#but I've had a really bad. really long. exhausting and excruciating few weeks. and then you tell me the one thing I've had to look forward

[kittlyns]

It is so insane to feel everyone getting sick of you. Like goddamn I'm sorry I'm going through what may be my worst year yet but you putting up with me is somehow equivalent to christ on the fucking cross all of a sudden.

[vaporwavedoggie]

Ahahahah I should probably explain why I'm not on here as much atm, along with most of my other social media.

It's gonna be long but I know I have some folks on here worried about me so I'll put everything under the cut.

Alright buckle up, this will get long.

To shorten things, my chronic pain is significantly getting worse very quickly, along with heart issues.

Not to mention my shit mental health.

But here's the long story:

There's something up with my heart. I don't know exactly what the diagnosis will be, I have a few more tests including a fun little holter monitor placement or whatever it's called.

It's where I wear this monitor over my heart for a few days and press a button whenever I start having flareups. My flareups consist of my blood pressure suddenly dropping very low (I think the lowest it was clocked was somewhere in the 80s/60s range if I remember correctly), headaches, bad chest pain, limb weakness/numbness, sudden exhaustion/passing out, etc.

They did an echo on my heart but the results didn't tell me much other than I have a dialated left atrium. No idea what that means, don't know if it's even related to the shit going on with me. I won't find out until the other tests are done and looked over.

I'm going as far as to try and give up cigarettes for the time being for this. My doc gave me a ton of nicotine patches, so I'm really hoping those will help with the urges. I'm going to be going from smoking about half a pack or so a day to patches that are 7mg of nic, so uhhh yeah.

Another reason why I'm distancing myself from online spaces more other than my personal discord servers is because stressful stuff, discourse, all that makes my flareups much much worse. I'm doing it not to be a bitch, but for my own health. So for a bit I'll probably only post art I occasionally draw n what not.

Now on to the other issues. My lower back keeps me in damn near constant chronic pain. They did an xray on it, and my MyChart (fun little doctor app) said this about their findings:

"Vertebral body heights and alignment are well-maintained. No fracture or subluxation. Pedicles are intact. Mild loss of disc height at L5-S1."

I'm not entirely sure if that's anything important, again, I go to my pcp about it in the beginning of October since there's a few more issues they'd like to test me for before coming to a diagnosis and treating me.

As for my back pain though, it's to the point where it's nearly disabling me physically.

I've had it for many years. Idk exactly when it all started, but I really started noticing it around the time I was 19-20. I have a theory it's because one of my first jobs that I worked for about a year was at a warehouse. It was very physical labor.

I'd be lifting heavy boxes constantly to the point where when I got home I couldn't bend down from the pain. I'd just have to flop down on my bed and pass out. And this went on about 4 days a week for a year.

At first, it started off as a small patch on my lower back, at the base of my spine, not being able to be touched. The gentlest poke would feel like stabbing pain. And it only got worse over the years, with the area spreading.

Now it's to the point where I can't stand for long, and when I sit or lay down I have to shift my position every 10-20 minutes or it flares up. And I dread going to sleep for a number of reasons. Not just because of the night terrors I have damn near every night due to my CPTSD, but because I wake up in excruciating pain most of the time due to not being able to shift my body in my sleep.

Worst part is, when I sleep, I'm dead to the world. If the night terrors aren't too horrible that night, I'm like a rock. No one can move me. Lord knows my husband has tried. And I'll sleep for about 12-20+ hours at a time at this point.

Funny thing is? No matter how much sleep I get, even if I get the base recommended amount without under or over sleeping, I'm ALWAYS exhausted.

My doc has sent a referral for me to get a sleep study but they have yet to reach out to me. I suspect this may also contribute to my heart issues but idk for sure.

So yeah. It's not enough that I deal with shitty mental health issues on a constant, but also chronic physical health issues as well.

Worst part is my family is borderline poverty. Despite everything I'm STILL trying to get a job because my family needs the money, along with others in the house, including my oldest son and teenage son.

Yet for whatever reason, everyone claims they're hiring, yet won't hire any of us. For me, I understand. I always struggled to keep a job due to various issues. But my sons have a completely clean slate, and my roomie has a great resume with plenty of long history, yet no one will hire anyone. Not even McDonald's.

People act like it's all us. We try everything we can, from dressing up in our nicest clothes for the interview, following up with the job, being friendly, giving the interviewer our skills. Worst part is they act like they're fucking impressed, then turn around and claim they've decided to go with someone more qualified for the position, or they're not hiring anymore.

Yes, I know I'll hurt myself if I try working a job and pushing myself beyond my limits every day, but it's taking too damn long for disability to do shit. Disability is very hard to get in Texas for whatever reason and God it's stupid. It usually takes a minimum of 2-3 years for most, and we don't have that time.

The price of rent, groceries, and everything else keeps skyrocketing, yet my roomies won't get a raise on their disability, my husband won't get a raise on his job other than just a few cents once a year.

We're living by the skin of our teeth. Paycheck to paycheck. Most of our food comes from various food banks in the area we make multiple trips to a week.

Then when it comes to my mental health issues, I'm handling it the best that I possibly can.

My CPTSD has been flaring up. Then there's the other shit going on with my head I won't get into.

I'm nearly constantly haunted by trauma and I'm so fucking tired of it. I have to keep myself busy or it creeps into my mind. And I have somnophobia because every time I sleep I'm almost guaranteed to have a night terror. No, prasosin won't help.

Anyways that's a small portion of the shit im going through and why I probably won't be online much until I get shit sorted out.

Is it weird to be the happiest you've ever been in your life, yet also the most miserable??

[talesofbirbal]

The Fattening

This story is written by me and was originally posted to the Bellybuilders website under the pen name "Pintoupes". It is reproduced here, having undergone a light edit.

David turned the speed on the running machine up to the furthest level he could possibly take, trying to burn off all the feelings of hurt and confusion which had been troubling him for the last few days. He often threw himself into excruciating exercise when he had something on his mind.

David had just broken up with his smarmy boyfriend, Eric, a 23-year old Greek god of a man whom all of the girls, and more than a few of the boys, fantasised about getting off with. All of the flattery Eric received had gone to his head badly and came out in the cruel, insensitive way he treated David, regularly ignoring David when other people were present, expecting him to go out of his way all the time to suit whatever Eric's own fleeting conveniences were.

For a long time David had put up with shit which he couldn't imagine tolerating from anybody else, but as his partner became increasingly cold and rude to him, David finally confronted his arrogant boyfriend about it, to which Eric responded by dumping him there and then, admitting to six infidelities which David had long suspected but did not want to believe. Such a sudden break-up would not have been all that bad, given Eric's awful treatment, but having become so infatuated with Eric that he lost touch with the few friends he had before, David now found all of his friends were in fact really Eric's friends, and none of Eric's "fan club" now wanted to have anything to do with David.

Thinking about how desperately lonely and resentful he felt, suddenly David found himself flying through the air and landed with a thud against the wall, bruising his leg. After a moment, he realized the running machine was going a bit fast, and he hadn't been paying attention, his mind dwelling on Eric and the break-up.

"What are you doing here, you peeping perv?" roared a voice.

Dan, one of Eric's muscle-head friends, was standing over David.

Everybody turned around, and the supervisor gave Dan an irritated look.

David got up.

"Go away, Dan."

"You're here spying on Eric aren't you, you little cock-sucker?"

"Shut up."

"He's told me all about you. I can tell what you are by the way you look at us. Well, we don't want your type around here."

Infuriated as he felt, David did not have the energy for arguing with one of Eric's idiot friends. Glancing around, he saw Eric standing next to one of the weight machines. Eric noticed him instantly and walked towards David, thankfully getting Dan out of the way.

"Look, I don't want you anywhere near me, I've told you," Eric snarled.

"What's your problem? I am here using the gym. If you have a problem with that, go somewhere else."

Eric grabbed David's bag next to the running machine and hurled it out of the door. David felt like hitting him but was so emotionally exhausted, he just walked out. When he got home, he just went to his bedroom and cried.

The next two weeks were hell, but David could now really see what a truly nasty piece of work Eric was and, with that, he stopped mourning the end of the relationship. Instead, he threw himself more into the job he'd got at a local estate agent, slowly earning the respect of his colleagues and clients, so much so that over a period of six months, he was promoted twice and on better money than ever before. He'd also managed to rekindle friendships with some of the people he had lost touch with when he met Eric, and over time, David generally sorted himself out.

In fact, everything in David's life would have been almost perfect, if it hadn't been for one small thing. After the incident in the gym, David had generally avoided the place, and his old exercise regimen had all but vanished. Compounding this, in part due to work, he found himself making more and more use of fast-food takeaways, all of which together had gradually taken a toll on his figure. He was only twenty years old but fast came to realise he'd now have to start working for the 'boy band' figure he had always taken for granted. At 5'10", his weight which had always been under 160 pounds, had gone up to 176, and although some people commented that he looked stockier, some even enquiring if he was going to the gym more, David knew that, underneath his clothes, he was becoming a lot softer. Although he didn't really have the time or motivation to go to the gym again, he vowed to cut down on the takeaways, beer, and the variety of sweet foods -chocolates, donuts and other cakes - with which lately he had taken to indulging himself.

Then, just as all appeared to be going right in his life again, another shock: David discovered his landlord was going to sell the house, and he would have to be moving out soon. Fortunately what had threatened to be a very difficult accommodation-searching exercise was avoided when his friend Sarah told him that, in the house where her ex-boyfriend Joey was living, someone had just left and Joey was looking for a good lodger.

"I'll put in a good word for you. I'm sure you'll get on well with Joey", she said smiling.

So David moved in there, a house with Joey and two other people, a very tidy place with more space than David had before at a rent which wasn't bad at all. Before long though, he realised he was developing a pretty big crush on Joey, whom Sarah had told him about. He couldn't quite pin it down. Joey wasn't model material like Eric had been. He was older, about 25, short-ish, very slim, and though his nose was slightly crooked and he had a bit of an acne problem which got bad from time-to-time, there was something impishly charming about him - his looks, his behaviour, how he moved, how he talked - which David found irresistible.

"He's straight though," thought David gloomily, realising that no one in the house knew David was gay, since he hadn't gone out or had sex for ages and was beginning to feel horny and frustrated. Quickies in the toilet cubicle were something he disdained, but he wondered how long he'd go before he'd have to go out and relieve his suppressed appetites.

He looked at himself in the mirror. "I don't think I'm as attractive as I was," he said to himself, depressed at the idea his weight had just tipped 200 pounds, looking at the slight belly which he had been hiding underneath his trousers and which was now too big to conceal. David had noticed his pants getting tighter and tighter, and he'd had to buy some new pairs the previous week. In fact, the other day he was using the shower and caught himself in the mirror on the other side of the wall and couldn't believe how his body looked. Where before his chest had looked hard and lean, now it was soft and he had developed curves which made him cringe. When he tried to jiggle his pecs, as he often proudly used to do, he noticed that they'd become soft, round and pointy, almost like a woman's. It felt humiliating. So, in thinking about his prospects of finding a guy again, he felt downhearted.

More and more David fantasised about Joey, laying in bed at night and wishing he was cuddled up next to him. Then he felt guilty and desperate, but he didn't care. "It's only harmless," he thought. Indeed, Joey seemed so cheerful and chirpy all the time that it really brightened up the evenings, and David found it delightful that Joey seemed to single him out for attention, always bringing him into the conversation and joking around with him.

Joey had even gotten into the habit of doing David's cooking for him most nights, although Joey was a vegan and so had to do his own cooking separately. He was just that sort of guy, always eager to please, and please David he did, with big meals, invariably smothered with thick gravy and big dollops of everything. He seemed to know that other people ate more than he did and so when cooking he always dished out things until people protested. Being slightly shy and with a healthier appetite than ever before, David often failed to raise the warning flag, relishing the little ritual as the only form of affection from Joey he could enjoy

David's diet went to pot. Dinners were more calorie-packed than ever, and the routine of snacking he got into during the day now felt almost impossible to break out of. He loved his food, and whenever he was without a snack for more than a few hours he got cravings for them of such intensity that they distracted him from whatever he was doing and gave him a headache, to the point that people at work were beginning to notice how he was forever popping to the sweets machine for a quick bar of chocolate or bag of crisps.

"You're eating whenever I see you," his female boss smirkingly observed one day, satisfied that she had lost three stones and was beginning to look like Demi Moore, whilst David, the man with the looks, the talk of the office, was porking up. A few days earlier, David had jokingly flirted with her, and she caused him immense embarrassment in front of his (mainly male) colleagues by poking him gently in the tummy and jibing "I'm not sure you're in condition for a session with me!" It was a little nasty, but David took it in good humour.

"So I'm a bit fat," he rationalised. "It's not the end of the world."

Over the next few months though, David failed to stem the erosion of his athletic body into an increasingly flabby figure, a process too difficult to stop now. Work was so often boring, and munching on snacks was the only way to keep sane, so that chomping on a Mars Bar had become as addictive to him as lighting a cigarette was for a smoker. And at home, Joey's meals were becoming more and more grandiose as well, having acquired an interest in Italian, Indian, Greek and Chinese cooking, which David thought very strange, considering Joey never ate meat.

All in all, David couldn't stop thinking of Joey and how gorgeous he was, and it, too, was becoming embarrassing. David sometimes found himself staring at him whenever he had the opportunity, and he was sure at least one of the other lodgers had noticed! Just hearing his voice gave David a warm feeling. A lot of people would think Joey was ugly because of his spots and his nose being a little out-of-joint, but to David all his little faults just made him even more enchanting, kind of vulnerable but with a confident air about him, very slim but perfectly proportioned, like a doll. David took advantage of every opportunity to look at Joey when he would walk around after a bath or changing his shirt, exposing the hard and toned body.

What a contrast to the ever mounting piles of flab smothered over David's ex-jock body, the round and plumped-out ass, the big sloppy tits hanging down the top of his chest, the porky child-bearing thighs, and the bloated, round belly which hung embarrassingly around his waist! David jerked his cock up and down in a fast-paced rhythm, imagining Joey's lithe little hands manipulating every square inch of his big body and leading him to an animalistic climax of sexual frenzy. He moaned, as thick boy juices exploded out of his untameable cock, and flung flat out on the bed, exhausted and dripping with sweat, he watched serenely as his over-worked cock experienced after-shocks for what seemed like hours, rising softly up and down from behind the hillside landscape of a rounded belly splattered with cum, sending him wave after wave of soothing pleasure.

After recovering his energy, David began to glide his hands over his body, feeling how soft it was becoming. Being fat was actually quite a turn on. The size made him feel powerful, and he was amazed how sensitive his newly-made flesh was to being touched, massaged, pinched and squeezed. How erotic it would be to have someone working all over his body, able to reach the places he can't reach, touch him in new and unpredictable ways and places, keeping alive all the orgasmic sensations whilst he would otherwise be too fat and tired to keep up the pace,

"I want to have a proper look at myself," David said to himself, but the only mirror in his bedroom was a tiny one for shaving. "Well there's one in the spare bedroom…and nobody else is in the house at the moment, it's my day off. Joey should be at work and others are away."

Wearing just a pair of pants, David tip-toed to the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, excited that his big erection was so prominent, and when he stood in front of the big mirror which promised to give him a full view, he gasped. "Wow!" David couldn't believe the size his belly had gotten to. He posed at all different angles to see his new body, getting himself hotter and hotter.

"This flab is so cute," David thought, running his fingers slowly down the curve between his navel and his groin, wishing that his fingers could be Joey's sweet lips. As for his butt, it was awesome, almost like having another two little squashed-up bellies on the other side. Turning his back to the mirror, and craning his head to look at it, he slowly lowered his pants. The display was so titillating he began to feel the urge to start masturbating again, but he disciplined himself to continue the slow drawing down of his pants, revealing two gorgeous mounds of soft baby-fat squeezed together like two oranges in a blender. He turned around again to have another look at his belly to see if it was just as shapely, and discovered that just by wobbling it, his cock was jiggled by his swaying fatpad.

However, at that moment the sound of the front door opening was heard. "Oh shit!" David murmured to himself.

"Are you sure you don't mind, it must have been expensive," came the voice of Rebecca, a lodger leaving the house today from downstairs.

"Oh yes, you're quite welcome to it. It won't fit in my room anyway," came the voice of Joey from the same place.

"It's a lovely mirror..."

David looked about himself. He had no clothes, save his pants, and there was nothing in the room to cover himself with. They were coming up the stairs to take the mirror!

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

The sound of footsteps came up the stairs.

"These stairs are creaky," remarked Rebecca.

"Yes. Do you notice you can always tell when David is going up or down them? He's gotten so fat! It's bang, bang, bang, bang!" he heard Joey say.

David dashed out of the spare bedroom, deciding the least embarrassing option was to run out into the hall and make it look as though he had just got out of the bath and was heading towards his bedroom, having neglected to dress because he thought he was alone in the house.

"Ooooohhh" squealed Rebecca, evidently shocked.

David felt like a shiver looking for a spine to run up.

Joey's eyes widened and he looked startled, then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, David, I'm sorry…umm."

"Sorry…I didn't think anyone was in," mumbled David sheepishly, whilst walking as fast as he could into his bedroom and then closing the door.

When he got inside he realised that his tight pants had partially rolled up into his butt crack, and half of one of his buttocks was exposed. He blushed and started to breathe profusely, hardly believing how he could have been so stupid to get into that situation. Deeper down though, he felt kind of excited that Joey had seen him naked. Ever since he'd started putting on weight he'd been too shy to walk around shirtless the way Joey did, but now the taboo had been involuntarily broken.

That evening, David weighed himself, and was startled when the scales didn't stop until they read 268 pounds. "I've really packed it on," he mumbled, and to his surprise a throbbing sensation shot up his cock. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I kinda love all this fat but who's gonna want me looking like this?" he mused as he cupped his fatboy tits with his chubby palms.

A few nights later, in the evening, Joey and David were alone in the living room because one lodger had left and the other was out. Joey seemed to be cooking a big meal.

"I don't really feel like eating a lot tonight," said David shyly.

"Awwww. What's wrong, Davey? You not feeling well?" crooned Joey in an almost motherly way which made David feel guilty for turning down his poor little darling's cooking.

"Well…I'm a bit big, y'see…."

Joey grinned broadly. David absolutely adored his smile and wished he could jump on top of him there and then! Joey walked to behind the couch, where David was sitting, and placed his hands around David's neck and shoulders, massaging them gently. David felt in heaven.

"You're a big boy! We can't have you missing out on meals, you need them."

"But look how fat I am!" wailed David.

"I don't think you're fat," Joey soothed.

"Don't kid me!"

"I'm not."

"C'mon, you saw me yesterday!"

There was then a pause, and the two giggled.

"Okay, yes, you have kind of filled out a bit," Joey admitted. "But you're not fat."

"Look," shrieked David, lifting his shirt up about five inches.

Joey walked around to the front of the sofa to study the naked flesh.

"Yes, I can see my cooking has had an impact there," he whispered mischievously, playfully stroking the hairs around David's belly button with his little finger.

David began to feel aroused, and loved the way Joey's wild eyes seemed to be scrutinising the shape of his body with the single-mindedness that a man sizes up a woman's breasts. He kept wondering if his erection would become too obvious. Being examined by Joey this way was so erotic!

"You seem to find this very interesting," giggled David, touching his belly with his right hand and then placing it on the arm of the sofa, allowing the shirt to drop down again, ending the show.

"Boy, I didn't realise you'd become such a piggy," Joey chortled.

"It's your fault, it's your cooking!"

"Yes, well…"

"What?"

"It's a real privilege cooking for a fat boy," he murmured, then ruffled David's dark hair and lightly pinched his double chin.

"Am I your favourite fat boy then?" asked David jokingly but hopefully.

"My prize piggy."

"Oink! Oink."

They both laughed.

"Now you sit there and let me get you some dinner," Joey said in a mock schoolteacher voice, prodding David's belly with one hand and his left tit with the other, as though forcing him back into the chair.

David felt a really warm feeling running through him after that. Joey returned a short while later with some sort of little lasagne thing for himself and a very large plate with a massive pizza on it for David. David looked flabbergasted!

"I can't eat all that!" he protested.

"I reckon you can, with an appetite yours!" coaxed Joey, tapping David provocatively on the thigh.

David got hard immediately, and began to think maybe his fantasy would come true and Joey was interested in him.

"How comes I get these great big meals and you hardly eat anything?"

"'Cos you're a fat boy and I've got a figure to maintain!"

"Skinny tyke!"

"I've been working out a lot," protested Joey.

To David's delight, Joey then pulled off his t-shirt, revealing that he had been working out quite a lot and had become more muscular than David had imagined. David couldn't believe it, and couldn't keep his eyes off Joey's body. His shoulders were broader and stronger, he was even developing pecs, and his abs were so sexy David wishes he could lick cream off them.

"You're in shape," David remarked, feeling somewhat taken aback.

Joey laughed, and seemed to be slightly embarrassed after his display of bravado. He put his t-shirt back on. They started chatting.

"People keep saying I'm gay because I act sort of camp," Joey remarked at one point.

"And are you?" asked David, unwilling to let the opportunity pass by.

"Do you think I am?" Joey blurted out.

David felt embarrassed and wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't think there's anything wrong if you are."

"Maybe I've gone with a few lads."

"Well, so have I."

There was a pause. Then Joey started giggling, and said it was funny that there were two poofs living together not knowing about each other. Then they started talking about sex, Joey asking David how often he got it. David admitted it had been a while, and he didn't feel very confident at the moment because his last partner had been so cruel and now he'd put on lots of weight. While he was talking, Joey leaned across the sofa and kissed David on the forehead.

David moved up closer to Joey.

"You're gorgeous Joey. I've liked you for ages."

"Come here to me," Joey whispered in a voice David found incredibly sweet and seductive.

David allowed Joey to push his chest onto Joey's lap. They then kissed passionately, Joey getting David's body aroused with slow strokes of his hand along his hands, arms, neck, face, hair, then down his chest, around his tits, teasing out the rolls of fat beneath them, around his saggy tummy, then a massage of his underbelly which made David hornier than ever, tracing voluptuously along the contours of his thighs and bum. David was in ecstasy, barely noticing as Joey undid his shirt for him in a couple of seconds, his belly and nipples being manipulated by Joey's experienced hands which seemed to know exactly how to pleasure a fat boy in ways he hadn't even explored himself. This was the first time David had been with a guy after putting on weight, and boy did Joey know how to make him feel fat! Joey couldn't keep his hands off all the soft flesh, and found it deliciously arousing when David blushed as Joey's masterful movements heightened his body consciousness, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm.

"You're the sexiest boy I've ever known!" Joey cooed to him. "I love fat boys like you, I love teasing and exciting them, getting them get horny! You don't know how much I've loved seeing you get so fat like this!"

David felt mightily turned on by how Joey seemed to adore his flab in the same way that he himself found it so sexy in his private moment. For such a small guy Joey was remarkably in control of the situation, treating David like a puppy dog, and he did everything imaginable to David's belly, the area of his body that had been the focus of David's own erotic attention for the last months. David felt more turned on than he had ever been in his life when Joey lifted up his shirt and began to rub his hard and smooth chest over his blubbery belly, teasing him about being a "gorgeous fat slob" at the same time.

Noticing David's hard-on, Joey unplucked David's button and zip, exposing a trembling column of flesh cloaked by the thin fabric of a pair of pants which clung tightly around a shapely pair of thighs. He gently teased it with two of his fingers, then massaged it, first torturously slowly, then faster and faster and faster.

After some teasing, Joey swiftly and gracefully slipped off David's trousers, allowing him to view his lardy stud in just his pants for the second time. He thrust his head down towards David's crotch. The erection was sticking out prominently, and David prayed Joey would relieve him with his beautiful thick lips which had proved so adept at pleasuring other areas of his body. Joey stuck his fingers playfully into David's pants like a kid dipping his finger into a cake, stroking David's balls and sliding his finger erotically up his cock. Going one step further, he pulled up David's pants half an inch over his thighs, and began tenderly and methodically licking David's huge, round balls, sending shockwaves of ecstasy.

"Please, do me!" David begged, his cock aching badly.

Joey beamed at David kindly, and pulled David's pants down, getting a good feel of his huge ass as he did so. He proceeded to jerk David off with one hand, alternating the other hand between rubbing his belly and massaging his sweaty balls, at a frustratingly slow pace at first, because like a sadistic torturer from the medieval ages, Joey got off on postponing the final climactic moment for as long as possible and observing his subject writhe in anticipation. Joey's nimble and dexterous hands were able to switch smoothly between gears of speed ranging between turbo and ultra-slow, taking David right upto the brink of cumming then holding him there, again and again and again.

"You're so fucking gorgeous! Look how fat you are? Do you like being my fat boy now, yeah?"

David was breathing, panting and sweating so heavily he could barely respond, but Joey's teasing voice and his total mastery of David's sexual response made the fat boy hornier and keener to please than he'd ever been. As Joey bent his neck down and opened his lips with a devastating smile, David couldn't take anymore, and his cock spewed out a stream of juicy white cum which he thought would never stop flowing.

Joey listened to his housemate howl with uncontrollable pleasure, and gazed at the blubbery lad he'd seen go from muscle hunk to slob and had fantasised about for so long. The sight of David's belly smothered with glistening cum, naked in front of his eyes, unable to hide its size or piggish indignity, heaving frantically up and down to the tune of David's breathlessness, sent a hundred wild thoughts through Joey's sexual imagination. He couldn't stop himself. Roughly grabbing David's love handles and shoulders, he rolled him onto his back like a roll of dough and surveyed the startled lump of flesh before him. He prodded his finger into David's ass and greedily squeezed his round ass cheeks. The sight of it brought out a "fuck instinct' in Joey which he'd never felt before but was now overpowering.

"I want to fuck your fat ass," he bawled.

Tired and dizzy already, before David knew it, his wide curvaceous thighs were being stretched wider than he'd thought possible, then he felt his wet and wobbling belly dragged upwards, and in an instant, Joey was inside him, fucking the hell out of him. He felt Joey's cock rubbing against his bum fat, his hands greedily and roughly gripping his belly, and making his tits wobble so fast they hurt. David felt a roaring pain inside his ass and he felt like screaming. He'd never let Eric or anyone else do this to him, but he'd let Joey do anything, and besides, with Joey in this red heat, it didn't seem like anything could stop him. The pain subsided into pleasures David had never experienced or imagined, and he begged his lover to fuck him harder. Joey obliged like a man possessed, the smack, smack, smack, smack of Joey's crotch thumping against David's quivering, beachball backside, turning them both on even more. As he picked up the pace of his fucking, he started to moan unrestrainedly when his cock spurted out its sweet juice, like a ripe peach, into David's tight boyhole.

After this ecstasy, they both lay shattered for a time, but for the sake of respectability, eventually retired to Joey's bedroom, where they just kissed and cuddled each other all evening, teasing each other and chatting.

"I'd love you to carry on getting fatter," Joey told David, fiddling his lover's nipples and caressing his belly.

"Really?" asked David. He'd been thinking of this stuff for a while now but it seemed too weird to talk to anybody about.

"Yes. And the fatter you get the more horny I'm gonna make you!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do I have to do then?"

"Just carry on letting me cook for you," Joey said with a grin. "And forget all those ideas about dieting and become a muscle boy anymore. You've had all that. From now on you're a fat boy. Eat whenever you want to, whatever you want!"

So from then on, David trained himself not to feel guilty about stuffing himself whenever he wanted to, and true to Joey's word, sex got hotter and hotter for both of them as the pounds crept onto David. People at work and friends made lots of jokes and snide comments, but David didn't mind; it made him feel even sexier. Joey liked holding what he called "feeding sessions" with David, coaxing him to eat loads of food. David's belly got so full it hurt, but Joey's gentle voice, belly-massaging and persuasive cock-teasing always encouraged him to eat more than he had managed the previous occasion, until four months later, he had grown to a really fat 320 pounds. True, he couldn't take things quite as fast as he once had, but it was more than worth it, for, as his body got bigger it became increasingly apparent, to Joey's great amusement, that his cock was looking less and less significant. This was a great turn on for Joey, who felt an enormous sense of power in being able to make his hulk of a lover pant and sweat and moan by giving his attention to just one small and diminishing lever of his massive body, as if he were in charge of driving a giant oil tanker.

One day David's friend and Joey's ex, Sarah, came to visit. For David it was a strange experience because the pair of them seemed to be giggling a great deal, as if they knew something he didn't. They ended up telling the story that when they were partners they had a fantasy about making another man fat, and that after Eric had been so cruel to David, Sarah had pointed them both out to Joey outside the gym, and told Joey to try and make Eric really fat to teach him a lesson.

David found this very strange, and wasn't sure whether to feel angry or to burst out laughing.

"Why did you do me then," David asked.

Sarah burst out laughing.

"He got the wrong one!" she guffawed. "He thought you were him."

Joey blushed bright red.

"You bastard!"

"Well actually, I thought you were by far the cutest and nicest of the pair," Joey explained.

"And you wouldn't believe what's happened to Eric…," Sarah continued.

"What," enquired David.

"He's my partner now."

"You're with that cunt?"

"I've done better with him than Joey has with you."

"What are you talking about?" Joey snapped.

"He's fucking 400 pounds!" she cried, and they all burst out laughing.

David couldn't believe that, but a week later, they all went out for a meal, Joey and David, Sarah and Eric, and it turned out indeed that Eric had totally transmogrified into an amazingly obese pig! David felt a cruel sense of satisfaction from that, though he knew Eric was probably enjoying the same sinfully sensuous rewards from the vice of gluttony that he was himself.

"So," said Joey when they got home, "Do you fancy getting as big as Eric?"

"Bigger!"

On that note Joey leaned over to kiss his boyfriend, and they were all over each other just like they had been on that first night. As he felt David's cock melting in his ass, his tits hardening in his mouth, his hefty rolls of flab gliding through his fingers, and his plump pink palms caressing his cock, Joey felt more satisfied than ever.

[techni-kolor]

Strep, Surprise, and Spiced Tea

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771862 !!!

"Oh, and I brought your tea for you, it's the same blend you liked last week. The one with the cinnamon, and the orange peel, and the little bits of cardamom."

Martin smiled awkwardly, placing the cup down on the desk with a soft click.

"I know you enjoyed this one so I, well, I made sure to get another box of it, just so that we'd have it."

Jon stared up at him, and then at the faintly steaming cup of tea

The cup of tea that was his absolute favorite blend, one that was hot and spicy and amazing, and that at any other time would have been delicious, had his throat not been absolutely burning. The ache that had been lingering there for days solidifying overnight from a bit of a cold that he could easily hide behind a few half stifled coughs and the dryness of the stale air in the archives, to a near firey pain that raced down from his jaw to his chest with each swallow.

"Yes, erm, thank you, Martin." He said as clearly as he possibly could, despite the way that the words seared up his throat. "I'll– I'll definitely try it– try it later."

Martin's face shifted to an anxious expression.

"Is it still a bit too hot right now? I tried seeping it in just a bit of a higher temperature than usual, but I wasn't sure if it would be too warm or not."

Jon froze, as much as the feverish tremors would allow.

"No, no. It looks, er, okay."

Martin's face creased further in a way that looked nervous, and just on the wrong side of apprehensive.

"Is there something– something else wrong with it then?" He asked, sounding almost jittery with anxiety.

Jon mentally cursed himself, and his own lack of foresight. Had he simply said that it was too hot for immediate drinking, he could have left it to cool on the desk under the guise of the heat, and then discreetly disposed of it later when he felt less as if he were swallowing glass shards. Now, Martin was staring nervously at him, wringing his hands, and fidgeting in front of the desk in clear apprehension.

"No, no. It's–" He broke off, not just due to the sharp ache at speaking, but also that he didn't have an excuse that didn't involve the phrase 'I've caught a cold'.

Martin's pale blue gaze almost bored into him with the anxious question reflected in his eyes.

"It looks– good." Jon said awkwardly, and in a movement he knew he was about to regret, raised the steaming cup to his lips and drew in a sip of the tea.

It absolutely burned, the heat of it searing a path down his inflamed throat, and stinging immensely as the flavors of the herbs touched the swelling and the red, raw patches that he knew were lining the inside of his mouth.

Involuntarily, he let out a pained cry, muffling it behind tightly shut lips as soon as he could, but still obviously just a beat too late, as Martin's face went from nervous to absolutely panicked.

"Jon! Are you– are you okay?"

Jon swallowed again, the sting of it near bringing tears to his eyes, and an absolutely vicious shiver racing through his body.

"I'm– I'm fine." He choked out, the raspy, scraping tone to his voice that he had gone to great pains to hide slipping through to hang awkwardly in the air.

"Was it– was it the tea?" Martin asked, looking still almost ready to bolt with his blue eyes near comically wide, and his lips parted in a stuttery gap.

"No– no." Jon managed to say, still blinking back the absolutely horrid combination of feverish shivering, and the pain in his infected throat. "Wasn't– it's not that."

Martin looked only faintly less panicked but a curious, and almost probing look, formed across his face.

"What was that then, Jon? Because it looked– well, it looked pretty painful."

For the second time, Jon froze.

"It– er, was just– just."

Martin's brows creased at the stammering.

"Did you hurt yourself somehow?" He asked, adding in a softer, more perplexed tone. "Not sure how you'd injure your mouth though."

Jon flashed through a multitude of lies, each one less credible than the next. That he'd recorded too many statements that morning and it had wrecked his throat, that he had cut his tongue on a crunchy biscuit, that he'd been hungover and that the acid from the vomiting had given him a sore throat.

"I– I have a cold." He finally muttered.

"You have a cold?" Martin repeated, his voice sounding both still slightly confused, as well as edging into the territory of concern.

"Yes, I've– I've been a bit under the weather."

"And your throat– it hurts bad enough that you can't even drink anything?"

"Well I can still drink some things." Jon corrected. "Just not anything too hot– or spicy, or well, too much at once, or really anything that has too much sugar."

The last traces of confusion flickered away from Martin's face, but was instead replaced by an abundance of concern.

"How long has it been that bad, Jon?" He asked, the edges of his lips down turning into a frown.

"Not since today, it– it's felt sore for a while. But it wasn't this bad until this morning."

The words didn't cause the concern to fade from Martin's expression as Jon had hoped, instead it ratched up to a level that had Jon squirming faintly in his desk chair. Feeling, for once, almost pinned under Martin's gaze and the surprisingly intense sheen of worry emanating from his blue eyes.

"How long have you been sick?"

"It's only been– well, erm, it's been a few days."

Martin's frown deepened.

"And how bad is the pain– in your throat I mean?"

"It– hurts." Jon muttered, aware that the answer was in no way informative.

"Jon, this is important, how bad is it?"

"Excruciating. It's– it burns."

"Do you know if you have a fever at all? Or have you felt sick in any other ways?"

"I've felt–" Jon mumbled. "I definitely am– well, I do have a fever. I believe it was near 38.5 degrees last night, and I've been a bit sick to my stomach."

"Jon," Martin's voice was far more intense than Jon typically heard it, not wavering in his usual anxious way or trembling. "Can I look into your mouth? It sounds like– well like you might be a bit more ill than just a cold."

Jon fidgeted awkwardly at the prospect of Martin of all people staring into his mouth, the idea feeling uncomfortable and far too invasive. But the sharp, stinging ache all down his throat was rapidly reaching a point that was near intolerable.

"Alright." He mumbled.

"Alright to check your throat?" Martin asked, still frowning.

"Yes, it's– yes."

Martin nodded, and took a careful step forward, sliding the cup, that damn cup of tea that had started all of this mess, over to the side.

Gently, he placed his hands on either side of Jon's jaw, the touch feeling uncomfortably freezing against his burning skin.

Martin frowned deeper as well as his fingertips touched the heat, but said nothing, instead gently probing at the sides of Jon's throat before lightly tapping on his jaw in a signal to open his mouth.

Jon squirmed a bit, but still pried open his jaw in a stiff, painful motion.

Martin instantly made a soft, almost hissing sound, carefully tilting his head up further towards the office's lights.

"Jon," He said softly. "That– that's pretty bad. It looks like it could be strep, especially with how sick you've been."

"What?" Jon said stupidly as soon as Martin's hands left his face. "It can't be, I'm an adult, and– and it's seemed like just a cold, just with a, well a horrible sore throat."

Martin's frown turned almost sad.

"Jon, adults still get strep, especially if their immune system isn't fully working."

"But– I never, I hadn't had it in grade school. How do you even know?"

Martin winced a bit. "Well, you've got– it's– it's pretty swollen. And those whitish patches don't really tend to happen unless you've got an infection, and it looks just like strep."

Jon sat back in the chair, slumping a bit from the absolute shock of not only getting into far too close quarters with one of his assistants, but also the idea that he could have a nasty, childhood illness.

Added to the already feverish exhaustion, and the absolutely vicious chills, he was almost tempted to simply remain rooted in the chair until he felt better, or until the archives closed for the night, which was only in about seven hours since he'd already been there far earlier than the opening.

"Jon?" Martin asked softly.

"Yeah, er– yes." Jon mumbled, glancing back up to Martin's still concerned face.

"Are you okay? Well, beyond the– well, strep."

"I'm fine, Martin."

The mixture of illness and exhaustion, and truthfully everything was just a lot.

Far too much really, and he was seriously considering the plan of remaining rooted in the desk chair for the rest of eternity, not just the rest of the work day.

"You–" Martin said haltingly. "You're going to need antibiotics. If it really is strep, it's only going to get worse and there could be complications."

Jon let out a breath, hissing at the searing pain of his throat as the air crossed the swelling. And the pus, if Martin's assessment had been accurate, however disgusting the thought might be.

"Yes, well, I'll go to a clinic this weekend."

Martin looked apprehensive again. "It's– it's not exactly good to wait that long, Jon. You really should go today, before it gets worse."

Jon felt the tug of resistance rise up at the idea of being instructed by Martin of all people, and the very idea of leaving work far before business hours were finished, but again, for what felt as if it were the hundredth time that day, the searing ache in his throat and the weight of his own exhaustion laid heavier than his pride.

"Alright, I'll go to the clinic."

"Now?" Martin asked, looking almost relieved in a way that was annoyingly sincere.

"After lunch. I need to be at least a bit productive today."

A look of disapproval crossed Martin's features, but he nodded softly.

"Alright." He said, fidgeting slightly in the odd space behind the desk. "I'll just take this, then?"

He gestured to the still faintly steaming cup of tea, "It's– well it's not exactly going to be useful now."

Jon huffed out something that would have been a chuckle if not for his swollen throat. "Yes, well, likely not."

Martin smiled awkwardly.

"I'll just take it back to the break room then, and check back– well I mean, I can come back later, before you go to the clinic?"

Jon frowned at the reminder of his plan of exiting the workday early. "Yes that's– it would be fine."

Martin nodded. "Alright then."

He turned towards the door, the mug held cradled in his hands still steaming with just the tiniest wisps of fogginess.

"Oh, and Jon?" He asked.

Jon glanced up from where he had been staring back at the statement, trying to make sense of it through the haze of discomfort still surrounding him. "Yes?"

"What are you going to tell Tim and Sasha?"

Jon groaned.

[2idiots]

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one.  The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses. 

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life. 

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you. 

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were. 

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter. 

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus