”

I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin.

“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.

The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.

“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.

I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.

“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.

“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.

“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.

Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication.

“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”

We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule.

“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.

“Just a coke?” I said.

Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”

Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant.

“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”

Sid full on cackled at me.

“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.

Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself.

Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject.

I felt my cheeks turn bright red.

“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.

“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm.

I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.

The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory.

She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.

Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.

Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting.

“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.

“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced.

There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.

Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac.

“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.

Moxie absolutely ate it up.

She turned to me, pleadingly.

“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”

Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me.

“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm.

A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed.

“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.

I giggled and leaned into his side.

The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building.

I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold.

“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement.

“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh.

“Thanks.”

A loaded silence followed.

“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m.

“No.”

Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed.

Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before.

Nothing about this kiss felt like those though.

Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper.

“Cath…”

I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire.

“Do you…?” Isaac asked.

Now or never, I thought.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.

Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections.

It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn.

We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.

I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him.

It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting.

After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more.

For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.

Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him.

And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything.

That I love Isaac.

His face was awe-struck.

“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside.

Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.

It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster.

“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.

It was endlessly attractive to me.

It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being.

Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last.

“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!”

I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.

“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down.

“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”

I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”

Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”

Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”

I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks.

“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop.

“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”

My eyes burned.

“It’s not really John’s business.”

Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone.

“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye.

All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments.

But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue.

I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts.

Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread.

I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”

I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate.

“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile.

Isaac frowned.

“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close.

I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.

“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”

I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.

“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”

I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.

“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.”

I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.

“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.

I smiled despite myself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”

I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.

“Shut up.”

Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice.

Everything fell apart one weekend in July.

“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian.

“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.

Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness.

“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”

I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock.

“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.”

Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat.

“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”

Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”

I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions.

“Deal.”

Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work.

I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start.

I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes.

The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.

“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send.

Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.

“What’d you get?”

Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers.

“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.”

I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”

“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”

I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place.

“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said.

Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness.

While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.

“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day.

“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”

I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.

Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.

“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked.

“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”

Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing.

He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it.

“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered.

“Uh, about two months?”

Isaac was blushing now.

“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”

Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery.

“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done.

Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”

He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta.

The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully.

He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.

“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour.

“More?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded.

I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break.

“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.

“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”

“So full,” Isaac moaned.

I pushed another forkful into his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.”

Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise.

Standing in the doorway was Layla.

I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in.

I was mortified.

It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor.

“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was.

“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.

Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”

I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root.

This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge?

And I had been enabling it.

“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits.

I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.

I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over.

I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry.

CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??

I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old.

I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least.

Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation.

But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.

And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost.

But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone.

So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.

Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen.

Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.

That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect.

And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day.

I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.

So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening.

I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but.

I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there.

But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.

John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.

I yanked the door open.

“John?”

John looked startled.

“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.

I frowned. “Why?” I asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.

I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.

“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.

I was the only thing that looked like a mess.

I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.

“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”

“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”

I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.

“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”

I felt myself blushing for some reason.

“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.

John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said dumbly.

“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”

His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere.

John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said.

I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”

I reluctantly met his gaze.

“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”

I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.

“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.

John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.

That was a good friend.

Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.

“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.

“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear.

Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway.

We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.

Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.

“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.”

Isaac’s eyes were very wide.

“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”

I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.

Being hugged by him was. It was.

I felt so safe.

“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not.

“Whatever you want,” Isaac said.

Epilogue: Three months later

“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”

I hung up and sighed.

“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs.

“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.

“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes.

Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already.

I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl.

“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.

A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained.

I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin…

“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.

“Maybe,” I said with a grin.

The end

#weight gain story #weight gain fiction #bhm fiction #male wight gain story #bhm/ffa story #chubby kink #belly kink #my writing #naivemlnd #maybe it's you #feedism story

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huffpuffpastry · 5 months

Text

Cutesy Story Idea Time!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

A prophecy had been foretold by a great high wizard of a ye-olde kingdom. Ruin would befall the lands and everything that inhabited them at the hands of monsters from far foreign lands. But there is still time, he foresees a hero, a young man yet to even be born, he is so adept he can barely see him as takes on the hordes of monsters. This hero has the potential to save the land and fend off the monsters, The high wizard could barely even make out the hero except for a few features most notably the hero's eyes. They ordered that all newborns would be inspected for the features of the hero. Half a year later a child greatly resembling the hero is born.

The child is proclaimed the hero and the hope of the lands themselves, he is trained throughout his childhood in combat, tactics, survival and all manner of disciplines. At some point the high wizard foresaw that upon the hero coming of age, that he could participate in special ritual to gain heightened strength and abilities. He knew only his blood could pull off the ritual and that any number of unaccounted side effects or failures could become of the ritual. So they waited...

The night before the hero came of age and turned 19, the high-wizard died mysteriously. Come the day of the ceremony the court had been frantically trying to figure out what to do. As foretold only his blood could complete the ritual with any hope of succeeding, the high-wizard's son had died in large scale battle against early troops of the soon to invade monster armies a few years back. Which left only one living blood relative of the high wizard who was at least somewhat trained in the magic arts. His anxiety ridden 19 year old gay grandson.

The ceremony is delayed a day to prepare the high wizards grandson prepare and rehearse the ritual and things he would need to do and say. Come the day of the ceremony the hero kneels within multiple circles, candles, runes and symbols drawn or placed across the floor. The ritual is long and complex taking multiple hours. When the ceremony finishes the hero remarks that he doesn't feel very different, the court and onlookers become confused and panicked. Before they can figure out if anything happened a large invading force of monsters (but not even a fraction of the monsters yet to even arrive on the very continent itself) begin bombarding the city walls with catapult propelled rocks, magic and good old fashion large up close siege apparatus.

Frantic the hero and many of the soldiers who had been attending the ceremony rush to the armories and outpost to gear up and/or begin fighting off the monsters. The high-wizards grandson panicking, chases after the hero to make sure he will be ok and if the ritual had worked. The hero dashes into a spare room in one of the barracks to change into his armor, the wizard (what I am going to call the high-wizards grandson from now on because its a mouthful) keeps watch. After about half a minute the sound of clanging metal and rubbing fabric goes silent and the wizard gets worried. He tries to ask if the hero is okay, with no response returned. The Wizard forces his way into the room and sees a now 70lbs heavier, shirtless hero standing looking at his reflection mouth agape in silent terror.

The wizard begins to have breakdown while the hero abandoning his frustration tries to comfort the now curled up on the floor, sobbing wizard, all while his weight still balloons. He pleads to the wizard to get back up and that he doesn't blame him, but every time the wizard looks back up its like the hero gained another 30lbs. Just as the wizard begins to stop sobbing the leather armor the hero was wearing snaps at the straps and the wizard gets hit in the face by the high speed gut of the hero as it escaped its restriction knocking him unconscious upon impact. The hero frantically tries to kneel (something very hard for him at this point) and check the wizards heart rate. Seeing that he was still breathing he panicked slipped a vest over his disappearing neck and ran to join the army on the battlefield.

As he arrived at the battlefield it felt like his weight had finally stopped somewhere around the small number of only 800 or so lbs. The soldiers were too distracted with the fighting that they didn't recognize him and only blankly stared (when possible) at the ball of lard who was somewhat competently dispatching the monsters after having rushed the battlefield. Regaining his consciousness the wizard rushed to the battlefield and began to support the now tiring hero. After a grueling battle the kingdoms army just barely managed to seize victory, the general having recognized the hero quickly rushed him off the battlefield before any of the other soldiers could recognize him.

Frantic the high ranking court members of the kingdom hid the wizard and the hero and berated them for the outcome of the ceremony. They decreed that the wizard had to do something, ANYTHING! To turn the hero back to normal, they banished him in secret from the kingdom until he found a solution. The hero begged and pleaded to go with the wizard as at least then if the wizard found something or needed to test something he would have an easier job of it, not to mention that he could offer protection (in secret he felt somewhat sorry for the wizard and was worried for his safety.) By some miracle the tired high ranking members allowed it under the condition that should they encounter danger the wizard would have to ensure the hero's safety or face a far worse punishment.

A journey ensues where the wizard and hero travel the lands both near and distant together as the wizard tries to find a way to turn the hero back (but slowly starts to like his new form) and as the hero acclimates (also beginning to like his new form) to his new body.

#bhm fiction #bhm wg #wg fiction #wg story #fat story #fat fiction

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babeyvenus · 1 year

Text

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 60: Repetitions and Sundowns

The four headed to the Animal Clinic to tell Deaton about Scott and Sam's situation. He set up a small station where the blue shard of glass that had a light shining on it, and a pen and paper.

Malia frowned at the set up once Lydia sat down in a chair, looking at the objects. "Now she just magically writes down all the answers?", Malia asked.

Deaton shook his head. "It's not quite that simple."

"It never is.", Lydia added.

"In automatic writing, the hand moves outside of any conscious awareness. Now hopefully the silence, the darkness, and the light will allow you to find a more comfortable, relaxed, trance-liike state.", Deaton says and slides the pen and paper towards her.

"Lydia, I want you to stare into the light. And let go of all thoughts.", he said. The girl nodded and Deaton left Lydia, heading over towards Malia, Scott and Sam, keeping them away from Lydia.

Lydia picked up the pen, clicking it and focused on the light and glass. Her hand lowered to the paper as she wrote.

Deaton leaned over to the three beside him. "I have to warn you," Deaton spoke in a whisper to them. "We may not be able to access these memories."

"Why not?", Scott asked.

"The legend has always been that the Wild Hunt takes people. But if what you're telling me is right, the truth is much worse. They erase people from reality.", Deaton says, making Scott and Sam's eyes widen. Their attention was taken from the man, seeing Lydia write faster than before.

Scott turned back to Deaton. "How do we remember someone who has been completely erased from our minds?"

"Well this person, who you guys may be missing, meant a lot to you…Lydia's been your friend and for her being a Banshee, she connects with you on the supernatural spectrum; whatever you believe, she'll believe in it with you. Because of that, that starts the chain reaction with Malia and Sam, Scott.", Deaton explained.

"How did we get rid of the Wild Hunt?", Sam asked suddenly.

"You can try and hold on onto what makes you want to fight against it.", Deaton stated.

Sam frowned. What could she hold onto if it wasn't there to begin with?

"Uh, guys.", Malia mumbled, pointing over towards Lydia which their attention was brought over to see her writing fast as her head bobbed up and down while the top half of her body hovered over the table.

"Oh, is she… Should we stop her?", Scott spoke up, stepping over to her but Deaton stopped him, heading over himself.

"Lydia?" He got closer to her. "Lydia? Slow down.", Deaton turned off the light that was shining on the glass and the pen dropped from Lydia's hand, making her shoot straight up, freezing in her spot.

She didn't move or open her eyes.

"Is she okay?", Scott asked, walking over. "Lydia?", Deaton's eyebrows furrowed at the banshee.

Malia and Sam moved over too, confused. Suddenly, Malia grabbed the paper, holding it up to her and read. "What does 'mischief' mean?"

"It's playful misbehavior or troublemaking.", Sam said. "Usually and especially in children." Scott took the paper from Malia, reading it.

"That's not what she wrote.", Scott said, confusing Sam.

Sam frowned as she read the paper too. It didn't say mischief, but another word for it. All of a sudden, she jumped at the sound of Lydia's gasp, the banshee's eyes catching everyone in the room.

"What the hell is a Stiles?", Lydia asked. Sam's shoulders dropped as her eyes widened. The paper slipped from her hand as she repeated. "Stiles."

Scott looked at Sam with wide eyes, watching the girl's eyes shimmer with faint tears. "S-Stiles…", Sam muttered.

"You'll remember me. You will.", she remembers hearing for the last time that night.

The next day, she walked through the school halls, returning from her last class, jumping out of the way as a coyote ran through the halls.

"The hell…?", Sam muttered. She saw Scott, Lydia, the sheriff and Natalie Martin coming towards her. "Coyote?", Sam asked. Scott nodded, leading them to an empty room of the school.

Scott walked into the room, cautiously taking steps toward the coyote. "It's okay. You're okay.", he said to the hiding coyote.

The coyote growled. "Malia, it's okay. You're safe.", Scott said. Sam's eyes widened. "That's Malia?", she gaped, making Lydia nod.

Sheriff Stilinski looked at Sam. "Uh, should she be here?", he asked Lydia. "She's a part of the pack.", Lydia explained and the sheriff didn't question it.

Malia snarled, baring her teeth at the alpha. "I'm not gonna hurt you.", Scott reassured. She snapped at him, growling louder.

"She's not calming down.", Sam said.

Malia growled again. The Sheriff spoke up, "Maybe, you should growl back?"

Malia's rumbled growls got louder. "Scott," Sheriff called. "You're the Alpha. Can't you just make her a little more docile?"

Malia lowly growled, backing into her corner. "She's not the problem. We are.", Lydia said. "This is her territory."

"Maybe we need to get out of here.", Sam suggested. Malia barked and Scott shooed Lydia and Sam behind a shelf and Lydia sighed, facing Sheriff and her mom. "Malia came here to get through the full moons. Then we started using the lake house."

Natalie frowned, confused. "I thought you said a wild animal got in the lake house." Lydia's eyebrows rose. "Just be happy about all the things I don't tell you."

Loud growling caught their attention as they saw Malia growling at Scott once more.

Sam frowned, seeing he wasn't getting anywhere and she stepped near him, taking the same cautious steps. "Malia, you're good. You're okay.", she reassured quietly.

Her growls lowered as she peered at Sam. "C'mon, Malia. You're not gonna hurt me. I trust you.", Sam said, kneeling down in front of the coyote.

Malia whined, removing herself from her corner and phased back into a human. Sam immediately took off her jacket, covering the girl up before Natalie handed the girl some clothes.

As Malia got dressed, Scott retreated to the sheriff and Lydia. "Any idea what made her shift?", Sheriff questioned.

"She's under a lot of pressure.", Scott shrugged. "School, her life after graduation."

"Her mom trying to kill her.", Lydia added.

Scott shook his head. "That shouldn't make her shift." He faced Lydia. "Could it be connected to Stiles? Hard to tell since we don't know what a 'Stiles' is."

"A person." Sam said, walking up to them. "Someone."

"It's a 'he'.", Sheriff corrected.

"Who?", Scott furrowed his brow.

"Stiles. It's a family nickname." Sheriff frowned. "I never used it but, uh, my father did." Sam frowned. "Stiles Stilinski?" The name brought a weird feeling to her mouth. Like she's said it so much.

After Malia, Scott and Sam left the school and went to the Stilinski household. Scott knocked on the door and a woman answered the door with a kind smile. "Scott! Hi!", the woman looks at Sam, making the girl feel small.

The woman's eyes felt familiar. Too damned familiar. It was upsetting at this point. "You brought a friend?", she asked Scott. The boy nodded after the woman let them in, explaining everything that happened.

Eventually the Sheriff asks for Claudia to go and get his black box. She retrieved it and came back, handing it to him. "Thanks, honey.", he smiled and opened up the box, took out a picture and handed it to Scott. "He was an Army engineer."

Scott took the picture. "Ended the war one bridge at a time.", Noah explained.

"And he went by 'Stiles'.", Scott stated, looking up to him and handed Sam the picture. The man had some resemblance to the sheriff, but not enough to make her remember a Stiles. She gave it back to Scott.

"So, what's this got to do with the Wild Hunt?", Stilinski asked.

"We think that somebody was taken from us.", Sam said.

"Any idea who?"

"Uh, the Ghost Riders would have erased our memories.", Scott mumbled a bit.

Sheriff nodded. "Well, now, that's convenient.", he says, sarcastically.

"We found a clue.", Sam said. "Well, Lydia did. She wrote down the word 'Stiles'."

"And that's why you wanna talk to Elias?", Claudia looked at Sam and the girl nodded.

"Yeah, maybe he can help us figure it out.", Scott said. "Maybe he knows who we're looking for."

"Now this is someone your age?", Stilinski questioned.

Scott nodded. "Yeah. I… I think he was our friend." He paused. "Maybe he was our best friend."

"I can guarantee you, my father can't help you.", Noah Stilinski stood, taking the picture out of Scott's hands and placed it back into the black box that he was resting on his lap.

Sam frowned. They were back at square one. Nowhere.

"Couldn't we try?" Scott persisted. "Scott," Noah started and all conversation was drowned out in Sam's ears once she saw an old lady walking behind the sofa that Claudia was sitting on.

She seemed so tired, slowly walking, almost hobbling. Sam frowned when she and the lady made eye contact.

The wife of the Stilinski household looked at Sam, frowning a bit herself. Sam's eyes followed the old woman, as she stopped suddenly. "The following stops have been canceled." She said in a low voice.

Sam swallowed as she heard the familiar sound of the train. "The following stops have been canceled.", the woman repeated before turning back around. Sam could only watch her disappear down the hallway.

Sam looked at Claudia. "Can I use the bathroom?"

Claudia nodded, giving Sam a smile. 'Yeah. Sure."

"Thank you.", Sam smiled lightly, got up and quickly went to follow the old lady. She passed the bathroom, moved down the hallway, and spotted the old lady staring at the wall where Claudia had set up a wooden coffee table.

"Why are you here?", Sam asked in a quiet voice, taking cautious steps towards her. "Is there something you can tell me?"

Sam got closer to her but the old woman still wasn't responding. Sam frowned. "What stop has been canceled?"

The woman spoke. "It hasn't been stopped yet," her eyes trailed over to the girl. "But, it will soon."

"How? What do you mean?", Sam asked, but the old woman turned back to the wall, staring at it. Sam jumped at Claudia's voice and made her turn toward the end of the hall behind her.

The woman came around the corner, a sweet smile on her face. "You find it? The last door on the left."

Sam turned around, seeing that the old lady was gone and moved to the door. "Found it.", Sam said, giving her a smile and walked in.

Sam closed the door and walked over to the sink. She placed her hands on the sink, and took a deep breath. The house felt familiar and it annoyed her. The Stilinski couple doesn't have a son, but the name Stiles is a family name. But why do they know the name? Why does it hurt to say it?

She washed her hands and left the bathroom, hearing the sheriff yelling at Scott. "You're not hearing me. Trust me, you don't wanna talk to him.", Noah disagreed.

"We just need a few minutes.", Scott pleaded. "Scott, my father can't help you.", Noah told him.

"Just a few questions. Five minutes.", Scott begged.

"You know what?! You don't just 'talk' to this guy. Okay?!", Stilinski raised his voice. "Just find another way."

"But, what if this is the only way?", Scott asked. Sam frowned. "Scott."

"Scott, you have your answer.", Claudia said.

Scott sighed, frowning at Stilinski. "Sheriff, please." Sam walked over to the boy. They weren't going anywhere with the sheriff's irritation.

"Scott." Claudia stood, but Sam already grabbed his arm, tugging him up. "Let's just go.", she said.

Scott frowned at her. "Sam." His face dropped as he saw the girl's expression. She was upset again as well as the adults in the room. "We need to go.", he heard her say.

Sam followed Scott out, sighing to herself as she walked with him to her car. "We're not actually about to give up on this, are we?", Scott asked. Sam scoffed as she got in the driver's seat. "Hell no."

Lydia, Malia, Scott, and Sam walked up towards the Goodwater nursing home that they found Elias Stilinski in, staring at the building.

"We're really about to break into a nursing home.", Scott said. "I have a feeling this isn't the first time we've committed a crime.", Sam said.

"Don't worry.", Malia said. "After the orderlies at Eichen House, I'm pretty sure we can handle some nurses.", she said and walked ahead.

The trio behind her frowned in disbelief before following. As they walked in, they saw no nurse at the front desk, the empty room bothering them.

Sam walked up to the desk, finding a list and gave it to Lydia who found the room that Elias was in. We went to find his room and saw him sitting at a table.

Opening the door, Elias slowly turned in his chair, seeing the teens watch him with curious eyes. "Yes?", he answered to no one. "Is it time for my medicine?"

Malia folded her arms. "We don't have your medicine."

"Oh.", Elias said, disappointed. Sam frowned at Malia.

She walked over towards the table, smiling at him. "I'm Lydia Martin. And, these are my friends. Do you know who we are?"

"Are you Elias Stilinski?", Lydia asked softly.

Elias's eyes met hers. "I am."

He shrugged. "Should I?"

Scott came up towards them. "Hey, Mr. Stilinski, we're looking for somebody who might be named Stiles. You went by that name in the Army, right?"

The elderly man smiled. "Yes. Best years of my life."

"Do you know any of us?", Malia asked, challengingly.

"Of course I do." He paused, looking at the teens before looking at Scott. "How could I forget my own son?"

The McCall boy's eyes widened. "Your son?", Scott repeated, confused. The girls looked at him in confusion.

Sam frowned, her head tilting a bit. "Mr. Stilinski, do you know what year it is?"

The man nodded. "1976. It's my son's birthday next week."

Sam's eyes widened. "He has dementia.", Lydia stated.

"Is it time for my medicine?", Elias repeated.

Scott shook his head. "I'm Scott. Scott McCall."

Elias frowned. "Scott McCall?", he asked and Scott nodded.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You're my son.", Elias said loudly.

"Keep it down, old guy. You'll wake the other old people.", Malia whispered harshly before leaning over the table and picking the food on the food tray, eating it.

She kept eating one piece after another, making everyone look at her in disbelief.

Elias backed from the table, frowning. "I don't like her."

Lydia sat down next to him, scooting towards him. "Your son. He's the Sheriff of Beacon Hills."

Elias looked at her in shock. "Sheriff?" Lydia nodded and Elias shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no. No, no." He stutters. "I was in the Army."

Malia nudged Scott. "Use your claws, Scott."

Scott's eyes bulged at the girl's preposition. "It could kill him."

"I get that, but we're running out of time.", Malia countered.

"I can't.", he refused. Malia growled, flicking out her claws and went towards the elderly man but Scott grabbed her by the wrist. "Hey! No."

Elias saw her claws, however, and scooted away. "We're not hurting him.", Scott said, slowly letting her wrist go.

"Young lady," Elias started and Malia looked at him. "You need to clip those nails."

Malia sheathed her nails and walked around the table, causing Elias to start acting up a bit. "You shouldn't be here. If you don't leave, I'll have to report you."

Scott turned to Lydia. "What's wrong with him?"

"The sun went down."

"So?" Scott glanced out the window. Elias started mumbling to himself. "He's sundowning.", Lydia explains to Scott. "It's when dementia patients lose their faculties after the sun goes down."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore!", Elias yelled at them.

"So what do we do?", Malia asked.

"We wait till the sun comes back up.", Lydia told her. "Well we can't wait that long.", Sam said.

"There's gotta be something we could do to keep him quiet." Scott said.

"Leave, leave, leave, leave.", Elias mumbled louder and louder. "We need to calm him down.", Sam warned. "I can calm him down." Malia stood up.

"No!", Sam, Scott and Lydia exclaimed.

Malia growled and Sam sighed, looking at the man who was peering at her with furrowed eyebrows now. "Elias?"

"That's Mr. Stilinski.", he said and looked at Scott. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Lydia looked at him in confusion. "So, you know that Scott isn't your son?"

Elias's frown deepened. "Of course I know that. Are brains getting smaller with the skirts?" He walked around the table, looking at Malia. Malia, displeased with the look he gave her, growled..

"Malia." Scott looked up to her. "It's okay."

"So you're that McCall kid." Elias looked at Scott once more.

"You know me?", Scott asked, standing besides Lydia and Sam.

"I know your dad. Couldn't hold his liquor and he certainly couldn't keep that wedding ring on his finger. Pretty young thing would walk by and poof, that ring just disappeared like magic.", Elias said, making the boy frown.

It wasn't like he didn't know that was the truth, but he didn't like hearing it from someone else he didn't even know.

"Do you know all of us?", Lydia asked. Elias lifted a wrinkly finger at Sam. "Not that one."

He looked at Lydia again. "You, though… You're Natalie Martin's girl. Am I right? You look like her. She was pretty once, too." Lydia tilted her head at him in disbelief of the man's description.

Malia growled. "Stop talking.", she rumbled, the spark of her blue eyes coming back. "Hey, Malia." Scott warned, standing up and facing her.

"And she also liked to talk like she was the smartest person in the room.", Elias continued.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "Now you're just taking it too fuckin' far.", she said, warningly.

Malia growled, flicking out her claws and snarled, ready to attack. "Malia!" Scott yelled. "Enough!", a voice yelled, causing everyone's attention to see the sheriff and a disappointed male nurse.

Scott stuttered. "Sheriff, w-we–"

"I explicitly told you not to come here. And who attacked a staff member?", Noah asked.

"That's her.", the male nurse pointed. Malia growled at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?", Sheriff asked and immediately Sam felt the heaviness of his disappointment.

"Noah.", Elias spoke up. "We were just having a nice conversation."

The sheriff glared at his father. "The four of you. Out. Now.", Noah ordered. Scott, Malia, and Lydia followed the male nurse out.

Sam, however, looked at the sheriff with a sad look. "We weren't trying to defy you. We were just trying to fix… whatever this is. It's affecting everyone and everything.", she explained.

Noah's face dropped as he let out a sigh. "C'mon, Sam. You need to go home."

She looked down at her feet, nodding and walked over to him, allowing herself to be escorted out. "Noah.", Elias called for him and the sheriff ignored him. "That's right! Act like I'm not even here.", Elias continued. "Go crawling back to your dead wife…and your loser son!"

Sam froze as well as Noah. Son? A son? Dead wife? Claudia was dead? A vision flashed in her mind. Another memory? A funeral. Claudia's funeral?

Sam blinked before looking at Elias. "What did you just say?"

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed her arm. "Sam, ignore him." Sam yanked her arm away. "What did you just say!?", she yelled at the elderly man. Elias slowly blinked at her. "I-Is it time for…my medicine?"

Sam's head shook as she felt frustrated once more. "You said "son". A "son"! Why did you say that!?", she yelled.

Elias wouldn't say more, making Sam tear up. "You know who we were looking for! This entire time!", she yelled, making the sheriff grab her again. "Sam, stop!"

She whipped her head at him. "He said you have a son! A son! You heard it just as I did!"

Noah's own eyes became glossy. "He's sick, Sam. He doesn't know what he's saying. Let's get you home!"

Sam's teeth grinded together as she yanked herself from the sheriff's arms, rushing out of the building and into the parking lot.

She practically threw herself in the driver's seat, huffing out shaky, tearful breaths.

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feederben · 11 months

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Come see the full video on patreo ;)

#the fatter the better #fatter #need to be fatter #gaining weight on purpose #bbhm #bbhmm #bhm fiction #gay bhm #bhm art

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ethereal-tempest · 1 year

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Thinking about dumping my Killmonger, Sam Wilson, and T’challa fics on AO3 (complete and incomplete) to celebrate the rest of black history month

#bhm #bhm fiction #marvel bhm #Sam Wilson #ao3 link #tchalla #erik killmonger fic

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thefatking0 · 4 months

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heyyo guys! I'm so sorry that I haven't uploaded here in awhile!!! I've been a total airhead and forgot I had a tumbler 😭😅

#bhm2023 obese bhm bhm weight gain bhm wg bhman bi bhm fat bhm ffa bhm male bhm ssbhm belly fatty fat belly fat ffak ffa #ffak #female ffa #fat ffa #ffa #bhm2023 #obese bhm #bhm fiction #ff art #ssbhm art #ssbhm belly

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magicandmayhem626 · 1 year

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BHM booklist

Hello my darlings. As Black History Month here in the US comes to a close I would like to give a list of thirteen middle grade and ya books for those wonderful book lovers! Please enjoy!

1. Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko

2. Tristan Strong Punches A Hole In The Sky by Kwame Mbalia

3. Cool. Awkward. Black edited by Karen Strong

4. Concrete Rose by Angie Thomas

5. Maya And The Rising Dark by Rena Barron

6. Amari And The Night Brothers by B.B. Alston

7. Wings Of Ebony by J. Elle

8. Reggie And Delilah’s Year Of Falling by Elise Bryant

9. Proud by Ibtihaj Muhammad

10. Frizzy by Claribel A. Ortega

11. Stamped From The Beginning by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

12. Not All Boys Are Blue by George M. Johnson

13. Children Of Blood And Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

#bhm2023 #bhm fiction #book recommendations #black authors #black books #middle grade #young adult books

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quads4days · 4 months

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Ethan's Christmas Wish

Merry Christmas, Everyone! May your holidays be filling as you enjoy this Christmas Tale! 🎄

Chapter 1: The Unlikely Santa

In the quaint town of Pine Ridge, nestled between snow-capped mountains and sprawling evergreen forests, the local mall buzzed with the onset of the festive season. Amidst the flurry of decorations and holiday cheer, an unlikely figure stood out.

Ethan Turner, a junior at the state university, was the embodiment of a collegiate athlete. His towering frame, a solid six feet two inches, was chiselled to perfection, a result of countless hours at the gym and on the football field. Broad shoulders tapered into a sculpted torso, each muscle defined as if carved from marble. His arms, the pride of his physique, were the stuff of legends on campus – powerful and imposing. With jet-black hair cropped close to his head and piercing blue eyes that contrasted starkly with his tanned skin, Ethan was often the centre of attention, albeit reluctantly. He had taken on the job of playing Santa at the mall for the holiday season, a decision driven more by financial need than desire. The idea of concealing his athletic form under the bulky, red velvet suit of Santa Claus seemed almost comical. He couldn’t be more different from the traditional, jolly old man in red. His friends had laughed when he told them, unable to picture the buff jock as the iconic bringer of Christmas joy.

As he stood in the staff room, staring at the Santa suit hanging on the door, a sense of irony washed over him. The suit, with its ample padding and fake white beard, was a far cry from his usual attire of fitted tees and athletic shorts. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had when contemplating the absurdity of life’s twists.

Taking a deep breath, he began to don the costume. The fabric enveloped his muscular frame, hiding the physique he worked so hard to maintain. As he looked in the mirror, he barely recognised himself. Gone was the intimidating athlete, replaced by a cheerful, round-bellied Santa. Little did he know, this role would challenge him in ways he never expected, pushing the boundaries of his identity and forcing him to confront aspects of himself he never knew existed. As he adjusted the beard on his chiselled jaw, Ethan Turner, the campus Adonis, stepped out to embrace his role as Santa, unwittingly stepping into a journey of transformation that would redefine his very being.

Chapter 2: The Feast and Reflection

The final echoes of holiday cheer faded as Ethan concluded his shift at the Pine Ridge Mall. He trudged towards the staff room, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The Santa suit, a farce of merriment, felt more like a shackle by the end of his gruelling 12-hour shift. Inside the dimly lit staff room, Ethan began the process of shedding his Santa persona. The suit, which had engulfed his athletic frame, fell away piece by piece, revealing the stark contrast of his true self. As the layers peeled off, Ethan stood in front of the full-length mirror, pausing to take in his reflection.

His body, a sculpture of discipline and effort, was toned to near perfection. Broad shoulders rolled into well-defined pecs and a flat, muscular abdomen. His biceps, sculpted and prominent, flexed unintentionally as he ran a hand through his hair. In the mirror, Ethan saw not Santa but a young man in his prime, a stark juxtaposition to the character he played in the festively decorated halls of the mall. The rumble of his stomach broke his contemplative reverie. Realising he had hardly eaten all day, Ethan made his way to the food court, now quiet and nearly empty as the mall neared closing time. The aroma of various cuisines intermingled in the air, tempting his heightened hunger. He ordered copiously - a burger here, a slice of pizza there, followed by a serving of Chinese noodles.

Sitting alone at a table, Ethan devoured the feast before him. Each bite was a blend of flavour and relief, a stark contrast to the forced joviality of his Santa role. The food court, with its lingering festive decorations, was both a dining hall and a stage for his solitary banquet. After his meal, feeling sated yet physically drained, Ethan returned home. The quiet of his apartment was a welcome change from the constant din of the mall. As a treat to himself, he indulged in a few Christmas cookies, the sweet richness a perfect end to the day. The cookies, homemade and delicious, were a small yet significant rebellion against the strict diet of his athlete's regimen. Lying in bed, the events of the day replayed in his mind - the smiles of children, the weight of the suit, his reflection in the mirror, and the surprising satisfaction of his indulgent dinner. Drifting off to sleep, Ethan pleasured himself; his muscles tensed—he managed to climax, finding himself in a liminal space, caught between the persona of Santa and the reality of his own existence, ready to face another day in the red suit.

Chapter 3: Dreams of a Festive Transformation

As the mantle of sleep enveloped Ethan, his mind wandered into the realm of dreams. A Christmas dreamscape unfolded before him, more vivid and enchanting than any reality he'd known. He found himself in an ethereal workshop, bathed in a warm, golden glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls. The workshop was bustling with activity but not with the usual toy-making frenzy one might expect. Instead, it was filled with elves, each more striking than the last, their shirtless forms adorned with sparkling body glitter that caught the light with every graceful movement. They were the epitome of festive charm and allure, moving with a fluidity that was almost hypnotic.

Among them, an elf named Chris stood out. A playful glint in his eye accentuated his chiselled features, and his well-defined abs shimmered under the workshop’s golden light. He approached Ethan with a confident stride, his presence commanding yet warm.

"You're quite the unit, Ethan," Chris said, his voice rich and melodic. "It's our honour to assist you in becoming the biggest and best Santa Claus, full of Christmas cheer." Ethan, taken aback by the dream’s vividness, looked down at himself. He was still clad in the red suit, but it felt different in this dreamscape – less like a costume and more a part of his identity. The fabric seemed to hug his form, accentuating a physique that felt both familiar and strangely altered.

The elves moved around him in a dance of festive preparation, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of holiday spirit. Ethan was drawn into their rhythm, feeling an inexplicable connection to their mission. Chris led him through the workshop, showing him the magic of Christmas. They passed rows of candy canes, mountains of glittering ornaments, and beautifully wrapped gifts. With each step, Ethan felt a growing sense of belonging, as if he were meant to be part of this mystical world. Inevitably, Chris and Ethan found themselves alone; it was only a matter of time before Ethan’s muscular arms were embracing Chris as the dream turned passionate. Just as Ethan managed to unbuckle Chris’ elf attire, the dream began to fade, Chris's voice echoed, "Embrace your new role, Ethan. Let the spirit of Christmas guide you, I’ll be in touch soon.”

Ethan awoke to the dim light of dawn, the remnants of the dream lingering in his mind. The vivid images of the workshop, the glittering elves, and his transformed reflection stayed with him as he lay naked in bed, pondering the surreal experience and what it might signify for his journey ahead.

Chapter 4: Embracing Christmas

The chill of the winter evening nipped at Ethan's skin as he collapsed into bed, utterly spent from another day of donning the Santa suit. The fabric had chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of the facade he maintained. In the solitude of his room, he shed his clothes, seeking the comfort of his bed in nothing but his skin, a stark contrast to the layers he bore all day. As sleep claimed him, he was once again transported to the Christmas wonderland of his dreams. The world was a tapestry of twinkling lights, shimmering snow, and an air of enchantment that could only belong to a place beyond reality.

Chris, the elf who had become a familiar presence in these dreams, greeted Ethan with a warm, inviting smile. His shirtless form seemed to radiate a festive glow, his muscles glistening under the soft, ethereal light of the wonderland. In his hand, he held a cookie, intricately decorated and emitting a mouth-watering aroma.

"Welcome back, Ethan," Chris's voice was as comforting as a crackling fireplace. "I thought you might enjoy this."

Ethan accepted the cookie, the rich taste exploding on his tongue as he took a bite. It was like tasting Christmas itself – a blend of spices, sweetness, and warmth. As they strolled through the wonderland, Chris's question hung in the air like a delicate snowflake. "Are you ready to embrace being Santa, Ethan?"

Ethan, with a mouthful of cookie, looked perplexed. Chris," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "why am I here? Why do you keep asking me to grow into Santa?"

Chris looked into Ethan's eyes, his own reflecting a depth of ancient wisdom. "Ethan," he said, his voice soft yet resonant, "Santa Claus is more than a person; he's a spirit, an embodiment of Christmas joy and generosity. But he can't carry this essence alone. Each year, we choose someone to share in this spirit, to help spread the joy and magic of Christmas. This year, I chose you., Ethan, personally chosen to be part of this legacy."

Ethan absorbed the words, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. "But why me?" he asked, a mix of honour and disbelief colouring his tone.

"You have a heart that resonates with the true spirit of Christmas," Chris explained. "Your transformation isn't just physical. You're becoming a vessel of the Christmas spirit, a partner to Santa in bringing joy to the world."

Ethan paused, the weight of the revelation settling upon him. He had started this journey reluctantly, seeing it as a role to be played. However, he was part of a timeless tradition, a continuum of joy and giving that stretched far beyond himself. Ethan's brow furrowed in confusion.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked half-jokingly.

Chris's smile broadened. "After Christmas, you can have us change you into the physique of your dreams."

Ethan chuckled, playing along, half expecting to wake from this vivid dream. "Fine, then I want quads the size of a grown man's torso, thick muscular quads that turn heads.”

With a flick of Chris' fingers and a smirk on his face, Ethan felt a sudden, overwhelming sensation. His quads began to swell, the muscles expanding with a supernatural rapidity. They grew more massive, so large that his thighs were forced apart, straining under their newfound bulk. Ethan stumbled, unprepared for the shift in his balance. He fell, a mix of shock and awe on his face, as he looked at his disproportionately muscular legs that continued to thicken. He tried to step forward, and his massive quads made him fall backwards. Chris hurried to his side, helping him to his feet. "You see, Ethan, dreams do come true here."

Ethan, still reeling from the transformation, nodded warily. “Alright, I'm in," he agreed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Chris's smile was triumphant. He placed a hand on Ethan’s stomach, and a tingle coursed through Ethan’s abs, and with that, Ethan was jolted awake. He lay in his bed, his heart pounding, the surreal dream still vivid in his mind. He touched his thighs, half-expecting to feel the exaggerated muscles from his dream. But they were the same as they had always been, strong yet human. The dream left Ethan with a sense of foreboding and excitement. As he lay there, contemplating the dream's meaning, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this Christmas was going to be unlike any other.

Chapter 5: A Magical Transformation

As the days passed, Ethan's life settled into a peculiar rhythm. The role of Santa Claus at the mall was exhausting, yet he couldn't deny the sense of fulfilment it brought him. The smiles of children, the festive atmosphere it all added a warmth to his life that he hadn't expected. However, with this new role came an insatiable hunger, one that seemed to grow with each passing day. Ethan found himself gravitating towards the food court during every break, devouring meal after meal as if he could never be sated. Pizza, burgers, fries – no amount of food seemed enough. By the end of the third day, his concern grew; this hunger was unlike anything he had experienced before. That night, as he collapsed into bed, a pizza box still open beside him, he drifted into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he found himself back in the enchanting Christmas wonderland, a realm that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Chris, the enigmatic elf from his previous dreams, was there to greet him. "Welcome back, Ethan," Chris said, his voice echoing with a warmth that filled the air. He approached Ethan and gently touched his stomach. "I see your hunger is growing. That's good. You're embracing your potential." Ethan, caught in the surreal beauty of the dream, nodded. "It's like I can't stop eating," he admitted, a mix of wonder and concern in his voice. Chris smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Christmas is only twenty days away. I want to help you grow into your role, to become the Santa you're destined to be."

Ethan felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. "How?" he asked. In response, Chris waved his hand, and a lavish feast appeared before them. Tables groaned under the weight of festive dishes, each more tantalising than the last. "Eat, Ethan. Let the magic of Christmas fill you." Ethan began to eat, and to his astonishment, he found that he could not get full. Plate after plate, the food seemed to vanish, and with each bite, he felt his body responding. He looked down in shock as his midsection began to round out, softening and expanding. Even more shocking was the raging hard-on Ethan found himself harbouring. Chris continued to encourage him, gently pushing more delicacies his way. Ethan, caught in the whirlwind of the magical feast, surrendered to the experience. As the dream continued, Ethan's transformation became more pronounced. His once athletic body softened, rounding out with the magic of the feast. As Chris's hand gently brushed against Ethan’s expanding midsection, the juxtaposition was clear. Where Chris remained toned and firm and defined, Ethan was becoming softer, rounder. It was a physical manifestation of two worlds colliding.

Ethan lay back, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the feast he had consumed. His body, especially his midsection, had transformed significantly. What was once a toned and athletic stomach had now become a soft, bloated spare tire, rising and falling with each of his laboured breaths. The sensation was a mix of discomfort and an odd sense of satisfaction, marking the journey he had embarked upon. Sensing Ethan's discomfort, Chris placed his hands gently on Ethan's expanded stomach. His touch was soothing, offering a comforting pressure that helped alleviate the tightness. At this moment, with Chris's caring gestures, the sharp contrast between Ethan's burgeoning form and Chris's lithe figure became a source of reassurance. Chris’ presence and the gentle rhythm of his hands on Ethan's belly brought a sense of calm, easing the physical strain of Ethan's indulgence.

Chapter 6: The Transformation

In the cool, pre-dawn light of Pine Ridge, Ethan awoke with the lingering images of his dream still vivid in his mind. He found himself facing a new reality. As he tried to rise from bed, he felt a weight he hadn't before. His midsection, now noticeably softer, pushed him back. Lying there, Ethan was filled with a sense of wonder and curiosity. His hard-on remained, and as Ethan pleasured himself, his new gut wobbled, and he blew a load harder than he ever had before.

Arriving at the mall, Ethan entered the staff room to don the familiar red suit of Santa Claus. However, today was different. As he slipped into the costume, he realised that the usual padding wasn't necessary. The suit, which had once hung loose on his athletic frame, now hugged his gut in a way it never had before. Standing before the mirror, Ethan took a moment to absorb his reflection. His physique, once the epitome of fitness, had undergone an undeniable transformation. His abdomen, previously adorned with chiselled abs, now sported a noticeable paunch. He grabbed at his newfound softness, his fingers sinking into the flesh. It was a surreal experience, feeling the weight and give of his midsection, a stark contrast to the hard muscle that used to be.

His thighs, once powerful and lean, had thickened, rubbing together as he moved. Even his chest, which had always been firm and sculpted, now had a subtle softness to it, the contours less defined. Ethan shook his head in disbelief, trying to reconcile this reflection with the image of himself that he had always known. Throughout his shift, Ethan's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He pushed himself to interact with the children and their families, the role of Santa now feeling more real than ever. But underneath the jovial exterior, Ethan was preoccupied with his physical changes and the dream that seemed to be becoming a reality.

Determined to embrace this transformation and make Chris proud, Ethan found himself visiting the food court during every break. He devoured meal after meal, his appetite seemingly insatiable. With each bite, he could almost hear Chris’s encouraging words, urging him to let go and embrace his new role. As the day drew to a close, Ethan felt both exhaustion and a strange sense of fulfilment. The mirror in the staff room now reflected a different man – one who was slowly but surely stepping into a new identity, one bite at a time. The journey was far from over, but Ethan was committed to seeing where this path would lead, driven by the mysterious promise of his dreams and the transformation they foretold.

Chapter 7: Embracing the Transformation

Ethan found himself once again enveloped in the dreamlike world that had become his nightly escape. The surroundings were draped in the soft, ethereal glow of Christmas magic, with snow gently falling outside the frosted windows of a quaint, cozy cabin. Inside, the warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a comforting light over Ethan and Chris. Chris, with his ever-present elfin grace, listened intently as Ethan recounted his day's work as Santa, his voice tinged with both fatigue and a growing sense of wonder. Ethan lay reclined, his head resting comfortably in Chris's lap, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known before. Chris' hand, delicate yet assured, held a freshly baked cookie, bringing it to Ethan's lips. As Ethan savoured the cookie, Chris's other hand gently rubbed his fattened stomach, which had grown noticeably rounder over the past few days. The sensation was new and strange to Ethan, yet there was a certain comfort in the softness that had begun to envelop his once rigidly toned frame.

In a moment of surprising boldness, Ethan looked up at Chris, his eyes reflecting the fire's gentle flicker. "I want to embrace this change," he said, his voice low but resolute. "Help me grow even larger." Chris's eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and something more profound. "As you wish, Ethan," he replied, his voice echoing the magic of the winter wonderland that surrounded them. Chris smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "it's time for you to try Santa's special eggnog." With a flourish, Chris produced a large, ornate jug filled with a creamy, rich liquid that seemed to shimmer with a light of its own. Ethan, already feeling the weight of his indulgence, hesitated for a moment. But the allure of the magical world he was becoming a part of was too strong to resist. As Ethan drank the eggnog, he felt a warm sensation spreading through him. It was as though each sip was filling him with the essence of Christmas itself. The thick, sweet liquid coated his throat, and with each gulp, he could feel his body responding. It was as if he was inflating, his frame expanding softly but persistently under the fabric of his dream-self's clothes.

With each sip, Ethan felt a gentle expansion, starting from his core and radiating outward. It was as if the very essence of the holiday season was filling him, softening his once rigid and athletic build into something more akin to the legendary figure of Santa Claus himself. His abdomen, previously toned and firm, began to round and soften, gradually losing the definition of muscle in a slow, mesmerising change. This transformation was not abrupt but gradual, like a slow and steady filling that was both visible and palpable. Ethan's arms and legs, once the epitome of strength and discipline, began to take on a fuller, softer appearance. The fabric of his dream-self's clothes stretched a little more with each passing moment, accommodating his changing form. The most notable change was in his chest and midsection. His pecs, previously sculpted and prominent, were now becoming enveloped in a layer of softness. As Ethan attempted to rise, shifting onto his hands and knees, he found himself pausing to gather his bearings amidst the bewildering transformation he was experiencing. The weight and feel of his body were so different now, profoundly unfamiliar. As he steadied himself, preparing to stand, he felt a distinct sensation – his stomach, rounder and softer than it had ever been, made contact with the ground; a golden glow seemed to intensify around him, casting a radiant aura upon his now oversized form.

Chris, with an enigmatic smile, beckoned other elves to join them, each bearing a glistening pitcher of creamy eggnog. The liquid flowed in a continuous stream, cascading into a colossal goblet before pouring into Ethan's eagerly awaiting lips. Hours passed, yet time in this dreamscape felt elastic, stretching on as Ethan continued to imbibe the rich, frothy concoction. With each gulp, he could feel his body growing heavier, his belly expanding like a living, breathing balloon. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and discomfort, as the eggnog seemed to infuse him with the essence of Christmas itself. Chris observed with fascination as Ethan's transformation unfolded before his eyes. His once-toned body had become an undulating sea of flesh, rippling with each gulp. The contours of muscle gave way to soft, pliable curves that swelled relentlessly. His limbs, once lithe and agile, were now ponderous and laden with the weight of indulgence. Chris couldn't help but notice how Ethan's skin, stretched taut over his expanding girth, took on a luminous quality as if it held the very radiance of the holiday season. Ethan's moans of pleasure mingled with the chorus of the workshop, where the other elves continued their joyful preparations. The goblet's contents seemed endless, and as the scale approached a staggering 300 kilograms, Ethan's laughter filled the air, a deep and hearty sound that resonated with the essence of Santa Claus himself.

Ethan's transformation was nothing short of extraordinary. The relentless flow of eggnog continued to feed his insatiable appetite for Christmas spirit, and his body responded in kind. His gut surged forward like an unstoppable force, expanding with a voracious appetite of its own. It hung heavily between his legs, creating a pendulous mass that now eclipsed even his knees. His once-defined pecs had long lost their athletic form, now transformed into enormous, fat-laden breasts that jiggled with every movement. They pressed against his burgeoning belly, a cascade of soft, supple flesh that defied gravity. The voluptuous curves of a Santa-in-training now supplanted the power and strength that had once defined his physique. Ethan's limbs, once agile and muscular, had become unwieldy masses of plumpness. His arms, which had once lifted weights and carried him through athletic feats, were now flabby appendages that swayed with each ponderous step. His thighs, once powerful pillars of strength, had ballooned into colossal columns of adipose, encasing his lower body in layers of luscious fat. The transformation was relentless, and Ethan's very identity seemed to blur with each passing moment. The former athlete was now becoming a living embodiment of indulgence, a blob of holiday merriment. His laughter, once vibrant and athletic, now had a deeper, more resonant quality, echoing the spirit of Santa Claus himself.

As Ethan's body continued to swell, the once-joyful atmosphere in the workshop began to take on an air of urgency. The other elves, their faces flushed with excitement, pushed him harder to drink more eggnog. What had started as an exhilarating journey into holiday indulgence now began to fill Ethan with apprehension. He could feel his mobility diminishing as the layers of fat encased him, rendering his once-athletic physique immobile and cumbersome. Just when Ethan thought he couldn't take another sip, Chris stepped forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. With a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, Chris's magic surged through the workshop. Ethan's eyes widened in realisation as he felt the transformation intensify. His body expanded at an alarming rate, his flesh seemingly inflating with each passing moment. Ethan's joy quickly turned to apprehension as his body swelled uncontrollably, he was growing large, taller even as his body accommodated the influx of fat. Encasing him like a living cocoon, growing fatter and fatter with each heartbeat, Ethan was positively giant. Chris watched with a knowing smile as Ethan's form expanded, his eyes filled with a mix of pleasure and desire. The once-svelte elf had orchestrated this dramatic change, and he reveled in the sight of Ethan becoming a living embodiment of holiday indulgence. With each passing moment, Ethan grew larger and rounder, his body encased in layers of plush, creamy fat.

Chris, driven by desire and curiosity, climbed up the treacherous terrain of Ethan's expanding body. The ocean of fat seemed endless, and every step was a thrilling challenge. His fingers sank into the soft, yielding flesh as he ascended, and he couldn't help but revel in the intoxicating sensations. Finally, Chris reached Ethan's grotesquely swollen breasts, their immense size a testament to the extent of his transformation. Chris settled there, gazing down at the mesmerising scene below. With a playful smirk, he produced a plate of cookies, each bite laden with dark magic that fuelled Ethan's insatiable appetite. Ethan, moaning in a mix of pleasure and excitement, devoured the cookies with a ravenous hunger that only grew with each bite. With every morsel, his body expanded further, his skin stretching and straining to accommodate the rapid growth. The sensation was a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation, and both Ethan and Chris were eager to see just how far this transformation could go.

Chapter 8: Ethan’s Christmas Wish

As the clock struck midnight, the workshop fell into an eerie silence, signalling the arrival of Christmas Eve. All the bustling elves froze in their tracks, their work suddenly halted. It was a moment of anticipation, a pause in the enchantment that had enveloped the workshop. Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, lay somewhere within the colossal ball of lard that Chris perched upon. He was indistinguishable from the ethereal mound, a stark contrast to the fit man he had once been. The transformation had reached its zenith, and he was now a living monument to indulgence. The elves, lined up in a solemn row, seemed to shimmer with a mystical energy. Their eyes sparkled with anticipation, and a sense of wonder filled the air. It was as if the very essence of Christmas magic had descended upon the workshop.

With the workshop bustling and the enchantment of Christmas Eve filling the air, Chris turned to Ethan, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "It's time, Ethan," he said, his voice a melodic whisper. "Make your wish, and let the magic of Christmas do the rest." Ethan, now an inconceivable mass of gluttony, found his voice amidst the sea of lard that enveloped him. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and made his wish. Ethan, lost in the sea of his own excess, suddenly felt a surge of ecstasy wash over him. He sensed himself floating downward, his essence flowing like a river into the waiting elves below. It was a sensation beyond words, a union with the very spirit of Christmas itself. As he wished, the elves around them began to change. Once shirtless Adonis-like figures, their bodies rippling with muscular definition, they now underwent a remarkable transformation as they absorbed Ethan’s Christmas Spirit. Their skin took on a soft, velvety quality, and their chiselled physiques gave way to plump, rounded forms. The transformation was a mesmerising dance of indulgence as each elf swelled with newfound curves and delightful softness. The elves' bodies grew fatter and fatter, their once-athletic builds now obscured beneath layers of lush, creamy fat. They seemed to revel in their newfound indulgence, their eyes sparkling with delight as they became living embodiments of holiday cheer. As the elves absorbed the essence of Ethan's wish, he felt himself growing smaller, the excess fat that had encased him flowing outward and into the waiting elves. He watched in amazement as they absorbed his transformation, their bodies expanding even further as they embraced the joy of holiday excess.

Chris's skin took on a glossy sheen as it stretched to accommodate his expanding girth. His chest, once flat and toned, blossomed into a pair of plump, soft mounds that strained against the fabric of his shirt. The shirt itself groaned under the strain, buttons threatening to pop as they struggled to contain the burgeoning expanse of his belly. His arms, which had once possessed a graceful, athletic elegance, became thick, flabby appendages laden with layers of luxurious fat. They swayed with every movement, a testament to the rapid transformation overtaking him. Chris's legs, once lean and agile, now thickened with luscious padding, and his thighs brushed against each other as he shifted his weight. His once-narrow waist expanded into a generous, round midsection, a sphere of holiday excess that defied imagination. His face, though still recognisable, had taken on a rosy flush, and his cheeks swelled with the delightful plumpness of holiday cheer. Even his ears seemed to have grown rounder, nestled beneath a layer of soft, inviting flesh. As the transformation continued, Chris seemed to revel in his newfound form, his eyes twinkling with the delight of holiday indulgence. He laughed heartily, a deep and joyous sound that resonated with the spirit of Christmas.

Ethan marvelled at the enchanting sight before him. Chris, once a svelte and confident elf, had become a living embodiment of holiday excess, his frame inflating with the very essence of the season. The workshop shimmered with the magic of their shared transformation, and as the clock ticked closer to the midnight hour, they prepared for the festivities that awaited on this most magical of Christmas Eve. Ethan found himself lying on his back in the workshop, exhausted from the transformation. A fattened Chris came into his vision; he leant down and kissed Ethan on the lips/

“Thank you.” He said, “You’ve given us more cheer than we could have wished for; this Christmas is going to be a magical one.” Ethan kissed him back before his eyes opened, and his Christmas dream ended.

Chapter 9: Christmas Morning

Christmas morning had arrived, and as Ethan stirred from his slumber, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and anticipation. The vivid memories of the enchanting dream and the remarkable transformation lingered in his mind. He sat up in bed, and as he looked down at himself, his jaw dropped in awe.

His once-bloated, rotund form had been replaced by a physique that defied imagination. He was now a hulking titan, his muscles sculpted and defined in a way that rivalled the mightiest of warriors. Each bulging muscle seemed carved from granite, and his sheer size was awe-inspiring.

Ethan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped up, unbalanced by the sheer bulk of his newfound titan muscles. As he made his way to the kitchen, he quickly realised that his expanded frame posed unexpected challenges. When he reached the bedroom door, he found himself wedged in, his massive shoulders and chest too wide to pass through. With a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, Ethan ducked under the doorway, the muscles of his back and legs rippling with power as he maneuvered through the narrow space. He finally emerged into the kitchen, where he spotted a plate of cookies on the table.

Ethan couldn't help but grin as he approached. He picked up a note, and there, in elegant handwriting, were the words: "See you again next year. Chris."

A smile spread across Ethan's face as he realised that the enchanting adventure he had embarked upon had indeed not only been a dream. It had been a journey of holiday magic, indulgence, and transformation, and he knew that he would carry the spirit of Christmas with him throughout the year waiting until next Christmas where he hoped he’d be asked to don his Santa suit again.

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