#Protein packed meal replacement | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gainercontent · 4 months ago

Text

Thick & Thriving

I may be able to finish another story for Valentine's day tomorrow.... stay tuned.

On the evening of Valentine’s Day, Daniel and Ryan arrived at the tapas restaurant, the warm glow of candlelight flickered against exposed brick walls, and the air was thick with the scent of sizzling garlic, smoked paprika, and freshly baked bread. The place was called El Corazón, and Ryan had spent weeks hunting for the perfect spot—one that would remind Daniel of his year studying abroad in Spain, while still being a proper indulgence for their now bear-sized appetites.

As they settled into their booth—a plush, red-leather seat near the open kitchen—Daniel’s eyes lit up. “Wait a second… You brought me to a tapas place?”

Ryan smirked. “Surprise, babe. Thought you’d appreciate a little throwback to your Spain days.”

Daniel practically bounced in his seat. “Okay, but you realize I’m about to order *everything*?”

Ryan leaned back, rubbing his bearded chin. “Babe, that’s exactly the plan.”

*****

Daniel and Daniel met on a warm, humid summer night in Boystown, Chicago. The neon lights of Halsted Street reflected off their freshly moisturized, barely-legal faces as they danced shirtless at a bar packed with sweaty twinks and pulsing house music. Daniel was sipping a vodka soda when Daniel bumped into him, laughing apologetically as his own tequila shot nearly spilled.

They were both in their early twenties—thin, smooth, and wide-eyed with excitement for the nightlife. Daniel, with his shaggy blond hair and a crop top that barely covered his toned torso, locked eyes with Ryan, a dark-haired twink with an infectious laugh and tight jeans that left little to the imagination. The attraction was instant.

A flirtatious conversation led to more drinks, then a first kiss under the orange glowing streetlights. That night turned into a weekend, which turned into a relationship, and soon, they were inseparable.

In their early 20s, they were the epitome of stereotypical twinkhood—lean, smooth, and perpetually clad in tank tops that clung to their toned frames. They were gym rats by day and party boys by night, dancing until dawn, brunching, and engaging in the occasional self-indulgent skincare routine.

They moved in together into a tiny apartment, decorating it together, and hanging pictures from a few vacations. But as their love deepened, so did their desire for something more grounded.

As the years passed, their relationship deepened beyond the clubs and glittery chaos of their youth. Daniel traded his crop tops for slightly looser tees, and Daniel stopped counting calories every time they indulged in a delicious meal or Doordash haul. They still worked out but started skipping spin class for cozy nights on the couch.

Then came a shift—Daniel let his body hair grow out, and Daniel stopped waxing his chest. They started lifting heavier at the gym, not to stay slim, but to build mass. Their wardrobe upgraded from Mediums to Larges.

One day, after a particularly indulgent Sunday brunch, Daniel pinched Daniel’s belly playfully. “Babe, I think we’re officially daddies-in-training.”

Daniel smirked. “Correction: we’re bears-in-training.”

They decided to trade their cramped apartment for a cozy two-bedroom in a neighborhood with a more mature scene—filled with more low-key bars, craft breweries, and a slightly slower pace. At first, they resisted the change, still attempting to cling to their past, but something was shifting. Their bodies, once sculpted by cardio and protein shakes, started craving comfort over aesthetics. The gym visits became even less frequent, and their love for food—good, hearty food—began to take precedence over calorie counting.

By this point, Daniel had grown out a scruffy beard, and Daniel followed suit, trading his clean-shaven face for a well-groomed but thick beard that complemented his increasingly broadening shoulders. Their tight crop tops were slowly replaced by plaid flannels and hoodies. Friends began joking about their “bearification,” but neither of them minded. They embraced it. Daniel learned how to barbecue on their new patio, Daniel developed a passion for craft beer, and their nights out at clubs were replaced by cozy gatherings at home with other couples, laughing and socializing.

*****

It had been a while since Daniel and Ryan had run into their old crew of twink friends from their early twenties. After dinner, they decided to stop by a familiar bar in Boystown, the same one they’d met all those years ago. The place still had the same lively energy, with music thumping in the background and laughter filling the air. They were barely through the door when they spotted them—old friends from their twink days, standing by the bar, looking much the same as they had when Daniel and Ryan first met.

“Holy shit,” one of them, Alex, said, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the two of them. “*Look* at you two!”

Daniel and Ryan froze for a moment, the weight of the moment sinking in. It had been years since they'd seen the group, and now they felt every pound of their transformation. Their bellies were fuller, their faces rounder, and their bodies definitely more muscular—but also softer in all the right places. Ryan’s chest had thickened with a soft layer of muscle, while Daniel’s love handles had expanded, adding a fullness to his figure that wasn’t there before.

Alex grinned, though, walking up and slapping Daniel on the back with a hearty chuckle. “Damn, guys! Look at you two! You’re looking good! I mean, you’re... *thicker* now, but damn, thriving.”

Ryan smirked, rubbing his own belly, which had grown comfortably round from their indulgent feast. “Yeah, we’ve definitely moved on from the twink phase,” he said with a grin. “Not sure if we’ve *quite* made it to bear status yet, but getting there.”

Another old friend, Dakota, stepped forward, their eyes sparkling with warmth. “Y’all are absolutely thriving. Look at those arms, Ryan! Daniel, your chest... that’s not the body I remember, but I have to admit, I dig it.”

Daniel chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. “We’ve been enjoying our beatification. I definitely look different than back in the day, but we’re pretty happy with where I’ve landed.”

“Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Ryan said, giving Daniel a playful wink. “We’ve got this whole new version of ourselves, and honestly, it feels pretty amazing.”

Alex laughed again, giving them both a once-over. “You guys are like... *Thick and Thriving*, huh?” he said with a teasing tone, but there was no malice in it. It was more admiration. “I’m here for it. You look so much more... yourselves, you know? Like you’re *living* now, not just trying to fit into something.”

Daniel smiled warmly, a genuine sense of pride flooding him. “Yeah, I think we’ve finally learned to embrace the change. It’s not about fitting into some artificial mold anymore.”

Dakota stepped closer, their voice soft and sincere. “I’m so happy for you both. Honestly, it’s like you’ve grown into yourselves, and I can see it—*feel* it. It’s great to see you so… comfortable.”

Ryan laughed, a low, deep sound that felt so at home coming from him now. “We’re comfortable in every sense of the word, Dakota. *Way* too comfortable sometimes.” He glanced at Daniel with a grin. “But hey, no regrets.”

The group all burst into laughter together, clinking glasses and sharing a genuine moment of appreciation for where everyone was in life. It wasn’t about how much had changed—they were still the same friends, but better. Happier. Mature. And Daniel and Ryan couldn’t help but feel proud of their own transformation, knowing that the journey had made them more of who they were meant to be.

“Thick and Thriving, huh?” Daniel said, glancing at Ryan with a playful grin. “I kinda like the sound of that.”

Ryan wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Yeah, me too.”

*****

A few months later and one would say they were full-fledged bears, complete with furry bellies and an unshakable confidence in themselves. They still danced—but now, they didn’t feel the need to suck in their stomachs. Their love had only grown richer, a steady, warm presence that felt as solid as their new physiques.

“Do you ever miss the old days?” Daniel asked one night, curling into Daniel’s arms on their oversized couch.

“Nah,” Daniel said, pressing a kiss to Daniel’s forehead. “I love every stage of us.”

The transformation was complete. Their lean frames had filled out—muscle, a bit of belly. Their chins rounded out under full beards, their twinkish giggles replaced by deep chuckles. They became regulars at a local gay dive bar down the street with free popcorn, embraced their newfound love for craft beer, and found a circle of bear friends who threw the best gatherings.

Their love hadn’t changed—it had only deepened. They still danced in the kitchen, still held hands under city lights, but now, they were thinking for the future—maybe even a dog, or a bigger home with a yard.

By the next year, the transformation was complete. Their lean frames had filled out—muscle, a bit of belly, a whole lot of comfort. Their beards were full, their twinkish giggles replaced by deep chuckles. They became regulars at leather bars, embraced their newfound love for craft beer, and found a circle of bear friends who threw the best game nights.

Their love hadn’t changed—it had only deepened. They still danced in the kitchen, still held hands under city lights, but now, they were planning for the future—maybe even a dog, or a bigger place with a yard.

*****

As February rolled around, Daniel woke up to find Ryan already in the kitchen, flipping pancakes.

Ryan turned, grinning. “Guess what, babe? I got us a great dinner reservation for Valentine’s Day.”

Daniel wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “And I got us tickets to a comedy show after.”

Daniel had known the moment he tried pulling his jeans up before dinner that he was in trouble. The dark-wash denim had fit him *once*—back when he and Ryan were still clinging to the last remnants of their twink days—but tonight, as he stood in front of their bedroom mirror, struggling to squeeze his thick thighs into the stiff fabric, he realized those days were *long* gone.

He grunted as he yanked them up, the material barely stretching over his powerful tree-trunk thighs. His quads flared out wide, the denim clinging desperately to their bulk, making every inch of movement feel restrictive. The seams at the sides looked strained, and the pockets, which used to lie flat, now flared outward awkwardly, warped by the sheer girth of his thighs and hips.

Then came the real challenge: the button.

Daniel sucked in slightly—not that it helped much anymore—and tugged the waistband together, but the button barely reached the hole. His soft love handles spilled over the sides, pressing against the waistband as he wrestled with the fastener. The denim groaned under the pressure, the tight fabric pulling against his round belly as he forced the button through the hole.

The moment it was fastened, his stomach surged forward, pressing hard against the waistband, the metal button straining visibly.

“Babe,” he called to Ryan, who was finishing up in the bathroom. “I think I’m in denial.”

Ryan peeked out and immediately smirked. “Oh my god. Are you seriously trying to squeeze into those?”

Daniel huffed, rubbing a hand over his bloated midsection, feeling how the waistband dug into his soft flesh. “They *technically* fit.”

Ryan walked over and ran a finger along the waistband, grinning as he felt how painfully tight they were. “Babe, that button is one deep breath away from flying off.”

Daniel sighed, shifting uncomfortably as the waistband bit into his stuffed belly. “I know. And the zipper won’t stay up.”

Ryan looked down and noticed that, sure enough, the zipper had already slipped down slightly, unable to hold against the sheer pressure of Daniel’s packed gut. A sliver of soft, dark belly hair peeked through the gap.

Ryan chuckled, giving Daniel’s side a playful squeeze. “Babe, why are you doing this to yourself?”

Daniel exhaled, his belly pushing even harder against the unrelenting waistband. “Because I like these jeans. And I refuse to accept that they don’t fit.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Daniel. They don’t fit.”

Daniel pouted. “They fit *enough*.”

Ryan smirked but didn’t argue. “Alright, but if you explode out of those at dinner, I told you so”

Daniel rolled his eyes, reaching for his sweater in the hope that it would at least hide how unforgiving his jeans had become. But deep down, he knew Ryan was right—this was not going to end well.

They wasted no time at the tapas place. As soon as the server arrived, Daniel, in flawless Spanish, rattled off an order that made the poor guy’s eyebrows shoot up. “We’ll do pan con tomate, gambas al ajillo, patatas bravas, croquetas de jamón, albóndigas, chorizo a la sidra, pimientos de padrón, tortilla española, pulpo a la gallega, and… oh, let’s do the tabla de quesos. And bring two pitchers of sangria to start.”

Ryan snorted. “To start? We’re gonna need to be rolled out of here.”

Daniel grinned, his eyes gleaming. “You love it.”

Within minutes, the first wave of dishes arrived, and the feeding frenzy began.

They tore into the pan con tomate first—thick slices of crusty bread rubbed with ripe tomatoes, drizzled in olive oil, and topped with flaky sea salt. The crunch echoed between them as they devoured piece after piece, their fingers glistening with oil.

Next came the patatas bravas, crispy cubes of golden potatoes smothered in spicy brava sauce and garlicky aioli. Ryan scooped up a forkful, groaned, and shoveled more into his mouth. “Holy shit, these are even better than I remember.”

Daniel was too busy inhaling a croqueta de jamón to respond. The crispy breadcrumb shell gave way to a molten, cheesy béchamel filling studded with bits of salty ham. He closed his eyes, savoring the richness.

Then, the gambas al ajillo arrived—plump shrimp sizzling in a dish of garlicky olive oil, red pepper flakes dancing in the heat. Daniel speared one and moaned. “This. This is why I fell in love with Spain.” He grabbed a chunk of bread, dragging it through the golden oil, soaking up every drop before stuffing it in his mouth.

Ryan, meanwhile, was working his way through the chorizo a la sidra, smoky slices of sausage braised in cider. The juices pooled on the plate, and he used his fork to chase every last bit. “Why don’t we eat like this every night?” he mumbled, already reaching for another bite.

Their tabla de quesos came next, an indulgent spread of Manchego, Idiazabal, and Cabrales, paired with quince paste and honey-drizzled nuts. Daniel made a little sandwich of cheese and honey, stuffing it into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan chewed, eyes fluttering. “You’re *so* lucky I love you.”

By the time the albóndigas—juicy meatballs in rich tomato sauce—arrived, their bellies were stretching against their shirts, but they powered through, taking big, bear-sized bites, alternating between meatballs and sips of sangria.

And speaking of sangria, they were deep into their second pitcher, the fruity wine soaking into their full, happy bodies. Daniel leaned against Ryan, laughing as he swirled the chunks of orange and apple floating in his glass.

“Remember when we used to survive on vodka sodas and chicken breasts?” he teased.

Ryan exhaled dramatically. “We were *so* small back then. This is *so* much better.”

Even after devouring nearly every dish on the menu, Daniel refused to leave without dessert. “Churros con chocolate* or bust,” he declared, slapping the table for emphasis.

When the churros arrived—piping hot, dusted in cinnamon sugar, and served with a thick, velvety chocolate sauce—they dunked, bit, and sighed in unison.

“Best Valentine’s ever,” Daniel mumbled, licking chocolate from his lips.

Ryan smirked, reaching over to wipe a stray bit from Daniel’s beard. “And it’s not even over yet.”

They clinked glasses, finishing the last sips of their sangria, stuffed, tipsy, and utterly content. This was love. This was indulgence.Stumbling out of El Corazón, Daniel and Ryan felt the weight of their indulgence settle deep in their bellies. The cold, dry Chicago air hit them like a wake-up call, but it did nothing to counteract the food coma rapidly overtaking their bodies.

Daniel groaned, dramatically cradling his swollen stomach. “Babe… I think we made a mistake.”

Ryan let out a deep, satisfied burp. “No, we made the best decision. But holy shit… I don’t think I can move.”

Daniel waddled forward, his tight sweater now riding up over his bloated midsection. “We need to go home. Now. There is *zero* chance we’re making it to that show.”

Daniel’s sweater—once a perfect fit when they left for dinner—was now betraying him in the most deliciously unforgiving way. The snug fabric, stretched taut over his swollen gut, had inched its way up, no longer able to contain the sheer fullness of his belly. His bloated midsection pushed out proudly, a soft overhang spilling ever so slightly over the straining waistband of his jeans.

His once-flat stomach, the relic of his twink days, had long since given way to the plush, solid mass of a well-fed bear. His love handles were thick and grabbable, pressing against the waistband of his jeans, creating a subtle muffin top that only accentuated the roundness of his gut. The hair that covered his stomach was dark and dense, a far cry from the smooth, waxed look he used to maintain in his early twenties. It curled slightly where his belly creased, thicker around his deep, shadowed navel.

That navel—once shallow and barely noticeable—had stretched deeper into the soft flesh of his stomach, a testament to how much he’d grown over the years. Ryan couldn’t help but reach out, tracing a slow, teasing finger around it, grinning at the way Daniel’s gut tensed under his touch.

Daniel groaned, half from the pressure in his overstuffed belly and half from how good Ryan’s touch felt. “Babe, I *swear* this sweater fit me earlier.”

Ryan smirked, giving his belly a soft jiggle. “Yeah, *before* you ate half of Spain.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, but his breath hitched as Ryan’s warm palm slid over the firm roundness of his stomach, fingers brushing against the soft trail of hair leading downward. “Okay, but seriously,” Daniel murmured, voice thick with amusement and indulgence, “how am I even gonna get this thing off?”

Ryan grinned wickedly. “Oh, *I’ll* handle that.”

Daniel just let out another satisfied groan, too stuffed and too content to argue.

Ryan didn’t argue. They ordered an Uber, and the second they collapsed into the backseat, Daniel unbuttoned his jeans with a relieved sigh. Ryan followed suit, his gut pushing against his hoodie. “Jesus, I feel like I just ate an entire restaurant”

Daniel leaned against him, burping softly. “You basically did.”

As Daniel and Ryan waddled out of the Uber, their swollen stomachs leading the way, every step felt like a struggle. Their guts were stretched tight, stuffed beyond capacity with tapas and sangria, and even the cold Chicago air couldn’t shake the sluggishness weighing them down.

Ryan groaned, rubbing the crest of his overfed belly. “Babe, I don’t think I’ve ever been this full.”

Daniel chuckled, his own stomach straining against his sweater. “I told you we didn’t need that last plate.”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue but suddenly froze mid-step. His face tensed, eyes widening slightly.

Daniel turned, concern flickering across his face. “What—”

Before he could finish, Ryan let out a low, rumbling fart that seemed to last forever. It wasn’t loud, but it was deep, the kind that only came from being absolutely *stuffed* to the limit. His face immediately flushed red, his eyes darting around the empty street as if someone might have overheard.

Daniel’s eyebrows shot up before he clamped a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh. “Oh my god, babe.”

Ryan groaned, his free hand pressing against his gut. “I—I couldn’t hold it in,” he muttered, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Daniel, still biting his lip to keep from laughing outright, patted Ryan’s back. “Hey, it’s fine. It’s *so* fine. Honestly, I’m impressed you lasted this long.”

Ryan exhaled sharply, his face still warm. “I might explode.”

Daniel smirked but took pity on him, rubbing slow circles on his back as they made the slow, laborious trek inside.

The second they stepped through the apartment door, all energy left them. Daniel barely made it to the couch before collapsing onto it, groaning as his overstuffed belly surged outward, no longer constrained by standing. His sweater had ridden up so much that half his gut was exposed, his navel deep and prominent against the soft curve of his stomach.

Ryan, too bloated to even aim for the couch, simply let himself fall onto the plush rug with a heavy *thud*. He lay there, sprawled on his back, his unbuttoned jeans pushed down just enough for his stomach to fully spill out, free from the waistband’s cruel grip.

“Babe,” he mumbled, staring at the ceiling. “I literally *cannot* move.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his taut belly. “Same.”

For a long moment, they simply lay there, breathing heavily, their stomachs gurgling in quiet protest.

Ryan groaned softly, shifting slightly. “God, I can still feel the sangria sloshing around.”

Daniel smirked lazily, letting out a soft belch before muttering, “Best Valentine’s ever.”

Ryan exhaled, still mortified about earlier, but when he glanced over at Daniel, who looked so content despite their mutual discomfort, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing his stomach. “It kinda is.”

By the time they waddled through the front door of their cozy apartment, they were both groaning like two overfed bears preparing for hibernation. Daniel immediately flopped onto the couch, arms spread wide, his belly protruding proudly.

Ryan stood in front of him, rubbing his own gut. “I feel huge.”

Daniel smirked lazily, patting the empty space next to him. “Come here and suffer with me.”

Ryan tried to sit, but as he bent forward, the pressure in his gut pushed out a deep, rumbling fart. He froze, blinking in horror. Daniel burst into laughter, which made him burp halfway through.

“Babe, what the *fuck*,” Daniel wheezed, clutching his stomach. “You’re *so* gross.”

Ryan grinned shamelessly, finally settling next to him with a grunt. “You love it.”

Daniel poked Ryan’s belly, feeling how firm and tight it was beneath his hoodie. “Damn, you’re like a keg right now.”

Ryan groaned. “So are you.” He lifted Daniel’s sweater just enough to expose his round, bloated stomach. He ran a warm palm over the stretched skin, tracing slow, lazy circles.

Daniel shivered under his touch. “Okay, that feels amazing.”

Ryan smirked. “I know you love belly rubs.”

Daniel exhaled, sinking deeper into the cushions. “I *swear* I’m never eating that much again.”

Ryan snorted. “I’ve heard that before.”

Daniel gasped dramatically. “Okay, but this might be the fullest I’ve ever been. I feel like I’m carrying a food *baby*.”

Ryan chuckled and leaned in, pressing a playful kiss to Daniel’s stomach. “A very delicious, very sexy tapas food baby.”

Daniel lay sprawled across the couch, his overstuffed belly rising and falling with each labored breath. The shape of it was a perfect, round dome, firm from the sheer amount of tapas and sangria crammed inside. His gut spread slightly to the sides where it met his plush love handles, but the tight, overfed bloat made his stomach feel heavier than usual—pushing outward, stretching his skin taut. His deep navel sat at the center like a small, shadowed canyon, slightly puckered from the pressure inside. Dark, curly hair dusted his belly, thickest around his navel and tapering up toward his chest. His thick, meaty pecs rose above his gut, still strong but now layered with a soft cushion of fat, giving them a heavy, natural droop.

Ryan, lying beside him, wasn’t much better off. His belly wasn’t as round as Daniel’s—it had more of a broad, weighty swell, stretching outward before settling thick over the waistband of his jeans, which were still unzipped to give his gut room to expand. He wasn’t as hairy as Daniel, but a noticeable dusting of fur covered his stomach, with a thicker trail running from his navel down past the waistline. His love handles spread slightly as he lay back, and his strong chest, once firm and solid in their twink days, now had a generous layer of bulk, his pecs resting heavily with each deep breath.

Daniel groaned, shifting slightly and wincing as the movement sent another wave of fullness rolling through his packed belly.

Ryan chuckled, moving his hand up to Daniel’s chest, kneading the thick muscle with his broad fingers. “This better?”

Daniel let out a slow exhale, his heavy eyelids fluttering. “Mmm. *Much* better.” He reached out in return, running his hands over Ryan’s belly, feeling the way it curved outward, solid and packed tight under his touch. He gave it a slow, appreciative squeeze, feeling how the heavy weight of it resisted his grip.

Ryan grunted slightly, shifting his thick, tree-trunk thighs to get comfortable. His legs were massive, covered in a layer of soft bulk but still strong from years of carrying their growing frames. Daniel’s thighs were just as hefty, pressing against Ryan’s, their warmth mingling as they lay there, completely stuffed and utterly content.

“Babe,” Daniel murmured as he continued rubbing Ryan’s chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over the thick yet soft muscle. “We are so fat now.”

Ryan smirked, letting out a deep sigh of relief as Daniel pressed into a particularly sore spot on his belly. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Daniel grinned, rubbing Ryan’s gut one last time before letting his hand settle on his thick chest, his fingers idly playing with the soft hair there. “Same,” he murmured. “Happy Valentine’s, babe.”

Ryan leaned in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to Daniel’s temple. “Happy Valentine’s, big guy.”

And with that, they drifted into satisfied, overfed bliss, their heavy bodies pressed together, warmed by each other’s touch.

Daniel groaned, shifting slightly. “Ugh, even moving is hard. I’m so *stuffed*.” He let out a quiet burp, covering his mouth, eyes widening.

Ryan gave him a knowing look. “Babe. Just let it out.”

Daniel hesitated for about half a second before he sighed, leaning his head back and releasing another deep, shameless burp.

Ryan smirked. “*That’s* my man.”

They laid there for a while, tangled together in their shared discomfort, exchanging belly rubs and the occasional lazy, open-mouthed kiss. Daniel ran his fingers through Ryan’s beard, murmuring, “This is the hottest we’ve ever been.”

Ryan grinned. “Oh, for sure.” He gave Daniel’s belly a playful jiggle. “This? This is peak male performance.”

Daniel sighed contentedly, his body warm, heavy, and relaxed under Ryan’s touch. “Happy Valentine’s, babe.”

Ryan nuzzled against him, pressing their bloated bodies together. “Happy Valentine’s, my big, beautiful bear.”

#belly gainer #gaining kink #male gaining #gaining weight on purpose #gainerstories

131 notes · View notes

dutiful-wildcraft · 1 year ago

Text

TW: disordered eating, food insecurity

Soap grew up as a chubby boy, his whole family was really, stalky with healthy layers of fat over there bones, a combination of lifestyle and just plain ole genetics. It was a point of pride from his mam, who fed them potatoes and rice and pastas, easy and cheap carbs to keep her babies bellies full despite their struggling income.

Johnny, who'd never felt bad about it until school, where his peers teased him for his soft rolls and clothes that fit him just shy of too tight. Johnny who scarfed down all the food on his tray at lunch and never wasted a bite.

It broke his heart more to see it aimed at his sisters. His beautiful sisters, with their sweet round faces and kind smiles. The same sisters who shared his bulky shoulders and soft tummy, who gave the warmest cuddles and best advice.

Soap who started to bulk up and become leaner to beat anyone's ass who dare insult them again.

Soap who still has stretch marks on his thighs and belly well into his career, stripes he still wears with pride.

Gaz who has a food aversion from a childhood filled with obsessions over carbs and calories and sugars. His gran and mum, who were viciously concerned about their own figures when he was just a boy.

Gaz who lived in an “ingredient household.” Gaz who had to sneak food in the night for fear of punishment. Gaz who's snacks were nasty protein bars or meal replacement shakes. Gaz who was trained to look at every food label and compare nutrition facts, who cut his food into tiny pieces, or ate only in a certain order. (Chugging water makes you feel full he'd learned) Gaz who started checking his body and weight multiple times a day.

Gaz who still struggles despite trying to repair his relationship with food well into adulthood. On base, chugging an energy drink and eating a granola bar for breakfast isn't blinked at. Not eating at all doesn't look suspicious when out in dangerous operations.

Soap learns to refuse Gaz when he innocently tries to offer up the rest of his dinner in the mess. Ghost who peels off all the nutrition labels on the food when he grocery shops for the team. Price who makes sure they both stay fed when together on ops.

Ghost who had been scrawny his whole life. Little Simon who's ribs were visible, who's skin bruised like a peach. Who ate what little they could scrounge up but still saved some for his mum and Tommy.

Simon who is averse to food textures, who struggled to choke down whatever meager meal that was put in front of him.

Simon who's stress and anxiety chronically made his stomach hurt, made putting on weight nearly impossible, made eating what was put in front of him miserable when he knew his father would beat him if he refused to eat the broccoli that made his stomach churn.

Simon who got a job at the butcher shop as soon as he could. Who packed home the trash cuts so he and his family could have something of substance.

Simon who was turned away from the military the first time because he couldn't meet weight requirements.

Simon who gorged himself on meat and rice until he wanted to vomit, just to force some weight on.

Simon who learned to chew fast and swallow quickly with the disgusting textures of military gruel.

Simon who now eats the same meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday on base without fail. Simon who still cant bring himself to waste a single thing put in front of him, regardless of if it pains him to do so.

#Price is just doing his fucking best trying to get these men to eat right #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #task force 141 #disordered eating #soap mactavish #ghost cod #soap cod #gaz cod #wildcraft writing

144 notes · View notes

mehbles · 8 months ago

Text

Carlos

Chapter 1

Carlos had always been lean and fit. As a personal trainer, his physique was his pride—a testament to the dedication and hard work he put into his own training and his career. Every day, he maintained a strict diet, one that sculpted his body into the perfect athletic frame, and his clients often looked up to him as an example of health and discipline. But deep down, Carlos felt a curiosity stirring, one he had tried to ignore for years.

He’d heard about the gaining community—people who, instead of striving for lean muscle, embraced a different path. They aimed to bulk up, building both muscle and fat, embracing a larger, more powerful look. It was the complete opposite of what Carlos had always stood for, but the idea intrigued him. He wanted to know what it would feel like to let go of his tight dietary restrictions, to see his body transform in a way he had never allowed before.

It started as a quiet experiment. Carlos began by increasing his calories slightly—adding an extra protein shake here, a bigger serving of rice there. He continued to train hard, lifting heavy weights to maintain his muscle mass, but he noticed the changes almost immediately. His body began to fill out. His muscles became thicker, but so did his midsection. His abs, once so defined, began to soften as the weeks went by.

Despite the initial unease, he couldn’t deny the thrill that came with seeing himself grow. He felt stronger, bigger, and more powerful in ways he had never imagined. The people around him began to notice too, complimenting his new size. He found himself spending more time with other gainers, learning their techniques, their diets, and their outlook on body positivity and embracing mass.

Carlos’ diet evolved. No longer was he focused on low-carb, lean protein meals. Instead, he welcomed foods he’d once avoided—burgers, pizza, pasta, and all the desserts he could get his hands on. The new approach was liberating; each meal became an event, an opportunity to push his boundaries and expand his capacity. His appetite grew alongside his body, and what once seemed like a guilty pleasure turned into a daily ritual of indulgence.

Months passed, and Carlos’ transformation became impossible to ignore. His once-defined jawline softened, replaced by a thicker, more rounded look. His chest, still muscular, now sat atop a growing belly, which protruded slightly over the waistband of his tight swim trunks. He’d outgrown his old wardrobe, trading his fitted shirts for looser tees, though even they began to cling tightly as he filled out.

One day, as he stood poolside, he looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the bulk he had worked so hard for. His thighs were now powerful and thick, his arms massive with layers of both muscle and fat. The lean, athletic man he had once been was gone, replaced by a gainer who wore his size with pride. His stomach, round and firm, was a testament to the hundreds of extra calories he consumed each day. He flexed, feeling the weight and the power behind his new frame, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Carlos had embraced a new identity—one where he was no longer defined by society’s standards of fitness, but by his own desire for growth. He knew the journey wasn’t over; there was still more room to grow, more muscle and mass to pack on. He was excited to see just how far he could push himself, how much more his body could take.

For Carlos, the lean physique was a chapter of his past. The new Carlos was a gainer, embracing his size, and with every pound gained, he felt more alive than ever.

Chapter 2

Carlos stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. It was quiet, and he was alone, giving him a moment to fully take in the transformation he had undergone over the past few months. His once tight, defined abs were long gone, replaced by a soft, jiggly belly that spilled slightly over the waistband of his shorts. He placed both hands on it, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips, and gave it a gentle shake.

It jiggled with the motion, wobbling slightly as he watched it bounce. There was something mesmerizing about the way it moved, how it responded to his touch, the way it filled his hands with a comforting softness he had never experienced before. He ran his hand down the curve of his belly, feeling the slight stretch marks forming on the sides, a sign of his rapid gain. His fingers lingered there, tracing the lines with a sense of pride rather than shame.

Carlos leaned closer to the mirror, lifting his belly slightly and letting it drop, enjoying the way it rippled and swayed before settling back into place. The sight sent a thrill through him. This softness, this jiggle—it was proof of his journey, a badge of honor marking the path he had chosen. He wasn’t lean or shredded anymore, but that no longer mattered to him. What mattered was the way he felt, the satisfaction of seeing his body fill out beyond its former limits.

He pushed out his belly, letting it hang fully, giving himself a side profile view. It was round and prominent, with a slight crease where it folded naturally above his waistband. It wobbled with every movement he made, a constant reminder of his new size. Carlos loved the feeling of weight and the way his belly rested against his thighs when he sat down. It was a sensation he had never allowed himself to experience before, and now, he found it intoxicating.

As he continued to admire himself, he gave his belly another playful shake, smiling as it jiggled in response. He couldn’t help but laugh, a deep, satisfied sound that echoed in the room. This body, soft and jiggly, was something he had worked hard to create. It represented freedom, indulgence, and the satisfaction of letting go of the rigid rules that had once dominated his life.

With one last pat, he pulled his shorts back up, feeling the waistband snug around his soft middle. Carlos knew he was only at the beginning of his gaining journey, and the idea of growing even bigger, of feeling his belly expand and jiggle even more, filled him with excitement. For now, though, he was content to enjoy this new softness, to admire the way his belly moved, and to embrace the man he had become.

Chapter 3

Carlos stepped into the gym, feeling the familiar scent of rubber mats and the hum of treadmills in the air. It had been a while since he’d been here. These days, his focus was more on heavy lifting and bulking meals than on cardio, but today, he decided to test just how much his body had changed since he’d embarked on his gaining journey. He figured a quick jog on the treadmill wouldn’t hurt—just to see if he could still keep up.

He approached the machine, noticing how different his body felt with each step. His thighs, once lean and muscular, now rubbed together, and his belly bounced slightly with each movement. It was an odd sensation, one that both excited and amused him. Climbing onto the treadmill, he adjusted his shorts, which had become snug around his thicker waist and thighs, and set the machine to a slow jog.

As the treadmill began to move, Carlos felt the unfamiliar weight of his belly tugging downward. It jiggled and bounced with every step, a heavy, soft mass that made it difficult to maintain his balance. Within seconds, he was reminded that his body was no longer the lean, agile machine it used to be. Instead, he was carrying a lot more weight—and his belly made sure he knew it. He picked up the pace, feeling the soft roll of his belly slap gently against his thighs with each stride.

He tried to push himself, speeding up the treadmill to a moderate pace, but his body protested. His belly, now fully jiggling with every step, felt like an anchor pulling him down. His chest, thicker than before, bounced with each stride, and he felt the jiggle extend down to his thighs, which wobbled as they worked to keep up with the machine’s speed.

He quickly became breathless, his lungs burning as he fought to maintain the rhythm. Sweat formed on his brow, and his hands gripped the treadmill’s rails tightly. His belly swung with every step, wobbling and bouncing more than he ever imagined it would. Each movement made him feel the sheer size and softness of it. It was almost surreal to think how far he had come from his days of having tight abs that never moved. Now, every part of him jiggled with effort.

After a few minutes, Carlos felt the exhaustion building. His legs were tired, his arms heavy, and his soft belly was bouncing so intensely it was becoming almost comical. He slowed the machine down, eventually bringing it to a walking pace. His hands rested on his belly as he caught his breath, feeling the warm softness beneath his fingers. It heaved up and down, his breathing heavy as he laughed at himself.

“Well, I guess sprinting’s not for me anymore,” he muttered with a grin, giving his jiggly middle an affectionate pat. The treadmill may have been a challenge, but it was also a reminder of how far he had come—and how much he had changed.

Carlos stepped off the treadmill, wiping the sweat from his brow. Despite the struggle, he felt a strange sense of pride. His body had grown, and it was heavier, softer, and jiggly—just like he wanted. He knew there were limits now, that running might no longer be in his repertoire, but he didn’t care. He had gained size, and with that, a new sense of freedom and enjoyment.

With a final pat to his belly, he turned away from the treadmill, ready to head to the weight room. After all, there were still plenty of gains to make, and he was excited to see how much bigger he could grow.

Chapter 4

Carlos had been pushing his limits for months, and it showed. Every meal had become a mission—calories piled high, with double helpings, desserts, and everything in between. His once-athletic frame had morphed into something far bulkier and softer, and he loved every moment of it. His belly, now a prominent round mound, jiggled with each step, a testament to his dedication to gaining as much mass as possible.

On a warm summer day, Carlos decided to take a dip in his pool. He pulled out his favorite pair of swim shorts—black and snug, but still stretchy enough to contain his growing body. They were already feeling tight the last time he wore them, but today, as he struggled to pull them up past his thick thighs and over his belly, he realized just how much bigger he had become. The fabric stretched to its limit, hugging his massive thighs and squeezing tightly around his waist, creating a small fold where his belly hung over the waistband.

He stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way his belly pushed out against the taut fabric, the swim shorts barely containing him. His chest, broader and thicker than ever, jiggled as he flexed, and his thighs, now thick and solid, rubbed together as he moved. He felt immense, powerful, and undeniably bulky. The shorts, though strained, still managed to cling on, and Carlos figured they’d make it through a quick swim.

Carlos headed outside, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. As he stood by the edge of the pool, he couldn’t resist giving his belly a playful shake, feeling the way it bounced and jiggled freely. It was a feeling he had grown to love—being big, soft, and round. He bent down, testing the water, and felt the shorts pull even tighter across his backside and thighs. He grinned, knowing he was pushing their limits.

With a deep breath, he leapt into the pool, the cool water rushing over his body. For a moment, he felt weightless, his bulk suspended in the water. But as he surfaced, he felt a sudden, sharp tension. The swim shorts, stretched beyond their capacity, had caught on the edge of the pool as he resurfaced. Carlos heard a loud, unmistakable rip.

He glanced down, eyes widening as he saw the split running right up the side of his shorts. The fabric, unable to handle his size, had torn open, exposing the sides of his thick thighs and part of his belly. He tried to pull the fabric together, but as he moved, the rip only grew bigger, splitting even further until the entire seam gave way.

Carlos laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed off the water. He watched as the remains of his swim shorts floated up around him, torn beyond repair. His belly, now freed from the tight constraints, bobbed up and down in the water, jiggling with every laugh. The cool sensation of the water against his skin felt liberating.

“Guess I really outgrew those,” he muttered to himself, patting his belly as he floated there, grinning. It was a moment of triumph, a clear sign of how far he had come in his journey. The man who once fit into those shorts with ease was long gone, replaced by a bigger, bulkier version of himself—one who filled out every inch of fabric he wore until it couldn’t hold him anymore.

Carlos climbed out of the pool, dripping wet and entirely unbothered by the fact that he was now practically naked. He stood proudly, water streaming down his thick, bulky frame. His belly hung heavily over his waistband, jiggling slightly as he adjusted his stance. He admired his reflection in the pool’s surface, his body now a massive, soft version of the lean man he once was.

With a grin, he tossed the torn shorts aside, patting his belly again. “Looks like it’s time for an upgrade,” he said, fully embracing the size and softness he had worked so hard to gain. For Carlos, this was just another milestone—a sign that there was still more room to grow, and he was more than ready for it.

Chapter 5

Carlos walked into the gym, his bulky frame commanding attention as he moved through the space. His stringer tank top clung to his body, the fabric struggling to stretch across his broad chest and thick shoulders. The straps barely covered his torso, exposing the heavy, round belly that now hung in front of him, resting comfortably over the waistband of his gym shorts. Every step he took caused his belly to bounce slightly, and the sides of his tank revealed the soft rolls forming beneath his pecs—evidence of his transformation from lean athlete to bulky powerhouse.

He’d always enjoyed working out, but now, he found a new thrill in the way his body responded to the weightlifting. It wasn’t just about gaining strength anymore; it was about feeling his body expand with every lift, watching his pecs swell and his belly grow softer and rounder. The once-fit trainer had fully embraced his size, and it was clear he was proud of it.

Carlos walked over to the squat rack, grabbing a barbell and loading it with heavy plates. His friends, who had seen him progress from shredded to bulky, were there to cheer him on. They couldn’t help but admire the way he’d grown. “Damn, Carlos, you’ve really packed on the mass,” one of them said with a grin, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, man,” another added, nodding approvingly. “That belly’s getting huge. You’re looking strong.”

Carlos smirked, his hands gripping the bar as he positioned himself under the weight. “I’ve been working hard for this,” he replied, his voice full of pride. He adjusted his stance, feeling the cool metal against his shoulders as he glanced at his friends in the mirror. “It’s all part of the plan.”

As he began to lift, his belly pressed against his thighs, and his pecs jiggled with the movement. The tank top, which barely covered his expanding frame, rose up slightly, revealing more of his thick, side rolls. Each squat sent a wave through his belly, causing it to wobble and jiggle freely. His friends watched, impressed by the sheer size he’d put on. It was one thing to gain muscle, but Carlos had gone beyond that—he had embraced every pound, and it showed.

“Look at that belly move!” one of his friends called out, laughing. “Man, you’re huge. And those side rolls? No hiding them in that tank top.”

Carlos grinned, standing back up with the barbell before lowering it back into the rack. He was breathing heavily, the effort showing on his face, but he felt strong, solid, and undeniably bulky. He looked down, giving his belly a playful shake, feeling the way it jiggled beneath his fingers. His friends crowded around him, patting his belly and pecs, squeezing the soft fat that had accumulated there.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” one of them asked, giving his side roll a light squeeze. “To just let go and grow.”

Carlos nodded, his grin widening. “Yeah, it really does. Never thought I’d enjoy it this much, but honestly, this feels amazing.” He flexed his arms, his biceps pushing against the tight straps of the tank top, while his belly spilled out even further.

The group continued their workout, but all eyes remained on Carlos. Whether he was bench pressing with his pecs bouncing above his thick belly or curling weights with his arms straining against the softness at his sides, he was the center of attention. His friends, once his training partners and fellow fitness enthusiasts, were now his biggest fans, admiring the way he had committed fully to his gaining journey.

After finishing a set of bench presses, Carlos sat up, his belly spreading out as he leaned forward. He wiped the sweat from his brow, noticing how the stringer tank top had ridden up, revealing his soft, jiggly midsection in full. His friends gave him thumbs up and encouraging slaps on the back.

“Carlos, you’re a beast now, man,” one said, shaking his head with a grin. “You’ve got the size and the strength. Plus, that belly? It suits you.”

Carlos chuckled, patting his round middle, feeling the soft fat bounce beneath his hand. “I appreciate it. I’m just getting started, though. There’s a lot more to grow.”

His friends laughed and nodded, admiring the massive bulk he had become. For Carlos, every pound, every jiggle, and every compliment was fuel. As he adjusted his tank top, which now barely held his chest and belly in place, he felt proud of how far he’d come. There was no turning back; the lean athlete was gone, and the bulked-up, soft, and jiggly Carlos was here to stay—and he couldn’t wait to see just how much bigger he could get.

Chapter 6

Carlos stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his massive frame reflected back at him. His belly, round and soft, hung heavily over the waistband of his shorts, and his pecs jiggled slightly as he adjusted his stance. It had been a while since he’d checked his weight. The thought crossed his mind now and then, but he had avoided the scale, preferring to focus on how he felt and how his body looked. But today, curiosity got the better of him.

He took a deep breath, stepping onto the scale with a sense of anticipation. The numbers flickered for a moment before settling, and when they finally displayed, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“310 pounds.”

Carlos stared at the number, feeling the shock wash over him. The last time he had checked his weight, he was hovering around 250 pounds, already a big leap from the lean 190 he had maintained for years. But 310? He hadn’t realized just how much he had grown. He felt the weight of that number settle in, both literally and figuratively, as he looked down at his belly, now fully understanding why it jiggled and bounced so much more than it used to.

He gave his belly an experimental poke, feeling the soft fat beneath his fingers. “310 pounds, huh?” he muttered, a grin slowly forming on his face. His initial shock transformed into a sense of pride. Every single pound he’d gained was a result of his hard work—of countless meals, hours at the gym, and the commitment to embrace his size. And now, the number staring back at him was proof of that dedication.

Carlos shifted his weight, watching as the scale wavered slightly but remained firmly at 310. He stepped off and gave himself a full look in the mirror, admiring the way his belly jutted out, round and full, and the way his pecs sat heavily on his chest. His love handles curved out to the sides, creating a soft, thick silhouette that filled out his shorts and tank top completely.

He ran a hand down the side of his body, feeling the rolls that had formed there—each one a symbol of his transformation. His thighs, thick and powerful, rubbed together as he moved, and his arms were now surrounded by layers of softness that complemented the muscle underneath. Everything about him was bigger, softer, and bulkier than it had ever been.

“310,” he repeated, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Man, I’ve really outdone myself.”

Carlos felt a surge of excitement. He had never imagined he’d see this number on the scale, but now that he had, it only motivated him to go further. If he could hit 310 pounds, who was to say he couldn’t reach 350 or even 400? The thought of continuing to grow, to add more size and mass, sent a thrill through him.

With one last look at the scale, he patted his belly, feeling it bounce under his touch. “Guess it’s time to celebrate with another big meal,” he said with a grin, rubbing his soft middle. “If I can hit 310, I know I can go bigger.”

He left the bathroom, feeling more determined than ever. The scale had given him a number, but it also gave him a goal—a new milestone to surpass. For Carlos, there was no stopping now; the bigger he got, the more he loved the process. 310 pounds was just the beginning.

Chapter 7

Carlos entered the doctor’s office, feeling the familiar sense of anticipation mixed with a bit of nervousness. It had been a while since his last checkup, and he knew things had changed significantly since then. The memory of stepping on his own scale and seeing 310 pounds flashed in his mind. He was curious—maybe a little anxious—about what the doctor might say. But deep down, he was proud of his transformation and ready to embrace whatever feedback he might receive.

As he sat down in the waiting room, he noticed the way his belly rested on his lap, his thighs spreading out and filling the space of the chair. His clothes felt snug as usual; his shirt stretched tightly over his chest and belly, and his shorts dug into his thick thighs. The nurse called his name, and he stood up, feeling the weight of his body shift as he moved. Each step made his belly jiggle and sway slightly, a reminder of how much he had grown.

“Carlos, nice to see you again,” the doctor greeted him as he walked into the examination room. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy… growing, I guess,” Carlos said with a grin, patting his belly as he took a seat on the examination table. The paper crinkled beneath his weight, and he adjusted himself, feeling his sides and belly spread out as he settled.

“Well, let’s start with the basics,” the doctor said, grabbing his stethoscope. “We’ll check your blood pressure, and then we’ll get your weight and run a few tests.”

Carlos nodded, holding his arm out for the cuff. As the doctor took his blood pressure, Carlos noticed the way the doctor’s eyes lingered on his belly. The doctor moved on to listen to his heartbeat, pressing the stethoscope against his thick chest, which jiggled slightly as he breathed in.

“Your heart sounds strong, Carlos. But I have to say, you’ve put on quite a bit of weight since your last visit,” the doctor remarked, a note of concern in his voice.

Carlos nodded, knowing this was coming. “Yeah, I’ve been bulking a lot. Trying something different, you know?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow but continued with his examination. “Well, let’s get you on the scale and see where you’re at.”

Carlos stood up, feeling the doctor’s eyes on him as he stepped onto the scale. The machine beeped and displayed the number clearly: 318 pounds. Carlos felt a mix of pride and apprehension. He had gained another eight pounds since he last checked, and he could feel every bit of it in the way his belly and chest jiggled when he moved.

The doctor scribbled some notes. “318 pounds. That’s quite a jump from where you were a couple of years ago, Carlos. You were around 190 back then, if I recall correctly.”

Carlos grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been focusing on bulking up—lifting heavy, eating more, and just… embracing the gains.”

The doctor nodded slowly, folding his arms. “I see that. It’s important to monitor this kind of growth closely, though. Gaining weight at this rate can have some effects on your overall health—especially your cardiovascular health, blood pressure, and metabolism.”

Carlos’s grin faded a bit. “I get that. I’ve been feeling good overall, but I guess it’s important to check everything.”

The doctor smiled, his tone softening. “It’s good to hear you feel well, and it’s obvious you’ve embraced the changes. But we just need to make sure your body is handling it. Let’s take some bloodwork and run a few tests to get a complete picture.”

Carlos agreed, and the doctor began the usual routine—taking his blood, checking his cholesterol levels, and monitoring his blood sugar. Carlos could feel his shirt tighten as he lifted his arm, the fabric straining to cover his expanding belly.

After the tests were done, the doctor sat down with Carlos to go over some preliminary findings. “So far, your results are within range, but I want you to keep an eye on your weight gain, especially around your belly. Carrying excess weight here can lead to higher risks for things like diabetes and heart issues down the road.”

Carlos nodded, absorbing the information. “I get it. I’ll try to balance it out more. Maybe mix in some cardio.”

The doctor smiled, relieved that Carlos was open to the advice. “That’s a great start. You don’t have to give up bulking, but finding a balance can help you maintain your health as you grow. And if you ever need guidance on nutrition or exercise adjustments, we’re here for you.”

Carlos stood up, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, doc. I appreciate it. I’ll take it seriously.”

As he left the office, Carlos felt a mixture of emotions—relief that he was still healthy but also a new sense of responsibility. He had achieved his goal of bulking up, and he loved the way he looked and felt. But he knew he needed to be mindful of the future, finding that balance between enjoying his new size and keeping his health in check.

Walking out of the clinic, he rubbed his belly thoughtfully. “Time for a big meal… and maybe a quick jog after,” he said to himself with a chuckle, feeling more determined than ever to grow stronger—both in body and in health.

Chapter 8

Carlos had been looking forward to this cruise for months. It was his first real vacation in years, and he was excited to let loose and enjoy himself. The cruise promised all the food, drinks, and entertainment he could imagine, and after months of intense training and bulking, he was ready to indulge without any restrictions. This was his chance to completely unwind and enjoy the results of his hard work—he was bigger and bulkier than ever, and this trip was all about celebration.

As soon as the ship set sail, Carlos felt the excitement build. The dining halls were endless buffets of food, with every option he could possibly crave—pasta dishes, steaks, burgers, mountains of desserts, and a never-ending flow of drinks. It was like a paradise designed just for him. He had always had a big appetite, but something about the cruise made him want to push his limits even further. Why not? He was here to enjoy himself, and he had the whole week to feast.

At breakfast on the first morning, Carlos piled his plate high with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and pastries. By the time he finished, he felt his belly pushing against his shirt, bloated but satisfied. He patted it with a grin, already planning his next meal. As the days went on, he fell into a rhythm—every meal was an opportunity to test his appetite, to see just how much he could eat. Lunch was a double helping of pasta and pizza, washed down with beer, and dinner was a multi-course affair with everything from seafood platters to steaks, finishing off with cheesecake and ice cream.

Carlos’s tank tops and shorts, already tight when he arrived, began to feel even snugger. His belly, which had grown softer and rounder over the months, now seemed to swell visibly by the hour. By the third day, his clothes were straining, the waistband of his shorts digging into the soft flesh of his sides and belly. His tank tops rode up, exposing his lower belly, which jiggled freely with every step. He didn’t care. He was on vacation, and he was loving every moment of it.

His friends on the cruise couldn’t help but notice how much he was eating, and they egged him on, challenging him to see just how much he could pack away at each meal. Carlos loved the attention. He became the center of every dinner, his friends cheering him on as he ordered extra entrees and desserts, watching in awe as he devoured plate after plate.

“Carlos, you’re a beast, man!” one of his friends said, shaking his head as he watched Carlos polish off another plate of ribs. “You’ve gotta be close to bursting.”

Carlos laughed, leaning back in his chair. His belly, now fully exposed beneath his tank top, bulged out, heavy and round, resting on his lap. “Not yet,” he replied with a grin, rubbing his swollen middle. “I’ve still got room.”

But as the days passed, Carlos started to feel the effects of his non-stop indulgence. By the fifth day, he had to unbutton his shorts completely just to sit comfortably at the table, and even then, his belly hung over the waistband, pressing against the table’s edge. His tank tops were practically useless, the fabric stretched so tight it barely covered his chest, leaving his growing belly entirely exposed.

That night, after a particularly indulgent dinner of steak, potatoes, and several slices of pie, Carlos felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. His friends watched in amusement as he struggled to get up from the table, his belly so full it felt like a weight pulling him down. He finally stood, swaying slightly as he felt the strain on his overstuffed stomach.

“Think you overdid it, big guy?” one of his friends joked, giving Carlos a playful pat on his belly, which jiggled in response.

Carlos chuckled, though he felt the tightness in his gut. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, rubbing his belly in slow circles. “But hey, it’s a vacation. Gotta make the most of it, right?”

The next morning, Carlos woke up feeling heavy and bloated, but that didn’t stop him from heading straight to the breakfast buffet. His stomach protested as he piled his plate high, but he ignored it, digging in with enthusiasm. He was determined to make the most of every day left on the cruise, no matter how tight his clothes felt or how full he was.

By the final day, Carlos was practically waddling through the ship. His belly had grown significantly, now hanging low and jiggling with every step, his love handles spilling over the sides of his shorts, which he could only manage to button halfway. He had embraced the gluttony completely, and the results were obvious—his entire body felt softer, rounder, and heavier.

At the last dinner, Carlos pushed himself to the limit. His friends watched in amazement as he ate course after course, his belly expanding before their eyes. By the time he finished his second dessert, he leaned back, feeling his belly pressing against the table, his skin tight and stretched.

“Whoa, Carlos, you’ve really outdone yourself,” one of his friends said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat like that.”

Carlos grinned, even as he felt the tightness of his belly stretching against his tank top. “Told you I was going all out,” he said, rubbing his belly, which jiggled with the motion. “This cruise was made for gains.”

But as he stood up, he felt the reality of just how much he had eaten. His belly felt impossibly heavy, and he had to lean back slightly to balance himself. His tank top rode up completely, and he staggered slightly, feeling the weight of his swollen belly pulling him forward. His friends rushed to help steady him, laughing as they patted his massive gut.

“Easy there, big guy,” one of them said. “Looks like you’re carrying a food baby.”

Carlos laughed, feeling the strain but loving every minute of it. “Guess I really went all out,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As the cruise docked the next day, Carlos knew he had let himself go in the best way possible. He stepped off the ship, feeling the extra weight with every movement, and already planning his next big bulk. After all, if he could handle a week of non-stop indulgence, there was no telling how much more he could grow.

Chapter 9

Carlos strode into the gym, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline mixed with the excitement of showing off his latest gains. It had been a few weeks since his cruise, and he had fully indulged in the aftermath. His appetite had only grown since his vacation, and every meal seemed to stretch his belly a little further. Today, he wore his favorite stringer vest—the same one that had fit perfectly months ago when he first started gaining. But as he moved, he could feel just how much things had changed.

The stringer vest barely covered his chest now. His pecs, once solid and firm, had grown heavier and softer, spilling out from the sides. The thin straps of the vest dug into his shoulders, stretching to hold the weight of his thick, round belly. His gut had ballooned since the cruise, and the vest could no longer cover it. It hung heavily over the waistband of his shorts, the soft flesh jiggling with every step he took. He felt the eyes of others in the gym on him, but Carlos didn’t mind; he loved the attention.

He walked over to the scale, rubbing his belly as he prepared to step on. The last time he checked, he was at 318 pounds, but he knew he had grown since then—he could feel it in the way his belly tugged at his waistband, in the way his chest swayed slightly when he moved. He took a deep breath and stepped on, feeling the cool surface beneath his feet.

The numbers blinked for a moment before settling.

335 pounds.

Carlos’ eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand over his belly, which jiggled with the motion. “335. That cruise really did me in.” He felt a surge of pride. He had gained a solid 17 pounds since his last weigh-in, and every single pound was visible on his body. His chest, belly, and even his thighs had thickened, filling out the shorts and vest in ways they hadn’t before.

Eager to test himself, Carlos decided to head for the treadmill. The last time he’d tried it, he was around 310 pounds and already struggling to keep up. Now, at 335, he was curious to see how his bulked-up body would handle the challenge. As he approached the treadmill, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—his belly swaying and his chest spilling out of the sides of the vest. The shirt, already short on him, rode up completely, exposing the round, heavy curve of his gut.

He climbed onto the treadmill, adjusting his shorts, which felt like they were on the verge of splitting. He set the machine to a slow jog, feeling his belly bounce with the first few steps. The soft flesh wobbled freely, and he felt the weight of it pulling down with each stride. His chest jiggled as well, the soft mass swaying from side to side, and his love handles shifted with the movement.

The treadmill’s speed increased, and Carlos struggled to find his rhythm. His bulk made it hard to keep up—every step felt heavier, every stride more challenging as his belly jiggled wildly, and his chest bounced heavily in response. The machine beeped, and he tried to push himself to a faster pace, but his body protested. His thighs, thicker than ever, rubbed together, and he could feel the friction building with each movement. The sides of his belly jostled and slapped against his arms as he struggled to keep his pace steady.

A minute in, Carlos could feel the burn in his lungs, and the sweat began to trickle down his brow. His entire body felt like it was moving in slow motion, weighed down by the mass he had packed on. His breath came in heavy, labored pants, and he had to grip the treadmill’s handles for support. His belly, swinging freely beneath his vest, slapped against his thighs with every step, making it hard to ignore just how big he had become.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” he muttered to himself, though he felt his resolve weakening. His chest heaved as he tried to keep up, the fat jiggling and his love handles bouncing with each movement. It was clear his bulk was more than he could manage at this pace.

After only a few minutes, Carlos felt his energy drain. His legs wobbled, and his belly felt like an anchor dragging him down. He slowed the machine to a walk, catching his breath as he wiped the sweat from his face. The treadmill slowed, and he placed his hands on his hips, feeling the soft rolls spill out beneath his vest.

He grinned, despite the struggle. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you bulk up,” he said with a laugh, patting his belly, which jiggled in response. “Can’t outrun this size anymore.” He gave his gut a playful shake, feeling the weight and softness of it, the way it bounced freely in his hands. It was a reminder of how far he’d come—how much he’d embraced the lifestyle and the gains that came with it.

Carlos stepped off the treadmill, his belly swinging slightly as he moved. He knew that running was no longer his strength, but he didn’t mind. He had grown too big, too bulky for cardio, and that was exactly how he liked it. He walked over to the weightlifting area, where he felt most at home, ready to lift heavy and continue his journey.

After all, if he could hit 335 pounds, who knew how much more he could gain? For Carlos, the sky was the limit—and he was determined to keep pushing his boundaries, one pound at a time.

Chapter 10

Carlos stood in front of the mirror, his hands gripping the sink as he leaned in closer. His face was flushed a deep shade of red, the sweat dripping down his forehead and cheeks, evidence of the intense struggle he had just endured on the treadmill. He could feel his heart racing, pounding heavily in his chest, and as he stared at his reflection, he saw it—a rhythmic thumping that made his pecs jiggle with each beat.

His chest, once firm and muscular, had grown into something softer and thicker. The weight of his gains was evident in the way his pecs moved, bouncing and quivering as his heart pulsed beneath the layer of fat he had built up over the months. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, to see how each heartbeat sent a ripple through his body, making his chest wobble in time. The stringer vest, stretched beyond its capacity, barely clung to his shoulders, the thin straps doing little to contain the movement.

Carlos watched as his chest rose and fell, the heavy mass jiggling uncontrollably. He placed one hand on his pec, feeling the warmth of his skin and the vibrations of his heartbeat beneath his palm. It was a strange sensation—his chest was both soft and solid, thick with the muscle he’d built and the fat he’d gained. He could feel the weight of it, the heaviness that now defined his body.

He pulled the vest aside slightly, revealing more of his swollen chest and the way it swayed with each breath. The soft flesh spilled over his fingers as he held it, feeling the jiggle continue in time with his racing heart. The exertion from the treadmill had sent his pulse soaring, and he could see the effect in every quiver and bounce. His chest wasn’t just moving; it was alive with the energy of his body, responding to every beat, every breath he took.

“Man, I’ve really packed it on,” he muttered, almost in disbelief as he felt his chest wobble again. “Never thought I’d see myself like this.”

He let go of his chest and moved his hand to his belly, which hung heavily over the waistband of his shorts, still jiggling slightly from the movement. It felt huge beneath his hand, warm and soft, and as he ran his fingers over the curve, he could feel his heart’s rhythm there too, faint but present, sending little tremors through the mass. His entire body seemed to be alive with the force of his heartbeat, every pound he’d gained responding to it.

Carlos leaned back, catching his breath as he continued to study his reflection. The red flush of his face was starting to fade, but the sweat still glistened on his skin, dripping down his neck and chest, making his body gleam under the gym’s fluorescent lights. The sight of himself—his pecs jiggling, his belly swaying, the heavy mass of his body moving with every heartbeat—was a reminder of just how far he had come.

He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, the sense of power and size that came with each new pound. It was a rush, a feeling of having pushed himself to a new level, even if it meant he could no longer keep up with the treadmill like before. For Carlos, every jiggle, every thump of his chest, was proof that he had embraced his journey fully.

“Looks like cardio might not be my thing anymore,” he said with a chuckle, wiping the sweat from his face. “But lifting? That’s where I’ll keep growing.”

Carlos gave his chest one last playful jiggle, watching as it bounced freely before settling back into place. He felt his heart rate begin to slow, the intensity of the pounding subsiding, but the feeling of his soft, heavy chest remained. With a grin, he turned away from the mirror, determined to hit the weights hard. He may have struggled on the treadmill, but he knew that the gym’s weightlifting area was where he thrived—and he was ready to see just how much bigger and stronger he could get.

Chapter 11

Carlos stood on the sidewalk outside his apartment, the early morning sun casting long shadows. He had made a decision: it was time to take control of his health again. After his visit to the doctor and his last experience at the gym, he knew he had to find a balance. The weightlifting would continue—there was no way he was giving up on his gains—but he realized he needed to incorporate more movement into his routine. Running had proven too difficult, but walking felt manageable.

He set out, feeling the cool morning air against his skin as he began his walk. His belly bounced with each step, swaying slightly beneath his oversized t-shirt, and his chest jiggled gently. It was a slower pace than he was used to, but it felt good. His body was heavy, but the walk gave him a sense of purpose and control, the rhythmic motion of his strides providing a steady, calming beat.

At first, Carlos was determined to stick to his new routine. He walked every morning, gradually increasing his distance. It felt good to be active again, and he even noticed that the walking helped his energy levels throughout the day. But as he spent more time on his walks, something else began to change—his appetite.

It started subtly. After his walks, he found himself craving a bigger breakfast than usual. What used to be a couple of eggs and toast turned into a full spread: bacon, sausages, pancakes, and a generous helping of syrup. He rationalized it at first—he was burning more calories, so why not fuel up? But soon, his appetite soared beyond his walks. His body, now used to the extra movement, seemed to crave even more fuel, and he found himself constantly reaching for snacks.

Carlos tried to stick to healthier options, but his cravings intensified. Pizza, burgers, and entire boxes of donuts started making their way into his routine meals. His walks, while beneficial, weren’t enough to counter the sheer volume of food he was consuming. Each time he finished a meal, he found himself still hungry, his body demanding more.

One day, after finishing a particularly long walk, Carlos returned home with a ravenous hunger. He devoured an entire stack of pancakes, loaded with butter and syrup, followed by a second helping of eggs and hash browns. As he sat back, feeling his belly swell and press against his shirt, he realized just how much his appetite had taken over. His hands moved to his belly, rubbing it as he felt it expand. The walk had been good, but his appetite was turning into a force of its own.

Despite the walking, the pounds continued to add on. Carlos’ belly grew softer and rounder, filling out beneath his shirt until it hung heavily over his shorts. His chest, already thick from his bulk, jiggled more with each step, and his love handles became more pronounced, forming soft rolls that pressed against his sides. His thighs thickened as well, rubbing together with every stride, the friction becoming a familiar sensation.

One morning, he set out for his walk with his favorite breakfast spot in mind—a diner he had discovered on one of his routes. They had a “mega breakfast platter,” and after one taste, Carlos found himself returning more frequently. He walked briskly, feeling his body sway as he moved. The fresh air invigorated him, and despite the bounce and jiggle of his belly, he felt good. But as he approached the diner, he felt his hunger pangs intensify. His walks, which had started as a health-focused routine, were quickly becoming excuses to indulge.

He sat down at his usual booth, already feeling his mouth water as he glanced at the menu. The waitress greeted him with a smile, knowing his order by heart. “The usual, Carlos?”

He grinned, patting his belly. “You know it—make it extra bacon today.”

As he waited, he noticed the other patrons giving him glances, but he didn’t mind. He was used to the looks. When the platter arrived, he dug in with enthusiasm, the hunger that had built up on his walk pushing him to eat quickly. He devoured plate after plate—eggs, sausages, hash browns, pancakes, bacon—until his belly felt tight and full, pushing against the table’s edge. He sat back, breathing heavily as he rubbed the swollen curve of his stomach, feeling the weight of the food settling inside.

“Guess I earned it,” he said with a grin, though he knew deep down that his walks were doing little to balance out his appetite. The reality was that his body was thriving on the excess, and his cravings were only growing stronger.

Carlos left the diner, feeling the familiar heaviness in his belly as he resumed his walk. He moved slower now, his belly swaying and bouncing with each step, reminding him of just how much he had eaten. The walk felt more like a waddle, and he could feel the way his shirt clung to his chest, the fabric stretched tight across his pecs and soft belly.

As he rounded the corner to head home, he knew he was at a crossroads. Walking was supposed to help him balance out his lifestyle, but instead, it seemed to be fueling his appetite and his gains even more. He paused, rubbing his belly thoughtfully, feeling it jiggle beneath his hand. “I guess I’ve got to find a middle ground,” he muttered to himself, though he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the size he had become, and the thought of growing even bigger excited him.

Walking had become a routine, but so had his indulgences. Carlos knew he’d have to figure out a new balance—one where he could enjoy his growing appetite and his growing body, while still taking care of himself. For now, though, he was content to walk at his own pace, letting his appetite—and his body—take the lead.

Chapter 12

A month had passed since Carlos had added his daily walks to his routine, and while they helped clear his mind and gave him some light activity, they did little to curb his soaring appetite. In fact, the extra movement seemed to fuel his hunger even more, and his meals grew larger, turning into feasts. The results were impossible to ignore—his body was growing at a pace he hadn’t anticipated. His clothes felt tighter with each passing day, and the scale, when he finally faced it, confirmed what he already suspected.

Carlos stood in front of the gym’s scale, taking a deep breath before stepping on. The numbers blinked for a moment before settling: 352 pounds. He stared at the display, feeling the excitement rush through him. He had crossed the 350-pound mark, and every pound was visible on his body. His chest was heavy and full, his belly rounder than ever, hanging low over the waistband of his gym shorts. Even his arms and legs had thickened, the muscle he had worked so hard to build now encased in a soft layer of fat.

He grinned, rubbing his belly as he stepped off the scale. “Well, guess it’s time to put these gains to work,” he muttered to himself as he headed over to the weightlifting area for his leg day session.

Carlos had always loved leg day, and even though his size made some movements more challenging, he was determined to push himself. He started with squats, loading the barbell with heavy plates. As he positioned himself under the bar, he felt the weight settle on his shoulders, pressing down into his thick traps. His belly, large and soft, brushed against his thighs as he squatted down, the movement causing it to bunch up and jiggle slightly.

He took a deep breath and pushed up, feeling his thighs—now much thicker and softer—engage as they lifted the weight. His belly wobbled with the motion, and he felt the pull of his shirt, which struggled to stay down over the curve of his gut. Each time he squatted, his belly pressed further into his legs, the soft mass compressing and spreading out, almost like a cushion. When he stood back up, the weight of his belly tugged downward, and he had to adjust his stance to maintain his balance.

After a few sets, Carlos could feel the burn in his legs, but he wasn’t done yet. He moved on to the leg press machine, adjusting the seat to accommodate his size. As he sat down, his belly spilled over his lap, resting heavily as he set his feet on the platform. His shorts, already tight, stretched to their limit as his thighs spread out, the fabric straining against the bulk of his legs.

Carlos pushed the weight up, feeling his legs engage. With each rep, he felt the jiggle of his belly and chest, the movement causing ripples through the soft mass. His thighs, now thicker than ever, wobbled with each press, the fat around them shifting as he powered through the set. He could see the outline of his quads beneath the softness, the muscle still there but now surrounded by a layer of bulk.

As he continued, he felt the strain of his size—his belly, so much bigger now, pushed against his thighs, making it hard to complete the full range of motion. His breathing grew heavier, his chest heaving as he worked through the reps. Sweat trickled down his face, his entire body working hard to keep up with the intensity of the session. Every time he pushed, he could feel the weight of his bulk shift, his pecs bouncing slightly and his belly swaying.

The last exercise of the day was lunges, a move that had become more challenging as his body grew. He grabbed a pair of heavy dumbbells, positioning them at his sides, and took a deep breath. As he stepped forward, he felt the weight of his belly shift, pulling him down as he balanced on one leg. His chest, which had grown fuller, jiggled slightly with each step, and he could feel the sides of his belly brush against his arms.

Carlos pushed through the set, but each step felt heavier than the last. His thighs, rubbing together with every movement, jiggled slightly, the extra fat and muscle making each lunge feel like a test of strength. By the time he finished, he was out of breath, his entire body glistening with sweat. He placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath, and felt his belly press into his thighs, the familiar warmth and softness a reminder of just how far he’d come.

He straightened up, feeling the sweat drip down his neck and chest. His shirt clung to him, stretched tight over his pecs and belly, and he could see the outline of his love handles pressing against the fabric. His body had grown so much, but he loved the feeling of his size—every jiggle, every bounce was proof of his journey and the gains he had embraced.

As Carlos headed to the locker room, he looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the full view. His body, once lean and muscular, was now massive and powerful, every inch of it thicker and softer. His legs, thick and strong, carried the bulk of his belly, which bounced with each step. His chest, heavy and full, hung slightly over his stomach, the sides pressing against his arms.

He patted his belly, feeling the sweat-slicked flesh jiggle under his hand. “352 pounds and still going strong,” he said with a grin. “Time to keep these gains coming.”

Carlos felt the satisfaction of a hard workout—and the anticipation of his next meal. He knew his appetite would be raging after the session, and he was more than ready to fuel his growing body, one bite at a time.

Chapter 13

Three months had flown by in a blur of heavy lifting, massive meals, and endless gains. Carlos had settled into a routine that was as satisfying as it was intense. His days revolved around the gym, lifting more weight than ever before, and indulging in feasts that had become his new normal. Despite his initial commitment to balance, his walks had turned into brief, slow strolls that served mainly as a warm-up for the lifting sessions he loved so much.

His appetite, once manageable, had become a ravenous force. The sheer volume of food he was consuming had skyrocketed, and it showed in every inch of his body. His belly, now round and heavy, protruded far beyond his waistband, jiggling and bouncing freely with every movement. His pecs, thick and full, hung over his gut, and his arms, once defined and muscular, were encased in soft layers of bulk. Even his back and sides had developed thick rolls that spread out whenever he sat down, making him feel like he was enveloped in his own bulk.

Carlos knew he had been growing, but he had lost track of his exact weight. He had avoided the scale for months, caught up in the rush of his bulking lifestyle and the satisfaction of filling out his clothes more and more. Today, though, something made him curious. He stared at himself in the gym’s mirror, his massive body barely contained in his tank top and shorts. His shirt, riding up over his belly, left most of it exposed, and his shorts dug into his thick thighs and love handles. He looked and felt huge, and the urge to see just how far he had come was too tempting to ignore.

With a deep breath, he approached the scale. The machine creaked under his weight as he stepped on, and he watched as the numbers flickered before finally settling. His eyes widened when the display read: 376 pounds.

Carlos felt a surge of shock, quickly followed by pride. He had gained another 24 pounds in just three months. He was now far beyond the 350-pound mark, and the thought of how much he had grown made his chest swell with satisfaction. He placed a hand on his belly, feeling the familiar jiggle beneath his fingers. “376,” he muttered, grinning. “Damn, I’m really getting massive.”

He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror, rubbing the heavy, round curve of his belly. It hung lower now, pulling at the waistband of his shorts and jiggling with every shift of his stance. His chest, full and soft, swayed as he adjusted his tank top, which barely covered his torso. The thin straps strained to hold his mass, and his love handles spilled out, forming thick rolls that pressed against the fabric.

Satisfied with his weigh-in, Carlos headed straight to the weightlifting area. Today was another leg day, and he was determined to push his limits. He approached the squat rack, loading it up with even more plates than before, feeling the familiar thrill of challenging his strength.

As he positioned himself under the bar, he felt his belly press against his thighs, a reminder of how much his body had changed. Each squat was a test of balance—his gut compressed as he lowered himself, spreading out over his legs and pushing up into his chest. When he stood back up, the weight of his belly pulled downward, and he had to adjust his stance to maintain stability. The jiggling was constant, his entire body moving in response to each rep. His thighs, now massive and thick, wobbled with the effort, the fat around them shifting and quivering.

Carlos powered through the sets, feeling the burn in his legs as they supported his weight. He could feel the muscle working beneath the softness, a satisfying reminder that, despite his size, he was still strong. When he moved to the leg press machine, the seat creaked as he sat down, and he adjusted himself to accommodate the bulk of his belly. The press was a familiar challenge—each rep made his thighs shake, and his gut, resting heavily on his lap, bounced with the motion.

By the end of his session, Carlos was drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his body, the fabric outlining every curve and roll. His chest heaved, and he could see the way his pecs jiggled, the soft flesh swaying as he caught his breath. His shorts felt tighter than ever, stretched to their limit around his thick legs and love handles.

He stood in front of the mirror again, feeling the satisfaction of a hard workout and admiring the changes in his body. His face, fuller and softer, was flushed from the exertion, and his entire body seemed to gleam under the gym lights. His arms, chest, and belly all moved with his breathing, the softness jiggling with each inhale and exhale.

“376 pounds and still getting bigger,” he said to himself, his grin widening as he gave his belly a playful shake. “Let’s see if I can break 400 next.”

Carlos left the gym, feeling the familiar heaviness in his body but also a sense of excitement. The scale had confirmed what he already knew—he was growing, and he was loving every moment of it. With every meal, every lift, he felt himself getting closer to his next milestone, and the thought of hitting 400 pounds only fueled his determination to keep going.

Chapter 14

Carlos made his way to the doctor’s office, the anticipation of his upcoming cruise putting a spring in his step. It was his favorite time of year—time to indulge again, to eat his fill, and enjoy the relaxation he had come to love about cruises. But before he could board the ship, he needed to get a routine travel shot as a precaution. He hadn’t been to the doctor in a while, and he knew the nurse would likely give him a look when they saw how much he had grown.

As he walked through the door, the receptionist greeted him warmly, though her eyes lingered for a moment on his bulk. Carlos smiled, feeling his belly shift under his shirt as he signed in. The small waiting room chairs were now a tight fit for him, and as he sat down, he felt his belly spill over his lap, pressing into his thighs. The sensation was familiar but still a reminder of just how much bigger he had become.

After a short wait, the nurse called his name, and he rose from the chair, adjusting his shirt that was already riding up over his belly. He followed her into the exam room, feeling the way his body jiggled with each step. As he entered, the nurse gave him a once-over, raising an eyebrow as she took in his size. “It’s been a while since your last visit, Carlos. Looks like you’ve been… growing.”

Carlos grinned, patting his belly. “Yeah, you could say that. Been bulking up.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll need to get your weight and some vitals before the shot, so go ahead and step on the scale.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment, knowing it had been months since he last checked his weight. The doctor’s scale felt different—more official, somehow—compared to the gym. He stepped on, the scale creaking slightly as he positioned himself. The nurse adjusted the sliding weights, her eyes widening as she moved them further than she expected. Finally, the number settled: 388 pounds.

Carlos stared at the number, feeling a mix of shock and pride. He had put on another 12 pounds since his last weigh-in, and he could feel every bit of it. “Wow,” he muttered, rubbing his belly, which wobbled under his hand. “Almost 390.”

The nurse shook her head with a smile. “That’s a big jump, Carlos. Let’s go ahead and get your blood pressure and vitals next.”

Carlos sat on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath his weight. As he adjusted his position, he felt his sides press against the edge, the thick rolls of his love handles pushing out. The nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, and he noticed how tight it felt. His arms had grown so much thicker, and the softness around them made the cuff snug against his skin.

As the nurse took his blood pressure, Carlos watched the numbers appear. She nodded, scribbling in her notes. “It’s a little elevated, but not too bad. We’ll keep an eye on it.” She paused, giving him a knowing look. “Carrying extra weight like this can put a strain on the heart, you know.”

Carlos nodded, smiling but feeling the seriousness of her words. “I know. I’m trying to balance things out—staying active, walking, lifting weights. But I guess my appetite gets the better of me.”

“Well, as long as you’re keeping an eye on things. Let’s get the shot and then you’ll be all set.” She prepared the vaccine, and Carlos rolled up his sleeve. The strap of his tank top dug into his shoulder, highlighting the bulk he had built up there. His pecs pressed out to the side, jiggling slightly as he adjusted his position.

The shot itself was quick, and before long, the nurse handed him some paperwork. “Just keep monitoring your health, okay? I know you’ve got a cruise coming up, but try to take it easy.”

Carlos grinned. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

The nurse shook her head playfully as he left the room, feeling the familiar heaviness of his body shift with each step. He rubbed his belly as he walked down the hallway, feeling it jiggle with each stride. Nearly 390 pounds and counting—he knew that next cruise would likely push him even further.

As he walked back to the waiting room to leave, he thought about the upcoming trip and all the meals waiting for him. He was ready to enjoy every minute of it. After all, he had worked hard for these gains, and he was more than ready to take on the next milestone—400 pounds was just around the corner, and he was excited to get there, one feast at a time.

Chapter 15

Carlos stepped onto the cruise ship with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. This was his third cruise, and by now, he knew exactly what to expect—and exactly what he was here for. The last few months of lifting and indulging had prepared him for this moment. The buffet tables, the endless drinks, the multi-course dinners—it was all his playground. If his previous cruise had pushed his appetite to new heights, this one promised to be the ultimate test. He was ready to let go, to indulge without a care in the world.

From the first evening, Carlos threw himself into the experience with gusto. The all-you-can-eat buffet called to him like a siren song. Piles of pasta, steaks, seafood platters, towers of desserts—it was all laid out, and Carlos felt his appetite awaken like a beast unleashed. He filled his plate again and again, savoring each bite as he made his way through the massive spread.

Every meal became an event. Breakfast was stacks of pancakes, plates of bacon, and endless waffles, smothered in butter and syrup. Lunches were no less extravagant, with double burgers, fries, pizzas, and whatever else he could pile onto his tray. Dinner was the real spectacle—multi-course meals where he ordered two or three entrees at a time. Each night, he pushed himself further, his belly swelling larger with every meal.

By the third day, Carlos noticed the changes in his body. His shorts, which had fit snugly when he boarded, now felt tight and uncomfortable. His shirts rode up constantly, exposing his belly, which had grown rounder and softer, pressing out over the waistband of his shorts. The feeling of fullness had become a constant companion, but he found himself craving it, loving the sensation of being stuffed and satisfied.

His friends on the cruise watched in amazement. They had seen him bulk up before, but this was something else. Carlos wasn’t just eating—he was devouring everything in sight. His appetite seemed limitless, and his friends encouraged him, turning each meal into a challenge to see just how much he could consume.

“Carlos, you’re a machine!” one of them exclaimed as he watched him polish off a second tray of ribs at dinner. “I’ve never seen anyone eat like this.”

Carlos laughed, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed his belly, which bulged heavily against the table. “Hey, when you’re on a cruise, you go all out,” he replied with a grin, giving his gut a shake. It wobbled in response, the weight and softness of it more pronounced than ever.

But as the days went on, the indulgence became even more intense. By the fifth day, Carlos could barely button his shorts. His belly had swollen so much that it hung low, jiggling with each step he took. His shirts, no matter how large, couldn’t contain him anymore, leaving his belly exposed and bouncing freely. His chest, now heavy and soft, swayed with every movement, and even his arms and thighs had thickened considerably, making every piece of clothing feel tight and constricting.

At breakfast, he would arrive early, determined to get through as many plates as he could before the dining room filled up. Pancakes, French toast, sausages—he stacked them high and ate with abandon, barely pausing to breathe as he shoveled the food down. By the time he finished, his belly felt tight, stretched to its limit, and he leaned back, rubbing it as it jutted out, his face flushed and satisfied.

By the seventh day, Carlos was moving slower. The sheer volume of food he had consumed had taken its toll, and every step felt heavy. His belly, now massive, swayed with each stride, pulling him forward slightly as he waddled through the hallways. His thighs rubbed together, and his love handles spilled out over the sides of his shorts, which had become almost unwearable. His shirts were useless; they couldn’t stretch enough to cover the curve of his gut, and he had resorted to leaving them unbuttoned, letting his belly hang out freely.

One evening, during the captain’s dinner, Carlos truly went all out. He ordered three appetizers, four entrees, and two desserts. His friends watched in amazement as he ate, his belly expanding visibly with each bite. By the time he finished, he could barely move. His gut was enormous, pushing against the edge of the table, and his chest rested heavily on top of it, jiggling slightly as he breathed heavily.

“Carlos, I think you’ve set a record,” one of his friends said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s got to be the most food anyone’s eaten on this cruise.”

Carlos chuckled, though his face was flushed, and he felt the tightness in his gut. “Feels like it,” he admitted, leaning back as far as he could. His belly was so full it felt like a massive weight, pulling him down. He rubbed it slowly, feeling the taut, bloated flesh beneath his fingers. It was hard and round, pushing out far beyond what he thought possible.

As the cruise neared its end, Carlos found it difficult to navigate the ship. His waddling had become more pronounced, his massive belly leading the way as it bounced with every step. His clothes were now completely stretched beyond their limits; he had to wear his swim trunks most of the time because they were the only thing that had a bit of stretch left. His shirts, even the largest ones, couldn’t hide the bulk he had added.

On the final day, Carlos weighed himself in the ship’s fitness center, curious but almost nervous to see the number. The scale took a moment to settle before displaying: 407 pounds.

He stared at the number, feeling both shock and pride. He had crossed the 400-pound mark. He rubbed his belly, which was now a massive, round dome, and felt the weight of it jiggle beneath his hand. “407 pounds,” he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. “I guess I really lost control this time.”

Carlos walked out of the fitness center, his massive body moving with a sway that he had grown accustomed to. His belly bounced with every step, his chest jiggled freely, and his thighs rubbed together, making it clear just how much he had grown during the cruise. He knew that this cruise had been a turning point—he had fully embraced his appetite and the lifestyle that came with it, and there was no going back.

As he looked at his reflection in the window of the ship, he saw a man who had pushed his limits, who had embraced every pound. The cruise had been uncontrollable, but it had also been everything he wanted. Carlos grinned, rubbing his enormous belly as he headed to his final feast. After all, he still had time for one last meal before disembarking—and he planned to enjoy every bite.

Chapter 16

Carlos sat down at his final meal on the cruise with a determined look in his eyes. It was his last chance to indulge before returning to the reality of his usual routine—if he was going to go all out, it had to be now. The dining hall was buzzing with the chatter of other passengers, but all Carlos could focus on was the towering plates of food arriving at his table. He had ordered everything: double helpings of pasta, piles of ribs slathered in sauce, steak, potatoes, buttery rolls, and more desserts than any one person should reasonably attempt.

His friends, gathered around him, watched in a mix of amusement and amazement. They had seen Carlos eat, and they knew he was capable of putting away an incredible amount of food, but tonight felt different. Tonight, he seemed like a man on a mission, and they couldn’t help but cheer him on.

“Carlos, this is the last feast of the cruise—make it count!” one of his friends shouted, raising his glass in a toast.

Carlos laughed, lifting a rib to his mouth. “Oh, you know I will. This ship isn’t leaving until I’ve tried everything one last time.”

He dug in, each bite pushing him further. The food was delicious, the flavors rich and intense, and every mouthful sent a surge of satisfaction through him. The plates piled up around him as he worked his way through dish after dish. His belly, already massive from the week’s indulgence, swelled with each bite. It pushed harder against the table’s edge, expanding visibly as he kept eating. He felt the familiar tightness, the pressure building, but he didn’t slow down.

Carlos ordered more as he finished each plate. His friends egged him on, laughing and cheering as he devoured everything set before him. The pasta, thick and creamy, disappeared quickly; the steaks vanished as he sliced through each one; and the bread rolls, slathered in butter, were swallowed whole. He lost track of time, his focus entirely on the feast. His belly grew tighter and tighter, the fabric of his swim trunks straining as it swelled outward. His shirt had long since ridden up, leaving his massive gut exposed, round and heavy.

Dessert arrived—multiple slices of cheesecake, a stack of brownies, and a pile of ice cream topped with chocolate sauce. Carlos could feel his stomach protesting, the fullness reaching an almost painful level, but he was determined. He dug into the desserts with the same enthusiasm, feeling each bite push his limits further. His friends watched, their eyes wide as they saw the strain on his face, the way his belly seemed to grow with each passing minute.

By the time he finished the last bite of cheesecake, Carlos leaned back, his breathing heavy. His belly was enormous, stretched so far it looked as if it might burst. It pressed against the edge of the table, swollen and taut, jiggling slightly as he tried to adjust himself. His face was flushed, and he could feel the heat radiating from his body as it worked to digest the massive quantity of food.

Carlos attempted to push himself up from the table, his hands gripping the edge as he tried to stand. But as he shifted his weight, he felt the immensity of his belly pull him back down. It was too much. He felt the strain, the heaviness, and the tightness of his gut anchoring him to the chair. His friends’ laughter turned to concern as they saw him struggle.

“Carlos, you good, man?” one of them asked, coming closer. “Need a hand?”

Carlos tried again, leaning forward and gripping the table. His belly, fully stuffed, hung low, pressing against his thighs, and he felt the pressure intensify. He grimaced, realizing that he was truly stuck. “I—uh—I don’t think I can stand up,” he admitted, laughing weakly. “I’ve eaten way too much.”

The others couldn’t help but laugh, even as they reached out to help him. “Dude, you really went all out, huh?” one of them said, giving his belly a playful pat. The touch sent a ripple through his swollen middle, and Carlos winced, feeling the movement in his overloaded gut.

They tried to pull him up, but his belly was so heavy, so full, that it felt like a weight holding him down. The food he had packed in there had expanded his gut to its absolute limit, and every attempt to shift or stand only made it jiggle and sway, making the pressure worse. Carlos felt his face flush further, the sensation both embarrassing and thrilling. He had never eaten so much that he couldn’t move, but here he was—too full, too heavy to even get up.

“Alright, alright, just—give me a second,” Carlos said, breathing heavily as he rubbed his belly, trying to ease the pressure. He leaned back, letting the chair support him as he felt the weight of his gut press into his thighs. His friends hovered around, still laughing but ready to help.

After several minutes, and with the help of two friends, Carlos finally managed to shift his weight enough to stand. He braced himself, feeling the fullness pull him forward as he found his balance. His belly, enormous and round, stuck out so far that it led the way, jiggling with every movement as he took slow, careful steps. His legs felt wobbly, the sheer amount of food making even walking a challenge.

As he waddled slowly out of the dining hall, his friends trailing behind, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I think that’s a sign I did the cruise right,” he said, giving his gut another rub. “When you eat so much, you can’t even stand.”

“Guess we’ll have to roll you off the ship!” one of his friends joked, and Carlos joined in the laughter, feeling the deep, satisfied ache of his belly.

He knew he had pushed his limits, and he loved every second of it. The cruise had been the ultimate indulgence, and his last meal was proof that he had embraced it fully. As he made his way back to his room, his belly bouncing and swaying with each step, Carlos felt a sense of pride. He had grown—both in size and in appetite—and he was already looking forward to the next time he could push those limits even further.

Chapter 17 finale

Carlos returned home from the cruise feeling heavier than ever, his body bearing the signs of a week of indulgence. The mirror in his bathroom confirmed what he already knew—he had gone too far this time. His belly, once large and round, now hung heavily in front of him, a soft mass that jiggled with every movement. His chest, which had become fuller and softer over the months, now sagged to the sides, pushing out against his shirts. Even his face, fuller and rounder than ever, showed the effects of his overindulgence.

The first morning back, Carlos stood in front of the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his gut. It was massive, spilling out over the waistband of his shorts, and the fabric strained to contain his thighs and love handles. He sighed, feeling the soft flesh beneath his fingers jiggle with the motion. He had pushed his body to its limit, and it was time to make a change.

“This has gotten out of hand,” he muttered, his eyes tracing the heavy curves and rolls that had formed around his midsection. “I need to get back on track.”

Carlos decided to start walking again. It was the only exercise that felt manageable given his size, and he remembered how good it felt when he used to walk every morning before his appetite had truly taken over. He was determined to find balance again—not to lose all his gains but to regain control of his health. This time, he was serious about it.

He laced up his sneakers, which felt snug around his feet, and pulled on the largest shirt he owned. It was loose enough to give him some room, but even then, it clung to his chest and belly, leaving much of his midsection exposed as he moved. With a deep breath, he stepped outside, feeling the cool morning air against his skin. The first few steps felt heavy; his body swayed as his belly bounced with every movement. He could feel the strain in his legs, the way his thighs rubbed together with each stride.

Carlos started slow, focusing on finding a steady rhythm. His body, now so much heavier than before, required more effort, and he could feel the jiggle of his belly and chest with each step. But as he continued, he felt a familiar sense of peace. The morning was quiet, the air crisp, and with every step, he felt himself reconnecting with the sense of control he’d once had.

His walks became a daily routine. Each morning, he went a little further, pushing himself to go just one more block. He noticed the way his body responded—how his legs, though thick, began to feel stronger as they adjusted to the weight they carried. His breathing, which had felt labored at first, gradually became easier, and he felt his endurance slowly building. But most importantly, he felt his mind clear. Walking gave him time to think, to reflect on the choices he had made and the changes he wanted to implement.

Carlos still struggled with his appetite. Every day was a challenge to resist the large meals he had grown accustomed to, but he started to make small adjustments. He swapped out his massive breakfasts for smaller, more balanced meals—fruit, oatmeal, eggs. At lunch, he cut down on portions, making healthier choices without entirely depriving himself. Dinners were the hardest; the temptation to indulge was strongest in the evenings, but Carlos reminded himself that his walks were only one part of the equation.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, and the progress was slow. His body was used to being large, and the habits he had formed over the past year weren’t going to disappear overnight. But with every walk, he felt a little stronger, a little more capable of making the changes he needed. He still loved the feeling of his bulky body, but he also wanted to be able to move freely, to have the energy to keep lifting and enjoying life without feeling weighed down.

One morning, as he finished his walk and stood back in front of the mirror, Carlos saw the small signs of improvement. His belly, still large and soft, didn’t hang quite as heavily as before. His legs felt more solid beneath him, and his face, while still full, had regained some of its definition. It wasn’t about becoming lean again—he knew that wasn’t his goal—but about finding the middle ground where he could be big, strong, and healthy.

With a grin, he gave his belly a playful pat. It jiggled under his hand, a reminder of the journey he had been on and the work still ahead. “One step at a time,” he said to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Carlos continued to walk every day, embracing the small victories and the progress he made. He wasn’t giving up on his gains; he was just finding a way to balance them. And this time, he felt confident he could do it.

#belly gainer #exjock #musclechub #gaining #male bhm #overfed #gainerjock #fat muscle #fat moobs

24 notes · View notes

19ryan17 · 1 month ago

Text

Ryan and Connor

It hadn’t always been like this.

Ryan used to be the one turning heads. Just two years ago, he looked a lot like Connor—tight waist, broad shoulders, gym-cut arms always filling out his sleeves just enough to get noticed. He and Connor had even met in the campus gym, spotting each other on the bench, exchanging those subtle nods and sweaty grins that jocks did when sizing each other up.

Back then, Ryan was on a meal plan, protein shakes, Greek yogurt, grilled chicken. He tracked macros religiously. His dorm had practically been a temple to lean mass and low body fat. But life had a funny way of derailing things.

It started small—just a semester off the gym due to a shoulder injury. Then a breakup that hit him harder than he admitted. One late night turned into two. Post-class beers turned into six-packs. The chicken got replaced with drive-thru, the protein shakes with milkshakes. His shirts got tighter, then stayed in drawers. The beard came in thick, and shaving just felt like too much of a chore.

By the time graduation came around, Ryan had ballooned past recognition. His abs were long gone, buried under a heavy, round belly that sloshed when he moved. His thighs rubbed together when he walked. His back was always damp with sweat. And the smell? Let’s just say deodorant wasn't part of the new routine. He'd embraced it. Gotten comfortable.

But Connor hadn't changed. If anything, he’d doubled down. He was up early every morning, off to the gym with that stupid stainless steel water bottle and sleeveless hoodie. Still lean. Still fresh-faced. Still that slightly cocky, clean-cut golden boy who turned heads just walking down the street.

Ryan hated how much he still wanted him.

They’d moved in together after college to split rent in the city. A two-bedroom apartment, modest but clean, with a decent kitchen and a shared bathroom. Ryan took the bigger room—he needed more space. And every day, he watched Connor glide through life effortlessly, brushing his perfect teeth in front of the mirror while Ryan’s belly jiggled as he scratched at his armpits and yawned through his morning stink.

Connor never judged. Never mocked. He just was—all sleek and athletic, like a permanent reminder of what Ryan used to be. Or worse—what he wanted.

At first, Ryan kept things to himself. He’d peek through doorways when Connor was shirtless, catch a glimpse of that faint Adonis belt. The smooth V of his hips. His hairless, taut chest rising and falling as he slept. It wasn’t fair. Guys like Ryan weren’t supposed to want guys like Connor. But he did. Badly.

And then came the feeding attempts.

The Food Strategy Ryan started small. Cooking a bit more, offering second helpings. “You’ve been working hard, man. You should eat more,” he’d say, sliding another greasy grilled cheese across the table.

Connor would raise an eyebrow but eat it. He was polite like that. Ryan upped the portions. Bacon for breakfast. Burgers for dinner. Pizza for midnight snacks. He always made enough for two, always made sure the food was rich, oily, heavy.

Connor ate. He was too nice not to. But it never stuck.

Ryan watched, annoyed, as Connor's body refused to change. He stayed lean. Shredded. You could see the veins in his forearms, even after half a pizza. He didn’t even seem to bloat. He just burned through it all like a furnace. Must’ve been all the workouts—those endless 6 a.m. runs, the late-night ab sessions, the way he still took the stairs to their fifth-floor apartment without breaking a sweat.

Ryan, meanwhile, was winded from rolling off the couch.

He got desperate. Tried adding heavy cream to sauces. Started using lard in the scrambled eggs. Bought weight-gainer powder and hid it in protein shakes. Connor didn’t notice—he was used to chugging them.

But still, nothing.

Ryan started muttering to himself. “Why won’t it stick?”

He began watching Connor more closely. His daily rituals. The way he moisturized his skin. How his towel always hung neatly over the rack. The lemon-scented soap. The whitening toothpaste. The order of it all.

Ryan looked at his own routine—if you could call it that. He hadn't trimmed his beard in months. His gut was always sweaty. His sheets smelled like man-musk. His room reeked of old food and body spray. He was the opposite of Connor now. And maybe that was the problem.

He couldn’t make Connor love him by feeding him.

He had to make Connor become him.

The Plan Ryan’s turning point came one night while scrolling through obscure message boards on his phone, lying shirtless in his unmade bed. A post caught his eye: “Got hair envy? Tired of feeling like a twink in a bear’s world? Try THIS.”

He clicked. The site was shady. No branding. Just glowing testimonials and an anonymous checkout. It promised: “Rapid follicular stimulation, body composition modulation, and pheromone augmentation.” A single bottle. A mist. Unscented. Untraceable. Delivered in plain packaging.

He didn’t even hesitate.

When the bottle arrived, it was small. Glass. Brown. No label. But Ryan could feel the weight of it in his hand. He knew it worked. He just knew.

That night, he walked into Connor’s room like a man on a mission. His roommate was snoring gently, shirtless under the sheets. The moonlight glinted off his smooth chest.

Ryan’s hand shook as he uncapped the bottle.

If the food won’t change you… this will.

He misted it over Connor’s chest. Then his arms. His neck. Three spritzes, like the instructions had said. He waited. Nothing happened. But he hadn’t expected fireworks. This was long-game stuff.

He stepped back, smiling. The first step was done.

He was going to make Connor his. Not just in heart. But in body. In scent. In everything.

And when it was over, they’d finally be equals. No more pretty-boy prince and his slob roommate. No more distance.

Connor would be his mirror.

And he’d love it.

It started with the hair.

Connor had always been smooth. Not by effort—he just didn't grow much hair. His chest was bare, arms lightly dusted, and his jawline clean with just a day's worth of subtle, sandy stubble when he let it go. He shaved once every couple days, mostly for his girlfriend Madison, who liked him "polished and fresh."

But that week, something changed.

It was after one of his early morning runs. He'd come back to the apartment, sweaty and flushed, stripped off his shirt like usual, and hit the shower. But as the water hit his chest, he paused.

There were hairs.

Not a lot, but enough. Fine, light brown ones curled just beneath his collarbone, growing down the middle of his pecs in a line he'd never noticed before.

He frowned, running his hand down his chest, feeling the soft bristle that hadn't been there a few days ago. He shaved it, of course. Thought it was a fluke.

But by the next day, it was back. Thicker.

And by day three, it wasn't just on his chest.

"Dude, your arms okay?" asked Ryan, standing in the kitchen in nothing but a stretched-out tank top and boxer briefs. He was scooping instant mashed potatoes straight into a bowl of shredded cheese, eyes flicking toward Connor's biceps.

Connor looked down. His forearms had grown darker. The hair there was coarser now, more obvious. He flexed his hand, and the muscles still popped—but so did the trail of fuzz up to his elbows.

"Yeah, I guess," he muttered. "Kinda weird."

Ryan just smiled.

"You're finally catching up to me, man. Bout time."

Connor rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He didn't realize Ryan was watching him carefully, noting how the scent around him had started to shift—less like citrusy deodorant, more like sweat-soaked gym towels and musk.

The smell came next.

It clung to Connor's shirts by the end of the day. Not awful, just strong. Masculine. Earthy. But persistent. No amount of antiperspirant seemed to help. Madison noticed first.

They were cuddled on her couch, watching a movie, when she subtly leaned away.

"Did you… go straight from the gym to here?" she asked.

"No," Connor said, frowning. "I showered right after."

She gave him a look. Not mean, just uncomfortable. "You smell kinda… ripe."

That stung.

Connor went home, scrubbed harder in the shower, even used some of Madison's exfoliating soap. But the next morning, it was still there. And his armpits itched more than usual. When he checked in the mirror, he saw why.

His underarm hair had doubled in thickness. It curled wildly now, deep and dark, clinging damp to his skin.

By the end of the week, his chest hair had grown back fully—denser than ever. A dark patch had started blooming between his pecs and branching out toward his stomach. There was a trail down his abs now, one that thickened daily.

Connor tried shaving again, but it itched terribly when it grew back. And it always grew back. Faster.

Madison snapped when they met up the next weekend.

"Connor, seriously? You didn't even try to clean up before this?"

"What are you talking about? I just showered," he protested.

"You smell like you've been sitting in a locker room for a week! And what's going on with your… everything? You look like you haven't shaved in months."

He opened his mouth, but she kept going.

"I just… I can't. This isn't what I signed up for. You used to be clean. Smooth. You cared about hygiene! Now you reek, and you've got more chest hair than my dad."

"Madison, come on. It's just—I'm under a lot of stress. And I don't know, maybe it's hormones or something."

She shook her head, stepping back.

"I'm sorry, Connor. I just can't be with someone who doesn't take care of themselves."

And just like that, she was gone.

Connor came home miserable.

He flopped onto the couch, still in his gym clothes, head in his hands. Ryan, already there with a plate of loaded nachos on his bare stomach, looked up.

"She dumped you, huh?"

"Yeah."

Ryan sat up, set the plate on the coffee table, and grabbed another one from the kitchen. Within minutes, he'd piled it high with food: fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, cornbread.

"C'mon. You need comfort food."

Connor hesitated.

"Dude. One cheat meal won’t kill you. Plus, look at you. You could gain a few pounds."

Connor managed a weak laugh and sat down.

Ryan watched him closely as he ate. And he did eat. A lot.

The food comfort continued. One dinner turned into a habit. Connor stopped counting calories. Ryan always knew where to go: steakhouses, burger joints, pizza buffets.

"Appetizers too, yeah?"

"You sure you don't want your own fries?"

"You finishing that milkshake?"

And Connor, hurt and drifting, said yes more and more. The food made him feel warm. Safe.

He didn’t notice that his gym visits were becoming less frequent. Or how tight his compression shirts were getting.

His friends did.

When he met them for drinks, his buddy Jordan laughed.

"Damn, bro, what happened to you? You look like a bear."

"You been camping or something? You smell like firewood and armpit."

Connor laughed it off, scratching the dark beard that now covered his jaw. He hadn’t bothered shaving it since Madison left. What was the point?

Ryan leaned back in his chair, smiling smugly.

It was working.

Connor was cracking.

He wasn’t just hairier.

He was slipping.

And soon, Ryan knew, he wouldn’t want to go back.

Connor stood in front of the bathroom mirror, towel barely clinging to his waist, eyes locked on the thick forest creeping across his chest. The coarse hairs had spread over the last week, connecting in patches that now formed a solid, dark mat stretching from his pecs down to his stomach. His armpits had become dense and wiry, a jungle of scent that lingered even after long showers. Worse, the hair wasn’t just multiplying—it was coming in darker, denser, sweatier. His skin had taken on a constant sheen of sweat, no matter how much deodorant or cologne he applied.

Connor’s reflection didn’t lie. No matter how much he tried to suck in his stomach or twist to find the best angle, the gut was there—round, hairy, soft, and unmistakably growing. It hung slightly over the waistband of his now-snug joggers, pressing against the fabric with a slow confidence. His pecs, once defined and high, had softened too, the edges blurred with fat. And his arms? They’d grown thicker, but not with muscle. There was a puffiness to them now. He scratched at his chest—coarse hair spilling over his fingertips, a constant itch that reminded him how different his body had become.

At first, Connor still clung to old routines. He dragged himself to the gym, hoping to reclaim something of his old self. But the gym had changed for him—or rather, he had changed for the gym. His body felt heavier. Movements that once came easily now required effort. Jumping jacks left him winded. His T-shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat before he even reached the halfway mark of his routine. Worst of all, when he tried a simple plank, his gut sagged, brushing the floor, a hairy curtain swaying beneath him.

And the smell. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. No matter how many showers he took, there was always a musky scent. Strong, persistent, deeply masculine. He’d overheard one of the trainers whispering to another guy, “Does he not know he reeks like a high school locker room?” It stung. Connor finished his session early and didn’t look back.

Ryan was waiting at home, greasy takeout containers spread across the table like a buffet. “Rough day?” he asked, already reaching for a fried chicken drumstick. Connor nodded and sank into the couch. Ryan slid a cheeseburger into his hands.

“It’s easier to let go,” Ryan said softly. “Let the world stop judging you.”

That week, they went out to eat almost every night. Ryan knew all the best greasy diners, burger joints, and rib shacks. Every time, he ordered more than Connor said he wanted, acting surprised when Connor inevitably cleaned every plate. "You're just hungry, man. You’ve been starving yourself with all those greens and powders for years. Your body’s thanking you."

Connor's clothes were beginning to lose the battle. His favorite jeans dug into his waist so hard they left red lines. His gym shorts barely pulled past his thighs. Even his shirts started riding up, exposing the growing curve of his belly. One morning, standing in front of the mirror, he lifted his arms to stretch and the hem of his shirt got stuck halfway over his gut, revealing a thick trail of belly hair and two love handles.

“I think we need to go shopping,” Ryan said, peeking his head into the room.

They hit a department store downtown. Ryan insisted on tagging along in the changing room, passing Connor size after size until they settled into XL territory. The first time Connor pulled on a loose tank top and it actually fit, he sighed with relief—but also with surrender.

"Looks good," Ryan said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Connor’s friends weren’t as subtle. “Dude, what happened to you?” Marcus asked at a house party. “You used to be, like, gym-hot. Now you’re just... comfy?” He tried to laugh it off, but the words hit.

At home, even the shower had become a new experience. He bumped the walls more. His belly, covered in matted hair, jiggled when he washed it, his hands lingering longer than necessary. He’d find himself cupping his chest or dragging his fingers through the hair on his thighs, lost in thought.

One night, Connor caught Ryan watching him. Not subtly. Ryan's eyes followed every movement as Connor dried off in the hallway, towel clinging around his thick waist, hair curling damply on his chest and stomach.

“You’re really filling out,” Ryan said, voice lower than usual. “Looks... good.”

Connor felt a rush of heat in his face. He looked away, mumbling a thanks, but the words got caught in his throat. Later that night, they ended up eating wings together on the couch, fingers greasy, laughing at something on TV. Their thighs touched, and neither moved away.

Connor knew. He knew. Ryan had been behind something—maybe everything. But the thought of confronting him... took too much energy. And truth be told, when Ryan looked at him now, Connor felt seen in a way he never had before. Not for who he was, but for who he’d become.

The cravings were stronger. The gym, further and further away. His world now centered around heavy meals, sweat-damp shirts, and Ryan’s gentle, guiding hand on the small of his back.

Connor had officially given up trying to fight it.

It started with a moment. A lazy, quiet Sunday morning, sunlight cutting through the blinds, the house heavy with the warm scent of bacon, butter, and something muskier—something unmistakably them. Ryan was in the kitchen in just his stretched-out boxers, frying sausage and singing off-key. Connor was sitting at the table shirtless, arms crossed over the mound of belly that now pressed against his thighs when he sat. His chest hair curled thick across his pecs. His once-tight sweatpants had rolled down under the soft swell of his gut. He caught a glimpse of himself in the dark window and blinked. That can’t be me.

But it was.

And part of him… didn’t hate it anymore.

It had been weeks since he tried the gym. And when he finally went back, it was a disaster.

Everything was wrong. His old gym tank rode up above his navel, revealing the thick trail of hair that led from his wide chest down across his belly. His sneakers barely fit—his feet puffier now—and just tying them left him winded. He caught stares in the mirror. His once-proud arms now jiggled when he moved. When he tried the treadmill, his thick thighs chafed. Sweat poured off of him—and he stank. Not like regular BO—something richer, more primal.

He lasted fifteen minutes before giving up.

He saw himself in the locker room mirror: puffy, hairy, red-faced. His gut, heavy and furred, sagged enough that he couldn't see his feet. One guy passed by and muttered, “Damn, Connor really let himself go.”

It hit like a punch to the chest.

He drove home and walked in the front door to the smell of fried cheese and garlic knots.

Ryan looked up from the couch. “Rough day?”

Connor nodded and collapsed beside him. “It’s over. I’m done pretending.”

Ryan passed him a garlic knot. “You did your best. But some guys weren’t meant to be gym rats.”

Connor took a bite. Then another.

Then the whole basket.

Over the next week, everything accelerated.

Connor’s appetite exploded. Ryan took him out constantly—diners, BBQ joints, taco trucks. At first, Connor resisted. But Ryan always ordered extra. “Just in case.” Then he'd nudge it toward Connor with a smirk.

“You sure you’re done?” “Well, if it’s already here…”

His belly pressed tighter into his shirts. His jeans no longer buttoned. He started borrowing Ryan’s clothes—loose sweatpants and oversized tees that clung in new ways. On laundry day, Connor stood shirtless and barefoot, scratching his stomach, looking at the pile of his old clothes that no longer fit. Ryan walked in and whistled.

“Lookin’ good, big guy.”

Connor blushed. “Shut up.”

The shower became a new battlefield.

He barely fit in it now. His sides brushed the glass. When he bent down to soap his legs, his gut hung heavy, swaying. His pits stank stronger than ever. His beard was fuller now, matching Ryan’s, and his chest hair was a jungle. Steam clung to his skin, to the thick curls across his back and shoulders.

He ran his hands across his belly. It felt good. He squeezed it, watched the flesh move. There was a strange pride forming.

When he stepped out of the shower, Ryan was brushing his teeth. Their eyes met. Connor caught himself staring at Ryan’s wide, hairy chest. Ryan noticed.

It happened the next night.

They were watching a movie on the couch, close, shirtless, both nursing greasy paper baskets of fried chicken. Ryan reached over, casually rubbing Connor’s belly. Just a little at first. Circles. Slow. Connor didn’t stop him.

“You’re really filling out,” Ryan murmured. “Looks good on you.”

Connor grunted. “Shut up.”

Ryan leaned in. “You know… I always liked you.”

Connor turned his head, mouth full. “What?”

“I’ve always liked you. But you’d never look at a guy like me. So I thought, maybe… if you were more like me…”

The words hung there. Heavy. Like everything else in their lives now.

Connor sat up, belly bouncing. “You… did this to me.”

Ryan didn’t deny it.

“I used the serum. I made the food. I wanted you to see how good it feels.”

Connor stood, but struggled. He waddled to the door, shirt clinging to his back, breathing hard.

He made it two steps outside. Then stopped.

The cold hit his sweaty skin. His belly gurgled. His thighs rubbed raw.

He looked back at the warm light of the house. The smell of fried chicken. Of Ryan. Of home.

He returned inside.

Later that week, they went out to eat together in public. Shirtless in a dive burger bar, hairy bellies on full display. The waitress wrinkled her nose. The family at the next table moved. But they didn’t care. They were too busy laughing, feeding each other fries, and making out between bites.

At one point, Connor leaned back, stomach covered in sauce, licking his fingers. Ryan leaned in and licked a bit off his beard.

“You’re mine now, huh?”

Connor didn’t even fight it.

Connor was sprawled on the couch in their shared apartment, the late afternoon sun spilling lazily through the window and casting warm golden light across the room. In his lap rested a greasy cheeseburger, half-eaten, juices slicking down his fingers and dripping onto his thickening belly.

Ryan sat beside him, comfortably stretched out and flipping through a magazine without a care in the world, his own ample frame a soft cushion next to Connor’s growing mass.

Suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of a distant TV show, a loud, unapologetic burp erupted from Connor’s chest, the sound echoing off the walls. He froze, cheeks flushing crimson as he lowered his eyes to the mess on his hands.

“Uh… sorry,” Connor mumbled sheepishly, embarrassed beyond words. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, but the scent of grease and the faint musk of sweat clung stubbornly to his skin.

Ryan chuckled warmly and ran a hand over Connor’s belly, the soft flesh wobbling beneath his touch. “You’re just full, big guy. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Connor shifted uneasily, but before he could reply, a sudden, unmistakable fart escaped him—loud and lingering, a ripe mixture of musk and grease that filled the room. He gasped, covering his face in shame.

“Oh god,” Connor groaned, “I can’t control this stuff anymore.”

Ryan laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief and something softer. “You’re turning into me, little dude. Just gotta own it.”

Days blurred together, but Connor could feel the change inside him growing heavier than the weight he carried physically. His mind felt foggy, as if thick molasses had seeped into his thoughts. Reading textbooks became an exhausting chore, letters swimming on the page until his vision blurred.

He tried to focus, determined to hold on to who he’d been, but it was like grasping at sand slipping through his fingers.

One afternoon, as he sat in the living room, Connor accidentally left a greasy fingerprint on his laptop screen. He stared at it blankly for a long moment before he realized he should wipe it off. The simplest task felt monumental.

Ryan noticed the dazed look in his eyes and gave him a teasing smile. “Hey, big dumb bear,” he said affectionately, fingers brushing through Connor’s thickening beard.

Connor sighed, the haze around his brain thickening with each passing day. “Feels like my head’s turning to mush.”

Ryan pulled him close, rubbing slow circles on his belly. “It’s okay. You’re softening up. You’ll get used to it.”

Connor rested his head against Ryan’s chest, comforted despite the creeping realization that the sharpness he once prized was fading away.

One evening, while scrolling through his phone, Connor received a notification—a message from an old group chat with his college friends.

“Hey man! We’re hitting the pool tomorrow. You in?” one message read cheerfully.

Connor hesitated, the knot tightening in his stomach. He hadn’t seen any of them since the changes started, and fear gripped him tightly. What would they say? Would they recognize him under the thick hair and growing belly? He was no longer the lean, clean-cut guy they remembered.

Despite the anxiety, he agreed, telling himself it was good to try to stay connected.

The next afternoon, Connor pulled on his trunks, grimacing as the fabric stretched painfully tight over his swollen gut and fuzzy legs. His chest hair matted against his skin, and the scent of sweat and musk clung to him like a second skin.

At the pool, his friends froze.

“Whoa, dude! What happened to you?” one blurted, eyes wide in disbelief.

Another shook his head, awkward laughter escaping. “Man, you really let yourself go, huh?”

Connor’s cheeks burned with shame. His thick hair curled wetly around his arms and chest, and the extra weight shifted uncomfortably as he tried to move.

“I—yeah, guess I did,” he muttered, trying to cover his belly with his hands.

The friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to respond to the new, heavier, hairier version of their once fit buddy.

Connor’s heart sank. The unspoken judgment weighed on him more heavily than his expanding waistline.

Over the following weeks, the comments grew more pointed, more biting.

“You used to be ripped,” one friend remarked during a casual hangout.

“Now you’re just… there,” another muttered under his breath.

“You’re making us all look bad,” someone else joked—though the humor was cold and empty.

Connor tried to laugh it off, but each remark cut deeper. He felt trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him, covered in thick hair he couldn’t shave away, smelling stronger and muskier every day. His scent clung to him even after showers, and the teasing didn’t stop.

One night, after a particularly harsh comment, Connor shaved his arms and chest, desperate for control, for a reminder of the clean-cut self he once was.

But the hair grew back overnight—darker, curlier, and even more abundant than before. He ran his hand over the prickly new growth and sighed.

His friends didn’t notice the hair so much as the weight—the slowness in his movements, the way he avoided meeting their eyes.

After one particularly brutal day of social judgment, Connor trudged home, his shirt damp with sweat and embarrassment, eyes red and stinging with unshed tears.

Ryan greeted him with open arms and a warm smile.

“Rough day, huh?”

Connor collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in Ryan’s broad chest.

Ryan lifted Connor’s chin, revealing tired, shining eyes, and handed him a giant plate piled high with greasy fries, crispy chicken wings, and a huge, frothy milkshake.

“Let me take care of you.”

Connor ate slowly, the familiar taste soothing his aching heart. Ryan’s hands never left his belly, rubbing slow, comforting circles, fingers tangling in Connor’s beard as he pet him gently.

“You’re perfect like this,” Ryan whispered, voice low and full of affection.

Connor leaned into the touch, the weight of judgment outside melting away as Ryan’s love wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

Over the next few days, Connor found himself staring longer into mirrors, tracing the outline of his once lean frame, now hidden beneath a thick blanket of hair and fat. His face, once sharp and clean, had softened around the edges, his jawline blurred by a growing beard that he no longer bothered to trim meticulously.

His gut pressed forward, stretching shirts beyond recognition. He noticed his hands, pudgier now, fingers thicker and slightly swollen. The fine hair on his arms darkened and thickened, climbing toward his shoulders like wild vines.

One evening, alone in the bathroom, Connor ran a hand down his chest. The hair there tickled his skin, rough and wild. He could feel the weight beneath—his own breath heavy in the room.

The scent of musk lingered on his skin despite the long hot shower he’d just taken.

He let out a deep sigh, half frustration, half something else—an odd calm settling in him.

The guy he’d been, the sharp, fast, athletic Connor, was vanishing like mist at dawn. The new Connor was softer, slower, more animal than man. And somewhere in that loss, he felt a strange pull—not just fear, but something quietly thrilling.

Ryan, ever patient and warm, began showing signs of deeper affection—not just through teasing or comfort food, but subtle, intimate touches.

During one quiet night, as they watched a movie, Ryan shifted closer, fingers brushing lightly against Connor’s furry arm.

“Hey, big guy,” Ryan murmured, voice low and smooth.

Connor’s heart skipped. He tried to pull back but found himself leaning in, drawn to the warmth.

Ryan’s hand moved to Connor’s belly, fingers tracing lazy circles through the soft hair.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Being this way.”

Connor swallowed hard, conflicted. The softness, the smell, the slow warmth of Ryan’s touch tangled his thoughts. He wanted to resist, to fight back, but his body betrayed him—he relaxed, letting Ryan’s hand soothe and claim him.

One weekend, Ryan dragged Connor out for a casual lunch with some of their old mutual friends. Connor dreaded it, imagining the cruel comments, the pitying looks.

They arrived at the bustling café, Connor’s belly noticeably filling the chair, his shirt straining across his broad, hairy chest.

Friends’ eyes widened instantly.

“Oh wow, dude. You’ve… changed,” one said awkwardly, voice barely hiding judgment.

Another joked, “Looks like Ryan’s really got you under his thumb now.”

Connor flushed, the familiar sting of embarrassment burning hot.

But Ryan squeezed his hand, whispering, “Ignore them, you’re amazing.”

They ordered huge plates of comfort food, and Connor ate with surprising ease, the greasy sauces clinging to his beard and chest hair. He could feel eyes watching him, hear the whispers.

But he didn't care.

#fat tf #gainer tf #hairy #hairy tf #male tf #happy trail #hairyman #chest hair #hairyscruffguys #gay hairy

14 notes · View notes

rmimetagenics7 · 2 years ago

Text

One of the most significant advantages of shopping for nutrition supplements online is the convenience it offers. With just a few clicks, you can explore a vast array of products, read detailed descriptions, and compare prices. Our online store is your go-to destination for high-quality nutrition supplements that can enhance your health and energy. Contact Us: (646) 384-4092

#nutrition supplements online store #Protein packed meal replacement #Healthy shakes

0 notes

acti-veg · 6 months ago

Note

I am not vegan but for the past few years my discomfort towards death of animals have increased bit by bit…one part of me truly believes that animals eat animals and we are animals, and it all fits into a cycle of life etc, and that although commercial agriculture doesn’t fit into this idea, eating animals isnt actually bad; another part of me flinches everytime i see an animal die. I think i am turning more towards veganism everyday, but I also have a lot of health issues (one that requires me to eat a lot of protein, for example, and another that prevents me from eating anything that has gluten in it) so do you have any recommendations for eating higher protein food, and without eating huge meals by volume? Are protein shakes my only option here? For reference, i am supposed to be eating 180-210 g of protein everyday, and even on a meat eater diet I can’t reach it most days. You have a lot of interesting guidelines that Ive been looking into, and i was wondering if you would have more suggestions if i asked. Thank you for your time

Hey anon, thanks for getting in touch!

I just want to address the ‘cycle of life’ thing before I offer more practical advice. We breed and slaughter trillions of animals, most of whom we have selectively bred to be unrecognisable as any natural creature. We wrap their flesh in plastic and buy it from the supermarket, disrupting natural cycles in the process and killing off natural predators to protect our livestock. This is about as far from any natural conception of a ‘cycle of life’ thar can be imagined.

Humans are just not part of that cycle anymore, at least not in rich, consumer societies. We possess awesome technology, we have driven many species to extinction, and replaced them with species that serve our interests. There is no version of a ‘circle of life’ that includes humans living in industrial societies in any way that makes sense.

Regarding protein, I try to get about 180g myself for the gym, I fall short some days but I can assure you that it is very possible. I have a post outlining some good options here, I’d particularly recommend lentils, beans, chickpeas and tofu. I’d also add soy chunks to that, they’re 50g per 100g, gluten free and very cheap.

Unless you’re eating large quantities of high protein foods, I can’t see you hitting that sort of range on any diet without using protein shakes. They’re just a very easy way to pack in a lot of protein without having a lot food. I used Protein Works Vegan Protein, it’s 25g per scoop. You can just do two scoops with water for 50g but I tend to do a scoop with half a cup of oats, a tablespoon of peanut butter, a banana and a teaspoon of chia seeds - that’s about 35g and is pretty nutrient dense aside from just protein. Huel Black is also gluten free and 40g per serving.

It will take a bit of planning, some meal prepping and probably some boring meals, but it can definitely be done. I’d recommend tracking your protein intake while you get the hang of it. An app like My Fitness Pal will make that easy (you don’t need the pro version), and once you have some of your regular meals saved it becomes quick to log.

Start by trying out new foods, and build up a repertoire of meals you can make and enjoy. Then start replacing your existing meals, while being meticulous with your logging to see where you’re at now, and start planning in high protein meals and snacks if you need to add more. It is a process and it will take you time to get there, just take it as slow as you need to and look after your health first and foremost.

#ask #vegan #protein #gluten free

10 notes · View notes

rayanrayhan · 8 months ago

Text

How Can Embracing Vegan and Organic Food Transform Your Life?

Once upon a time, there was a man named Jake who, like so many others, led a busy life filled with obligations, deadlines, and constant demands. Living in the heart of America, he was the definition of a hard-working individual. But amidst the hustle and bustle, he often felt something missing—a deep sense of health and vitality. Jake longed to wake up with energy, with a sense of purpose that came from within, but his diet, lifestyle, and unbalanced choices seemed to weigh him down, both physically and emotionally.

One evening, while browsing through his social media feed, Jake stumbled upon a website called OrNs Health—a place dedicated to sharing health tips, promoting a lifestyle rich in organic food, and encouraging people to explore the benefits of vegan food. It was a haven for those interested in natural, wholesome living, and it quickly grabbed his attention. The author, a well-respected and motivational figure named Rayan, shared insights that spoke directly to Jake’s heart. It was as if Rayan’s words were written for him. His stories weren't just tips; they were invitations to a healthier, more vibrant life.

The more Jake read, the more he realized he wanted a change. He started to imagine what it might be like to feel fully alive, to embrace food and health not just as a necessity, but as a source of joy and well-being. He found himself asking, What if vegan food could be the key to that change? He knew he had to give it a try.

Rayan's article on Vegan Health Tips for Optimal Wellness laid out the journey with simplicity and grace. Jake learned that vegan food was more than just avoiding meat—it was about filling his life with whole, organic food choices that nourished every cell in his body. Every vegetable, every fruit, every grain—each ingredient carried with it the promise of improved health. The article explained the importance of staying balanced with proteins, healthy fats, and vitamins, and Jake began to realize that he could live in harmony with food that grew naturally, without needing to compromise on taste or nutrients.

Jake decided to commit. He began his mornings with green smoothies packed with leafy greens, berries, and nuts, following Rayan’s advice to start his day with nutrient-dense options. Lunchtime became a ritual, filled with colorful salads, vibrant grains, and hearty vegetables, all seasoned with spices and herbs that made each bite flavorful and satisfying. As he embraced this lifestyle, Jake noticed his energy levels rising, his skin clearing up, and his mind becoming sharper. The brain fog that once held him back lifted, replaced with a calm clarity that made his days feel more meaningful.

But it wasn’t just physical changes. This journey led him to a new way of seeing life. By adopting Rayan’s health tips and focusing on organic food, Jake felt connected to nature, knowing that the choices he made for himself were also beneficial for the world around him. His meals were no longer just fuel but celebrations of the earth’s bounty, prepared with respect and intention. Eating became an act of gratitude, a ritual that reinforced his commitment to live a full, healthy life.

And so, every step of Jake’s transformation, every moment of inspiration he felt, was tied back to Rayan’s guidance. Rayan’s website had shown him that life could be rich and fulfilling through mindful, plant-based eating. Today, Jake’s journey with vegan food and organic living continues, one meal at a time. He’s become the embodiment of Rayan’s mission—a person who not only lives a healthy lifestyle but also shares his story with others, hoping to inspire the same sense of vitality and well-being.

Curious about starting your journey toward better health? Dive into Rayan's collection of tips on vegan food, health, and wellness. Visit OrNs Health at ornsh.com, and let the transformation begin. https://ornsh.com/vegan-health-tips/

#vegan #veganfood #vegetarian

11 notes · View notes

feralferrule · 9 months ago

Text

Charity and Decadence

Chapter 2

Word count 4148

Clone Wars season 7 Echo and Reader

This second part is mostly a big flashback

Warnings: As a whole this fic is 18+ minors DNI,

Chapter 2 has mentions of pregnancy, descriptions of lactation, blood, a little voyeurism

Fic Masterlist

The man had already been taken care of for the time being so you had a thorough snoop of the kitchenette’s supply of rations. It seemed well stocked with ration bars but not much more. Your stomach growled. Figuring it was about lunch time, you grabbed a protein bar and downed it with an electrolyte drink pack you found in a box on the counter. Ugh, you thought, at least you wouldn’t be tempted to overeat the supplies. But your small meal had you feeling guilty. You had to figure out a way to help the poor clone.

As if that was their que, your boobs started aching. This gave you an idea. Kill two birds with one stone you figured. You went back up level and into the med bay. Rummaging around you found a cup in the cabinets, washed your hands and undid your top. Reaching into your breast band you slid the absorbent bandage out from one side and stretched the band under that boob. You paused, were you really going to do this? What would he think about this? You proceeded to manually express milk into the cup like you had been instructed by the GAR medic that day you were found.

******

The studdering sound rose above the wind. And with it a cacophony of multiple people’s thoughts and feelings. And a stronger feeling reached out to you, it felt like being watched. You whipped around to face it and saw a bulky looking craft in flight coming straight toward you. There was a large opening on either side and inside were many human figures in white helmets and armor and one in brown robes with no helmet. As the craft touched down kicking up dirt and debris in the grass the robed man signaled to the armored people (who were armed with large guns you could now see) to stay on the ship. He hopped out and slowly walked toward you, holding out his hands to show they were empty. His eyes were large and intense against his dark skin, but not unkind as he stared with concern and a little confusion.

You could feel his question before he spoke. [[ Who are you and what are you doing here?]] Which was a good thing because you could not understand his language when he spoke out loud.

“I don't know” you said, hugging your arms to your body feeling very self conscious and exposed under the stare of a whole lot of men while covered in breastmilk in a tiny beach coverup dress.

The robed man raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat. The caution and suspicion rolling off of him replaced by almost sheepishness. Turning around to the soldiers he barked some orders then slid his robe off and held it out to you in the wind with a somewhat awkward half smile. You stepped forward and took it around yourself.

“Thank you” you said out loud feeling a confusing wave of gratitude and embarrassment at his apparent total reading of your mind. You were also annoyed he wasn’t telling you who he was or what he was doing there. You figured you must be blushing furiously as hot as your face felt, but he was staring past you and up to the cloud. You felt danger and turned to look and saw that the storm clouds had darkened and were rotating. At that moment lightning crackled in all directions and the wind whipped up ferociously. Rain pelted down from all directions.

[[We must leave NOW]] his thoughts boomed in your head as his actual voice rose above the howling of the storm.

He held out his hand and you darted towards him. You clasped onto his hand with your free one and held his cloak closed around yourself with the other. You dashed several steps to the craft as he shouted new orders to the men and two held their hands down to you to help you on board. You could feel their curiosity and other emotions all buzzing off of them as they ushered you to a seat toward the back of the craft, crowding through the throng of helmeted men. You plopped in a seat between two soldiers. One of them brought a padded restraint down around you to secure you. As your hands found their grip on the bars over your chest your stomach dropped. The craft lurched upwards and careened around, speeding in the direction it came from. All the men kept their helmets forward but you could feel many eyes and minds on you, a burning curiosity with an edge. They fidgeted a bit, the closest ones adjusting their armor.

The no-longer-robed man sat down across from you and you instantly felt comforted and scrutinized at the same time. He must be really trying to make me feel better about all this you thought. Guess I’m like the stray pet no one was expecting. He chuckled softly and put his face in his hands. Ok he heard that too, and you huffed a short laugh despite the fatigue of utter confusion threatening to make you finally break down and cry.

His hands came down and he looked at you directly and you felt

[[ You are safe, we will help you.]]

This was all it took for the tears to start, but you were too alarmed by the violent turbulence from the storm to fully break down. You closed your eyes and focused on your breath. The vehicle abruptly slowed, spun around and descended with a clunk to the ground. The soldier next to you released the restraint and it rose up, the man stood and offered his hand which you took and he led you through the troopers who were allowing you both to disembark first. The two who had helped you up were standing on the ground ready to help you down. You knelt at the edge of the craft and gave the one your free hand the other supported your elbow and they both steadied you as you hopped down.

“Thank you,” you said to the two of them. You felt more curiosity and… interest from them as their hands lingered. You could feel their heartbeats, hear their breathing grow deeper as their helmets tilted trained on you. They snapped their attention to the man whose robe you still clung to, dropped their hands, stepped away and stood at attention. He spoke to them a bit shortly and they saluted and walked away. He sighed and then looked at you and smiled apologetically. [[I’m sorry, some of the new troopers have never seen a woman before.]]

Cue the record scratch sound. That seems really odd?

All around the area were multiple ships like the one you just arrived in and some huge crafts from which smaller vehicles were being unloaded. And more soldiers, so many soldiers, all in the same white armor and helmets. Some had different markings painted on them or different shaped shoulders. A few in the distance had no helmets on and were either totally shaven or dark haired. And all of them buzzed with energy against the all encompassing and loud background energy-noise that you had not stopped feeling this whole time. It was beginning to really get loud again. You pressed your hands to your temples.

The man put his hands over yours and you felt peace and quiet finally. He looked at you then closed his eyes,

[[ Still your mind and will a barrier around it.]]

You took a deep shuddering breath and imagined the sound- energy- whatever it was not getting past a thick shell around you, it got quieter.

[[Good keep doing that]] he smiled, seemed kind of proud, and gestured to a building that looked like it was made of the same material as the craft you just flew in.

[[ inside are more people who can help you]] you took another look back at the flying craft. Its pilot was out of the cockpit talking to some other soldiers and they were glancing over at you, their impassive helmet faces not hiding their curiosity.

[[Okay]] you tried think-talking back to the man. He lead the way over to the building as a soldier stepped out of its doorway. He was in all the same armor and helmet but his left shoulder had a red symbol on it. It made you think of doctors, was he a medical soldier? What were they called? His helmet tilted to the side as he looked at you and then over to the man.

He immediately ushered the two of you inside where there were several simple chairs and cots and equipment arranged into a kind of hospital looking setup. He had you sit on a cot while he and the not-soldier man sat facing you on wheeled stools. The medical- oh yes they are called medics you remembered- started to talk. Probably introducing himself and asking about you. You couldn’t understand past his concern and slight feeling that you weren’t where you belonged. Yeah no kidding, you mused.

The robe man held up his hand at the soldier and spoke to him for a bit, the medic’s helmet looking back and forth between the two of you at one point glancing down at your chest. When he stopped speaking the medic’s helmeted face stared blankly at you. You felt a wave of some tension roll off of him as he nodded and reached his hand up to his helmet and slid it off.

As his face was revealed you noticed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, stubble on his sharp jawline, well formed lips, a strong nose, deep set brown eyes, strong cheekbones, care worn lines around his eyes and brow, scars and dark hair cut in a flat top style. Overall an angular and handsome face, swarthy but lighter than the robed man. He had a serious and focused look to him that he tried to soften, gave you a smile and cast a very quick glance down your form. Then he swiveled around on his stool, retrieving some objects from a drawer behind him. Turning back he held them up for you to see and fitted one in his ear, handing the other to you with a nod to your ear. You looked closer at it and put it up to your ear. It had a hook that went around the top and back of your ear and seemed to adjust itself automatically. He reached up to his and pressed the little button on the back of it. Then, leaning in closer to you, he reached behind your ear and did the same. His finger tips barely brushed the skin behind your ear, which felt electric. His closeness made a heat flush up your neck and sped up your heart. He smelled good.

You looked down bashfully and glanced over at the other man. He was studying you with a little amusement. Ope, you thought, am I that obvious? Wondering if the medic caught on to your little infatuation as well.

“Can you understand me?” the medic’s unmodulated voice sounded at once foreign but perfectly clear as the device translated in one ear. You looked back at him with surprise and said, “Yes, it’s a little weird, though.”

He smirked, “It will take a while to get used to, but the device will train your brain to understand and speak our language. Depending on how much conversing you do it may take several rotations.”

“Rotations?”

“Days” the robe man said, your head snapped to him, “do you have one in your ear too?”

He smiled and leaned forward on his elbows, “No, you and I are Force connected and I can understand your meaning behind your speech.”

“F-force connected..?” You looked back and forth between the men. “What force?”

“You seem as confused about yourself as we are, let’s start with basics. I am the medic with the 187th, you can call me Splint.”

“I apologize, I am Mace Windu.” Said the robe man, “Jedi Master and general in the GAR,” he added with a slight uptick when he didn’t see recognition on your face.

You raised your eyebrows a bit and looked back and forth between the men, “I’m sorry but I don’t know what my name is, I don’t remember anything, I just kind of woke up back there where you found me in those stone walls with all the light.”

The men frowned and looked at each-other.

“Can you describe what you experienced when you woke up there?” Mace Windu leaned back, hand on his chin.

You closed your eyes picturing the stone floor out in the sea of grass. “ It wasn’t like I was asleep and waking up, it was more like my memories and who I was slipped away as I was able to see around myself through the light. But I felt good, like it was healing every injury I’d ever had and making me stronger, then…” and you felt very hesitant to go on and glanced down to your hands holding the robe at your chest.

“It’s ok, I’m a medical professional and General Windu has told me a bit about what he heard you say back there,” Splint said gently with a soft look of sympathy. “Have you had a baby recently?”

You shook your head, “ That I’m sure I haven’t, I’d remember that, wouldn’t I? It would feel different -down there, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s hard to say.” Said the General. “The ruin we found you in is powerful with the Force and whatever effect it had on you was strong enough to generate the Force storm out there. It may have been bending time around you and the physical effects you experienced may have been your body going back in time. Do you think you ever had children in the past?”

Force this and force that what the heck, you thought “This, sensation, does feel familiar, maybe I have.” A sudden intense worry seized you. Who was missing you? Who was your family, and where? And what would have happened if you had stayed in that blue light any longer? You felt a little sick at the thought.

“I’d like to run some tests on you, nothing too invasive just to check your vitals and run routine bloodwork,” Splint said kindly but firmly, “and if there is nothing to indicate otherwise I’ll give you some inoculations”. He poked away at a tablet. You nodded and looked back at General Windu as you were now calling him in your head.

“I must consult the Jedi counsel and attend to some other business and will return in a bit to check on you. And you will need some guidance with the Force, which is the energy you’re feeling and saw back at the ruins. There may be some time for that soon, but we are deploying to the lowlands to intercept the Separatist forces. Oh and you aren’t a soldier, call me Master Windu.” He held your hand in his, giving you an intense and serious yet caring stare.

You smiled half way, and tried not to look too downcast and nodded your head, “Thank you, Master Windu.”

He stood and so did Splint. “Thank you, Splint,”

“Of course, General,” Splint gave him a salute. The medic’s profile was even more handsome from below. Master Windu looked down at you and gave you a sly wink which made you blush ferociously.

When he was gone you felt much less troubled and concerned. That’s odd, you thought, he doesn’t trouble or concern me….Those must have been his own feelings.

Splint looked up from the supplies he was rummaging through, “Go ahead and lie down for a quick scan. This won’t take long. You can keep your clothes on but it would be helpful if you could remove the robe.”

You shrugged the robe off and tried folding the bulky thing to set it on the chair, and mostly succeeded. You stretched out on the cot unsure of how much poking and prodding you would have to endure from Splint who you felt more and more flustered around. But then he came over with a handheld device that he held over you.

“Just lie still, this won’t take long,” he said as the tool shone a stripe of light on you and he started snowy moving it up and down your body.

The background ‘noise’ of the force you felt in your head but the men each had a distinct feeling to them which you noticed that you sensed mostly in your heart and belly. Both masculine and- not that the sensation was a scent- but your mind was putting scent note descriptions on the feelings. Both musky and smokey, but with different characteristics and emotions. You did not feel much in the way of specific thoughts off of Master Windu. At least since he had started mind-talking to you. But Splint was a little more loud(?) you figured. He was trying to be professional but you could feel a conflict clouding his thoughts. He was trying not to imagine-

“Just close your eyes as I scan your head now, Splint said, “There, all done. I’m sorry we don’t have a droid here to do the scanning, we are a skeleton crew at war.”

Wait what, droid? WAR? Guess that explains soldiers and generals.

“What do you mean, ‘war?’” You asked.

Splint set the scanner down and regarded you. His warm eyes under steepled brows as he tried to think of the easiest way to give you the story of a galaxy scale war.

“The Republic, that’s us, is fighting a group called the Separatists. They want to break away from the Republic and are attacking loyal planets with huge armies of battle droids.”

“Planets?” That didn’t sound right. There’s people on other planets?

“Well yeah the whole Galaxy almost is affected,” just how much you seemed to not know was sinking in and he asked, “Do you remember where you’re from? Which planet?”

Now this seemed really weird to you. You definitely had the idea you were from somewhere on a planet but there being more than one possible planet was a concept so unreal. You tried to remember anything about where you live but it just wasn’t something you could grasp.

“I think I’m lucky to remember how to walk and speak”

Splint chuckled, his smiles reached his eyes and they crinkled a little, “Well you don’t have any brain damage on the scan so I feel your memories should slowly come back over time, or all at once, no way to predict that. But there is strange activity in your HPA axis which could account for both the memory loss and the surge of hormones necessary for lactation. It does appear that you could have birthed a baby in the past. There are signs of pitting or separation on your pelvis bones. And stretch marks in your abdomen’s skin. But people can have those anyway. And your genetic profile shows telomer lengths that we’d expect to see in a human in their mid twenties. You seem very healthy,”

“Huh that’s good…. But it doesn’t seem right, I think I’m older than that, maybe older than you.” He chuckled a little and helped you up to sit back against the wall setting a pillow up for you. He was as sweet as he was handsome. You realized with a surge of self consciousness that your boobs felt so tight in this position and your still loose swim top was now resting on top of them in a lump. You didn’t care anymore and untied the strings at the back of your neck and fished it out of your dress tossing it next to you.

Splint looked very curiously at your swimsuit freeing, and turned away exhaling a long breath. He set the scanner in a drawer behind him and turned back to you. He lowered his voice a bit, “Well, as a twenty-something you’d be twice my age.”

“Splint you're not making any sense, you’re clearly not a boy.”

He smirked, “Us clones age faster than nat borns like you. About twice as fast.”

‘Clones?’ ‘Nat borns?’ You had a million questions, but didn’t know where to start and what would be rude to ask. So you just looked from him down to your hands, “Oh,” was all you said.

“So your - ahem, your breasts- they have got to be bothering you, and it’s important that you don’t end up with an impaction which can lead to infection and even sepsis. I’ve pulled up some videos for new breastfeeding mothers which should be helpful.” He saw beads of sweat trickling down your neck from your embarrassment. “I’m sorry it’s just me here, I have no female assistants- aaaand you are my first female patient” He handed you a flat screen device with thumbnails of videos. You held it up like a tablet and tapped the first one.

An illuminated three dimensional bust of a woman speaking sprang out at you and you dropped the device in your lap. Splint righted it for you, huffing a little bit of a laugh, “sorry, here hold it like this for the holo.” He handed you a small towel. “It should walk you through everything, but let me know if… if things don’t work, I’ll be right back, need to go outside and bring in more supplies.” He turned away pulling at the hem at his neck and slid a curtain out from the wall to give you some privacy. You felt him leave the room, and it seemed cooler, the feeling of attraction much quieter. You were going to have to learn how to tell your feelings apart from other people’s. Because you were obviously feeling their feelings and it was getting confusing.

You watched the first video which was going over how to deal with engorgement. You followed along with the holo showing two women, a regular looking one and one with long appendages extending down from her head but no hair expressing milk from their breasts with their fingers. You made a mental note to ask Splint about the strange looking woman. You were having some success with the process, steadily dripping onto the towel you held against yourself and feeling much better- when two more soldiers walked in, bickering. Not finding Splint they came around the curtain. Their heads were shaved, one holding his bloody hand up with his other. They stopped short, their eyes roving over you trying to cover up on the cot, the holo still going, your bikini top and their general’s robe. The jumble of thoughts and emotions off them was as loud and chaotic as their argument.

[Girl? Boobs! Skin, pretty, wow. Wow. Why? Uhhhh, General?] They radiated wonder and curiosity.

As they tried processing the scene before them Splint flew in the room, got in between you and them, put his arms out,and steered the injured man to a cot in the far corner while shoving and barking at the uninjured man to leave. They were craning their necks to look at you and you noticed that they looked just like Splint, both of them. Identical in looks. But they felt different. The injured one had an agitation and his companion a freshness and eagerness. Splint pulled out another partition from the wall that hid the soldier just enough to give you some privacy from each other and set to work treating his hand. You could hear them talking about the injury and how Splint planned to treat it with almost the same voice. They were speaking the same language but the earpiece didn't seem to be translating all the words from this far.

The injured man changed his tone of voice and asked Splint something in a different language. “....meshla daleesh?”

Splint responded with, “Echoy’la.” When Splint came back to your side you stopped him.

“ Splint. They look and sound just like you. How? Are they your brothers?”

“Well yeah, we all are, we’re clones after all,” then he caught himself, remembering that you were basically clueless. “I’m sorry, yes all the soldiers here- we are clones, copies of one man, bred to fight in this war for the Republic.” He sounded proud, but your jaw dropped, and you probably had a look of astonishment and hurt as you struggled to understand what he just said.

“I’m so sorry, Splint, that- that’s- how, what do you mean clones and bred?” Just how long had this war been going?

*****

The cup seemed to have plenty of milk. You had switched sides during your reverie and felt much relief. Now to figure out if it was going to work. How to get this in the man who might be too out of it and weak to swallow.

chapter 3

🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

Meeting my first clone, a self portrait

#ferrule writes #echo my beloved #echo x reader #tbb echo #the bad batch #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #the clone wars #ferrule does art🤌#clone oc #mace windu

10 notes · View notes